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,,:' 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEAIIE'S 


COMPLETE  WOKKS, 


A 


DEAMATIC  AND   TOETIC: 


TnE    IE.-;:    ru--t:    iriy 


CORRECTED  COPY  OP  THE  LATE  GEOUfJE  STEEVENS.  ESI 


W  I  T  I? 

GLOSSARIAL  NOTES  AXI)  A'sKKTril  OF  THE  Al'TIlOlt'S  LIFE. 


COPIOUSLY    lLLi:STlIATi:i). 


VOL.  1. 


/ 

V 

\  '> 

n  A  R  T 1'-  0Kb: 

SILAS    ANDRUS    AND    !S  O  .N 

~ix.:.'2. 


TO  \i^\'f  ^'O^K 

PUBLIC  LIBRARY 

A8TOR,  LENOX  AND 

TILDEM  FOUNDATIONS 

R  1025  L 


•  •    • 


•  «     *  •      • 


-  •    •    • . 


r-N 


SKETCH  OF  THE  LIFE 


OF 


SHAKSPEARE. 


WiLUAM  SHAKSPEARE  wu  bom  at  Strat- 
ford-upcxi-Ayai,  in  Warwickshire,  oo  die  23d  day 
of  April,  1564.  His  family  was  above  the  vulgar 
rank.  His  father,  John  Shakspeare,  was  a  con- 
siderable dealer  in  wool,  and  had  been  an  officer 
of  the  corporadon  of  Stratford.  He  was  likewise 
a  justice  of  the  peace,  and  at  one  time  a  man  of 
coo&iderable  property.  This  last,  however,  ap- 
pears to  have  been  lost  by  some  means,  in  the  latter 
part  of  his  life.  His  wife  was  the  daughter  and 
heiress  of  Robert  Arden,  of  Wellington,  ui  the 
county  of  Warwick,  by  whom  he  had  a  family  of 
ten  children. 

Our  illustrious  poet  was  die  eldest  son,  and  was 
educated,  probably,  at  the  free-school  of  Stratford ; 
bat  from  this  he  was  soon  removed,  and  placed  in 
the  office  of  some  country  attorney.  The  exact 
amount  of  his  education  has  been  long  a  subject 
of  controversy.  It  is  generally  agreed,  that  he  did 
not  enjoy  what  is  usually  termed  a  literary  educa- 
tion ;  but  he  certainly  knew  enough  of  L^tin  and 
French  to  introduce  scraps  of  both  in  his  plays, 
without  blunder  or  impropriety. 

l^lien  about  eighteen  years  old,  be  married 
Anne  Hathaway,  who  was  eight  years  older  than 
himsel£  His  conduct  soon  after  this  marriage  was 
not  very  correct  Being  detected  with  a  gahg  of 
deer-stealers,  in  robbing  ^be  paric  of  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy,  of  Charlecote,  npar  Stratford,  he  was  obli- 
ged to  leave  his  &mily  and  business,  and  take 
abelter  in  London. 

He  was  twenty-two  years  of  age  when  he  arrived 
in  Londcm,  and  is  said  to  have  made  his  first  ac- 
quaintance in  the  play-house.  Here  his  necessiticb 
obliged  him  to  accept  the  office  of  call-boy,  or 
prompter's  attendant ;  who  is  appointed  to  give  the 
performers  notice  to  be  ready,  as  often  as  the  busi- 
ness of  the  play  requires  their  appearance  on  the 
stage.  According  to  .another  account,  far  less 
probable,  his  first  employment  was  to  wait  at  the 
door  of  the  play-house,  and  hold  the  horses  of  those 
who  bad  no  servants,  that  they  might  be  ready  af- 


ter the  performance.  But  in  whatever  situatioo  he 
was  first  employed  at  the  theatre,  he  appears  to 
have  soon  discovered  those  talents  which  afterwards 
made  him 

*  Th*  applause,  deligl^  the  wonder,  of  our  itaf  e. 

Some  distinction  he  probably  first  acquired  as 
an  actor,  but  no  character  has  been  discovered  in 
which  he  appeared  to  more  advantage  than  in 
that  of  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet :  and  the  best  critics 
and  inquirers  into  his  life  are  of  opinion,  that  he 
was  not  eminent  as  an  actor.  In  tracing  the 
chronology  of  his  plays,  it  has  been  discovered, 
that  Romeo  and  Juliet,  and  Richard  II.  and  HI., 
were  printed  in  1597,  when  he  was  thirty-three 
years  old.  There  is  also  some  reason  to  think  that 
he  commenced  a  dramatic  writer  in  1592,  and 
Mr.  Malone  even  places  his  first  play.  The  First 
Part  of  Henry  VI.,  in  1589. 

His  plays  were  not  only  popular  but  approved 
by  persons  of  the  higher  order,  as  we  are  certain 
that  he  enjoyed  the  gracious  favour  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  who  was  very  fond  of  the  stage;  the 
patronage  of  the  Earl  of  Southampton,  to  whom 
he  dedicated  some  of  his  poems;  and  of  King 
James,  who  wrote  a  very  gracious  letter  to  him 
with  his  own  hand,  probably  in  return  for  the  com- 
pliment Shakspeare  had  paid  to  his  majesty  in  the 
tragedy  of  Macbeth.  It  may  be  added,  that  his 
uncommon  merit,  his  candour,  and  good-nature 
are  supposed  to  have  procured  him  the  admiration 
and  acquaintance  of  every  person  distinguished 
for  such  qualities.  It  is  not  difficult,  indeed,  to 
trace,  that  Shakspeare  was  a  man  of  humour,  and 
a  social  companion ;  and  probably  excelled  in  that 
species  of  minor  wit,  not  ill  adapted  to  conversa- 
tion, of  which  it  could  have  been  wished  he  had 
been  more  sparing  in  his  writings. 

How  long  he  acted,  has  not  been  discovered ; 
but  he  continued  to  write  till  the  year  1614.  Durii^ 
his  dramatic  career,  he  acquired  a  property  in  the 
theatre,  which  he  must  have  disposed  of  when  he 
retired,  as  no  mention  of  it  occurs  in  his  will.    Thp 


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l^nr-irtje,  br  Sir  Husb  Cloptaa.  who  WBt  b  bsr-   :o  Dr.  Jobn  Hall,  b  phrnfiui.  who  cjed  Nov. 

riifl^,  wBf  kaidited  bj  Gcoire  L  and  died  in  fhei  Idjo,  Bcrd  fiO.    Mtil  HbII  died  Ju)t  11,  1649, 

8(Hb  vcfir  cf  hi^  bec,  1751.    His  eKecnior,  Bbout'.  2i£.cd  titl    TVt  leA  cnUr  one  chiid.  EIItBbeih, 

the  reBT  1752,  Kild  .Vew  FIbcc  to  the  Rer.  Mr.j  bona   1607-$,  Bni  marrioi    A^nl  22.    16^  10 

GBitreL,  b  man  of  Ibrn  fartnoe,  who  readed  in  il  j  Thcntu  Nsshe,  eK).  who  died  in  lt^7 :  Bod  afier* 

but  B  iew  vean,  m  ooDseqpenoe  of  b  disBgreenient .  ward^i  to  Sir  John  Bamara,  ol'  .\baurtcn  in  Nonh- 

trilh  the  inhabatants  of  StratfoitL     At  he  resded   amptonsbiiv,  bol  died  withoat  isnie  br  either  ho»- 

pBTtof  the  rear  at  LidiSeld,  he  dioaeht  he  was!  band.    Jadidi,  Shak5pf£re*f  roundest  daughter, 

aMe«M.d  too  higiik  in  the  moothlr  rate  towaid*  the  j. «« a5  married  to  Mr.  Thomas  Quincv,  end  dk-d 

maintMiaDoe  cf  the  poor,  and  bein^  opposed,  he-  Feb.  1661-2,  in  her  77th  rear.    Br  Mr.  Quiner 

pBerivblr  declared,  that  that  house  ihoald  never'  i^he  had  three  »n»,  Shakjcprare,  Richard,   and 

be  BHewtd  Bjrain;  and  toon  aiierwards  pulled  in,  Tlxxnas.  who  all  died  unmarried.   Tbe  traditional 

dcmro,  sold  the  materials,  and  left  the  town.    He:.5tonr  of  Shak$peaiv  haAix^  been  the  uihcr  of  Sir 

bad  Mjme  time  before  cut  down  Shakspeare^s  mul- '  \Mlliam  Darcnant,  has  been  generally  discredited. 

bern'-tree,  to  tare  himself  the  trouble  of  ihowinj:  I 


it  to  vi^tr^n.     That  Siakspearc  planted  this  trre ! 


From  diese  imperfect  notices,*  which  are  all 


appears  to  be  suflicientlj  authenticated.    Where:  we  hare  been  able  to  collect  from  the  labours  of 


New  Place  ftciod  is  now  a  garden. 

Durin]^  Sbakspeare^i  abode  In  this  bouse,  he 
CDJf^ed  the  acquaintance  and  fiicndnhip  of  the! 
gCDliemcn  of  the  nctgfabouihood ;  and  here  he! 
b  thought  to  hate  written  the  plaj  of  TwclfUi 
Ifi^    He  died  on  hin  birlh-dar,  Tuesday,  Aim! 


I  his  biop^phen  and  commentators,  our  rpadors 
{will  perceive  that  less  is  known  of  Shakspcare 
'  dian  of  almost  any  wrHer  who  has  been  con»ider- 

*  Tb«  6nt  rrpilar  altrmpt  at  a  life  of  Shaktpeare 
ts  prvfixrd  to  Mr.  A.  ChiJiDen*t  Tftroraa  edition, 
published  in  ISOS,  of  which  we  have  availed  ourselvos 
in  the  above  Sketch 


SKETCH  OF  THE  LIFE  OF  SHAESFEARE. 


cd  as  an  object  of  laudable  conoaity.  Nothing 
ooold  be  more  highly  gratifying,  than  an  account 
of  the  early  studies  of  diis  wonderful  man,  the 
progieas  of  his  pen,  his  moral  and  social  qualities, 
bis  friendships,  his  failings,  and  whatever  else  coo- 
■titntes  personal  history.  But  on  all  these  topics 
his  contemporaries,  and  his  immediate  successors, 
haye  been  equally  silent ;  and  if  aught  can  here- 
after  be  discovered,  it  must  be  by  exploring 
sources  which  have  hitherto  escaped  the  anxious 
researches  of  those  who  have  devoted  their  whole 
lives,  and  their  roost  vigorous  talents,  to  revive  his 
memory,  and  illustrate  his  writings. 

It  is  equally  unfortunate,  that  we  know  as  little 
of  the  progress  of  hb  writings,  as  of  his  pernonal 


history.  The  industry  of  his  illustrators  for  the 
last  forty  years,  has  been  such  as  probably  never 
was  surpassed  in  the  annals  of  literary  investiga- 
tion; yet  so  &r  are  we  from  information  of  the 
conclusive  or  satisfactory  kind,  that  even  the  order 
in  which  his  plays  were  written  rests  principally 
on  conjecture,  and  of  some  of  the  pla}'s  usually 
printed  anxxig  his  woi^  it  is  not  yet  determined 
whether  he  wrote  the  whole,  or  any  part  Wc 
are,  however,  indebted  to  the  labours  o£  his  com- 
mentators, not  only  for  much  light  thrown  upon  his 
obscurities,  but  for  a  text  purified  from  the  gro«a 
blunders  of  preceding  transcribers  and  editors: 
and  it  is  ahnost  unnecessary  to  add,  tlmt  the  text 
of  the  following  volumes  is  that  of  the  last  correct- 
ed edition  of  Jdinson  and  Steevens. 


THE   TEMPEST.     AclI.—  iictM2, 
vm,  I,— p.  7. 


TWO    (iENTLEWEN    OF   VERONA.     Aa  V.  —  Setm  i. 


TEMPEST. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Alofiflo,  king  qf  ^aplet. 

Sebastian,  fus  brother. 

Praspero,  the  rightful  duke  of  Milan, 

Antonio,  hia  brother,  the  usurnvw  duke  qf  Milan. 

Ferdinand,  son  to  the  king  qf  .Apples. 

Gonzalo,  on  honest  old  counsellor  qf  J^aplet, 

Francisco,  ) 

Caliban,  a  savage  and  deformed  slave. 
Trinculo,  a  jester. 
Stephano,  a  drunken  butler. 
Master  of  a  sMp,  Boatswain,  and  Mariners. 


Miranda,  daughter  to  Prospero, 

Ariel,  an  airy  ^piriU 
Iris,  \ 

Ceres,       / 
Juno,         >  spirits. 
Nymphs,    W 
Reapers,    / 

Other  spirits  attending  on  Prospero. 

Scene,  the  sea,  with  a  ship  ;  afterwards  an  imn^ 
habited  tdand. 


ACT  L 

SCE^TE  I.^-On  a  t^  at  sett.  A  stornij  with 
thunder  and  Ughining.  Enter  a  Ship-master 
and  a  Boatswain. 

Master, 

Boatswain,— 

Boats.  Here,  master:  what  cheer? 

Mast  Good :  speak  .to  the  mariners :  fall  to*t 
J&relji,  or  we  ran  oarselres  aground :  bestir,  be- 
stir. [Exit. 

Enter  Mariners. 

Boats.  Heigh,  my  hearts ;  cheerly,  cheerly,  my 
hearts ;  yare,  yare :  take  in  the  top-sail :  tend  to 
the  master's  whistle. — ^Blow,  till  tnou  burst  thy 
wind,  i/room  enough ! 

Enter  Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antonio,  Ferdmand, 
Gonzalo,  and  others. 

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

Boats.  I  pray  now,  keep  below. 

ArU.  Where  is  the  master,  boatswain  ? 

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

Cron.  Nay,  good,  be  patient 

Boats.  When  the  sea  is.  Hence!  What  care 
these  roarers  for  the  name  of  king?  To  cabin :  si- 
lence :  trouble  us  not 

Oon.  Good;  yet  remember  whom  dxra  hast 
aboard. 

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

Chn.  I  have  gpreat  comfort  from  tlus  fellow :  me- 
diinks  be  hath  no  drowning  mark  upon  him ;  his 
JomplexioQ  is  perfect  gallows.    Stand  hst,  good 

(1)  Readily.    (2)  Present  initant 


fate,  to  his  hanging !  make  the  rope  of  his  destiny 
our  cable,  for  our  own  doth  little  aovantage .'  If  be 
be  not  bora  to  be  hanged,  our  case  is  miserable. 

[E^xeuni 
Re-enter  BcBiswmiL 

Boats.  Down  with  the  top-mast;  yare;  lower, 
lower ;  bring  her  to  tiy  with  main  course.  [A  cry 
within.}  A  plague  upon  this  howling !  they  are 
louder  man  the  weather,  or  our  office. — 

Re-enter  Sebastian,  Antonio,  and  Gonzala 

Yet  a£ain  ?  what  do  you  here  ?  Shall  we  give  o*er, 
and  arown  ?    Have  you  a  mind  to  sink  ? 

Seb.  A  pox  o*  your  throat !  you  bawling,  blas- 
phemous, uncharitable  dog  I 

Boats.  Work  you,  then. 

Ant.  Hang,  cur,  hang !  you  whoreson,  insolent 
noise-maker,  we  are  less  afraid  to  be  drowned  than 
thou  art 

Gon.  1*11  warrant  him  from  drowmng;  though 
the  ship  were  no  stronger  than  a  nut-shell,  and  as 
leaky  as  an  unstaunched'  wench. 

Boats.  Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold;  set  her  two 
courses;  off  tosea  again,  lay  her  off. 

Enter  Mariners,  wet 

Mar,  Ajl  lost !  to  prayers,  to  prayers !  all  lost ! 

,    [Exeunt 
Boats.  What,  must  our  mouths  be  cola  ? 
Oon,  The  king  and  prince  at  prayers .'  let  as 
assist  tl]^. 
For  our  case  is  as  thein. 
Seb.  I  am  out  of  patience. 
Ant  We  are  merely^  cheated  oi  our  lives  by 
drunkards.— 
This  wide-chapped  rascal ;— ^oold,  thoa  mighfst 

liedrownfaig. 
The  washing  of  ten  tides ! 

Oon.  He*ll  be  hanged  yet ; 

Thou^  every  drop  of  water  swear  against  it. 
And  gape  at  wid*st  to  glut  him. 
[A  eorfkised  noise  wUhin,]    Mercy  on  us ! — ^We 
split,  we  split ! — Farewell,  m^  wife  and  children ! — 
Farewell,  brother !— We  spht,  we  split,  we  split— 

(3)  IncoQtineDt         (4)  Absolately. 


8 


TEMPEST. 


AetT 


Ani,  Let*8  all  sink  with  the  long.  [Exit 

&6.  Let*8  take  leave  of  him.  [Exit. 

Ocn.  Now  would  I  give  a  thousand  Airlongs  of 
for  an  acre  of  barren  ground ;  long  heath,  brown 
furxe,  anv  thing :  the  wills  above  be  done .'  but  I 
would  fam  die  a  dry  death.  [Exit. 

SCEJ^E  IL—Tfu  island:  before  iht  eeU  qf 
Prospero.  JEn^erProspero  and  Miranda. 

JiHr.  If  by  your  art,  my  dearest  father,  you  have 
Put  the  wild  waters  in  this  roar,  allay  them : 
The  sky,  it  seems,  would  pour  down  stinking  pitch, 
But  that  the  sea,  mounting  to  the  welkin's  cheek, 
Dashes  the  fire  out    O,  I  nave  sufier*d 
With  those  that  I  saw  suffer !  a  brave  vessel, 
Who  had  no  doubt  some  noble  creatures  in  her, 
DashM  all  to  pieces.    O,  the  ciy  did  knock 
Against  my  very  heart !  Poor  souls !  they  perishM. 
Had  I  been  any  god  of  power,  I  would 
Have  sunk  the  sea  within  the  earth,  or  e*ert 
It  should  the  good  ship  so  have  swallowM,  and 
The  freighting  souls  within  her. 

Pro,  Be  collected ; 

No  more  amaiement :  tell  your  piteous  heart. 
There's  no  harm  done. 

Jtftra.  O,  wo  the  day ! 

Pro.  No  hann. 

I  have  done  nothing  but  in  care  of  thee, 
(Of  thee,  my  dear  one !  thee,  my  daughter  .*)  who 
Art  ienorant  of  what  thou  art,  nought  knowing 
Of  whence  I  am ;  nor  that  I  am  more  better 
Than  Prospero,  master  of  a  full  poor  cell, 
And  thy  no  greater  &ther. 

Mira.  More  to  know 

Did  never  meddle  with  my  thoughts. 

Pro.  *Tis  time 

I  should  infomi  thee  further.    Lend  thy  hand. 
And  plack  my  magic  gannent  from  me. — So ; 

[Layt  down  his  mantie. 
lie  there  my  art — ^Wipe  thou  thine  eyes;  have 

comfort 
The  direful  spectacle  of  the  wreck,  which  touch*d 
The  very  virtue  of  compassion  in  thee, 
I  have  with  such  provision  in  mine  art 
So  safely  ordered,  that  there  is  no  SOUI7- 
No,  not  so  much  perdition  as  a  hair, 
Betid  to  any  creature  in  the  vessel 
Which  thou  heard*st  ciy,  which  thou  saw'st  sink. 

Sit  down ; 
For  thou  must  now  know  further. 

JUtro.  Tou  hare  often 

B^nn  to  tell  me  what  I  am ;  but  stopped 
And  left  me  to  a  bootless  inquisition ; 
Coocludii^,  Stay,  not  yet. — 

Pro.  The  hour's  now  come ; 

The  veiy  minute  bids  thee  ope  thine  ear ; 
Obey,  and  be  attentive.    Canst  thou  remember 
A  time  before  we  came  unto  this  cell  f 
I  do  not  think  thou  canst ;  for  then  thou  wast  not 
Ou^  three  years  old. 

Jtfira.  Certainly,  sir,  I  can. 

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

.Wm*.  Tisferoff; 

And  rather  like  a  dream  than  an  assurance 
That  my  remembrance  warrants :  had  I  not 
Four  or  five  women  once,  ^t  tended  me  ? 

Pro,  Thouhadst,  and  more,  Miranda:  bat  how 

H  It, 

That  tilus  lives  ia  Ay  mmd'  What  leert  thou  else 
(l)Befi)ra.       (2)Quita.       (3)AbjiL 


In  the  daik  backward  and  abysm'  of  time  ? 

if  thou  remember'st  aught,  ere  thou  cam'st  here. 

How  thou  cam'st  here,  thou  may'st 

Mira.  But  that  I  do  not 

Pro.  Twelve  years  since, 
Miranda,  twelve  years  since,  thy  father  was 
The  duke  of  Milan,  and  a  prince  of  power. 

Mira.  Sir,  arc  not  you  my  father ' 

Pro.  Thy  mother  was  a  piece  of  virtue,  and 
She  said — thou  wast  my  daughter ;  and  thy  father 
Was  duke  of  Milan ;  and  his  only  heir 
A  princess ; — no  worse  issued. 

Mira.  O,  the  heavens  ! 

Wliat  foul  play  had  we,  that  we  came  from  thence? 
Or  blessed  wasH  we  did  ? 

Pro.  Both,  both,  my  giri : 

By  foul  play,  as  thou  say'st,  were  we  heavM  thence; 
But  blessedly  holp  hither. 

Mira.  O,  my  heart  bleeds 

To  think  o*  the  tecn^  that  I  have  tuniM  you  to. 
Which  is  from  my  remembrance!  Please  you  further. 

Pro.  My  brother,  and  thy  tmcle,  calPd  Antonio, — 
I  pray  thee,  mark  me, — that  a  brother  should 
Be  so  perfidious ! — ^he  whom,  next  thyself, 
Of  all  the  world  I  lov'd,  and  to  him  put 
The  manaee  of  my  state ;  as,  at  that  time. 
Through  all  the  signiories  it  was  the  first, 
And  Prospero  the  prime  duke ;  being  so  reputed 
In  dignity,  and,  for  the  liberal  arts. 
Without  a  parallel ;  those  being  all  my  study. 
The  government  I  cast  upon  my  brother. 
And  to  my  state  grew  stranger,  beinr  transported, 
And  wrapt  in  secret  studies.    Thy  false  uncle- 
Dost  thou  attend  me  ? 

Jlftra.  Sir,  most  heedfully. 

Pro.  Being  once  perfected  how  to  grant  suits, 
How  to  deny  them ;  whom  to  advance,  and  whom 
To  trash^  for  over-topping ;  new  created 
The  creatures  that  were  mine ;  I  say    or  chang*d 

them. 
Or  else  new  form'd  them :  having  both  the  key 
Of  officer  and  oflke,  set  all  hearts 
To  what  tune  pleasM  his  ear ;  that  now  he  was 
The  ivy,  which  had  hid  my  princelv  trunk. 
And  suck*d  my  verdure  out  on't — ^^hou  attend*tt 

not: 
I  pray  thee,  mark  me. 

Mxra.  ^        O  pood  sir,  I  do. 

Pro.  I  thus  neglecting  worldly  ends,  all  dedicate 
To  closeness,  and  the  Mttcring  of  my  mind 
With  that,  which,  but  by  being  so  retired, 
O'er-priz'd  all  popular  rate,  in  my  false  brother, 
AwakM  an  evil  nature:  and  my  tru&t. 
Like  a  pood  parent,  did  beget  of  him 
A  falsehood,  in  its  contrary  as  great 
As  my  trust  was ;  which  had,  indeed,  no  limit, 
S.  confidence  sans^  bound.     He  beinp  thus  lorded, 
i\ot  only  with  what  my  revenue  yielded. 
But  what  my  power  might  else  exact, — like  one. 
Who  having,  unto  truth,  by  telling  of  it. 
Made  such  a  sinner  of  his  memorv. 
To  credit  his  own  lie, — he  did  befieve 
He  was  the  duke ;  out  of  the  substitution. 
And  executing  the  outward  face  of  rovalty. 
With  all  prerogative : — Hence  his  ambition 
Growing, — Dost  hear  ? 
Mira.  Your  tale,  sir,  would  cure  deafnen 

Pro.  To  have  no  screen  between  this  part  he 
play'd. 
And  him  he  play*d  it  for,  he  needs  will  be 
Absolute  Milan :  roe,  poor  man ! — my  libraiy 

(4)  Sorrofw.      (5)  Cat  away.      (SJ  Without 


Scene  II. 


TEAIPEST. 


VVas  dukedom  large  enough ;  of  temporal  royalties 
He  thinks  me  now  incapable :  confederates 
(So  dry'  be  was  for  swaj)  with  the  king  of  Naples, 
To  ^ve  him  annual  tribute,  do  him  homage ; 
Subject  hi»  coronet  to  bis  crown,  and  bend 
The  dukedom,  yet  unbowM  (alas,  poor  Milan !) 
To  most  ignoble  stooping. 

Mira,  O  the  heavens ! 

Pro.    Mark  his  condition,  and  the  event ;  then 
tell  roe. 
If  this  might  be  a  brother. 

Mira.  I  should  sin 

To  think  but  nobly  of  my  grandmother: 
Good  wombs  have  borne  bad  sons. 

Pro.  Now  the  condition. 

This  king  of  Naples,  being  an  enemy 
To  me  inveterate,  hearkens  my  brother*8  suit ; 
Which  was,  that  he  in  lieu^  o*  the  premises, — 
Of  homage,  and  I  know  not  how  much  tribute, — 
Should  presently  extirpate  me  and  mine 
Out  of  the  dukedom ;  and  confer  fair  Milan, 
With  all  the  honours,  on  my  brother :  whereon, 
A  treacherous  army  lened,  one  midnight 
Fated  to  the  purpose,  did  Antonio  open 
The  gates  of  Milan  ;  and,  i'  the  dead  of  darkness, 
The  ministers  for  the  purpose  hurried  thence 
Me,  and  thy  crying  sdf. 

Mira.  Alack,  for  pity ! 

I,  not  rememb'ring  how  I  cried  out  tnen. 
Will  cry  it  o*er  again  ;  it  is  a  hint*. 
That  wrings  mine  eyes. 

Pro.  Hear  a  little  further, 

And  then  Pll  bring  thee  to  the  present  business 
Which  now^s  upon  us ;  without  me  which,  this  story 
Were  most  impertinent 

Mira.  Wherefore  did  they  not 

That  hour  destroy  us  ? 

Pro.  Well  demanded,  wench ; 

My  tale  provokes  &at  question.    Dear,  they  durst 

not; 
(So  dear  the  love  my  people  bore  me)  nor  set 
A  mark  so  bloody  on  the  business ;  but 
With  colours  fairer  painted  their  foul  ends. 
In  (eWf  they  hurriedlus  aboard  a  bark  ; 
Bore  us  some  leagues  to  sea ;  where  they  preparM 
A  rotten  carcase  of  a  boat,  not  rigg*d, 
Nor  tackle,  sail,  nor  mast ;  the  very  rats 
Instinctively  had  quit  it :  there  they  hoist  us, 
To  ciy  to  the  sea  that  roarM  to  us ;  to  sigh 
To  the  winds,  whose  pity,  sighing  back  again. 
Did  us  but  loving  wrong. 

Mira.  Alack !  what  trouble 

Was  I  then  to  you ! 

Pro.  O !  a  cherubim 

Thoo  wast,  that  did  preserve  me  ?  Thou  didst  smile, 
Infused  with  a  fortitude  from  heaven. 
When  I  have  deckM^  the  sea  with  drops  full  salt ; 
Under  my  burden  g^roan'd ;  which  raised  in  me 
An  undergoing  stomach,^  to  bear  up 
Against  what  should  ensue. 
.  Mira.  How  came  we  ashore  ? 

Pro.  By  Providence  divine. 
Some  food  we  had,  and  some  fresh  water,  that 
A  noble  Neapolitan,  Gonzalo, 
Out  of  his  charity  (who  being  then  appointed 
Master  of  this  ctesign,)  did  give  us,  with 
Rich  ^rments,  linens,  stufu,  and  necessaries. 
Which  since  have  steaded  much ;  so,  of  his  gentle- 
ness. 
Knowing  I  lov*d  my  books,  be  (umishM  roe, 


8 


)  Thirsty.    (3)  Consideration.   (3)  Suggestion. 
4)  Sprinlded.      (5)  Stubborn  resolution. 


From  my  own  librarj',  with  volumes  that 
1  piizo  above  m\  dukedom. 

Mira.  '  ♦Would  I  might 

But  ever  see  that  man ! 

Pro.  Now  I  arise : — 

Sit  still,  and  hear  the  last  of  our  sea-sorrow. 
Here  in  this  island  we  arrivM ;  and  here 
Have  I,  thy  school-master,  made  thee  more  profit 
Than  other  princes  can,  that  have  more  time 
For  vainer  hours,  and  tutors  not  so  careful. 

Mira.  Heavens  thank  you  for*t !     And  now,  1 


(For  still  'tis  beating  in  my  mind,)  your  reason 
For  raising  this  sea-storm.'^  "^ 

Pro.  Know  thus  far  forth.— 

By  accident  most  strai^e,  bountiful  fortune. 
Now  my  dear  lady,  hath  mine  enemies 
Brought  to  this  slrare :  and  by  my  prescience 
I  find  my  zenith  doth  depend  upon 
A  most  auspicious  star ;  whose  influence 
If  now  I  court  not,  but  omit,  my  fortunes 
Will  ever  after  droop. — Here  cease  more  questions 
Thou  art  inclined  to  sleep ;  'tis  a  good  dulneM, 
And  give  it  way  ; — I  know  thou  canst  not  choose. — 

[Miranda  sleeps. 
Come  away,  servant,  come :  I  am  ready  now ; 
Approach,  my  Ariel ;  come. 

Enter  Ariel. 

Art.  All  hail,  great  master !  grave  sir,  hail !  I 
come 
To  answer  thy  best  pleasure ;  be't  to  fly. 
To  swim,  to  (uve  into  the  fire,  to  ride 
On  the  curl'd  clouds ;  to  thy  strong  bidding,  task  . 
Ariel,  and  all  his  quality. 

Pro.  Hast  thou,  spirit. 

Performed  to  points  the  tempest  that  I  bade  thee  ? 

Ari.  To  every  article. 
I  boarded  the  king's  ship ;  now  on  the  beak. 
Now  in  the  waist,  the  deck,  in  every  cabin, 
I  flam'd  amazement :  sometimes,  I'd  divide. 
And  burn  in  many  places ;  on  the  top-mast. 
The  yards,  and  bowsprit,  would  I  flame  distincHy ; 
Then  meet,  and  join :  Jove^s  lightxiings,  the  pre- 
cursors 
O'  the  dreadful  thunder-claps,  more  momentary 
And  sight-outrunning  were  not :  the  fire,  and  cracks 
Of  sulphurous  roaring,  the  most  mighty  Neptune 
SeemM  to  besiege,  and  make  his  bold  waves  tremble ; 
Yea,  his  dread  trident  shake. 

Pro.  My  brave  spirit ! 

Who  was  so  firm,  so  constant,  that  this  coiU 
Would  not  infect  his  reason? 

Ari.  Not  a  soul 

But  felt  a  fever  of  the  mad,  and  play'd 
Some  tricks  of  desperation :  all,  but  mariners, 
Plung'd  in  the  foaming  brine,  and  quit  the  vessel. 
Then  all  a-fire  with  me :  the  king's  son,  Ferdinand, 
With  hair  upstaring  (then  like  reeds,  not  hair,) 
Was  the  first  man  ti^t  leap'd ;  cried,  Hell  is  empty. 
And  ail  the  devils  are  here. 

Pro.  ^Vhy,  that's  my  spirit ! 

But  was  not  this  nigh  ^ore  ? 

Ari.  Close  by,  my  master. 

Pro.  But  are  they,  Ariel,  safe  ? 

Ari.  Not  a  hair  perisb'd ; 

On  their  sustaining  garments  not  a  blemish. 
But  fresher  than  before :  and,  as  thou  bad'st  me, 
In  troops  I  have  dispers'd  them  'bout  the  isle : 
The  king's  son  have  I  landed  by  himself; 

(6)  The  minutest  article.        (7)  Bustle,  tumult. 


T*^  mi  wyji  '(m  Aikr:.  v-mi  '^iiK  wje±L: 

An.  I  ^.w3U 

fr*.  TVn  j«5Cv  wm\\vpwmx 

TV*  fc«rf  »*Ji  ***«*!«,  wV*, 
/>»,  TVn &«ft:  iHh0*  WW rf 

Ok'^  ii  •  iwamK  t^'^fmA  nhmt  ihra  hM<  bwn. 

Tim   fawWflC,   WM   tttMlk'd;   fc^  CM  dBK  At 

1W  fiMMidaoltJttkcrtfe^    ItiorAiitrac? 

^fw>  Tbm  bM^-^y'd  Mf  WW  faidMr  bnag^ 
wMh  cfiofly 
Md  Imw  WW  kA fay *«  mSotl    TVi«,H{f  Jmib, 

AmI,  6v  dmiirMl  •  tpiril  too  defioMe 


^Tjf  arilaab. 


Id:  act x 

Thsr  rrrfic  a.     Waac  be  !  «»■« :  CauJcaa ! 


ILT 


Fa 

.■fri. 


AzieLOv 
!    Mr 


qauiCA»ly 


MTlard.itifa^l» 

dmTe»  get  by 


dr«a 


(I) 


(2>Wsrc.      (3)A%MnL 


CU.  As  wicked 
Droponjoobodi!  a 


(CC 


c*cr 


:d 


(S^IXowiiboaL 


Scene  II. 


TEMPEST. 


II 


And  blister  jou  all  o*er ! 

Fro.  For  this,  be  sure,  to-night  thou  shalt  have 
cramps, 
Side-stitches,  that  shall  pen  thy  breath  up ;  urchins^ 
Shall,  for  that  vast  of  night  that  they  may  work. 
All  exercise  on  thee :  thou  shalt  be  pinqVd 
As  thick  as  hooey-combs,  each  pinch  more  stinging 
Than  bees  that  made  *them. 

CaL  I  must  eat  my  dinner. 

This  island's  mine,  by  Sycorax,  my  mother. 
Which  thou  tak'st  from  me.  When  thou  earnest  first, 
Thou  strok*dst    me,  and  mad'st  much  ot  me; 

wouldV  give  me 
Water  with  berries  inH;  and  teach  me  how 
To  name  the  bigger  lig^t,  and  how  the  less, 
That  bum  In*  day  and  night :  and  then  I  lovM  thee. 
And  showM  thee  all  the  qualities  o'  the  isle. 
The  fresh  springs,  brine  pits,  barren  place,  and 

fertile ; 
Cursed  be  I  that  did  so ! — All  the  charms 
Of  Sycorax,  toads,  beetles,  bats,  lieht  on  you ! 
For  I  am  all  the  subjects  tfiat  you  have. 
Which  first  was  mine  own  king ;  and  here  you  sty  me 
In  this  hard  rock,  whiles  you  do  keep  fitxn  me 
The  rest  of  the  island. 

Pro.  Thou  most  lying  slave. 

Whom  stripes  may  move,  not  kindness;  I  have 

us^d  thee. 
Filth  as  thou  art,  with  human  care ;  and  lodeM  thee 
In  mine  own  cell,  till  thou  didst  seek  to  violate 
The  b(Miour  of  my  child. 

Col.  O  ho,  O  bo ! — ^*would  it  had  been  done ! 
Thou  didst  prevent  me ;  I  had  peopled  else 
This  isle  with  Calibans. 

Pro.  Abhorred  slave ; 

Which  any  print  of  goodness  will  not  take. 
Being  capable  of  all  ill !  I  pitied  thee. 
Took  pains  to  make  thee  speak,  taught  thee  each 

hour 
One  thin^  or  other :  when  thou  didst  not,  savage. 
Know  thine  own  meaning,  but  would*st  gabble  like 
A  thing  most  brutish,  I  endowM  thy  purposes 
With  words  that  made  them  known :  But  thy  vile 

race. 
Though  thou  didst  learn,  had  that  in*t  which  good 

natures 
Could  not  abide  to  be  with ;  therefore  wast  thou 
Deservedly  confinM  into  this  rock. 
Who  hadst  deservM  more  than  a  prison. 

Cal.  You  taught  me  language ;  and  my  profit  on*t 
Is,  I  know  how  to  curse :  the  red  plague  rid^  you. 
For  learning  me  your  language  i 

Pro.  Hag-seed,  hence ! 

Fetch  us  in  fuel ;  and  be  quick,  thou  wert  best. 
To  answer  other  business.     Shrug'st  thou,  malice  ? 
If  thou  neglcct'st,  or  dost  unwillingly 
What  I  command,  Pll  rack  thee  with  old  cramps ; 
Fill  all  thy  bones  with  aches :  make  thee  roar. 
That  beasts  shall  tremble  at  thy  din. 

Cal.  No,  'pray  thee ! — 
I  must  obey :  his  art  is  of  such  power,  [Aside. 

It  would  control  my  dam*s  goo,  Setebos, 
And  make  a  vassal  of  him. 

Pro,  So,  slave ;  hence ! 

[Exit  Caliban. 

Re-enter  Ariel,  invisible^  playing  and  singing; 
Ferdinand  foUawing  hinu 

ARIEL'S  SONG. 

Come  unto  these  vellow  sands. 
And  then  take  hands: 


(I)  Fairiei. 


(2)  Destroy. 


CourCsied  tohen  you  June,  and  Idtfd^ 

{The  vriid  toaets  tehisfl) 
Foot  itfeatly  here  and  there  ; 
Aindy  sweet  sprites,  the  burden  bear, 

Hark^hark! 
Bur.    Bowgh,  wowgh.  [dUpersd>ly. 

Thetoatch-dogs  bark: 
Bur.    Bowrh,  wowgh.  [di^ptrstdhj. 

Hark,  nark  !    I  hear 
The  strain  of  strutting  chantideTe, 
Cry,  Cock-a-doodle-doo, 

Fer.  Where  should  this  music  be  1 T  the  air,  or 
the  earth  .^ 
It  sounds  no  more : — end  sure,  it  waits  upon 
Some  god  of  the  island.     Sitting  on  a  bank. 
Weeping  again  the  king  my  famer*s  wreck. 
This  music  crept  by  me  upon  the  waters  ; 
Allaying  both  tneir  fury,  and  my  passion, 
With  its  sweet  air :  thence  I  have  foUow'd  it. 
Or  it  hath  drawn  me  rather : — ^But  *tis  gone. 
No,  it  b^ins  again. 

Ariel  sings, 

FuU  fathom  five  thy  father  Ues  ; 

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

J^othing  qfhim  that  doth  fade. 
But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change 
Into  something  rich  and  strange. 
Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  ImeU  : 
Hark!  now  I  hear  them, — dinr-dong,  beH 

[Burden,  ding-dong. 

Fer.    The  ditty  does  remember  my  drown'd 
father : — 
This  is  no  mortal  business,  nor  no  sound 
That  the  earth  owes  r^ — I  hear  it  now  above  me. 

Pro.  The  fringed  curtains  of  thine  eye  advance, 
And  say,  what  thou  seestyond'. 

Mira.  What  is*t .'  a  spirit? 

Lord,  how  it  looks  about !  Believe  me,  sir, 
It  carries  a  brave  form : — ^But  *tis  a  spirit 

Pro.  No,  wench ;  it  eats  and  sleeps,  and  hath, 
such  senses 
As  we  have,  such :  this  pliant  which  thou  seest 
Was  in  the  wreck  ^  and  but  he*s  something  stain*d 
With  grief,  that's  beauty's  canker,  thou  might'tt 

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

Mira.  I  miefat  call  him 

A  thing  divine ;  for  nothing  natural 
I  ever  saw  00  noble. 

Pro.  '*i^  °°»  [Aside 

As  my  soul  prompts  it : — ^irit,  fine  spirit !  I'll  free 

thee 
Within  two  days  for  this. 

Fer.  Most  sure,  the  goddess 

On  whom  these  airs  attend  I—  Vouchsafe  my  prayer 
May  know,  if  you  remain  upon  this  island  ; 
And  that  you  will  some  good  instruction  give. 
How  I  mav  bear  me  here :  my  prime  request. 
Which  I  do  last  pronounce,  is,  O  you  wonder ! 
If  you  be  maid,  or  no  f 

'Mira.  No  wonder,  sir ; 

But,  certainly  a  maid. 

Fer.  My  language?  heavens! 

I  am  the  best  of  them  that  speak  this  speech. 
Were  I  but  where  'tis  spoken. 

Pro.  How!  the  best? 

What  wert  thou,  if  the  king  of  Naples  heard  tlieer 


(3)  Still,  silent 


(4)  Owns 


If 


TEMPEST. 


ActlL 


.  Fer.    A  single  dune,  at  lam  Donfftiiatwonden 
To  bear  thee  speak  of  Naples :  he  does  hear  me ; 
And,  Ihat  he  does,  I  weep :  myself  am  Naples ; 
Who  with  mine  eyes,  ne^er  since  at  ebb,  beheld 
The  king  my  father  wrecked. 

Jlfira.  Alack,  for  mercy ! 

.fW*.  Tes,  feith,  and  all  his  lords ;  the  duke  of 
Milan, 
And  his  brave  son,  being  twain. 

Pro,  The  duke  of  Milan, 

And  his  more  braver  daughter,  could  cootroU  thee. 
If  now  it  were  fit  to  do^t — ^At  the  first  sight 

[Aside. 
Tliey  have  chaneM  eyes : — Delicate  Ariel, 
ni  set  thee  free  for  this ! — A  word,  good  sir ; 
I  fear,  you  have  done  yourself  some  wrong:  a  word. 

Jlfira.  Why  speaks  my  father  so  uneently?  This 
Is  the  third  man  that  ere  I  saw ;  the  first 
That  ere  I  sighM  for :  pi^  move  my  fether 
To  be  inclin*d  my  way ! 

Fer.  O,  if  a  vire^n. 

And  your  affection  not  gone  forth,  rilmake  you 
The  queen  of  Naples. 

Pro,  Soft,  sir ;  one  word  more. — 

They  are  bodi  in  either*s  powers:  but  this  swift 

business 
I  most  uneasjy  make,  lest  too  light  winning  [Ande. 
Make  the  prize  light — One  word  more  ;  1  charge 

tnee, 
Tliat  thou  attend  me:  thou  dost  here  usurp 
The  nan^  thou  ow*8t  not :  and  hast  put  thyself 
Upon  this  island,  as  a  spy,  to  win  it 
From  me,  the  lord  on*t 

Fer*  Nou  as  I  am  a  man. 

Jlfira.    There's  nothing  ill  can  dwell  in  such  a 
temple: 
It  the  ill  spirit  have  so  fair  a  house, 
Good  things  will  strive  to  dwell  with  *t 

Pro,  Follow  me,—    [2\>Ferd. 

Speak  not  you  for  him ;  he^s  a  traitcnr. — Come. 
1*11  manacle  thy  neck  and  feet  together : 
Sea-water  shaft  thou  drink,  thy  rood  shall  be 
The  fresh-brook  muscles,  wither*d  roots,  and  husks, 
Wherein  the  acorn  cradled.    Follow. 

Fer,  No; 

I  will  resist  such  entertainment,  till 
Mine  enemy  has  more  power.  [He  drawe. 

Jtftro.  O  dear  lather. 

Make  not  too  rash  atrial  <^him,  for 
He*s  gentle,  and  not  fearful.^ 

Pro,  What,  I  say, 

Mhr  foot  my  tutor ! — Put  thy  sword  up,  traitor ; 
Who  mak*st  a  show,  but  dar'st  not  strike,  thy 

conscience 
Is  so  possessed  with  guilt :  come  from  thy  ward  ;> 
For  I  can  here  disarm  tfiee  with  this  stick, 
And  make  thy  weapon  drc^ 

Jlfira.  Beseech  you,  fether ! 

Pro,    Hence  ;  hang  not  on  my  garments. 

Jlftro.  Sir,  have  pity ; 

rU  be  his  surety. 

Pro,  Silence :  one  word  more 

Shall  make  me  chide  thee,  if  not  hate  thee.  What! 
An  advocate  for  an  impostor  ?  hush ! 
Thou  think'st,  there  are  no  more  such  shapes  as  he. 
Having  seen  but  him  and  Caliban :  foolish  wench ! 
To  the  most  of  men  this  is  a  Caliban, 
And  they  to  him  are  angels. 

Jlftro.  My  afiectioos 

Are  then  most  humble  ;  I  have  no  ambition 
To  see  a  goodlier  man. 

(1)  Confute.        (2)Fr%fatfnL       (3)  Guard. 


Pro,  Come  on;  obey: 

[To  Ferd. 
Thy  nerves  are  in  their  infancy  again, 
Ancl  have  no  vigour  in  them. 

Fer,  So  they  are : 

My  spirits,  as  in  a  dream,  are  all  bouna  up. 
My  father's  loss,  the  weakness  which  I  feet. 
The  wteck  of  all  my  friends,  or  this  man^s  threats, 
To  whom  I  am  ftubdued,  are  but  light  to  me. 
Might  I  but  through  my  prison,  once  a  day, 
Behold  this  maid :  all  comers  else  o*  the  earth 
Let  liberty  make  use  of;  space  enough 
Have  I  in  such  a  prison. 

Pro,  It  works : — Come  on.— 

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

[r©  Ferd.  onrf  Mira. 
Hark,  what  thou  else  shalt  do  me.  [ To  Ariel. 

Jtftra.  Be  of  comfort , 

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

Pro.  Thou  shalt  be  as  free 

As  mountain  winds :  but  then  exactly  do 
All  points  of  my  command. 

Art,  To  the  syllable. 

Pro,  Come,  follow :  speak  not  for  lum.  [Exeunt 


ACT  II. 

SCEJiTE  I.—^nother  part  <^  the  idajid.  Enter 
Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antomo,  Gcmzalo,  Adrian, 
Francisco,  and  others, 

Gon,  'Beseech  you,  ar,  be  merry:  you  have 
cause 
(So  have  we  aip  of  joy ;  for  our  escape 
Is  much  beyond  our  loss :  our  hint  of  wo 
Is  conmion ;  every  day,  some  sailor's  wife. 
The  masters  of  some  merchant,  and  the  merchant. 
Have  just  our  theme  of  wo :  but  for  the  miracle, 
I  mean  our  preservation,  few  in  millions 
Can  speak  like  us :  then  wisely,  good  sir,  weigh 
Our  sorrow  with  our  comfort 

AUm,  Pr'ytl»«€,  peace. 

Seb,  He  receives  comfort  like  cud  porridge. 

Ant.  The  visitor  will  not  give  him  o'er  to. 

Seb.  Look,  he's  winding  up  the  watch  of  bis  wit ; 
by  and  by  it  will  strike. 

Gon.  Sir. 

Seb.  One. TelL 

Cron.  When  cveiy  grief  is  entertain'd,  that's  offer'd, 
Comes  to  the  entertainer — 

Seb.  A  dollar. 

Gon,  Dolour  ccnnes  to  him,  indeed ;  you  have 
spoken  truer  than  you  proposed. 

Seb.  Tou  have  taken  it  wiselier  than  I  meant  you 
should. 

Gon,  Therefore,  my  lord, — 

Ant,  Fie,  what  a  spendthrift  is  he  of  his  tongue ! 

Alon.  I  pr'ythee,  spare. 

Gon.  Well,  I  have  done :  but  yet — 

Seb.  He  will  be  talking. 

Ant,  Which  of  them,  he,  or  Adrian,  for  a  good 
wager,  first  begins  to  crow  ? 

Seb,  The  old  cock. 

Ant.  The  cockrel. 

Seb.  Done:  the  wager? 

Ant,  A  laughter. 

Seb.  A  match. 

Adr,  Though  this  island  seem  to  be  desert,^ 


Scene  //. 


TEMPEST. 


13 


Seb.  Ha,  ha,  ha! 
Ant.  So,  youVc  pay'd. 

