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IRLF 


•••KILIY    v 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF     / 
CALIFORNIA      / 


SHAKSPEARE'S 


DRAMATIC    WORKS 


VOL.   V. 


THE 


DRAMATIC    WORKS 


OF 


WILLIAM   SHAKSPEARE; 

ILLUSTRATED: 


EMBRACING 


A   LIFE   OF    THE   POET, 


AND 


NOTES, 

ORIGINAL    AND    SELECTED. 


VOL.      V. 


BOSTON: 

PHILLIPS,  SAMPSON  AND  COMPANY 
1850 


GIFT 


ie>5o 

v.5 


CONTENTS 


Page. 

KING  RICHARD  THE  THIRD 3 

KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH 131 

TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA 239 

TIMON  OF  ATHENS 359 

CORIOLANUS 447 

VOL.    V.  1 


604 


THE  LIFE  AND  DEATH   OF 

$ 

KING   RICHARD   THE   THIRD. 


PRELIMINARY     REMARKS. 

THIS  tragedy,  though  called,  in  the  original  edition,  "  The  Life  and 
Death  of  King  Richard  the  Third,"  comprises  only  fourteen  years.  The 
second  scene  commences  with  the  funeral  of  king  Henry  VI.,  who  is  said 
to  have  been  murdered  on  the  21st  of  May,  1471.  The  imprisonment  of 
Clarence,  which  is  represented  previously  in  the  first  scene,  did  not,  in 
fact,  take  place  till  1477-8. 

Several  dramas  on  the  present  story  had  been  written  before  Shakspeare 
attempted  it  There  was  a  Latin  play  on  the  subject,  by  Dr.  Legge, 
which  had  been  acted  at  St.  John's  College,  Oxford,  some  time  before  the 
year  1588.  And  a  childish  imitation  of  it,  by  one  Henry  Lacey,  exists  in 
MS.  in  the  British  Museum ;  (MSS.  Harl.  No.  6926 ;)  it  is  dated  1586. 
In  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company  are  the  following  entries : — "Aug. 
15, 1586,  A  Tragical  Report  of  King  Richard  the  Third :  a  ballad."  June 
19,  1594,  Thomas  Creede  made  the  following  entry :  "  An  enterlude,  in- 
titled  the  Tragedie  of  Richard  the  Third,  wherein  is  shown  the  Deathe  of 
Edward  the  Fourthe,  with  the  Smotheringe  of  the  Two  Princes  in  the 
Tower,  with  the  lamentable  Ende  of  Shore's  Wife,  and  the  Contention  of 
the  Two  Houses  of  Lancaster  and  Yorke."  A  single  copy  of  this  ancient 
Interlude,  which  Mr.  Boswell  thinks  was  written  by  the  author  of  Locrine, 
unfortunately  wanting  the  title-page,  and  a  few  lines  at  the  beginning, 
was  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  Rhodes,  of  Lyon's  Inn,  who  liberally  allowed 
Mr.  Boswell  to  print  it  in  the  last  Variorum  edition  of  Shakspeare.*  It 
appears  evidently  to  have  been  read  and  used  by  Shakspeare.  In  this, 
as  in  other  instances,  the  bookseller  was  probably  induced  to  publish  the 
old  play,  in  consequence  of  the  success  of  the  new  one  in  performance,  and 
before  it  had  yet  got  into  print 

Shakspeare's  play  was  first  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  Oct  20,  1597, 
by  Andrew  Wise ;  and  was  then  published  with  the  following  title : — 
"  The  Tragedy  of  King  Richard  the  Third :  Containing  his  treacherous 
Plots  against  his  Brother  Clarence ;  the  pitiful  Murther  of  his  innocent 
Nephewes ;  his  tyrannical  Usurpation :  with  the  whole  course  of  his 

*  A  complete  copy  of  Creede's  edition  of  this  curious  Interlude  (which  upon  comparison 
proved  to  be  a  different  impression  from  that  in  Mr.  Rhodes's  collection)  was  sold  by  auc 
tion  by  Mr.  Evans  very  lately.  The  title  was  as  follows : — "  The  true  Tragedie  of  Richard 
the  Third,  wherein  is  showne  the  death  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  with  the  smothering  of  the 
two  yoong  Princes  in  the  Tower :  With  a  lamentable  end  of  Shore's  wife,  an  example  for 
all  wicked  women  ;  and  lastly,  the  conjunction  of  the  two  noble  Houses  Lancaster  and 
Yorke,  as  it  was  playd  by  the  Q,ueenes  Maiesties  players.  London,  printed  by  Thomas 
Creede  ;  and  are  to  be  sold  by  William  Barley  at  his  shop  in  Newgate  Market,  neare  Christ 
Church  door,  1594  ;  4to."  It  is  a  circumstance  sufficiently  remarkable,  that  but  a  single 
copy  of  each  of  the  two  editions  of  this  piece  should  be  known  to  exist. 


4  KING  RICHARD  III. 

detested  Life,  and  most  deserved  Death.  As  it  hath  been  lately  acted  by 
the  Right  Honourable  the  Lord  Chamberlaine  his  servants.  Printed  by 
Valentine  Sims,  for  William  Wise,  1597."  It  was  again  reprinted,  in 
4to,  in  1598, 1602, 1612  or  1613, 1622,  and  twice  in  1629. 

This  play  was  probably  written  in  the  year  1593  or  1594.  One  of 
Shakspeare's  Richards,  and  most  probably  this,  is  alluded  to  in  the  Epi 
grams  of  John  Weever,*  published  in  1599,  but  which  must  have  been 
written  in  1595. 

AD  GULIELMUM  SHAKESPEARE. 

Honie-tong'd  Shakespeare,  when  I  saw  thine  issue, 
I  swore  Apollo  got  them,  and  none  other ; 
Their  rosie-tainted  features  clothed  in  tissue, 
Some  heaven-born  goddesse  said  to  be  their  mother. 
Rose-cheeckt  Adonis  with  his  amber  tresses, 
Faire  fire-hot  Venus  charming  him  to  love  her, 
Chaste  Lucretia,  virgine-like  her  dresses, 
Proud  lust-stung  Tarquine,  seeking  still  to  prove  her, 
Romeo,  Richard,  more  whose  names  I  know  not, 
Their  sugred  tongues  and  power  attractive  beauty, 
Say  they  are  saints,  althogh  that  saints  they  shew  not, 
For  thousand  vowes  to  them  subjective  dutie, 
They  burn  in  love  thy  children  Shakspeare  let  them, 
Go  wo  thy  muse  more  nymphish  brood  beget  them. 

27th  Epig.  m  Weekc. 

The  character  of  Richard  had  been  in  part  developed  in  the  last  parts 
of  King  Henry  VI.,  where,  Schlegel  observes,  "  his  first  speeches  lead  us 
already  to  form  the  most  unfavorable  prognostications  respecting  him :  he 
lowers  obliquely  like  a  thunder-cloud  on  the  horizon,  which  gradually  ap 
proaches  nearer  and  nearer,  and  first  pours  out  the  elements  of  devastation 
with  which  it  is  charged  when  it  hangs  over  the  heads  of  mortals."  "  The 
other  characters  of  the  drama  are  of  too  secondary  a  nature  to  excite  a 
powerful  sympathy ;  but  in  the  back  ground,  the  widowed  queen  Margaret 
appears  as  the  fury  of  the  past,  who  calls  forth  the  curse  on  the  future ; 
every  calamity  which  her  enemies  draw  down  on  each  other,  is  a  cordial 
to  her  revengeful  heart.  Other  female  voices  join,  from  time  to  time,  in 
the  lamentations  and  imprecations.  But  Richard  is  the  soul,  or  rather  the 
demon,  of  the  whole  tragedy,  and  fulfils  the  promise,  which  he  formerly 
made,  to 

' set  the  murderous  Machiavel  to  school.' 

Besides  the  uniform  aversion  with  which  he  inspires  us,  he  occupies 
us  in  the  greatest  variety  of  ways,  by  his  profound  skill  in  dissimulation, 
his  wit,  his  prudence,  his  presence  of  mind,  his  quick  activity,  and  his 
valor.  He  fights  at  last  against  Richmond  like  a  desperado,  and  dies  the 


*  This  very  curious  little  volume,  which  is  supposed  to  be  unique,  is  in  the  possession  of 
Mr.  Comb,  of  Henley.  The  title  is  as  follows :— "  Epigrammes  in  the  oldest  Cut  and  newest 
Fashion.  Atwiseseven  Houres  (in  so  many  Weekes)  Studie.  No  longer  (like  the  Fashion; 
not  unlike  to  continue.  The  first  seven,  John  Weever.  Sit  voluisse  sit  valuisse.  At  Lon 
don  :  printed  by  V.  S.  for  Thomas  Bushele ;  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop,  at  the  great 
north  doore  of  Panics.  1599.  12°."  There  is  a  portrait  of  the  author,  engraved  by  Cecil!, 

Erefixed.    According  to  the  date  upon  this  print,  Weever  was  then  twenty-three  years  old  ; 
ut  he  tells  us,  in  some  introductory  stanzas,  that,  when  he  wrote  the  Epigrams  which 
compose  the  volume,  he  was  not  twenty  years  old ;  that  he  was  one 

»{ That  twenty  twelvemonths  yet  did  never  knew." 
Consequently,  these  Epigrams  must  have  been  written  in  1595. 


*  PRELIMINARY  REMARKS.  5 

honorable  death  of  the  hero  on  the  field  of  battle." — But  Shakspeare  has 
satisfied  our  moral  feelings : — "  He  shows  us  Richard  in  his  last  moments 
already  branded  with  the  stamp  of  reprobation.  We  see  Richard  and 
Richmond,  on  the  night  before  battle,  sleeping  in  their  tents ;  the  spirits 
of  those  murdered  by  the  tyrant  ascend  in  succession,  and  pour  out  their 
curses  against  him,  and  their  blessings  on  his  adversary.  These  appa 
ritions  are,  properly,  merely  the  dreams  of  the  two  generals  made  visible. 
It  is  no  doubt  contrary  to  sensible  probability,  that  their  tents  should  only 
be  separated  by  so  small  a  space;  but  Shakspeare  could  reckon  on  poetical 
spectators,  who  were  ready  to  take  the  breadth  of  the  stage  for  the  dis 
tance  between  the  two  camps,  if,  by  such  a  favor,  they  were  to  be  recom 
pensed  by  beauties  of  so  sublime  a  nature  as  this  series  of  spectres,  and 
the  soliloquy  of  Richard  on  his  awaking."  * 

Steevens  observed  that  the  favor  with  which  the  tragedy  has  been  received 
on  the  stage  in  modern  times  "must  in  some  measure  be  imputed  to 
Gibber's  reformation  of  it"  The  original  play  was  certainly  too  long  for 
representation,  and  there  were  parts  which  might,  with  advantage,  have 
been  omitted  in  representation,  as  "  dramatic  encumbrances ; "  but  such  a 
piece  of  clumsy  patchwork  as  the  performance  of  Gibber,  was  surely  any 
thing  but  "judicious ;"  and  it  is  only  surprising,  that  the  taste  which  has 
led  to  other  reformations  in  the  performance  of  our  great  dramatic  Poet's 
works,  has  not  given  to  the  stage  a  judicious  abridgment  of  this  tragedy 
in  his  own  words,  unencumbered  with  the  superfluous  transpositions  and 
gratuitous  additions  which  have  been  so  long  inflicted  upon  us. 

*  Schlegel's  Lectures  on  Dramatic  Literature,  vol.  ii.  p.  246. 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED. 


KING  EDWARD  THE  FOURTH. 
EDWARD,  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  \ 

King  Edward  V.  >  Sons  to  the  King. 

RICHARD,  Duke  q/"York,  J 

GEORGE,  Duke  of  Clarence,  \ 

RICHARD,   Duke   of    Gloster,   afterwards  >  Brothers  to  the  King 

King  Richard  III.  j 

A  young  Son  of  Clarence. 

HENRY,  Earl  of  Richmond,  afterwards  King  Henry  VII. 
CARDINAL  BOUCHIER,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 
THOMAS  ROTHERAM,  Archbishop  q/"York. 
JOHN  MORTON,  Bishop  of  Ely. 
Duke  of  Buckingham. 
Duke  of  Norfolk  :  Earl  of  Surrey,  Jiis  Son. 
EARL  RIVERS,  Brother  to  King  Edward's  Queen. 
Marquis  of  Dorset,  and  LORD  GREY,  her  Sons. 
Earl  of  Oxford.    LORD  HASTINGS.     LORD  STANLEY.    LORD  LOVEL. 
SIR  THOMAS  VAUGHAN.     SIR  RICHARD  RATCLIFF. 
SIR  WILLIAM  CATESTJY.     SIR  JAMES  TYRREL. 
SIR  JAMES  BLOUNT.     SIR  WALTER  HERBERT. 
SIR  ROBERT  BRAKENBURY,  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower. 
CHRISTOPHER  URSWICK,  a  Priest.     Another  Priest. 
Lord  Mayor  of  London.     Sheriff  of  Wiltshire. 

ELIZABETH,  Queen  of  King  Edward  IV. 

MARGARET,  Widow  of  King  Henry  VI. 

Duchess  of  York,  Mother  to  King  Edward  IV.,  Clarence,  and 

Gloster. 
LADY  ANNE,  Widow  of  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  Son  to  King 

Henry  VI. ;  afterwards  married  to  the  Duke  of  Gloster. 
A  young  Daughter  of  Clarence. 

Lords,  and  other  Attendants,  two  Gentlemen,  a  Pursuivant,  Scriv 
ener,  Citizens,  Murderers,  Messengers,  Ghosts,  Soldiers,  tyc. 

SCENE.     England. 


KING   RICHARD   THE   THIRD 


ACT    I. 

SCENE  I.     London.     A  Street. 

Enter  GLOSTER. 

Gloster.   Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent 
Made  glorious  summer  by  this  sun1  of  York  ; 
And  all  the  clouds,  that  lowered  upon  our  house, 
In  the  deep  bosom  of  the  ocean  buried. 
Now  are  our  brows  bound  with  victorious  wreaths ; 
Our  bruised  arms  hung  up  for  monuments  ; 
Our  stern  alarums  changed  to  merry  meetings, 
Our  dreadful  marches  to  delightful  measures.2  |, 

Grim-visaged  war  hath  smoothed  his  wrinkled  front ; 
And  now, — instead  of  mounting  barbed3  steeds, 
To  fright  the  souls  of  fearful  adversaries, — 
He  capers  nimbly  in  a  lady's  chamber, 
To  the  lascivious  pleasing  of  a  lute. 
But  I, — that  am  not  shaped  for  sportive  tricks, 
Nor  made  to  court  an  amorous  looking-glass ; 
I,  that  am  rudely  stamped,  and  want  love's  majesty, 
To  strut  before  a  wanton,  ambling  nymph ; 
I,  that  am  curtailed  of  this  fair  proportion, 
Cheated  of  feature  by  dissembling  nature,4 

1  The  cognizance  of  Edward  IV.  was  a  sun,  in  memory  of  the  three  suns 
which  are  said  to  have  appeared  at  the  battle  which  he  gained  over  the 
Lancastrians  at  Mortimer's  Cross. 

2  Dances. 

3  i.  e.  steeds  caparisoned  or  clothed  in  the  trappings  of  war.     The  word 
is  properly  barded,  from  equus  bardatus,  Latin  of  the  middle  ages. 

4  Feature  is  proportion,  or  beauty,  in  general.     By  dissembling  is  not 
meant  hypocritical  nature,  but  nature  that  puts  together  things  of  a  dis 
similar  kind,  as  a  brave  soul  and  a  deformed  body. 


KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

Deformed,  unfinished,  sent  before  my  time 

Into  this  breathing  world,  scarce  half  made  up, 

And  that  so  lamely  and  unfashionable, 

That  dogs  bark  at  me,  as  I  halt  by  them ; — 

Why,  I,  in  this  weak,  piping  time  of  peace, 

Have  no  delight  to  pass  away  the  time ; 

Unless  to  spy  my  shadow  in  the  sun, 

And  descant  on  mine  own  deformity ; 

And,  therefore, — since  I  cannot  prove  a  lover, 

To  entertain  these  fair,  well-spoken  days, — 

I  am  determined  to  prove  a  villain, 

And  hate  the  idle  pleasures  of  these  days. 

Plots  have  I  laid,  inductions  dangerous, 

By  drunken  prophecies,  libels,  and  dreams, 

To  set  my  brother  Clarence,  and  the  king, 

In  deadly  hate  the  one  against  the  other ; 

And,  if  king  Edward  be  as  true  and  just, 

As  I  am  subtle,  false,  and  treacherous, 

This  day  should  Clarence  closely  be  mewed  up , 

About  a  prophecy,  which  says — that  G 

Of  Edward's  heirs  the  murderer  shall  be.1 

Dive,  thoughts,  down  to  my  soul !  here  Clarence  comes 

Enter  CLARENCE,  guarded,  and  BRAKENBURY. 

Brother,  good  day.     What  means  this  armed  guard. 
That  waits  upon  your  grace  ? 

Clar.  His  majesty, 

Tendering  my  person's  safety,  hath  appointed 
This  conduct  to  convey  me  to  the  Tower. 

Glo.    Upon  what  cause  ? 

Clar.  Because  my  name  is — George. 

Glo.  Alack,  my  lord,  that  fault  is  none  of  yours ; 

He  should,  for  that,  commit  your  godfathers. 

O,  belike,  his  majesty  hath  some  intent, 

That  you  shall  be  new  christened  in  the  Tower. 

But  what's  the  matter,  Clarence  ?  may  I  know  ? 

Clar.   Yea,  Richard,  when  I  know  ;  for,  I  protest, 

i  This  is  from  Holinshed. 


SC.  I.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  9 

As  yet  I  do  not.     But,  as  I  can  learn, 

He  hearkens  after  prophecies,  and  dreams  ; 

And  from  the  cross-row  plucks  the  letter  G, 

And  says — a  wizard  told  him,  that  by  G 

His  issue  disinherited  should  be ; 

And,  for  my  name  of  George  begins  with  G, 

It  follows  in  his  thought  that  I  am  he. 

These,  as  I  learn,  and  such  like  toys  as  these, 

Have  moved  his  highness  to  commit  me  now. 

Glo.    Why,   this    it  is,   when   men   are   ruled  by 

women. — 

'Tis  not  the  king  that  sends  you  to  the  Tower ; 
My  lady  Grey,  his  wife,  Clarence,  'tis  she, 
That  tempers  him  to  this  extremity. 
Was  it  not  she,  and  that  good  man  of  worship, 
Antony  Woodeville,  her  brother  there, 
That  made  him  send  lord  Hastings  to  the  Tower ; 
From  whence  this  present  day  he  is  delivered  ? 
We  are  not  safe,  Clarence,  we  are  not  safe. 

Clar.   By  Heaven,  I  think  there  is  no  man  secure, 
But  the  queen's  kindred,  and  night-walking  heralds 
That  trudge  betwixt  the  king  and  mistress  Shore. 
Heard  you  not  what  an  humble  suppliant 
Lord  Hastings  was  to  her  for  his  delivery  ? 

Glo.    Humbly  complaining  to  her  deity 
Got  my  lord  chamberlain  his  liberty. 
I'll  tell  you  what, — I  think  it  is  our  way, 
If  we  will  keep  in  favor  with  the  king, 
To  be  her  men,  and  wear  her  livery. 
The  jealous,  o'er- worn  widow,  and  herself,1 
Since  that  our  brother  dubbed  them  gentlewomen, 
Are  mighty  gossips  in  this  monarchy. 

Brak.    I  beseech  your  graces  both  to  pardon  me ; 
His  majesty  hath  straitly  given  in  charge, 
That  no  man  shall  have  private  conference, 
Of  what  degree  soever  with  his  brother. 

Glo.  Even  so  ?   An  please  your  worship,  Brakenbury 
You  may  partake  of  any  thing  we  say. 


1  The  queen  and  Shore. 
VOL.   V.  2 


10  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  1, 

We  speak  no  treason,  man. — We  say,  the  king 

Is  wise  and  virtuous ;  and  his  noble  queen 

Well  struck  in  years;  fair,  and  not  jealous. 

We  say,  that  Shore's  wife  hath  a  pretty  foot, 

A  cherry  lip, 

A  bonny  eye,  a  passing  pleasing  tongue  ; 

And  that  the  queen's  kindred  are  made  gentlefolks. 

How  say  you,  sir  ?  can  you  deny  all  this  ? 

Brak.  With  this,  my  lord,  myself  have  nought  to  do. 

Glo.   Naught  to  do  with  mistress  Shore  ?  I  tell  thee, 

fellow, 

He  that  doth  naught  with  her,  excepting  one, 
Were  best  to  do  it  secretly,  alone. 

Brak.   What  one,  my  lord  ? 

Glo.  Her  husband,  knave. — Wouldst  thou  betray  me? 

Brak.  I  beseech  your  grace  to  pardon  me ;  and  withal, 
Forbear  your  conference  with  the  noble  duke. 

Clar.    We  know  thy  charge,  Brakenbury,  and  will 
obey. 

Glo.    We  are  the  queen's  abjects,1  and  must  obey. 
Brother,  farewell.     I  will  unto  the  king  ; 
And  whatsoever  you  will  employ  me  in, — 
Were  it   to  call  king  Edward's  widow — sister, — 
I  will  perform  it  to  enfranchise  you. 
Mean  time,  this  deep  disgrace  in  brotherhood, 
Touches  me  deeper  than  you  can  imagine. 

Clar.    I  know  it  pleaseth  neither  of  us  well. 

Glo.    Well,  your  imprisonment  shall  not  be  long , 
I  will  deliver  you,  or  else  lie  for  you.2 
Mean  time,  have  patience. 

Clar.  I  must  perforce  ;  farewell. 

[Exeunt  CLARENCE,  BRAKENBURY,  and 
Guard. 

Glo.    Go,  tread  the  path  that  thou  shalt  ne'er  return, 
Simple,  plain  Clarence ! — I  do  love  thee  so, 
That  I  will  shortly  send  thy  soul  to  heaven, 

1  i.  e.  the  lowest  of  her  subjects.    This  substantive  is  found  in  Psalm 
xxxv.  15. 

2  He  means,  "  or  else  be  imprisoned  in  your  stead."    To  lie  signified 
anciently  to  reside,  or  remain  in  a  place. 


SC.  I.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  11 

If  heaven  will  take  the  present  at  our  hands. 

But  who  comes  here  ?  the  new-delivered  Hastings  ? 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

Hast.    Good  time  of  day  unto  my  gracious  lord  ! 

Glo.    As  much  unto  my  good  lord  chamberlain  ! 
Well  are  you  welcome  to  this  open  air. 
How  hath  your  lordship  brooked  imprisonment  ? 

Hast.    With  patience,  noble  lord,  as  prisoners  must ; 
But  I  shall  live,  my  lord,  to  give  them  thanks, 
That  were  the  cause  of  my  imprisonment. 

Glo.    No  doubt,  no  doubt;  and  so  shall  Clarence  too ; 
For  they,  that  were  your  enemies,  are  his, 
And  have  prevailed  as  much  on  him,  as  you. 

Hast.   More  pity  that  the  eagle  should  be  mewed, 
While  kites  and  buzzards  prey  at  liberty. 

Glo.    What  news  abroad  ? 

Hast.   No  news  so  bad  abroad  as  this  at  home ; — 
The  king  is  sickly,  weak,  and  melancholy, 
And  his  physicians  fear  him  mightily. 

Glo.    Now,  by  saint  Paul,  this  news  is  bad  indeed. 
O,  he  hath  kept  an  evil  diet  long, 
And  over-much  consumed  his  royal  person ; 
'Tis  very  grievous  to  be  thought  upon. 
What,  is  he  in  his  bed  ? 

Hast.  He  is. 

Glo.    Go  you  before,  and  I  will  follow  you. 

[Exit  HASTINGS. 

He  cannot  live,  I  hope  ;  and  must  not  die 
Till  George  be  packed  with  post-horse  up  to  heaven. 
I'll  in,  to  urge  his  hatred  more  to  Clarence, 
With  lies  well  steeled  with  weighty  arguments ; 
And,  if  I  fail  not  in  my  deep  intent, 
Clarence  hath  not  another  day  to  live ; 
Which  done,  God  take  king  Edward  to  his  mercy, 
And  leave  the  world  for  me  to  bustle  in ! 
For  then  I'll  marry  Warwick's  youngest  daughter.1 


i  Lady  Anne,  the  betrothed  widow  of  Edward  prince  of  Wales.    See 
King  Henry  VI.  Part  III. 


12  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

What  though  I  killed  her  husband  and  her  father  ? 

The  readiest  way  to  make  the  wench  amends, 

Is — to  become  her  husband,  and  her  father ; 

The  which  will  I ;  not  all  so  much  for  love, 

As  for  another  secret,  close  intent, 

By  marrying  her,  which  I  must  reach  unto. 

But  yet  I  run  before  my  horse  to  market ; 

Clarence  still  breathes;  Edward  still  lives  and  reigns; 

When  they  are  gone,  then  must  I  count  my  gains. 

[Exit. 

SCENE    II.     The  same.     Another  Street. 

Enter  the  corpse  O/*KING  HENRY  THE  SIXTH,  borne  in 
an  open  coffin,  Gentlemen  bearing  halberds,  to 
guard  it ;  and  LADY  ANNE  as  mourner. 

Anne.    Set  down,  set  down  your  honorable  load, — 
If  honor  may  be  shrouded  in  a  hearse, — 
Whilst  I  awhile  obsequiously  lament 
The  untimely  fall  of  virtuous  Lancaster — 
Poor  key-cold1  figure  of  a  holy  king! 
Pale  ashes  of  the  house  of  Lancaster ! 
Thou  bloodless  remnant  of  that  royal  blood ! 
Be  it  lawful  that  I  invocate  thy  ghost, 
To  hear  the  lamentations  of  poor  Anne, 
Wife  to  thy  Edward,  to  thy  slaughtered  son, 
Stabbed    by   the    self-same    hand   that   made    these 

wounds ! 

Lo,  in  these  windows,  that  let  forth  thy  life, 
I  pour  the  helpless  balm  of  my  poor  eyes. — 
O,  cursed  be  the  hand  that  made  these  holes ! 
Cursed  the  heart,  that  had  the  heart  to  do  it ! 
Cursed  the  blood,  that  let  this  blood  from  hence  ! 
More  direful  hap  betide  that  hated  wretch, 
That  makes  us  wretched  by  the  death  of  thee, 
Than  I  can  wish  to  adders,  spiders,  toads, 

1  A  key,  on  account  of  the  coldness  of  the  metal  of  which  it  is  composed, 
was  often  employed  to  stop  any  slight  bleeding.  The  epithet  is  common 
to  many  old  writers. 


SO.  II.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  13 

Or  any  creeping  venomed  thing  that  lives ! 

If  ever  he  have  child,  abortive  be  it, 

Prodigious,  and  untimely  brought  to  light, 

Whose  ugly  and  unnatural  aspect 

May  fright  the  hopeful  mother  at  the  view  ; 

And  that  be  heir  to  his  unhappiness  ! 

If  ever  he  have  wife,  let  her  be  made 

More  miserable  by  the  death  of  him, 

Than  .1  am  made  by  my  young  lord  and  thee  ! — 

Come,  now,  toward  Chertsey  with  your  holy  load, 

Taken  from  Paul's  to  be  interred  there  ; 

And,  still  as  you  are  weary  of  the  weight, 

Rest  you,  whilst  I  lament  king  Henry's  corse. 

[The  bearers  take  up  the  corpse,  and  advance. 

Enter  GLOSTER. 

Glo.    Stay  you,  that  bear  the  corse,  and  set  it  down. 

Anne.    What  black  magician  conjures  up  this  fiend, 
To  stop  devoted,  charitable  deeds  ? 

Glo.   Villains,  set  down  the  corse  ;  or,  by  saint  Paul, 
I'll  make  a  corse  of  him  that  disobeys. 

1  Gent.   My  lord,  stand  back,  and  let  the  coffin  pass. 

Glo.    Unmannere.d  dog !  stand  thou  when   I  com 
mand  : 

Advance  thy  halberd  higher  than  my  breast, 
Or,  by  saint  Paul,  I'll  strike  thee  to  my  foot, 
And  spurn  upon  thee,  beggar,  for  thy  boldness. 

[The  bearers  set  doivn  the  coffin. 

Anne.   What,  do  you  tremble  ?  are  you  all  afraid  ? 
Alas,  I  blame  you  not ;  for  you  are  mortal, 
And  mortal  eyes  cannot  endure  the  devil. — 
Avaunt,  thou  dreadful  minister  of  hell ! 
Thou  hadst  but  power  over  his  mortal  body  ; 
His  soul  thou  canst  not  have  ;  therefore,  be  gone. 

Glo.    Sweet  saint,  for  charity,  be  not  so  curst. 

Anne.   Foul  devil,  for  God's  sake,  hence,  and  trouble 

us  not ; 

For  thou  hast  made  the  happy  earth  thy  hell, 
Filled  it  with  cursing  cries,  and  deep  exclaims. 
If  thou  delight  to  view  thy  heinous  deeds, 


14  KING  RICHARD   111.  [ACT  I. 

Behold  this  pattern 1  of  thy  butcheries ; 

O,  gentlemen,  see,  see !  dead  Henry's  wounds 

Open  their  congealed  mouths,  and  bleed  afresh  ! 2 — 

Blush,  blush,  thou  lump  of  foul  deformity ; 

For  'tis  thy  presence  that  exhales  this  blood 

From  cold  and  empty  veins,  where  no  blood  dwells  ; 

Thy  deed,  inhuman  and  unnatural, 

Provokes  this  deluge  most  unnatural. 

O,  God,  which  this  blood  mad'st,  revenge  his  death ! 
O,  earth,  which  this  blood  drink'st,  revenge  his  death  ! 
Either,  heaven,  with  lightning  strike  the  murderer  dead, 
Or,  earth,  gape  open  wide,  and  eat  him  quick  ; 
As  thou  dost  swallow  up  this  good  king's  blood, 
Which  his  hell-governed  arm  hath  butchered  ! 

Glo.    Lady,  you  know  no  rules  of  charity, 
Which  renders  good  for  bad,  blessings  for  curses. 

Anne.    Villain,  thou  know'st  no  law  of  God  nor  man  ; 
No  beast  so  fierce,  but  knows  some  touch  of  pity. 

Glo.   But  I  know  none,  and  therefore  am  no  beast. 

Anne.    O,  wonderful,  when  devils  tell  the  truth ! 

Glo.   More  wonderful,  when  angels  are  so  angry. — 
Vouchsafe,  divine  perfection  of  a  woman, 
Of  these  supposed  evils,  to  give  me  leave, 
By  circumstance,  but  to  acquit  myself. 

Anne.    Vouchsafe,  diffused3  infection  of  a  man, 
For  these  known  evils,  but  to  give  me  leave, 
By  circumstance,  to  curse  thy  cursed  self. 

Glo.    Fairer  than  tongue  can  name  thee,  let  me  have 
Some  patient  leisure  to  excuse  myself. 

Anne.    Fouler  than  heart  can  think  thee,  thou  canst 

make 
No  excuse  current,  but  to  hang  thyself. 

Glo.  By  such  despair,  I  should  accuse  myself. 

Anne.  And,  by  despairing,  shalt  thou  stand  excused  ; 
For  doing  worthy  vengeance  on  thyself, 
That  didst  unworthy  slaughter  upon  others. 

1  Example. 

2  This  is  from  Holinshed.    It  was  a  tradition,  very  generally  received, 
that  the  murdered  body  bleeds  on  the  touch  of  the  murderer. 

3  Diffused  anciently  signified  dark,  obscure,  strange,  uncouth,  or  confused. 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  15 

Glo.    Say,  that  I  slew  them  not  ? 

Anne.  Why,  then  they  are  not  dead ; 

But  dead  they  are,  and,  devilish  slave,  by  thee. 

Glo.   I  did  not  kill  your  husband. 

Anne.  .  Why,  then  he  is  alive. 

Glo.   Nay,  he  is  dead ;  and  slain  by  Edward's  hand. 

Anne.   In  thy  foul  throat  thou  liest.    Queen  Margaret 

saw 

Thy  murderous  falchion  smoking  in  his  blood ; 
The  which  thou  once  didst  bend  against  her  breast, 
But  that  thy  brothers  beat  aside  the  point. 

Glo.    I  was  provoked  by  her  slanderous  tongue, 
That  laid  their  guilt  upon  my  guiltless  shoulders. 

Anne.    Thou  wast  provoked  by  thy  bloody  mind, 
That  never  dreamt  on  aught  but  butcheries. 
Didst  thou  not  kill  this  king  ? 

Glo.  I  grant  ye. 

Anne.    Dost  grant  me,  hedge-hog  ?  then,  God  grant 

me  too, 

Thou  mayst  be  damned  for  that  wicked  deed ! 
O,  he  was  gentle,  mild,  and  virtuous. 

Glo.   The  fitter  for  the  King  of  heaven,  that  hath  him. 

Anne.    He  is  in  heaven,  where    thou  shalt  never 
come. 

Glo.    Let  him  thank  me,  that  holp  to  send  him 

thither ; 
For  he  was  fitter  for  that  place  than  earth. 

Anne.    And  thou  unfit  for  any  place  but  hell. 

Glo.    Yes,  one  place  else,  if  you  will  hear  me  name  it. 

Anne.    Some  dungeon. 

Glo.  Your  bed-chamber. 

Anne.    Ill  rest  betide  the  chamber  where  thou  liest f 

Glo.   So  will  it,  madam,  till  I  lie  with  you. 

Anne.    I  hope  so. 

Glo.  I  know  so. — But,  gentle  lady  Anne, — 

To  leave  this  keen  encounter  of  our  wits, 
And  fall  somewhat  into  a  slower  method, — 
Is  not  the  causer  of  the  timeless  deaths 
Of  these  Plantagenets,  Henry  and  Edward, 
As  blameful  as  the  executioner  ? 


16  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

Anne.     Thou  wast  the  cause,  and  most  accursed 
effect. 

Glo.   Your  beauty  was  the  cause  of  that  effect ; 
Your  beauty,  which  did  haunt  me  in  my  sleep, 
To  undertake  the  death  of  all  the  world, 
So  I  might  live  one  hour  in  your  sweet  bosom. 

Anne.    If  I  thought  that,  I  tell  thee,  homicide, 
These  nails  should  rend  that  beauty  from  my  cheeks. 

Glo.    These  eyes  could  not  endure  that  beauty's 

wreck. 

You  should  not  blemish  it,  if  I  stood  by ; 
As  all  the  world  is  cheered  by  the  sun, 
So  I  by  that ;  it  is  my  day,  my  life. 

Anne.   Black  night  o'ershade  thy  day,  and  death  thy 
life! 

Glo.    Curse  not  thyself,  fair  creature  ;  thou  art  both. 

Anne.    I  would  I  were,  to  be  revenged  on  thee. 

Glo.    It  is  a  quarrel  most  unnatural, 
To  be  revenged  on  him  that  loveth  thee. 

Anne.    It  is  a  quarrel  just  and  reasonable, 
To  be  revenged  on  him  that  killed  my  husband. 

Glo.    He  that  bereft  thee,  lady,  of  thy  husband, 
Did  it  to  help  thee  to  a  better  husband. 

Anne.    His  better  doth  not  breathe  upon  the  earth. 

Glo.    He  lives,  that  loves  you  better  than  he  could. 

Anne.   Name  him. 

Glo.  Plantagenet. 

Anne.  Why,  that  was  he. 

Glo.   The  self-same  name,  but  one  of  better  nature. 

Anne.   Where  is  he  ? 

Glo.  Here.         [She  spits  at  him.] 

Why  dost  thou  spit  at  me  ? 

Anne.   'Would  it  were  mortal  poison,  for  thy  sake ! 

Glo.   Never  came  poison  from  so  sweet  a  place. 

Anne.   Never  hung  poison  on  a  fouler  toad. 
Out  of  my  sight !  thou  dost  infect  mine  eyes. 

Glo.    Thine  eyes,  sweet  lady,  have  infected  mine. 

Anne.    'Would  they  were  basilisks,  to  strike  thee 
dead! 

Glo.    I  would  they  were,  that  I  might  die  at  once  ; 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  17 

For  now  they  kill  me  with  a  living  death. 
Those  eyes  of  thine  from  mine  have  drawn  salt  tears, 
Shamed  their  aspects  with  store  of  childish  drops. 
These  eyes,  which  never  shed  remorseful *  tear, — 
No, — when  my  father  York  and  Edward  wept, 
To  hear  the  piteous  moan  that  Rutland  made, 
When  black-faced  Clifford  shook  his  sword  at  him ; 
Nor  when  thy  warlike  father,  like  a  child, 
Told  the  sad  story  of  my  father's  death  ; 
And  twenty  times  made  pause,  to  sob,  and  weep, 
That  all  the  standers-by  had  wet  their  cheeks, 
Like  trees  bedashed  with  rain  ; — in  that  sad  time, 
My  manly  eyes  did  scorn  an  humble  tear ; 
And  what  these  sorrows  could  not  thence  exhale, 
Thy  beauty  hath,  and  made  them  blind  with  weeping. 
I  never  sued  to  friend,  nor  enemy  ; 
My  tongue  could  never  learn  sweet  soothing  word ; 
But  now  thy  beauty  is  proposed  my  fee, 
My  proud  heart  sues,  and  prompts  my  tongue  to  speak. 

[She  looks  scornfully  at  him. 
Teach  not  thy  lip  such  scorn ;  for  it  was  made 
For  kissing,  lady,  not  for  such  contempt. 
If  thy  revengeful  heart  cannot  forgive, 
Lo !  here  I  lend  thee  this  sharp-pointed  sword  ; 
Which  if  thou  please  to  hide  in  this  true  breast, 
And  let  the  soul  forth  that  adoreth  thee, 
I  lay  it  naked  to  the  deadly  stroke, 
And  humbly  beg  the  death  upon  my  knee. 

[He  lays  his  breast  open ;  she  offers  at  it  with 

his  sword. 

Nay,  do  not  pause  ;  for  I  did  kill  king  Henry ; — 
But  'twas  thy  beauty  that  provoked  me. 
Nay,    now   despatch ;     'twas    I    that   stabbed   young 

Edward ; — 

[She  again  offers  at  his  breast. 
But  'twas  thy  heavenly  face  that  set  me  on. 

[She  lets  fall  the  sword 
Take  up  the  sword  again,  or  take  up  me. 

l  Pitiful. 
VOL.    V.  3 


18  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

Anne.    Arise,  dissembler :  though  I  wish  thy  death, 
I  will  not  be  thj  executioner. 

Glo.    Then  bid  me  kill  myself,  and  I  will  do  it. 

Anne.    I  have  already. 

Glo.  That  was  in  thy  rage. 

Speak  it  again,  and,  even  with  the  word, 
This  hand,  which,  for  thy  love,  did  kill  thy  love, 
Shall,  for  thy  love,  kill  a  far  truer  love  ; 
To  both  their  deaths  shalt  thou  be  accessary. 

Anne.    I  would  I  knew  thy  heart. 

Glo.    'Tis  figured  in  my  tongue. 

Anne.    I  fear  me,  both  are  false. 

Glo.    Then  never  man  was  true. 

Anne.   Well,  well,  put  up  your  sword. 

Glo.    Say,  then,  my  peace  is  made. 

Anne.    That  shall  you  know  hereafter. 

Glo.    But  shall  I  live  in  hope  ? 

Anne.    All  men,  I  hope,  live  so. 

Glo.    Vouchsafe  to  wear  this  ring. 

Anne.    To  take,  is  not  to  give. 

[She  puts  on  the  ring. 

Glo.    Look,  how  this  ring  encompasseth  thy  finger  ; 
Even  so  thy  breast  encloseth  my  poor  heart ; 
Wear  both  of  them,  for  both  of  them  are  thine. 
And  if  thy  poor  devoted  servant  may 
But  beg  one  favor  at  thy  gracious  hand, 
Thou  dost  confirm  his  happiness  forever. 

Anne.    What  is  it  ? 

Glo.  That  it  may  please  you  leave  these  sad  designs 
To  him  that  hath  more  cause  to  be  a  mourner, 
And  presently  repair  to  Crosby-place  ; 1 
Where — after  I  have  solemnly  interred, 
At  Chertsey  monast'ry,  this  noble  king, 


1  Crosby  Place  is  now  Crosby  Square,  in  Bishopsgate  Street.  This 
magnificent  house  was  built  in  1466,  by  sir  John  Crosby,  grocer  and 
woolman.  He  died  in  1475.  The  ancient  hall  of  this  fabric  is  still  re 
maining,  though  divided  by  an  additional  floor,  and  encumbered  with 
modern  galleries,  having  been  converted  into  a  place  of  worship  for  Anti- 
nomians,  &c.  The  upper  part  of  it  was  lately  the  warehouse  of  an  eminent 
packer.  Sir  J.  Crosby's  tomb  is  in  the  neighboring  church  of  St.  Helen 
the  Great 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  19 

And  wet  his  grave  with  my  repentant  tears — 
I  will  with  all  expedient 1  duty  see  you. 
For  divers  unknown  reasons,  I  beseech  you, 
Grant  me  this  boon. 

Anne.    With  all  my  heart ;  and  much  it  joys  me  too, 
To  see  you  are  become  so  penitent. — 
Tressel,  and  Berkley,  go  along  with  me. 

Glo.   Bid  me  farewell. 

Anne.  'Tis  more  than  you  deserve ; 

But,  since  you  teach  me  how  to  flatter  you, 
Imagine  I  have  said  farewell  already. 

[Exeunt  LADY  ANNE,  TRESSEL,  and 
BERKLEY. 

Glo.    Sirs,  take  up  the  corse. 

Gent.  Towards  Chertsey,  noble  lord  ? 

Glo.  No,  to  White  Friars;  there  attend  my  coming. 
[Exeunt  the  rest,  with  the  corse. 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  wooed  ? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humor  won  ? 
I'll  have  her, — but  I  will  not  keep  her  long. 
What !  I,  that  killed  her  husband,  and  his  father, 
To  take  her  in  her  heart's  extremest  hate  ; 
With  curses  in  her  mouth,  tears  in  her  eyes, 
The  bleeding  witness  of  her  hatred  by ; 
With  God,  her  conscience,  and  these  bars  against  me, 
And  I  no  friends  to  back  my  suit  withal, 
But  the  plain  devil,  and  dissembling  looks, 
And  yet  to  win  her, — all  the  world  to  nothing  ! 
Ha! 

Hath  she  forgot  already  that  brave  prince, 
Edward,  her  lord,  whom  I,  some  three  months  since, 
Stabbed  in  my  angry  mood  at  Tewksbury  ?  2 
A  sweeter  and  a  lovelier  gentleman — 

1  i.  e.  expeditious. 

2  This  fixes  the  exact  time  of  the  scene  to  August,  1471.    King  Ed 
ward,  however,  is  introduced  in  the  second  act  dying.    That  king  died  in 
April,  1483 ;  consequently  there  is  an  interval  between  this  and  the  next 
act  of  almost  twelve  years.    Clarence,  who  is  represented  in  the  preceding 
scene  as  committed  to  the  Tower  before  the  burial  of  king  Henry  VI., 
was  in  fact  not  confined  nor  put  to  death  till  March,  1477-8,  seven  years 
afterwards. 


20  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I, 

Framed  in  the  prodigality  of  nature, 

Young,  valiant,  wise,  and,  no  doubt,  right  royal — 

The  spacious  world  cannot  again  afford. 

And  will  she  yet  abase  her  eyes  on  me, 

That  cropped  the  golden  prime  of  this  sweet  prince, 

And  made  her  widow  to  a  woful  bed  ? 

On  me,  whose  all  not  equals  Edward's  moiety? 

On  me,  that  halt,  and  am  misshapen  thus  ? 

My  dukedom  to  a  beggarly  denier,1 

I  do  mistake  my  person  all  this  while ; 

Upon  my  life,  she  finds,  although  I  cannot, 

Myself  to  be  a  marvellous  proper  man. 

I'll  be  at  charges  for  a  looking-glass ; 

And  entertain  a  score  or  two  of  tailors, 

To  study  fashions  to  adorn  my  body : 

Since  I  am  crept  in  favor  with  myself, 

I  will  maintain  it  with  some  little  cost. 

But,  first,  ril  turn  yon  fellow  in2  his  grave ; 

And  then  return  lamenting  to  my  love. — 

Shine  out,  fair  sun,  till  I  have  bought  a  glass, 

That  I  may  see  my  shadow  as  I  pass.  [Exit. 


SCENE   III.     The  same.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  QUEEN  ELIZABETH,  LORD  RIVERS,  and  LORD 

GREY. 

Riv.   Have  patience,  madam ;  there's  no  doubt  his 

majesty 
Will  soon  recover  his  accustomed  health. 

Grey.    In  that  you  brook  it  ill,  it  makes  him  worse  ; 
Therefore,  for  God's  sake,  entertain  good  comfort, 
And  cheer  his  grace  with  quick  and  merry  words. 

Q.  Eliz.    If  he  were  dead,  what  would  betide  of  me  ? 

Grey.   No  other  harm,  but  loss  of  such  a  lord. 

Q.  Eliz.    The  loss  of  such  a  lord  includes  all  harms. 


1  A  small  coin,  the  twelfth  part  of  a  French  sous. 

2  In  for  into. 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  21 

Grey.    The  Heavens  have  blessed  you  with  a  goodly 

son, 
To  be  your  comforter  when  he  is  gone. 

Q.  Eliz.   Ah,  he  is  young ;  and  his  minority 
Is  put  unto  the  trust  of  Richard  Gloster, 
A  man  that  loves  not  me,  nor  none  of  you. 

Riv.    Is  it  concluded  he  shall  be  protector  ? 

Q.  Eliz.    It  is  determined,  not  concluded  yet ; 
But  so  it  must  be,  if  the  king  miscarry. 

Enter  BUCKINGHAM  and  STANLEY.1 

Grey.    Here   come  the  lords   of  Buckingham  and 
Stanley. 

Buck.    Good  time  of  day  unto  your  royal  grace ! 

Stan.    God  make  your  majesty  joyful  as  you  have 
been ! 

Q.  Eliz.   The  countess  Richmond,2  good  my  lord  of 

Stanley, 

To  your  good  prayer  will  scarcely  say — Amen. 
Yet,  Stanley,  notwithstanding  she's  your  wife, 
And  loves  not  me,  be  you,  good  lord,  assured, 
I  hate  not  you  for  her  proud  arrogance. 

Stan.    I  do  beseech  you,  either  not  believe 
The  envious  slanders  of  her  false  accusers ; 
Or,  if  she  be  accused  on  true  report, 
Bear  with  her  weakness,  which,  I  think,  proceeds 
From  wayward  sickness,  and  no  grounded  malice. 

Q.  Eliz.    Saw  you   the   king   to-day,  my  lord  of 
Stanley  ? 

Stan.   But  now,  the  duke  of  Buckingham,  and  I, 
Are  come  from  visiting  his  majesty. 

1  By  inadvertence,  in  the  old  copies  Derby  is  put  for  Stanley.    The 
person  meant  was  Thomas  lord  Stanley,  lord  steward  of  king  Edward 
the  Fourth's  household.    But  he  was  not  created  earl  of  Derby,  till  after 
the  accession  of  king  Henry  VII.    In  the  fourth  and  fifth  acts  of  this 
play,  he  is  every  where  called  lord  Stanley. 

2  Margaret,  daughter  to  John  Beaufort,  first  duke  of  Somerset.    After 
the  death  of  her  first  husband,  Edmund  Tudor,  earl  of  Richmond,  half- 
brother  to  king  Henry  VI.,  by  whom  she  had  only  one  son,  afterwards 
king  Henry  VII.,  she  married  sir  Henry  Stafford,  uncle  to  Humphrey,  duke 
of  Buckingham. 


22  KING  RICHARD  111.  [ACT  I. 

Q.  Eliz.   What  likelihood  of  his  amendment,  lords  ? 
Buck.    Madam,  good  hope  ;  his  grace  speaks  cheer 
fully. 
Q.  Eliz.    God  grant  him  health  !     Did  you  confer 

with  him  ? 

Buck.    Ay,  madam  ;  he  desires  to  make  atonement 
Between  the  duke  of  Gloster  and  your  brothers, 
And  between  them  and  my  lord  chamberlain ; 
And  sent  to  warn  them  to  his  royal  presence. 

Q.  Eliz.    'Would  all  were  well ! — But  that  will  never 

be; — 
I  fear  our  happiness  is  at  the  height. 

Enter  GLOSTER,  HASTINGS,  and  DORSET. 

Glo.    They  do  me  wrong,  and  I  will  not  endure  it. — 
Who  are  they,  that  complain  unto  the  king, 
That  I,  forsooth,  am  stern,  and  love  them  not  ? 
By  holy  Paul,  they  love  his  grace  but  lightly, 
That  fill  his  ears  with  such  dissensious  rumors. 
Because  I  cannot  flatter,  and  speak  fair, 
Smile  in  men's  faces,  smooth,  deceive,  and  cog, 
Duck  with  French  nods  and  apish  courtesy, 
I  must  be  held  a  rancorous  enemy. 
Cannot  a  plain  man  live,  and  think  no  harm, 
But  thus  his  simple  truth  must  be  abused 
By  silken,  sly,  insinuating  Jacks  ? 

Grey.    To  whom  in  all  this  presence  speaks  your 
grace  ? 

Glo.    To  thee,  that  hast  nor  honesty,  nor  grace. 
When  have  I  injured  thee  ?  when  done  thee  wrong  ? 
Or  thee  ? — or  thee  ? — or  any  of  your  faction  ? 
A  plague  upon  you  all !     His  royal  grace — 
Whom  God  preserve  better  than  you  would  wish ! — 
Cannot  be  quiet  scarce  a  breathing  while, 
But  you  must  trouble  him  with  lewd 1  complaints. 

Q.  Eliz.  Brother  of  Gloster,  you  mistake  the  matter. 
The  king,  of  his  own  royal  disposition, 

i  Lewd  here  signifies  idle,  ungracious. 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  23 

And  not  provoked  by  any  suitor  else ; 
Aiming,  belike,  at  your  interior  hatred, 
That  in  your  outward  action  shows  itself, 
Against  my  children,  brothers,  and  myself, 
Makes  him  to  send;  that  thereby  he  may  gather 
The  ground  of  your  ill  will,  arid  so  remove  it. 

Glo.    I  cannot  tell ; — the  world  is  grown  so  bad, 
That  wrens  may  prey  where  eagles  dare  not  perch : 
Since  every  Jack 1  became  a  gentleman, 
There's  many  a  gentle  person  made  a  Jack. 

Q.  Eliz.    Come,   come,    we    know   your   meaning, 

brother  Gloster ; 

You  envy  my  advancement,  and  my  friends'; 
God  grant  we  never  may  have  need  of  you ! 

Glo.   Meantime,  God  grants  that  we  have  need  of 

you. 

Our  brother  is  imprisoned  by  your  means, 
Myself  disgraced,  and  the  nobility 
Held  in  contempt ;  while  great  promotions 
Are  daily  given,  to  ennoble  those 
That  scarce,  some  two  days  since,  were  worth  a  noble. 

Q.   Eliz.    By  Him,  that  raised  me  to  this  careful 

height, 

From  that  contented  hap  which  I  enjoyed, 
I  never  did  incense  his  majesty 
Against  the  duke  of  Clarence,  but  have  been 
An  earnest  advocate  to  plead  for  him. 
My  lord,  you  do  me  shameful  injury, 
Falsely  to  draw  me  in  these  vile  suspects. 

Glo.    You  may  deny  that  you  were  not  the  cause 
Of  my  lord  Hastings'  late  imprisonment. 

Riv.    She  may,  my  lord  ;  for 

Glo.    She    may,  lord    Rivers? — why,   who    knows 

not  so  ? 

She  may  do  more,  sir,  than  denying  that. 
She  may  help  you  to  many  fair  preferments ; 
And  then  deny  her  aiding  hand  therein, 

*  This  proverbial  expression  at  once  demonstrates  the  origin  of  the 
term  Jack,  so  often  used  by  Shakspeare.  It  means  one  of  the  very  lowest 
class  of  people,  among  whom  this  name  is  most  common  and  familiar. 


24  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

And  lay  those  honors  on  your  high  desert. 

What  may  she  not  ?     She  may, — ay,  marry,  may  she, — 

Riv.    What,  marry,  may  she  ? 

Glo.    What,  marry,  may  she  ?  marry  with  a  king, 
A  bachelor,  a  handsome  stripling  too ; 
I  wis,1  your  grandam  had  a  worser  match. 

Q.  Eliz.   My  lord  of  Gloster,  I  have  too  long  borne 
Your  blunt  upbraidings,  and  your  bitter  scoffs. 
By  Heaven,  I  will  acquaint  his  majesty, 
Of  those  gross  taunts  I  often  have  endured. 
I  had  rather  be  a  country  servant-maid, 
Than  a  great  queen,  with  this  condition — 
To  be  so  baited,  scorned,  and  stormed  at ; 
Small  joy  have  I  in  being  England's  queen. 

Enter  QUEEN  MARGARET,  behind. 

Q.  Mar.    And  lessened  be  that  small,  God,  I  beseech 

thee! 
Thy  honor,  state,  and  seat,  is  due  to  me. 

Glo.   What  ?  threat  you  me  with  telling  of  the  king  ? 
Tell  him,  and  spare  not ;  look,  what  I  have  said 
I  will  avouch,  in  presence  of  the  king : 
I  dare  adventure  to  be  sent  to  the  Tower. 
'Tis  time  to  speak,  my  pains  2  are  quite  forgot. 

Q.  Mar.    Out,  devil !  I  remember  them  too  well. 
Thou  kilPdst  my  husband  Henry  in  the  Tower, 
And  Edward,  my  poor  son,  at  Tewksbury. 

Glo.    Ere  you  were  queen,  ay,  or  your  husband  king, 
I  was  a  packhorse  in  his  great  affairs ; 
A  weeder-out  of  his  proud  adversaries, 
A  liberal  rewarder  of  his  friends. 
To  royalize  his  blood,  I  spilt  mine  own. 

Q.  Mar.   Ay,  and  much  better  blood  than  his,  or 
thine. 

Glo.    In  all  which  time,  you,  and  your  husband  Grey, 
Were  factious  for  the  house  of  Lancaster ; — 
And,  Rivers,  so  were  you. — Was  not  your  husband 

i  I  e.  I  think.  2  Labors. 


SO.  III.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  25 

In  Margaret's  battle  at  Saint  Albans  slain  ? 1 
Let  me  put  in  your  minds,  if  you  forgot, 
What  you  have  been  ere  now,  and  what  you  are ; 
Withal,  what  I  have  been,  and  what  I  am. 

Q.  Mar.    A  murderous  villain,  and  so  still  thou  art. 

Glo.    Poor  Clarence  did  forsake  his  father  Warwick, 
Ay,  and  forswore  himself, — which  Jesu  pardon ! 

Q.  Mar.   Which  God  revenge ! 

Glo.    To  fight  on  Edward's  party,  for  the  crown ; 
And,  for  his  meed,  poor  lord,  he  is  mewed  up. 
I  would  to  God,  my  heart  were  flint,  like  Edward's, 
Or  Edward's  soft  and  pitiful,  like  mine ; 
I  am  too  childish-foolish  for  this  world. 

Q.  Mar.    Hie  thee  to  hell  for  Shame,  and  leave  this 

world, 
Thou  cacodaemon !  there  thy  kingdom  is. 

Riv.   My  lord  of  Gloster,  in  those  busy  days, 
Which  here  you  urge,  to  prove  us  enemies, 
We  followed  then  our  lord,  our  lawful  king; 
So  should  we  you,  if  you  should  be  our  king. 

Glo.    If  I  should  be  ? — I  had  rather  be  a  pedler. 
Far  be  it  from  my  heart,  the  thought  thereof! 

Q.  Eliz.   As  little  joy,  my  lord,  as  you  suppose 
You  should  enjoy,  were  you  this  country's  .king ; 
As  little  joy  you  may  suppose  in  me, 
That  I  enjoy,  being  the  queen  thereof. 

Q.  Mar.    A  little  joy  enjoys  the  queen  thereof; 
For  I  am  she,  and  altogether  joyless. 
I  can  no  longer  hold  me  patient. —  [Advancing. 

Hear  me,  you  wrangling  pirates,  that  fall  out 
In  sharing  that  which  you  have  pilled  2  from  me  : 
Which  of  you  trembles  not,  that  looks  on  me  ? 
If  not,  that,  I  being  queen,  you  bow  like  subjects  ; 
Yet  that,  by  you  deposed,  you  quake  like  rebels  ? — 
Ah,  gentle 3  villain,  do  not  turn  away  ! 

Glo.    Foul,  wrinkled  witch,  what  mak'st  thou  in  my 
sight  ? 

1  See  note  on  King  Henry  VI.,  Part  III.,  Act  iii.  Sc.  2.    Margaret's  lattle 
is  Margaret's  army. 

2  To  pill  is  to  pillage.  3  Gentle  is  here  used  ironically. 

VOL.  v.  4 


26  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  i. 

Q.  Mar.    But  repetition  of  what  thou  hast  marred  ; 
That  will  I  make,  before  I  let  thee  go. 

Glo.    Wert  thou  not  banished  on  pain  of  death  ? 1 

Q.  Mar.    I  was ;  but  I  do  find  more  pain  in  banish 
ment, 

Than  death  can  yield  me  here  by  my  abode. 
A  husband,  and  a  son,  thou  ow'st  to  me, — 
And  thou  a  kingdom ; — all  of  you,  allegiance. 
This  sorrow  that  I  have,  by  right  is  yours ; 
And  all  the  pleasures  you  usurp  are  mine. 

Glo.    The  curse  my  noble  father  laid  on  thee, — 
When  thou  didst  crown  his  warlike  brows  with  paper, 
And  with  thy  scorns  drew'st  rivers  from  his  eyes ; 
And  then,  to  dry  them,  gav'st  the  duke  a  clout, 
Steeped  in  the  faultless  blood  of  pretty  Rutland ; — 
His  curses,  then  from  bitterness  of  soul 
Denounced  against  thee,  are  all  fallen  upon  thee  ; 
And  God,  not  we,  hath  plagued 2  thy  bloody  deed. 

Q.  Eliz.    So  just  is  God,  to  right  the  innocent. 

Hast.    O,  'twas  the  foulest  deed  to  slay  that  babe, 
And  the  most  merciless  that  e'er  was  heard  of. 

Riv.   Tyrants  themselves  wept  when  it  was  reported. 

Dors.    No  man  but  prophesied  revenge  for  it. 

Buck.    Northumberland,  then  present,  wept  to  see  it. 

Q.  Mar.  What !  were  you  snarling  all,  before  I  came, 
Ready  to  catch  each  other  by  the  throat, 
And  turn  you  all  your  hatred  now  on  me ! 
Did  York's  dread  curse  prevail  so  much  with  Heaven, 
That  Henry's  death,  my  lovely  Edward's  death, 
Their  kingdom's  loss,  my  woful  banishment, 
Could  all  but3  answer  for  that  peevish  brat? 

1  Margaret  fled  into  France  after  the  battle  of  Hexham,  in  1464,  and 
Edward  issued  a  proclamation  prohibiting  any  of  his  subjects  from  aiding 
her  return,  or  harboring  her,  should  she  attempt  to  revisit  England.     She 
remained  abroad  till  April,  1471,  when  she  landed  at  Weymouth.     After 
the  battle  of  Tewksbury,  in  May,  1471,  she  was  confined  in  the  Tower, 
Avhere  she  continued  a  prisoner  till  1475,  when  she  was  ransomed  by  her 
father  Regnier,  and  removed  to  France,  where  she  died  in  1482.     So  that 
her  introduction  in  the  present  scene  is  a  mere  poetical  fiction. 

2  To  plague  in  ancient  language  is  to  punish.     Hence  the  scriptural 
term  of  the  plagues  of  Egypt. 

3  But  is  here  used  in  its  exceptive  sense ;  could  all  this  only,  or  nothing 
but  (i.  e.  be  out  or  except]  this  answer  for  the  death  of  that  brat  ? 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  27 

Can  curses  pierce  the  clouds,  and  enter  heaven  ? — 

Why,  then  give  way,  dull  clouds,  to  my  quick  curses  ! — 

Though  not  by  war,  by  surfeit  die  your  king,1 

As  ours  by  murder,  to  make  him  a  king ! 

Edward,  thy  son,  that  now  is  prince  of  Wales, 

For  Edward,  my  son,  that  was  prince  of  Wales, 

Die  in  his  youth,  by  like  untimely  violence ! 

Thyself  a  queen,  for  me  that  was  a  queen, 

Outlive  thy  glory,  like  my  wretched  self! 

Long  mayst  thou  live,  to  wail  thy  children's  loss ; 

And  see  another,  as  I  see  thee  now, 

Decked  in  thy  rights,  as  thou  art  stalled  in  mine ! 

Long  die  thy  happy  days  before  thy  death  ; 

And,  after  many  lengthened  hours  of  grief, 

Die,  neither  mother,  wife,  nor  England's  queen ! — 

Rivers, — and  Dorset, — you  were  standers  by, — 

And  so  wast  thou,  lord  Hastings, — when  my  son 

Was  stabbed  with  bloody  daggers ;  God,  I  pray  him, 

That  none  of  you  may  live  your  natural  age, 

But  by  some  unlooked  accident  cut  off! 

Glo.    Have  done  thy  charm,  thou  hateful,  withered 
hag. 

Q.  Mar.    And  leave  out  thee  ?     Stay,  dog,  for  thou 

shalt  hear  me. 

If  Heaven  have  any  grievous  plague  in  store, 
Exceeding  those  that  I  can  wish  upon  thee, 
O,  let  them  keep  it,  till  thy  sins  be  ripe, 
And  then  hurl  down  their  indignation 
On  thee,  the  troubler  of  the  poor  world's  peace ! 
The  worm  of  conscience  still  begnaw  thy  soul ! 
Thy  friends  suspect  for  traitors  while  thou  liv'st, 
And  take  deep  traitors  for  thy  dearest  friends ! 
No  sleep  close  up  that  deadly  eye  of  thine, 
Unless  it  be  while  some  tormenting  dream 
Affrights  thee  with  a  hell  of  ugly  devils ! 
Thou  elvish-marked,  abortive,  rooting  hog ! 2 

1  Alluding  to  his  luxurious  life. 

2  "  Thou  elvish-marked,  abortive,  rooting  hog."     It  was  an  old  prejudice, 
which  is  not  yet  quite  extinct,  that  those  who  are  defective  or  deformed,  are 
marked  by  nature  as  prone  to  mischief.     She  calls  him  hogj  in  allusion  to 


28  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  I. 

Thou  that  wast  sealed  in  thy  nativity 
The  slave  of  nature,  and  the  son  of  hell ! 
Thou  slander  of  thy  mother's  heavy  womb ! 
Thou  loathed  issue  of  thy  father's  loins ! 
Thou  rag  of  honor !  thou  detested 

Glo.   Margaret! 

Q.  Mar.  Richard ! 

Glo.  Ha ! 

Q.  Mar.  I  call  thee  not. 

Glo.    I  cry  thee  mercy  then  ;  for  I  did  think 
That  thou  hadst  called  me  all  these  bitter  names. 

Q.  Mar.    Why,  so  I  did  ;  but  looked  for  no  reply. 
O,  let  me  make  the  period  to  my  curse. 

Glo.    'Tis  done  by  me  ;  and  ends  in — Margaret. 

Q.  Eliz.    Thus  have  you  breathed  your  curse  against 
yourself. 

Q.  Mar.    Poor  painted  queen,  vain  flourish  of  my 

fortune ! 

Why  strew'st  thou  sugar  on  that  bottled  spider, 
Whose  deadly  web  ensnareth  thee  about? 
Fool,  fool !  thou  whet'st  a  knife  to  kill  thyself. 
The  day  will  come,  that  thou  shalt  wish  for  me 
To  help  thee  curse  this  poisonous,  bunch-backed  toad. 

Hast.    False-boding  woman,  end  thy  frantic  curse  ; 
Lest,  to  thy  harm,  thou  move  our  patience. 

Q.  Mar.    Foul  shame  upon  you  !  you  have  all  moved 
mine. 


his  cognizance,  which  was  a  boar.  "The  expression  (says  Warburton)  is 
fine ;  remembering  her  youngest  son,  she  alludes  to  the  ravage  which 
hogs  make  with  the  finest  flowers  in  gardens ;  and  intimating  that  Eliz 
abeth  was  to  expect  no  other  treatment  for  her  sons."  The  rhyme  for 
which  Collingborne  was  executed,  as  given  by  Heywood  in  his  Metrical 
History  of  King  Edward  IV.,  will  illustrate  this : — 

"  The  cat,  the  rat,  and  Lovell  our  dog, 
Doe  rule  all  England  under  a  hog. 
The  crooke  backt  boore  the  way  hath  found 
To  root  our  roses  from  our  ground, 
Both  flower  and  bud  will  he  confound, 
Till  king  of  beasts  the  swine  be  crowned : 
And  then  the  dog,  the  cat,  and  rat 
Shall  in  his  trough  feed  and  be  fat." 

The  persons  aimed  at  in  this  rhyme,  were  the  king,  Catesby,  Ratcliff,  and 
Lovell. 


SC.  TIL]  KING  RICHARD  III.  29 

Riv.    Were  you  well  served,  you  would  be  taught 
your  duty. 

Q.  Mar.    To  serve  me  well,  you  all  should  do  me 

duty, 

Teach  me  to  be  your  queen,  and  you  my  subjects. 
O,  serve  me  well,  and  teach  yourselves  that  duty. 

Dors.    Dispute  not  with  her,  she  is  lunatic. 

Q.  Mar.    Peace,  master  marquis,  you  are  malapert. 
Your  fire-new  stamp  of  honor  is  scarce  current;1 
O  that  your  young  nobility  could  judge, 
What  'twere  to  lose  it,  and  be  miserable ! 
They  that  stand  high,  have  many  blasts  to  shake  them  ; 
And,  if  they  fall,  they  dash  themselves  to  pieces. 

Glo.    Good    counsel,    marry ; — learn    it,    learn    it, 
marquis. 

Dors.    It  touches  you,  my  lord,  as  much  as  me. 

Glo.    Ay,  and  much  more.    But  I  was  born  so  high, 
Our  aiery2  buildeth  in  the  cedar's  top, 
And  dallies  with  the  wind,  and  scorns  the  sun. 

Q.  Mar.    And  turns  the  sun  to  shade  ! — alas  !  alas ! — 
Witness  my  son,  now  in  the  shade  of  death  ; 
Whose  bright,  outshining  beams  thy  cloudy  wrath 
Hath  in  eternal  darkness  folded  up. 
Your  aiery  buildeth  in  our  aiery's  nest. — 
O,  God,  that  seest  it,  do  not  suffer  it ; 
As  it  was  won  with  blood,  lost  be  it  so ! 

Buck.    Peace,  peace,  for  shame,  if  not  for  charity. 

Q.  Mar.    Urge  neither  charity  nor  shame  to  me ; 
Uncharitably  with  me  have  you  dealt, 
And  shamefully  by  you  my  hopes  are  butchered. 
My  charity  is  outrage,  life  my  shame, — 
And  in  my  shame  still  live  my  sorrow's  rage ! 

Buck.    Have  done,  have  done. 

Q.  Mar.    O,  princely  Buckingham,  I  kiss  thy  hand, 
In  sign  of  league  and  amity  with  thee. 

1  He  was  created  marquis  of  Dorset  in  1476.    The  scene  is  laid  in 
1477-8. 

2  Jliery  for  brood.    This  word  properly  signified  a  brood  of  eagles,  or 
hawks ;  though  in  later  times  often  used  for  the  nest  of  those  birds  of  prey. 
Its  etymology  is  from  eyren,  eggs ;  and  we  accordingly  sometimes  find  it 
spelled  eyry. 


30  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  I. 

Now  fair  befall  thee,  and  thy  noble  house  ! 
Thy  garments  are  not  spotted  with  our  blood, 
Nor  thou  within  the  compass  of  my  curse. 

Buck.   Nor  no  one  here  ;  for  curses  never  pass 
The  lips  of  those  that  breathe  them  in  the  air. 

Q.  Mar.    I'll  not  believe  but  they  ascend  the  sky, 
And  there  awake  God's  gentle-sleeping  peace. 
O,  Buckingham,  beware  of  yonder  dog  ; 
Look,  when  he  fawns,  he  bites  ;  and,  when  he  bites, 
His  venom  tooth  will  rankle  to  the  death. 
Have  not  to  do  with  him,  beware  of  him  ; 
Sin,  death,  and  hell  have  set  their  marks  on  him  ; 
And  all  their  ministers  attend  on  him. 

Glo.    What  doth  she  say,  my  lord  of  Buckingham  ? 

Buck.   Nothing  that  I  respect,  my  gracious  lord. 

Q.  Mar.   What,  dost  thou  scorn  me  for  my  gentle 

counsel  ? 

And  soothe  the  devil  that  I  warn  thee  from  ? 
O,  but  remember  this  another  day, 
When  he  shall  split  thy  very  heart  with  sorrow  ; 
And  say,  poor  Margaret  was  a  prophetess.  — 
Live  each  of  you  the  subjects  to  his  hate, 
And  he  to  yours,  and  all  of  you  to  God's?1  [Exit. 

Hast.    My  hair  doth  stand  on  end  to  hear  her  curses. 

Riv.   And   so   doth   mine  ;    I  muse,  why   she's   at 
liberty. 

Glo.    I  cannot  blame  her,  by  God's  holy  mother  ; 
She  hath  had  too  much  wrong,  and  I  repent 
My  part  thereof,  that  I  have  done  to  her. 

Q.  Eliz.    I  never  did  her  any,  to  my  knowledge. 

Glo.   Yet  you  have  all  the  vantage  of  her  wrong. 
I  was  too  hot  to  do  somebody  good, 
That  is  too  cold  in  thinking  of  it  now. 
Marry,  as  for  Clarence,  he  is  well  repaid. 


i  It  is  evident,  from  the  conduct  of  Shakspeare,  that  the  house  of  Tudor 
retained  all  their  Lancastrian  prejudices,  even  in  the  reign  of  queen  Eliz 
abeth.  He  seems  to  deduce  the  woes  of  the  house  of  York  from  the  curses 
which  queen  Margaret  had  ranted  against  them  ;  and  he  could  not  give 
that  weight  to  her  curses,  without  supposing  a  right  in  her  to  utter  them.  — 
Wdpole. 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  31 

He  is  franked1  up  to  fatting  for  his  pains ; — 
God  pardon  them  that  are  the  cause  thereof! 

Riv.  A  virtuous  and  a  Christianlike  conclusion,  i 

To  pray  for  them  that  have  done  scath  to  us. 

Glo.    So  do  I  ever,  being  well  advised  ; — 
For  had  I  cursed  now,  I  had  cursed  myself.        [Aside. 

Enter  GATES  BY. 

Gates.   Madam,  his  majesty  doth  call  for  you, — 
And  for  your  grace, — and  you,  my  noble  lords. 

Q.  Eliz.    Catesby,  I  come. — Lords,  will  you  go  with 
me  ? 

Riv.   Madam,  we  will  attend  upon  your  grace. 

[Exeunt  all  but  GLOSTER. 

Glo.    I  do  the  wrong,  and  first  begin  to  brawl. 
The  secret  mischiefs  that  I  set  abroach, 
I  lay  unto  the  grievous  charge  of  others. 
Clarence, — whom  I,  indeed,  have  laid  in  darkness, 
I  do  beweep  to  many  simple  gulls ; 
Namely,  to  Stanley,  Hastings,  Buckingham  ; 
And  tell  them — 'tis  the  queen  and  her  allies, 
That  stir  the  king  against  the  duke  my  brother. 
Now  they  believe  it ;   and  withal  whet  me 
To  be  revenged  on  Rivers,  Vaughan,  Grey. 
Bat  then  I  sigh,  and  with  a  piece  of  Scripture, 
Tell  them — that  God  bids  us  do  good  for  evil ; 
And  thus  I  clothe  my  naked  villany 
With  old  odd  ends,  stolen  forth  of  holy  writ ; 
And  seem  a  saint,  when  most  I  play  the  devil. 

Enter  Two  Murderers. 

But  soft,  here  come  my  executioners. 

How  now,  my  hardy,  stout,  resolved  mates  ? 

Are  you  now  going  to  despatch  this  thing  ? 

1  Murd.   We  are,  my  lord ;  and  come  to  have  the 

warrant, 
That  we  may  be  admitted  where  he  is. 


1  A  frank  is  a  pen  or  coop  in  which  hogs  and  other  animals  were  con 
fined  while  fatting.    To/ranc/i,  or/ranA:,  was  to  cram,  to  fatten. 


32  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

Glo.    Well  thought  upon ;  I  have  it  here  about  me  ; 

[Gives  the  warrant. 

When  you  have  done,  repair  to  Crosby-place. 
But,  sirs,  be  sudden  in  the  execution, 
Withal  obdurate,  do  not  hear  him  plead ; 
For  Clarence  is  well  spoken,  and,  perhaps, 
May  move  your  hearts  to  pity,  if  you  mark  him. 

1  Murd.    Tut,  tut,  my  lord,  we  will  riot  stand  to 

prate, 

Talkers  are  no  good  doers ;  be  assured, 
We  go  to  use  our  hands,  and  not  our  tongues. 

Glo.  Your  eyes  drop  mill-stones,   when  fools'  eyes 

drop  tears.1 

I  like  you,  lads ; — about  your  business  straight. 
Go,  go,  despatch. 

1  Murd.  We  will,  my  noble  lord.    [Exeunt. 


SCENE   IV.     London.     A  Room  in  the  Tower. 

Enter  CLARENCE  and  BRAKENBURY. 

Brak.   Why  looks  your  grace  so  heavily  to-day  ? 

Clar.    O,  I  have  passed  a  miserable  night, 
So  full  of  fearful  dreams,  of  ugly  sights, 
That,  as  I  am  a  Christian  faithful  man, 
I  would  not  spend  another  such  a  night, 
Though  'twere  to  buy  a  world  of  happy  days ; 
So  full  of  dismal  terror  was  the  time. 

Brak.   What  was  your  dream,  my  lord  ?    I  pray  you, 
tell  me. 

Clar.   Methought  that  I  had  broken  from  the  Tower, 
And  was  embarked  to  cross  to  Burgundy ; 2 

1  This  appears  to  have  been  a  proverbial  saying.    It  occurs  again  in 
the  tragedy  of  Csesar  and  Pompey,  1607: — 

"Men's  eyes  must  mill-stones  drop  when  fools  shed  tears." 

2  Clarence  was  desirous  to  assist  his  sister  Margaret  against  the  French 
king,  who  invaded  her  jointure  lands  after  the  death  of  her  husband, 
Charles  duke  of  Burgundy,  who  was  killed  at  Nancy,  in  January,  1476-7. 
Isabel,  the  wife  of  Clarence,  being  then  dead  (poisoned  by  the  duke  of 
Gloucester,  as  it  has  been  conjectured),  he  wished  to  have  married  Mary, 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  33 

And,  in  my  company,  my  brother  Gloster ; 

Who  from  my  cabin  tempted  me  to  walk 

Upon  the  hatches  ;  thence  we  looked  toward  England, 

And  cited  up  a  thousand  heavy  times, 

During  the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster, 

That  had  befallen  us.     As  we  paced  along 

Upon  the  giddy  footing  of  the  hatches, 

Methought  that  Gloster  stumbled  ;  and,  in  falling, 

'Struck  me,  that  thought  to  stay  him,  overboard, 

Into  the  tumbling  billows  of  the  main. 

O  Lord  !  methought  what  pain  it  was  to  drown  ! 

What  dreadful  noise  of  water  in  mine  ears  ! 

What  sights  of  ugly  death  within  mkie  eyes ! 

Methought  I  saw  a  thousand  fearful  wrecks ; 

A  thousand  men,  that  fishes  gnawed  upon ; 

Wedges  of  gold,  great  anchors,  heaps  of  pearl, 

Inestimable  stones,  unvalued  l  jewels, 

All  scattered  in  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

Some  lay  in  dead  men's  skulls ;  and  in  those  holes 

Where  eyes  did  once  inhabit,  there  were  crept 

(As  'twere  in  scorn  of  eyes)  reflecting  gems, 

That  wooed  the  slimy  bottom  of  the  deep, 

And  mocked  the  dead  bones  that  lay  scattered  by. 

Brak.    Had  you  such  leisure  in  the  time  of  death, 
To  gaze  upon  these  secrets  of  the  deep  ? 

Clar.    Methought  I  had ;  and  often  did  I  strive 
To  yield  the  ghost ;  but  still  the  envious  flood 
Kept  in  my  soul,  and  would  not  let  it  forth 
To  seek  the  empty,  vast,2  and  wandering  air ; 
But  smothered  it  within  my  panting  bulk,3 
Which  almost  burst  to  belch  it  in  the  sea. 

Brak.    Awaked  you  not  with  this  sore  agony  ? 

Clar.    O,  no,  my  dream  was  lengthened  after  life  ; 

the  daughter  and  heir  of  the  duke  of  Burgundy ;  but  the  match  was  op 
posed  by  Edward,  who  hoped  to  have  obtained  her  for  his  brother-in-law, 
lord  Rivers ;  and  this  circumstance  has  been  suggested  as  the  principal 
cause  of  the  breach  between  Edward  and  Clarence.  Mary  of  Burgundy, 
however,  chose  a  husband  for  herself,  having  married,  in  1477,  Maximilian, 
son  of  the  emperor  Frederic. 

1  Unvalued  for  invaluable. 

2  Vast  is  waste,  desolate. 

3  Bulk,  i.  e.  breast. 

VOL.  V.  5 


34  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

O,  then  began  the  tempest  to  my  soul ! 
I  passed,  methought,  the  melancholy  flood, 
With  that  grim  ferryman  which  poets  write  of, 
Unto  the  kingdom  of  perpetual  night. 
The  first  that  there  did  greet  my  stranger  soul, 
Was  my  great  father-in-law,  renowned  Warwick ; 
Who  cried  aloud, — What  scourge  for  perjury 
Can  this  dark  monarchy  afford  false  Clarence  ? 
And  so  he  vanished.     Then  came  wandering  by 
A  shadow  like  an  angel,  with  bright  hair 
Dabbled  in  blood,  and  he  shrieked  out  aloud, — 
Clarence  is  come, — false,  fleeting,1  perjured  Clarence, 
That  stabbed  me  in  the  field  by  Tewksbury ; — 
Seize  on  him,  furies,  take  him  to  your  torments  ! 
With  that,  methought  a  legion  of  foul  fiends 
Environed  me,  and  howled  in  mine  ears 
Such  hideous  cries,  that,  with  the  very  noise, 
I  trembling  waked,  and,  for  a  season  after, 
Could  not  believe  but  that  I  was  in  hell ; 
Such  terrible  impression  made  my  dream. 

Brak.   No  marvel,  lord,  though  it  affrighted  you  ! 
I  am  afraid,  methinks,  to  hear  you  tell  it. 

Clar.    O,  Brakenbury,  I  have  done  these  things— 
That  now  give  evidence  against  my  soul — 
For  Edward's  sake ;  and,  see,  how  he  requites  me ! 

0  God  !  if  my  deep  prayers  cannot  appease  thee, 
But  thou  wilt  be  avenged  on  my  misdeeds, 

Yet  execute  thy  wrath  on  me  alone ; 

O,  spare  my  guiltless  wife,2  and  my  poor  children. — 

1  pray  thee,  gentle  keeper,  stay  by  me ; 
My  soul  is  heavy,  and  I  fain  would  sleep. 

Brak.    I  will,  my  lord ;  God  give  your  grace  good 
rest ! — 

[CLARENCE  reposes  himself  on  a  chair. 
Sorrow  breaks  seasons  and  reposing  hours, 
Makes  the  night  morning,  and  the  noontide  night. 

1  Fleeting  or  flitting,  in  old  language,  was  used  for  uncertain,  incon 
stant,  fluctuating. 

2  The  wife  of  Clarence  died  before  he  was  apprehended  and  confined 
in  the  Tower. 


SC    IV.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  35 

Princes  have  but  their  titles  for  their  glories, 
An  outward  honor  for  an  inward  toil ; 
And,  for  unfelt  imaginations, 
They  often  feel  a  world  of  restless  cares  ; l 
So  that,  between  their  titles,  and  low  name, 
There's  nothing  differs  but  the  outward  fame. 

Enter  the  Two  Murderers. 

1  Murd.   Ho !  who's  here  ? 

Brak.   What  wouldst  thou,  fellow  ?  and  how  cam'st 
thou  hither? 

1  Murd.    I  would  speak  with  Clarence,  and  I  came 
hither  on  my  legs. 

Brak.   What,  so  brief? 

2  Murd.   O,  sir,  'tis  better  to  be  brief  than  tedious. — 
Let  him  see  our  commission ;  talk  no  more. 

[A  paper  is  delivered  to  BRAKENBURY,  who 

reads  it. 

Brak.    I  am,  in  this,  commanded  to  deliver 
The  noble  duke  of  Clarence  to  your  hands ; 
I  will  not  reason  what  is  meant  hereby, 
Because  I  will  be  guiltless  of  the  meaning. 
Here  are  the  keys ; — there  sits  the  duke  asleep. 
I'll  to  the  king ;  and  signify  to  him, 
That  thus  I  have  resigned  to  you  my  charge. 

1  Murd.   You  may,  sir ;  'tis  a  point  of  wisdom. 
Fare  you  well.  [Exit  BRAKENBURY. 

2  Murd.   What,  shall  we  stab  him  as  he  sleeps  ? 

1  Murd.   No ;  he'll  say,  'twas  done  cowardly,  when 
he  wakes. 

2  Murd.  When  he  wakes !  why,  fool,  he  shall  never 
wake  until  the  great  judgment  day. 

1  Murd.     Why,  then   he'll   say,  we   stabbed   him 
sleeping. 

2  Murd.    The  urging  of  that  word,  judgment,  hath 
bred  a  kind  of  remorse  in  me. 

1  Murd.   What  ?  art  thou  afraid  ? 

1  They  often  suffer  real  miseries  for  imaginary  and  unreal  gratifications. 


36  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

2  Murd.  Not  to  kill  him,  having  a  warrant  for  it , 
but  to  be  damned  for  killing  him,  from  the  which  no 
warrant  can  defend  me. 

1  Murd.    I  thought  thou  hadst  been  resolute. 

2  Murd.    So  I  am,  to  let  him  live. 

1  Murd.   I'll  back  to  the  duke  of  Gloster,  and  tell 
him  so. 

2  Murd.   Nay,  I  pr'ythee,  stay  a  little.     I  hope  this 
holy  humor  of  mine  will  change  ;  it  was  wont  to  hold 
me  but  while  one  would  tell  twenty. 

1  Murd.    How  dost  thou  feel  thyself  now  ? 

2  Murd.    'Faith,  some  certain  dregs  of  conscience 
are  yet  within  me. 

1  Murd.   Remember  our  reward,  when  the  deed's 
done. 

2  Murd.    Come,  he  dies ;  I  had  forgot  the  reward. 

1  Murd.   Where's  thy  conscience  now  ? 

2  Murd.    In  the  duke  of  Gloster 's  purse. 

1  Murd.    So,  when  he  opens  his  purse  to  give  us  our 
reward,  thy  conscience  flies  out. 

2  Murd.    'Tis  no  matter  ;  let  it  go ;  there's  few,  or 
none,  will  entertain  it. 

1  Murd.   What  if  it  come  to  thee  again  ? 

2  Murd.    I'll  not  meddle  with  it ;  it  is  a  dangerous 
thing ;  it  makes  a  man  a  coward ;  a  man  cannot  steal, 
but  it   accuseth  him ;    a  man  cannot  swear,  but   it 
checks  him ;  a  man  cannot  lie  with  his  neighbor's  wife, 
but  it  detects  him.     'Tis  a  blushing,  shame-faced  spirit, 
that  mutinies  in  a  man's  bosom ;  it  fills  one  full  of  ob 
stacles  ;  it  made  me  once  restore  a  purse  of  gold  that 
by  chance  I  found ;  it  beggars  any  man  that  keeps  it ; 
it  is  turned  out  of  all  towns  and  cities  for  a  dangerous 
thing ;  and  every  man  that  means  to  live  well,  endeav 
ors  to  trust  to  himself,  and  live  without  it. 

1  Murd.    'Zounds,  it  is  even  now  at  my  elbow,  per 
suading  me  not  to  kill  the  duke. 

2  Murd.    Take  the  devil  in  thy  mind,  and  believe 
him  not ;  he  would  insinuate  with  thee,  but  to  make 
thee  sigh. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  37 

1  Murd.  I   am   strong-framed;    he  cannot  prevail 
with  me. 

2  Murd.  Spoke  like  a  tall1  fellow,  that  respects  his 
reputation.  Come,  shall  we  fall  to  work  ? 

1  Murd.   Take  him  over  the  costard 2  with  the  hilts 
of  thy  sword,  and  then   throw  him  into  the  malmsey 
butt,  in  the  next  room. 

2  Murd.   O,  excellent  devise  !  and  make  a  sop  of  him. 

1  Murd.    Soft !  he  wakes. 

2  Murd.    Strike. 

1  Murd.   No,  we'll  reason  with  him. 

Clar.  Where  art  thou,  keeper?  give  me  a  cup  of  wine. 

1  Murd.  You  shall  have  wine  enough,  my  lord,  anon. 

Clar.    In  God's  name,  what  art  thou  ? 

1  Murd.   A  man,  as  you  are. 

Clar.   But  not,  as  I  am,  royal. 

1  Murd.   Nor  you,  as  we  are,  loyal. 

Clar.  Thy  voice  is  thunder,  but  thy  looks  are  humble. 

1  Murd.   My  voice  is  now  the  king's,  my  looks, 
mine  own. 

Clar.   How  darkly,  and  how  deadly  dost  thou  speak ! 
Your  eyes  do  menace  me.     Why  look  you  pale  ? 
Who  sent  you  hither  ?     Wherefore  do  you  come  ? 

Both  Murd.   To,  to,  to, 

Clar.    To  murder  me  ? 

Both  Murd.   Ay,  ay. 

Clar.    You  scarcely  have  the  hearts  to  tell  me  so, 
And  therefore  cannot  have  the  hearts  to  do  it. 
Wherein,  my  friends,  have  I  offended  you  ? 

1  Murd.    Offended  us  you  have  not,  but  the  king. 
Clar.    I  shall  be  reconciled  to  him  again. 

2  Murd.   Never,  my  lord ;  therefore  prepare  to  die. 
Clar.  Are  you  called  forth  from  out  a  world  of  men, 

To  slay  the  innocent  ?     What  is  my  offence  ? 
Where  is  the  evidence  that  doth  accuse  me  ? 
What  lawful  quest3  have  given  their  verdict  up 

i  i.  e.  a  bold,  courageous  fellow.  2  Head. 

3  Quest  was  the  term  for  a  jury.  "  A  quest  of  twelve  men,  Duodecim 
viratus." — Baret. 

Shakspeare  has  followed  the  current  tale  of  his  own  time.  But  the 
truth  is,  that  Clarence  was  tried  and  found  guilty  by  his  peers,  and  a  bill 


38  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  I 

Unto  the  frowning  judge  ?  or  who  pronounced 
The  bitter  sentence  of  poor  Clarence'  death  ? 
Before  I  be  convict  by  course  of  law, 
To  threaten  me  with  death  is  most  unlawful. 
I  charge  you,  as  you  hope  to  have  redemption 
By  Christ's  dear  blood,  shed  for  our  grievous  sins, 
That  you  depart  and  lay  no  hands  on  me. 
The  deed  you  undertake  is  damnable. 

1  Murd.   What  we  will  do,  we  do  upon  command. 

2  Murd.    And  he,  that  hath  commanded,  is  our  king. 
Clar.   Erroneous  vassal !  the  great  King  of  kings 

Hath  in  the  table  of  his  law  commanded 

That  thou  shalt  do  no  murder.     Wilt  thou  then 

Spurn  at  his  edict,  and  fulfil  a  man's  ? 

Take  heed ;  for  he  holds  vengeance  in  his  hand, 

To  hurl  upon  their  heads  that  break  his  law. 

2  Murd.   And  that  same  vengeance  doth  he  hurl  on 

thee, 

For  false  forswearing,  and  for  murder  too. 
Thou  didst  receive  the  sacrament  to  fight 
In  quarrel  of  the  house  of  Lancaster. 

1  Murd.    And,  like  a  traitor  to  the  name  of  God, 
Didst  break  that  vow  ;  and,  with  thy  treacherous  blade, 
Unrip'dst  the  bowels  of  thy  sovereign's  son. 

2  Murd.   Whom  thou  wast  sworn  to  cherish  and 

defend. 

1  Murd.    How  canst  thou  urge  God's  dreadful  law 

to  us, 
When  thou  hast  broke  it  in  such  dear  degree  ? 

Clar.   Alas !  for  whose  sake  did  I  that  ill  deed  ? 
For  Edward,  for  my  brother,  for  his  sake. 
He  sends  you  not  to  murder  me  for  this ; 
For  in  that  sin  he  is  as  deep  as  I. 
If  God  will  be  avenged  for  the  deed, 
O,  know  you,  that  he  doth  it  publicly ; 

of  attainder  was  afterwards  passed  against  him.  According  to  sir  Thomas 
More,  his  death  was  commanded  by  Edward  ;  but  he  does  not  assert  that 
the  duke  of  Gloster  was  the  instrument.  Polydore  Virgil  says,  though  he 
talked  with  several  persons  who  lived  at  the  time,  he  never  could  get  any 
certain  account  of  the  motives  that  induced  Edward  to  put  his  brother  to 
death. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  39 

Take  not  the  quarrel  from  his  powerful  arm ; 
He  needs  no  indirect  nor  lawless  course. 
To  cut  off  those  that  have  offended  him. 

1  Murd.    Who  made  thee  then  a  bloody  minister, 
When  gallant  springing,  brave  Plantagenet,1 
That  princely  novice,2  was  struck  dead  by  thee  ? 

Clar.    My  brother's  love,  the  devil,  and  my  rage. 

1  Murd.    Thy  brother's  love,  our  duty,  and  thy  fault, 
Provoke  us  hither  now  to  slaughter  thee. 

o 

Clar.    If  you  do  love  my  brother,  hate  not  me ; 
1  am  his  brother,  and  1  love  him  well. 
If  you  are  hired  for  meed,  go  back  again, 
And  I  will  send  you  to  my  brother  Gloster; 
Who  shall  reward  you  better  for  my  life, 
Than  Edward  will  for  tidings  of  my  death. 

2  Murd.     You  are  deceived  ;  your  brother  Gloster 

hates  you.3 

Clar.    O,  no  ;  he  loves  me,  and  he  holds  me  dear. 
Go  you  to  him  from  me. 

Both  Murd.  Aye,  so  we  will. 

Clar.    Tell  him,  when  that  our  princely  father  York 
Blessed  his  three  sons  with  his  victorious  arm, 
And  charged  us  from  his  soul  to  love  each  other, 
He  little  thought  of  this  divided  friendship. 
Bid  Gloster  think  on  this,  and  he  will  weep. 

1  Murd.   Ay,  mill-stones  ;  as  he  lessoned  us  to  weep. 

Clar.    O,  do  not  slander  him,  for  he  is  kind. 

1  Murd.    Right,   as  snow  in   harvest. — Come,  you 

deceive  yourself; 
'Tis  he  that  sends  us  to  destroy  you  here. 

Clar.    It  cannot  be  ;  for  he  bewept  my  fortune, 
And  hugged  me  in  his  arms,  and  swore,  with  sobs, 
That  he  would  labor  my  delivery. 


1  Blooming  Plantagenet,  a  prince  in  the  spring  of  life. 

2  Youth,  one  yet  new  to  the  world. 

3  Walpole  rightly  suggested,  from  the  Chronicle  of  Croyland,  that  the 
true  cause  of  Gloster's  hatred  to  Clarence  was,  that  Clarence  was  unwilling 
to  share  with  his  brother  that  moiety  of  the  estate  of  the  great  earl  of 
Warwick,  to  which  Gloster  became  entitled  on  his  marriage  with  the 
younger  sister  of  the  duchess  of  Clarence,  lady  Anne  Neville,  who  had 
been  betrothed  to  Edward  prince  of  Wales. 


40  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  I. 

1  Murd.   Why,  so  he  doth,  when  he  delivers  you 
From  this  earth's  thraldom  to  the  joys  of  heaven. 

2  Murd.   Make  peace  with  God,  for  you  must  die, 

my  lord. 

Clar.   Hast  thou  that  holy  feeling  in  thy  soul, 
To  counsel  me  to  make  my  peace  with  God, 
And  art  thou  yet  to  thy  own  soul  so  blind, 
That  thou  wilt  war  with  God,  by  murdering  me  ? — 
Ah,  sirs,  consider,  he  that  set  you  on 
To  do  this  deed,  will  hate  you  for  the  deed. 

2  Murd.   What  shall  we  do  ? 

Clar.  Relent,  and  save  your  souls. 

1  Murd.    Relent !  'tis  cowardly,  and  womanish. 
Clar.    Not  to  relent,  is  beastly,  savage,  devilish. 

Which  of  you,  if  you  were  a  prince's  son, 

Being  pent  from  liberty,  as  I  am  now, 

If  two  such  murderers  as  yourselves  came  to  you, 

Would  not  entreat  for  life  ? — 

My  friend,  I  spy  some  pity  in  thy  looks ; 

O,  if  thine  eye  be  not  a  flatterer, 

Come  thou  on  my  side,  and  entreat  for  me, 

As  you  would  beg,  were  you  in  my  distress. 

A  begging  prince  what  beggar  pities  not  ? 

2  Murd.    Look  behind  you,  my  lord. 

1  Murd.    Take  that,  and  that ;  if  all  this  will  not  do, 

[Stabs  him. 
I'll  drown  you  in  the  malmsey-butt  within. 

[Exit,  with  the  body. 

2  Murd.  A  bloody  deed,  and  desperately  despatched ! 
How  fain,  like  Pilate,  would  I  wash  my  hands 

Of  this  most  grievous,  guilty  murder  done  ! 

Re-enter  first  Murderer. 

1  Murd.    How  now  ?  what  mean'st  thou,  that  thou 

help'st  me  not  ? 

By  Heaven,  the  duke  shall  know  how  slack  you  have 
been. 

2  Murd.    I  would  he  knew  that  I  had  saved  his 

brother ! 


SC.  I.]  KING  RICHARD   ill.  41 

Take  thou  the  fee,  and  tell  him  what  I  say ; 

For  1  repent  me  that  the  duke  is  slain.  [Exit. 

I  Murd.    So  do  not  I ;  go,  coward,  as  thou  art. — 
Well,  I'll  go  hide  the  body  in  some  hole, 
Till  that  the  duke  give  order  for  his  burial ; 
And  when  I  have  my  meed,  I  will  away ; 
For  this  will  out,  and  then  I  must  not  stay.         [Exit. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE    I.     London.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  KING  EDWARD,  (led  in  sick,)  QUEEN  ELIZABETH, 
DORSET,  RIVERS,  HASTINGS,  BUCKINGHAM,  GREY, 
and  others. 

K.  Edw.   Why,  so ; — now  have  I  done  a  good  day's 

work ; — 

Y'ou  peers,  continue  this  united  league. 
I  every  day  expect  an  embassage 
From  my  Redeemer  to  redeem  me  hence ; 
And  now  in  peace  my  soul  shall  part  to  heaven, 
Since  I  have  made  my  friends  at  peace  on  earth. 
Rivers,  and  Hastings,  take  each  other's  hand ; 
Dissemble  not  your  hatred,1  swear  your  love. 

Riv.   By  Heaven,  my  soul  is  purged  from  grudging 

hate  ; 
And  with  my  hand  I  seal  my  true  heart's  love. 

Hast.    So  thrive  I,  as  I  truly  swear  the  like ! 

K.  Edw.  Take  heed,  you  dally  not  before  your  king, 
Lest  he  that  is  the  supreme  King  of  kings, 
Confound  your  hidden  falsehood,  and  award 
Either  of  you  to  be  the  other's  end. 

Hast.    So  prosper  I,  as  I  swear  perfect  love  ! 

i  i.  e.  do  not  merely  cloak  and  conceal  your  ill-will  to  each  other,  but 
eradicate  it  altogether  from  your  bosoms. 

VOL.  V.  6 


42  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  II. 

Riv.    And  I,  as  I  love  Hastings  with  my  heart ! 

K.  Edw.   Madam,  yourself  are  not  exempt  in  this, — 
Nor  your  son  Dorset, — Buckingham,  nor  you ; — 
You  have  been  factious  one  against  the  other. 
Wife,  love  lord  Hastings  ;  let  him  kiss  your  hand  ; 
And  what  you  do,  do  it  unfeignedly. 

Q.  Eliz.    There,  Hastings ; — I  will  never  more  re 
member 
Our  former  hatred,  so  thrive  I,  and  mine ! 

K.    Edw.    Dorset,    embrace    him, — Hastings,    love 
lord  marquis. 

Dor.    This  interchange  of  love,  I  here  protest, 
Upon  my  part  shall  be  inviolable. 

Hast.    And  so  swear  I.  [Embraces  DORSET. 

K.  Edw.    Now,  princely  Buckingham,  seal  thou  this 

league 

With  thy  embracements  to  rny  wife's  allies, 
And  make  me  happy  in  your  unity. 

Buck.  Whenever  Buckingham  doth  turn  his  hate 
Upon  your  grace,  [To  the  Queen.']  but  with  all  duteous 

love 

Doth  cherish  you,  and  yours,  God  punish  me 
With  hate  in  those  where  I  expect  most  love ! 
When  I  have  most  need  to  employ  a  friend, 
And  most  assured  that  he  is  a  friend, 
Deep,  hollow,  treacherous,  and  full  of  guile, 
Be  he  unto  me  !    This  do  I  beg  of  Heaven, 
When  I  am  cold  in  love  to  you,  or  yours. 

[Embracing  RIVERS,  &c. 

K.  Edw.    A  pleasing  cordial,  princely  Buckingham, 
Is  this  thy  vow  unto  my  sickly  heart. 
There  wanteth  now  our  brother  Gloster  here, 
To  make  the  blessed  period  of  this  peace. 

Buck.    And,  in  good   time,  here  comes  the  noble 
duke. 

Enter  GLOSTER. 

Glo.    Good-morrow    to    my   sovereign    king,    and 

queen ; 
And,  princely  peers,  a  happy  time  of  day! 


SC.  I.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  43 

K.  Edw.  Happy,  indeed,  as  we  have  spent  the  day. — 
Brother,  we  have  done  deeds  of  charity  ; 
Made  peace  of  enmity,  fair  love  of  hate, 
Between  these  swelling,  wrong-incensed  peers. 

Glo.    A  blessed  labor,  my  most  sovereign  liege. — 
Among  this  princely  heap,  if  any  here, 
By  false  intelligence,  or  wrong  surmise, 
Hold  me  a  foe  ; 

If  I  unwittingly,  or  in  my  rage, 
Have  aught  committed  that  is  hardly  borne 
By  any  in  this  presence,  I  desire 
To  reconcile  me  to  his  friendly  peace  : 
'Tis  death  to  me  to  be  at  enmity ; 
I  hate  it,  and  desire  all  good  men's  love. — 
First,  madam,  I  entreat  true  peace  of  you, 
Which  I  will  purchase  with  my  duteous  service ; — 
Of  you,  my  noble  cousin  Buckingham, 
If  ever  any  grudge  were  lodged  between  us  ; — 
Of  you,  lord  Rivers,  and  lord  Grey,  of  you, — 
That  all  without  desert  have  frowned  on  me ; — 
Dukes,  earls,  lords,  gentlemen ;  indeed,  of  all. 
I  do  not  know  that  Englishman  alive, 
With  whom  my  soul  is  any  jot  at  odds, 
More  than  the  infant  that  is  born  to-night ; 
I  thank  my  God  for  my  humility. 

Q.  Eliz.    A  holiday  shall  this  be  kept  hereafter : — 
I  would  to  God  all  strifes  were  well  compounded. — 
My  sovereign  lord,  I  do  beseech  your  highness 
To  take  our  brother  Clarence  to  your  grace. 

Glo.    Why,  madam,  have  I  offered  love  for  this, 
To  be  so  flouted  in  this  royal  presence  ? 
Who  knows  not  that  the  gentle  duke  is  dead  ? 

[They  all  start. 
You  do  him  injury  to  scorn  his  corse. 

K.  Edw.    Who  knows  not  he  is  dead !  who  knows 
he  is  ? 

Q.  Eliz.  All-seeing  Heaven,  what  a  world  is  this ! 

Buck.    Look  I  so  pale,  lord  Dorset,  as  the  rest  ? 

Dor.   Ay,  my  good  lord ;  and  no  man  in  the  presence, 
But  his  red  color  hath  forsook  his  cheeks. 


44  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  II. 

K.  Edw.    Is  Clarence  dead  ?  The  order  was  reversed. 

Glo.    But  he,  poor  man,  by  your  first  order  died, 
And  that  a  winged  Mercury  did  bear ; 
Some  tardy  cripple  bore  the  countermand, 
That  came  too  lag  to  see  him  buried : — 
God  grant  that  some,  less  noble,  and  less  loyal, 
Nearer  in  bloody  thoughts,  and  not  in  blood, 
Deserve  not  worse  than  wretched  Clarence  did, 
And  yet  go  current  from  suspicion. 

Enter  STANLEY. 

Stan.    A  boon,  my  sovereign,  for  my  service  done ! 

K.  Edw.    I  pr'ythee,  peace ;  my  soul  is  full  of  sor 
row. 

Stan.    I  will  riot  rise,  unless  your  highness  hear  me. 

K.  Edw.    Then  say  at  once,  what  is  it  thou  re- 
quest'st  ? 

Stan.    The  forfeit,1  sovereign,  of  my  servant's  life  ; 
Who  slew  to-day  a  riotous  gentleman, 
Lately  attendant  on  the  duke  of  Norfolk. 

K.  Edw.    Have  I  a  tongue  to  doom  my  brother's 

death, 

And  shall  that  tongue  give  pardon  to  a  slave  ? 
My  brother  killed  no  man  ;  his  fault  was  thought ; 
And  yet  his  punishment  was  bitter  death. 
Who  sued  to  me  for  him  ?  who,  in  my  wrath, 
Kneeled  at  my  feet,  and  bade  me  be  advised? 
Who  spoke  of  brotherhood  ?  who  spoke  of  love  ? 
Who  told  me  how  the  poor  soul  did  forsake 
The  mighty  Warwick,  and  did  fight  for  me? 
Who  told  me,  in  the  field  at.  Tewksbury, 
When  Oxford  had  me  down,  he  rescued  me, 
And  said,  Dear  brother,  live,  and  be  a  king  ? 
Who  told  me,  when  we  both  lay  in  the  field, 
Frozen  almost  to  death,  how  he  did  lap  me 
Even  in  his  garments ;  and  did  give  himself, 
All  thin  and  naked,  to  the  numb-cold  night  ? 

i  He  means  the  remission  of  the  forfeit. 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  45 

All  this  from  my  remembrance  brutish  wrath 

Sinfully  plucked,  and  not  a  man  of  you 

Had  so  much  grace  to  put  it  in  my  mind. 

But  when  your  carters,  or  your  waiting  vassals, 

Have  done  a  drunken  slaughter,  and  defaced 

The  precious  image  of  our  dear  Redeemer, 

You  straight  are  on  your  knees  for  pardon,  pardon  ; 

And  I,  unjustly  too,  must  grant  it  you : — 

But  for  my  brother,  not  a  man  would  speak, — 

Nor  I  (ungracious)  speak  unto  myself 

For  him,  poor  soul. — The  proudest  of  you  all 

Have  been  beholden  to  him  in  his  life ; 

Yet  none  of  you  would  once  plead  for  his  life. — 

O,  God!   I  fear  thy  justice  will  take  hold 

On  me,  and  you,  and  mine,  and  yours,  for  this. — 

Come,  Hastings,  help  me  to  my  closet.1     O, 

Poor  Clarence ! 

[Exeunt  King,  Queen,  HASTINGS,  RIVERS, 
DORSET,  and  GREY. 

Glo.    This  is  the  fruit   of  rashness ! — Marked  you 

not, 

How  that  the  guilty  kindred  of  the  queen 
Looked  pale,  when  they  did  hear  of  Clarence'  death  ? 
O !  they  did  urge  it  still  unto  the  king : 
God  will  revenge  it.     Come,  lords ;  will  you  go, 
To  comfort  Edward  with  our  company  ? 

Buck.   We  wait  upon  your  grace.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE   II.    The  same. 

Enter  the  DUCHESS  o/*YoRK,2  with  a  Son  and  Daugh 
ter  of  CLARENCE. 

Son.    Good  grandam,  tell  us,  is  our  father  dead  ? 
Duck.   No,  boy. 

1  Hastings  was  lord  chamberlain  to  king  Edward  IV. 

2  Cecily,  daughter  of  Ralph  Neville,  first  earl  of  Westmoreland,  and 
widow  of  Richard  duke  of  York,  who  was  killed  at  the  battle  of  Wake- 
field,  1460.    She  survived  her  husband  thirty-five  years,  living  till  the 
year  1495. 


46  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  II. 

Daugh.   Why  do  you  weep  so  oft?  and  beat  your 

breast ; 
And  cry — 0,  Clarence,  my  unhappy  son  ! 

Son.    Why  do  you  look  on  us,  and  shake  your  head, 
And  call  us — orphans,  wretches,  cast-aways, 
If  that  our  noble  father  be  alive  ? 

Duch.    My  pretty  cousins,1  you  mistake  me  both; 
I  do  lament  the  sickness  of  the  king, 
As  loath  to  lose  him,  not  your  father's  death ; 
It  were  lost  sorrow,  to  wail  one  that's  lost. 

Son.    Then,  grandam,  you  conclude  that  he  is  dead. 
The  king  my  uncle  is  to  blame  for  this : 
God  will  revenge  it ;  whom  I  will  importune 
With  earnest  prayers  all  to  that  effect. 

Daugh.   And  so  will  I. 

Duch.   Peace,  children,  peace !  the  king  doth  love 

you  well: 

Incapable  and  shallow  innocents, 
You  cannot  guess  who  caused  your  father's  death. 

Son.    Grandam,  we  can  ;  for  my  good  uncle  Gloster 
Told  me,  the  king,  provoked  to't  by  the  queen, 
Devised  impeachments  to  imprison  him ; 
And  when  my  uncle  told  me  so,  he  wept, 
And  pitied  me,  and  kindly  kissed  my  cheek; 
Bade  me  rely  on  him,  as  on  my  father, 
And  he  would  love  me  dearly  as  his  child. 

Duch.    Ah,  that    deceit   should    steal  such   gentle 

shapes, 

And  with  a  virtuous  visor  hide  deep  vice ! 
He  is  my  son,  ay,  and  therein  my  shame, 
Yet  from  my  dugs  2  he  drew  not  this  deceit. 

Son.    Think  you,  my  uncle  did  dissemble,  grandam  ? 

Duch.    Ay,  boy. 

Son.    I  cannot  think  it.     Hark !  what  noise  is  this  ? 


1  The  duchess  is  here  addressing  her  grand  children ;  but  cousin  seems 
to  have  been  used  instead  of  kinsman  and  kinswoman,  and  to  have  sup 
plied  the  place  of  both. 

2  This  word  g  ve  no  offence  to  our  ancestors  ;  it  was  used  even  in  the 
most  refined  poetry. 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  47 

Enter  QUEEN  ELIZABETH,  distractedly;  RIVERS,  and 
DORSET,  following  her. 

Q.  Eliz.    Ah !  who  shall   hinder  me  to  wail  and 

weep  ? 

To  chide  my  fortune,  and  torment  myself? 
I'll  join  with  black  despair  against  my  soul, 
And  to  myself  become  an  enemy. 

Duch.    What  means  this  scene  of  rude  impatience  ? 

Q.  Eliz.    To  make  an  act  of  tragic  violence  : — 
Edward,  my  lord,  thy  son,  our  king,  is  dead. 
Why  grow  the  branches,  when  the  root  is  gone  ? 
Why  wither  not  the  leaves  that  want  their  sap  ? — 
If  you  will  live,  lament ;    if  die,  be  brief ; 
That  our  swift-winged  souls  may  catch  the  king's; 
Or,  like  obedient  subjects,  follow  him 
To  his  new  kingdom  of  perpetual  rest. 

Duch.    Ah,  so  much  interest  have  I  in  thy  sorrow, 
As  I  had  title  in  thy  noble  husband ! 
I  have  bewept  a  worthy  husband's  death, 
And  lived  by  looking  on  his  images :  * 
But  now  two  mirrors  of  his  princely  semblance 
Are  cracked  in  pieces  by  malignant  death  ; 
And  I  for  comfort  have  but  one  false  glass, 
That  grieves  me  when  I  see  my  shame  in  him. 
Thou  art  a  widow ;  yet  thou  art  a  mother, 
And  hast  the  comfort  of  thy  children  left  thee  ; 
But  death  hath  snatched  my  husband  from  my  arms, 
And  plucked  two  crutches  from  my  feeble  hands, 
Clarence  and  Edward.     O,  what  cause  have  I 
(Thine  being  but  a  moiety  of  my  grief) 
To  overgo  thy  plaints,  and  drown  thy  cries ! 

Son.    Ah,  aunt !  you  wept  not  for  our  father's  death  ; 
How  can  we  aid  you  with  our  kindred  tears  ? 

Dough.    Our  fatherless  distress  was  left  unmoaned  ; 
Your  widow-dolor  likewise  be  unwept ! 

Q.  Eliz.    Give  me  no  help  in  lamentation  ; 
I  am  not  barren  to  bring  forth  laments : 

1  The  children  by  whom  he  was  represented. 


48  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  II. 

All  springs  reduce  their  currents  to  mine  eyes, 
That  I,  being  governed  by  the  watery  moon, 
May  send  forth  plenteous  tears  to  drown  the  world ! 
Ah,  for  my  husband,  for  my  dear  lord  Edward ! 

Chil.   Ah,  for  our  father,   for  our  dear  lord  Clar 
ence  ! 

Duck.    Alas,  for  both,  both  mine,  Edward  and  Clar 
ence  ! 

Q.  Eliz.   What  stay  had  I,  but  Edward  ?  and  he's 
gone. 

Chil.   What  stay  had  we,  but  Clarence  ?  and  he's 
gone. 

Duch.    What  stays  had  I,  but  they  ?  and  they  are 
gone. 

Q.  Eliz.   Was  never  widow  had  so  dear  a  loss. 

Chil.   Were  never  orphans  had  so  dear  a  loss. 

Duch.    Was  never  mother  had  so  dear  a  loss. 
Alas !  I  am  the  mother  of  these  griefs  ; 
Their  woes  are  parcelled,  mine  are  general, 
She  for  an  Edward  weeps,  and  so  do  I ; 
I  for  a  Clarence  weep,  so  doth  not  she : 
These  babes  for  Clarence  weep,  and  so  do  I : 
I  for  an  Edward  weep,  so  do  not  they : — 
Alas,  you  three,  on  me,  threefold  distressed, 
Pour  all  your  tears,  I  am  your  sorrow's  nurse, 
And  I  will  pamper  it  with  lamentations. 

Dor.    Comfort,  dear  mother,  God  is  much  displeased, 
That  you  take  with  unthankfulness  his  doing ; 
In  common,  worldly  things,  'tis  called — ungrateful, 
With  dull  unwillingness  to  repay  a  debt, 
Which  with  a  bounteous  hand  was  kindly  lent ; 
Much  more  to  be  thus  opposite  with  Heaven, 
For  it  requires  the  royal  debt  it  lent  you. 

Riv.    Madam,  bethink  you,  like  a  careful  mother, 
Of  the  young  prince  your  son :  send  straight  for  him ; 
Let  him  be  crowned  ;  in  him  your  comfort  lives  : 
Drown  desperate  sorrow  in  dead  Edward's  grave, 
And  plant  your  joys  in  living  Edward's  throne. 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  49 

Enter  GLOSTER,  BUCKINGHAM,   STANLEY,  HASTINGS, 
RATCLIFF,  and  others. 

Glo.    Sister,  have  comfort :  all  of  us  have  cause 
To  wail  the  dimming  of  our  shining  star  ; 
But  none  can  cure  their  harms  by  wailing  them. — 
Madam,  my  mother,  I  do  cry  you  mercy, 
I  did  not  see  your  grace  ; — numbly  on  my  knee 
I  crave  your  blessing. 

Duck.    God  bless  thee ;  and  put  meekness  in  thy 

breast, 
Love,  charity,  obedience,  and  true  duty ! 

Glo.    Amen  ;  and  make  me  die  a  good  old  man  ! — 
That  is  the  butt-end  of  a  mother's  blessing;      [Aside. 
I  marvel  that  her  grace  did  leave  it  out. 

Buck.    You    cloudy   princes,    and    heart-sorrowing 

peers, 

That  bear  this  mutual,  heavy  load  of  moan, 
Now  cheer  each  other  in  each  other's  love  ; 
Though  we  have  spent  our  harvest  of  this  king, 
We  are  to  reap  the  harvest  of  his  son. 
The  broken  rancor  of  your  high-swollen  hearts, 
But  lately  splinted,  knit,  and  joined  together, 
Must  gently  be  preserved,  cherished,  and  kept. 
Me  seemeth  good,  that,  with  some  little  train, 
Forthwith  from  Ludlow  the  young  prince  be  fetched1 
Hither  to  London,  to  be  crowned  our  king. 

Riv.    Why  with  some  little  train,  my  lord  of  Buck 
ingham  ? 

Buck.   Marry,  my  lord,  lest,  by  a  multitude, 
The  new-healed  wound  of  malice  should  break  out ; 
Which  would  be  so  much  the  more  dangerous, 
By  how  much  the  estate  is  green,  and  yet  ungoverned  ; 
Where  every  horse  bears  his  commanding  rein, 

1  Edward,  the  young  prince,  in  his  father's  lifetime,  and  at  his  demise, 
kept  his  household  at  Ludlow,  as  prince  of  Wales  ;  under  the  governance 
of  Anthony  Woodville,  earl  of  Rivers,  his  uncle  by  the  mother's  side.  The 
intention  of  his  being  sent  thither  was  to  see  justice  done  in  the  Marches  ; 
and,  by  the  authority  of  his  presence,  to  restrain  the  Welshmen,  who 
were  wild,  dissolute,  and  ill-disposed,  from  their  accustomed  murders  and 
outrages. — Vide  Holinshed. 
VOL.  v.  7 


50  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  II. 

And  may  direct  his  course  as  please  himself, 
As  well  the  fear  of  harm,  as  harm  apparent, 
In  my  opinion,  ought  to  be  prevented. 

Glo.    I  hope  the  king  made  peace  with  all  of  us ; 
And  the  compact  is  firm,  and  true,  in  me. 

Riv.    And  so  in  me  ;  and  so,  I  think,  in  all ; J 
Yet,  since  it  is  but  green,  it  should  be  put 
To  no  apparent  likelihood  of  breach, 
Which,  haply,  by  much  company  might  be  urged. 
Therefore  I  say,  with  noble  Buckingham, 
That  it  is  meet  so  few  should  fetch  the  prince. 

Hast.    And  so  say  I. 

Glo.    Then  be  it  so ;  and  go  we  to  determine 
Who  they  shall  be  that  straight  shall  post  to  Ludlow. 
Madam, — and  you  my  mother, — will  you  go 
To  give  your  censures  2  in  this  weighty  business  ? 

[Exeunt  all  but  BUCKINGHAM  and  GLOSTER. 

Buck.   My  lord,  whoever  journeys  to  the  prince, 
For  God's  sake,  let  not  us  two  stay  at  home ; 
For,  by  the  way,  I'll  sort  occasion, 
As  index3  to  the  story  we  late  talked  of, 
To  part  the  queen's  proud  kindred  from  the  prince. 

Glo.   My  other  self,  my  counsel's  consistory, 
My  oracle,  my  prophet ! — My  dear  cousin, 
I,  as  a  child,  will  go  by  thy  direction. 
Towards  Ludlow  then,  for  we'll  not  stay  behind. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   III.     The  same.     A  Street. 

Enter  two  Citizens,  meeting. 

1  Cit.    Good  morrow,  neighbor.     Whither  away  so 

fast  ? 

2  Cit.    I  promise  you,  I  scarcely  know  myself. 
Hear  you  the  news  abroad  ? 

1  This  speech  seems  rather  to  belong  to  Hastings,  who  was  of  the 
duke  of  Gloster's  party.    The  next  speech  might  be  given  to  Stanley. 

2  i.  e.  your  judgments,  your  opinions. 

3  That  is,  preparatory,  by  way  of  prelude. 


SC.  ill.]  KING  KICHARD  III.  51 

1  Cit.  Yes ;  that  the  king's  dead. 

2  Cit.    Ill  news,  by'r  lady ;  seldom  comes  the  better ; l 
[  fear,  I  fear,  'twill  prove  a  giddy  world. 

Enter  another  Citizen. 

3  Cit.   Neighbors,  God  speed. 

1  Cit.  Give  you  good  morrow,  sir. 
3  Cit.   Doth  the  news  hold  of  good  king  Edward's 

death  ? 

2  Cit.   Ay,  sir,  it  is  too  true  ;  God  help  the  while  ! 

3  Cit.    Then,  masters,  look  to  see  a  troublous  world. 

1  Cit.   No,  no ;  by  God's  good  grace,  his  son  shall 

reign. 
3  Cit.   Woe  to  that  land,  that's  governed  by  a  child ! 

2  Cit.    In  him  there  is  a  hope  of  government ; 
That,  in  his  nonage,  council  under  him, 

And,  in  his  full  and  ripened  years,  himself, 
No  doubt,  shall  then,  and  till  then,  govern  well. 

1  Cit.    So  stood  the  state,  when  Henry  the  Sixth 
Was  crowned  in  Paris  but  at  nine  months  old. 

3  Cit.    Stood  the  state  so  ?    No,  no,  good  friends, 

God  wot; 

For  then  this  land  was  famously  enriched 
With  politic,  grave  counsel ;  then  the  king 
Had  virtuous  uncles  to  protect  his  grace. 

1  Cit.   Why,  so  hath  this,  both  by  his  father  and 

mother. 

3  Cit.   Better  it  were  they  all  came  by  his  father, 
Or,  by  his  father,  there  were  none  at  all ; 
For  emulation  now,  who  shall  be  nearest, 
Will  touch  us  all  too  near,  if  God  prevent  not. 
O,  full  of  danger  is  the  duke  of  Gloster ; 
And  the  queen's  sons,  and  brothers,  haught  and  proud  : 
And  were  they  to  be  ruled,  and  not  to  rule, 
This  sickly  land  might  solace  as  before. 

1  Cit.    Come,  come,  we  fear  the  worst :  all  will  be 

well. 

1  An  ancient  proverbial  saying. 


52  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  II. 

3  Cit.   When  clouds  are  seen,  wise  men  put  on  their 

cloaks ; 

When  great  leaves  fall,  then  winter  is  at  hand ; 
When  the  sun  sets,  who  doth  not  look  for  night  ? 
Untimely  storms  make  men  expect  a  dearth. 
All  may  be  well ;  but,  if  God  sort  it  so, 
Tis  more  than  we  deserve,  or  I  expect. 

2  Cit.    Truly,  the  hearts  of  men  are  full  of  fear : 
You  cannot  reason  almost  with  a  man 

That  looks  not  heavily,  and  full  of  dread. 

3  Cit.   Before  the  days  of  change,  still  is  it  so. 
By  a  divine  instinct,  men's  minds  mistrust 
Ensuing  danger ;  as,  by  proof,  we  see 

The  water  swell  before  a  boisterous  storm. 
But  leave  it  all  to  God.     Whither  away  ? 

2  Cit.   Marry,  we  were  sent  for  to  the  justices. 

3  Cit.    And  so  was  I ;  I'll  bear  you  company. 

[ExeunU 

SCENE   IV.     The  same.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  the  ARCHBISHOP  of  YORK,  the  young  DUKE  of 
YORK,  QUEEN  ELIZABETH,  and  the  DUCHESS  of 
YORK. 

Arch.    Last  night,  I  heard,  they  lay  at  Stony-Strat 
ford; 

And  at  Northampton  they  do  rest  to-night : J 
To-morrow,  or  next  day,  they  will  be  here. 

i  This  is  the  reading  of  the  folio.    The  quarto  of  1597  reads  :— 
"  Last  night  I  hear  they  lay  at  Northampton : 

At  Stony-Stratford  will  they  be  to-night" 

By  neither  reading  can  the  truth  of  history  be  preserved.  According  to 
the  reading  of  the  quarto,  the  scene  would  be  on  the  day  on  which  the 
king  was  journeying  from  Northampton  to  Stratford ;  and  of  course  the 
messenger's  account  of  the  peers  being  seized,  &c.,  which  happened  on 
the  next  day  after  the  king  had  lain  at  Stratford,  is  inaccurate.  If  the 
folio  reading  be  adopted,  the  scene  is  indeed  placed  on  the  day  on  which 
the  king  was  seized ;  but  the  archbishop  is  supposed  to  be  apprized  of 
a  fact  which,  before  the  entry  of  the  messenger,  he  manifestly  does  not 
know;  namely,  the  duke  of  Gloster's  coming  to  Stratford  the  morning 
after  the  king  had  lain  there,  taking  him  forcibly  back  to  Northampton, 
and  seizing  the  lords  Rivers,  Grey,  &c.  The  truth  is,  that  the  queen 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  53 

Duch.    I  long  with  all  my  heart  to  see  the  prince ; 
I  hope  he  is  much  grown  since  last  I  saw  him. 

Q.  Eliz.   But  I  hear,  no ;  they  say,  my  son  of  York 
Hath  almost  overta'en  him  in  his  growth. 

York.    Ay,  mother,  but  I  would  not  have  it  so. 

Duch.    Why,  my  young  cousin  ?  It  is  good  to  grow. 

York.    Grandam,  one  night,  as  we  did  sit  at  supper, 
My  uncle  Rivers  talked  how  I  did  grow 
More  than  my  brother :  Ay,  quoth  my  uncle  Gloster, 
Small  herbs  have  grace,  great  weeds  do  grow  apace ; 
And  since,  methinks,  I  would  not  grow  so  fast, 
Because  sweet  flowers  are  slow,  and  weeds  make  haste. 

Duch.    'Good  faith,  'good  faith,  the  saying  did  not 

hold 

In  him  that  did  object  the  same  to  thee. 
He  was  the  wretched'st  thing,  when  he  was  young ; 
So  long  a  growing,  and  so  leisurely, 
That,  if  his  rule  were  true,  he  should  be  gracious. 

Arch.    And  so,  no  doubt,  he  is,  my  gracious  madam. 

Duch.    I  hope  he  is ;  but  yet  let  mothers  doubt. 

York.    Now,  by  my  troth,  if  I  had  been  remembered, 
I  could  have  given  my  uncle's  grace  a  flout, 
To  touch  his  growth,  nearer  than  he  touched  mine. 

Duch.    How,  my  young  York?  I  pr'ythee,  let  me 
hear  it. 

York.    Marry,  they  say,  my  uncle  grew  so  fast, 
That  he  could  gnaw  a  crust  at  two  hours  old ; 
'Twas  full  two  years  ere  I  could  get  a  tooth. 
Grandam,  this  would  have  been  a  biting  jest. 

Duch.    I  pr'ythee,  pretty  York,  who  told  thee  this? 

York.    Grandam,  his  nurse. 

Duch.    His  nurse  ?  Why,  she  was  dead  ere  thou  wast 
born. 

York.    If  'twere  not  she,  I  cannot  tell  who  told  me. 

herself,  the  person  most  materially  interested  in  the  welfare  of  her  son, 
did  not  hear  of  the  king's  being  carried  back  from  Stony-Stratford  to 
Northampton  till  about  midnight  of  the  day  on  which  this  violence 
was  offered  to  him  by  his  uncle.  See  Hdl,  Edward  V.  fol.  6.  Malone 
thinks  this  an  unanswerable  argument  in  favor  of  the  reading  of  the  quarto ; 
while  Steevens  thinks  it  a  matter  of  indifference,  but  prefers  the  text  of  the 
folio  copy  on  account  of  the  versification. 


54  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  II. 

Q.  Eliz.   A  parlous 1  boy.    Go  to,  you  are  too  shrewd. 
Arch.    Good  madam,  be  not  angry  with  the  child. 
Q.  Eliz.    Pitchers  have  ears. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Arch.  Here  comes  a  messenger , 

What  news  ? 

Mess.  Such  news,  my  lord, 

As  grieves  me  to  unfold. 

Q.  Eliz.  How  doth  the  prince  ? 

Mess.   Well,  madam,  and  in  health. 

Duck.  What  is  thy  news  ? 

Mess.    Lord   Rivers,   and   lord    Grey,  are    sent  to 

Pomfret, 
With  them  sir  Thomas  Vaughan,  prisoners. 

Duch.   Who  hath  committed  them  ? 

Mess.  The  mighty  dukes, 

Gloster  and  Buckingham. 

Q.  Eliz.  For  what  offence  ? 

Mess.    The  sum  of  all  I  can,  I  have  disclosed ; 
Why,  or  for  what,  the  nobles  were  committed, 
Is  all  unknown  to  me,  my  gracious  lady. 

Q.  Eliz.    Ah  me,  I  see  the  ruin  of  my  house ! 
The  tiger  now  hath  seized  the  gentle  hind ; 
Insulting  tyranny  begins  to  jut2 
Upon  the  innocent  and  awless  throne. — 
Welcome  destruction,  blood,  and  massacre ! 
I  see,  as  in  a  map,  the  end  of  all. 

Duch.    Accursed  and  unquiet,  wrangling  days ! 
How  many  of  you  have  mine  eyes  beheld ! 
My  husband  lost  his  life  to  get  the  crown ; 
And  often  up  and  down  my  sons  were  tost, 
For  me  to  joy,  and  weep,  their  gain,  and  loss ; 
And  being  seated,  and  domestic  broils 

1  Parlous  is  a  popular  corruption  of  perilous ;  keen,  shrewd.  The  queen 
evidently  means  to  chide  him. 

2  The  quarto  reads  to  jet,  which  Mr.  Boswell  thought  preferable ;  but 
the  folio  is  right.     "To jut  upon  the  throne,"  is  to  make  inroads  or  inva 
sions  upon  it.     See  Cooper's  Dictionary,  1584.    Awless  is  not  producing 
awe,  not  reverenced. 


SC.  I.J  KING  RICHARD  III.  55 

Clean  overblown,  themselves,  the  conquerors, 
Make  war  upon  themselves ;  brother  to  brother, 
Blood  to  blood,  self  'gainst  self. — O,  preposterous 
And  frantic  courage,  end  thy  damned  spleen  ; 
Or  let  me  die,  to  look  on  death  no  more  ! 

Q.  Eliz.  Come,  come,  my  boy,  we  will  to  sanctuary. — 
Madam,  farewell. 

Duck.  Stay,  I  will  go  with  you. 

Q.  Eliz.   You  have  no  cause. 

Arch.  My  gracious  lady,  go, 

[To  the  Queen. 

And  thither  bear  your  treasure  and  your  goods. 
For  my  part,  I'll  resign  unto  your  grace 
The  seal  1  keep ; 1  and  so  betide  to  me, 
As  well  I  tender  you,  and  all  of  yours ! 
Come,  I'll  conduct  you  to  the  sanctuary.          [Exeunt. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I.     London.     A  Street.     The  trumpets 
sound. 

Enter  the  PRINCE  of  WALES,  GLOSTER,  BUCKINGHAM, 
CARDINAL  BOURCHIER,S  and  others. 

Buck.   Welcome,  sweet  prince,  to  London,  to  your 

chamber.3 

Glo.    Welcome,  dear  cousin,  my  thoughts'  sovereign. 
The  weary  way  hath  made  you  melancholy. 

1  Afterwards,  however,  this  obsequious  archhishop  [Rotheram],  to  in 
gratiate  himself  with  Richard  III.,  put  his  majesty's  badge,  the  Hog,  upon 
the  gate  of  the  public  library  at  Cambridge. 

2  Thomas  Bourchier  was  made  a  cardinal,  and  elected  archbishop  of 
Canterbury  in  1464.    He  died  in  1486. 

3  London  was  anciently  called  Camera  Regis.    London  is  called  the 
king's  special  chamber  in  the  duke  of  Buckingham's  oration  to  the  citizens 
(apud  More],  which  Shakspeare  has  taken  other  phrases  from. 


56  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  III. 

Prince.   No,  uncle ;  but  our  crosses  on  the  way 
Have  made  it  tedious,  wearisome,  and  heavy : 
I  want  more  uncles  here  to  welcome  me. 

Glo.   Sweet  prince,  the  untainted  virtue  of  your  years 
Hath  not  yet  dived  into  the  world's  deceit : 
No  more  can  you  distinguish  of  a  man, 
Than  of  his  outward  show ;  which,  God  he  knows, 
Seldom,  or  never,  jumpeth  with  the  heart. 
Those  uncles,  which  you  want,  were  dangerous ; 
Your  grace  attended  to  their  sugared  words, 
But  looked  not  on  the  poison  of  their  hearts : 
God  keep  you  from  them,  and  from  such  false  friends ! 

Prince.    God  keep  me  from  false  friends !    But  they 
were  none. 

Glo.   My  lord,  the  mayor  of  London  comes  to  greet 
you. 

Enter  the  Lord  Mayor,  and  his  Train. 

May.    God  bless  your  grace  with  health  and  happy 

days! 

Prince.    I  thank  you,  good  my  lord; — and  thank 
you  all. —  [Exeunt  Mayor,  &c. 

I  thought  my  mother,  and  my  brother  York, 
Would  long  ere  this  have  met  us  on  the  way. 
Fie,  what  a  slug  is  Hastings !  that  he  comes  not 
To  tell  us  whether  they  will  come,  or  no. 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

Buck.   And  in  good  time,  here  comes  the  sweating 
lord. 

Prince.   Welcome,  my  lord.     What,  will  our  mother 
come  ? 

Hast.    On  what  occasion,  God  he  knows,  not  I, 
The  queen  your  mother,  and  your  brother  York, 
Have  taken  sanctuary.     The  tender  prince 
Would  fain  have  come  with  me  to  meet  your  grace, 
But  by  his  mother  was  perforce  withheld. 

Buck.   Fie  !   what  an  indirect  and  peevish  course 


SC.  I.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  57 

Is  this  of  hers  ! — Lord  cardinal,  will  your  grace 
Persuade  the  queen  to  send  the  duke  of  York 
Unto  his  princely  brother  presently  ? 
If  she  deny, — lord  Hastings,  go  with  him, 
And  from  her  jealous  arms  pluck  him  perforce. 

Card.    My  lord  of  Buckingham,  if  my  weak  oratory 
Can  from  his  mother  win  the  duke  of  York, 
Anon  expect  him  here.     But  if  she  be  obdurate 
To  mild  entreaties,  God  in  heaven  forbid 
We  should  infringe  the  holy  privilege 
Of  blessed  sanctuary !    Not  for  all  this  land, 
Would  I  be  guilty  of  so  deep  a  sin. 

Buck.    You  are  too  senseless-obstinate,  my  lord, 
Too  ceremonious,  and  traditional ; l 
Weigh  it  but  with  the  grossness  2  of  this  age, 
You  break  not  sanctuary  in  seizing  him. 
The  benefit  thereof  is  always  granted 
To  those  whose  dealings  have  deserved  the  place, 
And  those  who  have  the  wit  to  claim  the  place. 
This  prince  hath  neither  claimed  it,  nor  deserved  it ; 
And  therefore,  in  mine  opinion,  cannot  have  it : 
Then,  taking  him  from  thence,  that  is  not  there, 
You  break  no  privilege  nor  charter  there. 
Oft  have  I  heard  of  sanctuary  men  ; 
But  sanctuary  children,  ne'er  till  now. 

Card.   My  lord,   you   shall   o'errule   my   mind   for 

once. — 
Come  on,  lord  Hastings,  will  you  go  with  me  ? 

Hast.    I  go,  my  lord. 

Prince.    Good  lords,  make  all  the  speedy  haste  you 
may.  [Exeunt  Cardinal  and  HAST. 

Say,  uncle  Gloster,  if  our  brother  come, 
Where  shall  we  sojourn  till  our  coronation  ? 

Glo.    Where  it  seems  best  unto  your  royal  self. 
If  I  may  counsel  you,  some  day,  or  two, 
Your  highness  shall  repose  you  at  the  Tower ; 
Then  where  you  please,  and  shall  be  thought  most  fit 
For  your  best  health  and  recreation. 

1  Ceremonious  for  superstitious ;  traditional  for  adherent  to  old  customs. 

2  Grossness  here  means  plainness,  simplicity. 

VOL.    V.  8 


58  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IL. 

Prince.    I  do  not  like  the  Tower,  of  any  place. — 
Did  Julius  Caesar  build  that  place,  my  lord  ? 

Glo.    He  did,  my  gracious  lord,  begin  that  place ; 
Which,  since,  succeeding  ages  have  reedified. 

Prince.    Is  it  upon  record  ?  or  else  reported 
Successively  from  age  to  age  he  built  it  ? 

Buck.    Upon  record,  my  gracious  lord. 

Prince.    But  say,  my  lord,  it  were  not  registered ; 
Me  thinks  the  truth  should  live  from  age  to  age, 
As  'twere  retailed 1  to  all  posterity, 
Even  to  the  general  all-ending  day. 

Glo.    So  wise  so  young,  they  say,  do  ne'er  live  long. 

[Aside. 

Prince.   What  say  you,  uncle  ? 

Glo.    I  say,  without  characters,  fame  lives  long. 
Thus,  like  the  formal2  vice,  Iniquity,    )  r/f  V7 

I  moralize  two  meanings  in  one  word.  \ 

Prince.    That  Julius  Caesar  was  a  famous  man  ; 
With  what  his  valor  did  enrich  his  wit, 
His  wit  set  down  to  make  his  valor  live. 
Death  makes  no  conquest  of  this  conqueror , 
For  now  he  lives  in  fame,  though  not  in  life  — 
I'll  tell  you  what,  my  cousin  Buckingham — 

Buck.    What,  my  gracious  lord  ? 

Prince.    An  if  I  live  until  I  be  a  man, 
I'll  win  our  ancient  right  in  France  again, 
Or  die  a  soldier,  as  I  lived  a  king. 

Glo.    Short  summers  lightly3  have  a  forward  spring. 

[Aside. 


1  i.  e.  recounted.  Minsheu,  in  his  Dictionary,  1617,  besides  the  verb 
retail,  in  the  mercantile  sense,  has  the  verb  to  retaile  or  retell. 

a  For  a  notice  of  the  vice  in  old  plays,  see  note  on  Twelfth  Night, 
Act  iv.  Sc.  2.  "  He  appears  (says  Mr.  Gifford)  to  have  been  a  perfect 
counterpart  of  the  harlequin  of  the  modern  stage,  and  had  a  twofold  office, 
to  instigate  the  hero  of  the  piece  to  wickedness,  and,  at  the  same  time,  to 
protect  him  from  the  devil,  whom  he  was  permitted  to  buffet  and  baffle 
with  his  wooden  sword,  till  the  process  of  the  story  required  that  both  the 
protector  and  the  protected  should  be  carried  off  by  the  fiend,  or  the  latter 
driven  roaring  from  the  stage  by  some  miraculous  interposition  in  favor 
of  the  repentant  offender." 

3  Commonly. 


SC.  I.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  59 

Enter  YORK,  HASTINGS,  and  the  Cardinal. 

Buck.     Now,  in  good  time,  here  comes  the  duke  of 

York. 
Prince.    Richard   of  York !    how   fares    our   loving 

O 

brother  ? 

York.    Well,  my  dread  lord  ;  so  I  must  call  you  now. 

Prince.    Ay,  brother  ;  to  our  grief,  as  it  is  yours. 
Too  late  l  he  died,  that  might  have  kept  that  title, 
Which  by  his  death  hath  lost  much  majesty. 

Glo.    How  fares  our  cousin,  noble  lord  of  York  ? 

York.    I  thank  you,  gentle  uncle.     O,  my  lord, 
You  said  that  idle  weeds  are  fast  in  growth. 
The  prince  my  brother  hath  outgrown  me  far. 

Glo.    He  hath,  my  lord. 

York.  And  therefore  is  he  idle  ? 

Glo.    O,  my  fair  cousin,  I  must  not  say  so. 

York.    Then  is  he  more  beholden  to  you,  than  I. 

Glo.    He  may  command  me,  as  my  sovereign  ; 
But  you  have  power  in  me,  as  in  a  kinsman. 

York.    I  pray  you,  uncle,  give  me  this  dagger. 

Glo.    My  dagger,  little  cousin  ?  with  all  my  heart. 

Prince.    A  beggar,  brother  ? 

York.    Of  my  kind  uncle,  that  I  know  will  give  ; 
And,  being  but  a  toy,  which  is  no  grief  to  give. 

Glo.    A  greater  gift  than  that  I'll  give  my  cousin. 

York.   A  greater  gift !  O,  that's  the  sword  to  it  ? 

Glo.    Ay,  gentle  cousin,  were  it  light  enough. 

York.    O  then,  I  see,  you'll  part  but  with  light  gifts. 
In  weightier  things  you'll  say  a  beggar,  nay. 

Glo.    It  is  too  weighty  for  your  grace  to  wear. 

York.    I  weigh  it  lightly,  were  it  heavier.2 

Glo.    What,  would  you  have  my  weapon,  little  lord? 

York.    I  would,  that  I  might  thank  you  as  you  call 
me. 

Glo.   How? 


1  Lately. 

2  This  taunting  answer  of  the  prince  has  been  misinterpreted :  he  means 
to  say,  "  I  hold  it  cheap,  or  care  but  little  for  it,  even  were  it  heavier 
than  it  is." 


60  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  III. 

York.    Little. 

Prince.    My  lord  of  York  will  still  be  cross  in  talk  ; — 
Uncle,  your  grace  knows  how  to  bear  with  him. 

York.    You  mean  to  bear  me,  not  to  bear  with  me. — 
Uncle,  my  brother  mocks  both  you  and  me  ; 
Because  that  I  am  little,  like  an  ape, 
He  thinks  that  you  should  bear  me  on  your  shoulders.1 

Buck.    With  what  a  sharp,  provided  wit  he  reasons  ! 
To  mitigate  the  scorn  he  gives  his  uncle, 
He  prettily  and  aptly  taunts  himself. 
So  cunning,  and  so  young,  is  wonderful. 

Glo.   My  gracious  lord,  will't  please  you  pass  along.' 
Myself,  and  my  good  cousin  Buckingham, 
Will  to  your  mother  ;  to  entreat  of  her 
To  meet  you  at  the  Tower,  and  welcome  you. 

York.    What,  will  you  go  unto  the  Tower,  my  lord  ? 

Prince.   My  lord  protector  needs  will  have  it  so. 

York.    I  shall  not  sleep  in  quiet  at  the  Tower. 

Glo.    Why,  sir,  what  should  you  fear  ? 

York.    Marry,  my  uncle  Clarence'  angry  ghost ; 
My  grandam  told  me,  he  was  murdered  there. 

Prince.    I  fear  no  uncles  dead. 

Glo.   Nor  none  that  live,  I  hope. 

Prince.    An  if  they  live,  I  hope,  I  need  not  fear. 
But  come,  my  lord,  and,  with  a  heavy  heart, 
Thinking  on  them,  go  I  unto  the  Tower. 

[Exeunt  Prince,  YORK,  HASTINGS,  Cardinal, 
and  Attendants. 

Buck.    Think  you,  my  lord,  this  little  prating  York 
Was  not  incensed  by  his  subtle  mother, 
To  taunt  and  scorn  you  thus  opprobriously  ? 

Glo.   No  doubt,  no  doubt.     O,  'tis  a  parlous  boy ; 
Bold,  quick,  ingenious,  forward,  capable ; 
He's  all  the  mother's,  from  the  top  to  toe. 

Buck.   Well,  let  them  rest. — 
Come  hither,  gentle  Catesby ;  thou  art  sworn 
As  deeply  to  effect  what  we  intend, 

1  York  alludes  to  the  protuberance  on  Gloster's  back,  which  was  com 
modious  for  carrying  burdens. 


SC.  I.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  61 

As  closely  to  conceal  what  we  impart. 

Thou  know'st  our  reasons  urged  upon  the  way ; — 

What  think'st  thou  ?  is  it  not  an  easy  matter 

To  make  William  lord  Hastings  of  our  mind, 

For  the  instalment  of  this  noble  duke 

In  the  seat  royal  of  this  famous  isle  ? 

Cate.    He  for  his  father's  sake  so  loves  the  prince, 
That  he  will  not  be  won  to  aught  against  him. 

Buck.    What  think'st  thou  then  of  Stanley?  will  not 
he? 

Cate.    He  will  do  all  in  all  as  Hastings  doth. 

Buck.     Well,   then,  no  more   but  this ;    go,  gentle 

Catesby, 

And,  as  it  were  far  off,  sound  thou  lord  Hastings, 
How  he  doth  stand  affected  to  our  purpose  ; 
And  summon  him  to-morrow  to  the  Tower, 
To  sit  about  the  coronation. 
If  thou  dost  find  him  tractable  to  us, 
Encourage  him,  and  tell  him  all  our  reasons  ; 
If  he  be  leaden,  icy,  cold,  unwilling, 
Be  thou  so  too ;  and  so  break  off  the  talk, 
And  give  us  notice  of  his  inclination  ; 
For  we  to-morrow  hold  divided *  councils, 
Wherein  thyself  shalt  highly  be  employed. 

Glo.     Commend   me    to   lord    William ;    tell   him, 

Catesby, 

His  ancient  knot  of  dangerous  adversaries 
To-morrow  are  let  blood  at  Pomfret  castle ; 
And  bid  my  friend,  for  joy  of  this  good  news, 
Give  mistress  Shore  one  gentle  kiss  the  more. 

Buck.    Good    Catesby,    go,    effect    this    business 
soundly. 

Cate.    My  good  lords  both,  with  all  the  heed  I  can. 

Glo.    Shall  we  hear  from  you,  Catesby,  ere  we  sleep  ? 

i  "  But  the  protectoure  and  the  duke  after  they  had  sent  to  the  lord  car 
dinal,  the  lord  Stanley,  and  the  lord  Hastings,  then  lord  chamberlaine,  with 
many  other  noblemen,  to  commune  and  devise  about  the  coronation  in  one 
place,  as  fast  were  they  in  another  place,  contriving  the  contrarie  to  make  the 
protectoure  king.  The  lord  Stanley,  that  was  after  earle  of  Darby,  wisely 
mistrusted  it,  and  said  unto  the  lord  Hastings  that  he  much  mislyked  these 
two  several  councels" — Holinshed,from  sir  T.  More. 


62  KING  RICHARD   111.  [ACT  III. 

Cate.   You  shall,  my  lord. 

Glo.    At  Crosby-place,  there  shall  you  find  us  both. 

[Exit  GATES  BY. 

Buck.   Now,  my  lord,  what  shall  we  do,  if  we  per 
ceive 
Lord  Hastings  will  not  yield  to  our  complots  ? 

Glo.    Chop  off  his  head,  man ; — somewhat  we  will 

do. — 

And,  look,  when  I  am  king,  claim  thou  of  me 
The  earldom  of  Hereford,  and  all  the  movables 
Whereof  the  king  my  brother  was  possessed. 

Buck.    I'll  claim  that  promise  at  your  grace's  hand. 

Glo.    And  look  to  have  it  yielded  with  all  kindness. 
Come,  let  us  sup  betimes ;  that  afterwards 
We  may  digest  our  complots  in  some  form.      [Exeunt. 


SCENE   II.1     Before  Lord  Hastings'  House. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord,  my  lord, —  [Knocking. 

Hast.  [Within.]  '  Who  knocks  ? 

Mess.  One  from  lord  Stanley. 

Hast.  [Within."]  What  is't  o'clock? 

Mess.  Upon  the  stroke  of  four. 

Enter  HASTINGS. 

Hast.    Cannot  my  lord  Stanley  sleep  these  tedious 
nights  ? 

Mess.    So  it  should  seem  by  that  I  have  to  say. 
First,  he  commends  him  to  your  noble  lordship. 

Hast.    And  then, — 

Mess.    And  then  he  sends  you  word,  he  dreamt 
To-night  the  boar  had  rased  2  off  his  helm. 

1  Every  material  circumstance  in  this  scene  is  from  Holinshed,  except 
that  it  is  a  knight  with  whom  Hastings  converses  instead  of  Buckingham. 

2  This  term  rased,  or  rashed,  is  always  given  to  describe  the  violence 
inflicted  by  a  boar.     By  the  boar,  throughout  this  scene,  is  meant  Gloster, 
in  allusion  to  his  crest. 


SC.  11.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  63 

Besides,  he  says,  there  are  two  councils  held ; 

And  that  may  be  determined  at  the  one, 

Which  may  make  you  and  him  to  rue  at  the  other. 

Therefore  he  sends  to  know  your  lordship's  pleasure, — 

If,  presently,  you  will  take  horse  with  him, 

And  with  all  speed  post  with  him  toward  the  north, 

To  shun  the  danger  that  his  soul  divines. 

Hast.    Go,  fellowr,  go,  return  unto  thy  lord ; 
Bid  him  not  fear  the  separated  councils. 
His  honor,1  and  myself,  are  at  the  one ; 
And  at  the  other  is  my  good  friend  Catesby ; 
Where  nothing  can  proceed,  that  toucheth  us, 
Whereof  I  shall  not  have  intelligence. 
Tell  him,  his  fears  are  shallow,  wanting  instance  ; 2 
And  for  his  dreams — I  wonder  he's  so  fond 3 
To  trust  the  mockery  of  unquiet  slumbers. 
To  fly  the  boar,  before  the  boar  pursues, 
Were  to  incense  the  boar  to  follow  us, 
And  make  pursuit,  where  he  did  mean  no  chase. 
Go,  bid  thy  master  rise  and  come  to  me  ; 
And  we  will  both  together  to  the  Tower, 
Where,  he  shall  see,  the  boar  will  use  us  kindly. 

Mess.    I'll  go,  my  lord,  and  tell  him  what  you  say. 

[Exit. 

Enter  CATESBY. 

Gate.   Many  good  morrows  to  my  noble  lord  ! 

Hast.    Good  morrow,  Catesby ;    you  are  early  stir 
ring. 
What  news,  what  news,  in  this  our  tottering  state  ? 

Cate.    It  is  a  reeling  world,  indeed,  my  lord  ; 
And,  I  believe,  will  never  stand  upright, 
Till  Richard  wear  the  garland  of  the  realm. 

Hast.    How !    wear  the  garland  ?    dost  thou  mean 
the  crown  ? 

Cate.    Ay,    my  good  lord. 

1  This  was  the  usual  address  to  nohlemen  in  Shakspeare's  time  ;  it  was 
indifferently  used  with  your  lordship.     See  any  old  letter  or  dedication  of 
that  age. 

2  Instance  is  here  put  for  motive,  cause. 

3  Weak. 


64  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  111 

Hast.    I'll  have  this  crown  of  mine  cut  from  my 

shoulders, 

Before  I'll  see  the  crown  so  foul  misplaced. 
But  canst  thou  guess  that  he  doth  aim  at  it  ? 

Gate.    Ay,  on  my  life  ;  and  hopes  to  find  you  forward 
Upon  his  party,  for  the  gain  thereof: 
And,  thereupon,  he  sends  you  this  good  news, — 
That,  this  same  very  day,  your  enemies, 
The  kindred  of  the  queen,  must  die  at  Pomfret. 

Hast.    Indeed,  I  am  no  mourner  for  that  news, 
Because  they  have  been  still  my  adversaries ; 
But,  that  I'll  give  my  voice  on  Richard's  side, 
To  bar  my  master's  heirs  in  true  descent, 
God  knows,  I  will  not  do  it,  to  the  death. 

Gate.    God  keep  your  lordship  in  that  gracious  mind ! 

Hast.   But  I  shall  laugh  at  this  a  twelvemonth  hence, 
That  they,  who  brought  me  in  my  master's  hate, 
I  live  to  look  upon  their  tragedy. 
Well,  Catesby,  ere  a  fortnight  make  me  older, 
I'll  send  some  packing,  that  yet  think  not  on't. 

Gate.    'Tis  a  vile  thing  to  die,  my  gracious  lord, 
When  men  are  unprepared,  and  look  not  for  it. 

Hast.    O  monstrous,  monstrous  !  And  so  falls  it  out 
With  Rivers,  Vaughan,  Grey ;  and  so  'twill  do 
With  some  men  else,  who  think  themselves  as  safe 
As  thou,  and  I ;  who,  as  thou  know'st,  are  dear 
To  princely  Richard,  and  to  Buckingham. 

Cate.    The  princes  doth  make  high  account  of  you, — 
For  they  account  his  head  upon  the  bridge.        [Aside. 

Hast.    I  know  they  do ;  and  I  have  well  deserved  it. 

Enter  STANLEY. 

Come  on,  come  on,  where  is  your  boar-spear,  man  ? 
Fear  you  the  boar,  and  go  so  unprovided  ? 

Stan.   My  lord,  good  morrow !  and  good  morrow, 

Catesby : — 

You  may  jest  on,  but,  by  the  holy  rood,1 
I  do  not  like  these  several  councils,  I. 

i  Cross. 


£5C.  II.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  65 

Hast.   My  lord,  I  hold  my  life  as  dear  as  you  do 

yours  ; 

And  never,  in  my  life,  I  do  protest, 
Was  it  more  precious  to  me  than  'tis  now  : 
Think  you,  but  that  I  know  our  state  secure, 
I  would  be  so  triumphant  as  I  am  ? 

Stan.    The  lords  at  Pomfret,  when  they  rode  from 

London, 

Were  jocund,  and  supposed  their  states  were  sure, 
And  they,  indeed,  had  no  cause  to  mistrust ; 
But  yet,  you  see,  how  soon  the  day  o'ercast. 
This  sudden  stab  of  rancor  I  misdoubt ; 
Pray  God,  I  say,  I  prove  a  needless  coward  ! 
What,  shall  we  toward  the  Tower  ?  The  day  is  spent. 
Hast.    Come,  come,  have  with  you. — Wot  you  what, 

my  lord  ? 
To-day,  the  lords  you  talk  of  are  beheaded. 

Stan.    They,  for  their  truth,  might  better  wear  their 

heads, 

Than  some,  that  have  accused  them,  wear  their  hats. 
But  come,  my  lord,  let's  away. 

Enter  a  Pursuivant. 

Hast.    Go  on  before  ;  I'll  talk  with  this  good  fellow. 
[Exeunt  STAN,  and  CATESBY. 
How  now,  sirrah  ?  how  goes  the  world  with  thee  ? 

Purs.    The  better,  that  your  lordship  please  to  ask. 

Hast.    I  tell  thee,  man,  'tis  better  with  me  now, 
That  when  thou  met'st  me  last  where  now  we  meet : 
Then  was  I  going  prisoner  to  the  Tower, 
By  the  suggestion  of  the  queen's  allies  ; 
But  now  I  tell  thee,  (keep  it  to  thyself,) 
This  day  those  enemies  are  put  to  death, 
And  I  in  better  state  than  ere  I  was. 

Purs.    God  hold  it,1  to  your  honor's  good  content ! 

Hast.    Gramercy,  fellow.    There,  drink  that  for  me 

[Thr 'owing  him  his  purse 

Purs.    I  thank  your  honor.  [Exit  Pursuivant 

l  That  is,  continue  it. 

VOL.  V.  9 


66  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  III. 

Enter  a   Priest. 

Pr.   Well  met,  my  lord  ;  I  am  glad  to  see  jour  honor. 

Hast.    I    thank  thee,  good  sir  John,1  with  all  my 

heart. 

I  am  in  your  debt  for  your  last  exercise  ; 
Come  the  next  Sabbath,  and  I  will  content  you. 

Enter  BUCKINGHAM.2 

Buck.  What,  talking  with  a  priest,  lord  chamberlain  ? 
Your  friends  at  Pomfret,  they  do  need  the  priest : 
Your  honor  hath  no  shriving  work  in  hand. 

Hast.    'Good  faith,  and  when  I  met  this  holy  man, 
The  men  you  talk  of  came  into  my  mind. 
What,  go  you  toward  the  Tower  ? 

Buck.    I  do,  my  lord ;  but  long  I  cannot  stay  there. 
I  shall  return  before  your  lordship  thence. 

Hast.    Nay,  like  enough,  for  I  stay  dinner  there. 

Buck.   And  supper  too,  although   thou   know'st  it 
not.  [Aside. 

Come,  will  you  go  ? 

Hast.  Pll  wait  upon  your  lordship. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   III.     Pomfret.     Before  the  Castle. 

Enter  RATCLIFF,  with  a  Guard,  conducting  RIVERS, 
GREY,S  and  VAUGHAN,  to  execution. 

Rat.   Come,  bring  forth  the  prisoners. 

Riv.    Sir  Richard  Ratcliff,  let  me  tell  thee  this, — 

1  See  note  1  on  the  first  scene  of  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor. 

2  From  the  continuation  of  Harding's  Chronicle,  1543,  where  the  ac 
count  given  originally  by  sir  Thomas  More  is  transcribed  with  some  ad 
ditions,  it  appears  that  the  person  who  held  this  conversation  with  Hastings 
was  sir  Thomas  Howard,  who  is  introduced  in  the  last  act  of  this  play  as 
earl  of  Surrey. 

3  Queen  Elizabeth  Grey  is  deservedly  pitied  for  the  loss  of  her  two 
sons  ;  but  the  royalty  of  their  birth  has  so  engrossed  the  attention  of  his 
torians,  that  they  never  reckon  into  the  number  of  her  misfortunes  the 
raurder  of  this  her  second  son,  sir  Richard  Grey.    It  is  remarkable  how 


SO.  III.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  67 

To-day  shalt  thou  behold  a  subject  die, 
For  truth,  for  duty,  and  for  loyalty. 

Grey.    God  keep  the  prince  from  all  the  pack  of 

you  ! 
A  knot  you  are  of  damned  blood-suckers. 

Vaugh.   You  live,  that  shall  cry  woe  for  this  here  • 
after. 

Rat.    Despatch  ;  the  limit  of  your  lives  is  out. 

Riv.    O,  Pomfret,  Pomfret !  O,  thou  bloody  prison, 
Fatal  and  ominous  to  noble  peers  ! 
Within  the  guilty  closure  of  thy  walls, 
Richard  the  Second  here  was  hacked  to  death ; 
And,  for  more  slander  to  thy  dismal  seat, 
We  give  thee  up  our  guiltless  blood  to  drink. 

Grey.   Now  Margaret's  curse  is   fallen  upon  their 

heads, 

When  she  exclaimed  on  Hastings,  you,  and  I, 
For  standing  by  when  Richard  stabbed  her  son. 

Riv.   Then  cursed  she  Hastings,  then   cursed  she 

Buckingham, 

Then  cursed  she  Richard  : — O,  remember,  God, 
To  hear  her  prayers  for  them,  as  now  for  us  ! 
And  for  my  sister,  and  her  princely  sons, — 
Be  satisfied,  dear  God,  with  our  true  bloods, 
Which,  as  thou  know'st,  unjustly  must  be  spilt ! 

Rat.   Make  haste,  the  hour  of  death  is  expiate.1 

Riv.    Come,  Grey, — come,  Vaughan, — let  us  here 

embrace  : 
Farewell,  until  we  meet  again  in  heaven.        [Exeunt. 


slightly  the  death  of  earl  Rivers  is  always  mentioned,  though  a  man  in 
vested  with  such  high  offices  of  trust  and  dignity ;  and  how  much  we 
dwell  on  the  execution  of  the  lord  chamberlain  Hastings,  a  man  in  every 
light  his  inferior.  In  truth,  the  generality  draw  their  ideas  of  English 
story  from  the  tragic  rather  than  the  historic  authors. — Walpole. 

1  We  have  this  word  in  the  same  sense  again  in  Shakspeare's  twenty- 
second  sonnet : — 

"  Then  look  I  death  my  days  should  expiate." 
Steevens  thinks  it  an  error  of  the  press  for  expirate. 


68  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  III 


SCENE   IV.    London.    A  Room  in  the  Tower. 

BUCKINGHAM,  STANLEY,  HASTINGS,  the  BISHOP  of 
ELY/  CATESBY,  LOVEL,  and  others,  sitting  at  a 
table  :  Officers  of  the  Council  attending. 

Hast.   Now,  noble  peers,  the  cause  why  we  are  met 
Is — to  determine  of  the  coronation : 
In  God's  name,  speak,  when  is  the  royal  day  ? 

Buck.   Are  all  things  ready  for  that  royal  time  ? 

Stan.   They  are  ;  and  wants  but  nomination.9 

Ely.   To-morrow  then  I  judge  a  happy  day. 

Buck.   Who  knows  the  lord  protector's  mind,  here 
in  ? 
Who  is  most  inward 3  with  the  noble  duke  ? 

Ely.   Your  grace,  we  think,  should  soonest  know 
his  mind. 

Buck.    We  know  each  other's  faces  ;  for  our  hearts, — 
He  knows  no  more  of  mine,  than  I  of  yours  ; 
Nor  I  of  his,  my  lord,  than  you  of  mine  : 
Lord  Hastings,  you  and  he  are  near  in  love. 

Hast.    I  thank  his  grace,  I  know  he  loves  me  well ; 
But  for  his  purpose  in  the  coronation, 
I  have  not  sounded  him,  nor  he  delivered 
His  gracious  pleasure  any  way  therein  : 
But  you,  my  noble  lord,  may  name  the  time  ; 
And  in  the  duke's  behalf  I'll  give  my  voice, 
Which,  I  presume,  he'll  take  in  gentle  part. 

Enter  GLOSTER. 

Ely.    In  happy  time,  here  comes  the  duke  himself. 
Glo.    My  noble  lords  and  cousins,  all,  good  morrow : 
I  have  been  long  a  sleeper ;  but,  I  trust, 


1  Dr.  John  Morton,  who  was  elected  to  the  see  of  Ely  in  1478.    He 
was  advanced  to  the  see  of  Canterbury  in  1486,  and  appointed  lord  chan 
cellor  in  1487.    He  died  in  the  year  1500. 

2  The  appointment  of  a  particular  day  for  the  ceremony. 

3  Intimate,  confidential. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  69 

My  absence  doth  neglect  no  great  design, 

Which  by  my  presence  might  have  been  concluded. 

Buck.    Had  you  not  come  upon  your  cue,1  my  lord, 
William  lord  Hastings  had  pronounced  your  part, — 
I  mean  your  voice, — for  crowning  of  the  king. 

Glo.    Than  my   lord  Hastings,  no  man  might  be 

bolder ; 
His  lordship  knows  me  well,  and  loves  me  well. 

Hast.    I  thank  your  grace.2 

Glo.   My  lord  of  Ely,  when  I  was  last  in  Holborn, 
I  saw  good  strawberries  in  your  garden  there  ; 3 
I  do  beseech  you,  send  for  some  of  them. 

Ely.    Marry,  and  will,  my  lord,  with  all  my  heart. 

[Exit  ELY. 

Glo.    Cousin  of  Buckingham,  a  word  with  you. 

[Takes  him  aside. 

Catesby  hath  sounded  Hastings  in  our  business ; 
And  finds  the  testy  gentleman  so  hot, 
That  he  will  lose  his  head,  ere  give  consent, 
His  master's  child,  as  worshipfully  he  terms  it, 
Shall  lose  the  royalty  of  England's  throne. 

Buck.    Withdraw  yourself  awhile  ;   I'll  go  with  you. 
[Exeunt  GLOSTER  and  BUCKINGHAM. 

Stan.    We  have  not  yet  set  down  this  day  of  triumph. 
To-morrow,  in  my  judgment,  is  too  sudden  ; 
For  I  myself  am  not  so  well  provided, 
As  else  I  would  be,  were  the  day  prolonged. 

Re-enter  BISHOP  of  ELY. 

Ely.   Where  is  my  lord  protector  ?  I  have  sent 
For  these  strawberries. 

1  See  note  on  Hamlet,  Act  ii.  Sc.  2.  Vol.  VII.  p.  307. 

2  This  sentence  Malone  restored   from  the  original  quarto;   it  was 
omitted  in  the  folio. 

3  This  circumstance  of  asking  the  bishop  for  some  of  his  strawberries 
originates  with  sir  Thomas  More,  who  mentions  the  protector's  entrance 
to  the  council  "  fyrste  about  ix  of  the  clocke,  saluting  them  curtesly,  and 
excusing  himself  that  he  had  ben  from  them  so  long,  saieng  merily  that 
he  had  been  a  slepe  that  day.    And  after  a  little  talking  with  them  he 
said  unto  the  bishop  of  Elye,  my  lord,  you  have  very  good  strawberries  at 
your  gardayne  in  Holberne,  I  require  you  let  us  have  a  messe  of  them." 


70  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IK. 

Hast.    His  grace  looks  cheerfully  and  smooth  this 

morning ; 

There's  some  conceit  or  other  likes  him  well, 
When  he  doth  bid  good  morrow  with  such  spirit. 
I  think  there's  ne'er  a  man  in  Christendom, 
Can  lesser  hide  his  love,  or  hate,  than  he  ; 
For  by  his  face,  straight  shall  you  know  his  heart. 

Stan.   What  of  his  heart  perceive  you  in  his  face, 
By  any  likelihood  he  showed  to-day  ? 

Hast.    Marry,  that  with  no  man  here  he  is  offended  ; 
For,  were  he,  he  had  shown  it  in  his  looks. 

Re-enter  GLOSTER  and  BUCKINGHAM. 

Glo.    I  pray  you  all,  tell  me  what  they  deserve 
That  do  conspire  my  death  with  devilish  plots 
Of  damned  witchcraft,  and  that  have  prevailed 
Upon  my  body  with  their  hellish  charms  ? 

Hast.    The  tender  love  I  bear  your  grace,  my  lord, 
Makes  me  most  forward  in  this  noble  presence 
To  doom  the  offenders.    Whosoe'er  they  be, 
I  say,  my  lord,  they  have  deserved  death. 

Glo.    Then  be  your  eyes  the  witness  of  their  evil. 
Look  how  I  am  bewitched  ;  behold  mine  arm 
Is,  like  a  blasted  sapling,  withered  up. 
And  this  is  Edward's  wife,  that  monstrous  witch, 
Consorted  with  that  harlot,  strumpet  Shore, 
That  by  their  witchcraft  thus  have  marked  me. 

Hast.    If  they  have  done  this  deed,  my  noble  lord, — - 

Glo.    If !  thou  protector  of  this  damned  strumpet, 
Talk'st  thou  to  me  of  ifs  ? — Thou  art  a  traitor  : — 
Off  with  his  head  :  now,  by  saint  Paul,  I  swear, 
I  will  not  dine  until  I  see  the  same. — 
Lovel,  and  Catesby,  look  that  it  be  done  ; 
The  rest  that  love  me,  rise,  and  follow  me. 

[Exeunt  Council,  with  GLO.  and  BUCK. 

Hast.   Woe,  woe,  for  England,  not  a  whit  for  me  : 
For  I,  too  fond,  might  have  prevented  this  : 
Stanley  did  dream  the  boar  did  rase  his  helm  ; 
But  I  disdained  it,  and  did  scorn  to  fly. 


SC.  V.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  71 

Three  times  to-day  my  foot-cloth  horse  did  stumble,1 

And  startled,  when  he  looked  upon  the  Tower, 

As  loath  to  bear  me  to  the  slaughter-house. 

O,  now  I  want  the  priest  that  spake  to  me  : 

[  now  repent  I  told  the  pursuivant, 

As  too  triumphing,  how  mine  enemies 

To-day  at  Pomfret  bloodily  were  butchered, 

And  I  myself  secure  in  grace  and  favor. 

O,  Margaret,  Margaret,  now  thy  heavy  curse 

Ts  lighted  on  poor  Hastings'  wretched  head. 

Cate.    Despatch,  my  lord  ;    the  duke  would  be  at 

dinner  ; 
Make  a  short  shrift ;  he  longs  to  see  your  head. 

Hast.    O,  momentary  grace  of  mortal  men, 
Which  we  more  hunt  for  than  the  grace  of  God ! 
Who  builds  his  hope  in  air  of  your  fair  looks,2 
Lives  like  a  drunken  sailor  on  a  mast ; 
Ready,  with  every  nod,  to  tumble  down 
Into  the  fatal  bowels  of  the  deep. 

Lov.  Come,  come,  despatch  ;  'tis  bootless  to  exclaim. 

Hast.    O,  bloody  Richard  ! — miserable  England  ! 
I  prophesy  the  fearful'st  time  to  thee, 
That  ever  wretched  age  hath  looked  upon. 
Come,  lead  me  to  the  block ;  bear  him  my  head ; 
They  smile  at  me,  who  shortly  shall  be  dead. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   V.     The  same.     The  Tower  Walls. 

Enter  GLOSTER  and  BUCKINGHAM,  in  rusty  armor,  and 
marvellous  ill-favored. 

Glo.    Come,  cousin,  canst  thou  quake,  and  change 
thy  color  ? 

1  Afoot-cloth  horse  was  a  palfrey  covered  with  housings,  used  for  state. 
This  is  from  Holinshed,  who  copies  sir  Thomas  More. 

2  William  lord  Hastings  was  beheaded  on  the  13th  of  June,  1483.     His 
eldest  son  by  Catharine  Neville,  daughter  of  Richard  Neville,  earl  of 
Salisbury,  and  widow  of  William  lord  Bonville,  was    restored  to  his 
honors  and  estate  by  king  Henry  VII.  in  the  first  year  of  his  reign.     The 
daughter  of  lady  Hastings,  by  her  first  husband,  was  married  to  the  mar 
quis  of  Dorset,  who  appears  in  the  present  play. 


72  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  III. 

Murder  thy  breath  in  middle  of  a  word, — 

And  then  again  begin,  and  stop  again, 

As  if  thou  wert  distraught,  and  mad  with  terror? 

Buck.    Tut,  I  can  counterfeit  the  deep  tragedian ; 
Speak,  and  look  back,  and  pry  on  every  side, 
Tremble  and  start  at  wagging  of  a  straw, 
Intending1  deep  suspicion:  ghastly  looks 
Are  at  my  service,  like  enforced  smiles ; 
And  both  are  ready  in  their  offices, 
At  any  time  to  grace  my  stratagems. 
But  what,  is  Catesby  gone  ? 

Glo.   He  is ;  and,  see,  he  brings  the  mayor  along. 

Enter  the  Lord  Mayor  and  CATESBY. 

Buck.     Let   me    alone    to    entertain   him. — Lord 

mayor, 

Glo.    Look  to  the  drawbridge  there. 

Buck.  Hark,  hark !  a  drum. 

Glo.    Catesby,  o'erlook  the  walls. 

Buck.    Lord  mayor,  the  reason  we  have  sent  for 

you, 

Glo.    Look  back ;  defend  thee  ;  here  are  enemies. 
Buck.    God  and  our  innocence  defend  and  guard  us ! 

Enter  LOVEL  and  RATCLiFF,2  with  HASTINGS'S  head. 

Glo.    Be  patient ;   they  are  friends ;    Ratcliff,   and 
Lovel. 

Lov.    Here  is  the  head  of  that  ignoble  traitor, 
The  dangerous  and  unsuspected  Hastings. 

Glo.    So  dear  I  loved  the  man,  that  I  must  weep. 
I  took  him  for  the  plainest,  harmless  creature, 
That  breathed  upon  the  earth  a  Christian ; 
Made  him  my  book,  wherein  my  soul  recorded 
The  history  of  all  her  secret  thoughts. 

1  i.  e.  pretending. 

2  The  quarto  has  " Enter  Caiesly  with  Hastings^  head"     For  this  ab 
surd  alteration,  by  which  Ratcliff  is  represented  at  Pomfret  and  in  London 
at  the  same  time,  it  is  probable  the  editors  of  the  folio  have  to  answer. 


SC.  V.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  73 

So  smooth  he  daubed  his  vice  with  show  of  virtue, 
That,  his  apparent,  open  guilt  omitted, — 
I  mean   his  conversation  with  Shore's  wife, — 
He  lived  from  all  attainder  of  suspect. 

Buck.    Well,  well,  he  was  the  covert'st,  sheltered 

traitor 

That  ever  lived. — Look  you,  my  lord  major, 
Would  you  imagine,  or  almost  believe, 
(Were't  not,  that  by  great  preservation 
We  live  to  tell  it  you,)  the  subtle  traitor 
This  day  had  plotted  in  the  council-house, 
To  murder  me,  and  my  good  lord  of  Gloster  ? 

May.   What !  had  he  so  ? 

Glo.   What !  think  you  we  are  Turks,  or  infidels  ? 
Or  that  we  would,  against  the  form  of  law, 
Proceed  thus  rashly  in  the  villain's  death  ; 
But  that  the  extreme  peril  of  the  case, 
The  peace  of  England,  and  our  persons'  safety, 
Enforced  us  to  this  execution  ? 

May.    Now,  fair  befall  you  !  he  deserved  his  death ; 
And  your  good  graces  both  have  well  proceeded, 
To  warn  false  traitors  from  the  like  attempts. 
I  never  looked  for  better  at  his  hands, 
After  he  once  fell  in  with  mistress  Shore. 

Buck.    Yet  had  we  not  determined  he  should  die, 
Until  your  lordship  came  to  see  his  end ; 
Which  now  the  loving  haste  of  these  our  friends, 
Somewhat  against  our  meaning,  hath  prevented  ; 
Because,  my  lord,  we  would  have  had  you  heard 
The  traitor  speak,  and  timorously  confess 
The  manner  and  the  purpose  of  his  treasons ; 
That  you  might  well  have  signified  the  same 
Unto  the  citizens,  who,  haply,  may 
Misconstrue  us  in  him,  and  wail  his  death. 

May.   But,  my  good  lord,  your  grace's  word  shall 

serve, 

As  well  as  I  had  seen,  and  heard  him  speak ; 
And  do  not  doubt,  right  noble  princes  both, 
But  I'll  acquaint  our  duteous  citizens 
With  all  your  just  proceedings  in  this  case. 
VOL.  v.  10 


74  KLNG  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  III. 

Glo.    And  to  that  end  we  wished  your  lordship  here, 
To  avoid  the  censures  of  the  carping  world. 

Buck.    But  since  you  came  too  late  of  our  intent,1 
Yet  witness  what  you  hear  we  did  intend ; 
And  so,  my  good  lord  mayor,  we  bid  farewell. 

[Exit  Lord  Mayor. 

Glo.    Go  after,  after,  cousin  Buckingham. 
The  mayor  towards  Guildhall  hies  him  in  all  post ; — 
There,  at  your  rneetest  vantage  of  the  time, 
Infer  the  bastardy  of  Edward's  children. 
Tell  them,  how  Edward  put  to  death  a  citizen, 
Only  for  saying — he  would  make  his  son 
Heir  to  the  crown ;  meaning,  indeed  his  house, 
Which  by  the  sign  thereof,  was  termed  so.2 
Moreover,  urge  his  hateful  luxury, 
And  bestial  appetite  in  change  of  lust ; 
Which    stretched    unto    their    servants,    daughters, 

wives, 

Even  where  his  raging  eye,  or  savage  heart, 
Without  control,  lusted  to  make  his  prey. 
Nay,  for  a  need,  thus  far  come  near  my  person : 
Tell  them,  when  that  my  mother  went  with  child 
Of  that  insatiate  Edward,  noble  York, 
My  princely  father,  then  had  wars  in  France ; 
And,  by  just  computation  of  the  time, 
Found  that  the  issue  was  not  his  begot ; 
Which  well  appeared  in  his  lineaments, 
Being  nothing  like  the  noble  duke  my  father. 
Yet  touch  this  sparingly,  as  'twere  far  off; 
Because,  my  lord,  you  know,  my  mother  lives. 

Buck.    Doubt  not,  my  lord  ;  I'll  play  the  orator, 
As  if  the  golden  fee,  for  which  I  plead, 
Were  for  myself;  and  so,  my  lord,  adieu. 

1  "  Too  late  of  our  intent."    In  common  speech,  a  similar  phrase  is 
sometimes  used ;  viz.  "  to  come  short  of  a  thing."     Mason  would  have 
changed  of 'to for. 

2  This  person  was  one  Walker,  a  substantial  citizen  and  grocer,  at  the 
Crown  in  Cheapside.     These  topics  of  Edward's  cruelty,  lust,  unlawful 
marriage,  &c.  are  enlarged  upon  in  that  most  extraordinary  invective,  the 
petition  presented  to  Richard  before  his  accession,  which  was  afterwards 
turned  into  an  act  of  parliament. — Parl.  Hist.  2.  p.  396. 


SC.  VI.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  75 

Glo.    If  you   thrive  well,  bring   them   to  Baynard's 

castle ; 1 

Where  you  shall  find  me  well  accompanied, 
With  reverend  fathers,  and  well-learned  bishops. 

Buck.    I  go  ;  and,  towards  three  or  four  o'clock, 
Look  for  the  news  that  the  Guildhall  affords. 

[Exit  BUCKINGHAM. 

Glo.  Go,  Lovel,  with  all  speed  to  doctor  Shaw, — 
Go  thou  [To  CAT.]  to  friar  Penker; — bid  them  both 
Meet  me,  within  this  hour,  at  Baynard's  castle. 

[Exeunt  LOVEL  and  GATE  SB  Y. 
Now  will  I  in,  to  take  some  privy  order 
To  draw  the  brats  of  Clarence2  out  of  sight ; 
And  to  give  notice,  that  no  manner  of  person 
Have,  any  time,  recourse  unto  the  princes.  [Exit. 


SCENE   VI.     A  Street. 


Enter  a  Scrivener. 

Scriv.     Here  is   the  indictment   of  the    good   lord 

Hastings ; 

Which  in  a  set  hand  fairly  is  engrossed, 
That  it  may  be  to-day  read  o'er  in  Paul's. 
And  mark  how  well  the  sequel  hangs  together. — 
Eleven  hours  I  have  spent  to  write  it  over, 

1  Baynard's  castle,  was  originally  built  by  Baynard,  a  nobleman  who 
(according  to  Stowe)  came  in  with  the  Conqueror.     It  had  belonged  to 
Richard  duke  of  York,  but  was  now  Edward  the  Fifth's.     This  edifice, 
which  stood  in  Thames-street,  has  been  long  pulled  down ;  it  is  said  that 
parts  of  its  strong  foundations  may  be  seen  at  low  water. 

2  Edward  earl  of  Warwick,  who,  the  day  after  the  battle  of  Bosworth, 
was  sent  by  Richmond  from  his  confinement  at  Sheriff-Hutton  castle  to  the 
Tower,  without  even  the  shadow  of  an  allegation  against  him,  and  who 
was  afterwards  cruelly  sacrificed  to  a  scruple  of  Ferdinand  king  of  Spain, 
who  was  unwilling  to  marry  his  daughter  Katharine  to  Arthur  prince  of 
Wales  while  he  lived,  conceiving  that  his  claim  might  interfere  with 
Arthur's  succession  to  the  crown.     He  was  beheaded  in  1499.     Margaret, 
afterwards  married  to  sir  Richard  Pole,  the  last  princess  of  the  house  of 
Lancaster,  who  was  restored  in  blood  in  the  fifth  year  of  Henry  VIII.,  and 
afterwards,  in  the  thirty-first  year  of  his  reign  [1540],  barbarously  led  to 
the  block  at  the  age  of  seventy,  for  some  offence  conceived  at  the  conduct 
of  her  son  cardinal  Pole. 


76  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  III. 

For  yesternight  by  Catesby  was  it  sent  me ; 
The  precedent1  was  full  as  long  a  doing ; 
And  yet  within  these  five  hours  Hastings  lived, 
Untainted,  unexamined,  free,  at  liberty. 
Here's  a  good  world  the  while  ! — Who  is  so  gross, 
That  cannot  see  this  palpable  device  ? 
Yet  who  so  bold,  but  says — he  sees  it  not  ? 
Bad  is  the  world  :  and  all  will' come  to  nought, 

'  O         ' 

When  such  bad  dealing  must  be  seen  in  thought. 

[Exit. 

SCENE   VII.     The  same.     Court  of  Baynard's 
Castle. 

Enter  GLOSTER  and  BUCKINGHAM,  meeting. 

Glo.    How  now,  how  now  ?  what  say  the  citizens  ? 

Buck.    Now,  by  the  holy  mother  of  our  Lord, 
The  citizens  are  mum,  say  not  a  word. 

Glo.    Touched  you  the   bastardy  of  Edward's  chil 
dren  ? 

Buck.    I  did  ;  with  his  contract  with  lady  Lucy,2 
And  his  contract  by  deputy  in  France ; 
The  insatiate  greediness  of  his  desires, 
And  his  enforcement  of  the  city  wives ; 
His  tyranny  for  trifles ;  his  own  bastardy, — 
As  being  got,  your  father  then  in  France  ;3 

1  i.  e.  the  original  draught. 

2  The  king  had  been  familiar  with  this  lady  before  his  marriage,  to  ob 
struct  which,  his  mother  alleged  a  precontract  between  them.   But  Elizabeth 
Lucy,  being  sworn  to  speak  the  truth,  declared  that  the  king  had  not  been 
affianced  to  her,  though  she  owned  she  had  been  his  concubine.     Edward, 
however,  had  been  married  to  lady  Eleanor  Butler,  widow  of  lord  Butler 
of  Sudely,  and  daughter  to  the  great  earl  of  Shrewsbury.     On  this  ground 
his  children  were  declared  illegitimate  by  the  only  parliament  assembled 
by  king  Richard  III. ;  but  no  mention  was  made  of  Elizabeth  Lucy. 

3  This  tale  is  supposed  to  have  been  first  propagated  by  the  duke  of 
Clarence  when  he  obtained  a  settlement  of  the  crown  on  himself  and  his 
issue  after  the  death  of  Henry  VI.     Sir  Thomas  More  says  that  the  duke 
of  Gloster,  soon  after  Edward's  death,  revived  this  scandal.     Walpole 
thinks  it  highly  improbable  that  Richard  should  have  urged  such  a  topic 
to  the  people,  or  "  start  doubts  of  his  own  legitimacy,  which  was  too  much 
connected  with  that  of  his  brothers,  to  be  tossed  and  bandied  about  before 
the  multitude."    He  has  also  shown  that  Richard  "  lived  in  perfect  har- 


SC.  VII.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  77 

And  his  resemblance,  being  not  like  the  duke ; 

Withal,  I  did  infer  your  lineaments, — 

Being  the  right  idea  of  jour  father, 

Both  in  jour  form  and  nobleness  of  mind  ; 

Laid  open  all  jour  victories  in  Scotland, 

Your  discipline  in  war,  wisdom  in  peace, 

Your  bounty,  virtue,  fair  humility ; 

Indeed,  left  nothing,  fitting  for  your  purpose, 

Untouched,  or  slightly  handled,  in  discourse. 

And,  when  my  oratory  grew  to  an  end, 

I  bade  them,  that  did  love  their  country's  good, 

Cry — God  save  Richard,  England's  royal  king  ! 

Glo.    And  did  they  so? 

Buck.  No,  so  God  help  me,  they  spake  not  a  word ; 
But,  like  dumb  statuas,1  or  breathless  stones, 
Stared  on  each  other,  and  looked  deadly  pale. 
Which  when  I  saw,  I  reprehended  them ; 
And  asked  the  mayor  what  meant  this  wilful  silence : 
His  answer  was — the  people  were  not  used 
To  be  spoke  to,  but  by  the  recorder. 
Then  he  was  urged  to  tell  my  tale  again  : 
Thus  saith  the  duke,  thus  hath  the  duke  inferred ; 
But  nothing  spoke  in  warrant  from  himself. 
When  he  had  done,  some  followers  of  mine  own, 
At  lower  end  o'  the  hall,  hurled  up  their  caps, 
And  some  ten  voices  cried,  God  save  king  Richard ! 
And  thus  I  took  the  vantage  of  those  few, — 
Thanks,  gentle  citizens,  and  friends,  quoth  I ; 
This  general  applause,  and  cheerful  shout, 
Argues  your  ivisdom,  and  your  love  to  Richard  ; 
And  even  here  brake  off  and  came  away. 

Glo.   What  tongueless   blocks  were   they !    Would 

they  not  speak  ? 
Will  not  the  mayor  then,  and  his  brethren,  come  ? 

Buck.  The  mayor  is  here  at  hand  ;  intend2  some  fear ; 


raony  with  his  mother,  and  lodged  with  her  in  her  palace  at  this  very  time. 
—Historic  Doubts,  4to.  1768. 

1  Statue  was  formerly  a  word  of  three  syllables ;  the  old  orthography  is 
statua. 

2  Pretend. 


78  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  III. 

Be  not  you  spoke  with,  but  by  mighty  suit. 
And  look  you  get  a  prayer-book  in  your  hand, 
And  stand  between  two  churchmen,  good  my  lord ; 
For  on  that  ground  I'll  make  a  holy  descant, 
And  be  not  easily  won  to  our  requests ; 
Play  the  maid's  part,  still  answer  nay,  and  take  it. 

Glo.    I  go  ;  and  if  you  plead  as  well  for  them, 
As  I  can  say  nay  to  thee  for  myself, 
No  doubt  we'll  bring  it  to  a  happy  issue. 

Buck.    Go,  go,  up  to  the  leads :  the    lord    mayor 
knocks.  [Exit  GLOSTER. 

Enter  the  Lord  Mayor,  Aldermen,  and  Citizens. 

Welcome,  my  lord ;  I  dance  attendance  here. 
I  think  the  duke  will  not  be  spoke  withal. — 

Enter,  from  the  castle,  CATESBY. 

Now,  Catesby !  what  says  your  lord  to  my  request  ? 

Cate.    He  doth  entreat  your  grace,  my  noble  lord, 
To  visit  him  to-morrow,  or  next  day. 
He  is  within,  with  two  right  reverend  fathers, 
Divinely  bent  to  meditation  ; 
And  in  no  worldly  suit  would  he  be  moved, 
To  draw  him  from  his  holy  exercise. 

Suck.    Return,  good  Catesby,  to  the  gracious  duke  ; 
Tell  him,  myself,  the  mayor  and  aldermen, 
In  deep  designs,  in  matter  of  great  moment, 
No  less  importing  than  our  general  good, 
Are  come  to  have  some  conference  with  his  grace. 

Cate.    I'll  signify  so  much  unto  him  straight.    [Exit. 

Buck.    Ah,  ha,  my  lord,  this  prince  is  not  an  Edward  ! 
He  is  not  lolling  on  a  lewd  day-bed,1 
But  on  his  knees  at  meditation  ; 
Not  dallying  with  a  brace  of  courtesans, 
But  meditating  with  two  deep  divines  ; 
Not  sleeping,  to  engross  his  idle  body, 

1  i.  e.  a  couch,  or  sofa. 


SC.  VII.]  KING   RICHARD   III.  79 

But  praying,  to  enrich  his  watchful  soul. 
Happy  were  England,  would  this  virtuous  prince 
Take  on  himself  the  sovereignty  thereof; 
But,  sure,  I  fear,  we  shall  ne'er  win  him  to  it. 

May.    Marry,  God  defend,  his  grace  should  say  us 
nay ! 

Buck.    I  fear  he  will.     Here  Catesby  comes  again  ; 

Re-enter  CATESBY. 

Now,  Catesby,  what  says  his  grace  ? 

Gate.    He  wonders  to  what  end  you  have  assembled 
Such  troops  of  citizens  to  come  to  him, 
His  grace  not  being  warned  thereof  before. 
He  fears,  my  lord,  you  mean  no  good  to  him. 

Buck.    Sorry  I  am,  my  noble  cousin  should 
Suspect  me,  that  I  mean  no  good  to  him. 
By  Heaven,  we  come  to  him  in  perfect  love ; 
And  so  once  more  return  and  tell  his  grace. 

[Exit  CATESBY. 

When  holy  and  devout,  religious  men 
Are  at  their  beads,  'tis  hard  to  draw  them  thence ; 
So  sweet  is  zealous  contemplation. 

Enter  GLOSTER,  in  a  gallery  above,  between  two 
Bishops.     CATESBY  returns. 

May.    See,    where    his    grace    stands    'tween    two 
clergymen ! 

Buck.    Two  props  of  virtue  for  a  Christian  prince, 
To  stay  him  from  the  fall  of  vanity. 
And,  see,  a  book  of  prayer  in  his  hand ; 
True  ornaments  to  know  a  holy  man. — 
Famous  Plantagenet,  most  gracious  prince, 
Lend  favorable  ear  to  our  request ; 
And  pardon  us  the  interruption 
Of  thy  devotion,  and  right-Christian  zeal. 

Glo.    My  lord,  there  needs  no  such  apology  ; 
I  rather  do  beseech  you  pardon  me, 
Who,  earnest  in  the  service  of  my  God, 


80  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  111. 

Neglect  the  visitation  of  my  friends. 

But,  leaving  this,  what  is  your  grace's  pleasure  ? 

Buck.   Even  that,  I  hope,  which  pleaseth  God  above, 
And  all  good  men  of  this  ungoverned  isle. 

Glo.    I  do  suspect,  I  have  done  some  offence, 
That  seems  disgracious  in  the  city's  eye ; 
And  that  you  come  to  reprehend  my  ignorance. 

Buck.    You  have,  my  lord.    Would  it  might  please 

your  grace, 
On  our  entreaties,  to  amend  your  fault ! 

Glo.  Else  wherefore  breathe  I  in  a  Christian  land  ? 

Buck.    Know,  then,  it  is  your  fault,  that  you  resign 
The  supreme  seat,  the  throne  majestical, 
The  sceptred  office  of  your  ancestors, 
Your  state  of  fortune,  and  your  due  of  birth, 
The  lineal  glory  of  your  royal  house, 
To  the  corruption  of  a  blemished  stock ; 
Whilst,  in  the  mildness  of  your  sleepy  thoughts, 
(Which  here  we  waken  to  our  country's  good,) 
The  noble  isle  doth  want  her  proper  limbs ; 
Her  face  defaced  with  scars  of  infamy, 
Her  royal  stock  graft  with  ignoble  plants, 
And  almost  shouldered1  in  the  swallowing  gulf 
Of  dark  forgetfulness  and  deep  oblivion. 
Which  to  recure,2  we  heartily  solicit 
Your  gracious  self  to  take  on  you  the  charge 
And  kingly  government  of  this  your  land  ; 
Not  as  protector,  steward,  substitute, 
Or  lowly  factor  for  another's  gain ; 
But  as  successively,  from  blood  to  blood, 
Your  right  of  birth,  your  empery,  vour  own. 
For  this,  consorted  with  the  citizens, 
Your  very  worshipful  and  loving  friends, 
And  by  their  vehement  instigation, 
In  this  just  suit  come  I  to  move  your  grace. 

Glo.    I  cannot  tell,  if  to  depart  in  silence, 

1  Shouldered  in  may  mean  rudely  thrust  into.     Johnson  proposes  to 
read  smouldered.    Mason  thinks  we  should  read  smothered. 

2  Recover.    The  word  is  frequently  used  by  Spenser ;  and  both  as  a 
verb  and  a  substantive  by  Lyly. 


SC.  VIL]  KING  RICHARD   III.  81 

Or  bitterly  to  speak  in  your  reproof, 

Best  fitteth  my  degree  or  your  condition  : 

If,  not  to  answer, — you  might  haply  think, 

Tongue-tied  ambition,  not  replying,  yielded 

To  bear  the  golden  yoke  of  sovereignty, 

Which  fondly  you  would  here  impose  on  me ; 

If  to  reprove  you  for  this  suit  of  yours, 

So  seasoned  with  your  faithful  love  to  me, 

Then,  on  the  other  side,  I  checked  my  friends. 

Therefore, — to  speak,  and  to  avoid  the  first  ; 

And,  then  in  speaking,  not  to  incur  the  last, — 

Definitively  thus  I  answer  you. 

Your  love  deserves  my  thanks ;  but  my  desert 

Unmeritable,  shuns  your  high  request. 

First,  if  all  obstacles  were  cut  away, 

And  that  my  path  were  even  to  the  crown, 

As  the  ripe  revenue  and  due  of  birth, 

Yet  so  much  is  my  poverty  of  spirit, 

So  mighty,  and  so  many,  my  defects, 

That  I  \vould  rather  hide  me  from  my  greatness, — 

Being  a  bark  to  brook  no  mighty  sea, — 

Than  in  my  greatness  covet  to  be  hid, 

And  in  the  vapor  of  my  glory  smothered. 

But,  God  be  thanked,  there  is  no  need  of  me ; 

(And  much  I  need  to  help  you,  if  need  were ;) 

The  royal  tree  hath  left  us  royal  fruit, 

Which,  mellowed  by  the  stealing  hours  of  time, 

Will  well  become  the  seat  of  majesty, 

And  make,  no  doubt,  us  happy  by  his  reign. 

On  him  I  lay  what  you  would  lay  on  me, 

The  right  and  fortune  of  his  happy  stars, — 

Which,  God  defend  that  I  should  wring  from  him ! 

Buck.    My  lord,  this  argues  conscience  in  your  grace 
But  the  respects  thereof  are  nice  and  trivial, 
All  circumstances  well  considered. 
You  say,  that  Edward  is  your  brother's  son ; 
So  say  we  too,  but  not  by  Edward's  wife. 
For  first  he  was  contract  to  lady  Lucy ; 
Your  mother  lives  a  witness  to  his  vow  ; 
And  afterwards  by  substitute  betrothed 
VOL.  v.  11 


82  KING  RICHARD  'ill.  [ACT  III. 

To  Bona,  sister  to  the  king  of  France. 

These  both  put  by,  a  poor  petitioner, 

A  care-crazed  mother  to  a  many  sons, 

A  beauty-waning  and  distressed  widow, 

Even  in  the  afternoon  of  her  best  days, 

Made  prize  and  purchase  of  his  wanton  eye, 

Seduced  the  pitch  and  height  of  all  his  thoughts 

To  base  declension  and  loathed  bigamy.1 

By  her,  in  his  unlawful  bed,  he  got 

This  Edward,  whom  our  manners  call — the  prince. 

More  bitterly  could  I  expostulate, 

Save  that,  for  reverence  to  some  alive,2 

I  give  a  sparing  limit  to  my  tongue. 

Then,  good  my  lord,  take  to  your  royal  self 

This  proffered  benefit  of  dignity  ; 

If  not  to  bless  us  and  the  land  withal, 

Yet  to  draw  forth  your  noble  ancestry 

From  the  corruption  of  abusing  time, 

Unto  a  lineal,  true-derived  course. 

May.    Do,  good  my  lord  ;  your  citizens  entreat  you. 

Buck.  Refuse  not,  mighty  lord,  this  proffered  love. 

Cats.    O,  make  them  joyful,  grant  their  lawful  suit. 

Glo.    Alas,  why  would  you  heap  those  cares  on  me  ? 
I  am  unfit  for  state  and  majesty. — 
I  do  beseech  you,  take  it  not  amiss ; 
I  cannot,  nor  I  will  not,  yield  to  you. 

Buck.    If  you  refuse  it, — as  in  love  and  zeal, 
Loath  to  depose  the  child,  your  brother's  son ; 
As  well  we  know  your  tenderness  of  heart, 
And  gentle,  kind,  effeminate  remorse,3 
Which  we  have  noted  in  you  to  your  kindred, 
And  equally,  indeed,  to  all  estates, — 

1  Bigamy,  by  a  canon  of  the  council  of  Lyons,  A.  D.  1274  (adopted  by 
a  statute  in  4  Edw.  I.),  was  made  unlawful  and  infamous.    It  differed  from 
volygamy,  or  having  two  wives  at  once ;  as  it  consisted  in  either  mar 
rying  two  virgins  successively,  or  once  marrying  a  widow.     This  is  from 
sir  T.  More,  as  copied  by  Hall  and  Holinshed. 

2  The  duke  here  hints  at  the  pretended  bastardy  of  Edward  and  Clar 
ence.     By  "  some  alive  "  is  meant  the  duchess  of  York,  the  mother  of 
Edward  and  Richard.     This  is  very  closely  copied  from  sir  Thomas 
More. 

3  Pity. 


SC.  VII.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  80 

Yet  know,  whe'r  you  accept  our  suit  or  no, 
Your  brother's  son  shall  never  reign  our  king ; 
But  we  will  plant  some  other  in  your  throne ; 
To  the  disgrace  and  downfall  of  your  house. 
And,  in  this  resolution,  here  we  leave  you ; 
Come,  citizens,  we  will  entreat  no  more. 

[Exeunt  BUCKINGHAM  and  Citizens. 

Cate.    Call  them  again,  sweet  prince,  accept  their 

suit  ; 
If  you  deny  them,  all  the  land  will  rue  it. 

Glo.    Will  you  enforce  me  to  a  world  of  cares  ? 
Well,  call  them  again ;  I  am  not  made  of  stone, 
But  penetrable  to  your  kind  entreaties, 

[Exit  CATESBY. 
Albeit  against  my  conscience  and  my  soul. 

Re-enter  BUCKINGHAM  and  the  rest. 

Cousin  of  Buckingham, — and  you  sage,  grave  men, — 

Since  you  will  buckle  fortune  on  my  back, 

To  bear  her  burden,  whe'r  I  will  or  no, 

I  must  have  patience  to  endure  the  load. 

But  if  black  scandal,  or  foul-faced  reproach, 

Attend  the  sequel  of  your  imposition, 

Your  mere  enforcement  shall  acquittance  me 

From  all  the  impure  blots  and  stains  thereof ; 

For  God  he  knows,  and  you  may  partly  see, 

How  far  I  am  from  the  desire  of  this. 

May.    God  bless  your  grace  !   We  see  it,  and  will 
say  it. 

Glo.    In  saying  so,  you  shall  but  say  the  truth. 

Buck.     Then  I  salute  you  with  this  royal  title,— 
Long  live  king  Richard,  England's  worthy  king ! 

All.   Amen. 

Buck.    To-morrow  may  it  please  you  to  be  crowned  ? 

Glo.    Even  when   you  please,  since  you  will  have 
it  so. 

Buck.   To-morrow  then  we  will  attend  your  grace  ; 
And  so,  most  joyfully,  we  take  our  leave. 


84  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  IV 

Glo.    Come,  let  us  to  our  holy  work  again. — 

[To  the  Bishops. 
Farewell,  good  cousin ; — farewell,  gentle  friends.1 

[Exeunt. 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE   I.     Before  the  Tower. 

Enter,  on  one  side,  QUEEN  ELIZABETH,  DUCHESS  of 
YORK,  and  MARQUIS  of  DORSET  ;  on  the  other,  ANNE, 
DUCHESS  of  GLOSTER,  leading  LADY  MARGARET 
PLANTAGENET,  Clarence's  young  daughter. 

Duch.  Who  meets  us  here  ? — My  niece2  Plantagenet 
Led  in  the  hand  of  her  kind  aunt  of  Gloster  ? 
Now,  for  my  life,  she's  wandering  to  the  Tower, 
On  pure  heart's  love,  to  greet  the  tender  prince. — 
Daughter,  well  met. 

Anne.  God  give  your  graces  both 

A  happy  and  a  joyful  time  of  day ! 

Q.  Eliz.   As  much  to  you,  good  sister!     Whither 
away  ? 

Anne.   No  further  than  the  Tower  ;  and,  as  I  guess, 
Upon  the  like  devotion  as  yourselves, 
To  gratulate  the  gentle  princes  there. 

Q.  Eliz.    Kind   sister,    thanks ;   we'll   enter  all  to 
gether. 

Enter  BRAKENBURY. 

And,  in  good  time,  here  the  lieutenant  comes. — 

Master  lieutenant,  pray  you,  by  your  leave, 

How  doth  the  prince,  and  my  young  son  of  York  ? 

1  To  this  act  should  probably  be  added  the  next  scene  ;  so  will  the 
coronation  pass  between  the  acts ;  and  there  will  not  only  be  a  proper 
interval  of  action,  but  the  conclusion  will  be  more  forcible. 

2  i.  e.  grand-daughter.    The  words  grandson  or  grand  daughter  never 
occur  in  Shakspeare. 


SC.  I]  KING  RICHARD   III.  85 

Brak.    Right  well,  dear  madam.     By  your  patience, 
I  may  not  suffer  you  to  visit  them ; 
The  king  hath  strictly  charged  the  contrary. 

Q.  Eliz.    The  king  !  who's  that  ? 

Brak.  I  mean  the  lord  protector. 

Q.  Eliz.    The    Lord   protect  him  from  that  kingly 

title  ! 

Hath  he  set  bounds  between  their  love  and  me  ? 
I  am  their  mother ;  who  shall  bar  me  from  them  ? 

Duch.    I  am  their  father's  mother ;  I  will  see  them. 

Anne.    Their  aunt  I  am  in  law,  in  love  their  mother. 
Then  bring  me  to  their  sights ;  I'll  bear  thy  blame, 
And  take  thy  office  from  thee,  on  my  peril. 

Brak.   No,  madam,  no,  I  may  not  leave  it  so  ; 
I  am  bound  by  oath,  and  therefore  pardon  me. 

[Exit  BRAKENBURY. 

Enter  STANLEY. 

Stan.    Let  me  but  meet  you,  ladies,  one  hour  hence, 
And  I'll  salute  your  grace  of  York  as  mother, 
And  reverend  looker-on  of  two  fair  queens. — 
Come,  madam,  you  must  straight  to  Westminster, 

[To  the  DUCHESS  O/*GLOSTER. 
There  to  be  crowned  Richard's  royal  queen. 

Q.  Eliz.   Ah,  cut  my  lace  asunder  ! 
That  my  pent  heart  may  have  some  scope  to  beat, 
Or  else  I  swoon  with  this  dead-killing  news. 

Anne.    Despiteful  tidings !     O,  unpleasing  news  ! 

Dor.   Be  of  good  cheer. — Mother,  how  fares  your 
grace  ? 

Q.  Eliz.   O,  Dorset,  speak  not  to  me  ;  get  thee  gone ; 
Death  and  destruction  dog  thee  at  the  heels ; 
Thy  mother's  name  is  ominous  to  children. 
If  thou  wilt  outstrip  death,  go  cross  the  seas, 
And  live  with  Richmond  from  the  reach  of  hell. 
Go,  hie  thee,  hie  thee,  from  this  slaughter-house, 
Lest  thou  increase  the  number  of  the  dead  ; 
And  make  me  die  the  thrall  of  Margaret's  curse, — 
Nor  mother,  wife,  nor  England's  counted  queen. 

Stan.   Full  of  wise  care  is  this  your  counsel,  madam. 


86  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  IV 

Take  all  the  swift  advantage  of  the  hours ; 
You  shall  have  letters  from  me  to  my  son 
In  your  behalf,  to  meet  you  on  the  way ; 
Be  not  ta'en  tardy  by  unwise  delay. 

Duch.    O,  ill-dispersing  wind  of  misery ! — 
O,  my  accursed  womb,  the  bed  of  death ; 
A  cockatrice  hast  thou  hatched  to  the  world, 
Whose  unavoided  eye  is  murderous ! 

Stan.    Come,  madam,  come  ;  I  in  all  haste  was  sent. 

Anne.   And  I  with  all  unwillingness  will  go. — 
O,  would  to  God,  that  the  inclusive  verge 
Of  golden  metal,  that  must  round  rny  brow, 
Were  red-hot  steel,  to  sear  me  to  the  brain ! 
Anointed  let  me  be  with  deadly  venom ; 
And  die,  ere  men  can  say — Go d  save  the  queen  ! 

Q.  Eliz.    Go,  go,  poor  soul ;  I  envy  not  thy  glory ; 
To  feed  my  humor,  wish  thyself  no  harm. 

Anne.   No !  why  ? — When  he,  that  is  my  husband 

now, 

Came  to  me,  as  I  followed  Henry's  corse  ; 
When  scarce  the  blood  was  well  washed  from  his  hands, 
Which  issued  from  my  other  angel  husband, 
And  that  dead  saint  which  then  I  weeping  followed ; 
O,  when,  I  say,  I  looked  on  Richard's  face, 
This  was  my  wish, — Be  thou,  quoth  I,  accursed. 
For  making  me,  so  young,  so  old  a  widow  ! 
And,  when  thou  wed^st,  let  sorrow  haunt  thy  bed  ; 
And  be  thy  wife  (if  any  be  so  mad) 
More  miserable  by  the  life  of  thee, 
Than  thou  hast  made  me  by  my  dear  lord's  death  ! 
Lo,  ere  I  can  repeat  this  curse  again, 
Even  in  so  short  a  space,  my  woman's  heart 
Grossly  grew  captive  to  his  honey  words, 
And  proved  the  subject  of  mine  own  soul's  curse : 
Which  ever  since  hath  held  mine  eyes  from  rest ; 
For  never  yet  one  hour  in  his  bed 
Did  I  enjoy  the  golden  dew  of  sleep, 
But  with  his  timorous  dreams1  was  still  awaked. 

1  It  is  recorded  by  Polydore  Virgil  that  Richard  was    frequently 
disturbed  by  terrible  dreams. 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  87 

Besides,  he  hates  me  for  my  father  Warwick ; 
And  will,  no  doubt,  shortly  be  rid  of  me. 

Q.  Eliz.    Poor  heart,  adieu  ;  I  pity  thy  complaining. 

Anne.    No  more  than  with  my  soul  I  mourn  for  yours. 

Dor.    Farewell,  thou  woful  welcome r  of  glory ! 

Anne,    Adieu,  poor  soul,  that  tak'st  thy  leave  of  it ! 

Duch.    Go  thou    to    Richmond,   and    good  fortune 
guide  thee  !  [To  DORSET. 

Go  thou  to  Richard,  and  good  angels  tend  thee ! — 

[To  ANNE. 

Go  thou  to  sanctuary,  and  good  thoughts  possess  thee ! 

[To  Q.  ELIZABETH. 

I  to  my  grave,  where  peace  and  rest  lie  with  me ! 
Eighty  odd  years *  of  sorrow  have  I  seen, 
And  each  hour's  joy  wrecked  with  a  week  of  teen.2 

Q.  Eliz.    Stay  yet ;  look  back,  with  me,  unto  the 

Tower. — 

Pity,  you  ancient  stones,  those  tender  babes, 
Whom  envy  hath  immured  within  your  walls ! 
Rough  cradle  for  such  little  pretty  ones ! 
Rude,  ragged  nurse !  old  sullen  playfellow 
For  tender  princes,  use  my  babies  well ! 
So  foolish  sorrow  bids  your  stones  farewell.     [Exeunt. 


SCENE   II.     A  Room  of  State  in  the  Palace. 

Flourish  of  trumpets.      RICHARD,  as  king,  upon  his 
throne;  BUCKINGHAM,  CATESBY,  a  Page,  and  others. 

K.  Rich.  Stand  all  apart. — Cousin  of  Bucking 
ham, 

Buck.    My  gracious  sovereign. 

K.  Rich.  Give  me  thy  hand.  Thus  high,  by  thy 
advice, 


1  The  present  scene  is  in  1483.     Richard  duke  of  York,  the  husband 
of  this  lady,  had  he  been  then  living,  would  have  been  but  seventy -three 
years  old,  and  we  may  reasonably  suppose  she  was  not  older ;  nor  did  she 
go  speedily  to  her  grave ;  she  lived  till  1495- 

2  Sorrow. 


88  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  IV. 

And  thy  assistance,  is  king  Richard  seated. — 
But  shall  we  wear  these  glories  for  a  day  ? 
Or  shall  they  last,  and  we  rejoice  in  them  ? 

Buck.    Still  live  they,  and  forever  let  them  last ! 

K.  Rich.   Ah,  Buckingham,  now  do  I  play  the  touch,1 
To  try  if  thou  be  current  gold,  indeed. — 
Young  Edward  lives  ; — think  now  what  I  would  speak. 

Buck.    Say  on,  my  loving  lord. 

K.  Rich.   Why,  Buckingham,  I  say,  I  would  be  king. 

Buck.    Why,  so  you  are,  my  thrice-renowned  liege. 

K.  Rich.    Ha !    am  I  king  ?  'Tis  so ;  but  Edward 
lives. 

Buck.    True,  noble  prince. 

K.  Rich.  O  bitter  consequence, 

That  Edward  still  should  live, — true,  noble  prince  ! 
Cousin,  thou  wast  not  wont  to  be  so  dull : 
Shall  I  be  plain  ?  I  wish  the  bastards  dead ; 
And  I  would  have  it  suddenly  performed. 
What  say'st  thou  now  ?     Speak  suddenly  ;  be  brief. 

Buck.    Your  grace  may  do  your  pleasure. 

K.  Rich.   Tut,  tut,  thou  art  all  ice ;  thy  kindness 

freezes. 
Say,  have  I  thy  consent,  that  they  shall  die  ? 

Buck.    Give  me  some  breath,  some  little  pause,  dear 

lord, 

Before  I  positively  speak  in  this : 
I  will  resolve  your  grace  immediately. 

[Exit  BUCKINGHAM. 

Gate.    The  king  is  angry ;  see,  he  gnaws  his  lip. 

[Aside. 

K.  Rich.    I  will  converse  with  iron-witted  fools, 

[Descends  from  his  throne. 
And  unrespective  boys ; 2  none  are  for  me, 
That  look  into  me  with  considerate  eyes ; — 
High-reaching  Buckingham  grows  circumspect. — 
Boy, 

Page.   My  lord. 

1  "  To  play  the  touch  "  is  to  resemble  the  touchstone. 

2  Unrespective,  i.  e.  inconsiderate,  unregardful. 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  89 

K.  Rich.    Know'st  thou  not  any,  whom  corrupting 

gold 
Would  tempt  unto  a  close  exploit 1  of  death  ? 

Page.    I  know  a  discontented  gentleman, 
Whose  humble  means  match  not  his  haughty  mind. 
Gold  were  as  good  as  twenty  orators, 
And  will  no  doubt  tempt  him  to  any  thing. 

K.  Rich.    What  is  his  name  ? 

Page.  His  name,  my  lord,  is — Tyrrel. 

K.  Rich.    I    partly  know   the    man ;    go,   call   him 
hither,  boy. —  [Exit  Page. 

The  deep-revolving,  witty  Buckingham 
No  more  shall  be  the  neighbor  to  my  counsels. 
Hath  he  so  long  held  out  with  me  untired, 
And  stops  he  now  for  breath  ? — Well,  be  it  so. — 

Enter  STANLEY. 

How  now,  lord  Stanley  ?  what's  the  news ! 

Stan.  Know,  my  loving  lord, 

The  marquis  Dorset,  as  I  hear,  is  fled 
To  Richmond,  in  the  parts  where  he  abides. 

K.  Rich.    Come  hither,  Catesby ;  rumor  it  abroad, 
That  Anne,  my  wife,  is  very  grievous  sick ; 
I  will  take  order  for  her  keeping  close. 
Inquire  me  out  some  mean-born  gentleman, 
Whom  I  will  marry  straight  to  Clarence'  daughter. 
The  boy  is  foolish,2  and  I  fear  not  him. — 
Look,  how  thou  dream'st ! — I  say  again,  give  out, 
That  Anne  my  queen  is  sick,  and  like  to  die : 
About  it;  for  it  stands  me  much  upon,3 
To  stop  all  hopes,  whose  growth  may  damage  me. 

[Exit  CATESBY. 

1  Secret  act 

2  This  youth  was,  at  this  time,  about  ten  years  old,  and  we  are  not  told 
that  he  had  then  exhibited  any  symptoms  of  folly.     Being  confined  by 
king  Henry  VII.  immediately  after  the  battle  of  Bosworth,  and  his  educa 
tion  being  entirely  neglected,  he  is  described  by  Polydore  Virgil,  at  the 
time  of  his  death,  in  1499,  as  an  idiot ;  his  account  is  copied  by  Ho- 
linshed. 

3  i.  e.  it  is  incumbent  upon  me. 

VOL.    V.  12 


90  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IV 

I  must  be  married  to  my  brother's  daughter, 
Or  else  my  kingdom  stands  on  brittle  glass. — 
Murder  her  brothers,  and  then  marry  her ! 
Uncertain  way  of  gain !     But  I  am  in 
So  far  in  blood,  that  sin  will  pluck  on  sin. 
Tear-falling  pity  dwells  not  in  this  eye. — 

Re-enter  Page,  with  TYRREL. 

Is  thy  name — Tyrrel  ? 

Tyr.    James  Tyrrel,  and  your  most  obedient  subject. 

K.  Rich.    Art  thou,  indeed  ? 

Tyr.  Prove  me,  my  gracious  lord. 

K.  Rich.   Dar'st  thou  resolve  to  kill  a  friend  of  mine  ? 

Tyr.    Please  you  ;  but  I  had  rather  kill  two  enemies. 

K.  Rich.   Why,  then  thou  hast  it ;  two  deep  enemies, 
Foes  to  my  rest,  and  my  sweet  sleep's  disturbers, 
Are  they  that  I  would  have  thee  deal  upon. 
Tyrrel,  I  mean  those  bastards  in  the  Tower. 

Tyr.    Let  me  have  open  means  to  come  to  them. 
And  soon  I'll  rid  you  from  the  fear  of  them. 

K.  Rich.    Thou  sing'st  sweet  music.     Hark,  come 

hither,  Tyrrel ; 
Go,  by  this  token. — Rise,  and  lend  thine  ear ; 

[  Whispers. 

There  is  no  more  but  so ; — say,  it  is  done, 
And  I  will  love  thee,  and  prefer  thee  for  it.1 

Tyr.    I  will  despatch  it  straight.  [Exit. 

Re-enter  BUCKINGHAM. 

Buck.    My  lord,  I  have  considered  in  my  mind 
The  late  demand  that  you  did  sound  me  in. 

K.  Rich.    Well,  let   that  rest.     Dorset   is    fled    to 

Richmond. 

Buck.    I  hear  the  news,  my  lord. 
K.  Rich.    Stanley,  he's  your  wife's  son. — Well,  look 

to  it. 
Buck.    My  lord,  I  claim  the  gift,  my  due  by  promise, 

1  The  qu.arto  has  the  following  very  characteristic  line : — 

«  King.   Shall  we  hear  from  thee,  Tirril,  ere  we  sleep  ?  " 


SC.  II.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  91 

For  which  your  honor  and  jour  faith  is  pawned  ; 
The  earldom  of  Hereford,  and  the  movables, 
Which  you  have  promised  I  shall  possess. 

K.  Rich.    Stanley,  look  to  your  wife  ;  if  she  convey 
Letters  to  Richmond,  you  shall  answer  it. 

Buck.    What  says  your  highness  to  my  just  request? 

K.  Rich.    I  do  remember  me, — Henry  the  Sixth 
Did  prophesy,  that  Richmond  should  be  king, 
When  Richmond  was  a  little  peevish  boy. 
A  king  ? — perhaps 

Buck.   My  lord, 

K.  Rich.  How  chance,  the  prophet   could  not,  at 

that  time, 
Have  told  me,  I  being  by,  that  I  should  kill  him  ? 

Buck.    My  lord,  your  promise  for  the  earldom, — 

K.  Rich.    Richmond  ! — When  last  I  was  at  Exeter, 
The  mayor  in  courtesy  showed  me  the  castle, 
And  called  it — Rouge-mont ; l  at  which  name,  1  started ; 
Because  a  bard  of  Ireland  told  me  once, 
I  should  not  live  long  after  I  saw  Richmond. 

Buck.   My  lord, 

K.  Rich.  *  Ay,  what's  o'clock  ? 

Buck.  I  am  thus  bold 

To  put  your  grace  in  mind  of  what  you  promised  me. 

K.  Rich.   Well,  but  what  is't  o'clock  ? 

Buck.  Upon  the  stroke 

Of  ten. 

K.  Rich.   Well,  let  it  strike. 

Buck.  Why  let  it  strike  ? 

K.  Rich.    Because  that,  like  a  Jack,2  thou  keep'st 
the  stroke 


1  Hooker,  who  wrote  in  queen  Elizabeth's  time,  in  his  description  of 
Exeter,  mentions  this  as  a  "very  old  and  antient castle,  named  Rugemont; 
that  is  to  say,  Red  Hill,  taking-  the  name  of  the  red  soil  or  earth  where 
upon  it  is  situated."     It  was  first  built,  he  adds,  as  some  think,  by  Julius 
Caesar,  but  rather,  and  in  truth,  by  the  Romans  after  him. 

2  This  alludes  to  the  jack  of  the  clock  house,  mentioned  before  in  King 
Richard  II.  Act  v.  Sc.  5.     It  was  a  figure  made  in  old  public  clocks  to 
strike  the  bell  on  the  outside ;  of  the  same  kind  as  those  still  preserved  at 
St  Dunstan's  church  in  Fleet-street.     Richard  compares  Buckingham  to 
on 3  of  the  automatons,  and  bids  him  not  to  suspend  the  stroke  on  the 
clock  bell,  but  strike,  that  the  noise  may  be  past,  and  himself  at  liberty  to 


92  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IV. 

Betwixt  thy  begging  and  my  meditation. 
I  am  not  in  the  giving  vein  to-day. 

Buck.   Why,  then  resolve  me  whe'r  you  will,  or  no. 

K.  Rich.    Thou  troublest  me  ;  I  am  not  in  the  vein. 
[Exeunt  KING  RICHARD  and  Train. 

Buck.    And  is  it  thus  ?     Repays  he  my  deep  service 
With  such  contempt  ?     Made  I  him  king  for  this  ? 
O,  let  me  think  on  Hastings;  and  be  gone 
To  Brecknock,1  while  my  fearful  head  is  on.        [Exit. 


SCENE   III.     The  same. 


Enter  TYRREL. 

Tyr.    The  tyrannous  and  bloody  act  is  done  ; 
The  most  arch  deed  of  piteous  massacre, 
That  ever  yet  this  land  was  guilty  of. 
Dighton,  and  Forrest,  whom  I  did  suborn 
To  do  this  piece  of  ruthless  butchery, 
Albeit  they  were  fleshed  villains,  bloody  dogs, 
Melting  with  tenderness  and  mild  compassion, 
Wept  like  two  children,  in  their  death's  sad  story. 
O  thus,  quoth  Dighton,  lay  the  gentle  babes, — 
Thus,  thus,  quoth  Forrest,  girdling  one  another 
Within  their  alabaster,  innocent  arms : 
Their  lips  were  four  red  roses  on  a  stalk, 
Which,  in  their  summer  beauty,  kissed  each  other. 
A  book  of  prayers  on  their  pillow  lay ; 
Which  once,  quoth  Forrest,  almost  changed  my  mind ; 
But,  0,  the  devil — there  the  villain  stopped  ; 
When  Dighton  thus  told  on — we  smothered 
The  most  replenished,  sweet  work  of  nature, 
That,  from  the  prime  creation,  e'er  she  framed. — 
Hence  both  are  gone  with  conscience  and  remorse, 
They  could  not  speak ;  and  so  I  left  them  both, 
To  bear  this  tidings  to  the  bloody  king. 

pursue  his  meditations.    Jack  was  a  term  of  contempt,  occurring  before 
in  this  play, 
i  His  castle  in  Wales. 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD   HI.  93 

Enter  KING  RICHARD. 

And  here  he  comes  : — all  health,  my  sovereign  lord  ! 

K.  Rich.    Kind  Tyrrel !  am  I  happy  in  thy  news  ? 

Tyr.    If  to  have  done  the  thing  you  gave  in  charge 
Beget  your  happiness,  be  happy  then, 
For  it  is  done. 

K.  Rich.    But  didst  thou  see  them  dead  ? 

Tyr.    I  did,  my  lord. 

K.  Rich.  And  buried,  gentle  Tyrrel  ? 

Tyr.    The  chaplain  of  the  Tower  hath  buried  them  ; 
But  where,  to  say  the  truth,  I  do  not  know. 

K.  Rich.    Come  to  me,  Tyrrel,  soon,  at  after  supper, 
When  thou  shalt  tell  the  process  of  their  death. 
Mean  time,  but  think  how  I  may  do  thee  good, 
And  be  inheritor  of  thy  desire. 
Farewell,  till  then. 

Tyr.  I  humbly  take  my  leave.      [Exit. 

K.  Rich.    The  son  of  Clarence  have  I  penned  up  close. 
His  daughter  meanly  have  T  matched  in  marriage  ; 
The  sons  of  Edward  sleep  in  Abraham's  bosom, 
And  Anne  my  wife  hath  bid  the  world  good  night. 
Now,  for  I  know  the  Bretagne  l  Richmond  aims 
At  young  Elizabeth,  my  brother's  daughter, 
And,  by  that  knot,  looks  proudly  on  the  crown, 
To  her  go  I,  a  jolly,  thriving  wooer. 

Enter  CATESBY. 

Cate.   My  lord, — 

K.  Rich.    Good  news  or  bad,  that  thou  com'st  in  so 

bluntly  ? 

Cate.   Bad  news,  my  lord  ;  Morton 2  is  fled  to  Rich 
mond  ; 

And  Buckingham,  backed  with  the  hardy  Welshmen, 
Is  in  the  field,  and  still  his  power  increaseth. 

1  Richmond,  after  the  battle  of  Tewksbury,  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
court  of  Francis  II.,  duke  of  Bretagne,  where  he  was  kept  a  long  time  in 
honorable  custody. 

2  Bishop  of  Ely. 


94  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  IV. 

K.  Rich.  Ely  with  Richmond  troubles  me  more  near 
Than  Buckingham  and  his  rash-levied  strength. 
Come, — I  have  learned  that  fearful  commenting 
Is  leaden  servitor  to  dull  delay ; 
Delay  leads  impotent  and  snail-paced  beggary : 
Then  fiery  expedition  be  my  wing, 
Jove's  Mercury,  and  herald  for  a  king  ! 
Go,  muster  men.     My  counsel  is  my  shield  ; 
We  must  be  brief  when  traitors  brave  the  field. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE    IV.     The  same.     Before  the  Palace. 

Enter  QUEEN  MARGARET. 

Q.  Mar.    So,  now  prosperity  begins  to  mellow, 
And  drop  into  the  rotten  mouth  of  death. 
Here  in  these  confines  slyly  have  I  lurked, 
To  watch  the  waning  of  mine  enemies. 
A  dire  induction 1  am  I  witness  to, 
And  will  to  France,  hoping  the  consequence 
Will  prove  as  bitter,  black,  and  tragical. 
Withdraw  thee,  wretched  Margaret !   Who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  QUEEN  ELIZABETH  and  the  DUCHESS  of  YORK. 

Q.   Eliz.    Ah,    my    poor   princes !    ah,    my   tender 

babes  ! 

My  unblown  flowers,  new-appearing  sweets  ! 
If  yet  your  gentle  souls  fly  in  the  air, 
And  be  not  fixed  in  doom  perpetual, 
Hover  about  me  with  your  airy  wings, 
And  hear  your  mother's  lamentation  ! 

Q.  Mar.    Hover  about  her  ;  say,  that  right  for  right9 
Hath  dimmed  your  infant  morn  to  aged  night. 

Duch.  So  many  miseries  have  crazed  my  voice, 
That  my  woe-wearied  tongue  is  still  and  mute  ! — 
Edward  Plantagenet,  why  art  thou  dead  ? 

1  Induction  is  preface,  introduction,  or  prologue. 
9  Justice  answering  to  the  claims  of  justice. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  95 

Q.  Mar.    Plantagenet  doth  quit  Plantagenet, 
Edward  for  Edward  pays  a  dying  debt. 

Q.  Eliz.   Wilt  thou,  O  God,  fly  from  such  gentle 

lambs, 

And  throw  them  in  the  entrails  of  the  wolf  ? 
When  didst  thou  sleep,  when  such  a  deed  was  done  ? 

Q.  Mar.    When  holy  Harry  died,  and  my  sweet  son. 

Duch.    Dead   life,    blind    sight,  poor,  mortal-living 

ghost, 

Woe's  scene,  world's  shame,  grave's  due  by  life  usurped, 
Brief  abstract  and  record  of  tedious  days, 
Rest  thy  unrest  on  England's  lawful  earth, 

[Sitting  down. 
Unlawfully  made  drunk  with  innocent  blood  ! 

Q.  Eliz.    Ah,  that   thou  wouldst   as  soon  afford  a 

grave^ 

As  thou  canst  yield  a  melancholy  seat ; 
Then  would  I  hide  my  bones,  not  rest  them  here  ! 
Ah,  who  hath  any  cause  to  mourn,  but  we  ? 

[Sitting  down  by  her. 

Q.  Mar.    If  ancient  sorrow  be  most  reverent, 
Give  mine  the  benefit  of  seniory, 
And  let  my  griefs  frown  on  the  upper  hand. 
If  sorrow  can  admit  society, 

[Sitting  down  with  them. 
Tell  o'er  your  woes  again  by  viewing  mine  : — 
I  had  an  Edward,  till  a  Richard  killed  him  ; 
I  had  a  husband,  till  a  Richard  killed  him  : 
Thou  hadst  an  Edward,  till  a  Richard  killed  him  : 
Thou  hadst  a  Richard,  till  a  Richard  killed  him. 

Duch.    I  had  a  Richard  too,  and  thou  didst  kill  him  ; 
I  had  a  Rutland  too,  thou  holp'st  to  kill  him. 

Q.  Mar.    Thou  hadst  a  Clarence  too,  and  Richard 

killed  him  ; 

From  forth  the  kennel  of  thy  womb  hath  crept 
A  hell-hound,  that  doth  hunt  us  all  to  death  : 
That  dog  that  had  his  teeth  before  his  eyes, 
To  worry  lambs,  and  lap  their  gentle  blood ; 
That  foul  defacer  of  God's  handiwork  ; 
That  excellent  grand  tyrant  of  the  earth, 


96  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  IV. 

That  reigns  in  galled  eyes  of  weeping  souls, 
Thy  womb  let  loose,  to  chase  us  to  our  graves. — 
O,  upright,  just,  and  true-disposing  God, 
How  do  I  thank  thee,  that  this  carnal 1  cur 
Preys  on  the  issue  of  his  mother's  body, 
And  makes  her  pew-fellow  2  with  others'  moan  ! 

Duch.    O,  Harry's  wife,  triumph  not  in  my  woes  ; 
God  witness  with  me,  I  have  wept  for  thine. 

Q.  Mar.   Bear  with  me,  I  am  hungry  for  revenge, 
And  now  I  cloy  me  with  beholding  it. 
Thy  Edward  he  is  dead,  that  killed  my  Edward  ; 
Thy  other  Edward  dead,  to  quit  my  Edward ; 
Young  York  he  is  but  boot,3  because  both  they 
Match  not  the  high  perfection  of  my  loss. 
Thy  Clarence  he  is  dead,  that  stabbed  my  Edward ; 
And  the  beholders  of  this  tragic  play, 
The  adulterate  Hastings,  Rivers,  Vaughan,  Grey, 
Untimely  smothered  in  their  dusky  graves. 
Richard  yet  lives,  hell's  black  intelligencer  ; 
Only  reserved  their  factor,  to  buy  souls, 
And  send  them  thither.     But  at  hand,  at  hand, 
Ensues  his  piteous  and  unpitied  end  : 
Earth  gapes,  hell  burns,  fiends  roar,  saints  pray, 
To  have  him  suddenly  conveyed  from  hence  : — 
Cancel  his  bond  of  life,  dear  God,  I  pray, 
That  I  may  live  to  say,  The  dog  is  dead  ! 

Q.  Eliz.    O,  thou  didst  prophesy,  the  time  would 

come, 

That  I  should  wish  for  thee  to  help  me  curse 
That  bottled  spider,  that  foul,  bunch-backed  toad. 

Q.  Mar.    I  called  thee  then,  vain  flourish  of  my  for 
tune  ; 

I  called  thee  then,  poor  shadow,  painted  queen  ; 
The  presentation  of  but  what  I  was, 
The  flattering  index  4  of  a  direful  pageant, 

1  Sanguinary,  JlesUy-minded. 

2  This  word  appears  to  have  been  used  metaphorically  for  an  equal,  a 
companion. 

3  i.  e.  thrown  into  the  bargain. 

4  Mr.  IN  ares  suggests  that  the  index  of  a  pageant  was  probably  a  paint 
ed  cloth  hung  up  before  a  booth  where  a  pageant  was  to  be  exhibited. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  97 

One  heaved  a  high,  to  be  hurled  down  below  ; 

A  mother  only  mocked  with  two  fair  babes  ; 

A  dream  of  what  thou  wast ;  a  garish x  flag, 

To  be  the  aim  of  every  dangerous  shot ; 

A  sign  of  dignity,  a  breath,  a  bubble  ; 

A  queen  in  jest,  only  to  fill  the  scene. 

Where  is  thy  husband  now  ?  where  be  thy  brothers  ? 

Where  be  thy  two  sons  ?  wherein  dost  thou  joy  ? 

Who  sues,  and  kneels,  and  says — God  save  the  queen  $ 

Where  be  the  bending  peers  that  flattered  thee  ? 

Where  be  the  thronging  troops  that  followed  thee  ? 

Decline  all  this,2  and  see  what  now  thou  art. 

For  happy  wife,  a  most  distressed  widow ; 

For  joyful  mother,  one  that  wails  the  name  ; 

For  one  being  sued  to,  one  that  humbly  sues  ; 

For  queen,  a  very  caitiff  crowned  with  care  ; 

For  one  that  scorned  at  me,  now  scorned  of  me  ; 

For  one  being  feared  of  all,  now  fearing  one  ; 

For  one  commanding  all,  obeyed  of  none. 

Thus  hath  the  course  of  justice  wheeled  about, 

And  left  thee  but  a  very  prey  to  time  ; 

Having  no  more  but  thought  of  what  thou  wert, 

To  torture  thee  the  more,  being  what  thou  art. 

Thou  didst  usurp  my  place ;  and  dost  thou  not 

Usurp  the  just  proportion  of  my  sorrow  ? 

Now  thy  proud  neck  bears  half  my  burdened  yoke  ; 

From  which  even  here  I  slip  my  wearied  head, 

And  leave  the  burden  of  it  all  on  thee. 

Farewell,  York's  wife, — and  queen  of  sad  mischance, — 

These  English  woes  shall  make  me  smile  in  France. 

Q.  Eliz.    O,  thou  well  skilled  in  curses,  stay  a  while, 
And  teach  me  how  to  curse  mine  enemies. 

Q.  Mar.    Forbear  to  sleep  the  night,  and  fast  the 

day; 

Compare  dead  happiness  with  living  woe  : 
Think  that  thy  babes  were  fairer  than  they  were, 
And  he  that  slew  them,  fouler  than  he  is  : 

1  Alluding  to  the  dangerous  situation  of  those  persons  to  whose  care 
the  standards  of  armies  were  intrusted. 

2  i.  e.  run  through  all  this  from  first  to  last. 

VOL.    V.  13 


98  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  IV 

Bettering l  thy  loss  makes  the  bad  causer  worse  ; 
Revolving  this  will  teach  thee  how  to  curse. 

Q.  Eliz.    My  words  are  dull ;  O,  quicken  them  with 
thine  ! 

Q.  Mar.    Thy  woes  will  make  them  sharp,  and  pierce 
like  mine.  [Exit  Q.  MARGARET. 

Duch.    Why  should  calamity  be  full  of  words  ? 

Q.  Eliz.    Windy  attorneys  to  their  client  woes, 
Airy  succeeders  of  intestate  joys, 
Poor  breathing  orators  of  miseries  ! 
Let  them  have  scope  :  though  what  they  do  impart 
Help  nothing  else,  yet  do  they  ease  the  heart. 

Duch.    If  so,  then  be  not  tongue-tied  :  go  with  me, 
And  in  the  breath  of  bitter  words  let's  smother 
My  damned  son,  that  thy  two  sweet  sons  smothered. 

[Drum  ivithin. 
I  hear  his  drum, — be  copious  in  exclaims. 

Enter  KING  RICHARD  and  his  Train,  marching. 

K.  Rich.    Who  intercepts  me  in  my  expedition  ? 

Duch.    O,  she,  that  might  have  intercepted  thee, 
By  strangling  thee  in  her  accursed  womb, 
From  all  the  slaughters,  wretch,  that  thou  hast  done. 

Q.  Eliz.    Hid'st  thou  that  forehead  with  a  golden 

crown, 

Where  should  be  branded,  if  that  right  were  right, 
The  slaughter  of  the  prince  that  owed  that  crown, 
And  the  dire  death  of  my  poor  sons,  and  brothers  ? 
Tell  me,  thou  villain  slave,  where  are  my  children  •? 

Duch.    Thou  toad,  thou  toad,  where  is  thy  brother 

Clarence  ? 
And  little  Ned  Plantagenet,  his  son  ? 

Q.  Eliz.  Where  is  the  gentle  Rivers,  Vaughan,  Grey? 

Duch.    Where  is  kind  Hastings  ? 

K.  Rich.  A  flourish,  trumpets ! — strike  alarum,  drums ! 
Let  not  the  heavens  hear  these  telltale  women 
Rail  on  the  Lord's  anointed.    Strike,  I  say. — 

[Flourish.     Alarums* 

1  Bettering  is  amplifying,  magnifying  thy  loss. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  99 

Either  be  patient  and  entreat  me  fair, 
Or  with  the  clamorous  report  of  war 
Thus  will  I  drown  your  exclamations. 

Duch.    Art  thou  my  son  ? 

K.  Rich.    Ay  ;  I  thank  God,  my  father,  and  yourself 

Duch.    Then  patiently  hear  my  impatience. 

K.  Rich.   Madam,  I  have  a  touch  of  your  condition, 
That  cannot  brook  the  accent  of  reproof. 

Duch.    O,  let  me  speak. 

K.  Rich.  Do,  then  ;  but  I'll  not  hear. 

Duch.    I  will  be  mild  and  gentle  in  my  words. 

K.  Rich.    And    brief,    good   mother ;   for   I   am   in 
haste. 

Duch.    Art  thou  so  hasty  ?     I  have  staid  for  thee, 
God  knows,  in  torment  and  in  agony. 

K.  Rich.   And  came  I  not  at  last  to  comfort  you  ? 

Duch.   No,  by  the  holy  rood,  thou  know'st  it  well, 
Thou  cam'st  on  earth  to  make  the  earth  my  hell. 
A  grievous  burden  was  thy  birth  to  me  ; 
Tetchy  *  and  wayward  was  thy  infancy  ; 
Thy  school-days,  frightful,  desperate,  wild,  and  furious  ; 
Thy  prime  of  manhood,  daring,  bold,  and  venturous ; 
Thy  age  confirmed,  proud,  subtle,  sly,  and  bloody, 
More  mild,  but  yet  more  harmful,  kind  in  hatred ; 
What  comfortable  hour  canst  thou  name, 
That  ever  graced  me  in  thy  company  ? 

K.  Rich.    'Faith,  none,  but  Humphrey  Hour,2  that 

called  your  grace 

To  breakfast  once,  forth  of  my  company. 
If  I  be  so  disgracious  in  your  sight, 
Let  me  march  on,  and  not  offend  you,  madam. — 
Strike  up  the  drum. 

Duch.  I  pr'ythee,  hear  me  speak. 

K.  Rich.   You  speak  too  bitterly. 

1  Touchy,  fretful. 

2  Steevens  supposes  that  this  is  an  allusion  to  some  affair  of  gallantry  of 
which  the  duchess  had  been  suspected.    There  is  no  mention  of  any  thing 
of  the  kind  in  the  Chronicles.    Malone  conjectures  that  Humphrey  Hour 
is  merely  used  as  a  ludicrous  periphrasis  for  hour,  like  Tom  Troth,  fol 
truth,  in  Gabriel  Harvey's  Letter  to  Spenser. 


100  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IV. 

Duch.  Hear  me  a  word  ; 

For  I  shall  never  speak  to  thee  again. 

K.Rich.    So. 

Duch    Either   thou  wilt  die,  by  God's  just  ordi 
nance, 

Ere  from  this  war  thou  turn  a  conqueror ; 
Or  I  with  grief  and  extreme  age  shall  perish, 
And  never  look  upon  thy  face  again. 
Therefore  take  with  thee  my  most  heavy  curse  ; 
Which,  in  the  day  of  battle,  tire  thee  more, 
Than  all  the  complete  armor  that  thou  wear'st ! 
My  prayers  on  the  adverse  party  fight ; 
And  there  the  little  souls  of  Edward's  children 
Whisper  the  spirits  of  thine  enemies, 
And  promise  them  success  and  victory. 
Bloody  thou  art,  bloody  will  be  thy  end ; 
Shame  serves 1  thy  life,  and  doth  thy  death  attend. 

[Exit. 

Q.  Eliz.    Though   far  more    cause,    yet  much  less 

spirit  to  curse 
Abides  in  me  ;  I  say  amen  to  her.  [Going. 

K.  Rich.    Stay,  madam ;  I  must  speak  a  word  with 
you. 

Q.  Eliz.    I  have  no  more  sons  of  the  royal  blood 
For  thee  to  murder.     For  rny  daughters,  Richard, — 
They  shall  be  praying  nuns,  not  weeping  queens  ; 
And  therefore  level  not  to  hit  their  lives. 

K.  Rich.   You  have  a  daughter  called — Elizabeth, 
Virtuous  and  fair,  royal  and  gracious. 

Q.  Eliz.  And  must  she  die  for  this  ?   O,  let  her  live, 
And  I'll  corrupt  her  manners,  stain  her  beauty ; 
Slander  myself,  as  false  to  Edward's  bed ; 
Throw  over  her  the  veil  of  infamy ; 
So  she  may  live  unscarred  of  bleeding  slaughter, 
I  will  confess  she  was  not  Edward's  daughter. 

K.  Rich.    Wrong  riot  her  birth  ;  she  is  of  royal  blood. 

Q.  Eliz.    To  save  her  life,  I'll  say  she  is  not  so. 

K.  Rich.    Her  life  is  safest  only  in  her  birth. 

1  i.  e.  accompanies. 


SO.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  101 

Q.  Eliz.    And  only  in  that  safety  died  her  brothers. 

K.  Rich.    Lo,  at  their  births,  good  stars  were  oppo 
site. 

Q.  Eliz.    No,  to  their  lives  bad  friends  were  contrary. 

K.  Rich.    All  unavoided 1  is  the  doom  of  destiny. 

Q.  Eliz.    True,  when  avoided  grace  makes  destiny. 
My  babes  were  destined  to  a  fairer  death, 
If  grace  had  blest  thee  with  a  fairer  life. 

K.  Rich.    You  speak  as  if  that  I  had  slain  my  cousins. 

Q.  Eliz.    Cousins,    indeed ;    and    by   their    uncle 

cozened 

Of  comfort,  kingdom,  kindred,  freedom,  life. 
Whose  hands  soever  lanced  their  tender  hearts, 
Thy  head,  all  indirectly,  gave  direction. 
No  doubt  the  murderous  knife  was  dull  and  blunt, 
Till  it  was  whetted  on  thy  stone-hard  heart, 
To  revel  in  the  entrails  of  my  lambs. 
But  that  still 2  use  of  grief  makes  wild  grief  tame, 
My  tongue  should  to  thy  ears  not  name  my  boys, 
Till  that  my  nails  were  anchored  in  thine  eyes ; 
And  I,  in  such  a  desperate  bay  of  death, 
Like  a  poor  bark,  of  sails  and  tackling  reft, 
Rush  all  to  pieces  on  thy  rocky  bosom. 

K.  Rich.    Madam,  so  thrive  I  in  my  enterprise, 
And  dangerous  success  of  bloody  wars, 
As  I  intend  more  good  to  you  and  yours, 
Than  ever  you  or  yours  by  me  were  harmed ! 

Q.  Eliz.    What  good  is  covered  with  the  face  of 

heaven, 
To  be  discovered,  that  can  do  me  good  ? 

K.  Rich.   The  advancement  of  your  children,  gentle 
lady. 

Q.  Eliz.    tip  to  some  scaffold,  there  to  lose  their 
heads  ? 

K.  Rich.   No,  to  the  dignity  and  height  of  fortune, 
The  high,  imperial  type  of  this  earth's  glory. 

Q.  Eliz.  Flatter  my  sorrows  with  report  of  it. 

1  Unavoidable.  2  i.  e.  constant  use. 


102  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IV. 

Tell  me,  what  state,  what  dignity,  what  honor, 
Canst  thou  demise  l  to  any  child  of  mine  ? 

K.  Rich.    Even  all  I  have  ;  ay,  and  myself  and  all, 
Will  1  withal  endow  a  child  of  thine ; 
So  in  the  Lethe  of  thy  angry  soul 
Thou  drown  the  sad  remembrance  of  those  wrongs, 
Which  thou  supposest  I  have  done  to  thee. 

Q.  Eliz.    Be  brief,  lest  that  the  process  of  thy  kind 
ness 
Last  longer  telling  than  thy  kindness'  date. 

K.  Rich.    Then  know,  that  from  my  soul,  I  love  thy 

daughter. 
Q.  Eliz.    My  daughter's  mother  thinks  it  with  her 

soul. 

K.  Rich.    What  do  you  think  ? 
Q.  Eliz.    That  thou  dost  love  my  daughter,  from  thy 

soul: 

So,  from  thy  soul's  love,  didst  thou  love  her  brothers ; 
And  from  my  heart's  love,  I  do  thank  thee  for  it. 

K.  Rich.   Be  not  so  hasty  to  confound  my  meaning. 
I  mean,  that  with  my  soul  I  love  thy  daughter, 
And  do  intend  to  make  her  queen  of  England. 

Q.  Eliz.    Well  then,  who  dost  thou  mean  shall  be  her 

king? 
K.  Rich.   Even  he  that  makes  her  queen.      Who 

else  should  be  ? 
Q.  Eliz.  What,  thou  ? 
K.  Rich.  Even  so.  How  think  you 

of  it  ? 

Q.  Eliz.    How  canst  thou  woo  her  ? 
K.  Rich.  That  I  would  learn  of  you, 

As  one  being  best  acquainted  with  her  humor. 
Q.  Eliz.    And  wilt  thou  learn  of  me  ? 
K.  Rich.  Madam,  with  all  my  heart. 

Q.  Eliz.    Send  to  her,   by  the  man  that  slew  her 

brothers, 

A  pair  of  bleeding  hearts  ;  thereon  engrave, 
Edward,  and  York ;  then,  haply,  will  she  weep. 

i  The  second  folio  reads  devise. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  103 

Therefore  present  to  her — as  sometime  Margaret 

Did  to  thy  father,  steeped  in  Rutland's  blood — 

A  handkerchief;  which,  say  to  her,  did  drain 

The  purple  sap  from  her  sweet  brothers'  body, 

And  bid  her  wipe  her  weeping  eyes  withal. 

If  this  inducement  move  her  not  to  love, 

Send  her  a  letter  of  thy  noble  deeds  ; 

Tell  her,  thou  mad'st  away  her  uncle  Clarence, 

Her  uncle  Rivers ;  ay,  and,  for  her  sake, 

Mad'st  quick  conveyance  with  her  good  aunt  Anne. 

K.  Rich.    You  mock  me,  madam  ;  this  is  not  the  way 
To  win  your  daughter. 

Q.  Eliz.  There  is  no  other  way  ; 

Unless  thou  couldst  put  on  some  other  shape, 
And  not  be  Richard  that  hath  done  all  this. 

K.  Rich.    Say  that  I  did  all  this  for  love  of  her  ? 

Q.  Eliz.    Nay,  then,  indeed,  she  cannot  choose  but 

hate  thee,1 
Having  bought  love  with  such  a  bloody  spoil. 

K.  Rich.     Look,    what  is    done     cannot    be    now 

amended ; 

Men  shall  deal  unadvisedly  sometimes, 
Which  after-hours  give  leisure  to  repent. 
If  I  did  take  the  kingdom  from  your  sons, 
To  make  amends,  I'll  give  it  to  your  daughter. 
If  I  have  killed  the  issue  of  your  womb, 
To  quicken  your  increase,  I  will  beget 
Mine  issue  of  your  blood  upon  your  daughter. 
A  grandam's  name  is  little  less  in  love, 
Than  is  the  doting  title  of  a  mother ; 
They  are  as  children,  but  one  step  below, 
Even  of  your  mettle,  of  your  very  blood ; 
Of  all  one  pain, — save  for  a  night  of  groans 
Endured  of  her,  for  whom  you  bid  like  sorrow.2 

1  Tyrwhitt  suggested  that  the  sense  seemed  to  require  we  should  read 
"but  love  thee,"  ironically.      Mason  proposed  "but  have  thee,"  which 
Steevens  admitted  into  the  text.     "  It  is  by  no  means  evident  that  this  is 
spoken  ironically  (says  Mr.  Boswell),  and  if  not,  the  old  reading  affords  a 
perfectly  clear  meaning.     A  virtuous  woman  would  hate  the  man  who 
thought  to  purchase  her  love  by  the  commission  of  crimes." 

2  Of  is  used  for  by ;  bid  is  the  past  tense  from  bide. 


104  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IV. 

Your  children  were  vexation  to  jour  youth, 

But  mine  shall  be  a  comfort  to  your  age. 

The  loss  you  have,  is  but — a  son  being  king, 

And,  by  that  loss,  your  daughter  is  made  queen. 

I  cannot  make  you  what  amends  I  would, 

Therefore  accept  such  kindness  as  I  can. 

Dorset,  your  son,  that  with  a  fearful  soul, 

Leads  discontented  steps  in  foreign  soil, 

This  fair  alliance  quickly  shall  call  home 

To  high  promotions  and  great  dignity. 

The  king,  that  calls  your  beauteous  daughter, — wife, 

Familiarly  shall  call  thy  Dorset — brother ; 

Again  shall  you  be  mother  to  a  king, 

And  all  the  ruins  of  distressful  times 

Repaired  with  double  riches  of  content. 

What !  we  have  many  goodly  days  to  see  ; 

The  liquid  drops  of  tears  that  you  have  shed, 

Shall  come  again,  transformed  to  orient  pearl ; 

Advantaging  their  loan,  with  interest 

Of  ten  times  double  gain  of  happiness. 

Go  then,  my  mother,  to  thy  daughter  go ; 

Make  bold  her  bashful  years  with  your  experience ; 

Prepare  her  ears  to  hear  a  wooer's  tale ; 

Put  in  her  tender  heart  the  aspiring  flame 

Of  golden  sovereignty ;  acquaint  the  princess 

With  the  sweet  silent  hours  of  marriage  joys ; 

And  when  this  arm  of  mine  hath  chastised 

The  petty  rebel,  dull-brained  Buckingham, 

Bound  with  triumphant  garlands  will  I  come, 

And  lead  thy  daughter  to  a  conqueror's  bed ; 

To  whom  I  will  retail 1  my  conquest  won, 

And  she  shall  be  sole  victress,  Csesar's  Caesar. 

Q.  Eliz.    What  were  I  best  to  say?    Her  father's 

brother 

Would  be  her  lord  ?  Or  shall  I  say,  her  uncle  ? 
Or,  he  that  slew  her  brothers,  and  her  uncles  ? 
Under  what  title  shall  I  woo  for  thee, 
That  God,  the  law,  my  honor,  and  her  love, 
Can  make  seem  pleasing  to  her  tender  years  ? 

1  i.  e.  recount. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  105 

K.  Rich.  Infer  fair  England's  peace  by  this  alliance. 
Q.  Eliz.  Which  she  shall  purchase  with  still  lasting 

war. 
K.  Rich.    Tell  her,   the  king,   that  may  command, 

entreats. 
Q.  Eliz.    That  at  her  hands,  which  the  king's  King 

forbids. 

K.  Rich.    Say,  she  shall  be  a  high  and  mighty  queen. 
Q.  Eliz.    To  wail  the  title,  as  her  mother  doth. 
K.  Rich.    Say,  I  will  love  her  everlastingly. 
Q.  Eliz.    But  how  long  shall  that  title,  ever,  last  ? 
K.  Rich.    Sweetly  in  force  unto  her  fair  life's  end. 
Q.  Eliz.    But  how  long  fairly  shall  her  sweet  life 

last  ? 

K.  Rich.   As  long  as  Heaven,  and  nature,  lengthens  it. 
Q.  Eliz.    As  long  as  hell,  and  Richard,  likes  of  it. 
K.  Rich.    Say,  I,  her  sovereign,  am  her  subject  low. 
Q.    Eliz.    But    she,    your    subject,    loathes    such 

sovereignty. 

K.  Rich.    Be  eloquent  in  my  behalf  to  her. 
Q.  Eliz.    An  honest  tale  speeds  best,  being  plainly 

told. 

K.  Rich.  Then  in  plain  terms  tell  her  my  loving  tale. 
Q.  Eliz.  Plain,  and  not  honest,  is  too  harsh  a  style. 
K.  Rich.  Your  reasons  are  too  shallow  and  too 

quick. 

Q.  Eliz.   O,  no,  my  reasons  are  too  deep  and  dead ; — 
Too  deep  and  dead,  poor  infants,  in  their  graves. 
K.  Rich.    Harp  not  on  that  string,  madam  ;  that  is 

past. 
Q.  Eliz.    Harp  on  it  still  shall  I,  till  heartstrings 

break. 
K.  Rich.   Now,  by  my  George,  my  garter,  and  my 

crown, — 

Q.  Eliz.  Profaned,  dishonored,  and  the  third  usurped. 
K.  Rich.  I  swear — 

Q.  Eliz.  By  nothing ;  for  this  is  no  oath. 

Thy  George,  profaned,  hath  lost  his  holy  honor ; 
Thy  garter,  blemished,  pawned  his  knightly  virtue  ; 
Thy  crown,  usurped,  disgraced  his  kingly  glory : 
VOL.  v.  14 


106  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IV. 

If  something  thou  wouldst  swear  to  be  believed, 
Swear  then  by  something  that  thou  hast  not  wronged. 

K.  Rich.   Now  by  the  world, 

Q.  Eliz.  'Tis  full  of  thy  foul  wrongs. 

K.  Rich.    My  father's  death, 

Q.  Eliz.  Thy  life  hath  that  dishonored. 

K.  Rich.    Then,  by  myself, 

Q.  Eliz.  Thyself  is  self  misused. 

K.  Rich.    Why  then,  by  God, 

Q.  Eliz.  God's  wrong  is  most  of  all. 

If  thou  hadst  feared  to  break  an  oath  by  him, 
The  unity,  the  king  thy  brother  made, 
Had  not  been  broken,  nor  my  brother  slain. 
If  thou  hadst  feared  to  break  an  oath  by  him, 
The  imperial  metal,  circling  now  thy  head, 
Had  graced  the  tender  temples  of  my  child ; 
And  both  the  princes  had  been  breathing  here, 
Which  now,  two  tender  bedfellows  for  dust, 
Thy  broken  faith  hath  made  a  prey  for  worms. 
What  canst  thou  swear  by  now  ? 

K.  Rich.  By  the  time  to  come. 

Q.  Eliz.    That  thou  hast  wronged  in  the   time  o'er- 

past ; 

For  I  myself  have  many  tears  to  wash 
Hereafter  time,  for  time  past,  wronged  by  thee. 
The  children  live,  whose  parents  thou  hast  slaughtered, 
Ungoverned  youth,  to  wail  it  in  their  age. 
The  parents  live,  whose  children  thou  hast  butchered, 
Old,  barren  plants,  to  wail  it  with  their  age. 
Swear  not  by  time  to  come ;  for  that  thou  hast 
Misused  ere  used,  by  times  ill  used  o'erpast. 

K.  Rich.    As  I  intend  to  prosper,  and  repent ! 
So  thrive  I  in  my  dangerous  attempt 
Of  hostile  arms  !  myself  myself  confound  ! 
Heaven,  and  fortune,  bar  me  happy  hours ! 
Day,  yield  me  not  thy  light ;  nor,  night,  thy  rest ! 
Be  opposite  all  planets  of  good  luck 
To  my  proceeding,  if  with  pure  heart's  love, 
Immaculate  devotion,  holy  thoughts, 
I  tender  not  thy  beauteous,  princely  daught 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  107 

In  her  consists  my  happiness,  and  thine. 
Without  her,  follows  to  myself,  and  thee, 
Herself,  the  land,  and  many  a  Christian  soul, 
Death,  desolation,  ruin,  and  decay. 
It  cannot  be  avoided  but  by  this ; 
It  will  not  be  avoided  but  by  this ; 
Therefore,  dear  mother,  (I  must  call  you  so,) 
Be  the  attorney  of  my  love  to  her. 
Plead  what  I  will  be,  not  what  I  have  been  ; 
Not  my  deserts,  but  \vhat  I  will  deserve. 
Urge  the  necessity  and  state  of  times, 
And  be  not  peevish  found  in  great  designs. 

Q.  Eliz.    Shall  I  be  tempted  of  the  devil  thus  ? 

K.  Rich.   Ay,  if  the  devil  tempt  thee  to  do  good. 

Q.  Eliz.    Shall  I  forget  myself  to  be  myself? 

K.  Rich.    Ay,   if  yourself's  remembrance  wrong 
yourself. 

Q.  Eliz.   But  thou  didst  kill  my  children. 

K.  Rich.  But  in  your  daughter's  womb  I  bury  them  ; 
Where,  in  the  nest  of  spicery,1  they  shall  breed 
Selves  of  themselves,  to  your  recomforture. 

Q.  Eliz.    Shall  I  go  win  my  daughter  to  thy  will  ? 

K.  Rich.    And  be  a  happy  mother  by  the  deed. 

Q.  Eliz.    I  go. — Write  to  me  very  shortly, 
And  you  shall  understand  from  me  her  mind. 

K.  Rich.    Bear  her  my  true  love's  kiss,  and  so  fare 
well.       [Kissing  her.     Exit  Q.  ELIZABETH. 
Relenting  fool,  and  shallow,  changing — woman ! 2 
How  now  ?  what  news  ? 

Enter  RATCLIFF  ;  CATESBY  following. 

Rat.   Most  mighty  sovereign,  on  the  western  coast 
Rideth  a  puissant  navy ;  to  the  shore 
Throng  many  doubtful,  hollow-hearted  friends, 
Unarmed,  and  unresolved  to  beat  them  back ; 
'Tis  thought,  that  Richmond  is  their  admiral ; 


1  Alluding  to  the  phoenix. 

2  Such  was  the  real  character  of  this  queen-dowager. 


108  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  IV 

And  there  they  hull,  expecting  but  the  aid 
Of  Buckingham,  to  welcome  them  ashore. 

K.  Rich.    Some  light- foot  friend  post  to  the  duke  of 

Norfolk; 

Ratcliff,  thyself, — or  Catesby  ;  where  is  he  ? 
Cats.   Here,  my  good  lord. 

K.  Rich.  Catesby,  fly  to  the  duke. 

Gate.    I  will,  my  lord,  with  all  convenient  haste. 
K.  Rich.    Ratcliff,  come  hither ;  post  to  Salisbury ; 
When  thou  com'st  thither, — Dull,  unmindful  villain, 

[To  CATESBY. 

Why  stay'st  thou  here,  and  go'st  not  to  the  duke  ? 
Cate.    First,  mighty  liege,  tell   me   your   highness' 

pleasure, 
What  from  your  grace  I  shall  deliver  to  him. 

K.  Rich.     O,  true,  good  Catesby. — Bid  him  levy 

straight 

The  greatest  strength  and  power  he  can  make, 
And  meet  me  suddenly  at  Salisbury. 

Cate.    I  go.  [Exit. 

Rat.   What,  may  it  please  you,  shall  I   do  at  Salis 
bury  ? 
K.  Rich.   Why,  what  wouldst  thou  do  there,  before 

I  go? 
Rat.   Your  highness  told  me  I  should  post  before. 

Enter  STANLEY. 

K.  Rich.     My   mind   is   changed. — Stanley,   what 
news  with  you  ? 

Stan.   None,  good  my  liege,  to  please  you  with  the 

hearing ; 
Nor  none  so  bad,  but  well  may  be  reported. 

K.  Rich.    Heyday,  a  riddle  !  neither  good  nor  bad  ! 
What  need'st  thou  run  so  many  miles  about, 
When  thou  mayst  tell  thy  tale  the  nearest  way  ? 
Once  more,  what  news  ? 

Stan.  Richmond  is  on  the  seas. 

K.  Rich.  There  let  him  sink,  and  be  the  seas  on  him ! 
White-livered  runagate,  what  doth  he  there  ? 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  109 

Stan.    I  know  not,  mighty  sovereign,  but  by  guess. 

K.  Rich.    Well,  as  you  guess  ? 

Stan.    Stirred    up    by   Dorset,    Buckingham,    and 

Morton, 
He  makes  for  England,  here  to  claim  the  crown. 

K.  Rich.    Is  the  chair  empty  ?     Is  the   sword  un 
swayed  ? 

Is  the  king  dead,  the  empire  unpossessed  ? 
What  heir  of  York  is  there  alive,  but  we  ?l 
And  who  is  England's  king,  but  great  York's  heir  ? 
Then,  tell  me,  what  makes  he  upon  the  seas  ? 

Stan.    Unless  for  that,  my  liege,  I  cannot  guess. 

K.  Rich.    Unless  for  that  he  comes  to  be  your  liege, 
You  cannot  guess  wherefore  the  Welshman  comes. 

O 

Thou  wilt  revolt,  and  fly  to  him,  I  fear. 

Stan.   No,  mighty  liege  ;  therefore  mistrust  me  not. 

K.  Rich.  Where  is  thy  power,  then,  to  beat  him  back  ? 
Where  be  thy  tenants,  and  thy  followers  ? 
Are  they  not  now  upon  the  western  shore, 
Safe-conducting  the  rebels  from  their  ships  ? 

Stan.    No,  my  good  lord  ;  my  friends  are  in  the  north. 

K.  Rich.    Cold  friends  to  me ;  what  do  they  in   the 

north, 
When  they  should  serve  their  sovereign  in  the  west  ? 

Stan.  They  have  not  been  commanded,  mighty  king. 
Pleaseth  your  majesty  to  give  me  leave, 
I'll  muster  up  my  friends ;  and  meet  your  grace, 
Where,  and  what  time,  your  majesty  shall  please. 

K.  Rich.    Ay,  ay,  thou  wouldst  be  gone  to  join  with 

Richmond. 
I  will  not  trust  you,  sir. 

Stan.  Most  mighty  sovereign, 

You  have  no  cause  to  hold  my  friendship  doubtful ; 
I  never  was,  nor  never  will  be  false. 

i  There  was  a  male  heir  of  the  house  of  York  alive,  who  had  a  better 
claim  to  the  throne  than  he,  Edward  earl  of  Warwick,  the  only  son  of 
George  duke  of  Clarence ;  but  Elizabeth,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Edward 
IV.,  and  all  her  sisters,  had  a  better  title  than  either  of  them.  He  had, 
however,  been  careful  to  have  the  issue  of  king  Edward  pronounced  ille 
gitimate  ;  and  as  the  duke  of  Clarence  had  been  attainted  of  high  treason, 
he  had  some  color  for  his  bravado. 


110  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  IV. 

K.  Rich.    Well,  go,   muster  men.     But,  hear  you, 

leave  behind 

Your  son,  George  Stanley ;  look  your  heart  be  firm, 
Or  else  his  head's  assurance  is  but  frail. 

Stan.    So  deal  with  him,  as  I  prove  true  to  you. 

[Exit  STANLEY. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    My  gracious  sovereign,  now  in  Devonshire, 
As  I  by  friends  am  well  advertised, 
Sir  Edward  Courtenay,  and  the  haughty  prelate, 
Bishop  of  Exeter,  his  elder  brother, 
With  many  more  confederates,  are  in  arms. 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

2  Mess.  In  Kent,  my  liege,  the  Guildfords  are  inarms ; 
And  every  hour  more  competitors1 

Flock  to  the  rebels,  and  their  power  grows  strong. 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

3  Mess.   My  lord,  the  army  of  great  Buckingham — 
K.  Rich.    Out  on  ye,  owls !    nothing  but  songs  of 

death  ?  [He  strikes  him. 

There,  take  thou  that,  till  thou  bring  better  news. 

3  Mess.    The  news  I  have  to  tell  your  majesty, 
Is, — that,  by  sudden  floods  and  fall  of  waters, 
Buckingham's  army  is  dispersed  and  scattered ; 
And  he  himself  wandered  away  alone, 
No  man  knows  whither. 

K.  Rich.  O,  I  cry  you  mercy ; 

There  is  my  purse,  to  cure  that  blow  of  thine. 
Hath  any  well-advised  friend  proclaimed 
Reward  to  him  that  brings  the  traitor  in  ? 

3  Mess.  Such  proclamation  hath  been  made,  my  liege. 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

4  Mess.    Sir  Thomas  Lovel,  and  lord  marquis  Dorset, 
Tis  said,  my  liege,  in  Yorkshire  are  in  arms. 

1  Competitors  here  means  confederates. 


SC.  V.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  Ill 

But  this  good  comfort  bring  I  to  your  highness, — 
The  Bretagne  navy  is  dispersed  by  tempest. 
Richmond,  in  Dorsetshire,  sent  out  a  boat 
Unto  the  shore,  to  ask  those  on  the  banks, 
If  they  were  his  assistants,  yea,  or  no ; 
Who  answered  him,  they  came  from  Buckingham 
Upon  his  party :  he,  mistrusting  them, 
Hoised  sail,  and  made  his  course  again  for  Bretagne. 
K.  Rich.    March  on,  march  on,  since  we  are  up  in 

arms  ; 

If  not  to  fight  with  foreign  enemies, 
Yet  to  beat  down  these  rebels  here  at  home. 

Enter  GATES  BY. 

Gate.   My  liege,  the  duke  of  Buckingham  is  taken ; 
That  is  the  best  news.     That  the  earl  of  Richmond 
Is  with  a  mighty  power1  landed  at  Milford, 
Is  colder  news,  but  yet  they  must  be  told. 

K.  Rich.    Away  towards  Salisbury ;  while  we  rea 
son  here, 

A  royal  battle  might  be  won  and  lost. — 
Some  one  take  order,  Buckingham  be  brought 
To  Salisbury  ; — the  rest  march  on  with  me.     [Exeunt. 


SCENE   V.     A  Room  in  Lord  Stanley's  House. 

Enter  STANLEY  and   SIR    CHRISTOPHER    URSWICK.S 

Stan.  Sir  Christopher,  tell  Richmond  this  from  me  ; — 
That  in  the  sty  of  this  most  bloody  boar, 


1  The  earl  of  Richmond  embarked  with  about  two  thousand  men  at 
Harfleur,  in  Normandy,  August  1,  1485,  and  landed  at  Milford  Haven  on 
the  7th.     He  directed  his  course  to  Wales,  hoping  the  Welsh  would  re 
ceive  him  cordially  as  their  countryman,  he  having  been  born  at  Pembroke, 
and  his  grandfather  being  Owen  Tudor,  who  married  Katharine  of  France, 
the  widow  of  king  Henry  V. 

2  Sir  Christopher  Urswick,  a  priest,  chaplain  to  the  countess  of  Rich 
mond,  who  was  married  to  the  lord  Stanley.     This  priest,  the  chronicles 
tell  us,  frequently  went  backwards  and  forwards,  unsuspected,  on  messages 
between  the  countess  of  Richmond  and  her  husband,  and  the  young  earl 
of  Richmond,  whilst  he  was  preparing  to  make  his  descent  on  England. 


112  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  V. 

My  son  George  Stanley  is  franked 1  up  in  hold ; 
If  I  revolt,  off  goes  young  George's  head  ; 
The  fear  of  that  withholds  my  present  aid. 
But,  tell  me,  where  is  princely  Richmond  now  ? 

Chris.    At  Pembroke,  or  at  Ha'rford-west,  in  Wales 

Stan.    What  men  of  name  resort  to  him  ? 

Chris.   Sir  Walter  Herbert,  a  renowned  soldier ; 
Sir  Gilbert  Talbot,  sir  William  Stanley ; 
Oxford,  redoubted  Pembroke,  sir  James  Blunt, 
And  Rice  ap  Thomas,  with  a  valiant  crew ; 
And  many  other  of  great  fame  and  worth ; 
And  towards  London  do  they  bend  their  course, 
If  by  the  way  they  be  not  fought  withal. 

Stan.  Well,  hie  thee  to  thy  lord ;  commend  me  to 

him  ; 

Tell  him,  the  queen  hath  heartily  consented 
He  shall  espouse  Elizabeth  her  daughter. 
These  letters  will  resolve  him  of  my  mind. 
Farewell.  [Gives papers  to  SIR  CHRISTOPHER. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE    I.     Salisbury.2     An  open  Place. 

Enter  the  Sheriff,  and  Guard,  with  BUCKINGHAM,  led  to 
execution. 

Buck.    Will  not  king  Richard  let  me   speak  with 

him  ?3 
Sher.    No,  my  good  lord  ;  therefore  be  patient. 

He  was  afterwards  almoner  to  king  Henry  VII.,  and  refused  the  bishopric 
of  Norwich.    He  retired  to  Hackney,  where  he  died  in  1527. 

1  Vide  note  on  p.  31,  ante. 

2  There  is  reason  to  think  that  Buckingham's  execution  took  place  at 
Shrewsbury. 

3  The  reason  why  the  duke  of  Buckingham  solicited  an  interview  with 
Richard  is  explained  in  King  Henry  VIII.  Act  i. 


SC.  1.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  113 

Buck.     Hastings,   and   Edward's   children,   Rivers, 

Grey, 

Holy  king  Henry,  and  thy  fair  son  Edward, 
Vaughan,  and  all  that  have  miscarried 
By  underhand,  corrupted,  foul  injustice ; 
If  that  your  moody,  discontented  souls 
Do  through  the  clouds  behold  this  present  hour, 
Even  for  revenge  mock  my  destruction ! 
This  is  All-Souls'  day,  fellows,  is  it  not  ? 

Sher.    It  is,  my  lord. 

Buck.     Why,    then    All-Souls'    day   is    my    body's 

doomsday. 

This  is  the  day,  which,  in  king  Edward's  time, 
I  wished  might  fall  on  me,  when  I  was  found 
False  to  his  children,  or  his  wife's  allies. 
This  is  the  day,  wherein  I  wished  to  fall 
By  the  false  faith  of  him  whom  most  I  trusted ; 
This,  this,  All-Souls'  day  to  my  fearful  soul, 
Is  the  determined  respite  of  my  wrongs.1 
That  high  All-seer  which  I  dallied  with, 
Hath  turned  my  feigned  prayer  on  my  head, 
And  given  in  earnest  what  I  begged  in  jest. 
Thus  doth  he  force  the  swords  of  wicked  men 
To  turn  their  own  points  on  their  masters'  bosoms ; 
Thus  Margaret's  curse  falls  heavy  on  my  neck, — 
When  he,  quoth  she,  shall  split  thy  heart  with  sorrow, 
Remember  Margaret  was  a  prophetess. — 
Come,  sirs,  convey  me  to  the  block  of  shame ; 
Wrong  hath  but  wrong,  and  blame  the  due  of  blame.2 

[Exeunt  BUCKINGHAM,  frc. 


1  The  time  to  which  the  punishment  of  his  injurious  practices  or  the 
wrongs  done  by  him  was  respited. 

2  Johnson  thinks  this  scene  should  be  added  to  the  fourth  act,  which 
would  give  it  a  more  full  and  striking  conclusion.     In  the  original  quarto 
copy,  1597,  this  play  is  not  divided  into  acts  and  scenes. 

VOL.    V.  15 


114  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  V. 


SCENE    II.     Plain   near  Tamworth. 

Enter,  with  drum  and  colors,  RICHMOND,  OXFORD,  1  SIR 
JAMES  BLUNT,S  SIR  WALTER  HERBERT,  and  others, 
with  Forces,  marching. 

Richm.   Fellows  in  arms,  and  my  most  loving  friends, 
Bruised  underneath  the  yoke  of  tyranny, 
Thus  far  into  the  bowels  of  the  land 
Have  we  inarched  on  without  impediment , 
And  here  receive  wre  from  our  father  Stanley 
Lines  of  fair  comfort  and  encouragement. 
The  wretched,  bloody,  and  usurping  boar, 
That  spoiled  your  summer  fields,  and  fruitful  vines, 
Swills  your  warm  blood  like  wash,  and  makes  his  trough 
In  your  embowelled  bosoms,  this  foul  swine 
Lies  now  even  in  the  centre  of  this  isle, 
Near  to  the  town  of  Leicester,  as  we  learn. 
From  Tamworth  thither,  is  but  one  day's  march. 
In  God's  name,  cheerly  on,  courageous  friends, 
To  reap  the  harvest  of  perpetual  peace 
By  this  one  bloody  trial  of  sharp  war. 

Oxf.    Every  man's  conscience  is  a  thousand  swords, 
To  fight  against  that  bloody  homicide. 

Herb.    I  doubt  riot  but  his  friends  will  turn  to  us. 

Blunt.    He  hath  no  friends,  but  who  are  friends  for 

fear; 
Which,  in  his  dearest  need,  will  fly  from  him. 

Richm.    All  for  our  vantage.     Then,  in  God's  name, 

march : 

True  hope  is  swift,  and  flies  with  swallow's  wings  ; 
Kings  it  makes  gods,  and  meaner  creatures  kings. 

[Exeunt. 

1  John  de  Vere,  earl  of  Oxford,  a  zealous  Lancastrian,  who,  after  a  long 
confinement  in  Hammes  castle,  in  Picardy,  escaped  in  1484,  and  joined 
Richmond  at  Paris.    He  commanded  the  archers  at  the  battle  of  Bosworth. 

2  Sir  James  Blunt  had  been  captain  of  the  castle  of  Hammes,  and  as 
sisted  Oxford  in  his  escape. 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  115 


SCENE   III.     Bosworth  Field. 

Enter  KING  RICHARD,  and  Forces ;  the  DUKE  of  NOR 
FOLK,  EARL  of  SURREY,  and  others. 

K.  Rich.    Here  pitch  our  tents,  even  here  in  Bos- 
worth  field. — 
My  lord  of  Surrey,  why  look  you  so  sad  ? 

Sur.   My  heart  is  ten  times  lighter  than  my  looks. 

K.  Rich.   My  lord  of  Norfolk, 

Nor.  Here,  most  gracious  liege. 

K.  Rich.   Norfolk,   we    must    have   knocks.      Ha! 
must  we  not  ? 

Nor.   We  must  both  give  and  take,  my  loving  lord. 

K.  Rich.  Up  with  my  tent.     Here  will  I  lie  to 
night  ; 1 

[Soldiers  begin  to  set  up  the  Kings  tent. 
But  where,  to-morrow  ? — Well,  all's  one  for  that. — 
Who  hath  descried  the  number  of  the  traitors  ? 

Nor.    Six  or  seven  thousand  is  their  utmost  power. 

K.  Rich.   Why,  our  battalia  trebles  that  account ; 2 
Besides,  the  king's  name  is  a  tower  of  strength, 
Which  they  upon  the  adverse  faction  want. 
Up  with  the  tent. — Come,  noble  gentlemen, 
Let  us  survey  the  vantage  of  the  ground ; — 
Call  for  some  men  of  sound  direction : — 
Let's  want  no  discipline,  make  no  delay ; 
For,  lords,  to-morrow  is  a  busy  day.  [Exeunt. 

Enter,  on  the  other  side  of  the  field,  RICHMOND,  SIR 
WILLIAM  BRANDON,  OXFORD,  and  other  Lords. 
Some  of  the  Soldiers  pitch  RICHMOND'S  tent. 

Richm.    The  weary  sun  hath  made  a  golden  set, 
And,  by  the  bright  track  of  his  fiery  car, 

1  Richard  is  reported  not  to  have  slept  in  his  tent  on  the  night  before 
the  battle,  but  in  the  town  of  Leicester. 

2  Richmond's  forces  are  said  to  have  been  only  five  thousand;  and 
Richard's  army  consisted  of  about  twelve  thousand.    But  lord  Stanley  lay 


116  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  V. 

Gives  token  of  a  goodly  day  to-morrow.— 

Sir  William  Brandon,  you  shall  bear  my  standard. — 

Give  me  some  ink  and  paper  in  my  tent ; — 

I'll  draw  the  form  and  model  of  our  battle, 

Limit  each  leader  to  his  several  charge, 

And  part  in  just  proportion  our  small  power. 

My  lord  of  Oxford,  you,  sir  William  Brandon, — 

And  you,  sir  Walter  Herbert,  stay  with  me. 

The  earl  of  Pembroke  keeps l  his  regiment ; — 

Good  captain  Blunt,  bear  my  good  night  to  him, 

And  by  the  second  hour  in  the  morning 

Desire  the  earl  to  see  me  in  my  tent. 

Yet  one  thing  more,  good  captain,  do  for  me ; 

Where  is  lord  Stanley  quartered,  do  you  know  ? 

Blunt.    Unless  I  have  mista'en  his  colors  much, 
(Which,  well  I  am  assured,  I  have  not  done,) 
His  regiment  lies  half  a  mile  at  least 
South  from  the  mighty  power  of  the  king. 

Richm.    If  without  peril  it  be  possible, 
Sweet  Blunt,  make  some  good  means  to  speak  with 

him, 
And  give  him  from  me  this  most  needful  note. 

Blunt.    Upon  my  life,  my  lord,  I'll  undertake  it ; 
And  so,  God  give  you  quiet  rest  to-night ! 

Richm.    Good  night,  good  captain  Blunt.     Come, 

gentlemen, 

Let  us  consult  upon  to-morrow's  business ; 
In  to  my  tent ;   the  air  is  raw  and  cold. 

[They  withdraw  into  the  tent. 

Enter,  to  his  tent,  KING  RICHARD,  NORFOLK,  RATCLIFF, 
and  CATESBY. 

K.  Rich.   What  is't  o'clock  ? 

Gate.  It's  supper  time,  my  lord ; 

It's  nine  o'clock. 


at  a  small  distance  with  three  thousand  men,  and  Richard  may  be  supposed 
to  have  reckoned  on  them  as  his  friends,  though  the  event  proved  other 
wise. 

1  Remains  with. 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  117 

K.  Rich.  I  will  not  sup  to-night. — 

Give  me  some  ink  and  paper. — 
What,  is  my  beaver  easier  than  it  was  ? — 
And  all  my  armor  laid  into  my  tent  ? 

Cate.    It  is,  my  liege  ;  and  all  things  are  in  readiness. 

K.  Rich.    Good  Norfolk,  hie  thee  to  thy  charge ; 
Use  careful  watch,  choose  trusty  sentinels. 

Nor.    I  go,  my  lord. 

K.  Rich.    Stir  with  the  lark  to-morrow,  gentle  Nor 
folk. 

Nor.    I  warrant  you,  my  lord.  [Exit. 

K.  Rich.    Ratcliff, 

Rat.   My  lord? 

K.  Rich.  Send  out  a  pursuivant  at  arms 

To  Stanley's  regiment ;  bid  him  bring  his  power 
Before  sun-rising,  lest  his  son  George  fall 
Into  the  blind  cave  of  eternal  night. — 
Fill  me  a  bowl  of  wine. — Give  me  a  watch.1 — 

[To  CATESBY. 

Saddle  white  Surrey  for  the  field  to-morrow. — 
Look  that  my  staves  2  be  sound,  and  not  too  heavy. 
Ratcliff, 

Rat.   My  lord? 

K.  Rich.    Saw'st  thou  the  melancholy  lord  Northum 
berland?3 

Rat.    Thomas  the  earl  of  Surrey,  and  himself, 
Much  about  cock-shut 4  time,  from  troop  to  troop, 
Went  through  the  army,  cheering  up  the  soldiers. 

K.  Rich.    So,  I  am  satisfied.     Give  me  a  bowl  of 
wine ; 

1  By  a  watch  is  most  probably  meant  a  watch-light. 

2  i.  e.  the  staves  or  poles  of  his  lances. 

3  Richard  calls  him  melancholy,  because  he  did  not  join  heartily  in  his 
cause. 

4  i.  e.  twilight.     A  cock-shut  was  a  large  net  stretched  across  a  glade, 
and  so  suspended  upon  poles  as  easily  to  be  drawn  together,  and  was  em 
ployed  to  catch  woodcocks.     These  nets  were  chiefly  used  in  the  twilight 
of  the  evening,  when  woodcocks  "  take  wing  to  go  and  get  water,  flying 
generally  low  ;  and  when  they  find  any  thoroughfare  through  a  wood  or 
range  of  trees,  they  venture  through."     The  artificial  glade  made  for 
them  to  pass  through  were  called  cocA>roads.     Hence  cock-shut  time  and 
cock-shut  light  were  used  to  express  the  evening  twilight. 


118  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  V. 

I  have  not  that  alacrity  of  spirit, 
Nor  cheer  of  mind,  that  I  was  wont  to  have. — 
Set  it  down. — Is  ink  and  paper  ready  ? 
Rat.    It  is,  my  lord. 

K.  Rich.  Bid  my  guard  watch ;  leave  me. 

About  the  mid  of  night,  come  to  my  tent, 
And  help  to  arm  me. — Leave  me,  I  say. 

[KiNG  RICHARD  retires  into  his  tent. 
Exeunt  RATCLIFF  and  CATESBY. 

RICHMOND'S   tent  opens,  and  discovers  him,  and 
Officers,  &c. 

Enter  STANLEY. 

Stan.    Fortune  and  victory  sit  on  thy  helm ! 

Richm.    All  comfort  that  the  dark  night  can  afford, 
Be  to  thy  person,  noble  father-in-law ! 
Tell  me,  how  fares  our  loving  mother  ? 

Stan.    I,  by  attorney,  bless  thee  from  thy  mother, 
Who  prays  continually  for  Richmond's  good. 
So  much  for  that. — The  silent  hours  steal  on, 
And  flaky  darkness  breaks  within  the  east. 
In  brief, — for  so  the  season  bids  us  be, — 
Prepare  thy  battle  early  in  the  morning  ; 
And  put  thy  fortune  to  the  arbitrement 
Of  bloody  strokes,  and  mortal-staring  war. 
I,  as  I  may,  (that  which  I  would,  I  cannot,) 
With  best  advantage  will  deceive  the  time, 
And  aid  thee  in  this  doubtful  shock  of  arms ; 
But  on  thy  side  I  may  not  be  too  forward, 
Lest,  being  seen,  thy  brother,  tender  George, 
Be  executed  in  his  father's  sight. 
Farewell ;  the  leisure l  and  the  fearful  time 
Cuts  off  the  ceremonious  vows  of  love, 
And  ample  interchange  of  sweet  discourse, 
Which  so  long-sundered  friends  should  dwell  upon : 


i  We  have  still  a  phrase  equivalent  to  this,  however  harsh  it  may  seem. 
"I  would  do  this  if  leisure  would  permit" 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  119 

God  give  us  leisure  for  these  rites  of  love. 
Once  more  adieu. — Be  valiant,  and  speed  well ! 

Richm.    Good  lords,  conduct  him  to  his  regiment  : 
I'll  strive,  with  troubled  thoughts,  to  take  a  nap  ; 
Lest  leaden  slumber  peise  ]  me  down  to-morrow, 
When  I  should  mount  with  wings  of  victory. 
Once  more,  good  night,  kind  lords  and  gentlemen. 

[Exeunt  Lords,  ^c.,  with  STANLEY. 
O  Thou  !  whose  captain  I  account  myself, 
Look  on  my  forces  with  a  gracious  eye  ; 
Put  in  their  hands  thy  bruising  irons  of  wrath, 
That  they  may  crush  down  with  a  heavy  fall 
The  usurping  helmets  of  our  adversaries ! 
Make  us  thy  ministers  of  chastisement, 
That  we  may  praise  thee  in  thy  victory ! 
To  thee  I  do  commend  my  watchful  soul, 
Ere  I  let  fall  the  windows  of  mine  eyes ! 
Sleeping,  and  waking,  O,  defend  me  still.          [Sleeps. 

The  Ghost2  of  Prince  Edward,  son  to  Henry  the  Sixth, 
rises  between  the  two  tents. 

Ghost.    Let  me  sit  heavy  on  thy  soul  to-morrow ! 

[To  KING  RICHARD. 

Think  how  thou  stab'dst  me  in  my  prime  of  youth 
At  Tewksbury  ;  despair  therefore,  and  die  !— 
Be  cheerful,  Richmond ;  for  the  wronged  souls 

[To  RICHMOND. 

Of  butchered  princes  fight  in  thy  behalf; 
King  Henry's  issue,  Richmond,  comforts  thee. 

The  Ghost  of  King  Henry  the  Sixth  rises. 

Ghost.    When  I  was  mortal,  my  anointed  body 

[To  KING  RICHARD. 

By  thee  was  punched  full  of  deadly  holes. 
Think  on  the  Tower  and  me  ;  despair,  and  die  ; 
Harry  the  Sixth  bids  thee  despair  and  die. — 
Virtuous  and  holy,  be  thou  conqueror ! 

[To  RICHMOND. 

1  Weigh. 

2  The  hint  for  this  scene  is  furnished  by  Holinshed,  who  copies  from 
Polydore  Virgil. 


120  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  V. 

Harry,  that  prophesied  thou  shouldst  be  king, 

Doth  comfort  thee  in  thy  sleep.     Live,  and  flourish ! 

The  Ghost  of  Clarence  rises. 

Ghost.    Let  me  sit  heavy  on  thy  soul  to-morrow ! 

[To  KIJSG  RICHARD. 

I,  that  was  washed  to  death  with  fulsome  1  wine, 
Poor  Clarence,  by  thy  guile  betrayed  to  death ! 
To-morrow  in  the  battle  think  on  me, 
And  fall 2  thy  edgeless  sword  ;  despair,  and  die  ! — 

Thou  offspring  of  the  house  of  Lancaster, 

[To  RICHMOND. 

The  wronged  heirs  of  York  do  pray  for  thee ; 
Good  angels  guard  thy  battle  !  Live,  and  flourish ! 

The  Ghosts  of  Rivers,  Grey,  and  Vaughan,  rise. 

Riv.    Let  me  sit  heavy  on  thy  soul  to-morrow, 

[To  KING  RICHARD. 

Rivers,  that  died  at  Pomfret !     Despair,  and  die  ! 
Grey.    Think  upon  Grey,  and  let  thy  soul  despair ! 

[To  KING  RICHARD. 

Vaugh.    Think  upon  Vaughan  ;  and,  with  guilty  fear, 
Let  fall  thy  lance  !     Despair,  and  die  ! — 

[To  KING  RICHARD. 

All.    Awake !   and   think  our  wrongs  in   Richard's 
bosom  [To  RICHMOND. 

Will  conquer  him ; — awake,  and  win  the  day  ! 

The  Ghost  of  Hastings  rises. 

Ghost.    Bloody  and  guilty,  guiltily  awake  ; 

[To  KING  RICHARD. 
And  in  a  bloody  battle  end  thy  days ! 
Think  on  lord  Hastings ;  and  despair,  and  die  ! — 
Quiet  untroubled  soul,  awake,  awake ! 

[To  RICHMOND. 
Arm,  fight,  and  conquer,  for  fair  England's  sake ! 


1  i.  e.  teeming  or  superabundant  wine.     Clarence  was  killed  before  he 
was  thrown  into  the  Malmsey  butt. 

2  Fall  is  here  a  verb  active,  signifying  to  drop  or  let  fall. 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  121 

The  Ghosts  of  the  two  young  Princes  rise. 

Ghosts.    Dream  on    thy  cousins  smothered  in   the 
Tower ;  [  To  RICHARD. 

Let  us  be  lead  within  thy  bosom,  Richard, 
And  weigh  thee  down  to  ruin,  shame,  and  death ! 
Thy  nephews'  souls  bid  thee  despair,  and  die. — 

Sleep,  Richmond,  sleep  in  peace,  and  wake  in  joy ; 

[To  RICHMOND. 

Good  angels  guard  thee  from  the  boar's  annoy ! 
Live,  and  beget  a  happy  race  of  kings ! 
Edward's  unhappy  sons  do  bid  thee  flourish. 

The  Ghost  of  Queen  Anne  rises. 

Ghost.  Richard,  thy  wife,  that  wretched  Anne,  thy  wife, 
That  never  slept  a  quiet  hour  with  thee, 
Now  fills  thy  sleep  with  perturbations : 
To-morrow  in  the  battle  think  on  me, 
And  fall  thy  edgeless  sword ;  despair,  and  die  ! — 

Thou,  quiet  soul,  sleep  thou  a  quiet  sleep ; 

[To  RICHMOND. 

Dream  of  success  and  happy  victory  ; 
Thy  adversary's  wife  doth  pray  for  thee. 

The  Ghost  of  Buckingham  rises. 

Ghost.    The   first  was  I,  that  helped    thee   to   the 
crown;  [To  RICHARD. 

The  last  was  I  that  felt  thy  tyranny  : 
O,  in  the  battle  think  on  Buckingham, 
And  die  in  terror  of  thy  guiltiness  ! 
Dream  on,  dream  on,  of  bloody  deeds  and  death  ; 
Fainting,  despair  ;  despairing,  yield  thy  breath  ! — 
I  died  for  hope1  ere  I  could  lend  thee  aid : 

[To  RICHMOND. 

But  cheer  thy  heart,  and  be  thou  not  dismayed  : 
God,  and  good  angels,  fight  on  Richmond's  side  ; 
And  Richard  falls  in  height  of  all  his  pride. 

[The  Ghosts  vanish.     KING  RICHARD  starts  out 
of  his  dream. 

'  Buckingham's  hope  of  aiding  Richmond  induced  him  to  take  up  arms. 
VOL.    V.  16 


KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  V 

K.    Rich.    Give    me    another    horse, — bind  up  my 

wounds, — 

Have  mercy,  Jesu  ! — Soft ;  I  did  but  dream. — 
O,  coward  'conscience,  how  dost  thou  afflict  me  ! — 
The  lights  burn  blue. — It  is  now  dead  midnight. 
Cold,  tearful  drops  stand  on  my  trembling  flesh. 
What  do  I  fear  ?   Myself?    There's  none  else  by  : 
Richard  loves  Richard  :  that  is,  I  am  I. 
Is  there  a  murderer  here  ?  Xo ; — Yes  :  I  am. 
Then  fly. — What,  from  myself  ?     Great  reason  ;  Why  ? 
Lest  I  revenge.     What  ?  Myself  on  myself? 
I  love  myself.     WTherefore  ?  For  any  good 
That  I  myself  have  done  unto  myself? 
O,  no  :  alas,  I  rather  hate  myself, 
For  hateful  deeds  committed  by  myself. 
I  am  a  villain  :  yet  I  lie.  I  am  not. 
Fool,  of  thyself  speak  well : — Fool,  do  not  flatter. 
My  conscience  hath  a  thousand  several  tongues, 
And  every  tongue  brings  in  a  several  tale, 
And  every  tale  condemns  me  for  a  villain. 
Perjury,  perjury,  in  the  high'st  degree, 
Murder,  stern  murder,  in  the  dir'st  degree, 
All  several  sins,  all  used  in  each  degree, 
Throng  to  the  bar,  crying  all — Guilty  !  guilty ! 
I  shall  despair. — There  is  no  creature  loves  me  ; 
And.  if  I  die,  no  soul  will  pity  me  : — 
Xay.  wherefore  should  they  ?  since  that  I  myself 
Find  in  myself  no  pity  to  myself. 
Methou^ht  the  souls  of  all  that  I  had  murdered 
Came  to  my  tent ;  and  every  one  did  threat 
To-morrow's  vengeance  on  the  head  of  Richard. 

Enter  RATCLIFF. 

Rat.    My  lord, 

K.  Rich.    Who's  there  ? 

Rat.    Ratcliff,  my  lord  ;  'tis  I.    The  early  village  cock 
Hath  twice  done  salutation  to  the  morn. 
Your  friends  are  up,  and  buckle  on  their  armor. 

K. Rich.  O,  RatclifT,  I  have  dreamed  a  fearful  dream! ! 

i  This  and  the  two  following  lines  are  omitted  in  the  folio. 


SO.  111.]  K1XG   RICHARD   III.  123 

What  thinkest  thou  ?  will  our  friends  prove  all  true  ? 

Rat.   No  doubt,  my  lord. 

K.  Rich.  Ratcliff,  I  fear,  I  fear,— 

Rat.    Nay,  good  my  lord,  be  not  afraid  of  shadows. 

K.  Rich.    By  the  apostle  Paul,  shadows  to-night 
Have  struck  more  terror  to  the  soul  of  Richard. 
Than  can  the  substance  of  ten  thousand  soldiers, 
Armed  in  proof,  and  led  by  shallow  Richmond. 
It  is  not  yet  near  day.     Come,  go  with  me  ; 
Under  our  tents  I'll  play  the  eaves-dropper, 
To  hear  if  any  mean  to  shrink  from  me. 

[Exeunt  KING  RICHARD  and  RATCLIFF. 

RICHMOND  wakes.    Enter  OXFORD  and  others. 

Lords.    Good-morrow,  Richmond. 

Richm.    'Cry  mercy,  lords,  and  watchful  gentlemen, 
That  you  have  ta'en  a  tardy  sluggard  here. 

Lords.    How  have  you  slept,  my  lord  ? 

Richm.    The    sweetest    sleep,    and    fairest-boding 

dreams, 

That  ever  entered  in  a  drowsy  head, 
Have  I  since  your  departure  had,  my  lords. 
Methought  their  souls,  whose  bodies  Richard  murdered, 
Came  to  my  tent,  and  cried — On  !  victory ! 
I  promise  you,  my  heart  is  very  jocund 
In  the  remembrance  of  so  fair  a  dream. 
How  far  into  the  morning  is  it,  lords  ? 

Lords.    Upon  the  stroke  of  four. 

Richm.    Why,    then    'tis    time    to    arm,   and    give 
direction. —  [He  advances  to  the  troops. 

More  than  I  have  said,  loving  countrymen, 
The  leisure  and  enforcement  of  the  time 
Forbids  to  d \vell  on.    Yet,  remember  this, — 
God,  and  our  good  cause,  fight  upon  our  side : 
The  prayers  of  holy  saints,  and  wronged  souls, 
Like  high-reared  bulwarks,  stand  before  our  faces  : 
Richard  except,  those,  whom  we  fight  against, 
Had  rather  have  us  win,  than  him  they  follow. 
For  what  is  he  they  follow  ?    Truly,  gentlemen, 


124  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  V. 

A  bloody  tyrant,  and  a  homicide  ; 
One  raised  in  blood,  and  one  in  blood  established  ; 
One  that  made  means  to  come  by  what  he  hath, 
And  slaughtered  those  that  were  the  means  to  help 

him; 

A  base,  foul  stone,  made  precious  by  the  foil 
Of  England's  chair,1  where  he  is  falsely  set ; 
One  that  hath  ever  been  God's  enemy : 
Then,  if  you  fight  against  God's  enemy, 
God  will,  injustice,  ward  you  as  his  soldiers  ; 
If  you  do  sweat  to  put  a  tyrant  down, 
You  sleep  in  peace,  the  tyrant  being  slain  ; 
If  you  do  fight  against  your  country's  foes, 
Your  country's  fat  shall  pay  your  pains  the  hire  ; 
If  you  do  fight  in  safeguard  of  your  wives, 
Your  wives  shall  welcome  home  the  conquerors  ; 
If  you  do  free  your  children  from  the  sword, 
Your  children's  children  quit  2  it  in  your  age. 
Then,  in  the  name  of  God,  and  all  these  rights, 
Advance  your  standards,  draw  your  willing  swords  ; 
For  me,  the  ransom  3  of  my  bold  attempt 
Shall  be  this  cold  corpse  on  the  earth's  cold  face  ; 
But  if  I  thrive,  the  gain  of  my  attempt 
The  least  of  you  shall  share  his  part  thereof. 
Sound,  drums  and  trumpets,  boldly  and  cheerfully  ; 
God,  and  saint  George  !  Richmond,  and  victory ! 

[Exeunt. 

Re-enter  KING   RICHARD,  RATCLIFF,  Attendants,  and 

Forces. 

K.  Rich.    What  said  Northumberland,  as   touching 

Richmond  ? 

Rat.    That  he  was  never  trained  up  in  arms. 
K.  Rich.    He  said  the  truth.    And  what  said  Surrey 

then  ? 
Rat.    He  smiled,  and  said,  the  better  for  our  purpose. 

1  England's  chair  is  the  throne.    The  allusion  is  to  the  practice  ot 
setting  gems  of  little  worth,  with  a  bright-coloredybtV  under  them. 

2  Requite. 

3  i.  e.  the/ne  paid  by  me  in  atonement  for  my  rashness. 


SC.  III.]  KING  RICHARD   III.  125 

K.  Rich.    He  was  i'the  right ;  and  so,  indeed,  it  is. 

[Clock  strikes. 

Tell  the  clock  there. — Give  me  a  calendar. — 
Who  saw  the  sun  to-day  ? 

Rat.  Not  I,  my  lord. 

K.  Rich.    Then  he  disdains  to  shine  ;  for,  by  the  book, 
He  should  have  braved  *  the  east  an  hour  ago : 
A  black  day  will  it  be  to  somebody. — 
Ratcliff,- 

Rat.   My  lord? 

K.  Rich.  The  sun  will  not  be  seen  to-day  ; 

The  sky  doth  frown  and  lower  upon  our  army. 
I  would  these  dewy  tears  were  from  the  ground. 
Not  shine  to-day !   Why,  what  is  that  to  me, 
More  than  to  Richmond  ?  for  the  self-same  heaven, 
That  frowns  on  me,  looks  sadly  upon  him. 

Enter  NORFOLK. 

Nor.    Arm,  arm,  my  lord  ;  the  foe  vaunts  in  the  field. 

K.    Rich.    Come,    bustle,    bustle ;  —  caparison   my 

horse  ; — 

Call  up  lord  Stanley  ;  bid  him  bring  his  power  : — 
I  will  lead  forth  my  soldiers  to  the  plain, 
And  thus  my  battle  shall  be  ordered. 
My  foreward  shall  be  drawn  out  all  in  length, 
Consisting  equally  of  horse  and  foot ; 
Our  archers  shall  be  placed  in  the  midst : 
John  duke  of  Norfolk,  Thomas  earl  of  Surrey, 
Shall  have  the  leading  of  this  foot  and  horse. 
They  thus  directed,  we  ourself  will  follow 
In  the  main  battle  ;  whose  puissance  on  either  side 
Shall  be  well  winged  with  our  chiefest  horse. 
This,  and  saint  George  to  boot ! — What  think'st  thou, 
Norfolk  ? 

Nor.    A  good  direction,  warlike  sovereign. — 
This  found  I  on  my  tent  this  morning. 

[Giving  a  scroll. 

i  Baret's  definition  of  brave,  is  "  to  look  aloft  and  go  gayly,  desiring  to 
have  the  preeminence." 


126  KING  RICHARD  III.  [ACT  V. 

K.  Rich.  Jocky  of  Norfolk,  be  not  too  bold,    [Reads. 
For  Dickon  thy  master  is  bought  and  sold. 
A  thing  devised  by  the  enemy. — 
Go,  gentlemen,  every  man  unto  his  charge  : 
Let  not  our  babbling  dreams  affright  our  souls  ; 
Conscience  is  but  a  word  that  cowards  use, 
Devised  at  first  to  keep  the  strong  in  awe  ; 
Our  strong  arms  be  our  conscience,  swords  our  law. 
March  on,  join  bravely,  let  us  to't  pell-mell ; 

If  not  to  heaven,  then  hand  in  hand  to  hell. 

What  shall  I  say  more  than  I  have  inferred  ? 

Remember  whom  you  are  to  cope  withal ; — 

A  sort l  of  vagabonds,  rascals,  and  runaways, 

A  scum  of  Bretagnes,  and  base,  lackey  peasants, 

Whom  their  o'er-cloyed  country  vomits  forth 

To  desperate  ventures  and  assured  destruction. 

You  sleeping  safe,  they  bring  you  to  unrest ; 

You  having  lands,  and  blessed  with  beauteous  wives, 

They  would  restrain  2  the  one,  distairi  the  other. 

And  who  doth  lead  them,  but  a  paltry  fellow, 

Long  kept  in  Bretagne  at  our  mother's3  cost  ? 

A  milk-sop,  one  that  never  in  his  life 

Felt  so  much  cold  as  over  shoes  in  snow  ? 

Let's  whip  these  stragglers  o'er  the  seas  again  ; 

Lash  hence  these  over-weening  rags  of  France, 

These  famished  beggars,  weary  of  their  lives  ; 

Who,  but  for  dreaming  on  this  fond  exploit, 

For  want  of  means,  poor  rats,  had  hanged  themselves : 

If  we  be  conquered,  let  men  conquer  us, 

And  not  these  bastard  Bretagnes  ;  whom  our  fathers 

1  Company. 

2  To  restrain  is  to  abridge,  to  dimmish,  to  withhold  from. 

3  Thus  Holinshed : — "  You  see  further,  how  a  company  of  traitors, 
thieves,  outlaws,  and  runagates,  be  aiders  and  partakers  of  this  feate  and 
enterprise.     And  to  begin  with  the  earl  of  Richmond,  captaine  of  this  re 
bellion,  he  is  a  Welsh  milksop,  brought  up  by  my  moother's  means  and 
mine,  like  a  captive  in  a  close  cage  in  the  court  of  Francis  duke  of  Bri- 
taine,"  p.  756.     Holinshed  copied  this  verbatim  from  Hall,  edit.  1548,  fol. 
54 ;  but  his  printer  has  given  us,  by  accident,  the  word  moother  instead  of 
brother ;  as  it  is  in  the  original,  and  ought  to  be  in  Shakspeare.     In  the 
first  edition  of  Holinshed  the  word  is  rightly  printed  brother.     So  that  this 
circumstance  not  only  shows  that  the  Poet  follows  Holinshed,  but  points 
out  the  edition  used  by  him. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  127 

Have  in  their  own  land  beaten,  bobbed,  and  thumped, 
And,  on  record,  left  them  the  heirs  of  shame. 
Shall  these  enjoy  our  lands  ?  lie  with  our  wives  ? 
Ravish  our  daughters  ? — Hark,  I  hear  their  drum. 

[Drum  afar  off. 

Fight,  gentlemen  of  England !  fight,  bold  yeomen  ! 
Draw,  archers,  draw  your  arrows  to  the  head ! 
Spur  your  proud  horses  hard,  and  ride  in  blood  ; 
Amaze  the  welkin  with  your  broken  staves  ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

What  says  lord  Stanley  ?  will  he  bring  his  power  ? 

Mess.   My  lord,  he  doth  deny  to  come. 

K.  Rich.    Off  instantly  with  his  son  George's  head. 

Nor.   My  lord,  the  enemy  is  passed  the  marsh ; 1 
After  the  battle  let  George  Stanley  die. 

K.  Rich.    A  thousand  hearts  are  great  within  my 

bosom. 

Advance  our  standards,  set  upon  our  foes ; 
Our  ancient  word  of  courage,  fair  Saint  George, 
Inspire  us  with  the  spleen  of  fiery  dragons  ! 
Upon  them !     Victory  sits  on  our  helms.          [Exeunt. 


SCENE   IV.     Another  Part  of  the  Field. 

Alarum.    Excursions.    Enter  NORFOLK,  and  Forces; 
to  him  CATESBY. 

Gate.    Rescue,  my  lord  of  Norfolk,  rescue,  rescue  ! 
The  kino;  enacts  more  wonders  than  a  man, 
Daring  an  opposite  to  every  danger  ;  2 
His  horse  is  slain,  and  all  on  foot  he  fights, 

1  There  was  a  large  marsh  in  Bosworth  plain  between  the  two  armies. 
Henry  passed  it,  and  made  such  a  disposition  of  his  forces  that  it  served 
to  protect  his  right  wing.    By  this  movement  he  gained  also  another  point, 
that  his  men  should  engage  with  the  sun  behind  them,  and  in  the  faces 
of  his  enemies ;  a  matter  of  great  consequence  when  bows  and  arrows 
were  in  use. 

2  i.  e.  daringly  opposing  himself  to  every  danger. 


128  KING  RICHARD   III.  [ACT  V. 

Seeking  for  Richmond  in  the  throat  of  death  : 
Rescue,  fair  lord,  or  else  the  day  is  lost ! 

Alarum.     Enter  KING  RICHARD. 

K.  Rich.    A  horse  !  a  horse !  my  kingdom  for  a  horse  ! 

Gate.    Withdraw,  my  lord,  I'll  help  you  to  a  horse. 

K.  Rich.    Slave,  I  have  set  my  life  upon  a  cast, 
And  I  will  stand  the  hazard  of  the  die  ; 
I  think  there  be  six  Richmonds  in  the  field  ; 
Five  have  I  slain  to-day,  instead  of  him  : — 1 
A  horse  !  a  horse  !  my  kingdom  for  a  horse !     [Exeunt. 

Alarums.  Enter  KING  RICHARD  and  RICHMOND  ;  and 
exeunt  fighting.  Retreat  and  flourish.  Then  enter 
RICHMOND,  STANLEY,  bearing  the  crown,  with  divers 
other  Lords,  and  Forces. 

Richm.    God,  and  your  arms,  be  praised,  victorious 

friends ; 
The  day  is  ours ;   the  bloody  dog  is  dead 

Stan.    Courageous  Richmond,  well  hast  thou  acquit 

thee! 

Lo,  here,  this  long-usurped  royalty, 
From  the  dead  temples  of  this  bloody  wretch 
Have  I  plucked  off,  to  grace  thy  brows  withal: 
Wear  it,  enjoy  it,  and  make  much  of  it. 

Richm.    Great  God  of  heaven,  say,  Amen,  to  all ! — 
But,  tell  me  first,  is  young  George  Stanley  living  ? 

Stan.    He  is,  my  lord,  and  safe  in  Leicester  town ; 
Whither,  if  it  please  you,  we  may  now  withdraw  us. 

Richm.   What  men  of  name  are  slain  on  either  side  ? 


i  Richard,  according  to  Polydore  Virgil,  was  determined  if  possible  to 
engage  with  Richmond  in  single  combat.  For  this  purpose  he  rode  fu 
riously  to  that  quarter  of  the  field  where  the  earl  was ;  attacked  his  stan 
dard  bearer,  sir  William  Brandon,  and  killed  him;  then  assaulted  sir 
John  Cheny,  whom  he  overthrew.  Having  thus  at  length  cleared  his  way 
to  his  antagonist,  he  engaged  in  single  combat  with  him,  and  probably 
would  have  been  victorious,  but  at  that  instant  sir  William  Stanley,  with 
three  thousand  men,  joined  Richmond's  army,  and  the  royal  forces  fled 
with  great  precipitation. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  RICHARD  III.  129 

Stan.   John  duke  of  Norfolk,  Walter  lord  Ferrers, 
Sir  Robert  Brakenbury,  and  sir  William  Brandon. 

Richm.    Inter  their  bodies  as  becomes  their  births. 
Proclaim  a  pardon  to  the  soldiers  fled, 
That  in  submission  will  return  to  us ; 
And  then,  as  we  have  ta'en  the  sacrament, 
We  will  unite  the  white  rose  with  the  red. — 
Smile  Heaven  upon  this  fair  conjunction, 
That  long  hath  frowned  upon  their  enmity ! — 
What  traitor  hears  me,  and  says  not, — Amen  ? 
England  hath  long  been  mad,  and  scarred  herself; 
The  brother  blindly  shed  the  brother's  blood, 
The  father  rashly  slaughtered  his  own  son, 
The  son,  compelled,  been  butcher  to  the  sire ; 
All  this  divided  York  and  Lancaster, 
Divided,  in  their  dire  division. — 
O,  now,  let  Richmond  and  Elizabeth, 
The  true  succeeders  of  each  royal  house, 
By  God's  fair  ordinance  conjoin  together ! 
And  let  their  heirs  (God,  if  thy  will  be  so) 
Enrich  the  time  to  come  with  smooth-faced  peace, 
With  smiling  plenty,  and  fair,  prosperous  days  ! 
Abate  l  the  edge  of  traitors,  gracious  Lord, 
That  would  reduce  2  these  bloody  days  again, 
And  make  poor  England  weep  in  streams  of  blood ! 
Let  them  not  live  to  taste  this  land's  increase, 
That  would  with  treason  wound  this  fair  land's  peace ! 
Now  civil  wounds  are  stopped,  Peace  lives  again ; 
That  she  may  long  live  here,  God  say — Amen. 

[Exeunt. 

1  i.  e.  diminish,  or  take  away. 

2  To  reduce  is  to  bring  back ;  an  obsolete  sense  of  the  word. 

VOL.  V.  17 


130 


"Tnis  is  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  our  author's  performances  ;  yet 
I  know  not  whether  it  has  not  happened  to  him  as  to  others,  to  be  praised 
most  when  praise  is  not  most  deserved.  That  this  play  has  scenes  noble 
in  themselves,  and  very  well  contrived  to  strike  in  the  exhibition,  cannot 
be  denied.  But  some  parts  are  trifling,  others  shocking,  and  some  im 
probable." — JOHNSON. 

Malone  says,  he  "  agrees  with  Dr.  Johnson  in  thinking  that  this  play, 
from  its  first  exhibition  to  the  present  hour,  has  been  estimated  greatly 
beyond  its  merits."  He  attributes  its  popularity  to  the  detestation  in 
which  Richard's  character  was  held  at  the  time  that  Shakspeare  wrote, 
and  to  the  patronage  of  queen  Elizabeth,  "  who  was  pleased  at  seeing  king 
Henry  VII.  placed  in  the  only  favorable  light  in  which  he  could  be  placed 
on  the  scene."  Steevens,  in  the  following  note,  has  stated  the  true 
grounds  of  the  perpetual  popularity  of  the  play,  which  can  only  be 
attributed  to  one  cause — the  wonderful  dramatic  effect  produced  by  the 
character  of  Richard. 

"I  most  cordially  join  with  Dr.  Johnson  and  Mr.  Malone  in  their 
opinions ;  and  yet,  perhaps,  they  have  overlooked  one  cause  of  the  suc 
cess  of  this  tragedy.  The  part  of  Richard  is,  perhaps  beyond  all  others, 
variegated,  and  consequently  favorable  to  a  judicious  performer.  It  com 
prehends,  indeed,  a  trait  of  almost  every  species  of  character  on  the  stage. 
The  hero,  the  lover,  the  statesman,  the  buffoon,  the  hypocrite,  the  hardened 
and  repenting  sinner,  &c.,  are  to  be  found  within  its  compass.  No  won 
der,  therefore,  that  the  discriminating  powers  of  a  Burbage,  a  Garrick,  and 
a  Henderson,  should  at  different  periods  have  given  it  a  popularity  beyond 
other  dramas  of  the  same  author." — STEEVENS. 


131 


KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 


PRELIMINARY    REMARKS. 

IT  is  the  opinion  of  Johnson,  Steevens,  and  Malone,  that  this  play  was 
written  a  short  time  before  the  death  of  queen  Elizabeth,  which  happened 
on  the  24th  of  March,  1602-3.  The  eulogium  on  king  James,  which  is 
blended  with  the  panegyric  of  Elizabeth,  in  the  last  scene,  was  evidently 
a  subsequent  insertion,  after  the  succession  of  the  Scottish  monarch  to  the 
throne  ;  for  Shakspeare  was  too  well  acquainted  with  courts,  to  compliment, 
in  the  lifetime  of  queen  Elizabeth,  her  presumptive  successor ;  of  whom, 
history  informs  us,  she  was  not  a  little  jealous.  That  the  prediction  con 
cerning  king  James  was  added  after  the  death  of  the  queen,  is  still  more 
clearly  evinced,  as  Dr.  Johnson  has  remarked,  by  the  awkward  manner  in 
which  it  is  connected  with  the  foregoing  and  subsequent  lines. 

After  having  lain  by  some  years,  unacted,  probably  on  account  of  the 
costliness  of  its  exhibition,  it  was  revived  in  1613,  under  the  title  of  "Jill 
is  True"  with  new  decorations,  and  a  new  Prologue  and  Epilogue ;  and 
this  revival  took  place  on  the  very  day,  being  St.  Peter's,  on  which  the 
Globe  Theatre  was  burnt  down.  The  fire  was  occasioned,  as  it  is  said, 
by  the  discharge  of  some  small  pieces  of  ordnance  called  chambers,  in  the 
scene  where  king  Henry  is  represented  as  arriving  at  cardinal  Wolsey's 
gate  at  Whitehall,  one  of  which,  being  injudiciously  managed,  set  fire  to 
the  thatched  roof  of  the  theatre.*  Dr.  Johnson  first  suggested  that  Ben 

*  The  circumstance  is  recorded  by  the  continuator  of  Stowe;  and  in  a  MS.  letter  of 
Thomas  Lorkin  to  sir  Thomas  Puckering,  dated  London,  this  last  of  June,  1613,  it  is  thus 
mentioned  : — "  No  longer  since  than  yesterday,  while  Bourbage  his  company  were  acting  at 
the  Globe  the  play  of  Henry  VIII.,  and  there,  shooting  of  certayne  chambers  in  way  of 
triumph,  the  fire  catched,"  &.C.—MS.  Hurl.  7002. 

So  in  a  letter  from  John  Chamberlaine  to  sir  Ralph  Winwood,  dated  London,  8th  July, 
1613: — "But  the  burning  of  the  Globe,  or  Playhouse,  on  the  Bankside,  on  St.  Peter's  day, 
cannot  escape  you  ;  which  fell  out  by  a  peale  of  chambers  (that  I  know  not  upon  what  oc 
casion  were  to  be  used  in  the  play),  the  tampin  or  stopple  of  one  of  them  lighting  in  the 
thatch  that  covered  the  house,  burned  it  to  the  ground  in  less  than  two  hours,  with  a  dwell 
ing-house  adjoining ;  and  it  was  a  great  marvaile  and  faire  grace  of  God  that  the  people  had  so 
little  harm,  having  but  two  narrow  doors  to  get  out  at." —  WinwootPs  Memorials,  vol.  iii.  p.  469. 

The  event  is  also  recorded  by  sir  Henry  Wotton,  in  his  letter  of  the  2d  of  July,  1613,  where 


132  KING  HENRY  VIII. 

Jonson  might  have  supplied  the  Prologue  and  Epilogue  to  the  play  upon 
the  occasion  of  its  revival.  Dr.  Farmer,  Steevens,  and  Malone,  support 
his  opinion ;  and  even  attribute  to  him  some  of  the  passages  of  the  play. 

Mr.  Gifford  has  controverted  this  opinion  of  Jonson  having  been  the 
author  of  the  Prologue  and  Epilogue  of  this  play,  and  thinks  the  play 
which  was  performed  under  the  title  of  Ml  is  True  was  a  distinct  per 
formance,  and  not  Shakspeare's  Henry  the  Eighth.  To  this  it  has  been 
answered, — "  That  the  Prologue,  which  has  always  accompanied  Shak 
speare's  drama  from  its  first  publication  in  1623,  manifestly  and  repeatedly 
alludes  to  the  title  of  the  play  which  was  represented  on  the  29th  of  June, 
1613,  and  which  we  know  to  have  been  founded  on  the  history  of  king 
Henry  the  Eighth,  affords  a  strong  proof  of  their  identity,  as  appears  by 
the  following  passages : — 

' Such  as  give 

Their  money  out  of  hope  they  may  believe, 

May  here  find  truth  too,'  &c. 
' Gentle  readers  know 

To  rank  our  chosen  truth  with  such  a  show 

As  fool  and  fight  is,'  &,c. 
*  To  make  that  only  true  we  now  intend.' 

And  though  sir  Henry  Wotton  mentions  it  as  a  new  play,  we  have  Stowe 
and  Lorkin  who  call  it '  The  play  of  Henry  the  Eighth.'  " 

"  That  the  Prologue  and  Epilogue  were  not  written  by  Shakspeare,  is, 
I  think,  clear  from  internal  evidence,"  says  Mr.  Boswell ;  but  it  does  not 
follow  that  they  were  the  production  of  Ben  Jonson's  pen.  That  gentle 
man  has  clearly  shown  that  there  was  no  intention  of  covertly  sneering  at 
Shakspeare's  other  works  in  this  Prologue  ;  but  that  this  play  is  opposed 
to  a  rude  kind  of  farcical  representation  on  the  same  subject  by  Samuel 
Rowley.  This  play,  or  interlude,  which  was  printed  in  1605,  is  probably 
referred  to  in  the  following  entry  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Com 
pany  :— «  Nathaniel  Butter,  Feb.  12, 1604,  That  he  get  good  allowance  for 
the  Enterlude  of  King  Henry  Fill,  before  he  begin  to  print  it ;  and  with 
the  warden's  hand  to  yt,  he  is  to  have  the  same  for  his  copy."  Stowe  has 
observed  that  "Robert  Greene  had  written  somewhat  on  the  same 
story  ; "  but  there  is  no  evidence  that  it  was  in  a  dramatic  form :  it  may 
have  been  something  historical,  and  not  by  the  dramatic  poet  of  that 
name  ;  as  Stowe  cites  the  authority  of  Robert  Greene,  with  Robert  Brun, 
Fabian,  &c.,  in  other  places  of  his  Chronicle. 

This  historical  drama  comprises  a  period  of  twelve  years,  commencing 
in  the  twelfth  year  of  king  Henry  VIII.  (1521),  and  ending  with  the 

lie  says,  it  was  at  "  a  new  play,  acted  by  the  king's  players  at  the  Bank's  Side,  called  Ml 
is  True,  representing  some  principal  pieces  of  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth."— Reliquiae 
Hltt'jn,  p.  425,  Ed.  2d. 


PRELIMINARY   REMARKS.  133 

christening  of  Elizabeth  in  1533.  The  Poet  has  deviated  from  history  in 
placing  the  death  of  queen  Katharine  before  the  birth  of  Elizabeth,  for  in 
fact  Katharine  did  not  die  till  1536.  In  constructing  his  scenes  he  has 
availed  himself  largely  of  the  eloquent  narrative  of  Wolsey's  faithful 
servant  and  biographer,  George  Cavendish,  as  copied  by  the  Chronicles  ; 
and,  indeed,  the  pathos  of  the  cardinal's  dying  scene  is  almost  as  effective 
in  the  simple  narrative  of  Cavendish  as  in  the  play.  The  fine  picture 
which  the  Poet  has  drawn  of  the  suffering  and  defenceless  virtue  of 
queen  Katharine,  and  the  just  and  spirited,  though  softened,  portrait  he  has 
exhibited  of  the  impetuous  and  sensual  character  of  Henry,  are  above  all 
praise.  It  has  been  justly  said  that  "  this  play  contains  little  action  or 
violence  of  passion  ;  yet  it  has  considerable  interest  of  a  more  mild  and 
thoughtful  cast,  and  some  of  the  most  striking  passages  that  are  to  be 
found  in  the  Poet's  works." 


134 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED. 


KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 

CARDINAL  WOLSEY.     CARDINAL  CAMPEIUS. 

CAPUCIUS,  Ambassador  from  the  Emperor  Charles  V. 

CRANMER,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

Duke  of  Norfolk.     Duke  of  Buckingham. 

Duke  of  Suffolk.     Earl  of  Surrey. 

Lord  Chamberlain.     Lord  Chancellor. 

GARDINER,  Bishop  of  Winchester. 

Bishop  of  Lincoln. 

LORD  ABERGAVENNY.     LORD  SANDS. 

SIR  HENRY  GUILDFORD.     SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL. 

SIR  ANTHONY  DENNY.     SIR  NICHOLAS  VAUX. 

Secretaries  to  Wolsey. 

CROMWELL,  Servant  to  Wolsey. 

GRIFFITH,  Gentleman  Usher  to  Queen  Katharine. 

Three  other  Gentlemen. 

DOCTOR  BUTTS,  Physician  to  the  King. 

Garter,  King  at  Arms. 

Surveyor  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham. 

BRANDON,  and  a  Sergeant  at  Arms. 

Door-keeper  of  the  Council  Chamber.     Porter,  and  his  Man. 

Page  to  Gardiner.     A  Crier. 

QUEEN  KATHARINE,  Wife  to  King  Henry,  afterwards  divorced. 
ANNE  BULLEN,  her  Maid  of  Honor ;  afterwards  Queen. 
An  old  Lady,  Friend  to  Anne  Bullen. 
PATIENCE,  Woman  to  Queen  Katharine. 

Several  Lords  and  Ladies  in  the  Dumb  Shows ;  Women  attending 
upon  the  Queen ;  Spirits,  which  appear  to  her;  Scribes, 
Officers,  Guards,  and  other  Attendants. 

SCENE,  chiefly  in  London  and  Westminster  ;  oncet  at  Kimbolton. 


135 


KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 


PROLOGUE. 

I  COME  no  more  to  make  you  laugh ;  things  now, 
That  bear  a  weighty  and  a  serious  brow, 
Sad,  high,  and  working,  full  of  state  and  woe, 
Such  noble  scenes  as  draw  the  eye  to  flow, 
We  now  present.     Those  that  can  pity,  here 
May,  if  they  think  it  well,  let  fall  a  tear ; 
The  subject  will  deserve  it.     Such  as  give 
Their  money  out  of  hope  they  may  believe, 
May  here  find  truth  too.     Those  that  come  to  see 
Only  a  show  or  two,  and  so  agree, 
The  play  may  pass  ;  if  they  be  still,  and  willing, 
I'll  undertake,  may  see  away  their  shilling 
Richly  in  two  short  hours.     Only  they 
That  come  to  hear  a  merry,  bawdy  play, 
A  noise  of  targets,  or  to  see  a  fellow 
In  a  long,  motley  coat,  guarded 1  with  yellow, 
Will  be  deceived ;  for,  gentle  hearers,  know, 
To  rank  our  chosen  truth  with  such  a  show 
As  fool  and  fight  is,  beside  forfeiting 
Our  own  brains,  and  the  opinion  that  we  bring, 
(To  make  that  only  true  we  now  intend,) 
Will  leave  us  never  an  understanding  friend. 
Therefore,  for  goodness'  sake,  and  as  you  are  known 
The  first  and  happiest2  hearers  of  the  town, 
Be  sad,  as  we  would  make  ye :  think  ye  see 
The  very  persons  of  our  noble  story% 

1  i.  e.  faced  or  trimmed. 

2  Happiest  being  here  used  in  a  Latin  sense  for  propitious  or  favorable 


136  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  I, 

As  they  were  living ;,  think  you  see  them  great, 
And  followed  with  the  general  throng  and  sweat 
Of  thousand  friends ;  then,  in  a  moment,  see 
How  soon  this  mightiness  meets  misery ! 
And,  if  you  can  be  merry  then,  I'll  say, 
A  man  may  weep  upon  his  wedding-day. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.    London.    An  Antechamber  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  the  DUKE   of  NORFOLK,  at   one  door;   at  the 
other,   the   DUKE   of  BUCKINGHAM,  and  the    LORD 

ABERGAVENNY.1 

Buckingham.    GOOD  morrow,  and  well  met.     How 

have  you  done, 
Since  last  we  saw  in  France  ? 

Nor.  I  thank  your  grace  ; 

Healthful ;  and  ever  since  a  fresh  admirer 
Of  what  I  saw  there. 

Buck.  An  untimely  ague 

Stayed  me  a  prisoner  in  my  chamber,  when 
Those  suns  of  glory,  those  two  lights  of  men, 
Met  in  the  vale  of  Arde. 

Nor.  'Twixt  Guynes  and  Arde  : 2 

I  was  then  present,  saw  them  salute  on  horseback ; 
Beheld  them,  when  they  lighted,  how  they  clung 
In  their  embracement,  as3  they  grew  together ; 
Which  had  they,  what  four  throned  ones  could  have 

weighed 
Such  a  compounded  one  ? 

1  George  Nevill,  who  married  Mary,  daughter  of  Edward  Stafford,  duke 
of  Buckingham. 

2  Guynes  then  belonged  to  the  English,  and  Arde  Ulrdres]  to  the 
French ;  they  are  towns  of  Picardy.     The  valley  where  Henry  VIII.  and 
Francis  I.  met  lies  between  them. 

3  Jls  for  as  if. 


SC.  I.]  KING   HENRY  VIII.  137 

Buck.  All  the  whole  time 

I  was  my  chamber's  prisoner. 

Nor.  Then  you  lost 

The  view  of  earthly  glory.     Men  might  say, 
Till  this  time,  pomp  was  single ;  but  now  married 
To  one  above  itself.     Each  following  day 
Became  the  next  day's  master,  till  the  last 
Made  former  wonders  it's.     To-day,  the  French, 
All  clinquant,1  all  in  gold,  like  heathen  gods, 
Shone  down  the  English ;  and,  to-morrow,  they 
Made  Britain,  India ;  every  man,  that  stood, 
Showed  like  a  mine.     Their  dwarfish  pages  were 
As  cherubins,  all  gilt :  the  madams  too, 
Not  used  to  toil,  did  almost  sweat  to  bear 
The  pride  upon  them,  that  their  very  labor 
Was  to  them  as  a  painting.     Now  this  mask 
Was  cried  incomparable ;  and  the  ensuing  night 
Made  it  a  fool  and  beggar.     The  two  kings, 
Equal  in  lustre,  were  now  best,  now  worst, 
As  presence  did  present  them  ;  him  in  eye, 
Still  him  in  praise ;  and,  being  present  both, 
'Twas  said,  they  saw  but  one  ;  and  no  discerner 
Durst  wag  his  tongue  in  censure.     When  these  suns 
(For  so  they  phrase  them)  by  their  heralds  challenged 
The  noble  spirits  to  arms,  they  did  perform 
Beyond  thought's  compass ;  that  former  fabulous  story, 
Being  now  seen  possible  enough,  got  credit, 
That  Bevis2  was  believed. 

Buck.  O,  you  go  far. 

Nor.    As  I  belong  to  worship,  and  affect 
In  honor  honesty,  the  tract  of  every  thing 
Would  by  a  good  discourse!*  lose  some  life, 
Which  action's  self  was  tongue  to.     All  was  royal  ; 
To  the  disposing  of  it  nought  rebelled  ; 
Order  gave  each  thing  view ;  the  office  did 
Distinctly  his  full  function. 

Buck.  Who  did  guide, 

1  i.  e.  glittering,  shining. 

2  The  old  romantic  legend  of  Bevis  of  Hampton. 
VOL.  V.  18 


138  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  I. 

I  mean,  who  set  the  body  and  the  limbs 
Of  this  great  sport  together,  as  you  guess  ? 

Nor.    One,  certes,  that  promises  no  element1 
In  such  a  business. 

Buck.  I  pray  you,  who,  my  lord  ? 

Nor.    All  this  was  ordered  by  the  good  discretion 
Of  the  right  reverend  cardinal  of  York. 

Buck.    The  devil  speed  him  !    No  man's  pie  is  freed 
From  his  ambitious  finger.     What  had  he 
To  do  in  these  fierce  2  vanities  ?     I  wonder 
That  such  a  keech3  can  with  his  very  bulk 
Take  up  the  rays  o'  the  beneficial  sun, 
And  keep  it  from  the  earth. 

Nor.  Surely,  sir, 

There's  in  him  stuff  that  puts  him  to  these  ends  ; 
For,  being  not  propped  by  ancestry,  (whose  grace 
Chalks  successors  their  way,)  nor  called  upon 
For  high  feats  done  to  the  crown  ;  neither  allied 
To  eminent  assistants,  but,  spider-like, 
Out  of  his  self-drawing  web,  he  gives  us  note, 
The  force  of  his  own  merit  makes  his  way ; 
A  gift  that  Heaven  gives  for  him,  which  buys 
A  place  next  to  the  king. 

Aber.  I  cannot  tell 

What  Heaven  hath  given  him  ;  let  some  graver  eye 
Pierce  into  that :  but  I  can  see  his  pride 
Peep  through  each  part  of  him.     Whence  has  he  that  ? 
If  not  from  hell,  the  devil  is  a  niggard ; 
Or  has  given  all  before,  and  he  begins 
A  new  hell  in  himself. 

Buck.  Why  the  devil, 

Upon  this  French  going-out,  took  he  upon  him, 
Without  the  privity  o'  the  king,  to  appoint 
Who  should  attend  on  him  ?     He  makes  up  the  file4 

1  No  initiation,  no  previous  practice. 

2  Fierce  is  here  used,  like  the  French/er,  for  proud. 

3  A  round  lump  of  fat.     The  prince  calls  Falstaff  tcdlow-keech  in  the 
First  Part  of  King  Henry  IV.    It  has  been  thought  that  there  was  some 
allusion  here  to  the  cardinal,  being  reputed  the  son  of  a  butcher. 

4  List 


SO.  I.]  KING  HENRY   VI11.  139 

Of  all  the  gentry  ;  for  the  most  part  such, 
Too,  whom  as  great  a  charge  as  little  honor 
He  meant  to  lay  upon ;  and  his  own  letter, 
The  honorable  board  of  council  out, 
Must  fetch  him  in  he  papers.1 

Aber.  I  do  know 

Kinsmen  of  mine,  three  at  the  least,  that  have 
By  this  so  sickened  their  estates,  that  never 
They  shall  abound  as  formerly. 

Buck.  O,  many 

Have  broke  their  backs  with  laying  manors  on  them 
For  this  great  journey.     What  did  this  vanity, 
But  minister  communication  of 
A  most  poor  issue  ? 

Nor.  Grievingly  I  think, 

The  peace  between  the  French  and  us  not  values 
The  cost  that  did  conclude  it. 

Buck.  Every  man, 

After  the  hideous  storm  that  followed,2  was 
A  thing  inspired  ;  and,  not  consulting,  broke 
Into  a  general  prophecy, — That  this  tempest, 
Dashing  the  garment  of  this  peace,  aboded 
The  sudden  breach  on't. 

Nor.  Which  is  budded  out ; 

For  France  hath  flawed  the  league,  and  hath  attached 
Our  merchants'  goods  at  Bourdeaux. 

Aber.  Is  it  therefore 

The  ambassador  is  silenced?3 

Nor.  Marry,  is't. 

Aber.    A  proper  title  of  a  peace,  and  purchased 
At  a  superfluous  rate  ! 

Buck.  Why,  all  this  business 

Our  reverend  cardinal  carried. 


1  He  papers,  a  verb ;  i.  e.  his  own  letter,  by  his  own  single  authority, 
and  without  the  concurrence  of  the  council,  must  fetch  him  in  whom  he 
papers  down. 

2  "  Monday  the  xviii  of  June  was  such  an  hideous  storme  of  winde  and 
weather,  that  many  conjectured  it  did  prognosticate  trouble  and  hatred 
shortly  after  to  follow  between  princes." — Holinshed. 