Adr.  Uninhabitable,  and  ahnost  inaccessible, — 
Seb.  Yet, 
Adr.  Yet— 

AnL  He  could  not  miss  it 
Adr,  It  must  needs  be  of  subtle,  tender,  and 
delicate  temperance.^ 
Ant.  Temperance  was  a  delicate  wench. 
Seb.  Ay,  and  a  subtle ;  as  he  most  learnedly  de- 
livered. 
Adr.  The  air  breathes  upon  us  here  most  sweetly. 
Seb.  As  if  it  had  lungs,  and  rotten  cmes. 
Ant.  Or,  as  'twere  perfumed  by  a  fen. 
Gon.  Here  is  every  thing  advantageous  to  life. 
Ant.  True ;  save  means  to  live. 
Seb.  Of  that  there's  none,  or  little, 
Gtm.  How  luslP  and  lusty  the  grass  looks !  how 
green! 
Ant.  The  ground,  indeed,  is  tawny. 
Seb.  With  an  eye*  of  green  in't 
Ant.  He  misses  not  much. 
Seb.  No ;  he  doth  but  mistake  the  truth  totally. 
Gon.  But  the  rarity  of  it  is  (which  is,  indeed,  al- 
most beyond  credit — ) 
Seb.  As  many  vouched  rarities  are. 
Gon.  That  our  garments,  being,  as  they  were, 
drenched  in  the  sea,  hold,  notwimstanding,  their 
freshness,  and  glosses ;  being  rather  new  dy  d,  than 
ftain'd  with  salt  water. 

Ant.  If  but  one  of  his  pockets  could  speak,  would 
it  not  say.  He  lies  ? 
Seb.  Ay,  or  very  falsely  pocket  up  his  report. 
Gon,  Methinks,  our  garments  are  now  as  fresh  as 
when  we  put  them  on  first  in  Afric,  at  the  marriage 
of  the  king's  fair  daughter  Claribel  to  the  king  of 
Tunis. 

Seb.  'Twas  a  sweet  marriage,  and  we  prosper 
well  in  our  return. 

Adr.  Tunis  was  never  grac'd  before  with  such  a 
paragon  to  their  queen. 
Gon.  Not  since  widow  Dido's  time. 
Ant.  Widow  f  a  pox  o'  that !  how  came  that 
widow  in  f  Widow  Dido ! 

Seb.  Wliat  if  he  had  said,  widower  iEneas  too.^ 
good  lord,  how  you  take  it ! 

Adr.  Widow  Dido,  said  you.'  you  make  me 
study  of  that:  she  was  of  Carthage,  not  of  Tunis. 
Gon.  This  Tunis,  sir,  was  Carthage. 
Adr.  Carthage.' 
Gon.  I  assure  you,  Carthage. 
Ant.  His  word  is  more  than  the  miraculous  harp. 
Seb.  He  hath  rais'd  the  wall,  and  houses  too. 
Ant.  What  impossible  matter  will  he  make  easy 
next.' 

Seb.  I  ihivk  he  will  carry  this  island  home  in  his 
pocket,  and  give  it  his  son  for  an  apple. 

Ant.  And,  sowing  the  kernels  ot  it  in  the  sea, 
bring  forth  more  islands. 
Gon.  Ay.' 

Ant.  VVhy,  in  good  time. 
Gon.  Sir,  we  were  talking,  that  our  garments 
teem  now  as  fresh,  as  when  we  were  at  Tunis,  at  the 
marriage  of  your  daughter,  who  is  now  queen. 
Ant.  And  the  rarest  that  e'er  came  there. 
Seb.  'Bate,  I  beseech  you,  widow  Dido. 
Ant.  O,  widow  Dido ;  ay,  widow  Dida 
Gvn.  Is  not,  sir,  my  doublet  as  fresh  as  the  first 
day  I  wore  it.'     I  mean,  in  a  sort.^ 
Ant.  That  sort  was  well  fish'd  for. 
Gon.  When  I  wore  it  at  your  daughter's  marriage .' 

(1)  Temperature.  (2)  Rank.   (3)  Shade  of  colour. 


Alon.  You  cram  these  words  into  mine  eiiB| 
against  • 

The  stomach  of  my  sense :  'would  I  had  nerer 
Married  my  daughter  there !  for,  coming  thence. 
My  son  is  los^t ;  and,  in  my  rate,  she  too, 
W  ho  is  so  fieir  from  Italy  remov'd, 
I  ne'er  again  shall  see  her.     O  thou  mine  neir 
Of  Naples  and  of  Milan,  what  strange  fish 
Hath  made  his  meal  on  thee ! 

Fran.  Sir,  he  may  live; 

I  saw  him  beat  the  surges  under  him. 
And  ride  upon  their  backs ;  he  trod  the  water, 
Whose  enmity  he  flun^  aside,  and  breasted 
The  surge  most  swoln  that  met  him:   his  bold 

head 
'Bove  the  contentious  waves  he  kept,  and  oar'd 
Himself  with  his  good  arms  in  lusty  stroke 
To  the  shore,  that  o'er  his  wave-worn  basis  bow'd 
As  stooping  to  relieve  him.     I  not  doubt. 
He  came  alive  to  land. 

Alon.  No,  no,  he's  gone. 

Seb.  Sir,  you  may  thank  yourself  for  this  great 
loss ; 
That  would  not  bless  our  Europe  with  your  daugh- 
ter. 
But  rather  lose  her  to  an  African ; 
Where  she,  at  least,  is  banish'd  from  your  eye, 
Who  hath  cause  to  wet  the  grief  on't 

Alon.  Pr'ythee,  peace. 

Seb.  You  were  kneel'd  to,  and  importun'd  odii* 
erwise 
By  all  of  us  ;  and  the  fair  soul  herself 
Weigh'd,  between  lothness  and  obedience,  at 
Which  end  o'  the  beam  she'd  bow.     We  have  loft 

your  son, 
I  fear,  for  ever :  Milan  and  Naples  have 
More  widows  in  them  of  this  business'  making. 
Than  we  bring  men  to  comfort  them :  the  fault't 
Your  own. 

Alon.  So  is  the  dearest  of  the  loss. 

Gon.  My  lord  Sebastian, 

The  truth  you  speak  doth  lack  some  gentleness, 
And  time  to  speak  it  in :  you  rub  the  sore, 
When  you  should  bring  the  plaster. 

Seb.  Very  well 

Ant.  And  most  chirurgeonly. 

Gon,  It  is  foul  weather  in  us  all,  good  sir. 
When  you  are  cloudy. 

Seb.  Foul  weather.' 

Ani,  Very  foul. 

Gon.  Had  I  a  plantation  of  this  isle,  my  lord, — 

Ant.  He'd  sow  it  with  nettle-seed. 

Seb.  Or  docks,  or  mallows. 

Gon.  And  were  the  king  of  it,  What  would  I  do? 

Seb.  'Scape  being  drunk,  for  want  of  wine. 

Gon.  V  the  commcffiwealth  I  would  by  contraries 
Execute  all  things :  for  no  kind  of  traffic 
Would  I  admit ;  no  name  of  magistrate ; 
Letters  should  not  be  known ;  no  use  of  service, 
Of  riches  or  of  poverty ;  no  contracts. 
Successions ;  bound  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none : 
No  use  of  metal,  corn,  or  wine,  or  oil : 
No  occupation ;  all  men  idle,  all ; 
And  women  too ;  but  innocent  and  pure : 
No  sovereignty : — 

Seb.  And  yet  he  would  be  king  on*t 

Ant.  The  latter  end  of  his  commonwealm  foi^ 
gets  the  beginning. 

Cron.  All  things  in  common  nature  should  produce 
Without  sweat  or  endeavour :  treason,  felony, 
Sword,  pike,  knife,  gtm,  or  need  of  any  engme,' 

(4)  Degree  or  quality.         (5)  The  rack. 


14 


TEMPEST. 


Act  n. 


Woald  I  not  have;  but  nature  should  bring forUi, 
Of  its  own  kind,  all  fdzonfi  all  abundance, 
To  feed  my  innocent  people. 

Sd>.  No  marrying  *mong  his  subjects? 

Ant.  None,  man ;  all  idle ;  whores  and  knaves. 

Gon.  I  would  with  such  perfection  govern,  sir. 
To  excel  the  golden  age. 

Seb.  *Save  his  majesty! 

Ani.  Long  live  Gonzalo ! 

Gon,  And,  do  you  mark  me,  sir  ^ — 

Alan.    Pr^ythee,  no  more :  Thou  dost  talk  no- 
thing to  me. 

Qan,  I  do  well  believe  your  highness ;  and  did 
h  to  minister  occasion  to  these  gentlemen,  who  are 
of  such  sensible  and  nimble  lungs,  that  they  always 
iBe  to  laugh  at  nothing. 

Ant.  *Twas  you  we  laughM  at 

Chn.  Who,  in  this  kind  of  merry  fooling,  am 
nothing  to  vou ;  so  you  may  continue,  and  laugh  at 
nothing  still. 

AnL  What  a  blow  was  there  given; 

Seb.  An  it  had  not  fallen  flat-long. 

Qim,  You  are  gentlemen  of  brave  mettle ;  you 
would  lift  the  moon  out  oi  her  sphere,  if  she  would 
continue  in  it  five  weeks  without  changing. 

Enter  Ariel,  invisibU^  playing  solemn  music. 

Seb.  We  would  so,  and  then  go  a  bat-fowling. 

Ant.  Nay,  good  my  lord,  be  not  angry. 

Chn.  No,  1  warrant  you :  I  will  not  adventure 
my  discretion  so  weakly.  Will  you  laugh  me  asleep, 
for  I  am  very  heavy  ? 

Ant.  Go  sleep,  and  hear  us. 

[All  skep  but  Alon.  Seb.  and  Ant 

AUm»  What,  all  so  soon  asleep !  I  wish  mine  eyes 
Would,  with  themselves,  shut  up  my  thoughts :  I 

find. 
They  are  inclined  to  do  sa 

Sro.  Please  you,  sir. 

Do  not  omit  the  heavy  offer  of  it : 
It  seldom  visits  sorrow ;  when  it  doth, 
It  is  a  oxnforter. 

Ant.  We  two,  my  lord. 

Will  guard  your  person,  while  you  take  your  rest. 
And  watch  your  safetv. 

Alon,  Thank  you:  wondrous  heavy. 

[Alonso  deeps.    Exit  Ariel. 

Seh.  What  a  strange  drowsiness  possesses  them! 

Ant.  It  is  the  quality  o*  the  climate. 

Seb.  Why 

Doth  it  not  then  our  eye-lids  sink  ?    I  finu  not 
Myself  dispo8*d  to  sleep. 

AnL  Nor  I ;  my  spirits  are  nimble. 

They  fell  t(^thcr  all,  as  bv  consent ; 
They  dropped,  as  by  a  thunder-stroke.  "What  might, 
Worthy  Sebastian  i — O,  what  might } — No  more ; — 
And  yet,  roethinks,  I  see  it  in  thy  face. 
What  thou  should^st  be :  the  occasion  speaks  thee ; 

and 
My  strong  imagination  sees  a  crown 
Dropping  upon  thy  head. 

i$e6.  What,  art  thou  waking.^ 

Ant  Do  you  not  hear  me  speak } 

Seb.  1  do ;  and,  surely. 

It  is  a  sleepy  language ;  and  thou  speak*st 
Oat  of  thy  sleep :  what  is  it  thou  didst  say  f 
This  is  a  strange  repose,  to  be  asleep 
With  eyes  wide  open ;  standing,  speaking,  moving, 
And  yet  so  fast  asleep. 

Ant.  Noble  Sebastian, 

Thott  let*8t  thy  fortune  sleep— die  rather ;  wink*st 

(1)  Plenty. 


Whiles  thou  art  waking. 

Seb.  Thou  dost  snore  distinctly  ; 

Therc^s  meaning  in  thy  snores. 

Ant.  I  am  more  serious  than  my  custom :  you 
Must  be  so  too,  if  heed  me ;  which  to  do. 
Trebles  thee  o*er. 

Seb.  Well ;  I  am  standing  watrr. 

Ant,  ril  teach  you  how  to  flow. 

Seb.  Do  so:  to  ebb, 

Hereditary  sloth  instructs  me. 

Ant.  O, 

If  vou  but  knew,  how  you  the  purpose  cherish. 
Whiles  thus  you  mock  it !  how,  in  stripping  it. 
You  more  invest  it !  Ebbing  men,  indeed. 
Most  often  do  so  near  the  bottom  run. 
By  their  own  fear,  or  sloth. 

Seb.  Pr'ythee,  say  on : 

The  setting  of  thine  eye,  and  cheek,  proclaim 
A  matter  from  thee ;  and  a  birth,  indeed. 
Which  throes  thee  much  to  yield. 

Ant.  Thus,  sir : 

Although  this  lord  of  weak  remembrance,  this 
(Who  wall  be  of  as  little  memory. 
When  he  is  earthM,)  hath  here  almost  persuaded 
(For  he's  a  spirit  of  persuasion  only,) 
The  king,  his  son's  alive ;  'tis  as  impossible 
That  he's  undrown'd,  as  he  that  sleeps  here  swims 

Seb.  I  have  no  hope 
That  he's  undrowu'd. 

Ani.  O,  out  of  that  no  hope. 

What  great  hope  have  vou .'  no  hope,  that  way,  is 
Another  way  so  hi^h  a  hope,  that  even 
Ambition  cannot  pierce  a  wink  bevond, ' 
But  doubts  discoveiy  there.    Will  you  grant,  with 

me. 
That  Ferdinand  is  drown*d? 

Seb.  He's  gone. 

Ant.  Then,  tell  mc, 

Wlio's  the  next  heir  of  Naples? 

Seb,  Claribel. 

Ant.  She  that  is  queen  of  Tunis ;  she  that  dwells 
Ten  leagues  beyond  man's  life ;  she  that  from  Naples 
Can  havo  no  note,  unless  the  sun  were  post, 
(The  man  i'  the  moon's  too  slow,)  till  new-bom  chins 
Be  rough  and  razorable :  she,  from  whom 
We  were  all  sea-swallow'd,  though  some  cast  again ; 
And,  by  that,  destin'd  to  perform  an  act. 
Whereof  what's  past  is  prologue ;  what  to  come. 
In  yours  and  my  discharge. 

Seh.  WTiat  stuff"  is  this  ? — How  say  you  ? 

'Tistrue,  my  brother's  daughter's  queen  of  Tunis; 
So  is  she  heir  of  Naples ;  'twixt  which  regions 
There  is  some  space. 

Ant.  A  space  whose  every  cubit 

Seems  to  cry  out.  How  shall  that  Qaribel 
Measure  us  back  to  JSTaples? — Keep  in  Tunis, 
And  let  Sebastian  wake ! — Say,  this  were  death 
That  now  hath  seiz'd  them ;  why,  they  were  no 

worse 
Than  now  they  are :  there  be,  that  can  rule  Na- 
ples, 
As  well  as  he  that  sleeps ;  lords,  that  can  prate 
As  amply,  and  unnecessarily. 
As  this  Gonzalo;  I  myself  could  make 
A  chough^  of  as  deep  chat     O,  that  you  bore 
The  mind  that  I  do .'  what  a  sleep  were  this 
For  your  advancement !    Do  you  understand  me  ? 

Seb.  Methinks  I  do. 

Ant.  And  how  does  your  content 

Tender  your  own  good  fortune  ? 

Seb.  I  remember, 

(2)  A  bird  of  the  jack-daw  kind. 


Scene  n. 


TEMPEST. 


\b 


Ton  did  rapplant  yoar  brother  Proepero. 

Ant.  True : 

And  look,  how  well  mj  garments  sit  upon  roe ; 
Much  feater  than  before :  my  brother's  servants 
Were  then  my  fellows,  now  they  are  my  men. 

Seb.  But,  tor  your  conscience— 

Ant.  Ay,  sir ;  where  lies  that  ?  if  it  were  a  kibe, 
*Twould'put  me  to  my  slipper ;  but  I  feel  not 
This  deity  in  my  bosom :  twenty  consciences, 
That  stand  *twixt  me  and  Milan,  candied  be  they. 
And  melt,  ere  they  molest !    Here  lies  your  brother, 
No  better  than  the  earth  he  lies  upon, 
If  he  were  that  which  now  he*8  luce ;  whom  I, 
With  this  obedient  steel,  three  inches  of  it. 
Can  lay  to  bed  forever :  whiles  you,  doing  thus. 
To  the  perpetual  wink  for  aye>  might  put 
This  ancient  morsel,  this  »r  Prudence,  who 
Should  not  upbraid  our  course.    For  all  the  rest, 
TheyMl  take  sugKestion,^  as  a  cat  laps  milk ; 
They^ll  tell  the  clock  to  any  business  that 
We  say  befits  the  hour. 

Seb.  Thy  case,  dear  friend. 

Shall  be  my  precedent ;  as  thou  got*st  Mitaji, 
ril  come  by  Naples.    Draw  thy  sword :  wie  stroke 
Shall  free  thee  from  the  tribute  which  thou  pay^st; 
And  I  the  king  shall  love  thee. 

Ani.  Draw  together : 

And  when  I  rear  my  hand,  do  yo^  the  like, 
To  fall  it  on  Gonzala 

Seb.  O,  but  one  word. 

[They  ccnverte  apart 

Music    Re-enter  Ariel,  invisible, 

Ari.  Mv  master  through  his  art  foresees  the 
oanger 
Tlmt  these,  his  friends,  are  in ;  and  sends  me  forth, 
(For  else  bis  project  dies,)  to  keep  them  living. 

[Stng-s  tn  Gonzalo^s  ear. 

ffhiU  you  here  do  snoring  Ue, 
Openrcrfd  Conspiracy 

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

Awake!  awake! 

Ant.  Then  let  us  both  be  sudden. 

Gon.  Now,  good  angels,  preserve  the  king ! 


[They  wake. 
I  Why 


AUm.  Why,  how  now,  ho !  awake !  Why  are  you 
drawn? 
Wherefore  this  ghastly  looking? 

Gon.  What's  the  matter? 

Seb.  Whiles  we  stood  here  securing  your  repose, 
Even  now,  we  heard  a  hollow  burst  oMf  bellowing 
Like  bulls,  or  rather  lions ;  did  it  not  wake  you  ? 
It  fitruck  mine  ear  most  terribly. 

Alon.  I  heard  nothing. 

Ant.  O,  'twas  a  din  to  fright  a  monster's  ear  ; 
To  make  an  earthquake  I  sure  it  was  the  roar 
Of  a  whole  herd  ollions. 

Alon.  Heard  you  this,  Gonzalo  ? 

Gon.  Upon  mine  honour,  sir,  I  heard  a  hum- 
niing. 
And  that  a  strange  one  too,  which  did  awake  me : 
1  shak'd  you,  sir,  and  cry'd ;  as  mine  eyes  opcn'd, 
I  saw  their  weapons  drawn : — there  was  a  noise, 
That's  verity :  'best  stand  upon  our  guard ; 
Or  that  we  quit  this  place :  let's  draw  our  weapons. 

Alan.  Lead  off  this  ground;  and  let's  make  fur- 
ther search 

(1)  Ever.  (2)  Any  hint 

(3)  Make  mouths. 
2 


For  my  poor  son. 

Gon.         Heavens  keep  him  (rom  these  beasts 
For  he  is,  sure,  i'  the  island. 

Alon.  Lead  away. 

ArL  Prospero  my  lord  shall  know  what  I  have 

done :  [Aside. 

So,  king,  go  safely  on  to  seek  thy  soo.      [Kxeuni. 

SCEJ^E  II. — (inoiher  part  qf  the  Island.  En- 
ter Caliban,  with  a  burden  qf  wood.  A  noise 
of  thunder  heard. 

Cat.  All  the  infections  that  the  sun  sucks  up 
From  bogs,  fens,  flats,  on  Prosper  fall,  and  make 

him 
By  inch-ineal  a  disease .'    His  spirits  hear  me. 
And  yet  I  needs  must  curse.     But  they'll  nor  pinch, 
Fright  me  with  urchin  shows,  pitch  me  i'  the  mire, 
Nor  lead  me,  like  a  fire-brand,  in  the  dark, 
Out  of  my  way,  unless  he  bid  them ;  but 
For  every  trifle  are  they  set  upon  me  : 
Sometimes  like  apes,  t^at  mo^  and  chatter  at  me. 
And  after,  bite  me ;  then  like  hedge-hc^s,  which 
Lie  tumbling  in  my  bare-foot  way,  and  mount 
Their  pricks  at  my  foot-fall ;  sometime  am  I 
All  wound  with  adders,  who,  with  cloven  tongues, 
Do  hiss  me  into  madness : — Lo !  now !  lo ! 

Enter  Trinculo. 

Here  comes  a  spirit  of  his ;  and  to  torment  roe. 
For  bringing  wood  in  slowly :  PU  fall  flat ; 
Perchance  he  will  not  mind  me. 

Trin.  Here's  neither  bush  nor  shrub,  to  bear  off 
any  weather  at  all,  and  another  stoim  brewing;  I 
hear  it  sing  i'  the  wind :  yond'  same  black  cloud, 
yond'  huge  one,  looks  liice  a  foul  bumbard'*  that 
would  shed  his  liquor.  If  it  should  thunder,  aft  il 
did  before,  I  know  not  where  to  hide  my  head : 
yond'  same  cloud  cannot  choose  but  fall  by  pail- 
fuls. — What  have  we  here?  a  man  or  a  bsJi? 
I>ead  or  alive  ?  A  fish :  he  smells  Hke  a  fish ;  ii 
ver)'  ancient  and  fish-like  smell ;  a  kind  of,  net  cf 
the  newest,  Poor  John.  A  strange  fish !  Were  1 
in  England  now  (as  once  I  was,)  and  had  this  fish 
painted,  not  a  holiday-fool  there  but  would'  give  a 
piece  of  silver :  there  would  this  monster  make  a 
man ;  any  strange  beast  there  makes  a  man :  when 
they  will  not  giv^  a  doit  to  relieve  a  lame  beggar, 
they  will  lay  out  ten  to  see  a  dead  IneNaru  Logg*d 
like  a  man  I  and  his  6ns  like  arms !  Warm,  o'  my 
troth !  I  do  now  let  loose  my  opinion,  hold  it  no 
lousier ;  this  is  no  fish,  but  an  islander,  that  hatit 
lately  suffered  by  a  thunderbolt  [Thunder.]  Ala»! 
the  storm  is  come  again :  my  best  way  is  to  creep 
under  his  gaberdine;*  there  is  no  other  shelt^.T 
hereabout :  misery  acquaints  a  man  with  strange 
bed-fellows.  I  will  here  shroud,  till  the  dregs  uf 
the  storm  be  past 

Enter  Stephano,  sin^ng ;  a  bottle  in  his  hand. 

Ste.  I  shall  no  more  to  sea,  to  sea. 

Here  shall  I  die  a-shorej — 

This  is  a  very  scurvy  tune  to  sing  at  a  man's  funr ralr 
Well,  here's  my  comfort  [Drxvhx 

The  master^  the  sxoabber,  the  boatswain,  and  I, 

The  gynner,  and  his  mate, 
Lov^d  Mall,  Meg,  and  Marian,  and  Margery, 
But  none  of  us  car*dfor  Kale : 
For  she  had  a  tongue  toilh  a  tang, 
Would  cry  to  a  sailor^  Go,  hang  : 

(4)  A  blac?k  jack  of  leather,  to  hold  beer 
5)  Tlie  frock  of  a  peasant 


16 


TCMPEST. 


^a  II, 


She  lov*drtot  the  savour  of  tar  nor  qf pitch, 

Yei  a  tailor  might  scratch  her  wherever  she  did  itch : 

Then  to  sea,  boys,  and  let  her  go  hang. 
This  is  a  scurvy  tune  too :  but  here^s  my  comfort 

[Drinks. 

CaL  Do  not  torment  me :     O ! 

Ste.  What's  the  matter?  Have  we  devils  here? 
Do  you  put  tricks  upon  us  with  savages,  and  men  of 
Inde  ?i  Ha !  I  have  not  *scapM  drowning;,  to  be 
a£eard  now  of  your  four  legs ;  for  it  hath  been  said. 
As  proper  a  man  as  ever  went  on  four  lees,  cannot 
make  him  give  ground :  and  it  shall  be  said  so  again, 
while  Stephano  breathes  at  nostrils. 

Cat.  Tne  spirit  torments  me :  O ! 

Ste.  This  is  some  monster  of  the  isle,  with  four 
1^ ;  who  hath  got,  as  1  take  it,  an  ague :  where 
tiie  devil  should  he  leam  our  language  r  I  will  give 
him  some  relief,  if  it  be  but  for  mat :  if  I  can  reco- 
ver him,  and  keep  him  tame,  and  get  to  Naples  with 
him,  he's  a  present  for  any  empero'r  that  ever  trod 
OQ  ueatVleather. 

CaL  Do  not  torment  me,  pr'ythee ; 
Pll  bring  my  wood  home  faster. 

Ste.  He's  in  his  fit  now ;  and  does  not  talk  afier 
the  wisest  He  shall  taste  of  my  bottle :  if  he  have 
nerer  drunk  wine  afore,  it  will  go  near  to  remove 
his  fit :  if  I  can  recover  him,  and  keep  him  tame,  I 
trill  not  take  too  much  for  him :  he  shall  pay  for  him 
tiiAt  hath  him,  and  that  soundly. 

CaL  Thou  dost  me  yet  but  little  hurt;  thou  wilt 
AnoQ,  I  know  it  by  thy  trembling : 
Now  Prosper  works  upon  thee. 

Ste.  dome  on  your  waysf  open  joxxt  mouth; 
here  is  that  which  will  give  language  to  you,  cat ; 
open  your  mouth :  this  will  shake  your  snaking,  I 
can  tell  you,  and  that  soundly:  you  cannot  tell 
who*s  your  friend :  open  your  chaps  again. 

Trin.  I  should  know  that  voice :  it  should  be — 
but  be  is  drowned ;  and  these  are  devils :  O !  de- 
fend me ! — 

Ste.  Four  legs,  and  two  voices ;  a  most  delicate 
monster !  His  forward  voice  now  is  to  speak  well 
of  his  friend ;  his  backward  voice  is  to  utter  foul 
ipeecbes,  and  to  detract  If  all  the  wine  in  my  bot- 

de  will  recover  him,  I  will  help  his  ague:  come, 

Amen  !  I  will  pour  some  in  thy  other  mouth. 

Trin,  Stephano, — 

Ste.  Doth  thy  other  mouth  call  me  ?  Mercy ! 
mercy !  this  is  a  devil,  and  no  monster :  I  will  leave 
him ;  I  have  no  long  spoon. 

2Vtn.  Stephano ! — if  thou  bcest  Stephano,  touch 
me,  and  speak  to  me ;  for  I  am  Trinculo ; — be  not 
aiSeard, — thy  good  friend  Trinculo. 

Ste.  If  thou  beest  Trinculo,  come  forth ;  Pll  pull 
diee  by  the  lesser  legs :  if  any  be  Trincub's  legs, 
these  are  they.  Thou  art  very  Trinculo,  indeed : 
how  cam'st  thou  to  be  the  siegc^  of  this  moon-calf? 
Can  he  vent  Trinculos  ? 

Trin,  I  took  him  to  be  kill'd  with  a  thundcr- 
•troke : — But  art  thou  not  drowned,  Stephano  ?  I 
hope  now,  thou  art  not  drowned.  Is  the  storm 
over-blown  ?  1  hid  me  under  the  dead  moon-cai^^ 
raberdine,  for  fear  of  the  storm :  and  art  thou  living, 
Stephano  ?    O  Stephano,  two  Neapolitans  'scap'd  I 

Ste.  iVythee,  do  not  turn  me  abwit ;  my  stomach 
ii  not  constant 

Git  These  be  fine  thinp,  an  if  they  be  not  sprites. 
That's  a  brave  god,  and  l^ars  celestial  liquor : 
I  will  kneel  to  hun. 

Ste.  How  didst  thou  'scape  ?  How  cam'st  thou 
hither  ?  swev  by  this  bottle,  how  thou  cam'st  hither. 

(1)  India.     (2)  Stool.      (3)  Sea-gulls. 


I  escap'd  upon  a  butt  of  sack,  which  the  sailor* 
heav'aover-Doard,  by  this  bottle !  which  I  made  of 
the  bark  of  a  tree,  with  mine  own  hands,  since  I  was 
cast  a-shore. 

CaL  I'll  swear,  upon  that  bottle,  to  be  thy 
True  subject ;  for  the  liquor  is  not  earthly. 

Ste,  Here ;  swear  then  how  thou  c^scap'dst 

Trin.  Swam  a-shore,  man,  like  a  duck ;  I  can 
swim  like  a  duck,  I'll  be  sworn. 

Ste,  Here,  kiss  the  book  :  though  thou  canst  swim 
like  a  duck,  that  art  made  Uke  a  goose. 

Trin.  O  Stephano,  hast  any  more  of  this  ? 

Ste.  The  whole  butt,  man ;  m^'  cellar  is  in  a  rock 
by  the  sea-side,  where  mv  wine  is  hid.  How  now, 
moon-calf?  how  does  thine  ague? 

Cal.  Hast  thou  not  dropped  from  heaven  ? 

Ste.  Out  o'  the  moon,  I  do  assure  thee  :  I  was  the 
man  in  the  moon,  when  time  was. 

Cal.  I  have  seen  thee  in  her,  and  I  do  adore  thee ; 
My  mistress  showed  me  thee,  thy  dog,  and  bush. 

Ste.  Ccwne,  swear  to  that ;  kiss  the  book  :  I  will 
furnish  it  anon  with  new  cwitenls :  swear. 

Trin.  By  this  good  light,  this  is  a  veiy  shallow 
monster : — I  afeara  of  him  ? — a  very  weak  monster : 
— The  man  i'  the  moon  ? — a  most  poor  credulous 
monster : — well  drawn,  monster,  in  good  sooth. 

Cal.  I'll  show  thee  every  fertile  inch  o'  the  island ; 
And  kiss  thy  foot :  I  pr'ythee,  be  my  god. 

Trin.  By  this  light,  a  most  perfidious  and  drunk^i 
monster ;  when  his  god's  asleep,  he'll  rob  hii>  botile. 

CaL  I'll  kiss  thy  foot:  I'll  swear  my  self  thy  sub- 
ject 

Ste.  Come  on  then ;  down,  and  swear. 

Trin.  I  shall  laugh  my  self  to  death  at  this  puppy- 
headed  monster :  a  most  scurvy  monster !  I  could 
find  in  my  heart  to  beat  him, — 

Ste.  Come,  kiss. 

Trin,  —but  that  the  poor  monster's  in  drink:  an 
abominable  monster ! 

CaL  I'll  show  thee  the  best  springs ;  I'll  pluck 
thee  berries ; 
I'll  fish  for  thee,  and  get  thee  wood  enough. 
A  plague  upon  the  tyrant  that  I  serve ! 
I'll  bc«ir  him  no  more  sticks,  but  follow  thee. 
Thou  wondrous  man. 

Trin.  A  most  ridiculous  monster;  to  make  a 
wonder  of  a  poor  drunkard. 

CaL  I  pr'ythee,  let  me  bring  thee  where  crabs 
grow; 
And  I,  w'th  my  long  nails,  will  dig  thee  pig-nuts  ; 
Show  thee  a  jay's  nest,  and  instruct  thee  Imjw 
To  snare  the  nimble  marmozet ;  I'll  bring  thee 
To  clust'ring  filberds,  and  sometimes  I'll  get  thef» 
Young  9ea-mells>  from  the  rock.  Wilt  thou  go  with 
me? 

Ste.  I  pr'ythee  now,  lead  the  way,  without  any 
more  talking. — Trinculo,  the  kin^:  and  all  our  com- 
pany else  being  drowned,  we  will  inherit  here. — 
Here  ;  bear  my  bottle :  Fellow  Trinculo,  we'll  fill 
him  by  and  by  again. 

CaL  Farewell  master  ;  faretpell^/areioell. 

[Sings  drunkenly. 
Trin.  A  howling  monster ;  a  drunken  monster. 

OiL        Ab  more  dams  Pll  makeJorJUh  ; 
JVbr  Jctch  in  firing 
At  requiring, 
^or  scrape  irenchering,  nor  icash  dish  ; 
'J5an,  *Ban,  Ca—Caliban, 
Has  a  new  master — Gtt  a  new  man. 

Freedom,  hey-day!  hey-day,  freedom:  freedcm, 
hey-day,  freedom .' 
Ste,  O  orave  monster !  lead  the  away.  [ExtutU. 


Scent  /,  II. 


TEMPEST. 


17 


ACT  III. 

SCEJSTE  I.—Befort  Prospero's  cdL    Enter  Fer- 
dinand, bearing  a  log, 

Fer,    There  be  some  sports  are  painful ;  but 
their  labour  , 

Delight  in  thero  seta  off:  some  kinds  of  baseness 
Are  uobly  undergone ;  and  most  poor  matters 
Point  to  rich  ends.     This  my  mean  task  would  be 
As  heavy  to  me,  as  *tis  odious ;  but 
Tlie  mistress,  which  I  serve,  quickens  what's  dead. 
And  makes  my  labours  pleasures :  O,  she  is 
Ten  times  more  gentle  than  her  father's  crabbed  ; 
And  he's  compos'd  of  harshness.     I  must  remove 
Some  thousands  of  these  logs,  and  pile  them  up. 
Upon  a  sore  injunction  :  my  sweet  mistress 
Weeps  when  she  sees  me  work;  and  says,  such 

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

Enter  Miranda ;  and  Prospero  at  a  distance. 

J^ira.  Alas,  now !  pray  you, 

Work  not  so  hard :  I  would,  the  lightnins;  had 
Burnt  up  those  logs,  that  you  are  enjoin'd  to  pile ! 
Pray  set  it  down,  and  rest  you :  when  this  bums, 
Twill  weep  for  having  wearied  you.     My  father 
Is  hard  at  study ;  pray  now,  rest  yourseli' : 
He's  safe  for  these  three  hours. 

Ftr.  O  most  dear  mistress, 

The  sun  will  set,  before  I  shall  discharge 
Wliat  I  must  strive  to  do. 

Mira.  If  you'll  sit  down, 

I'll  bear  your  logs  the  while :  pray  give  me  that ; 
ril  carry  it  to  the  pile. 

Eer.  No,  precious  creature : 

1  had  rather  crack  mv  sinews,  oreak  my  back, 
Than  you  should  such  dishonour  undergo, 
While  I  sit  lazy  by. 

Mira.  It  would  become  me 

As  well  as  it  does  you :  and  I  should  do  it 
With  much  more  ease ;  for  my  good  will  is  to  it, 
And  yours  against 

Pro.  Poor  worm !  thou  art  mfected ; 

This  visitation  shows  it 

Mira.  You  look  wearily. 

Fer.   No,  noble  mistress ;  'tis  fresh  morning  with 
me, 
WTien  you  are  by  at  night    I  do  beseech  you 
(Chieflv,  that  I  might  set  it  in  my  prayers,) 
What  is  your  name  ? 

Mira.  Miranda  : — O  my  &tber, 

1  have  broke  your  hesO  to  say  so ! 

Fer.  Admir»d  Miranda.' 

Indeed,  the  top  of  admiration  ;  worth 
What's  dearest  to  the  world.     Full  many  a  lady 
I  have  ey'd  with  best  re^rd ;  and  many  a  time 
The  harmony  of  their  tongues  hath  into  bondage 
Brought  my  too  diligent  ear :  for  several  virtues 
Have  I  lik'd  several  women ;  never  any 
With  so  full  soul,  but  some  defect  in  her 
Did  quarrel  with  the  noblest  grace  she  ow'd,3 
And  put  it  to  the  foil :  but  you,  O  you. 
So  perfect,  and  so  peerless,  are  created 
Of  every  creature's  best 

Mira.  I  do  not  know 


(^  of  my  Kx ;  no  woman's  facf  remember, 
Save,  from  my  glass,  mine  own ;  nor  have  I  seen 

(1)  Ckxnmand.   (2)  Own'd.    (3)  Wbatneyer. 


More  that  I  may  call  men,  than  you,  good  friend. 
And  my  dear  father :  bow  features  are  abrMtd, 
I  am  skill-less  of ;  but  by  my  modesty 
(The  jewel  in  my  dower,)  I  would  not  wia( 
Any  companion  in  the  world  but  you  ; 
Nor  can  imagination  form  a  shape. 
Besides  yourself,  to  like  of:  but  I  prattle 
Something  too  wildly,  and  my  father's  precepts 
Therein  loi^et 

Fer.  I  am,  in  my  condition, 

A  prince,  Miranda ;  I  do  think,  a  king ; 
(I  would,  not  so  l)  and  would  no  more  endure 
This  wooden  slavery,  than  I  would  suffer 
The  flesh-fly  blow  my  mouth.  Hear  my  sod  speak;— 
The  very  instant  that  1  saw  you,  did 
My  heart  fly  to  your  service ;  there  resides. 
To  make  me  slave  to  it ;  and,  for  your  sake. 
Am  I  this  patient  log-man. 

Mira.  Do  you  love  me  ? 

Fer.  O  heaven,  O  earth,  bear  witness  to  this 
sound. 
And  crown  what  I  profess  with  kind  event. 
If  I  speak  true ;  if  hollowly,  invert 
What  best  is  boded  me,  to  mischief!  I, 
Beyond  all  limit  of  what  else<  i'  the  world. 
Do  love,  prize,  honour  you. 

Mira.  I  am  a  fool. 

To  weep  at  what  I  am  glad  oL 

Pro.  Fair  encounter 

Of  two  most  rare  affections !  Heavens  rain  grare 
On  that  which  breeds  between  them ! 

Fer.  W^refore  weep  you  ? 

Mira.  At  mine  unworthiness,  that  dare  not  offer 
What  I  desire  to  give ;  and  much  less  take, 
Wliat  I  shall  die  to  want :  But  this  is  trifling ; 
And  all  the  more  it  seeks  to  hide  itself, 
The  bigger  bulk  it  shows.  Hence,  bashful  cunning? 
And  prompt  me,  plain  and  holy  innocence .' 
I  am  your  wife,  ifyou  will  many  me ; 
If  not,  I'll  die  your  maid :  to  be  your  fellow 
You  may  deny  me ;  but  I'll  be  your  servant, 
WTietheryou  will  or  na 

Fer.  My  mistress,  dearest, 

And  I  thus  humble  ever. 

Mira.  My  husband  then  f 

hand. 
And  now 
farewell, 
Till  half  an  hour  hence. 
Fer. 


A  thousand.'  thousand! 
[Exeunt  Fer.  and  Mir. 
Pro.  So  glad  of  this  as  they,  I  cannot  be, 
W^o  are  surpris'd  with  all ;  but  my  rejoicing 
At  nothing  can  be  more.    I'll  to  my  book : 
For  vet,  ere  supper  time,  must  I  perfonn 
Much  business  appertaining.  [Elxit, 

SCEJ^E  II.— Another  pari  qfthe  Island.  Enter 
Stephano  omf  Trincub ;  Caliban  yb^/otrtng*  with 
a  bottle. 

Ste.  Tell  not  me ; — ^when  the  butt  is  out  we  will 
drink  water ;  not  a  drop  before :  therefore  bear  up, 
and  board  'em :  Servant-monster,  drink  to  me. 

Trin.  Servant-monster.^  the  folly  of  this  island! 
They  say,  there's  but  five  upon  this  isle :  we  are 
three  of  them ;  if  the  other  two  be  brained  like  us, 
the  state  totters. 

Ste.  Drink,  servant-monster,  when  I  bid  thee : 
thy  eyes  are  almost  set  in  thy  head. 

Trin.  Where  should  thev  be  set  else  f  he  were 
a  brave  monster  indeed,  if  they  Irere  set  in  his  tail. 


18 


TEMPEST. 


Jirt  m. 


SU.  Mr  man-monster  hath  drowned  his  tODgue 
in  sack :  for  my  part,  the  sea  cannot  drown  me :  I 
swam,  ere  I  coula  recover  the  shore,  five<«nd-thirt}' 
leagues,  off  and  on,  by  this  light — Thou  shalt  be 
mylieutenant,  monster,  or  my  standard. 

Trin.  Your  lieutenant,  if  you  list ;  he*s  no  stand- 
ard. 

Ste.  WeMI  not  run,  monsieur  monster. 

Trin,  Nor  go  neither :  but  youMl  lie,  like  dogs ; 
and  yet  say  nothing  neither. 

Sie.  Moon-calf,  speak  once  in  thy  life,  if  thou 
beest  a  finood  moon-calf. 

CaL  How  does  thy  honour?    Let  me  hck  thy 
shoe; 
V\\  not  serve  him,  he  is  not  valiant 

TVin.  Thou  liest,  most  ignorant  monster ;  I  am  in 
case  to  justle  a  constable :  Why,  thou  deboshed^ 
fiati  thou,  was  there  ever  man  a  coward,  that  hath 
drunk  so  much  sack  as  I  to-day  ?  Wilt  thou  tell  a 
monstrous  lie,  being  but  half  a  fish,  and  half  a  mon- 
ster ^ 

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

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

Cal.  Lo,  lo,  again !  bite  him  to  death,  I  pr'ythee. 

Ste.  Trinculo,  keep  a  good  tongue  in  your  head ; 
if  you  prove  a  mutineer,  the  next  tree — The  poor 
monsters  my  subject,  and  be  shall  not  suffer  indig- 
nity. 

Qd.  I  thank  my  noble  lord.  Wilt  thou  be  pleasM 
To  hearken  once  again  the  suit  I  made  thee  ? 

Sie.  Marry  will  I :  kneel,  and  repeat  it;  1  will 
stand,  and  so  shall  Trincula 

Enter  Ariel,  inoisible, 

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

Ari.  Thou  liest 

Cal.  Thou  liest,  thou  jestii^  monkey,  thou : 
I  would,  my  valiant  master  would  destroy  thee ; 
I  do  not  lie. 

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

Trin.  Why,  I  said  nothing. 

Sie.  Mum  then,  and  no  more. — [To  Caliban.] 
Proceed. 

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

Sie.  That's  most  certain. 

Ctil.  Thou  shalt  be  lord  of  it,  and  Pll  serve  thee. 

Sie.  How  now  shall  this  be  compassed  f  Canst 
thou  bring  me  to  the  party  f 

Cal.  Yea,  yea,  my  lord ;  Pll  jrield  him  thee  asleep, 
Where  thou  may*st  knock  a  nail  into  his  head. 

Ari.  Thou  liegt,  thou  canst  not 

Cal.  What  a  pied  ninny's  this  t^    Thou  scurvy 
patch ! — 
I  do  l^eseech  thy  greatness,  give  him  blows. 
And  take  his  bottle  from  him ;  when  that's  gone, 
He  shall  drink  nought  but  brine ;  for  Pll  not  stow  him 
Where  the  quick  freshes*  are^ 

Sie.  Trinculo,  nm  into  no  further  dangei ;  inter- 
rupt the  monster  one  word  further,  and,  by  this  hand, 
I*ll  turn  my  mercy  out  of  doors,  and  maike  a  stock- 
fish of  thee. 

(\)  Debauched. 

(2)  Alluding  to  Trinculo's  party-coloured  dress. 


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

Ste.  Didst  thou  not  say,  he  lied  f 

Aru  Thou  liest 

Sie.  Do  I  so  .^  take  thou  that  [strikes  Aim.]  As 
'you  like  this,  give  me  the  lie  another  time. 

Trin.  I  did  not  give  the  lie  : — Out  o'  your  wits, 

and  hearing  too  } A  pox  o*  your  bottle  !  this  can 

sack,  and  drinking  do. — A  murrain  on  your  mon- 
ster, and  the  devil  take  your  fingers ! 

C(d.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

Sie.  Now,  forward  with  your  tale.  Pr'ythee,  stand 
further  off. 

Cal.  Beat  him  enough :  after  a  little  time, 
Pll  beat  him  toa 

Sie.  Stand  further. — Come,  proceed. 

CaL  "^^Tiy,  as  I  told  thee,  *tis  a  cu&tom  with  him 
P  the  afternoon  to  sleep :  there  thou  may'st  brain 

him. 
Having  first  seiz'd  his  bodes;  or  with  a  log 
Batter  nis  skull,  or  paunch  him  with  a  stake. 
Or  cut  his  wez^nd*  with  thy  knife :  Remember, 
First  to  possess  his  books ;  for  without  them 
He's  but  a  sot,  as  I  am,  nor  hath  not 
One  spirit  to  command :  They  all  do  hate  him, 
A!<  rootedly  as  I :  Bum  but  his  books ; 
He  has  brave  utensils  (for  so  he  calls  them,) 
Which,  when  he  has  a  house,  he'll  deck  withal. 
And  that  most  deeply  to  consider,  is 
Tlie  beauty  of  his  oaughter;  he  himself 
Calls  her  a  nonpareil :  I  ne'er  saw  woman. 
But  only  Sycorax  my  dam,  and  she ; 
But  she  as  far  surpasseth  Sycorax, 
As  greatest  does  least 

Sie.  Is  it  so  brave  a  lass  ? 

CaL  Ajf  lord ;  she  will  become  thy  bed,  I  warrant. 
And  bring  thee  forth  brave  brood. 

Ste.  Nlonster,  I  will  kill  this  man :  his  daughter 
and  I  will  be  king  and  queen ;  (save  our  graces .') 
and  Trinculo  and  thyself  shall  be  viceroys : — Dost 
Uiou  like  the  plot,  Trinculo.' 

7Wn.  Excellent 

Ste.  Give  me  thy  hand ;  I  am  sony  I  beat  thee 
but,  while  thou  livest,  keep  a  good  tongue  in  thy 
head. 

QiL  W^ithin  this  half  hour  will  he  be  asleep : 
Wilt  thou  destroy  him  then  ? 

Ste.  Ay,  on  mine  honour. 

Art.  This  will  I  tell  my  master. 

CaL  Thou  mak'st  me  merry :  I  am  full  of  plea- 
sure; 
lyct  us  be  jocund :  Will  you  troll  the  catch 
You  taught  me  but  whilc-erc  ? 

Ste.  At  thy  rt-quest,  monster,  I  will  do  reason, 
any  reason :  Come  on,  Trinculo,  let  us  sing. 

[Sins^s. 
Flout  'fm,  and  shout  'em ;  and  skout  'em,  and 

flout  'em  ; 
Thought  is  free. 

CaL  That's  not  the  tune. 

[Ariel  plays  the  tune  on  a  tabor  and  pipe. 

Ste.  What  is  this  same  ? 

Trin.  This  is  the  tune  of  our  catch,  played  by 
the  piclurr  of  No-body. 

Ste.  If  thou  becst  a  man,  show  thyself  in  thy 
likeness;  if  thou  beest  a  devil,  takc't  as  thou  list 

Trin.  O,  forgive  me  my  sins ! 

Sie.  He  that  dies,  pays  all  debts :  I  defy  thee  :- 
Mercy  upon  us ! 

Cal.  Art  thou  afeard  ? 

Sie.  No,  monster,  not  I. 


(3)  Sprir^. 


(4)  Throat 


Seem  HI. 


TEMPEST. 


19 


Cat.  Be  not  afeard ;  toe  isle  is  AiIl  of  noises, 
Sounds,  and  sweet  airs,  that  give  delight,  and  hurt 

not 
Scmetimes  a  thousand  twangline  instruments 
Will  hum  about  mine  ears ;  anosometinies  voices, 
That,  if  I  then  had  wakM  after  long  sleep. 
Will  make  me  sleep  aeain :  and  th^i,  in  dreaming, 
The  clouds,  raetbought,  would  open,  and  show 

riches 
Ready  to  drop  upon  me ;  that,  when  I  wak*d, 
I  cry'd  to  dream  again. 

SU.  This  will  prove  a  brave  kingdom  to  me, 
where  I  shall  have  my  munc  for  nothmg. 

Cal.  When  Prospero  is  destroyed. 

SU.  That  shall  be  by  and  by :  I  remember  the 
story. 

Trin.  llie  sound  is  going  away :  lef  s  follow  it, 
and  after,  do  our  woHl. 

Ste,  Lead,  monster ;  weMl  follow. — ^I  would,  I 
could  see  this  taborer :  he  lavs  it  on. 

Trm.  Wilt  come?  I'll  follow,  Stephana 

[Exeimt. 

SCEJV:E  Ill.-^notherpari  of  the  Island.  En- 
ter Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antonio,  Gonzalo,  Adrian, 
Francisco,  and  others. 