3  The  French  ambassador,  being  refused  an  audience,  may  be  said  to 
be  silenced. 


140  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  1. 

Nor.  'Like  it  your  grace, 

The  state  takes  notice  of  the  private  difference 
Betwixt  you  and  the  cardinal.     I  advise  you, 
(And  take  it  from  a  heart  that  wishes  towards  you 
Honor  and  plenteous  safety,)  that  you  read 
The  cardinal's  malice  and  his  potency 
Together ;  to  consider  further,  that 
What  his  high  hatred  would  effect,  wants  not 
A  minister  in  his  power.     You  know  his  nature, 
That  he's  revengeful ;  and  I  know  his  sword 
Hath  a  sharp  edge  ;  it's  long,  and,  it  may  be  said, 
It  reaches  far  ;  and  where  'twill  not  extend, 
Thither  he  darts  it.     Bosom  up  my  counsel  ; 
You'll  find  it  wholesome.     Lo,  where  comes  that  rock, 
That  I  advise  your  shunning. 

Enter  CARDINAL  WOLSEY,  (the  purse  borne  before  him,) 
certain  of  the  Guard,  and  two  Secretaries  with  papers. 
The  CARDINAL,  in  his  passage,  fixeth  his  eye  on 
BUCKINGHAM,  and  BUCKINGHAM  on  him,  both  full  of 
disdain. 

Wol.    The  duke  of  Buckingham's  surveyor  ?  ha  ? 
Where's  his  examination  ? 

1  Seer.  Here,  so  please  you. 

Wol.    Is  he  in  person  ready  ? 

I  Seer.  Ay,  please  your  grace. 

Wol.   Well,  we  shall  then  know  more  ;  and  Buck 
ingham 
Shall  lessen  this  big  look. 

[Exeunt  WOLSEY  and  Train. 

Buck.    This  butcher's  cur  is  venom-mouthed,  and  I 
Have  not  the  power  to  muzzle  him ;  therefore,  best 
Not  wake  him  in  his  slumber.     A  beggar's  book 
Out-worths  a  noble's  blood.1 

Nor.  What,  are  you  chafed  ? 

Ask  God  for  temperance ;  that's  the  appliance  only, 
Which  your  disease  requires. 

1  That  is,  the  literary  qualifications  of  a  bookish  beggar  are  more  prized 
than  the  high  descent  of  hereditary  greatness. 


SC.  I.J  KING   HENRY   VIII.  141 

Buck.  I  read  in  his  looks 

Matter  against  me  ;  and  his  eye  reviled 
Me,  as  his  abject  object :  at  this  instant 
He  bores1  me  with  some  trick.    He's  gone  to  the  king ; 
I'll  follow,  and  outstare  him. 

Nor.  Stay,  my  lord, 

And  let  your  reason  with  your  choler  question 
What  'tis  you  go  about.     To  climb  steep  hills, 
Requires  slow7  pace  at  first.     Anger  is  like. 
A  full-hot  horse  ;  who  being  allowed  his  way, 
Self-mettle  tires  him.     Not  a  man  in  England 
Can  advise  me  like  you ;  be  to  yourself 
As  you  would  to  your  friend. 

Buck.  I'll  to  the  king ; 

And  from  a  mouth  of  honor  quite  cry  down 
This  Ipswich  fellow's  insolence  ;  or  proclaim, 
There's  difference  in  no  persons. 

Nor.  Be  advised  ; 

Heat  not  a  furnace  for  your  foe  so  hot 
That  it  do  singe  yourself.     We  may  outrun, 
By  violent  swiftness,  that  which  we  run  at. 
And  lose  by  overrunning.     Know  you  not, 
The  fire,  that  mounts  the  liquor  till  it  run  o'er, 
In  seeming  to  augment  it,  wastes  it  ?     Be  advised  ; 
I  sav  again,  there  is  no  English  soul 
More  stronger  to  direct  you  than  yourself ; 
If  with  the  sap  of  reason  you  would  quench, 
Or  but  allay,  the  fire  of  passion. 

Buck.  Sir, 

I  am  thankful  to  you ;  and  I'll  go  along 
By  your  prescription.     But  this  top-proud  fellow, 
(Whom  from  the  flow  of  gall  I  name  not,  but 
From  sincere  motions,)  by  intelligence, 
And  proofs  as  clear  as  founts  in  July,  when 
We  see  each  grain  of  gravel,  I  do  know 
To  be  corrupt  and  treasonous. 

Nor.  Say  not,  treasonous. 

1  i.  e.  he  stabs  or  wounds  me  by  some  artifice  or  fiction. 


142  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  1. 

Buck.    To  the  king  I'll  say  it ;  and  make  my  vouch 

as  strong 

As  shore  of  rock.     Attend.     This  holy  fox, 
Or  wolf,  or  both,  (for  he  is  equal  ravenous, 
As  he  is  subtle ;  and  as  prone  to  mischief, 
As  able  to  perform  it ;  his  mind  and  place 
Infecting  one  another,  yea,  reciprocally,) 
Only  to  show  his  pomp  as  well  in  France 
As  here  at  home,  suggests1  the  king  our  master 
To  this  last  costly  treaty,  the  interview, 
That  swallowed  so  much  treasure,  and  like  a  glass 
Did  break  i'  the  rinsing. 

Nor.  'Faith,  and  so  it  did. 

Buck.    Pray,    give    me    favor,    sir.      This   cunning 

cardinal 

The  articles  o'  the  combination  drew, 
As  himself  pleased  ;  and  they  were  ratified, 
As  he  cried,  Thus  let  be ;  to  as  much  end, 
As  give  a  crutch  to  the  dead.      But  our  count  cardinal 
Has  done  this,  and  'tis  well ;  for  worthy  Wolsey, 
Who  cannot  err,  he  did  it.     Now  this  follows, 
(Which,  as  I  take  it,  is  a  kind  of  puppy 
To  the  old  dam,  treason,) — Charles  the  emperor. 
Under  pretence  to  see  the  queen,  his  aunt, 
(For  'twas,  indeed,  his  color ;  but  he  came 
To  whisper  Wolsey,)  here  makes  visitation. 
His  fears  were,  that  the  interview,  betwixt 
England  and  France,  might,  through  their  amity, 
Breed  him  some  prejudice ;  for  from  this  league 
Peeped  harms  that  menaced  him.     He  privily 
Deals  with  our  cardinal ;  and,  as  I  trow, 
Which  I  do  well ;  for,  I  am  sure,  the  emperor 
Paid  ere  he  promised ;  whereby  his  suit  was  granted, 
Ere  it  was  asked ; — but  when  the  way  was  made, 
And  paved  with  gold,  the  emperor  thus  desired, 
That  he  would  please  to  alter  the  king's  course, 
And  break  the  foresaid  peace      Let  the  king  know, 
(As  soon  he  shall  by  me,)  that  thus  the  cardinal 

i  i.  e.  incites,  or  tempts. 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  143 

Does  buy  and  sell  his  honor  as  he  pleases. 
And  for  his  own  advantage. 

Nor.  I  am  sorry 

To  hear  this  of  him ;  and  could  wish  he  were 
Something  mistaken  in't. 

Buck.  No,  not  a  syllable  ; 

I  do  pronounce  him  in  that  very  shape, 
He  shall  appear  in  proof. 

Enter  BRANDON  ;  a  Sergeant  at  Arms  before  him,  and 
two  or  three  of  the  Guard. 

Bran.   Your  office,  sergeant ;  execute  it. 

Serg.  Sir, 

My  lord  the  duke  of  Buckingham,  and  earl 
Of  Hereford,  Stafford,  and  Northampton,  I 
Arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  in  the  name 
Of  our  most  sovereign  king. 

Buck.  Lo  you,  my  lord, 

The  net  has  fallen  upon  me ;  I  shall  perish 
Under  device  and  practice.1 

Bran.  I  am  sorry 

To  see  you  ta'en  from  liberty,  to  look  on 
The  business  present.2     'Tis  his  highness'  pleasure, 
You  shall  to  the  Tower. 

Buck.  It  will  help  me  nothing, 

To  plead  mine  innocence ;  for  that  dye  is  on  me, 
Which  makes  my  whitest  part  black.     The  will  of 

Heaven 

Be  done  in  this  and  all  things ! — I  obey. — 
O,  my  lord  Aberga'ny,  fare  you  well. 

Bran.    Nay,  he  must  bear  you  company. — The  king 

[To  ABERGAVENNY. 

Is  pleased,  you  shall  to  the  Tower,  till  you  know 
How  he  determines  further. 

Aber.  As  the  duke  said, 


1  i.  e.  treachery. 
2 

)our 


1  i.  e.  treachery. 

2  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  obliged  to  be  present,  and  an  eye-witness  of 
»ur  loss  of  liberty. 


144  KING  -HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  L 

The  will  of  Heaven  be  done,  and  the  king's  pleasure 
By  me  obeyed. 

Bran.  Here  is  a  warrant  from 

The  king,  to  attach  lord  Montacute,1  and  the  bodies 
Of  the  duke's  confessor,  John  de  la  Car,2 
One  Gilbert  Peck,  his  chancellor, — 

Buck.  So,  so  ; 

These  are  the  limbs  of  the  plot ;  no  more,  I  hope. 

Bran.   A  monk  o'  the  Chartreux. 

Buck.  O,  Nicholas  Hopkins  ? 3 

Bran.  He. 

Buck.   My  surveyor  is  false  ;  the  o'er-great  cardinal 
Hath  showed  him  gold :  my  life  is  spanned  already. 
I  am  the  shadow  of  poor  Buckingham ; 
Whose  figure  even  this  instant  cloud  puts  out,4 
By  darkening  my  clear  sun. — My  lord,  farewell. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE    II.     The  Council  Chamber. 

Cornets.  Enter  KING  HENRY,  CARDINAL  WOLSEY, 
the  Lords  of  the  Council,  SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL, 
Officers,  and  Attendants.  The  King  enters,  leaning 
on  the  Cardinal's  shoulder. 

K.  Hen.   My  life  itself,  and  the  best  heart  of  it, 
Thanks  you  for  this  great  care ;  I  stood  i'  the  level 5 
Of  a  full-charged  confederacy,  and  give  thanks 
To  you  that  choked  it. — Let  be  called  before  us 
That  gentleman  of  Buckingham's :  in  person 
I'll  hear  him  his  confessions  justify; 


1  This  was  Henry  Pole,  grandson  to  George  duke  of  Clarence,  and 
eldest  brother  to   cardinal  Pole.     He  had  married  lord  Abergavenny's 
daughter.     Though  restored  to  favor  at  this  juncture,  he  was  executed 
for  another  alleged  treason  in  this  reign. 

2  The  name  of  this  monk  of  the  Chartreux  was  John  de  la  Car,  alias, 
de  la  Court. 

3  Nicholas  Hopkins,  another  monk  of  the  same  order,  belonging  to  a 
religious  house  called  Henton-beside-Bristow. 

4  The  old  copy  reads,  "  this  instant  sun  puts  on." 

5  To  stand  in  the  level  of  a  gun,  is  to  stand  in  a  line  with  its  mouth. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  145 

And  point  by  point  the  treasons  of  his  master 
He  shall  again  relate. 

The  King  takes  his  state.  The  Lords  of  the  Council 
take  their  several  places.  The  Cardinal  places  him 
self  under  the  King's  feet,  on  his  right  side. 

A  noise  within,  crying,  Room  for  the  Queen.  Enter 
the  Queen,  ushered  by  the  Dukes  of  NORFOLK  and 
SUFFOLK  :  she  kneels.  The  King  riseth  from  his 
state,  takes  her  up,  kisses,  and  placeth  her  by  him. 

Q.  Kath.   Naj,  we  must  longer  kneel ;  I  am  a  suitor. 

K.  Hen.   Arise,  and  take  place  by  us. — Half  your  suit 
Never  name  to  us ;  you  have  half  our  power. 
The  other  moiety,  ere  you  ask,  is  given ; 
Repeat  your  will,  and  take  it. 

Q.  Kath.  Thank  your  majesty. 

That  you  would  love  yourself;  and,  in  that  love, 
Not  unconsidered  leave  your  honor,  nor 
The  dignity  of  your  office,  is  the  point 
Of  my  petition. 

K.  Hen.  Lady  mine,  proceed. 

Q.  Kath.    I  am  solicited,  not  by  a  few, 
And  those  of  true  condition,  that  your  subjects 
Are  in  great  grievance:  there  have  been  commissions 
Sent  down  among  them,  which  hath  flawed  the  heart 
Of  all  their  loyalties  ; — wherein,  although, 
My  good  lord  cardinal,  they  vent  reproaches 
Most  bitterly  on  you,  as  putter  on 
Of  these  exactions,  yet  the  king  our  master 
(Whose  honor  Heaven  shield  from  soil !)  even  he  es 
capes  not 

Language  unmannerly,  yea,  such  which  breaks 
The  sides  of  loyalty,  and  almost  appears 
In  loud  rebellion. 

Nor.  Not  almost  appears, 

It  doth  appear ;  for,  upon  these  taxations, 
The  clothiers  all,  not  able  to  maintain 
The  many  to  them  'longing,  have  put  off 
VOL.  v.  19 


146  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  1. 

The  spinsters,  carders,  fullers,  weavers,  who, 
Unfit  for  other  life,  compelled  by  hunger 
And  lack  of  other  means,  in  desperate  manner 
Daring  the  event  to  the  teeth,  are  all  in  uproar, 
And  Danger  serves  among  them. 

K.  Hen.  Taxation ! 

Wherein  ?  and  what  taxation  ? — My  lord  cardinal, 
You  that  are  blamed  for  it  alike  with  us, 
Know  you  of  this  taxation  ? 

Wol.  Please  you,  sir, 

I  know  but  of  a  single  part,  in  aught 
Pertains  to  the  state ;  and  front  but  in  that  file 1 
Where  others  tell  steps  with  me. 

Q.  Kath.  No,  my  lord, 

,         You  know  no  more  than  others  ;  but  you  frame 

Things,  that  are  known  alike ;  which  are  not  whole 
some 

To  those  which  would  not  know  them,  and  yet  must 
Perforce  be  their  acquaintance.     These  exactions, 
Whereof  my  sovereign  would  have  note,  they  are 
Most  pestilent  to  the  hearing ;  and,  to  bear  them, 
The  back  is  sacrifice  to  the  load.     They  say, 
They  are  devised  by  you ;  or  else  you  suffer 
Too  hard  an  exclamation. 

K.  Hen.  Still  exaction  ! 

The  nature  of  it  ?     In  what  kind,  let's  know, 
Is  this  exaction  ? 

Q.  Kath.  I  am  much  too  venturous 

In  tempting  of  your  patience  ;  but  am  boldened 
Under  your  promised  pardon.     The  subject's  grief 
Comes  through  commissions,  which  compel  from  each 
The  sixth  part  of  his  substance,  to  be  levied 
Without  delay ;  and  the  pretence  for  this 
Is  named,  your  wars  in  France.     This  makes  bold 

mouths : 

Tongues  spit  their  duties  out,  and  cold  hearts  freeze 
Allegiance  in  them ;  their  curses  now 


1  He  means  to  say  that  he  is  but  one  among  many  counsellors,  who 
proceed  in  the  same  course  with  him  in  the  business  of  the  state. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  V1I1.  147 

Live  where  their  prayers  did ;  and  it's  come  to  pass, 

That  tractable  obedience  is  a  slave 

To  each  incensed  will.     I  would  your  highness 

Would  give  it  quick  consideration,  for 

There  is  no  primer  business.1 

K.  Hen.  By  my  life,  . 

This  is  against  our  pleasure. 

Wol.  And  for  me, 

I  have  no  further  gone  in  this,  than  by 
A  single  voice ;  and  that  not  passed  me,  but 
By  learned  approbation  of  the  judges.     If  I  am 
Traduced  by  ignorant  tongues,  which  neither  know 
My  faculties,  nor  person,  yet  will  be 
The  chronicles  of  my  doing, — let  me  say, 
'Tis  but  the  fate  of  place,  and  the  rough  brake  2 
That  virtue  must  go  through.     We  must  not  stint 
Our  necessary  actions,  in  the  fear 
To  cope 3  malicious  censurers ;  which  ever, 
As  ravenous  fishes,  do  a  vessel  follow 
That  is  new  trimmed ;  but  benefit  no  further 
Than  vainly  longing.     What  we  oft  do  best, 
By  sick  interpreters,  once 4  weak  ones,  is 
Not  ours,  or  not  allowed ; 5  what  worst,  as  oft, 
Hitting  a  grosser  quality,  is  cried  up 
For  our  best  act.     If  we  shall  stand  still, 
In  fear  our  motion  will  be  mocked  or  carped  at, 
We  should  take  root  here  where  we  sit,  or  sit 
State  statues  only. 

K.  Hen.  Things  done  well, 

And  with  a  care,  exempt  themselves  from  fear ; 
Things  done  without  example,  in  their  issue 
Are  to  be  feared.     Have  you  a  precedent 
Of  this  commission  ?     1  believe,  not  any. 
We  must  not  rend  our  subjects  from  our  laws, 
And  stick  them  in  our  will.     Sixth  part  of  each  ? 

1  The  old  copy  reads,  "There  is  no  primer  baseness.11     Warburton 
made  the  alteration. 

2  Thicket 

3  i.  e.  to  engage  with,  to  encounter. 

4  Sometime. 

5  i.  e.  approved. 


148  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  1. 

A  trembling  contribution !     Why,  we  take, 
From  every  tree,  lop,  bark,  and  part  o'  the  timber ; 
And,  though  we  leave  it  with  a  root,  thus  hacked, 
The  air  will  drink  the  sap.     To  every  county, 
Where  this  is  questioned,  send  our  letters,  with 
Free  pardon  to  each  man  that  has  denied 
The  force  of  this  commission  ;  pray,  look  to't ; 
I  put  it  to  your  care. 

Wol.  A  word  with  you. 

[To  the  Secretary. 

Let  there  be  letters  writ  to  every  shire, 
Of  the  king's  grace  and  pardon.     The  grieved  commons 
Hardly  conceive  of  me  ;  let  it  be  noised, 
That,  through  our  intercession,  this  revokement 
And  pardon  comes.     I  shall  anon  advise  you 
Further  in  the  proceeding.  [Exit  Secretary. 

Enter  Surveyor.1 

Q.  Kath.    I  am  sorry,  that  the  duke  of  Buckingham 
Is  run  in  your  displeasure. 

K.  Hen.  It  grieves  many. 

The  gentleman  is  learned,  and  a  most  rare  speaker ; 
To  nature  none  more  bound ;  his  training  such, 
That  he  may  furnish  and  instruct  great  teachers, 
And  never  seek  for  aid  out  of  himself. 
Yet  see 

When  these  so  noble  benefits  shall  prove 
Not  well  disposed,  the  mind  growing  once  corrupt, 
They  turn  to  vicious  forms,  ten  times  more  ugly 
Than  ever  they  were  fair.     This  man  so  complete, 
Who  was  enrolled  'mongst  wonders,  and  when  we, 
Almost  with  ravished  listening,  could  not  find 
His  hour  of  speech  a  minute ;  he,  my  lady, 
Hath  into  monstrous  habits  put  the  graces 
That  once  were  his,  and  is  become  as  black 
As  if  besmeared  in  hell.     Sit  by  us ;  you  shall  hear 
(This  was  his  gentleman  in  trust)  of  him 

1  Holinshed  says  that  this  surveyor's  name  was  Charles  Knyvet. 


SO.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  149 

Things  to  strike  honor  sad. — Bid  him  recount 
The  fore-recited  practices  ;  whereof 
We  cannot  feel  too  little,  hear  too  much. 

WoL    Stand  forth  ;  and  with  bold  spirit  relate  what 

you, 

Most  like  a  careful  subject,  have  collected 
Out  of  the  duke  of  Buckingham. 

K.  Hen.  Speak  freely. 

Surv.    First,  it  was  usual  with  him,  every  day 
It  would  infect  his  speech, — That,  if  the  king 
Should  without  issue  die,  he'd  carry  it  so 
To  make  the  sceptre  his.     These  very  words 
I  have  heard  him  utter  to  his  son-in-law, 
Lord  Aberga'ny ;  to  whom  by  oath  he  menaced 
Revenge  upon  the  cardinal. 

WoL  Please  your  highness,  note 

This  dangerous  conception  in  this  point. 
Not  friended  by  his  wish,  to  your  high  person 
His  will  is  most  malignant ;  and  it  stretches 
Beyond  you,  to  your  friends. 

Q.  Kath.  My  learned  lord  cardinal, 

Deliver  all  with  charity. 

K.  Hen.  Speak  on. 

How  grounded  he  his  title  to  the  crown, 
Upon  our  fail  ?     To  this  point  hast  thou  heard  him 
At  any  time  speak  aught  ? 

Surv.  He  was  brought  to  this 

By  a  vain  prophecy  of  Nicholas  Hopkins. 

K.  Hen.   What  was  that  Hopkins  ? 

Surv.  Sir,  a  Chartreux  friar, 

His  confessor ;  who  fed  him  every  minute 
With  words  of  sovereignty. 

K.  Hen.  How  know'st  thou  this  ? 

Surv.    Not  long  before  your  highness  sped  to  France, 
The  duke  being  at  the  Rose,1  within  the  parish 
Saint  Lawrence  Poultney,  did  of  me  demand 
What  was  the  speech  amongst  the  Londoners 

l  This  house  was  purchased  about  the  year  156J,  by  Richard  Hill, 
some  time  master  of  the  merchant  tailors'  company,  and  is  now  the  mer 
chant  tailors'  school,  in  Suffolk-lane. 


150  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  L 

Concerning  the  French  journey  :  I  replied, 

Men  feared  the  French  would  prove  perfidious, 

To  the  king's  danger.     Presently  the  duke 

Said,  'Twas  the  fear  indeed ;  and  that  he  doubted, 

'Twould  prove  the  verity  of  certain  words 

Spoke  by  a  holy  monk :     That  oft,  says  he, 

Hath  sent  to  me,  wishing  me  to  permit 

John  de  la  Court,  my  chaplain,  a  choice  hour 

To  hear  from  him  a  matter  of  some  moment ; 

Whom  after  under  the  confession's  seal 1 

He  solemnly  had  sworn,  that,  what  he  spoke, 

My  chaplain  to  no  creature  living,  but 

To  me,  should  utter,  with  demure  confidence 

This  pausingly  ensued, — Neither  the  king,  nor  his  heirs, 

(Tell  you  the  duke,)  shall  prosper ;  bid  him  strive 

To  gain  the  love  of  the  commonalty ;  the  duke 

Shall  govern  England. 

Q.  Kath.  If  I  know  you  well, 

You  were  the  duke's  surveyor,  and  lost  your  office 
On  the  complaint  o'the  tenants.     Take  good  heed 
You  charge  not  in  your  spleen  a  noble  person, 
And  spoil  your  nobler  soul !     I  say,  take  heed ; 
Yes,  heartily  beseech  you. 

K.  Hen.  Let  him  on  : — 

Go  forward. 

Surv.  On  my  soul,  I'll  speak  but  truth. 

I  told  my  lord  the  duke,  By  the  devil's  illusions 
The  monk  might  be  deceived  ;  and  that  'twas  dangerous 

for  him 

To  ruminate  on  this  so  far,  until 
It  forged  him  some  design,  which,  being  believed, 
It  was  much  like  to  do.     He  answered,  Tush! 
It  can  do  me  no  damage ;  adding  further, 
That,  had  the  king  in  his  last  sickness  failed, 
The  cardinal's  and  sir  Thomas  Lovell's  heads 
Should  have  gone  off. 

K.  Hen.                      Ha !  what,  so  rank  ?     Ah,  ah ! 
There's  mischief  in  this  man. Canst  thou  say  further? 

1  The  old  copy  has  "  commission's  seal." 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  151 

Sure.    I  can,  my  liege. 

K.  Hen.  Proceed. 

Surv.  Being  at  Greenwich, 

After  jour  highness  had  reproved  the  duke 
About  sir  William  Blomer,] — 

K.  Hen.  I  remember, 

Of  such  a  time  : — Being  my  servant  sworn, 
The  duke  retained  him  his. But  on ;  what  hence  ? 

Surv.    If,  quoth  he,  I  for  this  had  been  committed, 
As,  to  the  Tower,  I  thought, — I  would  have  played 
The  part  my  father  meant  to  act  upon 
The  usurper  Richard ;  who,  being  at  Salisbury, 
Made  suit  to  come  in  his  presence  ;  which  if  granted, 
As  he  made  semblance  of  his  duty,  would 
Have  put  his  knife  into  him? 

K.  Hen.  A  giant  traitor ! 

Wol.  Now,  madam,  may  his  highness  live  in  freedom, 
And  this  man  out  of  prison  ? 

Q.  Kath.  God  mend  all ! 

K.  Hen.   There's  something  more  would  out  of  thee  ; 
what  say'st  ? 

Surv.    After — the  duke  his  father, — with  the  knife, — 
He  stretched  him,  and,  with  one  hand  on  his  dagger, 
Another  spread  on  his  breast,  mounting  his  eyes, 
He  did  discharge  a  horrible  oath ;  whose  tenor 
Was, — Were  he  evil  used,  he  would  outgo 
His  father,  by  as  much  as  a  performance 
Does  an  irresolute  purpose. 

K.  Hen.  There's  his  period, 

To  sheath  his  knife  in  us.     He  is  attached : 
Call  him  to  present  trial :  if  he  may 
Find  mercy  in  the  law,  'tis  his ;  if  none, 
Let  him  not  seek't  of  us.     By  day  and  night ! 
He's  traitor  to  the  height.  [Exeunt. 

1  Sir  William  Blomer  (Holinshed  calls  him  Bulmer]  was  reprimanded 
by  the  king  in  the  Star  Chamber,  for  that,  being  his  sworn  servant,  he 
had  left  the  king's  service  for  the  duke  of  Buckingham's. 

2  The  accuracy  of  Holinshed,  from  whom  Shakspeare  took  his  account 
of  the  accusations  and  punishment,  together  with  the  qualities  of  the  duke 
of  Buckingham,  is  proved,  in  the  most  authentic  manner,  by  a  very  curious 
report  of  his  case  in  East.  Term.,  13  Hen.  VIII.,  m  the  year  books  published 
by  authority,  edit.  1597,  f.  11,  12. 


152  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  I. 

SCENE   III.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  and  LORD  SANDS.1 
Cham.    Is  it  possible,  the  spells  of  France  should 


Men  into  such  strange  mysteries  ? 

Sands.  New  customs, 

Though  they  be  never  so  ridiculous, — 
Nay,  let  them  be  unmanly, — yet  are  followed. 

Cham.    As  far  as  I  see,  all  the  good  our  English 
Have  got  by  the  late  voyage,  is  but  merely 
A  fit  or  two  o'  the  face  ; 2  but  they  are  shrewd  ones  ; 
For  when  they  hold  them,  you  would  swear  directly, 
Their  very  noses  had  been  counsellors 
To  Pepin,  or  Clotharius,  they  keep  state  so. 

Sands.    They  have  all  new  legs,  and  lame  ones  ;  one 

would  take  it, 

That  never  saw  them  pace  before,  the  spavin, 
A  springhalt  reigned  among  them. 

Cham.  Death  !  my  lord, 

Their  clothes  are  after  such  a  pagan  cut  too, 
That,  sure,  they  have  worn  out  Christendom.  How  now  ? 
What  news,  sir  Thomas  Lovell  ? 

Enter  SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL. 

Lov.  'Faith,  my  lord, 

I  hear  of  none,  but  the  new  proclamation 
That's  clapped  upon  the  court  gate. 

Cham.  What  is't  for  ? 

Lov.    The  reformation  of  our  travelled  gallants, 
That  fill  the  court  with  quarrels,  talk,  and  tailors. 

1  Shakspeare  has  placed  this  scene  in  1521.     Charles  earl  of  Worcester 
was  then  lord  chamberlain,  and  continued  in  the  office  until  his  death,  in 
1526.     But  Cavendish,  from  whom  this  was  originally  taken,  places  this 
event  at  a  later  period,  when  lord  Sands  himself  was  chamberlain.     Sir  Wil 
liam  Sands  of  the  Vine,  near  Basingstoke,  Hants,  was  created  a  peer  in 
1524.    He  succeeded  the  earl  of  Worcester  as  chamberlain. 

2  A  grimace,  an  artificial  cast  of  the  countenance. 


SO.  III.]  KING   HENRY   VIII.  153 

Cham.    I  am  glad   'tis  there  ;  now  I  would  pray  our 

monsieurs 

To  think  an  English  courtier  may  be  wise, 
And  never  see  the  Louvre. 

Lov.  They  must  either 

(For  so  run  the  conditions)  leave  these  remnants 
Of  fool  and  feather,  that  they  got  in  France, 
With  all  their  honorable  points  of  ignorance, 
Pertaining  thereunto,  (as  fights,  and  fireworks ; 
Abusing  better  men  than  they  can  be, 
Out  of  a  foreign  wisdom,)  renouncing  clean 
The  faith  they  have  in  tennis,  and  tall  stockings, 
Short  blistered  breeches,  and  those  types  of  travel, 
And  understand  again  like  honest  men ; 
Or  pack  to  their  old  playfellows :  there,  I  take  it, 
They  may,  cum  privilegio,  wear  away 
The  lag  end  of  their  lewdness,  and  be  laughed  at. 

Sands.    'Tis  time  to  give  them  physic,  their  diseases 
Are  grown  so  catching. 

Cham.  What  a  loss  our  ladies 

Will  have  of  these  trim  vanities ! 

Lov.  Ay,  marry, 

There  will  be  woe  indeed,  lords  ;  the  sly  whoresons 
Have  got  a  speeding  trick  to  lay  down  ladies ; 
A  French  song,  and  a  fiddle,  has  no  fellow. 

Sands.    The  devil  fiddle  them !  I   am   glad   they're 

going, 

(For,  sure,  there's  no  converting  of  them  :)  now 
An  honest  country  lord,  as  I  am,  beaten 
A  long  time  out  of  play,  may  bring  his  plain-song, 
And  have  an  hour  of  hearing ;  and,  by'r  lady, 
Held1  current  music  too. 

Cham.  Well  said,  lord  Sands ; 

Your  colt's  tooth  is  not  cast  yet. 

Sands.    No,  my  lord  ; 
Nor  shall  not,  while  I  have  a  stump. 

Cham.  Sir  Thomas, 

Whither  were  you  a  going  ? 

i  The  late  edition  of  Mr.  Boswell  reads  hold,  noticing  that  held  is  the 
reading  of  the  first  folio. 
VOL.  v.  20 


154  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  I. 

Lov.  To  the  cardinal's ; 

Your  lordship  is  a  guest  too. 

Cham.  O,  'tis  true  ; 

This  night  he  makes  a  supper,  and  a  great  one, 
To  many  lords  and  ladies :  there  will  be 
The  beauty  of  this  kingdom,  I'll  assure  you. 

Lov.  That  churchman  bears  a  bounteous  mind  indeed, 
A  hand  as  fruitful  as  the  land  that  feeds  us ; 
His  dews  fall  every  where. 

Cham.  No  doubt  he's  noble  ; 

He  had  a  black  mouth,  that  said  other  of  him. 

Sands.    He  may,  my  lord,  he  has  wherewithal ;  in 

him, 

Sparing  would  show  a  worse  sin  than  ill  doctrine  : 
Men  of  his  way  should  be  most  liberal ; 
They  are  set  here  for  examples. 

Cham.  True,  they  are  so  ; 

But  few  now  give  so  great  ones.     My  barge  stays  ; 
Your  lordship  shall  along. — Come,  good  sir  Thomas, 
We  shall  be  late  else ;  which  I  would  not  be, 
For  I  was  spoke  to,  with  sir  Henry  Guildford, 
This  night  to  be  comptrollers. 

Sands.  I  am  your  lordship's. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE    IV.     The  Presence  Chamber  in  York  Place. 

Hautboys.  A  small  table  under  a  state  for  the  Cardinal, 
a  longer  table  for  the  guests.  Enter,  at  one  door, 
ANNE  BULLEN,  and  divers  Lords,  Ladies,  and  Gen 
tlewomen,  as  guests ;  at  another  door,  enter  SIR 
HENRY  GUILDFORD. 

Guild.    Ladies,  a  general  welcome  from  his  grace 
Salutes  ye  all.     This  night  he  dedicates 
To  fair  content,  and  you  :  none  here,  he  hopes, 
In  all  this  noble  bevy,  has  brought  with  her 
One  care  abroad :  he  would  have  all  as  merry 
As  first-good  company,  good  wine,  good  welcome, 
Can  make  good  people. O,  my  lord,  you  are  tardy; 


SC.  IV.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  155 

Enter   Lord    Chamberlain,    LORD    SANDS,    and    SIR 
THOMAS  LOVELL. 

The  very  thought  of  this  fair  company 
Clapped  wings  to  me. 

Cham.  You  are  young,  sir  Harry  Guildford. 

Sands.   Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  had  the  cardinal 
But  half  rny  lay-thoughts  in  him,  some  of  these 
Should  find  a  running  banquet  ere  they  rested, 
I  think,  would  better  please  them.     By  my  life, 
They  are  a  sweet  society  of  fair  ones. 

Lov.    O,  that  your  lordship  were  but  now  confessor 
To  one  or  two  of  these  ! 

Sands.  I  would  I  were  ; 

They  should  find  easy  penance. 

Lov.  'Faith,  how  easy  ? 

Sands.    As  easy  as  a  down-bed  would  afford  it. 

Cham.    Sweet  ladies,  will  it  please  you  sit?     Sir 

Harry, 

Place  you  that  side,  I'll  take  the  charge  of  this . 
His  grace  is  entering. — Nay,  you  must  not  freeze  ; 
Two  women  placed  together  makes  cold  weather. — 
My  lord  Sands,  you  are  one  will  keep  them  waking ; 
Pray,  sit  between  these  ladies. 

Sands.  By  my  faith, 

And  thank  your  lordship. — By  your  leave,  sweet  ladies. 
[Seats  himself  between  ANNE  BULLEN  and 

another  Lady. 

If  I  chance  to  talk  a  little  wild,  forgive  me  ; 
I  had  it  from  my  father. 

Anne.  Was  he  mad,  sir  ? 

Sands.    O,  very  mad,  exceeding  mad,  in  love  too. 
But  he  would  bite  none ;  just  as  I  do  now, 
He  would  kiss  you  twenty  with  a  breath.    [Kisses  her. 

Cham.  Well  said,  my  lord. — 

So,  now  you  are  fairly  seated ; — Gentlemen, 
The  penance  lies  on  you,  if  these  fair  ladies 
Pass  away  frowning. 

Sands.  For  my  little  cure, 

Let  me  alone. 


156  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  I. 

Hautboys.     Enter  CARDINAL  WOLSEY,  attended;  and 
takes  his  state. 

WoL    You  are  welcome,  my  fair  guests  ;  that  noble 

lady, 

Or  gentleman,  that  is  not  freely  merry, 
Is  not  my  friend.     This,  to  confirm  my  welcome ; 
And  to  you  all  good  health.  [Drinks. 

Sands.  Your  grace  is  noble  ; — 

Let  me  have  such  a  bowl  may  hold  my  thanks, 
And  save  me  so  much  talking. 

WoL  My  lord  Sands, 

I  am  beholden  to  you ;  cheer  your  neighbors. — 
Ladies,  you  are  not  merry ; — Gentlemen, 
Whose  fault  is  this  ? 

Sands.  The  red  wine  first  must  rise 

In  their  fair  cheeks,  my  lord ;  then  we  shall  have  them 
Talk  us  to  silence. 

Anne.    You  are  a  merry  gamester,  my  lord  Sands. 

Sands.   Yes,  if  I  make  my  play.1 

Here's  to  your  ladyship ;  and  pledge  it,  madam, 
For  'tis  to  such  a  thing, — 

Anne.  You  cannot  show  me. 

Sands.    I  told  your  grace,  they  would  talk  anon. 

[Drum  and  trumpets  within  :  chambers* 
discharged. 

Wol.  What's  that  ? 

Cham.    Look  out  there,  some  of  you. 

[Exit  a  Servant. 

WoL  What  warlike  voice  ? 

And  to  what  end  is  this  ? — Nay,  ladies,  fear  not ; 
By  all  the  laws  of  war  you  are  privileged. 

Re-enter  Servant. 
Cham.    How  now  ?  what  is't  ? 
Serv.  A  noble  troop  of  strangers , 

For  so  they  seem :  they  have  left  their  barge,  and  landed ; 


i  i.  e.  if  I  may  choose  my  game. 

a  Chambers  are  short  pieces  of  ordnance. 


SC.  IV.]  KING   HENRY   VIII.  157 

And  hither  make,  as  great  ambassadors 
From  foreign  princes. 

Wol.  Good  lord  chamberlain, 

Go,  give  them  welcome  ;   you  can  speak  the  French 

tongue ; 

And,  pray,  receive  them  nobly,  and  conduct  them 
Into  our  presence,  where  this  heaven  of  beauty 
Shall  shine  at  full  upon  them. — Some  attend  him. — 

[Exit  Chamberlain,  attended.     All  arise, 

and  tables  removed. 

You  have  now  a  broken  banquet ;  but  we'll  mend  it. 
A  good  digestion  to  you  all ;  and,  once  more, 
I  shower  a  welcome  on  you  ; — Welcome  all. 

Hautboys.  Enter  the  King,  and  twelve  others,  as 
maskers,  habited  like  Shepherds,  with  sixteen  torch- 
bearers;  ushered  by  the  Lord  Chamberlain.  They 
pass  directly  before  the  Cardinal,  and  gracefully 
salute  him. 

A  noble  company  !     What  are  their  pleasures  ? 

Cham.    Because  they  speak  no  English,  thus  they 

prayed 

To  tell  your  grace  ; — That,  having  heard  by  fame 
Of  this  so  noble  and  so  fair  assembly 
This  night  to  meet  here,  they  could  do  no  less, 
Out  of  the  great  respect  they  bear  to  beauty, 
But  leave  their  flocks  ;  and  under  your  fair  conduct, 
Crave  leave  to  view  these  ladies,  and  entreat 
An  hour  of  revels  with  them. 

Wol.  Say,  lord  chamberlain, 

They  have  done  my  poor  house  grace  ;  for  which  I  pay 

them 

A  thousand  thanks,  and  pray  them  take  their  pleasures. 
[Ladies  chosen  for  the  dance.      The  King  chooses 

ANNE  BULLEN. 
K.  Hen.    The    fairest  hand  I    ever   touched !     O, 

beauty, 

Till  now  I  never  knew  thee.  [Music.     Dance. 

Wol.     My  lord, 


158  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  I. 

Cham.  Your  grace  ? 

Wol.  Pray  tell  them  thus  much  from  me  : 

There  should  be  one  amongst  them,  by  his  person, 
More  worthy  this  place  than  myself;  to  whom, 
If  I  but  knew  him,  with  my  love  and  duty 
I  would  surrender  it. 

Cham.  I  will,  my  lord. 

[Cham,  goes  to  the  company,  and  returns. 

Wol.    What  say  they  ? 

Cham.  Such  a  one,  they  all  confess, 

There  is,  indeed ;  which  they  would  have  your  grace 
Find  out,  and  he  will  take  it. 

Wol.  Let  me  see,  then. — 

[Comes  from  his  state. 

By  all  your  good  leaves,  gentlemen  : — Here  I'll  make 
My  royal  choice. 

K.  Hen.  You  have  found  him,  cardinal : 

[Unmasking. 

You  hold  a  fair  assembly ;  you  do  well,  lord  : 
You  are  a  churchman,  or,  I'll  tell  you,  cardinal, 
I  should  judge  now  unhappily.1 

Wol.  I  am  glad, 

Your  grace  is  grown  so  pleasant. 

K.  Hen.  My  lord  chamberlain, 

Pr'ythee,  come  hither.   What  fair  lady's  that  ? 

Cham.    An't  please  your  grace,  sir  Thomas  Bullen's 

daughter, 
The  viscount  Rochford,  one  of  her  highness'  women. 

K.  Hen.    By  Heaven,  she  is  a  dainty  one. — Sweet 
heart, 

I  were  unmannerly  to  take  you  out, 
And  not  to  kiss  you.2 — A  health,  gentlemen  ; 
Let  it  go  round. 

Wol.    Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  is  the  banquet  ready 
I'  the  privy  chamber  ? 

Lov.  Yes,  my  lord. 

Wol.  Your  grace, 

I  fear,  with  dancing,  is  a  little  heated. 

1  i.  e.  waggishly,  mischievously. 

2  A  kiss  was  anciently  the  established  fee  of  a  lady's  partner. 


SC.  l.J  KING  HENRY  VIII.  159 

K.  Hen.    I  fear,  too  much. 

Wol.  There's  fresher  air,  my  lord, 

In  the  next  chamber. 

K.  Hen.    Lead  in  jour  ladies,  every  one. — Sweet 

partner, 

I  must  not  yet  forsake  you. — Let's  be  merry  : — 
Good  my  lord  cardinal,  I  have  half  a  dozen  healths 
To  drink  to  these  fair  ladies,  and  a  measure 
To  lead  them  once  again  ;  and  then  let's  dream 
Who's  best  in  favor. — Let  the  music  knock  it.1 

[Exeunt,  with  trumpets. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I.    A  Street. 

Enter  two  Gentlemen,  meeting. 

1  Gent.   Whither  away  so  fast  ? 

2  Gent.  O5 — God  save  you  ! 
Even  to  the  hall  to  hear  what  shall  become 

Of  the  great  duke  of  Buckingham. 

1  Gent.  I'll  save  you 
That  labor,  sir.     All's  now  done,  but  the  ceremony 
Of  bringing  back  the  prisoner. 

2  Gent.  Were  you  there  ? 

1  Gent.   Yes,  indeed,  was  I. 

2  Gent.  Pray,  speak,  what  has  happened  ? 

1  Gent.    You  may  guess  quickly  what. 

2  Gent.  Is  he  found  guilty  ? 

1  Gent.    Yes,  truly  is  he,  and  condemned  upon  it. 

2  Gent.    I  am  sorry  for't. 

1  Thus  in  Antonio  and  Mellida: — 

"  Fla.  Faith,  the  song  will  seem  to  come  off  hardly. 
Catz.  Troth,  not  a  whit,  if  you  seem  to  come  off  quickly. 
Fla.  Pert  Catzo,  knock  it,  then." 


160  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  II. 

1  Gent.  So  are  a  number  more. 

2  Gent.   But,  pray,  how  passed  it  ? 

1  Gent.    I'll  tell  you  in  a  little.     The  great  duke 
Came  to  the  bar ;  where,  to  his  accusations, 

He  pleaded  still,  not  guilty,  and  alleged 

Many  sharp  reasons  to  defeat  the  law. 

The  king's  attorney,  on  the  contrary, 

Urged  on  the  examinations,  proofs,  confessions 

Of  divers  witnesses ;  which  the  duke  desired 

To  have  brought,  viva  voce,  to  his  face  : 

At  which  appeared  against  him,  his  surveyor ; 

Sir  Gilbert  Peck  his  chancellor  ;  and  John  Court, 

Confessor  to  him  ;  with  that  devil-monk, 

Hopkins,  that  made  this  mischief. 

2  Gent.  That  was  he 
That  fed  him  with  his  prophecies  ? 

1  Gent.  The  same. 
All  these  accused  him  strongly ;  which  he  fain 
Would  have  flung  from  him,  but,  indeed,  he  could  not ; 
And  so  his  peers,  upon  this  evidence, 

Have  found  him  guilty  of  high  treason.     Much 
He  spoke,  and  learnedly,  for  life  ;   but  all 
Was  either  pitied  in  him,  or  forgotten. 

2  Gent.    After  all  this,  how  did  he  bear  himself? 

1  Gent.   When  he  was  brought  again  to  the  bar, — 

to  hear 

His  knell  rung  out,  his  judgment, — he  was  stirred 
With  such  an  agony,  he  sweat  extremely, 
And  something  spoke  in  choler,  ill,  and  hasty ; 
But  he  fell  to  himself  again,  and,  sweetly, 
In  all  the  rest  showed  a  most  noble  patience. 

2  Gent.    I  do  not  think  he  fears  death. 

1  Gent.  Sure,  he  does  not ; 
He  never  was  so  womanish ;  the  cause 

He  may  a  little  grieve  at. 

2  Gent.  Certainly, 
The  cardinal  is  the  end  of  this. 

1  Gent.  'Tis  likely, 

By  all  conjectures.    First,  Kildare's  attainder, 
Then  deputy  of  Ireland  ;  who  removed, 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  161 

Earl  Surrey  was  sent  thither,  and  in  haste  too, 
Lest  he  should  help  his  father. 

2  Gent.  That  trick  of  state 

Was  a  deep,  envious  one. 

1  Gent.  At  his  return, 
No  doubt,  he  will  requite  it.     This  is  noted, 
And  generally :  whoever  the  king  favors, 
The  cardinal  instantly  will  find  employment, 
And  far  enough  from  court  too. 

2  Gent.  All  the  commons 
Hate  him  perniciously,  and  o'  my  conscience, 
Wish  him  ten  fathom  deep  :  this  duke  as  much 
They  love  and  dote  on  ;  call  him,  bounteous  Bucking 
ham, 

The  mirror  of  all  courtesy  ; — 

1  Gent.  Stay  there,  sir, 
And  see  the  noble,  ruined  man  you  speak  of. 

Enter  BUCKINGHAM  from  his  arraignment :  Tipstaves 
before  him,  the  axe  with  the  edge  towards  him ;  hal 
berds  on  each  side  :  with  him  SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL, 
SIR  NICHOLAS  VAUX,  SIR  WILLIAM  SANDS/  and 
common  People. 

2  Gent.    Let's  stand  close,  and  behold  him. 

Buck.  All  good  people, 

You  that  thus  far  have  come  to  pity  me, 
Hear  what  1  say,  and  then  go  home  and  lose  me. 
I  have  this  day  received  a  traitor's  judgment, 
And  by  that  name  must  die.  Yet,  Heaven  bear  witness, 
And,  if  I  have  a  conscience,  let  it  sink  me, 
Even  as  the  axe  falls,  if  I  be  not  faithful ! 
The  law  I  bear  no  malice  for  my  death ; 
It  has  done,  upon  the  premises,  but  justice  : 
But  those  that  sought  it  1  could  wish  more  Christians : 
Be  what  they  will,  I  heartily  forgive  them  ; 
Yet  let  them  look  they  glory  not  in  mischief, 


i  The  old  copy  reads  "  Sir  Walter."    The  correction  is  justified  by 
Holinshed. 

VOL.    V.  21 


162  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  II. 

Nor  build  their  evils 1  on  the  graves  of  great  men  ; 
For  then  my  guiltless  blood  must  cry  against  them. 
For  further  life  in  this  world  I  ne'er  hope, 
Nor  will  I  sue,  although  the  king  have  mercies 
More  than  I  dare  make  faults.     You  few  that  loved 

me, 

And  dare  be  bold  to  weep  for  Buckingham, 
His  noble  friends,  and  fellows,  whom  to  leave 
Is  only  bitter  to  him,  only  dying, 
Go  with  me,  like  good  angels,  to  my  end  ; 
And,  as  the  long  divorce  of  steel  falls  on  me, 
Make  of  your  prayers  one  sweet  sacrifice, 
And  lift  my  soul  to  heaven. — Lead  on,  o'  God's  name. 

Lov.    I  do  beseech  your  grace,  for  chanty, 
If  ever  any  malice  in  your  heart 
Were  hid  against  me,  now  to  forgive  me  frankly. 

Buck.    Sir  Thomas  Lovell,  I  as  free  forgive  you, 
As  I  would  be  forgiven  :  I  forgive  all ; 
There  cannot  be  those  numberless  offences 
'Gainst  me,  I  can't  take  peace  with  :  no  black  envy 
Shall  make 2  my  grave. — Commend  me  to  his  grace  ; 
And,  if  he  speak  of  Buckingham,  pray,  tell  him 
You  met  him  half  in  heaven  ;  my  vows  and  prayers 
Yet  are  the  king's ;  and,  till  my  soul  forsake  me, 
Shall  cry  for  blessings  on  him.     May  he  live 
Longer  than  I  have  time  to  tell  his  years  ! 
Ever  beloved,  and  loving,  may  his  rule  be ! 
And,  when  old  time  shall  lead  him  to  his  end, 
Goodness  and  he  fill  up  one  monument ! 

Lov.    To  the  water  side  I  must  conduct  your  grace ; 
Then  give  my  charge  up  to  sir  Nicholas  Vaux, 
Who  undertakes  you  to  your  end. 

Vaux.  Prepare  there ; 

The  duke  is  coming ;  see,  the  barge  be  ready ; 
And  fit  it  with  such  furniture  as  suits 
The  greatness  of  his  person. 

Buck.  Nay,  sir  Nicholas, 


1  Evils  ur 

2  Warburton  reads  "  mark  my  grave.' 


SO.  I.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  163 

Let  it  alone ;  my  state  now  will  but  mock  me. 

When  I  came  hither,  I  was  lord  high  constable, 

And  duke  of  Buckingham  ;  now,  poor  Edward  Bohun : ] 

Yet  I  am  richer  than  my  base  accusers, 

That  never  knew  what  truth  meant :  I  now  seal  it ; 

And  with  that  blood  will  make  them  one  day  groan 

for't. 

My  noble  father,  Henry  of  Buckingham, 
Who  first  raised  head  against  usurping  Richard, 
Flying  for  succor  to  his  servant  Banister, 
Being  distressed,  was  by  that  wretch  betrayed, 
And  without  trial  fell ;  God's  peace  be  with  him  ! 
Henry  the  Seventh,  succeeding,  truly  pitying 
My  father's  loss,  like  a  most  royal  prince, 
Restored  me  to  my  honors,  and,  out  of  ruins, 
Made  my  name  once  more  noble.     Now  his  son, 
Henry  the  Eighth,  life,  honor,  name,  and  all 
That  made  me  happy,  at  one  stroke  has  taken 
Forever  from  the  world.     I  had  my  trial, 
And,  must  needs  say,  a  noble  one  ;  which  makes  me 
A  little  happier  than  my  wretched  father  : 
Yet  thus  far  we  are  one  in  fortunes, — Both 
Fell  by  our  servants,  by  those  men  we  loved  most ; 
A  most  unnatural  and  faithless  service ! 
Heaven  has  an  end  in  all.    Yet,  you  that  hear  me, 
This  from  a  dying  man  receive  as  certain ; 
Where  you  are  liberal  of  your  loves,  and  counsels, 
Be  sure,  you  be  not  loose ;  for  those  you  make  friends, 
And  give  your  hearts  to,  when  they  once  perceive 
The  least  rub  in  your  fortunes,  fall  away 
Like  water  from  ye,  never  found  again 
But  where  they  mean  to  sink  ye.     All  good  people, 
Pray  for  me !  I  must  now  forsake  ye ;  the  last  hour 
Of  my  long,  weary  life  is  come  upon  me. 
Farewell : 
And  when  you  would  say  something  that  is  sad, 

1  The  name  of  the  duke  of  Buckingham  most  generally  known  was 
Stafford;  it  is  said  that  he  affected  the  surname  of  Bohun,  because  he  was 
lord  high  constable  of  England  by  inheritance  of  tenure  from  the  Bohuns. 
Shakspeare  follows  Holinshed. 


164  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  II. 

Speak   how  I  fell. — I   have  done ;    and   God  forgive 
me  !  [Exeunt  BUCKINGHAM  and  Train. 

1  Gent.    O,  this  is  full  of  pity  ! — Sir,  it  calls, 
I  fear,  too  many  curses  on  their  heads, 

That  were  the  authors. 

2  Gent.  If  the  duke  be  guiltless, 
'Tis  full  of  woe  :  yet  I  can  give  you  inkling 

Of  an  ensuing  evil,  if  it  fall, 
Greater  than  this. 

1  Gent.  Good  angels  keep  it  from  us  ! 
Where  may  it  be  ?     You  do  not  doubt  my  faith,  sir  ? 

2  Gent.    This  secret  is  so  weighty,  'twill  require 
A  strong  faith *  to  conceal  it. 

1  Gent.  Let  me  have  it  ; 
I  do  not  talk  much. 

2  Gent.  I  am  confident  ; 

You  shall,  sir.     Did  you  not  of  late  days  hear 
A  buzzing,  of  a  separation 
Between  the  king  and  Katharine  ? 

1  Gent.  Yes,  but  it  held  not ; 
For  when  the  king  once  heard  it,  out  of  anger 

He  sent  command  to  the  lord  mayor,  straight 
To  stop  the  rumor,  and  allay  those  tongues 
That  durst  disperse  it. 

2  Gent.  But  that  slander,  sir, 
Is  found  a  truth  now ;  for  it  grows  again 
Fresher  than  e'er  it  was ;  and  held  for  certain, 
The  king  will  venture  at  it.     Either  the  cardinal, 
Or  some  about  him  near,  have,  out  of  malice 

To  the  good  queen,  possessed  him  with  a  scruple 
That  will  undo  her.     To  confirm  this  too, 
Cardinal  Campeius  is  arrived,  and  lately ; 
As  all  think,  for  this  business. 

1  Gent.  'Tis  the  cardinal ; 
And  merely  to  revenge  him  on  the  emperor, 

For  not  bestowing  on  him,  at  his  asking, 
The  archbishopric  of  Toledo,  this  is  purposed. 

2  Gent.    I  think  you  have  hit  the  mark ;   but  is't 

not  cruel, 

i  Great  fidelity. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  165 

That  she  should  feel  the  smart  of  this  ?  The  cardinal 
Will  have  his  will,  and  she  must  fall. 

1  Gent.  'Tis  woful. 

We  are  too  open  here  to  argue  this  ; 
Let's  think  in  private  more.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE    II.     An  Antechamber  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain,  reading  a  letter. 

Cham.  My  lord, — The  horses  your  lordship  sent  for, 
with  all  the  care  I  had,  I  saw  well  chosen,  ridden,  and 
furnished.  They  were  young  and  handsome  ;  and  of 
the  best  breed  in  the  north.  When  they  were  ready  to 
set  out  for  London,  a  man  of  my  lord  cardinaPs,  by 
commission,  and  main  power,  took  -em  from  me  ;  with 
this  reason, — His  master  would  be  served  before  a 
subject,  if  not  before  the  king;  which  stopped  our 
mouths,  sir. 

I  fear  he  will,  indeed.     Well,  let  him  have  them. 
He  will  have  all,  I  think. 

Enter  the  Dukes  of  NORFOLK  and  SUFFOLK. 

Nor.    Well  met,  my  good  lord  chamberlain. 

Cham.    Good  day  to  both  your  graces. 

Suf.    How  is  the  king  employed  ? 

Cham.  I  left  him  private, 

Full  of  sad  thoughts  and  troubles. 

Nor.  What's  the  cause  ? 

Cham.  It  seems,  the  marriage  with  his  brother's  wife 
Has  crept  too  near  his  conscience. 

Suf.  No,  his  conscience 

Has  crept  too  near  another  lady. 

Nor.  'Tis  so; 

This  is  the  cardinal's  doing,  the  king-cardinal. 
That  blind  priest,  like  the  eldest  son  of  fortune, 
Turns  what  he  list.     The  king  will  know  him  one  day. 

Suf.  Pray  God,  he  do  !  he'll  never  know  himself  else. 


166  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  11. 

Nor.    How  holilj  he  works  in  all  his  business ! 
And  with  what  zeal !     For,  now  he  has  cracked  the 

league 

Between  us  and  the  emperor,  the  queen's  great  nephew, 
He  dives  into  the  king's  soul ;  and  there  scatters 
Dangers,  doubts,  wringing  of  the  conscience, 
Fears,  and  despairs,  and  all  these  for  his  marriage. 
And,  out  of  all  these  to  restore  the  king, 
He  counsels  a  divorce  ;  a  loss  of  her, 
That,  like  a  jewel,  has  hung  twenty  years 
About  his  neck,  yet  never  lost  her  lustre ; 
Of  her,  that  loves  him  with  that  excellence 
That  angels  love  good  men  with ;  even  of  her, 
That,  when  the  greatest  stroke  of  fortune  falls, 
Will  bless  the  king.     And  is  not  this  course  pious  ? 

Cham.    Heaven  keep  me  from  such  counsel !  'Tis 

most  true, 

These  news  are  every  where ;  every  tongue  speaks  them, 
And  every  true  heart  weeps  for't.     All,  that  dare 
Look  into  these  affairs,  see  this  main  end, — 
The  French  king's  sister.1     Heaven  will  one  day  open 
The  king's  eyes,  that  so  long  have  slept  upon 
This  bold,  bad  man. 

Suf.  And  free  us  from  his  slavery. 

Nor.    We  had  need  pray, 
And  heartily,  for  our  deliverance ; 
Or  this  imperious  man  will  work  us  all 
From  princes  into  pages.     All  men's  honors 
Lie  in  one  lump  before  him,  to  be  fashioned 
Into  what  pitch  he  please. 

Suf.  For  me,  my  lords, 

I  love  him  not,  nor  fear  him  ;  there's  my  creed. 
As  I  am  made  without  him,  so  I'll  stand, 
If  the  king  please  ;  his  curses  and  his  blessings 
Touch  me  alike  ;  they  are  breath  I  not  believe  in. 
1  knew  him,  and  I  know  him  ;  so  I  leave  him 
To  him,  that  made  him  proud,  the  pope. 

i  It  was  the  main  end  or  object  of  Wolsey  to  bring  about  a  marriage 
between  Henry  and  the  French  king's  sister,  the  duchess  of  Alencon. 


SC.  Il.J  KING  HENRY    VIII.  167 

Nor.  Let's  in  ; 

And,  with  some  other  business,  put  the  king 
From  these  sad  thoughts,  that  work  too  much  upon 

him. — 
My  lord,  you'll  bear  us  company  ? 

Cham.  Excuse  me  ; 

The  king  hath  sent  me  other-where  ;  besides, 
You'll  find  a  most  unfit  time  to  disturb  him. 
Health  to  your  lordships. 

Nor.  Thanks,  my  good  lord  chamberlain. 

[Exit  Lord  Chamberlain. 

NORFOLK  opens  a  folding-door.      The  King  is  discov 
ered  sitting,  and  reading  pensively.1 

Suf.    How  sad  he  looks  !  sure,  he  is  much  afflicted. 

K.  Hen.    Who  is  there  ?  ha  ? 

Nor.  'Pray  God,  he  be  not  angry. 

K.  Hen.    Who's  there,  I  say  ?   How  dare  you  thrust 

yourselves 

Into  my  private  meditations  ? 
Who  am  I  ?  ha  ? 

Nor.    A  gracious  king,  that  pardons  all  ofTences 
Malice  ne'er  meant ;  our  breach  of  duty,  this  way, 
Is  business  of  estate  ;  in  which,  we  come 
To  know  your  royal  pleasure. 

K.  Hen.  You  are  too  bold. 

Go  to  ;  I'll  make  ye  know  your  times  of  business. 
Is  this  an  hour  for  temporal  affairs  ?  ha  ? — 

Enter  WOLSEY  and  CAMPEIUS. 

Who's  there?  my  good  lord  cardinal? — O,  my  Wolsey, 
The  quiet  of  my  wounded  conscience, 

i  The  stage  direction  in  the  old  copy  is  singular — "  Exit  lord  cham 
berlain,  and  the  king  draws  the  curtain,  and  sits  reading  pensively." — 
This  was  calculated  for  the  state  of  the  theatre  in  Shakspeare's  time. 
When  a  person  was  to  be  discovered  in  a  different  apartment  from  that 
in  which  the  original  speakers  in  the  scene  are  exhibited,  the  artless  mode 
of  that  time  was,  to  place  such  person  in  the  back  part  of  the  stage,  be 
hind  the  curtains  which  were  occasionally  suspended  across  it  These 
the  person  who  was  to  be  discovered  (as  Henry  in  the  present  case),  drew 
back  just  at  the  proper  time. 


168  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  II. 

Thou  art  a  cure  fit  for  a  king. — You're  welcome, 

[To  CAMPEIUS. 

Most  learned,  reverend  sir,  into  our  kingdom  ; 
Use  us,  and  it. — My  good  lord,  have  great  care 
I  be  not  found  a  talker.1  [To  WOLSEY. 

WoL  Sir,  you  cannot. 

I  would  your  grace  would  give  us  but  an  hour 
Of  private  conference. 

K.  Hen.  We  are  busy ;  go. 

[To  NORFOLK  and  SUFFOLK. 

Nor.    This  priest  has  no  pride  in  him  ?      ^ 

Suf.  Not  to  speak  of; 

I    would  not   be  so  sick,  though,2  for  his 


lace 


Aside. 


But  this  cannot  continue. 

Nor.  If  it  do, 

I'll  venture  one  have  at  him.3 

Suf.  I  another. 

[Exeunt  NORFOLK  and  SUFFOLK. 

WoL   Your  grace  has  given  a  precedent  of  wisdom 
Above  all  princes,  in  committing  freely 
Your  scruple  to  the  voice  of  Christendom. 
Who  can  be  angry  now  ?  what  envy  reach  you  ? 
The  Spaniard,  tied  by  blood  and  favor  to  her, 
Must  now  confess,  if  they  have  any  goodness, 
The  trial  just  and  noble.     All  the  clerks, 
I  mean,  the  learned  ones,  in  Christian  kingdoms, 
Have  their  free  voices  ;   Rome,  the  nurse  of  judgment, 
Invited  by  your  noble  self,  hath  sent 
One  general  tongue  unto  us,  this  good  man, 
This  just  and  learned  priest,  cardinal  Campeius ; 
Whom,  once  more,  I  present  unto  your  highness. 

K.  Hen.    And,  once  more,  in  mine  arms  I  bid  him 

welcome, 

And  thank  the  holy  conclave  for  their  loves ; 
They  have  sent  me  such  a  man  I  would  have  wished  for. 

1  "  That  my  professions  of  welcome  be  not  found  empty  talk." 

2  i.  e.  so  sick  as  he  is  proud. 

3  To  have  at   any  thing    or  person,  meant  to    attack  it,  in  ancient 
phraseology. 


SC.  II]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  169 

Cam.    Your  grace  must  needs  deserve  all  strangers' 

loves, 

You  are  so  noble.     To  your  highness'  hand 
I  tender  my  commission  ;  by  whose  virtue, 
(The  court  of  Rome  commanding,)  you,  my  lord 
Cardinal  of  York,  are  joined  with  me,  their  servant, 
In  the  unpartial  judging  of  this  business. 

K.  Hen.    Two  equal  men.     The  queen  shall  be  ac 
quainted 

Forthwith  for  what  you  come. — Where's  Gardiner  ? 
WoL    I  know  your  majesty  has  always  loved  her 
So  dear  in  heart,  not  to  deny  her  that 
A  woman  of  less  place  might  ask  by  law — 
Scholars,  allowed  freely  to  argue  for  her. 

K.  Hen.    Ay,  and  the  best  she  shall  have  ;  and  my 

favor 

To  him  that  does  best ;  God  forbid  else.     Cardinal, 
Pr'ythee,  call  Gardiner  to  me,  my  new  secretary ; 
I  find  him  a  fit  fellow.  [Exit  WOLSEY. 

Re-enter  WOLSEY,  with  GARDINER. 

WoL    Give  me  your  hand ;  much  joy  and  favor  to 

you; 
You  are  the  king's  now. 

Gard.  But  to  be  commanded 

Forever  by  your  grace,  whose  hand  has  raised  me. 

[Aside. 
K.  Hen.    Come  hither,  Gardiner. 

[They  converse  apart. 

Cam.    My  lord  of  York,  was  not  one  doctor  Pace 
In  this  man's  place  before  him  ? 

Wol.  Yes,  he  was. 

Cam.   Was  he  not  held  a  learned  man  ? 
Wol.  Yes,  surely. 

Cam.    Believe  me,  there's  an  ill  opinion  spread  then 
Even  of  yourself,  lord  cardinal. 

Wol.  How  !  of  me  ? 

Cam.    They  will  not  stick  to  say,  you  envied  him  ; 
And,  fearing  he  would  rise,  he  was  so  virtuous, 
VOL.  v.  22 


170  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  II 

Kept  him  a  foreign  man 1  still ;  which  so  grieved  him, 
That  he  ran  mad,  and  died.2 

WoL  Heaven's  peace  be  with  him ! 

That's  Christian  care  enough  ;  for  living  murmurers, 
There's  places  of  rebuke.     He  was  a  fool  ; 
For  he  would  needs  be  virtuous.     That  good  fellow, 
If  I  command  him,  follows  my  appointment ; 
I  will  have  none  so  near  else.     Learn  this,  brother, 
We  live  not  to  be  griped  by  meaner  persons. 

K.  Hen.    Deliver  this  with  modesty  to  the  queen. 

[Exit  GARDINER. 

The  most  convenient  place  that  I  can  think  of, 
For  such  receipt  of  learning,  is  Black-Friars  ; 
There  ye  shall  meet  about  this  weighty  business  : — 
My  Wolsey,  see  it  furnished. — O,  my  lord, 
Would  it  not  grieve  an  able  man,  to  leave 
So  sweet  a  bedfellow  ?     But,  conscience,  conscience, — 
O,  'tis  a  tender  place,  and  I  must  leave  her.     [Exeunt. 


SCENE    III.     An  Antechamber  in  the  Queen's 
Apartments. 


Enter  ANNE  BULLEN,  and  an  old  Lady. 

Anne.   Not  for  that  neither ; — Here's  the  pang  that 

pinches : 

His  highness  having  lived  so  long  with  her ;  and  she 
So  good  a  lady,  that  no  tongue  could  ever 
Pronounce  dishonor  of  her, — by  my  life, 
She  never  knew  harm-doing  ; — O,  now,  after 
So  many  courses  of  the  sun  enthroned, 
Still  growing  in  a  majesty  and  pomp, — the  which 

1  i.  e.  kept  him  out  of  the  king's  presence,  employed  in  foreign  em 
bassies. 

2  «  Aboute  this  time  the  king  received  into  favour  Doctor  Stephen  Gar 
diner,  whose  service  he  used  in  matters  of  great  secrecie  and  weight,  ad 
mitting  him  in  the  room  of  Doctor  Pace,  the  which  being  continually  abrode 
in  ambassades,  and  the  same  oftentymes  not  much  necessarie,  by  the  Car- 
dinalles  appointment,  at  length  he  toke  such  greefe  therwith,  that  he  fell 
out  of  his  right  wittes." — Holinshed. 


SC.  III.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  171 

To  leave  is  a  thousand-fold  more  bitter,  than 
'Tis  sweet  at  first  to  acquire, — after  this  process, 
To  give  her  the  avaunt ! 1  it  is  a  pity 
Would  move  a  monster. 

Old  L.  Hearts  of  most  hard  temper 

Melt  and  lament  for  her. 

Anne.  O,  God's  will !  much  better. 

She  ne'er  had  known  pomp  ;  though  it  be  temporal, 
Yet,  if  that  quarrel,  fortune,  do  divorce  2 
It  from  the  bearer,  'tis  a  sufferance,  panging 
As  soul  and  body's  severing.3 

Old  L.    Alas,  poor  lady ! 
She's  a  stranger  now  again. 

Anne.  So  much  the  more 

Must  pity  drop  upon  her.     Verily, 
I  swear,  'tis  better  to  be  lowly  born, 
And  range  with  humble  livers  in  content, 
Than  to  be  perked  up  in  a  glistering  grief, 
And  wear  a  golden  sorrow. 

Old  L.  Our  content 

Is  our  best  having.4 

Anne.  By  my  troth  and  maidenhead, 

I  would  not  be  a  queen. 

Old  L.  Beshrew  me,  I  would, 

And  venture  maidenhead  for't ;  and  so  would  you, 
For  all  this  spice  of  your  hypocrisy. 
You,  that  have  so  fair  parts  of  woman  on  you, 
Have  too  a  woman's  heart ;  which  ever  yet 
Affected  eminence,  wealth,  sovereignty  ; 
Which,  to  say  sooth,  are  blessings;  and  which  gifts 
(Saving  your  mincing)  the  capacity 
Of  your  soft,  cheveril 5  conscience  would  receive, 
If  you  might  please  to  stretch  it. 


1  To  send  her  away  contemptuously. 

2  Steevens  thinks  that  we  should  read : — 

"  Yet  if  that  quarrel,  fortune  to  divorce 
It  from  the  bearer,"  &c. ;  using  fortune  as  a  verb. 

3  To  pang  is  used  as  a  verb  active  by  Skelton,  in  his  book  of  Philip 
Sparrow,  1568,  sig.  R  v. 

4  Our  best  possession. 

5  Cheveril  is  kid  leather. 


172  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  II. 

Anne.  Nay,  good  troth, — 

Old  L.    Yes,  troth,  and  troth, — You  would  not  be  a 
queen  ? 

Anne.    No,  not  for  all  the  riches  under  heaven. 

Old  L.    'Tis  strange ;    a  threepence  bowed  would 

hire  me, 

Old  as  I  am,  to  queen  it.     But,  I  pray  you, 
What  think  you  of  a  duchess  ?  have  you  limbs 
To  bear  that  load  of  title  ? 

Anne.  No,  in  truth. 

Old  L.    Then  you  are  weakly  made.     Pluck  off  a 

little ; 1 

I  would  not  be  a  young  count  in  your  way, 
For  more  than  blushing  comes  to ;  if  your  back 
Cannot  vouchsafe  this  burden,  'tis  too  weak 
Ever  to  get  a  boy. 

Anne.  How  you  do  talk ! 

I  swear  again,  I  would  not  be  a  queen 
For  all  the  world. 

Old  L.  In  faith,  for  little  England 

You'd  venture  an  emballing  : 2  I  myself 
Would  for  Carnarvonshire,  although  there  'longed 
No  more  to  the  crown  but  that.     Lo,  who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 
Cham.    Good  morrow,  ladies.     What  wer't  worth  to 

know 
The  secret  of  your  conference  ? 

Anne.  My  good  lord, 

Not  your  demand  ;  it  values  not  your  asking  : 
Our  mistress'  sorrows  we  were  pitying. 

Cham.    It  was  a  gentle  business,  and  becoming 
The  action  of  good  women ;  there  is  hope 
All  will  be  well. 

Anne.  Now  I  pray  God,  amen ! 

Cham.    You    bear   a   gentle    mind ;    and   heavenly 
blessings 

1  The  old  lady  says,  "  Pluck  off  a  little ; "  let  us  descend  a  little  lower. 

2  The  old  lady's  meaning  is  more  easily  comprehended  than  explained. 


SC.  III.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  173 

Follow  such  creatures.     That  you  may,  fair  lady, 
Perceive  I  speak  sincerely,  and  high  note's 
Ta'en  of  your  many  virtues,  the  king's  majesty 
Commends  his  good  opinion  to  you,  and 
Does  purpose  honor  to  you  no  less  flowing 
Than  marchioness  of  Pembroke  ;  to  which  title 
A  thousand  pound  a  year,  annual  support, 
Out  of  his  grace  he  adds. 

Anne.  I  do  not  know 

What  kind  of  my  obedience  I  should  tender : 
More  than  my  all  is  nothing;  nor1  my  prayers 
Are  not  words  duly  hallowed,  nor  my  wishes 
More   worth   than    empty  vanities ;    yet    prayers   and 

wishes 

Are  all  I  can  return.     'Beseech  your  lordship, 
Vouchsafe  to  speak  my  thanks,  and  my  obedience, 
As  from  a  blushing  handmaid,  to  his  highness ; 
Whose  health,  and  royalty,  I  pray  for. 

Cham.  Lady, 

I  shall  not  fail  to  approve  the  fair  conceit, 
The  king  hath  of  you. — I  have  perused  her  well ; 

[Aside. 

Beauty  and  honor  in  her  are  so  mingled, 
That  they  have  caught  the  king ;  and  who  knows  yet, 
But  from  this  lady  may  proceed  a  gem, 
To  lighten  all  this  isle  ? — I'll  to  the  king, 
And  say,  I  spoke  with  you. 

Anne.  My  honored  lord. 

[Exit  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Old  L.    W7hy,  this  it  is  ;  see,  see  ! 
I  have  been  begging  sixteen  years  in  court, 
(Am  yet  a  courtier  beggarly,)  nor  could 
Come  pat  betwixt  too  early  and  too  late, 
For  any  suit  of  pounds ;  and  you,  (O  fate  !) 
A  very  fresh-fish  here,  (fie,  fie  upon 
This  compelled  fortune !)  have  your  mouth  filled  up, 
Before  you  open  it. 

Anne.  This  is  strange  to  me. 

1  Mason  proposes  to  substituteybr  for  nor. 


174  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  II. 

Old  L.    How  tastes  it  ?  is  it  bitter  ?  forty  pence,1  no. 
There  was  a  lady  once,  ('tis  an  old  story,) 
That  would  not  be  a  queen,  that  would  she  not, 
For  all  the  mud  in  Egypt.  —  Have  you  heard  it  ? 

Anne.    Come,  you  are  pleasant. 

Old  L.  With  your  theme,  I  could 

O'ermount  the  lark.     The  marchioness  of  Pembroke  ! 
A  thousand  pounds  a  year  !  for  pure  respect  ; 
No  other  obligation.     By  my  life, 
That  promises  more  thousands  ;  honor's  train 
Is  longer  than  his  foreskirt.     By  this  time, 
I  know,  your  back  will  bear  a  duchess  ;  —  say, 
Are  you  not  stronger  than  you  were  ? 

Anne.  Good  lady, 

Make  yourself  mirth  with  your  particular  fancy, 
And  leave  me  out  on't.     'Would  I  had  no  being, 
If  this  salute  my  blood  a  jot  ;  it  faints  me, 
To  think  what  follows. 
The  queen  is  comfortless,  and  we  forgetful 
In  our  long  absence  ;  pray,  do  not  deliver 
What  here  you  have  heard,  to  her. 

Old  L.  What  do  you  think  me  ? 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE    IV.     A  Hall  in  Black-Friars. 

Trumpets  sennet*  and  cornets.  Enter  two  Vergers,  with 
short  silver  wands;  next  them,  two  Scribes,  in  the 
habits  of  doctors  ;  after  them,  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  alone  ;  after  him  the  Bishops  of  Lincoln, 
Ely,  Rochester,  and  Saint  Asaph  ;  next  them,  with 
some  small  distance,  follows  a  Gentleman  bearing  the 
purse,  with  the  great  seal,  and  a  cardinaPs  hat  ;  then 
two  Priests,  bearing  each  a  silver  cross  ;  then  a  Gen 
tleman  Usher,  bareheaded,  accompanied  with  a  Ser- 


1  Forty  pence  was  in  those  days  the  proverbial  expression  of  a  small 
wager. 

2  This  word  sennet  is  the  senne  of  the  old  French,  or  the  segno  or 
segnata  of  the  Italians,  a  signal  given  by  sound  of  trumpet  —  "  signum 
dare  buccina." 


SC.  IV.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  175 

geant  at  Arms,  bearing  a  silver  mace ;  then  two  Gen 
tlemen,  bearing  two  great  silver  pillars ; l  after  them, 
side  by  side,  the  two  Cardinals,  WOLSEY  and  CAM- 
PEIUS  ;  two  Noblemen  with  the  sword  and  mace. 
Then  enter  the  King  and  Queen,  and  their  Trains. 
The  King  takes  place  under  the  cloth  of  state ;  the 
two  Cardinals  sit  under  him  as  judges.  The  Queen 
takes  place  at  some  distance  from  the  King.  The 
Bishops  place  themselves  on  each  side  the  court  in 
manner  of  a  consistory ;  between  them,  the  Scribes. 
The  Lords  sit  next  the  Bishops.  The  Crier  and 
the  rest  of  the  Attendants  stand  in  convenient  order 
about  the  stage. 

Wol.    Whilst  our  commission  from  Rome  is  read, 
Let  silence  be  commanded. 

K.  Hen.  What's  the  need  ? 

It  hath  already  publicly  been  read, 
And  on  all  sides  the  authority  allowed ; 
You  may  then  spare  that  time. 

Wol.  Be't  so ; — proceed. 

Scribe.    Say,  Henry  king  of  England,  come  into  the 
court. 

Crier.    Henry  king  of  England,  &c. 

K.  Hen.    Here. 

Scribe.    Say,  Katharine  queen  of  England,  come  into 
court. 

Crier.    Katharine  queen  of  England,  &,c. 

[  The  Queen  makes  no  answer,  rises  out  of  her  chair, 
goes  about  the  court,  comes  to  the  King,  and  kneels 
at  his  feet ;  then  speaks.  ~\ 

Q.  Kath.    Sir,  1  desire  you,  do  me  right  and  justice  ; 
And  to  bestow  your  pity  on  me  ;  for 
I  arn  a  most,  poor  woman,  and  a  stranger, 
Born  out  of  your  dominions ;  having  here 
No  judge  indifferent,  nor  no  more  assurance 
Of  equal  friendship  and  proceeding.     Alas,  sir, 

1  Ensigns  of  dignity  carried  before  cardinals. 


176  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  II, 

In  what  have  I  offended  you  ?  What  cause 
Hath  my  behavior  given  to  your  displeasure, 
That  thus  you  should  proceed  to  put  me  off, 
And  take  your  good  grace  from  me  ?  Heaven 

witness, 

I  have  been  to  you  a  true  and  humble  wife, 
At  all  times  to  your  will  conformable ; 
Ever  in  fear  to  kindle  your  dislike, 
Yea,  subject  to  your  countenance  ;  glad,  or  sorry, 
As  I  saw  it  inclined.     When  was  the  hour, 
I  ever  contradicted  your  desire, 

Or  made  it  not  mine  too  ?     Or  which  of  your  friends 
Have  I  not  strove  to  love,  although  I  knew 
He  were  mine  enemy  ?     What  friend  of  mine, 
That  had  to  him  derived  your  anger,  did  I 
Continue  in  my  liking  ?  nay,  gave  notice 
He  was  from  thence  discharged  ?     Sir,  call  to  mind 
That  I  have  been  your  wife,  in  this  obedience, 
Upward  of  twenty  years,  and  have  been  blest 
With  many  children  by  you.     If,  in  the  course 
And  process  of  this  time,  you  can  report, 
And  prove  it  too,  against  mine  honor  aught, 
My  bond  to  wedlock,  or  my  love  and  duty, 
Against  your  sacred  person,  in  God's  name, 
Turn  me  away ;  and  let  the  foul'st  contempt 
Shut  door  upon  me,  and  so  give  me  up 
To  the  sharpest  kind  of  justice.     Please  you,  sir, 
The  king,  your  father,  was  reputed  for 
A  prince  most  prudent,  of  an  excellent 
And  unmatched  wit  and  judgment.     Ferdinand, 
My  father,  king  of  Spain,  was  reckoned  one 
The  wisest  prince,  that  there  had  reigned  by  many 
A  year  before.     It  is  not  to  be  questioned 
That  they  had  gathered  a  wise  council  to  them 
Of  every  realm,  that  did  debate  this  business, 
Who  deemed  our  marriage  lawful.      Wherefore   I 

humbly 

Beseech  you,  sir,  to  spare  me,  till  I  may 
Be  by  my  friends  in  Spain  advised  ;  whose  counsel 


SC.  IV.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  177 

I  will  implore :  if  not,  i'  the  name  of  God, 
Your  pleasure  be  fulfilled  ! 1 

WoL  You  have  here,  lady, 

(And  of  your  choice,)  these  reverend  fathers ;  men 
Of  singular  integrity  and  learning, 
Yea,  the  elect  of  the  land,  who  are  assembled 
To  plead  your  cause.     It  shall  be  therefore  bootless, 
That  longer  you  desire  the  court ; 2  as  well 
For  your  own  quiet,  as  to  rectify 
What  is  unsettled  in  the  king. 

Cam.  His  grace 

Hath  spoken  well,  and  justly.     Therefore,  madam, 
It's  fit  this  royal  session  do  proceed ; 
And  that,  without  delay,  their  arguments 
Be  now  produced,  and  heard. 

Q.  Kath.  Lord  cardinal, — 

To  you  I  speak. 

WoL  Your  pleasure,  madam  ? 

Q.  Kath.  Sir, 

I  am  about  to  weep ;  but,  thinking  that 
We  are  a  queen,  (or  long  have  dreamed  so,)  certain, 
The  daughter  of  a  king,  my  drops  of  tears 
I'll  turn  to  sparks  of  fire. 

Wol.  Be  patient  yet. 

Q.  Kath.    I  will,  when  you  are  humble  ;  nay,  before, 
Or  God  will  punish  me.     I  do  believe, 
Induced  by  potent  circumstances,  that 
You  are  mine  enemy ;  and  make  rny  challenge. 
You  shall  not  be  my  judge  ;  for  it  is  you 
Have  blown  this  coal  betwixt  my  lord  and  me, 
Which  God's  dew  quench ! — Therefore,  I  say  again, 
I  utterly  abhor,  yea,  from  my  soul, 
Refuse  you  for  my  judge ;  whom,  yet  once  more, 

1  The  historical  fact  is,  that  the  queen  staid  for  no  reply  to  this  speech. 
Cavendish  says,  *  And  with  that  she  rose  up,  making  a  low  courtesy  to  the 
king,  and  so  departed  from  thence.     Many  supposed  that  she  would  have 
resorted  again  to  her  former  place ;  but  she  took  her  way  straight  out  of 
the  house,  leaning  (as  she  was  wont  always  to  do)  upon  the  arm  of  her  gen 
eral  receiver  Master  Griffiths." — Life  of  Wolsey,  p.  152. 

2  That  you  desire  to  protract  the  business  of  the  court.     "  To  pray  for 
a  longer  day,"  i.  e.  a  more  distant  one,  is  yet  the  language  of  the  bar  in 
criminal  trials. 

VOL.  v.  23 


178  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  II. 

I  hold  my  most  malicious  foe,  and  think  not 
At  all  a  friend  to  truth. 

Wol.  I  do  profess, 

You  speak  not  like  yourself;  who  ever  yet 
Have  stood  to  charity,  and  displayed  the  effects 
Of  disposition  gentle,  and  of  wisdom 
O'ertopping   woman's    power.      Madam,  you   do  me 

wrong. 

I  have  no  spleen  against  you ;  nor  injustice 
For  you,  or  any ;  how  far  I  have  proceeded, 
Or  how  far  further  shall,  is  warranted 
By  a  commission  from  the  consistory, 
Yea,  the  whole  consistory  of  Rome.     You  charge  me, 
That  I  have  blown  this  coal.     I  do  deny  it ; 
The  king  is  present ;  if  it  be  known  to  him, 
That  I  gainsay  my  deed,  how  may  he  wound, 
And  worthily,  my  falsehood !  yea,  as  much 
As  you  have  done  my  truth.     But  if  he  know 
That  I  am  free  of  your  report,  he  knows, 
I  am  not  of  your  wrong.     Therefore  in  him 
It  lies,  to  cure  me ;  and  the  cure  is,  to 
Remove  these  thoughts  from  you ;  the  which  before 
His  highness  shall  speak  in,  I  do  beseech 
You,  gracious  madam,  to  unthink  your  speaking, 
And  to  say  so  no  more. 

Q.  Kath.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

I  am  a  simple  woman,  much  too  weak 
To  oppose  your  cunning.     You  are  meek  and  humble 

mouthed  ; 

You  sign  your  place  and  calling,  in  full  seeming, 
With  meekness  and  humility ;  but  your  heart 
Is  crammed  with  arrogancy,  spleen,  and  pride. 
You  have,  by  fortune,  and  his  highness'  favors, 
Gone  slightly  o'er  low  steps  ;  and  now  are  mounted 
Where  powers  are  your  retainers  ;  and  your  wards,1 
Domestics  to  you,  serve  your  will,  as't  please 


1  The  old  copy  reads  : — 

"  Where  powers  are  your  retainers  ;  and  your  ivords, 
Domestics  to  you,"  &c. 


SO.  IV.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  179 

Yourself  pronounce  their  office.     I  must  tell  you, 

You  tender  more  your  person's  honor,  than 

Your  high  profession  spiritual ;  that  again 

I  do  refuse  you  for  my  judge  ;  and  here, 

Before  you  all,  appeal  unto  the  pope, 

To  bring  my  whole  cause  'fore  his  holiness, 

And  to  be  judged  by  him. 

[She  courtesies  to  the  King,  and  offers  to  depart. 

Cam.  The  queen  is  obstinate, 

Stubborn  to  justice,  apt  to  accuse  it,  and 
Disdainful  to  be  tried  by  it ;  'Us  not  well. 
She's  going  away. 

K.  Hen.  Call  her  again. 

Crier.    Katharine  queen  of  England,  come  into  the 
court. 

Grif.   Madam,  you  are  called  back. 

Q.  Kath.   What  need  you  note  it  ?     Pray  you,  keep 

your  way ; 

When  you  are  called,  return. — Now  the  Lord  help, 
They  vex  me  past  my  patience  ! — Pray  you,  pass  on ; 
I  will  not  tarry ;  no,  nor  ever  more, 
Upon  this  business,  my  appearance  make 
In  any  of  their  courts. 

[Exeunt  QUEEN,  GRIFFITH,  and  other  Attendants. 

K.   Hen.  Go  thy  ways,  Kate. 

That  man  i'  the  world,  who  shall  report  he  has 
A  better  wife,  let  him  in  nought  be  trusted, 
For  speaking  false  in  that.     Thou  art,  alone, 
(If  thy  rare  qualities,  sweet  gentleness, 
Thy  meekness  saint-like,  wife-like  government, — 
Obeying  in  commanding, — and  thy  parts 
Sovereign  and  pious  else,  could  speak  thee  out,) 
The  queen  of  earthly  queens.     She  is  noble  born  ; 
And,  like  her  true  nobility,  she  has 
Carried  herself  towards  me. 

Wol.  Most  gracious  sir, 

In  humblest  manner  I  require  your  highness, 
That  it  shall  please  you  to  declare,  in  hearing 
Of  all  these  ears  (for  where  I  am  robbed  and  bound, 
There  must  I  be  unloosed ;  although  not  there 


180  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  IL 

At  once  and  fully  satisfied,1)  whether  ever  I 
Did  broach  this  business  to  your  highness ;  or 
Laid  any  scruple  in  your  way,  which  might 
Induce  you  to  the  question  on't  ?  or  ever 
Have  to  you — but  with  thanks  to  God  for  such 
A  royal  lady — spake  one  the  least  word,  might 
Be  to  the  prejudice  of  her  present  state, 
Or  touch  of  her  good  person  ? 

K.  Hen.  My  lord  cardinal, 

1  do  excuse  you ;  yea,  upon  mine  honor, 
I  free  you  from't.     You  are  not  to  be  taught 
That  you  have  many  enemies,  that  know  not 
Why  they  are  so,  but,  like  to  village  curs, 
Bark  when  their  fellows  do  :  by  some  of  these 
The  queen  is  put  in  anger.     You  are  excused  ; 
But  will  you  be  more  justified?     You  ever 
Have  wished  the  sleeping  of  this  business  ;  never 
Desired  it  to  be  stirred  ;   but  oft  have  hindered,  oft, 
The  passages  made  toward  it. — On  my  honor, 
I  speak  my  good  lord  cardinal  to  this  point,2 
And  thus  far  clear  him.     Now,  what  moved  me  to't,— 
I  will  be  bold  with  time,  and  your  attention : — 
Then    mark   the    inducement.     Thus  it  came; — give 

heed  to't. — 

My  conscience  first  received  a  tenderness, 
Scruple,  and  prick,  on  certain  speeches  uttered 
By  the  bishop  of  Bayonne,  then  French  ambassador  ; 
Who  had  been  hither  sent  on  the  debating 
A  marriage  'twixt  the  duke  of  Orleans  and 
Our  daughter  Mary.     P  the  progress  of  this  business, 
Ere  a  determinate  resolution,  he 
(I  mean,  the  bishop)  did  require  a  respite ; 
Wherein  he  might  the  king  his  lord  advertise 
Whether  our  daughter  were  legitimate, 
Respecting  this  our  marriage  with  the  dowager, 

1  The  sense,  which  is  encumbered  with  words,  is  no  more  than  this : — 
I  must  be  loosed,  though  when  so  loosed  I  shall  not  be  satisfied  fully  and 
at  once ;  that  is,  I  shall  not  be  immediately  satisfied. 

2  The  king,  having  first  addressed  Wolsey,  declares  upon  his  honor  to 
the  whole  court,  that  he  speaks  the  cardinal's  sentiments  upon  the  point 
in  question. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  HENRY   V1I1.  181 

Sometime  our  brother's  wife.     This  respite  shook 

The  bosom  of  my  conscience,  entered  me, 

Yea,  with  a  splitting  power,  and  made  to  tremble 

The  region  of  my  breast ;  which  forced  such  way, 

That  many  mazed  considerings  did  throng, 

And  pressed  in  with  this  caution.     First,  methought 

I  stood  not  in  the  smile  of  Heaven  ;  who  had 

Commanded  nature,  that  my  lady's  womb, 

If  it  conceived  a  male  child  by  me,  should 

Do  no  more  offices  of  life  to't,  than 

The  grave  does  to  the  dead ;  for  her  male  issue 

Or  died  where  they  were  made,  or  shortly  after 

This  world  had  aired  them.     Hence  I  took  a  thought, 

This  was  a  judgment  on  me  ;  that  my  kingdom, 

Well  worthy  the  best  heir  o'the  world,  should  not 

Be  gladded  in't  by  me.     Then  follows,  that 

I  weighed  the  danger  which  my  realms  stood  in 

By  this  my  issue's  fail ;  and  that  gave  to  me 

Many  a  groaning  throe.     Thus  hulling1  in 

The  wild  sea  of  my  conscience,  I  did  steer 

Toward  this  remedy,  whereupon  we  are 

Now  present  here  together ;  that's  to  say, 

I  meant  to  rectify  my  conscience, — which 

I  then  did  feel  full  sick,  and  yet  not  well, — 

By  all  the  reverend  fathers  of  the  land, 

And  doctors  learned. — First,  I  began  in  private 

With  you,  my  lord  of  Lincoln  ;  you  remember 

How  under  my  oppression  I  did  reek,2 

When  I  first  moved  you. 

Lin.  Very  well,  my  liege. 

K.  Hen.  I  have  spoke  long ;  be  pleased  yourself  to  say 
How  far  you  satisfied  me. 

Lin.  So  please  your  highness, 

The  question  did  at  first  so  stagger  me, — 
Bearing  a  state  of  mighty  moment  in't, 
And  consequence  of  dread, — that  I  committed 
The  daring'st  counsel  which  I  had,  to  doubt ; 

1  A  ship  is  said  to  hull  when  she  is  dismasted,  and  only  her  hull  or  hulk 
is  left  at  the  direction  and  mercy  of  the  waves. 

2  Waste,  or  wear  away. 


182  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  II. 

And  did  entreat  your  highness  to  this  course, 
Which  you  are  running  here. 

K.  Hen.  I  then  moved  you, 

My  lord  of  Canterbury  ;  and  got  your  leave 
To  make  this  present  summons. — Unsolicited 
I  left  no  reverend  person  in  this  court ; 
But  by  particular  consent  proceeded, 
Under  your  hands  and  seals.     Therefore,  go  on ; 
For  no  dislike  i'  the  world  against  the  person 
Of  the  good  queen,  but  the  sharp,  thorny  points 
Of  my  alleged  reasons,  drive  this  forward  ; 
Prove  but  our  marriage  lawful,  by  my  life, 
And  kingly  dignity,  we  are  contented 
To  wear  our  mortal  state  to  come,  with  her, 
Katharine  our  queen,  before  the  primest  creature 
That's  paragoned1  o'the  world. 

Cam.  So  please  your  highness, 

The  queen  being  absent,  'tis  a  needful  fitness 
That  we  adjourn  this  court  till  further  day. 
Meanwhile  must  be  an  earnest  motion 
Made  to  the  queen,  to  call  back  her  appeal 
She  intends  unto  his  holiness.         [They  rise  to  depart. 

K.  Hen.  I  may  perceive,  [Aside. 

These  cardinals  trifle  with  me ;  I  abhor 
This  dilatory  sloth,  and  tricks  of  Rome. 
My  learned  and  well-beloved  servant,  Cranmer, 
Pr'ythee  return !     With  thy  approach,  I  know, 
My  comfort  comes  along.     Break  up  the  court. 
I  say,  set  on.  [Exeunt,  in  manner  as  they  entered. 


i  Shakspeare  uses  the  verb  to  paragon  both  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra 
and  Othello. 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  183 

ACT  HI. 

SCENE    I.     Palace  at  Bridewell. 

A  Room  in  the  Queen's  Apartment.     The  Queen,  and 
some  of  her  Women,  at  work. 

Q.  Kath.    Take   thy  lute,   wench;    my  soul  grows 

sad  with  troubles. 
Sing,  and  disperse  them,  if  thou  canst ;  leave  working. 

SONG. 

Orpheus  with  his  lute  made  trees, 
And  the  mountain-tops,  that  freeze, 

Bow  themselves,  when  he  did  sing  : 
To  his  music,  plants,  and  flowers, 
Ever  sprung  ;  as  sun,  and  showers, 

There  had  been  a  lasting  spring. 

Every  thing  that  heard  him  play, 
Even  the  billows  of  the  sea, 

Hung  their  heads,  and  then  lay  by. 
In  sweet  music  is  such  art ; 
Killing  care,  and  grief  of  heart, 

Fall  asleep,  or,  hearing,  die. 

Enter  a  Gentleman. 

Q.  Kath.    How  now  ? 

Gent.  An't  please  your  grace,  the  two  great  cardinals 
Wait  in  the  presence.1 

Q.  Kath.    Would  they  speak  with  me  ? 

Gent.    They  willed  me  say  so,  madam. 

Q.  Kath.  Pray  their  graces 

To  come  near.  [Exit  Gent.]  What  can  be  their 
business 

1  Presence  chamber. 


184  KING   HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  III. 

With  me,  a  poor  weak  woman,  fallen  from  favor  ? 
I  do  not  like  their  coming,  now  I  think  on't. 
They  should  be  good  men;    their  affairs1  as  righteous. 
But  all  hoods  make  not  monks. 


Enter  WOLSEY  and  CAMPEIUS. 

Wol.  Peace  to  your  highness  ! 

Q.  Kath.   Your  graces  find  me  here  part  of  a  house 
wife  ; 

I  would  be  all,  against  the  worst  may  happen. 
What  are  your  pleasures  with  me,  reverend  lords  ? 

Wol.    May  it  please  you,  noble  madam,  to  withdraw 
Into  your  private  chamber,  we  shall  give  you 
The  full  cause  of  our  coining. 

Q.  Kath.  Speak  it  here  ; 

There's  nothing  I  have  done  yet,  o'  my  conscience, 
Deserves  a  corner.     'Would  all  other  Avomen 
Could  speak  this  with  as  free  a  soul  as  I  do ! 
My  lords,  I  care  not  (so  much  I  am  happy 
Above  a  number)  if  my  actions 
Were  tried  by  every  tongue,  every  eye  saw  them, 
Envy  and  base  opinion  set  against  them, 
I  know  my  life  so  even.     If  your  business 
Seek  me  out,  and  that  way  I  am  wife  in,2 
Out  with  it  boldly.     Truth  loves  open  dealing. 

Wol.    Tanta  est  erga   te  mentis  integritas,   regina 
serenissima, — 

Q.  Kath.    O,  good  my  lord,  no  Latin ; 
I  am  not  such  a  truant  since  my  coming, 
As  not  to  know  the  language  I  have  lived  in ; 
A  strange  tongue  makes  my  cause  more  strange,  sus 
picious. 

Pray,  speak  in  English ;  here  are  some  will  thank  you, 
If  you  speak  truth,  for  their  poor  mistress'  sake  ; 
Believe  me,  she  has  had  much  wrong.     Lord  cardinal, 


1  "  Being  churchmen,  they  should  be  virtuous,  and  every  business  they 
undertake  as  righteous  as  their  sacred  office ;  but  all  hoods  make  not  monks." 

2  This  is  obscurely  expressed,  but  seems  to  mean,  "If  your  business  is 
with  me,  and  relates  to  the  question  of  my  marriage,  out  with  it  boldly." 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  185 

The  willing'st  sin  I  ever  yet  committed, 
May  be  absolved  in  English. 

Wol.  Noble  lady, 

I  am  sorry,  my  integrity  should  breed, 
(And  service  to  his  majesty  and  you,)  l 
So  deep  suspicion,  where  all  faith  was  meant. 
We  come  not  by  the  way  of  accusation, 
To  taint  that  honor  every  good  tongue  blesses ; 
Nor  to  betray  you  any  way  to  sorrow ; 
You  have  too  much,  good  lady ;  but  to  know 
How  you  stand  minded  in  the  weighty  difference 
Between  the  king  and  you  ;  and  to  deliver, 
Like  free  and  honest  men,  our  just  opinions, 
And  comforts  to  your  cause. 

Cam.  Most  honored  madam, 

My  lord  of  York, — out  of  his  noble  nature, 
Zeal  and  obedience  he  still  bore  your  grace  ; 
Forgetting,  like  a  good  man,  your  late  censure 
Both  of  his  truth  and  him,  (which  was  too  for,) — 
Offers,  as  I  do,  in  a  sign  of  peace, 
His  service  and  his  counsel. 

Q.  Kath.  To  betray  me.      [Aside. 

My  lords,  I  thank  you  both  for  your  good  wills. 
Ye  speak  like  honest  men,  (pray  God,  ye  prove  so !) 
But  how  to  make  you  suddenly  an  answer, 
In  such  a  point  of  weight,  so  near  mine  honor, 
(More  near  my  life  I  fear,)  with  my  weak  wit, 
And  to  such  men  of  gravity  and  learning, 
In  truth,  I  know  not.     I  was  set  at  work 
Among  my  maids,  full  little,  God  knows,  looking 
Either  for  such  men,  or  such  business. 
For  her  sake  that  I  have  been,  (for  I  feel 
The  last  fit  of  my  greatness,)  good  your  graces, 
Let  me  have  time,  and  counsel,  for  my  cause. 
Alas !  I  am  a  woman,  friendless,  hopeless. 

i  This  line  stands  so  awkwardly,  and  out  of  its  place,  that  Mr.  Edwards 
proposes  to  transpose  it  thus : — 

"  I  am  sorry  my  integrity  should  breed 
So  deep  suspicion,  where  all  faith  was  meant, 
And  service  to  his  majesty  and  you." 
VOL.  v.  24 


KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  III 

Wol.    Madam,  you  wrong  the  king's  love  with  these 

fears ; 
Your  hopes  and  friends  are  infinite. 

Q.  Kath.  In  England, 

But  little  for  my  profit.     Can  you  think,  lords, 
That  any  Englishman  dare  give  me  counsel  ? 
Or  be  a  known  friend,  'gainst  his  highness'  pleasure, 
(Though  he  be  grown  so  desperate  to  be  honest,) 
And  live  a  subject  ?     Nay,  forsooth,  my  friends, 
They  that  must  weigh  out1  my  afflictions, 
They  that  my  trust  must  grow  to,  live  not  here ; 
They  are,  as  all  my  other  comforts,  far  hence, 
In  mine  own  country,  lords. 

Cam.  I  would  your  grace 

Would  leave  your  griefs,  and  take  my  counsel. 

Q.  Kath.  How,  sir  ? 

Cam.  Put  your  main  cause  into  the  king's  protection; 
He's  loving,  and  most  gracious ;  'twill  be  much 
Both  for  your  honor  better,  and  your  cause ; 
For  if  the  trial  of  the  law  o'ertake  you, 
You'll  part  away  disgraced. 

Wol.  He  tells  you  rightly. 

Q.  Kath.    Ye  tell  me  what  ye  wish  for  both,  my  ruin. 
Is  this  your  Christian  counsel  ?     Out  upon  ye  ! 
Heaven  is  above  all  yet ;  there  sits  a  Judge, 
That  no  king  can  corrupt. 

Cam.  Your  rage  mistakes  us. 

Q.  Kath.     The  more  shame   for   ye ;  holy  men   1 

thought  ye, 

Upon  my  soul,  two  reverend  cardinal  virtues ; 
But  cardinal  sins,  and  hollow  hearts,  I  fear  ye. 
Mend  them  for  shame,  my  lords.     Is  this  your  comfort  ? 
The  cordial  that  ye  bring  a  wretched  lady  ? 
A  woman  lost  among  ye,  laughed  at,  scorned  ? 
I  will  not  wish  ye  half  my  miseries  ; 
I  have  more  charity.     But  say,  I  warned  ye  ; 
Take  heed,  for  Heaven's  sake,  take  heed,  lest  at  once 
The  burden  of  my  sorrows  fall  upon  ye. 

1  Massinger  uses  the  phrase  weigh  up,  for  raise ;  and  Mason  proposes  to 
substitute  it  for  weigh  out  here.     Perhaps  it  is  equivalent  to  outweigh. 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  187 

Wol.    Madam,  this  is  a  mere  distraction ; 
You  turn  the  good  we  offer  into  envy. 

Q.  Kath.  Ye  turn  me  into  nothing.     Woe  upon  ye, 
And  all  such  false  professors !     Would  ye  have  me 
(If  you  have  any  justice,  any  pity, 
If  ye  be  any  thing  but  churchmen's  habits) 
Put  my  sick  cause  into  his  hands  that  hates  me  ? 
Alas  !  he  has  banished  me  his  bed  already ; 
His  love  too  long  ago.     I  am  old,  my  lords, 
And  all  the  fellowship  I  hold  now  with  him, 
Is  only  my  obedience.     What  can  happen 
To  me,  above  this  wretchedness  ?     All  your  studies 
Make  me  a  curse  like  this. 

Cam.  Your  fears  are  worse. 

Q.  Kath.    Have  I  lived  thus  long — (let  me  speak 

myself, 

Since  virtue  finds  no  friends) — a  wife,  a  true  one  ? 
A  woman  (I  dare  say,  without  vain-glory) 
Never  yet  branded  with  suspicion  ? 
Have  I  writh  all  my  full  affections 
Still  met  the  king  ?  loved  him  next  Heaven  ?  obeyed  him  ? 
Been,  out  of  fondness,  superstitious  to  him?1 
Almost  forgot  my  prayers  to  content  him  ? 
And  am  I  thus  rewarded  ?  'Tis  not  well,  lords. 
Bring  me  a  constant  woman  to  her  husband, 
One  that  ne'er  dreamed  a  joy  beyond  his  pleasure ; 
And  to  that  woman,  when  she  has  done  most, 
Yet  will  I  add  an  honor, — a  great  patience. 

Wol.    Madam,  you  wander  from  the  good  we  aim  at. 

Q.  Kath.    My  lord,  I  dare  not  make  myself  so  guilty, 
To  give  up  willingly  that  noble  title 
Your  master  wed  me  to :  nothing  but  death 
Shall  e'er  divorce  my  dignities. 

Wol.  'Pray,  hear  me. 

Q.  Kath.   'Would  I  had  never  trod  this  English  earth, 
Or  felt  the  flatteries  that  grow  upon  it ! 
Ye  have  angels'  faces,  but  Heaven  knows  your  hearts. 
What  will  become  of  me  now,  wretched  lady  ? 

1  Served  him  with  superstitious  attention. 


188  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  III. 

I  am  the  most  unhappy  woman  living. — 

Alas  !  poor  wenches,  where  are  now  your  fortunes  ? 

[To  her  Women. 

Shipwrecked  upon  a  kingdom,  where  no  pity, 
No  friends,  no  hope ;  no  kindred  weep  for  me, 
Almost  no  grave  allowed  me. — Like  the  lily, 
That  once  was  mistress  of  the  field,  and  flourished, 
I'll  hang  my  head,  and  perish. 

Wol.  If  your  grace 

Could  but  be  brought  to  know  our  ends  are  honest, 
You'd  feel  more  comfort.     Why  should  we,  good  lady, 
Upon  what  cause,  wrong  you  ?     Alas  !  our  places, 
The  way  of  our  profession  is  against  it ; 
We  are  to  cure  such  sorrows,  not  to  sow  them. 
For  goodness'  sake,  consider  what  you  do ; 
How  you  may  hurt  yourself,  ay,  utterly 
Grow  from  the  king's  acquaintance,  by  this  carriage. 
The  hearts  of  princes  kiss  obedience, 
So  much  they  love  it ;   but  to  stubborn  spirits, 
They  swell,  and  grow  as  terrible  as  storms. 
I  know  you  have  a  gentle,  noble  temper, 
A  soul  as  even  as  a  calm.    Pray,  think  us 
Those  we  profess,  peace-makers,  friends,  and  servants. 

Cam.   Madam,  you'll  find  it  so.     You  wrong  your 

virtues 

With  these  weak  women's  fears.     A  noble  spirit, 
As  yours  was  put  into  you,  ever  casts 
Such  doubts,  as  false  coin,  from  it.     The  king  loves  you  ; 
Beware  you  lose  it  not.     For  us,  if  you  please 
To  trust  us  in  your  business,  we  are  ready 
To  use  our  utmost  studies  in  your  service. 

Q.  Kath.    Do  what  ye  will,  my  lords.     And,  pray, 

forgive  me, 

If  I  have  used  1  myself  unmannerly  ; 
You  know  I  am  a  woman,  lacking  wit 
To  make  a  seemly  answer  to  such  persons. 
Pray,  do  my  service  to  his  majesty. 
He  has  my  heart  yet ;  and  shall  have  my  prayers, 

1  Behaved. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  189 

While  I  shall  have  my  life.     Come,  reverend  fathers, 
Bestow  jour  counsels  on  me  ;  she  now  begs, 
That  little  thought,  when  she  set  footing  here, 
She  should  have  bought  her  dignities  so  dear. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE    II.     Antechamber  to  the  King's  Apartment. 

Enter  the  DUKE  of  NORFOLK,  the  DUKE  of  SUFFOLK, 
the  EARL  of  SURREY,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Nor.    If  you  will  now  unite  in  your  complaints, 
And  force  them  with  a  constancy,  the  cardinal 
Cannot  stand  under  them.     If  you  omit 
The  offer  of  this  time,  I  cannot  promise, 
But  that  you  shall  sustain  more  new  disgraces, 
With  these  you  bear  already. 

Sur.  I  am  joyful 

To  meet  the  least  occasion,  that  may  give  me 
Remembrance  of  my  father-in-law,  the  duke, 
To  be  revenged  on  him. 

Suf.  Which  of  the  peers 

Have  uncontemned  gone  by  him,  or  at  least 
Strangely  neglected  ?     When  did  he  regard 
The  stamp  of  nobleness  in  any  person, 
Out  of  himself? 

Cham.  My  lord,  you  speak  your  pleasures. 

What  he  deserves  of  you  and  me,  I  know ; 
What  we  can  do  to  him,  (though  now  the  time 
Gives  way  to  us,)  I  much  fear.     If  you  cannot 
Bar  his  access  to  the  king,  never  attempt 
Any  thing  on  him ;  for  he  hath  a  witchcraft 
Over  the  king  in  his  tongue. 

Nor.  O,  fear  him  not ; 

His  spell  in  that  is  out :  the  king  hath  found 
Matter  against  him,  that  forever  mars 
The  honey  of  his  language.     No,  he's  settled, 
Not  to  come  off,  in  his  displeasure. 

Sur.  Sir, 


190  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  III. 

I  should  be  glad  to  hear  such  news  as  this 
Once  every  hour. 

Nor.  Believe  it,  this  is  true. 

In  the  divorce,  his  contrary  proceedings1 
Are  all  unfolded ;  wherein  he  appears, 
As  I  could  wish  mine  enemy. 

Sur.  How  came 

His  practices  to  light  ? 

Siif.  Most  strangely. 

Sur.  O,  how,  how.' 

Suf.    The  cardinal's  letter  to  the  pope  miscarried, 
And  came  to  the  eye  o'  the  king ;  wherein  was  read, 
How  that  the  cardinal  did  entreat  his  holiness 
To  stay  the  judgment  o'the  divorce  ;  for  if 
It  did  take  place,  /  do,  quoth  he,  perceive 
My  king  is  tangled  in  affection  to 
A  creature  of  the  queen's,  lady  Anne  Bullen. 

Sur.    Has  the  king  this  ? 

Suf.  Believe  it. 

Sur.  Will  this  work  ? 

Cham.    The  king   in  this   perceives   him,  how  he 

coasts, 

And  hedges,  his  own  way.2     But  in  this  point 
All  his  tricks  founder,  and  he  brings  his  physic 
After  his  patient's  death ;  the  king  already 
Hath  married  the  fair  lady. 

Sur.  'Would  he  had  ! 

Suf.    May  you  be  happy  in  your  wish,  my  lord  ! 
For,  I  profess,  you  have  it. 

Sur.  Now  all  my  joy 

Trace3  the  conjunction! 

Suf.  My  amen  to't ! 

Nor.    All  men's. 

Suf.    There's  order  given  for  her  coronation. 
Marry,  this  is  yet  but  young,  and  may  be  left 
To  some  ears  unrecounted. — But,  my  lords, 

1  i.  e.  his  secret  endeavors  to  counteract  the  divorce. 

2  To  coast  is  to  pursue  a  sidelong  course  about  a  thing.    To  hedge  ia 
to  creep  along  by  the  hedge. 

3  To  trace  is  to  follow. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  191 

She  is  a  gallant  creature,  and  complete 
In  mind  and  feature  ;  I  persuade  me,  from  her 
Will  fall  some  blessing  to  this  land,  which  shall 
In  it  be  memorized. 

Sur.  But  will  the  king 

Digest  this  letter  of  the  cardinal's  ? 
The  Lord  forbid ! 

Nor.  Marry,  amen  ! 

Suf.  No,  no ; 

There  be  more  wasps  that  buzz  about  his  nose, 
Will  make  this  sting  the  sooner.     Cardinal  Campeius 
Is  stolen  away  to  Rome ;  hath  ta'en  no  leave  ; 
Has  left  the  cause  o'  the  king  unhandled  ;  and 
Is  posted,  as  the  agent  of  our  cardinal, 
To  second  all  this  plot.     I  do  assure  you 
The  king  cried,  ha  !  at  this. 

Cham.  Now,  God  incense  him, 

And  let  him  cry  ha,  louder ! 

Nor.  But,  my  lord, 

When  returns  Cranmer  ? 

Suf.    He  is  returned,  in  his  opinions ;  which 
Have  satisfied  the  king  for  his  divorce, 
Together  with  all  famous  colleges 
Almost  in  Christendom  : 1  shortly,  I  believe, 
His  second  marriage  shall  be  published,  and 
Her  coronation.     Katharine  no  more 
Shall  be  called  queen ;  but  princess  dowager, 
And  widow  to  prince  Arthur. 

Nor.  This  same  Cranmer's 

A  worthy  fellow,  and  hath  ta'en  much  pain 
In  the  king's  business. 

Suf.  He  has  ;  and  we  shall  see  him, 

For  it,  an  archbishop. 

Nor.  So  I  hear. 

Suf.  'Tis  so. 

The  cardinal — 


i  The  passage  (as  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  observes)  may  mean,  He  is  returned  in 
effect,  having  sent  his  opinions,  i.  e.  the  opinions  of  divines,  &  c.  collected 
by  him. 


192  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  1*1. 

Enter  WOLSEY  and  CROMWELL. 

Nor.  Observe,  observe,  he's  moody. 

WoL    The  packet,  Cromwell,  gave  it  you  the  king  ? 

Crom.    To  his  own  hand,  in  his  bedchamber. 

WoL    Looked  he  o'  the  inside  of  the  paper  ? 

Crom.  Presently 

He  did  unseal  them ;  and  the  first  he  viewed, 
He  did  it  with  a  serious  mind ;  a  heed 
Was  in  his  countenance.     You,  he  bade 
Attend  him  here  this  morning. 

WoL  Is  he  ready 

To  come  abroad  ? 

Crom.  I  think,  by  this,  he  is. 

WoL    Leave  me  awhile. —  [Exit  CROMWELL. 

It  shall  be  to  the  duchess  of  Alen^on, 
The  French  king's  sister :  he  shall  marry  her. 
Anne  Bullen  !  No ;  I'll  no  Anne  Bullens  for  him. 
There  is  more  in  it  than  fair  visage. — Bullen ! 
No,  we'll  no  Bullens. — Speedily  I  wish 
To  hear  from  Rome. — The  marchioness  of  Pembroke  ! 

Nor.    He's  discontented. 

Suf.  May  be,  he  hears  the  king 

Does  whet  his  anger  to  him. 

Sur.  Sharp  enough, 

Lord,  for  thy  justice  ! 

WoL    The  late  queen's  gentlewoman ;  a  knight's 

daughter, 

To  be  her  mistress'  mistress  !  the  queen's  queen ! — 
This  candle  burns  not  clear;  'tis  I  must  snuff  it; 
Then,  out  it  goes. — What  though  I  know  her  virtuous, 
And  well  deserving  ?  yet  I  know  her  for 
A  spleeny  Lutheran ;  and  not  wholesome  to 
Our  cause,  that  she  should  lie  i'  the  bosom  of 
Our  hard-ruled  king.     Again,  there  is  sprung  up 
An  heretic,  an  arch  one,  Cranmer ;  one 
Hath  crawled  into  the  favor  of  the  king, 
And  is  his  oracle. 

Nor.  He  is  vexed  at  something. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  193 

Suf.    I  would  'twere  something  that  would  fret  the 

string, 
The  master-cord  of  his  heart ! 


Enter  the  King,  reading  a  schedule ; 1  and  LOVELL. 

Suf.  The  king,  the  king ! 

K.  Hen.  What  piles  of  wealth  hath  he  accumulated 
To  his  own  portion  !  and  what  expense  by  the  hour 
Seems  to  flow  from  him  !     How,  i'  the  name  of  thrift, 
Does  he  rake  this  together  ? — Now,  my  lords, 
Saw  you  the  cardinal  ? 

Nor.  My  lord,  we  have 

Stood  here  observing  him.    Some  strange  commotion 
Is  in  his  brain  ;   he  bites  his  lip,  and  starts  ; 
Stops  on  a  sudden,  looks  upon  the  ground, 
Then  lays  his  finger  on  his  temple ;  straight, 
Springs  out  into  fast  gait ;  then,  stops  again, 
Strikes  his  breast  hard ;  and  anon,  he  casts 
His  eye  against  the  moon :  in  most  strange  postures 
We  have  seen  him  set  himself. 

K.  Hen.  It  may  well  be  ; 

There  is  a  mutiny  in  his  mind.     This  morning 
Papers  of  state  he  sent  me  to  peruse, 
As  I  required.    And,  wot  you  what  I  found 
There,  on  my  conscience,  put  unwittingly  ? 
Forsooth,  an  inventory,  thus  importing. — 
The  several  parcels  of  his  plate,  his  treasure, 
Rich  stuffs,  and  ornaments  of  household  ;  which 
I  find  at  such  proud  rate,  that  it  outspeaks 
Possession  of  a  subject. 

Nor.  It's  Heaven's  will ; 

Some  spirit  put  this  paper  in  the  packet, 
To  bless  your  eye  withal. 

K.  Hen.  If  we  did  think 

His  contemplation  were  above  the  earth, 
And  fixed  on  spiritual  objects,  he  should  still 

1  That  the  cardinal  gave  the  king  an  inventory  of  his  own  private 
wealth,  by  mistake,  and  thereby  ruined  himself,  is  a  known  variation  from 
the  truth  of  history. 

VOL.  v.  25 


194  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  III. 

Dwell  in  his  musings :  but,  I  am  afraid, 

His  thinkings  are  below  the  moon,  not  worth 

His  serious  considering. 

[He  takes  his  seat,  and  whispers  LOVELL,  who 
goes  to  WOLSEY. 

Wol.  Heaven  forgive  me  ! 

Ever  God  bless  your  highness ! 

K.  Hen.  Good  my  lord, 

You  are  full  of  heavenly  stuff,  and  bear  the  inventory 
Of  your  best  graces  in  your  mind ;  the  which 
You  were  now  running  o'er ;  you  have  scarce  time 
To  steal  from  spiritual  leisure  a  brief  span, 
To  keep  your  earthly  audit :  sure,  in  that 
I  deem  you  an  ill  husband ;  and  am  glad 
To  have  you  therein  my  companion. 

Wol.  Sir, 

For  holy  offices  1  have  a  time  ;  a  time 
To  think  upon  the  part  of  business,  which 
I  bear  i'  the  state  ;  and  nature  does  require 
Her  times  of  preservation,  which,  perforce, 
I,  her  frail  son,  amongst  rny  brethren  mortal, 
Must  give  my  tendance  to. 

K.  Hen.  You  have  said  well. 

Wol.    And  ever  may  your  highness  yoke  together, 
As  I  will  lend  you  cause,  my  doing  well 
With  my  well  saying  ! 

K.  Hen.  'Tis  well  said  again  ; 

And  'tis  a  kind  of  good  deed,  to  say  wrell  ; 
And  yet  words  are  no  deeds.     My  father  loved  you  ; 
He  said  he  did  ;  and  with  his  deed  did  crown 
His  word  upon  you.1     Since  I  had  my  office, 
I  have  kept  you  next  my  heart ;  have  not  alone 
Employed  you  where  high  profits  might  come  home, 
But  pared  my  present  havings,  to  bestow 
My  bounties  upon  you. 

Wol.  What  should  this  mean  ? 

Sur.    The  Lord  increase  this  business  !  [Aside. 

i  So  in  Macbeth  :— 

"  To  crown  my  thoughts  with  ocfs." 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  195 

K.  Hen.  Have  I  not  made  you 

The  prime  man  of  the  state  ?     I  pray  you,  tell  me, 
If  what  I  now  pronounce,  you  have  found  true  ; 
And,  if  you  may  confess  it,  say  withal, 
If  you  are  bound  to  us  or  no.     What  say  you  ? 

Wol.    My  sovereign,  I  confess,  your  royal  graces, 
Showered  on  me  daily,  have  been  more  than  could 
My  studied  purposes  requite ;  which  went 
Beyond  all  man's  endeavors; — my  endeavors 
Have  ever  come  too  short  of  my  desires, 
Yet  filled  with  my  abilities.    Mine  own  ends 
Have  been  mine  so,  that  evermore  they  pointed 
To  the  good  of  your  most  sacred  person,  and 
The  profit  of  the  state.     For  your  great  graces 
Heaped  upon  me,  poor  undeserver,  I 
Can  nothing  render  but  allegiant  thanks  ; 
My  prayers  to  Heaven  for  you ;  my  loyalty, 
Which  ever  has,  and  ever  shall  be  growing, 
Till  death,  that  winter,  kill  it. 

K.  Hen.  Fairly  answered  ; 

A  loyal  and  obedient  subject  is 
Therein  illustrated.    The  honor  of  it 
Does  pay  the  act  of  it ;  as,  i'  the  contrary, 
The  foulness  is  the  punishment.     I  presume, 
That  as  my  hand  has  opened  bounty  to  you, 
My  heart  dropped  love,  my  power  rained  honor,  more 
On  you,  than  any  ;  so  your  hand  and  heart, 
Your  brain,  and  every  function  of  your  power, 
Should,  notwithstanding  that  your  bond  of  duty, 
As  'twere  in  love's  particular,  be  more 
To  me,  your  friend,  than  any.1 

Wol.  I  do  profess, 

That  for  your  highness'  good  I  ever  labored 
More  than  mine  own ;  that  am,  have,  and  will  be.2 
Though  all  the  world  should  crack  their  duty  to  you, 
And  throw  it  from  their  soul ;  though  perils  did 

1  Beside^  your  bond  of  duty  as  a  loyal  and  obedient  servant,  you  owe  a 
particular  devotion  to  me  as  your  especial  benefactor. 

2  This  seems  to  mean,  « that  or  such  a  man  I  am,  have  been,  and  will 
ever  be." 


196  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  III. 

Abound,  as  thick  as  thought  could  make  them,  and 
Appear  in  forms  more  horrid ;  yet  my  duty, 
As  doth  a  rock  against  the  chiding  flood, 
Should  the  approach  of  this  wild  river  break, 
And  stand  unshaken  yours. 

K.  Hen.  'Tis  nobly  spoken  : 

Take  notice,  lords,  he  has  a  loyal  breast, 
For  you  have  seen  him  open't. — Read  o'er  this  ; 

[Giving  him  papers. 

And,  after,  this  :  and  then  to  breakfast,  with 
What  appetite  you  have. 

[Exit  King,  frowning  upon  CARDINAL  WOL- 
SEY  :  the  Nobles  throng  after  him,  smiling 
and  whispering. 

Wol.  What  should  this  mean  ? 

What  sudden  anger's  this  ?  how  have  I  reaped  it  ? 
He  parted  frowning  from  me,  as  if  ruin 
Leaped  from  his  eyes.     So  looks  the  chafed  lion 
Upon  the  daring  huntsman  that  has  galled  him  ; 
Then  makes  him  nothing.     I  must  read  this  paper  ; 
I  fear,  the  story  of  his  anger.     'Tis  so  ; 
This  paper  has  undone  me  : — 'Tis  the  account 
Of  all  that  world  of  wealth  I  have  drawn  together 
For  mine  own  ends  ;  indeed,  to  gain  the  popedom, 
And  fee  my  friends  in  Rome.     O  negligence, 
Fit  for  a  fool  to  fall  by  !    What  cross  devil 
Made  me  put  this  main  secret  in  the  packet 
I  sent  the  king  ?     Is  there  no  way  to  cure  this  ? 
No  new  device  to  beat  this  from  his  brains  ? 
I  know  'twill  stir  him  strongly.    Yet  I  know 
A  way,  if  it  take  right,  in  spite  of  fortune, 
Will  bring  me  off  again.     What's  this  ?  To  the  Pope! 
The  letter,  as  I  live,  with  all  the  business 
I  writ  to  his  holiness.     Nay,  then,  farewell ! 
I  have  touched  the  highest  point  of  all  my  greatness  ; 
And,  from  that  full  meridian  of  my  glory, 
I  haste  now  to  my  setting.     I  shall  fall 
Like  a  bright  exhalation  in  the  evening, 
And  no  man  see  me  more. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  197 

Re-enter  the  DUKES  of  NORFOLK  1  and  SUFFOLK,  the 
EARL  of  SURREY,  and  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Nor.    Hear  the  king's  pleasure,  cardinal ;  who  com 
mands  you 

To  render  up  the  great  seal  presently 
Into  our  hands  ;  and  to  confine  yourself 
To  Asher-house,2  my  lord  of  Winchester's, 
Till  you  hear  further  from  his  highness. 

Wol.  Stay , 

Where's  your  commission,  lords  ?     Words  cannot  carry 
Authority  so  weighty. 

Suf.  Who  dare  cross  them, 

Bearing  the  king's  will  from  his  mouth  expressly  ? 

Wol.    Till  I  find  more  than  will,  or  words  to  do  it, 
(I  mean  your  malice,)  know,  officious  lords, 
I  dare,  and  must  deny  it.     Now  I  feel 
Of  what  coarse  metal  ye  are  moulded, — envy. 
How  eagerly  ye  follow  my  disgraces, 
As  if  it  fed  ye  !     And  how  sleek  and  wanton 
Ye  appear  in  every  thing  may  bring  my  ruin ! 
Follow  your  envious  courses,  men  of  malice  ; 
You  have  Christian  warrant  for  them,  and,  no  doubt, 
In  time  will  find  their  fit  rewards.     That  seal 
5Tou  ask  with  such  a  violence,  the  king 
(Mine,  and  your  master)  with  his  own  hand  gave  me : 
Bade  me  enjoy  it,  with  the  place  and  honors, 
During  my  life ;  and,  to  confirm  his  goodness, 
Tied  it  by  letters  patents.     Now,  who'll  take  it  ? 

1  The  time  of  this  play  is  from  1521,  just  before  the  duke  of  Bucking 
ham's  commitment,  to  1533,  when  Elizabeth  was  born  and  christened. 
The  duke  of  Norfolk,  therefore,  who  is  introduced  in  the  first  scene  of  the 
first  act,  or  in  1522,  is  not  the  same  person  who  here,  or  in  1529,  demands 
the  great  seal  from  Wolsey  ;  for  the  former  died  in  1525.     Having  thus 
made  two  persons  into  one,  so  the  Poet  has,  on  the  contrary,  made  one  per 
son  into  two.     The  earl  of  Surrey  here  is  the  same  who  married  the  duke 
of  Buckingham's  daughter,  as  he  himself  tells  us ;  but  Thomas  Howard, 
earl  of  Surrey,  who  married  the  duke  of  Buckingham's  daughter,  was  at 
this  time  the  individual  above  mentioned,  duke  of  Norfolk.     Cavendish, 
and  the  chroniclers  who  copied  from  him,  mention  only  the  dukes  of  Nor 
folk  and  Suffolk  being  sent  to  demand  the  great  seal.     The  reason  for 
adding  a  third  and  fourth  person  is  not  very  apparent. 

2  Jlsher  was  the  ancient  name  of  Esher,  in  Surrey. 


198  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  III. 

Sur.    The  king  that  gave  it. 

Wol.  It  must  be  himself  then. 

Sur.    Thou  art  a  proud  traitor,  priest. 

Wol.  Proud  lord,  thou  liest ; 

Within  these  forty  hours  Surrey  durst  better 
Have  burnt  that  tongue,  than  said  so. 

Sur.  Thy  ambition, 

Thou  scarlet  sin,  robbed  this  bewailing  land 
Of  noble  Buckingham,  my  father-in-law  : 
The  heads  of  all  thy  brother  cardinals 
(With  thee,  and  all  thy  best  parts  bound  together) 
Weighed  not  a  hair  of  his.     Plague  of  your  policy  ! 
You  sent  me  deputy  for  Ireland ; 
Far  from  his  succor,  from  the  king,  from  all 
That  might  have  mercy  on  the  fault  thou  gav'st  him  ; 
Whilst  your  great  goodness,  out  of  holy  pity, 
Absolved  him  with  an  axe. 

Wol.  This,  and  all  else 

This  talking  lord  can  lay  upon  my  credit, 
I  answer,  is  most  false.     The  duke  by  law 
Found  his  deserts :  how  innocent  I  was 
From  any  private  malice  in  his  end, 
His  noble  jury  and  foul  cause  can  witness. 
If  I  loved  many  words,  lord,  I  should  tell  you, 
You  have  as  little  honesty  as  honor  ; 
That  I,  in  the  way  of  loyalty  and  truth 
Toward  the  king,  my  ever  royal  master, 
Dare  mate  a  sounder  man  than  Surrey  can  be, 
And  all  that  love  his  follies. 

Sur.  By  my  soul, 

Your  long  coat,  priest,  protects  you ;  thou  shouldst  feel 
My  sword  i'  the  life-blood  of  thee,  else. — My  lords, 
Can  ye  endure  to  hear  this  arrogance  ? 
And  from  this  fellow  ?     If  we  live  thus  tamely, 
To  be  thus  jaded  by  a  piece  of  scarlet, 
Farewell  nobility ;  let  his  grace  go  forward, 
And  dare  us  with  his  cap,  like  larks.1 

1  A  cardinal's  hat  is  scarlet ;  and  the  method  of  daring  larks  is  by  small 
mirrors  on  scarlet  cloth,  which  engages  the  attention  of  the  birds  while 
the  fowler  draws  his  net  over  them. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  199 

WoL  All  goodness 

Is  poison  to  thy  stomach. 

Sur.  Yes,  that  goodness, 

Of  gleaning  all  the  land's  wealth  into  one, 
Into' your  own  hands,  cardinal,  by  extortion  ; 
The  goodness  of  your  intercepted  packets, 
You  writ  to  the  pope,  against  the  king  ;  your  goodness, 
Since  you  provoke  me,  shall  be  most  notorious. — 
My  lord  of  Norfolk,  as  you  are  truly  noble, 
As  you  respect  the  common  good,  the  state 
Of  our  despised  nobility,  our  issues, 
Who,  if  he  live,  will  scarce  be  gentlemen, — 
Produce  the  grand  sum  of  his  sins,  the  articles 
Collected  from  his  life  : — I'll  startle  you 
Worse  than  the  sacring  bell,1  when  the  brown  wench 
Lay  kissing  in  your  arms,  lord  cardinal.2 

WoL    How  much,   methinks,  I   could  despise  this 

man, 
But  that  I  am  bound  in  charity  against  it ! 

Nor.    Those  articles,  my  lord,  are  in  the  king's  hand : 
But,  thus  much,  they  are  foul  ones. 

WoL  So  much  fairer, 

And  spotless,  shall  mine  innocence  arise, 
When  the  king  knows  my  truth. 

Sur.  This  cannot  save  you ; 

1  thank  my  memory,  I  yet  remember 
Some  of  these  articles  ;  and  out  they  shall. 
Now,  if  you  can  blush,  and  cry  Guilty,  cardinal, 
You'll  show  a  little  honesty. 

WoL  Speak  on,  sir. 

I  dare  your  worst  objection  ;  if  I  blush, 
It  is,  to  see  a  nobleman  want  manners. 

Sur.    Pd  rather  want  those,  than  my  head.     Have 

at  you. 
First,  that,  without  the  king's  assent,  or  knowledge, 

1  The  little  bell  which  is  rung  to  give  notice  of  the  elevation  of  the 
Host,  and  other  offices  of  the  Romish  church. 

2  The  amorous  propensities  of  cardinal  Wolsey  are  much  dwelt  upon 
in  Roy's  Satire  against  him,  printed  in  the  Supplement  to  Mr.  Park's 
edition  of  the  Harleian  Miscellany. 


200  KING  HENRY  Vlil.  [ACT  III. 

You  wrought  to  be  a  legate  ;  by  which  power 
You  maimed  the  jurisdiction  of  all  bishops. 

Nor.    Then,  that,  in  all  you  writ  to  Rome,  or  else 
To  foreign  princes,  Ego  et  Rex  mem 
Was  still  inscribed ;  in  which  you  brought  the  king 
To  be  your  servant. 

Suf.  Then,  that,  without  the  knowledge 

Either  of  king  or  council,  when  you  went 
Ambassador  to  the  emperor,  you  made  bold 
To  carry  into  Flanders  the  great  seal. 

Sur.    Item,  you  sent  a  large  commission 
To  Gregory  de  Cassalis,  to  conclude, 
Without  the  king's  will,  or  the  state's  allowance, 
A  league  between  his  highness  and  Ferrara. 

Suf.    That,  out  of  mere  ambition,  you  have  caused 
Your  holy  hat  to  be  stamped  on  the  king's  coin.1 

Sur.    Then,   that  you  have   sent  innumerable   sub 
stance 

(By  what  means  got,  I  leave  to  your  own  conscience) 
To  furnish  Rome,  and  to  prepare  the  ways 
You  have  for  dignities ;  to  the  mere  2  undoing 
Of  all  the  kingdom.     Many  more  there  are  ; 
Which,  since  they  are  of  you,  and  odious, 
I  will  not  taint  my  mouth  with. 

Cham.  O  my  lord, 

Press  not  a  falling  man  too  far  ;  'tis  virtue  : 
His  faults  lie  open  to  the  laws  ;  let  them, 
Not  you,  correct  him.     My  heart  weeps  to  see  him 
So  little  of  his  great  self. 

Sur.  I  forgive  him. 

Suf.    Lord  cardinal,  the  king's  further  pleasure  is, — 
Because  all  those  things  you  have  done  of  late, 
By  your  power  legatine,  within  this  kingdom, 
Fall  into  the  compass  of  a  prcemunire,3 — 

1  This  was  one  of  the  articles  exhibited  against  Wolsey,  but  rather 
with  a  view  to  swell  the  catalogue  than  from  any  serious  cause  of  accu 
sation  ;  inasmuch  as  the  archbishops  Cranmer,  Bainbndge,  and  Warham, 
were  indulged  with  the  same  privileges. 

2  Absolute. 

3  The  judgment  in  a  writ  ofprtEmunire  (a  barbarous  word  used  instead 
of  pr&monere)  is,  that  the  defendant  shall  be  out  of  the  king's  protection ; 
and  his  lands  and  tenements,  goods  and  chattels,  forfeited  to  the  king ;  and 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  201 

That  therefore  such  a  writ  be  sued  against  you  ; 
To  forfeit  all  your  goods,  lands,  tenements, 
Chattels,  and  whatsoever,  and  to  be 
Out  of  the  king's  protection. — This  is  my  charge. 

Nor.    And  so  we'll  leave  you  to  your  meditations 
How  to  live  better.     For  your  stubborn  answer, 
About  the  giving  back  the  great  seal  to  us, 
The  king  shall  know  it,  and,  no  doubt,  shall  thank  you. 
So  fare  you  well,  my  little  good  lord  cardinal. 

[Exeunt  all  but  WOLSEY. 

WoL    So  farewell  to  the  little  good  you  bear  me. 
Farewell,  a  long  farewell,  to  all  my  greatness ! 
This  is  the  state  of  man  ;  to-day  he  puts  forth 
The  tender  leaves  of  hope,  to-morrow  blossoms, 
And  bears  his  blushing  honors  thick  upon  him  ; 
The  third  day,  comes  a  frost,  a  killing  frost ; 
And — when  he  thinks,  good  easy  man,  full  surely 
His  greatness  is  a  ripening, — nips  his  root, 
And  then  he  falls,  as  I  do.     I  have  ventured, 
Like  little  wanton  boys  that  swim  on  bladders, 
This  many  summers  in  a  sea  of  glory ; 
But  far  beyond  my  depth  :  my  high-blown  pride 
At  length  broke  under  me  ;  and  now  has  left  me, 
Weary,  and  old  with  service,  to  the  mercy 
Of  a  rude  stream,  that  must  forever  hide  me. 
Vain  pomp  and  glory  of  this  world,  I  hate  ye : 
I  feel  my  heart  new  opened.     O,  how  wretched 
Is  that  poor  man  that  hangs  on  princes'  favors ! 
There  is,  betwixt  that  smile  we  would  aspire  to, 
That  sweet  aspect  of  princes,  and  their  ruin, 
More  pangs  and  fears  than  wars  or  women  have  ; 
And  when  he  falls,  he  falls  like  Lucifer, 
Never  to  hope  again. — 

Enter  CROMWELL,  amazedly. 

Why,  how  now,  Cromwell  ? 
Crom.    I  have  no  power  to  speak,  sir. 

that  his  body  shall  remain  in  prison  at  the  king's  pleasure.     The  old  copy 
reads,  erroneously,  castles  instead  of  cartels,  the  old  word  for  chattels,  as  it 
i   found  in  Holinshed,  p.  909. 
VOL.  v.  26 


202  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  III. 

WoL  What,  amazed 

At  my  misfortunes  ?    Can  thy  spirit  wonder, 
A  great  man  should  decline  ?     Nay,  an  you  weep, 
I  am  fallen  indeed. 

Crom.  How  does  your  grace  ? 

WoL  Why,  well  ; 

Never  so  truly  happy,  my  good  Cromwell. 
I  know  myself  now  ;  and  I  feel  within  me 
A  peace  above  all  earthly  dignities, 
A  still  and  quiet  conscience.     The  king  has  cured  me, 
I  humbly  thank  his  grace  ;  and  from  these  shoulders, 
These  ruined  pillars,  out  of  pity,  taken 
A  load  would  sink  a  navy,  too  much  honor. 
O,  'tis  a  burden,  Cromwell,  'tis  a  burden, 
Too  heavy  for  a  man  that  hopes  for  heaven. 

Crom.    I  am  glad  your  grace  has  made  that  right 
use  of  it. 

WoL    I  hope  I  have.     I  am  able  now,  methinks, 
(Out  of  a  fortitude  of  soul  I  feel,) 
To  endure  more  miseries,  and  greater  far, 
Than  my  weak-hearted  enemies  dare  offer. 
What  news  abroad  ? 

Crom.  The  heaviest,  and  the  worst, 

Is  your  displeasure  with  the  king. 

WoL  God  bless  him  ! 

Crom.     The    next    is,    that    sir   Thomas   More    is 

chosen 
Lord  chancellor  in  your  place. 

WoL  That's  somewhat  sudden  ; 

But  he's  a  learned  man.     May  he  continue 
Long  in  his  highness'  favor,  and  do  justice 
For  truth's  sake,  and  his  conscience  ;  that  his  bones, 
When  he  has  run  his  course,  and  sleeps  in  blessings, 
May  have  a  tomb  of  orphans'  tears  wept  on  'em ! 
What  more  ? 

Crom.    That  Cranmer  is  returned  with  welcome, 
Installed  lord  archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

WoL    That's  news,  indeed. 

Crom.  Last,  that  the  lady  Anne, 

Whom  the  king  hath  in  secrecy  long  married, 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  203 

This  day  was  viewed  in  open,1  as  his  queen, 
Going  to  chapel ;  and  the  voice  is  now 
Only  about  her  coronation. 

WoL    There  was  the  weight  that  pulled  me  down ! 

O  Cromwell, 

The  king  has  gone  beyond  me  ;   all  my  glories 
In  that  one  woman  I  have  lost  forever. 
No  sun  shall  ever  usher  forth  mine  honors, 
Or  gild  again  the  noble  troops  that  waited 
Upon  my  smiles.     Go,  get  thee  from  me,  Cromwell ; 
I  am  a  poor  fallen  man,  unworthy  now 
To  be  thy  lord  and  master.     Seek  the  king  ; 
That  sun,  I  pray,  may  never  set !    I  have  told  him 
What  and  how  true  thou  art :  he  will  advance  thee ; 
Some  little  memory  of  me  will  stir  him 
(I  know  his  noble  nature)  not  to  let 
Thy  hopeful  service  perish  too.     Good  Cromwell, 
Neglect  him  not ;  make  use  2  now,  and  provide 
For  thine  own  future  safety. 

Crow.  O  my  lord, 

Must  I  then  leave  you  ?     Must  I  needs  forego 
So  good,  so  noble  and  so  true  a  master  ? 
Bear  witness,  all  that  have  not  hearts  of  iron, 
With  what  a  sorrow  Cromwell  leaves  his  lord. — 
The  king  shall  have  my  service  ;  but  my  prayers 
Forever,  and  forever,  shall  be  yours. 

WoL    Cromwell,  I  did  not  think  to  shed  a  tear 
In  all  my  miseries  ;  but  thou  hast  forced  me, 
Out  of  thy  honest  truth,  to  play  the  woman. 
Let's  dry  our  eyes :  and  thus  far  hear  me,  Cromwell ; 
And — when  I  am  forgotten,  as  I  shall  be  ; 
And  sleep  in  dull,  cold  marble,  where  no  mention 
Of  me  more  must  be  heard  of — say,  I  taught  thee  ; 
Say,  Wolsey — that  once  trod  the  ways  of  glory, 
And  sounded  all  the  depths  and  shoals  of  honor — 
Found  thee  a  way,  out  of  his  wreck,  to  rise  in ; 
A  sure  and  safe  one,  though  thy  master  missed  it. 
Mark  but  my  fall,  and  that  that  ruined  me. 

1  In  open  is  a  Latinism.  2  i.  e.  interest. 


204  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  IV. 

Cromwell,  I  charge  thee,  fling  away  ambition ; 

By  that  sin  fell  the  angels ;  how  can  man,  then, 

The  image  of  his  Maker,  hope  to  win  by't  ? 

Love  thyself  last ;  cherish  those  hearts  that  hate  thee  , 

Corruption  wins  not  more  than  honesty ; 

Still  in  thy  right  hand  carry  gentle  peace, 

To  silence  envious  tongues.     Be  just,  and  fear  not ; 

Let  all  the  ends  thou  aim'st  at,  be  thy  country's, 

Thy  God's,  and  truth's ;  then  if  thou  fall'st,  O  Crom 

well, 
Thou  fall'st  a  blessed  martyr.     Serve  the  king : 

And, Pr'ythee,  lead  me  in  : 

There  take  an  inventory  of  all  I  have,1 

To  the  last  penny  :  'tis  the  king's  :  my  robe, 

And  my  integrity  to  Heaven,  is  all 

I  dare  now  call  mine  own.     O  Cromwell,  Cromwell, 

Had  I  but  served  my  God  with  half  the  zeal 

I  served  my  king,  he  would  not  in  mine  age 

Have  left  me  naked  to  mine  enemies.2 

Crom.    Good  sir,  have  patience. 

Wol.  So  I  have.     Farewell 

The  hopes  of  court !  my  hopes  in  heaven  do  dwell. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE    I.     A  Street  in  Westminster. 

Enter  two  Gentlemen,  meeting. 

\  Gent.   You  are  well  met  once  again. 
2  Gent.  And  so  are  you. 

1  Gent.  You  come  to  take  your  stand  here,  and  behold 
The  lady  Anne  pass  from  her  coronation  ? 

1  This  inventory  is  still  to  be  seen  among  the  Harleian  MSS.  No.  599. 

2  This  was  actually  said  by  the  cardinal  when  on  his  death-bed,  in  a 
conversation  with  sir  William  Kingston;   the  whole  of  which  is  very 
interesting. 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  205 

2  Gent.   'Tis  all  my  business.     At  our  last  encounter, 
The  duke  of  Buckingham  came  from  his  trial. 

1  Gent     'Tis  very  true  ;  but  that  time  offered  sorrow ; 
This,  general  joy. 

2  Gent.  'Tis  well.     The  citizens, 

I  am  sure,  have  shown  at  full  their  royal  minds,1 
(As,  let  them  have  their  rights,  they  are  ever  forward,) 
In  celebration  of  this  day  with  shows, 
Pageants,  and  sights  of  honor. 

1  Gent.  Never  greater, 
Nor,  I'll  assure  you,  better  taken,  sir. 

2  Gent.   May  I  be  bold  to  ask  what  that  contains, 
That  paper  in  your  hand  ? 

1  Gent.  Yes ;  'tis  the  list 
Of  those  that  claim  their  offices  this  day, 

By  custom  of  the  coronation. 

The  duke  of  Suffolk  is  the  first,  and  claims 

To  be  high  steward ;  next,  the  duke  of  Norfolk, 

He  to  be  earl  marshal ;  you  may  read  the  rest. 

2  Gent.    I  thank  you,  sir;  had  I  not  known  those 

customs, 

I  should  have  been  beholden  to  your  paper. 
But  I  beseech  you,  what's  become  of  Katharine, 
The  princess  dowager  ?    How  goes  her  business  ? 

1  Gent.    That  I  can  tell  you  too.     The  archbishop 
Of  Canterbury,  accompanied  with  other 
Learned  and  reverend  fathers  of  his  order, 
Held  a  late  court  at  Dunstable,  six  miles  off 
From  Ampthill,  where  the  princess  lay ;  to  which 
She  oft  was  cited  by  them,  but  appeared  not  ; 
And,  to  be  short,  for  not  appearance,  and 
The  king's  late  scruple,  by  the  main  assent 
Of  all  these  learned  men  she  was  divorced, 
And  the  late  marriage  2  made  of  none  effect : 
Since  which,  she  was  removed  to  Kimbolton, 
Where  she  remains  now,  sick. 


1  Royal  minds  are  high  minds,  or,  as  we  still  say,  princely  dispositions 
"  To  avaunt  himself  royally ;  Magnifice  se  effere." — JSaret. 

2  i.  e.  the  marriage  lately  considered  as  valid. 


206  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  IV. 

2  Gent.   Alas,  good  lady! —  [Trumpets. 

The  trumpets  sound ;  stand  close,  the  queen  is  coming. 


THE    ORDER    OF    THE    PROCESSION. 

A  lively  flourish  of  trumpets  ;  then  enter 

1.  Two  judges. 

2.  Lord  chancellor,  with  the  purse  and  mace  before  him. 

3.  Choristers  singing.  [Music. 

4.  Mayor  of  London,  bearing  the  mace.     Then  Garter, 

in  his  coat-of-arms,  and  on  his  head  a  gilt 
copper  crown. 

5.  Marquis  Dorset,  bearing  a  sceptre  of  gold,  on  his 

head  a  demi-coronal  of  gold.  With  him 
the  earl  of  Surrey,  bearing  the  rod  of  silver 
with  the  dove,  crowned  with  an  earVs  coronet. 
Collars  of  SS. 

6.  Duke  of  Suffolk,  in  his  robe  of  estate,  his  coronet 

on  his  head,  bearing  a  long  white  wand,  as 
high  steward.  With  him,  the  duke  of  Nor 
folk,  with  the  rod  of  marshalship,  a  coronet 
on  his  head.  Collars  of  SS. 

7.  A  canopy  borne  by  four  of  the  cinque-ports ;  under 

it,  the  queen  in  her  robe;  her  hair  richly 
adorned  with  pearl,  crowned.  On  each  side 
of  her,  the  bishops  of  London  and  Win 
chester. 

8.  The  old  duchess  of  Norfolk,  in  a  coronal  of  gold, 

wrought  with  jlowers,  bearing  the  queers 
train. 

9.  Certain  ladies  or  countesses,  with  plain  circlets  of 

gold,  without  flowers. 

2  Gent.  A  royal  train,  believe  me. — These  I  know; — 
Who's  that,  that  bears  the  sceptre  ? 

1  Gent.  Marquis  Dorset ; 
And  that  the  earl  of  Surrey  with  the  rod. 

2  Gent.  A  bold,  brave  gentleman  ;  and  that  should  be 
The  duke  of  Suffolk. 


3C.  I.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  207 

1  Gent.  'Tis  the  same  ;  high  steward. 

2  Gent.   And  that  my  lord  of  Norfolk  ? 

1  Gent.  Yes. 

2  Gent.  Heaven  bless  thee  ! 

[Looking  on  the  Queen. 

Thou  hast  the  sweetest  face  1  ever  looked  on. — 
Sir,  as  I  have  a  soul,  she  is  an  angel ; 
Our  king  has  all  the  Indies  in  his  arms, 
And  more  and  richer,  when  he  strains  that  lady ; 
I  cannot  blame  his  conscience. 

1  Gent.  They,  that  bear 
The  cloth  of  honor  over  her,  are  four  barons 

Of  the  cinque-ports. 

2  Gent.    Those  men  are  happy ;  and  so  are  all  are 

near  her. 

I  take  it,  she  that  carries  up  the  train, 
Is  that  old  noble  lady,  duchess  of  Norfolk. 

1  Gent.    It  is ;  and  all  the  rest  are  countesses. 

2  Gent.    Their  coronets  say  so.     These   are  stars, 

indeed ; 
And,  sometimes,  falling  ones. 

1  Gent.  No  more  of  that. 
[Exit  Procession,  ivith  a  great  flourish  of  trumpets 

Enter  a  third  Gentleman. 

God  save  you,  sir !     Where  have  you  been  broiling  ? 

2  Gent.  Among  the  crowd  i'the  abbey;  where  a 

finger 

Could  not  be  wedged  in  more ;  I  am  stifled 
With  the  mere  rankness  of  their  joy. 

2  Gent.  You  saw 
The  ceremony? 

3  Gent.  That  I  did. 

1  Gent.  How  was  it  ? 
3  Gent.   Well  worth  the  seeing. 

2  Gent.  Good  sir,  speak  it  to  us. 

3  Gent.    As  well  as  I  am  able.     The  rich  stream 
Of  lords  and  ladies,  having  brought  the  queen 

To  a  prepared  place  in  the  choir,  fell  off 


KING  HENR?    VIII.  [ACT  IV 

A  distance  from  her;  while  her  grace  sat  down 
To  rest  awhile,  some  half  an  hour,  or  so, 
In  a  rich  chair  of  state,  opposing  freely 
The  beauty  of  her  person  to  the  people. 
Believe  me,  sir,  she  is  the  goodliest  woman 
That  ever  lay  by  man ;  which  when  the  people 
Had  the  full  view  of,  such  a  noise  arose 
As  the  shrouds  make  at  sea  in  a  stiff  tempest, 
As  loud,  and  to  as  many  tunes.     Hats,  cloaks, 
(Doublets,  I  think,)  flew  up ;  and  had  their  faces 
Been  loose,  this  day  they  had  been  lost.     Such  joy 
I  never  saw  before.     Great-bellied  women, 
That  had  not  half  a  week  to  go,  like  rams l 
In  the  old  time  of  war,  would  shake  the  press, 
And  make  them  reel  before  them.     No  man  living 
Could  say,  This  is  my  wife,  there ;  all  were  woven 
So  strangely  in  one  piece. 

2  Gent.  "  But  what  followed  ? 

3  Gent.   At  length  her  grace  rose,  and  with  modest 

paces 

Came  to  the  altar ;  where  she  kneeled,  and,  saint-like, 
Cast  her  fair  eyes  to  heaven,  and  prayed  devoutly. 
Then  rose  again,  and  bowed  her  to  the  people ; 
When  by  the  archbishop  of  Canterbury 
She  had  all  the  royal  makings  of  a  queen ; 
As  holy  oil,  Edward  Confessor's  crown, 
The  rod,  and  bird  of  peace,  and  all  such  emblems, 
Laid  nobly  on  her ;  which  performed,  the  choir, 
With  all  the  choicest  music  of  the  kingdom, 
Together  sung  Te  Deum.     So  she  parted, 
And  with  the  same  full  state  paced  back  again 
To  York-place,  where  the  feast  is  held. 

1  Gent.  Sir,  you 

Must  no  more  call  it  York-place  ;  that  is  past ; 
For,  since  the  cardinal  fell,  that  title's  lost ; 
'Tis  now  the  king's,  and  called — Whitehall. 

3  Gent.  I  know  it ; 

But  'tis  so  lately  altered,  that  the  old  name 
Is  fresh  about  me. 

i  i.  e.  battering  rams. 


SC.  II.J  KING  HENRY  VIII.  209 

2  Gent.  What  two  reverend  bishops 
Were  those  that  went  on  each  side  of  the  queen  ? 

3  Gent.    Stokesly  and  Gardiner ;  the  one,  of  Win 

chester, 

(Newly  preferred  from  the  king's  secretary,) 
The  other,  London. 

2  Gent.  He  of  Winchester 

Is  held  no  great  good  lover  of  the  archbishop's, 
The  virtuous  Cranmer. 

3  Gent.  All  the  land  knows  that. 
However,  yet  there's  no  great  breach  ;  when  it  comes, 
Cranmer  will  find  a  friend  will  not  shrink  from  him. 

2  Gent.   Who  may  that  be,  I  pray  you  ? 

3  Gent.  Thomas  Cromwell ; 
A  man  in  much  esteem  with  the  king,  and  truly 

A  worthy  friend. — The  king 

Has  made  him  master  o'  the  jewel-house, 

And  one,  already,  of  the  privy  council. 

2  Gent.    He  will  deserve  more. 

3  Gent.  Yes,  without  all  doubt 
Come,  gentlemen,  ye  shall  go  my  way,  which 

Is  to  the  court,  and  there  ye  shall  be  my  guests : 
Something  I  can  command.  As  I  walk  thither, 
I'll  tell  ye  more. 

Both.   You  may  command  us,  sir.  [Exeunt 


SCENE   II.     Kimbolton. 

Enter  KATHARINE,  dowager,  sick;  led  between  GRIF 
FITH  and  PATIENCE. 

Grif.    How  does  your  grace  ? 

Kath.  O  Griffith,  sick  to  death 

My  legs,  like  loaden  branches,  bow  to  the  earth, 
Willing  to  leave  their  burden.     Reach  a  chair ; — 
So, — now,  methinks,  I  feel  a  little  ease. 
Didst  thou  not  tell  me,  Griffith,  as  thou  led'st  me, 
That  the  great  child  of  honor,  cardinal  Wolsey, 
Was  dead  ? 

VOL.  v.  27 


210  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  IV. 

Grif.   Yes,  madam  ;  but  I  think  your  grace, 
Out  of  the  pain  you  suffered,  gave  no  ear  to't. 

Kath.    Pr'ythee,  good  Griffith,  tell  me  how  he  died. 
If  well,  he  stepped  before  me,  happily,1 
For  my  example. 

Grif.  Well,  the  voice  goes,  madam ; 

For  after  the  stout  earl  Northumberland 
Arrested  him  at  York,  and  brought  him  forward 
(As  a  man  sorely  tainted)  to  his  answer, 
He  fell  sick  suddenly,  and  grew  so  ill, 
He  could  not  sit  his  mule. 

Kath.  Alas !  poor  man  ! 

Grif.    At  last,  with  easy  roads,  he  came  to  Leicester, 
Lodged  in  the  abbey ;  where  the  reverend  abbot, 
With  all  his  convent,  honorably  received  him ; 
To  whom  he  gave  these  words, — 0  father  abbot, 
An  old  man,  broken  with  the  storms  of  state, 
Is  come  to  lay  his  weary  bones  among  ye ; 
Give  him  a  little  earth  for  charity! 
So  went  to  bed ;  where  eagerly  his  sickness 
Pursued  him  still ;  and,  three  nights  after  this, 
About  the  hour  of  eight,  (which  he  himself 
Foretold  should  be  his  last,)  full  of  repentance, 
Continual  meditations,  tears,  and  sorrows, 
He  gave  his  honors  to  the  world  again, 
His  blessed  part  to  Heaven,  and  slept  in  peace. 

Kath.    So  may  he  rest ;  his  faults  lie  gently  on  him ! 
Yet  thus  far,  Griffith,  give  me  leave  to  speak  him, 
And  yet  with  charity  ; — He  was  a  man 
Of  an  unbounded  stomach,2  ever  ranking 
Himself  with  princes ;  one  that  by  suggestion 3 
Ty'd  all  the  kingdom  ;   Simony  was  fair  play  ; 
His  own  opinion  was  his  law ;  i'  the  presence 
He  would  say  untruths  ;  and  be  ever  double, 

1  Happily,  here,  probably  means  opportunely. 

2  i.  e.  of  unbounded  pride. 

3  Suggestion  here  means  wicked  prompting.     It  is  used  in  this  sense  in 
The  Tempest.     We  should  probably  read  tythed  instead  of  tyed,  as  Dr. 
Farmer  proposed,  and  as  the  passage  quoted  from  Holinshed  warrants. 
The  word  tythes  was  not  exclusively  used  to  signify  the  emoluments  of 
the  clergy. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  211 

Both  in  his  words  and  meaning.     He  was  never, 

But  where  he  meant  to  ruin,  pitiful. 

His  promises  were,  as  he  then  was,  mighty ; 

But  his  performance,  as  he  is  now,  nothing. 

Of  his  own  body  he  was  ill,1  and  gave 

The  clergy  ill  example. 

Grif.  Noble  madam, 

Men's  evil  manners  live  in  brass ;  their  virtues 
We  write  in  water.     May  it  please  your  highness 
To  hear  me  speak  his  good  now  ? 

Kath.  Yes,  good  Griffith ; 

I  were  malicious  else. 

Grif.  This  cardinal 

Though  from  an  humble  stock,  undoubtedly, 
Was  fashioned  to  much  honor  from  his  cradle. 
He  was  a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one ; 
Exceeding  wise,  fair  spoken,  and  persuading ; 
Lofty,  and  sour,  to  them  that  loved  him  not ; 
But,  to  those  men  that  sought  him,  sweet  as  summer. 
And  though  he  were  unsatisfied  in  getting, 
(Which  was  a  sin,)  yet  in  bestowing,  madam, 
He  was  most  princely.     Ever  witness  for  him 
Those  twins  of  learning,  that  he  raised  in  you, 
Ipswich,  and  Oxford !  one  of  which  fell  with  him, 
Unwilling  to  outlive  the  good  that  did  it ;  2 
The  other,  though  unfinished,  yet  so  famous, 
So  excellent  in  art,  and  still  so  rising. 
That  Christendom  shall  ever  speak  his  virtue. 
His  overthrow  heaped  happiness  upon  him ; 
For  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  felt  himself, 
And  found  the  blessedness  of  being  little ; 
And,  to  add  greater  honors  to  his  age 
Than  man  could  give  him,  he  died  fearing  God. 

Kath.    After  my  death  I  wish  no  other  herald, 
No  other  speaker  of  my  living  actions, 
To  keep  mine  honor  from  corruption, 
But  such  an  honest  chronicler  as  Griffith. 

1  Lewd  in  life  and  manners. 

2  «  Unwilling  to  outlive  the  good  that  did  it." 

Good  appears  here  to  be  put  for  goodness,  as  in  the  passage  just  above. 


212  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  IV. 

Whom  I  most  hated  living,  thou  hast  made  me, 
With  thy  religious  truth  and  modesty, 
Now  in  his  ashes  honor.     Peace  be  with  him  !— 
Patience,  be  near  me  still ;  and  set  me  lower  ; 
I  have  not  long  to  trouble  thee. — Good  Griffith, 
Cause  the  musicians  play  me  that  sad  note 
I  named  my  knell,  whilst  I  sit  meditating 
On  that  celestial  harmony  I  go  to. 

Sad  and  solemn  Music. 

Grif.    She  is  asleep.     Good  wench,  let's  sit  down 

quiet, 
For  fear  we  wake  her ; — softly,  gentle  Patience. 

The  Vision.  Enter,  solemnly  tripping  one  after  another, 
six  Personages,  clad  in  white  robes,  wearing  on  their 
heads  garlands  of  bays,  and  golden  vizards  on  their 
faces;  branches  of  bays,  or  palm,  in  their  hands. 
They  first  congee  unto  her,  then  dance ;  and,  at 
certain  changes,  the  first  two  hold  a  spare  garland 
over  her  head ;  at  which,  the  other  four  make  reverend 
courtesies  ;  then  the  two  that  held  the  garland,  deliver 
the  same  to  the  other  next  two,  who  observe  the  same 
order  in  their  changes,  and  holding  the  garland  over 
her  head ;  which  done,  they  deliver  the  same  garland 
to  the  last  two,  who  likewise  observe  the  same  order ; 
at  which  (as  it  were  by  inspiration)  she  makes  in  her 
sleep  signs  of  rejoicing,  and  holdeth  up  her  hands  to 
heaven  ;  and  so  in  their  dancing  they  vanish,  carrying 
the  garland  with  them.  The  music  continues. 

Kath.    Spirits  of  peace,  where  are  ye  ?     Are  ye  all 

gone  ? 
And  leave  me  here  in  wretchedness  behind  ye  ? 

Grif.  Madam,  we  are  here. 

Kath.  It  is  not  you  I  call  for. 

Saw  ye  none  enter,  since  I  slept  ? 

Grif.  None,  madam. 

Kath.   No  ?     Saw  you  not,  even  now,  a  blessed  troop 
Invite  me  to  a  banquet ;  whose  bright  faces 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  213 

Cast  thousand  beams  upon  me,  like  the  sun  ? 

They  promised  me  eternal  happiness ; 

And  brought  me  garlands,  Griffith,  which  I  feel 

I  am  not  worthy  yet  to  wear ;  I  shall, 

Assuredly. 

Grif.    I  am  most  joyful,  madam,  such  good  dreams 
Possess  your  fancy. 

Kath.  Bid  the  music  leave; 

They  are  harsh  and  heavy  to  me.  [Music  ceases. 

Pat.  Do  you  note, 

How  much  her  grace  is  altered  on  the  sudden  ? 
How  long  her  face  is  drawn  ?  how  pale  she  looks, 
And  of  an  earthly  cold  ?     Mark  you  her  eyes  ? 

Grif.    She  is  going,  wench  ;  pray,  pray. 

Pat.  Heaven  comfort  her ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    An't  like  your  grace, — 

Kath.  You  are  a  saucy  fellow : 

Deserve  we  no  more  reverence  ? 

Grif.  You  are  to  blame, 

Knowing  she  will  not  lose  her  wonted  greatness, 
To  use  so  rude  behavior ;  go  to,  kneel. 

Mess.    I  humbly  do  entreat  your  highness'  pardon  ; 
My  haste  made  me  unmannerly.     There  is  staying 
A  gentleman,  sent  from  the  king,  to  see  you. 

Kath.    Admit  him  entrance,  Griffith.    But  this  fellow 
Let  me  ne'er  see  again. 

[Exeunt  GRIFFITH  and  Messenger. 

Re-enter  GRIFFITH,  with  CAPUCIUS. 

If  my  sight  fail  not, 

You  should  be  lord  ambassador  from  the  emperor, 
My  royal  nephew  ;   and  your  name  Capucius. 

Cap.   Madam,  the  same,  your  servant. 

Kath.  O  my  lord, 

The  times,  and  titles,  now  are  altered  strangely 
With  me,  since  first  you  knew  me.     But,  I  pray  you, 
What  is  your  pleasure  with  me  ? 


214  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  IV, 

Cap.  Noble  lady, 

First,  mine  own  service  to  your  grace ;  the  next, 
The  king's  request  that  I  would  visit  you  ; 
Who  grieves  much  for  your  weakness,  and  by  me 
Sends  you  his  princely  commendations, 
And  heartily  entreats  you  take  good  comfort. 

Kath.    O  my  good  lord,  that  comfort  comes  too  late  ; 
'Tis  like  a  pardon  after  execution. 
That  gentle  physic,  given  in  time,  had  cured  me ; 
But  now  I  am  past  all  comforts  here,  but  prayers. 
How  does  his  highness  ? 

Cap.  Madam,  in  good  health. 

Kath.    So  may  he  ever  do !  and  ever  flourish, 
When  I  shall  dwell  with  worms,  and  my  poor  name 
Banished  the  kingdom ! — Patience,  is  that  letter, 
I  caused  you  write,  yet  sent  away  ? 

Pat.   No,  madam.  [Giving  it  to  KATHARINE. 

Kath.    Sir,  I  most  humbly  pray  you  to  deliver 
This  to  my  lord  the  king.1 

Cap.  Most  willing,  madam. 

Kath.    In  which  I  have  commended  to  his  goodness 
The  model2  of  our  chaste  loves,  his  young  daughter  ;3 — 
The  dews  of  heaven  fall  thick  in  blessings  on  her ! — 
Beseeching  him  to  give  her  virtuous  breeding, 
(She  is  young,  and  of  a  noble,  modest  nature ; 
I  hope  she  will  deserve  well ;)  and  a  little 
To  love  her  for  her  mother's  sake,  that  loved  him, 
Heaven  knows  how  dearly.     My  next  poor  petition 
Is,  that  his  noble  grace  would  have  some  pity 
Upon  my  wretched  women,  that  so  long 
Have  followed  both  my  fortunes  faithfully  ; 
Of  which  there  is  not  one,  I  dare  avow, 
(And  now  I  should  not  lie,)  but  will  deserve, 
For  virtue  and  true  beauty  of  the  soul, 

1  This  letter  probably  fell  into  the  hands  of  Polydore  Virgil,  who  was 
then  in  England,  and  has  preserved  it  in  the  twenty-seventh  book  of  his 
history.    Lord  Herbert  has  given  a  translation  of  it  in  his  History  of  King 
Henry  VIII. 

2  Model,  it  has  been  already  observed,  signified,  in  the  language  of  our 
ancestors,  a  representation  or  image. 

3  Afterwards  queen  Mary. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  '215 

I 

For  honesty,  and  decent  carriage, 

A  right  good  husband,  let  him  be  a  noble ; 

And,  sure,  those  men  are  happy  that  shall  have  them. 

The  last  is,  for  my  men :  they  are  the  poorest, 

But  poverty  could  never  draw  them  from  me ; — 

That  they  may  have  their  wages  duly  paid  them, 

And  something  over  to  remember  me  by  ; 

If  Heaven  had  pleased  to  have  given  me  longer  life, 

And  able  means,  we  had  not  parted  thus. 

These  are  the  whole  contents. — And,  good  my  lord, 

By  that  you  love  the  dearest  in  this  world, 

As  you  wish  Christian  peace  to  souls  departed, 

Stand  these  poor  people's  friend,  and  urge  the  king 

To  do  me  this  last  right. 

Cap.  By  Heaven,  I  will ; 

Or  let  me  lose  the  fashion  of  a  man  ! 

Kath.   I  thank  you,  honest  lord.     Remember  me 
In  all  humility  unto  his  highness : 
Say,  his  long  trouble  now  is  passing 
Out  of  this  world :  tell  him,  in  death  I  blessed  him  ; 
For  so  I  will. — Mine  eyes  grow  dim. — Farewell, 
My  lord. — Griffith,  farewell. — Nay,  Patience, 
You  must  not  leave  me  yet.     I  must  to  bed ; 
Call  in  more  women. — When  I  am  dead,  good  wench, 
Let  me  be  used  with  honor ;  strew  me  over 
With  maiden  flowers,  that  all  the  world  may  know 
I  was  a  chaste  wife  to  my  grave ;  embalm  me, 
Then  lay  me  forth  ;  although  unqueened,  yet  like 
A  queen,  and  daughter  to  a  king,  inter  me. 
I  can  no  more.1 [Exeunt,  leading  KATHARINE. 

1  Shakspeare  has  deviated  from  history  in  placing  the  death  of  queen 
Katharine  before  the  birth  of  Elizabeth ;  for  in  fact  Katharine  did  not  die 
till  1536,  which  was  three  years  after. 


216  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  V. 

ACT  V. 

SCENE   I.     A  Gallery  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  GARDINER,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  a  Page  with 
a  torch  before  him,  met  by  SIR  THOMAS  LOVELL. 

Gar.    It's  one  o'clock,  boy,  is't  not  ? 

Boy.  It  hath  struck. 

Gar.    These  should  be  hours  for  necessities, 
Not  for  delights ;  *  times  to  repair  our  nature 
With  comforting  repose,  and  not  for  us 
To  waste  these  times. — Good  hour  of  night,  sir  Thomas! 
Whither  so  late  ? 

Lov.  Came  you  from  the  king,  my  lord  ? 

Gar.    1  did,  sir  Thomas  ;  and  left  him  at  primero2 
With  the  duke  of  Suffolk. 

Lov.  I  must  to  him  too, 

Before  he  go  to  bed.     I'll  take  my  leave. 

Gar.   Not   yet,  sir   Thomas    Lovell.      What's   the 

matter  ? 

It  seems  you  are  in  haste ;  an  if  there  be 
No  great  offence  belongs  to't,  give  your  friend 
Some  touch3  of  your  late  business.     Affairs  that  walk 
(As  they  say  spirits  do)  at  midnight,  have 
In  them  a  wilder  nature,  than  the  business 
That  seeks  despatch  by  day. 

Lov.  My  lord,  I  love  you  ; 

And  durst  commend  a  secret  to  your  ear 
Much  weightier  than  this  work.     The  queen's  in  labor, 
They  say,  in  great  extremity  ;  and  feared 
She'll  with  the  labor  end. 

Gar.  The  fruit  she  goes  with 

I  pray  for  heartily ;  that  it  may  find 

1  The  delights  at  which  Gardiner  hints  seem  to  be  the  king's  diversions, 
which  keep  him  in  attendance. 

2  Primero,  prime,  or  primavista — a  game  at  cards,  said,  by  some  writers, 
to  be  one  of  the  oldest  known  in  England. 

3  i.  e.  some  hint  of  the  business  that  keeps  you  awake  so  late. 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  217 

Good  time,  and  live ;  but  for  the  stock,  sir  Thomas, 
I  wish  it  grubbed  up  now. 

Lov.  Methinks  I  could 

Cry  the  amen ;  and  jet  my  conscience  says 
She's  a  good  creature,  and,  sweet  lady,  does 
Deserve  our  better  wishes. 

Gar.  But,  sir,  sir, — 

Hear  me,  sir  Thomas.     You  are  a  gentleman 
Of  mine  own  way  ;  I  know  you  wise,  religious  ; 
And,  let  me  tell  you,  it  will  ne'er  be  well, — 
'Twill  not,  sir  Thomas  Lovell,  take't  of  me, — 
Till  Cranmer,  Cromwell,  her  two  hands,  and  she, 
Sleep  in  their  graves. 

Lov.  Now,  sir,  you  speak  of  two 

The  most  remarked  i'  the  kingdom.    As  for  Cromwell, — 
Beside  that  of  the  jewel-house,  he's  made  master 
O'  the  rolls,  and  the  king's  secretary ;  further,  sir, 
Stands  in  the  gap  and  trade 1  of  more  preferments, 
With  which  the  time  will  load  him.     The  archbishop 
Is  the  king's  hand  and  tongue.     And  who  dare  speak 
One  syllable  against  him  ? 

Gar.  Yes,  yes,  sir  Thomas, 

There  are  that  dare ;  and  I  myself  have  ventured 
To  speak  my  mind  of  him  ;  and,  indeed,  this  day, 
Sir,  (I  may  tell  it  you,)  I  think  I  have 
Incensed2  the  lords  o'the  council,  that  he  is 
(For  so  I  know  he  is,  they  know  he  is) 
A  most  arch  heretic,  a  pestilence 
That  does  infect  the  land ;  with  which  they,  moved, 
Have  broken3  with  the  king ;  who  hath  so  far 
Given  ear  to  our  complaint,  (of  his  great  grace 
And  princely  care  ;  foreseeing  those  fell  mischiefs 
Our  reasons  laid  before  him,)  he  hath  commanded 
To-morrow  morning  to  the  council  board 
He  be  convented.4     He's  a  rank  weed,  sir  Thomas, 

1  i.  e.  course  or  way. 

2  Incensed,  or  insensed,  in  this  instance,  and  in  some  others,  only  means 
instructed,  informed',  still  in  use  in  Staffordshire. 

3  That  is,  have  broken  silence ;  told  their  minds  to  the  king. 

4  i.  e.  summoned,  convened. 

VOL.  v.  28 


218  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  V, 

And  we  must  root  him  out.     From  your  affairs, 
I  hinder  you  too  long ;  good  night,  sir  Thomas. 

Lov.    Many   good   nights,   my   lord.     I   rest  your 
servant.  [Exeunt  GARDINER  and  Page, 

i 

As  LOVELL  is  going  out,  enter  the  King,  and  the  DUKE 
of  SUFFOLK. 

K.  Hen.    Charles,  I  will  play  no  more  to-night , 
My  mind's  not  on't ;  you  are  too  hard  for  me. 

Suf.    Sir,  I  did  never  win  of  you  before. 

K.  Hen.   But  little,  Charles  ; 
Nor  shall  not,  when  my  fancy's  on  my  play. 
Now,  Lovell,  from  the  queen  what  is  the  news  ? 

Lov.    I  could  not  personally  deliver  to  her 
What  you  commanded  me,  but  by  her  woman 
I  sent  your  message  ;  who  returned  her  thanks 
In  the  greatest  humbleness,  and  desired  your  highness 
Most  heartily  to  pray  for  her. 

K.  Hen.  What  say'st  thou  ?  ha ! 

To  pray  for  her  ?  what,  is  she  crying  out  ? 

Lov.    So  said  her  woman;  and  that  her  sufferance 

made 
Almost  each  pang  a  death. 

K.  Hen.  Alas,  good  lady ! 

Suf.    God  safely  quit  her  of  her  burden,  and 
With  gentle  travail,  to  the  gladding  of 
Your  highness  with  an  heir ! 

K.  Hen.  'Tis  midnight;,  Charles, 

Pr'ythee,  to  bed ;  and  in  thy  prayers  remember 
The  estate  of  my  poor  queen.     Leave  me  alone  ; 
For  I  must  think  of  that,  which  company 
Would  not  be  friendly  to. 

Suf.  I  wish  your  highness 

A  quiet  night,  and  my  good  mistress  will 
Remember  in  my  prayers. 

K.  Hen.  Charles,  good  night. — 

[Exit  SUFFOLK. 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  219 

Enter  SIR  ANTONY  DENNY. l 

Well,  sir,  what  follows? 

Den.    I  have  brought  my  lord  the  archbishop, 
As  you  commanded  me. 

K.  Hen.  Ha  !  Canterbury  ? 

Den.    Ay,  my  good  lord. 

K.  Hen.  'Tis  true.     Where  is  he,  Denny  ? 

Den.    He  attends  your  highness'  pleasure. 

K.  Hen.  Bring  him  to  us. 

[Exit  DENNY. 

Lov.    This  is  about  that  which  the  bishop  spake. 
I  am  happily 2  come  hither.  [Aside. 

Re-enter  DENNY,  with  CRANMER. 

K.   Hen.  Avoid  the  gallery. 

[LOVELL  seems  to  stay. 
Ha !  1  have  said. — Be  gone. 
What ! —  [Exeunt  LOVELL  and  DENNY. 

Cran.    I  am  fearful. — Wherefore  frowns  he  thus  ? 
'Tis  his  aspect  of  terror.     All's  not  well. 

K.  Hen.    How  now,  my  lord  ?  You  do  desire  to  know 
Wherefore  I  sent  for  you. 

Cran.  It  is  my  duty 

To  attend  your  highness'  pleasure. 

K.  Hen.  'Pray  you,  arise, 

My  good  and  gracious  lord  of  Canterbury. 
Come,  you  and  I  must  walk  a  turn  together  ; 
I  have  news  to  tell  you.     Come,  come,  give  me  your 

hand. 

Ah,  my  good  lord,  I  grieve  at  what  I  speak, 
And  am  right  sorry  to  repeat  what  follows. 
I  have,  and  most  unwillingly,  of  late 
Heard  many  grievous,  I  do  say,  my  lord, 
Grievous  complaints  of  you  ;  which,  being  considered, 
Have  moved  us  and  our  council,  that  you  shall 

1  The  substance  of  this  and  the  two  following  scenes  is  taken  from 
Fox's  Acts  and  Monuments  of  the  Christian  Martyrs,  &c.  1533. 

2  i.  e.  luckily,  opportunely. 


220  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  V. 

This  morning  come  before  us ;  where,  I  know, 

You  cannot  with  such  freedom  purge  yourself, 

But  that,  till  further  trial,  in  those  charges 

Which  will  require  jour  answer,  you  must  take 

Your  patience  to  you,  and  be  well  contented 

To  make  your  house  our  Tower.     You  a  brother  of  us,1 

It  fits  we  thus  proceed,  or  else  no  witness 

Would  come  against  you. 

Cran.  I  humbly  thank  your  highness  ; 

And  am  right  glad  to  catch  this  good  occasion 
Most  thoroughly  to  be  winnowed,  where  my  chaff 
And  corn  shall  fly  asunder ;  for,  I  know, 
There's  none  stands  under  more  calumnious  tongues, 
Than  I  myself,  poor  man. 

K.  Hen.  Stand  up,  good  Canterbury ; 

Thy  truth,  and  thy  integrity,  is  rooted 
In  us,  thy  friend.     Give  me  thy  hand  ;   stand  up  ; 
Pr'ythee,  let's  walk.     Now,  by  my  holy  dame, 
What  manner  of  man  are  you  ?  My  lord,  I  looked 
You  would  have  given  me  your  petition,  that 
I  should  have  ta'en  some  pains  to  bring  together 
Yourself  and  your  accusers  ;  and  to  have  heard  you 
Without  indurance,2  further. 

Cran.  Most  dread  liege, 

The  good  I  stand  on  is  my  truth,  and  honesty ; 
If  they  shall  fail,  I,  with  mine  enemies, 
Will  triumph  o'er  my  person  ;  which  I  weigh  not, 
Being  of  those  virtues  vacant.     I  fear  nothing 
What  can  be  said  against  me. 

K.  Hen.  Know  you  not  how 

Your  state  stands  i'  the  world,  with  the  whole  world  ? 
Your  enemies  are  many,  and  not  small ;  their  practices 
Must  bear  the  same  proportion  ;  and  not  ever3 
The  justice  and  the  truth  o'  the  question  carries 
The  due  o'  the  verdict  with  it.     At  what  ease 
Might  corrupt  minds  procure  knaves  as  corrupt 

1  You  being  one  of  the  council. 

2  Indurance,  which  Shakspeare  found  in  Fox's  narrative,  means  here 
imprisonment. 

3  Not  always. 


SC.  I.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  221 

To  swear  against  you  ?  Such  things  have  been  done. 
You  are  potently  opposed  ;  and  with  a  malice 
Of  as  great  size.     Ween1  you  of  better  luck, 
I  mean,  in  perjured  witness,  than  your  Master, 
Whose  minister  you  are,  whiles  here  he  lived 
Upon  this  naughty  earth  ?  Go  to,  go  to ; 
You  take  a  precipice  for  no  leap  of  danger, 
And  woo  your  own  destruction. 

Cran.  God,  and  your  majesty, 

Protect  mine  innocence,  or  I  fall  into 
The  trap  is  laid  for  me ! 

K.  Hen.  Be  of  good  cheer ; 

They  shall  no  more  prevail,  than  we  give  way  to. 
Keep  comfort  to  you  ;  and  this  morning  see 
You  do  appear  before  them  ;  if  they  shall  chance, 
In  charging  you  with  matters,  to  commit  you, 
The  best  persuasions  to  the  contrary 
Fail  not  to  use,  and  with  what  vehernency 
The  occasion  shall  instruct  you  ;  if  entreaties 
Will  render  you  no  remedy,  this  ring 
Deliver  them,  and  your  appeal  to  us 
There  make  before  them. — Look,  the  good  man  weeps  ! 
He's  honest,  on  mine  honor.     God's  blest  mother ! 
I  swear,  he  is  true  hearted ;  and  a  soul 
None  better  in  my  kingdom. — Get  you  gone, 
And  do  as  I  have  bid  you.  [Exit  CRANMER.] 

He  has  strangled 
His  language  in  his  tears. 

Enter  an  old  Lady. 

Gent.    [Within.']  Come  back.     What  mean  you? 

Lady.    I'll  not  come  back :  the  tidings  that  1  bring 
Will  make  my  boldness  manners. — Now,  good  angels 
Fly  o'er  thy  royal  head,  and  shade  thy  person 
Under  their  blessed  wings  ! 

K.  Hen.  Now,  by  thy  looks 


1  To  ween  is  to  think  or  imagine.    Though  now  obsolete,  the  word  was 
common  to  all  our  ancient  writers. 


222  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  V- 

I  guess  thy  message.     Is  the  queen  delivered  ? 
Say,  ay  ;  and  of  a  boy. 

Lady.  Ay,  ay,  my  liege  ; 

And  of  a  lovely  boy.     The  God  of  heaven 
Both  now  and  ever  bless  her ! — 'Tis  a  girl, 

O         ' 

Promises  boys  hereafter.     Sir,  your  queen 
Desires  your  visitation,  and  to  be 
Acquainted  with  this  stranger ;  'tis  as  like  you, 
As  cherry  is  to  cherry. 

K.  Hen.  Lovell,— 

Enter  LOVELL. 

Lov.  Sir. 

K.  Hen.    Give  her  an  hundred  marks.     I'll  to  the 
queen.  [Exit  King. 

Lady.    An  hundred  marks!  By  this  light,  I'll  have 

more. 

An  ordinary  groom  is  for  such  payment. 
I  will  have  more,  or  scold  it  out  of  him. 
Said  I,  for  this,  the  girl  is  like  to  him  ? 
I  will  have  more,  or  else  unsay't ;  and  now 
While  it  is  hot,  I'll  put  it  to  the  issue.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE    II.     Lobby  before  the  Council  Chamber. 

Enter  CRANMER  ;    Servants,  Door-keeper,  &c. 
attending. 

Cran.    I    hope   I    am  not  too   late ;    and   yet   the 

gentleman, 

That  was  sent  to  me  from  the  council,  prayed  me 
To  make  great  haste.     All  fast  ?  what  means  this  ? — 

Hoa! 
Who  waits  there  ? — Sure  you  know  me  ? 

D.  Keep  Yes,  my  lord ; 

But  yet  I  cannot  help  you. 

Cran.  Why  ? 

D.  Keep.   Your  grace  must  wait  till  you  be  called  for. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY   VIJT.  223 

Enter  DOCTOR  BUTTS. 

Cran.  So. 

Butts.    This  is  a  piece  of  malice.     I  am  glad 
I  came  this  way  so  happily.     The  king 
Shall  understand  it  presently.  [Exit  BUTTS. 

Cran.    [Aside.]  'Tis  Butts, 

The  king's  physician.     As  he  passed  along, 
How  earnestly  he  cast  his  eyes  upon  me  ! 
Pray  Heaven,  he  sound  not  my  disgrace !    For  certain, 
This  is  of  purpose  laid  by  some  that  hate  me, 
(God  turn  their  hearts  !  I  never  sought  their  malice,) 
To  quench  mine  honor  ;  they  would  shame  to  make  me 
Wait  else  at  door  ;  a  fellow  counsellor, 
Among  boys,  grooms,  and  lackeys.     But  their  pleasures 
Must  be  fulfilled,  and  I  attend  with  patience. 

Enter,  at  a  window  above,  the  King  and  BUTTS. 

Butts.    I'll  show  your  grace  the  strangest  sight, — 

K.  Hen.  What's  that,  Butts  ? 

Butts.    I  think  your  highness  saw  this  many  a  day. 

K.  Hen.    Body  o'  me,  where  is  it  ? 

Butts.  There,  my  lord  ; 

The  high  promotion  of  his  grace  of  Canterbury  ; 
Who  holds  his  state  at  door,  'mongst  pursuivants, 
Pages,  and  footboys. 

K.  Hen.  Ha  !  'tis  he,  indeed  : 

fs  this  the  honor  they  do  one  another  ? 
'Tis  well  there's  one  above  them  yet.     I  had  thought 
They  had  parted l  so  much  honesty  among  them 
(At  least,  good  manners)  as  not  thus  to  suffer 
A  man  of  his  place,  and  so  near  our  favor, 
To  dance  attendance  on  their  lordships'  pleasures, 
And  at  the  door  too,  like  a  post  with  packets. 
By  holy  Mary,  Butts,  there's  knavery. 
Let  them  alone,  and  draw  the  curtain  close ; 
We  shall  hear  more  anon. —  [Exeunt. 

1  i.  e.  shared,  possessed. 


224  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  V 


THE  COUNCIL  CHAMBER. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chancellor,  the  DUKE  of  SUFFOLK, 
EARL  of  SURREY,  Lord  Chamberlain,  GARDINER, 
and  CROMWELL.  The  Chancellor  places  himself  at 
the  upper  end  of  the  table  on  the  left  hand ;  a  seat 
being  left  void  above  him,  as  for  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury.  The  rest  seat  themselves  in  order  on 
each  side.  CROMWELL  at  the  lower  end,  as  secretary. 

Chan.    Speak,  to  the  business,  master  secretary. 
Why  are  we  met  in  council  ? 

Crom.  Please  your  honors, 

The  chief  cause  concerns  his  grace  of  Canterbury. 

Gar.    Has  he  had  knowledge  of  it  ? 

Crom.  Yes. 

Nor.  Who  waits  there  ? 

D.  Keep.   Without,  my  noble  lords  ? 

Gar.  Yes. 

D.  Keep.  My  lord  archbishop  ; 

And  has  done  half  an  hour,  to  know  your  pleasures. 

Chan.    Let  him  come  in. 

D.  Keep.  Your  grace  may  enter  now.1 

[CRANMER  approaches  the  council-table. 

Chan.   My  good  lord  archbishop,  I  am  very  sorry 
To  sit  here  at  this  present,  and  behold 
That  chair  stand  empty.     But  we  all  are  men, 
In  our  own  natures  frail,  and  capable  2 
Of  our  flesh,  few  are  angels  ;  out  of  which  frailty, 
And  want  of  wisdom,  you,  that  best  should  teach  us, 
Have  misdemeaned  yourself,  and  not  a  little, 
Toward  the  king  first,  then  his  laws,  in  filling 
The  whole  realm,  by  your  teaching,  and  your  chaplains, 
(For  so  we  are  informed,)  with  new  opinions, 

1  The  old  stage  direction  at  the  commencement  of  this  scene  is,  "  A 
councell  table  brought  in  with  chayres  and  stooles  and  placed  under  the 
state."     Our  ancestors  were  contented  to  be  told  that  the  same  spot,  with 
out  any  change  of  its  appearance  (except,  perhaps,  the  drawing  back  of  a 
curtain),  was  at  once  the  outside  and  the  inside  of  the  council  chamber. 

2  «  Capable  of  our  flesh,"  probably  means,  "susceptible  of  the  failings 
inherent  in  humanity." 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  225 

Divers,  and  dangerous ;  which  are  heresies, 
And,  not  reformed,  may  prove  pernicious. 

Gar.    Which  reformation  must  be  sudden  too, 
My  noble  lords ;  for  those  that  tame  wild  horses, 
Pace  them  not  in  their  hands  to  make  them  gentle  ; 
But  stop  their  mouths  with  stubborn  bits,  and  spur  them, 
Till  they  obey  the  manage.     If  we  suffer 
Out  of  our  easiness,  and  childish  pity 
^o  one  man's  honor)  this  contagious  sickness, 
Farewell,  all  physic  ;  and  what  follows  then  ? 
Commotions,  uproars,  with  a  general  taint 
Of  the  whole  state  ;  as  of  late  days,  our  neighbors, 
The  upper  Germany,1  can  dearly  witness, 
Yet  freshly  pitied  in  our  memories. 

Cran.    My  good  lords,  hitherto,  in  all  the  progress 
Both  of  my  life  and  office,  I  have  labored, 
And  with  no  little  study,  that  my  teaching, 
And  the  strong  course  of  my  authority, 
Might  go  one  way,  and  safely ;  and  the  end 
Was  ever,  to  do  well ;  nor  is  there  living 
(I  speak  it  with  a  single  heart,  my  lords) 
A  man  that  more  detests,  more  stirs  against, 
Both  in  his  private  conscience,  and  his  place, 
Defacers  of  a  public  peace,  than  I  do. 
'Pray  Heaven,  the  king  may  never  find  a  heart 
With  less  allegiance  in  it !  Men  that  make 
Envy  and  crooked  malice,  nourishment, 
Dare  bite  the  best.     I  do  beseech  your  lordships, 
That,  in  this  case  of  justice,  my  accusers, 
Be  what  they  will,  may  stand  forth  face  to  face, 
And  freely  urge  against  me. 

Suf.  Nay,  my  lord, 

That  cannot  be  ;  you  are  a  counsellor, 
And,  by  that  virtue,  no  man  dare  accuse  you. 

Gar.   My  lord,   because  we   have  business  of  more 

moment, 
We  will  be  short  with  you.     'Tis  his  highness'  pleasure, 


i  Alluding  to  the  heresy  of  Thomas  Muntzer,  which  sprung  up  in 
Saxony  in  the  years  1521  and  1522. 
VOL.  v.  29 


226  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  V. 

And  our  consent,  for  better  trial  of  you, 
From  hence  you  be  committed  to  the  Tower  ; 
Where,  being  but  a  private  man  again, 
You  shall  know  many  dare  accuse  you  boldly, 
More  than,  I  fear,  you  are  provided  for. 

Cran.    Ah,  my  good  lord  of  Winchester,  I  thank  you, 
You  are  always  my  good  friend  ;  if  your  will  pass, 
1  shall  both  find  your  lordship  judge  and  juror, 
You  are  so  merciful.     I  see  your  end ; 
'Tis  my  undoing.     Love  and  meekness,  lord, 
Become  a  churchman  better  than  ambition ; 
Win  straying  souls  with  modesty  again, 
Cast  none  away.     That  I  shall  clear  myself, 
Lay  all  the  weight  ye  can  upon  my  patience, 
I  make  as  little  doubt,  as  you  do  conscience, 
In  doing  daily  wrongs.     I  could  say  more, 
But  reverence  to  your  calling  makes  me  modest. 

Gar.    My  lord,  my  lord,  you  are  a  sectary, 
That's  the  plain  truth ;  your  painted  gloss  discovers, 
To  men  that  understand  you,  words  and  weakness. 

Crom.    My  lord  of  Winchester,  you  are  a  little, 
By  your  good  favor,  too  sharp ;  men  so  noble, 
However  faulty,  yet  should  find  respect 
For  what  they  have  been :  'tis  a  cruelty, 
To  load  a  falling  man. 

Gar.  Good  master  secretary, 

1  cry  your  honor  mercy  ;  you  may,  worst 
Of  all  this  table,  say  so. 

Crom.  Why,  my  lord  ? 

Gar.    Do  not  I  know  you  for  a  favorer 
Of  this  new  sect  ?    Ye  are  not  sound. 

Crom.  Not  sound  f 

Gar.    Not  sound,  I  say. 

Crom.  'Would  you  were  half  so  honest  ; 

Men's  prayers  then  would  seek  you,  not  their  fears. 

Gar.    I  shall  remember  this  bold  language. 

Crom.  Do. 

Remember  your  bold  life  too. 

Chan.  This  is  too  much  ; 

Forbear,  for  shame,  my  lords. 


SO.  II.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  227 

Gar.  I  have  done. 

Crom.  And  I. 

Chan.  Then  thus  for  you,  my  lord: — It  stands  agreed, 
I  take  it,  by  all  voices,  that  forthwith 
You  be  conveyed  to  the  Tower  a  prisoner ; 
There  to  remain,  till  the  king's  further  pleasure 
Be  known  unto  us.     Are  you  all  agreed,  lords  ? 

All.    We  are. 

Cran.  Is  there  no  other  way  of  mercy, 

But  I  must  needs  to  the  Tower,  my  lords  ? 

Gar.  What  other 

Would  you  expect  ?     You  are  strangely  troublesome  ! 
Let  some  of  the  guard  be  ready  there. 

Enter  Guard. 

Cran.  For  me  ? 

Must  I  go  like  a  traitor  thither  ? 

Gar.  Receive  him, 

And  see  him  safe  i'  the  Tower. 

Cran.  Stay,  good  my  lords, 

I  have  a  little  yet  to  say.     Look  there,  my  lords  ; 
By  virtue  of  that  ring,  I  take  my  cause 
Out  of  the  gripes  of  cruel  men,  and  give  it 
To  a  most  noble  judge,  the  king  my  master. 

Chan.    This  is  the  king's  ring. 

Sur.  'Tis  no  counterfeit. 

Suf.   'Tis  the  right  ring,  by  Heaven :  I  told  ye  all, 
When  we  first  put  this  dangerous  stone  a  rolling, 
'Twould  fall  upon  ourselves. 

Nor.  Do  you  think,  my  lords, 

The  king  will  suffer  but  the  little  finger 
Of  this  man  to  be  vexed  ? 

Chan.  'Tis  now  too  certain. 

How  much  more  is  his  life  in  value  with  him  ? 
'Would  I  were  fairly  out  on't. 

Crom.  My  mind  gave  me, 

In  seeking  tales  and  informations 
Against  this  man,  (whose  honesty  the  devil 
And  his  disciples  only  envy  at,) 
Ye  blew  the  fire  that  burns  ye.     Now  have  at  ye. 


228  KING  HENRY  VIII.  [ACT  V. 

Enter  the  King,  frowning  on  them  ;  takes  his  seat. 

Gar.    Dread  sovereign,  how  much  are  we  bound  to 

Heaven 

In  daily  thanks,  that  gave  us  such  a  prince ! 
Not  only  good  and  wise,  but  most  religious  ; 
One  that,  in  all  obedience,  makes  the  church 
The  chief  aim  of  his  honor  ;  and,  to  strengthen 
That  holy  duty,  out  of  dear  respect, 
His  royal  self  in  judgment  comes  to  hear 
The  cause  betwixt  her  and  this  great  offender. 

K.  Hen.   You  were  ever  good  at  sudden  commenda 
tions, 

Bishop  of  Winchester.     But  know,  I  come  not 
To  hear  such  flattery  now,  and  in  my  presence ; 
They  are  too  thin  and  bare  to  hide  offences.1 
To  me  you  cannot  reach ;  you  play  the  spaniel, 
And  think  with  wagging  of  your  tongue  to  win  me  ; 
But,  whatsoe'er  thou  tak'st  me  for,  I  am  sure, 
Thou  hast  a  cruel  nature,  and  a  bloody. — 
Good  man,  [To  CRANMER.]  sit  down.     Now  let  me 

see  the  proudest 

He,  that  dares  most,  but  wag  his  finger  at  thee. 
By  all  that's  holy,  he  had  better  starve, 
Than  but  once  think  his  place  becomes  thee  not. 

Sur.   May  it  please  your  grace, — 

K.  Hen.  No,  sir,  it  does  not  please  me. 

I  had  thought,  I  had  had  men  of  some  understanding 
And  wisdom  of  my  council ;  but  I  find  none. 
Was  it  discretion,  lords,  to  let  this  man, 
This  good  man,  (few  of  you  deserve  that  title,) 
This  honest  man,  wait  like  a  lousy  footboy 
At  chamber  door  ?  and  one  as  great  as  you  are  ? 
Why,  what  a  shame  was  this !     Did  my  commission 
Bid  ye  so  far  forget  yourselves  ?     I  gave  ye 
Power  as  he  was  a  counsellor  to  try  him, 
Not  as  a  groom.     There's  some  of  ye,  I  see, 

1  The  old  copy  reads,  "  thin  and  base ; "  the  emendation  was  suggested 
by  Malone. 


SC.  II.]  KING  HENRY  VIII.  229 

More  out  of  malice  than  integrity, 

Would  try  him  to  the  utmost,  had  ye  mean ; 

Which  ye  shall  never  have,  while  I  live. 

Chan.  Thus  far, 

My  most  dread  sovereign,  may  it  like  your  grace 
To  let  my  tongue  excuse  all.     What  was  purposed 
Concerning  his  imprisonment,  was  rather 
(If  there  be  faith  in  men)  meant  for  his  trial, 
And  fair  purgation  to  the  world,  than  malice ; 
I  am  sure,  in  me. 

K.  Hen.  Well,  well,  my  lords,  respect  him ; 

Take  him,  and  use  him  well ;  he's  worthy  of  it. 
I  will  say  thus  much  for  him, — If  a  prince 
May  be  beholden  to  a  subject,  I 
Am,  for  his  love  and  service,  so  to  him. 
Make  me  no  more  ado,  but  all  embrace  him  ; 
Be   friends,   for   shame,  my  lords. — My  lord  of  Can 
terbury, 

I  have  a  suit  which  you  must  not  deny  me  ; 
That  is,  a  fair  young  maid  that  yet  wants  baptism  ; 
You  must  be  godfather,  and  answer  for  her. 

Cran.    The  greatest  monarch  now  alive  may  glory 
In  such  an  honor ;  how  may  I  deserve  it, 
That  am  a  poor  and  humble  subject  to  you  ? 

K.  Hen.    Come,   come,   my  lord,  you'd   spare  your 

spoons  ; l  you  shall  have 
Two  noble   partners  with  you  ;    the   old  duchess   of 

Norfolk, 

And  lady  marquis  Dorset.     Will  these  please  you  ? 
Once  more,  my  lord  of  Winchester,  I  charge  you, 
Embrace,  and  love  this  man. 

Gar.  With  a  true  heart, 

And  brother-love,  I  do  it. 

Cran.  And  let  Heaven 

Witness,  how  dear  I  hold  this  confirmation. 


i  It  was  an  ancient  custom  (which  is  not  yet  quite  out  of  use)  for  the 
sponsors  at  christenings  to  offer  silver  or  silver  gilt  spoons  as  a  present  to 
the  child.  The  ancient  offerings  upon  such  occasions  were  called  Jlpostlc- 
spoons,  because  the  extremity  of  the  handle  was  formed  into  the  figure  of 
one  or  other  of  the  apostles. 


230  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  V. 

K.  Hen.   Good  man,  those  joyful  tears  show  thy  true 

heart. 

The  common  voice,  I  see,  is  verified 
Of  thee,  which  says  thus,  Do  my  lord  of  Canterbury 
A  shrewd  turn,  and  he  is  your  friend  forever. — 
Come,  lords,  we  trifle  time  away ;  I  long 
To  have  this  young  one  made  a  Christian. 
As  I  have  made  ye  one,  lords,  one  remain ; 
So  1  grow  stronger,  you  more  honor  gain.        [Exeunt. 


SCENE   III.     The  Palace  Yard. 

Noise  and  tumult  within.     Enter  Porter  and  his  Man. 

Port.  You'll  leave  your  noise  anon,  ye  rascals.  Do 
you  take  the  court  for  Paris-garden  F1  Ye  rude  slaves, 
leave  your  gaping.2 

[Within.]    Good  master  porter,  I  belong  to  the  larder. 

Port.  Belong  to  the  gallows,  and  be  hanged,  you 
rogue.  Is  this  a  place  to  roar  in  ? — Fetch  rne  a  dozen 
crab-tree  staves,  and  strong  ones ;  these  are  but 
switches  to  them. — I'll  scratch  your  heads.  You  must 
be  seeing  christenings  ?  Do  you  look  for  ale  and  cakes 
here,  you  rude  rascals  ? 

Man.    Pray,  sir,  be  patient ;  'tis  as  much  impossible 
(Unless  we  sweep  them  from  the  door  with  cannons) 
To  scatter  them,  as  'tis  to  make  them  sleep 
On  May-day  morning  ;  which  will  never  be. 
We  may  as  well  push  against  Paul's,  as  stir  them. 

Port.    How  got  they  in,  and  be  hanged  ? 

Man.    Alas,  I  know  not ;  how  gets  the  tide  in  ? 
As  much  as  one  sound  cudgel  of  four  foot 
(You  see  the  poor  remainder)  could  distribute, 
I  made  no  spare,  sir. 

1  This  celebrated  bear-garden,  on  the  Bankside,  was  so  called  from 
Robert  de  Paris,  who  had  a  house  and  garden  there  in  the  time  of  king 
Richard  II.     The  Globe  Theatre,  in  which  Shakspeare  was  a  performer, 
stood  on  the  southern  side  of  the  river  Thames,  and  was  contiguous  to  this 
noted  place  of  tumult  and  disorder. 

2  i.  e.  shouting  or  roaring ;  a  sense  the  word  has  now  lost. 


SC.  III.]  KING   HENRY   VIII.  231 

Port.  You  did  nothing,  sir. 

Man.  I  am  not  Samson,  nor  sir  Guy,  nor  Colbrand,1 
to  mow  them  down  before  me ;  but,  if  I  spared  any, 
that  had  a  head  to  it,  either  young  or  old,  he  or  she, 
cuckold  or  cuckold-maker,  let  me  never  hope  to  see  a 
chine  again  ;  and  that  I  would  not  for  a  cow,  God 
save  her. 

[Within.']    Do  you  hear,  master  porter? 

Part.  I  shall  be  with  you  presently,  good  master 
puppy. — Keep  the  door  close,  sirrah. 

Man.    What  would  you  have  me  do  ? 

Port.  What  should  you  do,  but  knock  them  down 
by  the  dozens?  Is  this  Moorfields  to  muster  in?2  or 
have  we  some  strange  Indian  with  the  great  tool  come 
to  court,  the  women  so  besiege  us  ?  Bless  me,  what 
a  fry  of  fornication  is  at  door !  On  my  Christian  con 
science,  this  one  christening  will  beget  a  thousand  ; 
here  will  be  father,  godfather,  and  all  together. 

Man.  The  spoons  will  be  the  bigger,  sir.  There  is 
a  fellow  somewhat  near  the  door ;  he  should  be  a 
brazier3  by  his  face  ;  for,  o'  my  conscience,  twenty  of 
the  dog-days  now  reign  in's  nose  ;  all  that  stand  about 
him  are  under  the  line ;  they  need  no  other  penance. 
That  fire-drake4  did  I  hit  three  times  on  the  head,  and 
three  times  was  his  nose  discharged  against  me  ;  he 
stands  there,  like  a  mortar-piece,  to  blow  us.  There 
was  a  haberdasher's  wife  of  small  wit  near  him,  that 
railed  upon  me  till  her  pinked  porringer5  fell  off  her 
head,  for  kindling  such  a  combustion  in  the  state.  1 
missed  the  meteor6  once,  and  hit  that  woman,  who 


1  Guy  of  Warwick,  nor  Colbrand  the  Danish  giant,  whom  Guy  subdued 
at  Winchester. 

2  The  trained  bands  of  the  city  were  exercised  in  Moorfields. 

3  A  brazier  signifies  a  man  that  manufactures  brass,  and  a  reservoir  for 
charcoal,  occasionally  heated  to  convey  warmth.     Both  these  senses  are 
understood. 

4  "  Fire-drake ;  ajire  sometimes  seen  flying  in  the  night  like  a  dragon." 
— BuHokar^s  Expositor,  1616.     Afire-drake  appears  to  have  been  also  an 
artificial /my  or/r. 

5  Her  p'nked  cap. 

6  The  brazier. 


232  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  V. 

cried  out,  Clubs  .fl  when  I  might  see  from  far  some  forty 
truncheoneers  draw  to  her  succor,  which  were  the  hope 
of  the  Strand,  where  she  was  quartered.  They  fell  on ; 
I  made  good  my  place ;  at  length  they  came  to  the 
broomstaff  with  me  ;  I  defied  them  still ;  when  suddenly 
a  file  of  boys  behind  them,  loose  shot,2  delivered  such 
a  shower  of  pebbles,  that  I  was  fain  to  draw  mine 
honor  in,  and  let  them  win  the  work.3  The  devil  was 
amongst  them,  I  think,  surely. 

Port.  These  are  the  youths  that  thunder  at  a  play 
house,  and  fight  for  bitten  apples  ;  that  no  audience, 
but  the  tribulation  of  Tower-hill,  or  the  limbs  of  Lime- 
house,4  their  dear  brothers,  are  able  to  endure.  I  have 
some  of  them  in  Limbo  Patrum?  and  there  they  are 
like  to  dance  these  three  days  ;  besides  the  running 
banquet  of  two  beadles,6  that  is  to  come. 

Enter  the  Lord  Chamberlain. 

Cham.   Mercy  o'  me,  what  a  multitude  are  here  ! 
They  grow  still  too ;  from  all  parts  they  are  coming, 
As  if  we  kept  a  fair  here !     Where  are  these  porters, 
These  lazy  knaves  ? — Ye  have  made  a  fine  hand,  fellows. 
There's  a  trim  rabble  let  in.     Are  all  these 
Your  faithful  friends  o'  the  suburbs  ?     We  shall  have 
Great  store  of  room,  no  doubt,  left  for  the  ladies, 
When  they  pass  back  from  the  christening. 

Port.  An't  please  your  honor, 

We  are  but  men ;  and  what  so  many  may  do, 
Not  being  torn  a  pieces,  we  have  done. 
An  army  cannot  rule  them. 

1  See  note  on  the  First  Part  of  King  Henry  VI.  Act  i.  Sc.  3. 

2  Shooters. 

3  i.  e.  the  fortress;  it  is  a  term  in  fortification. 

4  By  the  tribulation  of  Tower-hill  and  the  limbs  of  lAmehouse  it  is 
evident  that  Shakspeare  meant  noisy  rabble  frequenting  the  theatres, 
supposed  to  come  from  those  places. 

5  i.  e.  in  confinement      The  Limbus  Patrum  is,  properly,  the  place 
where  the  old  fathers  and  patriarchs  are  supposed  to  be  waiting  for  the 
resurrection. 

6  A  public  whipping. 


SC.  IV.]  KING  HENRY   VIII.  233 

Cham.  As  I  live, 

If  the  king  blame  me  for't,  I'll  lay  ye  all 
By  the  heels,  and  suddenly ;  and  on  your  heads 
Clap  round  fines,  for  neglect.     You  are  lazy  knaves  ; 
And  here  ye  lie  baiting  of  bumbards,1  when 
Ye  should  do  service.     Hark,  the  trumpets  sound ; 
They  are  come  already  from  the  christening. 
Go,  break  among  the  press,  and  find  a  way  out 
To  let  the  troop  pass  fairly ;  or  I'll  find 
A  Marshalsea,  shall  hold  you  play  these  two  months. 

Port.    Make  way  there  for  the  princess. 

Man.    You  great  fellow,  stand  close  up,  or  I'll  make 
your  head  ache. 

Port.    You   i'  the    camlet,   get   up    o'  the    rail ;    I'll 
pick  2  you  o'er  the  pales  else.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE   IV.     The  Palace? 

Enter  trumpets,  sounding;  then  two  Aldermen,  Lord 
Mayor,  Garter,  CRANMER,  DUKE  of  NORFOLK,  with 
his  marshals  staff,  DUKE  of  SUFFOLK,  two  Noble 
men  bearing  great  standing-bowls 4  for  the  christening 
gifts ;  then  four  Noblemen  bearing  a  canopy,  under 
which  the  DUCHESS  of  NORFOLK,  godmother,  bearing 
the  Child  richly  habited  in  a  mantle,  &c.  Train 
borne  by  a  Lady  ;  then  follows  the  MARCHIONESS  of 
DORSET,  the  other  godmother,  and  Ladies.  The 
troop  pass  once  about  the  stage,  and  Garter  speaks. 

Gart.  Heaven,  from  thy  endless  goodness,  send 
prosperous  life,  long,  and  ever  happy,  to  the  high  and 
mighty  princess  of  England,  Elizabeth. 


1  A  bumbard  was  a  large  black  jack  of  leather  used  to  carry  beer  to 
soldiers  upon  duty,  or  upon  any  occasion  where  a  quantity  was  required. 

2  To  pick  is  to  pitch,  cast,  or  throw. 

3  At  Greenwich. 

4  Standing-bowls  were  bowls  elevated  on  feet  or  pedestals. 

VOL.  v.  30 


234  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  V. 

Flourish.     Enter  King  and  TVain. 

Cran.    [Kneeling.']  And  to  your  royal  grace,  and  the 

good  queen, 

My  noble  partners,  and  myself,  thus  pray  :— 
All  comfort,  joy,  in  this  most  gracious  lady, 
Heaven  ever  laid  up  to  make  parents  happy, 
May  hourly  fall  upon  ye ! 

K.  Hen.  Thank  you,  good  lord  archbishop ; 

What  is  her  name  ? 

Cran.  Elizabeth. 

K.  Hen.  Stand  up,  lord. — 

[The  King  kisses  the  Child. 

With  this  kiss  take  my  blessing.     God  protect  thee  ! 
Into  whose  hands  I  give  thy  life. 

Cran.  Amen. 

K.  Hen.  My  noble  gossips,  ye  have  been  too  prodigal. 
I  thank  ye  heartily ;  so  shall  this  lady, 
When  she  has  so  much  English. 

Cran.  Let  me  speak,  sir, 

For  Heaven  now  bids  me  ;  and  the  words  I  utter 
Let  none  think  flattery,  for  they'll  find  them  truth. 
This  royal  infant,  (Heaven,  still  move  about  her!) 
Though  in  her  cradle,  yet  now  promises 
Upon  this  land  a  thousand  thousand  blessings, 
Which  time  shall  bring  to  ripeness.     She  shall  be 
(But  few  now  living  can  behold  that  goodness) 
A  pattern  to  all  princes  living  with  her, 
And  all  that  shall  succeed.     Sheba  was  never 
More  covetous  of  wisdom  and  fair  virtue, 
Than  this  pure  soul  shall  be.     All  princely  graces, 
That  mould  up  such  a  mighty  piece  as  this  is, 
With  all  the  virtues  that  attend  the  good, 
Shall  still  be  doubled  on  her.     Truth  shall  nurse  her, 
Holy  and  heavenly  thoughts  still  counsel  her. 
She  shall  be  loved  and  feared  ;  her  own  shall  bless  her  ; 
Her  foes  shake  like  a  field  of  beaten  corn, 
And  hang  their  heads  with  sorrow.     Good  grows  with 

her : 
In  her  days,  every  man  shall  eat  in  safety, 


i  _ 


SC.  IV.]  KING   HENRY  VIII.  235 

Under  his  own  vine,  what  he  plants ;  and  sing 

The  merry  songs  of  peace  to  all  his  neighbors. 

God  shall  be  truly  known ;  and  those  about  her 

From  her  shall  read  the  perfect  ways  of  honor, 

And  by  those  claim  their  greatness,  not  by  blood. 

[Nor l  shall  this  peace  sleep  with  her ;  but  as  when 

The  bird  of  wonder  dies,  the  maiden  phoenix, 

Her  ashes  new  create  another  heir, 

As  great  in  admiration  as  herself; 

So  shall  she  leave  her  blessedness  to  one, 

(When  Heaven  shall  call  her  from  this  cloud  of  darkness,) 

Who,  from  the  sacred  ashes  of  her  honor, 

Shall  star-like  rise,  as  great  in  fame  as  she  was, 

And  so  stand  fixed.     Peace,  plenty,  love,  truth,  terror, 

That  were  the  servants  to  this  chosen  infant, 

Shall  then  be  his,  and  like  a  vine  grow  to  him  ; 

Wherever  the  bright  sun  of  heaven  shall  shine, 

His  honor  and  the  greatness  of  his  name 

Shall  be,  and  make  new  nations.2     He  shall  flourish, 

And,  like  a  mountain  cedar,  reach  his  branches 

To  all  the  plains  about  him. Our  children's  children 

Shall  see  this,  and  bless  Heaven. 

K.    Hen.  Thou  speakest  wonders.] 

Cran.    She  shall  be,  to  the  happiness  of  England, 
An  aged  princess ;  many  days  shall  see  her, 
And  yet  no  day  without  a  deed  to  crown  it. 
'Would  I  had  known  no  more  !     But  she  must  die ; 
She  must ;   the  saints  must  have  her ;  yet  a  virgin, 
A  most  unspotted  lily  shall  she  pass 
To  the  ground,  and  all  the  world  shall  mourn  her. 

K.  Hen.    O  lord  archbishop, 
Thou  hast  made  me  now  a  man ;  never,  before 
This  happy  child,  did  I  get  any  thing. 
This  oracle  of  comfort  has  so  pleased  me, 

1  Some  of  the  commentators  think  that  this  and  the  following  seventeen 
lines  were  probably  written  by  Ben  .lohnson,  after  the  accession  of  king 
James.    We  have  before  observed  Mr.  Gifford  is  of  opinion  that  Ben 
Jonson  had  no  hand  in  the  additions  to  this  play. 

2  The  year  before  the  revival  of  this  play  there  was  a  lottery  for  the 
plantation  of  Virginia.     The  lines  probably  allude  to  the  settlement  of  that 
colony. 


236  KING  HENRY   VIII.  [ACT  V. 

That,  when  I  am  in  heaven,  I  shall  desire 

To  see  what  this  child  does,  and  praise  my  Maker. — 

I  thank  ye  all. — To  you,  my  good  lord  mayor, 

And  your  good  brethren,  I  am  much  beholden  ; 

I  have  received  much  honor  by  your  presence, 

And  ye  shall  find  me  thankful.     Lead  the  way,  lords ; 

Ye  must  all  see  the  queen,  and  she  must  thank  ye ; 

She  will  be  sick  else.     This  day,  no  man  think 

He  has  business  at  his  house ;  for  all  shall  stay  ; 

This  little  one  shall  make  it  holiday.  [Exeunt. 


237 


EPILOGUE. 


'Tis  ten  to  one,  this  play  can  never  please 

All  that  are  here.     Some  come  to  take  their  ease, 

And  sleep  an  act  or  two ;  but  those,  we  fear, 

We  have  frighted  with  our  trumpets ;  so,  'tis  clear, 

They'll  say,  'Tis  naught !  others,  to  hear  the  city 

Abused  extremely,  and  to  cry,   That's  witty! 

Which  we  have  not  done  neither :  that,  I  fear, 

All  the  expected  good  we  are  like  to  hear 

For  this  play  at  this  time,  is  only  in 

The  merciful  construction  of  good  women ; 

For  such  a  one  we  showed  them.     If  they  smile, 

And  say,  'Twill  do  !  I  know,  within  a  while 

All  the  best  men  are  ours ;  for  'tis  ill  hap, 

If  they  hold,  when  their  ladies  bid  them  clap. 


23S 


THE  play  of  Henry  VIII.  is  one  of  those  which  still  keeps  possession  of 
the  stage  by  the  splendor  of  its  pageantry.  The  coronation,  about  forty 
years  ago,  drew  the  people  together  in  multitudes  for  a  great  part  of  the 
winter.  Yet  pomp  is  not  the  only  merit  of  this  play.  The  meek  sorrows 
and  virtuous  distress  of  Katharine,  have  furnished  some  scenes  which  may 
be  justly  numbered  among  the  greatest  efforts  of  tragedy.  But  the  genius 
of  Shakspeare  comes  in  and  goes  out  with  Katharine.  Every  other  part 
may  be  easily  conceived  and  easily  written. 

The  historical  dramas  are  now  concluded,  of  which  the  two  parts  of 
Henry  IV.  and  Henry  V.  are  among  the  happiest  of  our  author's  compo 
sitions  ;  and  King  John,  Richard  III.,  and  Henry  VIII.,  deservedly  stand 
in  the  second  class.  Those  whose  curiosity  would  refer  the  historical 
scenes  to  their  original,  may  consult  Holinshed,  and  sometimes  Hall. 
From  Holinshed,  Shakspeare  has  often  inserted  whole  speeches  with  no 
more  alteration  than  was  necessary  to  the  numbers  of  his  verse.  To 
transcribe  them  into  the  margin  was  unnecessary,  because  the  original  is 
easily  examined,  and  they  are  seldom  less  perspicuous  in  the  Poet  than  in 
the  historian. 

To  play  histories,  or  to  exhibit  a  succession  of  events  by  action  and 
dialogue,  was  a  common  entertainment  among  our  rude  ancestors  upon 
great  festivities.*  The  parish  clerks  once  performed  at  Clerkenwell  a 
play  which  lasted  three  days,  containing  the  History  of  the  World. 

JOHNSON. 

*  It  appears  that  the  tradesmen  of  Chester  were  three  days  employed  in  the  representation 
of  twenty-four  Whitsun  plays  or  mysteries.  See  Mr.  Markland's  Disquisition,  prefixed  to 
his  very  elegant  and  interesting  selection  from  the  Chester  Mysteries,  printed  for  private 
distribution  ;  which  may  be  consulted  in  the  third  volume  of  the  late  edition  of  Malone's 
Shakspeare,  by  Mr.  Boswell.  The  Coventry  Mysteries  must  have  taken  up  a  longer  time, 
as  they  were  no  less  than  forty  in  number. 


239 


TROILUS   AND  CRESSIDA. 


PRELIMINARY    REMARKS. 

"  MR.  STEEVENS  informs  us  that  Shakspeare  received  the  greater  part 
of  the  materials  that  were  used  in  the  construction  of  this  play  from  the 
Troy  Book  of  Lydgate.  It  is  presumed  that  the  learned  commentator 
would  have  been  nearer  the  fact,  had  he  substituted  the  Troy  Book,  or 
Recueyl,  translated  by  Caxton  from  Ramd  Le  Fevre  ;  which,  together  with 
a  translation  of  Homer,  supplied  the  incidents  of  the  Trojan  war.  Lydgate's 
work  was  becoming  obsolete,  whilst  the  other  was  at  this  time  in  the 
prime  of  its  vigor.  From  its  first  publication,  to  the  year  1619,  it  had 
passed  through  six  editions,  and  continued  to  be  popular  even  in  the 
eighteenth  century.  Mr.  Steevens  is  still  less  accurate  in  stating  Le 
Fevre's  work  to  be  a  translation  from  Guido  of  Colonna ;  for  it  is  only  in 
the  latter  part  that  he  has  made  any  use  of  him.  Yet  Guido  actually  had 
a  French  translation  before  the  time  of  Raoul ;  which  translation,  though 
never  printed,  is  remaining  in  MS.  under  the  whimsical  title  of '  La  Vie 
de  la  pitieuse  Destruction  de  la  noble  et  superlative  Cite  de  Troye  le  grand. 
Translatee  en  Francois  1'an  MCCCLXXX.'  Such  part  of  the  present 
play  as  relates  to  the  loves  of  Troilus  and  Cressida,  was  most  probably 
taken  from  Chaucer,  as  no  other  work,  accessible  to  Shakspeare,  could 
have  supplied  him  with  what  was  necessary."  This  account  is  by  MR. 
DOUCE,  from  whom  also  what  follows  on  this  subject  is  abstracted. 

Chaucer,  in  his  Troilus  and  Creseide,  asserts  that  he  followed  Lollius, 
and  that  he  translated  from  the  Latin ;  but  who  Lollius  was,  and  when  he 
lived,  we  have  no  certain  indication,  though  Dryden  boldly  asserts  that  he 
was  an  historiographer  of  Urbino,  in  Italy,  and  wrote  in  Latin  verse.  Noth 
ing  can  be  more  apparent  than  that  the  Filostrato  of  Boccaccio  afforded 
Chaucer  the  fable  and  characters  of  his  poem,  and  even  numerous  passages 
appear  to  be  mere  literal  translations ;  but  there  are  large  additions  in 
Chaucer's  work,  so  that  it  is  possible  he  may  have  followed  a  free  Latin 
version,  which  may  have  had  for  its  author  Lollius. 

Boccaccio  does  not  give  his  poem  as  a  translation,  and  we  must  there 
fore  suppose  him  to  have  been  the  inventor  of  the  fable,  until  we  have 
more  certain  indications  respecting  Lollius.  So  much  of  it  as  relates  to 
the  departure  of  Cressida  from  Troy,  and  her  subsequent  amour  with 
Diomed,  is  to  be  found  in  the  Troy  Book  of  Guido  of  Colonna,  composed 
in  1287,  and,  as  he  states,  from  Dares  Phrygius,  and  Dicty's  Cretensis, 
neither  of  whom  mention  the  name  of  Cressida.  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  conjec 
tured,  and  Mr.  Douce  confirmed  the  conjecture,  that  Guide's  Dares  was 
in  reality  an  old  Norman  poet,  named  Benoit  de  Saint  More,  who  wrote 
in  the  reign  of  our  Henry  the  Second,  and  who  himself  made  use  of  Dares. 
Guido  is  said  to  have  come  into  England,  where  he  found  the  Metrical  Ro 
mance  of  Benoit,  and  translated  it  into  Latin  prose  ;  and,  following  a  practice 
too  prevalent  in  the  middle  ages,  he  dishonestly  suppressed  the  mention 


210  TROILUS    AND   CRESSIDA. 

of  his  real  original.  Benoifs  work  exists  also  in  a  prose  French  version. 
And  there  is  a  compilation  also  in  French  prose,  by  Pierre  de  Beauvau, 
from  the  Filostrato. 

Lydgate  professedly  followed  Guido  oi  Colonna,  occasionally  making 
use  of  and  citing  other  authorities.  In  a  short  time  after,  Raoul  le  Fevre 
compiled,  from  various  materials,  his  Recueil  des  Histoires  de  Troye, 
which  was  translated  into  English  and  published  by  Caxton:  but  neither 
of  these  authors  have  given  any  more  of  the  story  of  Troilus  and  Cressida 
than  any  of  the  other  romances  on  the  war  of  Troy  ;  Lydgate  contenting 
himself  with  referring  to  Chaucer. 

Chaucer  having  made  the  loves  of  Troilus  and  Cressida  famous,  Shak 
speare  was  induced  to  try  their  fortunes  on  the  stage.  Lydgate's  Troy 
Book  was  printed  by  Pynson  in  1519.  In  the  books  of  the  Stationers' 
Company,  anno  1581,  is  entered,  "A  proper  Ballad  dialoguewise  between 
Troilus  and  Cressida."  Again,  by  J.  Roberts,  Feb.  7, 1602 :  "  The  Booke 
of  Troilus  and  Cressida,  as  it  is  acted  by  my  Lord  Chamberlain's  men." 
And  in  Jan.  28,  1608,  entered  by  Richard  Bonian  and  Hen.  Whalley: 
«  A  Booke  called  the  History  of  Troilus  and  Cressida."  This  last  entry 
is  made  by  the  booksellers,  who  published  this  play  in  4to.  in  1609.  To 
this  edition  is  prefixed  a  preface,  showing  that  the  play  was  printed  before 
it  had  been  acted  ;  and  that  it  was  published,  without  the  author's  knowl 
edge,  from  a  copy  that  had  fallen  into  the  booksellers'  hands.  This 
preface,  as  bestowing  just  praise  on  Shakspeare,  and  showing  that  the 
original  proprietors  of  his  plays  thought  it  their  interest  to  keep  them  un- 
printed,  is  prefixed  to  the  play  in  the  present  edition.  It  appears  from 
some  entries  in  the  accounts  of  Henslowe  the  player,  that  a  drama  on  this 
subject,  by  Decker  and  Chettle,  at  first  called  Troydles  and  Cressida,  but, 
before  its  production,  altered  in  its  title  to  The  Tragedy  of  Agamemnon, 
was  in  existence  anterior  to  Shakspeare's  play,  and  that  it  was  licensed 
by  the  master  of  the  revels  on  the  3d  of  June,  1599.  Malone  places  the 
date  of  the  composition  of  Shakspeare's  play  in  1602;  Mr.  Chalmers  in 
1600;  and  Dr.  Drake  in  1601.  They  have  been  led  to  this  conclusion  by 
the  supposed  ridicule  of  the  circumstance  of  Cressid  receiving  the  sleeve 
of  Troilus,  and  giving  him  her  glove,  in  the  comedy  of  Histriomastix,  1610. 
I  think  that  the  satire  was  pointed  at  the  older  drama  of  Decker  and 
Chettle  ;  and  should  certainly  give  a  later  date  to  the  play  of  Shakspeare 
than  that  which  has  been  assigned  to  it.  If  we  may  credit  the  preface  to 
the  4to.  of  1609,  this  play  had  not  then  appeared  on  the  stage,  and  could 
not  therefore  have  been  ridiculed  in  a  piece  written  previous  to  the  death 
of  queen  Elizabeth.  Malone  says,  "  Were  it  not  for  the  entry  in  the 
Stationers'  books  [of  which  there  is  no  proof  that  it.  relates  to  this  play], 
I  should  have  been  led,  both  by  the  color  of  the  style,  and  from  this 
preface,  to  class  it  in  the  year  1608." 

There  is  no  reason  for  concluding,  with  Schlegel,  that  Shakspeare  in 
tended  his  drama  as  "one  continued"  irony  of  the  crown  of  all  heroic  tales 
— the  tale  of  Troy."  The  Poet  abandoned  the  classic,  and  followed  the 
Gothic  or  romantic  authorities ;  and  this  influenced  the  color  of  his  per 
formance.  The  fact  probably  is,  that  he  pursued  the  manner  in  which 
parts  of  the  story  had  been  before  dramatized.  There  is  an  interlude  on 
the  subject  of  Thersites,*  resembling  the  old  mysteries  in  its  structure, 
but  full  of  the  lowest  buffoonery.  If  the  drama  of  Decker  and  Chettle 
were  now  to  be  found,  I  doubt  not  we  should  see  that  the  present  play 
was  at  least  founded  on  it,  if  not  a  mere  rifaccimento.\ 

*  This  interlude,  together  with  another  not  less  curious,  called  Jack  Juggler,  was  reprinted 
from  a  unique  ropy  by  Mr.  Haslewood  for  the  Roxburgh  club. 

t  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  has  observed  that  there  are  more  hard,  bomhaatical  phrases  in  this  play 
than  can  be  pii  ked  out  of  any  other  six  plays  of  Shakspeare.  Would  not  this  be  an  addi 
tional  argument  that  it  may  be  a  mere  alteration  of  the  older  play  above  mentioned  ? 


PRELIMINARY    REMARKS.  241 

"  The  whole  catalogue  of  the  Dramatis  Personae  in  the  play  of  Troilua 
and  Cressida  (says  Mr.  Godwin),  so  far  as  they  depend  upon  a  rich  and 
original  vein  of  humor  in  the  author,  are  drawn  with  a  felicity  which  never 
was  surpassed.  The  genius  of  Homer  has  been  a  topic  of  admiration  to 
almost  every  generation  of  men  since  the  period  in  which  he  wrote.  But 
his  characters  will  not  bear  the  slightest  comparison  with  the  delineation 
of  the  same  characters  as  they  stand  in  Shakspoarc.  This  is  a  species  of 
honor  which  ought  by  no  means  to  be  forgotten  when  we  are  making  the 
eulogium  of  our  immortal  Bard,  a  sort  of  illustration  of  his  greatness 
which  cannot  fail  to  place  it  in  a  very  conspicuous  light.  The  dispositions 
of  men,  perhaps,  had  not  been  sufficiently  unfolded  in  the  very  early 
period  of  intellectual  refinement  when  Homer  wrote ;  the  rays  of  humor 
had  not  been  dissected  by  the  glass,  or  rendered  perdurable  by  the  rays 
of  the  poet.  Homer's  characters  are  drawn  with  a  laudable  portion  of 
variety  and  consistency;  but  his  Achilles,  his  Ajax,  and  his  Nestor,  are, 
each  of  them,  rather  a  species  than  an  individual,  and  can  boast  more  of 
the  propriety  of  abstraction  than  of  the  vivacity  of  the  moving  scene  of 
absolute  life.  The  Achilles,  Ajax,  and  the  various  Grecian  heroes  of 
Shakspeare,  on  the  other  hand,  are  absolutely  men,  deficient  in  nothing 
which  can  tend  to  individualize  them,  and  already  touched  with  the  Pro 
methean  fire  that  might  infuse  a  soul  into  what,  without  it,  were  lifeless 
form.  From  the  rest,  perhaps,  the  character  of  Thersites  deserves  to  be 
selected,  (how  cold  and  schoolboy  a  sketch  in  Homer !)  as  exhibiting  an 
appropriate  vein  of  sarcastic  humor  amidst  his  cowardice,  and  a  profound 
ness  and  truth  in  his  mode  of  laying  open  the  foibles  of  those  about  him, 
impossible  to  be  excelled." 

"  Shakspeare  possessed — no  man  in  a  higher  perfection — the  true  dignity 
and  loftiness  of  the  poetical  afflatus,  which  he  had  displayed  in  many  of 
the  finest  passages  of  his  works  with  miraculous  success.  But  he  knew 
that  no  man  ever  was,  or  ever  can  be,  always  dignified.  He  knew  that 
those  subtler  traits  of  character  which  identify  a  man,  are  familiar  and 
relaxed,  pervaded  with  passion,  and  not  played  off  with  an  eye  to  external 
decorum  In  this  respect  the  peculiarities  of  Shakspeare's  genius  are  no 
where  more  forcibly  illustrated  than  in  the  play  we  are  hare  considering." 

"The  champions  of  Greece  and  Troy,  from  the  hour  in  which  their 
names  were  first  recorded,  had  always  worn  a  certain  formality  of  attire, 
and  inarched  with  a  slow  and  measured  step.  No  poet,  till  this  time,  had 
ever  ventured  to  force  them  out  of  the  manner  which  their  epic  creator 
had  given  them.  Shakspeare  first  supplied  their  limbs,  took  from  them 
the  classic  stiffness  of  their  gait,  and  enriched  them  with  an  entire  set  of 
those  attributes  which  might  render  them  completely  beings  of  the  same 
species  with  ourselves."  * 

*  Life  of  Chaucer,  vol.  1.  p.  509-12,  8vo.  ed. 
VOL.    V.  31 


242 


PREFACE 

TO  THE  QUARTO  EDITION  OF  THIS  PLAY,  1609. 


A  never  writer,  to  an  ever  reader.    Newes. 

ETERNALL  READER,  you  have  heere  a  new  play,  nevei 
stal'd  with  the  stage,  never  clapper-claw'd  with  the  palmes 
of  the  vulger,  and  yet  passing  full  of  the  palme  comicall ;  for 
it  is  a  birth  of  your  braine,  that  never  under-tooke  any  thing 
commicall,  vainely  :  and  were  but  the  vaine  names  of  comme- 
dies  changde  for  the  titles  of  commodities,  or  of  playes  for 
pleas  ;  you  should  see  all  those  grand  censors,  that  now  stile 
them  such  vanities,  flock  to  them  for  the  maine  grace  of  their 
gravities ;  especially  this  authors  commedies,  that  are  so 
fram'd  to  the  life,  that  they  serve  for  the  most  common  com 
mentaries  of  all  the  actions  of  our  lives,  shewing  such  a  dex- 
teritie  and  power  of  witte,  that  the  most  displeased  with 
playes,  are  pleasd  with  his  commedies.  And  all  such  dull 
and  heavy  witted  worldlings,  as  were  never  capable  of  the 
witte  of  a  commedie,  comming  by  report  of  them  to  his  rep 
resentations,  have  found  that  witte  there,  that  they  never 
found  in  them-selves,  and  have  parted  better-wittied  then 
they  came :  feeling  an  edge  of  witte  set  upon  them,  more 
than  ever  they  dreamd  they  had  braine  to  grind  it  on.  So 
much  and  such  savored  salt  of  witte  is  in  his  commedies,  that 
they  seem  (for  their  height  of  pleasure)  to  be  borne  in  that 
sea  that  brought  forth  Venus.  Amongst  all  there  is  none 
more  witty  than  this :  and  had  I  time  I  would  comment  upon 
it,  though  I  know  it  needs  not  (for  so  much  as  will  make  you 
think  your  testern  well  bestowd,)  but  for  so  much  worth,  as 


PREFACE  TO  THE  QUARTO  EDITION.  243 

even  poore  I  know  to  be  stuft  in  it.  It  deserves  such  a  la 
bour,  as  well  as  the  best  commedy  in  Terence  or  Plautus. 
And  beleeve  this,  that  when  hee  is  gone,  and  his  commedies 
out  of  sale,  you  will  scramble  for  them,  and  set  up  a  new 
English  inquisition.  Take  this  for  a  warning,  and  at  the 
perill  of  your  pleasures  losse,  and  judgements,  refuse  not, 
nor  like  this  the  lesse,  for  not  being  sullied  with  the  smoaky 
breath  of  the  multitude  ;  but  thank  fortune  for  the  scape  it 
hath  made  amongst  you.  Since  by  the  grand  possessors  wills 
I  believe  you  should  have  prayd  for  them  rather  then  beene 
prayd.  And  so  I  leave  all  such  to  bee  prayd  for  (for  the 
states  of  their  wits  healths)  that  will  not  praise  it. — Vale. 


244 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED. 


PRIAM,  King  of  Troy  : 

HECTOR, 

TROILUS, 

PARIS,  his  Sons. 

DEIPHOBUS, 

HELENUS, 


CALCHAS,  a  Trojan  Priest,  taking  part  with  the  Greeks. 
PANDARUS,  Uncle  to  Cressida. 
MARGARELON,  a  Bastard  Son  of  Priam. 

AGAMEMNON,  the  Grecian  General. 
MENELAUS,  his  Brother. 
ACHILLES, 
AJAX, 

NESTOR,'      /Grecian  Commanders. 

DlOMEDES, 

PATROCLUS, 

THERSITES,  a  deformed  and  scurrilous  Grecian. 
ALEXANDER,  Servant  to  Cressida. 

Servant  to  Troilus  ;  Servant  to  Paris;  Servant  to  Dio- 
medes. 

HELEN,  Wife  to  Menelaus. 
ANDROMACHE,  Wife  to  Hector. 
CASSANDRA,  Daughter  to  Priam  ;  a  Prophetess. 
CRESSIDA,  Daughter  to  Calchas. 

Trojan  and  Greek  Soldiers,  and  Attendants. 
SCENE.     Troy,  and  the  Grecian  Camp  before  it. 


245 


TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA. 


PROLOGUE.1 

IN  Troy,  there  lies  the  scene.   From  isles  of  Greece 

The  princes  orgulous,2  their  high  blood  chafed, 

Have  to  the  port  of  Athens  sent  their  ships, 

Fraught  with  the  ministers  and  instruments 

Of  cruel  war.    Sixty  and  nine,  that  wore 

Their  crownets  regal,  from  the  Athenian  bay 

Put  forth  toward  Phrygia.     And  their  vow  is  made, 

To  ransack  Troy ;  within  whose  strong  immures 

The  ravished  Helen,  Menelaus'  queen, 

With  wanton  Paris  sleeps.     And  that's  the  quarrel. 

To  Tenedos  they  come  ; 

And  the  deep-drawing  barks  do  there  disgorge 

Their  warlike  fraughtage.3     Now  on  Dardan  plains 

The  fresh  and  yet  un  bruised  Greeks  do  pitch 

Their  brave  pavilions :  Priam's  six-gated  city, 

Dardan,  and  Tymbria,  Ilias,  Chetas,  Trojan, 

And  Antenorides,  with  massy  staples, 

And  corresponsive  and  fulfilling  bolts, 

Sperr 4  up  the  sons  of  Troy. 

1  This  prologue  is  wanting  in  the  quarto  editions.     Steevens  thinks  that 
it  is  not  by  Shakspeare ;  and  that  perhaps  the  drama  itself  is  not  entirely 
of  his  construction.     It  appears  to  have  escaped  Heminge  and  Condell, 
the  editors  of  the  first  folio,  until  the  volume  was  almost  printed  off;  and 
is  thrust  in  between  the  tragedies  and  histories  without  any  enumeration 
of  pages,  except  on  one  leaf.     There  seems  to  have  been  a  previous  play 
on  the  same  subject  by  Henry  Chettle  and  Thomas  Decker.     Entries 
appear  in  the  accounts  of  Henslowe  of  money  advanced  to  them  in  earnest 
of  Troy  lies  and  Cressida,  in  April  and  May,  1 599. 

2  Proud,  disdainful. 

3  Freight. 

4  Sperr  or  spar,  to  close,  fasten,  or  bar  up. 


246  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  I 

Now  expectation,  tickling  skittish  spirits, 

On  one  and  other  side,  Trojan  and  Greek, 

Sets  all  on  hazard.    And  hither  am  I  come, 

A  prologue  armed, — but  not  in  confidence 

Of  author's  pen,  or  actor's  voice  ;  but  suited 

In  like  conditions  as  our  argument, — 

To  tell  you,  fair  beholders,  that  our  play 

Leaps  o'er  the  vaunt l  and  firstlings  of  those  broils, 

'Ginning  in  the  middle ;  starting  thence  away 

To  what  may  be  digested  in  a  play. 

Like  or  find  fault ;  do  as  your  pleasures  are ; 

Now,  good,  or  bad,  'tis  but  the  chance  of  war. 


ACT    I. 

SCENE  I.    Troy.    Before  Priam's  Palace. 

Enter  TROILUS,  armed,  and  PANDARUS. 

Troilus.    CALL  here  my  varlet,2  I'll  unarm  again  : 
Why  should  1  war  without  the  walls  of  Troy, 
That  find  such  cruel  battle  here  within  ? 
Each  Trojan,  that  is  master  of  his  heart, 
Let  him  to  field ;  Troilus,  alas  !  hath  none. 

Pan.    Will  this  gear  ne'er  be  mended  ? 

Tro.    The  Greeks  are  strong,  and  skilful    to  their 

strength,3 

Fierce  to  their  skill,  and  to  their  fierceness  valiant ; 
But  I  am  weaker  than  a  woman's  tear, 
Tamer  than  sleep,  fonder 4  than  ignorance : 


1  i.  e.  the  avant,  what  went  before. 

2  This  word,  which  we  have  from  the  old  French  varlet   or  vadlet, 
anciently  signified  a  groom,  a  servant  of  the  meaner  sort. 

3  i.  e.  in  addition  to. 

4  i.  e.  more  weak. 


SC.  I.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  247 

Less  valiant  than  the  virgin  in  the  night, 
And  skilless  as  unpractised  infancy. 

Pan.  Well,  I  have  told  you  enough  of  this  ;  for  my 
part,  I'll  not  meddle  nor  make  no  further.  He  that 
will  have  a  cake  out  of  the  wheat,  must  tarry  the 
grinding. 

Tro.    Have  I  not  tarried  ? 

Pan.    Ay,  the  grinding ;    but   you  must  tarry  the 
bolting. 

Tro.    Have  I  not  tarried  ? 

Pan.    Ay,  the    bolting;   but   you    must    tarry   the 
leavening. 

Tro.    Still  have  I  tarried. 

Pan.  Ay,  to  the  leavening ;  but  here's  yet  in  the 
word — hereafter,  the  kneading,  the  making  of  the  cake, 
the  heating  of  the  oven,  and  the  baking  ;  nay,  you 
must  stay  the  cooling  too,  or  you  may  chance  to  burn 
your  lips. 

Tro.    Patience  herself,  what  goddess  e'er  she  be, 
Doth  lesser  blench l  at  sufferance  than  I  do. 
At  Priam's  royal  table  do  I  sit ; 
And  when  fair  Cressid  comes  into  my  thoughts, — 
So,  traitor  ! — when  she  comes  ! When  is  she  thence? 

Pan.  Well,  she  looked  yesternight  fairer  than  ever 
I  saw  her  look,  or  any  woman  else. 

Tro.    I  was  about  to  tell  thee, — When  my  heart, 
As  wedged  with  a  sigh,  would  rive  in  twain, 
Lest  Hector  or  my  father  should  perceive  me, 
I  have  (as  when  the  sun  doth  light  a  storm) 
Buried  this  sigh  in  wrinkle  of  a  smile  ; 
But  sorrow,  that  is  couched  in  seeming  gladness, 
Is  like  that  mirth  fate  turns  to  sudden  sadness. 

Pan.  An  her  hair  were  not  somewhat  darker  than 
Helen's,  (well,  go  to,)  there  were  no  more  comparison 
between  the  women. — But,  for  my  part,  she  is  my 
kinswoman ;  1  would  not,  as  they  term  it,  praise  her, 
— But  I  would  somebody  had  heard  her  talk  yesterday, 
as  I  did.  I  will  not  dispraise  your  sister  Cassandra's 
wit ;  but — 

1  To  blench  is  to  shrink,  start,  or  fly  off. 


248  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  I. 

Tro.    O  Pandarus  !  1  tell  thee,  Pandarus, — 
When  I  do  tell  thee,  There  my  hopes  lie  drowned, 
Reply  not  in  how  many  fathoms  deep 
They  lie  indrenched.     I  tell  thee,  I  am  mad 
In  Cressid's  love.    Thou  answerest,  She  is  fair: 
Pour'st  in  the  open  ulcer  of  my  heart 
Her  eyes,  her  hair,  her  cheek,  her  gait,  her  voice; 
Handiest1  in  thy  discourse  —  O,  that  her  hand  ! 
In  whose  comparison  all  whites  are  ink, 
Writing  their  own  reproach ;   to  whose  soft  seizure 
The  cygnet  down  is  harsh,  and  spirit  of  sense 2 
Hard  as  the  palm  of  ploughmen  !  This  thou  tell'st  me, 
As  true  thou  tell'st  me,  when  I  say — I  love  her ; 
But,  saying  thus,  instead  of  oil  and  balm, 
Thou  lay'st  in  every  gash  that  love  hath  given  me 
The  knife  that  made  it. 

Pan.    I  speak  no  more  than  truth. 

Tro.    Thou  dost  not  speak  so  much. 

Pan.  'Faith,  I'll  not  meddle  in't.  Let  her  be  as 
she  is  ;  if  she  be  fair,  'tis  the  better  for  her ;  an  she  be 
not,  she  has  the  mends  in  her  own  hands.3 

Tro.    Good  Pandarus !    How  now,  Pandarus  ? 

Pan.  I  have  had  my  labor  for  my  travel  ;  ill  thought 
on  of  her,  and  ill  thought  on  of  you  ;  gone  between  and 
between,  but  small  thanks  for  my  labor. 

Tro.    What,  art  thou  angry,  Pandarus  ?  what,  with 
me  ? 

Pan.  Because  she  is  kin  to  me,  therefore  she's  not 
so  fair  as  Helen :  an  she  were  not  kin  to  me,  she 
would  be  as  fair  on  Friday  as  Helen  is  on  Sunday. 
But  what  care  I  ?  I  care  not,  an  she  were  a  black-a- 
trvoor  ;  'tis  all  one  to  me. 

Tro.    Say  I,  she  is  not  fair  ? 


1  Handiest  is  nere  used  metaphorically,  with  an  allusion,  at  the  same 
time,  to  its  literal  meaning. 

2  Warburton  rashly  altered  this  to  " spite  of  sense." — Hanmer 

reads : — " to  iK  spirit  of  sense  ; "   which  is  considered  right  and 

necessary  by  Mason.     It  appears  to  mean  "  The  spirit  of  sense  (i.  e.  the 
most  fine  or  exquisite  sense  of  touch,)  is  harsh  and  hard  as  the  palm  of  a 
ploughman,  compared  to  the  sensation  of  softness  in  pressing  Cressid's  hand." 

3  "  The  remedy  lies  with  herself." 


SC.  I.J  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  249 

Pan.  I  do  not  care  whether  you  do  or  no.  She's 
a  fool  to  stay  behind  her  father ; l  let  her  to  the  Greeks  ; 
and  so  I'll  tell  her  the  next  time  I  see  her :  for  my  part, 
I'll  meddle  nor  make  no  more  in  the  matter. 

Tro.    Pandarus, 

Pan.   Not  I. 

Tro.    Sweet  Pandarus,— 

Pan.  Pray  you,  speak  no  more  to  me ;  I  will  leave 
all  as  I  found  it,  and  there  an  end. 

[Exit  PANDARUS.      An  alarum. 

Tro.    Peace,  you  ungracious  clamors  !    peace,  rude 

sounds ! 

Fools  on  both  sides  ! — Helen  must  needs  be  fair, 
When  with  your  blood  you  daily  paint  her  thus. 
I  cannot  fight  upon  this  argument ; 
It  is  too  starved  a  subject  for  my  sword. 
But,  Pandarus — O  gods,  how  do  you  plague  me  ! 
I  cannot  come  to  Cressid,  but  by  Pandar ; 
And  he's  as  tetchy  to  be  wooed  to  woo, 
As  she  is  stubborn-chaste  against  all  suit. 
Tell  me,  Apollo,  for  thy  Daphne's  love, 
What  Cressid  is,  what  Pandar,  and  what  we  ? 
Her  bed  is  India ;  there  she  lies,  a  pearl ; 
Between  our  Ilium,2  and  where  she  resides, 
Let  it  be  called  the  wild  and  wandering  flood  ; 
Ourself,  the  merchant ;  and  their  sailing  Pandar, 
Our  doubtful  hope,  our  convoy,  and  our  bark. 


1  Calchas,  according  to  the  Old  Troy  Book,  was  "  a  great,  learned 
bishop  of  Troy,"  who  was  sent  by  Priam  to  consult  the  oracle  of  Delphi 
concerning  the  event  of  the  war  which  threatened  Agamemnon.     As  soon 
as  he  had  made  "  his  oblations  and  demands  for  them  of  Troy,  Apollo 
aunswered  unto  him  saying,  Calchas,  Calchas,  beware  thou  returne  not 
back  againe  to  Troy,  but  goe  thou  with  Achylles  unto  the  Greekes,  and 
depart  never  from  them,  for  the  Greekes  shall  have  victorie  of  the  Trojans, 
by  the  agreement  of  the  gods." — Hist,  of  the  Destruction  of  Troy,  translated 
by  Caxton,  ed.  1617.     The  prudent  bishop  immediately  joined  the  Greeks. 

2  Ilium,  properly  speaking,  is  the  name  of  the  city  ;  Troy,  that  of  the 
country.     But  Shakspeare,  following  the  Troy  Book,  gives  that  name  to 
Priam's  palace,  said  to  have  been  built  upon  a  high  rock 

VOL.  v.  32 


250  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  i. 

Alarum.     Enter  ^ENEAS. 

JEne.     How   now,  prince  Troilus?   wherefore  not 
afield  ? 

Tro.   Because   not  there.    This    woman's    answer 

sorts,1 

For  womanish  it  is  to  be  from  thence. 
What  news,  ^Eneas,  from  the  field  to-day  ? 

JEne.    That  Paris  is  returned  home,  and  hurt. 

Tro.    By  whom,  jEneas  ? 

JEine.  Troilus,  by  Menelaus. 

Tro.    Let  Paris  bleed  :  'tis  but  a  scar  to  scorn ; 
Paris  is  gored  with  Menelaus'  horn.  [Alarum. 

jEne.    Hark !  what  good  sport  is  out  of  town  to-day ! 

Tro.   Better  at  home,  if  would  I  might  were  may. — 
But,  to  the  sport  abroad ; — Are  you  bound  thither  ? 

jEne.    In  all  swift  haste. 

Tro.  Come,  go  we  then  together. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.     The  same.     A  Street. 

Enter  CRESSIDA  and  ALEXANDER. 

Cres.   Who  were  those  went  by  ? 

Alex.  Queen  Hecuba  and  Helen. 

Cres.    And  whither  go  they  ? 

Alex.  Up  to  the  eastern  tower, 

Whose  height  commands  as  subject  all  the  vale, 
To  see  the  battle.     Hector,  whose  patience 
Is,  as  a  virtue,  fixed,  to-day  was  moved : 
He  chid  Andromache,  and  struck  his  armorer ; 
And,  like  as  there  were  husbandry  in  war, 
Before  the  sun  rose,  he  was  harnessed  light,2 
And  to  the  field  goes  he  ;  where  every  flower 


1  i.  e.  fits,  suits. 

2  Light  and  lightly  are  often  used  for  nimbly,  quickly,  readily,  by  our 
old  writers.     No  expression  is  more  common  than  "  light  of  foot."    And 
Shakspeare  has  even  used  "  light  of  ear." 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  251 

Did,  as  a  prophet,  weep  what  it  foresaw 
In  Hector's  wrath. 

Cres.    What  was  his  cause  of  anger  ? 

Alex.    The  noise  goes,  this  : — There  is  among  the 

Greeks 

A  lord  of  Trojan  blood,  nephew  to  Hector  ; 
They  call  him  Ajax. 

Cres.  Good  ;  and  what  of  him  ? 

Alex.    They  say  he  is  a  very  man  per  se,1 
And  stands  alone. 

Cres.  So  do  all  men  ;  unless  they  are  drunk,  sick, 
or  have  no  legs. 

Alex.  This  man,  lady,  hath  robbed  many  beasts  of 
their  particular  addition^ ; 2  he  is  as  valiant  as  the  lion, 
churlish  as  the  bear,  slow  as  the  elephant ;  a  man  into 
whom  nature  hath  so  crowded  humors  that  his  valor  is 
crushed  into  folly,  his  folly  sauced  with  discretion ; 
there  is  no  man  hath  a  virtue  that  he  hath  not  a  glimpse 
of;  nor  any  man  an  attaint,  but  he  carries  some  stain 
of  it ;  he  is  melancholy  without  cause,  and  merry 
against  the  hair  ; 3  He  hath  the  joints  of  every  thing ; 
but  every  thing  so  out  of  joint,  that  he  is  a  gouty 
Briareus,  many  hands  and  no  use  ;  or  purblind  Argus, 
all  eyes  and  no  sight. 

Cres.  But  how7  should  this  man,  that  makes  me 
smile,  make  Hector  angry  ? 

Alex.  They  say,  he  yesterday  coped  Hector  in  the 
battle,  and  struck  him  down ;  the  disdain  and  shame 
whereof  hath  ever  since  kept  Hector  fasting  and 
waking. 

Enter  PANDARUS. 

Cres.   Who  comes  here  ? 

Alex.    Madam,  your  uncle  Pandarus. 

1  i.  e.  an  extraordinary  or  incomparable  person,  like  the  letter  A  by 
itself.     Thus  in  Henrysoun's  Testament  ol"  Cresseid,  wrongly  attributed 
by  Steevens  to  Chaucer : — 

"  Of  faire  Cresseide,  the  floure  and  a  per  se  of  Troy  and  Greece." 

2  Their  titles,  marks  of  distinction  or  denominations. 

3  Equivalent  to  a  phrase  still  in  use — against  the  grain.     The  French 
say,  a  contrepoil. 


252  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  1. 

Cres.  Hector's  a  gallant  man. 

Alex.    As  may  be  in  the  world,  lady. 

Pan.    What's  that  ?  what's  that  ?  * 

Cres.    Good  morrow,  uncle  Pandarus. 

Pan.  Good  morrow,  cousin  Cressid.  What  do  you 
talk  of? — Good  morrow,  Alexander. — How  do  you, 
cousin  ?  When  were  you  at  Ilium  ? 

Cres.    This  morning,  uncle. 

Pan.  What  were  you  talking  of,  when  I  came  ? 
Was  Hector  armed,  and  gone,  ere  ye  came  to  Ilium  ? 
Helen  was  not  up,  was  she  ? 

Cres.    Hector  was  gone  ;  but  Helen  was  not  up. 

Pan.   E'en  so ;  Hector  was  stirring  early. 

Cres.    That  were  we  talking  of,  and  of  his  anger. 

Pan.    Was  he  angry  ? 

Cres.    So  he  says  here. 

Pan.  True,  he  was  so ;  I  know  the  cause  too  :  he'll 
lay  about  him  to-day,  I  can  tell  them  that ;  and  there 
is  Troilus  will  not  come  far  behind  him ;  let  them  take 
heed  of  Troilus ;  I  can  tell  them  that  too. 

Cres.    What,  is  he  angry  too  ? 

Pan.  Who,  Troilus  ?  Troilus  is  the  better  man  of 
the  two. 

Cres.    O  Jupiter !  there's  no  comparison. 

Pan.  What,  not  between  Troilus  and  Hector  ?  Do 
you  know  a  man  if  you  see  him  ? 

Cres.    Ay,  if  ever  I  saw  him  before,  and  knew  him. 

Pan.    Well,  I  say,  Troilus  is  Troilus. 

Cres.  Then  you  say  as  I  say ;  for  I  am  sure,  he  is 
not  Hector. 

Pan.    No,  nor  Hector  is  not  Troilus,  in  some  degrees. 

Cres.    'Tis  just  to  each  of  them  ;  he  is  himself. 

Pan.  Himself?  Alas,  poor  Troilus!  I  would  he 
were, 

Cres.    So  he  is. 

Pan.   Condition,  I  had  gone  barefoot  to  India. 

Cres.    He  is  not  Hector. 

Pan.  Himself?  no,  he's  not  himself — 'Would  'a  were 
himself !  Well,  the  gods  are  above ;  Time  must  friend 
or  end.  Well,  Troilus,  well, — I  would  my  heart  were 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  253 

in  her  body ! — No,  Hector  is  not  a  better  man  than 
Troilus. 

Ores.   Excuse  me. 

Pan.    He  is  elder. 

Ores.    Pardon  me,  pardon  me. 

Pan.  The  other's  not  come  to't ;  you  shall  tell  me 
another  tale  when  the  other's  come  to't.  Hector  shall 
not  have  his  wit  this  year. 

Cres.    He  shall  not  need  it,  if  he  have  his  own. 

Pan.    Nor  his  qualities  ; — 

Cres.    No  matter. 

Pan.   Nor  his  beauty. 

Cres.    'Twould  not  become  him  ;  his  own's  better. 

Pan.  You  have  no  judgment,  niece.  Helen  herself 
swore  the  other  day,  that  Troilus,  for  a  brown  favor, 
(for  so  'tis,  I  must  confess,) — Not  brown  neither. 

Cres.   No,  but  brown. 

Pan.    'Faith,  to  say  truth,  brown  and  not  brown. 

Cres.    To  say  the  truth,  true  and  not  true. 

Pan.    She  praised  his  complexion  above  Paris. 

Cres.    Why,  Paris  hath  color  enough. 

Pan.    So  he  has. 

Cres.  Then,  Troilus  should  have  too  much.  If  she 
praised  him  above,  his  complexion  is  higher  than  his ; 
he  having  color  enough,  and  the  other  higher,  is  too 
flaming  a  praise  for  a  good  complexion.  I  had  as  lief 
Helen's  golden  tongue  had  commended  Troilus  for  a 
copper  nose. 

Pan.  I  swear  to  you,  I  think  Helen  loves  him  bet 
ter  than  Paris. 

Cres.    Then  she's  a  merry  Greek,1  indeed. 

Pan.  Nay,  I  am  sure  she  does.  She  came  to  him 
the  other  day  into  the  compassed2  window, — and,  you 
know,  he  has  not  past  three  or  four  hairs  on  his  chin. 

Cres.  Indeed,  a  tapster's  arithmetic  may  soon  bring 
his  particulars  therein  to  a  total. 

Pan.  Why,  he  is  very  young  ;  and  yet  will  he,  with 
in  three  pound,  lift  as  much  as  his  brother  Hector. 

1  See  Twelfth  Night,  Act  iv.  Sc.  1. 

2  A  compassed  window  is  a  circular  bow- window. 


254  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  I. 

Ores.    Is  he  so  young  a  man,  and  so  old  a  lifter  I1 

Pan.  But,  to  prove  to  you  that  Helen  loves  him ; 
— she  came,  and  puts  me  her  white  hand  to  his  cloven 
chin, 

Ores.    Juno  have  mercy  ! — How  came  it  cloven  ? 

Pan.  Why,  you  know,  'tis  dimpled.  I  think  his 
smiling  becomes  him  better  than  any  man  in  all  Phrygia. 

Ores.    O,  he  smiles  valiantly. 

Pan.    Does  he  not  ? 

Ores.    O  yes,  an  'twere  a  cloud  in  autumn. 

Pan.  Why,  go  to,  then : — But  to  prove  to  you  that 
Helen  loves  Troilus, 

Cres.  Troilus  will  stand  to  the  proof,  if  you'll  prove 
it  so. 

Pan.  Troilus  ?  wrhy,  he  esteems  her  no  more  than 
I  esteem  an  addle  egg. 

Cres.  If  you  love  an  addle  egg  as  well  as  you  love 
an  idle  head,  you  would  eat  chickens  i'  the  shell. 

Pan.  I  cannot  choose  but  laugh  to  think  how  she 
tickled  his  chin ; — indeed,  she  has  a  marvellous  white 
hand,  I  must  needs  confess. 

Cres.    Without  the  rack. 

Pan.  And  she  takes  upon  her  to  spy  a  white  hair 
on  his  chin. 

Cres.    Alas,  poor  chin  !  many  a  wart  is  richer. 

Pan.  But  there  was  such  laughing ; — queen  Hecuba 
laughed,  that  her  eyes  ran  o'er. 

Cres.    With  mill-stones.2 

Pan.    And  Cassandra  laughed. 

Cres.  But  there  was  a  more  temperate  fire  under 
the  pot  of  her  eyes  ; — Did  her  eyes  run  o'er  too  ? 

Pan.    And  Hector  laughed. 

Cres.    At  what  was  all  this  laughing  ? 

Pan.  Marry,  at  the  white  hair  that  Helen  spied  on 
Troilus'  chin. 

Cres.  An't  had  been  a  green  hair,  I  should  have 
laughed  too. 

1  Lifter,  a  term  for  a  thief;  from  the  Gothic  Uiflus. 

2  So  in  King  Richard  III.:— 

"  Your  eyes  drop  mill-stones,  when  fools'  eyes  drop  tears." 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESS1DA.  255 

Pan.  They  laughed  not  so  much  at  the  hair,  as  at 
his  pretty  answer. 

Ores.    What  was  his  answer  ? 

Pan.  Quoth  she,  Here's  but  one-and-fifty  hairs  on 
your  chin,  and  one  of  them  is  white. 

Ores.    This  is  her  question. 

Pan.  That's  true  ;  make  no  question  of  that.  O^e- 
and-fifty  hairs,  quoth  he,  and  one  white.  That  white 
hair  is  my  father,  and  all  the  rest  are  his  sons.  Jupiter ! 
quoth  she,  which  of  these  hairs  is  Paris,  my  husband  ? 
The  forked  one,  quoth  he  ;  pluck  it  out,  and  give  it  him. 
But,  there  was  such  laughing  !  and  Helen  so  blushed, 
and  Paris  so  chafed,  and  all  the  rest  so  laughed,  that 
it  passed.1 

Ores.  So  let  it  now ;  for  it  has  been  a  great  while 
going  by. 

Pan.  Well,  cousin,  I  told  you  a  thing  yesterday ; 
think  on't. 

Cres.    So  I  do. 

Pan.  I'll  be  sworn,  'tis  true ;  he  will  weep  you,  an 
'twere  a  man  bom  in  April. 

Cres.  And  I'll  spring  up  in  his  tears,  an  'twere  a 
nettle  against  May.  [A  retreat  sounded. 

Pan.  Hark,  they  are  coming  from  the  field.  Shall 
we  stand  up  here,  and  see  them,  as  they  pass  toward 
Ilium  ?  Good  niece,  do ;  sweet  niece  Cressida. 

Cres.    At  your  pleasure. 

Pan.  Here,  here,  here's  an  excellent  place ;  here 
we  may  see  most  bravely.  I'll  tell  you  them  all  by 
their  names,  as  they  pass  by ;  but  mark  Troilus  above 
the  rest. 

^ENEAS  passes  over  the  stage. 

Cres.    Speak  not  so  loud. 

Pan.  That's  .ZEneas;  is  not  that  a  brave  man? 
He's  one  of  the  flowers  of  Troy,  I  can  tell  you.  But 
mark  Troilus ;  you  shall  see  anon. 

Cres.   Who's  that  ?  . 

1  i.  e.  passed  all  expression. 


256  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  I. 

ANTENOR  passes  over. 

Pan.  That's  Antenor :  he  has  a  shrewd  wit,  I  can 
tell  you ;  and  he's  a  man  good  enough ;  he's  one  o'  the 
soundest  judgments  in  Troy,  whosoever,  and  a  proper 
man  of  person. — When  comes  Troilus  ? — I'll  show 
you  Troilus  anon ;  if  he  see  me,  you  shall  see  him 
nod  at  me. 

Ores.  Will  he  give  you  the  nod  ? 

Pan.   You  shall  see. 

Ores.    If  he  do,  the  rich  shall  have  more. 

HECTOR  passes  over. 

Pan.  That's  Hector,  that,  that,  look  you,  that! 
There's  a  fellow  ! — Go  thy  way,  Hector ; — There's  a 
brave  man,  niece.  O  brave  Hector ! — Look,  how  he 
looks  !  there's  a  countenance.  Is't  not  a  brave  man  ? 

Ores.    O,  a  brave  man  ! 

Pan.  Is  'a  not  ?  It  does  a  man's  heart  good ; — 
Look  you  what  hacks  are  on  his  helmet!  look  you 
yonder,  do  you  see  ?  look  you  there !  There's  no 
jesting ;  there's  laying  on  ;  take't  off  who  will,  as 
they  say ;  there  be  hacks  ! 

Cres.   Be  those  with  swords  ? 

PARIS  passes  over. 

Pan.  Swords ?  Any  thing,  he  cares  not ;  an  the 
devil  come  to  him,  it's  all  one.  By  God's  lid,  it  does 
one's  heart  good. — Yonder  comes  Paris,  yonder  comes 
Paris  :  look  ye  yonder,  niece ;  is't  not  a  gallant  man 
too,  is't  not  ? — Why,  this  is  brave  now. — Who  said,  he 
came  hurt  home  to-day  ?  he's  not  hurt ;  why,  this  will 
do  Helen's  heart  good  now.  Ha !  would  I  could  see 
Troilus  now ! — you  shall  see  Troilus  anon. 

Cres.   Who's  that? 

1  To  give  the  nod  was  a  term  in  the  game  at  cards  called  Noddy.  The 
word  also  signifies  a  silly  fellow.  Cressid  means  to  call  Pandarus  a  noddy ; 
and  says  he  shall,  by  more  nods,  be  made  more  significantly  afooL 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  257 

HELEN  us  passes  over. 

Pan.  That's  Helenus, — I  marvel  where  Troilus 
is. — That's  Helenus ;  I  think  he  went  not  forth  to 
day. — That's  Helenus. 

Ores.    Can  Helenus  fight,  uncle  ? 

Pan.  Helenus  ?  no : — yes,  he'll  fight  indifferent 
well. — I  marvel  where  Troilus  is  ! — Hark,  do  you  not 
hear  the  people  cry  Troilus  ? — Helenus  is  a  priest. 

Cres.    What  sneaking  fellow  comes  yonder  ? 

TROILUS  passes  over. 

Pan.  Where  ?  yonder  ?  that's  Deiphobus.  'Tis 
Troilus  !  there's  a  man,  niece  ! — Hem  ! — Brave  Troi 
lus  !  the  prince  of  chivalry ! 

Cres.    Peace,  for  shame,  peace  ! 

Pan.  Mark  him  ;  note  him  : — O  brave  Troilus  ! 
— look  well  upon  him,  niece  ;  look  you,  how  his  sword 
is  bloodied,  and  his  helm  more  hacked  than  Hector's  ; 
and  how  he  looks,  and  how  he  goes ! — O  admirable 
youth  !  he  ne'er  saw  three-and-twenty.  Go  thy  way, 
Troilus,  go  thy  way ;  had  I  a  sister  were  a  grace,  or 
a  daughter  a  goddess,  he  should  take  his  choice.  O 
admirable  man  !  Paris  ? — Paris  is  dirt  to  him  ;  and,  I 
warrant,  Helen,  to  change,  would  give  an  eye  to  boot. 

Forces  pass  over  the  stage. 

Cres.    Here  come  more. 

Pan.  Asses,  fools,  dolts  !  chaff  and  bran,  chaff  and 
bran !  porridge  after  meat !  I  could  live  and  die  i'  the 
eyes  of  Troilus.  Ne'er  look,  ne'er  look  ;  the  eagles 
are  gone ;  crows  and  daws,  crows  and  daws !  I  had 
rather  be  such  a  man  as  Troilus,  than  Agamemnon 
and  all  Greece. 

Cres.  There  is  among  the  Greeks,  Achilles ;  a 
better  man  than  Troilus. 

Pan.    Achilles  ?  a  drayman,  a  porter,  a  very  camel. 

Cres.   Well,  well. 
VOL.  v.  33 


258  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  I. 

Pan.  Well,  well  ? — Why,  have  you  any  discretion  ? 
have  you  any  eyes  ?  Do  you  know  what  a  man  is  ? 
Is  not  birth,  beauty,  good  shape,  discourse,  manhood, 
learning,  gentleness,  virtue,  youth,  liberality,  and  such 
like,  the  spice  and  salt  that  season  a  man  ? 

Cres.  Ay,  a  minced  man ;  and  then  to  be  baked 
with  no  date 1  in  the  pie, — for  then  the  man's  date 
is  out. 

Pan.  You  are  such  a  woman  !  one  knows  not  at 
what  ward 2  you  lie. 

Cres.  Upon  my  back,  to  defend  my  belly ;  upon 
my  wit,  to  defend  my  wiles ;  upon  my  secrecy,  to 
defend  mine  honesty  ;  my  mask,  to  defend  my  beauty  ; 
and  you,  to  defend  all  these :  and  at  all  these  wards 
I  lie,  at  a  thousand  watches. 

Pan.    Say  one  of  your  watches. 

Cres.  Nay,  I'll  watch  you  for  that ;  and  that's  one 
of  the  chiefest  of  them  too :  if  I  cannot  ward  what 
I  would  not  have  hit,  1  can  watch  you  for  telling  how 
I  took  the  blow ;  unless  it  swell  past  hiding,  and  then 
it  is  past  watching. 

Pan.    You  are  such  another ! 

Enter  TROILUS'  Boy. 

Boy.    Sir,  my  lord  would  instantly  speak  with  you. 

Pan.    Where? 

Boy.    At  your  own  house  ;  there  he  unarms  him. 

Pan.    Good  boy,  tell  him  I  come  ;  [Exit  Boy. 

I  doubt  he  be  hurt. — Fare  ye  well,  good  niece. 

Cres.    Adieu,  uncle. 

Pan.    I'll  be  with  you,  niece,  by  and  by. 

Cres.    To  bring,  uncle, 

Pan.    Ay,  a  token  from  Troilus. 

Cres.    By  the  same  token — you  are  a  bawd. — 

[Exit  PANDARUS. 

Words,  vows,  griefs,  tears,  and  love's  full  sacrifice, 
He  offers  in  another's  enterprise  : 

1  Dates  were  an  ingredient  in  ancient  pastry  of  almost  every  kind. 

2  A  metaphor  from  the  art  of  defence. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESS1DA.  259 

But  more  in  Troilus  thousand  fold  I  see 
Than  in  the  glass  of  Pandar's  praise  may  be  ; 
Yet  hold  I  off.     Women  are  angels,  wooing ; 
Things  won  are  done,  joy's  soul  lies  in  the  doing : 
That  she i  beloved  knows  nought  that  knows  not  this, — 
Men  prize  the  thing  ungained  more  than  it  is ; 
That  she  was  never  yet,  that  ever  knew 
Love  got  so  sweet,  as  when  desire  did  sue. 
Therefore  this  maxim  out  of  love  I  teach, — 
Achievement  is  command  ;  ungained,  beseech  ;2 
Then  though  my  heart's  content  firm  love  doth  bear, 
Nothing  of  that  shall  from  mine  eyes  appear.      [Exit. 


SCENE  III.     The  Grecian  Camp.     Before 
Agamemnon's  Tent. 

Trumpets.      Enter    AGAMEMNON,  NESTOR,  ULYSSES, 
MENELAUS,  and  others. 

Agam.    Princes, 

What  grief  hath  set  the  jaundice  on  your  cheeks  ? 
The  ample  proposition,  that  hope  makes 
In  all  designs  begun  on  earth  below, 
Fails  in  the  promised  largeness ;  checks  and  disasters 
Grow  in  the  veins  of  actions  highest  reared  ; 
As  knots,  by  the  conflux  of  meeting  sap, 
Infect  the  sound  pine,  and  divert  his  grain 
Tortive  and  errant  from  his  course  of  growth. 
Nor,  princes,  is  it  matter  new  to  us, 
That  we  come  short  of  our  suppose  so  far, 
That,  after  seven  years'  siege,  yet  Troy  walls  stand ; 
Sith  every  action  that  hath  gone  before, 
Whereof  we  have  record,  trial  did  draw 
Bias  and  thwart,  not  answering  the  aim, 

1  That  woman. 

2  "  Achievement  is  command ;  ungained,  beseech."    The  meaning  of 
this  obscure  line  seems  to  be,  "  Men  after  possession  become  our  com 
manders  ;  before  it  they  are  our  suppliants." 

" My  heart's  content"  in  the  next  line,  probably  signifies  my  will,  my 
desire. 


260  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  1. 

And  that  unbodied  figure  of  the  thought 

That  gave't  surmised  shape.     Why,  then,  you  princes, 

Do  you  with  cheeks  abashed  behold  our  works ; 

And  think  them  shames,  which  are,  indeed,  nought  else 

But  the  protective  trials  of  great  Jove, 

To  find  persistive  constancy  in  men  ? 

The  fineness  of  which  metal  is  not  found 

In  fortune's  love ;   for  then,  the  bold  and  coward, 

The  wise  and  fool,  the  artist  and  unread, 

The  hard  and  soft,  seem  all  affined l  and  kin  ; 

But,  in  the  wind  and  tempest  of  her  frown, 

Distinction,  with  a  broad  and  powerful  fan, 

Puffing  at  all,  winnows  the  light  away ; 

And  what  hath  mass,  or  matter,  by  itself 

Lies  rich  in  virtue,  and  unmingled. 

Nest.    With  due  observance  of  thy  godlike  seat,2 
Great  Agamemnon,  Nestor  shall  apply 3 
Thy  latest  words.     In  the  reproof  of  chance 
Lies  the  true  proof  of  men.     The  sea  being  smooth, 
How  many  shallow,  bawble  boats  dare  sail 
Upon  her  patient  breast,  making  their  way 
With  those  of  nobler  bulk  ; 
But  let  the  ruffian  Boreas  once  enrage 
The  gentle  Thetis,  and,  anon,  behold 
The  strong-ribbed  bark  through  liquid  mountains  cut, 
Bounding  between  the  two  moist  elements, 
Like  Perseus'  horse.4     Where's  then  the  saucy  boat. 
Whose  weak,  untimbered  sides  but  even  now 
Co-rivaled  greatness  ?  either  to  harbor  fled, 
Or  made  a  toast  for  Neptune.     Even  so 

1  Joined  by  affinity. 

2  The  throne. 

3  To  apply,  here,  is  used  for  to  bend  the  mine?,  or  attend  particularly  to 
Agamemnon's  words. 

4  Pegasus  was,  strictly  speaking,  Bellerophon's  horse ;  but  Shakspeare 
followed  the  Old  Troy  Book.     «  Of  the  blood  that  issued  out  [from  Me 
dusa's  head]  there  engendered  Pegasus  or  the  flying  horse.     By  the  flying 
horse  that  was  engendered  of  the  blood  issued  from  her  head,  is  under 
stood  that  of  her  riches  issuing  of  that  realme  he  [Perseus]  founded,  and 
made  a  ship  named  Pegase,  and  this  ship  was  likened  unto  an  horse  flying" 
&c.     In  another  place  we  are  told  that  this  ship,  which  the  writer  always 
calls  Perseus'  flying  horse, "  flew  on  the  sea  like  unto  a  bird." — Destruction 
of  Troy,  4to,  1617,  p.  155—164. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  261 

Doth  valor's  show,  and  valor's  worth,  divide 

In  storms  of  fortune  ;  for,  in  her  ray  and  brightness, 

The  herd  hath  more  annoyance  by  the  brize,1 

Than  by  the  tiger ;  but  when  the  splitting  wind 

Makes  flexible  the  knees  of  knotted  oaks, 

And  flies  fled  under  shade,  why,  then,  the  thing  of 

courage, 

As  roused  with  rage,  with  rage  doth  sympathize, 
And,  with  an  accent  tuned  in  self-same  key, 
Returns  to  chiding  fortune.2 

Ulyss.  Agamemnon, — 

Thou  great  commander,  nerve  and  bone  of  Greece, 
Heart  of  our  numbers,  soul  and  only  spirit, 
In  whom  the  tempers  and  the  minds  of  all 
Should  be  shut  up, — hear  what  Ulysses  speaks. 
Besides  the  applause  and  approbation 
The  which, — most  mighty  for  thy  place  and  sway, — 

[To  AGAMEMNON. 
And  thou,  most  reverend  for  thy  stretched-out  life, — 

[To  NESTOR. 

I  give  to  both  your  speeches, — which  were  such, 
As  Agamemnon  and  the  hand  of  Greece 
Should  hold  up  high  in  brass ;  and  such  again, 
As  venerable  Nestor,  hatched  in  silver, 
Should  with  a  bond  of  air  (strong  as  the  axletree 
On  which  heaven  rides)  knit  all  the  Greekish  ears 
To  his  experienced  tongue,3 — yet  let  it  please  both, — 
Thou  great, — and  wise, — to  hear  Ulysses  speak. 

Agam.   Speak,  prince  of   Ithaca;   and   be't  of  less 

expect 4 
That  matter  needless,  of  importless  burden, 

1  The  gadfly  that  stings  cattle. 

2  i.  e.  replies  to  noisy  or  clamorous  fortune. 

3  Ulysses  evidently  means  to  say  that  Agamemnon's  speech  should  be 
writ  in  brass ;  and  that  venerable  Nestor,  with  his  silver  hairs,  by  his 
speech  should  rivet  the  attention  of  all  Greece.     The  phrase  hatched  in 
silver,  is  a  simile  borrowed  from  the  art  of  design ;  to  hatch  being  to  fill  a 
design  with  a  number  of  consecutive  fine  lines ;  and  to  hatch  in  silver  was 
a  design  inlaid  with  lines  of  silver.     The  lines  of  the  graver  on  a  plate  of 
metal  are  still  called  hatchings.     Hence,  hatched  in  silver,  for  silver-haired 
or  gray-haired. 

4  Expect  for  expectation. 


262  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  I. 

Divide  thy  lips ;  than  we  are  confident, 
When  rank  Thersites  opes  his  mastiffjaws, 
We  shall  hear  music,  wit,  and  oracle. 

Ulyss.   Troy,  yet  upon  his  basis,  had  been  down, 
Arid  the  great  Hector's  sword  had  lacked  a  master, 
But  for  these  instances. 
The  specialty  of  rule  *  hath  been  neglected  : 
And,  look,  how  many  Grecian  tents  do  stand 
Hollow  upon  this  plain,  so  many  hollow  factions. 
When  that  the  general  is  not  like  the  hive, 
To  whom  the  foragers  shall  all  repair, 
What  honey  is  expected  ?     Degree  being  vizarded, 
The  unworthiest  shows  as  fairly  in  the  mask. 
The  heavens  themselves,  the  planets,  and  this  centre,2 
Observe  degree,  priority,  and  place, 
Insisture,  course,  proportion,  season,  form, 
Office,  and  custom,  in  all  line  of  order ; 
And  therefore  is  the  glorious  planet,  Sol, 
In  noble  eminence  enthroned  and  sphered 
Amidst  the  other  ;  whose  medicinable  eye 
Corrects  the  ill  aspects  of  planets  evil, 
And  posts,  like  the  commandment  of  a  king, 
Sans  check,  to  good  and  bad.     But  when  the  planets, 
In  evil  mixture,  to  disorder  wander, 
What  plagues,  and  what  portents  ?  what  mutiny  ? 
What  raging  of  the  sea  ?  shaking  of  earth  ? 
Commotion  in  the  winds  ?  frights,  changes,  horrors, 
Divert  and  crack,  rend  and  deracinate 
The  unity  and  married 3  calm  of  states 
Quite  from  their  fixture  ?     O,  when  degree  is   shaked, 
Which  is  the  ladder  of  all  high  designs, 
The  enterprise  is  sick !     How  could  communities, 
Degrees  in  schools,  and  brotherhoods4  in  cities, 
Peaceful  commerce  from  dividable5  shores, 
The  primogenitive  and  due  of  birth, 
Prerogative  of  age,  crowns,  sceptres,  laurels, 

1  The  particular  rights  of  supreme  authority. 

2  i.  e.  this  globe. 

3  The  epithet  married  denotes  an  intimate  union. 

4  Confraternities,  corporations,  companies. 

5  The  termination  ble  is  often  thus  used  by  Shakspeare  for  ed. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  263 

But  by  degree,  stand  in  authentic  place  ? 

Take  but  degree  away,  u-ntune  that  string, 

And,  hark,  what  discord  follows !  each  thing  meets 

In  mere  oppugnancy.     The  bounded  \vaters 

Should  lift  their  bosoms  higher  than  the  shores, 

And  make  a  sop  of  all  this  solid  globe. 

Strength  should  be  lord  of  imbecility, 

And  the  rude  son  should  strike  his  father  dead. 

Force  should  be  right ;  or,  rather,  right  and  wrong, 

(Between  whose  endless  jar  justice  resides,) 

Should  lose  their  names,  and  so  should  justice  too. 

Then  every  thing  includes  itself  in  power, 

Power  into  will,  will  into  appetite ; 

And  appetite,  an  universal  wolf, 

So  doubly  seconded  with  will  and  power, 

Must  make  perforce  an  universal  prey, 

And,  last,  eat  up  himself.     Great  Agamemnon, 

This  chaos,  when  degree  is  suffocate 

Follows  the  choking. 

And  this  neglection1  of  degree  it  is, 

That  by  a  pace  goes  backward,  with  a  purpose 

It  hath  to  climb.2     The  general's  disdained 

By  him  one  step  below ;  he,  by  the  next ; 

That  next,  by  him  beneath ;  so  every  step, 

Exampled  by  the  first  pace  that  is  sick 

Of  his  superior,  grows  to  an  envious  fever 

Of  pale  and  bloodless  emulation  ; 

And  'tis  this  fever  that  keeps  Troy  on  foot, 

Not  her  own  sinews.     To  end  a  tale  of  length, 

Troy  in  our  weakness  stands,  not  in  her  strength. 

Nest.    Most  wisely  hath  Ulysses  here  discovered 
The  fever  whereof  all  our  power  is  sick. 

Again.    The  nature  of  the  sickness  found,  Ulysses, 
What  is  the  remedy  ? 

Ulyss.    The  great  Achilles, — whom  opinion  crowns 
The  sinew  and  the  forehand  of  our  host, — 
Having  his  ear  full  of  his  airy  fame, 

1  This  uncommon  word  occurs  again  in  Pericles,  1009. 

2  "  That  goes  backward  step  by  step,  with  a  design  in  each  man  to 
aggrandize  himself  by  slighting  his  immediate  superior." 


264  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  I. 

Grows  dainty  of  his  worth,  and  in  his  tent 

Lies  mocking  our  designs.     With  him,  Patroclus, 

Upon  a  lazy  bed  the  livelong  day 

Breaks  scurril  jests ; 

And  with  ridiculous  and  awkward  action, 

(Which,  slanderer,  he  imitation  calls,) 

He  pageants  us.     Sometime,  great  Agamemnon, 

Thy  topless1  deputation  he  puts  on; 

And,  like  a  strutting  player, — whose  conceit 

Lies  in  his  hamstring,  and  doth  think  it  rich 

To  hear  the  wooden  dialogue  and  sound 

'Twixt  his  stretched  footing  and  the  scafToldage, 

Such  to-be-pitied  and  o'er-wrested  seeming 2 

He  acts  thy  greatness  in :  and  when  he  speaks, 

'Tis  like  a  chime  a-mending  ;  with  terms  unsquared,3 

Which,  from  the  tongue  of  roaring  Typhon  dropped, 

Would  seem  hyperboles.     At  this  fusty  stuff, 

The  large  Achilles,  on  his  pressed  bed  lolling, 

From  his  deep  chest  laughs  out  a  loud  applause  ; 

Cries — Excellent ! — 'tis  Agamemnon  just. — 

Now  play  me  Nestor  ; — hem,  and  stroke  thy  beard, 

As  he,  being  dressed  to  some  oration. 

That's  done  ; — as  near  as  the  extremest  ends 

Of  parallels  ;  as  like  as  Vulcan  and  his  wife  ; 

Yet  good  Achilles  still  cries,  Excellent! 

^Tis  Nestor  right !     Now  play  him  me,  Patroclus, 

Arming  to  answer  in  a  night  alarm. 

And  then,  forsooth,  the  faint  defects  of  age 

Must  be  the  scene  of  mirth ;  to  cough  and  spit, 

And,  with  a  palsy-fumbling 4  on  his  gorget, 

Shake  in  and  out  the  rivet ; — and  at  this  sport 

Sir  Valor  dies  ;  cries,  O  / — enough,  Patroclus ; — 

Or  give  me  ribs  of  steel ;  I  shall  split  all 

In  pleasure  of  my  spleen.     And  in  this  fashion, 

All  our  abilities,  gifts,  natures,  shapes, 

Severals  and  generals  of  grace  exact,5 

1  Supreme,  sovereign. 

a  i.  e.  overstrained,  wrested  beyond  true  semblance. 

3  i.  e.  unsuited,  unfitted. 

4  Paralytic  fumbling. 

5  Grace  exact  seems  to  mean  decorous  habits. 


SC.  TIL]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  265 

Achievements,  plots,  orders,  preventions, 
Excitements  to  the  field,  or  speech  for  truce, 
Success,  or  loss,  what  is,  or  is  not,  serves 
As  stuff  for  these  two  to  make  paradoxes. 

Nest.    And  in  the  imitation  of  these  twain, 
(Whom,  as  Ulysses  says,  opinion  crowns 
With  an  imperial  voice,)  many  are  infect. 
Ajax  is  grown  self-willed ;  and  bears  his  head 
In  such  a  rein,  in  full  as  proud  a  place 
As  broad  Achilles  ;  keeps  his  tent  like  him  ; 
Makes  factious  feasts ;  rails  on  our  state  of  war, 
Bold  as  an  oracle ;  and  sets  Thersites 
A  slave,  whose  gall  coins  slanders  like  a  mint) 
b  match  us  in  comparisons  with  dirt ; 
To  weaken  and  discredit  our  exposure, 
How  rank  soever  rounded  in  with  danger. 

Ulyss.    They  tax  our  policy,  and  call  it  cowardice ; 
Count  wisdom  as  no  member  of  the  war  ; 
Forestall  prescience,  and  esteem  no  act 
But  that  of  hand  :  the  still  and  mental  parts, — 
That  do  contrive  how  many  hands  shall  strike, 
When  fitness  calls  them  on ;  and  know,  by  measure 
Of  their  observant  toil,  the  enemies'  weight, — 
Why,  this  hath  not  a  finger's  dignity. 
They  call  this — bed-work,  mappery,  closet-war ; 
So  that  the  ram,  that  batters  down  the  wall, 
For  the  great  swing  and  rudeness  of  his  poise, 
They  place  before  his  hand  that  made  the  engine ; 
Or  those  that,  with  the  fineness  of  their  souls, 
By  reason  guide  his  execution. 

Nest.    Let  this  be  granted,  and  Achilles'  horse 
Makes  many  Thetis'  sons.  [Trumpet  sounds. 

Agam.  What  trumpet  ?  look,  Menelatis. 


Enter 
Men.   From  Troy. 

Agam.  What  would  you  'fore  our  tent  ? 

jflZne.  Is  this 

Great  Agamemnon's  tent,  I  pray  ? 

Agam.  Even  this. 

VOL.  v.  34 


266  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  1. 


May  one,  that  is  a  herald,  and  a  prince, 
Do  a  fair  message  to  his  kingly  ears  ? 

Agam.    With  surety  stronger  than  Achilles'  arm 
'Fore  all  the  Greekish  heads,  which  with  one  voice 
Call  Agamemnon  head  and  general. 

jEne.    Fair  leave,  and  large  security.     How  may 
A  stranger  to  those  most  imperial  looks, 
Know  them  from  eyes  of  other  mortals  ?  l 

Agam.  How  ? 

SEne.   Ay  ; 

I  ask,  that  I  might  waken  reverence, 
And  bid  the  cheek  be  ready  with  a  blush 
Modest  as  morning  when  she  coldly  eyes 
The  youthful  Phoebus. 
Which  is  that  god  in  office,  guiding  men  ? 
Which  is  the  high  and  mighty  Agamemnon  ? 

Agam.    This  Trojan  scorns  us  ;  or  the  men  of  Troy 
Are  ceremonious  courtiers. 

jEne.    Courtiers  as  free,  as  debonair,  unarmed, 
As  bending  angels  ;  that's  their  fame  in  peace. 
But  when  they  would  seem  soldiers,  they  have  galls, 
Good  arms,   strong  joints,   true   swords  ;    and,  Jove's 

accord  ;  — 

Nothing  so  full  of  heart.2     But  peace,  .ZEneas, 
Peace,  Trojan  ;  lay  thy  finger  on  thy  lips  ! 
The  worthiness  of  praise  distains  his  worth, 
If  that  the  praised  himself  bring  the  praise  forth; 
But  what  the  repining  enemy  commends, 
That    breath    fame    follows  ;     that    praise,   sole    pure, 
transcends. 

Agam.    Sir,  you  of  Troy,  call  you  yourself  ^Cneas  ? 

jEne.    Ay,  Greek,  that  is  my  name. 

Agam.  What's  your  affair,  I  pray  you  ? 

JEne.    Sir,  pardon  ;  'tis  for  Agamemnon's  ears. 

Agam.    He  hears  nought  privately  that  comes   from 
Troy. 

1  And  yet  this  was  the  seventh  year  of  the  war. 

2  Theobald's  interpretation  of  this  passage  is,  perhaps,  nearly  correct:  — 
"  They  have  galls,  good  arms,  &c.  and  Jove's  consent  .-—Nothing  is  so  full 
of  heart  as  they." 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  267 


Nor  I  from  Troy  come  not  to  whisper  him. 
I  bring  a  trumpet  to  awake  his  ear  ; 
To  set  his  sense  on  the  attentive  bent, 
And  then  to  speak. 

Again.  Speak  frankly  as  the  wind  ; 

It  is  not  Agamemnon's  sleeping  hour  : 
That  thou  shalt  know,  Trojan,  he  is  awake, 
He  tells  thee  so  himself. 

JEne.  Trumpet,  blow  loud, 

Send  thy  brass  voice  through  all  these  lazy  tents  ;  — 
And  every  Greek  of  mettle,  let  him  know, 
What  Troy  means  fairly,  shall  be  spoke  aloud. 

[  Trumpet  sounds. 

We  have,  great  Agamemnon,  here  in  Troy, 
A  prince  called  Hector,  (Priam  is  his  father,) 
Who  in  this  dull  and  long-continued  truce1 
Is  rusty  grown  ;  he  bade  me  take  a  trumpet, 
And  to  this  purpose  speak.     Kings,  princes,  lords  ! 
If  there  be  one  among  the  fair'st  of  Greece, 
That  holds  his  honor  higher  than  his  ease  ; 
That  seeks  his  praise  more  than  he  fears  his  peril  ; 
That  knows  his  valor,  and  knows  not  his  fear  ; 
That  loves  his  mistress  more  than  in  confession, 
(With  truant  vows  to  her  own  lips  he  loves,) 
And  dare  avow  her  beauty  and  her  worth, 
In  other  arms  than  hers,  —  to  him  this  challenge, 
Hector,  in  view  of  Trojans  and  of  Greeks, 
Shall  make  it  good,  or  do  his  best  to  do  it. 
He  hath  a  lady,  wiser,  fairer,  truer, 
Than  ever  Greek  did  compass  in  his  arms  ; 
And  will  to-morrow  with  his  trumpet  call, 
Mid-way  between  your  tents  and  walls  of  Troy, 
To  rouse  a  Grecian  that  is  true  in  love. 
If  any  come,  Hector  shall  honor  him  ; 
If  none,  he'll  say  in  Troy,  when  he  retires, 


i  Of  this  long  truce  there  has  been  no  notice  taken  ;  in  this  very  act  it 
is  said,  that  "  Ajax  coped  Hector  yesterday  in  the  battle."  Shakspeare 
found  in  the  seventh  chapter  of  the  third  book  of  The  Destruction  of  Troy, 
that  a  truce  was  agreed  on,  at  the  desire  of  the  Trojans,  for  six  months. 


268  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  I. 

The  Grecian  dames  are  sun-burned,  and  not  worth 
The  splinter  of  a  lance.     Even  so  much. 

Agam.    This  shall  be  told  our  lovers,  lord  ^Eneas ; 
If  none  of  them  have  soul  in  such  a  kind, 
We  left  them  all  at  home.     But  we  are  soldiers  ; 
And  may  that  soldier  a  mere  recreant  prove, 
That  means  not,  hath  not,  or  is  not  in  love ! 
If  then  one  is,  or  hath,  or  means  to  be, 
That  one  meets  Hector ;  if  none  else,  I  ana  he. 

Nest.    Tell  him  of  Nestor,  one  that  was  a  man 
When  Hector's  grandsire  sucked.     He  is  old  now  ; 
But,  if  there  be  not  in  our  Grecian  host 
One  noble  man,  that  hath  one  spark  of  fire 
To  answer  for  his  love,  tell  him  from  me, — 
I'll  hide  my  silver  beard  in  a  gold  beaver, 
And  in  my  vantbrace *  put  this  withered  brawn  ; 
And,  meeting  him,  will  tell  him,  that  my  lady 
Was  fairer  than  his  grandame,  and  as  chaste 
As  may  be  in  the  world.     His  youth  in  flood, 
I'll  prove  this  truth  with  my  three  drops  of  blood. 

JEne.   Now  Heavens  forbid  such  scarcity  of  youth ! 

Ulyss.    Amen. 

Agam.    Fair  lord  .ZEneas,  let  me  touch  your  hand , 
To  our  pavilion  shall  I  lead  you,  sir. 
Achilles  shall  have  word  of  this  intent ; 
So  shall  each  lord  of  Greece,  from  tent  to  tent. 
Yourself  shall  feast  with  us  before  you  go, 
And  find  the  welcome  of  a  noble  foe. 

[Exeunt  all  but  ULYSSES  and  NESTOR. 

Ulyss.    Nestor, 

Nest.    What  says  Ulysses  ? 

Ulyss.    I  have  a  young  conception  in  my  brain  ; 
Be  you  my  time  to  bring  it  to  some  shape. 

Nest.    What  is't  ? 

Ulyss.    This  'tis. 

Blunt  wedges  rive  hard  knots.     The  seeded  pride 
That  hath  to  this  maturity  blown  up 
In  rank  Achilles,  must  or  now  be  cropped, 

i  An  armor  for  the  arm.    Aoa-ni  bras. 


SC.  HI.]  TRO1LUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  269 

Or,  shedding,  breed  a  nursery  of  like  evil, 
To  overbulk  us  all. 

Nest.  Well,  and  how  ? 

Ulyss.    This  challenge  that  the  gallant  Hector  sends, 
However  it  is  spread  in  general  name, 
Relates  in  purpose  only  to  Achilles. 

Nest.    The  purpose  is  perspicuous  even  as  substance, 
Whose  grossness  little  characters  sum  up ; 1 
And  in  the  publication  make  no  strain,2 
But  that  Achilles,  were  his  brain  as  barren 
As  banks  of  Libya, — though  Apollo  knows, 
'Tis  dry  enough, — will  with  great  speed  of  judgment, 
Ay,  with  celerity,  find  Hector's  purpose 
Pointing  on  him. 

O 

Ulyss.    And  wake  him  to  the  answer,  think  you  ? 

Nest.  Yes. 

It  is  most  meet.     Whom  may  you  else  oppose, 
That  can  from  Hector  bring  those  honors  off, 
If  not  Achilles  !  Though't  be  a  sportful  combat, 
Yet  in  the  trial  much  opinion  dwells ; 
For  here  the  Trojans  taste  our  dear'st  repute 
With  their  fin'st  palate.     And  trust  to  me,  Ulysses, 
Our  imputation  shall  be  oddly  poised 
In  this  wild  action ;  for  the  success, 
Although  particular,  shall  give  a  scantling3 
Of  good  or  bad  unto  the  general ; 
And  in  such  indexes,  although  small  pricks4 
To  their  subsequent  volumes,  there  is  seen 
The  baby  figure  of  the  giant  mass 
Of  things  to  come  at  large.     It  is  supposed, 
He  that  meets  Hector,  issues  from  our  choice  ; 
And  choice,  being  mutual  act  of  all  our  souls, 
Makes  merit  her  election ;  and  doth  boil, 
As  'twere  from  forth  us  all,  a  man  distilled 
Out  of  our  virtues  ;  who  miscarrying, 

1  "  The  intent  is  as  plain  and  palpable  as  substance,  and  it  is  to  be 
collected  from  small  circumstances,  as  a  gross  body  is  made  up  of  many 
small  parts."     This  is  the  scope  of  Warburton's  explanation. 

2  Make  no  doubt. 

3  A  scantling  is  a  measure,  a  proportion. 

*  i.  e.  small  points  compared  with  the  volumes. 


270  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  1. 

What  heart  receives  from  hence  a  conquering  part, 
To  steel  a  strong  opinion  to  themselves  ? 
Which  entertained,  limbs  are  his  instruments, 
In  no  less  working,  than  are  swords  and  bows 
Directive  by  the  limbs. 

Ulyss.  Give  pardon  to  my  speech  ; — 

Therefore  'tis  meet,  Achilles  meet  not  Hector. 
Let  us,  like  merchants,  show  our  foulest  wares, 
And  think,  perchance,  they'll  sell ;  if  not, 
The  lustre  of  the  better  shall  exceed, 
By  showing  the  worse  first.1     Do  not  consent, 
Thai  ever  Hector  and  Achilles  meet ; 
For  both  our  honor  and  our  shame,  in  this, 
Are  dogged  with  two  strange  followers. 

Nest.    I  see  them  not  with  my  old  eyes :    what  are 
they  ? 

Ulyss.    What  glory  our  Achilles  shares  from  Hector, 
Were  he  not  proud,  we  all  should  share  with  him : 
But  he  already 'is  too  insolent; 
And  we  were  better  parch  in  Afric  sun, 
Than  in  the  pride  and  salt  scorn  of  his  eyes, 
Should  he  'scape  Hector  fair.     If  he  were  foiled, 
Why,  then  we  did  our  main  opinion 2  crush 
In  taint  of  our  best  man.     No,  make  a  lottery ; 
And,  by  device,  let  blockish  Ajax  draw 
The  sort3  to  fight  with  Hector.     Among  ourselves, 
Give  him  allowance  for  the  better  man, 
For  that  will  physic  the  great  Myrmidon, 
Who  broils  in  loud  applause ;  and  make  him  fall 
His  crest,  that  prouder  than  blue  Iris  bends. 
If  the  dull,  brainless  Ajax  come  safe  off,4 
We'll  dress  him  up  in  voices.     If  he  fail, 
Yet  go  we  under  our  opinion  still, 
That  we  have  better  men.     But,  hit  or  miss, 

1  The  folio  reads  :— 

"  The  lustre  of  the  better,  yet  to  show 
Shall  show  the  better." 

2  Opinion  for  estimation  or  reputation.  3  Lot 

4  Shakspeare,  misled  by  The  Destruction  of  Troy,  appears  to  have 
confounded  Ajax  Telamonius  with  AjaxOi'/ews ;  for  in  that  book  the  latter 
is  called  simply  Ajax,  as  the  more  eminent  of  the  two. 


SC.  I.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  271 

Our  project's  life  this  shape  of  sense  assumes, — 
Ajax,  employed,  plucks  down  Achilles'  plumes. 

Nest.    Ulysses, 

Now  I  begin  to  relish  thy  advice ; 
And  I  will  give  a  taste  of  it  forthwith 
To  Agamemnon  ;  go  we  to  him  straight. 
Two  curs  shall  tame  each  other  ;  pride  alone 
Must  tarre l  the  mastiffs  on,  as  'twere  their  bone. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  II.2 

SCENE   I.     Another  Part  of  the  Grecian  Camp. 

Enter  AJAX  and  THER SITES. 

Ajax.    Thersites, 

Ther.  Agamemnon — how  if  he  had  boils  ?  full,  all 
over  generally  ? 

Ajax.    Thersites, 

Ther.  And  those  boils  did  run  ? — Say  so, — did  not 
the  general  run  then  ?  were  not  that  a  botchy  core  ? 

Ajax.    Dog, 

Ther.  Then  would  come  some  matter  from  him ;  I 
see  none  now. 

Ajax.  Thou  bitch-wolf's  son,  canst  thou  not  hear  ? 
Feel,  then.  [Strikes  him. 

Ther.  The  plague  of  Greece3  upon  thee,  thou 
mongrel,  beef-witted  lord  ! 4 

Ajax.  Speak,  then,  thou  unsalted  leaven,5  speak! 
1  will  beat  thee  into  handsomeness. 


1  i.  e.  urge,  stimulate.    See  King  John,  Act  iv.  Sc.  1. 

a  This  play  is  not  divided  into  acts  in  any  of  the  original  editions. 

3  Alluding  to  the  plague  sent  by  Apollo  on  the  Grecian  army. 

4  He  calls  Ajax  mongrel,  on  account  of  his  father  being  a  Grecian  and 
his  mother  a  Trojan. 

5  The  folio  has  "thou  ichinid'st  leaven,"  a  corruption,  undoubtedly,  of 
vinewd'st  or  vinniedst,  i.  e.  mouldy  leaven.     Thou  unsalted  leaven,  is  as 
much  as  to  say,  "thou foolish  lump" 


272  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  11. 

Ther.  I  shall  sooner  rail  thee  into  wit  and  holiness ; 
but,  I  think,  thy  horse  will  sooner  con  an  oration,  than 
thou  learn  a  prayer  without  book.  Thou  canst  strike, 
canst  thou  ?  a  red  murrain l  o'thy  jade's  tricks  ! 

Ajax.    Toads-stool,  learn  me  the  proclamation. 

Ther.  Dost  thou  think  I  have  no  sense,  thou  strikest 
me  thus  ? 

Ajax.    The  proclamation, 

Ther.    Thou  art  proclaimed  a  fool,  I  think. 

Ajax.    Do  not,  porcupine,  do  not :  my  fingers  itch. 

Ther.  I  would  thou  didst  itch  from  head  to  foot,  and 
I  had  the  scratching  of  thee ;  I  would  make  thee  the 
loathsomest  scab  in  Greece.  When  thou  art  forth  in 
the  incursions,  thou  strikest  as  slow  as  another. 

Ajax.    I  say,  the  proclamation, 

Ther.  Thou  grumblest  and  railest  every  hour  on 
Achilles  ;  and  thou  art  as  full  of  envy  at  his  greatness, 
as  Cerberus  is  at  Proserpina's  beauty,  ay,  that  thou 
barkest  at  him. 

Ajax.   Mistress  Thersites ! 

Ther.    Thou  shouldst  strike  him. 

Ajax.    Cobloaf ! ! 

Ther.  He  would  pun 3  thee  into  shivers  with  his  fist, 
as  a  sailor  breaks  a  biscuit. 

Ajax.   You  whoreson  cur  !  [Beating  him. 

Ther.   Do,  do. 

Ajax.   Thou  stool  for  a  witch  ! 

Ther.  Ay,  do,  do ;  thou  sodden-witted  lord !  thou 
hast  no  more  brain  than  I  have  in  mine  elbows :  an 
assinico 4  may  tutor  thee.  Thou  scurvy-valiant  ass ! 
thou  art  here  put  to  thrash  Trojans;  and  thou  art 
bought  and  sold  among  those  of  any  wit,  like  a  Bar 
barian  slave.  If  thou  use  to  beat  me,  I  will  begin  at 


i  In  The  Tempest,  Caliban  says,  «  The  red  plague  rid  you." 

a  Cobloaf  is,  perhaps,  equivalent  to  ill-shapen-Tump.     Minsheu  says,  a 

cobloaf  is  a  little  loaf  made  with  a  round  head,  such  as  cobirons  which 

support  the  fire. 

3  i.  e.  pound ;  still  in  use  provincially. 

4  From  the  Spanish  asnico,  a  young  or  little  ass ;  a  word,  indeed,  entirely 
similar  in  sound,  which  seems  to  have  been  adopted  into  our  language  to 
signify  a  silly  ass,  a  stupid  fellow. 


SC.  I.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESS1DA.  273 

thy  heel,  and  tell  what  thou  art  by  inches,  thou  thing 
of  no  bowels,  thou  ! 

Ajax.   You  dog! 

Ther.   You  scurvy  lord  ! 

Ajax.    You  cur  !  [Beating  him. 

Ther.  Mars  his  idiot !  do  rudeness  ;  do,  camel ;  do, 
do. 


Enter  ACHILLES  and  PATROCLUS. 

Achil.  Why,  how  now,  Ajax  ?  wherefore  do  you  thus  ? 
— How  now,  Thersites  ?  what's  the  matter,  man  ? 

Ther.   You  see  him  there,  do  you  ? 

Achil.    Ay  ;  what's  the  matter  ? 

Ther.   Nay,  look  upon  him. 

Achil.    So  I  do  ;  what's  the  matter  ? 

Ther.   Nay,  but  regard  him  well. 

Achil.    Well,  why,  I  do  so. 

Ther.  But  yet  you  look  not  well  upon  him ;  for 
whosoever  you  take  him  to  be,  he  is  Ajax. 

Achil.    I  know  that,  fool. 

Ther.    Ay,  but  that  fool  knows  not  himself. 

Ajax.    Therefore  I  beat  thee. 

Ther.  Lo,  lo,  lo,  lo,  what  modicums  of  wit  he  utters  ! 
His  evasions  have  ears  thus  long.  I  have  bobbed  his 
brain,  more  than  he  has  beat  my  bones ;  I  will  buy 
nine  sparrows  for  a  penny,  and  his  pia  mater  is  not 
worth  the  ninth  part  of  a  sparrow.  This  lord,  Achilles, 
Ajax, — who  wears  his  wit  in  his  belly,  and  his  guts  in 
his  head, — I'll  tell  you  what  I  say  of  him. 

Achil.   What? 

Ther.    I  say,  this  Ajax 

Achil.   Nay,  good  Ajax. 

[AJAX  offers  to  strike  him,  ACHILLES 
interposes. 

Ther.    Has  not  so  much  wit 

Achil.   Nay,  I  must  hold  you. 

Ther.  As  will  stop  the  eye  of  Helen's  needle,  for 
whom  he  comes  to  fight. 

Achil.    Peace,  fool ! 
VOL.  v.  35 


274  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  II. 

Ther.  I  would  have  peace  and  quietness,  but  the  fool 
will  not ;  he  there  ;  that  he  ;  look  you  there. 

Ajax.    O  thou  damned  cur !  I  shall 

Achil.    Will  you  set  your  wit  to  a  fool's  ? 

Ther.    No,  I  warrant  you  ;  for  a  fool's  will  shame  it. 

Patr.    Good  words,  Thersites. 

Achil.    What's  the  quarrel  ? 

Ajax.  I  bade  the  vile  owl  go  learn  me  the  tenor  of 
the  proclamation,  and  he  rails  upon  me. 

Ther.    I  serve  thee  not. 

Ajax.   Well,  go  to,  go  to. 

Ther.    I  serve  here  voluntary. 

Achil.  Your  last  service  was  sufferance,  'twas  not 
voluntary ;  no  man  is  beaten  voluntary ;  Ajax  was  here 
the  voluntary,  and  you  as  under  an  impress. 

Ther.  Even  so  ? — A  great  deal  of  your  wit  too  lies 
in  your  sinews,  or  else  there  be  liars.  Hector  shall 
have  a  great  catch,  if  he  knock  out  either  of  your  brains ; 
'a  were  as  good  crack  a  fusty  nut  with  no  kernel. 

Achil.    What,  with  me  too,  Thersites  ? 

Ther.  There's  Ulysses,  and  old  Nestor, — whose  wit 
was  mouldy  ere  your  grandsires  had  nails  on  their  toes, — 
yoke  you  like  draught  oxen,  and  make  you  plough  up 
the  wars. 

Achil.    What,  what  ? 

Ther.  Yes,  good  sooth.     To,  Achilles!  to,  Ajax!  to! 

Ajax.    I  shall  cut  out  your  tongue. 

Ther.  'Tis  no  matter ;  I  shall  speak  as  much  as 
thou,  afterwards. 

Patr.    No  more  words,  Thersites ;  peace. 

Ther.  I  will  hold  my  peace  when  Achilles'  brach1 
bids  me,  shall  I  ? 

Achil.    There's  for  you,  Patroclus. 

Ther.  I  will  see  you  hanged,  like  clotpoles,  ere  I 
come  any  more  to  your  tents ;  I  will  keep  where  there 
is  wit  stirring,  and  leave  the  faction  of  fools.  [Exit. 

1  Both  the  old  copies  read  brooch,  which  may  be  right ;  for  we  find 
monile  and  bulk  in  the  dictionaries  interpreted  "  a  bosse,  an  hart;  a  brooch, 
or  Jewell  of  a  round  compasse  to  hang  about  ones  neck."  The  term  brach 
was  suggested  by  Howe,  and  is  "  a  mannerly  name  for  all  hound-bitches.''1 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  275 

Pair.   A  good  riddance. 

Achil.   Marry,  this,  sir,  is  proclaimed  through  all  our 

host ; 

That  Hector,  by  the  first  hour  of  the  sun, 
Will,  with  a  trumpet,  'twixt  our  tents  and  Troy, 
To-morrow  morning  call  some  knight  to  arms, 
That  hath  a  stomach ;  and  such  a  one,  that  dare 
Maintain — I  know  not  what;  'tis  trash.     Farewell. 

Ajax.    Farewell.     Who  shall  answer  him  ? 

Achil.    I  know  not ;  it  is  put  to  lottery ;  otherwise, 
He  knew  his  man. 

Ajax.    O,  meaning  you  ; — I'll  go  learn  more  of  it. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE    II.     Troy.     A  Room,  in  Priam's  Palace. 

Enter  PRIAM,  HECTOR,  TROILUS,  PARIS,  and  HELENUS. 

Pri.    After  so  many  hours,  lives,  speeches  spent, 
Thus  once  again  says  Nestor  from  the  Greeks ; 
Deliver  Helen,  and  all  damage  else — 
As  honor,  loss  of  time,  travel,  expense, 
Wounds,  friends,  and  what  else  dear  that  is  consumed 
In  hot  digestion  of  this  cormorant  war, 
Shall  be  struck  off. — Hector,  what  say  you  to't  ? 

Hect.  Though  no  man  lesser  fears  the  Greeks  than  I, 
As  far  as  toucheth  my  particular,  yet, 
Dread  Priam, 

There  is  no  lady  of  more  softer  bowels, 
More  spongy  to  suck  in  the  sense  of  fear, 
More  ready  to  cry  out — Who  knows  what  follows? 
Than  Hector  is.     The  wound  of  peace  is  surety, 
Surety  secure  ;  but  modest  doubt  is  called 
The  beacon  of  the  wise,  the  tent  that  searches 
To  the  bottom  of  ihe  worst.     Let  Helen  go. 
Since  the  first  sword  was  drawn  about  this  question, 
Every  tithe  soul,  'mongst  many  thousand  dismes,1 
Hath  been  as  dear  as  Helen ;  I  mean,  of  ours. 

1  Disme  is  properly  tenths  or  tithes ;  but  dismes  is  here  used  for  tens. 


276  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  II. 

If  we  have  lost  so  many  tenths  of  ours, 
To  guard  a  thing  not  ours ;  not  worth  to  us, 
Had  it  our  name,  the  value  of  one  ten ; 
What  merit's  in  that  reason,  which  denies 
The  yielding  of  her  up  ? 

Tro.  Fie,  fie,  rny  brother! 

Weigh  you  the  worth  and  honor  of  a  king, 
So  great  as  our  dread  father,  in  a  scale 
Of  common  ounces  ?    Will  you  with  counters  sum 
The  past-proportion  of  his  infinite  ?1 
And  buckle  in  a  waist  most  fathomless, 
With  spans  and  inches  so  diminutive 
As  fears  and  reasons  ?     Fie,  for  godly  shame  ! 

Hel.   No  marvel,  though  you  bite  so  sharp  at  reasons, 
You  are  so  empty  of  them.     Should  not  our  father 
Bear  the  great  sway  of  his  affairs  with  reasons, 
Because  your  speech  hath  none,  that  tells  him  so  ? 

Tro.  You  are  for  dreams  and  slumbers,  brother  priest ; 
You  fur  your  gloves  with  reason.     Here  are  your  rea 
sons. 

You  know  an  enemy  intends  you  harm ; 
You  know  a  sword  employed  is  perilous, 
And  reason  flies  the  object  of  all  harm ; 
Who  marvels,  then,  when  Helenus  beholds 
A  Grecian  and  his  sword,  if  he  do  set 
The  very  wings  of  reason  to  his  heels ; 
And  fly  like  chidden  Mercury  from  Jove, 
Or  like  a  star  disorbed  ? — Nay,  if  we  talk  of  reason, 
Let's  shut  our  gates,  and  sleep.     Manhood  and  honor 
Should  have    hare   hearts,  would    they  but   fat   their 

thoughts 

With  this  crammed  reason  ;  reason  and  respect2 
Make  livers  pale,  and  lustihood  deject. 

Hect.   Brother,  she  is  not  worth  what  she  doth  cost 
The  holding. 

Tro.  What  is  aught,  but  as  'tis  valued  ? 

Hect.   But  value  dwells  not  in  particular  will ; 

1  i.  e.  that  greatness  to  which  no  measure  bears  any  proportion. 

2  i.  e.  consideration,  regard  to  consequences. 


SO.  II.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  277 

It  holds  his  estimate  and  dignity 

As  well  wherein  'tis  precious  of  itself 

As  in  the  prizer :  'tis  mad  idolatry, 

To  make  the  service  greater  than  the  god ; 

And  the  will  dotes,  that  is  attributive 

To  what  infectiously  itself  affects,1 

Without  some  image  of  the  affected  merit. 

Tro.    I  take  to-day  a  wife,  and  my  election 
Is  led  on  in  the  conduct  of  my  will ; 
My  will,  enkindled  by  mine  eyes  and  ears, 
Two  traded  pilots  'twixt  the  dangerous  shores 
Of  will  and  judgment.     How  may  I  avoid, 
Although  my  will  distaste  what  it  elected, 
The  wife  I  chose  ?     There  can  be  no  evasion 
To  blench  from  this,  and  to  stand  firm  by  honor. 
We  turn  not  back  the  silks  upon  the  merchant, 
When  we  have  soiled  them  ;  nor  the  remainder  viands 
We  do  not  throw  in  unrespective  sieve,2 
Because  we  now  are  full.     It  was  thought  meet, 
Paris  should  do  some  vengeance  on  the  Greeks. 
Your  breath  with  full  consent  bellied  his  sails ; 
The  seas  and  winds  (old  wranglers)  took  a  truce, 
And  did  him  service  !     He  touched  the  ports  desired  ; 
And,  for  an  old  aunt,3  whom  the  Greeks  held  captive, 
He  brought  a  Grecian  queen,  whose  youth  and  fresh 
ness 

Wrinkles  Apollo's,  and  makes  pale  the  morning. 
Why  keep  we  her  ?  the  Grecians  keep  our  aunt  ; 
Is  she  worth  keeping  ?  why,  she  is  a  pearl, 
Whose  price  hath  launched  above  a  thousand  ships, 
And  turned  crowned  kings  to  merchants. 
If  you'll  avouch,  'twas  wisdom  Paris  went, 
(As  you  must  needs,  for  you  all  cried — Go,  go,) 
If  you'll  confess,  he  brought  home  noble  prize, 
(As  you  must  needs,  for  you  all  clapped  your  hands, 

1  "  The  will  dotes  that  attributes  or  gives  the  qualities  which  it  affects : " 
that  first  causes  excellence,  and  then  admires  it.     The  folio  reads  inclinable^ 
the  quarto  attributive. 

2  That  is,  into  a  common  voider.    The  folio  copy  reads,  by  mistake, 
unrespective  same" 

3  Priam's  sister,  Hesione. 


278  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  II. 

And  cried — Inestimable  /)  why  do  you  now 
The  issue  of  your  proper  wisdoms  rate  ; 
And  do  a  deed  that  fortune  never  did, 
Beggar  the  estimation  which  you  prized 
Richer  than  sea  and  land  ?     O  theft  most  base  ; 
That  we  have  stolen  what  we  do  fear  to  keep ! 
But,  thieves,  unworthy  of  a  thing  so  stolen, 
That  in  their  country  did  them  that  disgrace, 
We  fear  to  warrant  in  our  native  place ! 

Cas.    [  Within .  ]    C ry ,  Troj  an s ,  cry ! 

Pri.  What  noise  ?  what  shriek  is  this  ? 

Tro.    'Tis  our  mad  sister ;   I  do  know  her  voice. 

Cas.    [Within.'}    Cry,  Trojans! 

Hect.    It  is  Cassandra. 


Enter  CASSANDRA,  raving. 

Cas.    Cry,  Trojans,  cry !  lend  me  ten  thousand  eyes, 
And  I  will  fill  them  with  prophetic  tears. 

Hect.   Peace,  sister,  peace. 

Cas.  Virgins  and  boys,  mid-age  and  wrinkled  elders,1 
Soft  infancy,  that  nothing  canst  but  cry, 
Add  to  my  clamors !  let  us  pay  betimes 
A  moiety  of  that  mass  of  moan  to  come. 
Cry,  Trojans,  cry !  practise  your  eyes  with  tears  ! 
Troy  must  not  be,  nor  goodly  Ilion  stand ; 
Our  firebrand  brother,  Paris,  burns  us  all. 
Cry,  Trojans,  cry !  a  Helen,  and  a  woe. 
Cry,  cry !  Troy  burns,  or  else  let  Helen  go.         [Exit. 

Hect.    Now,  youthful  Troilus,   do  not  these  high 

strains 

Of  divination  in  our  sister,  work 
Some  touches  of  remorse  ?  or  is  your  blood 
So  madly  hot,  that  no  discourse  of  reason, 
Nor  fear  of  bad  success  in  a  bad  cause, 
Can  qualify  the  same  ? 

Tro.  Why,  brother  Hector, 

We  may  not  think  the  justness  of  each  act 

1  The  quarto  thus.    The  folio  reads  "wrinkled  oW,"  which  Ritson 
thinks  should  be  "  wrinkled  eW." 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESS1DA.  279 

Such  and  no  other  than  event  doth  form  it ; 
Nor  once  deject  the  courage  of  our  minds 
Because  Cassandra's  mad  :  her  brainsick  raptures 
Cannot  distaste1  the  goodness  of  a  quarrel, 
Which  hath  our  several  honors  all  engaged 
To  make  it  gracious.     For  my  private  part, 
I  am  no  more  touched  than  all  Priam's  sons ; 
And  Jove  forbid,  there  should  be  done  amongst  us 
Such  things  as  might  offend  the  weakest  spleen 
To  fight  for  and  maintain  ! 

Par.    Else  might  the  world  convince 2  of  levity 
As  well  my  undertakings,  as  your  counsels ; 
But  I  attest  the  gods,  your  full  consent3 
Gave  wings  to  my  propension,  and  cut  off 
All  fears  attending  on  so  dire  a  project. 
For  what,  alas !  can  these  my  single  arms  ? 
What  prppugnation  is  in  one  man's  valor, 
To  stand  the  push  and  enmity  of  those 
This  quarrel  would  excite  ?     Yet  I  protest, 
Were  I  alone  to  pass  the  difficulties, 
And  had  as  ample  power  as  I  have  will, 
Paris  should  ne'er  retract  what  he  hath  done, 
Nor  faint  in  the  pursuit. 

Pri.  Paris,  you  speak 

Like  one  besotted  on  your  sweet  delights. 
You  have  the  honey  still,  but  these  the  gall ; 
So  to  be  valiant,  is  no  praise  at  all. 

Par.    Sir,  I  propose  not  merely  to  myself 
The  pleasures  such  a  beauty  brings  with  it ; 
But  I  would  have  the  soil  of  her  fair  rape 
Wiped  off,  in  honorable  keeping  her. 
What  treason  were  it  to  the  ransacked  queen, 
Disgrace  to  your  great  worths,  and  shame  to  me, 
Now  to  deliver  her  possession  up, 
On  terms  of  base  compulsion  !     Can  it  be, 
That  so  degenerate  a  strain  as  this 
Should  once  set  footing  in  your  generous  bosoms  ? 

1  Corrupt,  change  to  a  worse  state. 

2  To  convince  and  to  convict  were  synonymous  with  our  ancestors. 

3  Consent  is  agreement,  accord,  approbation. 


280  TROILUS   AND   CRESS1DA.  [ACT  11 

There's  not  the  meanest  spirit  on  our  party, 
Without  a  heart  to  dare,  or  sword  to  draw, 
When  Helen  is  defended ;  nor  none  so  noble, 
Whose  life  were  ill  bestowed,  or  death  unfamed, 
Where  Helen  is  the  subject ;  then,  I  say, 
Well  may  we  fight  for  her,  whom,  we  know  well, 
The  world's  large  spaces  cannot  parallel. 

Hect.    Paris,  and  Troilus,  you  have  both  said  well ; 
And  on  the  cause  and  question  now  in  hand 
Have  glozed, — but  superficially ;  not  much 
Unlike  young  men,  whom  Aristotle  l  thought 
Unfit  to  hear  moral  philosophy. 
The  reasons  you  allege,  do  more  conduce 
To  the  hot  passion  of  distempered  blood, 
Than  to  make  up  a  free  determination 
'Twixt  right  and  wrong ;  for  pleasure,  and  revenge, 
Have  ears  more  deaf  than  adders  to  the  voice  , 
Of  any  true  decision.     Nature  craves, 
All  dues  be  rendered  to  their  owners.     Now, 
What  nearer  debt  in  all  humanity, 
Than  wife  is  to  the  husband  ?     If  this  law 
Of  nature  be  corrupted  through  affection  ; 
And  that  great  minds,  of2  partial  indulgence 
To  their  benumbed  wills,  resist  the  same ; 
There  is  a  law  in  each  well-ordered  nation, 
To  curb  those  raging  appetites  that  are 
Most  disobedient  and  refractory. 
If  Helen,  then,  be  wife  to  Sparta's  king, — 
As  it  is  known  she  is, — these  moral  laws 
Of  nature,  and  of  nations,  speak  aloud 
To  have  her  back  returned.     Thus  to  persist 
In  doing  wrong,  extenuates  not  wrong, 
But  makes  it  much  more  heavy.     Hector's  opinion 
Is  this,  in  way  of  truth ;  yet,  ne'ertheless, 
My  sprightly  brethren,  I  propend3  to  you 

1  We  may  be  amused  at  Hector's  mention  of  Aristotle,  but  « let  it  be 
remembered  (says  Steevens),  as  often  as  Shakspeare's  anachronisms  occur, 
that  errors  in  computing  time  were  very  frequent  in  those  ancient  romances 
which  seem  to  have  formed  the  greater  part  of  his  library." 

2  Through. 

3  Incline  to,  as  a  question  of  honor. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  281 

In  resolution  to  keep  Helen  still ; 

For  'tis  a  cause  that  hath  no  mean  dependence 

Upon  our  joint  and  several  dignities. 

Tro.   Why,  there  you  touched  the  life  of  our  design. 
Were  it  not  glory  that  we  more  affected 
Than  the  performance  of  our  heaving  spleens, 
I  would  not  wish  a  drop  of  Trojan  blood 
Spent  more  in  her  defence.     But,  worthy  Hector, 
She  is  a  theme  of  honor  and  renown ; 
A  spur  to  valiant  and  magnanimous  deeds  ; 
Whose  present  courage  may  beat  down  our  foes ; 
And  fame,  in  time  to  come,  canonize  us ; 
For  I  presume,  brave  Hector  would  not  lose 
So  rich  advantage  of  a  promised  glory, 
As  smiles  upon  the  forehead  of  this  action, 
For  the  wide  world's  revenue. 

Hect.  I  am  yours, 

You  valiant  offspring  of  great  Priamus. — 
I  have  a  roisting l  challenge  sent  amongst 
The  dull  and  factious  nobles  of  the  Greeks, 
Will  strike  amazement  to  their  drowsy  spirits. 
I  was  advertised,  their  great  general  slept, 
Whilst  emulation2  in  the  army  crept; 
This,  I  presume,  will  wake  him.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE    III.     The  Grecian  Camp.     Before  Achilles' 

Tent. 

Enter  THER SITES. 

Ther.  How  now,  Thersites?  what,  lost  in  the 
labyrinth  of  thy  fury  ?  Shall  the  elephant  Ajax  carry  it 
thus  ?  he  beats  me,  and  I  rail  at  him :  O  worthy  satis 
faction  !  'would  it  were  otherwise ;  that  I  could  beat 
him,  whilst  he  railed  at  me.  'Sfoot,  I'll  learn  to  conjure 
and  raise  devils,  but  I'll  see  some  issue  of  my  spiteful 
execrations.  Then  there's  Achilles, — a  rare  engineer. 

1  Blustering. 

2  Emulation  is  here  put  for  envious  rivalry,  factious  contention.    It  is 
generally  used  by  Shakspeare  in  this  sense. 

VOL.  v.  36 


282  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  II. 

If  Troy  be  not  taken  till  these  two  undermine  it,  the 
walls  will  stand  till  they  fall  of  themselves.  O  thou 
great  thunder-darter  of  Olympus,  forget  that  thou  art 
Jove  the  king  of  gods ;  and,  Mercury,  lose  all  the  ser 
pentine  craft  of  thy  caduceus;1  if  ye  take  not  that  little, 
little,  less-than-little  writ  from  them  that  they  have ! 
which  short-armed  ignorance  itself  knows  is  so  abun 
dant  scarce,  it  will  not  in  circumvention  deliver  a  fly 
from  a  spider,  without  drawing  their  massy  irons,  and 
cutting  the  web.  After  this,  the  vengeance  on  the 
whole  camp  !  or,  rather,  the  bone-ache  ! 2  for  that,  me- 
thinks,  is  the  curse  dependent  on  those  that  war  for  a 
placket.  I  have  said  my  prayers  ;  and  devil,  envy, 
say  Amen.  What,  ho  !  my  lord  Achilles  ! 

Enter  PATROCLUS. 

Pair.  Who's  there  ?  Thersites  ?  Good  Thersites, 
come  in  and  rail. 

Ther.  If  I  could  have  remembered  a  gilt  counter 
feit,3  thou  wouldst  not  have  slipped  out  of  my  contem 
plation  ;  but  it  is  no  matter.  Thyself!  upon  thyself! 
The  common  curse  of  mankind,  folly  and  ignorance, 
be  thine  in  great  revenue  !  Heaven  bless  thee  from  a 
tutor,  and  discipline  come  not  near  thee !  Let  thy  blood4 
be  thy  direction  till  thy  death  !  then  if  she  that  lays 
thee  out,  says — thou  art  a  fair  corse,  I'll  be  sworn  and 
sworn  upon't,  she  never  shrouded  any  but  lazars. 
Amen. — Where's  Achilles  ? 

Pair.   What,  art  thou  devout?  wast  thou  in  prayer? 

Ther,    Ay  ;  the  Heavens  hear  me  ! 

Enter  ACHILLES. 

Achil.    Who's  there  ? 
Pair.    Thersites,  my  lord. 


1  The  wand  of  Mercury  is  wreathed  with  serpents. 

2  In  the  quarto,  "  the  Neapolitan  bone-ache !  " 

3  To  understand  this  joke,  it  should  be  known  that  counterfeit  and  slip 
were  synonymous. 

4  Thy  blood  means  thy  passions. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  283 

AchiL  Where,  where  ? — Art  thou  come  ?  Why,  my 
cheese,  my  digestion,  why  hast  thou  not  served  thyself 
in  to  my  table  so  many  meals  ?  Come ;  what's  Aga 
memnon  ? 

Ther.  Thy  commander,  Achilles. — Then  tell  me, 
Patroclus,  what's  Achilles  ? 

Patr.  Thy  lord,  Thersites. — Then  tell  me,  I  pray 
thee,  what's  thyself? 

Ther.  Thy  knower,  Patroclus. — Then  tell  me,  Pa 
troclus,  what  art  thou  ? 

Patr.    Thou  mayst  tell,  that  knowest. 

AchiL    O,  tell,  tell. 

Ther.  I'll  decline  the  whole  question.  Agamemnon 
commands  Achilles  ;  Achilles  is  my  lord  ;  I  am  Patro 
clus'  knower ;  and  Patroclus  is  a  fool.1 

Patr.   You  rascal ! 

Ther.    Peace,  fool ;  I  have  not  done. 

AchiL    He  is  a  privileged  man. — Proceed,  Thersites. 

Ther.  Agamemnon  is  a  fool ;  Achilles  is  a  fool  ; 
Thersites  is  a  fool ;  and,  as  aforesaid,  Patroclus  is  a  fool. 

AchiL    Derive  this ;  come. 

Ther.  Agamemnon  is  a  fool  to  offer  to  command 
Achilles  ;  Achilles  is  a  fool  to  be  commanded  of  Aga 
memnon  ;  Thersites  is  a  fool  to  serve  such  a  fool ;  and 
Patroclus  is  a  fool  positive. 

Patr.    Why  am  I  a  fool  ? 

Ther.  Make  that  demand  of  the  prover. — It  suffices 
me,  thou  art.  Look  you,  who  comes  here ! 

Enter    AGAMEMNON,    ULYSSES,    NESTOR,    DIOMEDES, 
and  AJAX. 

AchiL  Patroclus,  I'll  speak  with  nobody. — Come 
in  with  me,  Thersites.  [Exit. 

Ther.  Here  is  such  patchery,  such  juggling,  and 
such  knavery !  All  the  argument  is,  a  cuckold  and  a 
whore ;  a  good  quarrel,  to  draw  emulous 2  factions,  and 


1  The  four  next  speeches  are  not  in  the  quarto. 

2  See  Act  ii.  Sc.  2. 


284  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  II 

bleed  to  death  upon !    Now  the  dry  serpigo 1  on  the 
subject !  and  war  and  lechery  confound  all !          [Exit. 

Agam.   Where  is  Achilles  ? 

Pair.   Within  his  tent ;  but  ill  disposed,  my  lord. 