Gon.  By  V  lakin,i  I  can  go  no  further,  sir ; 
My  old  bones  ache :  here's  a  maze  trod,  indeed, 
Inrough  forth-rights,  and  meanders !  by  your  pa- 
tience, 
I  needs  must  rest  me.  " 

Alon.  Old  lord,  I  cannot  blame  thee, 

Who  am  myself  attached  with  weariness. 
To  the  dulling  of  my  spirits :  sit  down,  and  rest 
Even  here  I  will  put  on  my  hope,  and  keep  it 
Ho  longer  for  my  flatterer :  he  is  drown*d, 
AVhom  thus  we  stray  to  find  ;  and  the  sea  mocks 
Our  frustrate  search  on  land :  Well,  let  him  go. 
AnL  I  am  right  glad  that  he's  so  out  of  hope. 

[Aside  to  Sebastian. 
Do  not,  for  one  repulse,  forego  the  purpose 
That  you  resolvM  to  effect 

Seb.  The  next  advantage 

"Will  we  take  thoroughly. 

Ani.  Let  it  be  to-night ; 

Tor,  now  they  are  oppressed  with  travel,  they 
M'ill  not,  nor  cannot,  use  such  vigilance, 
As  when  they  are  fresh. 

Seb.  I  say,  to-night :  no  more. 

Solemn  and  strange  music ;  and  Prospero  above^ 
invisible.  Enter  several  strange  Shapes^  bring- 
ing in  a  banoitet ;  they  dance  about  it  Vfith  gen- 
tle actions  of  salutation  ;  and  inviting  the  kingj 
ifc.  to  eatf  they  depart. 

Alon.  Wliat  harmony  is  this  ?  my  good  friends, 
hark ! 

Gon.  Man'ellous  sweet  mu»c ! 

Alon,  Give  us  kind  keepers,  heavens! — ^What 
were  these  ? 

Seb.  A  living  drollery  :^  Now  I  will  believe. 
That  there  are  unicorns ;  that  in  Arabia 
There  is  one  tree,  the  phoenix'  throne ;  one  phcenix 
At  this  hour  reigning  there. 

Ant.  ril  believe  both : 

And  what  does  else  want  credit,  come  to  me. 
And  1*U  be  sworn  'tis  true :  Travellers  ne'er  did  lie. 
Though  fools  at  home  condemn  them. 

Gon.  If  in  Naples 

I  should  repoK  this  now,  would  they  believe  me  ? 
If  I  should  say  I  saw  such  islamlers 

(I)  Our  lady,      (2}<Show.      (3)  Certainly. 


(For,  certes,*  these  are  people  of  the  island,) 
Who,  though  they  are  ofmonstrous  shape,  yet,  nete. 
Their  manners  are  more  gentle-kind,  than  of 
Our  human  generation  you  shall  find 
Many,  nay,  almost  any. 

Pro,  Honest  lord. 

Thou  hast  said  well ;  for  some  of  you  there  present. 
Are  worse  than  devils.  [Aside. 

Alon.  I  cannot  too  much  muse,'* 

Such  shapes,  such  gesture,  and  such  sound,  ex- 
pressing 
(Although  they  want  the  use  of  tongue,)  a  kind 
Of  excellent  dumb  discourse. 

Pro.  Praise  in  departing. 

[Aside. 

Fran.  They  vaniah'd  strangely. 

Seb.  No  matter,  since 

They  have  left  their  viands  behind ;  for  we  have 

stomachs. —  ' 

Will't  please  you  taste  of  what  is  here  ? 

Alon,  Not  I. 

Gon.  Faith,  Sir,  you  need  not  fear :  When  we 
were  boys, 
W1k>  would  believe  that  there  were  mountaineers, 
Dew-lapp'd  like  bulls,  whose  throats  had  hanging 

at  them 
Wallets  of  flesh  f  or  that  there  were  such  men, 
Wliose  heads  stood  in  their  breasts  ?  which  now  we 

find. 
Each  putter-out  on  five  for  one,  will  bring  us 
Grood  warrant  ot 

Alon.  I  will  stand  to,  and  feed. 

Although  my  last:  no  matter,  since  I  fisei 
The  best  is  past : — Brother,  my  lord  the  duke. 
Stand  too,  and  do  as  we. 

Thunder  and  lightning.  Enter  Ariel  like  a?Mr- 
py :  claps  his  wings  tqton  the  table^  and  with  a 
quaint  device^  the  banquet  vanishes. 

Art.  Tou  are  three  men  of  sin,  whom  destiny 
TThat  hath  to  instrument  this  lower  world. 
And  what  is  in't,)  the  never-surfeited  sea 
Hath  caused  to  belch  up ;  and  on  this  island 
Where  man  doth  not  innabit ;  you  'mongst  men 
Being  most  unfit  to  live.    I  have  made  you  mad ; 
[Seeing  Alon.  Seb.  ^c.  draw  their  swords. 
And  even  with  such  like  valour,  men  hang  and 

drown 
Their  proper  selves.    Tou  fools !  I  and  my  fellows 
Are  nunisters  of  fate ;  the  el^nents 
Of  whom  your  swords  are  tempered,  may  as  %vell 
W'ound  the  loud  winds,  or  with  bemock'a-at  stabs 
Kill  the  still-closing  waters,  as  diminish 
One  dowM  that's  in  my  plume ;  my  fellow-ministers 
Are  like  invulnerable :  if  you  could  hurt, 
Your  swords  are  now  too  massy  for  your  strengths. 
And  will  not  be  upliAed :  But,  remember 
(For  that's  mv  business  to  you,)  that  you  three 
From  Milan  did  supplant  good  Prospero ; 
Expos'd  unto  the  sea,  which  hath  requit  it. 
Him,  and  his  innocent  child ;  for  which  foul  deed 
The  powers,  delaying,  not  forgetting,  have 
Incens'd  the  seas  and  shores,  yea,  all  the  creatures, 
Against  your  peace :  Thee,  of  thy  son,  Alonso, 
They  have  bereft ;  and  do  pronounce  by  me. 
Lingering  perdition  fworse  than  any  deuih 
Can  be  at  once)  shall  step  by  step  attend 
You,  and  your  ways;  whose  wrath  to  guard  you 

from 
(Which  here,  in  this  most  desolate  isle,  else  falls 
Upon  your  heads,)  is  nothmg,  but  heart's  sorrow 


(4)  Wonder. 


(5)  Down 


to 


TEMPEST. 


Ad  IT. 


kaii  a  clear*  life  ensomg. 

He  vanishes  in  thunder :  then^  io  sqft  musics  enter 
the  Shapes  again^  and  dance  wUh  mcps  and 
moweSf  and  carry  <nU  the  table. 

Pro,  [Aside.]  Brerely  tbe  figure  of  thif  harpy 
hast  thou 
Perform'd,  my  Ariel ;  a  grace  it  had,  deTouring : 
Of  mv  instruction  hast  t)^  nothioe  *bated. 
In  wnat  thou  hadst  to  say  :  so,  with  good  life, 
And  observation  strange,  my  meaner  ministers 
Their  several  kmds  nave  done :  my  high  charms 

work. 
And  these,  mine  enemies,  are  all  knit  up 
In  their  distractions :  they  now  are  in  my  power ; 
And  in  these  fits  I  leave  them,  whilst  I  visit 
Young  Ferdinand  (whom  they  suppose  is  drown'd,) 
And  his  and  my  lovM  darling. 

[jExt/ Prosper©  yVwn  above. 

Gon.  V  the  name  of  somethii^  holy,  sir,  why 
stand  you 
In  this  strange  stare  ? 

Alon,  O,  it  is  monstrous !  monstrous! 

Methought,  the  billows  spoke,  and  told  me  of  it ; 
The  winds  did  sing  it  to  me ;  and  the  thunder, 
That  deep  and  dreadful  oigan-pipe,  pronouncM 
The  name  of  Prosper ;  it  did  bass  my  trespass. 
Therefore  my  son  r  the  ooze  is  bedded ;  and 
IMl  seek  him  deeper  (ttan  e*er  plummet  sounded. 
And  with  him  there  lie  mudded.  [Exit. 

Seb.  But  one  fiend  at  a  time, 

m  fight  their  legions  o'er. 

Ant,  Pll  be  tlrjr  second. 

[Exeunt  Seb.  and  Ant 

Gon,  All  three  of  them  are  desperate ;   their 
great  guilt. 
Like  poison  fiven  to  work  a  great  time  after. 
Now  'gins  to  mte  the  spirits : — ^I  do  beseech  you 
That  are  oi  suppler  jomts,  follow  them  swiftly, 
And  hinder  them  from  what  this  ecstasy^ 
May  now  provoke  them  ta 

Jidr.  Follow,  I  pray  you. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJV'E  I.^Btfort  Prospero's  cdL  Enter  Pros- 
per©, Ferdinand,  and  Miranda. 

Pro.  If  I  have  too  austerely  punishM  you, 
Your  compensation  makes  amends ;  for  I 
Have  given  you  here  a  tfu«ad  of  mine  own  life, 
Or  that  for  which  I  live ;  whcnn  once  again 
I  tender  to  thy  hand  :  all  thy  vexations 
Were  but  my  trials  of  thy  love,  and  thou 
Hast  strangely  stood  the  test :  here,  afore  HeaTeo, 
I  ratify  this  my  rich  rift    O  Ferdinand, 
Do  not  smile  at  me,  uiat  I  boast  her  off^ 
For  thou  shalt  find  she  will  outstrip  all  praise. 
And  make  it  halt  behind  her. 

Fer.  I  do  believe  it. 

Against  an  oracle. 

Pro.  Then,  as  my  gift,  and  thine  own  acquisition 
Worthily  purchased,  take  my  daughter :  But 
If  thou  aost  break  her  virgin  knot  before 
All  sanctimonious  ceremonies  may 
With  full  and  holy  rite  be  minister^, 
No  sweet  aspersion*  shall  the  heavens  let  fall 
To  make  this  contract  grow ;  but  barren  hate, 

(1)  Pure,  blameless.    (2)  AlienatioD  of  mind. 


Sour-ey*d  disdain,  and  discord,  shall  bestrew 
The  union  of  your  bed  with  weeds  so  loathly, 
That  you  shall  hate  it  both :  therefore,  take  heed. 
As  Hymen's  lamps  shall  light  you. 

Fer.  As  I  hope 

For  quiet  days,  fair  issue,  and  long  life, 
"With  such  love  as  'tis  now ;  the  murkiest  den. 
The  roost  opportune  place,  the  strongest  suggestion 
Our  worscr  Genius  can,  shall  never  melt 
Mine  honour  into  lust ;  to  take  away 
The  edge  of  that  day's  celebration, 
When  I  shall  think,  or  Phoebus'  steeds  are  founder*d. 
Or  night  kept  chain'd  below. 

Pro.  Fairly  spoke : 

Sit  then,  and  talk  with  her,  she  is  thine  own. — 
Wliat,  Ariel :  my  industrious  servant  Ariel ! 

Enter  Ariel. 

Art.  "^^Tiat  would  my  potent  master?  here  I  am. 

Pro.  Thou  and  thy  meaner  fellows  your  last 
service 
Did  worthily  perform ;  and  I  must  use  vou 
In  such  another  trick  :  go,  bring  the  rabble. 
O'er  whom  I  give  thee  power,  here,  to  this  place : 
Incite  them  to  quick  motion ;  for  I  must 
Be«tow  upon  the  eyes  of  this  young  couple 
Some  vanity  of  mine  art ;  it  is  my  promise. 
And  they  expect  it  from  me. 

Art.  Presently  ^ 

Pro.  Ay,  with  a  twink. 

Art.  Before  you  can  say.  Come,  and  gY), 
And  breathe  twice ;  and  cry,  «o,  so  ; 
Each  one,  tripping  on  his  toe. 
Will  be  here  with  mop  and  mowe : 
Do  you  love  me,  master  ?  no. 
Pro.  Dearl?,  my  delicate  Ariel:  Do  not  approach. 
Till  thou  dd£t  hear  me  call. 

Art.  Well  I  conceive. 

[Exit 

Pro.  Look,  thou  be  true ;  do  not  give  dalliance 
Too  much  the  rein ;  the  strongest  oaths  are  straw 
To  the  fire  i'  the  blood :  be  more  abstemious. 
Or  else,  good  night,  your  vow  ! 

Fer.  I  warrant  you,  rir ; 

The  white-cold  virgin  snow  upon  my  heart 
Abates  the  ardour  of  my  liver. 

Pro.  Well.— 

Now  come,  my  Ariel ;  bring  a  corollary- ,^ 
Rather  than  want  a  spirit ;  appear,  and  pertly. — 
No  tongue ;  all  eyes ;  be  silent  [SoJX  music 

A  Masque.    Enter  Iris. 

Tris.  Ceres,  most  bounteous  lady,  tliy  rich  leas 
Of  wheaf,  rj'e,  barley,  vetches,  oats,  and  pease  ; 
Thy  tur^'  mountains,  where  live  nibbling  iiheep, 
An^  flat  meads  thatch'd  with  stover,  them  to  keep ; 
Thy  banks  with  pecmied  and  lilied  brims, 
Wfiich  sponcT  April  at  thy  best*  betrinw. 
To  make  coTS  nymphs  chaste  crowns ;  and  thy 

brocffn  groves, 
^\llose  shadow  the  dismissed  bachelor  loves. 
Being  lass-lorn  ;  thy  pole-clipt  vineyard  ; 
And  thy  sea-marge,  stcril,  and  rocky-hard, 
WTiere  thou  thyself  dost  air :  The  queen  o'  the  sky 
Whose  watery  arch,  and  messeurer,  am  I, 
Bids  thee  leave  these;   and  wiu  her  sovereign 

grace. 
Here  on  this  grass-plot,  in  this  veiy  place. 
To  come  and  sport :  her  peacorks'fly  amain  ; 
Approach,  rich  Ceres,  her  to  entei^'in. 

(3)  Sprinkling.    (4)  Surplus.    (5)  Command. 


oCflli  /• 


TEMPEST. 


21 


rd. 


^JENto'Ceict. 

Cb*.  Han,  BMiqr-cokNir'd  romengcr,  tfiat  ne'er 
Don  dinbej  the  wife  of  Jupiter ; 
Who,  witfi  dij  nffroo  wings,  upon  my  flowera 
Diffbeest  honey-drops,  refreshing  showers : 
And  with  each  end  of  thy  blue  bow  dost  crown 
My  boskyi  acres,  and  my  unshrubbM  down, 
Rjch  scan  to  my  proud  earth ;  '\^'hy  hath  thy  queen 
Suramoo^d  me  hither,  to  this  short^rass^d  green  ? 

Iris.  A  contract  of  true  love  to  celebrate ; 
And  some  donation  freely  to  estate 
On  the  bless*d  lovers. 

Or.  Tell  me,  heavenly  bow, 

If  Venus,  or  her  son,  as  thou  dost  know, 
Do  now  attend  the  queen  f  since  they  did  plot 
The  means,  that  dusky  Dis^  my  daughter  got,  * 
Her  and  her  blind  boy's  scandalM  company 
I  have  forsworn. 

Iris.  Of  her  society 

Be  not  afraid :  I  met  her  deity 
Cutting  the  clouds  towards  Paphos ;  and  her  son 
Dove-drawn  with  her :  here  thought  they  to  have 

done 
Some  wanton  charm  upon  this  man  and  maid, 
Whose  TOWS  are,  that  no  bed-rite  shall  be  paid 
Till  Hymen's  torch  be  lighted :  but  in  vain ; 
Mars's  hot  minion  is  retum'd  again ; 
Her  waspish-headed  son  has  broke  his  arrows. 
Swears  be  will  shoot  no  more,  but  play  with  spar- 
rows. 
And  be  a  boy  right  out 

Ctr.  Highest  queen  of  state, 

Great  JaDOOomea ;  I  know  her  by  her  gait 

Enter  Jvaio. 

Juno,  How  does  my  bounteous  sister.'  Go  with 
me 
To  bless  this  twain,  that  they  may  prosperous  be. 
And  honour'd  in  their  issue. 

SONG. 

Jona    Honcur,  riches,  marriage-blessing. 
Long  continuanee,  and  increasing. 
Hourly  joys  be  still  upon  you  ! 
Juno  tings  her  blessings  on  you. 

Cer.       Earth*s  increase,  andjoizon*  plenty  ; 
Bams,  and  gamers  never  empty  ; 
Fines,  utith  clusCring  bunches  grotcing; 
Plants,  with  goodly  burden  bowing  ; 
Spring  come  to  you,  at  the  farthest. 
In  the  very  end  of  harvest ; 
Scarcity,  and  loan/,  shall  shun  you  ; 
Cares?  blessing  sots  on  you. 

Fkr.  This  is  a  most  majestic  vision,  and 
Kannonious  charmir^y :  May  I  be  bold 
To  think  these  spirits  ? 

Pro.  Spirits,  which  by  mine  art 

I  have  from  their  confines  call'd  to  enact 
iMypresent  &nciea. 

Fer.  Let  me  live  here  ever ; 

^  rare  a  wonder'd^  father,  and  a  wife, 
Make  this  place  Paradise. 

[Juno  and  Ceres  vhisper,  and  send  Iris  on 
employment. 

Pro.  Sweet  now,  silence ; 

Juno  and  Ceres  whisper  seriously ; 

m  Woody,        (2)  Pluta        (3)  Abundance. 
(4)  Able  to  produce  such  wonders.    (5)  Vanished. 


There's  somediii^  else  to  do :  hush,  and  be  mute. 
Or  else  our  spell  is  marred. 
Iris,  Yon  nymphs,  call'dNaiads,  of  the  wand'ring 
brooks, 
With  your  sedg'd  crowns,  and  ever  harmless  looks. 
I>eave  your  crisp  channels,  and  on  this  green  laud 
Answer  your  summons ;  Juno  does  command : 
Come,  temperate  nymphs,  and  help  to  celebrate 
A  contract  of  true  love ;  be  not  too  late. 

Enter  certain  lymphs. 

You  sun-bum'd  sicklemcn,  of  August  weaiy, 
Come  hither  from  the  furrow,  and  be  mern* ; 
Make  holy -day  :  your  r}'e-straw  hats  put  on, 
And  these  fre:»h  nymphs  encounter  every  one 
In  country  footing. 

Enter  certain   Reapers,  properly  habited;  they 
Join  with  the  JVumphs  in  a  graciful  dance  ;  to- 
wards the  end  whereof  Fwvptro  starts  suddenly, 
and  speaks  ;  after  which,  to  a  strange,  hollow^ 
and  confused  noise,  they  heavily  vatush. 

Pro.  [Aside.]  I  had  forgot  that  foul  conspiracy 
Of  the  beast  Caliban,  and  his  confederates. 
Against  my  life ;  the  minute  of  their  plot 
Is  almost  come. — [To  the  Spirits.]  Well  done ; — 
avoid ; — no  more. 

Fer.  This  h  most  strange :  your  Other's  in  some 
passion 
That  wortu  him  strongly. 

J^ra.  Never  till  this  day, 

Saw  I  him  touch'd  with  anger  so  distemper*^ 

Pro.  You  do  look,  mr  son,  in  a  rom-'d  sort. 
As  if  you  were  dismay 'd  :  be  cheerful,  sir : 
Our  revels  now  are  ended ;  these  our  actors. 
As  I  foretold  you,  were  all  spirits,  and 
Are  melted  into  air,  into  tliin  air: 
And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  this  vision. 
The  cloud-cappM  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself^ 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,  uiall  aissolve ; 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pagc^ant  faded,' 
Leave  not  a  rack^  behind :  We  are  such  stuff 
As  dreams  are  made  of,  and  our  little  life 
Is  rounded  with  a  sleep. — Sir,  I  am  vex'd ; 
Bear  with  my  weakness ;  ray  old  brain  is  troubled. 
Be  not  disturbed  with  my  infirmity : 
If  you  be  pleas'd,  retire  into  my  cell. 
And  there  repoae ;  a  turn  or  two  I'll  walk, 
To  still  my  beating  mind. 

Fer.  Mira.  We  wish  your  peace. 

[Exeunt. 

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

Enter  Ariel. 

Ari.  Thr  thoughts  I  cleave  to;  What's  thy 

pleasure  r 
Pro.  Spirit, 

We  must  prepare  to  meet  with  Caliban. 
Ari.   A>',   my  commander :  when  I  presented 
Ceres, 
I  thought  to  have  told  thee  of  it ;  but  I  fear'd, 
Lest  I  might  anger  thee. 
Pro.  Say  again,  where  didst  thou  leave  these 

varlets .' 
Aru  I  told  you,  sir,  they  were  red-hot  with 
drinldjig; 

(6)  A  body  of  clouds  in  motion ;  but  it  is  moitt 
probable  that  the  author  wrote  tru^k. 


Aa  r. 


So  Ml  ofTakMr,  tfwt  Aey  noie  ibe 

For  breathine  in  their  faces ;  beat  the  sTOKid 
For  kisiiD*;  ot  tbeir  beet :  vet  aiwaji  bendine 
Towards  their  project :  Then  I  beat  mj  tabor. 
At  which,  like  unbackM  collar  tber  prick'd 

ears, 
AdrancM  their  ere-Uda,  litied  op  their  noaesy 
Ai  thej  smelt  imuic ;  so  I  charm'd  their  ears. 
That,  calf-like,  tfaej  mj  lowing  kjilow'd,  throuch 
Toothed  briers,  afcarp  mnea,  pricking  goas,  and 

thomsi. 
Which  entered  their  frail  shins :  at  last  I  left  them 
I*  the  filthy  mantled  pool  bevood  joor  cell. 
There  dancing  op  to  the  chms,  that  the  fcul  lake 
Oer-stonk  their  teet. 

Pro.  This  was  well  done,  nnr  bird : 

Thv  shape  inyisible  retain  thoo  still : 
The  tnunpery  in  mv  ho«£*e,  ^o,  bnng  it  hither. 
For  stale,!  to  catch  these  thieves* 
Ari,  I  go,  I  col     [Exit 

Pro.  A  devil,  a  bom  devil,  on  whose  nature 
Nmtnre^  can  never  stick ;  on  whom  mv  pains. 
Humanely  taken,  all,  all  lost,  quite  k»t ; 
And  as,  with  age,  his  body  uglier  grows. 
So  his  mind  cankers :  I  will  plague  them  all. 

Re-enter  Ariel  loaden  toUk  gUsUring  appetrtl,  ^re. 
Even  to  roaring : — Come,  hang  them  on  this  line. 

ProsperooiM^  Ariel  rcvuim  mcmUr.     JCjtlrr  Cali- 
ban, Stephano,  and  Trinculo ;  ail  wet. 

CaL  Pray,  yoo,  tread  aoAly,  Chat  the  blind  mole 
ma?  not 
Hear  a  foot  fall :  we  now  are  near  his  ceU. 

Ste.  Monster,  your  &iry,  which,  yon  say,  is  a 
harmless  fairy,  has  done  littke  better  than  played  die 
Jack'  with  as. 

Trin,  Monster,  I  do  snell  all  horse-piss ;  at 
which  my  nose  is  in  great  indignation. 

Ste.  So  b  mine.  Do  yon  hear,  monster  ?  If  I 
should  take  a  disj^easare  against  yoa ;  look  yon, — 

Trin.  Thoa  wert  but  a  K»t  monster. 

CaL  Good  mv  lord,  give  me  thy  &voar  still : 
Be  patient,  for  the  prize  Pll  brio^  thee  to 
Shail  hood-wink  this  mischance :  therefore,  speak 

softly. 
Airs  hashM  as  midnight  yet 

7Vm.  Ay,  but  to  lose  our  bottles  in  the  pool, — 

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

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

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

Cat.  Prj'thoe,  my  king,  be  quiet :  Seest  thou  here^ 
This  is  the  mouth  o'  the  cell :  no  noise,  and  eut^r  :  | 
Do  that  good  mischief,  which  mav  make  this  iAland 
Thine  own  for  ever,  and  I,  thy  Caliban, 
For  aye<  thy  foot-licker. 

Ste.  Give  me  thy  band :  I  do  hc^a  to  have  bloody 
thoughts. 

•     Trin.    O  king  Stephano!  O  peer!  .0  worthy 
Stephano !  lor)k,  what  a  wardrobe  here  is  for  thee  I 

Otl.  Let  it  alone,  thou  fool ;  it  is  but  trash. 

Trin.  O,  ho,  monster ;  we  know  what  belongs  to 
a  frippery  :* — O  king  Stephano ! 

Ste.  Put  off  that  gown,  Trinculo ;  by  this  hand, 
ril  have  that  gown. 

Trin.  Thy  grace  shall  have  it 

Col.   Tlie  dropsy  drown  this  fool !  what  do  you 
nK-ati, 

(1 )  Bait     (2)  F^liiration.     (3)  Jack  with  a  lantern. 
'4)  Ever.     ('))  A  shop  for^le  of  old  clothes. 


To  dnt  limi  m  sock  l^i^S*^  '  ^^'^  *Iaas, 
\nd  do  (he  aanrder  first ;  it'lie  awake. 
From  toe  to  crown  bell  fiU  oar  skins  with  pinches, 
>Lake  OS  stranse  *ca£. 

.Ste.  B«  yoa  centre  moDBicr. — Mistress  fine,  is  aot 
this  orv  jerkm .'  5ow  is  the  jerkin  uodcf  r  the  liae : 
acw.  jeriun,  yoo  are  like  tt>  hmi  vour  hair,  and 
pn>ve  a.  baid  jerkin. 

Trm,  Do,  do :  We  steal  by  line  ac«i  lerel,  aa*t 
iik*^  >  our  grace. 

.Ve.  I  thank  thee  for  that  jest:  here*?  a  gar^ 
tnent  tor't :  wit  shail  oot  so  onr^wardtii,  while  i  am 
(kins  ot  this  country  :  SUal  f>y  iine  and  UvtU  is  an 
excellent  pa.<«  at' pate ;  there's  another  garment  for't 

Trin.  Monster,  come,  pat  sune  )aDicP  upia  jioor 
fins^rv  and  away  with  the  rest 

OiL  I  will  have  oone  aa*t :  we  shall  lose  oar  tJBe, 
And  all  be  tnm*d  xo  bamarles,  or  to  apes 
\M:h  foreheads  viUanoos  low. 

^te.  Monster,  lav -to  yoor  fingers :  help  lo  bear 
this  away,  where  my  hogshead  oC  wine  i:*,  ur  i*U 
turn  yo«  oat  of  my  kingdum ;  go  to,  carry  this. 

Trin.  And  this. 

iitt.  Av,  and  tfaisb 

A  noix  of  hunters  heard.  Enter  dirers  Spiritx, 
in  shape  ofhtnendsy  and  hunt  them  about ;  PrQ*> 
pero  and  Ariel  setting  then  on. 

Pro.  Hey,  Mnadainy  hey ! 

Ari.  Silver!  there  it  8:oes,  SOverf 

Pro.   Furv,  Fury  !  there,  TyranL,  there !  hark, 

[CaL  Ste.  and  Trin.  art  drieen  ouL 
Go,  charge  ray  goMins  that  they  grind  their  joints 
With  dry  conndsioos;  shorten  op  their  sinews 
With  aged  cramps ;  aodmore  pinch-spotted  make 

them. 
Than  pard,*  or  cat  o*  moontain. 

Ari.  Hark,  djey  roar. 

Pro.  Let  them  be  honted  soundly :  at  thb  hour 
Lie  at  mT  mercy  all  mine  enemies ; 
Shortiv  sWl  all  my  labours  end,  and  tbon 
Shalt  Lave  the  air  at  freedom :  iox  a  little. 
Follow,  and  do  me  service.  [fZicuni. 


ACT  V. 

SCKXE  I.— Before  (he  ceU  </Prospenx     Entet 
Prospero  in  his  magic  Robes,  and  Ariel. 

Pro.  Now  does  my  project  gather  to  a  head : 
My  charms  crack  not ;  my  spirits  obey ;  and  time 
Goes  upright  with  his  carriage. — How's  the  day  ? 

Ari.  On  the  sixth  hour;  at  which  time,  my  lord, 
You  said  oar  work  should  cease. 

Pro.  I  did  say  so. 

When  first  I  raised  the  tempest  Say,  my  spirit. 
How  fares  the  king  and  his  ? 

Ari.  ConfinM  together 

In  the  same  fashion  as  you  gave  in  charge ; 
Just  as  you  left  them,  sir;  all  prisoners 
In  the  lime-grove  which  weathcr-fendss^  your  cell ; 
They  cannot  budge,  till  you  release.   The  king. 
His  brother,  and  yours,  abide  all  three  distracted ; 
And  the  remainder  mourning  over  them. 
Brim-full  of  sorrow,  and  dismay ;  but  chiefly 
Him  you  termM,  sir.  The  good  old  lord  Gomnfo , 
His  tears  run  down  his  beard,  like  winter's  drops 

OS)  Bird-lime.  (7)  Leopard. 

(8)  Defends  from  bad  weather. 


Seem  L 


TEMPEST. 


23 


From  eares  ofreeda  -A  yolurclmim  so  stronglj  works 

tliem, 
That  if*  Tou  now  beheld  than,  your  affiectkxit 
Woald  become  tender. 
Pro.  Dost  thoa  think  to,  spirit? 

Ari,  Mine  would,  sir,  were  I  human. 
Pro.  And  mine  shall. 

Hast  thou,  which  art  but  air,  a  touch,  a  feeling 
or  their  afflictions ;  and  shall  not  myself. 
One  of  their  kind,  that  relish  all  as  sharply. 
Passion  as  they,  be  kindlier  mov*d  than  thou  art  f 
Though  with  their  high  wrongs  I  am  struck  to  the 

quick, 
Yet  with  my  nobler  reason,  'gainst  my  fury 
Do  I  take  part :  the  rarer  action  is 
In  virtue  than  in  vengeance :  they  beii^  penitent, 
The  sole  drift  of  my  purpose  doth  extend 
Kot  a  frown  further :  Go,  release  them,  Ariel ; 
Mj  charms  PU  break,  their  senses  PU  restore. 
And  they  shall  be  thcjnselves. 

ArL  PU  fetch  them,  sir. 

[Exit. 
Pro.  Te  elves  of  hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes, 
andg^roves; 
^And  ye,  that  on  the  sands  with  printless  foot 
Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune,  and  do  fly  him, 
"When  he  comes  back ;  you  demy -puppets,  that 
Jiv  moon-shine  do  the  ^reen-sour  ringlets  make, 
'^liereof  die  ewe  not  bites ;  and  you,  whose  pas- 
time 
Xs  to  make  midnight-mushrooms ;  that  rejoice 
*To  bear  die  solemn  curfew  ;  by  whose  aid 
(Weak  masters  though  ye  be,)  I  have  be-dimmM 
^lic  noon- tide  sun,  c^Pd  forth  the  mutinous  winds, 
^nd  *twixt  the  green  sea  and  the  azur'd  vault 
Set  roarii^  war :  to  the  dread  rattling  thunder 
X-Iave  1  given  fire,  and  rifted  Jove*s  stout  oak 
'With  hh  own  bolt :  the  strong-basM  promontory 
Ibiave  I  made  shake ;  and  by  the  spurs  pluck'd  up 
rrhe  pine  and  cedar :  graves,  at  my  command, 
S-Iave   wakM  their  sleepers;  op*d,  and  let  them 

forth 
fiv  my  eo  potent  art :  But  this  rough  magic 
M  liere  abjure :  and,  when  I  have  requir'a 
Some  heavenly  music  (which  even  now  I  do,) 
^To  work  mine  end  upon  their  senses,  that 
l^s  airy  charm  is  for,  PU  break  my  staff, 
Rurr  it  certain  fathoms  in  the  earth, 
.Ajnd,  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound, 
IMl  drown  my  booL  [Solemn  music. 

a^-tnter  Ariel :  after  hbrty  Alonso,  with  ajrantic 
gesture,  attenaed  by  Gonzalo;  Sebastian  and 
Antonio  in  like  manner ,  attended  by  Adrian  and 
Francisco :  They  all  enter  ihe  circle  which  Pros- 

Fero  had  made,  and  there  stand  charmed  ^whidi 
rospero  observingt  speaks.  ^ 

A  solemn  air,  and  the  best  comforter 

To  an  unsettled  fancy,  cure  thy  brains. 

Now  useless,  bdlM  within  thy  skull !  There  stand. 

For  jou  are  spell-stopp'd. 

Holy  Gonzalo,  honourable  man, 

^line  eves,  even  sociable  to  the  show  of  thine. 

Fall  fellowly  drops. — The  charm  dissolves  apace ; 

^imI  as  the  moraing  steals  upon  the  night. 

Melting  the  daiHcness,  so  their  rising  senses 

^<$in  to  chase  the  ignorant  fumes  that  mantle 

TlMir  clearer  reason. — O  my  good  Gonzalo, 

Mj  ^c  preserver,  and  a  loyal  sir 

^ohim  thou  follow*st ;  I  will  pay  thy  graces 

Home,  both  in  word  and  deed. — Most  cruelly 

(1)  Thatch.     (2)  Pity,  or  tenderness  of  heart 


Didst  thou,  AloDSO,  use  me  and  my  daughter . 
Thy  brother  was  a  furtherer  in  the  act ; — 
Thou'rt  pinch'd  for*t  now,  Sebastian. — Flesh  and 
A  blood, 

You  brother  mine,  that  entertained  ambition, 
ExpeUM  remorse^  and  nature;  who,  with  Sebastian 
(Whose  inward  pinches  therefore  are  most  strong,) 
Would  here  have  kilPd your  king;  I  do  forgive  thee, 
Ulmatuial  though  thou  art! — Tneir  understanding 
Begins  to  swell :  and  the  approaching  tide 
Wni  shortly  fill  the  reasonable  shores. 
That  now  lie  foul  and  muddy.    Not  one  of  them, 
That  yet  looks  on  me,  or  would  know  me : — ^Ariel, 
Fetch  me  the  hat  and  rapier  in  my  cell ; 

[Exit  Ariel. 
I  will  dis-case  me,  and  myself  present. 
As  I  was  sometime  Milan : — quickly,  spirit ; 
Thou  shalt  ere  long  be  free. 

Ariel  rt-eniersy  singing,  and  helps  to  attire 
Prospero. 

Ari.  Where  the  bee  sucks,  there  suck  If 

In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie  : 

There  1  couch  when  owls  do  cry. 

On  the  baVs  back  I  do  fly. 

After  summer,  merrily : 
Merrily,  merrily,  shall  I  live  now. 
Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  <m  the  bough. 

Pro.  Why,  that's  my  dainty  Ariel ;  I  shall  mist 
thee; 
But  yet  thou  khalt  have  freedom :  so,  so,  so. — 
To  the  king's  ship,  invisible  as  thou  art : 
There  shalt  thou  find  the  mariners  asleep 
Under  the  hatches ;  the  master,  and  the  boatswain. 
Being  awake,  enforce  them  to  this  place ; 
And  presently,  I  pr'ythee. 

Art.  I  drink' the  air  before  me,  and  return 
Or  e'er  your  pulse  twice  beat.  [Exit  ArieL 

Gon.  All  torment,  trouble,  wonder,  and  amaze- 
ment 
Inhabits  here :  Some  heavenly  power  guide  us 
Out  of  this  fearful  country  ! 

Pro.  Behold,  sir  king, 

The  wronged  duke  of  Milan,  Prospero ; 
For  more  assurance  that  a  living  prince 
Does  now  speak  to  thee,  I  embrace  thy  body ; 
And  to  thee,  and  thy  company,  I  bid 
A  hearty  welcome. 

AUm.  Whe'r*  thou  beest  he,  or  no, 

Or  some  enchanted  trifle  to  abuse  me. 
As  late  I  have  been,  I  not  know  :  thy  pulse 
Beats,  as  of  flesh  and  blood  ;  and,  since  I  saw  thee. 
The  affliction  of  my  mind  amends,  with  which, 
I  fear,  a  madness  held  me  :  this  must  crave 
(An  if  this  be  at  all)  a  most  strange  story. 
Thy  dukedom  I  resign  ;  and  do  entreat 
Thou  pardon  me  my  wrongs  : — But  how  should 

Prospero 
Be  living,  ana  be  here  ? 

Pro.  First,  noble  friend, 

Let  me  embrace  thine  ace  ;  whose  honour  cannot 
Be  measur'd,  or  confin'd- 

Gon.  "Whether  this  be. 

Or  be  not,  PU  not  swear. 

Pro.  You  do  yet  taste 

Some  subtilties  o'  the  isle,  that  will  not  let  you 
Believe  things  certain : — Welcome,  my  friends 

ail  :— 
But  you,  my  brace  of  lords,  were  I  so  minded, 

[Aside  to  Seb.  and  Ant. 
I  here  could  pluck  his  highness'  frown  upon  you, 

(3)  Whether. 


u 


TEMraST. 


^ctT, 


And  jiMtifj  yoa  traitors ;  at  this  fime 
ril  tell  no  tales. 

Seb.  The  devil  speaks  in  him.  [Aside, 

Pro.  No;— 

For  you,  most  wicked  sir,  whom  to  call  brother 
Would  even  infect  my  mouth,  1  do  forgive 
Thy  rankest  fault  ;  all  of  them ;  and  require 
My  dukedom  of  thee,  which,  perforce,  I  know, 
Thou  muiit  re^itore. 

AUm.  If  thou  beest  Prospero, 

Give  us  particulars  of  thy  preservation  ; 
How  thou  [msi  met  us  here,  who  three  hours  since 
Were  wreckM  upon  this  shore  ;  where  I  have  lost, 
How  sharp  the  jwint  of  this  remembrance  is ! 
My  dear  son  Ferdinand. 

Pro.  I  am  wo^  for't,  sir. 

AUm.  Irreparable  is  the  loss ;  and  Patience 
Says,  it  is  past  her  cure. 

Pro.  I  rather  think 

Tou  have  not  sought  her  help ;  of  whose  soft  grace, 
For  the  like  loss,  I  have  her  sovereign  aid. 
And  rest  myself  content 

Alan.  You  the  like  loss  ? 

Pro.  As  great  to  roe,  as  late ;  and,  portable^ 
To  make  tiie  dear  loss,  have  I  means  much  weakef 
Than  vou  may  call  to  comfort  you ;  for  I 
Have  lost  my  daughter. 

Alon.  A  daughter  ? 

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

Where  my  8<xi   lies.  When  did  you    loae  your 
daughter? 
Pro.  In  this  last  tempest  I  perceive,  these  lords 
At  this  encounter  do  so  much  admire. 
That  they  devour  their  reason ;  and  scarce  think 
Their  eyes  do  offices  of  truth,  their  words 
Are  natural  breath  ;  but,  howsoever  you  have 
Been  justled  from  your  senses,  know  for  certain. 
That  I  am  Prospero,  and  that  veir  duke 
Which  was  thrust  forth  ofMilan ;  who  most  strangely 
Upon  this  shore,  where  you  were  wrecked,  was 

landed. 
To  be  the  lord  on't    No  more  vet  of  this ; 
For  'tis  a  chronicle  of  day  by  day. 
Not  a  relation  for  a  breakfast,  nor 
Befitting  this  first  meeting.     Welcome,  sir  ; 
This  cell's  my  court :  here  have  I  few  attendants. 
And  subjects  none  abroad  :  pray  you,  look  in. 
My  dukedom  since  you  have  given  me  again, 

1  will  requite  you  with  as  good  a  thing ; 

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

The  entrance  of  the  cell  opens^  and  discovers  Fer- 
dinand and  Miranda  playing  at  chess, 

JUira.  Sweet  lord,  you  play  me  false. 

fh:  No,  my  dearest  love, 

I  would  not  for  the  world. 

J\fira.  Yes,  for  a  score  of  kingdoms  you  should 
f  wrangle. 

And  I  would  call  it  fair  play. 

Alon.  If  this  prove 

A  vision  of  the  island,  one  dear  son 
Shall  I  twice  lose. 

Seb.  A  most  high  miracle  ! 

Fer.  Thouarh  the  seas  threaten,  they  are  merciful ; 
I  have  curs'd  them  without  cause. 

«  FFerd.  kneels  to  Alcn. 

Alon.  Now  all  the  blessings 

Of  a  glad  father  compass  thee  about ! 


(1)  Sorry. 


(2)  Bearable. 


Arise,  and  say  how  thoa  cam'st  here. 

Mira.  O!  wonder! 

How  many  goodly  creatures  are  there  here  ! 
How  beauteous  mankind  is  !  O  brave  new  world. 
That  has  such  people  in't ! 

Pro.  'Tis  new  to  thee. 

Alon.  What  is  this  maid,  with  whom  thou  wast 
at  play  ^ 
Your  eld'st  acquaintance  cannot  be  three  hours : 
Is  she  the  goddess  that  hath  severed  us. 
And  brought  us  thus  together  i 

Fer.  Sir,  she's  mortal ; 

But,  by  inunortal  Providence,  she's  mine  ; 
I  chose  her,  when  I  could  not  ask  my  father 
For  his  advice  ;  nor  thought  I  had  one  :  she 
Is  daughter  to  this  famous  duke  of  Milan, 
Of  whom  so  often  I  have  heard  renown. 
But  never  saw  before ;  of  whom  1  have 
Receiv'd  a  second  life,  and  second  father 
Thi^  lady  makes  him  to  me. 

Alon.  I  am  hers : 

But  O,  how  oddly  will  it  sound,  that  I 
Must  ask  my  child  forgiveness  ! 

Pro.  There,  sir,  stop : 

Let  us  not  burden  our  remembrances 
With  a  heaviness  that's  gone. 

Gon.  I  have  inly  wept. 

Or  should  have  spoke  ere  this.  Look  down,  you  gocU, 
And  on  this  couple  drop  a  blessed  crown  ; 
For  it  is  you,  that  have  chalk'd  forth  the  way 
Which  brought  us  hither ! 

Alon.  I  say.  Amen,  Gonzalo  \ 

Gon.  Was  Milan  thrust  from  Milan,  that  his  issue 
Should  become  kin^  of  Naples  .?    O,  rejoice 
Beyond  a  conunon  joy ;  and  set  it  down 
With  gold  on  lasting  pillars  :  In  one  voyage 
Did  Cfanbel  her  husband  find  at  Tunis ; 
And  Ferdinand,  her  brother,  found  a  wife, 
Wliere  he  himself  was  lost ;  Prospero  his  dukedom. 
In  a  poor  isle ;  and  all  of  us,  ourselves. 
When  no  man  was  his  own.' 

Alon.  Give  me  your  hands : 

[To  Fer.  and  Mira. 
Let  grief  and  sorrow  still  embrace  his  heart. 
That  doth  not  wish  you  joy  ! 

Gon.  Be't  so !  Amen ! 

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

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

1  prophesied,  if  a  gallows  were  on  land. 

This  fellow  could  not  drown  : — Now,  blasphemy. 
That  swear'st  grace  o'erboard,  not  an  oath  on  shore-  f 
Hast  thou  no  mouth  by  land  ?  What  is  the  news  ? 
Boats.  The  best  news  is,  that  we  have  safely  foujul 
Our  king  and  company  :  the  next  our  ship, — 
Which,l)ut  three  glasses  since,  we  gave  out  ?p!it,- 
Is  tight  and  yare,^  and  bravely  rigg'd,  as  when 
We  first  put  out  to  sea. 

Ari.  Sir,  all  this  service  ^ 

Have  I  done  since  I  went  >    [Aside. 

Pro.  My  tricksy*  spirit !  S 

Alon.    These  are  not    natural  events  ;    they 
strengthen. 
From  strange  to  stranger. — Say,  how  came  vou 
hiSier.^ 

Boats.  If  I  did  think,  sir,  I  were  well  awake, 
I'd  strive  to  tell  you.     We  were  dead  of  sleep. 
And  (how,  we  know  not)  all  clapp'd  under  hatches. 
Where,  but  even  now,  with  strange  and  several 
noises 

(3)  In  his  senses.    (4)  Ready.     (5)  Clever,  adroit 


TEMPEST. 


85 


Dg^,  shrieking,  bowling,  gingling  chuos, 
re  direnity  of  sounds,  all  homole, 
e  awakM ;  straightwaj,  at  liberty ; 
ire,  in  all  her  trim,  freshly  bdiela 
il,  good,  and  eallant  ship ;  our  master 
;  to  eye  her :  On  a  trice,  so  please  yoo, 
a  dream,  were  we  divided  irom  them, 
re  brought  moping  hither. 

Was't  well  done  ?  ) 
BnTelr,  my  diligence.     Thou  >  [AMide. 

ti»lt  be  free.  \ 

Hiis  is  as  Strang  a  maze  as  e*er  men  trod : 
le  is  in  this  busmeas  more  than  nature 
<x  conduct^  of:  some  oracle 
rtify  our  knowledge. 

Sir,  my  li^;e, 
ilett  your  mind  with  beating  on 
ngeness  of  this  business ;  at  pick*d  leisure, 
hail  be  shortly,  single  PU  resolre  yoo 
to  you  shall  seem  probable,)  of  every 
ippenM  accidents ;  till  when,  be  cheerful, 
k  of  each  thing  well. — Come  hither,  spirit ; 

[Aside. 
juk  and  his  companions  free : 
s  spell    [Exit  Ariel]  How  fares  my  gra^ 

caonssir.^ 

«  yet  missing  of  your  company 
If  odd  lads,  Uiat  you  remember  not 

Ariel,  driving  in  Caliban,  Stephano,  and 
Trinculo,  in  their  stolen  appareL 

Svery  man  shift  for  all  the  rest,  and  let  no 
)  care  for  himself;  for  all  is  but  fortime : — 
bollv-monster,  Coragio ! 
If  these  be  true  spies  which  I  wear  in  my 
re's  a  goodlv  sight. 

\  Setebos,  t£ese  be  brave  spirits,  indeed .' 
t  my  master  is !  I  am  afraid 
dnatise  me. 

Ha,  ha ; 
ogs  are  these,  my  lord  Antonio? 
ley  buy  them  ? 

Very  like ;  one  of  them 
I  fish,  and,  no  doubt,  marketable. 
Mark  but  the  badges  of  these  men,  my 
kirds, 

',  if  they  be  true:^ — This  mis-shapen  knave, 
ler  was  a  witch ;  and  one  so  strong 
Id  ccmtrol  the  moon,  make  flows  and  ebbs, 
1  in  her  command,  without  her  power : 
fee  have  robbM  me ;  and  this  de  mi-devil 
I  a  bastard  one,)  had  plotted  with  them 


I)  Condnctor. 


(2)  Honest 


To  take  my  life :  tt^'O  of  these  fellows  you 
Must  know,  and  own ;  this  thing  of  darkness  I 
Acknowledge  mine. 

Cal  I  shall  be  pinched  to  death. 

JUon.  Is  not  ^s  Stephano,  my  drunken  butler.' 

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

AUm.  And  Trinculo  is  reeling  ripe:  where  should 
they 
Find  this  mnd  liquor,  that  hath  gilded  them  } — 
How  cam*st  thou  in-tfiis  pickle  ? 

TVm.  I  have  been  in  such  a  pickle,  since  I  saw 
you  last,  that,  I  fear  me,  will  never  out  of  my  bones : 
I  shall  not  fear  fly-blowine. 

Seh.  Why,  bow  now,  Stejdiano? 

Ste.  O,  touch  me  not;  I  am  not  Stephano,  buta 
cramp. 

Pro,  Toa*d  be  king  of  the  ule,  sirrah .' 

Ste.  I  should  have  been  a  sore  one  then. 

AUm.  This  is  as  strange  a  thing  as  e*erIlook*d  on. 

[rointmg  to  Caliban. 

Pro,  He  is  as  disproportion*d  in  his  manners. 
As  in  his  shape : — Go,  sirrah,  to  my  cell ; 
Take  with  you  your  companions ;  as  you  lode 
To  have  my  pardon,  trim  it  handsomely. 

Ccd.  Ay,  that  I  will ;  and  1*11  be  wise  hereafter. 
And  seek  for  grace :  What  a  dirice-double  ass 
Was  I,  to  take  this  drunkard  for  a  god. 
And  worship  this  dull  fool .' 

Pro.  Go  to ;  away ! 

Akn,  Hence,  and  bestow  your  luggage  where 
you  found  it 

Seb,  Or  stole  it,  rather. 