Agam.    Let  it  be  known  to  him,  that  we  are  here. 
He  shent 2  our  messengers  ;  and  we  lay  by 
Our  appertainments,  visiting  of  him. 
Let  him  be  told  so ;  lest,  perchance,  he  think 
We  dare  not  move  the  question  of  our  place, 
Or  know  not  what  we  are. 

Pair.  I  shall  say  so  to  him. 

[Exit. 

Ulyss.   We  saw  him  at  the  opening  of  his  tent : 
He  is  not  sick. 

Ajax.  Yes,  lion-sick,  sick  of  proud  heart ;  you  may 
call  it  melancholy,  if  you  will  favor  the  man ;  but,  by 
my  head,  'tis  pride.  But  why,  why  ?  let  him  show  us 
a  cause. — A  word,  my  lord. 

[Takes  AGAMEMNON  aside. 

Nest.    What  moves  Ajax  thus  to  bay  at  him  ? 

Ulyss.    Achilles  hath  inveigled  his  fool  from  him. 

Nest.   Who?  Thersites? 

Ulyss.   He. 

Nest.  Then  will  Ajax  lack  matter,  if  he  have  lost 
his  argument. 

Ulyss.  No ;  you  see  he  is  his  argument,  that  has  his 
argument;  Achilles. 

Nest.  All  the  better;  their  fraction  is  more  our  wish, 
than  their  faction.  But  it  was  a  strong  composure,3  a 
fool  could  disunite. 

Ulyss.  The  amity  that  wisdom  knits  not,  folly  may 
easily  untie.  Here  comes  Patroclus. 

Re-enter  PATROCLUS. 

Nest.   No  Achilles  with  him. 

Ulyss.    The    elephant    hath   joints,    but   none   for 

1  The  serpigo  is  a  kind  of  tetter. 

2  Rebuked,  reprimanded.    Instead  of  shent  the  folio  reads  sent ;  the 
quarto,  sate. 

3  The  folio  reads  counsel. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  285 

courtesy ;    his    legs   are   legs    for    necessity,  not  for 
flexure.1 

Pair.    Achilles  bids  me  say — he  is  much  sorry, 
If  any  thing  more  than  your  sport  and  pleasure 
Did  move  your  greatness,  and  this  noble  state 2 
To  call  upon  him ;  he  hopes  it  is  no  other, 
But,  for  your  health  and  your  digestion  sake, 
An  after-dinner's  breath.3 

Agam.  Hear  you,  Patroclus  ; — 

We  are  too  well  acquainted  with  these  answers : 
But  his  evasion,  winged  thus  swift  with  scorn, 
Cannot  outfly  our  apprehensions. 
Much  attribute  he  hath ;  and  much  the  reason 
Why  we  ascribe  it  to  him ;  yet  all  his  virtues — 
Not  virtuously  on  his  own  part  beheld — 
Do,  in  our  eyes,  begin  to  lose  their  gloss ; 
Yea,  like  fair  fruit  in  an  unwholesome  dish, 
Are  like  to  rot  untasted.     Go  and  tell  him, 
We  come  to  speak  with  him ;  and  you  shall  not  sin, 
If  you  do  say — we  think  him  over-proud, 
And  under-honest ;  in  self-assumption  greater 
Than   in   the  note  of  judgment ;    and  worthier  than 

himself 

Here  tend  the  savage  strangeness 4  he  puts  on ; 
Disguise  the  holy  strength  of  their  command, 
And  underwrite 5  in  an  observing  kind 
His  humorous  predominance  ;  yea,  watch 
His  pettish  Junes,6  his  ebbs,  his  flows,  as  if 
The  passage  and  whole  carriage  of  this  action 
Rode  on  his  tide.     Go,  tell  him  this;  and  add, 
That,  if  he  overbold  his  price  so  much, 

1  This  was  one  of  the  errors  of  our  old  natural  history. 

2  This  stately  train. 

3  i.  e.  exercise,  relaxation. 

4  i.  e.  attend  upon  the  brutish,  distant  arrogance  or  rude  haughtiness  he 
assumes. 

5  To  underwrite  is  synonymous  with  to  subscribe,  which  is  used  by 
Shakspeare,  in  several  places,  for  to  yield,  to  submit. 

6  Fitful  lunacies.     The  quarto  reads  : — 

"His  course  and  time,  his  ebbs  and  flows,  and  if 
The  passage  and  whole  stream  of  his  commencement 
Rode  on  his  tide." 


286  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  II. 

We'll  none  of  him ;  but  let  him,  like  an  engine 
Not  portable,  lie  under  this  report — 
Bring  action  hither ;   this  cannot  go  to  war : 
A  stirring  dwarf  we  do  allowance  L  give 
Before  a  sleeping  giant : — Tell  him  so. 

Pair.    I  shall ;  and  bring  his  answer  presently. 

[Exit 

Agam.    In  second  voice  we'll  not  be  satisfied  ; 
We  come  to  speak  with  him — Ulysses,  enter, 

[Exit  ULYSSES. 

Ajax.    What  is  he  more  than  another  ? 

Agam.    No  more  than  what  he  thinks  he  is. 

Ajax.  Is  he  so  much  ?  Do  you  not  think  he  thinks 
himself  a  better  man  than  I  am  ? 

Agam.    No  question. 

Ajax.  Will  you  subscribe  his  thought,  and  say — 
he  is  ? 

Agam.  No,  noble  Ajax ;  you  are  as  strong,  as  valiant, 
as  wise,  no  less  noble,  much  more  gentle,  and  altogether 
more  tractable. 

Ajax.  Why  should  a  man  be  proud  ?  How  doth 
pride  grow?  I  know  not  what  pride  is. 

Agam.  Your  mind's  the  clearer,  Ajax,  and  your 
virtues  the  fairer.  He  that  is  proud,  eats  up  himself; 
pride  is  his  own  glass,  his  own  trumpet,  his  own 
chronicle  ;  and  whatever  praises  itself,  but  in  the  deed, 
devours  the  deed  in  the  praise. 

Ajax.  I  do  hate  a  proud  man,  as  I  hate  the  engen 
dering  of  toads. 

Nest.    And  yet  he  loves  himself.     Is  it  not  strange  ? 

[Aside. 

Re-enter  ULYSSES. 

Ulyss.    Achilles  will  not  to  the  field  to-morrow. 

Agam.   What's  his  excuse  ? 

Ulyss.  He  doth  rely  on  none  ; 

But  carries  on  the  stream  of  his  dispose, 
Without  observance  or  respect  of  any, 
In  will  peculiar  and  in  self-admission. 

1  Allowance  is  approbation. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  287 

Agam.   Why  will  he  not,  upon  our  fair  request, 
Untent  his  person,  and  share  the  air  with  us  ? 

Ulyss.    Things  small  as  nothing,  for  request's  sake 

only, 

He  makes  important.     Possessed  he  is  with  greatness  ; 
And  speaks  not  to  himself,  but  with  a  pride 
That  quarrels  at  self-breath  ;  imagined  worth 
Holds  in  his  blood  such  swollen  and  hot  discourse, 
That,  'twixt  his  mental  and  his  active  parts, 
Kingdomed  Achilles  in  commotion  rages, 
And  batters  down  himself.     What  should  I  say  ? 
He  is  so  plaguy  proud,  that  the  death  tokens  of  it 
Cry — No  recovery. 

Agam.  Let  Ajax  go  to  him. — 

Dear  lord,  go  you  and  greet  him  in  his  tent. 
'Tis  said,  he  holds  you  well ;  and  will  be  led, 
At  your  request,  a  little  from  himself. 

Ulyss.    O  Agamemnon,  let  it  not  be  so ! 
We'll  consecrate  the  steps  that  Ajax  makes 
When  they  go  from  Achilles.     Shall  the  proud  lord, 
That  bastes  his  arrogance  with  his  own  seam ; 1 
And  never  suffers  matter  of  the  world 
Enter  his  thoughts, — save  such  as  do  revolve 
And  ruminate  himself, — shall  he  be  worshipped 
Of  that  we  hold  an  idol  more  than  he  ? 
No,  this  thrice  worthy  and  right  valiant  lord 
Must  not  so  stale  his  palm,  nobly  acquired  ; 
Nor,  by  my  will,  assubjugate  his  merit, 
As  amply  titled  as  Achilles  is, 
By  going  to  Achilles. 
That  were  to  enlard  his  fat-already  pride ; 
And  add  more  coals  to  Cancer,  when  he  burns 
With  entertaining  great  Hyperion. 
This  lord  go  to  him  !     Jupiter  forbid, 
And  say  in  thunder — Achilles,  go  to  him. 

Nest.    O,  this  is  well ;  he  rubs  the  vein  of  him. 

[Aside. 

1  Seam  is  fat ;  the  grease,  fat,  or  tallow,  of  any  animal ;  but  chiefly 
applied  to  that  of  a  hog. 


288  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  II. 

Dio.   And  how  his  silence  drinks  up  this  applause  ! 

[Aside. 
Ajax.    If  I  go  to  him,  with  my  armed  fist  I'll  pash 1 

him 
Over  the  face. 

Agam.  O,  no,  you  shall  not  go. 

Ajax.  An  he  be  proud  with  me,  I'll  pheeze  2  his  pride ; 
Let  me  go  to  him. 

Ulyss.   Not   for   the    worth    that    hangs  upon  our 
quarrel. 

Ajax.   A  paltry,  insolent  fellow ! 

Nest.  How  he  describes 

Himself!  [Aside. 

Ajax.    Can  he  not  be  sociable  ? 
Ulyss.  The  raven 

Chides  blackness.  [Aside. 

Ajax.  I  will  let  his  humors  blood.3 

Agam.    He'll  be  the  physician,  that  should  be  the 
patient.  [Aside. 

Ajax.   An  all  men 
Were  o'  my  mind, — 

Ulyss.  Wit  would  be  out  of  fashion. 

Aside. 

Ajax.    He  should  not  bear  it  so ; 
He  should  eat  swords  first.    Shall  pride  carry  it  ? 
Nest.    An  'twould,  you'd  carry  half.  [Aside. 

Ulyss.  He'd  have  ten  shares. 

[Aside. 
Ajax.    I'll  knead  him,  I  will  make  him  supple  : — 


1  Scyphus  ei  impactus  est    Bard. 

"  He  was  poshed  over  the  pate  with  a  pot." 

The  word  is  used  twice  by  Massinger  in  his  Virgin  Martyr ;  and  Mr. 
Gifford  has  adduced  an  instance  from  Dryden :  he  justly  observes,  it  is  to 
be  regretted  that  the  word  is  now  obsolete,  as  we  have  none  that  can 
adequately  supply  its  place.  To  dash  signifying  to  throw  one  thing  with 
violence  against  another ;  to  pash  is  to  strike  a  thing  with  such  force  as 
to  crush  it  to  pieces. 

2  See  note  on  the  Induction  to  the  Taming  of  the  Shrew. 

3  There  is  a  curious  collection  of  Epigrams,  Satires,  &c.  printed  in 
1600,  with  this  quaint  title :— «  The  Letting  of  Humors  Blood  in  the  Head 
Vaine."     A  small  reimpression  was  made  at  Edinburgh  in  1815,  with  a 
preface  and  notes  by  sir  Walter  Scott 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  289 

Nest.   He's  not  yet  thorough  warm  :  force l  him  with 

praises  : 
Pour  in,  pour  in  ;  his  ambition  is  dry.  [Aside. 

Ulyss.   My  lord,  you  feed  too  much  on  this  dislike. 

[To  AGAMEMNON. 

Nest.    O  noble  general,  do  not  do  so. 

Dio.   You  must  prepare  to  fight  without  Achilles. 

Ulyss.   Why,  'tis  this  naming  of  him  does  him  harm. 
Here  is  a  man — But  'tis  before  his  face ; 
I  will  be  silent. 

Nest.  Wherefore  should  you  so  ? 

He  is  not  emulous,2  as  Achilles  is. 

Ulyss.    Know  the  whole  world,  he  is  as  valiant. 

Ajax.   A  whoreson  dog,  that  shall  palter  thus  with 


us  ! 


I  would  he  were  a  Trojan  ! 

Nest.  What  a  vice 

Were  it  in  Ajax  now 

Ulyss.  If  he  were  proud  ! 

Dio.    Or  covetous  of  praise  ! 

Ulyss.  Ay,  or  surly  borne  ! 

Dio.    Or  strange,  or  self-affected  ! 

Ulyss.    Thank  the  Heavens,  lord,  thou  art  of  sweet 

composure  ; 

Praise  him  that  got  thee,  she  that  gave  thee  suck : 
Famed  be  thy  tutor,  and  thy  parts  of  nature 
Thrice-famed,  beyond  all  erudition  : 3 
But  he  that  disciplined  thy  arms  to  fight, 
Let  Mars  divide  eternity  in  twain, 
And  give  him  half:  and,  for  thy  vigor, 
Bull-bearing  Milo  his  addition  4  yield 
To  sinewy  Ajax.     I  will  not  praise  thy  wisdom, 
Which,  like  a  bourn,  a  pale,  a  shore,  confines 
Thy  spacious  and  dilated  parts.     Here's  Nestor,— 
Instructed  by  the  antiquary  times, 

1  Force  him,  that  is,  stuff  him  (/amr,  Fr.). 

2  See  the  preceding  scene. 

3  The  quarto  reads : — 

"  Thrice  famed  beyond  all  thy  erudition." 

4  i.  e.  yield  his  titles,  his  celebrity  for  strength. 
VOL.  v.  37 


290  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III 

He  must,  he  is,  he  cannot  but  be  wise ; — 
But,  pardon,  father  Nestor,  were  jour  days 
As  green  as  Ajax',  and  your  brain  so  tempered, 
You  should  not  have  the  eminence  of  him, 
But  be  as  Ajax. 

Ajax.  Shall  I  call  you  father  ? 

Nest.   Ay,  my  good  son. 

Dio.  Be  ruled  by  him,  lord  Ajax. 

Ulyss.    There  is  no  tarrying  here ;  the  hart  Achilles 
Keeps  thicket.     Please  it  our  great  general 
To  call  together  all  his  state  of  war ; 
Fresh  kings  are  come  to  Troy.     To-morrow, 
We  must  with  all  our  main  of  power  stand  fast : 
Arid  here's  a  lord, — come  knights  from  east  to  west, 
And  cull  their  flower,  Ajax  shall  cope  the  best. 

Agam.    Go  we  to  council.     Let  Achilles  sleep  ; 
Light  boats  sail  swift,  though  greater  hulks  draw  deep. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT    III. 

SCENE  I.     Troy.     A  Room  in  Priam's  Palace. 

Enter  PANDARUS  and  a  Servant. 

Pan.  Friend !  you !  pray  you,  a  word.  Do  not  you 
follow  the  young  lord  Paris  ? 

Serv.    Ay,  sir,  when  he  goes  before  me. 

Pan.   You  do  depend  upon  him,  I  mean  ? 

Serv.    Sir,  I  do  depend  upon  the  Lord. 

Pan.  You  do  depend  upon  a  noble  gentleman  ;  I 
must  needs  praise  him. 

Serv.    The  Lord  be  praised  ! 

Pan.   You  know  me,  do  you  not  ? 

Serv.    'Faith,  sir,  superficially. 

Pan.  Friend,  know  me  better  ;  I  am  the  lord  Pan- 
darus. 


SC.  L]  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  291 

Serv.   I  hope  I  shall  know  your  honor  better.1 

Pan.    I  do  desire  it. 

Serv.   You  are  in  the  state  of  grace.    [Music  within. 

Pan.  Grace  !  not  so,  friend  !  honor  and  lordship  are 
my  titles ; — What  music  is  this  ? 

Serv.    I  do  but  partly  know,  sir ;  it  is  music  in  parts. 

Pan.   Know  you  the  musicians  ? 

Serv.    Wholly,  sir. 

Pan.   Who  play  they  to  ? 

Serv.    To  the  hearers,  sir. 

Pan.   At  whose  pleasure,  friend  ? 

Serv.    At  mine,  sir,  and  theirs  that  love  music. 

Pan.    Command,  I  mean,  friend. 

Serv.   Who  shall  I  command,  sir  ? 

Pan.  Friend,  we  understand  not  one  another  ;  I  am 
too  courtly,  and  thou  art  too  cunning.  At  whose  re 
quest  do  these  men  play  ? 

Serv.  That's  to't,  indeed,  sir.  Marry,  sir,  at  the  re 
quest  of  Paris,  my  lord,  who  is  there  in  person  ;  with 
him,  the  mortal  Venus,  the  heart-blood  of  beauty,  love's 
invisible  soul, 

Pan.    Who,  my  cousin  Cressida  ? 

Serv.  No,  sir  ;  Helen.  Could  you  not  find  out  that 
by  her  attributes  ? 

Pan.  It  should  seem,  fellow,  that  thou  hast  not  seen 
the  lady  Cressida.  I  come  to  speak  with  Paris  from 
the  prince  Troilus  :  I  will  make  a  complimental  assault 
upon  him,  for  my  business  seethes. 

Serv.  Sodden  business  !  there's  a  stewed  phrase  in 
deed! 

Enter  PARIS  and  HELEN,  attended. 

Pan.  Fair  be  to  you,  my  lord,  and  to  all  this  fair  com 
pany  !  fair  desires,  in  all  fair  measure,  fairly  guide 
them !  especially  to  you,  fair  queen !  fair  thoughts  be 
your  fair  pillow. 

Helen.    Dear  lord,  you  are  full  of  fair  words. 


1  The  servant  means  to  quibble.    He  hopes  Pandarus  will  become  a 
better  man  than  he  is  at  present. 


TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III. 

Pan.  You  speak  your  fair  pleasure,  sweet  queen. — 
Fair  prince,  here  is  good  broken  music. 

Par.  You  have  broke  it,  cousin :  and,  by  my  life, 
you  shall  make  it  whole  again ;  you  shall  piece  it  out 
with  a  piece  of  your  performance  : — Nell,  he  is  full  of 
harmony. 

Pan.    Truly,  lady,  no. 

Helen.    O  sir, 

Pan.    Rude,  in  sooth ;  in  good  sooth,  very  rude. 

Par.   Well  said,  my  lord !  well,  you  say  so  in  fits.1 

Pan.  I  have  business  to  my  lord,  dear  queen  : — 
My  lord,  will  you  vouchsafe  me  a  word  ? 

Helen.  Nay,  this  shall  not  hedge  us  out :  we'll  hear 
you  sing,  certainly. 

Pan.  Well,  sweet  queen,  you  are  pleasant  with  me. 
— But  (marry)  thus,  my  lord, — My  dear  lord,  and  most 
esteemed  friend,  your  brother  Troilus — 

Helen.   My  lord  Pandarus  ;  honey-sweet  lord, — 

Pan.  Go  to,  sweet  queen,  go  to  : — commends  him 
self  most  affectionately  to  you. 

Helen.  You  shall  not  bob  us  out  of  our  melody ;  if 
you  do,  our  melancholy  upon  your  head  ! 

Pan.  Sweet  queen,  sweet  queen  ;  that's  a  sweet 
queen,  i'  faith. 

Helen.  And  to  make  a  sweet  lady  sad,  is  a  sour 
offence. 

Pan.  Nay,  that  shall  not  serve  your  turn  ;  that  shall 
it  not,  in  truth,  la.  Nay,  I  care  not  for  such  words  ; 
no,  no. — 2And,  my  lord,  he  desires  you,  that,  if  the 
king  call  for  him  at  supper,  you  will  make  his  excuse. 

Helen.   My  lord  Pandarus, 

Pan.  What  says  my  sweet  queen,  my  very,  very 
sweet  queen  ? 

Par.  What  exploit's  in  hand  ?  Where  sups  he  to 
night  ? 

Helen.   Nay,  but,  my  lord, 

1  A  quibble  is  intended.    A  Jit  was  a  part  or  division  of  a  song  or  tune. 

2  "  And,  my  lord,"  &c.    Johnson  thinks  that  the  speech  of  Pandarus 
should  begin  here  ;  and  that  the  former  part  should  be  added  to  that  of 
Helen. 


SC.  I.]  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  293 

Pan.  What  says  my  sweet  queen  ?  —  My  cousin  will 
fall  out  with  you.  You  must  not  know  where  he  sups.1 

Par.    I'll  lay  my  life,  with  my  disposer2  Cressida. 

Pan.  No,  no,  no  such  matter  ;  you  are  wide  ;  come, 
your  disposer  is  sick. 

Par.    Well,  I'll  make  excuse. 

Pan.  Ay,  good  my  lord.  Why  should  you  say  — 
Cressida  ?  no,  your  poor  disposer's  sick. 

Par.    I  spy. 

Pan.  You  spy  !  what  do  you  spy  ?  —  Come,  give  me 
an  instrument.  —  Now,  sweet  queen. 

Helen.   Why,  this  is  kindly  done. 

Pan.  My  niece  is  horribly  in  love  with  a  thing  you 
have,  sweet  queen. 

Helen.  She  shall  have  it,  my  lord,  if  it  be  not  my 
lord  Paris. 

Pan.   He  !  no,  she'll  none  of  him  :  they  two  are  twain. 

Helen.  Falling  in,  after  falling  out,  may  make  them 
three. 

Pan.  Come,  come,  I'll  hear  no  more  of  this  ;  I'll  sing 
you  a  song  now. 

Helen.  Ay,  ay,  pr'ythee  now.  By  my  troth,  sweet 
lord,  thou  hast  a  fine  forehead. 

Pan.    Ay,  you  may,  you  may. 

Helen.  Let  thy  song  be  love  ;  this  love  will  undo  us 
all.  O  Cupid,  Cupid,  Cupid  ! 

Pan.    Love  !  ay,  that  it  shall,  i'  faith. 

Par.    Ay,  good  now,  love,  love,  nothing  but  love. 

Pan.    In  good  troth,  it  begins  so  : 

Love,  love,  nothing  but  love,  still  more  ! 
For  oh,  love's  bow 
Shoots  buck  and  doe  : 


1  "  You  must  not  know  where  he  sups."    These  words,  in  the  old  copies, 
are  erroneously  given  to  Helen. 

2  Steevens  would  give  this  speech  to  Helen,  and  read  deposer  instead 
of  disposer. 

Disposer  appears  to  have  heen  an  equivalent  term,  anciently,  for 
steward,  or  manager.  If  the  speech  is  to  be  attributed  to  Helen,  she  may 
mean  to  call  Cressid  her  handmaid. 


294  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III. 

The  shaft  confounds, 
Not  that  it  wounds, 
But  tickles  still  the  sore. 

These  lovers  cry — Oh!  ho!  they  die! 

Yet  that  which  seems  the  wound  to  kill, 
Doth  turn  oh  !  oh  !  to  ha  !  ha  !  he  ! 

So  dying  love  lives  still : 
Oh  !  oh  !  a  while,  but  ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 
Oh  !  oh  !  groans  out  for  ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Hey  ho ! 

Helen.    In  love,  i'  faith,  to  the  very  tip  of  the  nose. 

Par.  He  eats  nothing  but  doves,  love ;  and  that 
breeds  hot  blood,  and  hot  blood  begets  hot  thoughts, 
and  hot  thoughts  beget  hot  deeds,  and  hot  deeds  is  love. 

Pan.  Is  this  the  generation  of  love  ?  hot  blood,  hot 
thoughts,  and  hot  deeds  ? — Why,  they  are  vipers.  Is 
love  a  generation  of  vipers  ?  Sweet  lord,  who's  afield 
to-day  ? 

Par.  Hector,  Deiphobus,  Helenus,  Antenor,  and  all 
the  gallantry  of  Troy :  I  would  fain  have  armed  to-night, 
but  my  Nell  would  not  have  it  so.  How  chance  my 
brother  Troilus  went  not  ? 

Helen.  He  hangs  the  lip  at  something  ; — you  know 
all,  lord  Pandarus. 

Pan.  Not  I,  honey-sweet  queen. — I  long  to  hear  how 
they  sped  to-day. — You'll  remember  your  brother's 
excuse  ? 

Par.    To  a  hair. 

Pan.    Farewell,  sweet  queen. 

Helen.    Commend  me  to  your  niece. 

Pan.    I  will,  sweet  queen.  [Exit. 

[A  retreat  sounded. 

Par.    They  are  come  from  field ;  let  us  to  Priam's 

hall, 

To  greet  the  warriors.     Sweet  Helen,  I  must  woo  you 
To  help  unarm  our  Hector  :  his  stubborn  buckles, 
With  these  your  white,  enchanting  fingers  touched, 
Shall  more  obey,  than  to  the  edge  of  steel, 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  295 

Or  force  of  Greekish  sinews ;  you  shall  do  more 
Than  all  the  island  kings — disarm  great  Hector. 

Helen.    'Twill  make  us   proud  to    be  his  servant, 

Paris  : 

Yea,  what  he  shall  receive  of  us  in  duty, 
Gives  us  more  palm  in  beauty  than  we  have ; 
Yea,  overshines  ourself. 

Par.    Sweet,  above  thought  I  love  thee.      [Exeunt. 


SCENE    II.    The  same.     Pandarus5  Orchard. 

Enter  PANDARUS  and  a  Servant,  meeting. 

Pan.    How  now  ?  where's  thy  master  ?  at  my  cousin 

Cressida's  ? 
Serv.   No,  sir ;  he  stays  for  you  to  conduct  him  thither. 

Enter  TROILUS. 

Pan.    O,  here  he  comes. — How  now,  how  now  ? 

Tro.    Sirrah,  walk  off.  [Exit  Servant. 

Pan.    Have  you  seen  my  cousin  ? 

Tro.    No,  Pandarus  :  I  stalk  about  her  door, 
Like  a  strange  soul  upon  the  Stygian  banks, 
Staying  for  waftage.     O,  be  thou  my  Charon, 
And  give  me  swift  transportance  to  those  fields. 
Where  I  may  wallow  in  the  lily  beds 
Proposed  for  the  deserver  ?     O  gentle  Pandarus, 
From  Cupid's  shoulder  pluck  his  painted  wings, 
And  fly  with  me  to  Cressid ! 

Pan.    Walk  here  i'  the  orchard,  I'll  bring  her  straight. 

[Exit  PANDARUS. 

Tro.    I  am  giddy  ;  expectation  whirls  me  round. 
The  imaginary  relish  is  so  sweet 
That  it  enchants  my  sense.     What  will  it  be, 
When  that  the  watery  palate  tastes  indeed 
Love's  thrice-reputed  nectar  ?  death,  I  fear  me  ; 
Swooning  destruction  ;  or  some  joy  too  fine, 
Too  subtle  potent,  tuned  too  sharp  in  sweetness, 


296  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III, 

For  the  capacity  of  my  ruder  powers : 
I  fear  it  much ;  and  I  do  fear  besides, 
That  I  shall  lose  distinction  in  my  joys  ; 
As  doth  a  battle,  when  they  charge  on  heaps 
The  enemy  flying. 

Re-enter  PANDARUS. 

Pan.  She's  making  her  ready  ;  she'll  come  straight ; 
you  must  be  witty  now.  She  does  so  blush,  and 
fetches  her  wind  so  short,  as  if  she  were  frayed  with  a 
sprite ;  I'll  fetch  her.  It  is  the  prettiest  villain ;  she 
fetches  her  breath  as  short  as  a  new-ta'en  sparrow. 

[Exit  PANDARUS. 

Tro.    Even  such  a  passion  doth  embrace  my  bosom. 
My  heart  beats  thicker  than  a  feverous  pulse ; 
And  all  my  powers  do  their  bestowing  lose, 
Like  vassalage  at  unawares  encountering 
The  eye  of  majesty. 

Enter  PANDARUS  and  CRESSIDA. 

Pan.  Come,  come,  what  need  you  blush  ?  shame's 
a  baby. — Here  she  is  now ;  swear  the  oaths  now  to 
her,  that  you  have  sworn  to  me. — What,  are  you  gone 
again  ?  you  must  be  watched 1  ere  you  be  made  tame, 
must  you  ?  Come  your  ways,  come  your  ways  ;  an 
you  draw  backward,  we'll  put  you  i'  the  fills.2 — Why 
do  you  not  speak  to  her  ? — Come,  draw  the  curtain, 
and  let's  see  your  picture.  Alas  the  day,  how  loath  you 
are  to  offend  daylight !  an  'twere  dark,  you'd  close 
sooner.  So,  so ;  rub  on,  and  kiss  the  mistress.3  How 
now,  a  kiss  in  fee-farm ! 4  build  there,  carpenter ;  the 
air  is  sweet.  Nay,  you  shall  fight  your  hearts  out,  ere 

1  Hawks  were  tamed  by  keeping  them  from  sleep. 

2  i.  e.  the  shafts. 

3  The  allusion  is  to  bowling ;  what  is  now  called  the  jack  was  formerly 
termed  the  mistress.     A  bowl  that  kisses  the  jack  or  mistress  is  in  the 
most  advantageous  situation.     Rub  on  is  a  term  in  the  game.     See  Cym- 
beline,  Act  ii.  Sc.  1. 

4  «  A  kiss  in  fee-farm  "  is  a  kiss  of  duration,  that  has  bounds,  a  fee-farm 
being  a  grant  of  lands  in  fee ;  that  is,  forever  reserving  a  certain  rent. 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  297 

I  part  you.  The  falcon  as  the  tercel,1  for  all  the  ducks 
i'  the  river ;  go  to,  go  to. 

Tro.    You  have  bereft  me  of  all  words,  lady. 

Pan.  Words  pay  no  debts ;  give  her  deeds ;  but 
she'll  bereave  you  of  the  deeds  too,  if  she  call  your 
activity  in  question.  What,  billing  again  ?  Here's 
— In  witness  whereof  the  parties  interchangeably* — 
Come  in,  come  in  ;  I'll  go  get  a  fire.  [Exit  PANDARUS. 

Ores.    Will  you  walk  in,  my  lord  ? 

Tro.   O  Cressida,  how  often  have  I  wished  me  thus  ? 

Cres.  Wished,  my  lord  ? — The  gods  grant ! — O  my 
lord! 

Tro.  What  should  they  grant?  what  makes  this 
pretty  abruption  ?  What  too  curious  dreg  espies  my 
sweet  lady  in  the  fountain  of  our  love  ? 

Cres.    More  dregs  than  water,  if  my  fears  have  eyes. 

Tro.  Fears  make  devils  chembins ;  they  never  see 
truly. 

Cres.  Blind  fear,  that  seeing  reason  leads,  finds  safer 
footing  than  blind  reason  stumbling  without  fear.  To 
fear  the  worst,  oft  cures  the  worst. 

Tro.  O,  let  my  lady  apprehend  no  fear ;  in  all 
Cupid's  pageant  there  is  presented  no  monster.3 

Cres.    Nor  nothing  monstrous  neither  ? 

Tro.  Nothing,  but  our  undertakings  ;  when  we  vow 
to  weep  seas,  live  in  fire,  eat  rocks,  tame  tigers ;  think 
ing  it  harder  for  our  mistress  to  devise  imposition 
enough,  than  for  us  to  undergo  any  difficulty  imposed. 
This  is  the  monstmosity  in  love,  lady, — that  the  will  is 
infinite,  and  the  execution  confined  ;  that  the  desire  is 
boundless,  and  the  act  a  slave  to  limit. 

Cres.  They  say,  all  lovers  swear  more  performance 
than  they  are  able,  and  yet  reserve  an  ability  that  they 
never  perform ;  vowing  more  than  the  perfection  of 
ten,  and  discharging  less  than  the  tenth  part  of  one. 


1  The  tercel  is  the  male,  and  the  falcon  the  female  hawk.     Pandarus 
backs  the  falcon  against  the  tercel  for  any  stake. 

2  Thus  in  a  future  page  : — "  Go  to,  a  bargain  made ;  seal  it" 

3  From  this  passage  a  Fear  appears  to  have  been  a  personage  in  other 
pageants,  or  perhaps  in  our  ancient  moralities. 

VOL.  v.  38 


298  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III. 

They  that  have  the  voice  of  lions,  and  the  act  of  hares, 
are  they  not  monsters  ? 

Tro.  Are  there  such  ?  such  are  not  we.  Praise  us 
as  we  are  tasted,  allow  us  as  we  prove ;  our  head  shall 
go  bare,  till  merit  crown  it ;  no  perfection  in  reversion 
shall  have  a  praise  in  present;  we  will  not  name 
desert,  before  his  birth ;  and,  being  born,  his  addition 
shall  be  humble.  Few  words  to  fair  faith.  Troilus 
shall  be  such  to  Cressid,  as  what  envy  can  say  worst, 
shall  be  a  mock  for  his  truth  ; 1  and  what  truth  can 
speak  truest,  not  truer  than  Troilus. 

Cres.   Will  you  walk  in,  my  lord  ? 

Re-enter  PANDARUS. 

Pan.  What,  blushing  still?  have  you  not  done 
talking  yet  ? 

Cres.  Well,  uncle,  what  folly  I  commit,  I  dedicate 
to  you. 

Pan.  I  thank  you  for  that ;  if  my  lord  get  a  boy  of 
you,  you'll  give  him  me.  Be  true  to  my  lord ;  if  he 
flinch,  chide  me  for  it. 

Tro.  You  know  now  your  hostages ;  your  uncle's 
word,  and  my  firm  faith. 

Pan.  Nay,  I'll  give  my  word  for  her  too ;  our 
kindred,  though  they  be  long  ere  they  are  wooed, 
they  are  constant,  being  won :  they  are  burs,  I  can 
tell  you:  they'll  stick  where  they  are  thrown. 

Cres.   Boldness  comes  to  me  now,  and  brings  me 

heart. — 

Prince  Troilus,  I  have  loved  you  night  and  day 
For  many  weary  months. 

Tro.    Why  was  my  Cressid  then  so  hard  to  win  ? 

Cres.    Hard  to  seem  won ;  but  I  was  won,  my  lord, 
With  the  first  glance  that  ever — pardon  me  ; — 
If  I  confess  much,  you  will  play  the  tyrant. 
I  love  you  now ;  but  not,  till  now,  so  much 


1  Even  malice  (i.  e  envy)  shall  not  be  able  to  impeach  his  truth,  or 
attach  him  in  any  other  way,  except  by  ridiculing  him  for  his  constancy. 


SO.  II.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  299 

But  I  might  master  it ;  in  faith,  I  lie  ; 

My  thoughts  were  like  unbridled  children,  grown 

Too  headstrong  for  their  mother.     See,  we  fools  ! 

Why  have  I  blabbed  ?     Who  shall  be  true  to  us, 

When  we  are  so  unsecret  to  ourselves  ? 

But,  though  I  loved  you  well,  I  wooed  you  not; 

And  yet,  good  faith,  I  wished  myself  a  man ; 

Or  that  we  women  had  men's  privilege 

Of  speaking  first.     Sweet,  bid  me  hold  my  tongue ; 

For,  in  this  rapture,  I  shall  surely  speak 

The  thing  I  shall  repent.     See,  see,  your  silence, 

Cunning  in  dumbness,  from  my  weakness  draws 

My  very  soul  of  counsel.     Stop  my  mouth. 

Tro.    And  shall,  albeit  sweet  music  issues  thence. 

Pan.    Pretty,  i'  faith. 

Ores.    My  lord,  I  do  beseech  you  pardon  me ; 
'Twas  not  my  purpose  thus  to  beg  a  kiss. 
I  am  ashamed  ; — O  Heavens !  what  have  I  done  ? — 
For  this  time  will  I  take  my  leave,  my  lord. 

Tro.    Your  leave,  sweet  Cressid  ? 

Pan.    Leave !    an   you   take    leave    till   to-morrow 


morning,- 


Cres.    Pray  you,  content  you. 

Tro.  What  offends  you,  lady  ? 

Ores.    Sir,  mine  own  company. 

Tro.  You  cannot  shun 

Yourself. 

Ores.       Let  me  go  and  try: 
I  have  a  kind  of  self  resides  with  you ; 
But  an  unkind  self,  that  itself  will  leave, 
To  be  another's  fool.     I  would  be  gone. 
Where  is  my  wit  ?     I  know  not  what  I  speak. 

Tro.    Well  know  they  what  they  speak,  that  speak 
so  wisely. 

Cres.    Perchance,  my  lord,  I  show  more  craft  than 

love  ; 

And  fell  so  roundly  to  a  large  confession, 
To  angle  for  your  thoughts.     But  you  are  wise  ; 
Or  else  you  love  not.     For  to  be  wise,  and  love, 
Exceeds  man's  might ;  that  dwells  with  gods  above. 


300  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III, 

Tro.    O,  that  I  thought  it  could  be  in  a  woman, 
(As,  if  it  can,  I  will  presume  in  you,) 
To  feed  for  aye  her  lamp  and  flames  of  love ; 
To  keep  her  constancy  in  plight  and  youth, 
Outliving  beauty's  outward,  with  a  mind 
That  doth  renew  swifter  than  blood  decays ! 
Or,  that  persuasion  could  but  thus  convince  me, — 
That  my  integrity  and  truth  to  you 
Might  be  affronted 1  with  the  match  and  weight 
Of  such  a  winnowed  purity  in  love ; 
How  were  I  then  uplifted !     But,  alas, 
I  am  as  true  as  truth's  simplicity, 
And  simpler  than  the  infancy  of  truth. 

Cres.    In  that  I'll  war  with  you. 

Tro.  O  virtuous  fight, 

When  right  with  right  wars  who  shall  be  most  right ! 

O  O  O 

True  swains  in  love  shall,  in  the  world  to  come, 

Approve  their  truths  by  Troilus ;  when  their  rhymes, 

Full  of  protest,  of  oath,  and  big  compare, 

Want  similes  of  truth,  tired  with  iteration,2 — 

As  true  as  steel,  as  plantage  to  the  moon,3 

As  sun  to  day,  as  turtle  to  her  mate, 

As  iron  to  adamant,  as  earth  to  the  centre, — 

Yet,  after  all  comparisons  of  truth, 

As  truth's  authentic  author  to  be  cited, 

As  true  as  Troilus  shall  crown  up 4  the  verse, 

And  sanctify  the  numbers. 

Cres.  Prophet  may  you  be  ! 

If  I  be  false,  or  swerve  a  hair  from  truth, 
When  time  is  old  and  hath  forgot  itself, 
When  water-drops  have  worn  the  stones  of  Troy, 
And  blind  oblivion  swallowed  cities  up, 
And  mighty  states  characterless  are  grated 


1  Met  with  and  equalled. 

2  In  the  old  copy  this  line  stands, — 

"  Wants  similes  truth  tired  with  iteration." 
The  emendation  was  proposed  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt. 

3  Plantage  is  here  put  for  any  thing  planted,  which  was  thought  to 
depend  for  its  success  upon  the  influence  of  the  moon. 

4  i.  e.  conclude  it 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  301 

To  dusty  nothing ;  yet  let  memory, 

From  false  to  false,  among  false  maids  in  love, 

Upbraid   my  falsehood  !     When   they  have    said — as 

false 

As  air,  as  water,  wind,  or  sandy  earth, 
As  fox  to  lamb,  as  wolf  to  heifer's  calf, 
Pard  to  the  hind,  or  stepdame  to  her  son ; 
Yea,  Jet  them  say,  to  stick  the  heart  of  falsehood, 
As  false  as  Cressid. 

Pan.  Go  to,  a  bargain  made  ;  seal  it,  seal  it ;  I'll 
be  the  witness. — Here  I  hold  your  hand  ;  here,  my 
cousin's.  If  ever  you  prove  false  one  to  another,  since 
I  have  taken  such  pains  to  bring  you  together,  let  all 
pitiful  goers-between  be  called  to  the  world's  end  after 
my  name  ;  call  them  all — Pandars  :  let  all  constant  * 
men  be  Troiluses,  all  false  women  Cressids,  and  all 
brokers-be tween  Pandars  !  say,  amen. 

Tro.    Amen. 

Ores.    Amen 

Pan.  Amen.  Whereupon  I  will  show  you  a 
chamber  and  a  bed ;  which  bed,  because  it  shall  not 
speak  of  your  pretty  encounters,  press  it  to  death ; 
away. 

And  Cupid  grant  all  tongue-tied  maidens  here, 
Bed,  chamber,  Pandar,  to  provide  this  gear.     [Exeunt. 


SCENE    III.     The  Grecian  Camp. 

Enter  AGAMEMNON,    ULYSSES,    DIOMEDES,   NESTOR, 
AJAX,  MENELAUS,  and  CALCHAS. 

Cal.   Now,  princes,  for  the  service  I  have  done  you, 
The  advantage  of  the  time  prompts  me  aloud 
To  call  for  recompense.     Appear  it  to  your  mind, 


i  Hanmer  altered  this  to  "  inconstant  men ; "  but  the  Poet  seems  to 
have  been  less  attentive  to  make  Pandarus  talk  consequentially,  than 
to  account  for  the  ideas  actually  annexed  to  the  three  names  in  his  own 
time. 


302  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III. 

That,  through  the  sight  I  bear  in  things,  to  Jove  l 

I  have  abandoned  Troy,  left  my  possession, 

Incurred  a  traitor's  name  ;  exposed  myself, 

From  certain  and  possessed  conveniences, 

To  doubtful  fortunes  ;  sequestering  from  me  all 

That  time,  acquaintance,  custom,  and  condition, 

Made  tame  and  most  familiar  to  my  nature ; 

And  here,  to  do  you  service,  am  become 

As  new  into2  the  world,  strange,  unacquainted. 

I  do  beseech  you,  as  in  way  of  taste, 

To  give  me  now  a  little  benefit, 

Out  of  those  many  registered  in  promise, 

Which,  you  say,  live  to  come  in  my  behalf. 

Agam.  What  wouldst  thou  of  us,   Trojan !    make 
demand. 

CaL    You  have  a  Trojan  prisoner,  called  Antenor, 
Yesterday  took ;  Troy  holds  him  very  dear. 
Oft  have  you  (often  have  you  thanks  therefore) 
Desired  my  Cressid  in  right  great  exchange, 
Whom  Troy  hath  still  denied.     But  this  Antenor, 
I  know,  is  such  a  wrest3  in  their  affairs, 
That  their  negotiations  all  must  slack, 
Wanting  his  manage  ;  and  they  will  almost 
Give  us  a  prince  of  blood,  a  son  of  Priam, 
In  change  of  him.     Let  him  be  sent,  great  princes. 
And  he  shall  buy  my  daughter ;  and  her  presence 

1  The  old  copies  all  concur  in  reading — 

"  That  through  the  sight  I  bear  in  things  to  love." 

The  present  reading  of  the  text  is  supported  by  Johnson  and  Malone ; 
to  which  Mason  makes  this  objection : — "  That  it  was  Juno,  and  not  Jove, 
that  persecuted  the  Trojans.  Some  modern  editions  have  the  line  thus  :— 

"  That  through  the  sight  I  bear  in  things  to  come." 

As  Mason  observes, "  the  speech  of  Calchas  would  have  been  incomplete, 
if  he  had  said  he  abandoned  Troy,  from  the  sight  he  bore  of  things,  without 
explaining  it  by  adding  the  words  to  come" 

The  merit  of  Calchas  did  not  merely  consist  in  having  come  over  to  the 
Greeks ;  he  also  revealed  to  them  the  fate  of  Troy,  which  depended  on 
their  conveying  away  the  palladium,  and  the  horses  of  Rhesus,  before  they 
should  drink  of  the  river  Xanthus. 

2  Into  for  unto ;  a  common  form  of  expression  in  old  writers. 

3  A  wrest  is  an  instrument  for  tuning  harps,  &c.  by  draiving  up  the 
strings. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA  303 

Shall  quite  strike  off  all  service  I  have  done, 
In  most  accepted  pain.1 

Agam.  Let  Diomedes  bear  him, 

And  bring  us  Cressid  hither ;  Calchas  shall  have 
What  he  requests  of  us. — Good  Diomed, 
Furnish  you  fairly  for  this  interchange ; 
Withal,  bring  word — if  Hector  will  to-morrow 
Be  answered  in  his  challenge.     Ajax  is  ready. 

Dio.    This  shall  I  undertake  ;  and  'tis  a  burden 
Which  I  am  proud  to  bear. 

[Exeunt  DIOMEDES  and  CALCHAS. 

Enter  ACHILLES  and  PATROCLUS,  before  their  tent. 

Ulyss.    Achilles  stands  i'the  entrance  of  his  tent. — 
Please  it  our  general  to  pass  strangely  by  him, 
As  if  he  were  forgot;  and,  princes  all, 
Lay  negligent  and  loose  regard  upon  him. 
I  will  come  last.     'Tis  like,  he'll  question  me, 
Why  such  unplausive  eyes  are  bent,  why  turned  on  him. 
If  so,  I  have  derision  med'cinable, 
To  use  between  your  strangeness  and  his  pride, 
Which  his  own  will  shall  have  desire  to  drink ; 
It  may  do  good.     Pride  hath  no  other  glass 
To  show  itself,  but  pride  ;  for  supple  knees 
Feed  arrogance,  and  are  the  proud  man's  fees. 

Agam.   We'll  execute  your  purpose,  and  put  on 
A  form  of  strangeness  as  we  pass  along ; 
So  do  each  lord ;  and  either  greet  him  not, 
Or  else  disdainfully,  which  shall  shake  him  more 
Than  if  not  looked  on.     I  will  lead  the  way. 

Achil.    What,  comes  the  general  to  speak  with  me  ? 
You  know  my  mind ;   I'll  fight  no  more  'gainst  Troy. 

Agam.  What  says  Achilles  ?  would  he  aught  with  us  ? 

Nest.    Would  you,  my  lord,  aught  with  the  general  ? 

Achil. 


1  Hanmer  and  Warburton  read,  "In  most  accepted  pay"  But  the 
construction  of  the  passage,  as  it  stands,  appears  to  be,  "  Tier  presence  shall 
strike  off,  or  recompense  the  service  1  have  done,  even  in  those  labors  which 
were  most 


304  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III. 

Nest.   Nothing,  my  lord. 

Agam.  The  better. 

[Exeunt  AGAMEMNON  and  NESTOR. 

AchiL  Good  day,  good  day. 

Men.    How  do  you  ?  how  do  you  ? 

{Exit  MENELAUS. 

AchiL  What,  does  the  cuckold  scorn  me  ? 

Ajax.    How  now,  Patroclus  ? 

AchiL  Good  morrow,  Ajax. 

Ajax.  Ha ! 

AchiL    Good  morrow. 

Ajax.  Ay,  and  good  next  day  too. 

[Exit  AJAX. 

AchiL    What  mean  these  fellows  ?     Know  they  not 
Achilles  ? 

Patr.  They  pass  by  strangely ;  they  were  used  to  bend, 
To  send  their  smiles  before  them  to  Achilles ; 
To  come  as  humbly  as  they  used  to  creep 
To  holy  altars. 

AchiL  What,  am  I  poor  of  late  ? 

5Tis  certain,  greatness,  once  fallen  out  with  fortune, 
Must  fall  out  with  men  too.     What  the  declined  is, 
He  shall  as  soon  read  in  the  eyes  of  others, 
As  feel  in  his  own  fall ;  for  men,  like  butterflies, 
Show  not  their  mealy  wings,  but  to  the  summer  ; 
And  not  a  man,  for  being  simply  man, 
Hath  any  honor ;  but  honor  for  those  honors 
That  are  without  him,  as  place,  riches,  favor, 
Prizes  of  accident  as  oft  as  merit ; 
Which  when  they  fall,  as  being  slippery  standers, 
The  love  that  leaned  on  them  as  slippery  too, 
Do  one  pluck  down  another,  and  together 
Die  in  the  fall.     But  'tis  not  so  with  me. 
Fortune  and  I  are  friends  ;  T  do  enjoy 
At  ample  point  all  that  I  did  possess, 
Save  these  men's  looks ;  who  do,  methinks,  find  out 
Something  not  worth  in  me  such  rich  beholding 
As  they  have  often  given.     Here  is  Ulysses ; 
I'll  interrupt  his  reading. — 
How  now,  Ulysses ! 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  305 

Ulyss.  Now,  great  Thetis'  son ! 

Achil.   What  are  you  reading  ? 

Ulyss.  A  strange  fellow  here 

Writes  me,  that  man — how  dearly  ever  parted,1 
How  much  in  having,  or  without,  or  in — 
Cannot  make  boast  to  have  that  which  he  hath, 
Nor  feels  not  what  he  owes,  but  by  reflection  ; 
As  when  his  virtues  shining  upon  others 
Heat  them,  and  they  retort  that  heat  again 
To  the  first  giver. 

Achil.  This  is  not  strange,  Ulysses. 

The  beauty  that  is  borne  here  in  the  face, 
The  bearer  knows  not,  but  commends  itself 
To  others'  eyes ;  nor  doth  the  eye  itself 
(That  most  pure  spirit  of  sense)  behold  itself, 
Not  going  from  itself;  but  eye  to  eye  opposed, 
Salutes  each  other  with  each  other's  form. 
For  speculation  2  turns  not  to  itself, 
Till  it  hath  travelled,  and  is  married  there 
Where  it  may  see  itself;  this  is  not  strange  at  all. 

Ulyss.    I  do  not  strain  at  the  position  ; 
It  is  familiar :  but  at  the  author's  drift ; 
Who,  in  his  circumstance,3  expressly  proves — 
That  no  man  is  the  lord  of  any  thing, 
(Though  in  arid  of  him  there  be  much  consisting,) 
Till  he  communicate  his  parts  to  others. 
Nor  doth  he  of  himself  know  them  for  aught 
Till  he  behold  them  formed  in  the  applause 
Where  they  are  extended ;  which,4  like  an  arch,  re 
verberates 

The  voice  again  ;  or  like  a  gate  of  steel 
Fronting  the  sun,  receives  and  renders  back 


1  However  excellently  endowed,  with  however  dear  or  precious  parts 
enriched. 

2  Speculation  has  here  the  same  meaning  as  in  Macbeth : — 

"  Thou  hast  no  speculation  in  those  eyes 
Which  thou  dost  glare  with." 

3  Detail  ot  argument. 

4  The  old  copies  read  "  who,  like  an  arch,  reverberate ; "  which  may 
mean,  they  who  applaud  reverberate.    The  elliptic  mode  of  expression  is 
in  the  Poet's  manner.    Rowe  made  the  alteration. 

VOL.  v.  39 


306  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III. 

His  figure  and  his  heat.     I  was  much  rapt  in  this ; 

And  apprehended  here  immediately 

The  unknown  Ajax.1 

Heavens,  what  a  man  is  there  !  a  very  horse ; 

That  has  he  knows  not  what.     Nature,  what  things 

there  are, 

Most  abject  in  regard,  and  dear  in  use ! 
What  things  again  most  dear  in  the  esteem, 
And  poor  in  worth !     Now  shall  we  see  to-morrow, 
An  act  that  very  chance  doth  throw  upon  him, — 
Ajax  renowned.     O  Heavens,  what  some  men  do, 
While  some  men  leave  to  do ! 
How  some  men  creep  in  skittish  fortune's  hall, 
Whiles  others  play  the  idiots  in  her  eyes ! 
How  one  man  eats  into  another's  pride, 
While  pride  is  fasting  in  his  wantonness ! 
To  see  these  Grecian  lords ! — why,  even  already 
They  clap  the  lubber  Ajax  on  the  shoulder ; 
As  if  his  foot  were  on  brave  Hector's  breast, 
And  great  Troy  shrieking.2 

AchiL    I  do  believe  it ;  for  they  passed  by  me, 
As  misers  do  by  beggars ;  neither  gave  to  me 
Good  word,  nor  look.     What,  are  my  deeds  forgot  ? 

Ulyss.    Time  hath,  my  lord,  a  wallet  at  his  back, 
Wherein  he  puts  alms  for  oblivion,3 
A  great-sized  monster  of  ingratitudes. 
Those  scraps  are  good  deeds  past ;  which  are  devoured 
As  fast  as  they  are  made,  forgot  as  soon 
As  done.     Perseverance,  dear  my  lord, 
Keeps  honor  bright.     To  have  done,  is  to  hang 
Quite  out  of  fashion,  like  a  rusty  mail 
In  monumental  mockery.     Take  the  instant  way ; 
For  honor  travels  in  a  strait  so  narrow, 
Where  one  but  goes  abreast.     Keep  then  the  path ; 
For  emulation  hath  a  thousand  sons, 
That  one  by  one  pursue.     If  you  give  way, 

1  i.  e.  Ajax,  who  has  abilities  which  were  never  brought  into  view 
or  use. 

2  The  folio  reads  shrinking. 

3  This  image  is  literally  from  Spenser. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  307 

Or  hedge  aside  from  the  direct  forthright, 

Like  to  an  entered  tide,  they  all  rush  by, 

And  leave  you  hindmost ; — 

Or,  like  a  gallant  horse  fallen  in  first  rank,1 

Lie  there  for  pavement  to  the  abject  rear, 

O'errun   and  trampled  on.      Then  what   they  do  in 

present, 

Though  less  than  yours  in  past,  must  o'ertop  yours  ; 
For  time  is  like  a  fashionable  host, 
That  slightly  shakes  his  parting  guest  by  the  hand  ; 
And  with  his  arms  outstretched,  as  he  would  fly, 
Grasps  in  the  comer.     Welcome  ever  smiles, 
And  farewell  goes  out  sighing.     O,  let  not  virtue  seek 
Remuneration  for  the  thing  it  was ; 
For  beauty,  wit, 

High  birth,  vigor  of  bone,  desert  in  service, 
Love,  friendship,  charity,  are  subjects  all 
To  envious  and  calumniating  time. 
One  touch  of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin, — 
That  all,  with  one  consent,  praise  new-born  gawds,2 
Though  they  are  made  and  moulded  of  things  past  ; 
And  give  to  dust,  that  is  a  little  gilt, 
More  laud  than  gilt  o'erdusted.3 
The  present  eye  praises  the  present  object. 
Then  marvel  not,  thou  great  and  complete  man, 
That  all  the  Greeks  begin  to  worship  Ajax  ; 
Since  things  in  motion  sooner  catch  the  eye, 
Than  what  not  stirs.     The  cry  went  once  on  thee, 
And  still  it  might ;  and  yet  it  may  again, 
If  thou  wouldst  not  entomb  thyself  alive, 
And  case  thy  reputation  in  thy  tent ; 
Whose  glorious  deeds,  but  in  these  fields  of  late, 


1  The  quarto  wholly  omits  the  simile  of  the  horse,  and  reads  thus : — 

"  And  leave  you  hindmost,  then  what  they  do  at  present." 

2  New-fashioned  toys. 

3  Gilt,  in  this  second  line,  is  a  substantive.    See  Coriolanus,  Act  i.  Sc. 
3.    Dust  a  little  gilt  means  ordinary  performances,  which  have  the  gloss 
of  novelty.     Gilt  o'erdusted  means  splendid  actions  of  preceding  ages,  the 
remembrance  of  which  is  weakened  by  time. 


308  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III. 

Made  emulous  missions1  'mongst  the  gods  themselves, 
And  drave  great  Mars  to  faction. 

AchiL  Of  this  my  privacy 

I  have  strong  reasons. 

Ulyss.  But  'gainst  your  privacy 

The  reasons  are  more  potent  and  heroical. 
'Tis  known,  Achilles,  that  you  are  in  love 
With  one  of  Priam's  daughters.2 

AchiL  Ha  !  known  ? 

Ulyss.    Is  that  a  wonder  ? 
The  providence  that's  in  a  watchful  state, 
Knows  almost  every  grain  of  Plutus'  gold  ; 
Finds  bottom  in  the  uncomprehensive  deeps ; 
Keeps  place  with  thought,3  and  almost,  like  the  gods, 
Does  thoughts  unveil  in  their  dumb  cradles. 
There  is  a  mystery  (with  whom  relation 
Durst  never  meddle 4)  in  the  soul  of  state  ; 
Which  hath  an  operation  more  divine, 
Than  breath  or  pen  can  give  expressure  to. 
All  the  commerce  that  you  have  had  with  Troy, 
As  perfectly  is  ours,  as  yours,  my  lord ; 
And  better  would  it  fit  Achilles  much, 
To  throw  down  Hector,  than  Polyxena. 
But  it  must  grieve  young  Pyrrhus  now  at  home, 
When  fame  shall  in  our  islands  sound  her  trump ; 
And  all  the  Greekish  girls  shall  tripping  sing, — 
Great  Hectors  sister  did  Achilles  win ; 
But  our  great  Ajax  bravely  beat  down  him. 
Farewell,  my  lord.     I  as  your  lover  speak ; 
The  fool  slides  o'er  the  ice  that  you  should  break.  [Exit. 

Pair.    To  this  effect,  Achilles,  have  I  moved  you. 

1  i.  e.  the  descent  of  deities  to  combat  on  either  side.    Shakspeare 
probably  followed  Chapman's  Homer :  in  the  fifth  book  of  the  Iliad,  Diomed 
wounds  Mars,  who,  on  his  return  to  heaven,  is  rated  by  Jupiter  for  having 
interfered  in  the  battle.    This  disobedience  is  the/action  alluded  to. 

2  Polyxena,  in  the  act  of  marrying  whom,  he  was  afterwards  killed  by 
Paris. 

3  There  is  in  the  providence  of  a  state,  as  in  the  providence  of  the 
universe,  a  kind  of  ubiquity. 

4  There  is  a  secret  administration  of  affairs,  which  no  history  was  ever 
able  to  discover. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  309 

A  woman  impudent  and  mannish  grown, 
Is  not  more  loathed  than  an  effeminate  man 
In  time  of  action.     I  stand  condemned  for  this  ; 
They  think  my  little  stomach  to  the  war, 
And  jour  great  love  to  me,  restrains  you  thus : 
Sweet,  rouse  yourself;  and  the  weak,  wanton  Cupid 
Shall  from  your  neck  unloose  his  amorous  fold, 
And,  like  a  dew-drop  from  the  lion's  mane, 
13 e  shook  to  air.1 

Achil.  Shall  Ajax  fight  with  Hector  ? 

Pair.    Ay  ;  and,  perhaps,  receive  much  honor  by  him. 

Achil.    I  see  my  reputation  is  at  stake  ; 
My  fame  is  shrewdly  gored. 

Pair.  O,  then  beware  ; 

Those  wounds  heal  ill,  that  men  do  give  themselves. 
Omission  to  do  what  is  necessary, 
Seals  a  commission  to  a  blank  of  danger ; 
And  danger,  like  an  ague,  subtly  taints 
Even  then  when  we  sit  idly  in  the  sun. 

Achil.    Go  call  Thersites  hither,  sweet  Patroclus  ; 
I'll  send  the  fool  to  Ajax,  and  desire  him 
To  invite  the  Trojan  lords,  after  the  combat, 
To  see  us  here  unarmed.     I  have  a  woman's  longing, 
An  appetite  that  I  am  sick  withal, 
To  see  great  Hector  in  his  weeds  of  peace ; 
To  talk  with  him,  and  to  behold  his  visage, 
Even  to  my  full  view.     A  labor  saved  ! 

Enter  THERSITES. 

Ther.    A  wonder ! 

Achil.   What? 

Ther.  Ajax  goes  up  and  down  the  field,  asking  for 
himself. 

Achil.    How  so  ? 

Ther.  He  must  fight  singly  to-morrow  with  Hector ; 
and  is  so  prophetically  proud  of  an  heroical  cudgelling, 
that  he  raves  in  saying  nothing. 

1  The  folio  has  «  ayrie  air." 


310  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  III 

AchiL    How  can  that  be  ? 

Ther.  Why,  he  stalks  up  and  down  like  a  peacock, 
a  stride,  and  a  stand ;  ruminates,  like  an  hostess,  that 
hath  no  arithmetic  but  her  brain  to  set  down  her  reck 
oning  :  bites  his  lip  with  a  politic  regard,1  as  who 
should  say — there  were  wit  in  this  head,  an  'twould 
out ;  and  so  there  is ;  but  it  lies  as  coldly  in  him  as 
fire  in  a  flint,  which  will  not  show  without  knocking. 
The  man's  undone  forever ;  for  if  Hector  break  not  his 
neck  i'  the  combat,  he'll  break  it  himself  in  vain-glory. 
He  knows  not  me  ;  I  said,  Good-morrow,  Ajax ;  and 
he  replies,  Thanks,  Agamemnon.  What  think  you  of 
this  man,  that  takes  me  for  the  general  ?  He  is  grown 
a  very  land-fish,  languageless,  a  monster.  A  plague 
of  opinion  !  a  man  may  wear  it  on  both  sides,  like  a 
leather  jerkin. 

AchiL  Thou  must  be  my  ambassador  to  him,  Ther- 
sites. 

Ther.  Who,  I  ?  why,  he'll  answer  nobody ;  he  pro 
fesses  not  answering ;  speaking  is  for  beggars  ;  he  wears 
his  tongue  in  his  arms.  I  will  put  on  his  presence ;  let 
Patroclus  make  demands  to  me,  you  shall  see  the 
pageant  of  Ajax. 

AchiL  To  him,  Patroclus;  tell  him, — I  humbly  de 
sire  the  valiant  Ajax,  to  invite  the  most  valorous  Hector 
to  come  unarmed  to  my  tent;  and  to  procure  safe 
conduct  for  his  person,  of  the  magnanimous,  and  most 
illustrious,  six-or-seven-times-honored  captain-general 
of  the  Grecian  army,  Agamemnon.  Do  this. 

Pair.    Jove  bless  great  Ajax. 

Ther.    Humph! 

Pair.    I  come  from  the  worthy  Achilles, 

Ther.    Ha! 

Pair.  Who  most  humbly  desires  you  to  invite  Hector 
to  his  tent ! 

Ther.    Humph! 

Pair.    And  to  procure  safe  conduct  from  Agamemnon. 

Ther.  Agamemnon  ? 

1  i.  e.  a  sly  look. 


SC.  I.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  311 

Pair.    Ay,  my  lord. 

Ther.    Ha! 

Patr.   What  say  you  to't  ? 

Ther.    God  be  wi'  you,  with  all  my  heart. 

Patr.    Your  answer,  sir. 

Ther.  If  to-morrow  be  a  fair  day,  by  eleven  o'clock 
it  will  go  one  way  or  other ;  howsoever,  he  shall 
pay  for  me  ere  he  has  me. 

Patr.    Your  answer,  sir. 

Ther.    Fare  you  well,  with  all  my  heart. 

Achil.  Why,  but  he  is  not  in  this  tune,  is  he  ? 

Ther.  No,  but  he's  out  o'tune  thus.  What  music 
will  be  in  him  when  Hector  has  knocked  out  his  brains, 
I  know  not.  But  I  am  sure  none ;  unless  the  fiddler 
Apollo  get  his  sinews  to  make  catlings  1  on. 

Achil.    Come,  thou  shalt  bear  a  letter  to  him  straight. 

Ther.  Let  me  bear  another  to  his  horse  ;  for  that's 
the  more  capable  creature. 

Achil.  My  mind  is  troubled,  like  a  fountain  stirred : 
And  1  myself  see  not  the  bottom  of  it. 

[Exeunt  ACHILLES  and  PATROCLUS. 

Ther.  'Would  the  fountain  of  your  mind  were  clear 
again,  that  I  might  water  an  ass  at  it !  I  had  rather  be 
a  tick  in  a  sheep,  than  such  a  valiant  ignorance. 

[Exit. 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE  I.     Troy.     A  Street. 

Enter,  at  one  side,  J^NEAS,  and  Servant  with  a  torch ; 
at  the  other,  PARIS,  DEIPHOBUS,  ANTENOR,  Dio- 
MEDES,  and  others,  with  torches. 

Par.    See,  ho  !  who's  that  there  ? 

Dei.  'Tis  the  lord  ^Eneas. 

1  Lute-strings  made  of  catgut. 


312  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV 


Is  the  prince  there  in  person  ? 
Had  I  so  good  occasion  to  lie  long, 
As  you,  prince  Paris,  nothing  but  heavenly  business 
Should  rob  my  bed-mate  of  my  company. 

Dio.     That's  my  mind    too.  —  Good    morrow,  lord 
jEneas. 

Par.    A  valiant  Greek,  ^Eneas  ;  take  his  hand  : 
Witness  the  process  of  your  speech,  wherein 
You  told  —  how  Diomed,  a  whole  week  by  days, 
Did  haunt  you  in  the  field. 

jEne.  Health  to  you,  valiant  sir, 

During  all  question  l  of  the  gentle  truce  ; 
But  when  I  meet  you  armed,  as  black  defiance, 
As  heart  can  think,  or  courage  execute. 

Dio.    The  one  and  other  Diomed  embraces. 
Our  bloods  are  now  in  calm  ;  and  so  long,  health  : 
But  when  contention  and  occasion  meet, 
By  Jove,  I'll  play  the  hunter  for  thy  life, 
With  all  my  force,  pursuit,  and  policy. 

Mne.    And  thou  shalt  hunt  a  lion,  that  will  fly 
With  his  face  backward.  —  In  humane  gentleness, 
Welcome  to  Troy  !  Now,  by  Anchises'  life, 
Welcome,  indeed  !    By  Venus'  hand  I  swear, 
No  man  alive  can  love,  in  such  a  sort, 
The  thing  he  means  to  kill  more  excellently. 

Dio.   We  sympathize  :  —  Jove,  let  ^Eneas  live, 
If  to  my  sword  his  fate  be  not  the  glory, 
A  thousand  complete  courses  of  the  sun  ! 
But,  in  mine  emulous  honor,  let  him  die, 
With  every  joint  a  wound  ;  and  that  to-morrow  ! 

JEne.    We  know  each  other  well. 

Dio.    We  do  ;  and  long  to  know  each  other  worse. 

Par.    This  is  the  most  despiteful  gentle  greeting, 
The  noblest  hateful  love,  that  e'er  I  heard  of.  — 
What  business,  lord,  so  early  ? 

jEne.  I  was  sent  for  to  the  king  ;  but  why,  I  know  not. 

Par.    His  purpose  meets  you  :  2  'twas  to  bring  this 
Greek 

1  i.  e.  conversation  while  the  truce  lasts. 

2  L  e.  I  bring  you  his  meaning  and  his  orders. 


M' 


SC.  I.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  313 

To  Calchas'  house ;  and  there  to  render  him, 
For  the  enfreed  Antenor,  the  fair  Cressid. 
Let's  have  your  company ;    or  if  you  please, 
Haste  there  before  us :  I  constantly  do  think 
'Or,  rather,  call  my  thoughts  a  certain  knowledge) 
[y  brother  Troilus  lodges  there  to-night ; 
Rouse  him,  and  give  him  note  of  our  approach, 
With  the  whole  quality  wherefore.    I  fear 
We  shall  be  much  unwelcome. 

JEne.  That  I  assure  you  ; 

Troilus  had  rather  Troy  were  borne  to  Greece, 
Than  Cressid  borne  from  Troy. 

Par.  There  is  no  help  ; 

The  bitter  disposition  of  the  time 
Will  have  it  so.     On,  lord ;  we'll  follow  you. 

sEne.    Good  morrow,  all.  [Exit. 

Par.    And  tell  me,  noble  Diomed ;  'faith,  tell  me 

true, 

Even  in  the  soul  of  sound  good-fellowship, — 
Who,  in  your  thoughts,  merits  fair  Helen  best, 
Myself,  or  Menelaus  ? 

Dio.  Both  alike. 

He  merits  well  to  have  her,  that  doth  seek  her, 
(Not  making  any  scruple  of  her  soilure,) 
With  such  a  hell  of  pain,  and  world  of  charge  ; 
And  you  as  well  to  keep  her,  that  defend  her, 
(Not  palating  the  taste  of  her  dishonor,) 
With  such  a  costly  loss  of  wealth  and  friends  : 
He,  like  a  puling  cuckold,  would  drink  up 
The  lees  and  dregs  of  a  flat,  tamed  piece  ; 
You,  like  a  lecher,  out  of  whorish  loins 
Are  pleased  to  breed  out  your  inheritors  : 
Both  merits  poised,  each  weighs  nor  less  nor  more  ; 
But  he  as  he,  the  heavier  for  a  whore.1 

Par.    You  are  too  bitter  to  your  countrywoman. 

Dio.    She's  bitter  to  her  country.   Hear  me,  Paris, — 
For  every  false  drop  in  her  bawdy  veins 

1  The  merits  of  each,  being  weighed,  are  exactly  equal ;  in  each  of  the 
scales  a  harlot  must  be  placed,  since  each  of  them  has  been  equally 
attached  to  one. 

VOL.  v.  40 


314  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV. 

A  Grecian's  life  hath  sunk ;  for  every  scruple 
Of  her  contaminated,  carrion  weight, 
A  Trojan  hath  been  slain  :  since  she  could  speak, 
She  hath  not  given  so  many  good  words  breath, 
As  for  her  Greeks  and  Trojans  suffered  death. 
Par.    Fair  Diomed,  you  do  as  chapmen  do, 
Dispraise  the  thing  that  you  desire  to  buy ; 
But  we  in  silence  hold  this  virtue  well ; — 
We'll  not  commend  what  we  intend  to  sell.1 
Here  lies  our  way.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II.     The  same.    Court  before  the  House  of 
Pandarus. 

Enter  TROILUS  and  CRESSIDA. 

Tro.    Dear,  trouble  not  yourself;  the  morn  is  cold. 

Ores.  Then,  sweet  my  lord,  I'll  call  mine  uncle  down ; 
He  shall  unbolt  the  gates. 

Tro.  Trouble  him  not ; 

To  bed,  to  bed.     Sleep  kill  those  pretty  eyes, 
And  give  as  soft  attachment  to  thy  senses, 
As  infants'  empty  of  all  thought ! 

Ores.  Good  morrow,  then. 

Tro.    'Pr'ythee  now,  to  bed. 

Ores.  Are  you  aweary  of  me  ? 

Tro.    O  Cressida !  but  that  the  busy  day, 
Waked  by  the  !ark,  hath  roused  the  ribald2  crows, 
And  dreaming  night  will  hide  our  joys  no  longer, 
I  would  not  from  thee. 

Cres.  Night  hath  been  too  brief. 

Tro.    Beshrew  the  witch  !  with  venomous  wights3 

she  stays, 
As  tediously  as  hell ;  but  flies  the  grasps  of  love, 

1  Warbuiton  would  read : — 

"  We'll  not  commend  what  we  intend  not  sell." 

2  i.  e.  « the  roguish  or  thievish  crows."    It  may,  however,  be  used  in 
the  sense  of  obscene. 

3  i.  e.  venefici,  those  who  use  nocturnal  sorcery. 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  31£ 

With  wings  more  momentary-swift  than  thought. 
You  will  catch  cold,  and  curse  me. 

Ores.  Pr'ythee,  tarry;  — 

You  men  will  never  tarry.  -- 
O  foolish  Cressid  !  —  I  might  have  still  held  off, 
And  then  you  would  have  tarried.     Hark  !  there's  one 
up. 

Pan.    \Within.~]    What,  are  all  the  doors  open  here? 

Tro.    It  is  your  uncle. 


Enter 

Ores.    A  pestilence  on  him  !  now  will  he  be  mocking; 
I  shall  have  such  ci  life,  -- 

Pan.    How  now,  how  now?  How  go  maidenheads  ? 

—  Here,  you  maid  !  where's  my  cousin  Cressid  ? 
Ores.    Go  hang  yourself,  you  naughty,  mocking  uncle! 

You  bring  me  to  do,  and  then  you  flout  me  too. 

Pan.    To  do  what  ?  to  do  what  ?  —  let  her  say  what  : 
what  have  I  brought  you  to  do  ? 

Ores.    Come,    come  ;    beshrew    your   heart  !    you'll 

ne'er  be  good, 
Nor  suffer  others. 

Pan.    Ha,  ha  !  alas,  poor  wretch  !  a  poor  capocchia!2 

—  hast  not  slept  to-night  ?     Would  he  not,  a  naughty 
man,  let  it  sleep  ?  a  bugbear  take  him  !        [Knocking. 

Ores.    Did  I    not  tell   you  ?  -  '  Would   he    were 

knocked  o'  the  head  !  — 

Who's  that  at  door  ?     Good  uncle,  go  and  see.  — 
My  lord,  come  you  again  into  my  chamber  : 
You  smile  and  mock  me,  as  if  I  meant  naughtily. 
Tro.    Ha,  ha  ! 

Ores.    Come,  you  are  deceived,  I  think  of  no  such 
thing.  —  [Knocking. 

How  earnestly  they  knock  !  —  Pray  you,  come  in  ; 
I  would  not  for  half  Troy  have  you  seen  here. 

[Exeunt  TROILUS  and  CRESSIDA. 
Pan.    [Going  to  the  door.]  Who's  there  ?  what's  the 

1  The  hint  for  the  following  scene  appears  to  have  been  suggested  by 
Chaucer,  Troilus  and  Cresseide,  b.  iii.  v.  1561. 

2  Capocchia,  an  Italian  word  foifool. 


316  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV. 

matter  ?  will  you  beat  down  the  door  ?  How  now  ? 
what's  the  matter? 

Enter  J£NEAS. 

sEne.    Good  morrow,  lord,  good  morrow. 

Pan.    Who's  there  ?  my  lord  ^Eneas  ?   By  my  troth, 
I  knew  you  not :  what  news  with  you  so  early  ? 

^Ene.   Is  not  prince  Troilus  here  ? 

Pan.    Here  !  what  should  he  do  here  ? 

&ne.    Come,  he  is  here,  my  lord,  do  not  deny  him , 
It  doth  import  him  much,  to  speak  with  me. 

Pan.    Is  he  here,  say  you  ?  'tis  more  than  I  know, 
I'll  be  sworn. — For  my  own  part,  I  came  in  late : 
What  should  he  do  here  ? 

jEne.   Who  ! — nay,  then. — 

Come,  come,  you'll  do  him  wrong  ere  you  are  'ware 
You'll  be  so  true  to  him,  to  be  false  to  him  ; 
Do  not  you  know  of  him  ?  yet  go  fetch  him  hither ; 
Go. 

As  PANDARUS  is  going  out,  enter  TROILUS. 

Tro.    How  now  ?  what's  the  matter  ? 

JEne.   My  lord,  I  scarce  have  leisure  to  salute  you, 
My  matter  is  so  rash.1     There  is  at  hand 
Paris  your  brother,  and  Deiphobus, 
The  Grecian  Diomed,  and  our  Antenor 
Delivered  to  us ;  and  for  him  forthwith, 
Ere  the  first  sacrifice,  within  this  hour, 
We  must  give  up  to  Diomedes'  hand 
The  lady  Cressida. 

Tro.  Is  it  so  concluded  ? 

jEne.   By  Priam,  and  the  general  state  of  Troy ; 
They  are  at  hand,  and  ready  to  effect  it. 

Tro.    How  my  achievements  mock  me  ! 
I  will  go  meet  them :  and,  my  lord  JSneas, 
We  met  by  chance ;  you  did  not  find  me  here. 

jEne.    Good,  good,  my  lord ;  the  secrets  of  nature 
Have  not  more  gift  in  taciturnity. 

[Exeunt  TROILUS  and 

1  i.  e.  hasty  or  abrupt. 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  317 

Pan.  Is't  possible  ?  no  sooner  got,  but  lost  ?  The 
devil  take  Antenor !  The  young  prince  will  go  mad. 
A  plague  upon  Antenor!  I  would  they  had  broke's  neck! 

Enter  CRESSIDA. 

Ores.    How  now  ?   what  is  the  matter  ?   Who    was 
here  ? 

Pan.    Ah,  ah ! 

Ores.   Why  sigh  you  so  profoundly  ?  where's  my  lord 

gone  ? 
Tell  me,  sweet  uncle,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Pan.  'Would  I  were  as  deep  under  the  earth  as  I 
am  above ! 

Cres.    O  the  gods ! — what's  the  matter  ? 

Pan.  Pr'ythee,  get  thee  in.  'Would  thou  hadst 
ne'er  been  born  !  I  knew  thou  would st  be  his  death: 
— O  poor  gentleman  ! — A  plague  upon  Antenor ! 

Cres.    Good  uncle,  I  beseech  you  on  my  knees, 
I  beseech  you,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Pan.  Thou  must  be  gone,  wench,  thou  must  be 
gone :  thou  art  changed  for  Antenor !  thou  must  to  thy 
father,  and  be  gone  from  Troilus ;  'twill  be  his  death ; 
'twill  be  his  bane :  he  cannot  bear  it. 

Cres.    0  you  immortal  gods ! — I  will  not  go. 

Pan.    Thou  must. 

Cres.    I  will  not,  uncle :  I  have  forgot  my  father ; 
I  know  no  touch 1  of  consanguinity  ; 
No  kin,  no  love,  no  blood,  no  soul  so  near  me, 
As  the  sweet  Troilus. — O  you  gods  divine ! 
Make  Cressid's  name  the  very  crown 2  of  falsehood, 
If  ever  she  leave  Troilus  !    Time,  force,  and  death, 
Do  to  this  body  what  extremes  you  can ; 
But  the  strong  base  and  building  of  my  love 
Is  as  the  very  centre  of  the  earth, 
Drawing  all  things  to  it. — I'll  go  in,  and  weep; — 

Pan.    Do,  do. 

Cres.    Tear  my  bright  hair,  and  scratch  my  praised 
cheeks, 

1  Sense  or  feeling  of  relationship.  2  i.  e.  the  very  height. 


I 

318  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV. 

Crack  my  clear  voice  with  sobs,  and  break  my  heart 
With  sounding  Troilus.     I  will  not  go  from  Troy. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE    III.     The  same.     Before  Pandarus'  House. 

Enter  PARIS,  TROILUS,  ^ENEAS,  DEIPHOBUS,  ANTENOR, 
and  DIOMEDES. 

Par.    It  is  great  morning  ; l  and  the  hour  prefixed 
Of  her  delivery  to  this  valiant  Greek 
Comes  fast  upon. — Good  my  brother  Troilus, 
Tell  you  the  lady  what  she  is  to  do, 
And  haste  her  to  the  purpose. 

Tro.  Walk  in  to  her  house. 

I'll  bring  her  to  the  Grecian  presently ; 
And  to  his  hand  when  I  deliver  her, 
Think  it  an  altar ;  and  thy  brother  Troilus 
A  priest,  there  offering  to  it  his  own  heart.  [Exit. 

Par.    I  know  what  'tis  to  love  ; 
And  'would,  as  I  shall  pity,  I  could  help ! — 
Please  you,  walk  in,  my  lords.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV.      The  same.     A  Room  in  Pandarus' 
House. 

Enter  PANDARUS  and  CRESSIDA. 

Pan.   Be  moderate,  be  moderate. 

Cres.    Why  tell  you  me  of  moderation  ? 
The  grief  is  fine,  full,  perfect,  that  I  taste, 
And  violenteth2  in  a  sense  as  strong 
As  that  which  cause th  it.     How  can  I  moderate  it  ? 
If  I  could  temporize  with  my  affection, 
Or  brew  it  to  a  weak  and  colder  palate, 
The  like  allayment  could  I  give  my  grief. 

1  i.  e.  broad  day.     It  is  a  familiar  French  idiom, — C'est  grand  matin- 

2  This  verb  is  used  by  Ben  Jonson  in  the  Devil  is  an  Ass : — 

"  Nor  nature  violenceth  in  both  these." 


SC.  IV.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  319 

My  love  admits  no  qualifying  dross ; 

No  more  my  grief,  in  such  a  precious  loss. 

Enter  TROILUS. 

Pan.  Here,  here,  here  he  comes. — Ah  sweet  ducks  ! 

Cres.    O  Troilus  !   Troilus !  [Embracing  him. 

Pan.   What  a  pair  of  spectacles  is  here  !     Let  me 

embrace  too.     0  heart, — as  the  goodly  saying  is, 

O  heart,  O  heavy  heart, 

Why  sigh'st  thou  without  breaking  ? 

where  he  answers  again, 

Because  thou  canst  not  ease  thy  smart, 
By  friendship,  nor  by  speaking. 

There  never  was  a  truer  rhyme.  Let  us  cast  away 
nothing,  for  we  may  live  to  have  need  of  such  a  verse ; 
we  see  it,  we  see  it. — How  now,  lambs  ? 

Tro.    Cressid,  1  love  thee  in  so  strained  a  purity, 
That  the  blest  gods — as  angry  with  my  fancy, 
More  bright  in  zeal  than  the  devotion  which 
Cold  lips  blow  to  their  deities — take  thee  from  me. 

Cres.    Have  the  gods  envy  ? 

Pan.     Ay,  ay,  ay,  ay;  'tis  too  plain  a  case. 

Cres.    And  is  it  true,  that  I  must  go  from  Troy  ? 

Tro.    A  hateful  truth. 

Cres.  What,  and  from  Troilus  too? 

Tro.    From  Troy,  and  Troilus. 

Cres.  Is  it  possible  ? 

Tro.    And  suddenly ;  where  injury  of  chance 
Puts  back  leave-taking,  justles  roughly  by 
All  time  of  pause,  rudely  beguiles  our  lips 
Of  all  rejoindure,  forcibly  prevents 
Our  locked  embrasures,  strangles  our  dear  vows 
Even  in  the  birth  of  our  own  laboring  breath. 
We  two,  that  with  so  many  thousand  sighs 
Did  buy  each  other,  must  poorly  sell  ourselves 
With  the  rude  brevity  and  discharge  of  one. 
Injurious  time  now,  with  a  robber's  haste, 


320  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV 

Crams  his  rich  thievery  up,  he  knows  not  how. 

As  many  farewells  as  be  stars  in  heaven, 

With  distinct  breath  and  consigned 1  kisses  to  them, 

He  fumbles  up  into  a  loose  adieu ; 

And  scants  us  with  a  single,  famished  kiss, 

Distasted  with  the  salt  of  broken  tears. 

JEne.    [Within.]    My  lord  !  is  the  lady  ready  ? 

Tro.    Hark !  you  are  called:  some  say,  the  Genius  so 
Cries,  Come  !  to  him  that  instantly  must  die* — 
Bid  them  have  patience ;  she  shall  come  anon. 

Pan.    Where  are  my  tears  ?  rain,  to  lay  this  wind, 
or  my  heart  will  be  blown  up  by  the  root ! 

[Exit  PANDARUS. 

Ores.    I  must  then  to  the  Greeks  ? 

Tro.  No  remedy. 

Cres.    A  woful  Cressid  'mongst  the  merry  Greeks. 
When  shall  we  see  again  ? 

Tro.    Hear   me,  my  love.     Be   thou  but   true  of 
heart, 

Cres.   I  true  !  how  now  ?  what  wicked  deem  2  is  this  ? 

Tro.   Nay,  we  must  use  expostulation  kindly, 
For  it  is  parting  from  us. 
I  speak  not,  Be  thou  true,  as  fearing  thee ; 
For  I  will  throw  my  glove  to  death  himself,3 
That  there's  no  maculation  in  thy  heart ; 
But  Be  thou  true,  say  I,  to  fashion  in 
My  sequent  protestation;  be  thou  true, 
And  I  will  see  thee. 

Cres.   O,  you  shall  be  exposed,  my  lord,  to  dangers 
As  infinite  as  imminent !  but,  I'll  be  true. 

Tro.    And  I'll  grow  friend  with  danger.     Wear  this 
sleeve. 

Cres.    And  you  this  glove.     When  shall  I  see  you  ? 

Tro.    I  will  corrupt  the  Grecian  sentinels, 
To  give  thee  nightly  visitation. 
But  yet  be  true. 

Cres.  O  heavens ! — Be  true  again  ? 

1  Consigned  means  sealed,  from  consigno  (Lat.). 

2  Deem  (a  word  now  obsolete)  signifies  opinion,  surmise. 

3  That  is,  I  will  challenge  death  himself  in  defence  of  thy  fidelity. 


SC.  IV.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  321 

Tro.    Hear  why  I  speak  it,  love. 
The  Grecian  youths  are  full  of  quality ; 1 
They're  loving,  well  composed,  with  gifts  of  nature 

flowing, 

And  swelling  o'er  with  arts  and  exercise ; 
How  novelty  may  move,  and  parts  with  person, 
Alas,  a  kind  of  godly  jealousy 
(Which,  I  beseech  you,  call  a  virtuous  sin) 
Makes  me  afeard. 

Ores.  O  Heavens  !  you  love  me  not. 

Tro.    Die  I  a  villain  then  ! 
In  this  I  do  not  call  your  faith  in  question, 
So  mainly  as  my  merit ;  I  cannot  sing, 
Nor  heel  the  high  lavolt,2  nor  sweeten  talk, 
Nor  play  at  subtle  games ;  fair  virtues  all, 
To  which  the  Grecians  are  most  prompt  and  pregnant ; 
But  I  can  tell,  that  in  each  grace  of  these 
There  lurks  a  still  and  dumb-discoursive  devil, 
That  tempts  most  cunningly :  but  be  not  tempted. 

Ores.    Do  you  think  I  will  ? 

Tro.   No. 

But  something  may  be  done,  that  we  will  not  ; 
And  sometimes  we  are  devils  to  ourselves, 
When  we  will  tempt  the  frailty  of  our  powers, 
Presuming  on  their  changeful  potency. 

Mm.    \_Witldn.~\  Nay,  good  my  lord, 

Tro.  Come,  kiss ;  and  let  us  part 

Par.    \Within.~\  Brother  Troilus ! 

Tro.  Good  brother,  come  you  hither 

And  bring  .JCneas,  and  the  Grecian,  with  you. 

Ores.   My  lord,  will  you  be  true  ? 

Tro.    Who,  I  ?  Alas,  it  is  my  vice,  my  fault. 
While  others  fish  with  craft  for  great  opinion, 
I  with  great  truth  catch  mere  simplicity : 
Whilst  some  with  cunning  gild  their  copper  crowns, 
With  truth  and  plainness  I  do  wear  mine  bare. 


1  Quality,  like  condition,  is  applied  to  manners  as  well  as  disposi 
tions. 

2  The  lavolta  was  a  dance. 

VOL.  V.  41 


322  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV 

Fear  not  my  truth ;  the  moral  of  my  wit 1 

Is, — Plain  and  true ; — there's  all  the  reach  of  it. 


Enter  ^ENEAS,    PARIS,    ANTENOR,    DEIPHOBUS,   and 

DlOMEDES. 

Welcome,  sir  Diomed !  here  is  the  lady, 
Which  for  Antenor  we  deliver  you. 
At  the  port,2  lord,  I'll  give  her  to  thy  hand  ; 
And  by  the  way,  possess 3  thee  what  she  is. 
Entreat  her  fair ;  and,  by  my  soul,  fair  Greek, 
If  e'er  thou  stand  at  mercy  of  my  sword, 
Name  Cressid,  and  thy  life  shall  be  as  safe 
As  Priam  is  in  Ilion. 

Dio.  Fair  lady  Cressid, 

So  please  you,  save  the  thanks  this  prince  expects. 
The  lustre  in  your  eye,  heaven  in  your  cheek, 
Pleads  your  fair  usage ;  and  to  Diomed 
You  shall  be  mistress,  and  command  him  wholly. 

Tro.    Grecian,  thou  dost  not  use  me  courteously, 
To  shame  the  zeal  of  my  petition  to  thee, 
In  praising  her.     I  tell  thee,  lord  of  Greece, 
She  is  as  far  high-soaring  o'er  thy  praises, 
As  thou  unworthy  to  be  called  her  servant. 
I  charge  thee,  use  her  well,  even  for  my  charge ; 
For,  by  the  dreadful  Pluto,  if  thou  dost  not, 
Though  the  great  bulk  Achilles  be  thy  guard, 
I'll  cut  thy  throat. 

Dio.  O,  be  not  moved,  prince  Troilus ; 

Let  me  be  privileged  by  my  place,  and  message, 
To  be  a  speaker  free.     When  I  am  hence, 
I'll  answer  to  my  lust  ;4  and  know,  my  lord, 
I'll  nothing  do  on  charge.     To  her  own  worth 
She  shall  be  prized ;  but  that  you  say — be't  so, 
I'll  speak  it  in  my  spirit  and  honor, — no. 

Tro.    Come,  to  the  port. — I  tell  thee,  Diomed, 


"  The  moral  of  my  wit "  is  the  meaning  of  it 
i.  e.  the  gate. 
3  i.  e.  inform. 

answer  to  my  will  or  pleasure,  according  to  my  inclination. 


3  i.  e.  info 

4  i.  e.  I'll  i 


SO.  V.]  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  323 

This  brave  shall  oft  make  thee  to  hide  thy  head. — 
Lady,  give  me  your  hand ;  and,  as  we  walk, 
To  our  own  selves  bend  we  our  needful  talk. 

[Exeunt  TROILUS,  CRESSIDA,  and  DIOMED. 

[Trumpet  heard. 

Par.   Hark !  Hector's  trumpet. 

jEne.  How  have  we  spent  this  morning ! 

The  prince  must  think  me  tardy  and  remiss, 
That  swore  to  ride  before  him  to  the  field. 

Par.    'Tis  Troilus'  fault.     Come,  come,  to  field  with 
him. 

Dei.    Let  us  make  ready  straight. 

jEne.   Yea,  with  a  bridegroom's  fresh  alacrity, 
Let  us  address  to  tend  on  Hector's  heels. 
The  glory  of  our  Troy  doth  this  day  lie 
On  his  fair  worth  and  single  chivalry.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE   V.     The  Grecian  Camp.     Lists  set  out. 

Enter  AJAX,  armed ;  AGAMEMNON,  ACHILLES,  PATRO- 
CLUS,  MENELAUS,  ULYSSES,  NESTOR,  and  others. 

Agam.  Here  art  thou  in  appointment l  fresh  and  fair, 
Anticipating  time  with  starting  courage. 
Give  with  thy  trumpet  a  loud  note  to  Troy, 
Thou  dreadful  Ajax ;  that  the  appalled  air 
May  pierce  the  head  of  the  great  combatant, 
And  hale  him  hither. 

Ajax.  Thou,  trumpet,  there's  my  purse. 

Now  crack  thy  lungs,  and  split  thy  brazen  pipe. 
Blow,  villain,  till  thy  sphered  bias-cheek2 
Outswell  the  colic  of  puffed  Aquilon. 
Come,  stretch  thy  chest,  and  let  thy  eyes  spout  blood  ; 
Thou  blow'st  for  Hector.  [Trumpet  sounds. 


1  i.  e.  preparation. 

2  i.  e.  swelling  out  like  the  6105  of  a  bowl.    So  in  Vittoria  Corombona, 
1612:- 

" Faith,  his  cheek 

Has  a  most  excellent  bias." 


324  TROILUS  AND  CRESS1DA.  [ACT  IV 

Ulyss.   No  trumpet  answers. 

Achil.  'Tis  but  early  day. 

Agam.    Is  not  yon  Diomed,  with  Calchas'  daughter? 

Ulyss.    'Tis  he ;  I  ken  the  manner  of  his  gait; 
He  rises  on  the  toe  ;  that  spirit  of  his 
In  aspiration  lifts  him  from  the  earth. 

Enter  DIOMED,  with  CRESS  ID  A. 

Agam.    Is  this  the  lady  Cressid  ? 

Dio.  Even  she. 

Agam.   Most  dearly  welcome  to  the  Greeks,  sweet 
lady. 

Nest.    Our  general  doth  salute  you  with  a  kiss. 

Ulyss.    Yet  is  the  kindness  but  particular ; 
'Twere  better  she  were  kissed  in  general. 

Nest.    And  very  courtly  counsel.     I'll  begin. — 
So  much  for  Nestor. 

Achil.   I'll  take  that  winter  from  your  lips,  fair  lady  ; 
Achilles  bids  you  welcome. 

Men.    I  had  good  argument  for  kissing  once. 

Pair.   But  that's  no  argument  for  kissing  now ; 
For  thus  popped  Paris  in  his  hardiment  ; 
And  parted  thus  you  and  your  argument. 

Ulyss.    O  deadly  gall,  and  theme  of  all  our  scorns ! 
For  which  we  lose  our  heads,  to  gild  his  horns. 

Patr.    The  first  was  Menelaus'  kiss ; — this,  mine  ; 
Patroclus  kisses  you. 

Men.  O,  this  is  trim ! 

Patr.    Paris,  and  I,  kiss  evermore  for  him. 

Men.    I'll  have  my  kiss,  sir. — Lady,  by  your  leave. 

Ores.    In  kissing,  do  you  render  or  receive  ? 

Patr.    Both  take  and  give. 

Ores.  I'll  make  my  match  to  live.1 

The  kiss  you  take  is  better  than  you  give ; 
Therefore  no  kiss. 

Men.    I'll  give  you  boot ;  I'll  give  you  three  for  one. 

Ores.   You're  an  odd  man ;  give  even,  or  give  none. 

1  I  will  make  such  bargains  as  I  may  live  by,  such  as  may  bring  me 
profit,  therefore  will  not  take  a  worse  kiss  than  I  give. 


SC.  V.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  325 

Men.    An  odd  man,  lady  ?  every  man  is  odd. 

Ores.   No,  Paris  is  not ;  for,  you  know,  'tis  true, 
That  you  are  odd,  and  he  is  even  with  you. 

Men.  You  fillip  me  o'  the  head. 

Ores.  No,  I'll  be  sworu 

Ulyss.   It  were  no  match,  your  nail  against  his  horn. — 
May  I,  sweet  lady,  beg  a  kiss  of  you  ? 

Ores.    You  may. 

Ulyss.  I  do  desire  it. 

Cres.  Why,  beg,  then. 

Ulyss.   Why,  then,  for  Venus'  sake,  give  me  a  kiss, 
When  Helen  is  a  maid  again,  and  his. 

Cres.    I  am  your  debtor ;  claim  it  when  'tis  due. 

Ulyss.    Never's  my  day,  and  then  a  kiss  of  you. 

Dio.    Lady,  a  word  ; — I'll  bring  you  to  your  father. 
[DIOMED  leads  out  CRESSIDA. 

Nest.    A  woman  of  quick  sense. 

Ulyss.  Fie,  fie  upon  her ! 

There's  language  in  her  eye,  her  cheek,  her  lip ; 
Nay,  her  foot  speaks ;  her  wanton  spirits  look  out 
At  every  joint  and  motive *  of  her  body. 
O,  these  encounters,  so  glib  of  tongue, 
That  give  a  coasting  welcome  2  ere  it  comes, 
And  wide  unclasp  the  tables  of  their  thoughts 
To  every  ticklish  reader !  set  them  down 
For  sluttish  spoils  of  opportunity,3 
And  daughters  of  the  game.  [Trumpet  within. 

All.   The  Trojan's  trumpet. 

Agam.  Yonder  comes  the  troop. 

Enter  HECTOR,  armed ;  ^ENEAS,  TROILUS,  and  other 
Trojans,  with  Attendants. 

Hail,  all  the  state  of  Greece !  What  shall  be 
done 


1  Motive  for  part  that  contributes  to  motion. 

2  So  in  Venus  and  Adonis  : — 

"  Anon  she  hears  them  chaunt  it  lustely, 
And  all  in  haste  she  coasteth  to  the  cry." 

3  L  e.  of  whose  chastity  every  opportunity  makes  an  easy  prey. 


326  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV. 

To  him  that  victory  commands  ?  Or  do  you  purpose 

A  victor  shall  be  known  ?  Will  you  the  knights 

Shall  to  the  edge  of  all  extremity 

Pursue  each  other ;  or  shall  they  be  divided 

By  any  voice  or  order  of  the  field  ? 

Hector  bade  ask. 

Agam.  Which  way  would  Hector  have  it  t 

JE*ne.    He  cares  not ;  he'll  obey  conditions. 

Achil.    'Tis  done  like  Hector ;  but  securely 1  done, 
A  little  proudly,  and  great  deal  misprizing 
The  knight  opposed. 

jEne.  If  not  Achilles,  sir, 

What  is  your  name  ? 

Achil.  If  not  Achilles,  nothing. 

JE^ne.    Therefore   Achilles.      But,   whate'er,   know 

this ; — 

In  the  extremity  of  great  and  little, 
Valor  and  pride  excel  themselves  in  Hector ; 
The  one  almost  as  infinite  as  all, 
The  other  blank  as  nothing.2     Weigh  him  well, 
And  that,  which  looks  like  pride,  is  courtesy. 
This  Ajax  is  half  made  of  Hector's  blood  ; 3 
In  love  whereof,  half  Hector  stays  at  home : 
Half  heart,  half  hand,  half  Hector  comes  to  seek 
This  blended  knight,  half  Trojan  and  half  Greek. 

Achil.    A  maiden  battle,  then  ? — O,  I  perceive  you. 

Re-enter  DIOMED. 

Agam.    Here  is  sir  Diomed. — Go,  gentle  knight, 
Stand  by  our  Ajax ;  as  you  and  lord  ^neas 
Consent  upon  the  order  of  their  fight, 
So  be  it ;  either  to  the  uttermost, 
Or  else  a  breath ; 4  the  combatants  being  kin, 


1  "  Securely  rfone,"  in  the  sense  of  the  Latin  securus,  a  negligent  security 
arising  from  a  contempt  of  the  object  opposed. 

2  Hector  is  distinguished  by  the  excellence  of  having  pride  less  than 
other  pride,  and  valor  more  than  other  valor. 

3  Ajax  and  Hector  were  cousins-german. 

4  i.  e.  a  breathing,  an  exercise.    See  Act  ii.  Sc.  3.  note  3,  p.  285. 


SC.  V.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  327 

Half  stints  1  their  strife  before  their  strokes  begin. 

[AiAX  and  HECTOR  enter  the  lists. 

Ulyss.    They  are  opposed  already. 

Agam.  What  Trojan  is  that  same  that  looks  so  heavy ? 

Ulyss.    The  youngest  son  of  Priam,  a  true  knight ; 
Not  yet  mature,  yet  matchless  ;  firm  of  word  ; 
Speaking  in  deeds,  and  deedless  in  his  tongue ; 
Not  soon  provoked,  nor,  being  provoked,  soon  calmed. 
His  heart  and  hand  both  open,  and  both  free ; 
For  what  he  has,  he  gives,  what  thinks,  he  shows ; 
Yet  gives  he  not  till  judgment  guide  his  bounty, 
Nor  dignifies  an  impair  2  thought  with  breath. 
Manly  as  Hector,  but  more  dangerous ; 
For  Hector,  in  his  blaze  of  wrath,  subscribes 3 
To  tender  objects  ;  but  he,  in  heat  of  action, 
Is  more  vindicative  than  jealous  love  : 
They  call  him  Troilus ;  and  on  him  erect 
A  second  hope,  as  fairly  built  as  Hector. 
Thus  says  ^Eneas ;  one  that  knows  the  youth, 
Even  to  his  inches ;  and,  with  private  soul, 
Did  in  great  Ilion  thus  translate  him  to  me. 

[Alarum.     HECTOR  and  AJAX  fight. 

Agam.    They  are  in  action. 

Nest.    Now,  Ajax,  hold  thine  own ! 

Tro.  Hector,  thou  sleep'st ; 

Awake  thee  ! 

Agam.    His  blows  are  well  disposed  : — there,  Ajax ! 

Dio.   You  must  no  more.  [Trumpets  cease. 

JE*nt.  Princes,  enough,  so  please  you. 

Ajax.    I  am  not  warm  yet ;  let  us  fight  again. 

Dio.    As  Hector  pleases. 

Hect.  Why  then,  will  I  no  more  : — 

Thou  art,  great  lord,  my  father's  sister's  son, 
A  cousin-german  to  great  Priam's  seed. 
The  obligation  of  our  blood  forbids 
A  gory  emulation  'twixt  us  twain. 
Were  thy  commixtion  Greek  and  Trojan  so, 

1  Stops. 

2  "  An  impair  thought"  is  an  unworthy  or  injurious  thought 

3  i.  e.  submits,  yields. 


328  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV. 

That  thou  couldst  say — This  hand  is  Grecian  all, 

And  this  is  Trojan  ;  the  sinews  of  this  leg 

All  Greek,  and  this  all  Troy ;  my  mother's  blood 

Runs  on  the  dexter  cheek,  and  this  sinister 

Bounds  in  my  father's ;  by  Jove  multipotent, 

Thou  shouldst  not  bear  from  me  a  Greekish  member, 

Wherein  my  sword  had  not  impressure  made 

Of  our  rank  feud.     But  the  just  gods  gainsay, 

That  any  drop  thou  borrow'st  from  thy  mother, 

My  sacred  aunt,1  should  by  my  mortal  sword 

Be  drained !     Let  me  embrace  thee,  Ajax. 

By  him  that  thunders,  thou  hast  lusty  arms  ; 

Hector  would  have  them  fall  upon  him  thus. 

Cousin,  all  honor  to  thee ! 

Ajax.  I  thank  thee,  Hector  ; 

Thou  art  too  gentle  and  too  free  a  man. 
I  came  to  kill  thee,  cousin,  and  bear  hence 
A  great  addition  earned  in  thy  death. 

Hect.   Not  Neoptolemus2  so  mirable 
(On  whose  bright  crest  Fame  with  her  loud'st  O  yes 
Cries,  This  is  he  /)  could  promise  to  himself 
A  thought  of  added  honor  torn  from  Hector. 

jEne.   There  is  expectance  here  from  both  the  sides, 
What  further  you  will  do. 

Hect.  We'll  answer  it ; 3 

The  issue  is  embracement. — Ajax,  farewell. 

Ajax.    If  I  might  in  entreaties  find  success, 
(As  seld  I  have  the  chance,)  I  would  desire 
My  famous  cousin  to  our  Grecian  tents. 

Dio.    'Tis  Agamemnon's  wish  ;  and  great  Achilles 
Doth  long  to  see  unarmed  the  valiant  Hector. 

Hect.    ^Eneas,  call  my  brother  Troilus  to  me ; 
And  signify  this  loving  interview 
To  the  expecters  of  our  Trojan  part ; 

1  The  Greeks  give  to  the  aunt,  the  father's  sister,  the  title  of  sacred. 

2  By  Neoptolemus  Shakspeare  seems  to  have  meant  Achilles ;  finding 
that  the  son  was  Pyrrhus  Neoptolemus,  he  considered  Neoptolemus  as 
the   nomen  gentilitium,  and  thought  the  father  was  likewise  Achilles 
Neoptolemus.    Or  he  was  probably  led  into  the  error  by  some  book  of  the 
time. 

3  i.  e.  answer  the  expectance. 


SC.  V.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  329 

Desire  them  home. — Give  me  thy  hand,  my  cousin  ; 
I  will  go  eat  with  thee,  and  see  your  knights.1 

Ajax.    Great  Agamemnon  comes  to  meet  us  here. 

Hect.    The  worthiest  of  them  tell  me  name  by  name  ; 
But  for  Achilles,  my  own  searching  eyes 
Shall  find  him  by  his  large  and  portly  size. 

Agam.    Worthy  of  arms  !  as  welcome  as  to  one 
That  would  be  rid  of  such  an  enemy ; 
But  that's  no  welcome.     Understand  more  clear, 
What's  past,  and  what's  to  come,  is  strewed  with  husks 
And  formless  ruin  of  oblivion  ; 
But  in  this  extant  moment,  faith  and  troth, 
Strained  purely  from  all  hollow  bias-drawing, 
Bids  thee,  with  most  divine  integrity, 
From  heart  of  very  heart,  great  Hector,  welcome. 

Hect.    I  thank  thee,  most  imperious  2  Agamemnon. 

Agam.   My  well-famed  lord  of  Troy,  no  less  to  you. 

[To  TROILUS. 

Men.    Let  me  confirm  my  princely  brother's  greet 
ing;— 
You  brace  of  warlike  brothers,  welcome  hither. 

Hect.    Whom  must  we  answer  ? 

Men.  The  noble  Menelaus.3 

Hect.  O  you,  my  lord  ?  by  Mars  his  gauntlet,  thanks  ! 
Mock  not,  that  I  affect  the  untraded 4  oath  ; 
Your  quondam  wife  swears  still  by  Venus'  glove : 
She's  well,  but  bade  me  not  commend  her  to  you. 

Men.  Name  her  not  now,  sir;  she's  a  deadly  theme. 

Hect.    O,  pardon  ;  I  offend. 

Nest.    I  have,  thou  gallant  Trojan,  seen  thee  oft, 
Laboring  for  destiny,  make  cruel  way 
Through  ranks  of  Greekish  youths  ;  and  I  have  seen 
thee, 

1  These  knights,  to  the  amount  of  about  two  hundred  thousand  (for  there 
were  no  less  in  both  armies),  Shakspeare  found  with  all  the  appendages 
of  chivalry  in  the  Old  Troy  Book. 

2  It  has  been  asserted  that  imperious  and  imperial  had  formerly  the 
same  signification ;  but  Bullokar  carefully  distinguishes  them : — "  Imperial, 
royal  or  chief,  emperor-like ;  imperious,  that  commandeth  with  authority, 
lord-like,  stately." 

3  Ritson  thought  that  this  speech  belonged  to  ^Eneas. 

4  Untraded  is  uncommon,  unusual. 

VOL.  v.  42 


330  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV 

As  hot  as  Perseus,1  spur  thy  Phrygian  steed, 

Despising  many  forfeits  and  subduements, 

When  thou  hast  hung  thy  advanced  sword  i'the  air, 

Not  letting  it  decline  on  the  declined  ; 2 

That  I  have  said  to  some  my  standers-by, 

jLo,  Jupiter  is  yonder ,  dealing  life  ! 

And  I  have  seen  thee  pause,  and  take  thy  breath, 

When  that  a  ring  of  Greeks  have  hemmed  thee  in, 

Like  an  Olympian  wrestling.     This  have  I  seen  ; 

But  this  thy  countenance,  still  locked  in  steel, 

I  never  saw  till  now.     I  knew  thy  grandsire,3 

And  once  fought  with  him  :  he  was  a  soldier  good  ; 

But,  by  great  Mars,  the  captain  of  us  all, 

Never  like  thee.      Let  an  old  man  embrace  thee ; 

And,  worthy  warrior,  welcome  to  our  tents. 

JEne.    'Tis  the  old  Nestor. 

Hect.    Let  me  embrace  thee,  good  old  chronicle, 
That  hast  so  long  walked  hand  in  hand  with  time : — 
Most  reverend  Nestor,  I  am  glad  to  clasp  thee. 

Nest.   I  would  my  arms  could  match  thee  in  conten 
tion, 
As  they  contend  with  thee  in  courtesy. 

Hect.    I  would  they  could. 

Nest.   Ha! 

By  this  white  beard,  I'd  fight  with  thee  to-morrow. 
Well,  welcome,  welcome  !  I  have  seen  the  time — 

Ulyss.    I  wonder  now  how  yonder  city  stands, 
When  we  have  here  her  base  and  pillar  by  us. 

Hect.    I  know  your  favor,  lord  Ulysses,  well. 
Ah,  sir,  there's  many  a  Greek  and  Trojan  dead, 
Since  first  I  saw  yourself  and  Diomed 
In  Ilion,  on  your  Greekish  embassy. 

Ulyss.    Sir,  I  foretold  you  then  what  would  ensue. 
My  prophecy  is  but  half  his  journey  yet ; 
For  yonder  walls,  that  pertly  front  your  town, 


1  As  the  equestrian  fame  of  Perseus  is  here  again  alluded  to,  it  should 
appear  that  in  a  former  simile  his  horse  was  meant  for  a  real  one,  and  not 
allegorically  for  a  ship.     See  Act  i.  Sc.  3. 

2  i.  e.  the  fallen. 

3  Laomedon. 


SC.  V.]  TR01LUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  331 

Yon  towers,  whose  wanton  tops  do  buss  the  clouds, 
Must  kiss  their  own  feet. 

Hect.  I  must  not  believe  you. 

There  they  stand  yet ;  and  modestly  I  think, 
The  fall  of  every  Phrygian  stone  will  cost 
A  drop  of  Grecian  blood.     The  end  crowns  all ; 
And  that  old,  common  arbitrator,  time, 
Will  one  day  end  it. 

Ulyss.  So  to  him  we  leave  it. 

Most  gentle,  and  most  valiant  Hector,  welcome : 
.4fter  the  general,  I  beseech  you  next 
To  feast  with  me,  and  see  me  at  my  tent. 

Achil.    I  shall  forestall  thee,  lord  Ulysses,  thou  ! 1 — 
Now,  Hector,  I  have  fed  mine  eyes  on  thee  ; 
[  have  with  exact  view  perused  thee,  Hector, 
And  quoted2  joint  by  joint. 

Hect.  Is  this  Achilles  ? 

Achil.    I  am  Achilles. 

Hect.    Stand  fair,  I  pray  thee  ;  let  me  look  on  thee. 

Achil.   Behold  thy  fill. 

Hect.  Nay,  I  have  done  already. 

Achil.    Thou  art  too  brief;  I  will  the  second  time, 
As  I  would  buy  thee,  view  thee  limb  by  limb. 

Hect.    O,  like  a  book  of  sport  thou'lt  read  me  o'er  ; 
But  there's  more  in  me  than  thou  understand'st. 
Why  dost  thou  so  oppress  me  with  thine  eye  ? 

Achil.    Tell  me,  you  heavens,  in  which  part  of  his 

body 

Shall  I  destroy  him  ?    Whether  there,  there,  or  there  ? 
That  I  may  give  the  local  wound  a  name ; 
And  make  distinct  the  very  breach  whereout 
Hector's  great  spirit  flew.     Answer  me,  heavens  ! 

Hect.    It  would  discredit  the  blessed  gods,  proud  man, 
To  answer  such  a  question.     Stand  again : 
Think'st  thou  to  catch  my  life  so  pleasantly, 

1  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  thought  we  should  read: — 

"I  shall  forestall  thee,  lord  Ulysses,  though!" 

2  Quoted  is  noted,  observed.    The  hint  for  this  scene  of  altercation 
between  Achilles  and  Hector  is  furnished  by  Lydgate. 


332  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  IV. 

As  to  prenominate  in  nice  conjecture, 
Where  thou  wilt  hit  me  dead  ? 

Achil.  I  tell  thee,  yea. 

Hect.    Wert  thou  an  oracle  to  tell  me  so, 
I'd  not  believe  thee.     Henceforth  guard  thee  well ; 
For  I'll  not  kill  thee  there,  nor  there,  nor  there  ; 
But,  by  the  forge  that  stithed  Mars  his  helm, 
I'll  kill  thee  every  where,  yea,  o'er  and  o'er. — 
You  wisest  Grecians,  pardon  me  this  brag ; 
His  insolence  draws  folly  from  my  lips  ; 
But  I'll  endeavor  deeds  to  match  these  words, 
Or  may  I  never 

Ajax.  Do  not  chafe  thee,  cousin ; — 

And  you,  Achilles,  let  these  threats  alone, 
Till  accident,  or  purpose,  bring  you  to't : 
You  may  have  every  day  enough  of  Hector, 
If  j-ou  have  stomach;  the  general  state,  I  fear, 
Can  scarce  entreat  you  to  be  odd  with  him. 

Hect.    I  pray  you,  let  us  see  you  in  the  field ; 
We  have  had  pelting l  wars,  since  you  refused 
The  Grecians'  cause. 

Achil.  Dost  thou  entreat  me,  Hector  ? 

To-morrow  do  I  meet  thee,  fell  as  death ; 
To-night,  all  friends. 

Hect.  Thy  hand  upon  that  match. 

Agam.    First,  all  you  peers  of  Greece,  go  to  my 

tent; 

There  in  the  full  convive  2  we :  afterwards, 
As  Hector's  leisure  and  your  bounties  shall 
Concur  together,  severally  entreat  him. — 
Beat  loud  the  taborines,3  let  the  trumpets  blow, 
That  this  great  soldier  may  his  welcome  know. 

[Exeunt  all  but  TROILUS  and  ULYSSES. 

Tro.   My  lord  Ulysses,  tell  me,  I  beseech  you, 
In  what  place  of  the  field  doth  Calchas  keep  ? 

Ulyss.    At  Menelaus'  tent,  most  princely  Troilus : 
There  Diomed  doth  feast  with  him  to-night ; 
Who  neither  looks  upon  the  heaven,  nor  earth, 

1  i.  e.  petty  or  paltry  wars.      2  A  convive  is  a.  feast.      3  Small  drums. 


SC.  1.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  333 

But  gives  all  gaze  and  bent  of  amorous  view 
On  the  fair  Cressid. 

Tro.    Shall  I,  sweet  lord,  be  bound  to  you  so  much, 
After  we  part  from  Agamemnon's  tent, 
To  bring  rne  thither  ? 

Ulyss.  You  shall  command  me,  sir. 

As  gentle  tell  me,  of  what  honor  was 
This  Cressida  in  Troy  ?     Had  she  no  lover  there 
That  wails  her  absence  ? 

Tro.    O  sir,  to  such  as  boasting  show  their  scars, 
A  mock  is  due.     Will  you  walk  on,  my  lord  ? 
She  was  beloved,  she  loved ;  she  is,  and  doth : 
But,  still  sweet  love  is  food  for  fortune's  tooth. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.  The  Grecian  Camp.  Before  Achilles'  Tent. 

Enter  ACHILLES  and  PATROCLUS. 

Achil.   I'll  heat  his  blood  with  Greekish  wine  to-night, 
Which  with  my  cimeter  I'll  cool  to-morrow. — 
Patroclus,  let  us  feast  him  to  the  height. 

Pair.    Here  comes  Thersites. 

Enter  THERSITES. 

Achil.  How  now,  thou  core  of  envy  ? 

Thou  crusty  batch  of  nature,  what's  the  news  ? 

Ther.  Why,  thou  picture  of  what  thou  seemest,  and 
idol  of  idiot-worshippers,  here's  a  letter  for  thee. 

Achil.    From  whence,  fragment  ? 

Ther.   Why,  thou  full  dish  of  fool,  from  Troy. 

Pair.    Who  keeps  the  tent  now  .?1 

Ther.    The  surgeon's  box,  or  the  patient's  wound. 

1  In  his  answer,  Thersites  quibbles  upon  the  word  tent. 


334  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Patr.   Well  said,  Adversity ! 1  and  what  need  these 
tricks  ? 

Ther.  Pr'ythee  be  silent,  boy ;  I  profit  not  by  thy 
talk :  thou  art  thought  to  be  Achilles'  male  varlet. 

Patr.   Male  varlet,2  you  rogue  !    what's  that  ? 

Ther.  Why,  his  masculine  whore.  Now,  the  rotten 
diseases  of  the  south,  the  guts-griping,  ruptures,  catarrhs, 
loads  o'  gravel  i'  the  back,  lethargies,  cold  palsies,  raw 
eyes,  dirt-rotten  livers,  wheezing  lungs,  bladders  full  of 
imposthurne,  sciaticas,  lime  kilns  i'  the  palm,  incurable 
bone-ache,  and  the  rivelled  fee-simple  of  the  tetter,  take 
and  take  again  such  preposterous  discoveries ! 

Patr.  Why,  thou  damnable  box  of  envy,  thou,  what 
meanest  thou  to  curse  thus? 

Ther.    Do  I  curse  thee  ? 

Patr.  Why,  no,  you  ruinous  butt ;  you  whoreson, 
indistinguishable  cur,3  no. 

Ther.  No?  why  art  thou  then  exasperate,  thou  idle, 
immaterial  skein  of  sleive4  silk,  thou  green  sarcenet 
flap  for  a  sore  eye,  thou  tassel  of  a  prodigal's  purse, 
thou  ?  Ah,  how  the  poor  world  is  pestered  with  such 
water-flies  ; 5  diminutives  of  nature  ! 

Patr.    Out,  gall ! 

Ther.   Finch  egg ! 

Achil.    My  sweet  Patroclus,  I  am  thwarted  quite 
From  my  great  purpose  in  to-morrow's  battle. 
Here  is  a  letter  from  queen  Hecuba  ; 
A  token  from  her  daughter,  my  fair  love  ; 6 
Both  taxing  me,  and  gaging  me  to  keep 
An  oath  that  I  have  sworn.     I  will  not  break  it : 
Fall,  Greeks ;  fail,  fame ;  honor,  or  go,  or  stay, 

1  Adversity  is  here  used  for  contrariety. 

^  This  expression  is  met  with  in  Decker's  Honest  Whore  :— "  'Tia  a 
male  varlet,  sure,  my  lord ! "  The  person  spoken  of  is  Bellafronte,  a  harlot, 
who  is  introduced  in  boy's  clothes. 

3  Patroclus  reproaches  Thersites  with  deformity,  with  having  one  part 
crowded  into  another. 

4  See  Macbeth,  Act  ii.  Sc.  2. 

5  So  Hamlet,  speaking  of  Osrick : — 

"  Dost  know  this  water-fly  ?  " 

6  This  is  a  circumstance  taken  from  the  old  story-book  of  The  Destruc 
tion  of  Troy. 


SC.  I.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  335 

My  major  vow  lies  here  ;  this  I'll  obey. 

Corne,  come,  Thersites,  help  to  trim  my  tent ; 
This  night  in  banqueting  must  all  be  spent. 
Away,  Patroclus.  [Exeunt  ACHILLES  and  PATROCLUS. 
Ther.  With  too  much  blood,  and  too  little  brain, 
these  two  may  run  mad ;  but  if  with  too  much  brain, 
and  too  little  blood,  they  do,  I'll  be  a  curer  of  madmen. 
Here's  Agamemnon, — an  honest  fellow  enough,  and 
one  that  loves  quails ; l  but  he  has  not  so  much  brain 
as  ear-wax.  And  the  goodly  transformation  of  Jupiter 
there,  his  brother,  the  bull, — the  primitive  statue,  and 
oblique  memorial  of  cuckolds  ; 2  a  thrifty  shoeing-horn 
in  a  chain,  hanging  at  his  brother's  leg, — to  what  form, 
but  that  he  is,  should  wit  larded  with  malice,  and  mal 
ice  forced 3  with  wit,  turn  him  to  ?  To  an  ass,  were 
nothing :  he  is  both  ass  and  ox  :  to  an  ox  were  nothing : 
he  is  both  ox  and  ass.  To  be  a  dog,  a  mule,  a  cat,  a 
fitchew,4  a  toad,  a  lizard,  an  owl,  a  puttock,  or  a  her 
ring  without  a  roe,  I  would  not  care  :  but  to  be  Menelaus, 
— I  would  conspire  against  destiny.  Ask  me  not  what 
I  would  be,  if  I  were  not  Thersites ;  for  I  care  not  to 
be  the  louse  of  a  lazar,  so  I  were  not  Menelaus  — 
Hey-day  !  spirits  and  fires  ! 5 

Enter  HECTOR,  TROILUS,  AJAX,  AGAMEMNON,  ULYSSES, 
NESTOR,  MENELAUS,  and  DIOMED,  with  lights. 

Agam.    We  go  wrong,  we  go  wrong. 
Ajax.  No,  yonder  'tis  ; 

There,  where  we  see  the  lights. 

Hect.  I  trouble  you. 

Ajax.   No,  not  a  whit. 

Ulyss.  Here  comes  himself  to  guide  you. 


1  By  quails  are  meant  women.    "  Cattle  coeffee "  is  a  sobriquet  for  a 
harlot 

2  He  calls  Menelaus  the  transformation  of  Jupiter,  that  is,  the  butt,  on 
account  of  his  horns. 

3  i.  e.  farced  or  stuffed. 

4  A  polecat 

5  This  Thersites  speaks  upon  the  first  sight  of  the  distant  lights. 


336  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 


Enter  ACHILLES. 

Achil.  Welcome,  brave  Hector ;  welcome,  princes  all. 

Agam.  So  now,  fair  prince  of  Troy,  I  bid  good  night. 
Ajax  commands  the  guard  to  tend  on  you. 

Hect.  Thanks,  and  good  night,  to  the  Greeks'  general. 

Men.    Good  night,  my  lord. 

Hect.  Good  night,  sweet  lord  Menelaus. 

Ther.  Sweet  draught.1  Sweet,  quoth  'a !  sweet  sink, 
sweet  sewer. 

AchiL    Good  night. 
And  welcome  both  to  those  that  go,  or  tarry. 

Agam.    Good  night. 

[Exeunt  AGAMEMNON  and  MENELAUS. 

Achil.    Old  Nestor  tarries ;  and  you  too,  Diomed, 
Keep  Hector  company  an  hour  or  two. 

Dio.    I  cannot,  lord ;  I  have  important  business, 
The  tide  whereof  is  now. — Good  night,  great  Hector. 

Hect.    Give  me  your  hand. 

Ulyss.  Follow  his  torch  ;  he  goes 

To  Calchas'  tent :  I'll  keep  you  company. 

[Aside  to  TROILUS. 

Tro.    Sweet  sir,  you  honor  me. 

Hect.  And  so  good  night. 

[Exit  DIOMED  ;  ULYSSES  and  TROILUS 
following. 

Achil.    Come,  come,  enter  my  tent. 

[Exeunt  ACHILLES,  HECTOR,  AJAX  and 
NESTOR. 

Ther.  That  same  Diomed's  a  false-hearted  rogue, 
a  most  unjust  knave  ;  I  will  no  more  trust  him  when 
he  leers,  than  I  will  a  serpent  when  he  hisses :  he  will 
spend  his  mouth,  and  promise,  like  Brabbler  the  hound  ;2 
but  when  he  performs,  astronomers  foretell  it ;  it  is 
prodigious,  there  will  come  some  change ;  the  sun 
borrows  of  the  moon,  when  Diomed  keeps  his  word. 
I  will  rather  leave  to  see  Hector,  than  not  to  dog  him ; 

1  Draught  is  the  old  word  forforica. 

2  If  a  hound  gives  mouth,  and  is  not  upon  the  scent  of  the  game,  he  is 
called  a  babbler  or  brabbler. 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  337 

they  say,  he  keeps  a  Trojan  drab,  and  uses  the  traitor 
Calchas'  tent :  I'll  after. — Nothing  but  lechery  !  all 
incontinent  varlets !  [Exit 


SCENE   II      The  same.     Before  Calchas'  Tent. 

Enter  DIOMEDES. 

Dio.   What,  are  you  up  here,  ho  ?  speak. 

Cal    [Within.']    Who  calls? 

Dio.   Diomed. — Calchas,    I   think. — Where's   your 

daughter  ? 
Cal.    [Within.']   She  comes  to  you. 

Enter  TROILUS  and  ULYSSES,  at  a  distance ;  after  them, 
THER  SITES. 

Ulyss.    Stand  where  the  torch  may  not  discover  us. 


Enter  CRESSIDA. 

Tro.    Cressid  comes  forth  to  him! 

Dio.  How  now,  my  charge  ? 

Cres.  Now,  my  sweet  guardian  ! — Hark !  a  word 
with  you.  [Wliispers. 

Tro.   Yea,  so  familiar ! 

Ulyss.    She  will  sing  any  man  at  first  sight. 

Ther.  And  any  man  may  sing  her,  if  he  can  take 
her  cliff! 1  She's  noted. 

Dio.   Will  you  remember  ? 

Cres.  Remember?  yes. 

Dio.  Nay,  but  do,  then, 

And  let  your  mind  be  coupled  with  your  words. 

Tro.    What  should  she  remember  ? 

Ulyss.   List! 

Cres.  Sweet  honey  Greek,  tempt  me  no  more  to  folly 

Ther.   Roguery ! 

i  That  is,  her  key  (clef,  Fr.). 
VOL.  v.  43 


338  TR01LUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Dio.   Nay,  then, — 

Ores.  I'll  tell  you  what. 

Dio.  Pho !  pho!  come,  tell  a  pin.   You  are  forsworn. — 

Ores.    In  faith,  I  cannot.    What  would  you  have  me 
do? 

Ther.    A  juggling  trick,  to  be — secretly  open. 

Dio.    What  did  you  swear  you  would  bestow  on  me  t 

Ores.    I  pr'ythee,  do  not  hold  me  to  mine  oath ; 
Bid  me  do  any  thing  but  that,  sweet  Greek. 

Dio.    Good  night. 

Tro.  Hold,  patience ! 

Ulyss.  How  now,  Trojan  r 

Ores.  Diomed, 

Dio.   No,  no,  good  night.    I'll  be  your  fool  no  more. 

Tro.    Thy  better  must. 

Ores.  Hark  !  one  word  in  your  ear. 

Tro.   O  plague  and  madness ! 

Ulyss.   You  are  moved,  prince  ;  let  us  depart,  I  pray 

you, 

Lest  your  displeasure  should  enlarge  itself 
To  wrathful  terms :  this  place  is  dangerous ; 
The  time  right  deadly ;  I  beseech  you,  go. 

Tro.   Behold,  I  pray  you  ! 

Ulyss.  Now,  good  my  lord,  go  off; 

You  flow  to  great  destruction  ;J  come,  my  lord. 

Tro.    I  pr'ythee,  stay. 

Ulyss.  You  have  not  patience  ;  come. 

Tro.   I  pray  you,  stay ;  by  hell,  and  all  hell's  torments, 
I  will  not  speak  a  word. 

Dio.  And  so,  good  night. 

Cres.   Nay,  but  you  part  in  anger. 

Tro.  Doth  that  grieve  thee  ? 

0  withered  truth ! 

Ulyss.  Why,  how  now,  my  lord  ? 

Tro.  By  Jove. 

1  will  be  patient. 

Cres  Guardian  ! — why,  Greek ! 


1  i.  e.  your  impetuosity  exposes  you  to  imminent  peril.    The  folio  reads 
distraction. 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  339 

Dio.    Pho,  pho !  adieu ;  you  palter.1 

Ores.    In  faith,  I  do  not ;  come  hither  once  again. 

Ulijss.     You  shake,  my  lord,  at  something;    will 

you  go  ? 
You  will  break  out. 

Tro.  She  strokes  his  cheek  ! 

Ulyss.  Come,  come. 

Tro.   Nay,  stay ;  by  Jove,  I  will  not  speak  a  word. 
There  is  between  my  will  and  all  offences 
A  guard  of  patience  ; — stay  a  little  while. 

Ther.  How  the  devil  luxury,  with  his  fat  rump,  and 
potatoe  finger,2  tickles  these  together !  Fry,  lechery, 
fry  ! 

Dio.   But  will  you  then  ? 

Ores.    In  faith,  I  will,  la  ;  never  trust  me  else. 

Dio.    Give  me  some  token  for  the  surety  of  it. 

Ores.    I'll  fetch  you  one.  [Exit. 

Ulyss.   You  have  sworn  patience. 

Tro.  Fear  me  not,  my  lord ; 

I  will  not  be  myself,  nor  have  cognition 
Of  what  I  feel ;  I  am  all  patience. 

Re-enter  CRESSIDA. 

Ther.   Now  the  pledge  ;  now,  now,  now  ! 

Ores.    Here,  Diomed,  keep  this  sleeve.3 

Tro.    O  beauty !  where 5s  thy  faith  ? 

Ulyss.  My  lord ! — 

Tro.   I  will  be  patient;  outwardly  1  will. 

Cres.  You  look  upon  that  sleeve  ;  behold  it  well. — 
He  loved  me — O  false  wench ! — Give't  me  again. 

Dio.   Whose  was't  ? 

Cres.  No  matter,  now  I  have't  again. 

I  will  not  meet  with  you  to-morrow  night ; 
I  pr'ythee,  Diomed,  visit  me  no  more. 


1  To  palter  is  to  equivocate,  to  shuffle. 

2  Luxury,  or  lasciviousness,  is  said  to  have  a  potatoe-finger,  because 
that  root  was  thought  "  to  strengthen  the  bodie,  and  procure  bodily  lust" 

3  This  sleeve  was  given  by  Troilus  to  Cressida  at  their  parting.     It  was 
probably  such  a  sleeve  as  was  formerly  worn  at  tournaments. 


340  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Ther.   Now  she  sharpens ; — Well  said,  whetstone. 

Dio.    I  shall  have  it. 

Ores.  What,  this  ? 

Dio.  Ay,  that. 

Ores.    O,  all  you  gods  ! — O  pretty,  pretty  pledge ! 
Thy  master  now  lies  thinking  in  his  bed 
Of  thee,  and  me ;  and  sighs  and  takes  my  glove, 
And  gives  memorial  dainty  kisses  to  it, 
As  I  kiss  thee. — Nay,  do  not  snatch  it  from  me  ; 
He  that  takes  that,  must  take  my  heart  withal. 

Dio.    I  had  your  heart  before  ;  this  follows  it. 

Tro.    I  did  swear  patience. 

Cres.   You  shall  not  have  it,  Diomed ;  'faith,  you 

shall  not; 
I'll  give  you  something  else. 

Dio.    I  will  have  this.    Whose  was  it  ? 

Cres.  'Tis  no  matter. 

Dio.    Come,  tell  me  whose  it  was. 

Cres.    'Twas  one's  that  loved  me  better  than  you  will. 
But,  now  you  have  it,  take  it. 

Dio.  Whose  was  it  ? 

Cres.   By  all  Diana's  waiting-women  yonder,1 
And  by  herself,  I  will  not  tell  you  whose. 

Dio.    To-morrow  will  I  wear  it  on  my  helm ; 
And  grieve  his  spirit  that  dares  not  challenge  it. 

Tro.   Wert  thou  the  devil,  and  wor'st  it  on  thy  horn, 
It  should  be  challenged. 

Cres.   Well,  well,  'tis  done,  'tis  past. — And  yet  it  is 

not ; 
I  will  not  keep  my  word. 

Dio.  Why  then,  farewell ; 

Thou  never  shalt  mock  Diomed  again. 

Cres.   You  shall  not  go. — One  cannot  speak  a  word 
But  it  straight  starts  you. 

Dio.  I  do  not  like  this  fooling. 

Ther.    Nor  I,  by  Pluto ;  but  that  that  likes  not  you, 
pleases  me  best. 

Dio.   What,  shall  I  come  ?  the  hour  ? 

1  i.  e.  the  stars. 


SC   11.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  341 

Cres.  Ay,  come. — O  Jove  ! — 

Do  come  ; — I  shall  be  plagued. 

Dio.  Farewell  till  then. 

Cres.    Good  night.     I  pr'ythee,  come. — 

[Exit  DIOMEDES. 

Troilus,  farewell !  one  eye  yet  looks  on  thee  ; 
But  with  my  heart  the  other  eye  doth  see. 
Ah  !  poor  our  sex  !  this  fault  in  us  I  find, 
The  error  of  our  eye  directs  our  mind. 
What  error  leads,  must  err  ;  O  then  conclude, 
Minds,  swayed  by  eyes,  are  full  of  turpitude. 

[Exit  CRESSIDA. 

Ther.    A  proof  of  strength,  she  could  not  publish 


more,1 


Unless  she  said,  my  mind  is  now  turned  whore. 

Ulyss.    All's  done,  my  lord. 

Tro.  It  is. 

Ulyss.  Why  stay  we,  then  ? 

Tro.    To  make  a  recordation  to  my  soul 
Of  every  syllable  that  here  was  spoke. 
But,  if  I  tell  how  these  two  did  co-act, 
Shall  I  not  lie  in  publishing  a  truth  ? 
Sith  yet  there  is  a  credence  in  my  heart, 
An  esperance  so  obstinately  strong, 
That  doth  invert  the  attest  of  eyes  and  ears ; 
As  if  those  organs  had  deceptions  functions, 
Created  only  to  calumniate. — 
Was  Cressid  here  ? 

Ulyss.  I  cannot  conjure,  Trojan. 

Tro.    She  was  not,  sure. 

Ulyss.  Most  sure  she  was. 

Tro.   Why,  my  negation  hath  no  taste  of  madness. 

Ulyss.  Nor  mine,  my  lord ;    Cressid  was  here  but 
now. 

Tro.    Let  it  not  be  believed  for  womanhood  ! 2 
Think,  we  had  mothers ;  do  not  give  advantage 
To  stubborn  critics — apt,  without  a  theme, 


1  She  could  not  publish  a  stronger  proof. 

2  For  the  sake  of  womanhood. 


342  TROILUS   AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V- 

For  depravation — to  square  the  general  sex 

By  Cressid's  rule  ;  rather  think  this  not  Cressid. 

Ulyss.    What  hath  she  done,  prince,  that  can  soil  our 
mothers  ? 

Tro.   Nothing  at  all,  unless  that  this  were  she. 

T/ier.    Will  he  swagger  himself  out  on's  own  eyes  t 

Tro.   This  she  ?     No,  this  is  Diomed's  Cressida. 
If  beauty  have  a  soul,  this  is  not  she  ; 
If  souls  guide  vows,  if  vows  be  sanctimonies, 
If  sanctimony  be  the  gods'  delight, 
If  there  be  rule  in  unity  itself,1 
This  was  not  she.     O  madness  of  discourse, 
That  cause  sets  up  with  and  against  itself! 
Bi-fold  authority  ! 2  where  reason  can  revolt 
Without  perdition,  and  loss  assume  all  reason 
Without  revolt :  this  is,  and  is  not,  Cressid  ! 
Within  my  soul  there  doth  conduce  a  fight 
Of  this  strange  nature,  that  a  thing  inseparate3 
Divides  more  wider  than  the  sky  and  earth  ; 
And  yet  the  spacious  breadth  of  this  division 
Admits  no  orifice  for  a  point,  as  subtle 
As  Ariachne's4  broken  woof,  to  enter. 
Instance,  O  instance  !  strong  as  Pluto's  gates  ; 
Cressid  is  mine,  tied  with  the  bonds  of  Heaven. 
Instance,  O  instance!  strong  as  Heaven  itself; 
The  bonds  of  Heaven  are  slipped,  dissolved,  and  loosed ; 
And  with  another  knot,  five-finger-tied.5 
The  fractions  of  her  faith,  orts  of  her  love, 
The  fragments,  scraps,  the  bits  and  greasy  relics 
Of  her  o'er-eaten  faith,6  are  bound  to  Diomed. 

1  If  it  be  true  that  one  individual  cannot  be  two  distinct  persons. 

2  The  folio  reads  "  By  foul  authority,"  &c.    There  is  a  madness  in 
that  disquisition,  in  which  a  man  reasons  at  once  for  and  against  himself 
upon  authority  which  he  knows  not  to  be  valid.    The  words  loss  and 
perdition,  in  the  subsequent  line,  are  used  in  their  common  sense ;  but 
they  mean  the  loss  or  perdition  of  reason. 

3  i.  e.  the  plighted  faith  of  lovers.    Troilus  considers  it  inseparable,  or 
at  least  that  it  ought  never  to  be  broken,  though  he  has  unfortunately 
found  that  it  sometimes  is. 

4  One  quarto  copy  reads  Jlriachna's ;    the  other  Jlriaihna's ;    the  folio 
Ariachne's.    drachne  was  the  name  applied  to  the  spider. 

5  A  knot  tied  by  giving  her  hand  to  Diomed. 

6  Her  troth  plighted  to  Troilus,  of  which  she  was  surfeited. 


SC.  II.]  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA. 

Ulyss.    May  worthy  Troilus  be  half  attached 
With  that  which  here  his  passion  doth  express  ?! 

Tro.    Ay,  Greek  ;  and  that  shall  be  divulged  well 
In  characters  as  red  as  Mars  his  heart 
Inflamed  with  Venus  ;  never  did  young  man  fancy2 
With  so  eternal  and  so  fixed  a  soul. 
Hark,  Greek. — As  much  as  I  do  Cressid  love, 
So  much  by  weight  hate  I  her  Diomed. 
That  sleeve  is  mine,  that  he'll  bear  on  his  helm; 
Were  it  a  casque  composed  by  Vulcan's  skill, 
My  sword  should  bite  it ;  not  the  dreadful  spout, 
Which  shipmen  do  the  hurricane  call, 
Constringed  in  mass  by  the  almighty  sun, 
Shall  dizzy  with  more  clamor  Neptune's  ear 
In  his  descent,  than  shall  my  prompted  sword 
Falling  on  Diomed. 

Ther.    He'll  tickle  it  for  his  concupy.3 

Tro.    O  Cressid!  O  false  Cressid  !  false,  false,  false! 
Let  all  untruths  stand  by  thy  stained  name, 
And  they'll  seem  glorious. 

Ulyss.  O,  contain  yourself ; 

Your  passion  draws  ears  hither. 

Enter  .ENEAS. 

jEne.    I  have  been  seeking  you  this  hour,  my  lord. 
Hector,  by  this,  is  arming  him  in  Troy  ; 
Ajax,  your  guard,  stays  to  conduct  you  home. 

Tro.    Have  with  you,  prince. — My  courteous  lord, 

adieu  ; 

Farewell,  revolted  fair  ! — and,  Diomed, 
Stand  fast,  and  wear  a  castle  on  thy  head  ! 4 

Ulyss.    I'll  bring  you  to  the  gates. 

Tro.    Accept  distracted  thanks. 

[Exeunt  TROILUS,  J^NEAS,  and  ULYSSES. 

1  "  Can  Troilus  really  feel,  on  this  occasion,  half  of  what  he  utters  ? 

2  Love. 

3  A  cant  word,  formed  from  concupiscence. 

4  i.  e.  defend  thy  head  with  armor  of  more  than  common  security.     It 
appears  that  a  kind  of  close  helmet  was  called  a  castle.     See  Titus 
Andronicus,  Act  iii.  Sc.  1. 


344  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Ther.  'Would  I  could  meet  that  rogue  Diomed !  I 
would  croak  like  a  raven  ;  I  would  bode,  I  would  bode. 
Patroclus  will  give  me  any  thing  for  the  intelligence  ot 
this  whore  ;  the  parrot  will  not  do  more  for  an  almond, 
than  he  for  a  commodious  drab.  Lechery,  lechery ; 
still,  wars  and  lechery;  nothing  else  holds  fashion.  A 
burning  devil  take  them  !  [Exit. 


SCENE   III.     Troy.     Before  Priam's  Palace. 

Enter  HECTOR  and  ANDROMACHE. 

And.  When  was  my  lord  so  much  ungently  tempered, 
To  stop  his  ears  against  admonishment  ? 
Unarm,  unarm,  and  do  not  fight  to-day. 

Hect.   You  train  me  to  offend  you  ;  get  you  in. 
By  all  the  everlasting  gods,  I'll  go. 

And.  My  dreams  will,  sure,  prove  ominous  to  the  day. 

Hect.   No  more,  I  say. 

Enter  CASSANDRA. 

Cas.  Where  is  my  brother  Hector  ? 

And.    Here,  sister  ;  armed  and  bloody  in  intent. 
Consort  with  me  in  loud  and  dear  petition,1 
Pursue  we  him  on  knees  ;  for  I  have  dreamed 
Of  bloody  turbulence,  and  this  whole  night 
Hath  nothing  been  but  shapes  and  forms  of  slaughter. 

Cas.    O,  it  is  true. 

Hect.  Ho  !  bid  my  trumpet  sound  ! 

Cas.     No  notes  of  sally,   for   the    heavens,   sweet 
brother. 

Hect.   Begone,  I  say;  the  gods  have  heard  me  swear. 

Cas.    The  gods  are  deaf  to  hot  and  peevish2  vows ; 
They  are  polluted  offerings,  more  abhorred 
Than  spotted  livers  in  the  sacrifice. 

And.    O  !  be  persuaded.     Do  not  count  it  holy 

1  i.  e.  earnest,  anxious  petition.  2  Foolish. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  345 

To  hurt  by  being  just ;  it  is  as  lawful, 

For  we  would  give  much,  to  use  violent  thefts,1 

And  rob  in  the  behalf  of  charity. 

Cas.    It  is  the  purpose  that  makes  strong  the  vow  ; 
But  vows  to  every  purpose  must  not  hold ; 
Unarm,  sweet  Hector. 

Hect.  Hold  you  still,  I  say ; 

Mine  honor  keeps  the  weather  2  of  my  fate. 
Life  every  man  holds  dear  ;  but  the  dear  man  3 
Holds  honor  far  more  precious-dear  than  life. — 

Enter  TROILUS. 

How  now,  young  man  ?  mean'st  thou  to  fight  to-day  ? 

And.    Cassandra,  call  my  father  to  persuade. 

[Exit  CASSANDRA. 

Hect.   No,  'faith,  young  Troilus  ;  doff  thy  harness, 

youth  ; 

I  am  to-day  i'  the  vein  of  chivalry. 
Let  grow  thy  sinews  till  their  knots  be  strong, 
And  tempt  not  yet  the  brushes  of  the  war. 
Unarm  thee,  go ;  and  doubt  thou  not,  brave  boy, 
I'll  stand  to-day,  for  thee,  and  me,  and  Troy. 

Tro.   Brother,  you  have  a  vice  of  mercy  in  you, 
Which  better  fits  a  lion  than  a  man.4 

Hect.   What  vice  is  that,  good  Troilus  ?    Chide  me 
for  it. 

Tro.   When  many  times  the  captive  Grecians  fall, 
Even  in  the  fan  and  wind  of  your  fair  sword, 
You  bid  them  rise  and  live.5 

Hect.    O,  'tis  fair  play. 

Tro.  Fool's  play,  by  Heaven,  Hector. 

Hect.    How  now  ?  how  now  ? 


1  i.  e.  to  use  violent  thefts,  because  we  would  give  much. 

2  To  keep  the  weather  is  to  keep  the  wind  or  advantage.    Estre  au  dessus 
du  vcrrf,  is  the  French  proverbial  phrase. 

3  The  man  of  worth. 

4  The  traditions  and  stories  of  the  darker  ages  abounded  with  examples 
of  the  lion's  generosity. 

5  Shakspeare  seems  not  to  have  studied  the  Homeric  character  of 
Hector,  whose  disposition  was  by  no  means  inclined  to  clemency. 

VOL.  v.  44 


346  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Tro.  For  the  love  of  all  the  gods, 

Let's  leave  the  hermit  Pity  with  our  mother  ; 
And  when  we  have  our  armors  buckled  on, 
The  venomed  vengeance  ride  upon  our  swords ; 
Spur  them  to  ruthful  work,  rein  them  from  ruth.1 

Hect.   Fie,  savage,  fie ! 

Tro.  Hector,  then  'tis  wars. 

Hect.    Troilus,  I  would  not  have  you  fight  to-day. 

Tro.    Who  should  withhold  me  ? 
Not  fate,  obedience,  nor  the  hand  of  Mars 
Beckoning  with  fiery  truncheon  my  retire  ; 
Not  Priamus  and  Hecuba  on  knees, 
Their  eyes  o'ergalled  with  recourse  of  tears ; 2 
Nor  you,  my  brother,  with  your  true  sword  drawn, 
Opposed  to  hinder  me,  should  stop  my  way, 
But  by  my  ruin. 

Re-enter  CASSANDRA,  with  PRIAM. 

Cas.    Lay  hold  upon  him,  Priam  ;  hold  him  fast : 
He  is  thy  crutch ;  now,  if  thou  lose  thy  stay, 
Thou  on  him  leaning,  and  all  Troy  on  thee, 
Fall  all  together. 

Pri.  Come,  Hector,  come,  go  back. 

Thy  wife  hath  dreamed ;  thy  mother  hath  had  visions ; 
Cassandra  doth  foresee ;  and  T  myself 
Am  like  a  prophet  suddenly  enrapt, 
To  tell  thee — that  this  day  is  ominous. 
Therefore,  come  back. 

Hect.  ^Eneas  is  afield ; 

And  I  do  stand  engaged  to  many  Greeks, 
Even  in  the  faith  of  valor,  to  appear 
This  morning  to  them. 

Pri.  Ay,  but  thou  shalt  not  go. 

Hect.    I  must  not  break  my  faith. 
You  know  me  dutiful ;  therefore,  dear  sir, 
Let  me  not  shame  respect ; 3  but  give  me  leave 

1  Ruth/id  is  rueful,  ivoful ;  and  ruth  is  mercy. 

9  i.  e.  tears  that  continue  to  course  each  other  down  the  face. 

3  i.  e.  disgrace  the  respect  I  owe  you. 


SC.  III.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  347 

To  take  that  course  by  your  consent  and  voice, 
Which  you  do  here  forbid  me,  royal  Priam. 

Cas.    O  Priam,  yield  not  to  him. 

And.  Do  not,  dear  father. 

Hect.    Andromache,  I  am  offended  with  you ; 
Upon  the  love  you  bear  me,  get  you  in. 

[Exit  ANDROMACHE. 

Tro.    This  foolish,  dreaming,  superstitious  girl 
Makes  all  these  bodements. 

Cas.  O  farewell,  dear  Hector. 

Look,  how  thou  diest !  look,  how  thy  eye  turns  pale ! 
Look,  how  thy  wounds  do  bleed  at  many  vents ! 
Hark,  how  Troy  roars  !  how  Hecuba  cries  out ! 
How  poor  Andromache  shrills  l  her  dolors  forth ! 
Behold  !  destruction,2  frenzy,  and  amazement, 
Like  witless  antics,  one  another  meet, 
And  all  cry — Hector!  Hectors  dead!  0  Hector ! 

Tro.    Away ! — Away ! 

Cas.  Farewell. — Yet,  soft. — Hector,  I  take  my  leave ; 
Thou  dost  thyself  and  all  our  Troy  deceive.         [Exit. 

Hect.    You  are  amazed,  my  liege,  at  her  exclaim. 
Go  in,  and  cheer  the  town  :  we'll  forth,  and  fight ; 
Do  deeds  worth  praise,  and  tell  you  them  at  night. 

Pri.    Farewell ;  the  gods  with  safety  stand  about 
thee ! 

[Exeunt  severally  PRIAM  and  HECTOR. 
Alarums. 

Tro.  They  are  at  it ;  hark !     Proud  Diomed,  believe, 
1  come  to  lose  my  arm,  or  win  my  sleeve. 

As  TROILUS  is  going  out,  enter,  from  the  other  side, 
PANDARUS. 

Pan.    Do  you  hear,  my  lord  ?  do  you  hear  ? 
Tro.   What  now  ? 

Pan.    Here's  a  letter  from  yon'  poor  girl. 
Tro.    Let  me  read. 


1  The  same  verb  is  used  by  Spenser. 

2  The  folio  reads  distraction. 


348  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Pan.  A  whoreson  phthisic,  a  whoreson,  rascally 
phthisic  so  troubles  me,  and  the  foolish  fortune  of  this 
girl ;  and  what  one  thing,  what  another,  that  I  shall 
leave  you  one  o'  these  days.  And  I  have  a  rheum  in 
mine  eyes  too ;  and  such  an  ache  in  my  bones,  that, 
unless  a  man  were  cursed,1  I  cannot  tell  what  to  think 
on't. — What  says  she  there  ? 

Tro.    Words,   words,  mere  words,  no  matter  from 
the  heart;  [Tearing  the  letter. 

The  effect  doth  operate  another  way. — 
Go,  wind,  to  wind,  there  turn  and  change  together. 
My  love  with  words  and  errors  still  she  feeds ; 
But  edifies  another  with  her  deeds.    [Exeunt  severally. 

SCENE   IV.     Between  Troy  and  the  Grecian  Camp. 

Alarums:  Excursions.     Enter  THER SITES. 

Ther.  Now  they  are  clapper-clawing  one  another  ; 
I'll  go  look  on.  That  dissembling,  abominable  varlet, 
Diomed,  has  got  that  same  scurvy,  doting,  foolish  young- 
knave's  sleeve  of  Troy  there,  in  his  helm.  I  would 
fain  see  them  meet ;  that  that  same  young  Trojan  ass, 
that  loves  the  whore  there,  might  send  that  Greekish, 
whoremasterly  villain,  with  the  sleeve,  back  to  the 
dissembling,  luxurious  drab,  on  a  sleeveless  errand. 
O'  the  other  side,  the  policy  of  those  crafty,  swearing 
rascals,2 — that  stale,  old,  mouse-eaten,  dry  cheese,  Nes 
tor  ;  and  that  same  dog-fox,  Ulysses, — is  not  proved 
worth  a  blackberry. — They  set  me  up,  in  policy,  that 
mongrel  cur,  Ajax,  against  that  dog  of  as  bad  a  kind, 
Achilles ;  and  now  is  the  cur  Ajax  prouder  than  the 
cur  Achilles,  and  will  not  arm  to-day  ;  whereupon  the 
Grecians  begin  to  proclaim  barbarism,3  and  policy 
grows  into  an  ill  opinion.  Soft!  here  comes  sleeve, 
and  t'other. 

1  That  is,  under  the  influence  of  a  malediction. 

2  Theobald  proposes  to  read  "  sneering  rascals." 

3  To  set  up  the  authority  of  ignorance,  and  to  declare  that  they  will  be 
governed  by  policy  no  longer. 


SC.  V.]  TROTLUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  349 

Enter  DIOMEDES,  TROILUS  following. 

Tro.  Fly  not ;  for,  shouldst  thou  take  the  river  Styx, 
1  would  swim  after. 

Dio.  Thou  dost  miscall  retire. 

I  do  not  fly ;  but  advantageous  care 
Withdrew  me  from  the  odds  of  multitude. 
Have  at  thee ! 

Ther.  Hold  thy  whore,  Grecian ! — now  for  thy 
whore,  Trojan ! — now  the  sleeve,  now  the  sleeve  ! 

[Exeunt  TROILUS  and  DIOMEDES,  fighting. 

Enter  HECTOR. 

Hect.   What  art  thou,  Greek  ?  art  thou  for  Hector's 

match  ? 
Art  thou  of  blood,  and  honor?1 

Ther.  No,  no. — I  am  a  rascal ;  a  scurvy,  railing 
knave  ;  a  very  filthy  rogue. 

Hect.    I  do  believe  thee  ; — live.  [Exit. 

Ther.  God-a-mercy,  that  thou  wilt  believe  me  ; 
but  a  plague  break  thy  neck,  for  frighting  me  !  What's, 
become  of  the  wenching  rogues  ?  I  think  they  have 
swallowed  one  another ;  I  would  laugh  at  that  miracle. 
Yet,  in  a  sort,  lechery  eats  itself.  I'll  seek  them. 

[Exit. 

SCENE  V.     The  same. 

Enter  DIOMEDES  and  a  Servant. 

Dio.    Go,  go,  my  servant,  take  thou  Troilus'  horse  ; 
Present  the  fair  steed  to  my  lady  Cressid : 
Fellow,  commend  my  service  to  her  beauty ; 
Tell  her,  I  have  chastised  the  amorous  Trojan, 
And  am  her  knight  by  proof. 


1  This,  like  several  others  in  this  play,  is  an  idea  taken  from  the  ancient 
books  of  romantic  chivalry,  and  even  from  the  usage  of  the  Poet's  age. 
It  appears  from  Segar's  Honour,  Military  and  Civil,  folio,  1602,  that  a 
person  of  superior  birth  might  not  be  challenged  by  an  inferior,  or  if 
challenged  might  refuse  combat 


350  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Serv.  I  go,  my  lord. 

[Exit  Servant. 

Enter  AGAMEMNON. 

Agam.    Renew,  renew !     The  fierce  Polydamas 
Hath  beat  down  Menon  ;  bastard  Margarelon 
Hath  Doreus  prisoner ; 
And  stands  colossus-wise,  waving  his  beam,1 
Upon  the  pashed  2  corses  of  the  kings 
Epistrophus  and  Cedius.     Polixenes  is  slain  ; 
Amphimachus,  and  Thoas,  deadly  hurt ; 
Patroclus  ta'en,  or  slain ;  and  Palamedes 
Sore  hurt  and  bruised ;  the  dreadful  Sagittary  3 
Appals  our  numbers  ;  haste  we,  Diomed, 
To  reinforcement,  or  we  perish  all. 

Enter  NESTOR. 

Nest.    Go,  bear  Patroclus'  body  to  Achilles ; 
And  bid  the  snail-paced  Ajax  arm  for  shame. — 
There  is  a  thousand  Hectors  in  the  field ; 
Now  here  he  fights  on  Galathe  his  horse, 
And  there  lacks  work ;  anon,  he's  there  afoot, 
And  there  they  fly,  or  die,  like  scaled  sculls  4 
Before  the  belching  whale ;  then  is  he  yonder, 
And  there  the  strawy  Greeks,  ripe  for  his  edge, 
Fall  down  before  him,  like  the  mower's  swath. 
Here,  there,  and  every  where,  he  leaves  and  takes ; 
Dexterity  so  obeying  appetite, 
That  what  he  will,  he  does ;  and  does  so  much, 
That  proof  is  called  impossibility. 


1  i.  e.  his  /ance,  like  a  weaver's  beam. 

2  Bruised,  crushed. 

3  «  A  mervayllous  beaste  that  was  called  Sagittayre,  that  behynde  the 
myddes  was  an  horse,  and  to  fore,  a  man :  this  beste  was  heery  like  an 
horse,  and  shotte  well  with  a  bowe :  this  beste  made  the  Greekes  sore 
aferde,  and  slewe  many  of  them  with  his  bowe." — Destruction  of  Troy,  by 
Caxton. 

4  i.  e.  dispersed  shoals.       "A  scull  of  fishes — examen  vel   agmen 
piscium  "  (Baret) — was  also,  in  more  ancient  times,  written  "  a  scoolc" 


SO.  VI.]  TRO1LUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  351 

Enter  ULYSSES. 

Ulyss.    O,  courage,  courage,  princes !  great  Achilles 
Is  arming,  weeping,  cursing,  vowing  vengeance. 
Patroclus'  wounds  have  roused  his  drowsy  blood, 
Together  with  his  mangled  myrmidons, 
That  noseless,  handless,  hacked  and  chipped,  come  to 

him, 

Crying  on  Hector.     Ajax  hath  lost  a  friend, 
And  foams  at  mouth,  and  he  is  armed,  and  at  it, 
Roaring  for  Troilus ;  who  hath  done  to-day 
Mad  and  fantastic  execution  ; 
Engaging  and  redeeming  of  himself, 
With  such  a  careless  force,  and  forceless  care, 
As  if  that  luck,  in  very  spite  of  cunning, 
Bade  him  win  all. 

Enter  AJAX. 

Ajax.   Troilus !  thou  coward  Troilus !  [Exit. 

Dio.  Ay,  there,  there. 

Nest.    So,  so,  we  draw  together.1 

Enter  ACHILLES. 

Achil.  Where  is  this  Hector  ? 

Come,  come,  thou  boy-queller,2  show  thy  face  ; 
Know  what  it  is  to 'meet  Achilles  angry. 
Hector !  where's  Hector  ?  I  will  none  but  Hector. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   VI.     Another  Part  of  the  Field. 

Enter  AJAX. 
Ajax.   Troilus,  thou  coward  Troilus,  show  thy  head ! 


1  This  remark  seems  to  be  made  in  consequence  of  the  return  of  Ajax 
to  the  field,  he  having  lately  refused  to  cooperate  or  draw  together  with 
the  Greeks. 

2  i.  e.  murderer  of  boys. 


352  TROILUS  AND  CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Enter  DIOMEDES. 

Dio.    Troilus,  I  say !  where's  Troilus  ? 

Ajax.  What  wouldst  thou  ? 

Dio.    I  would  correct  him. 

Ajax.    Were  I  the  general,  thou  shouldst  have  my 

office 
Ere   that  correction. — Troilus,  I  say  !   what,  Troilus  ! 

Enter  TROILUS. 

Tro.    O,  traitor  Diomed  ! — turn  thy  false  face,  thou 

traitor, 

And  pay  thy  life  thou  owest  me  for  my  horse ! 
Dio.   Ha !  art  thou  there  ? 

Ajax.    I'll  fight  with  him  alone  ;  stand,  Diomed. 
Dio.    He  is  my  prize ;  I  will  not  look  upon.1 
Tro.    Come  both,  you  cogging 2  Greeks ;  have  at 
you  both.  [Exeunt,  fighting. 

Enter  HECTOR. 

Hect.   Yea,  Troilus  !     O,  well  fought,  my  youngest 
brother ! 

Enter  ACHILLES. 

Achil.   Now  do  I  see  thee ;   ha ! — Have  at  thee, 
Hector. 

Hect.    Pause,  if  thou  wilt. 

Achil.    I  do  disdain  thy  courtesy,  proud  Trojan  ; 
Be  happy,  that  my  arms  are  out  of  use. 
My  rest  and  negligence  befriend  thee  now, 
But  thou  anon  shalt  hear  of  me  again ; 
Till  when,  go  seek  thy  fortune.  [Exit. 

Hect.  Fare  thee  well  :— 

I  would  have  been  much  more  a  fresher  man, 
Had  I  expected  thee. — How  now,  my  brother  ? 


1  That  is,  I  will  not  be  a  looker-on. 

2  Cheating ;  Cicero  bears  witness  to  this  character  of  the  ancient  Greeks. 


SC.  VI1I.J  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  353 

Re-enter  TROILUS. 

Tro.    Ajax  hath  ta'en  ^Eneas  ;  shall  it  be  ? 
No,  by  the  flame  of  yonder  glorious  heaven, 
He  shall  not  carry  him ; l  I'll  be  taken  too, 
Or  bring  him  off. — Fate,  hear  me  what  I  say ! 
I  reck  not  though  I  end  my  life  to-day.  [Exit. 

Enter  one  in  sumptuous  armor. 

Hect.    Stand,  stand,  thou  Greek  ;  thou  art  a  goodly 

mark : — 

No  ?  wilt  thou  not  ? — I  like  thy  armor  well ; 
I'll  frush2  it,  and  unlock  the  rivets  all, 
But  I'll  be  master  of  it. — Wilt  thou  not,  beast,  abide  ? 
Why  then,  fly  on  ;  I'll  hunt  thee  for  thy  hide.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE   VII.     The  same. 

Enter  ACHILLES,  with  Myrmidons. 

Achil.    Come  here  about  me,  you  my  myrmidons  ; 
Mark  what  I  say. — Attend  me  where  I  wheel ; 
Strike  not  a  stroke,  but  keep  yourselves  in  breath ; 
And  when  I  have  the  bloody  Hector  found, 
Empale  him  with  your  weapons  round  about ; 
In  fellest  manner  execute 3  your  arms. 
Follow  me,  sirs,  and  my  proceedings  eye  ! 
It  is  decreed — Hector  the  great  must  die.         [Exeunt. 


SCENE   VIII.     The  same. 

.Enter  MENELAUS  andPAm$,jfightmg;  then 

Ther.    The  cuckold  and   the  cuckold-maker  are  at 
it.     Now,  bull !  now,  dog !  'Loo,  Paris,  'loo !  now  my 

W 


Tofrush  is  to  break  or  bruise  (froisser,  Fr.). 


i 

3  To'execute  their  arms  is  to  employ  them. 
VOL.  v.  45 


354  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

double-henned  sparrow !  'loo,  Paris,  loo !  The  bull  has 
the  game : — 'ware  horns,  ho ! 

[Exeunt  PARIS  and  MENELAUS. 

Enter  MARGARELON. 

Mar.   Turn,  slave,  and  fight. 

Ther.   What  art  thou  ? 

Mar.    A  bastard  son  of  Priam's. 

Ther.  I  am  a  bastard  too ;  I  love  bastards ; 1  I  am 
a  bastard  begot,  bastard  instructed,  bastard  in  mind, 
bastard  in  valor,  in  every  thing  illegitimate.  One  bear 
will  not  bite  another,  and  wherefore  should  one  bastard  ? 
Take  heed,  the  quarrel's  most  ominous  to  us :  if  the 
son  of  a  whore  fight  for  a  whore,  he  tempts  judgment. 
Farewell,  bastard. 

Mar.    The  devil  take  thee,  coward  !  [Exeunt. 


SCENE    IX.     Another  Part  of  the  Field. 

Enter  HECTOR. 

Hect.    Most  putrified  core,  so  fair  without, 
Thy  goodly  armor  thus  hath  cost  thy  life. 
Now  is  my  day's  work  done  ;  I'll  take  good  breath ; 
Rest,  sword ;  thou  hast  thy  fill  of  blood  and  death ! 

[Puts  off  his  helmet,  and  hangs  his  shield 
behind  him. 


Enter  ACHILLES  and  Myrmidons. 

Achil.    Look,  Hector,  how  the  sun  begins  to  set ; 
How  ugly  night  comes  breathing  at  his  heels. 
Even  with  the  vail 2  and  darkening  of  the  sun, 
To  close  the  day  up,  Hector's  life  is  done. 

Hect.    I  am  unarmed  :  forego  this  vantage,  Greek. 

1  Bastard,  in  ancient  times,  was  not  a  disreputable  appellation. 

2  «  The  vail  of  the  sun,"  is  the  sinking,  setting,  or  vailing  of  the  sun. 


SC.  X.]  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  355 

Achil.   Strike,  fellows,  strike  ;  this  is  the  man  I  seek.1 

[HECTOR  falls. 

So,  Ilion,  fall  thou  next !  now,  Troy,  sink  down ! 
Here  lies  thy  heart,  thy  sinews,  and  thy  bone. — 
On,  myrmidons  ;  and  cry  you  all  amain, 
Achilles  hath  the  mighty  Hector  slain. 

[A  retreat  sounded. 
Hark !  a  retreat  upon  our  Grecian  part. 

Myr.  The  Trojan  trumpets  sound  the  like,  my  lord. 
Achil.    The  dragon  wing  of  night  o'erspreads  the 

earth, 

And,  stickler2  like,  the  armies  separates. 
My  half-supped  sword,  that  frankly  would  have  fed, 
Pleased  with  this  dainty  bit,  thus  goes  to  bed. — 

[Sheathes  his  sword. 
Come,  tie  his  body  to  my  horse's  tail ; 
Along  the  field  I  will  the  Trojan  trail.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE   X.     The  same. 

Enter  AGAMEMNON,  AJAX,  MENELAUS,  NESTOR,  Dio- 
MEDES,  and  others^  marching.     Shouts  within. 

Agam.    Hark  !  hark  !  what  shout  is  that  ? 

Nest.  Peace,  drums. 

[Within.]  Achilles! 

Achilles  !  Hector's  slain  !  Achilles  ! 

Dio.    The  bruit  is — Hector's  slain,  and  by  Achilles. 