[Exewni  Cal.  Ste.  and  Trin. 

Pro,  Sir,  I  invite  your  highness,  and  your  train. 
To  my  poor  cell :  where  you  shall  take  vour  rest 
For  this  one  night ;  which  (part  of  it)  Pll  waste 
With  such  discourse,  as,  I  not  doubt,  shall  make  it 
Go  quick  away :  the  story  of  my  life, 
And  the  particular  accidents,  gone  by. 
Since  I  came  to  this  isle :  And  in  the  mom, 
Pll  bring  you  to  your  ship,  and  so  to  Naples, 
Where  I  nave  hope  to  see  the  nuptial 
Of  these  our  dear-beloved  solemnized ; 
And  thence  retire  me  to  my  Milan,  where 
Every  third  thought  shall  be  my  grave. 

Alon,  long 

To  hear  the  stoiy  of  your  life,  which  musi 
Take  the  ear  strangely. 

Pro.  Pll  deliver  all ; 

And  promise  you  calm  seas,  auspicious  gales. 
And  sail  so  expediticHis,  that  shall  catch 
Your  royal  fleet  far  off. — ^My  Ariel ; — chick, — 
That  is  thy  chaige ;  then  to  the  elements 
Be  free,  and  fare  thou  well ! — [ande.\  Please  you 
draw  near.  [Extant, 


TEBIFEST. 


EPILOGUE. 

Spoken  by  Pirospeio. 

^TOWmy  ehanns  are  aU  iPerthmmf 
And  whai  strength  IhaveU  mine  ovm; 
Which  ismott/aini:  now,  *<iff  true, 
I  must  be  here  confined  by  you. 
Or  sent  to  Naples :  Let  me  not. 
Since  Ihttve  my  dukedom  got. 
And  pardoned  the  deceiver,  dwell 
In  this  bare  idand,  by  your  spell  f 
But  release  me  from  my  bands. 
With  the  help  qfyour  good  hands.^ 
Gtnile  breath  qf  yours  my  sails 
MustJUl,  or  else  my  projectjhils. 
Which  was  to  please :  now  /want 
Spirits  to  et\force,  art  to  enchant  f 
And  my  ending  is  despair. 
Unless  I  be  reUed'd  by  prayer  f 

(1)  Applanie:  noiae  wu  tappoied  to  diMolTe  a 
•peU. 


Whidipierces90,ihalt  it  assaults 
Mtrcy  itself,  and  frees  all  faults. 

As  you  from  crimes  would  pardosCdbs, 
Let  your  iAdulgenee  set  me  free. 


It  is  obflerved  of  The  Tempest,  that  its  plan  is  re 

Filar;  this  the  author  of  The  Revisal  thinks,  what 
dunk  too,  an  accidental  effect  of  the  stons  not  in- 
traded  or  rcffarded  by  our  author.  But,  whatever 
might  be  Shs3upeare*s  intention  in  fonning  or  adopt- 
ing the  plot,  he  has  made  it  instrumental  to  the  pro- 
duction of  many  characters,  diversified  with  bound- 
less invention,  and  preserved  with  profound  skill  in 
nature,  extensive  knowledge  of  opinions,  and  accu- 
rate observation  of  life.  In  a  single  drama  are  here 
exhibited  princes,  courtiers,  and  sailors,  all  speak- 
ing in  their  real  characters.  There  is  the  agency  of 
aiiy  spirits,  and  of  an  earthly  goblin ;  the  opera- 
tions of  magic,  the  tumults  of  a  storm,  the  adven- 
tures of  a  cksert  island,  the  native  effusion  of  ud- 
taufht  affection,  the  punishment  of  guilt,  and  the 
final  happiness  of  the  pair  for  whom  our  pastdou 
and  reason  are  equally  mterested. 

JOHNSON. 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


Duke  of  MWan^Jather  to  Sihna. 

Antonio,  yoM^r  io  Proteiu. 
Tburio,  aJboUsh  rival  to  FalenHne. 
Eglamour,  agent  for  Silvia  in  her  escape. 
Speed,  a  dmonim  servant  to  Valentine, 
Launce,  servant  to  Proteus. 
PBothino,  servant  to  Antonio, 
Host,  where  Julia  lodges  in  Milan, 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 
Out-laws. 


Julia,  a  lady  of  Verona,  beloved  by  Proteus, 
Silvia,  the  duke's  daughter,  beloved  by  ValaUms 
Laceda,  waHing-VMman  to  Julia, 

Servants,  musidmu. 

Scene,  Sometimes  in  Verona  ;  somiHmes  tn  Milan, 
and  on  the  Jrontiers  qf  Mantua, 


ACT  I. 

SCEATE  I. — An  open  place  in  Verona,    Enter 
Valentine  and  Proteus. 

Valentine. 

v^EASE  to  persuade,  my  loving  Proteus ; 
Home-keeping  youth  have  ever  homely  witi : 
Wer*t  not,  affection  chains  thy  tender  days 
To  the  sweet  glances  of  thy  honoured  love, 
I  rather  would  entreat  thy  company. 
To  tee  the  wonders  of  the  world  abroad. 
Than  living  dully  sluc^^ardizM  at  home. 
Wear  out  thy  youth  with  shapeless  idleness. 
But,  since  thou  lov^st,  love  still,  and  thrive  therein, 
Even  as  I  would,  when  I  to  love  begin. 

Pro.  Wilt  thou  be  gone?    Sweet  Valentine, 
adieu ! 
Think  on  thy  Proteus,  when  thou,  haply,  seest 
Some  rare  note-worthy  object  in  thy  travel : 
Wish  me  partaker  in  thy  happiness. 
When  thou  dost  meet  good  hap ;  and,  in  thy  dan- 
ger, 
If  ever  danwr  do  environ  thee. 
Commend  thy  grievance  to  my  holy  prayers, 
For  I  will  be  thy  beads-man,  Valentine. 

Vol.  And  on  a  love-book  pray  for  my  success. 

Pro.  Upon  some  book  I  love,  PU  pray  for  tliee. 

Val.  That*s  on  some  shallow  story  of  deep  love, 
How  yoimg  Leander  crossM  the  Hellespont 

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

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

Pro.  6ver  the  boots  .^  nay,  give  file  not  the 
boots  J 

VaL  No,  ni  not,  for  it  boots  thee  not 

Pro.  What? 

Val.  To  be 

In  love,  where  scorn  is  bought  with  groans ;  coy 

looks, 
With  heart  sore  s^hs;  one  fading  moment^s  mirth, 
With  twenty  watchful,  weary,  tedious  nights : 
If  haply  won,  perhaps,  a  hapness  gain ; 

(1)  A  humorous  punishroent  at  harvest-home 
feasts,  &c. 


If  lost,  why  then  a  grievous  labour  won ; 
However,  but  a  folly  bought  with  wit, 
Or  else  a  wit  by  folty  vanquished. 

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

VaL  So,  by  your  circumstance,  I  fear,  youMl 
prove. 

Pro.  *Tis  love  you  cavil  at ;  I  am  not  Love. 

VcU.  hove  is  your  master,  for  he  masters  you : 
And  he  that  is  so  yoked  by  a  fix>l, 
Methinks  should  not  be  chronicled  for  wise. 

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

Vol.  And  writers  say.  As  the  noost  forward  bud 
Is  eaten  by  the  canker  ere  it  blow. 
Even  so  by  love  the  young  and  tender  wit 
Is  turaM  to  folly ;  blasting  in  the  bud, 
Losing  his  verdure  even  in  the  prime. 
And  all  the  fair  effects  of  future  hopes. 
But  wherefore  waste  I  time  to  counsel  thee. 
That  art  a  votary  to  fond  desire  ? 
Once  more  adieu :  my  father  at  the  road 
Expects  my  coming,  there  to  see  me  shipp'd. 

Pro.  And  thither  will  I  bring  thee,  Valentine. 

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

Pro.  All  happiness  bechance  to  thee  m  Milan  ! 
'VaL  As  much  to  you  at  home !  and  so,  farewell .' 

[Exit  Valentine. 

Pro.  He  after  honour  hunts,  I  after  love  : 
He  leaves  his  friends,  to  dignify  them  more ; 
I  leave  ravself,  my  friends,  and  all  for  love. 
Thou,  Julia,  thou  hast  metamorphosM  me  ; 
Made  me  neglect  my  studies,  lose  my  time. 
War  with  good  counsel,  set  the  world  at  nought ; 
Made  wit  with  musing  weak,  heart  sick  with 
thought 

Enter  Speed. 

Speed  Sir  Proteus,   save  you :  saw   you  my 

master? 
Pro,  But  now  be  parted  hence,  to  embark  for 

Milan. 


28 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA, 


ActL 


Speed.  Twenty  to  cne  then,  be  is  shippM  already ; 
Ana  I  have  playM  the  sheep,  in  losing  him. 

Pro.  Indeed  a  sheep  doth  very  often  stray, 
An  if  the  shepherd  be  awhile  away. 

Speed.  You  conclude  that  my  master  is  a  shep- 
herd then,  and  I  a  sheep  ? 

Pro.  I  do. 

Speed.  Why  then  my  horns  are  his  horns,  whether 
I  wake  or  sleep. 

Pro.  A  silly  answer,  and  fitting  well  a  sheep. 

Speed.  This  proves  me  still  a  sheep. 

Pro.  True  ;  and  thy  master  a  shepherd. 

Speed.  Nay,  that  I  can  deny  by  a  circumstance. 

Pro.  It  shall  go  hard,  but  V\\  prove  it  by  another. 

Speed.  The  ^ephcrd  seeks  tne  sheep,  and  not 
the  sheep  the  shepherd ;  but  I  seek  my  master, 
and  my  master  seeks'  not  me  :  therefore,  I  am  no 
aheep. 

Pro.  The  sheep  for  fodder  follow  the  shepherd, 
the  shepherd  for  food  follows  not  the  sheep ;  thou 
for  wages  fol  lowest  thy  master,  thy  master  for  wa- 
ges follows  not  thee  :  therefore,  thou  art  a  sheep. 

Speed.  Such  another  proof  will  make  me  cry 
baa. 

Pro.  But  dost  thou  hear  ?  gav'st  th^u  my  letter 
to  Julia.^ 

Speed.  Ay,  sir :  I,  a  lost  mutton,  gave  your  let- 
ter to  her,  a  laced  mutton  ;i  and  she,  a  laced  mut- 
ton, gave  me,  a  lost  muttcm,  nothing  for  my  labour. 

Pro.  Here*s  too  small  a  pasture  for  such  a  store 
of  muttons. 

Speed.  If  the  ground  be  overcharged,  yon  were 
best  stick  her. 

Pro.  Nay,  in  that  you  are  astray  ;  *twere  best 
pound  you. 

Speed.  Na^,  sir,  less  than  a  pound  shall  serve 
me  for  carrying  your  letter. 

Pro.  You  mistake ;  I  mean  the  pound,  a  pin- 
fold. 

Speed.  From  a  pound  to  a  pin  f  fold  it  over  and 
over, 
•Tis  threefold  too  little  for  carrying  a  letter  to  your 
lover. 

Pro.  But  what  said  she  ?  did  she  nod  f 

[Speed  nods. 

Speed.  I. 

Pro.  Nod,  I  ?  why,  that's  noddy .2 

Speed.  You  mistook,  sir ;  I  say,  she  did  nod  : 
and  you  ask  me,  if  she  did  nod  ;  and  I  say,  I. 

Pro.  And  that  set  together,  is — noddy. 

Speed.  Now  you  have  taken  the  pains  to  set  it 
twcether,  take  it  for  your  pains. 

Pro,  No,  no,  you  shall  have  it  for  bearing  the 
letter. 

Speed,  Well,  I  perceive,  I  must  be  fain  to  bear 
with  you. 

Pro.  Why,  sir,  how  do  you  bear  with  me  ? 

Speed.  Many,  sir,  the  letter  very  orderly ;  having 
nothing  but  the  word,  noddy,  for  my  pains. 

Pro.  Beshrew*  me,  but  you  have  a  quick  wit. 

Speed.  And  yet  it  cannot  overtake  your  slow 
purse. 

Pro.  Come,  come,  open  the  matter  in  brief: 
what  said  she  ? 

Speed.  Open  your  purse,  that  the  money,  and 
the  matter,  may  be  both  at  once  delivered. 

Pro.  W^ell,  sir,  here  is  foryour  pains  :  what  said 
she? 

Speed.  Truly,  sir,  I  think  youMl  hardly  win  her. 

Pro.  Whyf  could'st  thou  perceive  so  much 
fipwn  her  ? 

(1 )  A  term  for  a  courtezan.    (2)  A  game  at  cards. 
(3)  111  betide. 


Speed,  Sir,  I  could  perceive  nothing  at  all  from 
her ;  no,  not  so  much  as  a  ducat  for  delivering 
your  letter  :  and  being  so  hard  to  me  that  brought 
your  mind,  I  fear,  sheMl  prove  as  hard  to  yoa  in 
telling  her  mind.  Give  her  no  token  but  staocii ; 
for  she's  as  hard  as  steel. 

Pro.  Wliat,  said  she  nothing  f 

Speed.  No,  not  so  much  as — take  this  for  thy 
pains.  To  testify  your  boun^,  I  thank  vou,  yoa 
have  testeni'd**  me ;  in  requital  whereof,  hence- 
forth carry  your  letters  yourself:  and  so,  sir,  PH 
commend  you  to  my  master. 

Pro.  Go,  go,  be  gone,  to  save  your  ship  from 
wreck ; 
Wliich  cannot  perish,  having  thee  aboard. 
Being  destin'd  to  a  drier  death  on  shore  : — 
I  must  go  send  some  better  messenger ; 
I  fear,  my  Julia  would  not  deign  my  lines, 
Receiving  them  from  such  a  worthier  post 

[Exeunt 

SCRXE   IT.— The  same.    Garden  qf  JuKa'i 
fumse.    Enter  Julia  and  Lucetta. 

Jul.  But  say,  Lucetta,  now  we  are  alone, 
W^ould'st  thou  then  counsel  me  to  fall  in  love  ? 

Luc.  Ay,  madam ;  so  you  stumble  not  unheed- 
fullv. 

JuL  Of  all  the  fair  resort  of  gentlemen, 
Tliat  every  day  with  parle*  encounter  me. 
In  thy  opinion,  which  is  worthiest  love  f 

Luc.  V\eBse  you,  repeat  their  names,  I'll  ahofw 
my  mind 
According  to  my  shallow  simple  skill. 

JtU.  What  thmk'st  thou  of  the  fair  Sir  Eglamoor  f 

Luc.  As  of  a  knight  well-spoken,  neat  and  fine ; 
But,  were  I  you,  he  never  should  be  mine. 

Jul.  WTiat  think'st  thou  of  the  rich  Mercatio.' 

Luc.  Well  of  his  wealth  ;  but  of  himself,  so,  aa 

Jul.  What  think'st  thou  of  the  gentle  Proteus .' 

Luc.  Lord,  lord  !  to  see  what  folly  reigns  in  us ! 

JuL  How  now  !  what  means  this  passion  at  his 
name  ? 

Luc.  Pardon,   dear    madam;   'tis    a    panii^ 
shame. 
That  I,  unworthy  body  as  I  am. 
Should  censure^  thus  on  lovely  gentlemen. 

Jul.  Why  not  on  Proteus,  as  of  all  the  rest  f 

Luc.  Then  thus,        of  many  good  I  think  him 
best 

Jul.  Your  reason  f 

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

Jul.  And  would'st  thou  have  me  cast  my  love 
on  him  f 

Luc.  Ay,  if  you  thought  your  love  not  cast  away. 

Jul.  Why,  he  of  all  the  rest  hath  never  mov'd  me. 

Luc.  Yet  be  of  all  the  rest,  I  think,  best  loves  ye, 

Jul.  His  little  spe^iking  shows  his  love  but  small. 

Luc.  Fire,  that  is  closest  kept,  bums  most  of  alL 

Jul.  They  do  not  love,  that  do  not  show  their  love. 

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

Jul.  I  would,  I  knew  his  mind. 

Luc.  Peruse  this  paper,  madam. 

Jul.  To  Julia, — Say,  from  whom  ? 

Luc.  That  the  contents  will  show. 

Jul.  Say,  say ;  who  gave  it  thee  ? 

Luc.  Sir  Valejitine's  page ;  and  sent,  I  think, 
from  Proteus : 
He  would  have  given  it  you,  but  I,  being-  in  the  Wav, 

Given  me  a  sixpence.  (5)  Talk. 

Pass  sentence. 


Seau  m. 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


29 


Did  ID  your  name  receive  it ;  pardoo  the  fault,  I 
pray. 

J%d.  Now,  by  ray  modesty,  a  goodly  broker  !* 
Dare  you  presume  to  harbour  wanton  lines  ? 
To  whisper  and  conspire  against  my  youth  ? 
Now,  trust  me,  *tis  an  office  of  p«at  worth, 
And  you  an  officer  fit  for  the  place. 
TTiere,  take  the  paper,  see  it  be  returned ; 
Or  else  return  no  more  into  my  si^t. 

Lmc.  To  plead  for  love  desen'es  more  fee  than 
hate. 

JuL  Will  you  be  gone  ? 

Z.t(C.  That  you  may  ruminate. 

[Exit 

JuL  And  yet,  I  would  I  had  o*erlook'd  the  letter. 
It  were  a  shame  to  call  her  back  again. 
And  pray  her  to  a  fault  for  which  Ichid  her. 
What  fool  is  she,  that  knows  I  am  a  maid. 
And  would  not  force  the  letter  to  my  view  1 
Since  maids,  in  modesty,  say  JVb,  to  that 
Which  they  would  have  the  profferer  construe.  Ay. 
Fie,  fie !  kiow  wa3rward  is  tnis  foolish  love. 
That,  like  a  testy  babe,  will  scratch  the  nurse. 
And  presently,  all  humbled,  kiss  the  rod ! 
How  churlishly  I  chid  Lucetta  hence. 
When  willingly  I  would  have  had  her  here  ! 
How  angrily  I  taught  my  brow  to  frown. 
When  inward  joy  enforced  my  heart  to  smile ! 
My  penance  is,  to  call  Lucetta  back. 
And  ask  remission  for  my  folly  past : — 
What  ho !  Lucetta ! 

Re-enter  Lucetta. 

Lue.  What  would  your  ladyship  ? 

JuL  Is  it  near  dinner-time  ? 

Luc.  I  would  it  were ; 

That  you  might  kill  your  stomaclP  on  your  meat, 
And  not  upon  your  maid. 

JuL  What  is't  you  took  up 

So  eingcrly  f 

Luc.  Nothing. 

JuL  Why  did^st  thou  stoop  then  f 

Luc.  To  take  a  paper  up  that  1  let  fall. 

JuL  And  is  that  paper  nothing  f 

Lue.  Nothing  concerning  me. 

Jul.  Then  let  it  lie  for  those  that  it  concerns. 

Lue.  Madam,  it  will  not  lie  where  it  concerns. 
Unless  it  have  a  false  interpreter. 

Jul.  Some  love  of  yours  hath  writ  to  you  in  rh}Tne. 

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

JuL   As  little  oy  such  toys  as  may  be  possible : 
Best  sing  it  to  the  tune  of  Light  o*  love. 

Lue.  It  is  too  heavy  for  so  light  a  tune. 

JvL  Heavy  }  belike  it  hath  some  burden  then. 

Lue,  Ay ;  and  mclodicms  were  it,  would  you  sing 
it 

JuL  And  why  not  you  ? 

Lue.  I  cannot  reach  so  high 

JuL    Let's  see  your  son^ : — How  now,  minion  ? 

Lue.  Keep  tune  there  still,  so  you  will  sing  it  out : 
And  yet,  methinks,  I  do  not  like  this  tune. 

Jid.  You  do  not .' 

Luc.  No,  madam ;  it  is  too  sharp. 

JuL  You,  minion,  are  too  saucy. 

Lue.  Nay,  now  you  are  too  flat. 
And  mar  the  concord  with  too  harsh  a  descant  :* 
There  wanteth  but  a  mean^  to  fill  your  son^. 

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

Lue,  Indeed,  I  bid  the  base^  for  Proteus. 


8 


)  A  matchmaker.    (2)  Passion  or  obstinacy. 
[3)  A  term  in  music.      (4)  The  tenor  in  music. 


JuL  This  babble  shall  not  henceforth  trouble  me 
Here  is  a  coil^  with  protestation ! — 

[Tears  the  letter 
Go,  get  you  gcxie ;  and  let  the  papers  lie : 
YoM  would  be  fingering  them,  to  anger  me. 
Luc.  She  makes  it  strange ;  but  she  would  be 
best  pleas'd 
To  be  so  anger'd  with  anoUier  letter.  [Exit. 

JuL  Nay,  would  I  were  so  angered  with  the  same ! 

0  hateful  hands,  to  tear  such  loving  words ! 
Injurious  wasps !  to  feed  on  such  sweet  honey. 
And  kill  the  bees  that  yield  it,  with  your  stuigs ! 
Pll  kiss  each  several  paper  for  amends. 

And  here  is  writ — kind  Julia; — unkind  Julia! 
As  in  revenge  of  thy  ingratitude, 

1  throw  tliy  name  against  the  bruising  stones, 
Trampling  contemptuously  on  thy  disdain. 
Look,  here  is  writ — love-wounded  Proteus: — 
Poor  wounded  name !  my  bosom,  as  a  bed. 
Shall  lodge  thee,  till  thy  wound  be  thoroughly 

heal'd; 
And  thus  I  search  it  with  a  sovereign  kiss. 
But  twice,  or  thrice,  was  Proteus  written  down  ^ 
Be  calm,  good  wind,  blow  not  a  word  away, 
Till  I  have  found  each  letter  in  the  letter. 
Except  mine  own  name ;  that  some  whirlwind  bear 
Unto  a  ragged,  fearful,  hanging  rock. 
And  throw  it  thence  into  the  raging  sea  ! 
Lo,  here  in  one  line  is  his  name  twice  writ, — 
Poor  forlorn  Proteus^  passionate  Proteus^ 
To  the  sweet  Julia  } — that  Pll  tear  away ; 
And  yet  I  will  not,  sith^  so  prettily 
He  couples  it  to  his  complaining  names : 
Thus  will  I  fold  them  one  upon  another; 
Now  kiss,  embrace,  contend,  do  what  you  will. 

i?e-«i/«r  Lucetta. 

Laic  Madam,  dinner's  ready,  and  your  father 

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

here.^ 
Jul.  If  you  respect  them,  best  to  take  them  up. 
Imc.  Nay,  I  was  taken  up  for  laying;  them  down : 
Yet  here  they  shall  not  lie,  for  catchinsj  cold. 
Jul.  I  see,  you  have  a  month's  mind  to  them. 
Luc.  Ay,  madam,  you  may  say  what  sights  you 
see; 
I  see  things  too,  although  you  judge  I  wink. 
Jul.  Come,  come,  will't  please  you  go  ? 

[Exeunt. 

SCEU^E  in. — The  same,    A  room  in  Antonio's 
house.    Enter  Antonio  and  Panthino. 

Ant.  Tell  me,  Panthino,  what  sad^  talk  was  that, 
Wherewith  ray  brother  held  you  in  the  cloister  ^ 

Pan.  'Twas  of  his  nephew  Proteus,  your  son. 

Ant.  Why,  what  of  him.? 

Pan.  He  wonder'd,  that  your  lordship 

Would  suffer  him  to  snend  his  youth  at  home ; 
While  other  men,  of  slender  reputation,^ 
Put  forth  their  sons  to  seek  preferment  out : 
Some,  to  the  wars,  to  try  their  fortune  there  ; 
Some,  to  discover  islands  far  away  ; 
Some,  to  the  studious  universities. 
For  any,  or  for  all  these  exercises. 
He  said,  that  Proteus,  your  son,  was  meet ; 
And  dia  request  me,  to  importune  you. 
To  let  him  spend  his  time  no  more  at  home, 


A  challenge.     (6)  Bustle,  stir.     (7)  Since. 
Serious.     (9)  Little  consequence. 


30 


•nV'O  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


Jlct  ri. 


Which  would  be  great  impeachment^  to  his  age, 
III  having  known  no  travel  in  his  youdL 

^^ni.  Nor  need'st  thou  much  importune  me  to 
that 
Whereon  this  month  I  have  been  hammering. 
1  have  con^siderM  well  his  loss  of  time ; 
And  how  he  cannot  be  a  perfect  man, 
Not  being  try*d  and  tutorM  in  the  world  : 
Experience  is  by  industry  achievM, 
And  perfected  by  the  swift  course  of  time  : 
Then^  tell  me,  whither  were  I  best  to  send  him  ? 

Pant.  I  think,  your  lordship  is  not  ignorant. 
How  his  companion,  youthful  Valentine, 
^  Attends  the  emperor  in  his  royal  court 

jint  I  know  it  well. 

Pant.  *Twere  good,  I  think,  your  lordship  sent 
him  thither : 
There  shall  he  practise  tilts  and  tournaments, 
Hear  sweet  discourse,  converse  with  noblemen ; 
And  be  in  eye  of  every  exercise, 
Worthy  his  youth  and  nobleness  of  birth. 

Ant.  I  like  thy  counsel ;  well  hast  thou  advisM  : 
And,  that  thou  may*st  perceive  how  well  1  like  it. 
The  execution  of  it  shall  make  known ; 
Even  with  the  speediest  execution 
I  will  despatch  nim  to  the  emperor's  court. 

Pant,  To-morrow,  may  it  please  you,  Don  Al- 
phonso, 
With  other  gentlemen  of  good  esteem. 
Are  jouiHeying  to  salute  the  emperor. 
And  to  commend  their  service  to  his  will. 
Ant  Good  company ;  with  them  shall  Proteus  go : 
And,  in  good  time, — now  will  wc  break  with  him.^ 

Enter  Proteus. 

Pro.  Sweet  love !  sweet  lines !  sweet  life  ! 
Here  is  her  hand,  the  agent  of  her  heart ; 
Here  is  her  oath  for  love,  her  honour's  pawn  : 
O,  that  our  fathers  would  applaud  our  loves, 
To  seal  our  happiness  with  their  consents ! 
O  heavenly  Julia ! 

Ant.  How  now.'  what  letter  are  you  reading 
there .' 

Pro.  May't  please  your  lordship,  'tis  a  word  or 
two 
Of  commendation  sent  from  Valentine, 
Deliver'd  by  a  friend  that  came  from  him. 

Ant.  Lend  mo  the  letter ;  let  me  see  what  news. 

Pro.  There  is  no  news,  my  lord ;  but  that  he 
writes 
How  happily  he  lives,  how  well  belov'd. 
And  daily  graced  by  the  emperor ; 
Wishing  me  with  him,  partner  of  his  fortune. 

Ant.  And  how  stand  you  affected  to  his  wish  ? 

Pro.  As  one  relying  on  your  lordship's  will. 
And  not  depending  on  his  friendly  wish. 

Ant.  My  will  is  something  sorted  with  his  wish  : 
Muse'  not  that  I  thus  suddenly  proceed ; 
For  what  I  will,  I  will,  and  there  an  end. 
\  am  resolv'd,  tliat  thou  shalt  spend  some  time 
With  Valentinua  in  the  emperor's  court ; 
What  mnintrnance  he  from  his  friends  receives. 
Like  exhibition''  thou  shalt  have  from  me. 
To-morrow  bo  in  readiness  to  go : 
Exru«c  it  not,  for  I  am  peremptory. 

Pro.  My  lord,  I  cannot  be  so  soon  provided ; 
Please  you,  deliljcrate  a  day  or  two. 

Ant  Look,  what  thou  want'st,  shall  be  sent  after 
thee  : 
No  more  of  stay ;  to-morrow  thou  must  ga — 

(1)  Reproach.      (2)  Break  the  matter  to  him. 
(3)  Wonder.      (4)  Allowance. 


Come  on,  Panthino ;  you  shall  be  employ 'd 
To  hasten  on  his  expedition. 

[Exeunt  Ant  and  Pant 
.  Pro.  Thus  have  I  shunn'd  the  fire,  for  fear  of 

burning ; 
And  drench'd  me  in  the  sea,  where  I  am  drown'd : 
I  fear'd  to  show  my  father  Julia's  letter. 
Lest  he  should  take  exceptions  to  my  love ; 
And  with  the  vantage  of  mine  own  excuse 
Hath  he  excepted  most  against  my  love. 
O,  how  this  spring  of  love  reacmbleth 

The  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day ; 
Which  now  %hows  all  the  beauty  of  the  sun. 

And  by  and  by  a  cloud  takes  all  away ! 

Re-enter  Panthino. 

Pant.  Sir  Proteus,  your  father  calls  for  you  ; 
He  is  in  haste,  therefore,  I  pray  you,  go. 

Pro.  Why,  this  it  is !  mv  heart  accords  thereto ; 
And  yet  a  thousand  times  it  answers,  no. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  IL 

SCEJ^E   I.—JifUan.      An  apartment    in    th« 
Duke's  palace.    Enter  Valentine  and  Speed. 

Speed.  Sir,  your  glove. 

VaL  Not  mine ;  my  gloves  are  on. 

Speed.  Why  then  this  may  be  yours,  for  this  is 
but  one. 

VaL  Ha !  let  me  see :  av,  give  it  me,  it's  mine : — 
Sweet  ornament  that  decks  a  thing  divine ! 
Ah  Silvia  !  Silvia  ! 

Speed.  Madam  Silvia !  madam  Silvia ! 

VaL  How  now,  surrah  ! 

Speed.  She  is  not  within  hearing,  sir. 

J'al.  Why,  sir,  who  bade  you  call  her.' 

Speed.  Your  worship,  sir;  or  else  I  mistook. 

J'al.  Well,  you'll  still  be  too  forward. 

Speed.  And  yet  I  was  last  chidden  for  being  too 
slow. 

fa/.  Go  to,  sir ;  tell  me,  do  you  know  madam 
Silvia  f 

Speed.  She  that  your  worship  loves .' 

Val.  Why,  how  know  you  that  I  am  in  love  ? 

Spted.  Marr}',  bv  these  special  marks  :  First,  you 
have  learned,  hke  Sir  Proteus,  to  wrf;ath  your  arms 
like  a  mule-content ;  to  relish  a  love-song,  like  a 
robin-red-breast ;  to  walk  alone,  like  one  tliat  had  the 
pestilence  ;  to  sigh,  like  a  school-boy  that  had  last 
his  A.  B.  C. ;  to  weep,  like  a  young  wench  that  had 
buried  her  grandani ;  to  fast,  like  one  that  take^ 
diet  ;*  to  watch,  like  one  tliat  fears  rc»bbing :  to 
sp<;ak  puling,  like  a  beggar  at  Haliowma*.^  You 
were  wont,  when  you  laugh'd,  to  crow  like  a  cock  ; 
when  you  walked,  to  walk  like  one  of  the  lions ; 
when  you  fasted,  it  was  pi4sently  after  dinner ;  wh»'n 
vou  looked  sadlv,  it  was  for  want  of  mon««v  :  and 
now  you  arc  metamorphosed  with  a  mi?*tres«i,  that, 
when  I  look  on  you,  I  can  hardly  tliink  \  ou  iny 
master. 

J  "a/;  Are  all  these  tilings  perceived  in  me  ? 

Speed.  They  are  all  perceived  without  you. 

Val.  Without  me  f  They  cannot 

Speed.  Without  you.'  nay,  that's  certain,  for, 
without  you  were  so  simple,  none  else  would  :  but 
you  are  so  without  these  follies,  that  these'follie* 
are  within  you,  and  shine  through  }ou  like  tho 
water  in  a  urinal ;  that  not  an  eye,  that  sees  you, 

(5)  Under  a  regimen.  (6)  Alli  allowmas. 


SeeuL 


TWO  GEIHLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


31 


bat  b  ajphydcian  to  comment  on  jour  malady. 

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

Speed,  She,  that  you  gaze  on  so,  as  she  sits  at 
sapper  ? 

raL  Hast  thou  obsenrM  that  ?  even  she  I  mean. 

Speed.  Why,  sir,  I  know  her  not. 

VaL  Dost  thou  know  her  by  my  gazing  on  her, 
and  yet  know*st  her  not  ? 

Speed,  Is  she  not  hard-favourM,  sir  f 

red.  Not  so  fair,  boy,  as  well  favoured. 

Speed.  Sir,  I  know  tlmt  well  enough. 

Vol.  What  dost  thou  know  ? 

Speed.  That  she  is  not  so  &ir,  as  (of  you)  well 
favoured. 

VaL  1  mean,  that  her  beauty  is  exquisite,  but 
her  favour  infinite. 

Speed.  That^s  because  the  one  is  painted,  and 
the  other  out  of  all  count 

VaL  How  painted  ?  and  how  out  of  count .' 

Speed.  Marry,  sir,  so  painted,  to  make  her  fair, 
diat  no  man  counts  of  her  beauty. 

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

Speed,  Tou  never  saw  her  since  she  was  de- 
foitned. 

VaL  How  long  hath  she  been  deformed  ? 

Speed.  Ever  since  you  loved  her.  , 

VaL  I  have  loved  her  ever  since  I  saw  her,  and 
still  I  see  her  beautiful. 

Spud.  If  you  love  her,  yoa  cannot  see  her. 

VaL  "Why? 

Speed.  Because  love  is  blind.  O,  that  you  had 
mine  eyes ;  or  your  ovim  had  the  lights  they  were 
wont  to  have,  when  you  cUd  at  Sir  Proteus  for  go- 
ing ungartered !  ' 

VaL  What  should  I  see  then  ? 

Speed.  Your  own  present  folly,  and  her  passing 
defixmi^ :  ibr  he,  being  in  love,  could  not  {tee  to 
'  garter  his  hose ;  and  you,  being  in  love,  cannot  see 
to  put  on  your  hose. 

VaL  Belike,  bo\',  then  you  are  in  lore ;  for  last 
morning  you  coula  not  see  to  wipe  my  shoes. 

Speed.  True,  sir ;  I  was  in  love  with  my  bed :  I 
thank  you,  you  swinged'  me  for  my  love,  which 
makes  roe  the  bolder  to  chide  you  for  yours. 

VaL  In  conclusion,  I  stand  affected  to  her. 

Speed.  I  would  you  were  set;  so,  your  affection 
would  cease. 

VaL  Last  night  she  enjoined  me  to  write  some 
lioes  to  one  she  loves. 

Spud.  And  have  you  f 

VaL  I  have. 

^eed.  Are  they  not  lamely  writ  ? 

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

Enter  Silvia. 

Sveed.  O  excellent  motion  .'a  0  exceeding  pup- 
pet!  now  will  he  interpret  to  her. 
Vol.  Madam  and  mistress,  a  thousand  good 

IDOTrOWS. 

Speed.  O,  'give  you  good  even !  here's  a  million 
ofmanners.  [.flside. 

SiL  Sir  Valentine  and  servant,  to  you  two  ihou- 
nnd.  ' 

Speed.  He  should  give  her  interest;  and  she 
gives  it  him. 

VaL  As  you  enjoin'd  me,  I  have  writ  your  letter, 
Ud(o  the  secret  nameless  friend  of  yours ; 
WhKh  I  was  much  unwilling  to  proceed  in, 

(n  Whipped.        (2)  A  puppet-show. 
(3)  Like  a  scholar. 
^  3 


But  for  my  duty  to  your  ladyship. 

Sil.  I  thauk  you,  gentle  servant:  'tis rery  clerkly* 
done. 

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

SiL  Perchance  you  think  too  much  of  so  much 
pains  .^ 

Val.    No,  madam ;  so  it  stead  you,  I  will  write. 
Please  you  command,  a  thousand  times  as  much : 
And  yet, — 

Sil.  A  pretty  period !  Well,  I  guess  the  sequel ; 
And  yet  I  Will  not  name  it : — and  yet  I  care  not  ;— 
And  yet  take  this  again ; — and  yet  I  thank  you ; 
Meaning  henceforth  to  trouble  you  no  more. 

Speed.  And  yet  you  will ;  and  yet  anothc-.r  vot. 

[ji.siJe. 

Vol.  What  means  your  ladyship?  do  you  not 
like  it? 

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

VaL  Madam,  they  are  for  you. 

SiL  Ay,  ay ;  you  writ  them,  sir,  at  my  request : 
But  I  will  none  of  them ;  they  are  for  you : 
I  would  have  had  them  writ  more  movingly. 

VaL  Please  you,  I'll  write  your  ladyship  another. 

SiL  And,  when  it's  writ,  for  my  sake  read  it  over : 
And,  if  it  please  you,  so;  if  not,  why,  so. 

VaL  If  it  please  me,  madam !  what  then  f 

SiL  Why,  if  it  please  you,  take  it  for  your  labour; 
And  so  good-morrow,  servant  [B^I  Silvia. 

Speed.  O  jest  unseen,  inscrutable,  invisible. 
As  a  nose  on  a  man's  face,  or  a  weathercock  on  a 

steeple ! 
My  master  sues  to  her ;  and  she  ha&  taught  her 

suitor. 
He  being  her  pupil,  to  become  her  tutor. 
O  excellent  device !  was  there  ever  heard  a  better? 
That  my  master,  being  scribe,  to  himse^*  should 
write  the  letter? 

VaL  How  now,  sir?  what  are  yoa  reasoning 
with  yourself? 

Speed.  Nay,  I  was  rhyming;  'tis  you  that  have 
the  reason. 

VaL  To  do  what? 

Speed.  To  be  a  spokesman  from  madam  Silvia. 

Val.  To  whom? 

Speed  To  yourself:  why,  she  wooes  you  by  a 
figure. 

Val.  "VM-.at  figure  ? 

Speed  By  a  letter,  I  should  say. 

VaL  WJiv,  she  hath  not  writ  to  me. 

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

VaL  No,  believe  me. 

Speed.  No  believing  you  indeed,  sir:  but  did' 
you  perceive  her  earnest  ? 

J^aL  She  gave  me  none,  except  an  angry  word. 

Speed,  \^'hy,  she  hath  given  you  a  letter. 

VaL  Thal'*s  the  letter  f  writ  to  her  friend. 

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

Val.  1  would,  it  were  no  worse.  . 

Spud  I'll  warrant  you,  'tis  as  well 

For  qfUn  you  heme  torit  to  her;  and  she,  m 

modesii/f 
Or  else  for  want  qf  idle  timet  could  not  agmnu 

reply, 

(4)  There's  the  conclusion. 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


JidlL 


Or  fearing  dse  wmt  mtstengerj  Ikai  might  her 

mind  discover  f 
tSerwif  halh  taught  her  hve  }um»e\f  to  write 

unto  her  lover. — 

All  tiiis  I  speak  in  print ;  for  in  print  I  foond  it — 
Wbr  muse  yoo,  sir?  *tis  dinner-time. 

raL  I  have  dined. 

Speed,  Ay,  but  hearken,  sir :  though  the  came- 
leoo.  Love,  can  feed  on  the  air,  I  am  one  that  am 
nourished  by  my  victiiaU,  and  would  fain  hare 
meat :  O,  be  not  like  your  mistress ;  be  moved,  be 
moved.  [Exe%mt. 

SCEXE  Il.—Vertma,     A  room  in  Julia's  houM, 
Enter  Proteus  and  Julia. 

Pro,  Have  patience,  gentle  Julia. 

JuL  1  must,  where  is  no  remedy. 

Pro.  When  possibly  I  can,  I  will  return. 

Jui.  If  you  turn  not,  you  wilt  return  the  sooner : 
Keep  this  remembrance  ior  thy  Julia's  sake. 

[Gixnng  a  ring. 

Pro.   Why  then  we'll  make  exchange ;  here, 
take  yon  this. 

Jul.  And  sc»l  the  bargain  with  a  holy  kiss. 

Pro.  Here  is  my  hand  for  my  true  constancy ; 
And  when  that  hour  o'er-slips  me  in  the  day, 
Wherein  I  sigh  not,  Julia,  f(M-  thv  sake, 
T^e  next  ensuing  hour  some  foul  mischance 
Torment  roe  for  my  love's  forgetfulness ! 
My  father  stays  my  coming ;  answer  not ; 
The  tide  b  now :  nay,  not  the  tide  of  tears ; 
llkat  tide  will  stay  me  longer  than  I  dmuld ; 

[Exif  Julia. 
Julia,  &rewell. — ^Wliat !  gone  without  a  word  ? 
Ay,  to  true  kwe  should  do :  it  cannot  speak ; 
For  truth  hath  better  deeds,  than  wotds,  to  grace  it 

Enter  Panthina 

Pan.  Sir  Proteus,  you  are  staid  for. 
Pro.  Go ;  I  come,  I  come : — 
Akf !  du8  parting  strikes  poor  lovers  dumb. 

[Ejceunt. 

SCEJiE  III— The  same.    A  street.    Enter 
Launce,  leading  a  dog. 

JLaun.  Nay,  'twill  be  this  hour  ere  I  have  done 
weeping ;  all  the  kind'  of  the  Launces  have  tim 
rery  fault :  I  have  received  my  proportion,  like  the 
prodigious  son,  and  am  going  with  Sir  Proteus  to 
me  Imperial's  court  I  think.  Crab  my  dog  be  the 
sourest-natured  dog  that  lives  :  my  mother  weeping, 
my  father  wailing,  my  sister  crying,  our  maid  boH-1- 
jng,  our  cat  wringii^  her  hands,  and  all  our  house 
in  a  great  perplexity,  yet  did  not  this  cruel-hearted 
cur  shed  one  tear  :  be  is  a  stone,  a  very  pebble- 
ftone,  and  has  no  more  pity  in  him  than  a  dog :  a 
Jew  would  have  wept  to  have  seen  our  parting ; 
why,  my  grandam  having  no  eyes,  look  you,  wept 
herself  blind  at  mv  parting.  Nay,  I'll  show  you 
the  manner  of  it :  1* his  shoe  is  my  father ; — no,  thi* 
left  shoe  is  my  father ; — no,  no,  Uiis  left  shoe  i$  my 
mother ;  nay,  that  cannot  be  so  neither ; — yes,  it  i> 
•o,  it  is  90 ;  it  hath  the  worser  sole  :  this  shoe,  with 
the  hole  in  it,  is  my  mother,  and  this  my  father :  a 
Tengeance  on't !  there  'tis  :  now,  sir,  this  staff  is  my 
winter ;  for,  look  you,  she  is  as  white  as  a  lilv,  and  as 
■mall  as  a  wana  :  this  hat  is  Nan,  our  maid ;  I  am 
4fae  dor : — no,  the  dog  is  himself,  and  I  am  the 
-Jog.— O,  the  dog  is  me,  and  I  am  myself;  ay,  so, 

(1)  K'ndred.         (2)  Crazy,  distracted. 


sa  Now  come  I  to  my  father ;  Father y  your  b^ett' 
ing ;  now  should  not  the  shoe  speak  a  word  for 
weeping ;  now  should  I  kiss  my  father ;  wed,  he 
weeps  on  : — now  come  I  to  my  mother,  (O,  that  she 
could  speak  now  .')  like  a  w<xxP  woman ; — well,  I 
kiss  her: — why  there  'tis  ;  here'*  my  mother's  breath 
up  and  down  :  now  come  1  to  my  sister ;  mark  the 
moen  she  makes :  now  the  dog  all  this  while  sheds 
not  a  tear,  nor  speaks  a  word  ;  but  see  how  I  lay 
i  the  dust  with  tnj  tears. 

Enter  Panthina. 

Pan.  Launce,  away,  away,  aboard :  thy  master 
is  shipped,  and  thou  art  to  po«t  after  with  oars. 
VMiai's  the  matter?  why  wet  pt-st  thou,  roan  ?  Awar, 
ass;  you  will  lose  the  tide,  if  }ou  tarry  any  longer. 

Lattn.  It  is  no  matter  if  the  \\  'd  were  lost ;  for  it 
is  the  unkindest  ty'd  that  ever  anv  man  t\  'd. 

Pan.  What's  the  unkindol  tide  ? 

Laun.  Why,  he  that's  ty'd  here :  Crab,  my  dog. 

Pan.  Tut,  man,  I  mean  thou'lt  lo;*  the  flood ; 
and,  in  losing  the  flood,  low  thy  voyase ;  and,  in 
iosiing  thy  voyas;e,  lose  thy  marter :  and,  in  kwing 
thy  master,  lose  thy  service ;  and,  in  lo!*ing  thy  ser- 
vic-e, — Why  dost  thou  stop  my  mouth .' 

Laun.  for  fear  thou  sliould'st  lose  thy  tongue. 

Pan.  Where  should  1  lose  my  tongtie? 

Laun.  In  thy  tale. 

Pan.  In  thy 'tail  ^ 

Laun.  Lose  the  tide,  and  the  royagie,  and  die 
master,  and  the  service  ?  The  tide  I— why,  man,  if 
the  river  were  dry,  I  am  able  to  fill  it  with  my  tears  ; 
if  the  wind  were  down,  I  could  drive  the  boat  with 
my  sighs. 

Pan.  Come,  come  away,  man ;  I  was  sent  to 
call  thee. 

Laun.  Sir,  call  me  what  thou  darest 

Pan.  Wilt  thou  go  ^ 

Laun.  Well,  I  will  go.  [Exeunt 

SCEJSTE  U'.— Milan.  An  apoHment  in  tht 
Duke's  palace.  Enter  >'alentioe,  Silvia,  Tbu- 
rio,  and  Speed. 

Sil.  Servant- 
fa/.  Mistress.^ 

Speed.  Master,  Sir  Thurio  frowns  on  you. 

Jo/.  Av,  boy,  it's  for  love. 

Speed.  Not  of  you. 

J'al.    Of  my  mistress  then. 

Sf>eed.   'Twere  good,  you  knocked  him. 

Sil.   Ser\ant,  >-ou  are  sad.^ 

f'al.  Indeed,  madam,  I  seem  so. 

Thu.  Seem  vou  that  vou  are  not.^ 

J'al.  Haply ,<  I  do. 

Thu,  So  do  counterfeits. 

J'aL  So  do  you. 

Thu.  What  seem  I,  that  I  am  not .' 

ral.  Wise. 

Thu.   What  instance  of  the  conkary  f 

J'al.  Your  folly. 

Thu.  And  how  quote*  you  my  folly  .^ 

J'al.  I  quote  it  in  your  jerkin. 

Thu.  My  jerkin  is  a  doublet 

J'al.  Well,  then,  I'll  double  vour  folly. 

Thu.  How  ? 

Sil.  ^\liat,  angr}',  sir  Thurio  ?  do  you  change 
colour  } 

J'al.  Give  him  leave,  madam ;  he  is  a  kiitd  of 
cameleon. 

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

(3)  Serkraa.      (4)  F^irhaps.       (5)  Obwn-e. 


Scene  IV. 


TWO  GENTLE3VIEN  OF  VERONA. 


33 


VaL  Tou  hare  nid,  lir. 
Thu,  Aj,  sir,  and  done  too,  for  this  time. 
VaL  I  Imow  it  well,  sir ;  you  always  end  ere  joa 
beffin- 

SiL  A  fine  volley  of  words,  gentlemen,  and  quick- 
ly shot  off. 

VaL    *Tis    indeed,  madam ;    we    thank    the 

jriver. 
^SU.  Vnio  is  that,  servant  ? 
VaL  Yourself,  sweet  lady  ;  for  you  gave  the  fire  : 
Skr  Thurio  borrows  his  wit  from  your  ladyship*? 
looks,  and  spends  what  he  borrows,  kindly  m  your 
company. 

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

VaL  I  know  it  well,  sir :  you  have  an  exchequer 
dT  words,  and,  I  think,  no  other  treasure  to  give 
our  followers;  for  it  appears  by  their  bare  liveries, 
at  they  live  by  your  bare  words. 
SiL  No  more,  gentlemen,  no  more ;  here  comes 
\y  £atber. 

Enter  Duke. 

Dttke.  Now,  daughter  Silvia,  you  are  hard  beset 

Valentine,  your  father^s  in  good  health : 
rhat  say  you  to  a  letter  from  your  friends 
'  much  good  news  ? 

VaL  My  lord,  I  will  be  thankful 

o  anv  happy  messenger  from  thence. 
Duke.  Know  you  Don  Antonio,  your  country- 
man.' 
Vol.  Ay,  my  good  lord,  I  know  the  gentleman 
o  be  of  worth,  and  worthy  estimation, 
nd  not  without  desert  so  well  reputed. 
JDvke.  Hath  he  not  a  son  ? 
M^al.  Ay,  my  good  lord ;  a  son,  that  well  de- 
serves 


honour  and  regard  of  such  a  father. 
JDuke.  You  know  him  well  ? 
VaL  I  knew  him  as  myself;  for  from  our  in- 
fancy 
^^e  have  coovers'd,  and  spent  our  hours  together : 
And  though  myself  have  been  an  idle  truant. 
Omitting  the  sweet  benefit  of  time, 
"^0  cloUie  mine  age  with  angel-like  perfection ; 
Vet  bath  Sir  Proteus,  for  thafs  his  name, 
Made  use  and  fair  advantage  of  his  days : 
His  years  but  young,  but  his  experience  old ; 
Hi)  bead  unmellowM,  but  his  judgment  ripe ; 
Aod,  in  a  word  (for  far  behindf  his  worth 
^«ne  ail  the  praises  that  I  now  bestow,) 
He  U  complete  in  feature,  and  in  mind, 
^iti)  all  good  grace  to  grace  a  gentleman. 
Jhkt.  Beshrewi  me,  sir,  but,  if  he  make  this 

n«  w  as  worthy  for  an  empress*  love, 
A*  meet  to  be  an  emperor's  counsellor. 
^^eli,  sir ;  this  gentleman  is  come  to  me, 
^'ith  commendation  from  great  potentates ; 
And  bere  he  means  to  spend  his  time  awhile : 


I  think,  'tis  no  unwelcome  news  to  you. 
^ot  Should  I  have  wishM  a  thing,  it 
he. 


bad  been 


SO 


^M:e.  Welcome  him  then  according  to   his 
worth  ; 


^^■«i  I  speak  to  you ;  and  jou.  Sir  Thurio : — 
^or  Valentine,  I  need  not  cite^  him  to  it : 
rU  send  him  hither  to  you  presently.  [Exit  Duke. 
^0^  This  is  the  genUeman,  I  told  your  ladyship, 
™<i  cone  along  with  mie,  but  that  his  mistreaa 
^  bold  hit  eyes  lockM  in  her  cxystal  kx>ki. 


(1)  III  betide. 


:2)  Incite. 


SiL  Belike,  that  novr   ahe  hath  aifranchisM 
them 
Upon  s(»ne  other  pawn  for  fealty. 
VaL  Nay,  sure,  1  think,  ahe  holds  them  prison- 
ers still. 
SiL  Nay,  then  he  should  be  blind ;  and,  being 
blind, 
How  could  he  see  his  way  to  seek  out  you  } 
Vol.  Why,  lady,  love  hath  twenty  pair  of  eyes. 
Thu.  They  say,  that  love  hath  not  an  eye  at  all. 
VaL  To  see  such  lovers,  Thurio,  as  yourself; 
Upon  a  homely  object  love  can  wink. 

EnUr  Proteus. 

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

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

SiL  His  worth  is  warrant  for  his  welcome  hither. 
If  this  be  he  you  oft  have  wish'd  to  hear  from. 

VaL  Mistress,  it   is :  sweet  lady,  entertain  him 
To  be  my  fellow-servant  to  your  ladyship. 

SiL  Too  low  a  mistress  for  so  high  a  servant. 

Pro.  Not  so,  sweet  lady  ; hut  too  mean  a  senant 
To  have  a  look  of  such  a  worthy  mistress. 

Vol.  Leave  off  discourse  of  aisability  : — 
Sweet  lady,  entertain  him  for  your  servant 

Pro.  My  duty  will  I  boast  of,  nothing  else. 

Sil.  And  duty  never  yet  did  want  his  meed ; 
Servant,  you  are  welcome  to  a  worthless  mistre^ 

Pro.  V\\  die  on  him  that  says  so,  but  yourself. 

SiL  That  you  are  welcome  ? 

Pro.  No ;  that  you  are  worthless 

Enter  Servant 

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

SU.  IMl  wait  upon  his  pleasure.    [Erii  Servant. 

Come,  Sir  Thurio, 
Go  with  me  : — Once  more,  new  servant,  welcome 
r\\  leave  you  to  confer  of  home-affairs ; 
When  you  have  done,  we  look  to  hear  from  you. 

Pro.  We'll  both  attend  upon  your  ladyship. 

[Exeunt  Silvia,  Thurio,  ariA  Speed. 

Val.  Now,  tell  me,  how  do  all  from  whence  you 
came  ? 

Pro.  Your  friends  are  well,  and  have  them  much 
commended. 

VaL  And  how  do  yours  ? 

Pro.  I  left  them  all  in  health. 

Val.  How  does  your  lady  f  and  how  thrives  your 
love  ? 

Pro.  My  tales  of  love  were  wont  to  weary  you ; 
I  know,  you  joy  not  in  a  love-discourse. 

VaL  Ay,  Proteus,  but  that  life  is  alter*d  now : 
I  have  done  penance  for  contemning  love ; 
Whose  high  imperious  thoughts  have  puniah'd  me 
With  bitter  fasts,  with  penitential  groans. 
With  nightly  tears,  ana  daily  heart-sore  sighs ; 
For,  in  revenge  of  my  contempt  of  love. 
Love  hath  chas'd  sleep  from  my  enthralled  eyes. 
And  made  them  watchers  of  mine  own  heart's  sr  r 

row. 
O,  gentle  Proteus,  love's  a  mighty  lord ; 
And  hath  so  humbled  me,  as,  1  confess. 
There  is  no  wo  to  his  correction. 
Nor,  to  his  service,  no  such  joy  on  earth ! 
Now,  no  discourse,  except  it  be  of  love ;  , 

Now  can  I  break  my  fast,  dine,  sup,  and  sleep, 
Upon  the  very  naked  name  of  love. 

Pro.  Enough ;  I  read  vour  fortune  in  your  eye  x 


34 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


Attn 


Wm  this  the  idol  that  tou  worship  so  ? 

Vol.  Even  she  ;  aua  is  she  not  a  heavenly  taint  ? 

Pro.  No ;  but  she  is  an  earthly  paragon. 

VaL  Call  her  divine. 

Pro.  I  will  not  flatter  her. 

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

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

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

Pro.  Except  my  mistress. 

Vol.  Sweet,  except  not  any ; 

Except  thou  wilt  except  against  my  love. 

Pro.  Have  I  not  reason  to  prefer  mine  own  ? 

VaL  And  I  will  help  thee  to  prefer  her  too: 
She  shall  be  dignified  with  this  high  honour, — 
To  befer  my  lady's  train  :  lest  the  base  earth 
Should  from  her  vesture  chance  to  steal  a  kiss, 
And,  of  so  great  a  favour  growing  proud. 
Disdain  to  root  the  summer-swelling  flower, 
And  make  rough  winter  everlasting. 

Pro.  Why,  V  alentine,  what  braegardism  is  this  ? 

Vol.  Pardon  me,  Proteus :  all  I  can,  is  nothing 
To  her,  whose  worth  makes  other  worthies  nothing ; 
She  is  alone. 

Pro.  Then  let  her  alone. 

VaL  Not  for  the  world:  why,  man,  she  is  mine 
own; 
And  I  as  rich  in  having  such  a  jewel. 
As  twenty  seas,  if  all  their  sand  were  pearl. 
The  water  nectar,  and  the  rocks  pure  gold. 
Forgive  me,  that  I  do  not  dream  on  thee. 
Because  thou  se^t  me  dote  upon  my  love. 
My  foolish  rival,  that  her  father  likes, 
Only  for  his  possessions  are  so  huge, 
Is  gone  with  her  along ;  and  I  must  after. 
For  love,  thou  know'st,  is  full  of  jealousy. 

Pro.  But  she  loves  you"? 

VaL  Ay,  and  we  are  betrothed ; 

Nav,  more,  our  marriage  hour. 
With  all  the  cunnmg  manner  of  our  flight, 
DeterminM  of:  how  I  must  climb  her  window ; 
The  ladder  made  of  cords ;  and  all  the  means 
Plotted  ;  and  'greed  on,  for  my  happiness. 
Good  Proteus,  go  with  me  to  my  chamber. 
In  these  aifairs  to  aid  me  with  thy  counsel. 

Pro.  Go  on  before ;  I  shall  inquire  you  forth : 
I  must  unto  the  road,  to  disembark 
S^ne  necessaries  that  I  needs  must  use  ; 
And  then  Pll  presently  attend  you. 

VaL  Will  you  make  haste  ? 

Pro.  I  will—  [Exit  Val. 

Even  as  one  heat  another  heat  expels. 
Or  as  one  nail  by  strength  drives  out  another. 
So  the  remembrance  of  my  former  love 
b  by  a  newer  object  quite  forgotten. 
Is  it  mine  eye,  or  Valentinus'  praise. 
Her  true  perfection,  or  my  false  transgression. 
That  makes  me,  reasonless,  to  reason  thus  ^ 
She's  fair ;  and  so  is  Julia,  that  I  love  ;— 
That  I  did  love,  for  now  my  love  is  thaw'd ; 
Which,  like  a  waxen  image  '^nst  a  fire, 
Bears  no  impression  of  the  thin^  it  was. 
Methinks,  my  leal  to  Valentine  is  cold ; 
And  tliat  I  love  him  not,  as  I  was  wont : 
O  !  but  I  love  his  lady  too,  too  much ; 
And  that's  the  reason  I  love  him  so  little. 
How  shall  I  dote  on  her  with  more  advice,* 
That  thus  without  advice  begin  to  love  her . 

(1)  On  further  knowledge. 


'Tis  but  her  picture  I  have  yet  oehcld, 

And  that  hatn  dazzled  my  reason's  light ; 

But  when  I  look  on  her  perfections. 

There  is  no  reason  but  I  shall  be  blind. 

If  I  can  check  my  errine  love,  I  will ; 

If  not,  to  c(»npass  her  I'll  use  my  skill.        [Exit 

SCKN'E  V.—Th£sarru.  A  strut  £nter  Speed 

and  Launce. 

Speed.  Launce !  by  mine  honesty,  welcome  to 
Milan. 

Lmutu  Forswear  not  thyself,  sweet  youth  ;  for  I 
am  not  welcome.  I  reckon  this  always — tliat  a  man 
is  never  undone,  till  he  be  hanged  ;  nor  never  wel- 
come to  a  place,  till  some  ccrtam  shot  be  paid,  and 
the  hostess  say,  welcome. 

Speed,  Come  on,  you  mad-cap,  Pll  to  the  ale- 
house with  vou  presently ;  where  for  one  sliot  of 
five  pence,  iLou  shalt  have  five  thousand  welcomes. 
But,  sirrah,  how  did  thy  master  part  with  madan^ 
Julia. 

Laun.  Marn',  after  they  closed  in  earnest,  they 
parted  verv  fairly  in  jest 

Speed.  6ut  shall  she  marry  him  ^ 

Jmuu.  Na 

Speed.  How  then  f  shall  he  marry  her  ? 

Laun.  No,  neither. 

Speed.  What,  are  they  broken  f 

Laun.  No,  they  are  both  as  whole  as  a  fish. 

Speed.  Why  then,  how  stands  the  matter  with 
them  ? 

Laun.  Marry,  thus ;  when  it  stands  well  with 
him,  it  stands  well  with  her. 

Speed.  What  an  ass  art  thoa !  I  understand  thee 
not. 

Laun.  Wliat  a  block  art  thou,  that  thou  canst 
not  I    My  stafl'  understands  me. 

Speed.' What  thou  say'st  f 

Laun.  Ay,  and  what  I  do  too :  look  thee,  I'll 
but  lean,  and  my  staif  understands  me. 

Speed.  It  stands  under  thee,  indeed. 

Laun.  Why,  stand  under  and  understand  is  all 
one. 

Speed.  But  tell  me  true,  will't  be  a  match  ? 

Laun.  Ask  my  dog :  if  he  say,  ay,  it  will ;  if  he 
my,  no,  it  will ;  if  he  shake  his  tail,  and  s^ay  no- 
thing, it  will. 

Speed.  The  conclusion  is  then,  that  it  will. 

Laun.  Thou  shalt  never  get  such  a  secret  fnmi 
me,  but  by  a  parable. 

Speed.  'Tis  well  that  I  get  it  so.  But,  Launce, 
how  say'st  thou,  that  my  master  is  become  a  nota- 
ble lover? 

Laun.  I  never  knew  him  otherwise. 

Speed.  Tlian  how  f 

Laun.  A  notable  lubber,  as  thou  reportcst  him 
to  be. 

Speed.  Wliy,  thou  whoreson  ass,  thou  raistakest 
•me. 

Laun.  Why,  fool,  I  meant  not  thee ;  I  meeiit 
thy  master. 

Speed.  1  tell  thee,  my  master  is  become,  a  hot 
lover. 

Laun.  Why,  I  tell  thee,  I  care  not  though  he 
bum  himself  in  love.  If  thou  wilt  eo  with  me  to  tlio 
ale-house,  so;  if  not,  thou  art  a  Hebrew,  a  Jew, 
and  not  worth  the  name  of  a  Christian. 

Speed.  Why.? 

Laun.  Because  thou  hast  not  so  much  charihr  in 
thee,  as  to  go  to  the  ale-house  with  a  Christian  . 
Wilt  thou  go  f 

Speed.  At  thy  service.  [Exeunt 


m. 


TWO  GENTLEBIEN  OF  VERONA. 


36 


•jC  n.—The  tame.    An  apartment  in  the 
palace.    Enter  Proteus. 

To  leave  my  Julia,  shall  I  be  Sonwom ; 
»  fiur  Sihia,  shall  I  be  forsworn ; 
10%  mj  friend,  I  shall  be  much  foravrorn ; 
en  that  power,  which  gave  me  first  my  oath, 
et  roe  to  this  threefold  perjuror. 
ide  me  swear,  and  love  bids  me  forswear : 
t-sogeestingi  love,  if  thou  hast  stnnM, 
m^  thy  tempted  subiect,  to  excuse  it  * 
I  aid  adore  a  twinkling  star, 
r  I  worship  a  celestial  sun. 
Ifnl  vows  may  heedfuUy  be  broken ; 

wants  wit,  that  wants  resolved  will 
a  his  wit  to  exchange  the  bad  for  better. — 

onreverend  toneue !  to  call  her  bad, 
•overeifiity  so  oft  thou  hast  preferred 
renty  thousand  soul-confirmuig  oaths. 
t  leave  to  love,  and  vet  I  do ; 
re  I  leave  to  love,  where  I  should  love, 
bte,  and  Valentine  I  lose ; 
p  them,  I  needs  must  lose  myself; 
i  them,  thus  fitid  I  by  their  loss, 
fi&tiDe,  myself;  for  Julia,  Silvia. 
lelf  am  dearer  than  a  friend ; 
iis  ttill  more  precious  in  itself; 
Ha,  witness  heaven,  that  made  her  fair .' 
^olis  but  a  swarthy  Ethiope. 
mt  that  Julia  is  alive, 
>'nng  that  my  love  to  her  is  dead ; 
leotine  Til  hold  an  enemy, 
at  Silvia  as  a  sweeter  friend. 
:  now  prove  constant  to  myself, 

tome  treachery  used  to  Valentine  : — 
ht  he  meaneth  with  a  corded  ladder 
>  celestial  Silvia^s  chamber-window  ; 
n  counsel,  his  competitor  :2 
•ently  I'll  give  her  father  notice 
diifuising,  and  pretended^  flight ; 
I  enragM,  will  banish  Valentine ; 
no,  be  intends,  shall  wed  his  daughter : 
lentine  being  gone,  IMl  quickly  cross, 

ily  trick,  blunt  Thurio^s  dull  proceeding. 
id  me  wings  to  make  my  purpose  swift, 
hnt  lent  me  wit  to  plot  this  drift  I    [Exit. 

'B  FTl—Veronh.    A  room  in  Julia's 
koute.  £nler  Julia  and  Lucetta. 

>Minael,  Lucetta ;  gentle  giri,  assist  me ! 
»  in  kind  love,  I  do  conjure  thee, — 

tibe  table  wherein  all  my  thoughts 
Ay  characterM  and  eiigravM, — 
D  me :  and  tell  me  some  good  mean, 
di  my  honour,  I  may  undertake 
s?  to  mv  loving  Proteus. 
Alas !  tne  way  is  wearisome  and  long. 
k.  trac-de voted  pilg^m  is  not  weaiy 
ore  kingdoms  with  his  feeble  steps ; 
M  diall  she,  that  hath  love's  wings  to  fly ; 
m  Uie  flight  is  made  to  one  so  dear, 
divine  perfection,  as  Sir  Proteus. 
Better  forbear,  till  Proteus  make  return. 
},  know'st  thou  not,  his  looks  are  my  soul's 

feed?  ^ 

dearth  that  I  have  pined  in, 
Dg  hr  that  food  so  long  a  time. 
iQ  but  know  the  inly  touch  of  lore, 
iold'st  as  soon  go  kmdle  fire  with  snow, 
to  quench  the  fire  of  love  with  words. 

aptinif.    (2)  Confederate.   (3)  Intended. 


Luc.  Idonotseektoqaenchyourkwe'sbotfire; 
But  (qualify  the  fire's  extreme  rage, 
Lest  It  shcMild  bum  above  the  bounds  of  reason. 
JtU.  The  more  thou  dam'st*  it  np,  the  more  it 
bums;  ' 

The  current,  that  with  gentle  muimur  glide«, 
Thou  know'st,  being  stopp'd,  impatiently  doth 

rage; 
But,  when  his  £ur  course  is  not  hindered. 
He  makes  sweet  music  with  the  enamellM  stones, 
Giving  a  gentle  kiss  to  every  sedge 
He  overtaketh  in  his  pilgrimage ; 
And  so  by  many  winding  nooks  he  strays. 
With  willing  sport,  to  the  wild  ocean. 
Then  let  me  ^  and  hinder  not  my  couxsc  : 
I'll  be  as  patient  as  a  gentle  stream. 
And  make  a  pastime  of  each  weary  step. 
Till  the  last  step  have  brought  me  to  my  love ; 
And  there  I'll  rest,  as,  after  much  turrooil,^ 
A  blessed  soul  doth  in  Elvsium. 
Luc.  But  in  what  habit  will  vou  go  along? 
JuL   Not  like  a  woman ;  for  1  wohld  prevent 
The  loose  encounters  of  lascivious  men : 
Gentle  Lucetta,  fit  me  with  such  weeds 
As  may  beseem  some  well-reputed  page. 
Luc.   Why  then  your  ladyship  must  cut  your 

hair. 
JuL  No,  girl ;  I'll  knit  it  up  in  silken  strings. 
With  twenty  odd-conceited  true-love  knots : 
To  be  fantastic  may  become  a  youth 
Of  greater  time  than  I  shall  show  to  be. 
Imc  Wliat  fashion,  madam,  shall  I  make  vour 

breecl^s  f 
Jul  That  fits  as  well,  as— <  tell  me,  good  my 
lord. 
What  compass  will  you  wear  your  farthingale  ?'      ^ 
Why,  even  diat  fashion  thou  best  lik'st,  Lucetta. 
Luc  You  must  needs  have  them  with  a  cod- 
piece, madam. 
JuL  Out,  out,  Lucetta!  that  will  be  ill-favour'd. 
Luc  A  round  hose,  madam,  now's  not  worth  a 
pin. 
Unless  you  have  a  cod-piece  to  stick  pins  on. 

JuL  Lucetta,  as  thou  lov'st  me,  let  me  have 
What  thou  think'st  meet,  and  is  most  mannerly : 
But  tell  me,  wench,  how  will  the  world  repute' me. 
For  undertaking  so  unstaid  a  joumey  ? 
I  fear  me,  it  will  make  me  scandalis'd. 
Lw\  If  you  think  so,  then  stay  at  home,  and  go 

not 
JuL  Nenr,  that  I  will  not 
Luc.  Then  never  dream  on  infamy,  but  ga 
If  Proteus  like  vour  journey,  when  you  come. 
No  matter  who's  displeas'd,  when  you  are  gone  : 
I  fear  me,  he  will  scaree  be  pleas'd  withal. 

JuL  That  is  the  least,  Lucetta,  of  my  fear : 
A  thousand  oaths,  an  ocean  of  his  tears, 
And  instances  as  infinite  of  love. 
Warrant  me  welcome  to  my  Proteus. 
Luc.  "All  these  are  servants  to  deceitful  men. 
Jul.   Base  men,  that  use  them  to  so  ba«c  cfleci ! 
But  truer  stars  did  govern  Proteus'  birth ; 
His  words  are  bonds,  his  oaths  are  oracles ; 
His  love  sincere,  his  thoughts  immaculate ; 
His  tears,  pure  messengers  sent  from  his  heart ; 
His  heart  as  far  from  fraud,  as  heaven  from  earth. 
Luc.  Pray  heaven,  be  prove  so,  when  you  come 

to  him! 
JuL  Now,  as  tfaoa  lov'st  me,  do  him  not  that 
wrong. 
To  bear  a  hard  opinion  of  his  truth : 

(4)  CkMit  (5)  Tiooble. 


36 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


Act  ni. 


Onlv  deserve  my  love,  bj  Icning  him; 

An^  presently  go  with  me  to  my  chamber, 

To  take  a  note  of  what  I  stand  in  need  of, 

To  furnish  me  upon  my  lowing'  jouniey. 

All  that  is  mine  1  leave  at  thy  dispose. 

My  e:oods,  mv  lands,  my  reputation ; 

Oiily  in  lieu  tnereof,  despatch  me  hence : 

Conie,  answer  not,  but  to  it  presently' ; 

I  am  impatient  of  my  tarriance.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  III. 

SCEJ^E  /.—Milan.  An  anti-room  tn  tfie  Duke's 
palace.     Enter  Duke,  Thurio,  and  Proteus. 

Duke.  Sir  Thurio,  give  us  leave,  I  pray,  awhile ; 

We  have  some  secrets  to  confer  about. 

[Kii7  Thurio. 
Now,  tell  me,  Proteus,  what's  your  will  with  me  ,' 

Pro.  My  gracious  lord,  that  which  1  would  dis- 
cover. 
The  law  of  friendship  bids  me  to  conceal : 
But,  when  I  call  to  mind  your  gracious  favours 
Done  to  me,  undesening  as  I  am, 
Mv  duty  pricks  me  on  to  utter  that 
Which  else  no  worldly  good  should  draw  frwn  me. 
Know,  worthy  prince.  Sir  Valentine,  my  friend. 
This  knight  intends  to  steal  away  your  daughter ; 
Myself  am  one  made  privy  to  the  plot. 
I  know,  you  have  determined  to  bestow  her 
On  Thurio,  whom  your  gentle  daughter  hates ; 
And  should  she  thus  be  stolen  away  from  you, 
•    It  would  be  much  vexation  to  your  age. 
Thus,  for  my  duty's  sake,  I  rather  chose 
To  cross  my  friend  in  his  intended  drift. 
Than,  by  concealing  it,  heap  on  your  head 
A  pack  of  sorrows,  which  would  press  you  down, 
Being  unprevented,  to  your  timeless  grave. 

Duke.  Proteus,  I  thank  thee  for  thine  honest  care ; 
Which  to  requite,  command  me  while  I  live. 
This  love  of  theirs  myself  have  often  seen. 
Haply,  when  they  have  judged  me  fast  asleep ; 
And  oftentimes  have  purpos'd  to  forbid 
Sir  Valentine  her  company,  and  my  court : 
But,  fearing  lest  my  jealous  aim2  might  err, 
And  so,  unworthily,  disgrace  the  man 
(A  rashness  that  I  ever  yet  have  shunn'd,) 
I  gave  him  gentle  looks ;  themby  to  find 
That  which  thyself  hast  now  dis<'los'd  to  me. 
And,  that  thou  may'st  perceive  my  fear  of  this, 
Knowing  that  tender  youth  is  soon  suggested,' 
I  nightly  lodge  her  in  an  upptT  tower. 
The  key  whereof  myself  have  ever  kept ; 
And  thence  she  cannot  be  convey'd  away. 

Pro   Know,  noble  lord,  they   have  devis'd  a 


mean 


flow  he  her  chamber-window  will  ascend. 
And  with  a  corded  ladder  fetch  her  down ; 
For  which  the  youthful  lover  now  is  gone. 
And  this  way  comes  he  with  it  presently ; 
^Vhere,  if  it  please  yon,  you  may  intercept  him. 
Cut,  good  my  lord,  do  it  so  cunningly, 
Tliat  my  discovery  be  not  aiiiied^  at ; 
For  love  of  you,  not  hate  unto  my  friend. 
Hath  made  me  publisher  of  this  pretence.* 

Duke.  Upon  mine  honour,  he  shall  never  know 
That  I  bad  any  light  from  thee  of  this. 

Pro.  Adieu,  my  lard ;  tir  Valentine  is  coming. 

[Exit. 

(1)  Loogied  for.     (2)  Guest.     (S)  Tempted. 


Enter  Valentine. 

Duke.  Sir  Valentine,  whither  away  so  fast.' 

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

Duke.  Be  they  of  much  import  } 

Val.  The  tenor  of  them  doth  but  signify 
My  health,  and  happy  being  at  your  court. 

Duke.    Ney,  then  no  matter;    stay    with  me 
awhile ; 
I  am  to  break  with  thee  of  some  alfains 
That  touch  me  near,  wherein  thou  must  be  secret. 
'Tis  not  unknown  to  thee,  that  I  have  sought 
To  match  my  friend,  sir  Thurio,  to  nn-  daughter. 

VaL  1  know  it  well,  my  lord ;  and,  sure,  the 
match 
\Vere  rich  and  honourable;  besides,  the  gentle- 

man 
N  full  of  virtue,  bounty,  worth,  and  qualities 
Beseeming  such  a  wife  as  your  fair  daughter : 
Cannot  your  grace  win  her  to  fancy  him  ^ 

Duke.  No,  trust  me;  she  is  peevish,  sullen,  fro- 
ward, 
Proud,  disobedient,  stubborn,  lacking  duty  ; 
N'j'ither  n-garding  that  she  is  my  child, 
N<ir  fearing  me  as  if  I  were  her  father ; 
And,  may  I  say  to  thee,  this  pride  of  hers 
I  'pon  advice,  hath  drawn  my  love  from  her  ; 
And,  where  I  thought  the  remnant  of  mine  age 
Should  have  been  cnerish'd  by  her  child-like  dutr, 
1  now  am  full  resolved  to  take  a  wife. 
And  turn  her  out  to  who  will  take  her  in  : 
Then  let  her  beauty  be  her  wedding-dower ; 
For  me  and  my  possessions  she  esteems  not. 

Vol.  What  would  your  grace  have  n\»  to  do  in 
this.' 

Duke.  There  is  a  lady,  sir,  in  Milan,  here, 
Whom  I  afl'ert ;  but  she  is  nice^  and  coy. 
And  nought  esteems  mv  aged  eloquence  • 
.Now,  therefore,  would  1  have  thee  to  my  tutor 
(For  long  agone  I  have  forgot  to  court : 
Besides,  th<  fashion  of  the  time  is  cbang'd;) 
I  low,  and  which  way,  I  may  bestow  myself. 
To  be  reijarded  in  her  sun-bright  eye. 

Val.  Win  her  with  gifts,  if  she  respect  not  words; 
Dumb  jewels  often,  in  their  silent  kind. 
More  than  (|uick  words,  do  move  a  woman's  mind. 

Duke  But  she  did  scorn  a  present  that  I  sent 
her. 

Val.  A  woman  sometimes  scorns  what  bcist  con- 
tents her. 
Sf^nd  her  another ;  never  give  her  o'er ; 
For  scorn  at  first  makes  afier-love  the  more, 
if  she  do  frown,  'tis  not  in  hate  of  you, 
fiut  rather  to  beget  more  love  in  you  : 
If'  she  do  chide,  *tis  not  to  have  you  gone  ; 
For  why,  the  fools  are  mad,  if  left  alone. 
Take  no  repulse,  whatever  she  doth  sav  ; 
l^)r,  get  you  gone,  she  doth  not  mean,  airny  .- 
Flatter,  and  praise,  wminend,  extol  their  graces; 
Though  ne'er  so  black,  say,  they  have  angels'  face>.' 
That  man  that  hath  a  tongue,  I  say,  is  no  nu-ui 
If  with  his  tongue  he  cannot  win  a'  woman. 

Duke.    But  she,  I  mean,  is  promis'd  bv   bei 
friends 
Unto  a  youthful  gentleman  of  worth  ; 
And  kept  severely  from  resort  of  men. 
That  no  man  hatfi  access  by  day  to  her. 

Val.  Why  then  I  would  resort  to  her  by  ni<rhL 

Duke.  Ay,  but  the  doors  be  lock'd,  and  keys 
kept  safe,  ' 

(4)  Guessed.  (S)  Design. 


Skem  /. 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


37 


That  no  man  hath  recoone  to  her  by  night 

VaL  What  let»,i  but  one  may  enter  at  her  win- 
dow? 

Duke.  Her  chamber  is  aloft,  fur  from  the  eround ; 
And  built  so  shelving  that  one  cannot  climb  it 
Without  apparent  hazard  of  his  life. 

VaL    Why  then,  a  ladder,  quaintly  made  of 
cords. 
To  cast  up  with  a  pair  of  anchoring  hooks, 
Would  serve  to  scale  another  Heroes  tower, 
So  bold  Leander  would  adventure  it 

Duke.  Now,  as  thou  art  a  gentleman  of  blood. 
Advise  me  where  I  may  have  such  a  ladder. 

FaL  When  would  you  use  it  ?  pray,  sir,  tell  me 
that 

Duke.  This  very  night;  for  love  is  like  a  child, 
That  longs  for  every  thin|  that  he  can  come  by. 

Vol.  By  seven  o*clock  IMI  get  you  such  a  ladder. 

Duke.  But,  hark  thee  ;  I  will  go  to  her  alone ; 
How  shall  I  best  convey  the  ladder  thither  f 

FaL  It  will  be  light,  my  lord,  that  you  may 
bear  it 
Under  a  cloak,  that  is  of  any  length. 

Duke,  A  cloak  as  long  as  thine  will  serve  the 
tum.^ 

FaL  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Duke.  Then  let  me  see  thy  cloak  : 

ni  ret  me  one  of  such  another  length. 

f  oL  Why,  any  cloak  will  serve  the  turn,  my 
lord. 

Duke.  How  shall  I  fashion  me  to  wear  a  cloak.'— 
I  pray  thee,  let  me  feel  thy  cloak  upon  me. 
What  letter  is  this  same  ?  What's  here— To  Silvia? 
And  here  an  engine  fit  for  my  proceeding ! 
V\\  be  so  bold  to  break  the  seal  for  once.       [reads. 

My  ihoughU  do  harbour  with  my  Silvia  nightly  ,* 

And  Mves  they  are  to  me^  thai  $end  themjiying: 
0,  could  their  master  come  and  go  as  lightly^ 

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

IVhile  /,  their  king,  that  thither  them  impSrtvne, 
Do  curse  the  grace  thai  with  such  grace  hath 
blessed  them. 

Because  myself  do  want  my  servants' Jorturu  : 
I  curse  myself,  for  they  are  xnt  by  me. 
That  they  should  harbour  where  their  lord  should 

be. 
What's  here  .^ 
SiMa,  this  night  Ivnll  enfranchise  thee: 

Tis  so :  and  here's  the  ladder  for  the  purpose. — 
Why,  Phaeton  (for  thou  art  Merops'  son,) 
Wilt  thou  aspire  to  guide  the  heavenly  car, 
And  with  thy  daring  folly  bum  the  world  f 
Wilt  thou  reach  stars,  because  they  shine  on  thee  ? 
Cio,  base  intruder !  over-weening  slave  ! 
Bestow  thy  fawning  smiles  on  equal  mates ; 
And  think,  my  patience,  more  than  thy  desert. 
Is  privilege  for  thy  departure  hence  : 
Thank  me  for  this,  more  than  for  all  the  favours, 
Which,  all  too  much,  I  have  bestow'd  on  thee. 
Bat  if  thou  linger  in  my  territories, 
Longer  than  swiftest  expedition 
Will  give  thee  time  to  leave  our  royal  court, 
Bj  h^ven,  ray  wrath  shall  far  exceed  the  love 
I  ever  bore  my  daughter,  or  th^'sclf. 
Be  gone,  I  will  not  bear  thy  vain  excuse, 
Bat,  as  thou  lov'st  thy  life,  make  speed  from 
hence.  [Exit  Duke. 

(1)  Hinden. 


FaL  And  why  not  death,  nther  than  lining 
torment  ? 

To  die,  is  to  be  banish'd  from  niyself ; 
And  Silvia  is  myself:  banish'd  from  her. 
Is  self  from  self;  a  deadly  banishment ! 
What  light  is  light,  if  Silvia  be  not  seen  f 
Wbat  joy  is  joy,  if  Silvia  be  not  by.' 
Unless  it  be  to  think  that  she  is  by. 
And  feed  upon  the  shadow  of  perfection. 
Except  I  be  by  Silvia  in  the  night. 
There  is  no  music  in  the  nightingale ; 
Unless  I  look  on  Silvia  in  the  day, 
There  is  no  day  for  me  to  look  upon  : 
She  is  my  essence ;  and  I  leave  to  be, 
If  I  be  not  by  her  fair  influence 
Foster'd,  illumin'd,  cherish'd,  kept  alive. 
I  fly  not  death,  to  fly  his  deadly  doom : 
Tarry  1  here,  I  but  attend  on  death ; 
But,  fly  1  hence,  1  fly  away  from  life. 

Enter  Proteus  and  Launce. 

Pro.  Run,  boy,  run,  nm,  and  seek  him  out 
Laun.  So-ho !  so-ho ! 
Pro.  What  seest  thou  ? 

Laun.  Him  we  go  to  find ;  there's  not  a  hav 
On's  head,  but  'tis  a  Valentine. 
Pro.  Valentine? 
FaL  No. 

Pro.  WTk)  then  ?  his  spirit  ? 
fat  Neither. 
Pro.  What  then  ? 
Fal.  Nothing. 

Laun.  Can  nothing  speak  ?  master,  shall  I  strike  ? 
Pro.  Whom  would'st  thou  strike  ? 
Laun.  Nothing. 
Pro.  Villain,  forbear. 
Laun.  Why,  sir,  I'll  strike  nothing:  I  pray 

}OM,— 

Pro.  Sirrah,  I  say,  forbear :  friend  Valentine,  a 
word. 

Fal.  My  ears  are  stopp'd,  and  cannot  hear 
good  news. 
So  much  of  bad  already  hath  possess'd  them. 

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

FaL  Is  Silvia  dead  ? 

Pro.  No,  Valentine. 

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

Pro.  No,  Valentine. 

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

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

Pro.    That  thou  art  banish'd,  O,  that's  the 
news; 
From  hence,  from  SiUia,  and  fnxn  me  thy  friend. 

Fal.  O,  I  have  fed  upon  this  wo  already,^ 
And  now  exce^  of  it  will  make  me  surfeit 
Doth  Silvia  know  that  I  am  banish'd  ? 

Pro.  Ay,  ay  ;  and  she  hath  oflTer'd  to  the  doom 
(\V'hich,  unrevers'd,  stands  in  effectual  force) 
A  sea  of  melting  pearl,  which  some  call  tears : 
Those  at  her  father's  churlish  feet  she  tender'd ; 
Wilh  them,  upon  her  knees,  her  humble  self; 
Wringing  her  hands,  whose  whiteness  so  became 

them, 
As  if  but  now  they  waxed  pale  for  wo : 
But  neither  bended  knees,  pure  hands  held  up. 
Sad  sighs,  deep  groans,  nor  silver-shedding  tears 
Could  penetrate  her  uncompassionate  sire ; 
But  Valentine,  if  he  be  ta'en,  must  die. 


38 


TWO  GENTLEMEiN  OF  VERONA. 


Act  III 


Besides,  her  intercession  chafd  him  so, 
When  (^e  for  th^  repeal  was  suppliant. 
That  to  close  pnson  ne  commanoed  her. 
With  many  bitter  threats  of  *biding  there. 

VaL  No  more ;  unless  the  next  word  that  thou 
spcak*st. 
Have  some  malignant  power  upon  my  life  : 
If  so,  I  pray  thee,  breathe  it  in  mine  ear, 
As  ending  anthem  of  my  endless  dolour.  ^ 

Pro.  Cease  to  lament  lor  that  thou  canst  not 
help, 
And  study  help  for  that  which  thou  lament* st 
Time  is  the  nurse  and  breeder  of  all  good. 
Here  if  thou  stay,  thou  canst  not  see  thy  love  , 
Besides,  thy  staying  will  abridge  thy  life. 
Hope  is  a  lover  s  staff;  walk  hence  with  that. 
And  manage  it  against  despairing  thoughts. 
Thy  letters  may  be  here,  though  thou  art  hence ; 
Which,  being  writ  to  me,  shall  be  delivered 
Even  in  the  milk-white  bosom  of  thy  love. 
The  time  now  serves  not  to  expostulate  : 
Come,  Pll  convey  thee  through  the  city-g^te ; 
And,  ere  I  part  with  thee,  ccHifer  at  large 
Of  all  that  may  concern  thv  love-atfeirs : 
As  thou  lov*8t  Silvia,  though  not  for  thyself, 
R^ard  thy  danger,  and  along  with  me. 

Val.  I  pray  thee,  Launce,  an  if  thou  seest  my 
boy. 
Bid  him  make  haste,  and  meet  me  at  the  north  gate. 

Pro.  Go,  sirrah,  find  him  out   Ccwne,  Valentine. 

Vol.  O  my  dear  Silvia  !  haple^  Valentine  ! 

[Exeunt  Valentine  cmd  Proteus. 

Laun.  I  am  but  a  fool,  look  vou ;  and  yet  I  have 
the  wit  to  think,  my  master  is  a  kind  of  knave : 
but  that^s  all  one,  ii  he  be  but  one  knave.  He 
lives  not  now,  that  knows  me  to  be  in  love  :  yet  I 
am  in  love ;  but  a  team  of  horse  shall  not  pluck 
that  from  me ;  nor  who  *tis  I  love,  and  yet  *tis  a 
woman:  but  ^at  woman,  I  will  not  tell  myself; 
and  yet  *tis  a  milk-maid :  yet  *tis  not  a  maid,  for 
she  hath  had  gossips :  yet  *tis  a  maid,  for  she  is  her 
master^s  maid,  and  serves  for  wages.  She  hath 
more  qualities  than  a  water-spaniel, — ^which  is 
much  in  a  bare  Christian.  Here  is  the  cat-log 
^^vUhtg  out  a  paper]  of  her  conditions.  Imprimis, 
She  can  fetch  caid  carry.  Why,  a  horse  can  do 
no  more  ;  nay,  a  horse  cannot  fetch,  but  only  car- 

Sf ;  therefore,  is  she  better  than  a  jade.     Item, 
he  can  milk ;  look  you,  a  sweet  virtue  in  a  maid 
with  clean  hands. 

Enter  Speed. 

Speed.  How  now,  Signior  Launce  ?  what  news 
with  your  mastership  ? 

Laun.  With  my  master's  ship  .^  why,  it  is  at  sea. 

Speed.  Well,  your  old  vice  still ;  mistake  the 
wora :  what  news  then  in  your  paper  f 

Lavn,  The  blackest  news  that  ever  thou 
beard*st. 

Speed.  Why,  man,  how  black  ? 

Laitn,  Why,  as  black  as  ink. 

Speed,  Let  me  read  them. 

Laun.  Fie  on  thee,  jolt-head ;  thou  canst  not 
read. 

Speed,  Thou  liest,  I  can. 

Ltoun,  1  will  try  thee :  tell  me  this :  who  begot 
Iheef 

Speed,  Manj,  the  son  of  my  grandfather. 

Laun,  O  ilhterate  loiterer !  it  was  the  ton  of  thy 

(1)  GrieC 

(2)  St  Nicholas  presided  over  young  tcholan.  ' 


grandmother :  this  proves,  that  thou  canst  not  read. 

&)eed.  Come,  fool,  come :  try  me  in  thy  paper. 

Laun.  There ;  and  Saint  Nicholas?  be  thy 
speed ! 

Speed.  Item,  She  brews  good  ale. 

Laun.  And  thereof  comes    the    proverb, — 
Blessing  of  your  heart,  you  brew  good  ale. 

Speed.  Item,  She  can  sew. 

Laun.  That's  as  much  as  to  say.  Can  she  so .' 

Speed.  Item,  She  can  hut. 

Laun.  What  need  a  man  care  for  a  stock  with 
a  wench,  when  she  can  knit  him  a  stock  ? 

Speed.  Item,  She  can  UHish  and  scour. 

Laun.  A  special  virtue ;  for  then  she  need  not 
be  washed  and  scoured. 

Speed,  Item,  She  can  spin, 

Laun.  Then  may  1  set  the  world  on  wheels, 
when  she  can  spin  K>r  her  living. 

Speed.  Iiem,  She  hath  many  nameless  virtues. 

Laun.  That's  as  much  as  to  say,  bastard  vi rtues ; 
that,  indeed,  know  not  their  fathers,  and  therefore 
have  no  names. 

Speed.  Here/oUow  her  vices. 

Laun.  Close  at  the  heels  of  her  virtues. 

Speed.  Item,  She  is  not  to  be  kissed  fastings  in 
respect  of  her  breath. 

Laun.  Well,  that  fault  may  be  mended  with  a 
breakfast :  read  on. 

Speed.  Item,  She  hath  a  sweet  mouth. 

Laun.  That  makes  amends  for  her  sour  breath. 

Speed.  Item,  She  doth  talk  in  her  sleep. 

Laun,  It's  no  matter  for  that,  so  she  sleep  not  in 
her  talk. 

Speed.  Item,  She  is  slow  in  words. 

Laun.  O  villain,  that  set  this  down  among  her 
vices  !  To  be  slow  in  words,  is  a  woman's  only  vir- 
tue :  I  pray  thee,  out  with't ;  and  place  it  for  her 
chief  virtue. 

Speed.  Itenif  She  is  proud. 

Laun.  Out  with  that  too ;  it  was  Eve's  legacy, 
and  cannot  be  ta'en  from  her. 

Speed.  Item,  She  hath  no  teeth. 

Laun.  I  care  not  for  that  neither,  because  I  love 
crusts. 

Spad.  Item,  Sfie  is  curst. 

Laun.  W  ell ;  the  best  is,  she  hath  no  teeth  to 
bite. 

Speed.  Item,  She  will  often  praise  her  liquor. 

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

Speed.  Item,  She  is  too  liberal.^ 

Laun.  Of  her  tongue  she  caimot ;  for  that's  writ 
down  she  is  slow  of:  of  her  purse  she  shall  not ;  for 
that  I'll  keep  shut :  now,  of  another  thine  she  may ; 
and  that  I  cannot  help.     Well,  proceed. 

Speed.  Item,  She  hath  more  hair  than  trtV,  and 
more  faults  than  hairs^  and  more  wealth  than 
faults. 

Laun.  Stop  there ;  I'll  have  her :  she  was  mine, 
and  not  mine,  twice  or  thrice  in  that  last  article  : 
rehearse  that  once  more. 

Speed.  Item,  She  haih  more  hair  than  icit^ — 

Laun.  More  hair  than  wit, — it  may  be  ;  I'll 
prove  it:  the  cover  of  the  salt  hides  the  salt,  and 
therefore  it  is  more  than  the  salt;  the  hair  that 
covers  the  wit,  is  more  than  the  wit;  for  the  greater 
hides  the  less.    What's  next  ? 

Speed.  And  more  faults  than  hairs, — 

Laun,  That's  monstrous :  O,  that  that  were  out ! 

Speed.  And  more  wealth  than  faults. 

Laun,  Why,  that  word  makes  the  faults  gr«- 

(3)  Licentious  in  language. 


IL 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  YERCHVA. 


39 


cioiii:iw«U,rO  have  her:  end  if  h  be  e  match,  as 
aoCning  IS  unpOMible,^- 

Spted,  What  then? 

Ltam,  Whj,  then  I  will  tell  tiiee,— that  thy 
master  stay  t  for  thee  at  the  north  gate. 

Spud.  Forme? 

Laun.  For  thee  ?  ar ;  who  art  thou  ?  he  hath 
staid  for  a  better  man  man  thee. 

Speed,  And  must  I  go  to  him  ? 

Laun.  Thou  must  run  to  him,  for  thou  hast  staid 
so  long,  that  goiivc  will  scarce  serve  the  turn. 

Spud.  Why  didst  not  tell  me  sooner  f  *pox  of 
your  love-lettera !  [Exit. 

Laun.  Now  will  be  be  swinred  for  reading  my 
lener :  an  unmannerly  slave,  that  will  thrust  tiim- 
self  into  secrets .' — ^I'll  after,  to  rejoice  in  the  boy*s 
correction.  [Exit. 

SCEJ^E  IL—The  tame.  A  room  in  the  Duke*8 
palace.  Enter  Duke  and  Thorio ;  Proteus  be- 
hind. 

Duke.  Si  r  Thurio,  fear  not,  bat  Utat  she  will  love 
you, 
Now  Val^tine  is  banishM  from  her  sight. 

Thu.  Since  his  exile  she  hath  despised  roe  most. 
Forsworn  my  oorapany,  and  railed  at  me. 
That  I  am  desperate  of  obtainine;  her. 

Duke.  This  weak  impress  of  u>ve  is  as  a  figure 
Trenched^  in  ice ;  which  with  an  b6ur*s  heat 
Dissolves  to  water,  and  doth  lose  his  form. 
A  little  time  will  melt  her  frozen  thoughts, 
And  worthless  Valentine  shall  be  forgot. — 
How  now,  sir  Proteus  ?    Is  your  countr)'man. 
According  to  our  proclamation,  gone  ? 

Pro.  Gone,  my  eood  lord. 

Duke.  My  daughter  takes  his  goine  grievously. 

Pro.  A  litUe  time,  my  lord,  will  kill  that  grief. 

Duke.  Sol  believe ;  but  Thurio  thinks  not  so. — 
Proteus,  the  good  conceit  I  hold  of  thee 
(For  thou  hast  shown  some  sign  of  good  desert,) 
Makes  me  the  better  to  confer  with  thee. 

Pro.  Lon^r  than  I  prove  loyal  to  your  grace, 
Let  me  not  hve  to  look  upon  your  erace. 

Duke.  Thou  know*st,  how  willingly  I  would  effect 
The  match  between  sir  Thurio  and  my  daughter. 

Pro.  I  do,  my  lord. 

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

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

Duke.  Ay,  and  perversely  she  persevers  so. 
What  might  we  do,  to  make  the  ^rl  forget 
Hie  love  of  Valentine,  and  love  sir  Thurio  ? 

Pro.  The  best  way  is  to  slander  Valentine 
With  folsehood,  cowardice,  and  poor  descent ; 
Three  thii^  that  women  highly  hold  in  hate. 

Duke.  Ay,  but  she'll  think,  that  it  is  spoke  in 
hate. 

Pro.  Ay,  if  his  enemy  deliver  it : 
IWefore  it  must,  with  circumstance,  be  spoken 
By  one,  whom  she  estoemeth  as  his  friend. 

Duke.  Then  you  must  undertake  to  slander  him. 

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

Duke.  Where  your  good  word  cannot  advantage 
him. 
Tour  slander  never  can  endamage  him ; 
Therefore  the  office  is  indifierent. 
Being  entreated  to  it  by  your  friend. 

Pro.  Yon  have  prevailM,  my  lord :  if  I  can  do  it, 

a)  Graceful.        (2)  Cot         (3)  Bird-lime. 


By  aoght  that  I  can  speak  id  Us  dispraise, 
She  shall  not  loor  ccntinne  kwe  to  him. 
But  say,  this  weea  her  love  from  Valentine, 
It  follows  not  that  she  will  love  sir  Thuria 

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

Jjuke.  And,  Proteus,  we  dare  tnist  yon  in  this 
kind; 
Because  we  know,  on  Valentine's  report, 
You  are  already  love's  finn  votaiy, 
And  cannot  soon  revolt  and  change  your  mind. 
Upon  this  warrant  shall  you  have  access. 
Where  you  with  Silvia  may  confer  at  large ; 
For  she  is  lumpish,  heavy,  melancholy. 
And,  for  your  friend's  sake,  will  be  gkd  of  joa ; 
Where  you  may  temper  her,  by  your  persuasion. 
To  hate  young  Valentine,  and  love  my  friend. 