Ajax.    If  it  be  so,  yet  bragless  let  it  be  ; 
Great  Hector  was  as  good  a  man  as  he. 

1  Heywood,  in  his  Rape  of  Lucrece,  1638,  gives  the  same  account  of 
Achilles  overpowering  Hector  by  numbers.     In  Lydgate  and  the  old 
story  book,  the  same  account  is  given  of  the  death  of  T°roi]us.     Lydgate, 
following  Guido  of  Colonna,  who  in  the  grossest  manner  has  violated  all 
the  characters  drawn  by  Homer,  reprehends   the   Grecian  poet  as  the 
original  offender. 

2  Sticklers  were  persons  who  attended  upon  combatants  in  trials  of  skill, 
to  part  them  when  they  had  fought  enough,  and,  doubtless,  to  see  fair  play. 
They  were  probably  so  called  from  the  stick  or  wand  which  they  carried 
in  their  hands.     The  name  is  still  given  to  the  arbitrators  at  wrestling- 
matches  in  the  west  country. 


356  TROILUS   AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Agam.    March  patiently  along. — Let  one  be  sent 
To  pray  Achilles  see  us  at  our  tent. — 
If  in  his  death  the  gods  have  us  befriended, 
Great  Troy  is  ours,  and  our  sharp  wars  are  ended. 

[Exeunt,  marching. 


SCENE   XL     Another  Part  of  the  Field. 

Enter  ^ENEAS  and  Trojans. 

jEne.    Stand,  ho  !  yet  are  we  masters  of  the  field. 
Never  go  home  ;  here  starve  we  out  the  night. 

Enter  TROILUS. 

Tro.    Hector  is  slain. 

All.  Hector  ?— The  gods  forbid  ! 

Tro.    He's  dead ;  and  at  the  murderer's  horse's  tail, 
In  beastly  sort,  dragged  through  the  shameful  field. — 
Frown  on,  you  heavens;  effect  your  rage  with  speed ! 
Sit,  gods,  upon  your  thrones,  and  smile  1  at  Troy ! 
I  say,  at  once  let  your  brief  plagues  be  mercy, 
And  linger  not  our  sure  destructions  on  ! 

jEne.    My  lord,  you  do  discomfort  all  the  host. 

Tro.    You  understand  me  not,  that  tell  me  so ; 
I  do  not  speak  of  flight,  of  fear,  of  death  ; 
But  dare  all  imminence,  that  gods  and  men 
Address  their  dangers  in.     Hector  is  gone  ! 
Who  shall  tell  Priam  so,  or  Hecuba  ? 
Let  him,  that  will  a  screech-owl  aye  be  called, 
Go  into  Troy,  and  say  there — Hector's  dead. 
There  is  a  word  will  Priam  turn  to  stone  ; 
Make  wells  and  Niobes  of  the  maids  and  wives, 
Cold  statues  of  the  youth  ;  and,  in  a  word, 
Scare  Troy  out  of  itself.     But,  march,  away : 
Hector  is  dead ;  there  is  no  more  to  say. 


1  Hanmer  and  Warburton  read : — 

" smite  at  Troy." 


SC.  XL]  TR01LUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  357 

Stay  yet. — You  vile,  abominable  tents, 

Thus  proudly  pight 1  upon  our  Phrygian  plains, 

Let  Titan  rise  as  early  as  he  dare, 

I'll  through  and  through  you! — And  thou,  great-sized 

coward ! 

No  space  of  earth  shall  sunder  our  two  hates ; 
I'll  haunt  thee  like  a  wicked  conscience  still, 
That  mouldeth  goblins  swift  as  frenzy  thoughts. — 
Strike  a  free  march  to  Troy  ! — with  comfort  go  : 
Hope  of  revenge  shall  hide  our  inward  woe. 

[Exeunt  ^ENEAS  and  Trojans. 

As  TROILUS  is  going  out,  enter,  from  the  other  side, 
PANDARUS. 

Pan.    But  hear  you,  hear  you  ! 

Tro.    Hence,  broker  2  lackey !  ignomy 3  and  shame 
Pursue  thy  life,  and  live  aye  with  thy  name ! 

[Exit  TROILUS. 

Pan.  A  goodly  med'cine  for  my  aching  bones  ! — O 
world !  world  !  world !  thus  is  the  poor  agent  de 
spised  !  O  traitors  and  bawds,  how  earnestly  are  you 
set  a'  work,  and  how  ill  requited  !  Why  should  our 
endeavor  be  so  loved,  and  the  performance  so  loathed  ? 
what  verse  for  it?  what  instance  for  it? — Let  me 
see : — 

Full  merrily  the  humble-bee  doth  sing, 
Till  he  hath  lost  his  honey  and  his  sting  ; 
And  being  once  subdued  in  armed  tail, 
Sweet  honey  and  sweet  notes  together  fail. — 

Good  traders  in  the  flesh,  set  this  in  your  painted  cloths.4 

As  many  as  be  here  of  Pandar's  hall, 
Your  eyes,  half  out,  weep  out  at  Pandar's  fall. 
Or,  if  you  cannot  weep,  yet  give  some  groans, 
Though  not  for  me,  yet  for  your  aching  bones. 

1  Pitched,  fixed. 

2  Broker  anciently  signified  a  bawd  of  either  sex. 

3  Ignominy. 

4  Canvass  hangings  for  rooms,  painted  with  emblems  and  mottoes. 


358  TROILUS  AND   CRESSIDA.  [ACT  V. 

Brethren,  and  sisters,  of  the  hold-door  trade, 

Some  two  months  hence  my  will  shall  here  be  made  ; 

It  should  be  now,  but  that  my  fear  is  this, — 

Some  galled  goose  of  Winchester l  would  hiss  ; 

Till  then  I'll  sweat,2  and  seek  about  for  eases, 

And,  at  that  time,  bequeath  you  my  diseases.       [Exit. 


1  See  King  Henry  VI.  Part  I.  Act  i.  Sc.  3. 

2  See  Measure  for  Measure,  Act  i.  Sc.  2. 


THIS  play  is  more  correctly  written  than  most  of  Shakspeare's  com 
positions  ;  but  it  is  not  one  of  those  in  which  either  the  extent  of  his  views 
or  elevation  of  his  fancy  is  fully  displayed.  As  the  story  abounded  with 
materials,  he  has  exerted  little  invention;  but  he  has  diversified  his 
characters  with  great  variety,  and  preserved  them  with  great  exactness 
His  vicious  characters  disgust,  but  cannot  corrupt ;  for  both  Cressida  and 
Pandarus  are  detested  and  condemned.  The  comic  characters  seern  to 
have  been  the  favorites  of  the  writer:  they  are  of  the  superficial  kind,  and 
exhibit  more  of  manners  than  nature ;  but  they  are  copiously  filled  and 
powerfully  impressed.  Shakspeare  has,  in  his  story,  folloAved,  for  the 
greater  part,  the  old  book  of  Caxton,  which  was  then  very  popular  ;  but 
the  character  of  Thersites,  of  which  it  makes  no  mention,  is  a  proof  that 
this  play  was  written  alter  Chapman  had  published  his  version  of  Homer.* 

JOHNSON. 

*  It  should,  however,  be  remembered  that  Thersites  had  been  long  in  possession  of  the 
stage  in  an  interlude  bearing  his  name. 

"  The  first  seven  books  of  Chapman's  Homer  were  published  in  1596,  and  again  in  1598, 
twelve  books  not  long  afterward,  and  the  whole  24  books  at  latest  in  1611.  The  classical 
reader  may  be  surprised  that  Shakspeare,  having  had  the  means  of  being  acquainted  with 
the  great  father  of  poetry,  through  the  medium  of  Chapman's  translation,  should  not  have 
availed  himself  of  such  an  original  instead  of  the  Troy  Booke;  but  it  should  be  recollected 
that  it  was  his  object,  as  a  writer  for  the  stage,  to  coincide  with  the  feelings  and  prejudices 
of  his  audience,  who,  believing  themselves  to  have  drawn  their  descent  from  Troy,  would 
by  no  means  have  been  pleased  to  be  told  that  Achilles  was  a  braver  man  than  Hector. 
They  were  ready  to  think  well  of  the  Trojans  as  their  ancestors,  but  not  very  anxious  about 
knowing  their  history  with  much  correctness  j  and  Shakspeare  might  have  applied  to  worse 
sources  of  information  than  even  Lydgate." — BOSWELL. 


359 


TIMON  OF  ATHENS. 


PRELIMINARY    REMARKS. 

THE  story  of  the  Misanthrope  is  told  in  almost  every  collection  of  the 
time,  and  particularly  in  two  books,  with  which  Shakspeare  was  intimately 
acquainted — The  Palace  of  Pleasure,  and  the  Translation  of  Plutarch,  by 
sir  Thomas  North.  The  latter  furnished  the  Poet  with  the  following  hint 
to  work  upon : — "  Antonius  forsook  the  city  and  companie  of  his  friendes, 
saying  that  he  would  lead  Timon's  life,  because  he  had  the  like  wrong 
offered  him  that  was  offered  unto  Timon ;  and  for  the  unthankfulness  of 
those  he  had  done  good  unto,  and  whom  he  tooke  to  be  his  friends,  he  was 
angry  with  all  men,  and  would  trust  no  man." 

Mr.  Strutt,  the  engraver,  was  in  possession  of  a  MS.  play  on  this 
subject,  apparently  written,  or  transcribed,  about  the  year  1600.  There 
is  a  scene  in  it  resembling  Shakspeare's  banquet,  given  by  Timon  to  his 
flatterers.  Instead  ofivarm  water,  he  sets  before  them  stones  painted  like 
artichokes,  and  afterwards  beats  them  out  of  the  room.  He  then  retires  to 
the  woods,  attended  by  his  faithful  steward,  who  (like  Kent  in  King  Lear) 
has  disguised  himself  to  continue  his  services  to  his  master.  Timon,  in  the 
last  act,  is  followed  by  his  fickle  mistress,  &c.,  after  he  was  reported  to 
have  discovered  a  hidden  treasure  by  digging.  The  piece  itself  (though 
it  appears  to  be  the  work  of  an  academic)  is  a  wretched  one.  The 
persona  dramatis  are  as  follows : — "  Timon :  Laches,  his  faithful  servant. 
Eutrapelus,  a  dissolute  young  man.  Gelasimus,  a  cittie  heyre.  Pseudo- 
cheus,  a  lying  traveller.  Demeas,  an  orator.  Philargurus,  a  covetous 
churlish  old  man.  Hermogenes,  a  fiddler.  Abyssus,  a  usurer.  Lollio,  a 
country  clowne,  Philargurus'  sonne.  Stilpo,  and  Speusippus,  two  lying 
philosophers.  Grunnio,  a  lean  servant  of  Philargurus.  Obba,  Timon's 
butler.  Pcsdio,  Gelasimus'  page.  Two  sergeants.  A  sailor.  Callimela, 
Philargurus'  daughter.  Blatte,  her  prattling  nurse. — Scene,  Athens" 

To  this  manuscript  play  Shakspeare  was  probably  indebted  for  some 
parts  of  his  plot.  Here  he  found  the  faithful  steward,  the  banquet  scenef 
and  the  story  of  Timon's  being  possessed  of  great  sums  of  gold,  which  he 
had  dug  up  in  the  wood ;  a  circumstance  which  it  is  not  likely  he  had 


360  TIMON  OF  ATHENS. 

from  Lucian,  there  being  then  no  translation  of  the  dialogue  that  relates 
to  that  subject 

Malone  imagines  that  Shakspeare  wrote  his  Timon  of  Athens  in  the 
year  1610. 

"  Of  all  the  works  of  Shakspeare,  Timon  of  Athens  possesses  most  the 
character  of  a  satire — a  laughing  satire  in  the  picture  of  the  parasites 
and  flatterers,  and  a  Juvenalian  in  the  bitterness  and  the  imprecations  of 
Timon  against  the  ingratitude  of  a  false  world.  The  story  is  treated  in  a 
very  simple  manner,  and  is  definitely  divided  into  large  masses : — in  the 
first  act,  the  joyous  life  of  Timon,  his  noble  and  hospitable  extravagance, 
and  the  throng  of  every  description  of  suitors  to  him ;  in  the  second  and 
third  acts,  his  embarrassment,  and  the  trial  which  he  is  thereby  reduced 
to  make  of  his  supposed  friends,  who  all  desert  him  in  the  hour  of  need  ; 
in  the  fourth  and  fifth  acts,  Timon's  flight  to  the  woods,  his  misanthropical 
melancholy,  and  his  death.  The  only  thing  which  may  be  called  an 
episode,  is  the  banishment  of  Alcibiades,  and  his  return  by  force  of  arms. 
However,  they  are  both  examples  of  ingratitude, — the  one  of  a  state 
towards  its  defender,  and  the  other  of  private  friends  to  their  benefactor.* 
As  the  merits  of  the  general  towards  his  fellow-citizens  suppose  more 
strength  of  character  than  those  of  the  generous  prodigal,  their  respective 
behaviors  are  no  less  different.  Timon  frets  himself  to  death ;  Alcibiades 

*  "  It  appears  to  me,"  says  Singer,  "  that  Schlegel  and  professor  Richardson  have  taken 
more  unfavorable  view  of  the  character  of  Timon,  than  our  great  Poet  intended  to  convey. 
Timon  had  not  only  been  a  benefactor  to  his  private,  unworthy  friends,  but  he  had  rendered 
the  state  service,  which  ought  not  to  have  been  forgotten.  He  himself  expresses  his  con 
sciousness  of  this,  when  he  sends  one  of  his  servants  to  request  a  thousand  talents  at  the 
hands  of  the  senators — 

'  Of  whom,  even  to  the  state's  best  health,  I  have 
Deserved  this  hearing.' 


And  Alcibiades  afterwards  confirms  this  :- 


I  have  heard,  and  grieved 


How  cursed  Athens,  mindless  of  thy  worth, 
Forgetting  thy  great  deeds,  when  neighbor  states, 
But  for  thy  sword  and  fortune,  trod  upon  them.' 

"  Surely,  then,  he  suffered  as  much  mentally  from  the  ingratitude  of  the  state,  as  from  that 
of  his  faithless  friends.  Shakspeare  seems  to  have  entered  entirely  into  the  feeling  of 
bitterness,  which  such  conduct  was  likely  to  awaken  in  a  good  and  susceptible  nature,  and 
has  expressed  it  with  vehemence  and  force.  The  virtues  of  Timon,  too,  may  be  inferred  from 
the  absence  of  any  thing  which  could  imply  dissoluteness  or  intemperance  in  his  conduct : 
as  Richardson  observes,  « He  is  convivial,  but  his  enjoyment  of  the  banquet  is  in  the 
pleasure  of  his  guests;  Phrynia  and  Timandra  are  not  in  the  train  of  Timon,  but  of  Alcibi 
ades.  He  is  not  so  desirous  of  being  distinguished  for  magnificence,  as  of  being  eminent 
for  courteous  and  beneficent  actions:  he  solicits  distinction,  but  it  is  by  doing  good.' 
Johnson  has  remarked  that  the  attachment  of  his  servants  in  his  declining  fortunes,  could 
be  produced  by  nothing  but  real  virtue  and  disinterested  kindness.  I  cannot,  therefore,  think 
that  Shakspeare  meant  to  stigmatize  the  generosity  of  Timon  as  that  of  a  fool,  or  that  he 
meant  his  misanthropy  to  convey  to  us  any  notion  of f  the  vanity  of  wishing  to  be  singular.' " 


PRELIMINARY  REMARKS.  361 

regains  his  lost  dignity  by  violence.  If  the  Poet  very  properly  sides  with 
Timon  against  the  common  practice  of  the  world,  he  is,  on  the  other 
hand,  by  no  means  disposed  to  spare  Timon.  Timon  was  a  fool  in  his 
generosity  ;  he  is  a  madman  in  his  discontent ;  he  is  every  where  wanting 
in  the  wisdom  which  enables  man  in  all  things  to  observe  the  due  measure. 
Although  the  truth  of  his  extravagant  feelings  is  proved  by  his  death,  and 
though,  when  he  digs  up  a  treasure,  he  spurns  at  the  wealth  which  seems 
to  solicit  him,  we  yet  see  distinctly  enough  that  the  vanity  of  wishing  to 
be  singular,  in  both  parts  of  the  play,  had  some  share  in  his  liberal  self- 
forgetfulness,  as  well  as  his  anchoretical  seclusion.  This  is  particularly 
evident  in  the  incomparable  scene  where  the  cynic  Apemantus  visits 
Timon  in  the  wilderness.  They  have  a  sort  of  competition  with  each 
other  in  their  trade  of  misanthropy :  the  cynic  reproaches  the  impoverished 
Timon  with  having  been  merely  driven  by  necessity  to  take  to  the  way 
of  living  which  he  had  been  long  following  of  his  free  choice,  and  Timon 
cannot  bear  the  thought  of  being  merely  an  imitator  of  the  cynic.  As 
in  this  subject  the  effect  could  only  be  produced  by  an  accumulation  of 
similar  features,  in  the  variety  of  the  shades  an  amazing  degree  of  under 
standing  has  been  displayed  by  Shakspeare.  What  a  powerfully  diver 
sified  concert  of  flatteries  and  empty  testimonies  of  devotedness  !  It  is 
highly  amusing  to  see  the  suitors,  whom  the  ruined  circumstances  of  their 
patron  had  dispersed,  immediately  flock  to  him  again  when  they  learn 
that  he  had  been  revisited  by  fortune.  In  the  speeches  of  Timon,  after 
he  is  undeceived,  all  the  hostile  figures  of  language  are  exhausted, — it  is 
a  dictionary  of  eloquent  imprecations."  * 

*  Scblegel 
VOL     V.  46 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED. 


TIMON,  a  noble  Athenian. 

Lucius,  \ 

LUCULLUS,       >  Lords,  and  Flatterers  o/*Timon. 

SEMPRONIUS,  J 

VENTIDIUS,  one  of  Timon's  false  Friends. 

APEMANTUS,  a  churlish  Philosopher. 

ALCIBIADES,  an  Athenian  General. 

FLAVIUS,  Steward  to  Timon. 

FLAMINIUS,  \ 

LUCILIUS,     >  Timon's  Servants. 

SERVILIUS,  j 

CAPHIS, 

PHILOTUS, 

TITUS,  )  Servants  to  Timon's  Creditors. 

Lucius, 

HORTENSIUS, 

Two  Servants  of  Varro,  and  the  Servant  of  Isidore,  two 

of  Timon's  Creditors. 
CUPID  and  Maskers.     Three  Strangers. 
Poet,  Painter,  Jeweller,  and  Merchant. 
An  old  Athenian.     A  Page.     A  Fool. 

TIMANDRA   I  Mistresses  to  Alcibiades. 

Other  Lords,  Senators,  Officers,  Soldiers,  Thieves,  and 
Attendants. 


SCENE.     Athens,  and  the  Woods  adjoining. 


363 


TIMON   OF   ATHENS. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE   I.     Athens.     A  Hall  in  Timor's  House. 

Enter  Poet,  Painter,  Jeweller,  Merchant,  and  others, 
at  several  doors. 

Poet.    GOOD  day,  sir. 

Pain.  I  am  glad  you  are  well. 

Poet.  I  have  not  seen  you  long ;  how  goes  the  world  ? 

Pain.    It  wears,  sir,  as  it  grows. 

Poet.  Ay,  that's  well  known. 

But  what  particular  rarity  ?  what  strange, 
Which  manifold  record  not  matches  ? 1     See, 
Magic  of  bounty !    all  these  spirits  thy  power 
Hath  conjured  to  attend.     1  know  the  merchant. 

Pain.    I  know  them  both ;  t'other's  a  jeweller. 

Mer.    O,  'tis  a  worthy  lord  ! 

Jew.  Nay,  that's  most  fixed. 

Mer.    A  most  incomparable  man ;    breathed,2  as  it 

were, 

To  an  untirable  and  continuate  goodness. 
He  passes. 

Jew.  I  have  a  jewel  here. 

Mer.    O,  pray,  let's  see't ;  for  the  lord  Timon,  sir  ? 


1  The  poet  merely  means  to  ask  if  any  thing  extraordinary  or  out  of 
the  common  course  of  things  has  lately  happened  ;  and  is  prevented  from 
waiting  for  an  answer  by  observing  so  many  conjured  by  Timon's  bounty 
to  attend. 

2  Breathed  is  exercised,   inured   by  constant   practice.      He  passes, 
i.  e.  exceeds  or  goes  beyond  common  bounds. 


364  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

Jew.  If  he  will  touch  the  estimate.1     But  for  that 

Poet.2    When  we  for  recompense  have  praised  the  vile, 
It  stains  the  glory  in  that  happy  verse 
Which  aptly  sings  the  good. 

Mer.  Tis  a  good  form. 

[Looking  at  the  jewel. 

Jew.   And  rich ;  here  is  a  water,  look  you. 

Pain.   You  are  rapt,  sir,  in  some  work,  some  ded 
ication 
To  the  great  lord. 

Poet.  A  thing  slipped  idly  from  me. 

Our  poesy  is  as  a  gum,  which  oozes 3 
From  whence  'tis  nourished.     The  fire  i'the  flint 
Shows  not,  till  it  be  struck ;  our  gentle  flame 
Provokes  itself,  and  like  the  current,  flies 
Each  bound  it  chafes.4     What  have  you  there  ? 

Pain.   A  picture,  sir. — And  when  comes  your  book 
forth  ? 

Poet.    Upon  the  heels  of  my  presentment,5  sir. 
Let's  see  your  piece. 

Pain.  'Tis  a  good  piece. 

Poet.    So  'tis  ;  this  comes  off  well 6  and  excellent. 

Pain.    Indifferent. 

Poet.  Admirable.     How  this  grace 

Speaks  his  own  standing  ?  7  what  a  mental  power 
This  eye  shoots  forth !  how  big  imagination 
Moves  in  this  lip !  to  the  dumbness  of  the  gesture 
One  might  interpret.8 

Pain.    It  is  a  pretty  mocking  of  the  life. 
Here  is  a  touch  ;  is't  good  ? 

1  Touch  the  estimate,  that  is,  come  up  to  the  price. 

2  We  must  here  suppose  the  poet  busy  in  reciting  part  of  his  own 
work. 

3  The  old  copies  read : — 

"  Our  poesie  is  a  gowne  which  uses." 

4  It  is  not  certain  whether  this  word  is  chafes  or  chases,  in  the  folio. 

5  i.  e.  as  soon  as  my  book  has  been  presented  to  Timon. 

6  This  comes  off  well,  apparently  means  this  piece  is  well  executed. 

i  How  the  graceful  attitude  of  this  figure  proclaims  that  it  stands  firm 
on  its  centre,  or  gives  evidence  in  favor  of  its  own  fixture.  Grace  is 
introduced  as  bearing  witness  to  propriety. 

8  One  might  venture  to  supply  words  to  such  intelligible  action. 


SC.  I.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  365 

Poet.  I'll  say  of  it, 

It  tutors  nature  ;  artificial  strife 1 
Lives  in  these  touches,  livelier  than  life. 


Enter  certain  Senators,  and  pass  over. 

Pain.    How  this  lord's  followed ! 

Poet.    The  senators  of  Athens  ; — happy  men  ! 

Pain.    Look,  more ! 

Poet.    You  see  this  confluence,  this  great  flood  of 

visitors. 

I  have,  in  this  rough  work,  shaped  out  a  man, 
Whom  this  beneath  world 2  doth  embrace  and  hug 
With  amplest  entertainment.     My  free  drift 
Halts  not  particularly,3  but  moves  itself 
In  a  wide  sea  of  wax.4     No  levelled  malice 
Infects  one  comma  in  the  course  I  hold ; 
But  flies  an  eagle  flight,  bold,  and  forth  on, 
Leaving  no  tract  behind. 

Pain.    How  shall  I  understand  you  ? 

Poet.    I'll  unbolt5  to  you. 
You  see  how  all  conditions,  how  all  minds, 
(As  well  of  glib  and  slippery  creatures,  as 
Of  grave  and  austere  quality,)  tender  down 
Their  services  to  lord  Timon.     His  large  fortune, 
Upon  his  good  and  gracious  nature  hanging, 
Subdues  and  properties 6  to  his  love  and  tendance 
All  sorts  of  hearts  ;  yea,  from  the  glass-faced  flatterer 7 
To  Apemantus,  that  few  things  loves  better 
Than  to  abhor  himself;  even  he  drops  down 
The  knee  before  him,  and  returns  in  peace, 
Most  rich  in  Timon 's  nod. 

1  i.  e.  the  contest  of  art  with  nature. 

2  So  in  Measure  for  Measure  we  have,  "  This  under  generation ; "  and 
in  King  Richard  III.,  the  lower  world. 

3  My  design  does  not  stop  at  any  particular  character. 

4  An  allusion  to  the  Roman  practice  of  writing  with  a  style,  on  tablets 
covered  with  wax ;  a  custom  which  also  prevailed  in  England  until  about 
the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century. 

5  i.  e.  open,  explain. 

6  i.  e.  subjects  and  appropriates. 

7  One  who  shows  by  reflection  the  looks  of  his  patron. 


366  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

Pain.  I  saw  them  speak  together. 

Poet.    Sir,  I  have  upon  a  high  and  pleasant  hill, 
Feigned  Fortune  to  be  throned.     The  base  o'the  mount 
Is  ranked  with  all  deserts,  all  kind  of  natures, 
That  labor  on  the  bosom  of  this  sphere 
To  propagate  their  states.1     Amongst  them  all, 
Whose  eyes  are  on  this  sovereign  lady  fixed, 
One  do  I  personate  of  lord  Timon's  frame, 
Whom  Fortune  with  her  ivory  hand  wafts  to  her ; 
Whose  present  grace  to  present  slaves  and  servants 
Translates  his  rivals. 

Pain.  'Tis  conceived  to  scope.2 

This  throne,  this  Fortune,  and  this  hill,  methinks, 
With  one  man  beckoned  from  the  rest  below, 
Bowing  his  head  against  the  steepy  mount 
To  climb  his  happiness,  would  be  well  expressed 
In  our  condition.3 

Poet.  Nay,  sir,  but  hear  me  on. 

All  those  which  were  his  fellows  but  of  late, 
(Some  better  than  his  value,)  on  the  moment 
Follow  his  strides,  his  lobbies  fill  with  tendance, 
Rain  sacrificial  whisperings  in  his  ear,4 
Make  sacred  even  his  stirrup,  and  through  him 
Drink  the  free  air.5 

Pain.  Ay,  marry,  what  of  these  ? 

Poet.  When  Fortune,  in  her  shift  and  change  of  mood, 
Spurns  down  her  late  beloved,  all  his  dependants, 
Which  labored  after  him  to  the  mountain's  top, 
Even  on  their  knees  and  hands,  let  him  slip  down, 
Not  one  accompanying  his  declining  foot. 

Pain.    'Tis  common. 
A  thousand  moral  paintings  I  can  show, 
That  shall  demonstrate  these  quick  blows  of  fortune 
More  pregnantly  than  words.     Yet  you  do  well, 


1  i.  e.  to  improve  their  conditions. 

2  i.  e.  extensively  imagined. 


3  i.  e.  in  our  art,  in  painting.     Condition  was  used  for  profession,  quality. 

4  Whisperings  of  officious  servility,  the  incense  or  the  worshipping 
parasite  to  the  patron  as  a  god. 

5  To  "  drink  the  free  air  through  another."  is  to  breathe  freely  at  his 
will  only. 


SC.  I.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  367 

To  show  lord  Timon,  that  mean  eyes1  have  seen 
The  foot  above  the  head. 


Trumpets  sound.     Enter  TIMON  attended ;  the  Servant 
O/*VENTIDIUS  talking  with  him. 

Tim.  Imprisoned  is  he,  say  you  ? 

Fen.  Serv.  Ay,  my  good  lord  :  five  talents  is  his  debt  ; 
His  means  most  short,  his  creditors  most  strait. 
Your  honorable  letter  he  desires 
To  those  have  shut  him  up ;  which  failing  to  him, 
Periods  2  his  comfort. 

Tim.   Noble  Ventidius !  Well, 
I  am  not  of  that  feather,  to  shake  off 
My  friend  when  he  must  need  me.3     I  do  know  him 
A  gentleman  that  well  deserves  a  help, 
Which  he  shall  have.     I'll  pay  the  debt,  and  free  him. 

Ven.  Serv.    Your  lordship  ever  binds  him. 

Tim.    Commend  me  to  him  ;  I  will  send  his  ransom  ; 
And,  being  enfranchised,  bid  him  come  to  me  : — 
'Tis  not  enough  to  help  the  feeble  up, 
But  to  support  him  after. — Fare  you  well. 

Ven.  Serv.   All  happiness  to  your  honor  !          [Exit. 

Enter  an  old  Athenian. 

Old  Ath.    Lord  Timon,  hear  me  speak. 

Tim.  Freely,  good  father. 

Old  Ath.    Thou  hast  a  servant  named  Lucilius. 

Tim.    I  have  so.     What  of  him  ? 

Old  Ath.    Most  noble  Timon,  call  the  man  before 

thee. 
Tim..  Attends  he  here,  or  no? — Lucilius! 

Enter  LUCILIUS. 

Luc.    Here  at  your  lordship's  service. 
Old   Ath.    This  fellow  here,  lord  Timon,  this  thy 
creature, 

1  i.  e.  inferior  spectators. 

2  To  period  is  perhaps  a  verb  of  Shakspeare's  coinage. 

3  Should  we  not  read  «  When  he  most  needs  me  ?  " 


368  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

By  night  frequents  my  house.     I  am  a  man 
That  from  my  first  have  been  inclined  to  thrift ; 
And  my  estate  deserves  an  heir  more  raised, 
Than  one  which  holds  a  trencher. 

Tim.  Well ;  what  further  ? 

Old  Ath.    One  only  daughter  have  I,  no  kin  else, 
On  whom  I  may  confer  what  I  have  got : 
The  maid  is  fair,  o'  the  youngest  for  a  bride, 
And  I  have  bred  her  at  my  dearest  cost, 
In  qualities  of  the  best.     This  man  of  thine 
Attempts  her  love.     I  pr'ythee,  noble  lord, 
Join  with  me  to  forbid  him  her  resort ; 
Myself  have  spoke  in  vain. 

Tim.  The  man  is  honest. 

Old  Ath.    Therefore  he  will  be,  Timon : 1 
His  honesty  rewards  him  in  itself, 
It  must  not  bear  my  daughter. 

Tim.  Does  she  love  him  ? 

Old  Ath.    She  is  young,  and  apt : 
Our  own  precedent  passions  do  instruct  us 
What  levity's  in  youth. 

Tim.    [To  LUCILIUS.]    Love  you  the  maid  ? 

Luc.    Ay,  my  good  lord,  and  she  accepts  of  it. 

Old  Ath.    If  in  her  marriage  my  consent  be  missing, 
I  call  the  gods  to  witness,  I  will  choose 
Mine  heir  from  forth  the  beggars  of  the  world, 
And  dispossess  her  all. 

Tim.  How  shall  she  be  endowed, 

If  she  be  mated  with  an  equal  husband  ? 

Old  Ath.    Three  talents,  on  the  present ;  in  future, 
all. 

Tim.    This  gentleman  of  mine  hath  served  me  long ; 
To  build  his  fortune,  I  wall  strain  a  little, 
For  'tis  a  bond  in  men.     Give  him  thy  daughter ; 
What  you  bestow,  in  him  I'll  counterpoise, 
And  make  him  weigh  with  her. 

1  Perhaps  we  should  read : — 

Therefore  he  will  be  [rewarded],  Timon ; 
His  honesty  rewards  him  in  itself, 
It  must  not  bear  my  daughter. 


SC.  I.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  369 

Old  Ath.  Most  noble  lord, 

Pawn  me  to  this  your  honor,  she  is  his. 

Tim.    My  hand  to  thee  ;  mine  honor  on  my  promise. 

Luc.    Humbly  I  thank  your  lordship.    Never  may 
That  state  or  fortune  fall  into  my  keeping, 
Which  is  not  owed  to  you ! 1 

[Exeunt  LUCILIUS  and  old  Athenian. 

Poet.   Vouchsafe  my  labor,  and  long  live  your  lord 
ship! 

Tim.    I  thank  you  ;  you  shall  hear  from  me  anon  ; 
Go  not  away. — What  have  you  there,  my  friend  ? 

Pain.   A  piece  of  painting,  which  I  do  beseech 
Your  lordship  to  accept. 

Tim.  Painting  is  welcome. 

The  painting  is  almost  the  natural  man  ; 
For  since  dishonor  traffics  with  man's  nature, 
He  is  but  outside.    These  pencilled  figures  are 
Even  such  as  they  give  out.2     I  like  your  work, 
And  you  shall  find,  I  like  it :  wait  attendance 
Till  you  hear  further  from  me. 

Pain.  The  gods  preserve  you ! 

Tim.  Well  fare  you,  gentlemen.  Give  me  your  hand  ; 
We  must  needs  dine  together. — Sir,  your  jewel 
Hath  suffered  under  praise. 

Jew.  What,  my  lord  ?  dispraise  ? 

Tim.    A  mere  satiety  of  commendations. 
If  I  should  pay  you  for't  as  'tis  extolled, 
It  would  unclew 3  me  quite. 

Jew.  My  lord,  'tis  rated 

As  those,  which  sell,  would  give.    But  you  well  know, 
Things  of  like  value,  differing  in  the  owners, 
Are  prized  by  their  masters  : 4  believe't,  dear  lord, 
You  mend  the  jewel  by  the  wearing  it. 

Tim.  Well  mocked. 


1  « Let  me  never  henceforth  consider  any  thing  that  I  possess  but  as 
owed  or  due  to  you ;  held  for  your  service." 

2  Pictures  have  no  hypocrisy ;  they  are  what  they  profess  to  be. 

3  To  unclew  a  man  is  to  draw  out  the  whole  mass  of  his  fortunes  ;   to 
unclew  being  to  unwind  a  ball  of  thread. 

4  Are  rated  according  to  the  esteem  in  which  their  possessor  is  held. 

VOL.  v.  47 


370  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

Mer.   No,  my  good  lord ;    he  speaks  the  common 

tongue, 
Which  all  men  speak  with  him. 

Tim.    Look,  who  comes  here.     Will  you  be  chid  ? 

Enter  APEMANTUS. 

Jew.   We  will  bear,  with  your  lordship. 

Mer.  He'll  spare  none. 

Tim.    Good  morrow  to  thee,  gentle  Apemantus ! 

Apem.    Till  I  be  gentle,  stay  thou  for  thy  good  mor 
row  ; 
When  thou  art  Timon's  dog,  and  these  knaves  honest 

Tim.  Why  dost  thou  call  them  knaves  ?  thou  know'st 
them  not. 

Apem.    Are  they  not  Athenians  ? 

Tim.   Yes. 

Apem.    Then  I  repent  not. 

Jew.    You  know  me,  Apemantus. 

Apem.    Thou  knowest,  I  do :   I  called  thee  by  thy 
name. 

Tim.    Thou  art  proud,  Apemantus. 

Apem.    Of  nothing  so  much,  as  that  I  am  not  like 
Timon. 

Tim.   Whither  art  going . 

Apem.    To  knock  out  an  honest  Athenian's  brains. 

Tim.    That's  a  deed  thou'lt  die  for. 

Apem.    Right,  if  doing  nothing  be  death  by  the  law. 

Tim.    How  likest  thou  this  picture,  Apemantus  ? 

Apem.    The  best  for  the  innocence. 

Tim.    Wrought  he  not  well,  that  painted  it  ? 

Apem.    lie  wrought  better,  that  made  the  painter ; 
and  yet  he's  but  a  filthy  piece  of  work. 

Pain.    You  are  a  dog. 

Apem.    Thy  mother's  of  my  generation.    What's  she, 
if  I  be  a  dog  ? 

Tim.   Wilt  dine  with  me,  Apemantus  ? 

Apem.   No ;  I  eat  not  lords. 

Tim.    An  thou  shouldst,  thou'dst  anger  ladies. 

Apem.    O,  they  eat  lords :    so  they  come  by  great 
bellies. 


SC.  I.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  371 

Tim.   That's  a  lascivious  apprehension. 

Apem.  So  thou  apprehend'st  it.    Take  it  for  thy  labor. 

Tim.    How  dost  thou  like  this  jewel,  Apemantus  ? 

Apem.  Not  so  well  as  plain-dealing,1  which  will  not 
cost  a  man  a  doit. 

Tim.   What  dost  thou  think  'tis  worth  ? 

Apem.   Not  worth  my  thinking. — How  now,  poet  ? 

Poet.    How  now,  philosopher  ? 

Apem.    Thou  liest. 

Poet.   Art  not  one  ? 

Apem.   Yes. 

Poet.    Then  I  lie  not. 

Apem.   Art  not  a  poet  ? 

Poet.   Yes. 

Apem.  Then  thou  liest :  look  in  thy  last  work,  where 
thou  hast  feigned  him  a  worthy  fellow. 

Poet.    That's  not  feigned  ;  he  is  so. 

Apem.  Yes,  he  is  worthy  of  thee,  and  to  pay  thee 
for  thy  labor.  He  that  loves  to  be  flattered,  is  worthy 
o'  the  flatterer.  Heavens,  that  I  were  a  lord ! 

Tim.   What  wouldst  do  then,  Apemantus  ? 

Apem.  Even  as  Apemantus  does  now,  hate  a  lord 
with  my  heart. 

Tim.   What,  thyself? 

Apem.   Ay. 

Tim.   Wherefore  ? 

Apem.  That  I  had  no  angry  wit  to  be  a  lord.2 — 
Art  not  thou  a  merchant  ? 

Mer.   Ay,  Apemantus. 

Apem.    Traffic  confound  thee,  if  the  gods  will  not ! 


1  Alluding  to  the  proverb :  Plain-dealing  is  a  jewel,  but  they  who  use 
it  die  beggars. 

2  This  line  is  corrupt,  undoubtedly,  and  none  of  the  emendations  or 
substitutions  that  have  been  proposed  are  satisfactory.     Perhaps  we  should 
read,  " That  I  had  (now  angry)  wished  to  be  a  lord ; "  or,  "That  I  had  (so 
angry)  will  to  be  a  lord."    Malone  proposed  to  point  the  passage  thus, 
"  That  I  had  no  angry  wit     To  be  a  lord ! "  and  explains  it,  "  That  I  had 
no  wit  [or  discretion]  in  my  anger,  but  was  absurd  enough  to  wish  myself 
one  of  that  set  of  men  whom  I  despise."    These  are  the  best  helps  which 
have  been  afforded  towards  a  solution  of  this  enigmatical  passage,  and  it 
must  be  confessed  they  are  feeble. 


372  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

Mer.    If  traffic  do  it,  the  gods  do  it. 
Apem.    Traffic's   thy  god,   and  thy  god    confound 
thee. 

Trumpets  sound.     Enter  a  Servant. 

Tim.   What  trumpet's  that  ? 

Serv.  'Tis  Alcibiades,  and 

Some  twenty  horse,  all  of  companionship.1 

Tim.    Pray,  entertain  them ;    give    them  guide   to 
us. —  [Exeunt  some  Attendants. 

You  must  needs  dine  with  me : — Go  not  you  hence, 
Till  I  have  thanked  you ; — and,  when  dinner's  done, 
Show  me  this  piece. — I  am  joyful  of  your  sights. — 

f 

Enter  ALCIBIADES,  with  his  Company. 

Most  welcome,  sir!  [They  salute. 

Apem.  So,  so ;  there ! — 

Aches  contract  and  starve  your  supple  joints  ! — 
That  there  should  be  small  love  'mongst  these  sweet 

knaves, 

And  all  this  court'sy !    The  strain  of  man's  bred  out 
Into  baboon  and  monkey.2 

Alcib.    Sir,  you  have  saved  my  longing,  and  I  feed 
Most  hungrily  on  your  sight. 

Tim.  Right  welcome,  sir : 

Ere  we  depart,3  we'll  share  a  bounteous  time 
In  different  pleasures.     Pray  you,  let  us  in. 

[Exeunt  all  but  APEMANTUS. 

Enter  two  Lords. 

1  Lord.   What  time  a  day  is't,  Apemantus  ? 
Apem.   Time  to  be  honest. 

1  i.  e.  Alcibiades'  companions. 

2  Man  is  degenerated;   his  strain  or  lineage  is  worn  down  into  a 
monkey. 

3  It  has  been  before  observed  that  to  depart  and  to  part  were  anciently 
synonymous. 


SC.  I.] 


TIMON  OF  ATHENS. 


373 


1  Lord.   That  time  serves  still. 

Apem.    The  most  accursed  thou,1  that  still  omit'st  it. 

2  Lord.   Thou  art  going  to  lord  Timon's  feast  ? 
Apem.    Ay ;  to  see  meat  fill  knaves,  and  wine  heat 

fools. 

2  Lord.   Fare  thee  well,  fare  thee  well. 

Apem.    Thou  art  a  fool,  to  bid  me  farewell  twice. 

2  Lord.    Why,  Apemantus  ? 

Apem.    Should'st  have  kept  one   to   thyself,  for  I 
mean  to  give  thee  none. 

1  Lord.    Hang  thyself. 

Apem.   No,  I  will  do  nothing  at  thy  bidding ;  make 
thy  requests  to  thy  friend. 

2  Lord.   Away,  unpeaceable  dog,  or  I'll  spurn  thee 
hence. 

Apem.   I  will  fly,  like  a  dog,  the  heels  of  the  ass. 

[Exit. 

1  Lord.   He's  opposite  to  humanity.     Come,  shall 

we  in, 

And  taste  lord  Timon's  bounty  ?  he  outgoes 
The  very  heart  of  kindness. 

2  Lord.    He  pours  it  out.     Plutus,  the  god  of  gold, 
Is  but  his  steward :  no  meed,2  but  he  repays 
Sevenfold  above  itself;  no  gift  to  him, 

But  breeds  the  giver  a  return  exceeding 
All  use  of  quittance.3 

1  Lord.  The  noblest  mind  he  carries, 
That  ever  governed  man. 

2  Lord.    Long  may  he  live  in  fortunes !    Shall  we  in  ? 
1  Lord.    I'll  keep  you  company.  [Exeunt. 


1  Ritson  says  we  should  read: — 

"  The  more  accursed  thou." 

2  Meed  here  means  desert. 

3  L  e.  all  the  customary  returns  made  in  discharge  of  obligations. 


374  TIMON.  OF  ATHENS.  (ACT  I 


SCENE  II.  The  same.  A  Room  of  State  in  Timon's 
House.  Hautboys  playing  loud  music.  A  great 
banquet  served  in ;  FLAVIUS  and  others  attending. 

Then  enter  TIMON,  ALCIBIADES,  Lucius,  LUCULLUS. 
SEMPRONIUS,  and  other  Athenian  Senators,  with  VEN- 
TIDIUS,  and  Attendants. — Then  comes,  dropping  after 
all,  APEMANTUS,  discontentedly. 

Ven.   Most  honored  Timon,  't  hath  pleased  the  gods 

to  remember 

Mj  father's  age,  and  call  him  to  long  peace. 
He  is  gone  happy,  and  has  left  me  rich : 
Then,  as  in  grateful  virtue  I  am  bound 
To  your  free  heart,  I  do  return  those  talents, 
Doubled,  with  thanks  and  service,  from  whose  help 
I  derived  liberty. 

Tim.  O,  by  no  means, 

Honest  Ventidius  :  you  mistake  my  love  : 
I  gave  it  freely  ever ;  and  there's  none 
Can  truly  say,  he  gives,  if  he  receives : 
If  our  betters  play  at  that  game,  we  must  not  dare 
To  imitate  them.    Faults  that  are  rich,  are  fair.1 

Ven.   A  noble  spirit. 

[They  all  stand,  ceremoniously,  looking  on 
TIMON. 

Tim.   Nay,  my  lords,  ceremony 
Was  but  devised  at  first  to  set  a  gloss 
On  faint  deeds,  hollow  welcomes, 
Recanting  goodness,  sorry  ere  'tis  shown; 
But  where  there  is  true  friendship,  there  needs  none. 
Pray,  sit ;  more  welcome  are  ye  to  my  fortunes, 
Than  my  fortunes  to  me.  \They  sit. 

1  Lord.   My  lord,  we  always  have  confessed  it. 

Apem.    Ho,  ho,  confessed  it  ?  hanged  it,2  have  you 
not? 

1  "The  faults  of  rich  persons  wear  a  plausible  appearance." 

2  There  seems  to  be  some  allusion  to  a  common  proverbial  saying  of 
Shakspeare's  time,  "  Confess  and  be  hanged." 


SC.  II.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  375 

Tim.    O  Apemantus  !  you  are  welcome. 

Apem.  No, 

You  shall  not  make  me  welcome. 
I  come  to  have  thee  thrust  me  out  of  doors. 

Tim.    Fie  !  thou  art  a  churl :  you  have  got  a  humor 

there 

Does  not  become  a  man  ;   'tis  much  to  blame  : — 
They  say,  my  lords,  Ira  furor  brevis  est ; 
But  yond'  man's  ever  angry.1 
Go,  let  him  have  a  table  by  himself; 
For  he  does  neither  affect  company, 
Nor  is  he  fit  for  it,  indeed. 

Apem.    Let  me  stay  at  thine  apperil,2  Timon ; 
I  come  to  observe ;  I  give  thee  warning  on't. 

Tim.  I  take  no  heed  of  thee  ;  thou  art  an  Athenian  ; 
therefore  welcome ;  I  myself  would  have  no  power : 
pr'ythee,  let  my  meat  make  thee  silent. 

Apem.    I  scorn  thy  meat ;  'twould  choke  me,  for 3 

I  should 

Ne'er  flatter  thee. — O  you  gods !  what  a  number 
Of  men  eat  Timon,  and  he  sees  them  not ! 
It  grieves  me,  to  see  so  many  dip  their  meat 
In  one  man's  blood ;  and  all  the  madness  is, 
He  cheers  them  up  too. 

I  wonder  men  dare  trust  themselves  with  men. 
Methinks  they  should  invite  them  without  knives ; 4 
Good  for  their  meat,  and  safer  for  their  lives. 
There's  much  example  for't ;  the  fellow  that 
Sits  next  him  now,  parts  bread  with  him,  and  pledges 
The  breath  of  him  in  a  divided  draught, 
Is  the  readiest  man  to  kill  him  :  it  has  been  proved. 
If  I 
Were  a  huge  man,  I  should  fear  to  drink  at  meals, 

1  The  old  copy  reads,  "  Yond'  man's  very  angry. 

2  Steevens  and  Malone  dismissed  apperil  from  the  text,  and  inserted 
own  peril ;  but  Mr.  Gifford  has  shown  that  the  word  occurs  several  timea 
in  Ben  Jonson : — 

"  Sir,  I  will  bail  you  at  mine  own  apperil." 

Devil  is  an  Ass. 

3  For  in  the  sense  of  cause  or  because. 

4  It  was  the  custom,  in  old  times,  for  every  guest  to  bring  his  own  knife. 


376  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

Lest  they  should  spy  my  windpipe's  dangerous  notes;1 
Great  men  should  drink  with  harness  2  on  their  throats. 

Tim.  My  lord,  in  heart ; 3  and  let  the  health  go  round. 

2  Lord.    Let  it  flow  this  way,  my  good  lord. 

Apem.  Flow  this  way ! 

A  brave  fellow  ! — he  keeps  his  tides  well.     Timon,4 
Those  healths  will  make  thee,  and  thy  state,  look  ill. 
Here's  that  which  is  too  weak  to  be  a  sinner, 
Honest  water,  which  ne'er  left  man  i'the  mire. 
This,  and  my  food,  are  equals  ;  there's  no  odds. 
Feasts  are  too  proud  to  give  thanks  to  the  gods. 

APEMANTUS'S  GRACE. 

Immortal  gods,  I  crave  no  pelf; 

I  pray  for  no  man  but  myself. 

Grant,  I  may  never  prove  so  fond5 

To  trust  man  on  his  oath  or  bond ; 

Or  a  harlot  for  her  weeping ; 

Or  a  dog,  that  seems  a  sleeping : 

Or  a  keeper  with  my  freedom ; 

Or  my  friends,  if  I  should  need  ^em. 

Amen.     So  fall  to^t ; 

Rich  men  sin,  and  I  eat  root. 

[Eats  and  drinks. 

Much  good  dich 6  thy  good  heart,  Apemantus ! 

Tim.  Captain  Alcibiades,  your  heart's  in  the  field 
now. 

Alcib.    My  heart  is  ever  at  your  service,  my  lord. 

Tim.  You  had  rather  be  at  a  breakfast  of  enemies, 
than  a  dinner  of  friends. 

1  "The  windpipe's  notes"  were  the  indications  in  the  throat  of  its 
situation  when  in  the  act  of  drinking.     Perhaps,  as  Steevens  observes,  a 
quibble  is  intended  on  windpipe,  and  notes. 

2  i.  e.  armor. 

3  " My  lord's  health  in  sincerity" 

4  This  speech,  except  the  concluding  couplet,  is  printed  as  prose  in  the 
old  copy,  nor  could  it  be  exhibited  as  verse  without  transposing  the  word 
Timon,  which  follows  look  ill,  to  its  present  place.     Malone  thinks  that 
many  of  the  speeches  in  this  play,  which  are  now  exhibited  in  a  loose  and 
imperfect  kind  of  metre,  were  intended  by  Shakspeare  for  prose,  in  which 
form  they  are  exhibited  in  the  old  copy. 

5  Foolish.  6  i.  e.  do  it 


SC.  II.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  377 

Alcib.  So  they  were  bleeding  new,  my  lord,  there's 
no  meat  like  them ;  I  could  wish  my  best  friend  at 
such  a  feast. 

Apem.  'Would  all  those  flatterers  were  thine  ene 
mies  then ;  that  then  thou  might'st  kill  'em,  and  bid 
me  to  'em. 

1  Lord.   Might  we    but   have   that  happiness,   my 
lord,  that  you  would  once  use  our  hearts,  whereby  we 
might  express  some  part  of  our  zeals,  we  should  think 
ourselves  forever  perfect.1 

Tim.  O,  no  doubt,  my  good  friends,  but  the  gods 
themselves  have  provided  that  I  shall  have  much  help 
from  you.  How  had  you  been  my  friends  else  ?  Why 
have  you  that  charitable 2  title  from  thousands,  did  you 
not  chiefly  belong  to  my  heart  ?  I  have  told  more  of 
you  to  myself,  than  you  can  with  modesty  speak  in 
your  own  behalf;  and  thus  far  I  confirm  you.  O,  you 
gods,  think  I,  what  need  we  have  any  friends,  if  we 
should  never  have  need  of  them  ?  they  were  the  most 
needless  creatures  living,  should  we  ne'er  have  use  for 
them ;  and  would  most  resemble  sweet  instruments 
hung  up  in  cases,  that  keep  their  sounds  to  themselves. 
Why,  I  have  often  wished  myself  poorer,  that  I  might 
come  nearer  to  you.  We  are  born  to  do  benefits  ;  and 
what  better  or  properer  can  we  call  our  own,  than  the 
riches  of  our  friends  ?  O,  what  a  precious  comfort  'tis 
to  have  so  many,  like  brothers,  commanding  one 
another's  fortunes  !  O  joy,  e'en  made  away  ere  it  can 
be  born  ! 3  Mine  eyes  cannot  hold  out  water,  methinks ; 
to  forget  their  faults,  I  drink  to  you. 

Apem.    Thou  weepest  to  make  them  drink,  Timon. 

2  Lord.   Joy  had  the  like  conception  in  our  eyes, 
And,  at  that  instant,  like  a  babe  sprung  up. 

Apem.    Ho,  ho  !  I  laugh  to  think  that  babe  a  bastard. 

3  Lord.   I  promise  you,  my  lord,  you  moved  me  much. 


1  i.  e.  arrived  at  the  perfection  of  happiness. 

2  «  Why  are  you  distinguished  from  thousands,  by  that  title  of  endear 
ment?" 

3  «  O  joy !  e'en  made  away  [i.  e.  destroyed,  turned  to  tears]  ere  it  can 
be  born." 

VOL.  v.  48 


378  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

Apem.   Much  ! l  [Tucket  sounded 

Tim.   What  means  that  trump  ? — How  now  ? 


Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.  Please  you,  my  lord,  there  are  certain  ladies 
most  desirous  of  admittance. 

Tim.    Ladies  !  what  are  their  wills  ? 

Serv.  There  comes  with  them  a  forerunner,  my  lord, 
which  bears  that  office,  to  signify  their  pleasures. 

Tim.    I  pray,  let  them  be  admitted. 


Enter  CUPID. 

Cupid.    Hail  to  thee,  worthy  Timon; — and  to  all 
That  of  his  bounties  taste ! — The  five  best  senses 
Acknowledge  thee  their  patron;  and  come  freely 
To  gratulate  thy  plenteous  bosom.     The  ear, 
Taste,  touch,  smell,  all  pleased  from  thy  table  rise , 
They  only  now  come  but  to  feast  thine  eyes. 

Tim.    They  are  welcome  all ;  let  them  have  kind 

admittance. 
Music,  make  their  welcome.  [Exit  CUPID. 

1  Lord.   You    see,  my   lord,  how   ample   you   are 
beloved. 


Music.  Re-enter  CUPID,  with  a  masque  of  Ladies  as 
Amazons,  with  lutes  in  their  hands,  dancing  and 
playing. 

Apem.    Hey  day,  what  a  sweep  of  vanity  comes  this 

way  ! 

They  dance  !  they  are  mad  women.2 
Like  madness  is  the  glory  of  this  life, 
As  this  pomp  shows  to  a  little  oil  and  root.3 

1  Much !  was  a  common  ironical  expression  of  doubt  or  suspicion. 

2  Shakspeare  probably  borrowed  this  idea  from  the  puritanical  writers 
of  his  time. 

3  "The  glory  of  this  life  is  like  [or  just  such]  madness,  in  the  eye  of 
reason,  as  this  pomp  appears  when  opposed  to  the  frugal  repast  of  a 
prmosopner." 


SC.  II.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  379 

We  make  ourselves  fools,  to  disport  ourselves ; 
And  spend  our  flatteries,  to  drink  those  men, 
Upon  whose  age  we  void  it  up  again, 
With  poisonous  spite  and  envy.     Who  lives,  that's  not 
Depraved,  or  depraves  ?     Who  dies,  that  bears 
Not  one  spurn  to  their  graves  of  their  friends'  gift  ? 
1  should  fear,  those,  that  dance  before  me  now, 
Would  one  day  stamp  upon  me.     It  has  been  done ; 
Men  shut  their  doors  against  a  setting  sun. 

The  Lords  rise  from  table,  with  much  adoring  of  TIMON  ; 
and,  to  show  their  loves,  each  singles  out  an  Amazon, 
and  all  dance,  men  with  women,  a  lofty  strain  or  two 

'  «/    «/ 

to  the  hautboys,  and  cease. 

Tim.   You  have  done  our  pleasures  much  grace,  fair 

ladies, 

Set  a  fair  fashion  on  our  entertainment, 
Which  was  not  half  so  beautiful  and  kind ; 
You  have  added  worth  unto't,  and  lively  lustre, 
And  entertained  me  with  mine  own  device  ; 
I  am  to  thank  you  for  it. 

1  Lady.   My  lord,  you  take  us  even  at  the  best.1 

Apem.    'Faith,  for    the  worst  is  filthy,  and  would 
not  hold  taking,  I  doubt  me. 

Tim.    Ladies,  there  is  an  idle  banquet 
Attends  you  ;  please  you  to  dispose  yourselves. 

All  Lad.    Most  thankfully,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  CUPID  and  Ladies. 

Tim.    Flavins, 

Flav.   My  lord. 

Tim.  The  little  casket  bring  me  hither. 

Flav.   Yes,  my  lord. — More  jewels  yet  ? 
There  is  no  crossing  him  in  his  humor ;  [Aside. 

Else  I  should  tell  him, — well,  i'  faith,  I  should, 
When  all's  spent,  he'd  be  crossed  2  then,  an  he  could. 

1  i.  e.  "you  think  favorably  of  our  performance,  and  make  the  best  of  it" 

2  An  equivoque  is  here  intended,  in  which  crossed  means,  have  his  hand 
crossed  with  money,  or  have  money  in  his  possession,  and  to  be  crossed 
or  thwarted. 


380  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

Tis  pity  bounty  had  not  eyes  behind ; 

That  man  might  ne'er  be  wretched  for  his  mind.1 

[Exit,  and  returns  with  the  casket. 

1  Lord.    Where  be  our  men  ? 

Serv.  Here,  my  lord,  in  readiness. 

2  Lord.    Our  horses. 

Tim.  O,  my  friends, 

I  have  one  word  to  say  to  you.     Look,  my  good  lord, 
I  must  entreat  you  honor  me  so  much, 
As  to  advance2  this  jewel ;  accept  and  wear  it, 
Kind  my  lord. 

1  Lord.    I  am  so  far  already  in  your  gifts, — 

All.    So  are  we  all. 


Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.   My  lord,  there  are  certain  nobles  of  the  senate 
Newly  alighted,  and  come  to  visit  you. 

Tim.    They  are  fairly  welcome. 

Flav.  I  beseech  your  honor, 

Vouchsafe  me  a  word  ;  it  does  concern  you  near. 

Tim.   Near  ?  why  then  another  time  I'll  hear  thee  : 
I  pr'ythee,  let  us  be  provided 3 
To  show  them  entertainment. 

Flav.  I  scarce  know  how. 

[Aside. 

Enter  another  Servant. 

2  Serv.   May  it  please  your  honor,  the  lord  Lucius, 
Out  of  his  free  love,  hath  presented  to  you 
Four  milk-white  horses,  trapped  in  silver. 

Tim.    I  shall  accept  them  fairly ;  let  the  presents 

Enter  a  third  Servant. 
Be  worthily  entertained. — How  now,  what  news  ? 

1  "  That  man  might  not  become  wretched  for  his  nobleness  of  soul.** 

2  i.  e.  prefer  it,  raise  it  to  honor  by  wearing  it 

3  Steevens,  to  complete  the  measure,  proposed  to  read : — 

"  I  pr'ythee,  let  us  be  provided  straight." 


SC.  II.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  381 

3  Serv.  Please  you,  my  lord,  that  honorable  gentle 
man,  lord  Lucullus,  entreats  your  company  to-morrow 
to  hunt  with  him  ;  and  has  sent  your  honor  two  brace 
of  greyhounds. 

Tim.  I'll  hunt  with  him  ;  and  let  them  be  received, 
Not  without  fair  reward. 

Flav.    [ Aside. ~\  What  will  this  come  to  ? 

He  commands  us  to  provide,  and  give 
Great  gifts,  and  all  out  of  an  empty  coffer. 
Nor  will  he  know  his  purse  ;  or  yield  me  this, 
To  show  him  what  a  beggar  his  heart  is, 
Being  of  no  power  to  make  his  wishes  good ; 
His  promises  fly  so  beyond  his  state, 
That  what  he  speaks  is  all  in  debt ;  he  owes 
For  every  word ;  he  is  so  kind,  that  he  now 
Pays  interest  for't ;  his  land's  put  to  their  books. 
Well,  'would  I  were  gently  put  out  of  office, 
Before  I  were  forced  out ! 
Happier  is  he  that  has  no  friend  to  feed, 
Than  such  as  do  even  enemies  exceed. 
I  bleed  inwardly  for  my  lord.  [Exit. 

Tim.  You  do  yourselves 

Much  wrong  ;  you  bate  too  much  of  your  own  merits. — 
Here,  my  lord,  a  trifle  of  our  love. 

2  Lord.    With    more    than   common   thanks   I  will 

receive  it. 

3  Lord.    O,  he  is  the  very  soul  of  bounty! 
Tim.    And  now  I  remember,  my  lord,  you  gave 

Good  words  the  other  day  of  a  bay  courser 
I  rode  on  ;  it  is  yours,  because  you  liked  it. 

2  Lord.    I   beseech  you,   pardon    me,   my   lord,   in 
that. 

Tim.   You  may  take  my  word,  my  lord ;  I  know,  no 

man 

Can  justlv  praise  but  what  he  does  affect. 
T  weigh  my  friend's  affection  with  mine  own  ; 
I'll  tell  you  true.     I'll  call  on  you. 

All  Lords.  None  so  welcome. 

Tim.    I  take  all  and  your  several  visitations 


382  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I. 

• 

So  kind  to  heart,  'tis  not  enough  to  give ; 
Methinks  I  could  deal  kingdoms  to  mj  friends, 
And  ne'er  be  weary. — Alcibiades, 
Thou  art  a  soldier,  therefore  seldom  rich, 
It  comes  in  chanty  to  thee  :  for  all  thy  living 
Is  'mongst  the  dead  ;  and  all  the  lands  thou  hast 
Lie  in  a  pitched  field. 

Alcib.  Ay,  defiled  land,  my  lord. 

1  Lord.    We  are  so  virtuously  bound, 

Tim.  And  so 

Am  I  to  you. 

2  Lord.         So  infinitely  endeared 

Tim.    All  to  you.1 — Lights,  more  lights. 

1  Lord.  The  best  of  happiness, 

Honor,  and  fortunes,  keep  with  you,  lord  Timon  ! 

Tim.    Ready  for  his  friends. 

[Exeunt  ALCIBIADES,  Lords,  &c. 

Apem.  What  a  coil's  here  ! 

Serving  of  becks,  and  jutting  out  of  bums  ! 
I  doubt  whether  their  legs2  be  worth  the  sums 
That  are  given  for  'em.     Friendship's  full  of  dregs  ; 
Methinks  false  hearts  should  never  have  sound  legs. 
Thus  honest  fools  lay  out  their  wealth  on  courtesies. 

Tim.  Now,  Apemantus,  if  thou  wert  not  sullen,  I'd 
be  good  to  thee. 

Apem.  No,  I'll  nothing  ;  for,  if  I  should  be  bribed 
too,  there  would  be  none  left  to  rail  upon  thee  ;  and 
then  thou  wouldst  sin  the  faster.  Thou  givest  so  long, 
Timon,  I  fear  me,  thou  wilt  give  away  thyself  in  paper3 
shortly.  What  need  these  feasts,  pomps,  and  vain 
glories  ? 

Tim.  Nay,  an  you  begin  to  rail  on  society  once,  I 
am  sworn  not  to  give  regard  to  you.  Farewell ;  and 
come  with  better  music.  [Exit. 

1  That  is,  "  all  good  wishes  to  you,"  or  «  all  happiness  attend  you." 

2  He  plays  upon  the  word  leg,  as  it  signifies  a  limb,  and  a  bow  or  act 
of  obeisance. 

3  Warburton  explained  this, "  be  ruined  by  his  securities  entered  into." 
Dr.  Farmer  would  read  proper,  i.  e.  I  suppose,  in  propria  persona. 


SC.  I.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  383 

Apem.    So ; — thou'lt  not  hear  me  now, — thou  shalt 
not  then,  I'll  lock  thy  heaven1  from  thee. 
O  that  men's  ears  should  be 
To  counsel  deaf,  but  not  to  flattery  !  [Exit. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE   I.     Athens.     A  Room  in  a  Senator's  House. 

Enter  a  Senator,  with  papers  in  his  hand. 

Sen.   And  late,  five  thousand  to  Varro ;  and  to  Isidore 
He  owes  nine  thousand  ;  besides  my  former  sum, 
Which  makes  it  five-and-twenty. — Still  in  motion    . 
Of  raging  waste  ?     It  cannot  hold  ;  it  will  not. 
If  I  want  gold,  steal  but  a  beggar's  dog, 
And  give  it  Timon,  why  the  dog  coins  gold. 
If  I  would  sell  my  horse,  and  buy  twenty  more 
Better  than  he,  why,  give  my  horse  to  Timon, 
Ask  nothing,  give  it  him,  it  foals  me  straight, 
And  able  horses.     No  porter  at  his  gate  ;2 
But  rather  one  that  smiles,  and  still  invites 
All  that  pass  by.     It  cannot  hold  ;  no  reason 
Can  sound  his  state  in  safety.3     Caphis,  ho ! 
Caphis,  I  say! 

Enter  CAPHIS. 

Caph.  Here,  sir  ;  what  is  your  pleasure  ? 

Sen.  Get  on  your  cloak,  and  haste  you  to  lord  Timon  ; 
Importune  him  for  my  moneys ;  be  not  ceased 4 
With  slight  denial ;  nor  then  silenced,  when — 
Commend  me  to  your  master — and  the  cap 
Plays  in  the  right  hand,  thus  : — but  tell  him,  sirrah, 

1  By  his  heaven  he  means  good  advice ;  the  only  thing  by  \vhich  he 
could  be  saved. 

2  Sternness  was  the  characteristic  of  a  porter. 

3  Johnson  altered  this  to  "found  his  state  in  safety."     But  the  reading 
of  the  folio  is  evidently  sound,  which  will  bear  explanation  thus  : — "  No 
reason  can  proclaim  "his  state  in  safety,  or  not  dangerous." 

4  Be  not  stayed  or  stopped. 


384  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  II. 

My  uses  cry  to  me,  I  must  serve  my  turn 
Out  of  mine  own ;  his  days  and  times  are  past, 
And  my  reliances  on  his  fracted  dates 
Have  smit  my  credit.     I  love  and  honor  him  ; 
But  must  not  break  my  back,  to  heal  his  ringer. 
Immediate  are  my  needs  ;  and  my  relief 
Must  not  be  tossed  and  turned  to  me  in  words, 
But  find  supply  immediate.     Get  you  gone. 
Put  on  a  most  importunate  aspect, 
A  visage  of  demand  ;  for,  I  do  fear, 
When  every  feather  sticks  in  his  own  wing, 
Lord  Timon  will  be  left  a  naked  gull,1 
Which2  flashes  now  a  phoenix.     Get  you  gone. 

Caph.    I  go,  sir. 

Sen.    I  go,  sir  ? — take  the  bonds  along  with  you, 
And  have  the  dates  in  compt. 

Caph.  I  will,  sir. 

Sen.  Go. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   II.     The  same.     A  Hall  in  Timon's  House. 

Enter  FLAVIUS,  with  many  bills  in  his  hand. 

Flav.    No  care,  no  stop  !  so  senseless  of  expense, 
That  he  will  neither  know  how  to  maintain  it, 
Nor  cease  his  flow  of  riot ;  takes  no  account 
How  things  go  from  him  ;  nor  resumes  no  care 
Of  what  is  to  continue.     Never  mind 
Was  to  be  so  unwise,  to  be  so  kind.3 
What  shall  be  done  ?     He  will  not  hear,  till  feel ; 
I  must  be  round  with  him  now  he  comes  from  hunting. 
Fie,  fie,  fie,  fie  ! 

1  This  passage  has  been  thus  explained  by  Wilbraham,  in  his  Glossary 
of  words  used  in  Cheshire : — "  GitZZ,  s.  a  naked  gull ;  so  are  called  all 
nestling  birds  in  quite  an  unfledged  state." 

2  Which  for  who.     The  pronoun  relative,  applied  to  things,  is  frequently 
used  for  the  pronoun  relative  applied  to  persons,  by  old  writers,  and  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  thought  a  grammatical  error.    It  is  still  preserved 
in  the  Lord's  prayer. 

3  This  is  elliptically  expressed : — 

" . Never  mind 

Was  [made]  to  be  so  unwise  [in  order]  to  be  so  kind." 


SC.  II.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  385 

Enter  C  APHIS,  and  the  Servants  of  ISIDORE  and  VARRO. 

Caph.  Good  even,1  Varro.     What, 

You  come  for  money  ? 

Var.  Serv.  Is't  not  your  business  too  ? 

Caph.    It  is  ; — And  yours  too,  Isidore  ? 

Isid.  Serv.  It  is  so. 

Caph.    'Would  we  were  all  discharged  ! 

Var.  Serv.  I  fear  it. 

Caph.    Here  comes  the  lord. 

Enter  TIMON,  ALCIBIADES,  and  Lords,  frc. 

Tim.    So  soon  as  dinner's  done,  we'll  forth  again,2 
My  Alcibiades. — With  me  ?     What's  your  will  ? 

Caph.    My  lord,  here  is  a  note  of  certain  dues. 

Tim.    Dues  ?     Whence  are  you  ? 

Caph.  Of  Athens,  here,  my  lord. 

Tim.    Go  to  my  steward. 

Caph.    Please  it  your  lordship,  he  hath  put  me  off 
To  the  succession  of  new  days  this  month. 
My  master  is  awaked  by  great  occasion, 
To  call  upon  his  own  ;  and  humbly  prays  you, 
That  with  your  other  noble  parts  you'll  suit, 
In  giving  him  his  right. 

Tim.  Mine  honest  friend, 

I  pr'ythee,  but  repair  to  me  next  morning. 

Caph.    Nay,  good  my  lord, 

Tim.  Contain  thyself,  good  friend. 

Var.  Serv.    One  Varro's  servant,  my  good  lord, — 

Isid.  Serv.                                              From  Isidore  ; 
He  humbly  prays  your  speedy  payment, 

Caph.     If  you   did   know,    my  lord,   my  master's 
wants, 

Var.  Serv.    'Twas  due  on  forfeiture,   my  lord,   six 

weeks, 
And  past, 

1  Good  even,  or  good  den,  was  the  usual  salutation  from  noon. 

2  i.  e.  to  hunting ;  in  our  author's  time  it  was  the  custom  to  hunt  as 
well  after  dinner  as  before. 

VOL,  v.  49 


386  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  II 

hi d.  Serv.    Your  steward  puts  me  off,  my  lord  ; 
And  I  am  sent  expressly  to  your  lordship. 

Tim.    Give  me  breath  : 

1  do  beseech  you,  good  my  lords,  keep  on  ; 

[Exeunt  ALCIBIADES  and  Lords. 

I'll  wait  upon  you  instantly. — Come  hither,  pray  you  ; 

[  To  FLAVIUS. 

How  goes  the  world,  that  I  am  thus  encountered 
With  clamorous  demands  of  date-broke  bonds,1 
And  the  detention  of  long-since-due  debts, 
Against  my  honor  ? 

Flav.  Please  you,  gentlemen, 

The  time  is  unagreeable  to  this  business. 
Your  importunacy  cease,  till  after  dinner ; 
That  I  may  make  his  lordship  understand 
Wherefore  you  are  not  paid. 

Tim.  Do  so,  my  friends. 

See  them  well  entertained.  [Exit  TIMON. 

Flav.  I  pray,  draw  near. 

[Exit  FLAVIUS. 

Enter  APEMANTUS  and  a  Fool.2 

Caph.    Stay,  stay,  here  comes  the  fool  with  Apeman- 
tus  ;  let's  have  some  sport  with  'em. 

Var.  Serv.    Hang  him,  he'll  abuse  us. 

Isid.  Serv.    A  plague  upon  him,  dog ! 

Far.  Serv.    How  dost,  fool  ? 

Apem.    Dost  dialogue  with  thy  shadow  ? 

Var.  Serv.    I  speak  not  to  thee. 

Apem.   No  ;  'tis  to  thyself. — Come  away. 

[To  the  Fool. 

Isid.  Serv.     [To   VAR.    Serv.]      There's   the   fool 
hangs  on  your  back  already. 

1  The  old  copy  reads : — 

" of  debt,  broken  bonds." 

The  emendation,  which  was  made  by  Malone,  is  well  supported  by 
corresponding  passages  in  the  Poet 

2  Johnson  thought  that  a  scene  or  passage  had  been  here  lost,  in  which 
the  audience  were  informed  that  the  fool  and  the  page  that  follows  him 
belonged  to  Phrynia,  Timandra,   or  some   other  courtesan ;   upon  the 
knowledge  of  which  depends  the  greater  part  of  the  ensuing  jocularity. 


SC.  II.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  387 

Apem.  No,  thou  stand'st  single  ;  thou  art  not  on  him 
yet. 

Caph.   Where's  the  fool  now  ? 

Apem.  He  last  asked  the  question. — Poor  rogues, 
and  usurers'  men  !  bawds  between  gold  and  want ! 

All  Serv.   What  are  we,  Apemantus  ? 

Apem.   Asses. 

All  Serv.   Why? 

Apem.  That  you  ask  me  what  you  are,  and  do  not 
know  yourselves. — Speak  to  'ern,  fool. 

Fool.    How  do  you,  gentlemen  ? 

All  Serv.  Gramercies,  good  fool.  How  does  your 
mistress  ? 

Fool.  She's  e'en  setting  on  water  to  scald  such 
chickens  as  you  are.  'Would  we  could  see  you  at 
Corinth.1 

Apem.   Good !  gramercy. 

Enter  Page. 

Fool.    Look  you,  here  comes  my  mistress'  page. 

Page.  [To  the  Fool.]  Why,  how  now,  captain  ? 
what  do  you  in  this  wise  company  ? — How  dost  thou, 
Apemantus  ? 

Apem.  'Would  I  had  a  rod  in  my  mouth,  that  I 
might  answer  thee  profitably. 

Page.  Pr'ythee,  Apemantus,  read  me  the  super 
scription  of  these  letters  ;  I  know  not  which  is  which. 

Apem.    Canst  not  read  ? 

Page.   No. 

Apem.  There  will  little  learning  die  then,  that  day 
thou  art  hanged.  This  is  to  lord  Timon ;  this  to 
Alcibiades.  Go  ;  thou  wast  born  a  bastard,  and  thou'lt 
die  a  bawd. 

Page.  Thou  wast  whelped  a  dog ;  and  thou  shalt 
famish,  a  dog's  death.  Answer  not ;  I  am  gone. 

[Exit  Page. 

1  The  reputation  of  the  ladies  of  Corinth  for  gallantry  caused  the  term 
to  be  anciently  used  for  a  house  of  ill  repute. 


388  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  II. 

Apem.  Even  so  thou  outrun'st  grace.  Fool,  I  will 
go  with  you  to  lord  Timon's. 

Fool.    Will  you  leave  me  there  ? 

Apem.  If  Timon  stay  at  home.  —  You  three  serve 
three  usurers  ? 

All  Serv.    Ay  ;  'would  they  served  us  ! 

Apem.  So  would  I,  as  good  a  trick  as  ever  hangman 
served  thief. 

Fool.    Are  you  three  usurers'  men  ? 

All  Serv.   Ay,  fool. 

Fool.  I  think  no  usurer  but  has  a  fool  to  his  servant  ; 
my  mistress  is  one,  and  I  am  her  fool.  When  men 
come  to  borrow  of  your  masters,  they  approach  sadly, 
and  go  away  merry  ;  but  they  enter  my  mistress'  house 
merrily,  and  go  away  sadly.  The  reason  of  this? 

Var.  Serv.    I  could  render  one. 

Apem.  Do  it,  then,  that  we  may  account  thee  a 
whoremaster  and  a  knave  ;  which,  notwithstanding, 
thou  shalt  be  no  less  esteemed. 

Var.  Serv.    What  is  a  whoremaster,  fool  ? 

Fool.  A  fool  in  good  clothes,  and  something  like 
thee.  'Tis  a  spirit  :  sometime,  it  appears  like  a  lord  ; 
sometime,  like  a  lawyer  ;  sometime,  like  a  philosopher, 
with  two  stones  more  than  his  artificial  one.1  He  is 
very  often  like  a  knight  ;  and,  generally  in  all  shapes, 
that  man  goes  up  and  down  in,  from  fourscore,  to  thir 
teen,  this  spirit  walks  in. 

Var.  Serv.    Thou  art  not  altogether  a  fool. 

Fool.  Nor  thou  altogether  a  wise  man.  As  much 
foolery  as  I  have,  so  much  wit  thou  lackest. 

Apem.    That  answer  might  have  become  Apemantus. 

All  Serv.    Aside,  aside  ;  here  comes  lord  Timon. 


i  Meaning  the  celebrated  object  of  all  alchymical  research,  the 
philosopher's  stone,  at  that  time  much  talked  of.  Sir  Thomas  Smith  was 
one  of  those  who  lost  considerable  sums  in  seeking  of  it.  Sir  Richard 
Steele  was  one  of  the  last  eminent  men  who  entertained  hopes  of  being 
successful  in  this  pursuit.  His  laboratory  was  at  Poplar. 


SO.  II.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  389 

Re-enter  TIMON  and  FLAVIUS. 

Apem.    Come  with  me,  fool,  come. 

Fool.    I  do  not  always  follow  lover,  elder  brother,  and 
woman ;  sometime,  the  philosopher. 

[Exeunt  APEMANTUS  and  Fool. 

Flav.  'Pray  you,  walk  near ;  I'll  speak  with  you  anon. 

[Exeunt  Serv. 

Tim.    You  make  me  marvel.     Wherefore,  ere  this 

time, 

Had  you  not  fully  laid  my  state  before  me ; 
That  I  might  so  have  rated  my  expense, 
As  I  had  leave  of  means  ? 

Flav.  You  would  not  hear  me, 

At  many  leisures  I  proposed. 

Tim.  Go  to. 

Perchance,  some  single  vantages  you  took, 
When  my  indisposition  put  you  back  ; 
And  that  unaptness  made  your  minister,1 
Thus  to  excuse  yourself. 

Flav.  O  my  good  lord  ! 

At  many  times  I  brought  in  my  accounts, 
Laid  them  before  you  ;  you  would  throw  them  off, 
And  say,  you  found  them  in  mine  honesty. 
When,  for  some  trifling  present,  you  have  bid  me 
Return  so  much,  I  have  shook  my  head,  and  wept ; 
Yea,  'gainst  the  authority  of  manners,  prayed  you 
To  hold  your  hand  more  close.     I  did  endure 
Not  seldom,  nor  no  slight  checks,  when  I  have 
Prompted  you,  in  the  ebb  of  your  estate, 
And  your  great  flow  of  debts.     My  dear-loved  lord, 
Though  you  hear  now  (too  late !)  yet  now's  a  time,2 
The  greatest  of  your  having  lacks  a  half 
To  pay  your  present  debts. 

Tim.  Let  all  my  land  be  sold. 

Flav.    'Tis  all  engaged,  some  forfeited  and  gone ; 
And  what  remains  will  hardly  stop  the  mouth 
Of  present  dues  ;  the  future  comes  apace. 

1  The  construction  is,  "  And  made  that  unaptness  your  minister." 

2  "  Yet  now  your  affairs  are  in  such  a  state." 


390  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  II 

What  shall  defend  the  interim  ?  and  at  length 
How  goes  our  reckoning  ? 1 

Tim.    To  Lacedaemon  did  my  land  extend. 

Flav.    O  my  good  lord,  the  world  is  but  a  word  ; 2 
Were  it  all  yours  to  give  it  in  a  breath, 
tlow  quickly  were  it  gone  ! 

Tim.  You  tell  me  true. 

Flav.    If  you  suspect  my  husbandry,  or  falsehood, 
Call  me  before  the  exactest  auditors, 
And  set  me  on  the  proof.     So  the  gods  bless  me, 
When  all  our  offices 3  have  been  oppressed 
With  riotous  feeders ;  when  our  vaults  have  wept 
With  drunken  spilth  of  wine  ;  when  every  room 
Hath  blazed  with  lights,  and  brayed  with  minstrelsy  ; 
I  have  retired  me  to  a  wasteful  cock,4 
And  set  mine  eyes  at  flow. 

Tim.  Pr'ythee,  no  more. 

Flav.    Heavens,  have  I  said,  the  bounty  of  this  lord  ! 
How  many  prodigal  bits  have  slaves  and  peasants 
This  night  englutted  !     Who  is  not  Timon's  ? 
What  heart,   head,   sword,  force,   means,    but  is  lord 

Timon's? 

Great  Timon,  noble,  worthy,  royal  Timon  ! 
Ah !  when  the  means  are  gone  that  buy  this  praise, 
The  breath  is  gone  whereof  this  praise  is  made. 
Feast- won,  fast-lost ;  one  cloud  of  winter  showers, 
These  flies  are  couched. 

Tim.  Come,  sermon  me  no  further. 

No  villanous  bounty  yet  hath  passed  my  heart ; 
Unwisely,  not  ignobly,  have  I  given. 
Why  dost  thou  weep  ?     Canst  thou  the  conscience  lack, 

1  "  How  will  you  be  able  to  subsist  in  the  time  intervening  between 
the  payment  of  the  present  demands  and  the  claim  of  future  dues ;  and, 
finally,  on  the  settlement  of  all  accounts,  in  what  a  wretched  plight  will 
you  be  ?  " 

2  i.  e.  as  the  world  itself  may  be  comprised  in  a  word,  you  might  give 
it  away  in  a  breath. 

3  The  cellar  and  the  buttery  are  probably  meant. 

4  A  wasteful  cock  is  possibly  what  we  now  call  a  ivaste  pipe,  a  pipe 
which  is  continually  running,  and  thereby  prevents  the  overflow  of  cisterns, 
&c.,  by  carrying  off  their  superfluous  water.     Hanmer  supposed  the  phrase 
to  mean  "  an  unoccupied  cockloft." 


SC.  II.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  391 

To  think  I  shall  lack  friends  ?     Secure  thy  heart ; 
If  I  would  broach  the  vessels  of  my  love, 
And  try  the  argument1  of  hearts  by  borrowing, 
Men,  and  men's  fortunes,  could  I  frankly  use, 
As  I  can  bid  thee  speak. 

Flav.  Assurance  bless  your  thoughts  ! 

Tim.    And,  in  some  sort,  these  wants  of  mine  are 

crowned,2 

That  I  account  them  blessings  ;  for  by  these 
Shall  I  try  friends.     You  shall  perceive  how  you 
Mistake  my  fortunes ;  I  am  wealthy  in  my  friends. 
Within  there,  ho ! — Flaminius,  Servilius  ! 

Enter  FLAMINIUS,  SERVILIUS,  and  other  Servants. 

Serv.   My  lord,  my  lord, 

Tim.    I  will  despatch  you  severally. — You,  to  lord 

Lucius, — 

To  lord  Lucullus  you  ;  I  hunted  with  his 
Honor  to-day  ; — You  to  Sempronius  ; 
Commend  me  to  their  loves  ;  and,  I  am  proud,  say, 
That  my  occasions  have  found  time  to  use  them 
Toward  a  supply  of  money.     Let  the  request 
Be  fifty  talents. 

Flam.  As  you  have  said,  my  lord. 

Flav.    Lord  Lucius,  and  lord  Lucullus  ?  humph ! 

[Aside. 

Tim.  Go  you,  sir,  [To  another  Serv.]  to  the  senators, 
(Of  whom,  even  to  the  state's  best  health,  I  have 
Deserved  this  hearing,)  bid  'em  send  o'  the  instant 
A  thousand  talents  to  me. 

Flav.  I  have  been  bold 

(For  that  I  knew  it  the  most  general  way)  3 
To  them  to  use  your  signet,  and  your  name  ; 
But  they  do  shake  their  heads,  and  I  am  here 
No  richer  in  return. 

Tim.  Is't  true  ?  can  it  be  . 

1  i.  e.  the  contents  of  them. 

2  i.  e.  dignified,  adorned,  made  gracious. 

3  "  The  most  general  way,"  is  the  most  compendious,  to  try  many  at  a 
time. 


392  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IJ. 

Flav.    They  answer,  in  a  joint  and  corporate  voice, 
That  now  they  are  at  fall,1  want  treasure,  cannot 
Do  what  they  would  ;  are  sorry — you  are  honorable, — 
But  yet  they  could  have  wished — they  know  not — but 
Something  hath  been  amiss — a  noble  nature 
May  catch  a  wrench — would  all  were  well — 'tis  pity — 
And  so,  intending2  other  serious  matters, 
After  distasteful  looks,  and  these  hard  fractions, 
With  certain  half-caps,3  and  cold-moving  nods, 
They  froze  me  into  silence. 

Tim.  You  gods,  reward  them  ! — 

I  pr'ythee,  man,  look  cheerly.     These  old  fellows 
Have  their  ingratitude  in  them  hereditary ; 
Their  blood  is  caked,  'tis  cold,  it  seldom  flows ; 
'Tis  lack  of  kindly  warmth,  they  are  not  kind  ; 
And  nature,  as  it  grows  again  toward  earth, 
Is  fashioned  for  the  journey,  dull,  and  heavy. — 
GotoVentidius,  [TWServ.] — 'Pr'ythee,  [ToFLAVius,] 

be  not  sad  ; 

Thou  art  true  and  honest;  ingeniously  I  speak, 
No  blame  belongs  to  thee ; — [To  Serv.]  Ventidius  lately 
Buried  his  father ;   by  whose  death,  he's  stepped 
Into  a  great  estate.     When  he  was  poor, 
Imprisoned,  and  in  scarcity  of  friends, 
I  cleared  him  with  five  talents.     Greet  him  from  me ; 
Bid  him  suppose,  some  good  necessity 
Touches  his  friend,  which  craves  to  be  remembered 
With  those  five  talents  ;  that  had,   [To  FLAV.]  give  it 

these  fellows, 

To  whom  'tis  instant  due.     Ne'er  speak,  or  think, 
That  Timon's  fortunes  'mong  his  friends  can  sink. 
Flav.    I  would  I  could  not  think  it.     That  thought 

is  bounty's  foe ; 
Being  free 4  itself,  it  thinks  all  others  so.  [Exeunt. 

1  i.  e.  at  an  ebb. 

2  Johnson,  Steevens,  and  Malone,  have  explained  intending,  here,  re 
garding  turning  their  notice,  or  attending  to,  &c. ;  but  it  certainly  means 
pretending.      Shakspeare  uses  pretend  for  intend  in  several  instances. 

3  Fractions  are  broken  hints,  abrupt  remarks.     A  half-cap  is  a  cap 
slightly  moved,  not  put  off. 

4  Liberal,  not  parsimonious. 


SC.  I.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  393 


ACT  III. 

SCENE    I.     Athens.     A  Room  in  Lucullus's  House. 
FLAMINIUS  waiting. 

Enter  a  Servant  to  him. 

Serv.    I  have  told  my  lord  of  you  ;  he  is  coming  down 

to  you. 
Flam.    I  thank  you,  sir. 

Enter  LUCULLUS. 

Serv.    Here's  my  lord. 

Lucul.  [Aside.']  One  of  lord  Timon's  men  ?  a  gift, 
I  warrant.  Why,  this  hits  right ;  I  dreamt  of  a  silver 
basin  and  ewer  to-night.  Flaminius,  honest  Flaminius ; 
you  are  very  respectively 1  welcome,  sir. — Fill  me  some 
wine. — [Exit  Servant.] — And  how  does  that  honorable, 
complete,  free-hearted  gentleman  of  Athens,  thy  very 
bountiful  good  lord  and  master  ? 

Flam.    His  health  is  well,  sir. 

Lucul.  1  am  right  glad  that  his  health  is  well,  sir. 
And  what  hast  thou  there  under  thy  cloak,  pretty 
Flaminius  ? 

Flam.  'Faith,  nothing  but  an  empty  box,  sir ;  which, 
in  my  lord's  behalf,  I  come  to  entreat  your  honor  to 
supply  ;  who,  having  great  and  instant  occasion  to  use 
fifty  talents,  hath  sent  to  your  lordship  to  furnish  him  ; 
nothing  doubting  your  present  assistance  therein. 

Lucul.  La,  la,  la,  la, — nothing  doubting,  says  he  ? 
alas,  good  lord !  a  noble  gentleman  'tis,  if  he  would 
not  keep  so  good  a  house.  Many  a  time  and  often  I 
have  dined  with  him,  and  told  him  on't;  and  come 
again  to  supper  to  him,  of  purpose  to  have  him  spend 
less ;  and  yet  he  would  embrace  no  counsel,  take  no 
warning  by  my  coming.  Every  man  has  his  fault, 

1  i.  e.  regardfully. 
VOL.  v.  50 


394  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III 

and  honesty 1  is  his ;  I  have  told  him  on't,  but  I  could 
never  get  him  from  it. 

Re-enter  Servant,  with  wine. 

Serv.    Please  jour  lordship,  here  is  the  wine. 

Lucul.  Flaminius,  I  have  noted  thee  always  wise. 
Here's  to  thee. 

Flam.    Your  lordship  speaks  your  pleasure. 

Lucul.  I  have  observed  thee  always  for  a  towardly 
prompt  spirit, — give  thee  thy  due, — and  one  that  knows 
what  belongs  to  reason  ;  and  canst  use  the  time  well, 
if  the  time  use  thee  well :  good  parts  in  thee. — Get  you 
gone,  sirrah. — [To  the  Servant,  who  goes  out.'] — Draw 
nearer,  honest  Flaminius.  Thy  lord's  a  bountiful  gen 
tleman;  but  thou  art  wise;  and  thou  knowest  well 
enough,  although  thou  comest  to  me,  that  this  is  no 
time  to  lend  money;  especially  upon  bare  friendship, 
without  security.  Here's  three  solidares 2  for  thee ; 
good  boy,  wink  at  me,  and  say,  thou  saw'st  me  not. 
Fare  thee  well. 

Flam.    Is't  possible,  the  world  should  so  much  differ ; 
And  we  alive  that  lived  ? 3     Fly,  damned  baseness, 
To  him  that  worships  thee. 

[Throwing  the  money  away. 

Lucul.  Ha !  Now  I  see,  thou  art  a  fool,  and  fit 
for  thy  master.  [Exit  LUCULLUS. 

Flam.   May  these  add  to  the  number  that  may  scald 

thee! 

Let  molten  coin  be  thy  damnation, 
Thou  disease  of  a  friend,  and  not  himself!  4 
Has  friendship  such  a  faint  and  milky  heart, 
It  turns  in  less  than  two  nights  ?     O  you  gods, 

1  Honesty  here  means  liberality. 

2  We  are  not  to  look  for  the  name  of  a  Greek  coin  here ;  it  is,  perhaps, 
formed  from  solidary  or  soldi,  a  small  coin,  which  Florio  makes  equal  to 
shillings  in  value. 

3  And  we  alive  now  who  lived  then. 

4  So  in  King  Lear : — 

" my  daughter, 

Or  rather  a  disease?  &c. 


SC.  II.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  395 

I  feel  my  master's  passion  ! l     This  slave 

Unto  his  honor,2  has  my  lord's  meat  in  him. 

Why  should  it  thrive,  and  turn  to  nutriment, 

When  he  is  turned  to  poison  ? 

O,  may  diseases  only  work  upon't ! 

And,  when  he  is  sick  to  death,  let  not  that  part  of  nature 

Which  my  lord  paid  for,  be  of  any  power 

To  expel  sickness,  but  prolong  his  hour ! 3  [Exit. 


SCENE   II.     The  same.     A  public  Place. 

Enter  Lucius,  with  three  Strangers. 

Luc.  Who,  the  lord  Timon  ?  he  is  my  very  good 
friend,  and  an  honorable  gentleman. 

1  Stran.    We  know  him  for  no  less,  though  we  are 
but  strangers  to  him.     But  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  my 
lord,  and  which  I  hear  from  common  rumors  ;  now  lord 
Timon's  happy  hours  are  done  and  past,  and  his  estate 
shrinks  from  him. 

Luc.    Fie,  no,  do  not  believe  it ;   he  cannot  want  for 
money. 

2  Stran.    But  believe  you  this,  my  lord,  that,  not 
long  ago,  one  of  his  men  was  with  the  lord   Lucullus, 
to  borrow  so  many  talents  ; 4  nay,  urged  extremely  for't, 
and  showed  what  necessity  belonged  to't,  and  yet  was 
denied. 

Luc.    How  ? 

2  Stran.    I  tell  you,  denied,  my  lord. 

Luc.  What  a  strange  case  was  that !  Now,  before 
the  gods,  I  am  ashamed  on't.  Denied  that  honorable 
man?  there  was  very  little  honor  showed  in't.  For 
my  own  part,  I  must  needs  confess,  I  have  received 

1  i.  e.  suffering-,  grief. 

2  Some  modern  editions  have  changed  his  honor  into  this  hour.    The 
old  reading,  which  Steevens  explains,  "  This  slave  (to  the  honor  of  his 
character)  has,"  &c.,  is  not  probably  what  is  meant  to  be  expressed. 

3  i.  e.  prolong  his  hour  of  suffering. 

4  "So  many  talents,"  a  common  colloquial  phrase  for  an  indefinite 
number. 


396  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III. 

some  small  kindnesses  from  him,  as  money,  plate,  jewels, 
and  such  like  trifles,  nothing  comparing  to  his ;  jet  had 
he  mistook  him,  and  sent  to  me,  I  should  ne'er  have 
denied  his  occasion  so  many  talents. 

Enter  SERVILIUS. 

Ser.  See,  by  good  hap,  yonder's  my  lord ;  I  have 
sweat  to  see  his  honor. — My  honored  lord, — 

[To  Lucius. 

Luc.  Servilius  !  you  are  kindly  met,  sir.  Fare  thee 
well : — Commend  me  to  thy  honorable-virtuous  lord, 
my  very  exquisite  friend. 

Ser.  May  it  please  your  honor,  my  lord  hath  sent 

Luc.  Ha!  what  has  he  sent?  I  am  so  much  en 
deared  to  that  lord  ;  he's  ever  sending.  How  shall  I 
thank  him,  thinkest  thou  ?  And  what  has  he  sent  now  ? 

Ser.  He  has  only  sent  his  present  occasion  now,  my 
lord  ;  requesting  your  lordship  to  supply  his  instant  use 
with  so  many  talents. 

Luc.  I  know  his  lordship  is  but  merry  with  me. 
He  cannot  want  fifty-five  hundred  talents.1 

Ser.    But  in  the  mean  time  he  wants  less,  my  lord. 
If  his  occasion  were  not  virtuous,2 
I  should  not  urge  it  half  so  faithfully. 

Luc.    Dost  thou  speak  seriously,  Servilius  ? 

Ser.    Upon  my  soul,  'tis  true,  sir. 

Luc.  What  a  wicked  beast  was  I,  to  disfurnish  my 
self  against  such  a  good  time,  when  I  might  have  shown 
myself  honorable !  how  unluckily  it  happened,  that  I 
should  purchase  the  day  before  for  a  little  part,  and 
undo  a  great  deal  of  honor ! 3 — Servilius,  now  before 
the  gods,  I  am  not  able  to  do't:  the  more  beast,  I  say: 
— I  was  sending  to  use  lord  Timon  myself,  these 
gentlemen  can  witness  ;  but  I  would  not,  for  the  wealth 

1  Some  modern  editors  have  here  substituted  "Jifty  talents."    But  this 
was  the  phraseology  of  the  Poet's  age. 

2  "  If  he  did  not  want  it  for  a  good  use." 

3  i.  e.  "by  purchasing  what  brought  me  but  little  profit,  I  have  lost 
the  more  honorable  opportunity  of  supplying  the  wants  of  my  friend." 


SC.  II.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  391 

of  Athens,  I  had  done  it  now.  Commend  me  bounti 
fully  to  his  good  lordship ;  and  I  hope  his  honor  will 
conceive  the  fairest  of  me,  because  I  have  no  power  to 
be  kind.  And  tell  him  this  from  me,  I  count  it  one  of 
my  greatest  afflictions,  say,  that  I  cannot  pleasure  such 
an  honorable  gentleman.  Good  Servilius,  will  you  be 
friend  me  so  far,  as  to  use  mine  own  words  to  him  ? 

Ser.    Yes,  sir,  I  shall. 

Luc.    I  will  look  you  out  a  good  turn,  Servilius. — 

[Exit  SERVILIUS. 

True,  as  you  said,  Timon  is  shrunk,  indeed ; 
And  he  that's  once  denied,  will  hardly  speed. 

[Exit  Lucius. 

1  Stran.    Do  you  observe  this,  Hostilius  ? 

2  Stran.    Ay,  too  well. 

1  Stran.   Why,  this 

Is  the  world's  soul;  and  just  of  the  same  piece 
Is  every  flatterer's  spirit.1     Who  can  call  him 
His  friend,  that  dips  in  the  same  dish  ?   for,  in 
My  knowing,  Timon  has  been  this  lord's  father, 
And  kept  his  credit  with  his  purse ; 
Supported  his  estate  ;   nay,  Timon's  money 
Has  paid  his  men  their  wages.     He  ne'er  drinks, 
But  Timon's  silver  treads  upon  his  lip ; 
And  yet  (O,  see  the  monstrousness  of  man, 
When  he  looks  out  in  an  ungrateful  shape !) 
He  does  deny  him,  in  respect  of  his,2 
What  charitable  men  afford  to  beggars. 

2  Stran.    Religion  groans  at  it. 

1  Stran.  For  mine  own  part, 

1  never  tasted  Timon  in  my  life, 
Nor  came  any  of  his  bounties  over  me, 
To  mark  me  for  his  friend ;  yet,  I  protest, 
For  his  right  noble  mind,  illustrious  virtue, 
And  honorable  carriage, 

1  The  old  copy  reads : — 

"  Is  every  flatterer's  sport." 

The  emendation  is  Theobald's.    This  speech  was,  apparently,  never  in 
tended  for  verse,  though  printed  as  such  in  the  folio. 

2  i.  e.  "in  respect  of  las  fortune." 


398  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III. 

Had  his  necessity  made  use  of  me, 

I  would  have  put  my  wealth  into  donation,1 

And  the  best  half  should  have  returned  to  him, 

So  much  I  love  his  heart.     But,  I  perceive, 

Men  must  learn  now  with  pity  to  dispense  ; 

For  policy  sits  above  conscience.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE    III.     The  same.     A  Room  in  Sempronius's 

House. 

Enter  SEMPRONIUS,  and  a  Servant  of  Timon's. 

Sem.    Must  he  needs   trouble   me   in't  ?     Humph ! 

'bove  all  others  ? 

He  might  have  tried  lord  Lucius,  or  Lucullus ; 
And  now  Ventidius  is  wealthy  too, 
Whom  he  redeemed  from  prison.     All  these 
Owe  their  estates  unto  him. 

Serv.  O  my  lord, 

They  have  all  been  touched,2  and  found  base  metal ;  for 
They  have  all  denied  him. 

Sem.  How  !  have  they  denied  him  ? 

Has  Ventidius  and  Lucullus  denied  him  ? 
And  does  he  send  to  me  ?     Three  ?  humph  ! 3 
It  shows  but  little  love  or  judgment  in  him. 
Must  I  be  his  last  refuge  ?    His  friends,  like  physicians, 
Thrive,4  give  him  over.    Must  I  take  the  cure  upon  me  ? — 
He  has  much  disgraced  me  in't ;  I  am  angry  at  him, 
That  might  have  known  my  place.     I  see  no  sense  for't, 
But  his  occasions  might  have  wooed  me  first ; 


1  The  meaning  appears  to  be — "  Had  he  applied  to  me,  I  would  have 
put  my  wealth  into  the  form  of  a  gift,  and  have  sent  him  the  best  half 
of  it." 

2  Alluding  to  the  trial  of  metals  by  the  touchstone. 

3  This  speech  appears  to  be  mutilated,  and  therefore  unmetrical. 

4  Johnson  proposes  to  read : — 

"  Thrice,  give  him  over ;  " 

but  says,  «  perhaps  the  old  reading  is  the  true."  The  passage  may  mean 
"  his  friends,  like  physicians,  thrive  by  his  bounty  and  fees,  and  either 
relinquish  and  forsake  him,  or  give  up  his  case  as  desperate." 


SC.  IV.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  399 

For,  in  my  conscience,  I  was  the  first  man 

That  e'er  received  gift  from  him : 

And  does  he  think  so  backwardly  of  me  now, 

That  I'll  requite  it  last  ?     No  :  so  it  may  prove 

An  argument  of  laughter  to  the  rest, 

And  I  amongst  the  lords  be  thought  a  fool. 

I  had  rather  than  the  worth  of  thrice  the  sum, 

He  had  sent  to  me  first,  but  for  my  mind's  sake ; 

I  had  such  a  courage  to  do  him  good.    But  now,  return, 

And  with  their  faint  reply  this  answer  join  : 

IFho  bates  mine  honor,  shall  not  know  my  coin. 

[Exit. 

Serv.    Excellent !    Your  lordship's  a  goodly  villain. 
The  devil  knew  not  what  he  did,  when  he  made  man 
politic ;  he  crossed  himself  by't :  and  I  cannot  think, 
but,  in  the  end,  the  villanies  of  man  will  set  him  clear.1 
How  fairly  this  lord  strives  to  appear  foul !  takes  vir 
tuous  copies  to  be  wicked ;  like  those  that,  under  hot, 
ardent  zeal,  would  set  whole  realms  on  fire.2 
Of  such  a  nature  is  his  politic  love. 
This  was  my  lord's  best  hope  ;  now  all  are  fled, 
Save  the  gods  only.     Now  his  friends  are  dead, 
Doors,  that  were  ne'er  acquainted  with  their  wards 
Many  a  bounteous  year,  must  be  employed 
Now  to  guard  sure  their  master. 
And  this  is  all  a  liberal  course  allows  ; 
Who  cannot  keep  his  wealth  must  keep  his  house.3 

[Exit. 

SCENE  IV.     The  same.     A  Hall  in  Timon's  House. 

Enter  two  Servants  O/*VARRO,  and  the  Servant  of  Lu 
cius,  meeting  TITUS,  HORTENSIUS,^^  other  Servants 
to  TIMON'S  Creditors,  waiting  his  coming  out. 

Var.    Serv.    Well    met ;    good-morrow,    Titus    and 
Hortensius. 

1  In  the  end,  the  villanies  of  man  will  (make  the  devil  appear,  in  com 
parison,  innocent)  set  him  clear. 

2  Warburton  thinks  that  this  is  levelled  at  the  puritans. 

3  i.  e.  keep  within  doors  for  fear  of  duns. 


400  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III. 

Tit.    The  like  to  you,  kind  Varro. 

Hor.  Lucius  ? 

What,  do  we  meet  together  ? 

Luc.  Serv.  Ay,  and,  I  think. 

One  business  does  command  us  all ;  for  mine 
Is  money. 

Tit.    So  is  theirs  and  ours. 


Enter  PHILOTUS. 

Luc.  Serv.  And  sir 

Philotus,  too ! 

Phi.  Good  day  at  once. 

Luc.  Serv.  Welcome,  good  brother. 

What  do  you  think  the  hour  ? 

Phi.  Laboring  for  nine. 

Luc.  Serv.    So  much  ? 

Phi.  Is  not  my  lord  seen  yet  ? 

Luc.  Serv.  Not  yet. 

Phi.    I  wonder  on't ;  he  was  wont  to  shine  at  seven. 

Luc.  Serv.    Ay,  but  the  days  are  waxed  shorter  with 

him: 

You  must  consider  that  a  prodigal  course 
Is  like  the  sun's  ;  but  not,  like  his,  recoverable. 
I  fear 

'Tis  deepest  winter  in  lord  Timon's  purse ; 
That  is,  one  may  reach  deep  enough,  and  yet 
Find  little. 

Phi.  I  am  of  your  fear  for  that. 

Tit.    I'll  show  you  how  to  observe  a  strange  event. 
Your  lord  sends  now  for  money. 

Hor.  Most  true,  he  does. 

Tit.    And  he  wears  jewels  now  of  Timon's  gift, 
For  which  you 1  wait  for  money. 

Hor.    It  is  against  my  heart. 

Luc.  Serv.  Mark,  how  strange  it  shows, 

Timon  in  this  should  pay  more  than  he  owes ; 
And  e'en  as  if  your  lord  should  wear  rich  jewels, 
And  send  for  money  for  'em. 

1  The  old  copy  reads,  "  For  which  /  wait  for  money." 


SC.  IV.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  401 

Hor.    I  am  weary  of  this  charge,1  the  gods  can  wit 
ness  ; 

I  know  my  lord  hath  spent  of  Timon's  wealth, 
And  now  ingratitude  makes  it  worse  than  stealth. 
1   Var.  Serv.    Yes,  mine's  three  thousand  crowns. 

What's  yours  ? 

Luc.  Serv.    Five  thousand  mine. 
1  Var.  Serv.    'Tis  much  deep  ;  and  it  should  seem  by 

the  sum, 

Your  master's  confidence  was  above  mine ; 
Else,  surely,  his  had  equalled.2 

Enter  FLAMINIUS. 

Tit.    One  of  lord  Timon's  men. 

Luc.  Serv.  Flaminius !  sir,  a  word :  Pray,  is  my 
lord  ready  to  come  forth  ? 

Flam.    No,  indeed,  he  is  not. 

Tit.    We  attend  his  lordship  ;  'pray,  signify  so  much. 

Flam.  I  need  not  tell  him  that ;  he  knows  you  are 
too  diligent.  [Exit  FLAMINIUS. 

Enter  FLAVIUS  in  a  cloak,  muffled. 

Luc.  Serv.  Ha !  is  not  that  his  steward  muffled  so  ? 
He  goes  away  in  a  cloud  ;  call  him,  call  him. 

Tit.    Do  you  hear,  sir  ? 

1  Var.  Serv.    By  your  leave,  sir, 

Flav.    What  do  you  ask  of  me,  my  friend  ? 

Tit.    We  wait  for  certain  money  here,  sir. 

Flav.  Ay, 

If  money  were  as  certain  as  your  waiting, 
'Twere  sure  enough.     Why  then  preferred  you  not 
Your  sums  and  bills,  when  your  false  masters  ate 
Of  my   lord's   meat?     Then   they  could    smile,   and 

fawn 
Upon  his  debts,  and  take  down  th'  interest 

1  i.  e.  this  office  or  employment. 

2  The  meaning  is,  "  it  should  seem  by  the  sum  your  master  lent,  his 
confidence  in  Timon  was  greater  than  that  of  my  master,  else,  surely,  my 
master's  loan  had  equalled  his." 

VOL.  V.  51 


402  T1MON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III. 

Into  their  gluttonous  maws.     You  do  yourselves  but 


wrong, 


To  stir  me  up ;  let  me  pass  quietly. 

Belie ve't,  my  lord  and  I  have  made  an  end ; 

I  have  no  more  to  reckon,  he  to  spend. 

Luc.  Serv.   Ay,  but  this  answer  will  not  serve. 

Flav.  If  'twill  not  serve, 

'Tis  not  so  base  as  you ;  for  you  serve  knaves. 

[Exit. 

1  Var.  Serv.    How !  what  does  his  cashiered  worship 

mutter  ? 

2  Var.  Serv.   No  matter  what ;  he's  poor,  and  that's 
revenge  enough.     Who  can  speak  broader  than  he  that 
has  no  house  to  put  his  head  in  ?    Such  may  rail  against 
great  buildings. 

Enter  SERVILIUS. 

Tit.  O,  here's  Servilius ;  now  we  shall  know  some 
answer. 

Ser.  If  I  might  beseech  you,  gentlemen,  to  repair 
some  other  hour,  I  should  derive  much  from  it ;  for, 
take  it  on  my  soul,  my  lord  leans  wondrously  to  dis 
content.  His  comfortable  temper  has  forsook  him  ;  he 
is  much  out  of  health,  and  keeps  his  chamber. 

Luc.  Serv.   Many  do  keep  their  chambers,  are  not 

sick; 

And,  if  it  be  so  far  beyond  his  health, 
Methinks  he  should  the  sooner  pay  his  debts, 
And  make  a  clear  way  to  the  gods. 

Ser.  Good  gods ! 

Tit.   We  cannot  take  this  for  an  answer,  sir. 

Flam.    [Within.']    Servilius,   help! — my   lord!    my 
lord  ! — 


Enter  TIMON,  in  a  rage ;  FLAMINIUS  following. 

Tim.   What,    are   my   doors   opposed    against   my 

passage  ? 

Have  I  been  ever  free,  and  must  my  house 
Be  my  retentive  enemy,  my  jail  ? 


SC.  IV.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  403 

The  place  which  I  have  feasted,  does  it  now, 
Like  all  mankind,  show  me  an  iron  heart  ? 

Luc.  Serv.   Put  in  now,  Titus. 

Tit.   My  lord,  here  is  my  bill. 

Luc.  Serv.  Here's  mine. 

Hor.  Serv.   And  mine,  my  lord. 

Both  Var.  Serv.    And  OUFS,  my  lord. 

Phi.    All  our  bills. 

Tim.    Knock  me  down  with  'em ; l  cleave  me  to  the 
girdle. 

Luc.  Serv.    Alas !  my  lord, 

Tim.    Cut  my  heart  in  sums. 

Tit.    Mine  fifty  talents. 

Tim.    Tell  out  my  blood. 

Luc.  Serv.    Five  thousand  crowns,  my  lord. 

Tim.    Five  thousand  drops  pays  that. — 
What  yours  ? — and  yours  ? 

1  Far.  Serv.    My  lord, 

2  Var.  Serv.   My  lord, 

Tim.  Tear  me,  take  me,  and  the  gods  fall  upon  you ! 

[Exit. 

Hor.  'Faith,  I  perceive  our  masters  may  throw  their 
caps  at  their  money :  these  debts  may  well  be  called 
desperate  ones,  for  a  madman  owes  'em.  [Exeunt. 

Re-enter  TIMON  and  FLAVIUS. 

Tim.   They   have  e'en  put  my  breath  from  me,  the 

slaves. 
Creditors ! — devils. 

Flav.   My  dear  lord, 

Tim.    What  if  it  should  be  so  ? 

Flav.   My  lord, 

Tim.    I'll  have  it  so. — My  steward ! 

Flav.   Here,  my  lord. 

Tim.    So  fitly  ?     Go,  bid  all  my  friends  again, 


i  Timon  quibbles.    They  present  their  written  bills ;  he  catches  at  the 
word,  and  alludes  to  bills  or  battle-axes. 


404  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III. 

Lucius,  Lucullus,  and  Sempronius ;  all.1 
I'll  once  more  feast  the  rascals. 

Flav.  O,  my  lord, 

You  only  speak  from  your  distracted  soul  ; 
There  is  not  so  much  left,  to  furnish  out 
A  moderate  table. 

Tim.  Be't  not  in  thy  care  ;  go, 

I  charge  thee ;  invite  them  all :  let  in  the  tide 
Of  knaves  once  more ;  my  cook  and  I'll  provide. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   V.     The  same.     The  Senate  House.     The 
Senate  sitting. 

Enter  ALCIBIADES,  attended. 

1  Sen.    My  lord,  you  have  my  voice  to  it ;  the  fault's 
Bloody ;  'tis  necessary  he  should  die. 

Nothing  imbolderis  sin  so  much  as  mercy. 

2  Sen.   Most  true  ;  the  law  shall  bruise  him. 
Alcib.    Honor,  health,  and  compassion  to  the  senate  ! 
1  Sen.   Now,  captain  ? 

Alcib.    I  am  an  humble  suitor  to  your  virtues ; 
For  pity  is  the  virtue  of  the  law, 
And  none  but  tyrants  use  it  cruelly. 
It  pleases  time,  and  fortune,  to  lie  heavy 
Upon  a  friend  of  mine,  who,  in  hot  blood, 
Hath  stepped  into  the  law,  which  is  past  depth 
To  those  that,  without  heed,  do  plunge  into  it. 
He  is  a  man,  setting  his  fate  aside,2 
Of  comely  virtues. 

Nor  did  he  soil  the  fact  with  cowardice, 
(An  honor  in  him  which  buys  out  his  fault ;) 


1  The  first  folio  reads :— 

"  Lucius,  Lucullus,  and  Sempronius,  Ullorxa  all." 

What  is  meant  by  this  strange  corruption,  it  is,  perhaps,  now  vain  to  con 
jecture.     Malone  retains  this  strange  word. 

2  i.  e.  putting  this  action  of  his,  which  was  predetermined  by  fate,  out 
of  the  question. 


SC.  V.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  405 

But,  with  a  noble  fury,  and  fair  spirit, 
Seeing  his  reputation  touched  to  death, 
He  did  oppose  his  foe  ; 
And  with  such  sober  and  unnoted  passion 
He  did  behave 2  his  anger,  ere  'twas  spent, 
As  if  he  had  but  proved  an  argument. 

1  Sen.    You  undergo  too  strict  a  paradox,2 
Striving  to  make  an  ugly  deed  look  fair : 
Your  words  have  took  such  pains,  as  if  they  labored 
To  bring  manslaughter  into  form,  set  quarrelling 
Upon  the  head  of  valor ;  which,  indeed, 
Is  valor  misbegot,  and  came  into  the  world 
When  sects  and  factions  were  newly  born : 
He's  truly  valiant,  that  can  wisely  suffer 
The  worst  that  man  can  breathe  ; 3  and  make  his  wrongs 
His  outsides  ;  wear  them  like  his  raiment,  carelessly ; 
And  ne'er  prefer  his  injuries  to  his  heart, 
To  bring  it  into  danger. 
If  wrongs  be  evils,  and  enforce  us  kill, 
What  folly  'tis  to  hazard  life  for  ill! 

Alcib.    My  lord, 

1  Sen.    You  cannot  make  gross  sins  look  clear ; 
To  revenge  is  no  valor,  but  to  bear. 

Alcib.    My  lords,  then,  under  favor,  pardon  me, 
If  I  speak  like  a  captain. — 
Why  do  fond  men  expose  themselves  to  battle, 
And  not  endure  all  threats  ?  sleep  upon  it, 
And  let  the  foes  quietly  cut  their  throats, 
Without  repugnancy  ?     But  if  there  be 
Such  valor  in  the  bearing,  what  make  we 
Abroad  ? 4  why  then,  women  are  more  valiant, 
That  stay  at  home,  if  bearing  carry  it ; 
And  th'  ass  more  captain  than  the  lion ;  the  felon,5 

1  The  folio  reads : — 

"  And  with  such  sober  and  unnoted  passion 
He  did  behoove  his  anger  ere  'twas  spent" 

2  You  undertake  a  paradox  too  hard. 

3  i.  e.  utter. 

4  What  do  we,  or  what  have  we  to  do,  in  the  field  ? 

5  The  old  copy  reads  "/eZZqw?."     The  alteration  was  made  at  Johnson'a 
suggestion. 


406  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III. 

Loaden  with  irons,  wiser  than  the  judge, 

If  wisdom  be  in  suffering.     O  my  lords, 

As  you  are  great,  be  pitifully  good : 

Who  cannot  condemn  rashness  in  cold  blood  ? 

To  kill,  I  grant,  is  sin's  extremes!  gust ; 1 

But,  in  defence,  by  mercy,2  'tis  most  just. 

To  be  in  anger  is  impiety ; 

But  who  is  man  that  is  not  angry  ? 

Weigh  but  the  crime  with  this. 

2  Sen.    You  breathe  in  vain. 

Alcib.  In  vain  !  his  service  done 

At  Lacedaemon,  and  Byzantium, 
Were  a  sufficient  briber  for  his  life. 

1  Sen.    What's  that  ? 

Alcib.   Why,  I  say,  my  lords,  h'  as  done  fair  service, 
And  slain  in  fight  many  of  your  enemies. 
Howr  full  of  valor  did  he  bear  himself 
In  the  last  conflict,  and  made  plenteous  wounds ! 

2  Sen.   He  has  made  too  much  plenty  with  'em ;  he 
Is  a  sworn  rioter,3  h'  as  a  sin  that  often 

Drowns  him,  and  takes  his  valor  prisoner ; 
If  there  were  no  foes,  that  were  enough  alone 
To  overcome  him ;  in  that  beastly  fury 
He  has  been  known  to  commit  outrages, 
And  cherish  factions.     'Tis  inferred  to  us, 
His  days  are  foul,  and  his  drink  dangerous. 

1  Sen.    He  dies. 

Alcib.    Hard  fate  !  he  might  have  died  in  war. 
My  lords,  if  not  for  any  parts  in  him, 
(Though  his  right  arm  might  purchase  his  own  time, 
And  be  in  debt  to  none,)  yet,  more  to  move  you, 
Take  my  deserts  to  his,  and  join  them  both ; 
And,  for  I  know  your  reverend  ages  love 
Security,  I'll  pawn  my  victories,  all 
My  honor  to  you,  upon  his  good  returns. 
If  by  this  crime  he  owes  the  law  his  life, 

1  Gust  here  means  rashness.    We  still  say,  "  it  was  done  in  a  gust  of 
passion." 

2  i.  e.  "  I  call  mercy  herself  to  witness." 

3  i.  e.  a  man  who  practises  riot  as  if  he  had  made  it  an  oath  or  duty. 


SC.  V.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  407 

Why,  let  the  war  receive'!  in  valiant  gore  ; 
For  law  is  strict,  and  war  is  nothing  more. 

1  Sen.    We  are  for  law ;  he  dies ;  urge  it  no  more. 
On  height  of  our  displeasure.     Friend  or  brother, 
He  forfeits  his  own  blood,  that  spills  another. 

Alcib.    Must  it  be  so  ?  it  must  not  be.     My  lords, 
I  do  beseech  you,  know  me. 

2  Sen.    How  ? 

Alcib.    Call  me  to  your  remembrances. 

3  Sen.  What  ? 
Alcib.    I  cannot  think  but  your  age  has  forgot  me ; 

It  could  not  else  be,  I  should  prove  so  base,1 
To  sue,  and  be  denied  such  common  grace. 
My  wounds  ache  at  you. 

1  Sen.  Do  you  dare  our  anger  ? 

'Tis  in  few  words,  but  spacious  in  effect ; 
We  banish  thee  forever. 

Alcib.  Banish  me  ? 

Banish  your  dotage  ;  banish  usury, 
That  makes  the  senate  ugly. 

1  Sen.    If,   after  two  days'   shine,   Athens  contain 

thee, 
Attend  our  weightier  judgment.     And,  not  to  swell  our 

spirit,2 
He  shall  be  executed  presently.         [Exeunt  Senators. 

Alcib.    Now  the  gods  keep  you  old  enough ;  that 

you  may  live 

Only  in  bone,  that  none  may  look  on  you ! 
I  am  worse  than  mad.     I  have  kept  back  their  foes, 
While  they  have  told  their  money,  and  let  out 
Their  coin  upon  large  interest ;  I  myself, 
Rich  only  in  large  hurts. — All  those,  for  this  ? 
Is  this  the  balsam,  that  the  usuring  senate 
Pours  into  captains'  wounds  ?  Ha !  banishment  ? 
It  comes  not  ill ;  I  hate  not  to  be  banished  ; 
It  is  a  cause  worthy  my  spleen  and  fury, 
That  I  may  strike  at  Athens.     I'll  cheer  up 

1  Base  for  dishonored. 

2  This,  says  Steevens,  I  believe,  means,  "  not  to  put  ourselves  into  any 
tumor  of  rage,  take  our  definitive  resolution." 


408  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III 

My  discontented  troops,  and  lay  for  hearts,1 

'Tis  honor  with  most  lands  to  be  at  odds ; 

Soldiers  should  brook  as  little  wrongs,  as  gods.    [Exit. 


SCENE   VI. — A  magnificent  Room  in  Timon's  House. 

Music.     Tables  set  out :   Servants  attending.     Enter 
divers  Lords,  at  several  doors. 

1  Lord.    The  good  time  of  day  to  you,  sir. 

2  Lord.    I  also  wish  it  to  you.     I   think  this  hon 
orable  lord  did  but  try  us  this  other  day. 

1  Lord.    Upon  that  were  my  thoughts  tiring,2  when 
we  encountered.     I  hope  it  is  not  so  low  with  him,  as 
he  made  it  seem  in  the  trial  of  his  several  friends. 

2  Lord.    It  should  not  be,  by  the  persuasion  of  his 
new  feasting. 

1  Lord.    I  should  think  so.     He  hath  sent  me  an 
earnest  inviting,  which  many  my  near  occasions  did 
urge  me  to  put  off;  but  he  hath  conjured  me  beyond 
them,  and  I  must  needs  appear. 

2  Lord.   In  like  manner  was  I  in  debt  to  my  im 
portunate  business,  but  he  would  not  hear  my  excuse. 
I  am  sorry,  when  he  sent  to  borrow  of  me,  that  my 
provision  was  out. 

1  Lord.    I  am  sick  of  that  grief  too,  as  I  understand 
how  all  things  go. 

2  Lord.    Every  man   here's  so.     What   would   he 
have  borrowed  of  you  ? 

1  Lord.  A  thousand  pieces. 

2  Lord.  A  thousand  pieces  ! 
1  Lord.  What  of  you  ? 

3  Lord.  He  sent  to  me,  sir, — Here  he  comes. 

Enter  TIMON    and  Attendants. 

Tim.    With  all  my  heart,  gentlemen  both  ; — and  how 
fare  you  ? 

1  To  lay  for  hearts,  is  to  endeavor  to  win  the  affections  of  the  people. 

2  "  Upon  that  were  my  th oughts  feeding,  or  most  anxiously  employed." 


SC    VI.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  409 

1  Lord.    Ever  at  the    best,   hearing  well   of  jour 
lordship. 

2  Lord.    The    swallow    follows   not   summer   more 
willing,  than  we  jour  lordship. 

Tim.  [Aside.']  Nor  more  willingly  leaves  winter; 
such  summer-birds  are  men. — Gentlemen,  our  dinner 
will  not  recompense  this  long  staj :  feast  jour  ears 
with  the  music  awhile ;  if  thej  will  fare  so  harshlj  on 
the  trumpet's  sound ;  we  shall  to't  presentlj. 

1  Lord.    I  hope  it  remains  not  unkindlj  with  jour 
lordship,  that  I  returned  jou  an  empty  messenger. 

Tim.    O  sir,  let  it  not  trouble  jou. 

2  Lord.    My  noble  lord, ' 

Tim.    Ah,  mj  good  friend  !  what  cheer  ? 

[  The  banquet  brought  in. 

2  Lord.  My  most  honorable  lord,  1  am  e'en  sick 
of  shame,  that,  when  jour  lordship  this  other  daj  sent 
to  me,  I  was  so  unfortunate  a  beggar. 

Tim.    Think  not  on't,  sir. 

2  Lord.    If  jou  had  sent  but  two  hours  before, — 

Tim.  Let  it  not  cumber  jour  better  remembrance.1 
— Come,  bring  in  all  together. 

2  Lord.    All  covered  dishes  ! 

1  Lord.    Rojal  cheer,  I  warrant  jou. 

3  Lord.    Doubt  not  that,  if  monej  and  the  season 
can  jield  it. 

2  Lord.    How  do  jou  ?     What's  the  news  ? 

3  Lord.    Alcibiades  is  banished.     Hear  jou  of  it  ? 
1^2  Lord.    Alcibiades  banished  ! 

3  Lord.    'Tis  so,  be  sure  of  it. 

1  Lord.    How  ?  how  ? 

2  Lord.    I  praj  jou,  upon  what? 

Tim.  My  worthj  friends,  will  jou  draw  near  ? 

3  Lord.    I'll  tell  jou  more  anon.     Here's  a  noble 
feast  toward.2 

2  Lord.    This  is  the  old  man  still. 

3  Lord.   WilPt  hold  ?  will't  hold  ? 


1  i.  e.  "  your  good  memory." 

2  i.  e.  near  at  hand,  or  in  prospect. 
VOL.  v.  52 


410  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  III. 

2  Lord.    It  does  :  but  time  will — and  so — 

3  Lord.    I  do  conceive. 

Tim.  Each  man  to  his  stool,  with  that  spur  as  he 
would  to  the  lip  of  his  mistress  ;  your  diet  shall  be  in 
all  places  alike.1  Make  not  a  city  feast  of  it,  to  let  the 
meat  cool  ere  we  can  agree  upon  the  first  place.  Sit, 
sit.  The  gods  require  our  thanks. 

You  great  benefactors,  sprinkle  our  society  with  thank 
fulness.  For  your  own  gifts,  make  yourselves  praised  : 
but  reserve  still  to  give,  lest  your  deities  be  despised. 
Lend  to  each  man  enough,  that  one  need  not  lend  to 
another ;  for,  were  your  godheads  to  borrow  of  men,  men 
would  forsake  the  gods.  Make  the  meat  be  beloved, 
more  than  the  man  that  gives  it.  Let  no  assembly  of 
twenty  be  without  a  score  of  villains.  If  there  sit  twelve 
women  at  the  table,  let  a  dozen  of  them  be — as  they  are. — 
The  rest  of  your  fees,2  O  gods, — the  senators  of  Athens, 
together  with  the  common  lag  of  people, — what  is  amiss 
in  them,  you  gods,  make  suitable  for  destruction.  For 
these  my  present  friends, — as  they  are  to  me  nothing,  so 
in  nothing  bless  them,  and  to  nothing  they  are  welcome. 
Uncover,  dogs,  and  lap. 

[The  dishes  uncovered  are  full  of  warm  ivatet. 

Some  speak.    What  does  his  lordship  mean  ? 

Some  other.    I  know  not. 

Tim.   May  you  a  better  feast  never  behold, 
You    knot   of  mouth-friends !    smoke    and   lukewarm 

water 

Is  your  perfection.3     This  is  Timon's  last; 
Who  stuck  and  spangled  you  with  flatteries, 
Washes  it  off,  and  sprinkles  in  your  faces 

[Throwing  water  in  their  faces. 
Your  reeking  villany.     Live  loathed,  and  long, 
Most  smiling,  smooth,  detested  parasites, 
Courteous  destroyers,  affable  wolves,  meek  bears, 


1  "In  all  places  alike."    This  alludes  to  the  mode  in  which  guests 
were  formerly  placed  at  table  according  to  rank. 

2  Warburton  and  Mason  say  we  should  read/oes  instead  of  fees,  which 
is  the  reading  of  the  old  copy.     Mr.  Singer  proposes  to  read  lees. 

3  i.  e.  the  highest  of  your  excellence. 


SC.  VI.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  411 

You  fools  of  fortune,  trencher-friends,  time's  flies,1 
Cap  and  knee  slaves,  vapors,  and  minute-jacks!2 
Of  man,  and  beast,  the  infinite  malady 
Crust  you  quite  o'er  ! — What,  dost  thou  go  ? 
Soft,  take  thy  physic  first — thou  too, — and  thou  ; — 

[Throws  the  dishes  at  them,  and  drives  them  out. 
Stay,  1  will  lend  thee  money,  borrow  none. — 
What,  all  in  motion  ?     Henceforth  be  no  feast, 
Whereat  a  villain's  not  a  welcome  guest. 
Burn,  house  !  sink,  Athens !  henceforth  hated  be 
Of  Timon,  man,  and  all  humanity  !  [Exit. 

Re-enter  the  Lords,  with  other  Lords  and  Senators. 

1  Lord.  How  now,  my  lords  ? 3 

2  Lord.  Know  you  the  quality  of  lord  Timon's  fury? 

3  Lord.  Pish  !  did  you  see  my  cap  ? 

4  Lord.  I  have  lost  my  gown. 

3  Lord.    He's  but  a  mad  lord,  and  nought  but  humor 
sways  him.     He  gave  me  a  jewel  the  other  day,  and 
now  he  has  beat  it  out  of  my  hat. — Did  you   see   my 
jewel  ? 

4  Lord.    Did  you  see  my  cap  ? 
2  Lord.    Here  'tis. 

4  Lord.  Here  lies  my  gown. 

1  Lord.  Let's  make  no  stay. 

2  Lord.  Lord  Timon's  mad. 

3  Lord.  I  feel't  upon  my  bones. 

4  Lord.  One  day  he  gives  us  diamonds,  next  day 

stones.4  [Exeunt. 


1  i.  e.  flies  of  a  season. 

2  Minute-jacks  are  the  same  as  jacks  of  the  clock-house,  automaton 
figures  appended  to  clocks ;    but  the  term  was  used  for  "  time-serving 
busybodies." 

3  This  and  the  next  speech  is  spoken  by  the  newly-arrived  lords. 

4  In  the  old  MS.  play  of  Timon,  painted  stones  are  introduced  as  part 
of  this  mock  banquet 


412  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV. 

ACT  IV. 

SCENE   I.     Without  the  Walls  of  Athens. 

Enter  TIMON. 

Tim.    Let  me  look  back  upon  thee,  O  thou  wall, 
That  girdlest  in  those  wolves !     Dive  in  the  earth, 
And  fence  not  Athens  !     Matrons,  turn  incontinent ; 
Obedience  fail  in  children !     Slaves,  and  fools, 
Pluck  the  grave,  wrinkled  senate  from  the  bench, 
And  minister  in  their  steads  !     To  general  filths1 
Convert,  o'  the  instant,  green  virginity ! 
Do't  in  your  parents'  eyes.     Bankrupts,  hold  fast ; 
Rather  than  render  back,  out  with  your  knives, 
And  cut  your  trusters'  throats  !    Bound  servants,  steal ! 
Large-handed  robbers  your  grave  masters  are, 
And  pill  by  law.    Maid,  to  thy  master's  bed  ; 
Thy  mistress  is  o'  the  brothel !     Son  of  sixteen, 
Pluck  the  lined  crutch  from  the  old  limping  sire, 
With  it  beat  out  his  brains !    Piety,  and  fear, 
Religion  to  the  gods,  peace,  justice,  truth, 
Domestic  awe,  night-rest,  and  neighborhood, 
Instruction,  manners,  mysteries,  and  trades, 
Degrees,  observances,  customs,  and  laws, 
Decline  to  your  confounding  contraries, 
And  yet  confusion  live  ! — Plagues,  incident  to  men, 
Your  potent  and  infectious  fevers  heap 
On  Athens,  ripe  for  stroke  !     Thou  cold  sciatica, 
Cripple  our  senators,  that  their  limbs  may  halt 
As  lamely  as  their  manners !    Lust  and  liberty2 
Creep  in  the  minds  and  marrows  of  our  youth ; 
That  'gainst  the  stream  of  virtue  they  may  strive, 
And  drown  themselves  in  riot !     Itches,  blains, 
Sow  all  the  Athenian  bosoms ;  and  their  crop 
Be  general  leprosy  !     Breath  infect  breath  ; 


1  General  JUtJis  means  common,  strumpets. 

2  Liberty  here  means  licentiousness  or  libertinism. 


SC.  II.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  413 

That  their  society,  as  their  friendship,  may 

Be  merely  poison !     Nothing  I'll  bear  from  thee, 

But  nakedness,  thou  detestable  town  ! 

Take  thou  that  too,  with  multiplying  bans ! l 

Timon  will  to  the  woods ;  where  he  shall  find 

The  unkindest  beast  more  kinder  than  mankind. 

The  gods  confound  (hear  me,  you  good  gods  all) 

The  Athenians  both  within  and  out  that  wall ! 

And  grant,  as  Timon  grows,  his  hate  may  grow 

To  the  whole  race  of  mankind,  high  and  low ! 

Amen.  [Exit. 

SCENE    II.     Athens.     A  Room  in  Timon's  House. 

Enter  FLAVIUS,  with  two  or  three  Servants. 

1    Serv.     Hear  you,    master  steward,   where's  our 

master  ? 
Are  we  undone?  cast  off?  nothing  remaining? 

Flav.    Alack,  my  fellows,  what  should  I  say  to  you »' 
Let  me  be  recorded  by  the  righteous  gods, 
I  am  as  poor  as  you. 

1  Serv.  Such  a  house  broke  ! 
So  noble  a  master  fallen  !     All  gone  !  and  not 
One  friend,  to  take  his  fortune  by  the  arm, 
And  go  along  with  him ! 

2  Serv.  As  we  do  turn  our  backs 
From  our  companion,  thrown  into  his  grave ; 

So  his  familiars  from  2  his  buried  fortunes 

Slink  all  away ;  leave  their  false  vows  with  him, 

Like  empty  purses  picked ;  and  his  poor  self, 

A  dedicated  beggar  to  the  air, 

With  his  disease  of  all-shunned  poverty, 

Walks,  like  contempt,  alone. — More  of  our  fellows. 

Enter  other  Servants. 
Flav.    All  broken  implements  of  a  ruined  house. 

3  Serv.    Yet  do  our  hearts  wear  Timon's  livery ; 

1  i.  e.  accumulated  curses. 

2  From  is  here  substituted  for  to,  as  in  the  old  copies. 


414  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV 

That  see  I  by  our  faces  ;  we  are  fellows  still, 
Serving  alike  in  sorrow.     Leaked  is  our  bark ; 
And  we,  poor  mates,  stand  on  the  dying  deck, 
Hearing  the  surges  threat ;  we  must  all  part 
Into  this  sea  of  air. 

Flav.  Good  fellows  all, 

The  latest  of  my  wealth  I'll  share  amongst  you. 
Wherever  we  shall  meet,  for  Thnon's  sake, 
Let's  yet  be  fellows ;  let's  shake  our  heads,  and  say, 
As  'twere  a  knell  unto  our  master's  fortunes, 
We  have  seen  better  days.     Let  each  take  some ; 

[Giving  them  money. 

Nay,  put  out  all  your  hands.     Not  one  word  more  ; 
Thus  part  we  rich  in  sorrow,  parting  poor. 

[Exeunt  Servants. 

O,  the  fierce1  wretchedness  that  glory  brings  us! 
Who  would  not  wish  to  be  from  wealth  exempt, 
Since  riches  point  to  misery  and  contempt  ? 
Who'd  be  so  mocked  with  glory  ?  or  to  live 
But  in  a  dream  of  friendship  ? 
To  have  his  pornp,  and  all  what  state  compounds, 
But  only  painted,  like  his  varnished  friends  ? 
Poor,  honest  lord,  brought  low  by  his  own  heart ; 
Undone  by  goodness !     Strange,  unusual  blood,2 
When  man's  worst  sin  is,  he  does  too  much  good! 
Who  then  dares  to  be  half  so  kind  again  ? 
For  bounty,  that  makes  gods,  does  still  mar  men. 
My  dearest  lord, — blessed,  to  be  most  accursed, 
Rich,  only  to  be  wretched, — thy  great  fortunes 
Are  made  thy  chief  afflictions.     Alas,  kind  lord  ! 
He's  flung  in  rage  from  this  ungrateful  seat 
Of  monstrous  friends  ;  nor  has  he  with  him  to 
Supply  his  life,  or  that  which  can  command  it. 
I'll  follow,  and  inquire  him  out. 
I'll  ever  serve  his  mind  with  my  best  will ; 
Whilst  I  have  gold,  I'll  be  his  steward  still.          [Exit. 

1  Fierce  here  means  vehement. 

2  Blood  is  here  used  for  passion,  propensity,  affection. 


SC.  III.j  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  415 


SCENE   III.     The  Woods. 

Enter  TIMON. 

Tim.    O  blessed,  breeding  sun,  draw  from  the  earth 
Rotten  humidity  ;  below  thy  sister's  orb1 
Infect  the  air !     Twinned  brothers  of  one  womb, — 
Whose  procreation,  residence,  and  birth, 
Scarce  is  dividant, — touch  them  with  several  fortunes; 
The  greater  scorns  the  lesser.     Not  nature, 
To  whom  all  sores  lay  siege,  can  bear  great  fortune, 
But  by  contempt  of  nature  : 2 
Raise  me  this  beggar,  and  dcny't3  that  lord  ; 
The  senator  shall  bear  contempt  hereditary, 
The  beggar  native  honor. 
It  is  the  pasture  lards  the  brother's  sides, 
The  want  that  makes  him  lean.4     Who  dares,  who 

dares, 

In  purity  of  manhood  stand  upright, 
And  say,  This  man's5  a  flatterer?  if  one  be, 
So  aVe  they  all ;  for  every  grize6  of  fortune 
Is  smoothed  by  that  below :  the  learned  pate 
Ducks  to  the  golden  fool :  all  is  oblique  ; 
There's  nothing  level  in  our  cursed  natures, 


1  That  is,  the  moon's — this  sublunary  world. 

2  "  Not  even  beings  besieged  with  misery  can  bear  good  fortune  without 
contemning  their  fellow  creatures,  above  whom  accident  has  elevated 
them."     But  is  here  used  in  its  exceptive  sense,  and  signifies  tvithout. 

3  This  is  the  reading  of  the  old  copy.     Steevens  reads  "denude"     It 
lias  been  said  that  there  is  no  antecedent  to  which  "  deny  it "  can  be 
referred.     It  clearly  refers  to  great  fortune  in  the  preceding  sentence, 
with  which  it  is  connected,  by  placing  a  colon  instead  of  a  period  at 
nature.     The  construction  will  be,  "  Raise  me  this  beggar  to  great  fortune, 
and  deny  it  to  that  lord,"  &c. 

•»  The  folio  of  1623  reads:— 

"  It  is  the  pastour  lards  the  brother's  sides, 

The  want  that  makes  him  leave." 

The  second  folio  changes  leave  to  lean.  The  probable  meaning  of  the 
passage,  as  it  now  stands,  is, "  Men  are  courted  and  flattered  according  to 
their  riches." 

5  This  man  does  not  refer  to  any  particular  person,  but  to  any  supposed 
individual. 

6  Grizc,  step  or  degree. 


416  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV. 

But  direct  villany.     Therefore,  be  abhorred 
All  feasts,  societies,  and  throngs  of  men  ' 
His  semblable,  yea,  himself,  Timon  disdains. 
Destruction  fang1  mankind  !     Earth,  yield  me  roots  ! 

[Digging. 

Who  seeks  for  better  of  thee,  sauce  his  palate 
With  thy  most  operant  poison  !     What  is  here  ? 
Gold  ?  yellow,  glittering,  precious  gold  ?     No,  gods, 
I  am  no  idle  votarist.2     Roots,  you  clear  heavens  ! 3 
Thus  much  of  this,  will  make  black,  white ;  foul,  fair  ; 
Wrong,  right;  base,  noble;  old,  young;  coward,  valiant. 
Ha,  you   gods!    why   this?      What  this,  you   gods? 

Why  this 

Will  lug  your  priests  and  servants  from  your  sides  ; 4 
Pluck  stout  men's  pillows  from  below  their  heads.5 
This  yellow  slave 

Will  knit  and  break  religions  ;  bless  the  accursed, 
Make  the  hoar  leprosy  adored ;  place  thieves, 
And  give  them  title,  knee,  and  approbation, 
With  senators  on  the  bench :  this  is  it, 
That  makes  the  wappened6  widow  wed  again  ; 
She,  whom  the  spital-house,  and  ulcerous  sores, 
Would  cast  the  gorge  at,  this  embalms  and  spices 
To  the  April  day  again.7     Come,  damned  earth, 
Thou  common  whore  of  mankind,  that  put'st  odds 
Among  the  rout  of  nations,  I  will  make  thee 
Do  thy  right  nature.8 — [March  afar  off.] — Ha!  a  drum? 

Thou'rt  quick, 
But  yet  I'll  bury  thee.     Thou'lt  go,  strong  thief, 


1  i.  e.  seize,  gripe. 

2  No  insincere  or  inconstant  supplicant 

3  You  pure  heavens. 

4  Aristophanes,  in  his  Plutus,  makes  the  priest  of  Jupiter  desert  his 
service  to  live  with  Plutus. 

5  This  alludes  to  an  old  custom  of  drawing  away  the  pillow  from  under 
the  heads  of  men,  in  their  last  agonies,  to  accelerate  their  departure. 

6  It  is  not  clear  what  is  meant  by  wappened  in  this  passage ;  perhaps 
worn  otrf,  debilitated. 

7  "  Restores  to  all  the  freshness  and  sweetness  of  youth"      Youth  is 
called,  by  the  old  poets,  the  "  April  of  man's  life." 

8  i.  e.  lie  in  the  earth,  where  nature  laid  thee.  Thou'rt  quick,  means  thou 
hast  life  and  motion  in  thee. 


SC.  III.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  417 

When  gouty  keepers  of  thee  cannot  stand. — 

Nay,  stay  thou  out  for  earnest.       [Keeping  some  gold. 

Enter  ALCIBIADES,  with  drum  and  fife,  in  warlike  man 
ner  ;  PHRYNIA  and  TIMANDRA. 

Alcib.    What  art  thou  there  ? 
Speak. 

Tim.    A  beast,  as  thou  art.     The  canker  gnaw  thy 

heart, 
For  showing  me  again  the  eyes  of  man ! 

Alcib.    What  is  thy  name  ?     Is  man  so  hateful  to 

thee, 
That  art  thyself  a  man  ? 

Tim.    I  am  misanthropos,  and  hate  mankind. 
For  thy  part,  I  do  wish  thou  wert  a  dog, 
That  I  might  love  thee  something. 

Alcib.  I  know  thee  well ; 

But  in  thy  fortunes  am  unlearned  and  strange. 

Tim.    I  know  thee,  too  ;  and  more,  than  that  I  know 

thee, 

I  not  desire  to  know.     Follow  thy  drum ; 
With  man's  blood  paint  the  ground,  gules,  gules. 
Religious  canons,  civil  laws  are  cruel ; 
Then  what  should  war  be  ?     This  fell  whore  of  thine 
Hath  in  her  more  destruction  than  thy  sword, 
For  all  her  cherubin  look. 

Phr.  Thy  lips  rot  off! 

Tim.    I  will  not  kiss  thee ;  then  the  rot  returns 
To  thine  own  lips  again.1 

Alcib.    How  came  the  noble  Timon  to  this  change  ? 

Tim.    As  the  moon  does,  by  wanting  light  to  give  : 
But  then  renew  I  could  not,  like  the  moon ; 
There  were  no  suns  to  borrow  of. 

Alcib.  Noble  Timon, 

What  friendship  may  I  do  thee  ? 

Tim.  None,  but  to 

Maintain  my  opinion. 

i  This  alludes  to  the  old,  erroneous,  prevalent  opinion,  that  infection 
communicated  to  another,  left  the  infecter  free. 
VOL.  v.  53 


418  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV. 

Alcib.  What  is  it,  Timon  ? 

Tim.    Promise  me  friendship,  but  perform  none  :  If 
Thou  wilt  not  promise,  the  gods  plague  thee,  for 
Thou  art  a  man  !  if  thou  dost  perform,  confound  thee, 
For  thou  art  a  man ! 

Alcib.    I  have  heard  in  some  sort  of  thy  miseries. 

Tim.    Thou  saw'st  them,  when  I  had  prosperity. 

Alcib.    I  see  them  now ;  then  was  a  blessed  time. 

Tim.    As  thine  is  now,  held  with  a  brace  of  harlots. 

Timan.    Is  this  the  Athenian  minion,  whom  the  world 
Voiced  so  regardfully  ? 

Tim.  Art  thou  Timandra  ? 

Timan.  Yes. 

Tim.    Be  a  whore  still !  they  love  thee  not,  that  use 

thee ; 

Give  them  diseases,  leaving  with  thee  their  lust. 
Make  use  of  thy  salt  hours :  season  the  slaves 
For  tubs,  and  baths ;  bring  down  rose-cheeked  youth 
To  the  tub-fast,  and  the  diet.1 

Timan.  Hang  thee,  monster ! 

Alcib.    Pardon  him,  sweet  Timandra ;  for  his  wits 
Are  drowned  and  lost  in  his  calamities. — 
I  have  but  little  gold  of  late,  brave  Timon, 
The  want  whereof  doth  daily  make  revolt 
In  my  penurious  band.   I  have  heard,  and  grieved, 
How  cursed  Athens,  mindless  of  thy  worth, 
Forgetting  thy  great  deeds,  when  neighbor  states, 
But  for  thy  sword  and  fortune,  trod  upon  them, — 

Tim.    I  pr'ythee,  beat  thy  drum,  and  get  thee  gone. 

Alcib.    I  am  thy  friend,  and  pity  thee,  dear  Timon. 

Tim.    How  dost  thou    pity  him  whom  thou  dost 

trouble  ? 
I  had  rather  be  alone. 

Alcib.  Why,  fare  thee  well ; 

Here's  some  gold  for  thee. 

Tim.  Keep't,  I  cannot  eat  it. 

Alcib.  When  I  have  laid  proud  Athens  on  a  heap, 


1  See  Act  ii.  Sc.  2.     The  diet  was  a  customary  term  for  the  regimen 
prescribed  in  these  cases. 


SC.  III.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  419 

Tim.    Warr'st  thou  against  Athens  ? 

Alcib.  Ay,  Timon,  and  have  cause. 

Tim.    The  gods  confound  them  all  i'thy  conquest; 

and 
Thee  after,  when  thou  hast  conquered ! 

Alcib.  Why  me,  Timon  ? 

Tim.   That, 

By  killing  villains,  thou  wast  born  to  conquer 
My  country. 

Put  up  thy  gold.     Go  on, — here's  gold, — go  on  ; 
Be  as  a  planetary  plague,  when  Jove 
Will  o'er  some  high-viced  city  hang  his  poison 
In  the  sick  air.    Let  not  thy  sword  skip  one : 
Pity  not  honored  age  for  his  white  beard ; 
He's  an  usurer.   Strike  me  the  counterfeit  matron ; 
It  is  her  habit  only  that  is  honest, 
HerselPs  a  bawd.      Let  not  the  virgin's  cheek 
Make  soft  thy  trenchant 1  sword ;  for  those  milk-paps, 
That  through  the  window-bars  2  bore  at  men's  eyes, 
Are  not  within  the  leaf  of  pity  writ ; 
But  set  them  down  horrible  traitors.     Spare  not  the 

babe 

Whose  dimpled  smiles  from  fools  exhaust  their  mercy : 
Think  it  a  bastard,3  whom  the  oracle 
Hath  doubtfully  pronounced  thy  throat  shall  cut, 
And  mince  it  sans  remorse.     Swear  against  objects  ; 4 
Put  armor  on  thine  ears,  and  on  thine  eyes ; 
Whose  proof,  nor  yells  of  mothers,  maids,  nor  babes, 
Nor  sight  of  priests  in  holy  vestments  bleeding, 
Shall  pierce  a  jot.     There's  gold  to  pay  thy  soldiers* 
Make  large  confusion ;  and,  thy  fury  spent, 
Confounded  be  thyself!     Speak  not,  be  gone. 

Alcib.    Hast  thou  gold  yet  ?  I'll  take  the  gold  thou 

givest  me, 
Not  all  thy  counsel. 


1  Cutting. 

2  By  window-bars,  the  Poet,  perhaps,  means  "  the  partlet,  gorget,  or 
kerchief,  which  women  put  about  their  neck." 

3  An  allusion  to  the  tale  of  (Edipus. 

4  i.  e.  against  objects  of  charity  and  compassion. 


420  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV. 

Tim.    Dost  thou,  or  dost  thou  not,  Heaven's  curse 
upon  thee ! 

Phr.  &  Timan.    Give  us  some  gold,  good  Timon. 
Hast  thou  no  more  ? 

Tim.    Enough  to  make  a  whore  forswear  her  trade, 
And  to  make  whores,  a  bawd.     Hold  up,  you  sluts, 
Your  aprons  mountant.     You  are  not  oathable. — 
Although,  I  know  you'll  swear,  terribly  swear, 
Into  strong  shudders,  and  to  heavenly  agues, 
The  immortal  gods  that  hear  you, — spare  your  oaths, 
I'll  trust  to  your  conditions.1     Be  whores  still ; 
And  he  whose  pious  breath  seeks  to  convert  you, 
Be  strong  in  whore,  allure  him,  burn  him  up  ; 
Let  your  close  fire  predominate  his  smoke, 
And  be  no  turncoats.    Yet  may  your  pains,  six  months, 
Be  quite  contrary.2     And  thatch  your  poor  thin  roofs 
With  burdens  of  the  dead ; — some  that  were  hanged,3 
No  matter : — wear  them,   betray  with  them ;   whore 

still ; 

Paint  till  a  horse  may  mire  upon  your  face. 
A  pox  of  wrinkles ! 

Phr.  &  Timan.    Well,  more  gold  ; — What  then  ? — 
Believe't  that  we'll  do  any  thing  for  gold. 

Tim.    Consumptions  sow 

In  hollow  bones  of  man ;  strike  their  sharp  shins, 
And  mar  men's  spurring.     Crack  the  lawyer's  voice, 
That  he  may  never  more  false  title  plead, 
Nor  sound  his  quillets 4  shrilly :  hoarse  the  flamen,5 

1  Conditions  for  dispositions. 

a  The  meaning  of  this  passage  appears  to  be  as  Steevens  explains  it — 
"  Timon  had  been  exhorting  them  to  follow  constantly  their  trade  of 
debauchery,  but  he  interrupts  himself,  and  imprecates  upon  them  that  for 
half  the  year  their  pains  may  be  quite  contrary,  that  they  may  suffer  such 
punishment  as  is  usually  inflicted  upon  harlots.  He  then  continues  his 
exhortations." 

3  The  fashion  of  periwigs  for  women,  which  Stowe  informs  us  "  were 
brought  into  England  about  the  time  of  the  massacre  of  Paris,"  seems  to 
have  been  a  fertile  source  of  satire. 

4  Quillets  are  subtilties,  nice  and  frivolous  distinctions.     See  Hamlet, 
Act  v.  Sc.  1. 

5  The  old  copy  reads  "  hoar  the  flamen,"  which  Steevens  suggests  may 
mean,  give  him  the  hoary  leprosy.     Upton's  reading  of  hoarse  is  given  in 
the  text,  because  the  whole  construction  of  the  speech  shows  that  is  the 
word  the  Poet  wrote. 


SO.  III.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  421 

That  scolds  against  the  quality  of  flesh, 
And  not  believes  himself:  down  with  the  nose, 
Down  with  it  flat ;  take  the  bridge  quite  away 
Of  him,  that  his  particular  to  foresee, 
Smells  from  the  general  weal : *  make  curled-pate  ruf 
fians  bald ; 

And  let  the  unscarred  braggarts  of  the  war 
Derive  some  pain  from  you.     Plague  all ; 
That  your  activity  may  defeat  and  quell 
The  source  of  all  erection. — There's  more  gold  : — 
Do  you  damn  others,  and  let  this  damn  you, 
And  ditches  grave 2  you  all ! 

Phr.  fr  Timan.    More    counsel    with   more   money, 
bounteous  Timon. 

Tim.    More  whore,  more  mischief  first ;  I  have  given 
you  earnest. 

Alcib.    Strike  up  the  drum,  towards  Athens.     Fare 
well,  Timon  ; 
If  I  thrive  well,  I'll  visit  thee  again. 

Tim.    If  I  hope  well,  I'll  never  see  thee  more. 

Alcib.    I  never  did  thee  harm. 

Tim.   Yes,  thou  spok'st  well  of  me. 

Alcib.  Call'st  thou  that  harm  ? 

Tim.   Men  daily  find  it  such.     Get  thee  away, 
And  take  thy  beagles  with  thee. 

Alcib.  We  but  offend  him. — 

Strike.  [Drum  beats.     Exeunt  ALCIBIADES, 

PHRYNIA,  and  TIMANDRA. 

Tim.    That  nature,  being  sick  of  man's  unkindness, 
Should  yet  be  hungry ! — Common  mother,  thou, 

[Digging. 

Whose  womb  un measurable,  and  infinite  breast, 
Teems,  and  feeds  all ;  whose  self-same  mettle, 
Whereof  thy  proud  child,  arrogant  man,  is  puffed, 
Engenders  the  black  toad,  and  adder  blue, 


1  To  "foresee  his  particular"  is  "to  provide  for  his  private  advantage, 
for  which  he  leaves  the  right  scent  of  public  good." 

2  To  grave  is  to  bury.     The  word  is  now  obsolete,  but  was  familiar  to 
our  old  writers. 


422  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV. 

The  gilded  newt,  and  eyeless,  venomed  worm,1 
With  all  the  abhorred  births  below  crisp 2  heaven, 
Whereon  Hyperion's  quickening  fire  doth  shine  ; 
Yield  him,  who  all  thy  human  sons  doth  hate, 
From  forth  thy  plenteous  bosom,  one  poor  root ! 
Ensear  thy  fertile  and  conceptious  womb, 
Let  it  no  more  bring  out  ingrateful  man  ! 
Go  great  with  tigers,  dragons,  wolves,  and  bears , 
Teem  with  new  monsters,  whom  thy  upward  face 
Hath  to  the  marbled  mansion  all  above 3 
Never  presented ! — O,  a  root, — dear  thanks  ! 
Dry  up  thy  marrows,  vines,  and  plough-torn  leas ; 
Whereof  ingrateful  man,  with  liquorish  draughts, 
And  morsels  unctuous,  greases  his  pure  mind, 
That  from  it  all  consideration  slips ! 

Enter  APEMANTUS. 

More  man  ?   Plague  !  plague  ! 

Apem.    I  was  directed  hither.     Men  report, 
Thou  dost  affect  my  manners,  and  dost  use  them. 

Tim.    'Tis,  then,  because  thou  dost  not  keep  a  dog 
Whom  I  would  imitate.     Consumption  catch  thee ! 

Apem.    This  is  in  thee  a  nature  but  affected ; 
A  poor,  unmanly  melancholy,  sprung 
From  change  of  fortune.    Why  this  spade  ?  this  place  ? 
This  slavelike  habit  ?  and  these  looks  of  care  ? 
Thy  flatterers  yet  wear  silk,  drink  wine,  lie  soft ; 
Hug  their  diseased  perfumes,4  and  have  forgot 
That  ever  Timon  was.     Shame  not  these  woods, 
By  putting  on  the  cunning  of  a  carper ; 5 
Be  thou  a  flatterer  now,  and  seek  to  thrive 

1  The  serpent  which  we,  from  the  smallness  of  the  eye,  call  the  blind- 
worm,  and  the  Latins  ctBcilia, 

2  Perhaps  Shakspeare  meant  curled  (which  was  synonymous  with  crisp), 
from  the  appearance  of  the  clouds. 

3  Again  in  Othello  :— 

"  Now  by  yon  marble  heaven." 

4  i.  e.  their  diseased,  perfumed  mistresses. 

5  «  Cunning  of  a  carper  "  is  the  the  fastidiousness  of  a  critic.     Shame 
not  these  words,  says  Apemantus,  by  coming  here  to  find  fault. 


SC.  III.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  423 

By  that  which  has  undone  thee  :  hinge  thy  knee, 
And  let  his  very  breath,  whom  thou'lt  observe, 
Blow  off  thy  cap ;  praise  his  most  vicious  strain, 
And  call  it  excellent.     Thou  wast  told  thus  ; 
Thou   gav'st  thine   ears,  like  tapsters,  that  bid  wel 
come, 

To  knaves  and  all  approachers.  ?Tis  most  just, 
That  thou  turn  rascal ;  hadst  thou  wealth  again, 
Rascals  should  have't.  Do  not  assume  my  likeness. 

Tim.    Were  I  like  thee,  I'd  throw  away  myself. 

Apem.    Thou    hast   cast   away  thyself,   being   like 

thyself; 

A  madman  so  long,  now  a  fool.     What,  think'st 
That  the  bleak  air,  thy  boisterous  chamberlain, 
Will  put  thy  shirt  on  warm  ?    Will  these  mossed  trees, 
That  have  outlived  the  eagle,  page  thy  heels, 
And  skip-when  thou  point'st  out  ?    Will  the  cold  brook, 
Candied  with  ice,  caudle  thy  morning  taste, 
To  cure  thy  o'er-night's  surfeit  ?     Call  the  creatures, 
Whose  naked  natures  live  in  all  the  spite 
Of  wreakful  heaven  ;  whose  bare,  unhoused  trunks, 
To  the  conflicting  elements  exposed, 
Answer  mere  nature, — bid  them  flatter  thee ; 
O  !  thou  shalt  find 

Tim.  A  fool  of  thee.     Depart. 

Apem.    I  love  thee  better  now  than  e'er  I  did. 

Tim.    I  hate  thee  worse. 

Apem.  Why  ? 

Tim.  Thou  flatter'st  misery. 

Apem.    I  flatter  not ;  but  say,  thou  art  a  caitiff. 

Tim.    Why  dost  thou  seek  me  out  ? 

Apem.  To  vex  thee. 

Tim.    Always  a  villain's  office,  or  a  fool's. 
Dost  please  thyself  in't  ? 

Apem.  Ay. 

Tim.  What !  a  knave  too  ? 

Apem.    If  thou  didst  put  this  sour,  cold  habit  on 
To  castigate  thy  pride,  'twere  well ;  but  thou 
Dost  it  enforcedly ;  thou'dst  courtier  be  again, 
Wert  thou  not  beggar.     Willing  misery 


424  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV. 

Outlives  incertain  pomp,  is  crowned  before  : 1 

The  one  is  filling  still,  never  complete  ; 

The  other,  at  high  wish.     Best  state,  contentless, 

Hath  a  distracted  and  most  wretched  being, 

Worse  than  the  worst,  content. 

Thou  shouldst  desire  to  die,  being  miserable. 

Tim.    Not  by  his  breath,2  that  is  more  miserable. 
Thou  art  a  slave,  whom  Fortune's  tender  arm 
With  favor  never  clasped  ;  but  bred  a  dog. 
Hadst  thou,  like  us,  from  our  first  swath,3  proceeded 
The  sweet  degrees  that  this  brief  world  affords 
To  such  as  may  the  passive  drugs  of  it4 
Freely  command,  thou  wouldst  have  plunged  thyself 
In  general  riot ;  melted  down  thy  youth 
In  different  beds  of  lust ;   and  never  learned 
The  icy  precepts  of  respect,5  but  followed 
The  sugared  game  before  thee.     But  myself, 
Who  had  the  world  as  my  confectionary ; 
The  mouths,  the  tongues,  the  eyes,  and  hearts  of  men 
At  duty,  more  than  I  could  frame  employment ; 
That  numberless  upon  me  stuck,  as  leaves 
Do  on  the  oak,  have  with  one  winter's  brush 
Fell  from  their  boughs,  and  left  me  open,  bare 
For  every  storm  that  blows ; — I,  to  bear  this, 
That  never  knew  but  better,  is  some  burden ; 
Thy  nature  did  commence  in  sufferance ;  time 
Hath    made  thee  hard  in't.     Why  shouldst  thou  hate 

men  ? 
They  never  flattered  thee.     What  hast  thou  given  ? 

1  To  have  wishes  crowned  is  to  have  them  completed,  to  be  content.    The 
highest  fortunes,  if  contentless,  have  a  wretched  being,  worse  than  that 
of  the  most  abject  fortune  accompanied  by  content. 

2  By  his  breath  means  by  his  voice,  i.  e.  suffrage. 

3  i.  e.  from  infancy,  from  the  first  swath-band  with  which  a  new-born 
infant  is  enveloped.     "  There  is  in  this  speecn  a  sullen  haughtiness  and 
malignant  dignity,  suitable  at  once  to  the  lord  and  the  man-hater.     The 
impatience  with  which  he  bears  to  have  his  luxury  reproached  by  one 
that  never  had  luxury  within  his  reach,  is  natural  and  graceful." — Johnson. 

4  The  old  copy  reads,  "  The  passive  drugges  of  it."     Drug,  or  drugge, 
is  only  a  variation  of  the  orthography  of  drudge,  as  appears  by  Baret's 
Alvearie. 

5  The  cold  admonitions  of  cautious  prudence.     Respect  is  regardful 
consideration. 


SC.  III.] 


TIMON  OF  ATHENS. 


425 


If  thou  wilt  curse, — thy  father,  that  poor  rag, 
Must  be  thy  subject ;  who,  in  spite,  put  stuff 
To  some  she-beggar,  and  compounded  thee, 
Poor  rogue  hereditary.     Hence  !  be  gone ! — 
If  thou  hadst  not  been  born  the  worst  of  men, 
Thou  hadst  been  a  knave  and  flatterer. 

Apem.  Art  thou  proud  yet  ? 

Tim.    Ay,  that  I  am  not  thee. 

'Apem.  I,  that  I  was 

No  prodigal. 

Tim.  I,  that  I  am  one  now ; 

Were  all  the  wealth  I  have,  shut  up  in  thee, 
I'd  give  thee  leave  to  hang  it.     Get  thee  gone. — 
That  the  whole  life  of  Athens  were  in  this ! 
Thus  would  I  eat  it.  [Eating  a  root. 

Apem.  Here  ;  I  will  mend  thy  feast, 

[Offering  him  something. 

Tim.    First  mend  my  company,  take  away  thyself. 

Apem.    So  I  shall  mend  mine  own,  by  the  lack  of 
thine. 

Tim.    'Tis  not  well  mended  so,  it  is  but  botched  ; 
If  not,  I  would  it  were. 

Apem.   What  wouldst  thou  have  to  Athens  ? 

Tim.    Thee  thither  in  a  whirlwind.     If  thou  wilt, 
Tell  them  there  I  have  gold ;  look,  so  I  have. 

Apem.  Here  is  no  use  for  gold. 

Tim.  The  best,  and  truest ; 

For  here  it  sleeps,  and  does  no  hired  harm. 

Apem.    Where  ly'st  o'  nights,  Timon  ? 

Tim.  Under  that's  above  me. 

Where  feed'st  thou  o'  days,  Apemantus  ? 

Apem.    Where  my  stomach  finds  meat ;  or,  rather, 
where  I  eat  it. 

Tim.    'Would  poison  were  obedient,  and  knew  my 
mind! 

Apem.   Where  wouldst  thou  send  it  ? 

Tim.  To  sauce  thy  dishes. 

Apem.   The  middle  of  humanity  thou  never  knewest, 
but  the  extremity  of  both  ends.     When  thou  wast  in 
thy  gilt,  and  thy  perfume,  they  mocked  thee  for  too 
VOL.  v.  54 


r 


426  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV. 

II 

much  curiosity ; 1  in  thy  rags  thou  knowest  none,  but 
art  despised  for  the  contrary.  There's  a  medlar  for 
thee ;  eat  it. 

Tim.    On  what  I  hate,  I  feed  not. 

Apem.    Dost  hate  a  medlar  ? 

Tim.    Ay,  though  it  look  like  thee. 

Apem.  An  thou  hadst  hated  meddlers  sooner,  thou 
shouldst  have  loved  thyself  better  now.  What  man 
didst  thou  ever  know  unthrift,  that  was  beloved  after 
his  means  ? 