Pro.  As  much  as  I  can  do,  I  will  effect : — 
But  you,  sir  Thurio,  are  not  sharp  enough ; 
You  must  lay  lime,'  to  tangle  her  desires. 
By  wailful  sonnets,  whose  composed  rhymes 
Should  be  full  fraught  with  serviceable  vows. 

Duke.  Ay,  much  the  force  of  heaven-bred  poesy. 

Pro.  Say,  that  upon  the  altar  of  her  beau^ 
You  sacrifice  your  tears,  your  sighs,  your  heart: 
Write  till  your  ink  be  dry ;  and  with  your  tears 
Moist  it  again ;  and  frame  some  feeling  line, 
That  may  discover  such  integrity  : — 
For  Orpheus'  lute  was  strung  with  poet's  sinews ; 
Whose  golden  touch  could  soAen  steel  and  stones. 
Make  tigers  tame,  and  huge  leviathans 
Forsake  unsounded  deeps  tg  dance  on  sands. 
After  your  dire-lamenting  elegies, 
Vi!»it  by  night  your  lady's  chamber- window 
With  some  sweet  concert :  to  their  instruments 
Tune  a  deploring  dump;^  the  night's  dead  silence 
Will  well  become  sucn  sweet  complaining  griev- 
ance. 
This,  or  else  nothing^,  will  inherit  her. 

Duke.  This  discipline  shows  thou  hast  been  in 
love. 

Thu.  And  thy  advice  this  night  I'll  put  in  prac- 
tice : 
Therefore,  sweet  Proteus,  my  direction-giver. 
Let  us  into  the  city  presently 
To  sort^  some  gentlemen  well  skill'd  in  music : 
I  have  a  sonnet,  that  will  serve  the  turn, 
To  give  the  onset  to  thy  good  advice. 

Duke.  About  it,  gentlemen. 

Pro.  We'll  wait  upon  your  grace  till  after  supper. 
And  afterward  determine  our  proceedings. 

Duke.  Even  now  about  it;  I  will  pardon  yon. 

[Exeunt 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJ^^  /.— j3  forest,  near  Mmlua.    Enier 
certain  Out-laws. 

1  Out.  Fellows,  stand  fast :  I  see  a  passenger. 

2  Out.  If  there  be  ten,  shrink  not,  out  down 

with  'em. 

Enter  Valentine  and  Speed. 

3  Out.  Stand,  sir,  and  throw  us  that  joa  haya 

about  you ; 

(4)  Mournful  elegj.  (5)  Choose  out 


40 


TWO  GENTLE&IEN  OF  VERONA. 


Jfe*  IT 


If  Dot,  weMl  make  you  (>it,  and  rifle  yoa. 

Speed.  Sir,  we  are  undone !  these  are  the  villains 
That  all  the  travellers  do  fear  so  much. 

Vol.  My  friends, — 

1  Out.  That's  not  so,  sir ;  we  are  your  enemiet. 

2  Out.  Pt'ace  ;  we'll  hear  him. 

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

Fal.  Then  know,  that  I  have  little  wealth  to  loae ; 
A  man  [  am,  cross'd  with  adversity  : 
Mt  riches  arc  these  poor  habilaments, 
O^  which  if  you  should  here  disfumish  me, 
Yoa  take  the  sum  and  substance  that  I  have. 

2  Out.  \V hither  travel  you  ? 
Vol.  To  Verona. 

1  Out.  Whence  came  you  f 
Val.  From  Milan. 

3  Out.  Have  you  long  soioum'd  there.' 

VaL  Some  sixteen  months;  and  longer  might 
have  staid, 
If  crooked  fortune  had  not  thwartiKil  me. 

1  Out.  What,  were  you  banish'd  thence  ? 
Val.  I  WAS. 

2  Out.  For  what  oflfence  } 

Vol.  For  that  w  hich  now  tonnents  me  to  rehearse : 
I  kill'd  a  man,  whose  death  I  much  repent ; 
But  vet  I  slew  him  manfully  in  fight. 
Without  false  vantage,  or  base  treachery. 

1  Out.  Why  ne'er  repent  it,  if  it  were  done  so : 
But  were  you  banish'd  for  so  small  a  fault .' 

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

1  Out.  Have  you  the  tongues.^ 

VaL  My  youthful  travel  merein  made  me  happy ; 
Or  else  I  often  had  been  miserable. 

3  Oui.  By  the  bare  scalp  of  Robin  Hood's  &t 

friar, 
This  fellow  were  a  king  for  our  wild  factioo. 

1  Out.   We'll  have  him :  sirs,  a  word. 
Speed,  Master,  be  one  of  them ; 

It  is  an  honourable  kind  of  thievery. 
VaL   Peace,  villain ! 

2  Oui.  Tell  us  this:  have  yoa  any  thing  to  take 

to.> 
Vol.  Nothing,  but  my  fortune. 

3  Out,  Know  then,  that  seine  of  us  are  gentle- 

men. 
Such  as  the  fury  of  ungovera'd  youth 
Thrust  from  the  company  of  awful'  men : 
Myself  was  from  Verona  banished. 
For  practising  to  steal  away  a  lady, 
An  heir,  and  near  allied  unto  the  duke. 

2  Out.  And  I  ircxn  Mantua,  for  a  gentleman. 
Whom,  in  my  mood,**  I  stabbed  unto  Uie  heart 

1  Out.  And  I,  for  such  like  petty  crimes  as 

these. 
Rut  to  the  purpose — (foivwe  cite  our  faults. 
That  they  may  hold  excus'd  our  lawless  lives,) 
And,  partly,  seeing  you  are  beautified 
With  goodly  shape ;  and  by  your  own  report 
A  linguiiit ;  and  a  man  of  such  perfection. 
As  we  do  in  our  quality  much  want ; — 

2  Out.  Indeed,  because  you  are  a  banish'd  man, 
Therefore,  above  the  rest,  we  parley  to  you : 

Are  you  content  to  be  our  general  ? 

To  make  a  virtue  of  necessity. 

And  live,  as  we  do,  in  this  wAdemess  } 

3  Out,  W^hat  say'st  thou  ?  wilt  thou  be  of  our 

cons6rt .' 
Sav,  ay,  and  be  the  captain  of  ut  all : 
We'll  do  thee  homage,  and  be  rul'd  by  thee, 

(1^  WelMooking.        (2)  Langmges. 

(3;  Lawful  (4)  Anger,  iveentment 


Love  thee  as  our  commander,  and  our  king. 

1  Out.  But  if  thou  scom  our  courtesy,  thou  die^t 

2  Out.  Thou  shalt  not  live  to  brag  what  we  have 

offer'd. 
Vol.  I  take  your  ofier,  and  will  live  with  you ; 
Pro\ided  that  you  do  no  outrages 
On  silly  women,  or  poor  passensrers. 

3  Out.  No,  we  detest  such  vile  base  practices. 
Come,  go  with  us,  we'll  bring  thee  to  our  crows, 
And  show  thee  all  the  treasure  we  have  got ; 
Which,  with  ourselves,  all  rest  at  thy  dis^pose. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  JL^>MUan,  Qmrt  of  the  palace.  £n- 

ter  Proteus. 

Pro.  Already  have  I  been  false  to  Valentine, 
And  now  I  must  be  as  unjust  to  Thuria 
Under  the  colour  of  commending  him, 
I  have  access  my  own  love  to  prefer ; 
But  Silvia  is  too  fair,  too  true,  too  holy. 
To  be  corrupted  with  my  worthless  gifts. 
When  I  protest  true  loyalty  to  her, 
She  twits  me  with  my  *&lsehood  to  my  friend ; 
When  to  her  beauty  I  commend  my  vows. 
She  bids  me  think,  now  1  have  been  forsworn 
In  breaking  faith  with  JuUa  whom  I  lov'd  : 
And,  notwithstanding  all  her  sudden  quips,* 
The  least  whereof  would  quell  a  lover's  hope. 
Yet,  spaniel-like,  the  more  she  spunis  my  lo\e. 
The  more  it  grows  and  fawneth  on  her  still. 
But  here  comes  Thurio :  now  must  we  to  her  win- 

dow, 
And  give  some  evening  music  to  her  ear. 

Enter  Thurio,  and  musicianM. 

Thu.    How  now,  sir  Proteus?  are  yoa  crept 

before  us  f 
Pro,  Ay,  gende  Thurio;  for,  you  know,  tliat 
fove 
Will  creep  in  service  where  it  cannot  ga 

Thu.  Ay,  but,  1  hope,  sir,  that  you  Jo\  e  not  here. 
Pro.  Sir,  but  I  do ;  or  else  I  would  be  hence. 
Thu.  WTiom.'  Silvia  .> 
Pro.  Ay,  Silvia — for  your  sake. 
Thu.  I  thank  you  for  your  own.    Now,  gentle- 
men. 
Let's  tune,  and  to  it  lustily  awhile. 

Enter  Host,  at  a  distant;  and  Julia  in  boy*s 

clothes. 

Host.  Now,  my  young  guest !  methinks  you're 
allychollv ;  I  pra^you,  why  is  it.' 

JuL  Many,  nune  host,  because  I  cannot  be 
merry. 

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

Jul.  But  shall  I  hear  him  speak  ? 

Host.  Ay,  that  you  shall. 

Jul  That  will  be  music.  [Music  plays 

Host.  Hark!  haric! 

Jul.  Is  he  anKMig  these  ? 

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

SONG. 

JVho  is  Silvia?  nnuUisshe, 
That  all  our  swains  commend  her  ? 

Hchi^  fairy  and  unse  is  she; 

The  heavens  such  fprace  did  lend  her^ 

ITuU  she  might  admtred  be. 

(5)  Ptesskmate  reproaches. 


m. 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


41 


Is  she  kind^  iusheis  fair? 

For  beauty  lives  with  kindness : 
Ijwe  doth  to  her  eyes  repair  ^ 

To  help  him  of  his  blintUuss  ; 
And,  being  helped,  inhabits  there, 

TVun  to  Sihia  let  us  sing^ 

That  Silvia  is  excelling  ; 
She  excels  each  mortal  things 

Upon  the  dull  earth  duxUing . 
To  her  let  its  garlands  bring. 

Host.  How  now  ?  are  you  sadder  than  you  were 
before  ? 
How  do  vou,  man  ?  the  music  likes  you  not 

Jul.  You  mistake ;  the  musician  likes  me  not 

Host.  Why,  my  pretty  vouth  f 

JuL  He  plavs  false,  father. 

Host.  How  r  out  of  tune  on  the  strings  ? 

JuL  Not  so ;  but  yet  so  false  that  be  grie?es  my 
Torv  heart-strings. 

host.  You  have  a  quick  ear. 

Jul.  kyj  I  would  I  were  deaf.'  it  makes  me  have 
a  slow  heart 

Host.  I  perceive,  you  delist  not  in  music. 

Jul.  Not  a  whit,  when  it  jars  so. 

Host.  Hark,  what  fine  change  is  in  the  music  ! 

Jul.  A  V ;  that  change  is  the  spite. 

Host.  You  would  have  them  always  play  but 
one  thing  ? 

JuL  I  would  always  have  one  play  but  one 
thing. 
But,  host,  doUi  this  sir  Proteus,  that  we  talk  on, 
OAen  resort  unto  this  gentlewoman  ? 

Host.  I  tell  you  what  Launce,  his  man,  told  me, 
he  loved  her  out  of  all  nick.l 

JuL  Where  is  Launce  ? 

liost.  Csone  to  seek  his  dog ;  which,  to-morrow, 
by  his  master's  command,  he  must  carry  for  a 
present  to  his  lady. 

JuL  Peace !  stand  aside  !  the  company  parts. 

Pro.  Sir  Thurio,  fear  not  you  .'  I  will  so  plead, 
That  you  shall  say,  my  cunning  drift  excels. 

Thu.  Where  meet  we  ? 

Pro.  At  saint  Gregoiy's  well. 

Thu.  Farewell. 

[Exeunt  Thurio  and  Musicians. 

Silvia  appears  above^  ai  her  window. 

Pro.  Madam,  good  even  to  your  ladyship. 

Sil.  I  thank  you  for  your  music,  gentlemen  : 
Who  is  that,  that  spake  .** 

Pro.  One,  lady,  if  you  knew  his  pure  heart's 
truth,  • 

Ycu*d  Quickly  leam  to  know  him  by  his  voice. 

Sil.  Sir  Proteus,  as  I  take  it. 

Pro.  Sir  Proteus,  gentle  lady,  and  your  servant 

Sil.  What  b  your  will  f 

Pro.  That  I  may  compass  yours. 

SiL  You  have  your  wish ;  my  will  is  even  tliis, — 
Thai  presently  you  hie  you  home  to  bed. 
Thou  subtle,  peg'urM,  false,  disloyal  man ! 
Think'st  thou,  I  am  so  shallow,  so  conceitless, 
To  be  seduced  by  thy  flattery. 
That  hast  deceivM  so  many  with  thy  vows  f 
Return,  return,  and  make  thy  lo\'e  amends. 
For  mr, — bv  this  pale  queen  of  night  I  swear, 
I  am  so  far  twin  erantii^  thy  request. 
That  I  despise  thee  for  thy  wrongful  suit ; 

(1)  Berond  all  reckoning. 

(2)  Holy  dame,  bletaed  lady. 


And  bv  and  by  intend  to  chide  myself. 
Even  lor  this  time  I  spend  in  talking  to  thee. 

Pro.  I  grant,  sweet  love,  that  1  did  love  a  lady; 
But  she  is  dead. 

JuL  'Twere  false,  if  I  should  speak  it ; 

For,  I  am  sure,  she  is  not  buried.  [Aside, 

SiL  Say,  that  she  be ;  yet  Y^alentine,  thy  friend, 
Sunives ;  to  whom,  thyself  art  witness, 
I  am  betroth'd :  And  art  thou  not  asham'd 
To  wrong  him  with  thy  import unacy  .' 

Pro.  1  likewise  hear,  that  V^alentine  is  dead. 

SiL  And  so,  suppose,  am  I ;  for  in  his  grave, 
Assure  thyself,  my  lo\'e  is  buried. 

Pro.  Sweet  lady,  let  me  rake  it  from  the  earth. 

SiL  Go  to  thy  lady'^  grave,  and  call  her's  thence; 
Or,  at  the  least,  in  her's  sepulchre  thine. 

JuL  He  heard  not  that.  [Asid^ 

Pro.  Madam,  if  your  heart  be  so  obdurate, 
Vouchsafe  me  yet  your  picture  for  my  love. 
The  picture  that  is  hanging  in  your  chamber ; 
To  that  ril  speak,  to  that  IMl  sigh  and  weep  : 
For,  since  the  substance  of  your  perfect  self 
Is  else  devoted,  I  am  but  a  shadow ; 
And  to  your  shadow  I  will  make  true  \ove. 

Jul.  If  'twere  a  substance,  you  would,  sure,  de- 
ceive it. 
And  make  it  but  a  shadow,  as  I  am.  [Aside. 

SiL  I  am  very  loth  to  be  your  idol,  sir ; 
But,  since  your  falsehood  shall  become  you  well 
To  worship  shadows,  and  adore  false  shapes. 
Send  to  me  in  the  morning,  and  I'll  send  it : 
And  so  good  rest 

Pro.  As  wretches  have  o'er-night. 

That  wait  for  execution  in  the  mom. 

[Exeunt  Proteus ;  and  Silvia,  Jrom  above, 

JuL  Host,  will  you  go.^ 

Host.  By  my  hallidom,^  I  was  fast  asleep. 

JuL  Pray  you,  where  lies  sir  Proteus  f 

Host.  Marry,  at  my  house :  Trust  me,  I  think 
'tis  almost  day. 

Jul.  Not  so ;  but  it  hath  been  the  longest  night 
That  e'er  I  watch'd,  and  the  most  heaviest. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^'E  HI.— The  same.    Enter  Eglamour. 

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

Silvia  appears  above^  at  her  window. 

SiL  Who  calls .? 

EgL  Your  sen'ant,  and  your  friend ; 

One  tijat  attends  your  ladyship's  command. 

SiL  Sir  Eglamour,  a  thousand  times  good-mor- 
row. 

EgL  As  many,  worthy  lady,  to  yourself. 
According  to  your  ladyship's  impose,* 
I  am  thus  early  come,  to  know  what  senice 
It  is  your  pleasure  to  command  me  in. 

Sil.  O  Eglamour,  thou  art  a  gentleman 
(Think  not,  I  Hatter,  for,  I  swear,  I  do  not,) 
Valiant,  wise,  remorseful,^  well  accomplish'd. 
Thou  art  not  ignorant,  what  dear  good  will 
I  bear  unto  the  banish'd  Valentine  ; 
Nor  how  my  father  would  enforce  me  marnr 
Vain  Thurio,  whom  my  very  soul  abhorr'd. 
Thyself  hast  lov'd ;  and  I  ha've  heard  thee  say, 
No'grief  did  ever  come  so  near  your  heart. 
As  when  thy  lady  and  thy  true  love  died. 


(3)  Injunction,  command. 


(4)  Pitiful 


42 


TWO  GESmXHEZf  or  Tiaai!UL 


Jkiir. 


I  VOBJdiD 

T*  H— — "  w^ere,  I  htm,  he 
I  do  dfc«re  tar  wcrar  rtmrnpaasr. 


tpoB  ■?  crieC. 


a  bdf'ft  rrx/; 
To  Ltt^  sue*  tnai  a  bbcjM  ta^ioi  j  nKfeicn. 


waoer  acruD 

aajv  rrc7  see  lat  do 


I  do  diMBrt  ciee,  rren  6tm  a  htmxi. 
\»Mlal  wanrmi  a»  i^  «ea  of 
To  bear  Be  ccnpftar,  «od  eo  wrtb  me : 
If  not.  10  iadt  wtai  1  ttt^e  «ud  lo  tbee, 
lint  I  ■■•T  T#*irjre  u  tip  pan  mi^oe. 

ELgt  ^Chdun,  I  pitT  mBcti  jocr  s  ' 
1in»"ii  «*.*  I  kjww  c>eT  nTtn:<i*ij  we  pbc  d, 
I  pre  CJQOseni  to  go  aixir  wTik  «<» : 
Rec^ar-  ft»  litXje  Wbit  betnieia  me, 
A«moc&  1  vr^A  a!i  ccicid  b«i«tiBe  yc«. 
Wben  wili  rou  eo  .^ 

.<5a.  "        Tbis  ertfnns  coaains. 

£jriL  Wi«e  fiba3  I  meeiicn  r" 

JStl  At  irmi  PBlzkk''s  celL 

VlVre  I  intfod  faolr  coofeMiao. 

IX.  I  «iJ  DOC  £ul  Tocr  bdrship : 
Good-CDorrow,  ccnxie  )ftdr. 

&Z.  Good-monxw, 


/Vol  Sebft<t3Eia  KCrrm 

J%1.  la  wra:  jcw  pire* 
Pr«u  I  b:of,  C>:«  «->- 
see  piRtsfta:.' 


Mjirrr,  atr,  1  cameC 


r  I  like  thee  we^H, 

I  m^  dc*  wiat  I  can. 
K«r.  TTDO  wboie- 
]  7  o  LauDce. 


Silvia  tbe 


And 


ir§  sbe,  to  mr  lioie  V 


rel? 


&!>  a  car 


ccmsb  daiokft  »  rood  cnoaeb  icr 


SCEXE  ir.—Tkt 


kis^. 


Emier  Luaactj 


■rdce' 
did  ncC :  beie   hare  I 


«oci)  a  presenL 

fV*.  Bat  itx.  recwced  1 

brcctrtit  hjc  bar  k  araia. 

ProL.  What.  c>d^  ibaa  dtfier  ber  tbi*  £rtm  roe  ? 
At.  *st:  tSe  ether  «;cirrel  was  s«c4efli 

ti>c  mariet- 

o*m:  whoi«a 

tbeiekire  the  ^\ 


hr  the  buasuBiB**  bc«^  io 


trceo - _ 

i^*oe  :  aa»!  then  I  cdrwd  ber 
^-C  a*  bic  a$  ten  ol*  rocr&. 
the  creaitr- 

/VoL  GokSTttbeebesKewandfedmrdog^aai, 

Or  ne'er  rrtam  arun  im»  mj  sicbi. 
Aw^T,  I  sar  :  S«ai'«t  thnw  10  r€\  me  here  ? 
A  «iia%e,  1'*^^,  jCiU  an  eskd,'  tnni»  me  id  «hanw:. 
I  'Exii  LaoDce. 


I  Seba^den.  I  barv  entertainrd  tbee^ 
"  PardT,  daai  I  bare  Deed  c^  «cb  a  yoctb, 
Wlxn  a  man's  aerrant  shaD  pbr  die  car  witb  JTbat  can  with •<«De  dtxretka  do  mv  bo«ioe», 
IB,  look  TOO,  it  ^oei»  bard  :  one  tbat  I  brcnebc  op  iJ  p^^  \^  00  tra>43c;  to  }  on  kvh?li  WWt : 
of  a  poppf '  ooe  tbat  I  arcd  from  dKmrmas,  wben|:  g^^  cbit4> .  ice  tbr  ttice,  and  ihv  briaTicKr; 
Ifaree  or  iw  of  bis  bbnd  brocber*  and  a<«ers  west  ■  \V)Mcb    if  mr  aorcTT  deceive  me  doc' 
to  it !  I  bare  ta^rbt  him— e»€i»  a*  one  wonkl  say  ;  Wltne*  sto^  bcutriaf:  cp,  iortnDr,  and  truth  : 
.prectaeij,  Tbos  1  would  tc*cb  a  doc-     I  wa*seiit  •  Tberelote  know  tboo,  fcc  tbi*  I  eniettain  ibee. 
to  delirer  faim,  as  a  present  10  mi«<3e«  Shia,  man  jj  Go  ptesendy.  and  take  this  hnj  witb  ibee, 
■J  master :  and  I  came  oo  sciooer  into  the  dining- ;  [Vliver  it  to  madam  Sthia 
bat 


cfaember,  bat  be  steps  me  to  ber  trencber,  aod 

•tenk  her  capan*s  \ez.     O.  *tis  a  tool  tbin?.  when 

a  car  canocit  keep^  himself  in  all  companies !  1 

woold  have,  as  ooe  sboold  say,  one  tbat  takes  opoo 

fmm  to  be  a  doe  indeed,  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  doe  at 

all  tbins«L     If  I  bad  doi  bad  more  wit  than  be^  to 

take  a  f^^h  apon  me  tbat  be  did,  I  think  rerilr  be 

bad  been  banned  ior  t ;  sore  as  1  lire,  be  bad  «af- 

fered  ibr't :  voo  shall  jodre.     He  throsts  me  bim- 

telf  into  the  company  of  three  or  iuar  sentJemeo- 

}Am  dors,  under  the  <inke*»  tabie :  be  bad  not  been 

there    biess  the  mark)  a  piftans  wbije :  but  all  the 

chamber  onelt  him.     OvI  writk  the  doe,  says  one ; 

Jilkat  mr  is  thai  ?  says  another ;  %\^f  him  ami, 

mys  the  tbird :  Hang  him  wp,  says  the  duke.     I, 

bavins:   been  acquainted  with   the  smell   be&xe, 

knew  it  was  Crab :  and  soes  me  to  the  fie^low  tbat 

whips  the  dors :  Friend^  quodi  L,  jfow  meBii  to 

whip  the  dog  f  Ay,  marry,  do  /,  qoodi  be.     Tom 

do  him  the  more  tcrong^  quoch  I :  *twa$  I  did  the 

thing  yam  wot  qf.     He  makes  me  no  more  ado, 

but  whips  me  out  of  the  cbaniber.     How  manT 

masters  would  do  this  for  their  serrant  ?  Nay,  iHl 

be  sworn,  I  bare  sat  in  the  stocks  for  poddinp  be 


She  lored  roe  welL  di  Irrer'd  it  to  roe. 

JuL  It  Stems  yon  kntd  ber  ooL,  to  leave  ber 
t>ken  : 
Sbe*s  dead,  beLke. 

Pro.  Not  SO ;  I  think,  she  lire*. 

Jul.  .Ala*! 

Pro.   >\'hy  dost  thou  cry,  alas  ? 

JuL  I  cannot  choose  but  pity  ber. 

Pro.  Wberefote  shoukTst  d»u  pity  her  ? 

JuL  Because,  methinks,  tbat  she  kned  \oo  as 
well 
As  yea  do  love  your  lady  Sihia  : 
\  She*  dreams  cm  him,  that' has  fontol  her  We ; 
You  dc4e  cm  ber,  that  cares  not  for  >  our  lore. 
Tl?  pity,  kwre  should  he  »  contimry  : 
.And  thinking  on  it  make$  mt  cry,  alas ! 

Pro.  Well,  gire  ber  tbat  ritts:'.  and  therewitH-1 
This  letter ;— -that's  ber  chamber. — Tell  my  lady, 
I  claim  the  funcwnise  for  her  heavenly  picture. 
Your  messase  done,  hie  home  unto  my  chambrr, 
W'befe  thou  shalt  find  me  sad  and  solitary. 

'Cn7Protoa« 

JuL  How  manr  women  would  (k>  such  a  me^ 


bath  stolen,  otherwise  be  bad  been  executed .  - 
have  stood  on  the  pilforr  for  geese  be  hadi  killed, 
otberKise  be  bad  snflered  fat't :  tbou  tbiok^st  not 
of  ibis  now ! — Nay,  I  remember  the  tnck  job 


a) 


(2) 


Alas,  poor  Proteos !  than  bast  entertainM 
A  fox,  to  be  the  ^tepberd  of  thy  lamba  : 
Ala&«  poor  foot !  \Vby  do  I  pity  him 

I'TYmt  with  bis  rerr  heart  despiieth  roe  ? 
Becanae  he  Vore«  W,  he  desfiiseth  me ; 
Becmose  I  Vowre  bim,  1  most  pity  bku. 


Scene  1,11. 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


^1 


This  nns  I  gave  him,  when  he  parted  from  me. 

To  bind  hi  m  to  remember  my  good  will : 

And  now  am  I  (unhapppr  measeneer) 

To  plead  for  that,  which  I  would  not  obtain; 

To  carry  that  which  I  would  have  refus'd ; 

To  praise  his  faith,  which  I  would  have  disprais'd. 

I  am  01/  master's  true  confirmed  love ; 

But  cannot  be  true  servant  to  my  master, 

Unk-«tf  I  prove  6dse  traitor  to  myself. 

Yet  I  will  woo  for  him :  but  yet  so  coldly, 

A^  heaven,  it  knows,  I  would  not  have  him  speed. 

Enter  Silvia,  attended. 

Gentlewoman,  good  day !  I  pray  you,  be  my  mean 
To  brin^  me  where  to  speak  with  madam  Silvia. 
SiL  "VVTiat  would  you  with  her,  if  that  1  be  she  ^ 
JuL  If  you  be  she,  1  do  entreat  your  patience 
To  bear  me  speak  the  message  I  am  sent  on. 
'  iSi7.  From  whom  ^ 

Jul.  From  my  master,  sir  Proteus,  madam. 
*S'i7.  O  ! — He  sends  you  for  a  picture  ? 
JtU.  Ay,  madam. 
SiL  Ursula,  bring  my  picture  there. 

[Picture  brought 
Go,  give  your  master  this :  tell  him  from  me. 
One  Julia,  that  his  changing  thoughts  forget. 
Would  better  fit  his  chamber,  than  this  shadow. 
JuL  Madam,  please  you  peruse  this  letter. — 
Pardon  me,  madam  ;  I  have  unadvised 
Delivered  you  a  paper  that  I  should  not ; 
This  is  the  letter  to  vour  ladyship. 
^'i7.  I  pray  thee,  let  me  look  on  that  again. 
JuL  It  may  not  be ;  good  madam,  pardon  me. 
SU.  There,  hold. 
I  n-ill  not  look  upon  your  master's  lines : 
I  know,  they  are  stun 'd  with  protestations. 
And  full  of  new>found  oaths ;  which  he  will  break 
As  eaiiily  as  I  do  tear  his  paper. 
JuL  Madam,  he  sends  your  ladyship  this  ring. 
SU.  The  more  shame  for  him  thathe  sends  it  me; 
For,  I  have  heard  him  say  a  thousand  times, 
His  Julia  pve  it  him  at  his  departure : 
Though  his  false  finger  hath  profknM  &e  ring, 
Mine  shall  not  do  his  Julia  so  much  wrong. 
JuL  She  thanks  you. 
Sa.  What  say'st  thou? 

•Jul.  I  thank  you,  madam,  that  you  tender  her : 
"oor  gentlewoman !  my  master  wrongs  her  much. 
Sil.  Dost  thou  know  her  ? 
mJul.  Ahnost  as  well  as  I  do  know  myself: 
^^  think  upon  her  woes,  I  do  protest, 
THat  I  have  wept  a  hundred  several  times. 

^UL  Belike,  she  thinks  that  Proteus  hath  forsook 

her. 
«^uZ.  I  think  she  doth,  and  ^Os  her  cause  of 

sorrow, 
'^tl.  Is  she  not  passing  ftur  } 

^mL  She  hath  been  fmrer,  madam,  than  she  is . 
&n  she  did  think  my  master  lov'd  her  well, 
,  in  my  jud«?ment,  was  as  fair  as  you ; 
since  she  aid  neglect  her  looking-glass, 
^'^^A  threw  her  sun-expelling  mask  away, 
air  hath  starvM  the  roses  in  her  cheeks, 
pinch*d  the  lily-tincture  of  her  fiice, 
Lt  now  she  is  become  as  black  as  I. 
K  i.  How  tall  was  she  } 
^yjt^^"^  About  my  stature :  for,  at  Pentecost,^ 
I^^*«n  all  our  pageants  of  delight  were  play'd, 
^^^l^  jouth  got  me  to  play  the  woman's  part,* 
V?w  ^  ^^  trimm'd  in  madam  Julia's  gown, 
vV  bich  served  me  as  fit  by  all  men's  judgment, 

(1)  Whttsontide.        (2)  In  good  earnest 


As  if  the  gannent  had  been  made  for  me ; 
Therefore,  I  know  she  is  about  my  heighl. 
And,  at  that  time,  I  made  her  weep  a-good,^ 
For  I  did  play  a  lamentable  part ; 
Madam,  'twas  Ariadne,  passioning 
For  Theseus'  perjury,  and  unjust  flight ; 
Which  1  so  lively  acted  with  my  tears. 
That  my  poor  mistress,  moved  therewithal, 
Wept  bitterly ;  and,  would  I  might  be  dead, 
If  I  in  thought  felt  not  her  very  sorrow  ! 

SiL  She  is  beholden  to  thee,  gentle  youth  !— 
Alas,  poor  lady  !  desolate  and  left ! — 
I  weep  myself,  to  think  upon  thy  words. 
Here,  youth,  there  is  my  purse ;  I  give  thee  this 
For  thy  sweet  mistress'  flake,  because  thou  lov'sther. 
Farewell.  [Exit  Silvia. 

JuL  And  she  shall  thank  you  for't^  if  e'er  yon 
know  her. — 
A  virtuous  gentlewoman,  mild,  and  beautiful. 
I  hope  my  master's  suit  will  be  but  cold. 
Since  she  respects  my  mistress'  love  so  much. 
Alas,  how  love  can  trifle  with  itself! 
Here  is  her  picture  :  Let  me  see ;  I  think, 
If  I  had  sucn  a  tire,'  this  face  of  mine 
Were  full  as  lovely  as  is  this  of  hers : 
And  yet  the  painter  flatter'd  her  a  little, 
Unless  I  flatter  with  myself  too  much. 
Her  hair  is  auburn,  mine  is  perfect  yellow : 
If  that  be  all  the  diflerence  in  his  love, 
I'll  get  me  such  a  colour'd  periwig. 
Her  eyes  are  grey  as  glass ;  and  so  are  mine : 
Ay,  but  her  forehead's  low,  and  mine's  as  high. 
What  should  it  be,  that  he  respects  in  her, 
But  I  can  make  respective^  in  myself. 
If  this  fond  love  were  not  a  blinded  god  ? 
Come,  shadow,  come,  and  take  this  shadow  up, 
For  'tis  thy  rival.    O  thou  senseless  form .' 
Thou  shah  be  worshipp'd,  kiss'd,  lov'd,  and  ador'd; 
And,  were  there  sense  in  his  idolatry. 
My  substance  should  be  statue  in  thy  stead. 
I'll  use  thee  kindly  for  thy  mistress'  sake. 
That  us'd  me  so ;  or  elaej  by  Jove  I  vow, 
I  should  have  scratch'd  out  your  unseeing  eyes. 
To  make  my  master  out  of  love  with  thee.  [Exit. 


ACT  V. 


Enter 


SCEATE  I.—The  same.     An  abbey. 

Eglamour. 

EgL  The  sun  begins  to  gild  the  western  sky ; 
And  now,  it  is  about  the  very  hour 
That  Silvia,  at  Patrick's  cell,  should  meet  me. 
She  will  not  fail ;  for  lovers  break  not  hours. 
Unless  it  be  to  come  before  their  time ; 
So  much  they  spur  their  expedition. 

Enter  Silvia. 

See,  where  she  comes :  Lady,  a  happy  evening ! 

SiL  Amen,  amen  !  go  on,  good  Esrlamour  ! 
Out  at  tR^  postern  by  the  abbey-wall ;  ' 
1  fear,  I  am  attended  by  some  spies. 

EgL  Fear  not :  the  forest  is  not  three  leagues 
off; 
If  we  recover  that,  we  are  sure*  enough.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  IL—The  same.  An  apartment  in  the 
Duke's  palace.  Enter  Thurio,  Proteus,  cmd 
Julia. 

Thu.  Sir  Proteus,  what  says  Silvia  to  my  suit? 
(3)  Head-dress.     (4)  Respectable.     (5)  Safe. 


44 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


Act  r. 


Pro.  Of  sir,!  find  her  milder  dian  she  was ; 
And  yet  she  takes  exceptions  at  yoar  person. 
Thu,  What,  that  mj  le^  is  too  long  ? 
Pro.  No ;  that  it  is  too  little. 
TT^tc  PU  wear  a  boot,  to  make  it  somewhat 

roonder. 
Pro.  But  love  will  not  be  spurr'd  to  what  it 

loaths. 
Thii.  What  sajr  8  she  to  my  fece  ? 
Pro.  She  says,  it  is  a  fair  one. 
Thu.  Nav,  then  the  wanton  lies;  my  &ce  is 

blacL 
Pro.  But  pearls  are  fair ;  and  the  old  saying  is. 
Black  men  are  pearls  in  beauteous  ladies'  eyes. 
Jui.  'Tis  true  ;  such  pearls  as  put  out  ladies' 

eyes ; 
For  I  had  rather  wink  than  look  on  them.  [Atide. 
JTiu.  How  likes  she  my  discourse  ? 
Pro.  Ill,  when  you  talk  of  war. 
Thu.  But  well,  when  I  discourse  of  love,  and 

peace  ? 
JuL  But  better,  indeed,  when  you  hold  your 

peace.  [Atide. 

Thu.  \I\'hat  says  she  to  my  valour .' 
Pro.  O,  sir,  she  makes  no  doubt  of  that 
JuL  She  needs  not,  when  she  knows  it  coward- 
ire.  [Aside. 
Thu.  What  says  she  to  my  birth  f 
Pro.  That  you  are  well  derivM. 
Jul.  True ;  from  a  gentleman  to  a  fool.  [Aside. 
Thu.  Considers  she  my  possessions  f 
Pro.  O,  av ;  and  pities  them. 
Thu.  Wherefore? 

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

Enter  Duke. 

Duke.  How  now.  Sir  EVoteus  ?  how  now,  Thorio ? 
Which  of  vou  saw  sir  Eglamour  of  late  ? 

Thu.  Not  I. 

Pro.  Nor  I. 

Duke.  Saw  you  my  dau^ter } 

Pro.  Neither. 

Duke.  AVhy,  then  she's  fled  unto  that  peasant 
Valentine ; 
And  Eglamour  is  in  her  company. 
•Tis  true ;  for  friar  Laurence  met  them  both. 
As  he  in  penance  wander'd  through  the  forest : 
Him  he  knew  well,  and  guess'd  that  it  was  she  ; 
But,  being  mask'd,  he  was  not  sure  of  it : 
Besides,  she  did  intend  confession 
At  Patrick's  cell  this  even;  and  there  she  was  not : 
These  likelihoods  confirm  her  flight  from  hence. 
Tlwrefore,  I  pray  you,  stand  not  to  discourse. 
But  mount  you  presently  ;  and  meet  with  me 
Upon  the  rising  of  the  mountain- foot 
That  leads  towards  Mantua,  whither  they  are  fled : 
Despatch,  sweet  gentlemen,  and  follow  me.  [Exit 

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

Pro.  And  I  will  follow,  more  for  Silvia's  love. 
Than  hate  of  Eglamour  that  goes  with  her.  [Exit 

JuL  And  I  will  follow,  more  to  cross  that  love, 
Than  hate  for  Silvia,  that  is  gone  for  love     [Exit 

SCEJVE  III.— Frontiers  of  Mantua.     The 
Forest.    Enter  Silvia,  and  Out-laws. 

Out  Come,  come ; 
(1)  Own.        (2)  Foolish.        (3)  Careless. 


Be  patient,  we  most  bring  yea  to  oar  captain. 

SiL  A  thousand  more  mischances  than  this  one 
Have  leam'd  me  how  to  brook  this  patiently. 

2  Out.  Come,  brine  her  away. 

1  Out.  Where  is  ue  gendeman  that  was  with 
hcr.> 

3  Out.  Being  nimble-footed,  he  hath  out-rtm  ot, 
But  Moyses,  and  Valerius,  follow  him. 

Go  thou  with  her  to  the  west  end  of  the  wood. 
There  is  our  captain  *  we'll  follow  him  that's  fled ; 
The  thicket  is  beset,  he  cannot  'scape. 
1  Out  Come,  I  must  bring  you  to  our  captain's 
cave : 
Fear  not ;  he  bears  an  honourable  mind. 
And  will  not  use  a  woman  lawlesslv. 
SiL  O  Valentine,  this  I  endure  for  thee ! 

[Exeunt 

SCEJ^E  rr.— Another  part  qf  the  Forest. 
Enter  Valentine. 

F'aL  How  use  doth  breed  a  habit  in  a  man  ! 
This  shadow v  desert,  unfrequented  woods, 
I  better  brooli  than  flourishing  peopled  towns : 
Here  can  I  sit  alone,  unseen  of  any. 
And,  to  the  nightingale's  complaining  notes, 
Tune  my  distresses,  and  record*  my  woes. 

0  thou  that  dost  inhabit  in  my  breast, 
Leave  not  the  mansion  so  Ion":  tenantless ; 
Lest,  growing  ruinous,  the  building  fall, 
And  leave  no  memory  of  what  it  was  ! 
Repair  me  with  thy  presence,  Silvia ; 

Thou  gentle  minph,  cherish  thy  forlorn  swain  ! — 
What  halloing,  and  what  stir,  is  this  to-day  f 
These  are  my  mates,  that  make  their  wills  tbdr 

law. 
Have  some  unhappy  pnssenger  in  chace  : 
They  love  me  well ;  yet  I  have  much  to  do. 
To  keep  them  from  uncivil  outrages. 
Withdraw  thee,  Valentine;  who's  this  comes  here? 

[Steps  aside. 

Enter  Proteus,  Silvia,  and  Julia. 

Pro.  Madam,  this  service  I  have  done  ibr  Toa 
(Though  you  respect  not  aught  vour  servant  aotb,) 
To  hazard  life,  and  rescue  you  from  him 
That  would  have  forc'd  your  honour  and  your 

love. 
Vouchsafe  me,  for  my  meed,*  but  one  fair  lode  ; 
A  smaller  boon  than  this  I  cannot  beg. 
And  less  than  this,  I  am  sure,  vou  cannot  give. 

Vol.  How  like  a  dream  is  tliis  I  see  and  hear ! 
Love,  lend  me  patience  to  forbear  awhile.    [Aside. 

SiL  O  miserable,  unhappy  that  I  am ! 

Pro.  Unhappy,  were  you,  madam,  ere  I  came  ; 
But,  by  my  commg,  I  have  made  you  happy. 

Sil.  By  thy  approach  thou  mak'st  me  most  un« 
happy. 

JuL   Ana   me,  when  he  approacheth  to  your 
presence.  [Aside. 

SiL  Had  I  been  seized  by  a  hungrv  lion, 

1  would  have  been  a  breakfast  to  the  beast. 
Rather  than  have  false  Proteus  rescue  me. 
O,  heaven  be  judge,  how  I  love  Valentine, 
Whose  life's  as  tender  to  me  as  my  soul ; 
And  full  as  much  (for  more,  there  cannot  be,) 
I  do  detest  false  perjur'd  Proteus  : 
Therefore  be  gone,  solicit  me  no  more. 

Pro.  What  dangerous  action,  stood  it  next  is 
death. 
Would  I  not  undcigo  for  one  calm  look  ? 


(4)  Sing. 


(/>)  Reward. 


8o0ie  IV. 


TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VER(WA. 


45 


O,  'tis  the  cune  in  love,  and  still  approv*d,i 
When  women  cannot  love  where  they're  belov'd. 
SiL  \Vhen  Proteus  cannot    love  where    he's 
belov'd. 
Read  over  Jalia's  heart,  tHy  first  best  love, 
For  whose  dear  sake  thou  didst  then  rend  thy 

faith 
Into  a  thousand  oaths ;  and  all  those  oaths 
Descended  into  penury,  to  love  me. 
Thou  hast  no  faith  left  now,  unless  thou  hadst  two. 
And  that*8  far  worse  than  none ;  better  have  none 
Than  plural  faith,  which  is  too  much  by  one : 
Thou  counterfeit  to  thy  true  friend  ! 

Pro.  In  love, 

Who  respects  friend  } 
SU,  All  men  but  Proteus. 

Pro.  Nay,  if  the  gentle  spirit  of  moving  words 
Can  no  way  change  you  to  a  milder  form, 
I'll  woo  you  like  a  soldier,  at  arms'  end  ; 
And  love  you  'gainst  the  nature  of  love,  force  you. 
SiL  O  heaven .' 

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

VaL  Ruffian,  let  go  that  rude  uncivil  touch ; 
Thou  friend  of  an  ill  fashion ! 
Pro.  Valentine ! 

VaL  Thou  common  friend,  that's  without  faith 
or  love ; 
(For  such  is  a  friend  now,)  treacherous  man  ! 
Thou  hast  beguil'd  my  hopes ;  nought  but  mine 

eye 
Could  have  persuaded  roe  :  Now  I  dare  not  say 
I  have  one  fnend  alive ;  thou  would'st  disprove  me. 
\Vho  should  be  trusted  now,  when  cme's  right  hand 
Is  perjur'd  to  the  bosom  ?  Proteus, 
I  am  sorry,  I  must  never  trust  thee  more. 
But  count  the  world  a  stranger  for  thy  sake. 
The  private  wound  is  deepest :  O  time,  most  curst ! 
'Mongst  all  foes,  that  a  fnend  should  be  the  worst ! 

Pro.  My  shame  and  guilt  confounds  me. — 
Forgive  me,  Valentine  :  if  hearty  sorrow 
Be  a  sufficient  ransom  for  offence, 
I  tender  it  here  ;  I  do  as  truly  suffer, 
As  e'er  I  did  commit 

Vol.  Then  I  am  paid ; 

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

Pro.  Look  to  the  boy. 

FaL  Why,  boy !  why,  wag !  how  now  f  what 
is  me  matter  ? 
Look  up ;  speak. 

Jul.  O  good  sir,  my  master  charg'd  me 

To  deliver  a  ring  to  madam  Silvia ; 
Which,  out  of  my  neglect,  was  never  done. 
Pro.  Where  is  that  ring,  boy  ? 
Jui.  Here  'tis :  this  is  it     [Gives  a  ring. 

Pro.  How  !  let  me  see  : 
Why  this  is  the  ring  I  gave  to  Julia. 

Jul.  O,  cry  you  mercy,  sir,  I  have  mistook ; 
This  is  the  ring  you  sent  to  Silvia. 

[ShotDS  another  ring. 
Pro.  But,  how  cam'st  thou  by  this  ring  f  at  my 
depart, 
I  gave  this  unto  Julia. 

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

0)  Felt,  experienced.        (2)  Directkn. 

(3)  An  allusion  to  cleaving  the  pin  in  archery. 


Pro.  Howl  Julia! 

JtU.  Behold  her  that  gave  ainP  to  all  thy  oaths, 
And  entertain'd  them  deeply  in  her  heart : 
How  oA  hast  thou  with  perjury  cleft  the  root  !> 
O  Proteus,  let  this  habit  make  thee  blush  ! 
Be  thou  ashain'd,  that  I  have  took  upon  roe 
Such  an  immodest  raiment ;  if  shame  live 
In  a  di^uise  of  love  : 
It  is  the  lesser  blot,  modesty  finds, 
Women  to  change  their  shapes,  than  men  their 
minds. 

Pro.    Than  men  their  minds .^    'tis    true:  O 
heaven !  were  man 
But  constant,  he  were  perfect:  that  one  error 
Fills  him  with  faults;  makes  him  run  through  all 

sins: 
Inconstancy  falls  off,  ere  it  begins  : 
What  is  in  Silvia's  face,  but  I  may  spy 
More  fresh  in  Julia's  with  a  constant  eye  f 

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

Pro.  Bear  witness,  heaven,  I  have  my  wit>h  for 
ever. 

Jtd.  And  I  have  mine.  • 

Enter  Out-laws,  toith  Duke  and  Thuria 

Out.  A  prize,  a  prize,  a  priie ! 

Vcd.  Forbear,  I  say ;  It  is  my  lord  the  duke. 
Your  grace  is  welcome  to  a  man  di^rac'd, 
Banished  Valentine. 

Duke.  Sir  Valentine ! 

Thu.  Yonder  is  Silvia ;  and  Silvia's  mine. 

VaL  Thurio,  give  back,  or  else  embrace  thy 
death; 
Come  not  within  the  measure^  of  my  wrath : 
Do  not  name  Silvia  thine ;  if  once  again, 
Milan  shall  not  beliold  thee.     Here  she  stands, 
Take  but  possession  of  her  with  a  touch  ! — 
I  dare  thee  but  to  breathe  upon  my  love. — 

Thu.  Sir  Valentine,  I  care  hot  for  her,  I ; 
I  hold  him  but  a  fool,  that  will  endanger 
His  body  for  a  girl  that  loves  him  not : 
I  claim  her  not,  and  therefore  she  is  thine. 

Duke.  The  more  dea:enerate  and  base  art  thou, 
To  make  such  means*  Tor  her  as  thou  hast  done. 
And  leave  her  on  such  slight  conditions. — 
Now,  by  the  honour  of  my  ancestry, 
I  do  applaud  thy  spirit,  Valentine, 
And  think  thee  worthy  of  an  empress'  love. 
Know  then,  I  here  forget  all  former  griefs, 
Cancel  all  grudge,  repeal  thee  home  again. — 
Plead  a  new  state  in  uiv  unrivall'd  merit. 
To  which  I  thus  subscribe, — sir  Valentine, 
Thou  art  a  gentleman,  and  well  deriv'd  ; 
Take  thou  thy  SiUna,  for  thou  hast  doer\''d  her. 

VaL  I  thank  your  grace ;  the  gift  hath  made  me 
happy. 
I  now  beseech  you,  for  your  daughter's  sake. 
To  grant  one  boon  that  I  shall  ask  of  vou. 

Duke.  I  grant  it,  for  thine  own,  whatc'er  it  be. 

Vol.  These   banish'd  men,   that  I  have  kept 
withal, 
Are  men  endued  with  worthy  qualities ; 
Forj^ive  them  what  they  have  committed  here. 
Ana  let  them  be  recali'd  from  their  exile  : 
They  are  reformed,  civil,  full  of  gtxHJ, 
And  fit  forgreat  employment,  worthy  lord. 

Duke.  Thou  hast  prevail'd  :  I  pardon  them  and 
thee; 
Dispose  of  them,  as  thou  know'st  their  deserts. 

(4)  Length  of  my  sword.         (5)  Interest 


46 


TWO  CESTLDSES  OF  XEBOSA. 


A€ir. 


With  triuiuphtv'  HHrdi,  tnd  iw  •oUnnity. 
Come,  let  iM  CO ;  we  will  include^  ftU  jariL 

fW.  Ard,  as  we  w«lk  «lan^,  I  dare  be  bold 
With  oar  diiooane  to  make  jaax  grace  to  ■nile  : 
What  tfaiok  too  of  tin  pacet  ■"T  urd  ? 

DmAc:  I  think  the  haj  bath  grace  in  him;  he 


I 


VmL  I  warrant  JOB,  nj  lord ;  more  grace  than 
bor. 

Ddb.  Hvhat  mean  too  bj  that  Mjing? 

VaL  Please  joo,  I*ll  tell  joa  as  we  pass 
That  JDQ  will  wonder  what  bath  fortuned. — 
Come,  Proteos;  *tis  joor  penance,  bat  to  bear 
The  storj  of  joor  lores  discovered : 
That  done,  oar  day  of  marriage  shall  be  joors; 
OKliBast,onehoiMe,one  mntoal  happiness^ 

[Exemd, 


(1)  Bladka,  leveb. 


(2)  Condnde. 


In  ^mvUj  there  is  a  strange  Dntnre  of  know- 
led^  ana  ^^nonnoe,  of  care  arc  negiieetsce.  The 

excellent,  die  aBosioos  are 
and  iost ;  hot  the  andHr  coorers  his 
heroes  br  sea  nan  one  mland  town  to  anoiiier  in 
the  same' coontrj ;  he  places  the  onperor  at  Milan, 
and  sends  his  yoong  men  to  attend  nim,  bat  never 
mentions  him  more ;  he  makes  Proteos,  after  an  in- 
terriew  with  Sihia,  saj  he  has  ooIt  seen  her  pic- 
tare  :  and,  if  we  may  credit  the  olcl  copies,  he  has, 
br  UMtaldng  places,  left  his  scenery  loextiitable. 
'the  reason  of  all  tins  confusion  seems  to  be,  that 


he  took  his  stoiy  from  a  novel  which  he  aometiines 
followed,  and  sometimes  fonook;  mrm^titnt^^  j^ 
membered,  and  sometimes  forgoC 

That  thb  phy  is  rightly  attributed  to  Shak* 
speare,  I  have  little  doam.  If  it  betakenfitanhim, 
to  wfaoin  shall  it  be  giren?  This  qu:>tion  maj  be 
asked  of  all  the  diarorted  plays,  eice|!i  Titus  An- 
dronicas;  and  it  wul  be  found  more  credible,  that 
Shakspeare  might  sometimes  sink  bebw  his  holiest 

U  fights,  than  tnt  any  other  ahonld  ri«e  op  to  his 
lowest  JOUN^N. 


MEBBY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR     Aa  V  —  Scene  5 

T(4L-p.4r. 


TWELFTH  NIGHT.    Aall.—  Sctiti. 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Fblttafll 

•  country  justice, 
to  Sallow. 


*  5  two  gentlemen  dwelling  at  Windsor. 

nge,  a  boy,  ion  to  Mr.  J^fige, 
Etuis,  a  fVelsh  parson. 
, «  French  physician. 
^Garter  Inn. 

*  i  followers  <if  Faistaff'. 


Robin,  ptige  to  Faistitff'. 
Simple,  servant  to  Sunder. 
Riigbjr,  seroani  to  Dr.  Caws. 

Mrs.  Ford. 

Mrs.  Page. 

Mrs.  Anne  Page,  Iter  daughier,  in  love  with  Fenion, 

Mrs.  Quickly,  servant  to  Dr.  Caius. 

Servants  to  Page,  Ford,  ifc. 
Scene,  Wipndsor;  and  the  parts  adjacent 


ACT  I. 

L — Windsor.     B^ore  P&ee^s  house. 
huMee  Shallow,  Slender,  andSir^  Hugh 

ShaUow. 

^  persuade  me  not ;  I  will  make  a  Star- 
matter  of  it :  if  be  were  twenty  Sir  John 
be  shall  not  abuse  Robert  Shallow,  e»- 

a  the  county  of  Gloster,  justice  oi  peace, 

t. 

iy,  ooonn  Slender,  and  cust-alorwn.^ 

kj,  and  ratolorum  too ;  and  a  gentleman 

torparsoo ;  who  writes  himself  anmgifro ; 

H,  warrant,  quittance,  or  obligation,  or- 

kj,  dtat  we  do ;  and  have  done  any  time 
e  bandred  years. 

kU  bis  successors,  gone  before  him,  have 
nd  all  his  ancestors,  that  come  aAer  him, 
f  may  give  the  dozen  white  luces  in  their 

lisanoldcoat 

lie  dosen  white  louses  do  become  an  old 

;  it  agrees  well,  passant :  it  is  a  familiar 

■a,  and  signifies — love. 

[Im  lace  is  the  fr^  fish ;  the  salt  fish  is 

It. 

m^  quarter,  coz  ? 

foD  may,  by  marr)'ing. 

t  it  Dttrring  indeed,  if  he  quarter  it. 

isl  •  whit 

raa,m*r'-lady;  if  he  has  a  quarter  of  your 

B  it  but  three  skirts  for  yoursf  If,  in  my 

BJectures :  but  that  is  all  one :  if  Sir  John 

vrt  committed  disparagements  unto  you, 

la  diDTch,  and  will  be  glad  to  do  my  be- 

!,to  make  atonements  and  compromises 

the  counciH  shall  hear  it ;  it  is  a  riot 

^tle  ibnnerly  appropriated  to  chaplains, 
ttor  rotutorum. 


Eva.  It  is  not  meet  the  council  hear  a  riot ;  there 
is  no  fear  of  Got  in  a  riot :  the  council,  look  vou, 
shall  desire  to  hear  the  fear  of  Got,  and  not  to  bear 
a  riot ;  take  vour  vizaments*  in  that 

ShaL  Ha  I  o'  m^  life,  if  I  were  young  again,  the 
sword  should  end  it 

Eva.  It  is  petter  that  friends  is  the  sword,  and 
end  it:  and  there  is  also  another  device  in  my 
prain,  which,  peradventure,  prings  goot  discretions 
with  it:  there  is  Anne  Page,  which  is  daughter  to 
master  George  Page,  which  is  pretty  viigiiiity. 

Slen.  Mistress  Anne  Page  ?  She  has  brown  hair, 
and  speaks  small^  like  a  woman. 

Eva.  It  is  that  feiy  person  for  all  the  *orld,  as 
just  as  you  will  desire ;  and  seven  hundred  pounds 
of  monies,  and  gold,  and  silver,  is  her  grandsire, 
upon  his  deathVbed  (Got  deliver  to  a  joyful  resur- 
rections !)  give,  when  she  is  able  to  overtake  seven- 
teen years  old :  it  were  a  goot  motion,  if  we  leave 
our  pribbles  and  prabbles,  and  desire  a  marriage 
between  master  Abraham,  and  mistress  Anne 
Page. 

Shal.  Did  her  grandsire  leave  her  seven  hundred 
pound  .^ 

Eva.  Ay,  and  her  father  is  make  her  a  pKrttcr  penny. 

ShaL  I  know  the  young  gentlewoman ;  sne  has 
good  gifts. 

Eva.  Seven  hundred  pounds,  and  possibilities,  is 
goot  gifts. 

Shal.  Well,  let  us  see'*  honest  master  Page  :  is 
Falsta/r  there  .^ 

Eva.  Shall  I  tell  you  a  he  ?  I  do  despise  a  liar, 
as  I  do  despise  one  that  is  false ;  or,  as  I  de^pisie 
one  that  is  not  true.  The  knight,  sir  John,  is  there; 
and,  I  beseech  you,  be  ruled  bv  your  well-willers. 
I  will  peat  the  door  [ArnocAw]  for  master  Page. 
Wliat,  hoa !  Got  pless  your  house  here ! 

£ln(er  Page. 

Page.  Who's  there? 

Eva.  Here  is  GoCs  plessing,  and  your  friend, 
and  justice  Shallow :  and  here  young  master  Slen- 

(3)  By  our.  (4)  Court  of  star-chamber. 

(5)  Advisement        (6)  Soft. 


48 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


Act  I 


der ;  that,  peradventures,  shall  tell  you  another  tale, 
il'  matters  grow  to  your  likjxigs. 

Page,  I  am  glad  to  see  your  worships  well :  I 
thank  vou  for  my  veaison,  master  Shallow. 

ShaL  Master  Page,  I  am  glad  to  see  you ;  much 
eood  do  it  your  goc^  heart !  I  wished  your  venisoo 
better ;  it  was  ill  killed  :^iow  doth  good  mistress 
Page  ? — and  I  love  you  always  with  my  heart,  la ; 
wiu  my  heart 

Page.  Sir,  I  thank  you. 

^lod.  Sir,  I  thank  you ;  by  yea  and  no,  I  da 

Page.  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  good  master  Slen- 
der. 

SloL  How  does  your  &llow  greyhound,  sir  ?  I 
heard  say,  he  was  outrun  on  Cotsale.^ 

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

Sl^  TouMl  not  confess,  youMl  not  confess. 

Siud,  That  he  will  not ; — *ti9  your  fault,  *tis  your 
fault : — ^*tis  a  good  dc^. 

Page.  A  cur,  sir. 

ShnL  Sir,  he*s  a  good  dog,  and  a  fair  dog ;  can 
there  be  more  said  r  he  is  good,  and  &ir. — ^Is  sir 
John  Falstaff  here  ? 

Page.  Sir,  he  is  within ;  and  I  would  I  could  do 
a  good  office  between  you. 

Eva^  It  is  spoke  as  a  christians  ought  to  speak. 

^ud.  He  hath  wrong*d  me,  master  Page. 

Pc^.  Sir,  he  doth  in  some  sort  confess  it 

Shal.  If  it  be  confess^,  it  is  not  redressM ;  is  not 
that  so,  master  Ps^e  ?  he  hath  wronged  me ;  in- 
deed, he  hath ; — at  a  word,  he  hath ; — believe  me ; — 
Robert  Shallow,  esquire,  saith,  he  is  wronged. 

Page.  Here  comes  Sir  John. 

Knier  Sir  John  Falstaff,  Bardolph,  Nym,  and 

PistoL 

fhl.  Now,  master  Shallow ;  you^ll  complain  of 
me  to  the  king  ^ 

Shal.  Knight,  you  have  beaten  my  men,  killed 
my  deer,  and  broke  open  my  lodge. 

fhL  But  not  kiss'd  your  keepcr^s  daughter. 

ShaL  Tut,  a  pin !  this  shall  be  answerd. 

FaL  1  will  answer  it  straight ; — ^I  have  done  all 
this : — that  is  now  answerM. 

Shal.  The  council  shall  know  this. 

FaL  'Twere  better  for  you,  if  it  were  known  in 
counsel :  you'll  be  laughM  at 

Eva.  PatLca  verba.  Sir  John,  good  worts. 

Fal.  Good  worts  .'2  good  cabbage. — Slender,  I 
broke  your  head ;  what  matter  have  you  against 
me? 

Slen.  Marry,  sir,  I  have  matter  in  my  head 
against  you ;  and  against  your  coney-catching^ 
rascals,  Bardolph,  Nym,  and  Pistol,  lliey  carried 
me  to  the  tavern,  and  made  me  drunk,  and  after- 
wards picked  my  pocket 

Bar.  You  Banbury  cheese  !^ 

Slen.  Ay,  it  is  no  matter. 

Pisi.  How  now,  Mephostophilus  ?^ 

Slen.  Ay,  it  is  no  matter. 

^ym.  Slice,  I  say !  pauca^paucafi  slice !  that's 
my  humour. 

Slen.  Where's  Simple,  my  man  .^— can  yoa  tell, 
cousin  ^ 

Eva.  Peace,  I  pray  you !  Now  let  us  under- 
stand :  there  is  three  umpires  in  this  matter,  as  I 

fl)  Cotswold  in  Gloucestershire. 

(2)  Worts  was  the  ancient  name  of  all  the  cab- 
bage kind.' 

(3)  Sharpers.  (4)  Nothing  but  paring. 
(5)  The  name  of  an  ugly  spirit     (6)  Few  words. 


understand :  that  is,  roaster  Faf;e,JideHcet,  master 
Page;  and  there  is  myself, /w/e/tcc/,  myself ;  and 
the  three  party  is,  lastly  and  finally,  mine  host  of 
the  Garter. 

Page.  We  three,  to  hear  k,  and  end  it  betweeu 
them. 

Eva.  Fery  root ;  I  will  make  a  prief  of  it  in  my 
note-book ;  and  we  will  afterwarcu  'oric  upon  the 
cause,  with  as  great  discreetly  as  we  can. 

FaL  Pistol,— 

Pist.  He  hears  with  ears. 

Eva.  The  tevil  and  his  tam !  what  phrase  is  this, 
He  hears  toith  ear  ?  Why,  it  is  affectations. 

Fal.  Pistol,  did  you  pick  master  Slender's  purw .' 

S2m.  Ay,  by  these  gloves,  did  he  (or  I  would  I 
might  never  come  in  mine  own  g^reat  chamber  again 
else,)  of  seveik  groats  in  mill-sixpences,  and  two 
Edward  shovel-Doards,^  that  cost  me  two  shilling 
and  two  pence  apiece  of  Yead  Miller,  by  these 
gloves. 

FaL  Is  this  true.  Pistol  > 

Eva.  No ;  it  is  false,  if  it  is  a  pick-purse. 

PisL  Ha,  thou  mountain-foreigner  I — Sir  John, 
and  master  mine, 
I  combat  challenge  of  this  latten  bilbo :' 
Word  of  denial  in  thy  labras^  here ; 
Word  of  denial ;  froth  and  scimi,  thou  liest 

Slen.  By  these  gloves,  then  'twas  he. 

JVym.  Be  advised,  sir,  and  pass  ^ood  humours : 
I  will  say,  marry  trap,  with  you,  if  you  run  the 
nuthook's^o  humour  on  me ;  that  is  the  very  note  of  it 

Slen.  By  this  hat,  then  he  in  the  red  race  had  it : 
for  though  I  cannot  remember  what  I  did  when  yoo 
made  me  drunk,  yet  I  am  not  altogether  an  as«. 

Fal.  What  say  you.  Scarlet  and  John  i 

Bard.  Why,  sir,  for  my  part,  I  say,  the  gentle- 
man had  drunk  himself  out  of  his  five  sentences. 

Evcu  It  is  his  five  sooses :  fie,  what  the  ignorance 


is! 


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

Slen.  Ay,  you  spake  in  Latin  then  too ;  but  'tis 
no  matter :  I'll  ne'er  be  drunk  whilst  I  live  again, 
but  in  honest,  civil,  godly  company,  for  this  trick  : 
if  I  be  drunk,  I'll  be  drunk  witii  those  that  have  the 
fear  of  God,  and  not  with  drunken  knaves. 

Eva.  So  Got  'udge  me,  that  is  a  virtuous  mind. 

FaL  You  hear  all  these  matters  denied,  gentle- 
men ;  you  hear  it 

Enter  Mistress  Anne  Page  with  wine  ,*  Jtft^res9 
Ford  and  Mistress  Pb^  JoUowing. 

Page.  Nay,  daughter,  carry  the  wine  in ;  we'll 
drink  within.  [Exit  Anne  Page. 

Slen.  O  heaven  !  this  is  mistress  Anne  Piage. 

Page.  How  now,  mistress  Ford  f 

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

[kissing  her. 

Page.  Wife,  bid  these  gentlemen  welcome : — 
Come,  we  liave  a  hot  venison  pasty  to  dinner;  con»e, 
gentlemen,  I  hope  we  shall  drink  down  al'*  unkii.d- 
ness. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Shal.  Slend.  and  Evansi. 

Slen.  I  had  rather  than  forty  shillings,  I  had  my 
book  of  songs  and  sonnets  here  : — 

(7)  King  Edward's  shillings,  used  in  the  game 
of  shuffle-lxmrd. 

(8)  Blade  as  thin  as  a  lath.  (9)  Lips. 
^10)  If  you  say  I  am  a  thief.        (11)  Drunk. 
(12)  The  bounds  of  good  behaviour. 


$enu  11. 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


49 


EnUr  Simple. 

Hem  now,  Simple !  where  have  yoa  been  ?  I  must 
wait  on  myself,  must  I  ?  You  have  noi  The  Book 
qf  Kiddies  about  you,  have  you  ? 

Sini^  Book  of  jUddUt!  why,  did  you  not  lend 
it  to  Alice  Shortcake,  upon  Allhallowmas  last,  a 
tortnijf  ht  afore  Michaieliiias  ?l 

SItaL  Come,  coz ;  come,  cos ;  we  stay  for  you. 
A  word  with  you,  coz  :  marry,  this,  coz ;  there  is, 
a»  Uwere,  a  tender,  a  kind  of  tender,  made  a&r  off 
by  sir  Hugh  here ;— do  you  understand  me  ? 
'  Sien,  Ay,  sir,  you  shall  find  me  reasonable ;  if  it 
be  so,  I  shall  do  that  that  is  reason. 

ShaL  Nay,  but  understand  me. 

SUn.  So  1  do,  sir. 

Eva.  Give  ear  to  his  motions,  master  Slender :  I 
will  description  the  matter  to  you,  if  you  be  capa- 
city of  it 

Slen.  Nay,  I  will  do  as  mv  cousin  Shallow  sajrs : 
I  pray  you,  pardon  me ;  he*s  a  justice  of  peace  in 
his  countiy,  simple  thoueh  I  stand  here. 

Eva.  But  that  is  not  me  question ;  the  question 
is  concerning  your  marri^e. 

Shai.  Ay,  there*s  the  point,  sir. 

Eva.  Marry,  is  it ;  the  very  point  of  it ;  to  mis- 
tress Anne  Pa^e. 

Skn.  Whv,  if  it  be  so,  I  will  many  her,  upon 
aay  reasonable  demands. 

Eva.  But  can  you  affection  the  *oman  ?  Let  us 
command  to  know  that  of  your  mouth,  or  of  your 
lips ;  for  divers  philosophers  hold,  that  the  lips  is 
parcel  c^  the  mouth ; — therefore,  precisely,  can  you 
cany  your  good  will  to  the  maid  r 

SSuu.  Cousm  Abraham  Slender,  can  yoa  love  her  ? 

SloL  I  hope,  sir, — I  will  do,  as  it  shall  become 
one  that  would  do  reason. 

Eva.  Nay,  Got^s  lords  and  his  ladies,  you  must 
speak  potsitable,  if  yoa  can  cany  her  your  desires 
towarasber. 

ShaL  That  vou  must :  vnll  you,  upon  good  dow- 
ly,  manr  herr 

SUn.  I  will  do  a  greater  thing  than  that,  upcxi 
yoor  request,  cousin,  in  any  reason. 

ShaL  Nay,  conceive  me,  conceive  me,  sweet  coz ; 
whftt  I  do,  IS  to  pleasure  you,  coz ;  Can  you  love 
the  maid  f 

Slen.  I  will  many  her,  sir,  at  your  request ;  but 
if  there  be  no  great  love  in  the  beginning,  yet  hea- 
ven may  decrease  it  upon  better  acquaintance,  when 
we  are  married,  and  have  more  occasion  to  know 
one  another:  I  hope,  upcm  familiarity  will  grow 
more  contempt :  but  if  you  say,  marry  her^  I  will 
many  her,  that  I  am  freely  dissolved,  and  disso- 
lutely. 

£^  It  is  a  fery  discretion  answer ;  save,  the 
AvT  is  in  the  *ort  dissolutely :  the  *ort  is,  according 
to  oar  meanii^,  resolutely  f — ^his  meaning  is  good. 

ShaL  Ay,  I  think  my  cousin  meant  well. 

SUn.  Ay,  or  else  I  would  I  might  be  hanged,  la. 

Re-enter  Anne  Page. 

ShtU.  Here  comes  fair  mistress  Anne  : — Would 
I  were  young,  for  your  sake,  mistress  Anne .' 

j^nne.  The  dinner  is  on  the  table ;  my  father 
desires  your  worships'  company. 

ShaL  I  will  wait  on  him,  fair  mistress  Anne. 

Eva.  Od*s  plessed  will !  1  will  not  be  absence 
af  the  grace. 

[Exeunt  Shal.  and  Sir  H.  Evans. 

(1)  An  intended  blunder. 

{t)  Three  set-to's,  bouts  or  hits. 


Anne.  WillH  please  yoor  wordiip  to  come  in,  sir? 

Slen.  No,  I  thank  you,  forsooth,  heartily  ;  i  am 
veiy  well. 

J^nne.  The  dinner  attends  you,  sir. 

SUn.  I  am  not  a-hungry,  I  thank  yoa,  forsooth : 
Go,  sirrah,  for  all  you  are  my  man,  go,  wait  upon 
my  cousin  Shallow :  [Exit  Simple.]  A  Justice  of 
peace  sometime  may  be  beholden  to  his  mend  for 
a  man : — ^I  keep  but  three  men  and  a  boy  yet,  till 
my  mother  be  aead :  but  what  though  ?  yet  I  live 
like  a  poor  gentleman  bom. 

Anne.  I  may  iu>t  go  in  without  your  worship  : 
they  will  not  sit,  till  you  come. 

SUn.  r&ith,  ril  eat  nothing ;  I  thank  yoo  as 
much  as  though  I  did. 

Anne,  I  pray  you,  sir,  walk  in. 

SUn.  I  had  rather  wailk  here,  I  thank  you :  I 
bruised  my  shin  the  other  day  with  playine  at 
sword  and  dagger  with  a  nraster  of  fence,  uuee 
veneys3  for  a  dim  of  stewed  prunes ;  and,  by  my 
troth,  I  cannot  abide  the  smell  of  hot  meat  since. 
Why  do  your  dogs  bark  so?  be  there  bears  i'  the 
town? 

Anne.  I  think  there  are,  sir;  1  heard  diem 
talked  of. 

SUn.  I  love  the  sport  well ;  but  I  shall  as  soon 
quarrel  at  it,  as  any  man  in  England : — ^you  are 
afraid,  if  you  see  the  bear  loose,  are  you  not  ? 

Anne.  Ay,  indeed,  sir. 

Slen.  That's  meat  and  drink  to  me  now:  I 
have  seen  Sackerson^  loose,  twenty  times;  and 
have  taken  him  by  the  chain  :  but,  1  warrant  you, 
the  women  have  so  cried  and  shriek'd  at  it.  that  it 
pass'd  i* — but  women,  indeed,  cannot  abide  *em : 
they  are  very  ill-favoured  rough  things. 

Re-enter  Page. 

Page.  Come,  gentle  master  Slender,  come ;  we 
stay  for  you. 

Slen.  I'll  eat  nothing ;  I  thank  vou,  sur. 

Page.  By  cock  and  pye,  you  shall  not  choose, 
sir :  come,  come. 

SUn.  Nay,  pray  you,  lead  the  way. 

Page.  Come  on,  sir. 

Slen.  Mistress  Anne,  yourself  shall  go  first 

Anne.  Not  I,  sir ;  pray  you,  keep  on. 

SUn.  Truly,  I  will  not  go  finrt ;  truly,  la:  I  will 
not  do  you  that  wrong. 

Anne.  I  pray  you,  sir. 

Sim.  I'll  rather  W  unmannerly  than  trouble- 
some :  you  do  yourself  wrong,  indeed,  la. 

[Exeunt 

SCEJ^E  II.— The  same.    Enter  Sir  Hugh  Evans 

and  Simple. 

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

Simp.  Well,  sir. 

Eva.  Nay,  it  is  petter  yet : give  her  this  let- 
ter; for  it  is  a  'oraan  that  altogcther's  acquain- 
tance with  mistress  Anne  Page  ;  and  the  letter  i«, 
to  desire  and  require  her  to  solicit  your  master's 
desires  to  mistress  Ann  Page :  I  pray  you,  be  gone ; 
I  will  make  an  end  of  my  dinner:  there's  pippins 
and  cheese  to  come.  [Exeunt. 

.  (3)  The  name  of  a  bear  exhibited  at  Paris- 
Garden,  in  Southwark. 

(4)  Surpassed  all  expression. 


50 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


Act  I 


SCEJ^E  III— A  room,  in  the  Garter  Inn,  Enter 
FaUtaff,  Host,  Bardolph,  Nym,  Pistol,  and 
Robin. 

Fal.  Mine  host  of  the  Garter, — 

Host.  What  says  my  bully-rook  ?  Speak  schol- 
arlvt  and  wisely. 

Fal.  Truly /mine  host,  I  must  turn  away  sane 
of  my  followers. 

Host.  Discard,  bully  Hercules ;  cashier  :  let 
&em  wag  ;  trot,  trot. 

Fal.  I  sit  at  ten  pounds  a  week. 

Host.  Thou'rt  an  emperor,  Caesar,  Keisar,  and 
Fhciczar.  I  will  entertain  Bardolph;  he  shall 
draw,  he  shall  tap :  said  I  well,  bully  Hector  ? 

Fal.  Do  so,  good  mine  host 

Host.  1  have  spoke  ;  let  him  follow :  let  me  see 
thee  froth,  and  lime :  I  am  at  a  word ;  follow. 

[Exit  Host. 

Fed,  Bardolph,  follow  him ;  a  taj)ster  is  a  good 
trade  :  an  old  cloak  makes  a  new  jerkin ;  a  with- 
ered serving-man,  a  fresh  tapster  :  go ;  adieu. 

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

Pist.  O  base  Gongariani  wight !  wilt  thou  the 


spigot  wield  ? 


^yni.  He  was  gotten  in  drink :  is  not  the  hu- 
mour conceited  ?  His  mind  is  not  heroic^  and  there's 
the  hiunour  of  it 

Fal.  I  am  glad,  I  am  so  acquit  of  this  tinder- 
box;  his  thefts  were  too  open:  bis  filching  was 
like  an  unskilful  singer,  he  kept  not  time. 

JVym.  The  good  humour  is,  to  steal  at  a  minute's 
rest 

Pist.  Convey,  the  wise  it  call:  steal!  foh;  a 
fico^  for  the  phrase  ! 

Fal.  Well,  sirs,  I  am  almost  out  at  heeb. 

Pist.  Why  then  let  kibes  ensue. 

Fal.  There  is  no  remedy ;  I  must  coney-catch; 
(  must  shift 

Pist.  Young  ravens  must  have  food. 

Fal.  Which  of  you  know  Ford  of  this  town  ^ 

Pist.  I  <ken  the  wight ;  he  is  of  substance  good. 

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

Pist.  Two  yards,  and  more. 

Fal.  No  quips  now,  Pistol ;  indeed  I  am  in  the 
waist  two  yards  about :  but  I  am  now  about  no 
waste ;  I  am  about  thrift  Briefly,  I  do  mean  to 
make  love  to  Ford's  wife ;  1  spy  entertainment  in 
her ;  she  discourses,  she  carves,  she  gives  the  leer 
of  invitation :  I  can  construe  the  acticm  of  her  fa- 
miliar sU'le ;  and  the  hardest  voice  of  her  behaviour, 
to  be  English'd  rightly,  is,  /  om  iSir  John  Fal- 
ttaff's. 

Pist.  He  hath  studied  her  well,  and  translated 
her  well ;  out  of  honesty  into  English. 

JVyin.  The  anchor  is  deep:  will  that  humour 
passf 

FaL  Now,  the  report  goes,  she  has  all  the  rule 
of  her  husband's  purse;  she  hath  legions  of  an- 
gels.' 

Pist.  As  many  devils  entertain ;  and,  To  her^ 
bovy  say  I. 

^yn.  The  humour  rises;  it  is  good:  humour 
me  tne  angels. 

Fal.  1  have  writ  me  here  a  letter  to  her :  and 
here  another  to  Page's  wife ;  who  even  now  gave 
me  good  eyes  too,  examin'd  my  parts  with  most 
judicious  eyliads :  8(»netimes  the  beam  of  her  view 

(1)  For  Hungarian.     (2)  Fig.     (3)  Gold  coin. 

(4)  Escheatour^  an  officer  in  the  Exchequer. 

(5)  Cleverly.  (6^  False  dice. 


gilded  my  foot,  sometimes  my  portly  belly. 

Pist.  Then  did  the  sun  on  dunglull  shine. 

JVym.  I  thank  thee  for  that  humour. 

Fal.  O,  she  did  so  course  o'er  my  exteriors  with 
such  a  greedy  intention,  that  the  appetite  of  her  eye 
did  seem  to  scorch  me  up  like  a  burning-glass  I 
Here's  another  letter  to  her :  she  bears  tne  purse 
too  :  she  is  a  region  in  Guiana,  all  gold  and  bounty. 
I  \^  ill  be  cheater*  to  them  both,  and  they  shall  be 
exchequers  to  me ;  they  shall  be  mv  East  and  West 
Indies,  and  I  will  trade  to  them  both.  Go,  bear 
thou  this  letter  to  mistress  Page ;  and  thou  this  to 
mistress  Ford  :  we  will  thrive.  Tads,  we  will  thrive. 

Pist.  Shall  I  Sir  Pandarus  of  Troy  become. 
And  by  my  side  wear  steel  ?  then,  Lucifer  take  all ! 

JVym.  I  will  run  no  base  humour ;  here,  take  the 
humour  letter ;  I  will  keep  the  'haviour  of  reputa- 
tion. 

FaL  Hold,  sirrah,  [to  Rob.]  bear  you  these  let- 
ters tightly  ;* 
Sail  like  my  pinnace  to  these  golden  shores. — 
Rogues,  hence,  avaunt !  vanish  like  hail-stcHies,  go ; 
Trudge,  plud,  away,  o'  the  hoof;  seek  sillier, 

pack! 
Falstaff  will  learn  the  humour  of  this  age, 
French  thrift,  you  ro^es;   imself,  and  skirted 
page.  [Exeunt  Falstaff  and  Robin. 

Pist  Let  vultures  gripe  thy  guts !  for  gourd  and 
fullam^  holds, 
And  high  and  low  beguile  the  rich  and  poor : 
Tester  I'll  have  in  pouch,?  when  thou  shalt  lack. 
Base  Phrygian  Turk ! 

JVym.  I  have  operations  in  my  head,  which  be 
humours  of  revenge. 

Pist.  Wilt  thou  revenge  f 

J^ym.  By  welkin,  and  her  ^ar ' 

Ptst.  With  wit,  or  steel." 

J^vm.  With  both  the  humoars,  I , 

I  will  discuss  the  humour  of  this  love  to  Page. 

Pist.  And  1  to  Ford  shall  eke  unfold, 
How  Falstaff,  varlet  vile. 
His  dove  will  prove,  his  gold  will  bold. 
And  his  soft  couch  dciile. 

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

Pist.  Thou  art  the  Mars  of  malcontents:  I 
second  thee ;  troop  on.  [ExewnL 

SCEJ^E  IV.— A  room  in  Dr.  Caius's  houte. 
Enter  Mrs.  Quickly,  Simple,  and  Rugby. 

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

Rvg.  I'll  go  watch.  [Exit  Rugby. 

Quick.  Go ;  and  we'll  have  a  posset  for't  soon  at 
night,  in  faith,  at  the  latter  end  of  a  sea-coal  fire. 
An  honest,  witling,  kind  fellow,  as  ever  servant 
shall  come  in  house  withal ;  and,  I  warrant  you,  no 
tell-tale,  nor  no  breed-bate  :^^  his  worst  fault  is,  that 
he  is  given  to  prayer ;  he  is  something  peevish**  that 
way :  but  nobody  but  has  his  fault ; — but  let  that 
pass.     Peter  Simple,  you  say  your  name  is  ? 

Sim.  Ay,  for  fault  of  a  better. 

Quick.  And  master  Slender's  your  master  f 

(7)  Sixpence  I'll  have  in  pocket 

(8)  Instigate.        (9)  Jealousy.        (10)  Strife. 
(11)  Foolish. 


MERBY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


Sol  A7,  AnootL 
Quint  Don  br  twt  wmi 
like  a  gloiet't  paiuig-knife  f 


balhtbiwfat  * 
«uic£  H( 


nuumui; 
eu  cbmL) 


eani ;  II  Cuifi-eolooml  beard. 


If  and  buhead:  be 


.  cl(McL   [Shid  t 


,  d«wn 


Enter  DikIot  Caiui. 

Otnu.  VatbyouBng?  I  donotlikedrafloji; 
70a,  go  uid  vclrb  ma  in  my  clofat  kin  6or^r 

^     --    *  ink—'...  ■».  ■  ^,,  .r.,^^A  ».•  I I    3 


VA^ ,'  a  boK,  *  giiEc»-a  box  i  do 
■  p«n-«  box. 

Cuiot  At,  forwolh.  Til  fe"  ' 

h^  ivdnf  lull  in  h:ita..<..lf.    :f  kx 


';  iT  he  lud  found  tt 


e»ot  laitthi^X?       ^"' 

C'liiu.  Ouy;  ■«//(  U  nu  huwi  pockei ;  dcpechc 
qftiddj : — Ven  i«  dal  knave  Rueby  f 
Quufc  What,  John  Bugby  I  Jolm ! 
/by.  HcRiiir. 
Cinif.  Yoo  an  J<^n  Rugbf ,  and  you  arc  JdcI 

Jtiy.  "Ha  rod),  lir,  bne  in  (he  porch. 

Cana.  Bj  nu  irol,  I  tBn7  Uw  long  :~0d'«  mr 
Qu'wj^Duwtrf/ dvrc  d  unie  nmplesin  my  cluaci. 
<Ll  I  nil  Dol  [br  IhF  larld  I  ihall  Uare  bthmd. 

Oiict  Ab  ms  J  he'll  £nd  Ute  young  man  (here. 

Ciiw.  Odiablr,  diahle'  vat  ii  in  mjdosrl?— 
V'illuiy!  larron.''  [Pulling  Simple  out.]  Hugbj. 

Qnck.  Good  mn'lcr,  b?  conlFnI. 

CUta.  VeKToKihalllliL-conlfnlo? 

Ondt  TbenxuiE  mm  ii  id  honul  man. 

CWm.  Vbi  tha  II  oe  honeil  man  do  Id  my  clottl  i 
dffe  H  no  honeit  iiiaa  dat  iliall  come  in  mjr  clowl. 

Qi'ick.  I  beieech  you,  be  not  bd  Hesmatac ;  hi'nr 
the  truth  of  it :  be  came  of  wi  ernnd  to  mc  Trom 
pantmHudi. 

Oiiut.  VelL 

Swi.  Ay,  lbr«>olb,1ode)ii*h*r  l& — - 

Qui'cJt  Peace,  I  pray  you. 

Oinu.  Peace4yourKnguc: — SpBak-ayourUilp. 

Sfm.  To  dniR  Ihit  hunui  a^nilewnnaii,  voui 
maid,  to  (peak  a  good  woitl  la  mialRu  Anne  ni^-, 


•T  m>  niBiler,  in  die  naj  oT  marriage. 

q;'.rt.  This  i>  all,  indeed,  la;  but  I'll  ne'er  put 
I)  A..i.'rr  in  Ihe  Sn,  and  need  not 

Oiiiu.  Sir  Hu^  Kod-B  you  f— Rugln,  hnOB 
K  souiE  paper!— Tarry  you  a  htlle.B  while. 

Quiet.  1  unclad  he  ia  to  quiet:  if  he  hod  been 
mrouiihly  moved,  you  thould  have  hrard  him  M 
Kid,  iinJ  to  melancholy; — bill  noln ilhilandlng, 

K  viri  yea  and  Ihe  no  is,  Ihe  French  doctor,  my 
ia>,l.  r,— I  may  call  him  my  mailer,  look  you,  for 
>rew,  bake, 


all  oimlf^- 
Sim.  'Ta  a  . 


and  drink,  make  the  bcdi,  and 

great  chaise,  to  come  nnder  one 

^ir*.  Are  you  Btia'do'lhal?  you  »h»]|  find  ila 
ereai  cliniKe :  and  10  be  up  early,  and  down  late ; — 
but  noin'itnilandir^  (la  tell  you  in  your  ear;  I 

■^  ■    ^-  -'  -  )  my  matrrhlnB^ia 

:  Page  .  but  uotwilh- 


JBck'nape ;  gire^  dii  letter  to  ri 


I  tarry  here  :— by  ( 
;  by  gar,  be  thall  a 


ay  te  rone;  1 


Caivi.  It  19  no  ma[(er-B  tor  dal  t — do  not  yoo 

ll-a  me  dat  I  thall  have  Anne  Page  for  myieir  ? 

-by  par,  I  vill  kill  de  Jack  prieil ;  and  1  have  ap- 
painteiil  mine  boat  of  di  Jarttrrr  to  measure  our 
weapon : — by  gar,  I  x-ill  myself  hove  Annr  Pare. 

Qnck.  Sir,  the  maid  lo>e>  you,  and  all  thalllie 

rdl :  ire  muit  give  folk)  leave  la  prate :  What, 

Gi/ii,i.  Ri^iby,  come  lo  the  court  vii  me ; — by 

cad  out  of  mv  door : — Follow  my  heelt,  Rugby. 

[EinrnfCaiiiiaTHf  Rugby. 

Quidr.  Toil  ihall  hare  An  tools-head  of  your 

LirL     No,  I  know  Anne'a  mind  tor  that :  nerer  a 

in  Windsor  tnowi  more  of  A 


in  Id, 


wiibb 


Fail.  [IFi'Uin.^  Wbo'awidiin  there,  hi 

Quidi.  HWs  tbeie,  1  (row !  Cotne  a 
Duse,  I  pray  you. 


Fml.   What  newa?  bow  doea  pretty  miitreia 

Quick.  In  truth,  nr,  and  (he  ii  prelly,  and 
mini,  and  gentle ;  and  ooe  that  »  your  friend,  1 
m  tell  you  mat  by  the  way ;  1  praiae  heaven  for  It 

Fail.  Shall  I  do  any  good,  tbinkett  ibou  .>  Shall 

Quick.  TiDlh,  air,  all  u  in  hia  hsnda  above :  but 
oiwlihitanding,  magler  Feuton,  I'll  be  nvom  cd  a 
nnk,  ?he  Itwea  you : — Have  not  your  worahip  a 
nrt  aboie  ycair  eye  f 


(4)  The  goDJeie,  what  the  poi ' 


52 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


AetIL 


it  \»  sach  another  Nan : — but,  I  detest,!  an  honest 
maid  as  ever  broke  bread : — ^We  had  an  hour's 
talk  of  that  wart ; — I  shall  never  laugh  but  in  that 
nmid's  comj^y. — But,  indeed,  she  is  nven  too 
nmch  to  allicbDilyS  and  musing:  but  for  you — 
Well,  go  to. 

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

Quick.  Will  I  ?  i'faith,  that  we  will :  and  I  will 
1*^11  vour  worship  more  of  the  wart,  the  next  time 
we  have  confidence ;  and  of  other  wooers. 

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

[Exit. 

Quick.  Farewell  to  your  worship. — Truly,  an 
honest  gentleman  ;  but  Anne  loves  him  not ;  for  I 
know  Anne*s  mind  as  well  as  another  does : — 
Out  uponU !  what  have  I  forgot  ?  [Exit. 


ACT  IL 

SCEUVE  L— Be/ore  Page's  house.    Enter  Mis- 
tress Ps^e,  with  a  Utter. 

Mrs.  Pare.  What !  have  I  'scaped  love-letters 
in  the  holy naay  time  of  my  beauty,  and  am  I  now 
a  subject  for  them  f  Let  me  see  :  [reculs. 

Ask  me  no  reason  why  J  love  you ;  for  though 
love  use  reason  for  his  precisian,^  he  admits  him 
not  for  fUs  counsellor :  You  are  not  youngs  no 
more  am  /,*  go  to  then^  there's  sympatfiy :  you 
aremerryj  so  am  I;  ha!  ha!  then  there^s  more 
sympathy:  you  love  sack^  and  so  do  I ;  would 
you  desire  better  sympathy?  Let  it  suffice  thee, 
mistress  Page  (at  the  leasts  {/*  the  love  of  a  soldier 
con  sitfficej)  thai  I  love  thet.  I  will  not  say^  pity 
me,  Uis  not  a  soldier-like  phrase  ,*  but  I  «ay,  love 
me.    By  me, 

Tliine  ovm  true  knight. 

By  day  or  night. 

Or  any  kind  of  light. 

With  all  his  might. 

For  thee  tofght, 

John  Falstaflf. 
What  a  Herod  of  Jewiy  is  Ais ! — O  wicked, 
wicked  world  I — one  that  is  well  nigh  worn  to 
pieces  with  age,  to  show  himself  a  young  pliant  I 
What  an  unweighed  behaviour  hath  this  Flemish 
drunkard  picked  (with  the  devil's  name)  out  of  my 
convennition,  that  he  dares  in  this  manner  assay 
me  ?  Wliy,  he  hath  not  been  thrice  in  my  compa- 
ny ! — What  should  I  say  to  him  ? — I  was  then 
frugal  of  my  mirth  : — heaven  forgive  me  ! — Why, 
Pll  exhibit  a  bill  in  the  parliament  for  the  putlintf 
down  of  men.  How  shall  I  be  revenged  on  him  r 
for  revenged  I  will  be,  as  sure  as  his  guts  are  made 
of  puddings. 

Enter  Mistress  Ford. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Mistress  Page  !  trust  me,  I  was  go- 
ing to  your  house. 

Mrs.  Page.  And,  trust  me,  I  was  coming  to 
you.     You  Took  ver)' ill. 

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

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

Mrs.  Ford.  Well,  I  do  then ;  yet,  I  say,  I  could 

(1)  She  means,  I  protest       (2)  Melancholy. 
(3)  Most  probably  Shakspeare  wrote  Physician. 


show  you  to  the  contrary :  0,  mistress  Page^  gi^e 
me  some  counsel ! 

Mrs.  Page.  \Miat'8  the  matter,  wonmn  ? 

Mrs.  Ford.  O  woman,  if  it  were  not  fin*  one 
trifling  respect,  I  could  come  to  such  honour ! 

Mrs.  Page.  Hang  the  trifle,  woman ;  take  the 
hcmour :  what  is  it?^lispense  with  trifle ; — ^what 
isit.^ 

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

Mrs.   Page.    What.? — thou    liest!--Sir   Alice 

Ford ! These  knights  will  hack ;  and  so  tbou 

shouldst  not  alter  the  article  of  thy  gentry. 

Mrs.  Ford.  We  bum  day-light: — ^here,  read, 
read ; — perceive  how  I  might  belbiighted. — I  j^ll 
think  the  worse  of  fat  men,  as  long  as  Ihave  an  eye  to 
make  difference  of  men's  liking :  and  yet  he  would 
not  swear;  praised  women's  modcs^':  and  gave 
such  orderly  and  well-behaved  reproof  to  all  un- 
comeliness,  that  I  would  have  sworn  his  disposition 
would  have  gone  to  the  truth  of  his  words :  but  they 
do  no  more  adhere  and  keep  place  tc^ether,  than 
the  hundredth  psalm  to  the  tune  of  Green  Sleeves. 
What  tempest,  I  trow,  threw  this  whale,  with  so 
many  tuns  of  oil  in  his  belly,  ashore  at  Windaor? 
How  shall  I  be  revenged  on  him  ?  I  tliink  the  best 
way  were  to  entertain  him  with  hope,  till  the  wicked 
fire  of  lust  have  melted  him  in  his  own  grease.  Did 
you  ever  hear  the  like  ? 

Mrs.  Page.  Letter  for  letter ;  but  that  the  name 
of  Page  and  Ford  differs ! — ^To  thv  great  comfort 
in  this  mystery  of  ill  opinions,  here's  the  twin 
brother  of  thy  letter :  but  let  thine  inherit  first ;  for, 
I  protest,  mine  never  shall.  I  warrant,  he  hath  a 
thousand  of  these  letters,  writ  with  blank  space  fat 
different  names  (sure  more,)  and  these  are  of  the 
second  edition  :  he  will  print  them  out  of  doubt : 
for  he  cares  not  what  he  puts  into  the  press,  when 
he  would  put  us  two.  I  had  rather  be  a  giantess, 
and  lie  under  mount  Pelion.  Well,  I  will  find  you 
twent}'  lascivious  turtles,  ere  one  chaste  man. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Why,  this  is  the  very  same ;  the 
ven'  hand,  the  very  words :  what  doth  lie  tliink  of  us  ? 

Mrs.  Page.  Nay,  I  know  not :  it  makes  me  al- 
most re^dy  to  wrangle  with  mine  own  honesty.  I'll 
entertain  myself  Uke  one  that  I  am  not  acquainted 
withal ;  for,  sure,  unless  he  know  some  strain  in 
me,  that  I  know  not  myself,  he  would  never  have 
boarded  me  in  thisfurj'. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Boardmg,  call  you  it  ?  I'll  be  sure 
to  knep  him  above  deck. 

Mrs.  Page.  So  will  I ;  if  he  come  under  my 
hatches,  I'll  never  to  sea  again.  Let's  be  revengecl 
on  him:  let's  appoint  hini  a  meeting ;  give  him  a 
show  of  comfort  in  his  suit ;  and  lead  him  on  with 
a  fine-baited  delay,  till  he  bath  pawn'd  his  horses 
to  mine  host  of  the  Garter. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Nay,  I  will  consent  to  act  any  vil- 
lany  against  him,  that  may  not  sully  the  chariness^ 
of  our  honesty.  O,  that  my  husband  saw  this  let- 
ter !  it  would  give  eternal  food  to  his  jealousy. 

Mrs.  Page.  Why,  look,  where  he  come?;  and 
my  good  man  too :  he's  as  far  from  jealousy,  as  I 
am  from  giving  him  cause;  and  that,  I  hope,  is  an 
unmeasurable  distance. 

Mrs.  Ford.  You  are  the  happier  woman. 

Mrs.  Page.  Let's  consult  t(^ther  against  this 
g^asykni^t:  come  hither.  [T%ey  retire. 

Enter  Ford,  Pistol,  Page,  and  Nym. 
Ford.  Well,  I  hope,  it  be  not  sa 

(4)  Caution 


/. 


MERRY  WIYES  OF  WINDSOR. 


53 


FitL  Hope  n  a  curtefli  dog  in  Mme  aflbin : 
Sir  John  aflects  thy  wife. 

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

PisL  He  W008  both  high  and  low,  both  rich 
and  poor, 
Both  jroong  and  old,  one  with  another,  Ford ; 
He  lores  thy  gally-raawfiy  ;2  Ford,  perpend.^ 

FonL  Love  my  wife  ? 

Fist.  With  h'ver  burning  hot :  prevent,  or  go  thou, 
Like  sir  Actseon  he,  with  Ring-wood  at  thy  heels : 
O,  odious  is  the  name ! 

Ford.  'What  name,  sir? 

FisL  The  horn,  I  say :  ferewell. 
Take  heed,  ere  summer  comes,  or  cuckoo-birds  do 
sing.— 

Away,  sir  corporal  Nym. 

Believe  it.  Page ;  he  speaks  sense.  [Exit  IRstol. 

Ford.  I  win  be  patient ;  I  will  find  out  this. 

JVym.  And  this  is  true.  [To  Page.]  I  like  not 
the  humour  of  \y\nz.  He  hath  wrong'd  me  in  some 
humours;  I  slK>uld  have  borne  the  humoured  let- 
ter to  her :  but  I  have  a  sword,  and  it  shall  bite 
upon  my  necessity.  He  loves  your  wife ;  there's 
die  short  and  the  umg.  My  name  is  corporal  N}7n ; 
I  speak,  and  I  avouch.  *Tis  true : — my  name  is 
Nym,  and  Falstaff  loves  your  wife. — Adieu  1 1  lov»' 
not  the  humour  of  bread  and  che^e ;  and  there's 
the  humour  of  it.  Adieu.  r£xt<Nym. 