Tim.  Who,  without  those  means  thou  talkest  of, 
didst  thou  ever  know  beloved  ? 

Apem.   Myself. 

Tim.  I  understand  thee  ;  thou  hadst  some  means  to 
keep  a  dog. 

Apem.  What  things  in  the  world  canst  thou  nearest 
compare  to  thy  flatterers  ? 

Tim.  Women  nearest ;  but  men,  men  are  the  things 
themselves.  What  wouldst  thou  do  with  the  world, 
Apemantus,  if  it  lay  in  thy  power? 

Apem.    Give  it  the  beasts,  to  be  rid  of  the  men. 

Tim.  Wouldst  thou  have  thyself  fall  in  the  con 
fusion  of  men,  and  remain  a  beast  with  the  beasts ! 

Apem.    Ay,  Timon. 

Tim.  A  beastly  ambition,  which  the  gods  grant 
thee  to  attain  to !  If  thou  wert  the  lion,  the  fox 
would  beguile  thee :  if  thou  wert  the  lamb,  the  fox 
would  eat  thee  :  if  thou  wert  the  fox,  the  lion  would 
suspect  thee,  when,  peradventure,  thou  wert  accused 
by  the  ass :  if  thou  wert  the  ass,  thy  dulness  would 
torment  thee  ;  and  still  thou  livedst  but  as  a  breakfast 
to  the  wolf:  if  thou  wert  the  wolf,  thy  greediness 
would  afflict  thee,  and  oft  thou  shouldst  hazard  thy 
life  for  thy  dinner  :  wert  thou  the  unicorn,  pride  arid 
wrath  would  confound  thee,  and  make  thine  own  self 
the  conquest  of  thy  fury  :2  wert  thou  a  bear,  thou 
wouldst  be  killed  by  the  horse :  wert  thou  a  ho/se, 

1  Curiosity  is  scrupulous  exactness,^mc«Z  niceness. 

2  Alluding  to  the  unicorn's  being  sometimes  overcome  from  striking  hia 
horn  into  a  tree  in  his  furious  pursuit  of  an  enemy. 


SC.  III.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  427 

thou  wouldst  be  seized  by  the  leopard :  wert  thou  a 
leopard,  thou  wert  german  to  the  lion,1  and  the  spots 
of  thy  kindred  were  jurors  on  thy  life :  all  thy  safety 
were  remotion ; 2  and  thy  defence,  absence.  What 
beast  couldst  thou  be,  that  were  not  subject  to  a 
beast  ?  and  what  a  beast  art  thou  already,  that  seest 
not  thy  loss  in  transformation  ? 

Apem.  If  thou  couldst  please  me  with  speaking  to 
me,  thou  mightst  have  hit  upon  it  here.  The  com 
monwealth  of  Athens  is  become  a  forest  of  beasts. 

Tim.  How  has  the  ass  broke  the  wall,  that  thou  art 
out  of  the  city? 

Apem.  Yonder  comes  a  poet  and  a  painter ;  the 
plague  of  company  light  upon  thee !  I  will  fear  to 
catch  it,  and  give  way.  When  I  know  not  what  else 
to  do,  I'll  see  thee  again. 

Tim.  When  there  is  nothing  living  but  thee,  thou 
shalt  be  welcome.  1  had  rather  be  a  beggar's  dog, 
than  Apemantus. 

Apem.    Thou  art  the  cap  of  all  the  fools  alive. 

Tim.    'Would  thou  wert  clean  enough  to  spit  upon  ! 

Apem.    A  plague  on  thee,  thou  art  too  bad  to  curse. 

Tim.    All  villains,  that  do  stand  by  thee,  are  pure.3 

Apem.    There  is  no  leprosy  but  what  thou  speak'st. 

Tim.    If  I  name  thee, — 
I'll  beat  thee, — but  I  should  infect  my  hands. 

Apem.    I  would  my  tongue  could  rot  them  off! 

Tim.    Away,  thou  issue  of  a  mangy  dog  ! 
Choler  does  kill  me,  that  thou  art  alive  ; 
I  swoon  to  see  thee. 

Apem.  'Would  thou  wouldst  burst. 

Tim.  Away, 

Thou  tedious  rogue !  I  am  sorry,  I  shall  lose 
A  stone  by  thee.  [Throws  a  stone  at  him. 

Apem.  Beast ! 

Tim.  Slave ! 


1  This  seems  to  imply  that  the  lion  «  bears,  like  the  Turk,  no  brother 
near  the  throne." 

2  "  Removing  away,  removing  afar  off]  remotio." 

3  See  Act  iii.  Sc.  4. 


428  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  I\. 

Apem.  Toad ! 

Tim.  Rogue,  rogue,  rogue  ! 

[APEMANTUS  retreats  backward,  as  going. 
I  am  sick  of  this  false  world ;  and  will  love  nought 
But  even  the  mere  necessities  upon  it. 
Then,  Timon,  presently  prepare  thy  grave. 
Lie  where  the  light  foam  of  the  sea  may  beat 
Thy  grave-stone  daily ;  make  thine  epitaph, 
That  death  in  me  at  others'  lives  may  laugh. 
O  thou  sweet  king-killer,  and  dear  divorce 

[Looking  on  the  gold. 

'Twixt  natural  son  and  sire  !  thou  bright  defiler 
Of  Hymen's  purest  bed  !  thou  valiant  Mars  ! 
Thou  ever  young,  fresh,  loved,  and  delicate  wooer, 
Whose  blush  doth  thaw  the  consecrated  snow 
That  lies  on  Dian's  lap !  thou  visible  god, 
That  solder'st  close  impossibilities, 
And  mak'st  them  kiss  !  that  speak'st  with  every  tongue, 
To  every  purpose  !  O  thou  touch l  of  hearts ! 
Think,  thy  slave  man  rebels  ;  and  by  thy  virtue 
Set  them  into  confounding  odds,  that  beasts 
May  have  the  world  in  empire ! 

Apem.  'Would  'twere  so ; — 

But  not  till  I  am  dead ! — I'll  say  thou  hast  gold ; 
Thou  wilt  be  thronged  to  shortly. 

Tim.  Thronged  to  ? 

Apem.  Ay. 

Tim.    Thy  back,  I  pr'ythee. 

Apem.  Live  and  love  thy  misery  ! 

Tim.    Long  live  so,  and  so  die  ! — I  am  quit. — 

[Exit  APEMANTUS. 
More  things  like  men  ? — Eat,  Timon,  and  abhor  them. 

Enter  Thieves.2 

1  Thief.   Where   should  he  have  this  gold  ?     It  is 
some  poor  fragment,  some  slender  ort  of  his  remainder. 


1  Touch  for  touchstone. 

2  The  old  copy  reads,  "  Enter  the  Banditti." 


SC.  III.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  429 

The   mere  want  of  gold,  and  the  falling-from  of  his 
friends,  drove  him  into  this  melancholy. 

2  Thief.    It  is  noised  he  hath  a  mass  of  treasure. 

3  Thief.    Let  us  make  the  assay  upon  him.     If  he 
care  not  for't,  he  will  supply  us  easily ;  if  he  covetously 
reserve  it,  how  shall's  get  it  ? 

2  Thief.    True ;    for   he    bears   it   not  about  him ; 
'tis  hid. 

1  Thief.    Is  not  this  he? 
Thieves.    Where? 

2  Thief.    'Tis  his  description. 

3  Thief.    He  ;  I  know  him. 
Thieves.    Save  thee,  Timon. 
Tim.   Now,  thieves  ? 
Thieves.    Soldiers,  not  thieves. 
Tim.    Both  too  ;  and  women's  sons. 

Thieves.    We  are  not  thieves,  but  men  that  much 
do  want. 

Tim.    Your  greatest  want  is,  you  want  much  of  men.1 
Why  should  you  want  ?     Behold,  the  earth  hath  roots  ; 
Within  this  mile  break  forth  a  hundred  springs ; 
The  oaks  bear  mast,  the  briers  scarlet  hips  ; 
The  bounteous  housewife,  nature,  on  each  bush 
Lays  her  full  mess  before  you.     Want  ?  why  want  ? 

1  Thief.    We  cannot  live  on  grass,  on  berries,  water, 
As  beasts,  and  birds,  and  fishes. 

Tim.    Nor  on  the  beasts  themselves,  the  birds,  and 

fishes. 

You  must  eat  men.     Yet  thanks  I  must  you  con, 
That  you  are  thieves  professed  ;  that  you  work  not 
In  holier  shapes  ;  for  there  is  boundless  theft 

1  The  old  copy  reads : — 

"  Your  greatest  want  is,  you  want  much  of  meaf." 

Theobald  proposed  "you  want  much  of  meet"  i.  e.  much  of  what  you 
ought-  to  be.     Steevens  says,  perhaps  we  should  read  : — 

"  Your  greatest  want  is,  you  want  much  of  me." 

"  Your  necessities  are  indeed  desperate,  when  you  apply  to  one  in  my 
situation."     Dr.  Farmer  would  point  the  passage  differently,  thus : — 

"  Your  greatest  want  is,  you  want  much.     Of  meat 
Why  should  you  want,"  &c. 


430  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV 

In  limited  *  professions.     Rascal  thieves, 
Here's  gold.     Go,  suck  the  subtle  blood  of  the  grape 
Till  the  high  fever  seethe  your  blood  to  froth, 
And  so  'scape  hanging.     Trust  not  the  physician  ; 
His  antidotes  are  poison,  and  he  slays 
More  than  you  rob.     Take  wealth  and  lives  together ; 
Do  villany,  do,  since  you  profess  to  do't, 
Like  workmen.      I'll  example  you  with  thievery. 
The  sun's  a  thief,  and  with  his  great  attraction 
Robs  the  vast  sea ;  the  moon's  an  arrant  thief, 
And  her  pale  fire  she  snatches  from  the  sun ; 
The  sea's  a  thief,  whose  liquid  surge  resolves 
The  moon  into  salt  tears ; 2  the  earth's  a  thief, 
That  feeds  and  breeds  by  a  composture 3  stolen 
From  general  excrement;  each  thing's  a  thief; 
The  laws,  your  curb  and  whip,  in  their  rough  power 
Have  unchecked  theft.     Love  not  yourselves  :  away  , 
Rob  one  another.     There's  more  gold.     Cut  throats ; 
All  that  you  meet  are  thieves.     To  Athens,  go, 
Break  open  shops  ;  nothing  can  you  steal, 
But  thieves  do  lose  it.     Steal  not  less,  for  this 
I  give  you  ;  and  gold  confound  you  howsoever ! 
Amen.  [TiMON  retires  to  his  cave. 

3  Thief.    He  has  almost  charmed  me  from  my  pro 
fession,  by  persuading  me  to  it. 

1  Thief.    'Tis  in  the  malice  of  mankind,  that  he  thus 
advises  us ;  not  to  have  us  thrive  in  our  mystery. 

2  Thief.    I'll  believe  him  as  an  enemy,  and  give  over 
my  trade. 

1  Thief.    Let  us  first  see  peace  in  Athens.     There 
is  no  time  so  miserable,  but  a  man  may  be  true.4 

[Exeunt  Thieves. 

1  Limited  professions  are  allowed  professions. 

2  The  moon  is  called  the  moist  star  in  Hamlet,  and  the  Poet  in  the  last 
scene   of  The  Tempest  has  shown  that  he  was   acquainted  with   her 
influence  on  the  tides.     The  sea  is  therefore  said  to  resolve  her  into  salt 
tears,  in  allusion  to  the  flow  of  the  tides,  and  perhaps  of  her  influence 
upon  the  weather,  which  she  is  said  to  govern. 

3  i.  e.  compost,  manure. 

4  «  There  is  no  hour  in  a  man's  life  so  wretched,  but  he  always  has  it 
in  his  power  to  become  true,  i.  e.  honest." 


SO.  III.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  431 

Enter  FLAVIUS. 

Flav.    O  you  gods  ! 

Is  von  despised  and  ruinous  man  my  lord? 
Full  of  decay  and  failing  ?     O  monument 
And  wonder  of  good  deeds  evilly  bestowed ! 
What  an  alteration  of  honor *  has 
Desperate  want  made ! 

What  viler  thing  upon  the  earth,  than  friends, 
Who  can  bring  noblest  minds  to  basest  ends ! 
How  rarely2  does  it  meet  with  this  time's  guise, 
When  man  was  wished 3  to  love  his  enemies. 
Grant  I  may  ever  love,  and  rather  woo 
Those  that  would  mischief  me,  than  those  that  do ! 
He  has  caught  me  in  his  eye.     I  will  present 
My  honest  grief  unto  him  ;  and,  as  my  lord, 
Still  serve  him  with  my  life. — My  dearest  master ! 

TIMON  comes  forward  from  his  cave. 

Tim.    Away  !  what  art  thou  ? 

Flav.  Have  you  forgot  me,  sir  ? 

Tim.    Why  dost  ask  that  ?     I  have  forgot  all  men  ; 
Then,  if  thou  grant'st  thou'rt  a  man,  I  have  forgot  thee. 

Flav.    An  honest,  poor  servant  of  yours. 

Tim.  Then 

I  know  thee  not.  I  ne'er  had  honest  man 
About  me,  I ;  all  that  I  kept  were  knaves, 
To  serve  in  meat  to  villains. 

Flav.  The  gods  are  witness, 

Ne'er  did  poor  steward  wear  a  truer  grief 
For  his  undone  lord,  than  mine  eyes  for  you. 

Tim.    What,  dost  thou  weep  ? — Come  nearer; — then 

I  love  thee, 
Because  thou  art  a  woman,  and  disclaim'st 


1  An  alteration  of  honor,  is  an  alteration  of  an  honorable  state  to  a  state 
of  disgrace. 

2  i.  e.  how  admirably. 

3  i.  e.  desired.     Friends  and  enemies  here  mean  those  who  profess 
friendship  and  profess  enmity. 


432  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  IV 

Flinty  mankind  ;  whose  eyes  do  never  give,1 
But  thorough  lust  and  laughter.     Pity's  sleeping  ; 
Strange    times,   that  weep  with    laughing,    not   with 
weeping ! 

Flav.    I  beg  of  you  to  know  me,  good  my  lord, 
To  accept  my  grief,  and,  whilst  this  poor  wealth  lasts, 
To  entertain  me  as  your  steward  still. 

Tim.    Had  I  a  steward  so  true,  so  just,  and  now 
So  comfortable  ?     It  almost  turns 
My  dangerous  nature  mild.2     Let  me  behold 
Thy  face. — Surely  this  man  was  born  of  woman. — 
Forgive  my  general  and  exceptless  rashness, 
You  perpetual-sober  gods !  I  do  proclaim 
One  honest  man, — mistake  me  not, — but  one. 
No  more,  I  pray, — and  he  is  a  steward. — 
How  fain  would  I  have  hated  all  mankind, 
And  thou  redeem'st  thyself.     But  all,  save  thee, 
I  fell  with  curses. 

Methinks  thou  art  more  honest  now,  than  wise ; 
For,  by  oppressing  and  betraying  me, 
Thou  mightst  have  sooner  got  another  service ; 
For  many  so  arrive  at  second  masters, 
Upon  their  first  lord's  neck.     But  tell  me  true, 
(For  I  must  ever  doubt,  though  ne'er  so  sure,) 
Is  not  thy  kindness  subtle,  covetous, 
If  not 3  a  usuring  kindness  ;  and  as  rich  men  deal  gifts, 
Expecting  in  return  twenty  for  one  ? 

Flav.   No,  my  most  worthy  master,  in  whose  breast 
Doubt  and  suspect,  alas,  are  placed  too  late. 
You  should  have  feared  false  times,  when  you  did  feast ; 
Suspect  still  comes  where  an  estate  is  least. 
That  which  I  show,  Heaven  knows,  is  merely  love, 
Duty  and  zeal  to  your  unmatched  mind, 

1  To  give  is  to  yield,  to  give  way  to  tears. 

2  The  old  copy  reads : — 

" It  almost  turns 

My  dangerous  nature  wild." 
The  emendation  is  Warburton's. 

3  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  thinks,  that  If  not  has  slipped  in  here,  by  an  error  of  the 
compositor,  caught  from  the  Is  not  of  the  preceding  line.     Both  sense  and 
metre  would  be  better  without  it. 


SC.  III.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  433 

Care  of  jour  food  and  living;  and,  believe  it, 

My  most  honored  lord, 

For  any  benefit  that  points  to  me, 

Either  in  hope,  or  present,  I'd  exchange 

For  this  one  wish,  That  you  had  power  and  wealth 

To  requite  me,  by  making  rich  yourself. 

Tim.    Look  thee,  'tis  so  ! — Thou  singly  honest  man, 
Here,  take  ; — the  gods  out  of  my  misery 
Have  sent  thee  treasure.     Go,  live  rich,  and  happy ; 
But  thus  conditioned  :  Thou  shalt  build  from  men ; l 
Hate  all,  curse  all ;  show  charity  to  none ; 
But  let  the  famished  flesh  slide  from  the  bone, 
Ere  thou  relieve  the  beggar ;  give  to  dogs 
What  thou  deny'st  to  men ;  let  prisons  swallow  them, 
Debts  wither  them  to  nothing.     Be  men  like  blasted 

woods, 

And  may  diseases  lick  up  their  false  bloods ! 
And  so  farewell,  and  thrive. 

Flav.  O,  let  me  stay, 

Arid  comfort  you,  my  master. 

Tim.  If  thou  hat'st 

Curses,  stay  not ;  fly  whilst  thou'rt  blessed  and  free. 
Ne'er  see  thou  man,  and  let  me  ne'er  see  thee. 

[Exeunt  severally 


ACT  V. 

SCENE    I.     The  same.     Before  Tirnon's  Cave. 

Enter  Poet  and  Painter ; 2  TIMON  behind,  unseen. 

Pain.   As  I  took  note  of  the  place,  it  cannot  be  far 
where  he  abides. 


1  i.  e.  away  from  human  habitation. 

2  The  poet  and  painter  were  within  view  when  Apemantus  parted 
from  Timon ;  they  must  therefore  be  supposed  to  have  been  wandering 
about  the  woods  in  search  of  Timon's  cave,  and  to  have  heard,  in  the 

VOL.  v.  55 


434  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  V. 

Poet.  What's  to  be  thought  of  him  ?  Does  the  rumor 
hold  for  true,  that  he  is  so  full  of  gold  ? 

Pain.  Certain.  Alcibiades  reports  it ;  Phrynia  and 
Timandra  had  gold  of  him  ;  he  likewise  enriched  poor 
straggling  soldiers  with  great  quantity.  'Tis  said,  he 
gave  unto  his  steward  a  mighty  sum. 

Poet.  Then  this  breaking  of  his  has  been  but  a  try 
for  his  friends. 

Pain.  Nothing  else;  you  shall  see  him  a  palm  in  Athens 
again,  and  flourish  with  the  highest.  Therefore,  'tis  not 
amiss,  we  tender  our  loves  to  him,  in  this  supposed 
distress  of  his.  It  will  show  honestly  in  us  ;  and  is  very 
likely  to  load  our  purposes  with  what  they  travel  for,  if 
it  be  a  just  and  true  report  that  goes  of  his  having. 

Poet.    What  have  you  now  to  present  unto  him  ? 

Pain.  Nothing  at  this  time  but  my  visitation ;  only 
I  will  promise  him  an  excellent  piece. 

Poet.  I  must  serve  him  so  too  ;  tell  him  of  an  intent 
that's  coming  toward  him. 

Pain.  Good  as  the  best.  Promising  is  the  very  air 
o'the  time:  it  opens  the  eyes  of  expectation;  per 
formance  is  ever  the  duller  for  his  act;  and,  but  in  the 
plainer  and  simpler  kind  of  people,  the  deed  of  saying1 
is  quite  out  of  use.  To  promise  is  most  courtly  and 
fashionable  ;  performance  is  a  kind  of  will  or  testament, 
which  argues  a  great  sickness  in  his  judgment  that 
makes  it. 

Tim.  Excellent  workman  !  Thou  canst  not  paint  a 
man  so  bad  as  is  thyself. 

Poet.  I  am  thinking,  what  I  shall  say  I  have  provided 
for  him.  It  must  be  a  personating 2  of  himself;  a  satire 
against  the  softness  of  prosperity;  with  a  discovery  cf 
the  infinite  flatteries  that  follow  youth  and  opulency. 

Tim.  Must  thou  needs  stand  for  a  villain  in  thine  own 

interim,  the  particulars  of  Timon's  bounty  to  the  thieves  and  the  steward. 
"But  (as  Malone  observes)  Shakspeare  was  not  attentive  to  these  minute 
particulars,  and  if  he  and  the  audience  knew  these  circumstances,  he  would 
not  scruple  to  attribute  the  knowledge  to  persons  who,  perhaps,  had  not 
yet  an  opportunity  of  acquiring  it." 

1  The  doing  of  that  we  have  said  we  would  do. 

2  Personating  for  representing  simply. 


SC.  I.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  435 

work  ?     Wilt   thou  whip    thine  own   faults  in    other 
men  ?     Do  so,  I  have  gold  for  thee. 

Poet.   Nay,  let's  seek  him. 
Then  do  we  sin  against  our  own  estate, 
When  we  may  profit  meet,  and  come  too  late. 

Pain.   True ; 

When  the  day  serves,  before  black-cornered  night,1 
Find  what  thou  want'st  by  free  and  offered  light. 
Come. 

9     Tim.    I'll  meet  you  at  the  turn.    What  a  god's  gold, 
That  he  is  worshipped  in  a  baser  temple, 
Than  where  swine  feed ! 
'Tis    thou    that   rigg'st   the  bark,   and   plough'st  the 

foam  ; 

Settlest  admired  reverence  in  a  slave. 
To  thee  be  worship !  and  thy  saints  for  aye 
Be  crowned  with  plagues,  that  thee  alone  obey ! 
'Fit  I  do  meet  them.  [Advancing. 

Poet.    Hail,  worthy  Timon  ! 

Pain.  Our  late  noble  master. 

Tim.   Have  I  once  lived  to  see  two  honest  men  ? 

Poet.    Sir, 

Having  often  of  your  open  bounty  tasted, 
Hearing  you  were  retired,  your  friends  fallen  off, 
Whose  thankless  natures — O  abhorred  spirits ! 
Not  all  the  whips  of  Heaven  are  large  enough — 
What !  to  you  ! 

Whose  starlike  nobleness  gave  life  and  influence 
To  their  whole  being !  I'm  rapt,  and  cannot  cover 
The  monstrous  bulk  of  this  ingratitude 
With  any  size  of  words. 

Tim.    Let  it  go  naked,  men  may  see't  the  better. 
You  that  are  honest,  by  being  what  you  are, 
Make  them  best  seen,  and  known. 

Pain.  He,  and  myself, 


1  "  Black-cornered  night."  Many  conjectures  have  been  offered  about 
this  passage,  which  appears  to  be  a  corruption  of  the  text.  Some  have 
proposed  to  read  black-coned,  alluding  to  the  conical  form  of  the  earth'a 
shadow ;  others  Hack-crowned,  and  Hack-covered.  Mr.  Singer  suggests 
that  it  should  be  Hack-curtained. 


436  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  V 

Have  travelled  in  the  great  shower  of  your  gifts, 
And  sweetly  felt  it. 

Tim.  Ay,  you  are  honest  men. 

Pain.   We  are  hither  come  to  offer  you  our  service. 

Tim.    Most  honest  men  !     Why,  how  shall  I  requite 

you  ? 
Can  you  eat  roots,  and  drink  cold  water  ?  no. 

Both.   What  we  can  do,  we'll  do,  to  do  you  service. 

Tim.    You  are  honest  men.     You  have  heard  that  I 

have  gold ; 
I  am  sure  you  have.     Speak  truth ;  you  are  honest  men. 

Pain.    So  it  is  said,  my  noble  lord  ;  but  therefore 
Came  not  my  friend,  nor  I. 

Tim.  Good  honest  men. — Thou  draw'st  a  counterfeit l 
Best  in  all  Athens  :  thou  art,  indeed,  the  best ; 
Thou  counterfeit'st  most  lively. 

Pain.  So,  so,  rny  lord. 

Tim.    Even  so,  sir,  as  I  say. — And  for  thy  fiction, 

[To  the  Poet. 

Why,  thy  verse  swells  with  stuff  so  fine  and  smooth, 
That  thou  art  even  natural  in  thine  art. — 
But,  for  all  this,  my  honest-natured  friends, 
I  must  needs  say  you  have  a  little  fault. 
Marry,  'tis  not  monstrous  in  you ;  neither  wish  I, 
You  take  much  pains  to  mend. 

Both.  Beseech  your  honor 

To  make  it  known  to  us. 

Tim.  You'll  take  it  ill. 

Both.   Most  thankfully,  my  lord. 

Tim.  Will  you,  indeed  ? 

Both.    Doubt  it  not,  worthy  lord. 

Tim.    There's  ne'er  a  one  of  you  but  trusts  a  knave, 
That  mightily  deceives  you. 

Both.  Do  we,  my  lord  ? 

Tim.    Ay,  and  you  hear  him  cog,  see  him  dissemble. 
Know  his  gross  patchery,  love  him,  feed  him, 
Keep  in  your  bosom  ;  yet  remain  assured, 
That  he's  a  made-up  villain.2 

1  It  should  be  remembered  that  a  portrait  was  called  a  counterfeit- 

2  i.  e.  a  complete,  a  finished  villain. 


SC.  IT.]  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  437 

Pain.    I  know  none  such,  my  lord. 

Poet.  Nor  I. 

Tim.    Look  you,  I  love  you  well ;  I'll  give  you  gold, 
Rid  me  these  villains  from  your  companies. 
Hang  them,  or  stab  them,  drown  them  in  a  draught,1 
Confound  them  by  some  course,  and  come  to  me, 
I'll  give  you  gold  enough. 

Both.    Name  them,  my  lord  ;  let's  know  them. 

Tim.   You  that  way,  and  you  this,  but  two  in  com 
pany  ;- 

Each  man  apart,  all  single  and  alone, 
Yet  an  arch  villain  keeps  him  company.2 
If,  where  thou  art,  two  villains  shall  not  be, 

[To  the  Painter. 
Come  not  near  him. — If  thou  wouldst  not  reside 

\To  the  Poet. 

But  where  one  villain  is,  then  him  abandon. — 
Hence  !  pack  !  there's  gold  ;  ye  came  for  gold,  ye  slaves. 
You  have  done  work  for  me,  there's  payment :  hence  ! 3 
You  are  an  alchymist,  make  gold  of  that : — 
Out,  rascal  dogs !    [Exit,  beating  and  driving  them  out. 


SCENE  II.     The  same. 


Enter  FLAVIUS  and  two   Senators. 

Flav.    It  is  in  vain  that  you  would  speak  with  Timon  ; 
For  he  is  set  so  only  to  himself, 
That  nothing  but  himself,  which  looks  like  man, 
Is  friendly  with  him. 

1  Sen.  Bring  us  to  his  cave  : 
It  is  our  part,  and  promise  to  the  Athenians, 
To  speak  with  Timon. 

2  Sen.  At  all  times  alike 


1  i.  e.  <Lja.K,es. 

2  The  plain  and  simple  meaning  of  this  is,  "  where  each  of  you  is,  a 
villain  must  be  in  his  company." 

3  The  word  done  is  omitted,  by  accident,  in  the  old  copy.    This  line  is 
addressed  to  the  painter,  the  next  to  the  poet. 


438  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  V. 

Men  are  not  still  the  same.     'Twas  time  and  griefs 
That  framed  him  thus ;  time,  with  his  fairer  hand, 
Offering  the  fortunes  of  his  former  days, 
The  former  man  may  make  him.     Bring  us  to  him, 
And  chance  it  as  it  may. 

Flav.  Here  is  his  cave. — 

Peace  and  content  be  here  !    Lord  Timon  !    Timon ! 
Look  out,  and  speak  to  friends.     The  Athenians, 
By  two  of  their  most  reverend  senate,  greet  thee  : 
Speak  to  them,  noble  Timon. 

Enter  TIMON. 

Tim.    Thou  sun,  that  comfort'st,  burn  ! — Speak,  and 

be  hanged : 

For  each  true  word,  a  blister !  and  each  false 
Be  as  a  cauterizing  to  the  root  o'  the  tongue, 
Consuming  it  with  speaking ! 

1  Sen.  Worthy  Timon — 
Tim.    Of  none  but  such  as  you,  and  you  of  Timon. 

2  Sen.    The  senators  of  Athens  greet  thee,  Timon. 
Tim.    I  thank  them  ;  and  would  send  them  back  the 

plague, 
Could  I  but  catch  it  for  them. 

1  Sen.  O,  forget 
What  we  are  sorry  for  ourselves  in  thee. 
The  senators,  with  one  consent  of  love, 
Entreat  thee  back  to  Athens ;  who  have  thought 
On  special  dignities,  which  vacant  lie 

For  thy  best  use  and  wearing. 

2  Sen.  They  confess, 
Toward  thee,  forgetfulness  too  general,  gross ; 
Which *  now  the  public  body,  which  doth  seldom 
Play  the  recanter, — feeling  in  itself 

A  lack  of  Timon's  aid, — hath  sense  withal 
Of  its  own  fall,2  restraining  aid  to  Timon  ; 


1  Which,  should  be  and.  It  is  now  vain  to  inquire  whether  the  mistake 
be  attributable  to  the  Poet,  or  to  a  careless  transcriber  or  printer. 

3  The  Athenians  have  a  sense  of  the  danger  of  their  own  fall  by  the 
arms  of  Alcibiades,  by  their  withholding  aid  that  should  have  been  given 
to  Timon. 


SC.  II.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  439 

And  send  forth  us,  to  make  their  sorrowed  render,1 
Together  with  a  recompense  more  fruitful 
Than  their  offence  can  weigh  down  by  the  dram ; 
Ay,  even  such  heaps  and  sums  of  love  and  wealth, 
As  shall  to  thee  blot  out  what  wrongs  were  theirs, 
And  write  in  thee  the  figures  of  their  love, 
Ever  to  read  them  thine. 

Tim.  You  witch  me  in  it ; 

Surprise  me  to  the  very  brink  of  tears. 
Lend  me  a  fool's  heart,  and  a  woman's  eyes, 
And  I'll  beweep  these  comforts,  worthy  senators. 

1  Sen.    Therefore,  so  please  thee  to  return  with  us, 
And  of  our  Athens  (thine,  and  ours)  to  take 

The  captainship,  thou  shalt  be  met  with  thanks, 
Allowed 2  with  absolute  power,  and  thy  good  name 
Live  with  authority ; — so  soon  we  shall  drive  back 
Of  Alcibiades  the  approaches  wild  ; 
Who,  like  a  boar  too  savage,  doth  root  up 
His  country's  peace. 

2  Sen.  And  shakes  his  threatening  sword 
Against  the  walls  of  Athens. 

1  Sen.  Therefore,  Timon, — 

Tim.    Well,  sir,  I  will ;  therefore,  I  will,  sir.  Thus, — 
If  Alcibiades  kill  my  countrymen, 
Let  Alcibiades  know  this  of  Timon, — 
That — Timon  cares  not.     But  if  he  sack  fair  Athens, 
And  take  our  goodly,  aged  men  by  the  beards, 
Giving  our  holy  virgins  to  the  stain 
Of  contumelious,  beastly,  mad-brained  war  ; 
Then,  let  him  know, — and  tell  him,  Timon  speaks  it, 
In  pity  of  our  aged,  and  our  youth, 
I  cannot  choose  but  tell  him,  that — I  care  not, 
And  let  him  take't  at  worst ;  for  their  knives  care  not, 
While  you  have  throats  to  answer ;  for  myself, 
There's  not  a  whittle 3  in  the  unruly  camp, 
But  I  do  prize  it  at  my  love,  before 
The  reverend'st  throat  in  Athens.     So  I  leave  you 

1  Render  is  confession. 

2  Allowed  here  signifies  confirmed 

3  A  whittle  is  a  clasp-knife 


440  TIMON   OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  V. 

To  the  protection  of  the  prosperous  gods,1 
As  thieves  to  keepers. 

Flav.  Stay  not,  all's  in  vain. 

Tim.    Why,  I  was  writing  of  my  epitaph  ; 
It  will  be  seen  to-morrow.     My  long  sickness 
Of  health,2  and  living,  now  begins  to  mend, 
And  nothing  brings  me  all  things.     Go,  live  still ; 
Be  Alcibiades  your  plague,  you  his, 
And  last  so  long  enough ! 

1  Sen.  We  speak  in  vain. 

Tim.    But  yet  I  love  my  country ;  and  am  not 
One  that  rejoices  in  the  common  wreck, 
As  common  bruit  doth  put  it. 

1  Sen.  That's  well  spoke. 

Tim.    Commend  me  to  my  loving  countrymen, — 

1  Sen.    These  words  become  your  lips  as  they  pass 

through  them. 

2  Sen.   And  enter  in  our  ears,  like  great  triumphers 
In  their  applauding  gates. 

Tim.  Commend  me  to  them, 

And  tell  them,  that  to  ease  them  of  their  griefs, 
Their  fears  of  hostile  strokes,  their  aches,  losses, 
Their  pangs  of  love,  with  other  incident  throes 
That  nature's  fragile  vessel  doth  sustain 
In  life's  uncertain  voyage,  I  will  some  kindness  do  them. 
I'll  teach  them  to  prevent  wild  Alcibiades'  wrath. 

2  Sen.    I  like  this  well ;  he  will  return  again. 

Tim.    I  have  a  tree,  which  grows  here  in  my  close, 
That  mine  own  use  invites  me  to  cut  down, 
And  shortly  must  I  fell  it.     Tell  my  friends, 
Tell  Athens,  in  the  sequence  of  degree, 
From  high  to  low  throughout,  that  whoso  please 
To  stop  affliction,  let  him  take  his  haste, 
Come  hither,  ere  my  tree  hath  felt  the  axe, 
And  hang  himself:3 — I  pray  you,  do  my  greeting. 


1  "The  prosperous  gods"  undoubtedly  here  mean  the  propitious  or 
favorable  gods,  Dii  secundi. 

2  He  means  "  the  disease  of  life  begins  to  promise  me  a  period." 

3  This  was  suggested  by  a  passage  in  Plutarch's  Life  of  Antony,  where 
it  is  said  Timon  addressed  the  people  of  Athens  in  similar  terms  from  the 


SC.  III.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  441 

Flav.    Trouble  him  no  further ;  thus  you  still  shall 
find  him. 

Tim.    Come  not  to  me  again  :  but  say  to  Athens, 
Timon  hath  made  his  everlasting  mansion 
Upon  the  beached  verge  of  the  salt  flood ; 
Whom  once  a  day  with  his  embossed  froth J 
The  turbulent  surge  shall  cover ;  thither  come, 
And  let  my  gravestone  be  your  oracle. — 
Lips,  let  sour  words  go  by,  and  language  end : 
What  is  amiss,  plague  and  infection  mend ! 
Graves  only  be  men's  works ;  and  death  their  gain ! 
Sun,  hide  thy  beams !  Timon  hath  done  his  reign. 

[Exit  Timon 

1  Sen.    His  discontents  are  unremovably 
Coupled  to  nature. 

2  Sen.    Our  hope  in  him  is  dead :  let  us  return, 
And  strain  what  other  means  is  left  unto  us 

In  our  dear  peril. 

1  Sen.  It  requires  swift  foot.         [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III.     The  Walls  of  Athens. 

Enter  two  Senators  and  a  Messenger. 

1  Sen.    Thou  hast  painfully  discovered  ;  are  his  files 
As  full  as  thy  report  ? 

Mess.  I  have  spoke  the  least : 

Besides,  his  expedition  promises 
Present  approach. 

2  Sen.    We  stand  much  hazard,  if  they  bring  not 

Timon. 

Mess.    I  met  a  courier,  one  mine  ancient  friend : 
Whom,  though  in  general  part  we  were  opposed, 
Yet  our  old  love  made  a  particular  force, 

public  tribune  in  the  market-place.    See  also  The  Palace  of  Pleasure, 
vol.  i.  Nov.  28. 

1  The  first  folio  reads  who.  It  was  altered  to  which  in  the  second 
folio.  Malone  reads  whom,  saying  it  refers  to  Timon,  and  not  to  his 
grave. 

Embossed  froth  is  foaming,  puffed  or  bloivn  up  froth. 
VOL.  v.  56 


442  TIMON  OF  ATHENS  [ACT  V. 

And  made  us  speak  like  friends ; 1 — this  man  was  riding 
From  Alcibiades  to  Timon's  cave. 
With  letters  of  entreaty,  which  imported 
His  fellowship  i'the  cause  against  your  city, 
In  part  for  his  sake  moved. 

Enter  Senators  from  TIMON. 

1  Sen.  Here  come  our  brothers. 

3  Sen.   No  talk  of  Timon  ;  nothing  of  him  expect. — 
The  enemies'  drum  is  heard,  and  fearful  scouring 
Doth  choke  the  air  with  dust.    In  and  prepare ; 
Ours  is  the  fall,  I  fear,  our  foes,  the  snare. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE    IV.     The  Woods.     Timon's    Cave,   and  a 
Tombstone  seen. 

Enter  a  Soldier,  seeking  Timon. 

Sol.    By  all  description  this  should  be  the  place. 
Who's  here  ?  speak,  ho  ! — No  answer  ?— What  is  this  ? 
Timon  is  dead,  who  hath  outstretched  his  span : 
Some  beast  reared  this  ; 2  there  does  not  live  a  man. 
Dead,  sure  ;  and  this  his  grave. — 
What's  on  this  tomb  I  cannot  read ;  the  character 
I'll  take  with  wax. 

Our  captain  hath  in  every  figure  skill ; 
An  aged  interpreter,  though  young  in  days : 
Before  proud  Athens  he's  set  down  by  this, 
Whose  fall  the  mark  of  his  ambition  is.  [Exit. 


1  This  passage,  Steevens,  with   great  reason,  considers   corrupt ;  the 
awkward  repetition  of  the  verb  made,  and  the  obscurity  of  the  whole, 
countenance  his  opinion.    Might  we  not  read, 

"Yet  our  old  love  had  a  particular  force, 
And  made  us  speak  like  friends  ?  " 

2  The  old  copy  has  "Some  beast  read  this."     The  emendation  is 
Warbur  ton's. 


SC.  V.]  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  443 


SCENE   V.     Before  the  Walls  of  Athens. 

Trumpets  sound.     Enter  ALCIBIADES,  and  Forces. 

Alcib.    Sound  to  this  coward  and  lascivious  town 
Our  terrible  approach.  [ A  parley  sounded. 

Enter  Senators  on  the  walls. 

Till  now  you  have  gone  on,  and  filled  the  time 
With  all  licentious  measure,  making  your  wills 
The  scope  of  justice ;  till  now,  myself,  and  such 
As  slept  within  the  shadow  of  your  power, 
Have  wandered  with  our  traversed  arms,1  and  breathed 
Our  sufferance  vainly.     Now  the  time  is  flush,2 
When  crouching  marrow,3  in  the  bearer  strong, 
Cries  of  itself,  No  more  :  now  breathless  wrong 
Shall  sit  and  pant  in  your  great  chairs  of  ease, 
And  pursy  insolence  shall  break  his  wind, 
With  fear  and  horrid  flight. 

1  Sen.  Noble  and  young, 
When  thy  first  griefs  were  but  a  mere  conceit, 
Ere  thou  hadst  power,  or  we  had  cause  of  fear, 
We  sent  to  thee ;  to  give  thy  rages  balm, 

To  wipe  out  our  ingratitude  with  loves 
Above  their  quantity.4 

2  Sen.  So  did  we  woo 
Transformed  Timon  to  our  city's  love, 

By  humbled  message,  and  by  promised  means ; 
We  were  not  all  unkind,  nor  all  deserve 
The  common  stroke  of  war. 

1  Sen.  These  walls  of  ours 

Were  not  erected  by  their  hands,  from  whom 

1  Traversed  arms  are  arms  crossed. 

2  Flush  is  mature,  ripe,  or  come  to  full  perfection. 

3  Crouching  marrow.     The  marrow  was  supposed  to  be  the  original  of 
strength.     The  image  is  from  a  camel  kneeling  to  take  up  his  load,  who 
rises  when  he  finds  he  has  as  much  laid  on  him  as  he  can  bear. 

4  Their  refers  to  griefs.    "  To  give  thy  rages  balm,"  must  be  considered 
as  parenthetical. 


444  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  V. 

You  have  received  your  griefs ;  nor  are  they  such, 
That  these  great  towers,  trophies,  and  schools  should 

fall 
For  private  faults  in  them. 

2  Sen.  Nor  are  they  living, 

Who  were  the  motives  that  you  first  went  out ; 1 
Shame,  that  they  wanted  cunning,2  in  excess 
Hath  broke  their  hearts.     March,  noble  lord, 
Into  our  city  with  thy  banners  spread. 
By  decimation,  and  a  tithed  death, 
(If  thy  revenges  hunger  for  that  food, 
Which  nature  loathes,)  take  thou  the  destined  tenth  ; 
And  by  the  hazard  of  the  spotted  die, 
Let  die  the  spotted. 

1  Sen.  All  have  not  offended ; 
For  those  that  were,  it  is  not  square,3  to  take, 
On  those  that  are,  revenges :  crimes,  like  lands, 
Are  not  inherited.     Then,  dear  countryman, 
Bring  in  thy  ranks,  but  leave  without  thy  rage. 
Spare  thy  Athenian  cradle,  and  those  kin, 
Which,  in  the  bluster  of  thy  wrath,  must  fall 
With  those  that  have  offended :  like  a  shepherd, 
Approach  the  fold,  and  cull  the  infected  forth, 
But  kill  not  all  together. 

2  Sen.  Wnat  thou  wilt, 
Thou  rather  shalt  enforce  it  with  thy  smile, 
Than  hew  to't  with  thy  sword. 

1  Sen.  Set  but  thy  foot 
Against  our  rampired  gates,  and  they  shall  ope ; 
So  thou  wilt  send  thy  gentle  heart  before, 

To  say  thou'lt  enter  friendly. 

2  Sen.  Throw  thy  glove 
Or  any  token  of  thine  honor  else, 

1  i.  e.  those  who  made  the  motion  for  your  exile. 

2  Cunning  is  used  in  its  old  sense  of  skill  or  tvisdom :  extremity  of 
shame  that  they  wanted  wisdom  in  procuring  your  banishment  hath  broke 
their  hearts.    Theobald  had  nearly  thus  interpreted  the  passage;   and 
Johnson  thought  he  could  improve  it  by  reading — 


«  Shame  that  they  wanted,  coming-  in  excess 
Hath  broke  their  hearts." 


3  i 


i.  e.  not  regular. 


SC.  V.]  TIMON   OF   ATHENS.  445 

That  thou  wilt  use  the  wars  as  thy  redress, 
And  not  as  our  confusion,  all  thy  powers 
Shall  make  their  harbor  in  our  town,  till  we 
Have  sealed  thy  full  desire. 

Alcib.  Then  there's  my  glove ; 

Descend,  and  open  your  uncharged  ports.1 
Those  enemies  of  Timon's  and  mine  own, 
Whom  you  yourself  shall  set  out  for  reproof, 
Fall,  and  no  more  ;  and — to  atone 2  your  fears 
With  my  more  noble  meaning — not  a  man 
Shall  pass  his  quarter,  or  offend  the  stream 
Of  regular  justice  in  your  city's  bounds, 
But  shall  be  remedied,  to  your  public  laws, 
At  heaviest  answer.3 

Both.  'Tis  most  nobly  spoken. 

Alcib,    Descend,  and  keep  your  words. 

The  Senators  descend,  and  open  the  gates. 
Enter  a  Soldier. 

Sol.    My  noble  general,  Timon  is  dead ; 
Entombed  upon  the  very  hem  o'  the  sea : 
And  on  his  gravestone,  this  insculpture ;  which 
With  wax  I  brought  away,  whose  soft  impression 
Interprets  for  my  poor  ignorance. 

Alcib.    [Reads.]     Here    lies   a  wretched   corse,  of 

wretched  soul  bereft ; 

Seek  not  my  name.     A  plague  consume  you  wicked 
caitiffs  left! 

*JJ  i/ 

Here  lie  I,  Timon ;  who,  alive,  all  living  men  did  hate. 
Pass  by,  and  curse  thy  fill ;  but  pass,  and  stay  not  here 
thy  gait.4 

1  i.  e.  unattacked  gates.     According"  to  Johnson,  unguarded. 

2  i.  e.  to  reconcile  them  to  it. 

3  All  attempts  to  extract  a  meaning-  from  this  passage,  as  it  stands, 
must  be  vain.     We  should,  perhaps,  read : — 

"  But  shall  be  remitted  to  your  public  laws 

At  heaviest  answer." 

It  is  evident  that  the  context  requires  a  word  of  this  import :  remanded 
might  serve.  The  comma  at  remedied  is  not  in-  the  old  copy.  Johnson's 
explanation  will  then  serve,  "  Not  a  Soldier  shall  quit  his  station,  or  com 
mit  any  violence,  but  he  shall  answer  it  regularly  to  the  law." 

4  This  epitaph  is  formed  out  of  two  distinct  epitaphs  in  North's  Plu- 


446  TIMON  OF  ATHENS.  [ACT  V. 

These  well  express  in  thee  thy  latter  spirits. 

Though  thou  abhorr'dst  in  us  our  human  griefs, 

Scorn 'dst  our  brains'  flow,1  and  those  our  droplets  which 

From  niggard  nature  fall,  jet  rich  conceit 

Taught  thee  to  make  vast  Neptune  weep  for  aje 

On  thy  low  grave,  on  faults  forgiven.     Dead 

Is  noble  Tinion ;  of  whose  memory 

Hereafter  more. — Bring  me  into  your  city, 

And  I  will  use  the  olive  with  my  sword. 

Make  war  breed  peace  ;  make  peace  stint 2  war ;  make 

each 

Prescribe  to  other,  as  each  other's  leech. 
Let  our  drums  strike.  [Exeunt. 

tarch.  The  first  couplet  is  there  said  to  have  been  composed  by  Timon 
himself;  the  second  by  the  poet  Callimachus.  The  epithet  caitiffs  was 
probably  suggested  by  another  epitaph,  to  be  found  in  Kendal's  Flowers 
of  Epigrammes,  1577,  and  in  the  Palace  of  Pleasure,  vol.  i.  Nov.  28. 

1  So  in  Drayton's  Miracles  of  Moses : — 

"  But  he  from  rocks  that  fountains  can  command 
Cannot  yet  stay  the  fountains  of  his  brain." 

2  Stop. 


THE  play  of  Timon  is  a  domestic  tragedy,  and  therefore  strongly  fastens 
on  the  attention  of  the  reader.  In  the  plan  there  is  not  much  art,  but  the 
incidents  are  natural,  and  the  characters  various  and  exact.  The  catas 
trophe  affords  a  very  powerful  warning  against  that  ostentatious  liberality, 
which  scatters  bounty,  but  confers  no  benefits ;  and  buys  flattery,  but  not 
friendship. 

In  this  tragedy  are  many  passages  perplexed,  obscure,  and  probably 
corrupt,  which  I  have  endeavored  to  rectify  or  explain  with  due  diligence ; 
but,  having  only  one  copy,  cannot  promise  myself  that  my  endeavors  shall 
be  much  applauded.  JOHNSON 


447 


CORIOLANUS. 


PRELIMINARY   REMARKS. 

IN  this  play,  the  narration  of  Plutarch,  in  the  Life  of  Coriolanus,  is  very 
exactly  followed ;  and  it  has  been  observed  that  the  Poet  shows  consum 
mate  skill  in  knowing  how  to  seize  the  true  poetical  point  of  view  of  the 
historical  circumstances,  without  changing  them  in  the  least  degree.  His 
noble  Roman  is  indeed  worthy  of  the  name,  and  his  mob  such  as  a  Roman 
mob  doubtless  were ;  such  as  every  great  city  has  possessed,  from  the 
time  of  the  polished  Athenians  to  that  of  modern  Paris,  where  such  scenes 
have  been  exhibited  by  a  people  collectively  considered  the  politest 
on  earth,  as  shows  that  "  the  many-headed  multitude "  have  the  same 
turbulent  spirit,  when  there  is  an  exciting  cause,  in  all  ages. 

Shakspeare  has  extracted  amusement  from  this  popular  humor,  and, 
with  the  aid  of  the  pleasant  satirical  vein  of  Menenius,  has  relieved  the 
serious  part  of  the  play  with  some  mirthful  scenes,  in  which  it  is  certain 
the  people's  folly  is  not  spared. 

The  character  of  Coriolanus,  as  drawn  by  Plutarch,  was  happily  suited 
to  the  drama,  and  in  the  hands  of  Shakspeare  could  not  fail  of  exciting  the 
highest  interest  and  sympathy  in  the  spectator.  He  is  made  of  that  stern, 
unbending  stuff,  which  usually  enters  into  the  composition  of  a  hero. 
Accustomed  to  conquest  and  triumph,  his  inflexible  spirit  could  not  stoop 
to  solicit,  by  flattering  condescension,  what  it  felt  that  its  worthy  services 
ought  to  command  : — 


he  was 


A  noble  servant  to  them ;  but  he  could  not 

Carry  his  honors  even ; 

commanding  peace 

Even  with  the  same  austerity  and  garb 
As  he  controlled  the  war." 

He  hated  flattery ;  and  his  sovereign  contempt  for  the  people  arose  from 
having  witnessed  their  pusillanimity :  though  he  loved  "  the  bubble  repu 
tation,"  and  would  have  grappled  with  fate  for  honor,  he  hated  the  breath 
of  vulgar  applause  as  "  the  reek  o'  the  rotten  fens." 


448  CORIOLANUS. 

He  knew  that  his  actions  must  command  the  good  opinion  of  men ; 
but  his  modesty  shrunk  from  their  open  declaration  of  it ;  he  could  not 
bear  to  hear  "  his  nothings  monstered." 

" Pray  you,  no  more ;  my  mother, 

Who  has  a  charter  to  extol  her  blood, 
When  she  does  praise  me,  grieves  me." 

But  yet  his  pride  was  his  greatest  characteristic — 

"  Which  out  of  daily  fortune  ever  taints 
The  happy  man." 

This  it  was  that  made  him  seek  distinction  from  the  ordinary  herd  of 
popular  heroes ;  his  honor  must  be  won  by  difficult  and  daring  enterprise, 
and  worn  in  silence.  It  was  this  pride  which  was  his  overthrow,  and 
from  which  the  moral  of  the  piece  is  to  be  drawn.  He  had  thrown  himself, 
with  the  noble  and  confiding  magnanimity  of  a  hero,  into  the  hands  of  an 
enemy,  knowing  that  the  truly  brave  are  ever  generous ;  but  two  suns 
could  not  shine  in  one  hemisphere  ;  Tullus  Aufidius  found  he  was  dark 
ened  by  his  light,  and  he  exclaims — 

" He  bears  himself  more  proudlier, 

Even  to  my  person,  than  I  thought  he  would 
When  I  did  first  embrace  him.    Yet  his  nature 
In  that's  no  changeling." 

The  closeness  with  which  Shakspeare  has  followed  his  original,  sir 
Thomas  North's  translation  of  Plutarch,  will  be  observed  upon  comparison 
of  the  following  passage  with  the  parallel  scene  in  the  play,  describing 
Coriolanus's  flight  to  Antium,  and  his  reception  by  Aufidius : — "  It  was 
even  twilight  when  he  entered  the  city  of  Antium,  and  many  people  met 
him  in  the  streets,  but  no  man  knew  him.  So  he  went  immediately  to 
Tullus  Aufidius'  house ;  and  when  he  came  thither  he  got  him  up  straight 
to  the  chimney  hearth,  and  sat  him  down,  and  spake  not  a  word  to  any 
man,  his  face  all  muffled  over.  They  of  the  house  spying  him,  wondered 
what  he  should  be,  and  yet  they  durst  not  bid  him  rise ;  for,  ill-favoredly 
muffled  and  disguised  as  he  was,  yet  there  appeared  a  certain  majesty  in 
his  countenance  and  in  his  silence :  whereupon  they  went  to  Tullus,  who 
was  at  supper,  to  tell  him  of  the  strange  disguising  of  this  man.  Tullus 
rose  presently  from  the  board,  and,  coming  towards  him,  asked  him  what 
he  was  and  wherefore  he  came.  Then  Martius  unmuffled  himself,  and, 
after  he  had  paused  awhile,  making  no  answer,  he  said  unto  him,  '  If 
thou  knowest  me  not  yet,  Tullus,  and,  seeing  me,  dost  not  perhaps  believe 
me  to  be  the  man  I  am  indeed,  I  must  of  necessity  discover  myself  to  be  that 
I  am.  I  am  Caius  Martius,  who  hath  done  to  thyself  particularly,  and  to 
all  the  Voices  generally,  great  hurt  and  mischief,  which  I  cannot  deny, 
for  my  surname  of  Coriolanus  that  I  bear.  For  I  never  had  other  benefit 


PRELIMINARY  REMARKS.  449 

of  the  true  and  painful  service  I  have  done,  and  the  extreme  dangers  I 
have  been  in,  but  this  surname ;  a  good  memory  and  witness  of  the  malice 
and  displeasure  thou  shouldest  bear  me.  Indeed,  the  name  only  remaineth 
with  me  ;  for  the  rest,  the  envy  and  cruelty  of  the  people  of  Rome  have 
taken  from  me,  by  the  sufferance  of  the  dastardly  nobility  and  magistrates, 
who  have  forsaken  me,  and  let  me  be  banished  by  the  people.  This  ex 
tremity  hath  now  driven  me  to  come  as  a  poor  suitor,  to  take  thy  chimney- 
hearth,  not  of  any  hope  I  have  to  save  my  life  thereby.  For  if  I  feared 
death,  I  would  not  have  come  hither  to  put  myself  in  hazard  ;  but  pricked 
forward  with  desire  to  be  revenged  of  them  that  have  thus  banished  me, 
which  now  I  do  begin,  by  putting  my  person  in  the  hands  of  their  enemies. 
Wherefore,  if  thou  hast  any  heart  to  be  wreaked  of  the  injuries  thy  enemies 
have  done  thee,  speed  thee  now,  and  let  my  misery  serve  thy  turn,  and  so 
use  it  as  my  service  may  be  a  benefit  to  the  Voices  ;  promising  thee  that 
I  will  fight  with  better  good-will  for  all  you,  than  1  did  when  I  was 
against  you,  knowing  that  they  fight  more  valiantly  who  know  the  force 
of  the  enemy,  than  such  as  have  never  proved  it  And  if  it  be  so  that 
thou  dare  not,  and  that  thou  art  weary  to  prove  fortune  any  more,  then  am 
I  also  weary  to  live  any  longer.  And  it  were  no  wisdom  in  thee  to  save 
the  life  of  him  who  hath  been  heretofore  thy  mortal  enemy,  and  whose 
service  now  can  nothing  help  or  pleasure  thee.' — Tullus,  hearing  what  he 
said,  was  a  marvellous  glad  man,  and,  taking  him  by  the  hand,  he  said  to 
him, « Stand  up,  O  Martius,  and  be  of  good  cheer ;  for  in  proffering  thyself 
unto  us,  thou  doest  us  great  honor :  and  by  this  means  thou  mayest  hope 
also  of  greater  things  at  all  Voices'  hands.'  So  he  feasted  him  for  that 
time,  and  entertained  him  in  the  honorablest  manner  he  could,  talking 
with  him  of  no  other  matter  at  that  present ;  but  within  a  few  days  after 
they  fell  to  consultation  together  in  what  sort  they  should  begin  their 
wars." 

In  the  scene  of  the  meeting  of  Coriolanus  with  his  wife  and  mother, 
when  they  come  to  supplicate  him  to  spare  Rome,  Shakspeare  has 
adhered  very  closely  to  his  original.  He  felt  that  it  was  sufficient  to 
give  it  merely  a  dramatic  form.  The  speech  of  Volumma,  as  we  have 
observed  in  a  note,  is  almost  in  the  very  words  of  the  old  translator  of 
Plutarch. 

The  time  comprehended  in  the  play  is  about  four  years ;  commencing 
with  the  secession  to  the  Mons  Sacer,  in  the  year  of  Romo  262,  and 
ending  with  the  death  of  Coriolanus,  A.  U.  C.  26G. 

Malone  conjectures  it  to  have  been  written  in  the  year  1610. 
VOL.  v.  57 


450 


PERSONS    REPRESENTED. 

CAIUS  MARCIUS  CORIOLANUS,  a  noble  Roman. 
TITUS  LARTIUS,  )  Generah        inst  the  Volcians. 

COMINIUS,  ) 

MENENIUS  AGRIPPA,  Friend  to  Coriolanus. 

SICINIUS  VELUTUS,  j  Tribunes  of  the  PeopU, 

JUNIUS  BRUTUS,       ) 

Young  MARCIUS,  Son  to  Coriolanus. 

A  Roman  Herald. 

TULLUS  AUFIDIUS,  General  of  the  Volcians. 

Lieutenant  to  Aufidius. 

Conspirators  with  Aufidius. 

A  Citizen  o/Antium. 

Two  Volcian  Guards. 


VOLUMNIA,  Mother  to  Coriolanus. 
VIRGILIA,  Wife  to  Coriolanus. 
VALERIA,  Friend  to  Virgilia. 
Gentlewoman,  attending  Virgilia. 

Roman  and  Volcian  Senators,  Patricians,  ^Ediles,  Lictors, 
Soldiers,  Citizens,  Messenger,  Servants  to  Aufidius, 
and  other  Attendants. 

SCENE,  partly  in  Rome,  and  partly  in  the  Territories 
of  the  Volcians  and  Antiates. 


451 


CORIOLANUS. 


ACT    I. 

SCENE   1.     Rome.     A  Street. 

Enter  a  Company  of  mutinous  Citizens,  with  staves, 
clubs,  and  other  weapons. 

1  Citizen.  BEFORE  we  proceed  any  further,  hear  me 
speak. 

Cit.    Speak,  speak.  [Several  speaking  at  once. 

1  Cit.  You  are  all  resolved  rather  to  die,  than  to 
famish  ? 

Cit.    Resolved,  resolved. 

1  Cit.  First,  you  know,  Caius  Marcius  is  chief 
enemy  to  the  people. 

Cit.    We  know't,  we  know't. 

1  Cit.    Let  us  kill  him,  and  we'll  have  corn  at  our 
own  price.     Is't  a  verdict? 

Cit.  No  more  talking  on't ;  let  it  be  done.  Away, 
away. 

2  Cit.    One  word,  good  citizens. 

1  Cit.  We  are  accounted  poor  citizens  ;  the  patricians, 
good.1  What  authority  surfeits  on,  would  relieve  us. 
If  they  would  yield  us  but  the  superfluity,  while  it 
were  wholesome,  we  might  guess  they  relieved  us 
humanely ;  but  they  think  we  are  too  dear :  the  lean 
ness  that  afflicts  us,  the  object  of  our  misery,  is  as  an 
inventory  to  particularize  their  abundance :  our  suffer 
ance  is  a  gain  to  them. — Let  us  revenge  this  with  our 

1   Good,  in  a  commercial  sense. 


452  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  i. 

pikes,  ere  we  become  rakes ; l  for  the  gods  know,  I 
speak  this  in  hunger  for  bread,  not  in  thirst  for  re 
venge. 

2  Cit.  Would  you  proceed  especially  against  Caius 
Marcius  ? 

Cit.  Against  him  first ;  he's  a  very  dog  to  the  com 
monalty. 

2  Cit.  Consider  you  what  services  he  has  done  for 
his  country  ? 

1  Cit.    Very  well ;  and  could  be  content  to  give  him 
good  report  for't,  but  that  he  pays  himself  with  being 
proud. 

2  Cit.   Nay,  but  speak  not  maliciously. 

1  Cit.    I  say  unto  you,  what  he  hath  done  famously, 
he  did  it  to  that  end  :  though  soft-conscienced  men  can 
be  content  to  say,  it  was  for  his  country,  he  did  it  to 
please  his  mother,  and  to  be  partly  proud  ;  which  he  is, 
even  to  the  altitude  of  his  virtue. 

2  Cit.    What  he  cannot  help  in  his  nature,  you  ac 
count  a  vice  in  him.     You  must  in  no  way  say  he  is 
covetous. 

1  Cit.  If  I  must  not,  I  need  not  be  barren  of  accu 
sations  ;  he  hath  faults,  with  surplus,  to  tire  in  repeti 
tion.  [Shouts  within.']  What  shouts  are  these  ?  The 
other  side  o'  the  city  is  risen.  Why  stay  we  prating 
here  ?  To  the  capitol. 

Cit.    Come,  come. 

1  Cit.    Soft ;  who  comes  here  ? 


Enter  MENENIUS  AGRIPPA. 

2  Cit.  Worthy  Menenius  Agrippa ;  one  that  hath 
always  loved  the  people. 

1  Cit.  He's  one  honest  enough  ;  'would  all  the  rest 
were  so ! 

i  "  As  lean  as  a  rake "  is  an  old  proverbial  expression.  There  is,  as 
Warburton  observes,  a  miserable  joke  intended : — "  Let  us  now  revenge 
this  with  forks,  before  we  become  rakes  ;"  a  pike  or  pike-fork,  being  the 
ancient  term  for  a  pitchfork.  The  origin  of  the  proverb  is,  doubtless,  "  as 
lean  as  a  rache  or  rcecc"  (pronounced  rake),  and  signifying  a  greyhound. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  453 

Men.     What    work's,  my    countrymen,    in    hand? 

Where  go  you 

With  bats  and  clubs  ?     The  matter  ?     Speak,  I   pray 
you. 

1  Cit.  Our  business  is  not  unknown  to  the  senate  ; 
they  have  had  inkling,  this  fortnight,  what  we  intend 
to  do,  which  now  we'll  show  'em  in  deeds.  They  say 
poor  suitors  have  strong  breaths ;  they  shall  know  we 
have  strong  arms  too. 

Men.    Why,  masters,  my  good  friends,  mine   honest 

neighbors, 
Will  you  undo  yourselves  ? 

1  Cit.    We  cannot,  sir  ;  we  are  undone  already. 

Men.    I  tell  you,  friends,  most  charitable  care 
Have  the  patricians  of  you.     For  your  wants, 
Your  suffering  in  this  dearth,  you  may  as  well 
Strike  at  the  heaven  with  your  staves,  as  lift  them 
Against  the  Roman  state  ;  whose  course  will  on 
The  way  it  takes,  cracking  ten  thousand  curbs 
Of  more  strong  link  asunder,  than  can  ever 
Appear  in  your  impediment.     For  the  dearth, 
The  gods,  not  the  patricians,  make  it ;  and 
Your  knees  to  them,  not  arms,  must  help.     Alack, 
You  are  transported  by  calamity 
Thither  where  more  attends  you ;  and  you  slander 
The  helms  o'  the  state,  who  care  for  you  like  fathers, 
When  you  curse  them  as  enemies. 

1  Cit.  Care  for  us ! — True,  indeed ! — They  ne'er 
cared  for  us  yet.  Suffer  us  to  famish,  and  their  store 
houses  crammed  with  grain ;  make  edicts  for  usury,  to 
support  usurers  ;  repeal  daily  any  wholesome  act  estab 
lished  against  the  rich ;  and  provide  more  piercing 
statutes  daily  to  chain  up  and  restrain  the  poor.  If  the 
wars  eat  us  not  up,  they  will ;  and  there's  all  the  love 
they  bear  us. 

Men.    Either  you  must 
Confess  yourselves  wondrous  malicious, 
Or  be  accused  of  folly.     I  shall  tell  you 
A  pretty  tale ;  it  may  be,  you  have  heard  it ; 


454  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I 

But,  since  it  serves  my  purpose,  I  will  venture 
To  stale't 1  a  little  more. 

1  Cit.  Well,  I'll  hear  it,  sir:  jet  you  must  not  think 
to  fob  off  our  disgrace  2  with  a  tale ;  but,  an't  please 
you,  deliver. 

Men.    There  was  a  time,  when  all  the  body's  mem 
bers 

Rebelled  against  the  belly  ;  thus  accused  it : — 
That  only  like  a  gulf  it  did  remain 
Pthe  midst  o'the  body,  idle  and  inactive, 
Still  cupboarding  the  viand,  never  bearing 
Like  labor  with  the  rest ;  where 3  the  other  instruments 
Did  see,  and  hear,  devise,  instruct,  walk,  feel, 
And,  mutually  participate,  did  minister 
Unto  the  appetite  and  affection  common 
Of  the  whole  body.     The  belly  answered, — 

1  Cit.    Well,  sir,  what  answer  made  the  belly  ? 

Men.    Sir,  I  shall  tell  you. — With  a  kind  of  smile, 
Which  ne'er  came  from  the  lungs,  but  even  thus, 
(For,  look  you,  I  may  make  the  belly  smile, 
As  well  as  speak,)  it  tauntingly  replied 
To  the  discontented  members,  the  mutinous  parts 
That  envied  his  receipt ;  even  so  most  fitly 4 
As  you  malign  our  senators,  for  that 
They  are  not  such  as  you. 

1  Cit.  Your  belly's  answer  ;  what  ? 

Men.    The  kingly-crowned  head,  the  vigilant  eye, 
The  counsellor  heart,5  the  arm  our  soldier, 

1  i.  e.  render  it  more  common :  "  the  old  copies  have  '  scole't  a  little 
more ; '  for  which  Theobald  judiciously  proposed  stale.    To  this  War- 
burton  objects,  because  to  scale  signifies  to  weigh ;  so  indeed  it  does, 
and  many  other  things  ;  none  of  which,  however,  bear  any  relation  to  the 
text.     Steevens,  too,  prefers  scale,  which  he  proves  from  a  variety  of 
authorities  to  mean    '  scatter,  disperse,  spread : '    to  make  any  of  them, 
however,  suit  his  purpose,  he  is  obliged  to  give  an  unfaithful  version  of 
the  text." 

2  Disgraces  are  hardships,  injuries. 

3  Where  for  whereas. 

4  i.  e.  exactly. 

5  The  heart  was  anciently  esteemed  the  seat  of  the  understanding. 
See  the  next  note.     There  have  been,  in  former  editions,  some  inaccuracies 
in  the  appropriation  of  some  portions  of  this  dialogue,  which  Mr.  Singer 
has  judiciously  rectified. 


SC.  I.J  CORIOLANUS.  455 

Our  steed  the  leg,  the  tongue  our  trumpeter, 
With  other  muniments  and  petty  helps 
In  this  our  fabric,  if  that  they 

1  Cit.  What  then  ?— 

Men.    'Fore   me,  this  fellow  speaks ! — what  then  ? 

what  then  ? 

Should  by  the  cormorant  belly  be  restrained, 
Who  is  the  sink  o'  the  body, 

1  Cit.  Well,  what  then  ? 

The  former  agents,  if  they  did  complain, 
What  could  the  belly  answer  ? 

Men.  I  will  tell  you  ; 

If  you'll  bestow  a  small  (of  what  you  have  little) 
Patience,  a  while,  you'll  hear  the  belly's  answer. 

1  Cit.    You  are  long  about  it. 

Men.  Note  me  this,  good  friend  ; 

Your  most  grave  belly  was  deliberate, 
Not  rash  like  his  accusers,  and  thus  answered : — 
True  is  it,  my  incorporate  friends,  quoth  he, 
That  I  receive  the  general  food  at  first, 
Which  you  do  live  upon  :  and  Jit  it  is ; 
Because  I  am  the  store-house,  and  the  shop 
Of  the  whole  body.     But  if  you  do  remember, 
I  send  it  through  the  rivers  of  your  blood, 
Even  to  the  court,  the  heart, — to  the  seat  o'  the  brain  ; 1 
And  through  the  cranks2  and  offices  of  man, 
The  strongest  nerves,  and  small,  inferior  veins, 
From  me  receive  that  natural  competency 
IV hereby  they  live.     And  though  that  all  at  once, 
You,  my  good  friends,  (this  says  the  belly,)  mark  me, — 

1  Cit.    Ay,  sir;  well,  well. 

Men.  Though  all  at  once  cannot 

See  what  I  do  deliver  out  to  each  ; 
Yet  I  can  make  my  audit  up,  that  all 
From  me  do  back  receive  the  flour  of  all, 
And  leave  me  but  the  bran.     What  say  you  to't  ? 

1  Shakspeare  uses  seat  for  throne.     "I  send  it  (says  the  belly)  through 
the  blood,  even  to  the  royal  residence,  the  heart,  in  which  the  kingly  • 
crowned  understanding  sits  enthroned." 

2  Cranlts  are  windings ;  the  meandering  ducts  of  the  human  body. 


456  CORIOLANTJS.  [ACT  i 

1  Cit.    It  was  an  answer.     How  apply  you  this  ? 

Men.    The  senators  of  Rome  are  this  good  belly, 
And  you  the  mutinous  members.     For  examine 
Their  counsels,  and  their  cares ;  digest  things  rightly, 
Touching  the  weal  of  the  common ;  you  shall  find, 
No  public  benefit  which  you  receive, 
But  it  proceeds,  or  comes,  from  them  to  you, 
And  no  way  from  yourselves. — What  do  you  think  ? 
You,  the  great  toe  of  this  assembly? — 

Cit.    I  the  great  toe  ?     Why  the  great  toe  ? 

Men.     For   that    being   one    o'the    lowest,   basest, 

poorest, 

Of  this  most  wise  rebellion,  thou  go'st  foremost. 
Thou  rascal,  that  art  worst  in  blood  to  run,1 
Lead'st  first  to  win  some  vantage. — 
But  make  you  ready  your  stiff  bats  and  clubs ; 
Rome  and  her  rats  are  at  the  point  of  battle ; 
The  one  side  must  have  bale.2     Hail,  noble  Marcius ! 

Enter  CAIUS  MARCIUS. 

Mar.    Thanks. — What's  the  matter,  you  dissensions 

rogues, 

That,  rubbing  the  poor  itch  of  your  opinion, 
Make  yourselves  scabs  ? 

1  Cit.  We  have  ever  your  good  word 

Mar.    He   that  will  give   good  words   to  thee,  will 

flatter 

Beneath  abhorring. — What  would  you  have,  you  curs, 
That  like  nor  peace,  nor  war  ?  the  one  affrights  you, 
The  other  makes  you  proud.     He  that  trusts  you, 
Where  he  should  find  you  lions,  finds  you  hares ; 
Where  foxes,  geese.     You  are  no  surer,  no, 


1  Rascal  and  in  blood,  are  terms  of  the  forest,  both  here  used  equivocally. 
The  meaning  seems  to  be,  "  Thou  worthless  scoundrel,  though  thou  art 
in  the  worst  plight  for  running  of  all  this  herd  of  plebeians,  like  a  deer 
not  in  blood,  thou  takest  the  lead  in  this  tumult  in  order  to  obtain  some 
private  advantage  to  thyself."  "  Worst  in  blood  "  has  a  secondary  mean 
ing  of  lowest  in  condition.  The  modern  editions  have,  erroneously,  ft  comma 
at  blood,  which  obscures  the  sense. 

•*  Bale  is  evil  or  mischief,  harm  or  injury. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  457 

Than  is  the  coal  of  fire  upon  the  ice, 

Or  hailstone  in  the  sun.     Your  virtue  is, 

To  make  him  worthy,  whose  offence  subdues  him, 

And  curse  that  justice  did  it.1     Who  deserves  greatness, 

Deserves  your  hate  ;  and  your  affections  are 

A  sick  man's  appetite,  who  desires  most  that 

Which  would  increase  his  evil.     He  that  depends 

Upon  your  favors,  swims  with  fins  of  lead, 

And  hews  down  oaks  with  rushes.     Hang  ye  !     Trust 

ye? 

With  every  minute  you  do  change  a  mind  ; 
And  call  him  noble  that  was  now  your  hate ; 
Him  vile,  that  was  your  garland.     What's  the  matter, 
That  in  these  several  places  of  the  city 
You  cry  against  the  noble  senate,  who, 
Under  the  gods,  keep  you  in  awe,  which  else 
Would  feed  on  one  another  ? — What's  their  seeking  ? 

Men.  For  corn  at  their  own  rates  ;  whereof,  they  say, 
The  city  is  well  stored. 

Mar.  Hang  'em  !     They  say  ? 

They'll  sit  by  the  fire,  and  presume  to  know 
Wrhat's  done  i'  the  capitol ;  who's  like  to  rise, 
Who  thrives,  and  who  declines  ;  side  factions,  and  give 

out 

Conjectural  marriages  ;  making  parties  strong, 
And  feebling  such  as  stand  not  in  their  liking, 
Below  their  cobbled  shoes.  They  say  there's  grain 

enough  ? 

Would  the  nobility  lay  aside  their  ruth,2 
And  let  me  use  my  sword,  I'd  make  a  quarry3 
With  thousands  of  these  quartered  slaves,  as  high 
As  J  could  pick4  my  lance. 

Men.    Nay,  these  are  almost  thoroughly  persuaded  ; 
For  though  abundantly  they  lack  discretion, 

1  "  Your  virtue  is  to  speak  well  of  him  whom  his  own  offences  have 
subjected  to  justice;  and  to  rail  at  those  laws  by  which  he  whom  you 
praise  was  punished." 

2  i.  e.  pity,  compassion. 

3  Quarry  or  guerre  signified  slaughtered  game,  so  denominated  from 
being  deposited  in  a  square  inclosed  space  in  royal  hunting. 

4  Pick,  peck,  or  picke,  i.  e.  pitch;  still  in  provincial  use 

VOL.  v.  58 


458  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I, 

Yet  are  they  passing  cowardly.     But,  I  beseech  you, 
What  says  the  other  troop  ? 

Mar.  They  are  dissolved.     Hang  'em  ! 

They  said,  they  were  an  hungry;  sighed  forth  proverbs; 
That  hunger  broke  stone  walls ;  that  dogs  must  eat  ; 
That  meat  was  made  for  mouths  ;  that  the  gods  sent  not 
Corn  for  the  rich  men  only. — With  these  shreds 
They  vented  their  complainings ;  which  being  answered, 
And  a  petition  granted  them,  a  strange  one, 
(To  break  the  heart  of  generosity,1 
And  make  bold  power  look  pale,)  they  threw  their  caps 
As  they  would  hang  them  on  the  horns  o'  the  moon, 
Shouting  their  emulation.2 

Men.  What  is  granted  them  ? 

Mar.    Five  tribunes  to  defend   their  vulgar  wisdoms, 
Of  their  own  choice.     One's  Junius  Brutus, 
Sicinius  Velutus,  and  I  know  not — 'Sdeath ! 
The  rabble  should  have  first  unroofed  the  city, 
Ere  so  prevailed  with  me ;  it  will  in  time 
Win  upon  power,  and  throw  forth  greater  themes 
For  insurrections  arguing.3 

Men.  This  is  strange. 

Mar.    Go,  get  you  home,  you  fragments ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    Where's  Caius  Marcius  ? 
Mar.  Here.     What's  the  matter  ? 

Mess.    The  news  is,  sir,  the  Voices  are  in  arms. 
Mar.    I  am  glad  on't ;  then  we  shall  have  means  to 

vent 
Our  musty  superfluity. — See,  our  best  elders. 

Enter  COMINIUS,  TITUS  LARTIUS,  and  other  Senators ; 
JUNIUS  BRUTUS  and  SICINIUS  VELUTUS. 

1  Sen.  Marcius,  'tis  true,  that  you  have  lately  told  us  ; 
The  Voices  are  in  arms. 

1  Generosity,  in  the  sense  of  its  Latin  original,  for  nobleness,  high  birth 

2  Emulation  is  factious  contention. 

3  For  insurgents  to  debate  upon. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  459 

Mar.    They  have  a  leader, 
Tullus  Aufidius,  that  will  put  you  to't. 
I  sin  in  envying  his  nobility ; 
And  were  I  any  thing  but  what  I  am, 
I  would  wish  me  only  he. 

Com.  You  have  fought  together. 

Mar.    Were    half  to  half  the  world   by  the    ears, 

and  he 

Upon  my  party,  I'd  revolt  to  make 
Only  my  wars  with  him :  he  is  a  lion 
That  I  am  proud  to  hunt. 

1  Sen.  Then,  worthy  Marcius, 

Attend  upon  Cominius  to  these  wars. 

Com.    It  is  your  former  promise. 

Mar.  Sir,  it  is ; 

And  I  am  constant.1 — Titus  Lartius,  thou 
Shalt  see  me  once  more  strike  at  Tullus'  face : 
What,  art  thou  stiff?  stand'st  out  ? 

Tit.  No,  Caius  Marcius ; 

I'll  lean  upon  one  crutch,  and  fight  with  the  other, 
Ere  stay  behind  this  business. 

Men.  O,  true  bred  ! 

1  Sen.  Your  company  to  the  capitol ;  where,  I  know, 
Our  greatest  friends  attend  us. 

Tit.  Lead  you  on : 

Follow,  Cominius  ;  we  must  follow  you  ; 
Right  worthy  you  priority.2 

Com.  Noble  Lartius  ! 3 

1  Sen.    Hence  !     To  your  homes,  be  gone. 

[To  the  Citizens. 

Mar.  Nay,  let  them  follow : 

The  Voices  have  much  corn ;  take  these  rats  thither, 
To  gnaw  their  garners. — Worshipful  mutineers, 
Your  valor  puts 4  well  forth  ;  pray,  follow. 

[Exeunt  Senators,  COM.,  MAR.,  TIT.,  and 
MENEN.  Citizens  steal  away. 

1  i.  e.  immovable  in  my  resolution. 

2  Of  is  understood. 

3  The  old  copy  has  Marcius. 

4  That  is,  You  have  in  this  mutiny  shown  fair  blossoms  of  valor. 


460  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I 

Sic.   Was  ever  man  so  proud  as  is  this  Marcius  ? 

Bru.    He  has  no  equal. 

Sic.    When    we    were    chosen    tribunes    for    the 
people, 

Bru.   Marked  you  his  lip,  and  eyes  ? 

Sic.  Nay,  but  his  taunts. 

Bru.    Being  moved,  he  will  not  spare  to  gird 1  the 
gods. 

Sic.    Bemock  the  modest  moon. 

Bru.    The  present  wars  devour  him  ;  he  is  grown 
Too  proud  to  be  so  valiant.2 

Sic.  Such  a  nature, 

Tickled  with  good  success,  disdains  the  shadow 
Which  he  treads  on  at  noon.     But  I  do  wonder, 
His  insolence  can  brook  to  be  commanded 
Under  Cominius. 

Bru.  Fame,  at  the  which  he  aims, — 

In  whom  already  he  is  well  graced, — cannot 
Better  be  held,  nor  more  attained,  than  by 
A  place  below  the  first ;  for  what  miscarries 
Shall  be  the  general's  fault,  though  he  perform 
To  the  utmost  of  a  man ;  and  giddy  censure 
Will  then  cry  out  of  Marcius,  O,  if  he 
Had  borne  the  business  ! 

Sic.  Besides,  if  things  go  well, 

Opinion,  that  so  sticks  on  Marcius,  shall 
Of  his  demerits3  rob  Cominius. 

Bru.  Come. 

Half  all  Cominius'  honors  are  to  Marcius, 
Though  Marcius  earned  them  not ;  and  all  his  faults 
To  Marcius  shall  be  honors,  though,  indeed, 
In  aught  he  merit  not. 

Sic.  Let's  hence,  and  hear 

How  the  despatch  is  made ;  and  in  what  fashion, 


1  A  gird  is  a  cut,  a  sarcasm,  or  stroke  of  satire. 

2  Perhaps  the  meaning  of  the  latter  member  of  the  sentence  is,  "  He  is 
grown  too  proud  of  being  so  valiant  to  be  endured,"  or  "  too  proud  for  one 
so  valiant/'     It  is  still  a  common  expression  to  say,  "  eat  up  with  pride." 

3  Dements  and  merits  had  anciently  the  same  meaning. 


SO    II.]  CORIOLANUS.  461 

More  than  in  singularity,1  he  goes 
Upon  his  present  action. 

Bru.  Let's  along.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II.     Corioli.     The  Senate  House. 

Enter  TULLUS  AUFIDIUS  and  certain  Senators. 

1  Sen.    So  jour  opinion  is,  Aufidius, 
That  they  of  Rome  are  entered  in  our  counsels, 
And  know  how  we  proceed. 

Auf.  Is  it  not  yours  ? 

What  ever  hath  been  thought  on  in  this  state,2 
That  could  be  brought  to  bodily  act  ere  Rome 
Had  circumvention !     'Tis  not  four  days  gone, 
Since  I  heard  thence  ;  these  are  the  words.     I  think 
I  have  the  letter  here  ;  yes,  here  it  is  :  [Reads. 

They  have  prest 3  a  power  ;  but  it  is  not  known 
Whether  for  east  or  west.     The  dearth  is  great ; 
The  people  mutinous :  and  it  is  rumored, 
Cominius,  Marcius,  your  old  enemy, 
(Who  is  of  Rome  ivorse  hated  than  of  you,) 
And  Titus  Lartius,  a  most  valiant  Roman, — 
These  three  lead  on  this  preparation 
Whither  His  bent.     Most  likely,  His  for  you  ; 
Consider  of  it. 

1  Sen.  Our  army's  in  the  field ; 

We  never  yet  made  doubt  but  Rome  was  ready 
To  answer  us. 

Auf.  Nor  did  you  think  it  folly, 

To  keep  your  great  pretences  veiled,  till  when 
They  needs    must   show    themselves ;    which  in  the 
hatching, 

1  "  What  he  is  to  do  beside  going  himself." 

2  The  old  copy  reads : — 

"What  have  been  ever  thought  on  in  this  state." 

We  must  either  suppose  this  an  ellipsis  for  "  What  things  have,"  &c.,  01 
read,  with  Steevens,  hath,  as  in  the  text 

3  i.  e.  ready ;  from  the  old  French  prest. 


462  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I. 

It  seemed,  appeared  to  Rome.     By  the  discovery, 
We  shall  be  shortened  in  our  aim ;  which  was, 
To  take  in 1  many  towns,  ere,  almost,  Rome 
Should  know  we  were  afoot. 

2  Sen.  Noble  Aufidius, 

Take  your  commission  ;  hie  you  to  your  bands  ; 
Let  us  alone  to  guard  Corioli. 
If  they  set  down  before  us,  for  the  remove  2 
Bring  up  your  army ;  but  I  think  you'll  find 
They  have  not  prepared  for  us. 

Auf.  O,  doubt  not  that ; 

I  speak  from  certainties.     Nay,  more, 
Some  parcels  of  their  powers  are  forth  already, 
And  only  hithenvard.     I  leave  your  honors. 
If  we  and  Caius  Marcius  chance  to  meet, 
'Tis  sworn  between  us,  we  shall  never  strike 
Till  one  can  do  no  more. 

AIL    The  gods  assist  you  ! 

Auf.    And  keep  your  honors  safe  ! 

1  Sen.  Farewell. 

2  Sen.  Farewell. 
All.   Farewell.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE    III.     Rome.     An  Apartment  in  Marcius' 
House. 

Enter  VOLUMNIA  and  VIRGILIA.     They  sit   down  on 
two  low  stools,  and  sew. 

Vol.  I  pray  you,  daughter,  sing ;  or  express  yourself 
in  a  more  comfortable  sort.  If  my  son  were  my  hus 
band,  I  should  freelier  rejoice  in  that  absence  wherein 
he  won  honor,  than  in  the  ernbracements  of  his  bed, 
where  he  would  show  most  love.  When  yet  he  was 
but  tender-bodied,  and  the  only  son  of  my  womb  ; 

1  To  take  in  was  formerly  used  as  we  now  use  to  take  for  to  subdue,  to 
conquer. 

2  "  If  the  Romans  besiege  us,  bring  up  your  army  to  remove  them" 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  463 

when  youth  with  comeliness  plucked  all  gaze  his  way;1 
when,  for  a  day  of  kings'  entreaties,  a  mother  should 
not  sell  him  an  hour  from  her  beholding ;  I — consider 
ing  how  honor  would  become  such  a  person ;  that  it 
was  no  better  than  picture-like  to  hang  by  the  wall,  if 
renown  made  it  not  stir — was  pleased  to  let  him  seek 
danger  where  he  was  like  to  find  fame.  To  a  cruel 
war  I  sent  him ;  from  whence  he  returned,  his  brows 
bound  with  oak.2  I  tell  thee,  daughter, — I  sprang  not 
more  in  joy  at  first  hearing  he  was  a  man-child,  than 
now  in  first  seeing  he  had  proved  himself  a  man. 

Vir.  But  had  he  died  in  the  business,  madam? 
how  then  ? 

Vol.  Then  his  good  report  should  have  been  my 
son :  I  therein  would  have  found  issue.  Hear  me 
profess  sincerely : — Had  I  a  dozen  sons, — each  in  my 
love  alike,  and  none  less  dear  than  thine  and  my  good 
Marcius, — I  had  rather  had  eleven  die  nobly  for  their 
country,  than  one  voluptuously  surfeit  out  of  action. 


Enter  a  Gentlewoman. 

Gent.    Madam,  the  lady  Valeria  is  come  to  visit  you, 

Vir.    'Beseech  you,  give  me  leave  to  retire3  myself. 

Vol.    Indeed,  you  shall  not. 
Methinks  I  hear  hither  your  husband's  drum ; 
See  him  pluck  Aufidius  down  by  the  hair ; 
As  children  from  a  bear,  the  Voices  shunning  him. 
Methinks  I  see  him  stamp  thus,  and  call  thus, — 
Come  on,  you  cowards;  you  were  got  in  fear, 
Though  you  were  born  in  Rome.     His  bloody  brow 
With  his  mailed  hand  then  wiping,  forth  he  goes ; 
Like  to  a  harvest-man,  that's  tasked  to  mow 
Or  all,  or  lose  his  hire. 

Vir.    His  bloody  brow !  O  Jupiter,  no  blood  ! 


Vol.    Away,  you  fool !  it  more  becomes  a  man, 


1  Attracted  the  attention  of  every  one  toward  him. 

2  The  crown  given  by  the  Romans  to  him  that  saved  the  life  of  a 
citizen. 

3  This  verb  active  (signifying  to  itrithdraw)  occurs  in  The  Tempest 


464  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I. 

Than  gilt  his  trophy.     The  breasts  of  Hecuba, 
When  she  did  suckle  Hector,  looked  not  lovelier 
Than  Hector's  forehead,  when  it  spit  forth  blood 
At  Grecian  swords'  contending. — Tell  Valeria, 
We  are  fit  to  bid  her  welcome.  [Exit  Gent 

Vir.    Heavens  bless  my  lord  from  fell  Aufidius ! 

Vol.    He'll  beat  Aufidius'  head  below  his  knee, 
And  tread  upon  his  neck. 

Re-enter  Gentlewoman,  with  VALERIA  and  her  Usher. 

Vol.   My  ladies  both,  good  day  to  you. 

Vol.    Sweet  madam, 

Vir.    I  am  glad  to  see  your  ladyship. 

Vol.  How  do  you  both  ?  you  are  manifest  house 
keepers.  What,  are  you  sewing  here  ?  A  fine  spot,1 
in  good  faith. — How  does  your  little  son  ? 

Vir.    I  thank  your  ladyship  ;  well,  good  madam. 

Vol.  He  had  rather  see  the  swords,  and  hear  a 
drum,  than  look  upon  his  schoolmaster. 

Val.  O'  my  word,  the  father's  son ;  I'll  swear 
'tis  a  very  pretty  boy.  O'  my  troth,  I  looked  upon 
him  o' Wednesday  half  an  hour  together;  he  has 
such  a  confirmed  countenance.  I  saw  him  run  after  a 
gilded  butterfly,  and  when  he  caught  it,  he  let  it  go 
again  ;  and  after  it  again  ;  and  over  and  over  he  comes, 
and  up  again ;  catched  it  again :  or  whether  his  fall 
enraged  him,  or  how  'twas,  he  did  so  set  his  teeth, 
and  tear  it.  O,  I  warrant,  how  he  mammocked  2  it ! 

Vcl.    One  of  his  father's  moods. 

Val.    Indeed,  la,  'tis  a  noble  child. 

Vir.    A  crack,3  madam. 

Val.  Come,  lay  aside  your  stitchery ;  I  must  have 
you  play  the  idle  housewife  with  me  this  afternoon. 

Vir.   No,  good  madam ;  I  will  riot  out  of  doors. 

Val.   Not  out  of  doors ! 


1  i.  e.  a  handsome  spot  of  embroidery. 

2  To  mammock  is  to  tear  or  cut  in  pieces. 

3  A  crack  signifies  a  sprightly,  forward  boy.    The  word  is  often  used 
by  Jonson  and  his  contemporaries. 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  465 

Vol.    She  shall,  she  shall. 

Vir.  Indeed,  no,  by  your  patience  ;  I  will  not  over 
the  threshold  till  my  lord  return  from  the  wars. 

Vol.  Fie  !  you  confine  yourself  most  unreasonably ; 
come,  you  must  go  visit  the  good  lady  that  lies  in. 

Vir.  I  will  wish  her  speedy  strength,  and  visit  her 
with  my  prayers  ;  but  I  cannot  go  thither. 

Vol.   Why,  I  pray  you  ? 

Vir.    'Tis  not  to  save  labor,  nor  that  I  want  love. 

Vol.  You  would  be  another  Penelope ;  yet  they 
say,  all  the  yarn  she  spun,  in  Ulysses'  absence,  did 
but  fill  Ithaca  full  of  moths.  Come,  I  would  your 
cambric  were  sensible  as  your  finger,  that  you  might 
leave  pricking  it  for  pity.  Come,  you  shall  go  with  us. 

Vir.  No,  good  madam,  pardon  me ;  indeed,  I  will 
not  forth. 

Vol.  In  truth,  la,  go  with  me ;  and  I'll  tell  you 
excellent  news  of  your  husband. 

Vir.    O,  good  madam,  there  can  be  none  yet. 

Vol.  Verily,  I  do  not  jest  with  you ;  there  came 
news  from  him  last  night. 

Vir.    Indeed,  madam? 

Vol.  In  earnest,  it's  true ;  I  heard  a  senator  speak 
it.  Thus  it  is : — The  Voices  have  an  army  forth ; 
against  whom  Cominius  the  general  is  gone,  with  one 
part  of  our  Roman  power.  Your  lord,  and  Titus 
Lartius,  are  set  down  before  their  city  Corioli ;  they 
nothing  doubt  prevailing,  and  to  make  it  brief  wars. 
This  is  true,  on  mine  honor ;  and  so,  I  pray,  go  with  us. 

Vir.  Give  me  excuse,  good  madam ;  I  will  obey 
you  in  every  thing  hereafter. 

Vol.  Let  her  alone,  lady ;  as  she  is  now,  she  will 
but  disease  our  better  mirth. 

Vol.  In  troth,  I  think  she  would ; — fare  you  well, 
then.  Come,  good  sweet  lady. — Pr'ythee,  Virgilia, 
turn  thy  solemness  out  o'  door,  and  go  along  with  us. 

Vir.  No;  at  a  word,  madam;  indeed,  I  must  not. 
I  wish  you  much  mirth. 

Vol.   Well,  then,  farewell.  [Exeunt, 

VOL.  v.  59 


466  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I 


SCENE   IV.     Before  Corioli. 

Enter,  with  drum  and  colors,  MARCIUS,  TITUS  LARTIUS, 
Officers  and  Soldiers.     To  them  a  Messenger. 

Mar.  Yonder  comes  news. — A  wager,  they  have  met. 

Lart.   My  horse  to  yours,  no. 

Mar.  >Tis  done. 

Lart.  Agreed. 

Mar.    Say,  has  our  general  met  the  enemy  ? 

Mess.    They  lie  in  view ;  but  have  not  spoke  as  yet. 

Lart.    So,  the  good  horse  is  mine. 

Mar.  I'll  buy  him  of  you. 

Lart.    No,  I'll  nor  sell,  nor  give  him ;  lend  you  him, 

I  will, 
For  half  a  hundred  years. — Summon  the  town. 

Mar.    How  far  off  lie  these  armies  ? 

Mess.  Within  this  mile  and  half. 

Mar.    Then  shall  we  hear  their  larum,  and  they  ours. 
Now,  Mars,  I  pr'ythee  make  us  quick  in  work ; 
That  we  with  smoking  swords  may  march  from  hence, 
To  help  our  fielded  friends ! 1 — Come,  blow  thy  blast. 

They  sound  a  parley.     Enter,  on  the  ivalls,  some 
Senators,  and  others. 

Tullus  Aufidius,  is  he  within  your  walls  ? 

1  Sen.    No,  nor  a  man  that  fears  you  less  than  he,2 
That's  lesser  than  a  little.     Hark,  our  drums 

[Alarums  afar  off. 

Are  bringing  forth  our  youth.     We'll  break  our  walls, 
Rather  than  they  shall  pound  us  up.   Our  gates, 
Which  yet  seem  shut,  we  have  but  pinned  with  rushes  ; 
They'll  open  of  themselves.     Hark  you,  far  off; 

[Other  alarums. 

i  i.  e.  our  friends  who  are  in  the  field. 

y  The  Poet  means— No,  nor  a  man  that  fears  you  more  than  he  ;  but 
he  often  entangles  himself  in  the  use  of  less  and  more. 


SC.  IV.]  CORIOLANUS.  467 

There  is  Aufidius ;  list,  what  work  he  makes 
Amongst  your  cloven  army. 

Mar.  O,  they  are  at  it ! 

Lart.    Their  noise  be  our  instruction. — Ladders,  ho ! 


The  Voices  enter  and  pass  over  the  stage. 

Mar.   They  fear  us  not,  but  issue  forth  their  city. 
Now  put  your  shields  before  your  hearts,  and  fight 
With  hearts  more  proof  than  shields. — Advance,  brave 

Titus; 

They  do  disdain  us  much  beyond  our  thoughts, 
Which  makes  me  sweat  with  wrath. — Come  on,  my 

fellows ; 

He  that  retires,  I'll  take  him  for  a  Voice, 
And  he  shall  feel  mine  edge. 


Alarum,  and  exeunt  Romans  and  Voices,  fghting. 
The  Romans  are  beaten  back  to  their  trenches. — 
Re-enter  MARCIUS. 

Mar.   All  the  contagion  of  the  south  light  on  you, 
You  shames  of  Rome !    you  herd  of Boils  and 

plagues 

Plaster  you  o'er ;  that  you  may  be  abhorred 
Further  than  seen,  and  one  infect  another 
Against  the  wind  a  mile  !     You  souls  of  geese, 
That  bear  the  shapes  of  men,  how  have  you  run 
From  slaves  that  apes  would  beat  ?    Pluto  and  hell ! 
All  hurt  behind ;  backs  red,  and  faces  pale 
With   flight   and   agued   fear !    Mend,   and  charge 

home, 

Or,  by  the  fires  of  heaven,  I'll  leave  the  foe, 
And  make  my  wars  on  you :  look  to't.     Come  on ; 
If  you'll  stand  fast,  we'll  beat  them  to  their  wives, 
As  they  us  to  our  trenches  followed. 


468  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I. 

Another  alarum.  The  Voices  and  Romans  re-enter, 
and  the  fight  is  renewed.  The  Voices  retire  into 
Corioli,  and  MARCIUS  follows  them  to  the  gates. 

So,  now  the  gates  are  ope. — Now  prove  good  seconds. 
'Tis  for  the  followers  fortune  widens  them, 
Not  for  the  fliers.  Mark  me,  and  do  the  like. 

[He  enters  the  gates,  and  is  shut  in. 

1  Sol.    Fool-hardiness ;  not  I. 

2  Sol  Nor  I. 

3  Sol.  See,  they 
Have  shut  him  in.                              [Alarum  continues. 

All.  To  the  pot,  I  warrant  him. 

Enter  TITUS  LARTIUS. 

Lart.    What  is  become  of  Marcius  ? 

All.  Slain,  sir,  doubtless. 

1  Sol.    Following  the  fliers  at  the  very  heels, 
With  them  he  enters ;  who,  upon  the  sudden, 
Clapped-to  their  gates ;  he  is  himself  alone, 
To  answer  all  the  city. 

Lart.  O  noble  fellow  ! 

Who,  sensible,1  outdares  his  senseless  sword, 
And,  when  it  bows,  stands  up  !   Thou  art  left,  Mar 
cius ; 

A  carbuncle  entire,  as  big  as  thou  art, 
Were  not  so  rich  a  jewel.     Thou  wast  a  soldier 
Even  to  Cato's  wish,2  not  fierce  and  terrible 
Only  in  strokes ;  but,  with  thy  grim  looks,  and 
The  thunder-like  percussion  of  thy  sounds, 

1  The  old  copy  reads : — 

"  Who  sensibly  outdares." 

Sensible  is  here  having  sensation.  Though  Coriolanus  has  the  feeling 
of  pain  like  other  men,  he  is  more  hardy  in  daring  exploits  than  his 
senseless  sword ;  for  after  it  is  bent,  he  yet  stands  firm  in  the  field. 

2  The  old  copy  has,  erroneously,  «  Calues  wish  ; "  the  error  would  easily 
arise :  Shakspeare  wrote,  according  to  the  mode  of  his  time,  "  Catoes 
wish,"  omitting  to  cross  the  J,  and  forming  the  o  inaccurately.     Cato  was 
not  born  till  after  the  death  of  Coriolanus ;  but  the  Poet  was  led  into  the 
anachronism  by  following  Plutarch. 


SC.  V.]  COR1OLANUS.  469 

Thou  mad'st  thine  enemies  shake,  as  if  the  world 
Were  feverous,  and  did  tremble. 


Re-enter  MARCIUS,  bleeding,  assaulted  by  the  enemy. 

I  Sol.  Look,  sir. 

Lart.  'Tis  Marcius : 

Let's  fetch  him  off,  or  make  remain  alike.1 

[They  fight,  and  all  enter  the  city. 


SCENE  V.     Within  the  Town.     A  Street. 

Enter  certain  Romans,  with  spoils. 

1  Rom.    This  will  1  carry  to  Rome. 

2  Rom.    And  I  this. 

3  Rom.    A  murrain  on't !  I  took  this  for  silver. 

[Alarum  continues  still  afar  off. 

Enter  MARCIUS  and  TITUS  LARTIUS,  with  a  trumpet. 

Mar.    See   here  these  movers,  that  do  prize  their 

hours  2 

At  a  cracked  drachm !    Cushions,  leaden  spoons, 
Irons  of  a  doit,  doublets  that  hangmen  would 
Bury  with  those  that  wore  them,  these  base  slaves, 
Ere  yet  the  fight  be  done,  pack  up. — Down  with  them ! 
And  hark,  what  noise  the  general  makes ! — To  him. — 
There  is  the  man  of  my  soul's  hate,  Aufidius, 
Piercing  our  Romans.     Then,  valiant  Titus,  take 
Convenient  numbers  to  make  good  the  city ; 
Whilst  I,  with  those  that  have  the  spirit,  will  haste 
To  help  Cominius. 

Lart.  Worthy  sir,  thou  bleed'st ; 

Thy  exercise  hath  been  too  violent  for 
A  second  course  of  fight. 

1  "  Make  remain,  is  an  old  manner  of  speaking,  which  means  no  more 
than  remain" 

2  i.  e.  their  time.    Johnson  adopted  Pope's  reading — honors. 


470  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  1. 

Mar.  Sir,  praise  me  not ; 

My  work  hath  yet  not  warmed  me.     Fare  you  well. 
The  blood  I  drop  is  rather  physical 
Than  dangerous  to  me.     To  Aufidius  thus 
I  will  appear,  and  fight. 

Lart.  Now  the  fair  goddess,  Fortune, 

Fall  deep  in  love  with  thee ;  and  her  great  charms 
Misguide  thy  opposers5  swords !  Bold  gentleman, 
Prosperity  be  thy  page ! 

Mar.  Thy  friend  no  less 

Than  those  she  placeth  highest !     So,  farewell. 

Lart.    Thou  worthiest  Marcius !        [Exit  MARCIUS. 
Go,  sound  thy  trumpet  in  the  market-place ; 
Call  thither  all  the  officers  of  the  town, 
Where  they  shall  know  our  mind.    Away.       [Exeunt. 


SCENE  VI.     Near  the  Camp  of  Cominius. 

Enter  COMINIUS  and  Forces,  retreating. 

Com.   Breathe  you,  my  friends  ;  well  fought ;  we  are 

come  off 

Like  Romans,  neither  foolish  in  our  stands, 
Nor  cowardly  in  retire.     Believe  me,  sirs, 
We  shall  be  charged  again.     Whiles  we  have  struck, 
By  interims,  and  conveying  gusts,  we  have  heard 
The  charges  of  our  friends. — The  Roman  gods, 
Lead  their  successes,  as  we  wish  our  own ; 
That  both  our  powers,  with  smiling  fronts  encountering, 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

May  give  you  thankful  sacrifice  ! — Thy  news  ? 

Mes.    The  citizens  of  Corioli  have  issued, 
And  given  to  Lartius  and  to  Marcius  battle. 
I  saw  our  party  to  their  trenches  driven, 
And  then  I  came  away. 

Com.  Though  thou  speak'st  truth, 

Methinks  thou  speak'st  not  well.    How  long  is't  since  ? 


SC.  VI.]  CORIOLANUS.  471 

Mess.    Above  an  hour,  my  lord. 

Com.    'Tis  not  a  mile  ;  briefly  we  heard  their  drums. 
How  couldst  thou  in  a  mile  confound 1  an  hour, 
And  bring  thy  news  so  late  ? 

Mess.  Spies  of  the  Voices 

Held  me  in  chase,  that  I  was  forced  to  wheel 
Three  or  four  miles  about ;  else  had  I,  sir, 
Half  an  hour  since  brought  my  report. 

Enter  MARCIUS. 

Com.  Who's  yonder 

That  does  appear  as  he  were  flayed  ?     O  gods  ! 
He  has  the  stamp  of  Marcius ;  and  I  have 
Before-time  seen  him  thus. 

Mar.  Come  I  too  late  ? 

Com.    The  shepherd  knows  not  thunder  from  a  tabor, 
More  than  I  know  the  sound  of  Marcius'  tongue 
From  every  meaner  man's. 

Mar.  Come  I  too  late  ? 

Com.    Ay,  if  you  come  not  in  the  blood  of  others, 
But  mantled  in  your  own. 

Mar.  O  !  let  me  clip  you 

In  arms  as  sound,  as  when  I  wooed ;  in  heart 
As  merry,  as  when  our  nuptial  day  was  done, 
And  tapers  burned  to  bed  ward. 

Com.  Flower  of  warriors, 

How  is't  with  Titus  Lartius  ? 

Mar.    As  with  a  man  busied  about  decrees  ; 
Condemning  some  to  death,  and  some  to  exile  ; 
Ransoming  him,  or  pitying,2  threatening  the  other ; 
Holding  Corioli  in  the  name  of  Rome, 
Even  like  a  fawning  greyhound  in  the  leash, 
To  let  him  slip  at  will. 

Com.  Where  is  that  slave, 

Which  told  me  they  had  beat  you  to  your  trenches  ? 
Where  is  he  ?     Call  him  hither. 

1  So  in  King  Henry  VI.  Part  i.  Act  i.  Sc.  3  :— 

"  He  did  confound  the  best  part  of  an  hour,"  &c. 
Confound  is  here  used  in  the  sense  of  to  expend. 

2  i.  e.  remitting  his  ransom. 


472  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I. 

Mar.  Let  him  alone  ; 

He  did  inform  the  truth.    But  for  our  gentlemen, 
The  common  file  ;  (a  plague  ! — tribunes  for  them  \) 
The  mouse  ne'er  shunned  the  cat,  as  they  did  budge 
From  rascals  worse  than  they. 

Com.   But  how  prevailed  you  ? 

Mar.   Will  the  time  serve  to  tell  ?    1  do  not  think — 
Where  is  the  enemy  ?     Are  you  lords  o'the  field  ? 
If  not,  why  cease  you  till  you  are  so  ? 

Com.  Marcius, 

We  have  at  disadvantage  fought,  and  did 
Retire  to  win  our  purpose. 

Mar.   How  lies  their  battle  ?     Know  you  on  which 

side 
They  have  placed  their  men  of  trust  ? 

Com.  As  I  guess,  Marcius, 

Their  bands  in  the  vaward  are  the  Antiates,1 
Of  their  best  trust ;  o'er  them  Aufidius, 
Their  very  heart  of  hope. 

Mar.  I  do  beseech  you, 

By  all  the  battles  wherein  we  have  fought, 
By  the  blood  we  have  shed  together,  by  the  vows 
We  have  made  to  endure  friends,  that  you  directly 
Set  me  against  Aufidius,  and  his  Antiates ; 
And  that  you  not  delay  the  present ; 2  but, 
Filling  the  air  with  swords  advanced,  and  darts, 
We  prove  this  very  hour. 

Com.  Though  I  could  wish 

You  were  conducted  to  a  gentle  bath, 
And  balms  applied  to  you,  yet  dare  I  never 
Deny  your  asking ;  take  your  choice  of  those 
That  best  can  aid  your  action. 

Mar.  Those  are  they 

That  most  are  willing : — If  any  such  be  here 
(As  it  were  sin  to  doubt)  that  love  this  painting 
Wherein  you  see  me  smeared ;  if  any  fear 


1  L  e.  in  the  front  are  the  soldiers  of  Antium.     Shakspeare  uses  Anti 
ates  as  a  trisyllable,  as  if  it  had  been  written  JLntiats. 

2  i.  e.  "  do  not  let  slip  the  present  time  " 


SO    VII.]  COR10LANUS.  473 

Lesser  his  person  than  an  ill  report ; ! 

If  any  think  brave  death  outweighs  bad  life, 

And  that  his  country's  dearer  than  himself; 

Let  him,  alone,  or  so  many,  so  minded, 

Wave  thus.  [  Waving  his  hand,']  to  express  his  disposition, 

And  follow  Marcius. 

[They  all  shout,  and  wave  their  swords ;  take  him 

up  in  their  arms,  and  cast  up  their  caps. 
O  me,  alone  !    Make  you  a  sword  of  me  ? 
If  these  shows  be  not  outward,  which  of  you 
But  is  four  Voices  ?     None  of  you  but  is 
Able  to  bear  against  the  great  Aufidius 
A  shield  as  hard  as  his.     A  certain  number, 
Though  thanks  to  all,  must  I  select  from  all ;  the  rest 
Shall  bear  the  business  in  some  other  fight, 
As  cause  will  be  obeyed.     Please  you  to  march ; 
And  four  shall  quickly  draw  out  my  command, 
Which  men  are  best  inclined.2 

Com.  March  on,  my  fellows  : 

Make  good  this  ostentation,  and  you  shall 
Divide  in  all  with  us.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  VII.     The  Gates  o/Corioli. 

TITUS  LARTIUS,  having  set  a  guard  upon  Corioli,  go- 
ing  with  a  drum  and  trumpet  toward  Cominius  and 
Caius  Marcius,  enters  with  a  Lieutenant,  a  party  of 
Soldiers,  and  a  scout. 

Lart.  So,  let  the  ports3  be  guarded  ;  keep  your  duties, 
As  I  have  set  them  down.     If  I  do  send,  despatch 
Those  centuries 4  to  our  aid ;  the  rest  will  serve 


1  The  old  copy  reads  lessen.    The  reading  of  the  text  was  introduced 
by  Steevens.     His  person  means  his  personal  danger. 

2  From  the  obscurity  of  this  passage  there  is  good  reason  to  suspect  its 
correctness.     Perhaps  we  might  read  some  instead  of  four,  words  easily 
confounded  in  old  MSS.     The  old  translation  of  Plutarch  only  says : — 
"Wherefore,  with  those  that  willingly  offered  themselves  to  follow  him,  he 
went  out  of  the  citie." 

3  Gates.  4  Companies  of  a  hundred  men. 

VOL.  v.  60 


474  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I. 

For  a  short  holding.     If  we  lose  the  field, 
We  cannot  keep  the  town. 

Lieu.  Fear  not  our  care,  sir. 

Lart.    Hence  and  shut  jour  gates  upon  us. — 
Our  guider,  come  ;  to  the  Roman  camp  conduct  us. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE   VIII.     A  Field  of  Battle  between  the  Roman 
and  the  Volcian  Camps. 

Alarum.    Enter  MARCIUS  and  AUFIDIUS. 

Mar.    I'll  fight  with  none  but  thee  ;  for  I  do  hate  thee 
Worse  than  a  promise-breaker. 

Auf.  We  hate  alike ; 

Not  Afric  owns  a  serpent,  I  abhor 
More  than  thy  fame  and  envy.1     Fix  thy  foot. 

Mar.    Let  the  first  budger  die  the  other's  slave, 
And  the  gods  doom  him  after ! 

Auf.  If  I  fly,  Marcius, 

Halloo  me  like  a  hare. 

Mar.  Within  these  three  hours,  Tullus, 

Alone  I  fought  in  your  Corioli  walls, 
And  made  what  work  I  pleased.     'Tis  not  my  blood, 
Wherein  thou  seest  me  masked ;  for  thy  revenge, 
Wrench  up  thy  power  to  the  highest. 

Auf.  Wert  thou  the  Hector, 

That  was  the  whip2  of  your  bragged  progeny, 
Thou  shouldst  not  scape  me  here. — 

[They  fight,  and  certain  Voices  come  to  the 

aid  of  AUFIDIUS. 

Officious,  and  not  valiant — you  have  shamed  me 
In  your  condemned  seconds.3 

[Exeunt,  fighting^  driven  in  by  MARCIUS. 


1  The  construction  here  appears  to  be,  "  Not  Afric  owns  a  serpent  I 
more  abhor  and  envy  than  thy  fame."     The  verb  to  envy,  in  ancient 
language,  signified  to  hate. 

2  i.  e.  the  whip  that  your  bragged  progenitors  were  possessed  of. 

3  "  You  have  to  my  shame  sent  me  help,  which  I  must  condemn  as 
intrusive." 


SC.  IX.]  CORIOLANUS.  475 


SCENE  IX.     The  Roman  Camp. 

Alarum.  A  Retreat  is  sounded.  Flourish.  Enter, 
at  one  side,  COMINIUS  and  Romans  ;  at  the  other 
side,  MARCIUS,  with  his  arm  in  a  scarf,  and  other 
Romans. 

Com.    If  I  should  tell  thee  o'er  this  thy  day's  work, 
Thou'lt  not  believe  thy  deeds ;  but  I'll  report  it, 
Where  senators  shall  mingle  tears  with  smiles ; 
Where  great  patricians  shall  attend,  and  shrug, 
Pthe  end,  admire  ;  where  ladies  shall  be  frighted, 
And,  gladly  quaked,1  hear  more ;  where  the  dull  tribunes, 
That,  with  the  fusty  plebeians,  hate  thine  honors, 
Shall  say,  against  their  hearts — We  thank  the  gods, 
Our  Rome  hath  such  a  soldier  ! — 
Yet  cam'st  thou  to  a  morsel  of  this  feast, 
Having  fully  dined  before. 

Enter  TITUS  LARTIUS,  with  his  Power,  from  the  pursuit. 

Lart.  O  general, 

Here  is  the  steed,  we  the  caparison  ; 2 
Hadst  thou  beheld 

Mar.  Pray  now,  no  more  ;  my  mother, 

Who  has  a  charter  to  extol  her  blood, 
When  she  does  praise  me,  grieves  me.     I  have  done 
As  you  have  done ;  that's  what  I  can :  induced 
As  you  have  been ;  that's  for  my  country.3 
He  that  has  but  effected  his  good  will, 
Hath  overta'en  mine  act.4 

Com.  You  shall  not  be 

The  grave  of  your  deserving ;  Rome  must  know 
The  value  of  her  own.     'Twere  a  concealment 


1  i.  e.  thrown  into  grateful  trepidation. 

2  The  meaning  is,  "  This  man  performed  the  action,  and  we  only  filled 
up  the  show." 

3  Country  is  used  here  and  in  other  places  as  a  trisyllable. 

4  That  is,  "  has  done  as  much  as  I  have  done." 


476  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I. 

Worse  than  a  theft,  no  less  than  a  traducement, 
To  hide  your  doings ;  and  to  silence  that, 
Which,  to  the  spire  and  top  of  praises  vouched, 
Would  seem  but  modest.     Therefore,  I  beseech  you, 
(In  sign  of  what  you  are,  not  to  reward 
What  you  have  done,)  before  our  army  hear  me. 

Mar.    I  have  some  wounds  upon  me,  and  they  smart 
To  hear  themselves  remembered. 

Com.  Should  they  not, 

Well  might  they  fester  'gainst  ingratitude, 
And  tent  themselves  with  death.     Of  all  the  horses, 
(Whereof  we  have  ta'en  good,  and  good  store,)  of  all 
The  treasure,  in  this  field  achieved,  and  city, 
We  render  you  the  tenth ;  to  be  ta'en  forth, 
Before  the  common  distribution,  at 
Your  only  choice. 

Mar.  I  thank  you,  general  ; 

But  cannot  make  my  heart  consent  to  take 
A  bribe  to  pay  my  sword.     I  do  refuse  it ; 
And  stand  upon  my  common  part  with  those 
That  have  beheld  the  doing. 

[A  long  flourish.  They  all  cry,  Marcius! 
Marcius !  cast  up  their  caps  and  lances  ; 
COMINIUS  and  LARTIUS  stand  bare. 

May  these  same  instruments,  which  you  profane, 
Never  sound  more !     When  drums  and  trumpets  shall 
Pthe  field  prove  flatterers,  let  courts  and  cities  be 
Made  all  of  false-faced  soothing.     When  steel  grows 
Soft  as  the  parasite's  silk,  let  him  be  made 
An  overture  for  the  wars  ! *     No  more,  I  say  ; 
For  that  I  have  not  washed  my  nose  that  bled, 
Or  foiled  some  debile  wretch, — which,  without  note, 


1  The  old  copy  reads : — 


When  steel  grows 


Soft  as  silk,  let  him  be  made 

An  overture  for  the  wars !  " 
Mr.  Tyrwhitt  thinks  that  we  should  read  a  coverture.  The  personal 
pronoun  him  is  not  unfrequently  used  by  old  writers  instead  of  tY,  the 
neuter.  The  sense  of  the  passage  will  then  be  complete  and  apt: — 
"  When  steel  grows  soft  as  silk,  let  armor  be  made  of  silk  instead  of 
steel." 


SC.  IX.]  CORIOLANUS.  477 

Here's  many  else  have  done, — you  shout  me  forth 

In  acclamations  hyperbolical ; 

As  if  I  loved  my  little  should  be  dieted 

In  praises  sauced  with  lies. 

Com.  Too  modest  are  you ; 

More  cruel  to  your  good  report,  than  grateful 
To  us  that  give  you  truly.     By  your  patience, 
If  'gainst  yourself  you  be  incensed,  we'll  put  you 
(Like  one  that  means  his  proper  harm)  in  manacles, 
Then  reason  safely  with  you. — Therefore,  be  it  known, 
As  to  us,  to  all  the  world,  that  Caius  Marcius 
Wears  this  war's  garland :  in  token  of  the  which 
My  noble  steed,  known  to  the  camp,  I  give  him, 
With  all  his  trim  belonging  ;  and,  from  this  time, 
For  what  he  did  before  Corioli,  call  him, 
With  all  the  applause  and  clamor  of  the  host, 
CAIUS  MARCIUS  CORIOLANUS. — 
Bear  the  addition  nobly  ever ! 

[Flourish.     Trumpets  sound,  and  drums. 

AIL    Caius  Marcius  Coriolanus  ! 

Cor.    I  will  go  wrash  ; 

And  when  my  face  is  fair,  you  shall  perceive 
Whether  I  blush,  or  no.     Howbeit,  I  thank  you. — 
I  mean  to  stride  your  steed ;  arid,  at  all  times, 
To  undercrest  your  good  addition,1 
To  the  fairness  of  my  power. 

Com.  So,  to  our  tent; 

Where,  ere  we  do  repose  us,  we  will  write 
To  Rome  of  our  success. — You,  Titus  Lartius, 
Must  to  Corioli  back.     Send  us  to  Rome 
The  best  with  whom  we  may  articulate  2 
For  their  own  good,  and  ours. 

Lart.  I  shall,  my  lord. 

Cor.    The  gods  begin  to  mock  me.     I  that  now 
Refused  most  princely  gifts,  am  bound  to  beg 
Of  my  lord  general. 

1  This  appears  to  mean,  "  he  will  endeavor  to  support  the  honorable 
distinction  conferred  upon  him  to  the  fair  extent  of  his  power." 

2  i.  e.  the  chief  men  of  Corioli,  with  whom  we  may  enter  into  articles. 
Bullokar  has  the  word  "  articulate,  to  set  down  articles,  or  conditions  of 
agreement." 


478  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  I. 

Com.  Take  it ;  'tis  yours. — What  is't  ? 

Cor.    I  sometime  lay,  here  in  Corioli, 
At  a  poor  man's  house ;  he  used  me  kindly : 
He  cried  to  me ;  I  saw  him  prisoner  ; 
But  then  Aufidius  was  within  my  view, 
And  wrath  o'erwhelmed  my  pity.     I  request  you 
To  give  my  poor  host  freedom. 

Com.  O,  well  begged  ! 

Were  he  the  butcher  of  my  son,  he  should 
Be  free  as  is  the  wind.     Deliver  him,  Titus. 

Lart.   Marcius,  his  name  ? 

Cor.  By  Jupiter,  forgot. — 

I  am  \veary  ;  yea,  my  memory  is  tired. — 
Have  we  no  wine  here  ? 

Com.    Go  we  to  our  tent ; 
The  blood  upon  your  visage  dries  :  'tis  time 
It  should  be  looked  to  ;  come.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  X.     The  Camp  of  the  Voices. 

A  Flourish.     Cornets.     Enter  TULLUS  AUFIDIUS, 
bloody,  with  two  or  three  Soldiers. 

Auf.    The  town  is  ta'en  ! 

1  Sol.    'Twill  be  delivered  back  on  good  condition. 

Auf.    Condition  ? — 

I  would  I  were  a  Roman  ;  for  I  cannot, 
Being  a  Voice,1  be  that  I  am. — Condition  ! — 
What  good  condition  can  a  treaty  find 
I' the  part  that  is  at  mercy  ?     Five  times,  Marcius, 
I  have  fought  with  thee  ;  so  often  hast  thou  beat  me  ; 
And  wouldst  do  so,  I  think,  should  we  encounter 
As  often  as  we  eat. — By  the  elements, 
If  e'er  again  I  meet  him  beard  to  beard, 
He  is  mine,  or  I  am  his.     Mine  emulation 
Hath  not  that  honor  in't,  it  had  ;  for  where  2 

y 

1  The   Volsci  are  called   Folsces  throughout  the  old  translation  of 
Plutarch,  which  Shakspeare  followed. 
y  Where  for  whereas. 


SC.  X.]  CORIOLANUS.  479 

I  thought  to  crush  him  in  an  equal  force, 

(True  sword  to  sword,)  I'll  potch l  at  him  some  way ; 

Or  wrath,  or  craft,  may  get  him. 

1  Sol.  He's  the  devil. 

Auf.    Bolder,    though   not   so   subtle.     My    valor's 

poisoned,2 

With  only  suffering  stain  by  him ;  for  him 
Shall  fly  out  of  itself.     Nor  sleep,  nor  sanctuary, 
Being  naked,  sick ;  nor  fame,  nor  Capitol, 
The  prayers  of  priest,  nor  times  of  sacrifice, 
Embarquements3  all  of  fury,  shall  lift  up 
Their  rotten  privilege  arid  custom  'gainst 
My  hate  to  Marcius ;  where  I  rind  him,  were  it 
At  home,  upon  my  brother's  guard,4  even  there, 
Against  the  hospitable  canon,  would  I 
Wash  my  fierce  hand  in  his  heart.     Go  you  to  the  city ; 
Learn  how  'tis  held ;  and  what  they  are  that  must 
Be  hostages  for  Rome. 

1  Sol.  Will  not  you  go  ? 

Auf.    I  am  attended 5  at  the  cypress  grove. 
I  pray  you, 

('Tis  south  the  city  mills,)  bring  me  word  thither 
How  the  world  goes  ;  that  to  the  pace  of  it 
I  may  spur  on  my  journey. 

1  Sol.  I  shall,  sir.  [Exeunt. 


1  To  potch  is  to  thrust  at  with  a  sharp-pointed  instrument. 

2  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  proposed  to  read : — 

"  My  valor  poisoned,"  &c. 

And  the  context  seems  to  require  this  emendation.    "  To  mischief  him, 
my  valor  should  deviate  from  its  native  generosity." 

3  Embarquements  meant  not  only  an  embarkation,  but  an  embargoing. 

4  i.  e.  in  my  own  house,  with  my  brother  posted  to  protect  him. 

5  Attended  is  waited  for. 


480  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  II. 

ACT  II. 

SCENE   I.    Rome.    A  public  Place. 

Enter  MENENIUS,  SICINIUS,  and  BRUTUS. 

Men.  The  augurer  tells  me,  we  shall  have  news 
to-night. 

Bru.    Good  or  bad  ? 

Men.  Not  according  to  the  prayer  of  the  people,  for 
they  love  not  Marcius. 

Sic.  Nature  teaches  beasts  to  know  their  friends. 

Men.    Pray  you,  who  does  the  wolf  love  ? 

Sic.    The  lamb. 

Men.  Ay,  to  devour  him  ;  as  the  hungry  plebeians 
would  the  noble  Marcius. 

Bru.    He's  a  lamb  indeed,  that  baas  like  a  bear. 

Men.  He's  a  bear  indeed,  that  lives  like  a  lamb. 
You  two  are  old  men ;  tell  me  one  thing  that  I  shall 
ask  you. 

Both  Trib.   Well,  sir. 

Men.  In  what  enormity  is  Marcius  poor  in,1  that  you 
two  have  not  in  abundance  ? 

Bru.    He's  poor  in  no  one  fault,  but  stored  with  all. 

Sic.    Especially  in  pride. 

Bru.    And  topping  all  others  in  boasting. 

Men.  This  is  strange,  now.  Do  you  two  know  how 
you  are  censured  here  in  the  city,  I  mean  of  us  o'  the 
right  hand  file  ?  Do  you  ? 

Both  Trib.   Why,  how  are  we  censured  ? 

Men.  Because  you  talk  of  pride  now, — Will  you  not 
be  angry  ? 

Both  Trib.    Well,  well,  sir,  well. 

Men.  Why,  'tis  no  great  matter ;  for  a  very  little 
thief  of  occasion  will  rob  you  of  a  great  deal  of  patience. 
Give  your  disposition  the  reins,  and  be  angry  at  your 
pleasures  ;  at  the  least,  if  you  take  it  as  a  pleasure 

1  Pleonasms  of  this  kind  were  by  no  means  unfrequent 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  481 

to  you,  in  being  so.     You  blame  Marcius  for   bein« 
proud ! 

Bru.   We  do  it  not  alone,  sir. 

Men.  I  know  you  can  do  very  little  alone  ;  for  your 
helps  are  many  ;  or  else  your  actions  would  grow  won 
drous  single.  Your  abilities  are  too  infant-like,  for 
doing  much  alone.  You  talk  of  pride  ;  O  that  you 
could  turn  your  eyes  towards  the  napes  of  your  necks, 
and  make  but  an  interior  survey  of  your  good  selves ! 
O  that  you  could  ! 

Bru.    What  then,  sir  ? 

Men.  Why,  then  you  should  discover  a  brace  of  un- 
meriting,  proud,  violent,  testy  magistrates,  (alias  fools,) 
as  any  in  Rome. 

Sic.    Menenius,  you  are  known  well  enough  too. 

Men.  I  am  known  to  be  a  humorous  patrician,  and 
one  that  loves  a  cup  of  hot  wine  with  not  a  drop  of 
allaying  Tyber  in't ;  said  to  be  something  imperfect,  in 
favoring  the  first  complaint ;  hasty,  and  tinder-like, 
upon  too  trivial  motion :  one  that  converses  more  with 
the  buttock  of  the  night,  than  wTith  the  forehead  of  the 
morning.  What  I  think,  I  utter  ;  and  spend  my  malice 
in  my  breath.  Meeting  two  such  weals-men  as  you 
are,  (I  cannot  call  you  Lycurguses,)  if  the  drink  you 
give  me,  touch  my  palate  adversely,  I  make  a  crooked 
face  at  it.  I  cannot  say  your  worships  have  delivered 
the  matter  well,  when  I  find  the  ass  in  compound  with 
the  major  part  of  your  syllables ;  and  though  I  must  be 
content  to  bear  with  those  that  say  you  are  reverend, 
grave  men  ;  yet  they  lie  deadly,  that  tell,  you  have  good 
faces.  If  you  see  this  in  the  map  of  my  microcosm, 
follows  it  that  I  am  known  well  enough  too  ?  What 
harm  can  your  bisson1  conspectuities  glean  out  of  this 
character,  if  I  be  known  well  enough  too  ? 

Bru.    Come,  sir,  come,  we  know  you  well  enough. 

Men.  You  know  neither  me,  yourselves,  nor  any 
thing.  You  are  ambitious  for  poor  knaves'  caps  and 
legs  ; 2  you  wear  out  a  good,  wholesome  forenoon,  in 

1  Bisson  is  blind. 

%  That  is,  for  their  obeisance  showed  by  bowing  to  you. 

VOL.    V.  61 


482  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  II. 

hearing  a  cause  between  an  orange-wife  and  a  fosset- 
seller ;  and  then  rejourn  the  controversy  of  three-pence 
to  a  second  day  of  audience.1 — When  you  are  hearing 
a  matter  between  party  and  party,  if  you  chance  to  be 
pinched  with  the  colic,  you  make  faces  like  mummers ; 
set  up  the  bloody  flag  against  all  patience  ; 2  and,  in 
roaring  for  a  chamber-pot,  dismiss  the  controversy 
bleeding,  the  more  entangled  by  your  hearing.  All  the 
peace  you  make  in  their  cause,  is,  calling  both  the 
parties  knaves.  You  are  a  pair  of  strange  ones. 

Bru.  Come,  come,  you  are  well  understood  to  be 
a  perfecter  giber  for  the  table,  than  a  necessary  bencher 
in  the  Capitol. 

Men.  Our  very  priests  must  become  mockers,  if  they 
shall  encounter  such  ridiculous  subjects  as  you  are. 
When  you  speak  best  unto  the  purpose,  it  is  not  worth 
the  wagging  of  your  beards;  and  your  beards  deserve 
not  so  honorable  a  grave,  as  to  stuff  a  botcher's  cushion, 
or  to  be  entombed  in  an  ass's  pack-saddle.  Yet  you 
must  be  saying,  Marcius  is  proud ;  who,  in  a  cheap 
estimation,  is  worth  all  your  predecessors,  since  Deu 
calion  ;  though,  peradventure,  some  of  the  best  of  them 
were  hereditary  hangmen.  Good  e'en  to  your  wor 
ships  ;  more  of  your  conversation  would  infect  my  brain, 
being  the  herdsmen  of  the  beastly  plebeians.  I  will  be 
bold  to  take  my  leave  of  you. 

[BRU.  and  Sic.  retire  to  the  back  of  the  scene. 

Enter  VOLUMNIA,  VIRGILIA,  and  VALERIA,  frc. 

How  now,  my  as  fair  as  noble  ladies,  (and  the  moon, 
were  she  earthly,  no  nobler,)  whither  do  you  follow 
your  eyes  so  fast  ? 

Vol.  Honorable  Menenius,  my  boy  Marcius  ap 
proaches  ;  for  the  love  of  Juno,  let's  go. 

Men.    Ha  !  Marcius  coming  home  ? 


1  It  appears,  from  this  whole  speech,  that  Shakspeare  mistook  the  office 
of  prnftctus  urbis  for  the  tribune's  office. 

2  That  is,  declare  war  against  patience. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  483 

Vol.  Ay,  worthy  Menenius  ;  and  with  most  prosper 
ous  approbation. 

Men.  Take  my  cap,  Jupiter,  and  1  thank  thee.1 — 
Hoo  !  Marcius  coming  home  ? 

Two  Ladies.    Nay,  'tis  true. 

Vol.  Look,  here's  a  letter  from  him  :  the  state  hath 
another,  his  wife  another ;  and,  I  think,  there's  one  at 
home  for  you. 

Men.  I  will  make  my  very  house  .reel  to-night. — A 
letter  for  me  ? 

Vir.    Yes,  certain,  there's  a  letter  for  you  ;  I  saw  it. 

Men.  A  letter  for  me  ?  It  gives  me  an  estate  of 
seven  years'  health  ;  in  which  time  I  will  make  a  lip 
at  the  physician :  the  most  sovereign  prescription  in 
Galen2  is  but  empiricutic,  and,  to  this  preservative,  of 
no  better  report  than  a  horse-drench.  Is  he  not  wound 
ed  ?  he  was  wont  to  come  home  wounded. 

Vir.    O,  no,  no,  no. 

Vol.    O,  he  is  wounded,  I  thank  the  gods  for't. 

Men.  So  do  I  too,  if  it  be  not  too  much. — Brings  'a 
victory  in  his  pocket  ? — The  wounds  become  him. 

Vol.  On's  brows,  Menenius ;  he  comes  the  third 
time  home  with  the  oaken  garland.3 

Men.    Has  he  disciplined  Aufidius  soundly  ? 

Vol.  Titus  Lartius  writes, — they  fought  together, 
but  Aufidius  got  off. 

Men.  And  'twas  time  for  him  too,  I'll  warrant  him 
that ;  an  he  had  staid  by  him,  I  would  not  have  been 
so  fidiused  for  all  the  chests  in  Corioli,  and  the  gold 
that's  in  them.  Is  the  senate  possessed4  of  this? 

Vol.     Good  ladies,  let's   go. — Yes,  yes,   yes :    the 


1  "  Menenius  may  be  supposed  to  throw  up  his  cap  in  thanks  to  Jupiter." 
— Johnson. 

2  In  this  mention  of  Galen  there  is  an  anachronism  of  near  650  years. 
The    word    empiricutic    (empiricqutique  in    the   old   copy)  is  evidently 
formed  by  the  Poet  from  empiric,  a  quack. 

3  Volumnia  answers  Menenius  without  taking-  notice  of  his  last  words 
— "  The  wounds  become  him."     Menenius  had  asked,  "  Brings  'a  victory 
in  his  pocket  ? "     He  brings  it,  says  Volumnia,  on  his  brows ;    for  he 
comes  the  third  time   home  brow-bound  with  the   oaken   garland,  the 
emblem  of  victory. 

4  Possessed  is  fully  informed. 


484  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  11 

senate  has  letters  from  the  general,  wherein  he  gives 
my  son  the  whole  name  of  the  war ;  he  hath  in  this 
action  outdone  his  former  deeds  doubly. 

Val.    In  troth,  there's  wondrous  things  spoke  of  him. 

Men.  Wondrous  ?  ay,  I  warrant  you,  and  not  with 
out  his  true  purchasing. 

Vir.    The  gods  grant  them  true  ! 

Vol.    True  ?  pow,  wow. 

Men.  True  ?  I'll  be  sworn  they  are  true.— Where 
is  he  wounded  ?  God  save  your  good  worships  !  [To 
the  Tribunes,  who  come  forward.]  Marcius  is  coming 
home ;  he  has  more  cause  to  be  proud. — Where  is  he 
wounded  ? 

Vol.  I'  the  shoulder,  and  i'  the  left  arm.  There  will 
be  large  cicatrices  to  show  the  people,  when  he  shall 
stand  for  his  place.  He  received,  in  the  repulse  of 
Tarquin,  seven  hurts  i'  the  body. 

Men.  One  in  the  neck,  and  two  in  the  thigh, — 
there's  nine  that  I  know. 

Vol.  He  had,  before  this  last  expedition,  twenty-five 
wounds  upon  him. 

Men.  Now  it's  twenty-seven ;  every  gash  was  an 
enemy's  grave.  [A  shout,  and  flourish.]  Hark  !  the 
trumpets. 

Vol.    These  are  the  ushers  of  Marcius  ;  before  him 
He  carries  noise,  and  behind  him  he  leaves  tears. 
Death,  that  dark  spirit,  in's  nervy  arm  doth  lie ; 
Which  being  advanced,  declines ;  and  then  men  die.1 

A  Sennet.  Trumpets  sound.  Enter  COMINIUS  and 
Tixus  LARTIUS  ;  between  them,  CORIOLANUS, 
crowned  with  an  oaken  garland ;  with  Captains, 
Soldiers,  and  a  Herald. 

Her.   Know,  Rome,  that  all  alone  Marcius  did   fight 
Within  Corioli's  gates  ;  where  he  hath  won, 
With  fame,  a  name  to  Caius  Marcius ;  these 


1  Volumnia  says  that  her  son,  to  kill  his  enemy,  has  nothing  to  do  but 
to  lift  his  hand  and  let  it  fall. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  485 

In  honor  follows,  Coriolanus. 

Welcome  to  Rome,  renowned  Coriolanus  !     [Flourish. 

AIL    Welcome  to  Rome,  renowned  Coriolanus ! 

Cor.    No  more  of  this  ;  it  does  offend  my  heart. 
Pray  now,  no  more. 

Com.  Look,  sir,  your  mother, 

Cor.  O ! 

You  have,  I  know,  petitioned  all  the  gods 
For  my  prosperity.  [Kneels. 

Vol.                        Nay,  my  good  soldier,  up  ; 
My  gentle  Marcius,  worthy  Caius,  and 
By  deed-achieving  honor  newly  named, 
What  is  it  ?     Coriolanus,  must  I  call  thee  ? 
But  O,  thy  wife, 

Cor.  My  gracious  silence,1  hail ! 

Wouldst  thou  have  laughed,  had  I  come  coffined  home, 
That  weep'st  to  see  me  triumph  ?     Ah,  my  dear, 
Such  eyes  the  widows  in  Corioli  wear, 
And  mothers  that  lack  sons. 

Men.  Now  the  gods  crown  thee ! 

Cor.    And  live  you  yet  ? — O  my  sweet  lady,  pardon. 

[To  VALERIA. 

Vol.    I  know  not  where  to  turn. — O,  welcome  home ; 
And  welcome,  general ; — and  you  are  welcome  all. 

Men.   A  hundred  thousand  welcomes  :  I  could  weep, 
And  I  could  laugh ;  I  am  light   and  heavy ;  welcome. 
A  curse  begin  at  very  root  of  his  heart, 
That  is  not  glad  to  see  thee ! — You  are  three, 
That  Rome  should  dote  on ;  yet,  by  the  faith  of  men, 
WTe  have  some  old  crab-trees  here  at  home,  that  will 

not 

Be  grafted  to  your  relish.     Yet  welcome,  warriors  : 
We  call  a  nettle,  but  a  nettle ;  and 
The  faults  of  fools,  but  folly. 

Com.  Ever  right. 

Cor.   Menenius,  ever,  ever.2 


1  It  is  probable  the  Poet  meant,  "  Thou,  whose  silent  tears  are  more 
eloquent  and  grateful  to  me  than  the  clamorous  applause  of  the  rest." 

2  "  Menenius  is  still  the  same  affectionate  friend  as  formerly." 


486  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  11 

Her.    Give  way,  there,  and  go  on. 

Cor.  Your  hand,  and  jours. 

[To  his  Wife  and  Mother. 
Ere  in  our  own  house  I  do  shade  my  head, 
The  good  patricians  must  be  visited  ; 
From  whom  I  have  received  not  only  greetings, 
But  with  them  change  of  honors.1 

Vol.  I  have  lived 

To  see  inherited  my  very  wishes, 
And  the  buildings  of  my  fancy  ;  only  there 
Is  one  thing  wanting,  which  I  doubt  not  but 
Our  Rome  will  cast  upon  thee. 

Cor.  Know,  good  mother, 

I  had  rather  be  their  servant  in  my  way, 
Than  sway  with  them  in  theirs. 

Com.  On  to  the  Capitol. 

[Flourish.     Cornets.     Exeunt  in  state,  as 
before.      The  Tribunes  remain. 

Em.  All  tongues  speak  of  him,  and  the  bleared  sights 
Are  spectacled  to  see  him.     Your  prattling  nurse 
Into  a  rapture2  lets  her  baby  cry, 
While  she  chats  him;  the  kitchen  malkin3  pins 
Her  richest  lockram  'bout  her  reechy4  neck, 
Clambering  the  walls  to  eye  him ;  stalls,  bulks,  windows, 
Are  smothered  up,  leads  filled,  and  ridges  horsed 
With  variable  complexions  ;  all  agreeing 
In  earnestness  to  see  him ;  seld5  shown  flamens 
Do  press  among  the  popular  throngs,  and  puff 
To  win  a  vulgar  station ;  our  veiled  dames 
Commit  the  war  of  white  and  damask,6  in 


1  "  Change  of  honors "  is  variety  of  honors.     Theobald  would  read 
charge. 

2  A  rapture  anciently  was  synonymous  with  a  Jit  or  trance. 

3  A  malkin  or  manikin  was  a  kind  of  mop  made  of  rags,  used  for 
sweeping  ovens,  &c. ;  a  figure  made  of  clouts  to  scare  birds  was  also  so 
called  ;  hence  it  came  to  signify  a  dirty  wench.     Lockram  was  a  kind  of 
coarse  linen. 

4  Reechy  isfumant  with  sweat  or  grease. 

5  Seld  is  seldom,  often  so  used  by  old  writers. 

6  So  in  Tarquin  and  Lucrece : — 

"  The  silent  war  of  lilies  and  of  roses, 
Which  Tarquin  viewed  in  her  fair  face's  field." 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  487 

Their  nicely-gawded  cheeks,  to  the  wanton  spoil 
Of  Phoebus'  burning  kisses  ;  such  a  pother, 
As  if  that  whatsoever  god,  who  leads  him, 
Were  slyly  crept  into  his  human  powers, 
And  gave  him  graceful  posture.1 

Sic.  On  the  sudden, 

I  warrant  him  consul. 

Bru.  Then  our  office  may, 

During  his  power,  go  sleep. 

Sic.    He  cannot  temperately  transport  his  honors 
From  where  he  should  begin,  and  end ; 2  but  will 
Lose  those  that  he  hath  won. 

Bru.  In  that  there's  comfort. 

Sic.    Doubt  not,  the  commoners,  for  whom  we  stand. 
But  they,  upon  their  ancient  malice,  will 
Forget,  with  the  least  cause,  these  his  new  honors ; 
Which  that  he'll  give  them,  make  as  little  question 
As  he  is  proud  to  do't. 

Bru.    I  heard  him  swear, 
Were  he  to  stand  for  consul,  never  would  he 
Appear  P  the  market-place,  nor  on  him  put 
The  napless3  vesture  of  humility  ; 
Nor,  showing  (as  the  manner  is)  his  wounds 
To  the  people,  beg  their  stinking  breaths. 

Sic.  'Tis  right. 

Bru.    It  was  his  word :  O,  he  would  miss  it,  rather 
Than  carry  it,  but  by  the  suit  o'  the  gentry  to  him, 
And  the  desire  of  the  nobles. 

Sic.  I  wish  no  better 

Than  have  him  hold  that  purpose,  and  to  put  it 
In  execution. 

Bru.  'Tis  most  like  he  will. 

Sic.    It  shall  be  to  him,  then,  as  our  good  wills  ; 4 
A  sure  destruction. 

Bru.  So  it  must  fall  out 

To  him,  or  our  authorities.     For  an  end, 

J  That  is,  as  if  that  god  who  leads  him,  whatsoever  god  he  be. 

2  The  meaning,  though  obscurely  expressed,  is,  "  He  cannot  carry  his 
honors  temperately  from  where  he  should  begin,  to  where  he  should  end." 

3  i.  e.  threadbare. 

4  i.  e.  "  as  our  advantage  requires." 


488  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  II. 

We  must  suggest1  the  people,  in  what  hatred 

He  still  hath  held  them  ;  that,  to  his  power,  he  would2 

Have  made  them  mules,  silenced  their  pleaders,  and 

Dispropertied  their  freedoms  ;  holding  them, 

In  human  action  and  capacity, 

Of  no  more  soul,  nor  fitness  for  the  wrorld, 

Than  camels  in  their  war  ;  who  have  their  provand 3 

Only  for  bearing  burdens,  and  sore  blows 

For  sinking  under  them. 

Sic.  This,  as  you  say,  suggested 

At  some  time  when  his  soaring  insolence 
Shall  teach  the  people,4  (which  time  shall  not  want, 
If  he  be  put  upon't ;  and  that's  as  easy, 
As  to  set  dogs  on  sheep,)  will  be  his  fire 
To  kindle  their  dry  stubble  ;  and  their  blaze 
Shall  darken  him  forever. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Bru.  What's  the  matter  ? 

Mess.    You   are    sent    for    to    the    capitol.     'Tis 

thought 

That  Marcius  shall  be  consul.     I  have  seen 
The  dumb  men  throng  to  see  him,  and  the  blind 
To  hear  him  speak  ;  matrons  flung  gloves, 
Ladies  and  maids  their  scarfs  and  handkerchiefs,5 
Upon  him  as  he  passed ;  the  nobles  bended, 
As  to  Jove's  statue ;  and  the  commons  made 
A  shower,  and  thunder,  with  their  caps  and  shouts. 
I  never  saw  the  like. 

Bru.  Let's  to  the  Capitol ; 

And  carry  with  us  ears  and  eyes  for  the  time, 
But  hearts  for  the  event.6 

Sic.  Have  with  you.    [Exeunt. 

1  i.  e.  prompt. 

2  «  That  to  the  utmost  of  his  power  he  would,"  &c. 

3  We  should  probably  read  "  the  war."     Provand  is  provender. 

4  Theobald  reads,  «  Shall  reach  the  people,"  &c.     Teach  the  people, 
may  however  mean,  "instruct  the  people  in  favor  of  our  purposes." 

5  Shakspeare  here  attributes  some  of  the  customs  of  his  own  times  to  a 
people  who  were  wholly  unacquainted  with  them. 

6  That  is, "  Let  us  observe  what  passes,  but  keep  our  hearts  fixed  on  our 
design  of  crushing  Coriolanus." 


SC.  II.]  CORIOLANUS.  489 


SCENE    II.     The  same.     The  Capitol 

Enter  two  Officers,  to  lay  cushions. 

1  Off.    Come,  come,  they  are  almost  here.     How 
many  stand  for  consulships  ? 

2  Off.    Three,  they  say;  but  'tis  thought  of  every 
one,  Coriolanus  will  carry  it. 

1  Off.    That's  a  brave  fellow  ;  but  he's  vengeance 
proud,  and  loves  not  the  common  people. 

2  Off.    'Faith,  there    have  been    many  great  men 
that  have  flattered  the  people,  who  ne'er  loved  them, 
and  there  be   many  that  they  have  loved,  they  know 
not  wherefore  ;    so  that,  if  they  love   they  know  not 
why,  they  hate  upon  no  better  a  ground.  Therefore, 
for  Coriolanus  neither  to  care  whether    they  love  or 
hate  him,   manifests   the    true   knowledge   he   has  in 
their  disposition  ;  and,  out  of  his  noble   carelessness, 
lets  them  plainly  see't. 

1  Off.    If  he    did    not   care    whether  he  had  their 
love,    or    no,    he    waved    indifferently1    'twixt    doing 
them    neither    good,   nor    harm ;  but    he    seeks    their 
hate   with   greater  devotion  than  they  can  render  it 
him ;    and    leaves    nothing    undone,    that    may    fully 
discover    him    their    opposite.2      Now,    to    seem    to 
affect  the   malice   and    displeasure  of  the    people,    is 
as  bad  as  that  which  he  dislikes,  to   flatter  them   for 
their  love. 

2  Off.    He   hath   deserved  worthily  of  his  country  ; 
and  his  ascent  is  not  by  such  easy  degrees  as  those, 
who,  having  been  supple  and  courteous  to  the  people, 
bonnetted,3  without  any  further  deed  to  have  them  at 
all  into  their   estimation   and   report ;  but  he  hath  so 
planted  his   honors  in  their  eyes,  and  his  actions  in 
their  hearts,  that  for  their  tongues  to  be  silent,  and  not 
confess   so  much,  were   a  kind  of  ingrateful    injury. 

1  i.  e.  "  he  would  have  waved  indifferently,"  &c. 

2  Their  adversary  or  opponent. 

3  Bonnetted  is  here  a  verb,  as  bonnetter  (Fr.),  to  pull  off  the  cap. 

VOL.    V.  62 


490  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  11 

To  report  otherwise  were  a  malice,  that,  giving  itself 
the  lie,  would  pluck  reproof  and  rebuke  from  everj 
ear  that  heard  it. 

1   Off.    No    more    of  him;    he   is  a   worthy   man. 
Make  way,  they  are  coming. 


A  Sennet.  Enter,  with  Lictors  before  them,  COMINIUS, 
the  Consul,  MENENIUS,  CORIOLANUS,  many  other 
Senators,  SICINIUS  and  BRUTUS.  The  Senators 
take  their  places ;  the  Tribunes  take  theirs  also  by 
themselves. 

Men.    Having  determined  of  the  Voices,  and 
To  send  for  Titus  Lartius,  it  remains, 
As  the  main  point  of  this  our  after-meeting, 
To  gratify  his  noble  service,  that 
Hath  thus  stood  for  his  country.     Therefore,  please 

you, 

Most  reverend  and  grave  elders,  to  desire 
The  present  consul,  and  last  general 
In  our  well-found  successes,  to  report 
A  little  of  that  worthy  work  performed 
By  Caius  Marcius  Coriolarius ;  whom 
We  meet  here,  both  to  thank,  and  to  remember 
With  honors  like  himself. 

1   Sen.  Speak,  good  Cominius. 

Leave  nothing  out  for  length,  and  make  us  think, 
Rather  our  state's  defective  for  requital, 
Than  we  to  stretch  it  out.1     Masters  o'  the  people, 
We  do  request  your  kindest  ears  ;  and,  after, 
Your  loving  motion  toward  the  common  body,2 
To  yield  what  passes  here. 

Sic.  We  are  converited 

Upon  a  pleasing  treaty  ;   and  have  hearts 
Inclinable  to  honor  and  advance 
The  theme  of  our  assembly.3 

1  "  Rather  say  that  our  means  are  too  defective  to  afford  an  adequate 
reward,  than  our  inclinations  defective  to  extend  it  toward  him." 

2  i.  e.  your  kind  interposition  with  the  common  people. 

3  Shakspeare  was  probably  not  aware  that,  until  the  promulgation  of 


SC.  ll.j  CORIOLANUS.  491 

Bru.  Which  the  rather 

We  shall  be  blessed  to  do,  if  he  remember 
A  kinder  value  of  the  people,  than 
He  hath  hereto  prized  them  at. 

Men.  That's  off,  that's  off;1 

I  would  you  rather  had  been  silent.     Please  you 
To  hear  Cominius  speak  ? 

Bru.  Most  willingly ; 

But  yet  my  caution  was  more  pertinent, 
Than  the  rebuke  you  give  it. 

Men.  He  loves  your  people  ; 

But  tie  him  not  to  be  their  bedfellow. — 
Worthy  Cominius,  speak. — Nay,  keep  your  place. 

[CORIOLANUS  rises  and  offers  to  go  away. 

I  Sen.    Sit,  Coriolanus ;  never  shame  to  hear 
What  you  have  nobly  done. 

Cor.  Your  honors'  pardon  ; 

I  had  rather  have  my  wounds  to  heal  again, 
Than  hear  say  how  I  got  them. 

Bru.  Sir,  I  hope 

My  words  disbencked  you  not. 

Cor.  No,  sir ;  yet  oft, 

When  blows  have  made  me  stay,  I  fled  from  words. 
You  soothed  not,  therefore  hurt  not ;  but  your  people, 
I  love  them  as  they  weigh. 

Men.  Pray  now,  sit  down. 

Cor.    I  had  rather  have  one  scratch  my  head  i'  the 

sun, 

When  the  alarum  were  struck,  than  idly  sit 
To  hear  my  nothings  monstered.     [Exit  CORIOLANUS. 

Men.  Masters  o'  the  people, 

Your  multiplying  spawn  how  can  he  flatter, 
(That's  thousand  to  one  good  one,)  when  you  now  see, 
He  had  rather  venture  all  his  limbs  for  honor, 
Than  one  of  his  ears  to  hear  it  ? — Proceed,  Cominius. 


the  Lex  Jlttinia,  which  is  supposed  to  have  been  in  the  time  of  Quintug 
Metellus  Macedonicus,  the  tribunes  had  not  the  privilege  of  entering  the 
senate,  but  had  seats  placed  for  them  near  the  door,  on  the  outside  of  the 
house. 

1  i.  e.  "that  is  nothing  to  the  purpose." 


492  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  II. 

Com.    I  shall  lack  voice ;  the  deeds  of  Coriolanus 
Should  not  be  uttered  feebly. — It  is  held, 
That  valor  is  the  chiefest  virtue,  and 
Most  dignifies  the  haver  ;  if  it  be, 
The  man  I  speak  of  cannot  in  the  world 
Be  singly  counterpoised.     At  sixteen  years, 
When  Tarquin  made  a  head  for  Rome,1  he  fought 
Beyond  the  mark  of  others  ;  our  then  dictator, 
Whom  with  all  praise  I  point  at,  saw  him  fight, 
When  with  his  Amazonian  chin  he  drove 
The  bristled  lips  before  him ;  he  bestrid 
An  o'er-pressed  Roman,  and  i'  the  consul's  view 
Slew  three  opposers ;  Tarquin's  self  he  met, 
And  struck  him  on  his  knee.     In  that  day's  feats, 
When  he  might  act  the  woman  in  the  scene,2 
He  proved  best  man  i'the  field,  and  for  his  meed 
Was  brow-bound  with  the  oak.     His  pupil  age 
Man-entered  thus,  he  waxed  like  a  sea ; 
And,  in  the  brunt  of  seventeen  battles  since,3 
He  lurched 4  all  swords  o'  the  garland.     For  this  last, 
Before  and  in  Corioli,  let  me  say, 
I  cannot  speak  him  home.     He  stopped  the  fliers  ; 
And,  by  his  rare  example,  made  the  coward 
Turn  terror  into  sport ;  as  waves 5  before 
A  vessel  under  sail,  so  men  obeyed, 
And  fell  below  his  stem ;  his  sword  (death's  stamp) 
Where  it  did  mark,  it  took  :  from  face  to  foot 
He  was  a  thing  of  blood,  whose  every  motion 
Was  timed6  with  dying  cries  :  alone  he  entered 

1  When  Tarquin,  who  had  been  expelled,  raised  a  power  to  recover 
Rome. 

3  The  parts  of  women  were,  in  Shakspeare's  time,  represented  by  the 
most  smooth-faced  young  men  to  be  found  among  the  players.  There 
were  no  theatres  at  Rome  for  the  exhibition  of  plays  until  about  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years  after  the  death  of  Coriolanus. 

3  Plutarch  says,  "  seventeen  years  of  service  in  the  wars,  and  many  and 
sundry  battles  ; "  but  from  Coriolanus's  first  campaign  to  his  death  was 
only  a  period  of  eight  years. 

4  To  lurch  is  to  win  or  carry  off  easily  the  prize  or  stake  at  any  game. 

s  Thus  the  second  folio  ;  the  first  folio,  "  as  weeds?  &c.,  which  Malone 
adheres  to. 

6  The  cries  of  the  slaughtered  regularly  followed  his  motion,  as  music 
and  a  dancer  accompany  each  other. 


SC.  II.]  CORIOLANUS.  493 

The  mortal  gate 1  o'  the  city,  which  he  painted 
With  shunless  destiny,  aidless  came  off, 
And  with  a  sudden  reinforcement  struck 
Corioli,  like  a  planet :  now  all's  his. 
When  by-and-by  the  din  of  war  'gan  pierce 
His  ready  sense ;  then  straight  his  doubled  spirit 
Requickened  wrhat  in  flesh  was  fatigate,2 
And  to  the  battle  came  he ;  where  he  did 
Run  reeking  o'er  the  lives  of  men,  as  if 
'Twere  a  perpetual  spoil  ;  and,  till  we  called 
Both  field  and  city  ours,  he  never  stood 
To  ease  his  breast  with  panting. 

Men.  Worthy  man  ! 

1  Sen.    He  cannot  but  with  measure  fit  the  honors 
Which  we  devise  him. 

Com.  Our  spoils  he  kicked  at ; 

And  looked  upon  things  precious,  as  they  were 
The  common  muck  o'  the  world  ;  he  covets  less 
Than  misery 3  itself  would  give  ;  rewards 
His  deeds  with  doing  them  ;  and  is  content 
To  spend  the  time,  to  end  it. 

Men.  He's  right  noble  ; 

Let  him  be  called  for. 

1  Sen.  Call  Coriolanus. 

Off.    He  doth  appear. 

Re-enter  CORIOLANUS. 

Men.    The  senate,  Coriolanus,  are  well  pleased 
To  make  thee  consul. 

Cor.  I  do  owe  them  still 

My  life  and  services. 

Men.  It  then  remains, 

That  you  do  speak  to  the  people.4 

1  The  gate  which  was  made  the  scene  of  death. 

2  Wearied. 

3  Misenj  for  avarice. 

4  Coriolanus  (as  Warburton  observes)  was  banished  A.  U.  C.  262. 
But  till  the  time  of  Manlius  Torquatus,  A.  U.  C.  393,  the  senate  chose 
both  consuls ;  and  then  the  people,  assisted  by  the  seditious  temper  of 
the  tribunes,  got  the  choice  of  one.    Shakspeare  follows  Plutarch. 


494  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  II. 

Cor.  I  do  beseech  you, 

Let  me  o'erleap  that  custom ;  for  I  cannot 
Put  on  the  gown,  stand  naked,  and  entreat  them, 
For  my  wounds'  sake,  to  give  their  suffrage.  Please  you, 
That  I  may  pass  this  doing. 

Sic.  Sir,  the  people 

Must  have  their  voices ;  neither  will  they  bate 
One  jot  of  ceremony. 

Men.  Put  them  not  to't ; 

Pray  you,  go  fit  you  to  the  custom ;  and 
Take  to  you,  as  your  predecessors  have, 
Your  honor  with  your  form.1 

Cor.  It  is  a  part 

That  I  shall  blush  in  acting,  and  might  well 
Be  taken  from  the  people. 

Bru.  Mark  you  that  ? 

Cor.    To  brag  unto  them, — thus  I  did,  and  thus ; — 
Show  them  the  unaching  scars  which  I  should  hide, 
As  if  I  had  received  them  for  the  hire 
Of  their  breath  only, — 

Men.  Do  not  stand  upon't. — 

We  recommend  to  you,  tribunes  of  the  people, 
Our  purpose  to  them  ; 2  and  to  our  noble  consul 
Wish  we  all  joy  and  honor. 

Sen.    To  Coriolanus  come  all  joy  and  honor ! 

[Flourish.     Then  exeunt  Senators. 

Bru.    You  see  how  he  intends  to  use  the  people. 

Sic.   May  they  perceive  his  intent !     He  will  require 

them, 

As  if  he  did  contemn  what  he  requested 
Should  be  in  them  to  give. 

Bru.  Come,  we'll  inform  them 

Of  our  proceedings  here ;  on  the  market-place, 
I  know,  they  do  attend  us.  [Exeunt. 

1  "  Your  form  "  is  the  form  which  custom  prescribes  to  you. 

2  "We  recommend  to  you,  tribunes  of  the  people,  to  declare  our  purpose 
to  them." 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  495 


SCENE    III.     The  same.     The  Forum. 

Enter  several  Citizens. 

1  Cit.    Once,1  if  he  do  require  our  voices,  we  ought 
not  to  deny  him. 

2  Cit.    We  may,  sir,  if  we  will. 

3  Cit.    We  have  power  in  ourselves  to  do  it,  but  it 
is  a  power  that  we  have   no  power  to  do ;  for  if  he 
show  us  his  wounds,  and  tell  us  his  deeds,  we  are  to 
put  our  tongues  into  those  wounds,  and  speak  for  them  ; 
so,  if  he  tell  us  his  noble  deeds,  we  must  also  tell  him 
our  noble  acceptance  of  them.     Ingratitude  is  mon 
strous  ;  and  for  the  multitude  to  be  ingrateful,  were  to 
make  a  monster  of  the  multitude ;  of  the  which,  we, 
being  members,  should  bring  ourselves  to  be  monstrous 
members. 

1  Cit.    And  to  make  us  no  better  thought  of,  a  little 
help  will   serve ;    for  once 2  we   stood  up   about  the 
corn,  he  himself  stuck  not  to  call  us  the  many-headed 
multitude. 

3  Cit.  We  have  been  called  so  of  many ;  not  that 
our  heads  are  some  brown,  some  black,  some  auburn, 
some  bald,  but  that  our  wits  are  so  diversely  colored ; 
and  truly  I  think,  if  all  our  wits  were  to  issue  out  of 
one  skull,  they  would  fly  east,  west,  north,  south ;  and 
their  consent 3  of  one  direct  way  should  be  at  once  to 
all  the  points  o'  the  compass. 

2  Cit.    Think  you  so  ?     Which  way,  do  you  judge, 
my  wit  would  fly? 

3  Cit.    Nay,  your  wit  will  not  so  soon  out  as  another 
man's  will ;    'tis  strongly  wedged  up  in   a  blockhead  ; 
but  if  it  were  at  liberty,  'twould,  sure,  southward. 

2  Cit.    Why  that  way  ? 


i  i.  e.  once  for  all. 

9  Once  signifies  here  one  time,  and  not  as  soon  as  ever,  which  Malone 
takes  to  be  its  meaning.  Rowe  inserted  when  after  once,  which  is,  indeed, 
slliptically  understood. 

3  Consent  is  accord,  agreement. 


496  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  II. 

3  Cit.  To  lose  itself  in  a  fog ;  where  being  three 
parts  melted  away  with  rotten  dews,  the  fourth  would 
return  for  conscience'  sake,  to  help  to  get  thee  a  wife. 

2  Cit.  You  are  never  without  your  tricks: — You 
may,  you  may.1 

3.  Cit.  Are  you  all  resolved  to  give  your  voices? 
But  that's  no  matter ;  the  greater  part  carries  it.  I 
say,  if  he  would  incline  to  the  people,  there  was  never 
a  worthier  man. 

Enter  CORIOLANUS  and  MENENIUS. 

Here  he  comes,  and  in  the  gown  of  humility ;  mark 
his  behavior.  We  are  not  to  stay  all  together,  but  to 
come  by  him  where  he  stands,  by  ones,  by  twos,  and 
by  threes.  He's  to  make  his  requests  by  particu 
lars  ;  wherein  every  one  of  us  has  a  single  honor,  in 
giving  him  our  own  voices  with  our  own  tongues. 
Therefore  follow  me,  and  I'll  direct  you  how  you  shall 
go  by  him. 

All.    Content,  content.  [Exeunt. 

Men.  O  sir,  you  are  not  right ;  have  you  not  known 
The  worthiest  men  have  done  it  ? 

Cor.  What  must  I  say  ? — 

I  pray,  sir, — plague  upon't !  I  cannot  bring 

My   tongue    to   such   a   pace. Look,   sir; my 

wounds ! — 

I  got  them  in  my  country's  service,  when 
Some  certain  of  your  brethren  roared,  and  ran 
From  the  noise  of  our  own  drums. 

Men.  O  me,  the  gods  ! 

You  must  not  speak  of  that ;  you  must  desire  them 
To  think  upon  you. 

Cor.  Think  upon  me  !  hang  'em  ! 

I  would  they  would  forget  me,  like  the  virtues 
Which  our  divines  lose  by  them.2 


1  The  force  of  this  colloquial  phrase  appears  to  be,  "  You  may  divert 
yourself  as  you  please  at  my  expense." 

2  « I  wish  they  would  forget  me,  as  they  do  the  virtuous  precepts  which 
our  divines   preach  to  them."     This  is   another  amusing   instance   of 
anachronism. 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  497 

Men.  You'll  mar  all ; 

I'll  leave  you.     Pray  you,  speak  to  them,  I  pray  you, 
In  wholesome  manner.  [Exit. 

Enter  two  Citizens. 

Cor.  Bid  them  wash  their  faces, 

And  keep  their  teeth  clean. — So,  here  comes  a  brace. 
You  know  the  cause,  sir,  of  my  standing  here. 

1  Cit.    We    do,  sir;    tell    us   what   hath    brought 

you  to  't. 
Cor.   Mine  own  desert. 

2  Cit.  Your  own  desert ! 

Cor.  Ay,  not 

Mine  own  desire. 

1  Cit.  How !  not  your  own  desire  ? 

Cor.   No,  sir; 
'Twas  never  my  desire  yet, 
To  trouble  the  poor  with  begging. 

1  Cit.    You  must  think,  if  we  give  you  any  thing, 
We  hope  to  gain  by  you. 

Cor.    Well,  then,  I  pray, your  price  o'  the  consulship? 

1  Cit.    The  price  is,  sir,  to  ask  it  kindly. 

Cor.  Kindly  ? 

Sir,  I  pray  let  me  ha't ;  I  have  wounds  to  show  you, 
Which  shall  be  yours  in  private. — Your  good  voice,  sir ; 
What  say  you  ? 

2  Cit.    You  shall  have  it,  worthy  sir. 
Cor.    A  match,  sir  ; — 

There  is  in  all  two  worthy  voices  begged. 
I  have  your  alms  ;  adieu. 

1  Cit.  But  this  is  something  odd. 

2  Cit.    An  'twere  to  give  again, — but  'tis  no  matter. 

[Exeunt  two  Citizens. 

Enter  two  other  Citizens. 

Cor.    Pray  you  now,  if  it  may  stand  with  the  tune 
of  your  voices,  that  I  may  be  consul,  I  have  here  the 
customary  gown. 
VOL.  v.  63 


493  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  II 

3  Cit.    You   have   deserved   nobly  of  jour  country, 
and  you  have  not  deserved  nobly. 
Cor.    Your  enigma. 

O 

3  Cit.    You   have   been  a  scourge   to   her   enemies, 
you  have   been  a  rod   to  her  friends ;  you   have  not, 
indeed,  loved  the  common  people. 

Cor.  You  should  account  me  the  more  virtuous, 
that  I  have  not  been  common  in  my  love.  I  will, 
sir,  flatter  my  sworn  brother,  the  people,  to  earn  a 
dearer  estimation  of  them.  'Tis  a  condition  they 
account  gentle ;  and  since  the  wisdom  of  their  choice 
is  rather  to  have  my  hat  than  my  heart,  I  will  practise 
the  insinuating  nod,  and  be  off  to  them  most  counter- 
feitly :  that  is,  sir,  I  will  counterfeit  the  bewitchment 
of  some  popular  man,  and  give  it  bountifully  to  the 
desirers.  Therefore,  beseech  you,  I  may  be  consul. 

4  Cit.    We  hope  to  find  you  our  friend ;  and  there 
fore  give  you  our  voices  heartily. 

3  Cit.  You  have  received  many  wounds  for  your 
country. 

Cor.  I  will  not  seal 1  your  knowledge  with  showing 
them.  I  will  make  much  of  your  voices,  and  so  trouble 
you  no  further. 

Both  Cit.    The  gods  give  you  joy,  sir,  heartily ! 

[Exeunt. 

Cor.    Most  sweet  voices  ! 
Better  it  is  to  die,  better  to  starve, 
Than  crave  the  hire  which  first  we  do  deserve. 
Why  in  this  wolvish  gown2  should  I  stand  here, 
To  beg  of  Hob  and  Dick,3  that  do  appear, 
Their  needless  vouches  ?     Custom  calls  me  to't. — 
What  custom  wills,  in  all  things  should  we  do't, 
The  dust  on  antique  time  would  lie  unswept, 

1  I  Avill  not  strengthen  or  complete  your  knowledge.     The  seal  is  that 
which  ratifies  or  completes  a  writing. 

2  Thus   the   second   folio.     The  first  folio  reads   "wolvish  tongue" 
apparently  an  error   of  the  press   for  toge ;  the   same   mistake  having 
occurred    in  Othello,  where  "tongued   consuls"  is   printed   for   "toged 
consuls."     By  a  wolvish  gown  Coriolanus  means  a  deceitful  one. 

3  Hob  and  Dick  were  names  of  frequent  occurrence  among  the  common 
people  in  Shakspeare's  time,  and  generally  used  to  signify  a  peasant  or 
low  person. 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  499 

And  mountainous  error  be  too  highly  heaped 
For  truth  to  overpeer.     Rather  than  fool  it  so, 
Let  the  high  office  and  the  honor  go 
To  one  that  would  do  thus. — I  am  half  through ; 
The  one  part  suffered,  the  other  will  I  do. 

Enter  three  other  Citizens. 

Here  come  more  voices.— 

Your  voices  ;  for  your  voices  I  have  fought ; 

Watched  for  your  voices ;  for  your  voices,  bear 

Of  wounds  two  dozen  odd ;  battles  thrice  six 

I  have  seen,  and  heard  of;  for  your  voices,  have1 

Done  many  things,  some  less,  some  more  ;  your  voices  ; 

Indeed,  I  would  be  consul. 

5  Cit.    He  has  done  nobly,  and  cannot  go  without 
any  honest  man's  voice. 

6  Cit.    Therefore,  let   him   be    consul.     The  gods 
give  him  joy,  and  make  him  good  friend  to  the  people ! 

AIL   Amen,  amen. 

God  save  thee,  noble  consul !  [Exeunt  Citizens 

Cor.  Worthy  voices ! 

Re-enter  MENENIUS,  with  BRUTUS  and  SICINIUS. 

Men.   You  have   stood   your   limitation ;    and    the 

tribunes 

Endue  you  with  the  people's  voice.     Remains 
That,  in  the  official  marks  invested,  you 
Anon  do  meet  the  senate. 

Cor.  Is  this  done  ? 

Sic.    The  custom  of  request  you  have  discharged. 
The  people  do  admit  you ;  and  are  summoned 
To  meet  anon,  upon  your  approbation. 

Cor.    Where  ?  at  the  senate-house  ? 

1  Dr.  Farmer  says,  perhaps  we  should  read : — 

" battles  thrice  six 

Pve  seen,  and  you  have  heard  of;  for  your  voices 
Done  many  things,"  &c. 
Conolanus  seeming  now  in  earnest  to  petition  for  the  consulate. 


500  CORIOLANUS.                                 [ACT  11. 

Sic.  There,  Coriolanus. 

Cor.  May  I  change  these  garments  ? 

Sic.  You  may,  sir. 

Cor.  That  I'll  straight  do;  and,  knowing  myself 


again, 


Repair  to  the  senate-house. 

Men.    I'll  keep  you  company. — Will  you  along  ? 

Bru.    We  stay  here  for  the  people. 

Sic.  Fare  you  well. 

[Exeunt  CORIOL.  and  MENEN. 
He  has  it  now ;  and  by  his  looks,  methinks, 
JTis  warm  at  his  heart. 

Bru.  With  a  proud  heart  he  wore 

His  humble  weeds.     Will  you  dismiss  the  people  ? 

Re-enter  Citizens. 

Sic.    How  now,  my  masters  ?  have  you  chose  this 
man  ? 

1  Cit.    He  has  our  voices,  sir. 

Bru.    We  pray  the  gods  he  may  deserve  your  loves. 

2  Cit.    Amen,  sir.     To  my  poor,  unworthy  notice, 
He  mocked  us,  when  he  begged  our  voices. 

3  Cit.  Certainly, 
He  flouted  us  downright. 

1  Cit.   No,    'tis   his   kind  of   speech;    he   did   not 

mock  us. 

2  Cit.    Not  one  amongst  us,  save  yourself,  but  says, 
He  used  us  scornfully ;  he  should  have  showed  us 
His  marks  of  merit,  wounds  received  for  his  country. 

Sic.    Why,  so  he  did,  I  am  sure. 
Cit.  No ;  no  man  saw  'em. 

[Several  speak. 

3  Cit.    He   said   he  had  wounds,  which  he  could 

show  in  private ; 

And  with  his  hat,  thus  waving  it  in  scorn, 
/  would  be  consul,  says  he  :  age d  custom,1 

1  The  Romans  (as  Warburton  observes)  had  but  lately  changed  the 
regal  for  the  consular  government;  for  Coriolanus  was  banished  the 
eighteenth  year  after  the  expulsion  of  the  kings.  Plutarch,  as  we  have 
before  seen,  led  the  Poet  into  the  error  concerning  this  aged  custom. 


fcC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  501 

But  by  your  voices,  will  not  so  permit  me ; 
Your  voices  therefore.     When  we  granted  that, 
Here  was, — I  thank  you  for  your  voices, — thank  you, — 
Your  most  sweet  voices ; — now  you  have  left  your  voices, 
I  have  no  further  with  you. Was  not  this  mockery? 

Sic.    Why,  either,  were  you  ignorant  to  see't?1 
Or,  seeing  it,  of  such  childish  friendliness, 
To  yield  your  voices  ? 

Bru.  Could  you  not  have  told  him, 

As  you  were  lessoned — When  he  had  no  power, 
But  was  a  petty  servant  to  the  state, 
He  was  your  enemy ;  ever  spake  against 
Your  liberties,  and  the  charters  that  you  bear 
I' the  body  of  the  weal:  and  now,  arriving2 
A  place  of  potency,  and  sway  o'  the  state, 
If  he  should  still  malignantly  remain 
Fast  foe  to  the  plebeii,  your  voices  might 
Be  curses  to  yourselves.     You  should  have  said, 
That,  as  his  worthy  deeds  did  claim  no  less 
Than  what  he  stood  for ;  so  his  gracious  nature 
Would  think  upon  you  for  your  voices,3  and 
Translate  his  malice  towards  you  into  love, 
Standing  your  friendly  lord. 

Sic.  Thus  to  have  said, 

As  you  were  fore-advised,  had  touched  his  spirit, 
And  tried  his  inclination ;   from  him  plucked 
Either  his  gracious  promise,  which  you  might, 
As  cause  had  called  you  up,  have  held  him  to ; 
Or  else  it  would  have  galled  his  surly  nature, 
Which  easily  endures  not  article 
Tying  him  to  aught ;  so,  putting  him  to  rage, 
You  should  have  ta'en  the  advantage  of  his  choler, 
And  passed  him  unelected. 

Bru.  Did  you  perceive, 


1  "Did  you  want  knowledge  to  discern  it?" 

2  So  in  the  Third  Part  of  King  Henry  VI.  Act  v.  Sc.  3.  :— 

" those  powers  that  the  queen 

Hath  raised  in  Gallia  have  arrived  our  coast." 

3  i.  e.  "  would  retain  a  grateful  remembrance  of  you,"  &c. 


50-2  CORIOLAM'S.  [ACT  II. 

He  did  solicit  you  in  tree  contempt,1 

When  he  did  ueed  vour  loves  :  and  do  you  think 

:  his  contempt  shall  not  be  bruising  to  you, 
When  he  hath  power  to  crush  :     Why.  had  your  bodies 
Xo  heart  among  ycu  ?     Or  had  vou  tongues,  to  cry 
Against  the  rectorship  of  judgment  : 

Sic.  Have  you, 

Ere  now,  denied  the  asker  ?  and.  now  again. 
On  him.  that  did  not  ask,  but  mock,  bestow 
Vour  sued-tbr  tongr 

3  Cit.   He's  not  confirmed :  we  mav  denv  him  yet. 

-2  Oil.    And  will  deny  him. 
I'll  have  five  hundred  voices  of  that  sound. 

1  Cit.     I  twice  five  hundred,  and  then-  friends  to 
piece  'em. 

Bru.     Get    vou    hence    instantly :     and    tell    those 

friends. — 

Thev  have  chose  a  consul,  that  will  from  them  take 
Their  liberties  :  make  them  of  no  more  voice 
Than  dogs,  that  are  as  often  beat  for  barking, 
As  therefore  kept  to  do  so. 

Sic.  Let  them  assemble  ; 

And.  on  a  safer  judgment,  all  revoke 
Your  ignorant  election.     Enforce 2  his  pride, 
And  his  old  hate  unto  vou  :  besides,  forget  not 
With  what  contempt  he  wore  the  humble  weed  : 
How  in  his  suit  he  scorned  you  ;  but  your  lov  ^ 
Thinking  upon  his  services,  took  from  you 
The  apprehension  of  his  present  portance,3 
Which,  most  gibinglv,  ungravely  he  did  fashion 
After  the  inveterate  hate  he  bears  you. 

Bru.  Lay 

A  fault  on  us,  your  tribunes  ;  that  we  labored 
(No  impediment  between)  but  that  you  must 
Cast  vour  election  on  him. 

Sic.  Say  you  chose  him 

More  after  our  commandment,  than  as  guided 

1  That  is,  in  pvn  contempt 

2  Object  his  pride,  and  enforce  the  objection, 

3  L  e.  carriage. 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLAM>  503 

Bv  your  own  true  affections  ;  and  that,  your  minds 
Preoccupied  with  what  you  rather  must  do 
Than  what  you  should,  made  you  against  the  grain 
To  voice  him  consul.     Lay  the  fault  on  us. 

Bru.  Ay,  spare  us  not.     Say,  we  read  lectures  to  you, 
How  younglv  he  bejran  to  serve  his  country, 
How  long  continued :  and  what  stock  he  springs  of, 
The  noble  house  o'the  Marcians;  from  whence  came 
That  Ancus  Marcius.  Xuma's  daughter's  son, 
Who,  after  ^reat  Hostilius,  here  was  kin^. 
Of  the  same  house  Publius  and  Quintus  were, 
That  our  best  water  brought  by  conduits  hither : 
And  Censorinus.  darling  of  the  people,1 
And  nobly  named  so,  being  censor  twice, 
Was  his  great  ancestor. 

Sic.  One  thus  descended. 

That  hath  beside  well  in  his  person  wrought 
To  be  set  high  in  place,  we  did  commend 
To  your  remembrances  :  but  you  have  found, 
Scaling2  his  present  bearing  with  his  p  -'• 
That  he's  your  fixed  enemy,  and  revoke 
Your  sudden  approbation. 

Bru.  Say,  you  ne'er  had  done't, 

(Harp  on  that  still.)  but  by  our  putting  on  :3 
And  presentlv.  when  you  have  drawn  your  number, 
Repair  to  the  Capitol. 

Cit.  We  will  so  :  almost  all     [Sereral  speak. 

Repent  in  their  election.  [Exewit  Citizens. 

1  Pope  supplied  this  verse,  which  the  context  evidently  requires,  and 
which  is  warranted  by  the  narration  in  Plutarch,  from  whence  this  passage 
is  taken : — "  The  house  cf  the  Martians  at  Rome  was  of  the  number  of 
the  patricians,  out  of  which  sprung  many  noble  personages,  whereof 
Ancus  Martins  was  one,  king  Numaes  daughters  ~  was  king 
of  Rome  after  Tuflos  Hostilius.     Of  the  same  hoi                    iblius  and 
Quintus,  who  brought  to  Rome  their  best  water  they  had  b 
Censorinus  came  of  that  familit,  that  was  so  surnamed  because  the  people 
had  chosen  him  censor  twice.*     Publius  and  Quintus  and  Cens 
were  not  the  ancestors  of  Coriolanus,  but  his  descendants.     Caius  Martius 
Rutilius  did  not  obtain  the  name  of  Censorinus  tili  the  year  of  Rome  4S7  : 
and  the  Marcian  waters  were  not  brought  to  the  city  by  aquecucts  till  the 
year  613.  near  350  year?  after  the  death  of  Coriolanus,     Shakspeare  has 
confounded  the  ancestors  and  posterity  of  Coriolanus  together. 

2  That  is,  weighing. 

3  i.  e.  our  incitaiioh. 


504  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  III. 

Bru.  Let  them  go  on  , 

This  mutiny  were  better  put  in  hazard, 
Than  stay,  past  doubt,  for  greater. 
If,  as  his  nature  is,  he  fall  in  rage 
With  their  refusal,  both  observe  and  answer 
The  vantage  of  his  anger. 

Sic.  To  the  capitol. 

Come,  we'll  be  there  before  the  stream  o'the  people; 
And  this  shall  seem,  as  partly  'tis,  their  own, 
Which  we  have  goaded  onward.  [Exeunt. 


ACT    III. 

SCENE   I.     The  same.     A  Street. 

Cornets.     Enter  CORIOLANUS,  MENENIUS,  COMINIUS, 
TITUS  LARTIUS,  Senators,  and  Patricians. 

Cor.    Tullus  Aufidius  then  had  made  new  head  ? 

Lart.    He  had,  my  lord  ;    and  that  it  was,  which 

caused 
Our  swifter  composition. 

Cor.    So  then  the  Voices  stand  but  as  at  first ; 
Ready,  when  time  shall  prompt  them,  to  make  road 
Upon  us  again. 

Com.  They  are  worn,  lord  consul,1  so 

That  we  shall  hardly  in  our  ages  see 
Their  banners  wave  again. 

Cor.  Saw  you  Aufidius  ? 

Lart.    On  safeguard  he  came  to  me  ;   and  did  curse 
Against  the  Voices,  for  they  had  so  vilely 
Yielded  the  town.     He  is  retired  to  Antium. 

Cor.    Spoke  he  of  me  ? 

Lart.  He  did,  my  lord. 

1  Shakspeare  has  here  again  given  the  usage  of  England  to  Rome. 


SO.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  505 

Cor.  How?  what? 

Lart.    How  often  he  had  met  you,  sword  to  sword  ; 
That,  of  all  things  upon  the  earth,  he  hated 
Your  person  most ;  that  he  would  pawn  his  fortunes 
To  hopeless  restitution,  so  he  might 
Be  called  your  vanquisher. 

Cor.  At  Antium  lives  he  ? 

Lart.    At  Antium. 

Cor.    I  wish  I  had  a  cause  to  seek  him  there, 
To  oppose  his  hatred  fully. — Welcome  home. 

[To  LARTIUS. 

Enter  SICINIUS  and  BRUTUS. 

Behold  !  these  are  the  tribunes  of  the  people, 

The    tongues   o'  the   common  mouth.      I    do   despise 

them; 

For  they  do  prank  them  in  authority, 
Against  all  noble  sufferance. 

Sic.  Pass  no  further. 

Cor.    Ha !  what  is  that  ? 

Bru.  It  will  be  dangerous  to 

Go  on  ;  no  further. 

Cor.    What  makes  this  change  ? 

Men.  The  matter  ? 

Com.    Hath   he    not   passed   the   nobles,    and   the 

commons  ? 
Bru.    Cominius,  no. 

Cor.  Have  I  had  children's  voices  ? 

1  Sen.    Tribunes,  give  way  ;  he  shall  to  the  market 
place. 

Bru.    The  people  are  incensed  against  him. 
Sic.  Stoj), 

Or  all  will  fall  in  broil. 

Cor.  Are  these  your  herd  ? — 

Must  these  have  voices,  that  can  yield  them  now, 
•    And  straight  disclaim  their  tongues  ? — What  are  your 

offices  ? 

You,  being  their  mouths,  why  rule  you  not  their  teeth  ? 
Have  you  not  set  them  on  ? 

Men.  Be  calm,  be  calm. 

VOL.  v.  64 


506  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  III. 

Cor.    It  is  a  purposed  thing,  and  grows  by  plot, 
To  curb  the  will  of  the  nobility. — 
Suffer  it,  and  live  with  such  as  cannot  rule, 
Nor  ever  will  be  ruled. 

Bru.  CalPt  not  a  plot. 

The  people  cry,  you  mocked  them  ;  and,  of  late, 
When  corn  was  given  them  gratis,  you  repined  ; 
Scandaled  the  suppliants  for  the  people ;  called  them 
Time-pleasers,  flatterers,  foes  to  nobleness. 

Cor.    Why,  this  was  known  before. 

Bru.  Not  to  them  all 

Cor.    Have  you  informed  them  since  ? 

Bru.  How!  I  inform  them  ! 

Cor.    You  are  like  to  do  such  business. 

Bru.  Not  unlike, 

Each  way  to  better  yours.1 

Cor.  Why  then  should  I  be  consul  ?     By  yon  clouds, 
Let  me  deserve  so  ill  as  you,  and  make  me 
Your  fellow  tribune. 

Sic.  You  show  too  much  of  that, 

For  which  the  people  stir.     If  you  will  pass 
To  where  you  are  bound,  you  must  inquire  your  way, 
Which  you  are  out  of,  writh  a  gentler  spirit ; 
Or  never  be  so  noble  as  a  consul, 
Nor  yoke  with  him  for  tribune. 

Men.  Let's  be  calm. 

Com.    The    people    are    abused  ; — Set    on. — This 

paltering 2 

Becomes  not  Rome  ;  nor  has  Coriolanus 
Deserved  this  so  dishonored  rub,  laid  falsely3 
I' the  plain  way  of  his  merit. 

Cor.  Tell  me  of  corn  ! 

This  was  my  speech,  and  I  will  speak't  again  ; — 

Men.    Not  now,  not  now. 

1  Sen.  Not  in  this  heat,  sir,  now. 

Cor.    Now,  as  I  live,  I  will. — My  nobler  friends, 

1  i.  e.  likely  to  provide  better  for  the  security  of  the  commonwealth  than 
you  (whose  business  it  is)  will  do. 

2  Paltering  is  shuffling. 

3  i.  e.  treacherously.     The  metaphor  is  from  a  nib  at  bowls. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  507 

I  crave  their  pardons  : — 

For  the  mutable,  rank-scented  many,  let  them 

Regard  me  as  I  do  not  flatter,  and 

Therein  behold  themselves.     I  say  again, 

In  soothing  them,  we  nourish  'gainst  our  senate 

The  cockle  1  of  rebellion,  insolence,  sedition, 

Which  we  ourselves  have    ploughed    for,  sowed,  and 

scattered, 

By  mingling  them  with  us,  the  honored  number ; 
Who  lack  not  virtue,  no,  nor  power,  but  that 
Which  they  have  given  to  beggars. 

Men.    Well,  no  more. 

1  Sen.   No  more  words,  we  beseech  you. 

Cor.  How  !  no  more  ? 

As  for  my  country  I  have  shed  my  blood, 
Not  fearing  outward  force,  so  shall  my  lungs 
Coin  words  till  their  decay,  against  those  meazels,2 
Which  we  disdain  should  tetter  us,  yet  sought 
The  very  way  to  catch  them. 

Bru.  You  speak  o'the  people, 

As  if  you  were  a  god  to  punish,  not 
A  man  of  their  infirmity. 

Sic.  'Twere  well 

We  let  the  people  know't. 

Men.  What,  what  ?  his  choler  ? 

Cor.    Choler! 

Were  I  as  patient  as  the  midnight  sleep, 
By  Jove,  'twould  be  my  mind. 

Sic.  It  is  a  mind 

That  shall  remain  a  poison  where  it  is, 
Not  poison  any  further. 

Cor.  Shall  remain  ! — 

Hear  you  this  Triton  of  the  minnows  ?  mark  you 
His  absolute  shall  ? 

Com.  'Twas  from  the  canon. 

Cor.  Shall! 

O  good,3  but  most  unwise  patricians,  why, 

1  Cockle  is  a  weed  which  grows  up  with  and  chokes  the  corn. 

2  Meazel,  or  mesell,  is  the  old  term  for  a  leper,  from  the  Fr.  meselle. 

3  The  old  copy  has,  "  O  God,  but,"  &c.     The  emendation  was  made 
by  Theobald. 


508  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  III. 

You  grave,  but  reckless  senators,  have  you  thus 

Given  Hydra  here  to  choose  an  officer, 

That  with  his  peremptory  shall,  being  but 

The  horn  and  noise  *  o'  the  monsters,  wants  not  spirit 

To  say,  he'll  turn  your  current  in  a  ditch, 

And  make  your  channel  his  ?     If  he  have  power, 

Then  vail  your  ignorance  ; 2  if  none,  awake 

Your  dangerous  lenity.     If  you  are  learned, 

Be  not  as  common  fools  ;  if  you  are  not, 

Let  them  have  cushions  by  you.     You  are  plebeians, 

If  they  be  senators  ;  and  they  are  no  less, 

When  both  your  voices  blended,  the  greatest  taste 

Most  palates  theirs.3     They  choose  their  magistrate  ; 

And  such  a  one  as  he,  who  puts  his  shall, 

His  popular  shall,  against  a  graver  bench 

Than  ever  frowned  in  Greece  !     By  Jove  himself, 

It  makes  the  consuls  base  ;  and  my  soul  aches, 

To  know,  when  two  authorities  are  up, 

Neither  supreme,  how  soon  confusion 

May  enter  'twixt  the  gap  of  both,  and  take 

The  one  by  the  other. 

Com.  Well — on  to  the  market  place. 

Cor.    Whoever  gave  that  counsel,  to  give  forth 
The  com  o'the  storehouse  gratis,  as  'twas  used 
Sometime  in  Greece, 

Men.  Well,  well,  no  more  of  that. 

Cor.    (Though  there  the  people  had  more  absolute 

power,) 

I  say  they  nourished  disobedience,  fed 
The  ruin  of  the  state. 

Bru.  Why,  shall  the  people  give 

One,  that  speaks  thus,  their  voice  ? 

Cor.  I'll  give  my  reasons, 

More  worthier  than  their  voices.     Thev  know  the  corn 

1  "  The  horn  and  twise,"  alluding  to  his  having  called  him  Triton  of  the 
minnows  before. 

2  "  If  this  man  has  power,  let  the  ignorance  that  gave  it  him  vail  or 
bow  down  before  him." 

3  "  The  plebeians  are  no  less  than  senators,  when  the  voices  of  the 
senate  and  the  people  being  blended,  the  predominant  taste  of  the  com 
pound  smacks  more  of  the  populace  than  the  senate." 


SC.  1.]  CORIOLANUS.  509 

Was  not  our  recompense  ;  resting  well  assured 
They  ne'er  did  service  for't.     Being  pressed  to  the  war, 
Even  when  the  navel  of  the  state  was  touched, 
They  would  not  thread 1  the  gates :  this  kind  of  service 
Did  not  deserve  corn  gratis ;  being  i'  the  war, 
Their  mutinies  and  revolts,  wherein  they  showed 
Most  valor,  spoke  not  for  them.     The  accusation 
Which  they  have  often  made  against  the  senate, 
All  cause  unborn,  could  never  be  the  native2 
Of  our  so  frank  donation.     Well,  what  then  ? 
How  shall  this  bosom  multiplied3  digest 
The  senate's  courtesy  ?     Let  deeds  express 
What's  like  to  be  their  words  : — We  did  request  it ; 
We  are  the  greater  poll,  and  in  true  fear 
They  gave  us  our  demands. — Thus  we  debase 
The  nature  of  our  seats,  and  make  the  rabble 
Call  our  cares,  fears ;  which  will  in  time  break  ope 
The  locks  o'  the  senate,  and  bring  in  the  crows 
To  peck  the  eagles. — 

Men.  Come,  enough. 

Bru.    Enough,  with  over-measure. 

Cor.  No,  take  more. 

What  may  be  sworn  by,  both  divine  and  human, 
Seal  what  I  end  withal ! 4 — This  double  worship, — 
Where  one  part  does  disdain  with  cause,  the  other 
Insult  without  all  reason ;  where  gentry,  title,  wisdom 
Cannot  conclude,  but  by  the  yea  and  no 
Of  general  ignorance, — it  must  omit 
Real  necessities,  and  give  way  the  while 
To  unstable  slightness ;  purpose  so  barred,  it  follows, 
Nothing  is  done  to  purpose.    Therefore,  beseech  you, — 
You  that  will  be  less  fearful  than  discreet ; 
That  love  the  fundamental  part  of  state, 


1  To  thread  the  gates  is  to  pass  through  them.     So  in  King  Lear : — 
"  Threading  dark-eyed  night" 

2  Native,  if  it  be  not  a  corruption  of  the  text,  must  be  put  for  native 
cause,  the  producer  or  bringer  forth. 

3  "  This  bosom  multiplied,"  is,  the  bosom  of  the  people. 

4  "  No,  let  me  add  this  further,  and  may  every  thing  divine  and  human 
that  can  give  force  to  an  oath,  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of  what  I  shall 
conclude  with." 


510  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  111. 

More  than  you  doubt J  the  change  of 't ;  that  prefer 

A  noble  life  before  a  long,  and  wish 

To  jump2  a  body  with  a  dangerous  physic 

That's  sure  of  death  without  it, — at  once  pluck  out 

The  multitudinous  tongue,  let  them  not  lick 

The  sweet  which  is  their  poison :  your  dishonor 

Mangles  true  judgment,  and  bereaves  the  state 

Of  that  integrity  which  should  become  it  ; 

Not  having  the  power  to  do  the  good  it  would, 

For  the  ill  which  doth  control  it. 

Bru.  He  has  said  enough, 

Sic.    He  has  spoken  like  a  traitor,  and  shall  answer 
As  traitors  do. 

Cor.    Thou  wretch  !  despite  o'erwhelm  thee  ! — 
What  should  the  people  do  with  these  bald  tribunes  ? 
On  whom  depending,  their  obedience  fails 
To  the  greater  bench.     In  a  rebellion, 
When  what's  not  meet,  but  what  must  be,  was  law, 
Then  were  they  chosen ;  in  a  better  hour, 
Let  what  is  meet,  be  said,  it  must  be  meet,3 
And  throw  their  power  i'  the  dust. 

Bru.    Manifest  treason. 

Sic.  This  a  consul  ?  no. 

Bru.    The  aediles,  ho ! — Let  him  be  apprehended. 

Sic.    Go,  call  the  people  ;   [Exit  BRUTUS  ;]  in  whose 

name,  myself 

Attach  thee,  as  a  traitorous  innovator, 
A  foe  to  the  public  weal.     Obey,  I  charge  thee, 
And  follow  to  thine  answer. 

Cor.  Hence,  old  goat ! 

Sen.  fr  Pat.   We'll  surety  him. 

Com.  Aged  sir,  hands  oft. 

Cor.    Hence,  rotten  thing,  or  I  shall  shake  thy  bones 
Out  of  thy  garments. 

Sic.  Help,  ye  citizens- 

1  To  doubt  is  to  fear. 

a  To  jump  a  body  is  apparently  "to  risk  or  hazard  a  body." 
3  "Let  it  be  said  by  you  that  what  is  meet  to  be  done,  must  be  meet, 
i.  e.  shall  be  done" 


SO.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  511 

Re-enter  BRUTUS,  with  the  JCdiles,  and  a  rabble  of 
Citizens. 

Men.    On  both  sides,  more  respect. 

Sic.  Here's  he,  that  would 

Take  from  you  all  your  power. 

Bru.  Seize  him,  aediles. 

Cit.    Down  wiih  him,  down  with  him ! 

[Several  speak. 

2  Sen.  Weapons,  weapons,  weapons  ! 

[They  all  bustle  about  CORIOLANUS. 
Tribunes,  patricians,  citizens  ! — what  ho ! — 
Sicinius,  Brutus,  Coriolanus,  citizens ! 

Cit.    Peace,  peace,  peace  ;  stay,  hold,  peace  ! 

Men.   What  is  about  to  be  ? — I  am  out  of  breath  ; 
Confusion's  near ;  I  cannot  speak. — You,  tribunes, 
To  the  people. — Coriolanus,  patience. — 
Speak,  good  Sicinius. 

Sic.  Hear  me,  people  ; — peace. 

Cit.  Let's  hear  our  tribune  ; — peace.     Speak,  speak, 
speak. 

Sic.    You  are  at  point  to  lose  your  liberties  ; 
Marcius  would  have  all  from  you ;  Marcius, 
Whom  late  you  have  named  for  consul. 

Men.  Fie,  fie,  fie  ! 

This  is  the  way  to  kindle,  not  to  quench. 

1  Sen.    To  unbuild  the  city,  and  to  lay  all  flat. 

Sic.    What  is  the  city,  but  the  people  ? 

Cit.  True, 

The  people  are  the  city. 

Bru.   By  the  consent  of  all,  we  were  established 
The  people's  magistrates. 

Cit.  You  so  remain. 

Men.    And  so  are  like  to  do. 

Cor.    That  is  the  way  to  lay  the  city  flat ; 
To  bring  the  roof  to  the  foundation ; 
And  bury  all,  which  yet  distinctly  ranges, 
In  heaps  and  piles  of  ruin. 

Sic.  This  deserves  death. 

Bru.    Or  let  us  stand  to  our  authority, 


512  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  111 

Or  let  us  lose  it. — We  do  here  pronounce, 
Upon  the  part  o'  the  people,  in  whose  power 
We  were  elected  theirs,  Marcius  is  worthy 
Of  present  death. 

Sic.  Therefore,  lay  hold  of  him ; 

Bear  him  to  the  rock  Tarpeian,  and  from  thence 
Into  destruction  cast  him. 

Bru.  ^Ediles,  seize  him. 

Cit.    Yield,  Marcius,  yield. 

Men.  Hear  me  one  word. 

Beseech  you,  tribunes,  hear  me  but  a  word. 

J&d.    Peace,  peace. 

Men.    Be  that  you  seem,  truly  your  country's  friend, 
And  temperately  proceed  to  what  you  would 
Thus  violently  redress. 

Bru.  Sir,  those  cold  ways, 

That  seem  like  prudent  helps,  are  very  poisonous 
Where  the  disease  is  violent. — Lay  hands  upon  him, 
And  bear  him  to  the  rock. 

Cor.  No ;  I'll  die  here.    [Drawing  his  sword. 

There's  some  among  you  have  beheld  me  fighting ; 
Come,  try  upon  yourselves  what  you  have  seen  me. 

Men.    Down  with  that  sword ; — tribunes,  withdraw 
awhile. 

Bru.    Lay  hands  upon  him. 

Men.  Help,  help,  Marcius !  help 

You  that  be  noble  ;  help  him,  young  and  old  ! 

Cit.    Down  with  him,  down  with  him ! 

[In  this  mutiny,  the  Tribunes,  the  ^Ediles, 
and  the  people,  are  all  beat  in. 

Men.    Go,  get  you  to  your  house  ;  be  gone  away, 
All  will  be  naught  else. 

2  Sen.  Get  you  gone. 

Cor.  Stand  fast ; 

We  have  as  many  friends  as  enemies. 

Men.    Shall  it  be  put  to  that  ? 

Sen.  The  gods  forbid  ! 

I  pr'ythee,  noble  friend,  home  to  thy  house ; 
Leave  us  to  cure  this  cause. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  513 

Men.  For  'tis  a  sore  upon  us, 

You  cannot  tent  yourself.     Begone,  'beseech  you. 

Com.    Come,  sir,  along  with  us. 

Cor.    I  would  they  were  barbarians,  (as  they  are, 
Though  in  Rome  littered,)  not  Romans,  (as  they  are  not, 
Though  calved  i'  the  porch  o'  the  Capitol.) 

Men.  Be  gone ; 

Put  not  your  worthy  rage  into  your  tongue ; 
One  time  will  owe  another.1 

Cor.  On  fair  ground 

I  could  beat  forty  of  them. 

Men.  I  could  myself 

Take  up  a  brace  of  the  best  of  them ;  yea,  the  two 
tribunes. 

Com.    But  now  'tis  odds  beyond  arithmetic  ; 
And  manhood  is  called  foolery,  when  it  stands 
Against  a  falling  fabric. — Will  you  hence, 
Before  the  tag2  return  ?  whose  rage  doth  rend 
Like  interrupted  waters,  and  o'erbear 
What  they  are  used  to  bear. 

Men.  Pray  you,  begone. 

I'll  try  whether  my  old  wit  be  in  request 
With  those  that  have  but  little ;  this  must  be  patched 
With  cloth  of  any  color. 

Com.  Nay,  come  away. 

[Exeunt  COR.,  COM.,  and  others. 

1  Pat.    This  man  has  marred  his  fortune. 
Men.    His  nature  is  too  noble  for  the  world  ; 

He  would  not  flatter  Neptune  for  his  trident, 

Or  Jove  for  his   power  to  thunder.     His  heart's  his 

mouth  ; 

What  his  breast  forges,  that  his  tongue  must  vent ; 
And,  being  angry,  does  forget  that  ever 
He  heard  the  name  of  death.  [A  noise  within. 

Here's  goodly  work ! 

2  Pat.  I  would  they  were  abed  ! 


1  Perhaps  Menenius  means  to  say,  "  Another  time  will  offer,  when  you 
may  be  quits  with  them." 

2  The  lowest  of  the  populace. 

VOL.  v.  65 


514  CORIOLAJNUS.  [ACT  III. 

Men.    I   would   they  were  in  Tyber! — What,   the 

vengeance, 
Could  he  not  speak  them  fair  ? 

Re-enter  BRUTUS  and  SICINIUS,  with  the  rabble. 

Sic.  Where  is  this  viper, 

That  would  depopulate  the  city,  and 
Be  every  man  himself? 

Men.  You  worthy  tribunes, 

Sic.    He  shall  be  thrown  down  the  Tarpeian  rock 
With  rigorous  hands  ;  he  hath  resisted  law, 
And  therefore  law  shall  scorn  him  further  trial 
Than  the  severity  of  the  public  power, 
Which  he  so  sets  at  nought. 

1  Cit.  He  shall  well  know, 

The  noble  tribunes  are  the  people's  mouths, 
And  we  their  hands. 

Cit.  He  shall,  sure  on't.1 

[Several  speak  together. 

Men.    Sir,  sir, 

Sic.    Peace. 

Men.    Do  not  cry,  havoc,2  where  you  should  but  hunt 
With  modest  warrant. 

Sic.  Sir,  how  comes  it,  that  you 

Have  holp  to  make  this  rescue  ? 

Men.  Hear  me  speak. — 

As  I  do  know  the  consul's  worthiness, 
So  can  I  name  his  faults. 

Sic.  Consul ! — what  consul  ? 

Men.    The  consul  Coriolanus. 

Bru.  He  a  consul ! 

Cit.   No,  no,  no,  no,  no. 

Men.    If,   by  the  tribunes'  leave,   and  yours,  good 
people, 

1  We  should  probably  read : — 

«  He  shall,  be  sure  on't." 

2  "Item  que  nul  soit  si  hardy  de  crier  havok,  sur  peine  d'avoir  la  test 
coupe." — Ordinances  des  Batlailes,  9  R.  ii.  Art.  ]0. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  515 

I  may  be  heard,  I'd  crave  a  word  or  two ; 
The  which  shall  turn  you  to  no  further  harm, 
Than  so  much  loss  of  time. 

Sic.  Speak  briefly,  then  ; 

For  we  are  peremptory,  to  despatch 
This  viperous  traitor :  to  eject  him  hence, 
Were  but  one  danger ;  and  to  keep  him  here, 
Our  certain  death ;  therefore  it  is  decreed, 
He  dies  to-night. 

Men.  Now,  the  good  gods  forbid, 

That  our  renowned  Rome,  whose  gratitude 
Towards  her  deserved1  children  is  enrolled 
In  Jove's  own  book,  like  an  unnatural  dam 
Should  now  eat  up  her  own ! 

Sic.    He's  a  disease  that  must  be  cut  away. 

Men.    O,  he's  a  limb,  that  has  but  a  disease ; 
Mortal,  to  cut  it  off;   to  cure  it,  easy. 
What  has  he  done  to  Rome  that's  worthy  death  ? 
Killing  our  enemies  ?     The  blood  he  hath  lost, 
(Which,  I  dare  vouch,  is  more  than  that  he  hath, 
By  many  an  ounce,)  he  dropped  it  for  his  country ; 
And,  what  is  left,  to  lose  it  by  his  country, 
Were  to  us  all,  that  do't  and  suffer  it, 
A  brand  to  the  end  o5  the  world. 

Sic.  This  is  clean  kam.2 

Bru.   Merely3  awry ;  when  he  did  love  his  country, 
It  honored  him. 

Men.  The  service  of  the  foot 

Being  once  gangrened,  is  not  then  respected 
For  what  before  it  was  ? 

Bru.  We'll  hear  no  more. — 

Pursue  him  to  his  house,  and  pluck  him  thence ; 
Lest  his  infection,  being  of  catching  nature, 
Spread  further. 

Men.  One  word  more,  one  word. 

This  tiger-footed  rage,  when  it  shall  find 
The  harm  of  unscanned  swiftness,  will,  too  late, 

1  Deserved  for  deserving ;  as  delighted  for  delighting,  in  Othello. 

2  Kam  is  crooked. 

3  i.  e.  absolutely. 


516  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  III. 

Tie  leaden  pounds  to  his  heels.     Proceed  by  process ; 
Lest  parties  (as  he  is  beloved)  break  out, 
And  sack  great  Rome  with  Romans. 

Bru.    If  it  were  so, — 

Sic.  What  do  je  talk  ? 

Have  we  not  had  a  taste  of  his  obedience  ? 
Our  eediles  smote  ?  ourselves  resisted  ? — Come  ; — 

Men.    Consider  this  ; — he  has  been  bred  i'  the  wars 
Since  he  could  draw  a  sword,  and  is  ill  schooled 
In  bolted  language  ;  meal  and  bran  together 
He  throws  without  distinction.     Give  me  leave, 
I'll  go  to  him,  and  undertake  to  bring  him 
Where  he  shall  answer,  by  a  lawful  form, 
(In  peace,)  to  his  utmost  peril. 

1  Sen.  Noble  tribunes, 

It  is  the  humane  way  ;  the  other  course 
Will  prove  too  bloody ;  and  the  end  of  it 
Unknown  to  the  beginning. 

Sic.  Noble  Menenius, 

Be  you  then  as  the  people's  officer. 
Masters,  lay  down  your  weapons. 

Bru.  Go  not  home. 

Sic.   Meet  on  the  market-place  ; — we'll  attend  you 

there : 

Where,  if  you  bring  not  Marcius,  we'll  proceed 
In  our  first  way. 

Men.  I'll  bring  him  to  you  ; 

Let  me  desire  your  company.    [To  the  Senators.]     He 

must  come, 
Or  what  is  worse  will  follow. 

1  Sen.  Pray  you,  let's  to  him. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE.  II.     A  Room  in  Coriolanus's  House. 

Enter  CORIOLANUS  and  Patricians. 

Cor.    Let  them  pull  all  about  mine  ears  ;  present  me 
Death  on  the  wheel,  or  at  wild  horses'  heels ; 
Or  pile  ten  hills  on  the  Tarpeian  rock, 


SC.  II.]  CORIOLANUS.  517 

That  the  precipitation  might  down  stretch 
Below  the  beam  of  sight,  yet  will  I  still 
Be  thus  to  them. 


Enter  VOLUMNIA. 

1  Pat.  You  do  the  nobler. 

Cor.    I  muse,1  my  mother 
Does  not  approve  me  further,  who  was  wont 
To  call  them  woollen  vassals,  things  created 
To  buy  and  sell  with  groats ;  to  show  bare  heads 
In  congregations,  to  yawn,  be  still,  and  wonder, 
When  one  but  of  my  ordinance  2  stood  up 
To  speak  of  peace,  or  war.     1  talk  of  you  ; 

[To  VOLUMNIA. 

Why  did  you  wish  me  milder  ?  Would  you  have  me 
False  to  my  nature  ?     Rather  say,  I  play 
The  man  I  am. 

Vol.  O,  sir,  sir,  sir, 

I  would  have  had  you  put  your  power  well  on, 
Before  you  had  worn  it  out. 

Cor.  Let  go. 

Vol.   You  might  have  been  enough  the  man  you  are, 
With  striving  less  to  be  so.     Lesser  had  been 
The  thwartings3  of  your  dispositions,  if 
You  had  not  showed  them  how  you  were  disposed 
Ere  they  lacked  power  to  cross  you. 

Cor.  Let  them  hang. 

Vol.   Ay,  and  burn  too. 

Enter  MENENIUS  and  Senators. 

Men.  Come,  come,  you  have  been  too  rough ;  some 
thing  too  rough ; 
You  must  return,  and  mend  it. 

1  Sen.  There's  no  remedy  ; 


1  I  muse,  that  is,  I  wonder. 

2  Ordinance  is  here  used  for  rank. 

3  The  old  copy  reads  « things  of  your  disposition."    The  emendation 
is  Theobald's. 


513  COR1OLANUS.  [ACT  III 

Unless,  by  not  so  doing,  our  good  city 
Cleave  in  the  midst,  and  perish. 

Vol.  Pray  be  counselled 

I  have  a  heart  as  little  apt  as  yours, 
But  yet  a  brain,  that  leads  my  use  of  anger, 
To  better  vantage. 

O 

Men.  Well  said,  noble  woman. 

Before  he  should  thus  stoop  to  the  herd,1  but  that 
The  violent  fit  o'  the  time  craves  it  as  physic 
For  the  whole  state,  I  would  put  mine  armor  on, 
Which  I  can  scarcely  bear. 

Cor.    What  must  I  do  ? 

Men.  Return  to  the  tribunes. 

Cor.  Well, 

What  then  ?  what  then  ? 

Men.  Repent  what  you  have  spoke. 

Cor.    For  them  ! — I  cannot  do  it  to  the  gods  ; 
Must  I  then  do't  to  them  ? 

Vol.  You  are  too  absolute; 

Though  therein  you  can  never  be  too  noble, 
But  when  extremities  speak.     I  have  heard  you  say, 
Honor  and  policy,  like  unsevered  friends, 
P  the  war  do  grow  together ;  grant  that,  and  tell  me, 
In  peace,  what  each  of  them  by  th'  other  lose, 
That  they  combine  not  there. 

Cor.  Tush,  tush ! 

Men.  A  good  demand. 

Vol.    If  it  be  honor,  in  your  wars,  to  seem 
The  same  you  are  not,  (which,  for  your  best  ends, 
You  adopt  your  policy,)  how  is  it  less,  or  worse, 
Phat  it  shall  hold  companionship  in  peace 
With  honor,  as  in  war;  since  that  to  both 
It  stands  in  like  request  ? 

Cor.  Why  force  a  you  this  ? 

Vol.    Because  that  now  it  lies  you  on  to  speak 
To  the  people  ;  not  by  your  own  instruction, 
Nor  by  the  matter  which  your  heart   prompts  you  to,3 

1  Old  copy,  "stoop  to  the  heart."    Theobald  made  the  correction. 

2  «  Why  urge  you  this  ?  " 

3  The  word  Jo,  which  is  wanting  in  the  first  folio,  was  supplied  in  the 
second. 


SC.  II.]  CORIOLANUS.  519 

But  with  such  words  that  are  but  roted  1  in 

Your  tongue,  though  but  bastards,  and  syllables 

Of  no  allowance,  to  your  bosom's  truth.2 

Now,  this  no  more  dishonors  you  at  all, 

Than  to  take  in 3  a  town  with  gentle  words, 

Which  else  would  put  you  to  your  fortune,  and 

The  hazard  of  much  blood. — 

I  would  dissemble  with  my  nature,  where 

My  fortunes,  and  my  friends,  at  stake,  required 

I  should  do  so  in  honor.     I  am  in  this, 

Your  wife,  your  son,  these  senators,  the  nobles  ; 

And  you  will  rather  show  our  general  louts 4 

How  you  can  frown,  than  spend  a  fawn  upon  them, 

For  the  inheritance  of  their  loves,  and  safeguard 

Of  what  that  want  might  ruin. 

Men.  Noble  lady ! 

Come,  go  with  us  ;  speak  fair ;  you  may  salve  so, 
Not5  what  is  dangerous  present,  but  the  loss 
Of  what  is  past. 

Vol.  I  pr'ythee  now,  my  son, 

Go  to  them,  with  this  bonnet  in  thy  hand  ; 
And    thus   far   having  stretched  it,  (here    be    with 

them,) 

Thy  knee  bussing  the  stones,  (for  in  such  business 
Action  is  eloquence,  and  the  eyes  of  the  ignorant 
More  learned  than  the  ears,)  waving  thy  head, 
Which  often,  thus  correcting  thy  stout  heart,6 
Now  humble,  as  the  ripest  mulberry, 
That  will  not  hold  the  handling.     Or,  say  to  them, 
Thou  art  their  soldier,  and  being  bred  in  broils, 
Hast  not  the  soft  way,  which,  thou  dost  confess, 

1  The  old  copy  reads  roated.    Mr.  Boswell  says,  perhaps  it  should  be 
rooted ;  we  have  no  other  example  of  roted  for  got  by  rote. 

2  i.  e.  of  no  approbation.     The  construction  is  "though  but  bastards  to 
your  bosom's  truth,  not  the  lawful  issue  of  your  heart  " 

3  See  Act  i.  Sc.  a. 

4  Common  clowns. 

5  Not  seems  here  to  signify  not  only. 

6  It  is  probably  from  want  of  a  more  complete  acquaintance  with  the 
rules  of  grammar  which  guided  our  ancestors,  that  the  use  they  made  of 
the  pronouns  appears  to  us  anomalous.     WTiich,  here,  as  Malone  observes, 
is  to  be  understood  as  if  the  Poet  had  written  "  It  o/7en,"  &c. 


520  CORTOLANUS.  [ACT  III. 

Were  fit  for  thee  to  use,  as  they  to  claim, 
In  asking  their  good  loves ;  but  thou  wilt  frame 
Thyself,  forsooth,  hereafter  theirs,  so  far 
As  thou  hast  power,  and  person. 

Men.  This  but  done, 

Even  as  she  speaks,  why,  their  hearts  were  yours  ; 
For  they  have  pardons,  being  asked,  as  free 
As  words  to  little  purpose. 

Vol.  Pr'ythee  now, 

Go,  and  be  ruled ;  although,  I  know  thou  hadst  rather 
Follow  thine  enemy  in  a  fiery  gulf, 
Than  flatter  him  in  a  bower.     Here  is  Cominius. 


Enter  COMINIUS. 

Com.    I  have  been  i'  the  market-place  ;  and,  sir,  'tis 

fit 

You  make  strong  party,  or  defend  yourself 
By  calmness,  or  by  absence  ;  all's  in  anger. 

Men.    Only  fair  speech. 

Com.  I  think  'twill  serve,  if  he 

Can  thereto  frame  his  spirit. 

Vol.  He  must,  and  will. — 

Pr'ythee,  now,  say  you  will,  and  go  about  it. 

Cor.   Must  I  go  show  them  my  unbarbed 1  sconce  ? 

Must  I, 

With  my  base  tongue,  give  to  my  noble  heart 
A  lie,  that  it  must  bear  ?    Well,  I  will  do't  ; 
Yet  were  there  but  this  single  plot 2  to  lose, 
This  mould  of  Marcius,  they  to  dust  should  grind  it, 
And  throw  it  against  the  wind. — To  the  market-place  ; 
You  have  put  me  now  to  such  a  part,  which 3  never 
I  shall  discharge  to  the  life. 

Com.  Come,  come,  we'll  prompt  you. 

Vol.    I  pr'ythee  now,  sweet  son,  as  thou  hast  said, 
My  praises  made  thee  first  a  soldier,  so, 

1  Unbarbed  is  unarmed,  unaccoutred,  uncovered. 

2  Plot  is  piece,  portion,  applied  to  a  piece  of  earth,  and  here  elegantly 
transferred  to  the  body,  carcass. 

3  „&  and  which  were  convertible  terms. 


SC.  II.]  CORIOLANUS.  521 

To  have  my  praise  for  this,  perform  a  part 
Thou  hast  not  done  before. 

Cor.  Well,  I  must  do't. 

Away,  my  disposition,  and  possess  me 
Some  harlot's  spirit !  My  throat  of  war  be  turned, 
Which  quired  l  with  my  drum,  into  a  pipe 
Small  as  an  eunuch,  or  the  virgin  voice 
That  babies  lulls  asleep !  The  smiles  of  knaves 
Tent2  in  my  cheeks ;  and  schoolboys'  tears  take  up 
The  glasses  of  my  sight !  A  beggar's  tongue 
Make  motion  through  my  lips ;  and  my  armed  knees, 
Who  bowed  but  in  my  stirrup,  bend  like  his 
That  hath  received  an  alms  ! — I  will  not  do't ; 
Lest  I  surcease  to  honor  mine  own  truth, 
And,  by  my  body's  action,  teach  my  mind 
A  most  inherent  baseness. 

Vol.  At  thy  choice  then  ; 

To  beg  of  thee,  it  is  my  more  dishonor 
Than  thou  of  them.     Come  all  to  ruin ;  let 
Thy  mother  rather  feel  thy  pride,  than  fear 
Thy  dangerous  stoutness ; 3  for  I  mock  at  death 
With  as  big  heart  as  thou.     Do  as  thou  list. 
Thy  valiantness  was  mine  ;  thou  suck'dst  it  from  me  ; 
But  owe 4  thy  pride  thyself. 

Cor.  Pray,  be  content; 

Mother,  1  am  going  to  the  market-place  ; 
Chide  me  no  more.     I'll  mountebank  their  loves, 
Cog  their  hearts  from  them,  and  come  home  beloved 
Of  all  the  trades  in  Rome.     Look,  I  am  going ; 
Commend  me  to  my  wife.     I'll  return  consul ; 
Or  never  trust  to  what  my  tongue  can  do 
I'  the  way  of  flattery,  further. 

Vol.  Do  your  will.     [Exit. 

Com.    Away,    the    tribunes    do   attend   you.     Arm 
yourself 

1  i.  e.  played  in  concert. 

2  To  tent  is  to  dwell,  to  take  up  residence. 

3  The  meaning  appears  to  be,  "  Go,  do  thy  worst;  let  me  rather  feel 
the  utmost  extremity  that  thy  pride  can  bring  upon  us  than  live  thus  in 
fear  of  thy  dangerous  obstinacy." 

4  i.  e.  own. 

VOL.  v.  66 


522  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  III 

To  answer  mildly ;  for  they  are  prepared 
With  accusations,  as  I  hear,  more  strong 
Than  are  upon  you  yet. 

Cor.    The  word  is,  mildly. — Pray  you,  let  us  go : 
Let  them  accuse  me  by  invention,  I 
Will  answer  in  mine  honor. 

Men.  Ay,  but  mildly. 

Cor.   Well,  mildly  be  it,  then  ;  mildly.        [Exeunt. 


SCENE    III.     The  same.     The  Forum. 


Enter  SICINIUS  and  BRUTUS. 

Bru.    In  this  point  charge  him  home,  that  he  affects 
Tyrannical  power.     If  he  evade  us  there, 
Enforce  him  with  his  envy  l  to  the  people  ; 
And  that  the  spoil,  got  on  the  Antiates, 
Was  ne'er  distributed. — 


Enter  an  ^Edile. 

What,  will  he  come  ? 

jEd.  He's  coming. 

Bru.  How  accompanied  ? 

jEd.    With  old  Menenius,  and  those  senators 
That  always  favored  him. 

Sic.  Have  you  a  catalogue 

Of  all  the  voices  that  we  have  procured, 
Set  down  by  the  poll  ? 

jEd.  I  have  ;  'tis  ready. 

Sic.    Have  you  collected  them  by  tribes  ? 

JEtA.  I  have. 

Sic.    Assemble  presently  the  people  hither. 
And  when  they  hear  me  say,  It  shall  be  so 
P  the  right  and  strength  o'  the  commons,  be  it  either 
For  death,  for  fine,  or  banishment,  then  let  them, 
If  I  say  fine,  cry  fine  ;  if  death,  cry  death; 

1  Enforce  his  envy,  i.  e.  object  his  hatred. 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  523 

Insisting  on  the  old  prerogative 
And  power,  i'  the  truth  o'  the  cause.1 

JEd.  I  shall  inform  them. 

Bru.    And  when  such  time  they  have  begun  to  cry, 
Let  them  not  cease,  but  with  a  din  confused 
Enforce  the  present  execution 
Of  what  we  chance  to  sentence. 

jEd.  Very  well. 

Sic.   Make  them  be  strong,  and  ready  for  this  hint, 
When  we  shall  hap  to  give't  them. 

Bru.  Go  about  it. — 

[Exit  ^Edile. 

Put  him  to  choler  straight.     He  hath  been  used 
Ever  to  conquer,  and  to  have  his  worth 2 
Of  contradiction.     Being  once  chafed,  he  cannot 
Be  reined  again  to  temperance ;  then  he  speaks 
What's  in  his  heart ;  and  that  is  there,  which  looks 
W7ith  us  to  break  his  neck.3 

Enter  CORIOLANUS,  MENENIUS,  COMINIUS,  Senators, 
and  Patricians. 

Sic.    Well,  here  he  comes. 

Men.  Calmly,  I  do  beseech  you. 

Cor.    Ay,  as  an  ostler,  that  for  the  poorest  piece 
Will  bear  the  knave  by  the   volume.4 — The  honored 

gods 

Keep  Rome  in  safety,  and  the  chairs  of  justice 
Supplied  with  worthy  men  !     Plant  love  among  us  ! 
Throng  our  large  temples  with  the  shows  of  peace, 
And  not  our  streets  with  war ! 

1  Sen.  Amen,  amen  ! 

Men.    A  noble  wish. 


1  Mason  gives  these  words  "in  the  truth  of  the  cause"  to  the  sedile, 
and  omits  the  period. 

2  i.  e.  his  full  part  or  share,  as  we  should  now  say  his  pennyworth  of 
contradiction. 

3  "  The  sentiments  of  Coriolanus's  heart  are  our  coadjutors,  and  look  to 
have  their  share  in  promoting1  his  destruction." 

4  "  Will  bear  being  called  a  knave  as  often  as  would  fill  out  a  volume." 


524  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  III. 

Re-enter  ^Edile,  with  Citizens. 

Sic.    Draw  near,  ye  people. 

Cor.    First,  hear  me  speak. 

Md.    List  to  jour  tribunes ;  audience.    Peace,  I  say. 

Both  Tri.  Well,  say. — Peace,  ho. 

Cor.    Shall  I  be  charged  no  further  than  this  present? 
Must  all  determine  here  ? 

Sic.  I  do  demand 

If  you  submit  you  to  the  people's  voices, 
Allow  their  officers,  and  are  content 
To  suffer  lawful  censure  for  such  faults 
As  shall  be  proved  upon  you  ? 

Cor.  I  am  content. 

Men.    Lo,  citizens,  he  says,  he  is  content. 
The  warlike  service  he  has  done,  consider ; 
Think  on  the  wounds  his  body  bears,  which  show 
Like  graves  i'  the  holy  churchyard. 

Cor.  Scratches  with  briers, 

Scars  to  move  laughter  only. 

Men.  Consider  further. 

That  when  he  speaks  not  like  a  citizen, 
You  find  him  like  a  soldier.     Do  not  take 
His  rougher  accents  for  malicious  sounds, 
But,  as  I  say,  such  as  become  a  soldier, 
Rather  than  envy 1  you. 

Com.  Well,  well,  no  more. 

Cor.   What  is  the  matter, 
That  being  passed  for  consul  with  full  voice, 
I  am  so  dishonored,  that  the  very  hour 
You  take  it  off  again  ? 

Sic.  Answer  to  us. 

Cor.    Say  then  ;  'tis  true,  I  ought  so. 

Sic.    We  charge  you,  that  you  have  contrived  to  take 
From  Rome  all  seasoned 2  office,  and  to  wind 


1  "  Do  not  take  his  rougher  accents  for  malicious  sounds,  but  rather  for 
such  as  become  a  soldier,  than  spite  or  malign  you."     See  the  first  note 
on  this  scene,  and  Act  i.  Sc.  8. 

2  i.  e.  wisely-tempered  office,  established  by  time. 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  525 

Yourself  into  a  power  tyrannical  ; 

For  which,  you  are  a  traitor  to  the  people. 

Cor.    How!  traitor? 

Men.  Nay;  temperately:  your  promise. 

Cor.    The  fires  i'  the  lowest  hell  fold  in  the  people  ! 
Call  me  their  traitor ! — Thou  injurious  tribune  ! 
Within  thine  eyes  sat  twenty  thousand  deaths, 
In  thy  hands  clutched  as  many  millions,  in 
Thy  lying  tongue  both  numbers,  I  would  say, 
Thou  liest,  unto  thee,  with  a  voice  as  free 
As  I  do  pray  the  gods. 

Sic.  Mark  you  this,  people  ? 

Cit.    To  the  rock ;  to  the  rock  with  him  ! 

Sic.  Peace. 

We  need  not  put  new  matter  to  his  charge . 
What  you  have  seen  him  do,  and  heard  him  speak, 
Beating  your  officers,  cursing  yourselves, 
Opposing  laws  with  strokes,  and  here  defying 
Those  whose  great  power  must  try  him  ;  even  this, 
So  criminal,  and  in  such  capital  kind, 
Deserves  the  extremest  death. 

Bru.  But  since  he  hath 

Served  well  for  Rome, 

Cor.  What  do  you  prate  of  service  1 

Bru.    1  talk  of  that,  that  know  it. 

Cor.  You? 

Men.  Is  this 

The  promise  that  you  made  your  mother  ? 

Com.  Know, 

I  pray  you, 

Cor.  I'll  know  no  further. 

Let  them  pronounce  the  steep  Tarpeian  death, 
Vagabond  exile,  flaying ;   pent  to  linger 
But  with  a  grain  a  day,  I  would  not  buy 
Their  mercy  at  the  price  of  one  fair  word ; 
Nor  check  my  courage  for  what  they  can  give, 
To  have  't  with  saying,  Good  morrow. 

Sic.  For  that  he  has 

(As  much  as  in  him  lies)  from  time  to  time 


526  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  III. 

Envied *  against  the  people,  seeking  means 

To  pluck  away  their  power ;  as 2  now  at  last 

Given  hostile  strokes,  and  that  not 3  in  the  presence 

Of  dreaded  justice,  but  on  the  ministers 

That  do  distribute  it ;  in  the  name  o'  the  people, 

And  in  the  power  of  us  the  tribunes,  we, 

Even  from  this  instant,  banish  him  our  city ; 

In  peril  of  precipitation 

From  off  the  rock  Tarpeian,  never  more 

To  enter  our  Rome  gates.     P  the  people's  name, 

I  say,  it  shall  be  so. 

Cit.    It  shall  be  so,  it  shall  be  so :  let  him  away. 
He's  banished,  and  it  shall  be  so. 

Com.    Hear    me,    my   masters,    and    my   common 
friends ; 

Sic.    He's  sentenced  ;  no  more  hearing. 

Com.  Let  me  speak. 

I  have  been  consul,  and  can  show  from 4  Rome, 
Her  enemies'  marks  upon  me.     I  do  love 
My  country's  good,  with  a  respect  more  tender, 
More  holy,  and  profound,  than  mine  own  life, 
My  dear  wife's  estimate,5  her  womb's  increase, 
And  treasure  of  my  loins ;  then  if  I  would 
Speak  that 

Sic.  We  know  your  drift;  speak  what? 

Bru.    There's  no  more  to  be  said,  but  he  is  banished, 
As  enemy  to  the  people,  and  his  country. 
It  shall  be  so. 

Cit.   It  shall  be  so,  it  shall  be  so. 

Cor.   You  common  cry 6  of  curs  !  whose  breath  I  hate 
As  reek  o'the  rotten  fens,  whose  loves  I  prize 
As  the  dead  carcasses  of  unburied  men 
That  do  corrupt  my  air,  I  banish  you  ; 


1  Showed  hatred. 

2  As  may  here  be  a  misprint  for  has  or  and;  or  it  may  signify  as  well 
as  ;  such  elliptical  laodes  of  expression  are  not  uncommon. 

3  Not  is  here  again  used  for  not  only. 

4  i.  e.  received  in  her  service,  or  on  her  account. 

5  "I   love   my  country  beyond  the   rate  at  which  1  value  my  dear 
wife,"  &c. 

6  Cry  here  signifies  a.  pack. 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  527 

And  here  remain  with  your  uncertainty! 
Let  every  feeble  rumor  shake  your  hearts  ! 
Your  enemies,  with  nodding  of  their  plumes, 
Fan  you  into  despair !     Have  the  power  still 
To  banish  your  defenders  ;  till,  at  length, 
Your  ignorance,  (which  finds  not,  till  it  feels,) 
Making  but  reservation  of  yourselves,1 
(Still  your  own  foes,)  deliver  you,  as  most 
Abated 2  captives,  to  some  nation 
That  wron  you  without  blows  !     Despising, 
For  you,  the  city,  thus  I  turn  my  back  ; 
There  is  a  world  elsewhere. 

[Exeunt  CORIOLANUS,  COMINIUS,  MENENIUS, 
Senators,  and  Patricians. 

jEd.    The  people's  enemy  is  gone,  is  gone ! 

Cit.  Our  enemy's  banished  !  he  is  gone  !     Hoo !  hoo! 
[  The  people  shout,  and  throw  up  their  caps. 

Sic.    Go,  see  him  out  at  gates,  and  follow  him, 
As  he  hath  followed  you,  with  all  despite  ; 
Give  him  deserved  vexation.     Let  a  guard 
Attend  us  through  the  city. 

Cit.    Come,  come,  let  us  see  him   out  at   gates; 

come. — 
The  gods  preserve  our  noble  tribunes ! — Come. 

[Exeunt. 

1  Thus  in  the  old  copy.    Malone,  following  Capell,  changed  this  line 
to — 

"  Making  not  reservation  of  yourselves,"  &c. 

Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  of  the  text  is  as  correct  as  his  subsequent 
remark  upon  it  is  judicious.  Coriolanus  imprecates  upon  the  base  ple 
beians  that  they  may  still  retain  the  power  of  banishing  their  defenders, 
till  their  undiscerning  folly,  which  can  foresee  no  consequences,  leave 
none  in  the  city  but  themselves. 

2  Abated  is  overthrown,  depressed. 


528  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV. 

ACT   IV. 

SCENE  I.     The  same.     Before  a  Gate  of  the  City. 

Enter  CORIOLANUS,  VOLUMNIA,  VIRGILIA,  MENENIUS, 
COMINIUS,  and  several  young  Patricians. 

Cor.    Come,  leave  your  tears ;   a  brief  farewell. — 

The  beast 

With  many  heads  butts  me  away. — Nay,  mother, 
Where  is  your  ancient  courage  ?  you  were  used 
To  say  extremity *  was  the  trier  of  spirits ; 
That  common  chances  common  men  could  bear; 
That  when  the  sea  was  calm,  all  boats  alike 
Showed  mastership  in  floating ;  fortune's  blows, 
When  most  struck  home,  being  gentle  wounded,  craves 
A  noble  cunning  :2  you  were  used  to  load  me 
With  precepts,  that  would  make  invincible 
The  heart  that  conned  them. 

Vir.    O  Heavens  !  O  Heavens  ! 

Cor.  Nay,  I  pr'ythee,  woman, — 

Vol.  Now  the  red  pestilence  strike  all  trades  in  Rome, 
And  occupations  perish ! 

Cor.  What,  what,  what ! 

I  shall  be  loved  when  I  am  lacked.     Nay,  mother, 
Resume  that  spirit,  when  you  were  wont  to  say, 
If  you  had  been  the  wife  of  Hercules, 
Six  of  his  labors  you'd  have  done,  and  saved 
Your  husband  so  much  sweat. — Cominius, 
Droop  not ;  adieu. — Farewell,  my  wife  !  my  mother  ! 
I'll  do  well  yet. — Thou  old  and  true  Menenius, 
Thy  tears  are  salter  than  a  younger  man's, 
And  venomous  to  thine  eyes. — My  sometime  general, 
I  have  seen  thee  stern,  and  thou  hast  oft  beheld 


1  This  is  the  reading  of  the  second  folio ;  the  first  folio  reads,  extremities 
was,  &c. 

2  "When  fortune  strikes  her  hardest  blows,  to  be  wounded,  and  yet 
continue  calm,  requires  a  noble  wisdom"     Cunning  is  often  used  in  this 
sense  by  Shakspeare. 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  529 

Heart-hardening  spectacles ;  tell  these  sad  women, 

'Tis  fond 1  to  wail  inevitable  strokes, 

As  'tis  to  laugh  at  them. — My  mother,  you  wot  well, 

My  hazards  still  have  been  your  solace ;  and 

Believe't  not  lightly,  (though  I  go  alone 

Like  to  a  lonely  dragon,  that  his  fen 

Makes  feared,  and  talked  of  more  than  seen,)  your  son 

Will,  or  exceed  the  common,  or  be  caught 

With  cautelous  2  baits  and  practice. 

Vol.  My  first 3  son, 

Whither  wilt  thou  go  ?     Take  good  Cominius 
With  thee  a  while.     Determine  on  some  course, 
More  than  a  wild  exposture 4  to  each  chance 
That  starts  i'the  way  before  thee. 

Cor.  O  the  gods  ! 

Com.    I'll  follow  thee  a  month,  devise  with  thee 
WThere  thou  shalt  rest,  that  thou  mayst  hear  of  us, 
And  we  of  thee :  so,  if  the  time  thrust  forth 
A  cause  for  thy  repeal,  we  shall  not  send 
O'er  the  vast  world  to  seek  a  single  man ; 
And  lose  advantage,  which  doth  ever  cool 
I'  the  absence  of  the  needer. 

Cor.  Fare  ye  well ; — 

Thou  hast  years  upon  thee  ;  and  thou  art  too  full 
Of  the  wars'  surfeits,  to  go  rove  with  one 
That's  yet  unbruised ;  bring  me  but  out  at  gate. — 
Come,  my  sweet  wife,  my  dearest  mother,  and 
My  friends  of  noble  touch,5  when  I  am  forth, 
Bid  me  farewell,  and  smile.     I  pray  you,  come. 
While  I  remain  above  the  ground,  you  shall 
Hear  from  me  still ;  and  never  of  me  aught 
But  what  is  like  me  formerly. 

Men.  That's  worthily 

As  any  ear  can  hear.     Come,  let's  not  weep. — 
If  I  could  shake  off  but  one  seven  years 

1  Foolish. 

2  Cautelous  here  means  insidious. 

3  i.  e.  noblest. 

4  Exposure ;  for  which  it  is  probably  a  typographical  error. 

5  i.  e.  of  true  metal.    The  metaphor  from  the  touchstone  for  trying 
metals,  is  common  in  Shakspeare. 

VOL.  v.  67 


530  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV. 

From  these  old  arms  and  legs,  by  the  good  gods, 
I'd  with  thee  every  foot. 

Cor.  Give  me  thy  hand. — 

Come.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE    II.     The  same.     A  Street  near  the  Gate. 

Enter  SICINIUS,  BRUTUS,  and  an  ^Edile. 

Sic.    Bid  them  all  home ;  he's  gone,  and  we'll  no 

further. — 

The  nobility  are  vexed,  who,  we  see,  have  sided 
In  his  behalf. 

Bru.  Now  we  have  shown  our  power, 

Let  us  seem  humbler  after  it  is  done, 
Than  when  it  was  a  doing. 

Sic.  Bid  them  home. 

Say,  their  great  enemy  is  gone,  and  they 
Stand  in  their  ancient  strength. 

Bru.  Dismiss  them  home. 

[Exit  JMile. 

Enter  VOLUMNIA,  VIRGILIA,  and  MENENIUS. 

Here  comes  his  mother. 

Sic.  Let's  not  meet  her. 

Bru.  Why  :* 

Sic.   They  say  she's  mad. 

Bru.  They  have  ta'en  note  of  us. 

Keep  on  your  way. 

Vol.    O,    you're    well    met.     The    hoarded    plague 

o'the  gods 
Requite  your  love  ! 

Men.  Peace,  peace  ;  be  not  so  loud. 

Vol.   If  that  1  could  for  weeping,  you  should  hear, — 
Nay,  and  you  shall  hear  some.     Will  you  be  gone  ? 

[To  BRUTUS. 

Vir.  You  shall  stay  too.     [To  Sic.]  I  would  I  had 

the  power 
To  say  so  to  my  husband. 


SC.  II.]  CORIOLANUS.  531 

Sic.  Are  you  mankind  ? l 

Vol.    Ay,   fool ;   is  that  a  shame  ? — Note   but  this 

fool.— 

Was  not  a  man  my  father  ?  Hadst  thou  foxship 
To  banish  him  that  struck  more  blows  for  Rome, 
Than  thou  hast  spoken  words  ? 

Sic.  O  blessed  Heavens  ! 

Vol.    More  noble  blows,  than  ever  thou  wise  words ; 
And  for  Rome's  good. — I'll  tell  thee  what ; — yet  go  ; — 
Nay,  but  thou  shalt  stay  too. — I  would  my  son 
Were  in  Arabia,  and  thy  tribe  before  him, 
His  good  sword  in  his  hand. 

Sic.  What  then  ? 

Vir.  What  then  ? 

He'd  make  an  end  of  thy  posterity. 

Vol.   Bastards,  and  all. — 
Good  man,  the  wounds  that  he  does  bear  for  Rome ! 

Men.    Come,  come,  peace. 

Sic.    I  would  he  had  continued  to  his  country, 
As  he  began ;  and  not  unknit  himself 
The  noble  knot  he  made. 

Bru.  I  would  he  had. 

Vol.    I   would   he   had!     'Twas  you  incensed  the 

rabble  ; 

Cats,  that  can  judge  as  fitly  of  his  worth, 
As  I  can  of  those  mysteries  which  Heaven 
Will  not  have  earth  to  know. 

Bru.  Pray,  let  us  go. 

Vol.   Now,  pray,  sir,  get  you  gone ; 
You  have  done  a  brave  deed.     Ere  you  go,  hear  this  ; 
As  far  as  doth  the  Capitol  exceed 
The  meanest  house  in  Rome ;  so  far,  my  son, 
(This  lady's  husband  here,  this,  do  you  see,) 
Whom  you  have  banished,  does  exceed  you  all. 

Bru.    Well,  well,  we'll  leave  you. 

Sic.  Why  stay  we  to  be  baited 

With  one  that  wants  her  wit's  ? 


1  i.  e.  mankind  woman ;    a  woman  with  the  roughness  of  a  man. 
Volumnia  chooses  to  understand  it  as  meaning  a  human  creature. 


532  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV 

Vol.  Take  my  prayers  with  you. — 

I  would  the  gods  had  nothing  else  to  do, 

[Exeunt  Tribunes. 

But  to  confirm  my  curses !     Could  I  meet  them 
But  once  a  day,  it  would  unclog  rny  heart 
Of  what  lies  heavy  to't. 

Men.  You  have  told  them  home, 

And,  by  my  troth,  you  have  cause.     You'll   sup  with 
me  ? 

Vol.    Anger's  my  meat ;  I  sup  upon  myself, 
And  so  shall  starve  with  feeding. — Come,  let's  go ; 
Leave  this  faint  puling,  and  lament  as  I  do, 
In  anger,  Juno-like.     Come,  come,  come. 

Men.   Fie,  fie,  fie !  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  III.     A  Highway  between  Rome  and  Antium. 

Enter  a  Roman  and  a  Voice  meeting. 

Rom.  I  know  you  well,  sir,  and  you  know  me. 
Your  name,  I  think,  is  Adrian. 

Vol.    It  is  so,  sir  ;  truly  I  have  forgot  you. 

Rom.  I  am  a  Roman  ;  and  my  services  are,  as  you 
are,  against  them.  Know  you  me  yet  ? 

Vol.   Nicanor  ?  No. 

Rom.    The  same,  sir. 

Vol.  You  had  more  beard,  when  I  last  saw  you , 
but  your  favor  is  well  appayed 1  by  your  tongue. 
What's  the  news  in  Rome  ?  I  have  a  note  from  the 
Volcian  state,  to  find  you  out  there.  You  have  well 
saved  me  a  day's  journey. 

Rom.  There  hath  been  in  Rome  strange  insurrec 
tion  ;  the  people  against  the  senators,  patricians,  and 
nobles. 


i  The  old  copy  reads,  "  Your  favor  is  well  appeared  by  your  tongue." 
For  the  emendation  in  the  text  Mr.  Singer  is  answerable.  Warburton 
proposed  appealed ;  Johnson,  ajfeared ;  Steevens,  approved;  and  Malone 
thought  the  old  reading  might  be  right.  No  phrase  is  more  com 
mon  in  our  elder  language  than  well  appaied,  i.  e.  satisfied,  contented. 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  533 

Vol.  Hath  been !  Is  it  ended  then  ?  Our  state 
thinks  not  so ;  they  are  in  a  most  warlike  preparation, 
and  hope  to  come  upon  them  in  the  heat  of  their 
division. 

Rom.  The  main  blaze  of  it  is  past,  but  a  small 
thing  would  make  it  flame  again.  For  the  nobles 
receive  so  to  heart  the  banishment  of  that  worthy 
Coriolanus,  that  they  are  in  a  ripe  aptness  to  take  all 
power  from  the  people,  and  to  pluck  from  them  their 
tribunes  forever.  This  lies  glowing,  I  can  tell  you, 
and  is  almost  mature  for  the  violent  breaking  out. 

Vol.    Coriolanus  banished  ? 

Rom.    Banished,  sir. 

Vol.  You  will  be  welcome  with  this  intelligence, 
Nicanor. 

Rom.  The  day  serves  well  for  them  now.  I  have 
heard  it  said,  the  fittest  time  to  corrupt  a  man's  wife 
is  when  she's  fallen  out  with  her  husband.  Your  noble 
Tullus  Aufidius  will  appear  well  in  these  wars,  his 
great  opposer,  Coriolanus,  being  now  in  no  request  of 
his  country. 

Vol.  He  cannot  choose.  I  am  most  fortunate,  thus 
accidentally  to  encounter  you.  You  have  ended  my 
business,  and  I  will  merrily  accompany  you  home. 

Rom.  1  shall,  between  this  and  supper,  tell  you  most 
strange  things  from  Rome  ;  all  tending  to  the  good  of 
their  adversaries.  Have  you  an  army  ready,  say  you  ? 

Vol.  A  most  royal  one  ;  the  centurions,  and  their 
charges,  distinctly  billeted,  already  in  the  entertain 
ment,1  and  to  be  on  foot  at  an  hour's  warning. 

Rom.  I  am  joyful  to  hear  of  their  readiness,  and  am 
the  man,  I  think,  that  shall  set  them  in  present  action. 
So,  sir,  heartily  well  met,  and  most  glad  of  your 
company. 

Vol.  You  take  my  part  from  me,  sir ;  1  have  the 
most  cause  to  be  glad  of  yours. 

Rom.    Well,  let  us  go  together.  [Exeunt. 

1  i.  e.  taken  into  pay. 


534  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV 


SCENE   IV.     Antium.    Before  Aufidius's  House. 

Enter   CORIOLANUS,  in  mean  apparel,   disguised  and 

muffled. 

Cor.    A  goodly  city  is  this  Antium.     City, 
'Tis  I  that  made  thy  widows  ;  many  an  heir 
Of  these  fair  edifices  'fore  my  wars 
Have  I  heard  groan,  and  drop.     Then  know  me  not ; 
Lest  that  thy  wives  with  spits,  and  boys  with  stones, 

Enter  a  Citizen. 

In  puny  battle  slay  me. — Save  you,  sir. 

Cit.   And  you. 

Cor.  Direct  me,  if  it  be  your  will, 

Where  great  Aufidius  lies.     Is  he  in  Antium  ? 

Cit.    He  is,  and  feasts  the  nobles  of  the  state 
At  his  house  this  night. 

Cor.  Which  is  his  house,  'beseech  you  ? 

Cit.    This,  here,  before  you. 

Cor.  Thank  you,  sir  ;  farewell. 

[Exit  Citizen. 

O  world,  thy  slippery  turns  !     Friends  now   fast  sworn, 
Whose  double  bosoms  seem  to  wear  one  heart, 
Whose  hours,  whose  bed,  whose  meal,  and  exercise, 
Are  still  together,  who  twin,  as  'twere,  in  love 
Unseparable,  shall  within  this  hour, 
On  a  dissension  of  a  doit,  break  out 
To  bitterest  enmity ;  so,  fellest  foes, 
Whose    passions   and   whose    plots   have   broke  their 

sleep 

To  take  the  one  the  other,  by  some  chance, 
Some  trick  not  worth  an  egg,  shall  grow  dear  friends, 
And  interjoin  their  issues.     So  with  me  ; — 
My  birthplace  hate  I,  and  my  love's  upon 
This  enemy  town. — I'll  enter ;  if  he  slay  me, 
He  does  fair  justice ;  if  he  give  me  way, 
I'll  do  his  country  service.  [Exit. 


SC.  V.]  CORIOLANUS.  535 

SCENE  V.     The  same.     A  Hall  in  Aufidius's  House. 

Music  within.     Enter  a  Servant. 

1  Serv.    Wine,  wine,  wine !    What  service  is  here ! 
I  think  our  fellows  are  asleep.  [Exit. 

Enter  another  Servant. 

2  Serv.   Where's  Cotus  ?     My  master  calls  for  him. 
Cotus !  [Exit. 

Enter  CORIOLANUS. 

Cor.    A  goodly  house  ;  the  feast  smells  well ;  but  I 
Appear  not  like  a  guest. 

Re-enter  the  first  Servant. 

1  Serv.    What  would  you  have,  friend  ?  Whence  are 
you  ?  Here's  no  place  for  you.  Pray,  go  to  the  door. 

Cor.    I  have  deserved  no  better  entertainment, 
In  being  Coriolanus.1 

Re-enter  second  Servant. 

2  Serv.   Whence  are  you,  sir  ?     Has  the  porter  his 
eyes  in  his  head,  that  he  gives  entrance  to  such  com 
panions  ?  Pray,  get  you  out. 

Cor.   Away ! 

2  Serv.    Away  ?  Get  you  away. 

Cor.   Now,  thou  art  troublesome. 

2  Serv.   Are  you  so  brave  ?  I'll  have  you  talked 
with  anon. 

Enter  a  third  Servant.     The  first  meets  him. 

3  Serv.   What  fellow's  this  ? 

1  i.  e.  in  having  derived  that  surname  from  the  sack  of  Corioli. 


536  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV 

1  Serv.    A  strange  one  as  ever  I  looked  on  ;  I  cannot 
get  him  out  o'  the  house.     Pr'ythee  call  my  master  to 
him. 

3  Serv.  What  have  you  to  do  here,  fellow  ?  Pray 
you,  avoid  the  house. 

Cor.   Let  me  but  stand  ;  I  will  not  hurt  your  hearth. 

3  Serv.   What  are  you  ? 

Cor.  A  gentleman. 

3  Serv.    A  marvellous  poor  one. 

Cor.    True,  so  I  am. 

3  Serv.  Pray  you,  poor  gentleman,  take  up  some 
other  station  ;  here's  no  place  for  you  ;  pray  you,  avoid. 
Come. 

Cor.   Follow  your  function,  go ! 
And  batten1  on  cold  bits.  [Pushes  him  away. 

3  Serv.  What,  will  you  not  ?  Pr'ythee,  tell  my 
master  what  a  strange  guest  he  has  here. 

2  Serv.   And  I  shall.  [Exit. 

3  Serv.   Where  dwellest  thou  ? 
Cor.    Under  the  canopy. 

3  Serv.    Under  the  canopy  ? 

Cor.   Ay. 

3  Serv.   Where's  that? 

Cor.  P  the  city  of  kites  and  crows. 

3  Serv.  P  the  city  of  kites  and  crows  ? — What  an  ass 
it  is  ! — Then  thou  dwellest  with  daws  too  ? 

Cor.  No,  I  serve  not  thy  master. 

3  Serv.    How,  sir !  Do  you  meddle  with  my  master  ? 

Cor.    Ay ;  'tis  an  honester  service  than  to  meddle 

with  thy  mistress. 

Thou    prat'st,   and   prat'st;  serve  with  thy  trencher, 
hence  !  [Beats  him  away. 

Enter  AUFIDIUS  and  the  second  Servant. 

Auf.    Where  is  this  fellow  ? 

2  Serv.  Here,  sir ;  Pd  have  beaten  him  like  a  dog, 
but  for  disturbing  the  lords  within. 

i  Feed. 


SC.  V.]  CORIOLANUS.  537 

Auf.    Whence  comest  thou  ?  what  wouldest  thou  ? 

Thy  name  ? 
Why  speak'st  not  ?  Speak,  man  ;  what's  thy  name  ? 

Cor.  If,  Tullus,     [Unmuffling. 

Not  yet  thou  know'st  me,  and  seeing  me,  dost  not 
Think  me  the  man  I  am,  necessity 
Commands  me  name  myself. 

Auf.  What  is  thy  name  ? 

[Servants  retire. 

Cor.    A  name  unmusical  to  the  Volcians'  ears, 
And  harsh  in  sound  to  thine. 

Auf.  Say,  what's  thy  name  ? 

Thou  hast  a  grim  appearance,  and  thy  face 
Bears  a  command  in't ;  though  thy  tackle's  torn, 
Thou  show'st  a  noble  vessel.     What's  thy  name  ? 

Cor.    Prepare  thy  brow  to  frown.    Know'st  thou  me 
yet? 

Auf.    I  know  thee  not. — Thy  name  ? 

Cor.    My  name  is  Caius  Marcius,  who  hath  done 
To  thee  particularly,  and  to  all  the  Voices, 
Great  hurt  and  mischief;  thereto  witness  may 
My  surname,  Coriolanus.    The  painful  service, 
The  extreme  dangers,  and  the  drops  of  blood 
Shed  for  my  thankless  country,  are  requited 
But  with  that  surname  ;  a  good  memory,1 
And  witness  of  the  malice  and  displeasure 
Which  thou  shouldst  bear  me.     Only  that  name  re 
mains  ; 

The  cruelty  and  envy  of  the  people, 
Permitted  by  our  dastard  nobles,  who 
Have  all  forsook  me,  hath  devoured  the  rest  ; 
And  suffered  me  by  the  voice  of  slaves  to  be 
Whooped  out  of  Rome.     Now,  this  extremity 
Hath  brought  me  to  thy  hearth ;  not  out  of  hope — 
Mistake  me  not — to  save  my  life  ;  for  if 
I  had  feared  death,  of  all  the  men  i'  the  world 
I  would  have  'voided  thee ;   but  in  mere  spite, 
To  be  full  quit  of  those  my  banishers, 

1  Memory  for  memorial. 
VOL.  v.  68 


538  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV 

Stand  I  before  thee  here.     Then  if  thou  hast 

A  heart  of  wreak1  in  thee,  that  will  revenge 

Thine  own  particular  wrongs,  and  stop  those  maims 

Of  shame2  seen  through  thy  country,  speed  thee  straight, 

And  make  my  misery  serve  thy  turn ;  so  use  it, 

That  my  revengeful  services  may  prove 

As  benefits  to  thee ;  for  I  will  fight 

Against  my  cankered  country  with  the  spleen 

Of  all  the  under-fiends.     But  if  so  be 

Thou  dar'st  not  this,  and  that  to  prove  more  fortunes 

Thou  art  tired,  then,  in  a  word,  I  also  am 

Longer  to  live  most  weary,  and  present 

My  throat  to  thee,  and  to  thy  ancient  malice ; 

Which  not  to  cut,  would  show  thee  but  a  fool ; 

Since  I  have  ever  followed  thee  with  hate, 

Drawn  tuns  of  blood  out  of  thy  country's  breast, 

And  cannot  live  but  to  thy  shame,  unless 

It  be  to  do  thee  service. 

Auf.  O  Marcius,  Marcius, 

Each  word  thou  hast  spoke  hath  weeded  from  my  heart 
A  root  of  ancient  envy.     If  Jupiter 
Should  from  yon  cloud  speak  divine  things,  and  say, 
'Tis  true ;  I'd  not  believe  them  more  than  thee, 
All  noble  Marcius. — O,  let  me  twine 
Mine  arms  about  that  body,  where  against 
My  grained  ash  an  hundred  times  hath  broke, 
And  scarred  the  moon  with  splinters !     Here  I  clip 
The  anvil  of  my  sword  ; 3  and  do  contest 
As  hotly  and  as  nobly  with  thy  love, 
As  ever  in  ambitious  strength  I  did 
Contend  against  thy  valor.     Know  thou  first, 
I  love  the  maid  I  married ;  never  man 
Sighed  truer  breath ;  but  that  I  see  thee  here, 
Thou  noble  thing!  more  dances  my  rapt  heart, 
Than  when  I  first  my  wedded  mistress  saw 
Bestride  my  threshold.4     Why,  thou  Mars  !  I  tell  thee, 

1  Wreak  is  an  old  term  for  revenge. 

2  i.  e.  disgraceful  diminutions  of  territory. 

3  To  clip  is  to  embrace.     He  calls  Coriolanus  the  anvil  of  his  sword. 

4  Shakspeare  was  unaware  that  a  Roman  bride,  on  her  entry  into  her 


SC.  V.J  CORIOLANUS.  539 

We  have  a  power  on  foot ;  and  I  had  purpose 

Once  more  to  hew  thy  target  from  thy  brawn, 

Or  lose  mine  arm  for't.     Thou  hast  beat  me  out 1 

Twelve  several  times,  and  I  have  nightly  since 

Dreamed  of  encounters  'twixt  thyself  and  me. 

We  have  been  down  together  in  my  sleep, 

Unbuckling  helms,  fisting  each  other's  throat, 

And  waked  half  dead  with  nothing.     Worthy  Marcius, 

Had  we  no  other  quarrel  else  to  Rome,  but  that 

Thou  art  thence  banished,  we  would  muster  all 

From  twelve  to  seventy ;  and  pouring  war 

Into  the  bowels  of  ungrateful  Rome, 

Like  a  bold  flood  o'erbeat.2     O,  come,  go  in, 

And  take  our  friendly  senators  by  the  hands ; 

Who  now  are  here,  taking  their  leaves  of  me, 

Who  am  prepared  against  your  territories, 

Though  not  for  Rome  itself. 

Cor.  You  bless  me,  gods. 

Auf.    Therefore,  most  absolute  sir,  if  thou  wilt  have 
The  leading  of  thine  own  revenges,  take 
The  one  half  of  my  commission  ;  and  set  down — 
As  best  thou  art  experienced,  since  thou  know'st 
Thy   country's    strength    and   weakness — thine    own 

ways ; 

Whether  to  knock  against  the  gates  of  Rome, 
Or  rudely  visit  them  in  parts  remote, 
To  fright  them,  ere  destroy.     But,  come  in ; 
Let  me  commend  thee  first  to  those,  that  shall 
Say,  Yea,  to  thy  desires.     A  thousand  welcomes ! 
And  more  a  friend  than  e'er  an  enemy  ; 
Yet,   Marcius,   that   was   much.     Your  hand !     Most 
welcome  !  [Exeunt  COR.  and  AUF. 

1  Serv.    [Advancing.]    Here's  a  strange  alteration  ! 

2  Serv.   By  my  hand,  I  had  thought  to  hav7e  strucken 
him  with  a  cudgel ;  and  yet  my  mind   gave  me,  his 
clothes  made  a  false  report  of  him. 

husband's  house,  was  prohibited  from  bestriding  his  threshold ;  lest  she 
should  even  touch  it,  she  Avas  always  lifted  over  it 

1  i.  e.  fully,  completely. 

2  Steevens  thinks  that  we  should  read  overbear  instead  of  o'erbeat. 


540  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV. 

1  Serv.    What  an  arm  he  has  !     He  turned  me  about 
with  his  finger  and  his  thumb,  as  one  would  set  up 
a  top. 

2  Serv.    Nay,  I  knew  by  his  face  that  there  was 
something  in  him.     He  had,  sir,  a  kind  of  face,  me- 
thought, — I  cannot  tell  how  to  term  it. 

1  Serv.    He  had  so ;  looking  as  it  were, 'Would 

I  were  hanged,  but  I  thought  there  was  more  in  him 
than  I  could  think. 

2  Serv.    So  did  I,  I'll  be  sworn.     He  is  simply  the 
rarest  man  i'  the  world. 

1  Serv.    I  think  he  is ;    but  a  greater  soldier  than 
he,  you  wot  one. 

2  Serv.    Who  ?  my  master  ? 

1  Serv.    Nay,  it's  no  matter  for  that. 

2  Serv.    Worth  six  of  him. 

1  Serv.    Nay,  not  so  neither ;  but  I  take  him  to  be 
the  greater  soldier. 

2  Serv.    'Faith,  look  you,  one  cannot  tell  how  to 
say  that ;  for  the  defence  of  a  town,  our  general  is 
excellent. 

1  Serv.    Ay,  and  for  an  assault  too. 

Re-enter  third  Servant. 

3  Serv.    O  slaves,  I  can  tell  you  news ;  news,  you 
rascals. 

1  &  2  Serv.    What,  what,  what  ?  let's  partake. 

3  Serv.  I  would  not  be  a  Roman,  of  all  nations ; 
I  had  as  lieve  be  a  condemned  man. 

1  $•  2  Serv.    Wherefore  ?  wherefore  ? 

3  Serv.  Why,  here's  he  that  was  wont  to  thwack 
our  general, — Caius  Marcius. 

1  Serv.   Why  do  you  say  thwack  our  general  ? 

3  Serv.  I  do  not  say  thwack  our  general ;  but  he 
was  always  good  enough  for  him. 

2  Serv.  Come,  we  are  fellows,  and  friends.     He  was 
ever  too  hard  for  him  ;  I  have  heard  him  say  so  himself. 

1  Serv.  He  was  too  hard  for  him  directly,  to  say 
the  truth  on't:  before  Corioli,  he  scotched  him  and 
notched  him  like  a  carbonado. 


SC.  V.]  CORIOLANUS.  541 

2  Serv.    An  he  had  been  cannibally  given,  he  might 
have  broiled  and  eaten  him  too. 

1  Serv.    But.  more  of  thy  news  ? 

3  Serv.    Why,  he  is  so  made  on  here  within,  as  if 
he  were  son  and  heir  to  Mars ;  set  at  upper  end  o'  the 
table ;  no  question  asked  him  by  any  of  the  senators, 
but  they  stand  bald  before  him.     Our  general  himself 
makes  a  mistress  of  him ;  sanctifies  himself  with  his 
hand,1  and  turns  up  the   white  o'  the  eye  to  his  dis 
course.     But  the  bottom  of  the  news  is,  our  general  is 
cut  i'the  middle,  and   but  one  half  of  what  he  was 
yesterday ;  for  the  other  has  half,  by  the  entreaty  and 
grant  of   the  whole    table.     He'll    go,   he   says,   and 
sowle2  the   porter  of  Rome   gates  by  the   ears.    .He 
will  mow  down  all  before  him,  and  leave  his  passage 
polled.3 

2  Serv.    And  he's  as  like  to  do't,  as  any  man  I  can 
imagine. 

3  Serv.    Do't?  he  will  do't.     For,  look  you,  sir,  he 
has  as  many  friends  as  enemies ;   which  friends,  sir, 
(as  it  were,)  durst  not  (look  you,  sir)  show  themselves 
(as  we  term  it)  his  friends,  whilst  he's  in  directitude. 

1  Serv.    Directitude  !  what's  that  ? 

3  Serv.  But  when  they  shall  see,  sir,  his  crest  up 
again,  and  the  man  in  blood,4  they  will  out  of  their 
burrows,  like  conies  after  rain,  and  revel  all  with  him. 

1  Serv.    But  when  goes  this  forward  ? 

3  Serv.  To-morrow  ;  to-day  ;  presently.  You  shall 
have  the  drum  struck  up  this  afternoon ;  'tis,  as  it 
were,  a  parcel  of  their  feast,  and  to  be  executed  ere 
they  wipe  their  lips. 

2  Serv.    Why,  then  we  shall  have  a  stirring  world 
again.     This  peace  is   nothing,5  but  to  rust  iron,  in 
crease  tailors,  and  breed  ballad-makers. 


1  "  Considers  the  touch  of  his  hand  as  holy ;  clasps  it  with  the  same 
reverence  as  a  lover  would  clasp  the  hand  of  his  mistress." 

2  To  sowle  is  to  pull  by  the  ears. 

3  i.  e.  bared,  cleared. 

4  See  Act  i.  Sc.  1. 

5  We  should  probably  read,  "This  peace  is  good  for  nothing  but,"  &c. 


542  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV. 

1  Serv.    Let  me  have  war,  say  I ;  it  exceeds  peace, 
as  far  as  day  does  night ;  it's  sprightly,  waking,  audible, 
and  full  of  vent.1     Peace  is  a  very  apoplexy,  lethargy; 
mulled,2  deaf,   sleepy,   insensible ;    a   getter  of   more 
bastard  children,  than  war's  a  destroyer  of  men. 

2  Serv.    'Tis  so ;  and  as  wars,  in  some  sort,  may  be 
said  to  be  a  ravisher  ;  so  it  cannot  be  denied,  but  peace 
is  a  great  maker  of  cuckolds. 

1  Serv.    Ay,  and  it  makes  men  hate  one  another. 

3  Serv.    Reason ;  because  they  then  less  need  one 
another.     The  wars,  for  my  money.     I  hope  to  see 
Romans  as  cheap  as  Volcians.     They  are  rising,  they 
are  rising. 

All.    In,  in,  in,  in.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  VI.     Rome.     A  public  Place. 

Enter  SICINIUS  and  BRUTUS. 

Sic.    We  hear  not  of  him,  neither  need  we  fear  him  ; 
His  remedies  are  tame  i'  the  present  peace 
And  quietness  o'  the  people,  which  before 
Were  in  wild  hurry.     Here  do  we  make  his  friends 
Blush,  that  the  world  goes  well ;  who  rather  had, 
Though  they  themselves  did  suffer  oy't,  behold 
Dissensions  numbers  pestering  streets,  than  see 
Our  tradesmen  singing  in  their  shops,  and  going 
About  their  functions  friendly. 

Enter  MENENIUS. 

Bru.  We  stood  to't  in  good  time.     Is  this  Menenius  ? 
Sic.    'Tis  he,  'tis  he.     O,  he  is  grown  most  kind 
Of  late, — Hail,  sir  ! 

Men.  Hail  to  you  both  ! 

Sic.    Your  Coriolanus,  sir,  is  not  much  missed, 


1  i.  e.  full  of  rumor,  full  of  materials  for  discourse. 

2  Mulled  is  softened,  as  wine  when  it  is  burnt  and  sweetened. 


SC.  VI.]  CORIOLANUS.  543 

But  with  his  friends.  The  commonwealth  doth  stand ; 
And  so  would  do,  were  he  more  angry  at  it. 

Men.  All's  well ;  and  might  have  been  much  better,  if 
He  could  have  temporized. 

Sic.  Where  is  he,  hear  you  ? 

Men.  Nay,  I  hear  nothing ;  his  mother  and  his  wife 
Hear  nothing  from  him. 


Enter  three  or  four  Citizens. 

Cit.   The  gods  preserve  you  both ! 

Sic.  Good  e'en,  our  neighbors. 

Bru.    Good  e'en  to  you  all,  good  e'en  to  you  all. 

1  Cit.    Ourselves,  our  wives,  and  children,  on  our 

knees, 
Are  bound  to  pray  for  you  both. 

Sic.         •  Live,  and  thrive ! 

Bru.    Farewell,  kind  neighbors ;  we  wished  Corio- 

lanus 
Had  loved  you  as  we  did. 

Cit.  Now  the  gods  keep  you ! 

Both  Tri.   Farewell,  farewell.        [Exeunt  Citizens. 

Sic.    This  is  a  happier  and  more  comely  time, 
Than  when  these  fellows  ran  about  the  streets, 
Crying,  Confusion. 

Bru.  Caius  Marcius  was 

A  worthy  officer  i'  the  war ;  but  insolent, 
O'ercome  with  pride,  ambitious  past  all  thinking, 
Self-loving, 

Sic.    And  affecting  one  sole  throne, 
Without  assistance.1 

Men.  I  think  not  so. 

Sic.    We  should  by  this,  to  all  our  lamentation, 
If  he  had  gone  forth  consul,  found  it  so.2 

Bru.   The  gods  have  well  prevented  it,  and  Rome 
Sits  safe  and  still  without  him. 


1  i.  e.  he  aimed  at  absolute  power ;  he  wanted  to  sway  the  state  alone. 

2  We  should  surely  read,  "have  found  it  so." 


544  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV 

Enter  JSdile. 


Worthy  tribunes, 
There  is  a  slave,  whom  we  have  put  in  prison, 
Reports,  —  the  Voices  with  two  several  powers 
Are  entered  in  the  Roman  territories  ; 
And  with  the  deepest  malice  of  the  war 
Destroy  what  lies  before  them. 

Men.  'Tis  Aufidius, 

Who,  hearing  of  our  Marcius'  banishment, 
Thrusts  forth  his  horns  again  into  the  world  ; 
Which  were  inshelled,  when  Marcius  stood  1  for  Rome, 
And  durst  not  once  peep  out. 

Sic.  Come,  what  talk  you 

Of  Marcius  ? 

Bru.    Go  see  this  rumorer  whipped.     It  cannot  be, 
The  Voices  dare  break  with  us. 

Men.  Cannot  be  ! 

We  have  record  that  very  well  it  can  ; 
And  three  examples  of  the  like  have  been 
Within  my  age.     But  reason2  with  the  fellow, 
Before  you  punish  him,  where  he  heard  this  ; 
Lest  you  should  chance  to  whip  your  information, 
And  beat  the  messenger  who  bids  beware 
Of  what  is  to  be  dreaded. 

Sic.  Tell  not  me  : 

I  know  this  cannot  be. 

Bru.  Not  possible. 


Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    The  nobles,  in  great  earnestness,  are  going 
All  to  the  senate-house  ;  some  news  is  come, 
That  turns3  their  countenances. 

Sic.  'Tis  this  slave  ;  — 

Go  whip  him  'fore  the  people's  eyes  ;  —  his  raising  ! 
Nothing  but  his  report  ! 

1  i.  e.  stood  up  in  its  defence. 

2  To  reason  with,  is  to  talk  with. 

3  Changes. 


SC.  VI.]  CORIOLANUS.  545 

Mess.  Yes,  worthy  sir, 

The  slave's  report  is  seconded  ;  and  more, 
More  fearful  is  delivered. 

Sic.  What  more  fearful  ? 

Mess.    It  is  spoke  freely  out  of  many  mouths, 
(How  probable,  I  do  not  know,)  that  Marcius, 
Joined  with  Aufidius,  leads  a  power  'gainst  Rome ; 
And  vows  revenge  as  spacious,  as  between 
The  young'st  and  oldest  thing. 

Sic.  This  is  most  likely  ! 

Bru.    Raised  only,  that  the  weaker  sort  may  wish 
Good  Marcius  home  again. 

Sic.  The  very  trick  on't. 

Men.    This  is  unlikely  ; 
He  and  Aufidius  can  no  more  atone,1 
Than  violentest  contrariety. 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

Mess.   You  are  sent  for  to  the  senate : 
A  fearful  army,  led  by  Cains  Marcius, 
Associated  with  Aufidius,  rages 
Upon  our  territories ;  and  have  already 
O'erborne  their  way,  consumed  with  fire,  and  took 
What  lay  before  them. 

Enter  COMINIUS. 

Com.    O,  you  have  made  good  work ! 

Men.  What  news  ?  what  news  ? 

Com.  You  have  holp  to  ravish  your  own  daughters,  and 
To  melt  the  city  leads  upon  your  pates ; 
To  see  your  wives  dishonored  to  your  noses  ; 

Men.  What's  the  news  ?  what's  the  news  ? 

Com.   Your  temples  burned  in  their  cement ;  and 
Your  franchises,  whereon  you  stood,  confined 
Into  an  auger's  bore.2 

1  i.  e.  atone,  accord,  agree. 

2  So  in  Macbeth:— 

" our  fate  hid  in  an  auger-hole? 

VOL.  v.  69 


546  COPJOLANUS.  [ACT  IV. 

Men.                            Pray  now,  your  news  ? — 
You  have  made  fair  work,  I  fear  me. — Pray,  your  news  ? 
If  Marcius  should  be  joined  with  Volcians, — 

Com.  If! 

He  is  their  god ;  he  leads  them  like  a  thing 
Made  by  some  other  deity  than  nature, 
That  shapes  man  better ;  and  they  follow  him, 
Against  us  brats,  with  no  less  confidence, 
Than  boys  pursuing  summer  butterflies', 
Or  butchers  killing  flies. 

Men.  You  have  made  good  work, 

You,  and  your  apron  men  ; 1  you  that  stood  so  much 
Upon  the  voice  of  occupation,  and 
The  breath  of  garlic-eaters  ! 

Com.  He  will  shake 

Your  Rome  about  your  ears. 

Men.  As  Hercules 

Did  shake  down  mellow  fruit.2     You  have  made  fail- 
work  ! 

Bru.   But  is  this  true,  sir  ? 

Com.  Ay  ;  and  you'll  look  pale 

Before  you  find  it  other.     All  the  regions 
Do  smilingly  revolt,3  and  who  resist, 
Are  mocked  for  valiant  ignorance, 
And  perish  constant  fools.     Who  is't  can  blame  him  ? 
Your  enemies,  and  his,  find  something  in  him. 

Men.    We  are  all  undone,  unless 
The  noble  man  have  mercy. 

Com.  Who  shall  ask  it? 

The  tribunes  cannot  do't  for  shame  ;  the  people 
Deserve  such  pity  of  him,  as  the  wolf 
Does  of  the  shepherds.     For  his  best  friends,  if  they 
Should  say,  Be  good  to  Rome,  they  charged  him 4  even 
As  those  should  do  that  had  deserved  his  hate, 
And  therein  showed  like  enemies. 

Men.  >Tis  true. 

1  i.  e.  mechanics. 

2  A  ludicrous  allusion  to  the  apples  of  the  Hesperides. 

3  Revolt  with  pleasure. 

4  "  They  charged,  and  therein  showed,"  has  here  the  force  of  "  they 
would  charge,  and  therein  show." 


SC.  VI.]  CORIOLANUS.  547 

If  he  were  putting  to  my  house  the  brand 

That  should  consume  it,  I  have  not  the  face 

To  say, '  Beseech  you,  cease. — You  have  made  fair  hands, 

You,  and  your  crafts !  you  have  crafted  fair ! 

Com.  You  have  brought 

A  trembling  upon  Rome,  such  as  was  never 
So  incapable  of  help. 

Tri.  Say  not  we  brought  it. 

Men.    How !  was  it  we  ?     We  loved  him ;   but,  like 

beasts, 

And  cowardly  nobles,  gave  way  to  your  clusters, 
Who  did  hoot  him  out  o'  the  city. 

Com.  But  I  fear 

They'll  roar  him  in  again.1     Tullus  Aufidius, 
The  second  name  of  men,  obeys  his  points 
As  if  he  were  his  officer. — Desperation 
Is  all  the  policy,  strength,  and  defence, 
That  Rome  can  make  against  them. 

Enter  a  troop  of  Citizens. 

Men.  Here  come  the  clusters. — 

And  is  Aufidius  with  him  ? — You  are  they 
That  made  the  air  unwholesome,  when  you  cast 
Your  stinking,  greasy  caps,  in  hooting  at 
Coriolanus'  exile.     Now  he's  coming  ; 
And  not  a  hair  upon  a  soldier's  head, 
Which  will  not  prove  a  whip ;  as  many  coxcombs, 
As  you  threw  caps  up,  will  he  tumble  down, 
And  pay  you  for  your  voices.     5Tis  no  matter  ; 
If  he  could  burn  us  all  into  one  coal, 
We  have  deserved  it. 

Cit.    'Faith,  we  hear  fearful  news. 

1  Cit.  For  mine  own  part, 
When  I  said  banish  him,  I  said  'twas  pity. 

2  Cit.   And  so  did  I. 

3  Cit.    And  so  did  I ;  and,  to  say  the  truth,  so  did 
very  many  of  us.     That  we  did,  we  did  for  the  best ;  and 

1  «  As  he  went  out  with  scoffs,  he  will  come  back  with  lamentations." 


548  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV. 

though  we  willingly  consented  to  his  banishment,  yet 
it  was  against  our  will. 

Com.    You  are  goodly  things,  you  voices  ! 

Men.  You  have  made 

Good  work,  you    and   your   cry  !  l  —  Shall   us   to   the 
Capitol  ? 

Com.    O,  ay  ;  what  else  ?    [Exeunt  COM.  and  MEN. 

Sic.    Go,  masters,  get  you  home  ;  be  not  dismayed  : 
These  are  a  side,  that  would  be  glad  to  have 
This  true,  which  they  so  seem  to  fear.     Go  home, 
And  show  no  sign  of  fear. 

1  Cit.  The  gods  be  good  to  us  !     Come,  masters,  let's 
home.     I  ever  said  we  were  i'the  wrong,  when  we 
banished  him. 

2  Cit.    So  did  we  all.     But  come,  let's  home. 

[Exeunt  Citizens. 
Bru.    I  do  not  like  this  news. 
Sic:  Nor  I. 

Bru.    Let's  to  the  Capitol.  —  'Would  half  my  wealth 
Would  buy  this  for  a  lie  ! 

Sic.  Pray,  let  us  go.      [Exeunt. 

SCENE   VII.     A  Camp,  at   a   small  distance  from 

Rome. 

Enter  AUFIDIUS  and  his  Lieutenant. 

Auf.    Do  they  still  fly  to  the  Roman  ? 

Lieu.    I  do  not  know  what  witchcraft's  in  him  ;  but 
Your  soldiers  use  him  as  the  grace  'fore  meat, 
Their  talk  at  table,  and  their  thanks  at  end  ; 
And  you  are  darkened  in  this  action,  sir, 
Even  by  your  own. 

Auf.  I  cannot  help  it  now  ; 

Unless,  by  using  means,  I  lame  the  foot 
Of  our  design.     He  bears  himself  more  proudlier 
Even  to  my  person,  than  I  thought  he  would, 
When  first  I  did  embrace  him.     Yet  his  nature 


Pack. 


SC.  VII.]  CORIOLANUS.  549 

In  that's  no  changeling  ;  and  I  must  excuse 
What  cannot  be  amended. 

Lieu.  Yet  I  wish,  sir, 

(I  mean  for  your  particular,)  you  had  not 
Joined  in  commission  with  him ;  but  either 
Had  borne  the  action  of  yourself,  or  else 
To  him  had  left  it  solely. 

Auf.    I  understand  thee  well ;  and  be  thou  sure, 
When  he  shall  come  to  his  account,  he  knows  not 
What  I  can  urge  against  him.     Although  it  seems, 
And  so  he  thinks,  and  is  no  less  apparent 
To  the  vulgar  eye,  that  he  bears  all  things  fairly, 
And  shows  good  husbandry  for  the  Volcian  state  ; 
Fights  dragon-like,  and  does  achieve  as  soon 
As  draw  his  sword  ;  yet  he  hath  left  undone 
That,  which  shall  break  his  neck,  or  hazard  mine, 
Whene'er  we  come  to  our  account. 

Lieu.  Sir,  I  beseech  you,  think  you  he'll  carry  Rome? 

Auf.    All  places  yield  to  him  ere  he  sits  down  ; 
And  the  nobility  of  Rome  are  his. 
The  senators,  and  patricians,  love  him  too ; 
The  tribunes  are  no  soldiers  ;  and  their  people 
Will  be  as  rash  in  the  repeal,  as  hasty 
To  expel  him  thence.     I  think  he'll  be  to  Rome, 
As  is  the  ospray l  to  the  fish  who  takes  it 
By  sovereignty  of  nature.     First  he  was 
A  noble  servant  to  them ;  but  he  could  not 
Carry  his  honors  even.     Whether  'twas  pride, 
Which  out  of  daily  fortune  ever  taints 
The  happy  man  ;  whether  defect  of  judgment, 
To  fail  in  the  disposing  of  those  chances 
Which  he  was  lord  of;  or  whether  nature, 
Not  to  be  other  than  one  thing,  not  moving 
From  the  casque  to  the  cushion,2  but  commanding  peace 

1  The  ospray  was  supposed  to  possess  a  fascinating  power  over  fish. 

2  Aufidius  assigns  three  probable  reasons  for  the  miscarriage  of  Corio- 
lanus ;  pride,  which  easily  follows  an  uninterrupted  train  of  success  ;  un- 
skilfulness  to  regulate  the  consequences  of  his  own  victories  ;  a  stubborn 
uniformity  of  nature,  which  could  not  make  the  proper  transition  from  the 
casque  to  the  cushion,  or  chair  of  civil  authority,  but  acted  with  the  same 
despotism  in  peace  as  in  war. 


550  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  IV. 

Even  with  the  same  austerity  and  garb 

As  he  controlled  the  war ;  but  one  of  these 

(As  he  hath  spices  of  them  all,  not  all, 

For  I  dare  so  far  free  him)  made  him  feared, 

So  hated,  and  so  banished.     But  he  has  a  merit, 

To  choke  it  in  the  utterance.1     So  our  virtues 

Lie  in  the  interpretation  of  the  time  ; 

And  power,  unto  itself  most  commendable, 

Hath  not  a  tomb  so  evident  as  a  hair 

To  extol  what  it  hath  done.2 

One  fire  drives  out  one  fire  ;  one  nail,  one  nail ; 

Rights  by  rights  fouler,3  strengths  by  strengths  do  fail. 

Come,  let's  away.     When,  Caius,  Rome  is  thine, 

Thou  art  poor'st  of  all ;  then  shortly  art  thou  mine. 

[Exeunt. 

1  But  such  is  his  merit  as  ought  to  choke  the  utterance  of  his  faults. 

2  « So  our  virtue 

Lie  in  the  interpretation  of  the  time ; 
And  power,  unto  itself  most  commendable, 
Hath  not  a  tomb  so  evident  as  a  chair 
To  extol  what  it  hath  done." 

Thus  the  old  copy.  Well  Steevens  might  exclaim  that  the  passage  and 
the  comments  upon  it  were  equally  intelligible.  The  whole  speech  is 
very  incorrectly  printed  in  the  folio.  Thus  we  have  'was  for  'twas; 
detect  for  defect ;  virtue  for  virtues ;  and,  evidently,  chair  for  hair.  What 
is  the  meaning  of— 

"  Hath  not  a  tomb  so  evident  as  a  chair  ?  " 

A  hair  has  some  propriety,  as  used  for  a  thing  almost  invisible.  As  in 
The  Tempest:— 

« not  a  hair  perished." 

I  take  the  meaning  of  the  passage  to  be,  "  So  our  virtues  lie  at  the  mercy  of 
the  time's  interpretation;  and  power,  which  esteems  itself  while  living  so 
highly,  hath  not,  when  defunct,  the  least  particle  of  praise  allotted  to  it." 
— Singer. 

3  "  Rights  by  rights  fouler,  strengths  by  strengths  do  fail." 

Malone  reads  founder,  with  a  worthy  but  unsatisfactory  argument  in  favor 
of  his  reading.  Singer  would  read  "  Rights  by  rights  foiled,"  &c.,  an 
easy  and  obvious  emendation.  Steevens  has  given  the  following  ex 
planation  of  the  passage: — "What  is  already  right,  and  is  received  as 
such,  becomes  less  clear  when  supported  by  supernumerary  proof." 


SC.  I.]  CORIOLANUS.  551 

ACT  V. 

SCENE   I.     Rome.     A  public  Place. 

Enter  MENENIUS,  COMINIUS,  SICINIUS,  BRUTUS,  and 

others. 

Men.    No,  I'll  not  go.     You  hear  what  he  hath  said, 
Which  was  sometime  his  general ;  who  loved  him 
In  a  most  dear  particular.     He  called  me  father  ; 
But  what  o'that?     Go,  you  that  banished  him, 
A  mile  before  his  tent  fall  down,  and  kneel 
The  way  into  his  mercy.     Nay,  if  he  coyed  * 
To  hear  Cominius  speak,  I'll  keep  at  home. 

Com.    He  would  not  seem  to  know  me. 

Men.  Do  you  hear  ? 

Com.    Yet  one  time  he  did  call  me  by  my  name  ; 
I  urged  our  old  acquaintance,  and  the  drops 
That  we  have  bled  together.     Coriolanus 
He  would  not  answer  to ;  forbad  all  names  ; 
He  was  a  kind  of  nothing,  titleless, 
Till  he  had  forged  himself  a  name  i'the  fire 
Of  burning  Rome. 

Men.  Why,  so  ;  you  have  made  good  work  ; 
A  pair  of  tribunes  that  have  racked 2  for  Rome, 
To  make  coals  cheap.  A  noble  memory  ! 3 

Com.    I  minded  him  how  royal  'twas  to  pardon 
When  it  was  less  expected.     He  replied, 
It  was  a  bare4  petition  of  a  state 
To  one  whom  they  had  punished. 

Men.  Very  well ; 

Could  he  say  less  ? 

Com.    I  offered  to  awaken  his  regard 
For  his  private  friends.     His  answer  to  me  was, 
He  could  not  stay  to  pick  them  in  a  pile 
Of  noisome,  musty  chaff.     He  said  'twas  folly, 

1  i.  e.  condescended  unwillingly. 

2  Harassed  by  exactions.  3  Memorial. 

4  Bare  may  mean  palpable,  evident ;  but  perhaps  we  should  read  base 


552  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  V. 

For  one  poor  grain  or  two,  to  leave  unburnt, 
And  still  to  nose  the  offence. 

Men.  For  one  poor  grain 

Or  two  ?     I  am  one  of  those  ;  his  mother,  wife, 
His  child,  and  this  brave  fellow  too,  we  are  the  grains. 
Yon  are  the  musty  chaff;  and  you  are  smelt 
Above  the  moon.     We  must  be  burnt  for  you. 

Sic.    Nay,  pray,  be  patient.     If  you  refuse  your  aid 
In  this  so  never-heeded  help,  yet  do  not 
Upbraid  us  with  our  distress.     But,  sure,  if  you 
Would  be  your  country's  pleader,  your  good  tongue, 
More  than  the  instant  army  we  can  make, 
Might  stop  our  countryman. 

Men.  No ;  I'll  not  meddle. 

Sic.    Pray  you,  go  to  him. 

Men.  What  should  I  do  ? 

Bru.    Only  make  trial  what  your  love  can  do 
For  Rome,  towards  Marcius. 

Men.  Well,  and  say  that  Marcius 

Return  me,  as  Cominius  is  returned. 
Unheard  ;  what  then  ? — 
But  as  a  discontented  friend,  grief-shot 
With  his  unkindness?     Say'tbeso? 

Sic.  Yet  your  good  will 

Must  have  that  thanks  from  Rome,  after  the  measure 
As  you  intended  well. 

Men.  I'll  undertake  it ; 

I  think  he'll  hear  me.     Yet  to  bite  his  lip, 
And  hum  at  good  Cominius,  much  unhearts  me. 
He  was  not  taken  well ;  he  had  not  dined. 
The  veins  unfilled,  our  blood  is  cold,  and  then 
We  pout  upon  the  morning,  are  unapt 
To  give  or  to  forgive ;  but  when  we  have  stuffed 
These  pipes  and  these  conveyances  of  our  blood 
With  wine  and  feeding,  we  have  suppler  souls 
Than  in  our  priestlike  fasts ;  therefore  I'll  watch  him 
Till  he  be  dieted  to  my  request, 
And  then  I'll  set  upon  him. 

Bru.    You  know  the  very  road  into  his  kindness, 
And  cannot  lose  your  way. 


SC.  II.]  CORIOLANUS.  553 

Men.  Good  faith,  I'll  prove  him, 

Speed  how  it  will.     I  shall  ere  long  have  knowledge 
Of  my  success.  [Exit. 

Com.    He'll  never  hear  him. 

Sic.  Not  ? 

Com.    I  tell  you  he  does  sit  in  gold,1  his  eye 
Red  as  'twould  burn  Rome ;  and  his  injury 
The  jailer  to  his  pity.     I  kneeled  before  him  ; 
'TwTas  very  faintly  he  said,  Rise ;  dismissed  me 
Thus,  with  his  speechless  hand.     What  he  would  do, 
He  sent  in  writing  after  me ;  what  he  would  not, 
Bound  with  an  oath,  to  yield  to  his  conditions :  2 
So,  that  all  hope  is  vain, 
Unless  his  noble  mother,  and  his  wife  ;3 
Who,  as  I  hear,  mean  to  solicit  him 
For  mercy  to  his  country.     Therefore,  let's  hence, 
And  with  our  fair  entreaties  haste  them  on.     [Exeunt. 


SCENE    II.     An  advanced  post  of  the  Volcian  Camp 
before  Rome.     The  Guard  at  their  stations. 

Enter  to  them,  MENENIUS. 

1  Guard.    Stay ;  whence  are  you  ? 

2  G.  Stand,  and  go  back. 
Men.    You  guard  like  men;  'tis  well.     But,  by  your 

leave, 

1  Pope  was,  perhaps,  indebted  to  Shakspeare  in  the  translation  of  the 
passage : — 

«Th'  eternal  Thunderer  sat  throned  in  gold." 

2  Perhaps  we  might  read,  "  To  yield  to  no  conditions."     The  sense  of 
the  passage  would  then  be,  "What  he  would  do,  he  sent  in  writing  after 
me ;  the  things  he  would  not  rfo,  he  bound  himself  with  an  oath  to  yield  to 
no  conditions  tfiat  might  be  proposed"     It  afterwards  appears  what  these 
were : — 

"  The  things  I  have  forsworn  to  grant  may  never 
Be  held  by  you  denials.     Do  not  bid  me 
Dismiss  my  soldiers,  or  capitulate 
Again  with  Rome's  mechanics." 

3  To  satisfy  modern  notions  of  construction,  this  line  must  be  read  as 
if  written — 

"  Unless  in  his  noble  mother  and  his  wife." 
VOL.  v.  70 


554  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  V. 

I  am  an  officer  of  state,  and  come 
To  speak  with  Coriolanus. 

1  G.  From  whence  ? 

Men.  From  Rome. 

1  G.    You    may  not   pass ;   you   must  return ;    our 

general 
Will  no  more  hear  from  thence. 

2  G.     You'll  see  your  Rome  embraced  with  fire, 

before 
You'll  speak  with  Coriolanus. 

Men.  Good  my  friends, 

If  you  have  heard  your  general  talk  of  Rome, 
And  of  his  friends  there,  it  is  lots  to  blanks,1 
My  name  hath  touched  your  ears ;  it  is  Menenius. 

I  G.    Be  it  so;  go  back;  the  virtue  of  your  name 
Is  not  here  passable. 

Men.  I  tell  thee,  fellow, 

Thy  general  is  my  lover.2     I  have  been 
The  book  of  his  good  acts,  whence  men  have  read 
His  fame  unparalleled,  haply,  amplified  ; 
For  I  have  ever  verified3  my  friends, 
(Of  whom  he's  chief,)  with  all  the  size  that  verity 
Would  without  lapsing  suffer  ;  nay,  sometimes, 
Like  to  a  bowl  upon  a  subtle  4  ground, 
I  have  tumbled  past  the  throw ;  and  in  his  praise 
Have,  almost,  stamped  the  leasing.5     Therefore,  fellow, 
I  must  have  leave  to  pass. 

1  G.  'Faith,  sir,  if  you  had  told  as  many  lies  in  his 
behalf,  as  you  have  uttered  words  in  your  own,  you 
should  not  pass  here  ;  no,  though  it  were  as  virtuous  to 
lie,  as  to  live  chastely.  Therefore,  go  back. 

Men.  Pr'ythee,  fellow,  remember  my  name  is  Me 
nenius,  always  factionary6on  the  party  of  your  general. 


1  Lots  to  blanks  is  chances  to  nothing. 

2  i.  e.  friend. 

3  Verified  must  here  be  used  for  displayed  or  testified,  if  it  be  not  a 
corruption  of  the  text  for  notified,  or  some  other  word.     Mr.  Edwards  pro 
posed  to  read  varnished,  which  was  anciently  written  vernished. 

4  Subtle  here  means  smooth,  level. 

5  i.  e.  have  almost  given  the  lie  such  a  sanction  as  to  render  it  cwrent. 

6  Factionary  is  adherent,  partisan. 


SC.  II.]  COR1OLANUS.  555 

2  G.  Howsoever  you  have  been  his  liar,  (as  you  say, 
you  have,)  I  am  one  that,  telling  true  under  him,  must 
say  you  cannot  pass.  Therefore,  go  back. 

Men.  Has  he  dined,  canst  thou  tell  ?  for  I  would 
not  speak  with  him  till  after  dinner. 

1  G.   You  are  a  Roman,  are  you  ? 

Men.    I  am  as  thy  general  is. 

1  G.    Then  you    should    hate   Rome,   as  he  does. 
Can  you,  when  you  have   pushed  out  your  gates   the 
very  defender  of  them,  and,  in  a  violent  popular  igno 
rance,  given  your  enemy  your  shield,  think  to  front  his 
revenges  with  the  easy1  groans  of  old  women,  the  vir 
ginal  palms  of  your  daughters,  or  with  the   palsied  in 
tercession  of  such  a  decayed  dotant2  as  you  seem  to  be? 
Can  you  think  to  blow  out  the  intended  fire  your  city 
is  ready  to  flame  in,  with  such  weak    breath  as   this  ? 
No,  you  are  deceived ;  therefore,  back  to  Rome,  and 
prepare  for  your  execution :  you  are  condemned  ;   our 
general  has  sworn  you  out  of  reprieve  and  pardon. 

Men.  Sirrah,  if  thy  captain  knew  I  were  here,  he 
would  use  me  with  estimation. 

2  G.    Come,  my  captain  knows  you  not. 
Men.    I  mean  thy  general. 

1  G.  My  general  cares  not  for  you.  Back,  I  say  ; 
go,  lest  I  let  forth  your  half-pint  of  blood ; — back, — 
that's  the  utmost  of  your  having ; — back. 

Men.    Nay,  but  fellow,  fellow, 

Enter  CORIOLANUS  and  AUFIDIUS. 

Cor.    What's  the  matter  ? 

Men.  Now,  you  companion,  I'll  say  an  errand  for 
you  ;  you  shall  know  now  that  I  am  in  estimation  ;  you 
shall  perceive  that  a  Jack3  guardant  cannot  office  me 
from  my  son  Coriolanus ;  guess,  but  by  my  entertain 
ment  with  him,  if  thou  stand'st  not  i'  the  state  of  hang 
ing,  or  of  some  death  more  long  in  spectatorship,  and 
crueller  in  suffering.  Behold  now  presently,  and  swoon 

1  i.  e.  slight,  inconsiderable.      2  Dotard.      3  Equivalent  to  Jack  in  office 


556 


CORIOLANUS. 


[ACT  V. 


for  what's  to  come  upon  thee. — The  glorious  gods  sit 
in  hourly  synod  about  thy  particular  prosperity,  and 
love  thee  no  worse  than  thy  old  father  Menenius  does ! 

0  my  son !  my  son !  thou  art  preparing  fire  for  us  ; 
look   thee,  here's  water  to  quench  it.     I  was  hardly 
moved  to  come  to  thee ;  but  being  assured,  none  but 
myself  could  move  thee,  I   have  been  blown  out  of 
your  gates  with   sighs  ;    and  conjure  thee  to  pardon 
Rome,   and   thy  petitionary  countrymen.      The  good 
gods  assuage  thy  wrath,  and  turn  the  dregs  of  it  upon 
this  varlet  here ;    this,  who,  like  a  block,  hath  denied 
my  access  to  thee. 

Cor.    Away ! 

Men.   How  !  away  ? 

Cor.   Wife,  mother,  child,  1  know  not.     My  affairs 
Are  servanted  to  others.     Though  I  owe 
My  revenge  properly,  my  remission  lies 
In  Volcian  breasts.1     That  we  have  been  familiar, 
Ingrate  forgetfulness  shall  poison,  rather 
Than  pity  note  how  much. — Therefore,  be  gone. 
Mine  ears  against  your  suits  are  stronger  than 
Your  gates  against  my  force.     Yet,  for2  I  loved  thee, 
Take  this  along ;  I  writ  it  for  thy  sake, 

[Gives  a  letter. 
And  would  have  sent  it.     Another  word,  Menenius, 

1  will  not  hear  thee  speak. — This  man,  Aufidius, 
Was  my  beloved  in  Rome  ;  yet  thou  behold'st 

Auf.    You  keep  a  constant  temper. 

[Exeunt  COR.  and  AUF. 
\  G.    Now,  sir,  is  your  name  Menenius  ? 
2  G.    'Tis  a   spell,  you  see,  of  much  power.     You 
know  the  wray  home  again. 

1  G.    Do  you  hear  how  we  are   shent  for  keeping 
your  greatness  back  ? 

2  G.    What  cause  do  you  think  I  have  to  swoon  ? 
Men.    I  neither  care  for  the  world,  nor  your  general; 

for  such  things  as  you,  I  can  scarce  think  there's  any, 

1  «  Though  I  have  a  peculiar  right  in  revenge,  in  the  power  of  forgive 
ness  the  Volcians  are  joined." 

2  i.  e.  cause,  or  because. 


SC.  III.]  COR10LANUS.  557 

you  are  so  slight.  He  that  hath  a  will  to  die  by  him 
self,1  fears  it  not  from  another.  Let  your  general  do 
his  worst.  For  you,  be  that  you  are,  long  ;  and  your 
misery  increase  with  your  age !  I  say  to  you,  as  I  was 
said  to,  away.  [Exit. 

1  G.   A  noble  fellow,  I  warrant  him. 

2  G.    The  worthy  fellow  is  our  general.     He  is  the 
rock,  the  oak  not  to  be  wind-shaken.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE    III.     The  Tent  of  Coriolanus. 

Enter  CORIOLANUS,  AUFIDIUS,  and  others. 

Cor.    We  will  before  the  walls  of  Rome  to-morrow 
Set  down  our  host. — My  partner  in  this  action, 
You  must  report  to  the  Volcian  lords,  how  plainly2 
I  have  borne  this  business. 

Auf.  Only  their  ends 

You  have  respected  ;  stopped  your  ears  against 
The  general  suit  of  Rome  ;  never  admitted 
A  private  whisper,  no,  not  with  such  friends 
That  thought  them  sure  of  you. 

Cor.  This  last  old  man, 

Whom  with  a  cracked  heart  I  have  sent  to  Rome, 
Loved  me  above  the  measure  of  a  father ; 
Nay,  godded  me,  indeed.     Their  latest  refuge 
Was  to  send  him ;  for  whose  old  love,  I  have 
(Though  I  showed  sourly  to  him)   once  more  offered 
The  first  conditions,  which  they  did  refuse, 
And  cannot  now  accept,  to  grace  him  only, 
That  thought  he  could  do  more  ;  a  very  little 
I  have  yielded  to.     Fresh  embassies,  and  suits, 
Nor  from  the  state,  nor  private  friends,  hereafter 
Will  I  lend  ear  to. — Ha  !  what  shout  is  this  ? 

[Shout  within. 
Shall  I  be  tempted  to  infringe  my  vow 

In  the  same  time  'tis  made  ?     I  will  not. 

j 
i 

1  i.  e.  by  his  own  hands.  2  How  plainly  is  how  openly. 


558  COR10LANUS.  [ACT  V. 

Enter,  in  mourning  habits,  VIRGILIA,  VOLUMNIA,  lead 
ing  young  MARCIUS,  VALERIA,  and  Attendants. 

My  wife  comes  foremost ;  then  the  honored  mould 

Wherein  this  trunk  was  framed,  and  in  her  hand 

The  grandchild  to  her  blood.     But,  out,  affection ! 

All  bond  and  privilege  of  nature,  break ! 

Let  it  be  virtuous  to  be  obstinate. — 

What  is  that  curt'sy  worth,  or  those  doves'  eyes, 

Which  can  make  gods  forsworn  ? — I  melt,  and  am  not 

Of  stronger  earth  than  others. — My  mother  bows ; 

As  if  Olympus  to  a  molehill  should 

In  supplication  nod ;  and  my  young  boy 

Hath  an  aspect  of  intercession,  which 

Great  nature  cries,  Deny  not. — Let  the  Voices 

Plough  Rome,  and  harrow  Italy ;  I'll  never 

Be  such  a  gosling  to  obey  instinct ;  but  stand, 

As  if  a  man  were  author  of  himself, 

And  knew  no  other  kin. 

Vir.  My  lord  and  husband  ! 

Cor.    These  eyes  are  not  the  same  I  wore  in  Rome, 

Vir.    The  sorrow,  that  delivers  us  thus  changed, 
Makes  you  think  so.1 

Cor.  Like  a  dull  actor  now, 

I  have  forgot  my  part,  and  I  am  out, 
Even  to  a  full  disgrace.     Best  of  my  flesh, 
Forgive  my  tyranny ;  but  do  not  say, 
For  that,  Forgive  our  Romans. — O,  a  kiss 
Long  as  my  exile,  sweet  as  my  revenge  ! 
Now,  by  the  jealous  queen  of  heaven,  that  kiss 
I  carried  from  thee,  dear ;  and  my  true  lip 
Hath  virgined  it  e'er  since.     You  gods  !  I  prate, 
And  the  most  noble  mother  of  the  world 
Leave  unsaluted.     Sink,  my  knee,  i'  the  earth  ; 

[Kneels. 

1  "Virgilia  makes  a  voluntary  misinterpretation  of  her  husband's 
words.  He  says, '  These  eyes  are  not  the  same,'  meaning  that  he  saw 
thing's  with  other  eyes,  or  other  dispositions.  She  lays  hold  on  the  word 
eyes,  to  turn  his  attention  on  their  present  appearance." 


SC.  III.] 


CORIOLANUS. 


559 


Of  thy  deep  duty  more  impression  show 
Than  that  of  common  sons. 

Vol.  O,  stand  up  blessed  ! 

Whilst,  with  no  softer  cushion  than  the  flint, 
I  kneel  before  thee  ;  and  unproperly 
Show  duty,  as  mistaken  all  the  while 
Between  the  child  and  parent.  [Kneels. 

Cor.  What  is  this  ? 

Your  knees  to  me  ?  to  your  corrected  son  ? 
.Then  let  the  pebbles  on  the  hungry  beach1 
Fillip  the  stars ;  then  let  the  mutinous  winds 
Strike  the  proud  cedars  'gainst  the  fiery  sun ; 
Murdering  impossibility  to  make 
What  cannot  be,  slight  work. 

Vol.  Thou  art  my  warrior ; 

I  holp  to  frame  thee.     Do  you  know  this  lady  ? 

Cor.    The  noble  sister  of  Publicola, 
The  moon  of  Rome  ;  chaste  as  the  icicle, 
That's  curded  by  the  frost  from  purest  show, 
And  hangs  on  Dian's  temple.     Dear  Valeria ! 2 

Vol.  This  is  a  poor  epitome  of  yours, 
Which  by  the  interpretation  of  full  time 
May  show  like  all  yourself. 

Cor.  The  god  of  soldiers, 

With  the  consent  of  supreme  Jove,3  inform 
Thy  thoughts  with  nobleness ;  that  thou  mayst  prove 
To  shame  unvulnerable,  and  stick  i'  the  war 
Like  a  great  seamark,  standing  every  flaw,4 
And  saving  those  that  eye  thee ! 

Vol.    Your  knee,  sirrah. 

Cor.   That's  my  brave  boy. 

Vol.    Even  he,  your  wife,  this  lady,  and  myself, 
Are  suitors  to  you. 

Cor.  I  beseech  you,  peace ; 

Or,  if  you'd  ask,  remember  this  before ; 

1  The  hungry  beach  is  the  sterile  beach. 

2  Though  the  scheme  to  solicit  Coriolanus  was  originally  proposed  by 
Valeria,  Plutarch  has  allotted  her  no  address  when  she  appears  with  his 
wife  and  mother  on  this  occasion.     The  Poet  has  followed  him. 

3  Jupiter  was  the  tutelary  god  of  Rome. 

4  A  flaw  is  a  violent  blast  or  sudden  gust  of  wind. 


560  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  V 

The  things,  I  have  forsworn  to  grant,  may  never 

Be  held  by  you  denials.     Do  not  bid  me 

Dismiss  my  soldiers,  or  capitulate 

Again  with  Rome's  mechanics. — Tell  me  not 

Wherein  I  seem  unnatural.     Desire  not 

To  allay  my  rages  and  revenges,  with 

Your  colder  reasons. 

Vol.  O,  no  more,  no  more  ! 

You  have  said  you  will  not  grant  us  any  thing ; 
For  we  have  nothing  else  to  ask,  but  that 
Which  you  deny  already.     Yet  we  will  ask ; 
That,  if  you  fail  in  our  request,  the  blame 
May  hang  upon  your  hardness ;  therefore  hear  us. 

Cor.    Aufidius,  and  you  Voices,  mark ;  for  we'll 
Hear  nought  from  Rome  in  private. — Your  request  ? 

Vol.    Should  we  be  silent  and  not  speak,  our  raiment, 
And  state  of  bodies,  would  bewray  what  life 
We  have  led  since  thy  exile.     Think  with  thyself, 
How  more  unfortunate  than  all  living  women 
Are  we  come  hither ;  since  that  thy  sight,  which  should 
Make  our  eyes  flow  with  joy,  hearts  dance  with  comforts, 
Constrains  them  weep,  and  shake  with  fear  and  sor 
row ; 

Making  the  mother,  wife,  and  child,  to  see 
The  son,  the  husband,  and  the  father,  tearing 
His  country's  bowels  out.     And  to  poor  we, 
Thine  enmity's  most  capital ;  thou  barr'st  us 
Our  prayers  to  the  gods,  which  is  a  comfort 
That  all  but  we  enjoy.     For  how  can  we, 
Alas  !  how  can  we  for  our  country  pray, 
Whereto  we  are  bound  ;  together  with  thy  victory, 
Whereto  we  are  bound  ?  Alack  !  or  we  must  lose 
The  country,  our  dear  nurse ;  or  else  thy  person, 
Our  comfort  in  the  country.     We  must  find 
An  evident  calamity,  though  we  had 
Our  wish,  which  side  should  win  ;  for  either  thou 
Must,  as  a  foreign  recreant,  be  led 
With  manacles  through  our  streets,  or  else 
Triumphantly  tread  on  thy  country's  ruin ; 
And  bear  the  palm,  for  having  bravely  shed 


SC.  III.]  CORIOLANUS.  561 

Thy  wife  and  children's  blood.     For  myself,  son, 
I  purpose  not  to  wait  on  fortune,  till 
These  wars  determine  ; 1  if  I  cannot  persuade  thee 
Rather  to  show  a  noble  grace  to  both  parts, 
Than  seek  the  end  of  one,  thou  shalt  no  sooner 
March  to  assault  thy  country,  than  to  tread 
(Trust  to 't,  thou  shalt  not)  on  thy  mother's  womb, 
That  brought  thee  to  this  world. 

Vir.  Ay,  and  on  mine, 

That  brought  you  forth  this  boy,  to  keep  your  name 
Living  to  time. 

Boy.  He  shall  not  tread  on  me  ; 

I'll  run  away  till  I  am  bigger,  but  then  I'll  fight. 

Cor.    Not  of  a  woman's  tenderness  to  be, 
Requires  nor  child  nor  woman's  face  to  see. 
I  have  sat  too  long.  [Rising. 

Vol.  Nay,  go  not  from  us  thus. 

If  it  were  so,  that  our  request  did  tend 
To  save  the  Romans,  thereby  to  destroy 
The  Voices  whom  you  serve,  you  might  condemn  us, 
As  poisonous  of  your  honor.     No  ;  our  suit 
Is,  that  you  reconcile  them ;  while  the  Voices 
May  say,  This  mercy  we  have  showed ;  the  Romans, 
This  we  received;  and  each  in  either  side 
Give  the  all-hail  to  thee,  and  cry,  Be  blessed 
For  making  up  this  peace !  Thou  know'st,  great  son, 
The  end  of  war's  uncertain ;  but  this  certain, 
That,  if  thou  conquer  Rome,  the  benefit 
Which  thou  shalt  thereby  reap,  is  such  a  name, 
Whose  repetition  will  be  dogged  with  curses ; 
Whose  chronicle  thus  writ, — The  man  was  noble, 
But  with  his  last  attempt  he  wiped  it  out ; 
Destroyed  his  country ;  and  his  name  remains 
To  the  ensuing  age,  abhorred.     Speak  to  me,  son. 
Thou  hast  affected  the  fine  strains  of  honor, 
To  imitate  the  graces  of  the  gods ; 
To  tear  with  thunder  the  wide  cheeks  o'the  air, 
And  yet  to  charge  thy  sulphur  with  a  bolt 

1  i.  e.  conclude,  end. 
VOL.  v.  71 


562  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  V. 

That  should  but  rive  an  oak.     Why  dost  not  speak  ? 

Think'st  thou  it  honorable  for  a  noble  man 

Still  to  remember  wrongs  ? — Daughter,  speak  you  ; 

He  cares  not  for  your  weeping. — Speak  thou,  boy ; 

Perhaps  thy  childishness  will  move  him  more 

Than  can  our  reasons. — There  is  no  man  in  the  world 

More  bound  to  his  mother :  yet  here  he  lets  me  prate 

Like  one  i'the  stocks.1     Thou  hast  never  in  thy  life 

Showed  thy  dear  mother  any  courtesy  ; 

When  she,  (poor  hen !)  fond  of  no  second  brood, 

Has  clucked  thee  to  the  wars,  and  safely  home, 

Loaden  with  honor.     Say,  my  request's  unjust, 

And  spurn  me  back ;  but,  if  it  be  not  so, 

Thou  art  not  honest ;  and  the  gods  will  plague  thee, 

That  thou  restrain'st  from  me  the  duty,  which 

To  a  mother's  part  belongs. — He  turns  away. 

Down,  ladies ;  let  us  shame  him  with  our  knees. 

To  his  surname  Coriolanus  'longs  more  pride 

Than  pity  to  our  prayers.     Down  ;  an  end. 

This  is  the  last ; — so  we  will  home  to  Rome, 

And  die  among  our  neighbors. — Nay,  behold  us  ; 

This  boy,  that  cannot  tell  what  he  would  have, 

But  kneels,  and  holds  tip  hands,  for  fellowship, 

Does  reason  our  petition 2  with  more  strength 

Than  thou  hast  to  deny't. — Come,  let  us  go ; 

This  fellow  had  a  Volcian  to  his  mother ; 

His  wife  is  in  Corioli ;  and  his  child, 

Like  him,  by  chance. — Yet  give  us  our  despatch  ; 

I  am  hushed  until  our  city  be  afire, 

And  then  I'll  speak  a  little. 

Cor.  O  mother,  mother! 

[Holding  VOLUMNIA  by  the  hands,  silent. 
What  have  you  done  ?  Behold,  the  heavens  do  ope, 
The  gods  look  down,  and  this  unnatural  scene 
They  laugh  at.     O  my  mother,  mother  !  O  ! 
You  have  won  a  happy  victory  to  Rome; 
But,  for  your  son, — believe  it,  O,  believe  it, — 


1  "  Keeps  me  in  a  state  of  ignominy,  talking  to  no  purpose." 

2  i.  e.  does  argue  for  us  and  our  petition. 


SC.  IV.J  CORIOLANUS.  563 

Most  dangerously  you  have  with  him  prevailed, 
If  not  most  mortal  to  him.     But,  let  it  come ; — 
Aufidius,  though  I  cannot  make  true  wars, 
I'll  frame  convenient  peace.     Now,  good  Aufidius, 
Were  you  in  my  stead,  say,  would  you  have  heard 
A  mother  less  ?  or  granted  less,  Aufidius  ? 

Auf.    I  was  moved  withal. 

Cor.  I  dare  be  sworn,  you  were , 

And,  sir,  it  is  no  little  thing,  to  make 
Mine  eyes  to  sweat  compassion.     But,  good  sir, 
What  peace  you'll  make,  advise  me.    For  my  part, 
I'll  not  to  Rome,  I'll  back  with  you ;  and  pray  you 
Stand  to  rne  in  this  cause. — O  mother  !  wife  ! 

Auf.  I  am  glad  thou  hast  set  thy  mercy  and  thy  honor 
At  difference  in  thee ;  out  of  that  I'll  work 
Myself  a  former  fortune.1  [Aside. 

{The  Ladies  make  signs  to  CORIOLANUS. 

Cor.  Ay,  by  and  by ; 

[To  VOLUMNIA,  VlRGILIA,  &C. 

But  we  will  drink  together  ; 2  and  you  shall  bear 

A  better  witness  back  than  words,  which  we, 

On  like  conditions,  will  have  countersealed. 

Come,  enter  with  us.     Ladies,  you  deserve 

To  have  a  temple  built  you  ;3  all  the  swords 

In  Italy,  and  her  confederate  arms, 

Could  not  have  made  this  peace.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE   IV.   Rome.     A  public  Place. 

Enter  MENENIUS  and  SICINIUS. 

Men.    See  you  yond'  coign  o'  the   Capitol ;  yond' 
corner-stone  ? 


1  « I  will  take  advantage  of  this  concession  to  restore  myself  to  my 
former  credit  and  power." 

2  Farmer  has  suggested  that  we  should,  perhaps,  read  think.    Shakspeare 
has,  however,  introduced  drinking  as  a  mark  of  confederation  in  King 
Henry  IV.  Part  ii.    The  text,  therefore,  may  be  allowed  to  stand,  though 
at  the  expense  of  female  delicacy. 

3  Plutarch  informs  us  that  a  temple  dedicated  to  the  Fortune  of  the 
Ladies  was  built,  on  this  occasion,  by  order  of  the  senate. 


564  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  V. 

Sic.   Why,  what  of  that  ? 

Men.  If  it  be  possible  for  you  to  displace  it  with 
your  little  linger,  there  is  some  hope  the  ladies  of  Rome, 
especially  his  mother,  may  prevail  with  him.  But  I 
say,  there  is  no  hope  in't ;  our  throats  are  sentenced, 
and  stay  l  upon  execution. 

Sic.  Is't  possible  that  so  short  a  time  can  alter  the 
condition  of  a  man  ? 

Men.  There  is  differency  between  a  grub  and  a 
butterfly ;  yet  your  butterfly  was  a  grub.  This  Mar- 
cius  is  grown  from  man  to  dragon  ;  he  has  wings:  he's 
more  than  a  creeping  thing. 

Sic.    He  loved  his  mother  dearly. 

Men.  So  did  he  me ;  and  he  no  more  remembers 
his  mother  now,  than  an  eight-year-old  horse.2  The 
tartness  of  his  face  sours  ripe  grapes.  When  he  walks, 
he  moves  like  an  engine,  and  the  ground  shrinks  before 
his  treading.  He  is  able  to  pierce  a  corselet  with  his 
eye ;  talks  like  a  knell,  and  his  hum  is  a  battery.  He 
sits  in  his  state,  as  a  thing  made 3  for  Alexander.  What 
he  bids  be  done,  is  finished  with  his  bidding.  He 
wants  nothing  of  a  god  but  eternity,  and  a  heaven  to 
throne  in. 

Sic.   Yes,  mercy,  if  you  report  him  truly. 

Men.  I  paint  him  in  the  character.  Mark  what 
mercy  his  mother  shall  bring  from  him.  There  is  no 
more  mercy  in  him  than  there  is  milk  in  a  male  tiger ; 
that  shall  our  poor  city  find  ;  and  all  this  is  'long  of 
you. 

Sic.    The  gods  be  good  unto  us  ! 

Men.  No,  in  such  a  case  the  gods  will  not  be  good 
unto  us.  When  we  banished  him,  we  respected  not 
them;  and,  he  returning  to  break  our  necks,  they 
respect  not  us. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Sir,  if  you'd  save  your  life,  fly  to  your  house  ; 
The  plebeians  have  got  your  fellow  tribune, 

1  i.  e.  stay  but  for  it.        2  Sub-intelligetur — remembers  his  dam. 
3  That  is,  as  one  made  to  resemble  Alexander. 


SC.  IV.]  CORIOLANUS.  565 

And  hale  him  up  and  down ;  all  swearing,  if 
The  Roman  ladies  bring  not  comfort  home, 
They'll  give  him  death  by  inches. 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

Sic.  What's  the  news  ? 

Mess.    Good  news,  good   news. — The  ladies  have 

prevailed. 

The  Voices  are  dislodged,  and  Marcius  gone : 
A  merrier  day  did  never  yet  greet  Rome, 
No,  not  the  expulsion  of  the  Tarquins. 

Sic.  Friend, 

Art  thou  certain  this  is  true  ?  Is  it  most  certain  ? 

Mess.    As  certain  as  I  know  the  sun  is  fire. 
Where  have  you  lurked,  that  you  make  doubt  of  it  ? 
Ne'er  through  an  arch  so  hurried  the  blown  tide,1 
As  the  recomforted  through  the  gates.     Why,  hark  you  ; 
[Trumpets  and  hautboys  sounded,   and   drums 

beaten,  all  together.     Shouting  also  within. 
The  trumpets,  sackbuts,  psalteries,  and  fifes, 
Tabors,  and  cymbals,  and  the  shouting  Romans, 
Make  the  sun  dance.     Hark  you  !       [Shouting  again. 

Men.  This  is  good  news  ; 

I  will  go  meet  the  ladies.     This  Volumnia 
Is  worth  of  consuls,  senators,  patricians, 
A  city  full ;  of  tribunes,  such  as  you, 
A  sea  and  land  full.     You  have  prayed  well  to-day  ; 
This  morning,  for  ten  thousand  of  your  throats 
I'd  not  have  given  a  doit.     Hark,  how  they  joy  ! 

[Shouting  and  music. 

Sic.    First,  the  gods  bless  you  for  your  tidings  ;  next, 
Accept  my  thankfulness. 

Mess.  Sir,  we  have  all 

Great  cause  to  give  great  thanks. 

Sic.  They  are  near  the  city  ? 

Mess.    Almost  at  point  to  enter. 

1  "  As  through  an  arch  the  violent,  roaring  tide 
Outruns  the  eye  that  doth  behold  his  haste." 

Rape  ofLucrece. 


566  CORLOLANUS.  [ACT  V. 

Sic.  We  will  meet  them, 

And  help  the  joy.  .  [Going. 

Enter  the  Ladies,  accompanied  by  Senators,  Patricians, 

and  People.     They  pass  over  the  stage. 
1  Sen.    Behold  our  patroness,  the  life  of  Rome. 
Call  all  jour  tribes  together,  praise  the  gods, 
And    make    triumphant   fires;     strew    flowers    before 

them ; 

Unshout  the  noise  that  banished  Marcius, 
Repeal !  him  with  the  welcome  of  his  mother  : 
Cry, — Welcome ,  ladies,  welcome ! — 

All.  Welcome,  ladies ! 

Welcome  !  [A  flourish  with  drums  and  trumpets. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  V.     Antium.     A  public  Place. 

Enter  TULLUS  AUFIDIUS,  with   Attendants. 

Auf.    Go  tell  the  lords  of  the  city,  I  am  here. 
Deliver  them  this  paper  :   having  read  it, 
Bid  them  repair  to  the  market-place ;  where  I, 
Even  in  theirs  and  in  the  commons'  ears, 
Will  vouch  the  truth  of  it.     Him  I  accuse,2 
The  city  ports 3  by  this  hath  entered,  and 
Intends  to  appear  before  the  people,  hoping 
To  purge  himself  with  words.     Despatch. 

[Exeunt  Attendants 

Enter  three  or  four  Conspirators  of  AuMius*  faction. 

Most  welcome  ! 

1  Con.    How  is  it  with  our  general  ? 

Auf.  Even  so, 

As  with  a  man  by  his  own  alms  empoisoned, 
And  with  his  charity  slain. 

2  Con.  Most  noble  sir, 
If  you  do  hold  the  same  intent  wherein 

i  Recall.  2  i.  e.  he  whom  I  accuse.  3  Ports  are  gates. 


SC.  V.]  CORIOLANUS.  567 

You  wished  us  parties,  we'll  deliver  you 
Of  jour  great  danger.     » 

Auf.  Sir,  I  cannot  tell ; 

We  must  proceed  as  we  do  find  the  people. 

3  Con.    The  people  will  remain  uncertain,  whilst 
'Twixt  you  there's  difference  ;  but  the  fall  of  either 
Makes  the  survivor  heir  of  all. 

Auf.  I  know  it : 

And  my  pretext  to  strike  at  him  admits 
A  good  construction.     I  raised  him,  and  I  pawned 
Mine  honor  for  his  truth  ;  who  being  so  heightened, 
He  watered  his  new  plants  with  dews  of  flattery, 
Seducing  so  my  friends  ;  and,  to  this  end, 
He  bowed  his  nature,  never  known  before 
But  to  be  rough,  unswayable,  and  free. 

3  Con.    Sir,  his  stoutness, 
When  he  did  stand  for  consul,  which  he  lost 
By  lack  of  stooping, 

Auf.  That  I  would  have  spoke  of. 

Being  banished  for't,  he  came  unto  my  hearth  ; 
Presented  to  my  knife  his  throat.     1  took  him ; 
Made  him  joint  servant  with  me  ;  gave  him  way 
In  all  his  own  desires ;  nay,  let  him  choose 
Out  of  my  files,  his  projects  to  accomplish, 
My  best  and  freshest  men  ;  served  his  designments 
In  mine  own  person ;  holp  to  reap  the  fame, 
Which  he  did  end  all  his  ;  and  took  some  pride 
To  do  myself  this  wrong  :  till,  at  the  last, 
I  seemed  his  follower,  not  partner ;  and 
He  waged  me  with  his  countenance,1  as  if 
I  had  been  mercenary. 

1  Con.                           So  he  did,  my  lord  ; 
The  army  marvelled  at  it.     And,  in  the  last, 
When  he  had  carried  Rome ;  and  that  we  looked 
For  no  less  spoil,  than  glory, 

Auf.  There  was  it ; 

1  The  verb  to  wage  was  formerly  in  general  use  for  to  stipend,  to 
reward.    The  meaning  is,  "  The  countenance  he  gave  me  was  a  kind  of 


wages." 


568  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  V. 

For  which  my  sinews  shall  be  stretched  upon  him.1 
At  a  few  drops  of  women's  rhfum,  which  are 
As  cheap  as  lies,  he  sold  the  blood  and  labor 
Of  our  great  action ;  therefore  shall  he  die, 
And  I'll  renew  me  in  his  fall.     But,  hark ! 

[Drums  and  trumpets  sound,  with  great 
shouts  of  the  people. 

1  Con.   Your  native  town  you  entered  like  a  post, 
And  had  no  welcomes  home  ;  but  he  returns, 
Splitting  the  air  with  noise. 

2  Con.  And  patient  fools, 
Whose  children  he  hath  slain,  their  base  throats  tear, 
With  giving  him  glory. 

3  Con.  Therefore,  at  your  vantage, 
Ere  he  express  himself,  or  move  the  people 

With  what  he  would  say,  let  him  feel  your  sword, 
Which  we  will  second.     When  he  lies  along, 
After  your  way  his  tale  pronounced,  shall  bury 
His  reasons  with  his  body. 

Auf.  Say  no  more ; 

Here  come  the  lords. 


Enter  the  Lords  of  the  city. 

Lords.   You  are  most  welcome  home. 

Auf.  I  have  not  deserved  it. 

But,  worthy  lords,  have  you  with  heed  perused 
What  I  have  written  to  you  ? 

Lords.  We  have. 

1  Lord.  And  grieve  to  hear  it. 

What  faults  he  made  before  the  last,  I  think, 
Might  have  found  easy  fines  ;  but  there  to  end 
Where  he  was  to  begin  ;  and  give  away 
The  benefit  of  our  levies,  answering  us 
With  our  own  charge  ; 2  making  a  treaty,  where 
There  was  a  yielding ;  this  admits  no  excuse. 

Auf.    He  approaches ;  you  shall  hear  him. 

1  "  This  is  the  point  on  which  I  will  attack  him  with  all  my  energy." 

2  "  Rewarding  us  with  our  own  expenses,  making  the  cost  of  the  war 
its  recompense." 


SC.  V.]  CORIOLANUS.  569 

Enter  CORIOLANUS,  with  drums  and  colors ;  a  crowd 
of  Citizens  with  him. 

Cor.    Hail,  lords  !  I  am  returned  your  soldier ; 
No  more  infected  with  my  country's  love, 
Than  when  I  parted  hence,  but  still  subsisting 
Under  your  great  command.     You  are  to  know, 
That  prosperously  I  have  attempted,  and 
With  bloody  passage,  led  your  wars,  even  to 
The  gates  of  Rome.     Our  spoils  we  have  brought  home, 
Do  more  than  counterpoise,  a  full  third  part, 
The  charges  of  the  action.     We  have  made  peace 
With  no  less  honor  to  the  Antiates, 
Than  shame  to  the  Romans.     And  we  here  deliver, 
Subscribed  by  the  consuls  and  patricians, 
Together  with  the  seal  o'the  senate,  what 
We  have  compounded  on. 

Auf.  Read  it  not,  noble  lords ; 

But  tell  the  traitor,  in  the  highest  degree 
He  hath  abused  your  powers. 

Cor.    Traitor ! — How  now  ? 

Auf.  Ay,  traitor,  Marcius. 

Cor.  Marcius ! 

Auf.   Ay,  Marcius,  Caius  Marcius.     Dost  thou  think 
I'll  grace  thee  with  that  robbery,  thy  stolen  name 
Coriolanus  in  Corioli  ? — 
You  lords  and  heads  of  the  state,  perfidiously 
He  has  betrayed  your  business,  and  given  up, 
For  certain  drops  of  salt,  your  city  Rome, 
(I  say,  your  city,)  to  his  wife  and  mother ; 
Breaking  his  oath  and  resolution,  like 
A  twist  of  rotten  silk ;  never  admitting 
Counsel  o'  the  war ;  but  at  his  nurse's  tears 
He  whined  and  roared  away  your  victory ; 
That  pages  blushed  at  him,  and  men  of  heart 
Looked  wondering  each  at  other. 

Cor.  Hear'st  thou,  Mars  ? 

Auf.   Name  not  the  god,  thou  boy  of  tears, — 

Cor.  Ha! 

VOL.  v.  72 


570  CORIOLANUS.  [ACT  V. 

Auf.   No  more.1 

Cor.   Measureless  liar,  thou  hast  made  my  heart 
Too  great  for  what  contains  it.     Boy !  O  slave  ! — 
Pardon  me,  lords,  'tis  the  first  time  that  ever 
I  was  forced  to  scold.     Your  judgments,  my  grave  lords, 
Must  give  this  cur  the  lie ;  and  his  own  notion 
(Who  wears  my  stripes  impressed  on  him ;  that  must 

bear 

My  beating  to  his  grave)  shall  join  to  thrust 
The  lie  unto  him. 

1  Lord.  Peace,  both,  and  hear  me  speak. 
Cor.    Cut  me  to  pieces,  Voices ;  men  and  lads, 

Stain  all  your  edges  on  me. — Boy !     False  hound ! 
If  you  have  writ  your  annals  true,  'tis  there, 
That,  like  an  eagle  in  a  dovecote,  I 
Fluttered  your  Voices  in  Corioli : 
Alone  I  did  it. — Boy  ! 

Auf.  Why,  noble  lords, 

Will  you  be  put  in  mind  of  his  blind  fortune, 
Which  was  your  shame,  by  this  unholy  braggart, 
'Fore  your  own  eyes  and  ears  ? 

Con.    Let  him  die  for't.  [Several  speak  at  once. 

Cit.  [Speaking  promiscuously.]  Tear  him  to  pieces  ; 
do  it  presently.  He  killed  my  son  ; — my  daughter ; — 
He  killed  my  cousin  Marcus  ; — He  killed  my  father  ! — 

2  Lord.    Peace,  ho  ; — no  outrage  ; — peace. 
The  man  is  noble,  and  his  fame  folds  in 
This  orb  o'the  earth.2     His  last  offence  to  us 
Shall  have  judicious 3  hearing. — Stand,  Aufidius, 
And  trouble  not  the  peace. 

Cor.  O  that  I  had  him, 

With  six  Aufidiuses,  or  more,  his  tribe, 
To  use  my  lawful  sword ! 

Auf.  Insolent  villain ! 


1  This  must  be  considered  as  continuing  the  former  speech  of  Aufidius ; 
he  means  to  tell  Coriolanus  that  he  was  "no  more  than  a  boy  of  tears." 

2  "  His  fame  overspreads  the  world." 

3  "  Judicious,  in  the  present  instance,  means  judicial ;  it  appears  from 
Bullokar's  Expositor  that  the  words  were  convertible." 


SC.  V.]  COR10LANUS.  571 

Con.   Kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill  him. 

[AuriDius  and  the  Conspirators  draw  and  kill 

CORIOLANUS,  who  falls,  and  AUFIDIUS  stands 

on  him. 

Lords.  Hold,  hold,  hold,  hold. 

Auf.   My  noble  masters,  hear  me  speak. 

1  Lord.  O  Tullus  !— 

2  Lord.    Thou  hast  done  a  deed  whereat  valor  will 

weep. 

3  Lord.   Tread  not  upon  him. — Masters  all,  be  quiet; 
Put  up  your  swords. 

Auf.  My  lords,  when  you  shall  know  (as  in  this  rage, 
Provoked  by  him,  you  cannot)  thje  great  danger 
Which  this  man's  life  did  owe  you,  you'll  rejoice 
That  he  is  thus  cut  off.     Please  it  your  honors 
To  call  me  to  your  senate,  I'll  deliver 
Myself  your  loyal  servant,  or  endure 
Your  heaviest  censure. 

1  Lord.  Bear  from  hence  his  body, 
And  mourn  you  for  him ;  let  him  be  regarded 

As  the  most  noble  corse  that  ever  herald 
Did  follow  to  his  urn.1 

2  Lord.  His  own  impatience 
Takes  from  Aufidius  a  great  part  of  blame. 
Let's  make  the  best  of  it. 

Auf.  My  rage  is  gone, 

And  I  am  struck  with  sorrow. — Take  him  up : 
Help,  three  o'the  chiefest  soldiers  ;  I'll  be  one. — 
Beat  thou  the  drum  that  it  speak  mournfully ; 
Trail  your  steel  pikes. — Though  in  this  city  he 
Hath  widowed  and  unchilded  many  a  one, 
Which  to  this  hour  bewail  the  injury, 
Yet  he  shall  have  a  noble  memory.2 — 
Assist.         [Exeunt,  bearing  the  body  of  CORIOLANUS. 
A  dead  march  sounded. 


1  This  allusion  is  to  a  custom  which  was  observed  in  the  public  funerals 
of  English  princes,  at  the  conclusion  of  which  a  herald  proclaims  the  stylo 
of  the  deceased. 

2  Memorial.    See  Act  iv.  Sc.  5. 


572 


THE  tragedy  of  Coriolanus  is  one  of  the  most  amusing  of  our  author's 
performances.  The  old  man's  merriment  in  Menenius ;  the  lofty  lady's 
dignity  in  Volumnia  ;  the  bridal  modesty  in  Virgil  ia ;  the  patrician  and 
military  haughtiness  in  Coriolanus ;  the  plebeian  malignity  and  tribunitian 
insolence  in  Brutus  and  Sicinius, — make  a  very  pleasing  and  interesting 
variety ;  and  the  various  revolutions  of  the  hero's  fortune  fill  the  mind 
with  anxious  curiosity.  There  is,  perhaps,  too  much  bustle  in  the  first 
act,  and  too  little  in  the  last  JOHNSON. 


END    OF    VOL.    V. 


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