Page.  The  humour  qfii,  quoth  *a  I  Here's  a  fel- 
kiw  frights  humour  out  of  his  wits. 

Ford.  I  will  seek  out  Falstaff. 

Page.  I  never  beard  such  a  drawling,  affecting 
rogue. 

Ford.  If  I  do  find  it,  well. 

Page.  I  will  not  believe  such  a  Cataian,^  thoue:h 
the  priest  o*  the  town  ccmmended  him  fer  a  true 
man. 

Ford,  'Twas  a  good  sen»ble  fellow :   Well. 

Piige.  How  now,  Meg  ^ 

Mrs,  Page.  Whither  go  you,  George  f — Hark 
jrou. 

JIfrf.  Ford.  How  now,  sweet  Frank  ?  why  art 
thou  melancholy  f 

Ford.  I  melancholy !  I  am  not  melancholy. — 
Get  you  home,  go. 

Jars.  Ford.  'Faith,  thou  hast  some  crotchets  in 
thy  h«ul  now. — Will  you  go,  mistress  Page  } 

Mrs.  Page.  Have  with  you. — You'll  corae  to 
dinner,  George  } — Lode,  who  comes  yonder :  she 
■hall  be  our  messenger  to  this  paltry  l^nie:ht 

[Aside  to  Mrs.  Ford. 

Enter  Mistress  Quickly. 

Mrs.  Fhrd.  Trust  me,  I  thought  on  her :  she'll 
fit  it 

Mrs.  Page.  You  are  come  to  see  my  daughter 
Anne.^ 

Quick.  Ay,  forsooth;  and,  I  pray,  how  does 
good  mistress  Anne .' 

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

[Exe.  Mrs.  Page,  Mrs.  Ford,  andMrs.  Quick. 

Page.  How  now,  master  Ford  ? 

Ford.  You  heard  what  this  knave  told  me ;  did 
you  not.' 

Page.  Yea;  and  you  heard  what  the  other  told 

Ford.  Do  you  think  there  is  truth  in  them  ? 
Page.  Hang  'em,  slaves !    I  do  not  think  the 
might  would  offer  it :  but  these  that  accuse  him 

(1)  A  dos^  that  misses  his  game.    (2)  A  medley. 
(3)  Qonnder.  (4)  A  Ijing  sharper. 


in  his  intent  towards  oar  wives,  are  a  yoke  of  his 
discarded  men ;  veiy  rogues,  now  they  be  out  of 
service. 

Ford.  Were  they  his  men  ? 

Page.  Marry,  were  they. 

Ford.  1  like  it  never  tlie  better  for  that — Does 
he  lie  at  the  Garter? 

Page.  Ay,  many,  does  he.  If  he  should  intend 
this  voya^^e  towards  my  wife,  I  would  turn  her 
loose  to  him ;  and  what  he  gets  more  of  her  than 
shaip  words,  let  it  lie  on  my  head. 

Ford.  I  do  not  misdcmbt  my  wife ;  but  I  would 
be  loth  to  turn  them  together :  A  man  may  be  too 
confident :  I  would  have  nothing  Ue  on  my  bead :  I 
cannot  be  thus  satisfied. 

Page.  Look,  where  my  ranting  host  of  the  Gar- 
ter c(»nes :  there  is  either  liquor  in  his  pate,  or 
money  in  his  purse,  when  he  locks  so  merrily. — 
How  now,  mine  host? 

Enter  Host  and  Shallow. 

Host.  How  now,  bully-rook  ?  thou'rt  a  gentleman : 
cavalero-justice,  I  say. 

Shal.  I  follow,  mine  host,  I  follow. — Good  even 
and  twent}',  good  master  Page !  Master  Page,  will 
you  eo  with  us  ?  we  have  sport  in  hand. 

Most.  Tell  him,  cavalero-justice ;  tell  him,  bulty- 
rook. 

Shall.  Sir,  there  is  a  fray  to  be  fought,  between 
sir  Hugh  the  Welsh  priest,  and  Caius  the  French 
doctor. 

Ford.  Good  mine  host  o*  the  Garter,  a  word 
with  you. 

Host.  What  say'st  thou,  bully-rook  ? 

[They  go  aside. 

Shal.  Will  vou  [to  Pagel  eq  with  us  to  behold 
it  ?  my  merry  host  nath  had  the  measuring  of  their 
weapons ;  and,  I  think,  he  hath  appointed  them 
contrar)'  places :  for,  believe  me,  I  hear,  the  par- 
son is  no  jester.  Haric,  I  will  tell  you  what  our 
sport  shall  be. 

Host.  Hast  thoQ  no  suit  against  my  knight,  my 
guest-cavalier  ? 

Ford.  None,  I  protest :  but  I'll  give  ^'ou  a  pottle 
of  burnt  sack  to  dve  me  recourse  to  him,  and  tell 
him,  my  name  is  Brook ;  wily  for  a  jest 

Host.  My  band,  bully  :  thou  shalt  have  ^ress 
and  regress ;  said  I  well  ?  and  thy  name  sh^l  be 
Brook :  It  is  a  merry  knight — ^Will  you  go  on, 
hearts  ? 

Shal.  Have  with  you,  mine  host 

Page.  I  have  heard,  the  Frenchman  hath  good 
skill  in  his  rapier. 

Shal.  Tut,  sir,  I  could  have  told  you  more :  In 
these  times  you  stand  on  distance,  your  passes, 
stoccadoes,  and  I  know  not  what :  'tis  the  heart, 
master  Page  ;  'tis  here,  'tis  here.  I  have  seen  the 
time,  with  my  long  sword,  I  would  have  made  yon 
four  tail*  fellows  skip  like  rats. 

Host  Here,  boys,  here,  here  !  shall  we  wag  ? 

Page.  Have  with  you : — I  had  rather  hear  them 
scold  than  fight 

[Exeunt  Host,  Shallow,  am/ Page. 

Ford.  Though  Page  be  a  secure  fool,  and  stands 
90  firmly  on  liis  wife's  frailty,  yet  I  cannot  put  ofi 
my  opinion  so  easily  :  She  was  in  his  company  at 
Page's  house  ;  and,  what  they  made^  there,  I  Imow 
not  Well,  I  will  look  further  into't :  and  I  have  a 
disguise  to  sound  Falstaff:  If  I  find  her  honest,  I 
lose  not  my  labour ;  if  she  be  otherwise,  'tis  labour 
well  bestowed.  [Exit 


(5)  Stout,  bold. 


(6)  Did. 


54 


MERRT  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


jfd  IL 


SOLVE  iI.—A  Room  in  ike  GmHer  Jtm. 
Enier  Fal»taff  and  FiftoL 

FaL  I  will  not  lend  tbee  a  pennr. 

PisL  Whv,  then  the  worid  «  mine  ojster,  : 

Which  I  wilii  swonl  will  open. —  I 

I  wiU  retort  the  mm  in  equipa«:e.i 

Fai.  Not  m  pennr.  I  hare  bieen  conlent,  «r,3roa  j 
rikould  laj  mr  cuoiitenmnce  to  pawn  :  I  hare  grated  ! 
upon  my  pood  friends  fur  three  reprieve*  for  rou  ' 
and  vou'r  coach-felkiw'  Nym :  or  el«c  rou  had  look-  [ 
ed  l£rMj^i  the  ^nie  like'  a  geminy  ol  baboooft.  I : 
anrt  dimntrd  in  hell,  for  swearing  to  gentlemen  m} 
frieiid«,  you  were  good  soldiers,  and  tall  fellow*  : ' 
and  wlien  mifttrcsi  Bridget  lo»t  the  handle  of  her 
£ui.  I  tookU  upon  my  honour,  thou  had»t  it  not      ! 

Put.  Did^tthou  not  share?  hadst  thou  nocfif-, 
teen  pence  ?  j 

FaJ.  Riason,  you  rogue,  reason :  Thiiik*st  thou, 
I'll  endanger  my  soul  gratis  ?  At  a  word,  hai^  no 
more  about  me,' I  am  no  gibbet  for  you : — go. — A 
dhort  knife  and  a  throng  :* — to  your  manor  of  Pickt- ; 
hatch,^  go. — You'll  not  bear 'a  letter  for  me,  rou 
rogue  ! — ^you  stand  upon  your  honour ! — ^%*hy,  tnou  * 
onconfinable  baseness,  it  is  as  nwch  as  I  can  do,  to| 
keep  the  terms  of  m^*  honour  precise.     1, 1, 1  mv-j 
sell  sometimes,  learmg  the  icar  of  hearen  on  the 
left  hand,  and  hiding  mine  honour  in  my  necessity,  j 
am  (ain  to  shuffle,  to  hedge,  and  to  lurch ;  and  yet 
you,  rofpK,  will  ensconce^  your  rags,  your  cat-a- 
roountain  looks,  your  red^t'tice^  phrases,  and  your 
bold-beating  oaths,    under   the  shelter    of  your 
honour !    \  ou  will  not  do  it,  joa  ? 

Pi$l.  I  do  relent ;  Vlliat  would'st  thoa  more  of 
man? 

£n<cr  Robin. 

Rob.  Sir,  here's  a  woman  woold  npeek  with  joo. 
FaL  Let  her  approach. 

Enier  Mittreu  Quickly. 

Quick.  Gire  yoar  worship  good-morrow. 

FaL  Good-morrow,  gooa  wife. 

Quick.  Not  so,  an't  j^ease  your  worship. 

FaL  Good  maid,  then. 

Quick.  I'll  be  sworn ;  as  mj  mother  was,  the 
first  hour  I  was  bom. 

FaL  I  do  beliere  the  swearer:  What  with  me  ? 

Quick.  Shall  I  vouchsafe  your  worship  a  word 
or  *wo  ? 

FaL  Two  thousand,  fiur  woman ;  and  I'll  vouch- 
safe thee  the  hearing. 

Quick.  There  is  one  mtstress  Ford,  sir ; — I  pray, 
come  a  little  nearer  this  ways : — I  myself  dwell 
with  master  doctor  Caius. 

FaL  Well,  on  :  Mistress  Ford,  you  say, 

Quick.  Your  worship  says  very  true :  I  pray  your 
worship,  come  a  little  nearer  this  ways. 

Fal.  I  warrant  thee,  nobodj  hears ; — mine  own 
people,  mine  own  people. 

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

Fal.  Well :  mistress  Ford ; — what  of  her  ? 
Quick.  WhjTf  sir,  she's  a  good  creature.    Lord, 
lord !  your  woimiip's  a  wanton :  Well,  heaven  for- 
give you,  and  all  of  us,  I  pray  ! 

FaL  Mistress  Ford— come,  mistress  Ford. 
Quick.  Many,  this  is  the  short  and  the  long  of 


(1)  Pay  you  again  in  stolen  goods. 

'2)  Draws  aloi^  with  you. 

^3)  To  cut  purses  in  a  crowd. 

(4;  Pickt-liatch  was  in  ClerkenwelL  (5)  Protect. 


i 


it :  yoQ  hare  brought  her  into  such  •  canariea,'  af 

'tis  wonderAil.  T^  best  courtier  of  them  all,  whes 

the  court  lay  at  Wmdaor,  could  never  hare  biwigfat 

her  to  Hicb'a  cananr.  Yet  there  has  been  knyMls, 

and  lords,  and  gentlemen,  with  lA>eir  coaches ;  1 

warrant  you,  coach  after  coach,  letter  after  letleri 

ph  after'gift ;  smtlling  so  sweetlr  ^all  musk,)  and 

!o  ru^ling,  I  warrant  yoo,  in  sillt  and  gold ;  and 

in  »Qch  alUgant  terais ;  and  in  such  wine  and  sugar 

of  the  be^tT  and  the  £urest,  that  would  have  won 

any  woman**  heart :  and,  I  warrant  rou,  they  could 

mrver  get  an  eye-wink  of  her. — I  had  myself  twenty 

angeU  given  mc  thismomii^:  but  I  defy  all  ai^eu 

,in  any  such  M>rt,  as  they  say,;  but  in  the  way  of 

honesty : — and,  1  warrant  you,  they  could  neverget 

her  so'much  as  np  on  a  cup  with  the  proudest  of 

them  all :  and  yet  there  has  been  earls,  nay ,  whidb 

i<  more,  pensioners ;  but,  I  wanant  you,  all  is  one 

with  her. 

FaL  But  what  says  she  to  me?  be  brief,  my  good 
slie  Mercurr. 

Quick,  >'llarrv,  she  hath  received  your  letter ;  fcr 
the  which  she  thanks  you  a  thousand  times;  and 
^he  gives  you  to  notify^  that  her  husband  will  ba 
absence  from  his  hotue  between  ten  and  eleven  ? 
FaL  Ten  and  eleven  ? 

Quick.  Ay,  forsooth ;  and  then  you  may  cone 
and  .oee  the  picture,  she  savs,  that  you  wo^  of  S"— 
master  Ford,  her  husbauci,  will  be  from  home. 
Alas !  the  sweet  woman  leads  an  ill  life  withhin; 
hc*s  a  very  it  alousy  man :  she  leads  a  very  frmnw 
pold!^  life  with  himi  good  heart. 

Fal.  Ten  and  eleven  ?  Woman,  commend  me  lo 
her ;  I  will  not  fell  her. 

^tdir.  Why,  you  say  well :  But  I  have  another 
messenger  to  your  worship :  Mistress  Paee  hatfi 
her  hearty  conunendations  to  you  too ; — and  let  me 
tell  you  in  your  ear,  she's  as  fertoous  a  ci\il 
modest  wife,  and  one  (I  tell  you)  that  will  not  miss 
vour  morning  nor  evening  prayer,  as  any  is  in 
\Vindsor,  wlwe'er  be  the  other :  and  she  bade  me 
tell  your  worship,  that  her  husband  is  seldom  from 
home ;  but,  she  hopes,  there  will  come  a  time.  I 
never  knew  a  woman  so  dote  upon  a  man :  surely, 
i  think  vou  have  charms,  la ;  yes,  in  trath. 

FaL  Xot  I,  I  asiAire  thee ;  setting  the  attnM^tion 
of  my  good  parts  a^ide,  I  have  no  other  channa. 
Quiac.  Blessing  on  your  heart  for't .' 
FaL  But,  I  pray  thee,  tell  me  this :  has  Ford's 
wife,  and  Page's  wife,  acquainted  each  other  how 
tbcv  love  me  ? 

^ftick.  That  were  a  jest,  indeed ! — they  hare 
not  so  little  grace,  I  hope  :--that  were  a  tnck,  in* 
dL'cd!  But  mistress  Page  would  desire  yon  fo 
«iend  her  your  little  pc^,of  all  loves ;io  her  husband 
has  a  mar^'ellous  infection  to  the  little  page  :  and, 
truly,  master  Page  is  an  honest  man.  Never  • 
wife  in  Windsor  leads  a  better  life  than  she  does ; 
do  what  she  will,  say  what  she  will,  take  all,  par 
all,  go  to  bed  when  she  list,  rise  when  she  list,  aU 
is  as  she  will :  and  trulv  she  deserves  it :  for  if 
there  be  a  kind  women  in  Windior,  she  is  one. 
You  must  send  her  vour  page ;  no  remedy. 
FaL  Whv,  I  will. 

Quick.  Kay,  but  do  so  then :  and,  look  yon,  he 
may  come  and  go  between  you  both ;  and,  in  any 
case  have  a  nay-word,ii  that  you  may  know  one 
another's  mind,'  and  the  boy  never  need  to  undmr 

(6)  Ale-house. 

(7)  A  mistake  of  Mrs.  Quickly's  for  quandary. 

(8)  Know.     (9)  Fretftil,  peevish. 
(10)  By  all  means.    (11)  A  watch-word. 


Scau  IL 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


55 


stand  any  thing;  for  ^tis  not  rood  that  children 
should  know  any  wickedness :  old  folks,  vou  know, 
have  discretion,  as  tbej  say,  and  know  the  world. 

Fal,  Fare  thee  well:  commend  me  to  them 
both :  there's  my  purse :  I  am  yet  thy  debtor. — 
Boy,  go  along  witn  this  woman. — This  news  dis- 
tracts me !  [Extunt  Quickly  omd  Robin. 

Pitt  This  punk  is  one  of  Cupid's  carriers : — 
Clap  on  more  sails ;  pursue,  up  with  your  fights ; 
Give  fire ;  she  is  my  prize,  or  ocean  whelm  them 
all!  [£«/ Pistol. 

Fal.  Say'st  diou  so,  old  Jack }  go  thy  ways  ; 
i*ll  make  more  of  thy  old  body  than  I  have  done. 
"Will  ihey  yet  look  after  thee  r  Wilt  thou,  after 
the  expense  of  so  much  money,  be  now  a  gainer  } 
Good  body,  I  thank  thee  :  Let  diem  say,  'tis  grcMa- 
ly  done ;  so  it  be  fairly  done,  no  matter. 

Enter  Bardolph. 

Bard,  Sir  John,  there's  one  master  Brook  below 
would  fain  speak  with  you,  and  be  acquainted  with 
you ;  and  hath  sent  your  worship  a  morning's 
draught  of  sack. 

Fal.  Brook,  is  his  name  ? 

Bard.  Ay,  sir. 

FaL  Call  hun  in;  [Exit  BardolphJ  Such 
Brooks  are  welcome  to  me,  that  o'erflow  such 
liquor.  Ah !  ha !  mistress  Ford  and  mistress 
Page,'  have  I  encompassed  you?  go  to ;  via!^ 

JU-enUr  Bardolph,  vnih  Ford  disguised. 

Ford.  Bless  you,  sir. 

FaL  And  you,  sir :  Would  you  speak  with  me  P 

Ford.  I  make  bold,  to  press  with  so  little  pre- 
paration upon  you. 

FiU.  You're  welcome ;  What's  rour  will  ?  Give 
OS  leave,  drawer.  [Exit  Bardolph. 

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

FaL  Good  master  Brook,  I  desire  more  acqaaint- 
snce  of  you. 

Ford  Good  sir  John,  I  sue  for  yours :  not  to 
charee  you ;  for  I  must  let  you  understand,  I  think 
Diysdf  m  better  plight  for  a  lender  than  you  are  : 
the  which  hath  something  enbolden'd  roe  to  this 
ons^^oned  intrusion ;  for  they  say,  if  nxmey  go 
before,  all  ways  do  lie  open. 

FaL  Money  is  a  good  soldier,  sir,  and  will  on. 

Ford.  Trodi,  and  I  have  a  bag  of  money  here 
(roubles  me ;  if  you  will  help  me  to  bear  it,  sir 
Jcrtui,  take  all,  or  half,  for  easing  me  of  the  car 

J'^aL  Sir,  I  know  oot  bow  I  may  deserve  to  be 
^x>or  porter. 

^ord  I  will  tell  you,  Mr,  if  you  will  ghre  me 
^h^    hearing. 

■^\U,  Speak,  good  master  Brook:  I  shall  be  glad 
to    t>c  your  servant 

j^f^ord  Sir,  I  hear  you  arc  a  scholar, — ^I  will  be 

P*  i^fwith  you; and  you  have  been  a  man 

lorm£«>  known  to  me,  though  I  had  never  so  good 


''••^^ns,  as  desire,  to  make  myself  acquainted  with 

y***^-     I  shall  discover  a  thing  to  you,  wherein  I 

5'*'^»t  veiy  much  lay  open  mine  own  imperfection  : 

****ty   good  «r  John,  as  you  have  one  eye  upon  my 

follies,  as  you  hear  them  unfolded,  turn  another 

into  ^  register  of  your  own ;  that  I  may  pass  with 

*  *^proof  the  easier,  sitWyou  yourself  know,  how 

€•■7  it  is  to  be  such  an  ooender. 


[^ 


A  cant  phrase  of  exultation. 
Since.  (3)  Reward. 


FaL  Very  well,  sir ;  proceed. 

Ford.  There  is  a  gentlewoman  in  this  town,  her 
husband's  name  is  Ford. 

FaL  Well,  sir. 

Ford.  I  have  Icmg  loved  her,  and,  I  protest  to 
you,  bestowed  much  on  her ;  followed  her  with  a 
doting  observance ;  engrossed  opportunities  to 
meet  tier ;  fee'd  every  sli^t  occasion,  that  could 
but  niggardly  give  me  sight  of  her:  not  only 
bought  many  presents  to  give  her,  but  have  given 
largely  to  many,  to  know  what  she  would  liave 
given :  briefly,  I  have  pursued  her,  as  love  hath 
pursued  me ;  which  hath  been,  on  the  wing  of  all 
occasions.  But  whatsoever  I  have  merited,  either 
in  my  mind,  or  in  my  means,  meed,^  I  am  sufie,  I 
have  received  none ;  unless  experience  be  a  jewel : 
that  I  have  purchased  at  an  infinite  rate ;  and  that 
hath  taught  me  to  say  this : 

Love  like  a  shadow Jlies^  when  substance  lovepur' 

sues; 
Pursuing  thai  thatJlieSf  and  flying  what  pursues. 

FdU.  Have  you  received  no  promise  of  satisfac- 
tion at  her  hands? 

Ford.  Never. 

FaL  Have  you  importuned  her  to  such  a  pur 
pose? 

Ford  Never. 

FaL  Of  what  quality  was  your  love  then? 

Ford.  Like  a  fair  house,  built  upon  another 
man's  pound ;  so  that  I  have  lost  my  edifice,  by 
mistaking:  the  place  where  I  erected  it 

FaL  1*0  what  purpose  have  you  unfolded  this 
to  me  ? 

Ford.  When  I  have  tdd  you  that,  I  have  told 
you  all.  Some  say,  that,  though  she  appear  honest 
to  me,  yet,  in  other  places,  she  enlaigcth  her 
mirth  so  far,  that  there  is  shrewd  construction 
made  of  her.  Now,  sir  John,  here  is  the  heart  of 
my  purpose :  You  are  a  gentleman  of  excellent 
breeding,  admirable  discourse,  of  great  admit- 
tance,^  authentic  in  your  place  and  person,  gene- 
rally  allowed^  for  your  many  warlike,  court-like, 
ana  learned  preparations. 

FaL  O,  sir ! 

Ford,  Believe  it,  for  you  know  it : — There  is 
money;  spend  it,  spend  it;  spend  more;  spend 
all  I  have  ;  only  give  roe  so  much  of  your  time  in 
exchange  of  it,  as  to  lav  an  amiable  siege  to  the 
honesty  of  this  Ford's  wife :  use  your  art  of  wooing, 
win  her  to  consent  to  you ;  if  any  man  may,  you 
may  as  soon  as  any. 

Fal.  Would  it  apply  well  to  the  vehemency  of 
your  affection,  that  I  should  win  what  you  would 
enjoy  ?  Methinks,  you  prescribe  to  yourself  very 
preposterously. 

Ford.  O,  understand  my  drift!  atte  dwells  so 
securely  on  the  excellency  of  her  honour,  that 
the  folly  of  my  soul  dares  not  present  itself;  die  is 
too  brig-ht  to  be  looked  against  Now,  could  I  come 
to  her  with  any  detection  in  my  hand,  my  desires 
had  instance  and  argument  to  commend  themselves ; 
I  could  drive  her  then  from  the  wart^  of  her  purity, 
her  reputation,  her  marriage-vow»  and  a  thousand 
odier  her  defences,  which  now  are  too  strongly 
embattled  against  me;  What  say  you  to't,  sir 
John  ? 

Fd.  Master  Brook,  I  will  first  make  bold  with 
your  money ;  next,  give  me  your  hand ;  and  last, 
as  I  am  a  gentleman,  you  sludl,  if  you  will,  enjoy 
Ford's  wife. 

(4)  In  the  greatest  companies.     (5)  Approved. 
(6)  Guard. 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WTXDSCMl. 


fool  Wml  hUnax;,  wJuto,  j  <M 


„ ,. .Jibetbew™ 

biTbBlHBd.Kil1  bcAirUi.    Come  you 
IBgfal ;  tun  !h»il  kam  1»*  I  »p«rA 
fW   I  un  bledinjoutu 


Lucw  rr-rd^  «i 


fat  Hus  turn,  poor  cwHwUlv  kmre !  I  biow 
himoX  — jcll  W[Ui;liini.lac>lIluiDpoor:  (bei 

noaer ;  for  ilw  which  his  wife  »«ni»  lo  me  wrll 
bniDfd-  IwUliHetkcrvll-^keraftbeciKkddlj 
ncue's  cofler ;  »nd  ikeirS  mj  hitresl-honie. 

TenL  I  wooW  jau  ine*  Fonl,  sir ;  IbM  j» 
utilwaiJ  Iiun,  if  jm 

>W  Hu     '^- -' 

^eaiai--  it  itKil  ■""£  ' 

1  wiU  pndcoiiiiBie  o't 

be  w ilh  hid  rtife.— ^o-,— .  .  ^ 

FonJ"!  »  lai»ve,BiKl  I  win  »™raiale  hja  ! 
ItKn.  imsltr  BmA,  !^ll  knox  Bam  fis  >  kUK 
^lekold :— toikf  u,  [ne««JO  »l  n=*l-  ( ■ 

ftri  WThI  s  damned  EpicuiMniMrtl  i» 
— Mj  hton  is  read)-  lo  rrack  with  unji«ij«>.. 
Who  «j-i,  Ihi?  ii  uDpnnidciK  /saloun .'  Mr  ' 
lis'Ii  -enl  (o  him,  Ifie  hour  ii  fixed,  ibeimic' 


It  gv,  be  hu  arr  hii  an' .  dal  he  it  no 

iai  pni  hii  nble  lell,  d*t  he  ■•  no 
^1,  Ivk  Rugbi,  Ik  ig  dewl  almdy,  if 

-  I    ~  .  lir:  be  knew,  joor  mnhip 


JJi.^.  Atu.Hr,    luuKKfence. 
Outa.  A  illuD-*,  uke  \Mlt  rapirr. 
Rag.  rurl«r;  ben--;t«»p»aT 

Ento-  Hort,  Shalkm,  Slender,  on^  Psge. 


opiao    i» 

-eldL.^bi! 


.i.],,    w™ 


— S« 

IT  bed  thai) 


die  bell  n( 

be  sbuied,  mj  TtiOen  T»ni»ckrd,  my  i^ 

niji]''wrtfi£,bu1«IaAduDderltie-Bdop1icaD 
i>?tik  leiKH,  uid  b  vtiim  that  does  lllt>llu! 
'T'lni!  nvnn; — ^Anuimm  Hicmili  wi 
ciiVr,  well ;  Btt.hason.  well ;  yet  "he.r  ■»  deril'' 

U^  mekold  1  the  del.. 

name.     Pa^  ii  an  as,  a  w«Ur«  aM :  be  will  tnui 
hii  wife,  tK  willnof  tn  jpalaaa-.  I  will  nllRt 
-froal  ■  Fknuw  "i^  my  batter^  parwn  Tltieh  the 
man  «tiu  mj  diHK.  m  liithmeo  wiih  du 
iUe»  bonic,  or  m  iluef  (o  walk  my  smblinj 
"      ilhbentir:Ih«iihe;di>li 
n  »be  de-.-L^^ :  wid  wbn 
Ilvir  think  in  ibeit  hearu  the;-  nby  eS«i,  ihri 
■illlmali  Iheir  hssrU  bul  ibey  will  ifllrcl.  He« 
bejvwcd  fat  mv  jealousy i—EJei  en  o'clott' 
Ihut:  .  Mittjmieal  thu.  det«:l  m\  Wit,  be 
ren^  on  Pslilsir.  uid  laogb  al  >ii^     I  i 
kboot  ill   btltet  ihnv  bain    loo    Kim,  thai 
raiaMe  lou  lau.     Fie,  fie,  fie  !  cuckold  !  cnckc 


■MTiUe*  boMi 
nhbtt,  thuin 


besll  luu,  we,  iwaiQcCinr,  come 

Mlbeefii!:hl,loi«*eih«l«n,<  Id  kc 

-  aeetbee  there  i 

ck.  thj  revme, 

^,  _ ..  .     de»d,  mj  Eltii- 

1k   Actd.  mj  Fnncim?   ha,  balli  ! 

EwolspnK?  my  Galen  ?  mj  heart 

be  dead,  bollj  Slide  .>  i>  be  ilead  > 
Uw.  BjE".**  ■*  "le  cowBoiJai*  piwslof 
e.orld;  6ei»M.tshowhi!&«. 
Host  Thou  art  Htasiili»n"liiiE,II(ml!  Hec- 
ro/Cieert,mybcjy! 


r  J0ii,bi 


hoan  lor  Ud,  and  heii 


.SAa£  He  ii  the  wiser  J 

_  rum-  tj  KKili,  andyou  scuier  «  ooai 
:>bu«ld.^fal,  ynl  ^  B^iBt  (be  hBlToi' 
-__. wPige? 


fe»i>» 


Host.  Pwikm,  guest  juslice :— A  wofd, 
Muck-walei.: 

Diiiu.  Mutk-iaier!  nili»*il? 
Hml.  Muck-water,  io  our  EogliA  ti 


f-  Jack  Rugby  I 
Sir. 

*.  Vat  iide  clock,  Jk 


IT,  nr,  that  %a  Hash  pm- 


O)  Add  In  hii  title.    (S 

(3)  r.(|i>ebimcb.     Ii)  1 
1,5>  Tcma  in  Tmcii^- 


T  Shal  W.  yon  have 
pieiil  tehler,  though  now.man  irf  ptace- 

.SAoi  Bodikiiu.  ma-ter  Page,  thou?*.  1  now  be 
Id.  and  (rf  ihe  peare,  i/  I  jec  ■  iword  out,  my 
ii£«rilcbei'tDaiakeooe:tb»^KVBte  juMices. 
lid  doctoci,  and  chmchmeo,  masiet  Pmb.  w* 
uteHfnailioroDi'joalhiau:  wean  the  ma 
iiramrfi,  maflfr  Fige. 

Pari.  Til  Hue,  mailer  Shall w 

f.   ",     T._'1H._  J-„._J   „    ...  .     .     .P 


Ma.t 


!wr^'BrH<l'.r.  hath  shown  h 


H,«(.  HewilU 
Cliliir.  rialTncr 
Mnsf.  TI.U.  U  I 
Cb«.  B;  far. 


lapi«T-i-Ia«  lb«e  li;hil_v.  bully. 

we  do  look,  he  shall  ctappei-de- 
ill  provide  him  lo'l,  or  let  hint 


Scene  L 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WLNDSOR. 


S? 


guest,  and  master  Page,  and  eke  cavalero  Slender, 
go  jou  through  the  town  to  Frogmore. 

[Aside  to  than. 

Page.  Sir  Hugh  is  there,  is  he  ? 

Most.  He  is  there  :  see  what  humour  he  is  in ; 
and  I  will  bring  the  doctor  about  by  the  fields  :  will 
it  do  well  ? 

ShaL  We  will  do  it 

Page,  Shal.  and  Sien.  Adieu,  good  master  doctor. 
[Exeunt  Page,  Shallow,  and  Slender. 

Caiys.  By  ear,  me  vill  kill  de  priest ;  for  be 
speak  for  a  jack-an-ape  to  Anne  Pftge. 

Host,  Let  him  die  :  but,  first,  sheath  thy  impa- 
tience ;  throw  cold  water  on  thy  choler:  go  about 
the  fields  with  me  through  Frogmore ;  I  will  bring 
thee  where  Mrs.  Anne  Page  is,  at  a  farm-house  a 
feasting ;  and  thou  shalt  woo  her :  CitM  game,  said 
I  well? 

Caius.  By  gar,  me  tank  you  for  dat ;  by  gar,  I 
love  jou ;  aiid  I  shall  procure-a  you  de  good  guest, 
<ie  c^,  de  knight,  de  lords,  de  gentlemen,  my 
patients. 

MoeL  For  the  which,  I  will  be  thy  adversaiy  to- 
vrards  Anne  Page ;  said  I  well  ? 

Onus.  By  gar,  *tis  good ;  veil  said. 

Most.  Let  us  wag  then. 

Caiut.  Come  at  my  heels,  Jack  Rugby. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  III. 

SCEl^TE  I.^A  feld   near   Frogmore.    Enter 
Sir  Hugh  Evans  and  Simple. 

Eva.  I  pray  you  now,  good  master  Slender's 
aerring-man,  and  friend  Simple  by  your  name, 
^vhich  way  have  you  looked  for  master  Caius,  that 
emits  himself  Doctor  of  Physic  ? 

Sim.  Marry,  sir,  the  ci^-ward,  the  park-ward, 
every  way ;  old  Windsor  way,  and  every  way  but 
the  town  way. 

Eva.  I  most  fehemently  desire  you,  you  will  also 
look  that  way. 

Smt.  I  will,  sir. 

Eva.  *Pless  my  soul !  bow  full  of  cholers  I  am, 

~  trempting  of  mind ! — I  shall  be  glad,  if  he  have 

deceived  me : — how  melancholies  I  am  ! — I  will 

_  his  urinals  about  his  knave's  costard,*  when  I 

ve  good  opportunities  for  the  *oric : — *pless  my 

[Sings. 

7V>  shallow  rivers^  to  tohose/alls 
Melodious  birds  sing  madrigals  ,* 
There  wiU  ire  make  our  peds  of  roses. 
And  a  thousand  fragrant  posies. 
To  shtUlow-- 

ft^«rcj  on  me !  I  have  a  great  dispositions  to  cry. 

Melodious  birds  sing  madrigals  } — 
When  as  I  sat  in  Pahylon^ 
And  a  thousand  fragrant  posies. 
To  shallow— 

^Stm.  Yonder  he  is  coming,  this  way,  sir  Hugh. 
-^w.  He's  welcome : 

To  shaUow  rioerSj  to  whose  falls- 


"«av€n  prosper ithe  right ! — What  weapons  is  he  ? 

^vn.  No  weapons,  sir:  There  comes  my  master, 
^^^^gter  Shallow,  and  aixither  gentleman  from  B'rog- 
e,  over  the  stile,  this  way. 

(l)Head. 


Eva.  Pray  you,  give  me  my  gown ;  or  else  keey 
it  in  your  arms. 

Enter  Page,  Shallow,  and  Slender. 

Shal.  How  now,  master  parson?  Good  morrow, 
good  sir  Hugh.  Keep  a  eamester  from  the  dice, 
and  a  good  student  from  bis  book,  and  it  is  won* 
derful. 

SUn.  Ah,  sweet  Anne  Page ! 

Page.  Save  you,  good  sir  Hu^ ! 

Eva.  'Ple»  you  from  his  mere v  sake,  all  of  you  ! 

ShaL  What  I  the  sword  and  the  world  I  do  you 
study  them  both,  master  parson  ? 

Page.  And  youthful  still,  in  your  doublet  and 
hose,  this  raw  rheumatic  day  f 

Eva.  There  is  reasons  and  causes  for  it 

Page.  We  are  come  to  you,  to  do  a  good  office, 
master  parson. 

Eva.  Fery  well :  what  is  it? 

Page.  Yonder  is  a  most  reverend  gentleman,  who 
belike,  having  received  wrong  by  some  person,  is 
at  most  odds  with  his  own  gravity  and  patience, 
that  ever  you  saw. 

ShaL  I  have  lived  fourscore  years  and  upward ; 
I  never  beard  a  man  of  his  place,  g^vity,  and 
learning,  so  wide  of  his  own  respect 

Eva.  W*  hat  b  he  ? 

Pt^e.  I  think  you  know  him;  master  doctor 
Caius,  the  renowned  French  physician. 

Eva.  Got's  will,  and  his  passion  of  my  heart !  I< 
had  as  lief  you  would  tell  me  of  a  mess  of  por- 
ridge. 

Page.  Why? 

Eva.  He  has  no  more  knowledge  in  Hibocrates 
and  Galen, — and  he  is  a  knave  besides ;  a  cowardly 
knave,  as  you  would  desires  to  be  acquainted  withal. 

Page.  I  warrant  you,  he's  the  man  should  fight 
with  him. 

Slen.  O,  sweet  Anne  Page ! 

Shal.  It  appears  so,  by  his  weapons : — Keep 
them  asunder ; — here  comes  doctor  Caius. 

Enter  Host,  Caius,  and  Rugby. 

Page.  Nay,  good  master  parson,  keep  in  your 
weapon. 

SluU.  So  do  you,  good  master  doctor. 

Host.  Disarm  them,  and  let  them  question ;  let 
them  keep  their  limbs  whole,  and  hack  our  English. 

Caitts.  I  pray  you,  let-a  me  speak  a  word  vit 
your  ear  :  Verefore  vill  you  not  meet-a  me  ? 

Eva.  Pray  you,  use  your  patience :  In  good  time. 

Caius.  By  gar,  you  are  de  coward,  de  Jack  dc«;, 
John  ape. 

Eva.  Pray  you,  let  us  not  be  laughiru^-stogs  to 
other  men's  humours ;  I  desire  you  in  mendship, 
and  I  will  one  way  or  other  make  you  amende  : — 
r  will  knog  your  urinals  about  your  knave's 
c(^scomb,  for  miffiong  your  meetings  and  appoint- 
ments. 

Caius.  Diable! — Jack  Ru^by, — mine  Host  de 
Jarterre,  have  I  not  stay  for  him,  to  kill  him  ?  have 
I  not,  at  de  place  I  did  appoint  ? 

Eva.  As  I  am  a  Christians  soul,  now,  look  you, 
this  is  the  place  appcMnted ;  Pll  be  judgment  by 
mine  host  of  the  Garter. 

Host.  Peace,  I  say,  Guallia  and  Gaul,  French 
and  Welsh ;  soul-curer  and  body-curer. 

Qiius.  Ay,  dat  is  venr  good !  excellent ! 

Host.  Peace,  I  say ;  rM»r  mine  host  of  the  Gar- 
ter.   Am  I  politic  ?  am  I  subtle  ?  am  I  a  Machia- 

(2)  Babylon,  the  first  Une  of  the  137th  Psahn. 


53 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


^d  rii. 


Tel  ?  Shall  I  lose  mj  doctcv  ?  no ;  be  gives  me  the 
potions,  and  the  motions.  Shall  I  lose  my  parson  ? 
my  priest?  my  sir  Hugh?  no;  he  gives  rac  the 
pro-verbs  and  the  no-verbs. — Give  me  thy  hand, 
terrestrial ;  so : — Give  me  thv  hand,  celestial ;  so. 

Bovs  of  art,  I  have  deceived  you  both ;  1  have 

directed  you  to  wrong  places :  your  heairts  are 
m'ghty,  your  skins  are  whole,  and  let  burnt  sack 
bv  the  issue. — Come,  lay  their  swords  to  pawn : — 
Follow  me,  lad  of  peace ;  follow,  follow,  follow. 

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

iS/en.  O,  sweet  Anne  Page ! 

\ExeurU  Shal.  Slen.  Page,  and  Host. 

Caius.  Ha  !  do  I  perceive  dat  ?  have  you  make- 
a  de  sot^  of  us  ?  ha,  ha  ! 

Eva.  This  is  well ;  he  has  made  us  his  vlouting- 
stog.2 — I  desire  you,  that  we  may  be  friends ;  and 
let  us  knog  our  prains  together,  to  be  revenge  on 
ihis  same  srall,  scurvy,  cogging  companion,  the 
host  of  the  Garter. 

Ckdus.  By  gar,  vit  all  my  heart;  he  promise 
to  bring  me  vere  is  Anne  Page :  by  gar,  he  de- 
ceive me  too. 

Eva.  Well,  I  will  smite  his  noddles: — Pray 
you,  follow.  [jE.T«m/. 

SCEJ^^E  JI.^The  Sirtet  in  Windsor,    Enter 
Mrs,  Page  and  Robin. 

Mrs,  Page.  Nay,  keep  your  way,  little  gallant ; 
Tou  were  wont  to  be  a  follower,  but  now  you  are  a 
leader :  Whether  had  you  rather,  lead  mine  eyes, 
or  eye  your  master's  heels? 

Hob,  I  had  rather,  forsooth,  go  before  yoa  like 
a  man,  than  follow  him  like  a  dwarf. 

Mrs.  Page,  O  you  are  a  flattering  boy  ;  now,  I 
see,  you*ll  be  a  courtier. 

Enter  F0T± 

Ford,  Well  met,  mistress  Page:  Whither  go 
you  ? 

Mrs.  Page,  Truly,  sir,  to  see  your  wife :  Is  she 
at  home  ? 

Ford.  Ay ;  and  as  idle  as  she  may  hang  togeth- 
er, for  want  of  company :  I  think,  if  your  husbuids 
were  dead,  you  two  would  marry. 

Mrs.  Page.  Be  sure  of  that, — two  other  hus- 
bands. 

Ford.  Where  had  you  this  pretty  weather-cock.' 

Mrs.  Page.  I  cannot  tell  what  the  dickens  hi> 
name  is  my  husband  had  him  of:  What  do  you 
call  your  knight's  name,  sirrah  ? 

Rob.  Sir  John  Falstaff. 

Ford.  Sir  John  Falstaff! 

Mrs.  Page.  He,  he  :  I  can  never  hit  onN  namf-. 
\There  is  such  a  league  between  my  good  man 
and  he ! — Is  your  wife  at  home,  indeed? 

Ford.  Indeed,  she  is. 

Mrs.  Page.  By  your  leave,  sir ; — ^I  am  sick,  till 
I  see  her.  [Exeunt  Mrs.  Page  and  Robin. 

Ford.  Has  Paa;e  any  brains  ?  hath  he  any  e^ cs  ^ 
hath  he  any  thinking?  Sure,  they  sleep;  lie  \inih 
no  use  of  them.  Why,  this  boy  will  carry  a  letter 
twenty  miles,  as  easy  as  a  cannon  will  shoot  point- 
blank  twelve  score.  He  pieces-out  his  wife's  in- 
clination; he  gives  her  folly  moticm,  and  advan- 
tage :  and  now  she's  going  to  my  wife,  and  FalstafTs 
boy  with  her.  A  man  may  hear  this  shower  sinp 
in  the  wind ! — and  Falstaflf^s  boy  with  her  I — Good 

(1)  Fool    (2)  Floating-fltock.    (*.))  Specious. 
.(4)  Shall  encourage. 


plots ! — they  are  laid  ;  and  our  revolted  wives 
share  damnation  toother.  Well ;  I  will  take  him, 
then  torture  my  wile,  pluck  the  borrowed  veil  cf 
modesty  from  the  so  seeming'  mistress  Page,  di- 
vulge Page  himself  fur  a  secure  and  wilful  Actanm : 
and  to  these  violent  proceedings  all  my  nci^boun 
shall  cry  aim.^  [Clock  strikes.]  The  clock  gives 
me  my  cue,  and  my  assurance  bids  me  search ; 
there  I  shall  find  Falstaff:  I  shall  be  rather  prais- 
ed for  this,  than  mocked ;  for  it  is  as  poi>itive  as 
the  earth  is  firm,  that  Falstaff  is  there :  1  will  ga 

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

Shal.  Page,  &c.  Well  met,  master  Foid. 

Ford,  Trust  me,  a  good  knot:  I  have  good 
cheer  at  home ;  and,  I  pray  you,  all  go  with  me. 

ShaL  I  must  excuse  myself,  master  Ford. 

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

Shal.  Wc  have  linger'd  about  a  match  between 
Anne  Page  and  my  cousin  Slender,  and  this  day 
we  shall  have  our  answer. 

Slen,  1  hope,  I  have  your  good-will,  father 
Paec. 

Page.  You  have,  master  Slender ;  I  stand  whol- 
ly  for  you : — but  my  wife,  master  doctor,  is  fin* 
you  altogether. 

Cains.  Ay,  by  gar ;  and  de  maid  is  love-a  me ; 
my  nursh-a  Quickly  tell  me  so  mush. 

Host.  What  say  you  to  young  master  Fenton  ? 
lie  capers,  he  dances,  he  has  eyes  of  youth,  he 
HTites  verses,  he  speaks  holiday ,&  be  smells  April 
and  May :  he  will  carr)''t,  he  will  carr^'t ;  'tis  in 
his  butt(His ;  be  will  carry't 

Page.  Not  by  my  consent,  I  promise  you.  The 
gentleman  is  of  no  naving  :^  he  kept  company  with 
(he  wild  Prince  and  Poins ;  he  is  of  too  high  a  re- 
uion,  he  knows  too  much.  No,  he  slmll  not  knit  a 
knot  in  his  fortunes  with  the  finger  of  my  sub- 
stance :  if  he  take  her,  let  him  take  her  simplj  ; 
the  wealth  I  have  waits  on  my  consent,  and  my 
consent  goes  not  that  way. 

Ford.  I  beseech  you,  heartily,  some  of  you  go 
home  with  me  to  dinner  :  besides  your  cheer,  you 

•*hall  have  sport;  I  will  show  you  a  monster. 

Master  doctor,  you  shall  go ; — so  shall  you,  roaster 
P;i^e  ; — and  you,  sir  Hugli. 

Shal.  Well,  fare  you  well : — we  shall  have  the 
iWer  wooing  at  master  Page's. 

[Ereuni  Shallow  and  S!cndr»r. 

Caius.  Go  home,  John  Rugby ;  I  come  anc»n- 


[/J-TfYRu^by. 
:  I  will  to  nn 


Host.  Farewell,  my  hearts :  I  will  to  my  hcuetit 
knight  Fabtaff,  and  drink  canaiy  with  him. 

IE  tit  Host. 
Ford.  [Jiside.]  I  think,  I  shall  drink  in  pipe- 
wine  first  with  hun  ;  I'll  make  liim  dance.     Will 
vou  po,  pentles? 
AIL  Have  with  you,  to  see  this  monster. 

[Kxeuni, 

SCEJ^E  HI.— A  room  in  Ford's  homae.     Enter 
Mrs.  Ford  and  Mrs.  Page. 

Mrs,  Ford.  What,  John !  what,  Robert ! 

Mrs.  Page.  Quickly,  quickly :  is   the    buck 
basket — 

Mrs.  Ford.  I  warrant : — what,  Robin,  I  say. 

I      (;>)  Out  of  the  common  style.     (6)  Not  rich. 


«/JT. 


EnUr  Smanlt  mth  a  haaktL 

Mrt.  Part.  Come,  coine,  come. 

Mr:  Ford.  Hen,  k(  it  down. 

^rj.  Pagt,  Gil 
imul  be  brief. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Many,  u  I  (old  foa  before,  Jnhi 
sod  Boberl,  be  nady  here  bard  bj'  in  Ibe  bnH 
(wuH ;  and  when  I  -luddeiilj  chII  jou,  come  fijri] 
BDd  (wilhom  any  pause  or  Mageering,)  Ola  iii 
basket  oi  your  HlbouLden ;  that  docke,  Inidj^  %s'j[ 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR.  59 

F-yri.  Beline  me,  (here'i  do  uch  thmg 

VMut  nude  me  loie  tb«?  let  ihat  ner- 
Fi?^(here^iHiaelhiiigeitr«art1iiiar7iD  ibee. 
CEilinol  OK,  and  aav.  Ihau  art  Ihli  and 
■  unmijof  (hoe  li 

F«rd.  Do  not  betrsj  m 


Datcbel  Mead,  and  theic  aaMj  it 
diU-h,  close  by  the  Thames'  ude. 

Mri.  Past.  You  wif  ■    ■■  - 

Mrt.  Ford,  r  have  i 


P.ud.lj- 


and  come  Hb 
recalled.  \Eimnt  Screant 

t.  Pagt.  Here  cotaa  linle  Robin. 

Elder  RobiD. 
I.  Ford.  Hoir  now,  mj  efBi.nnilke(  ^  nhi 


"S„. 


PsfT.  Yon  little  JacI 


Ko6.  -V,  1 


WrLPne*.  The 
KdBll  baa  tail 


Thou'rt 


_^  vnur  t>eine  here  ;  and  hath  thtcatened  tn  irir[ 
tiK  into  ever^litis  liberty,  if  I  tell  you  of  il ;  fur, 

to  thee,  and  ibill  make  iiiee 
a  new  oouDiei  ana  DOM. — 111  to  hide  me. 

Mrt,  Ford.  Do  »  —Go  lell  ihy  maitei,  I  urn 
kIoik.     Mn.  Page,  reniember  you  your  cne. 

[Eiil  R„biii. 

Mrt.  Pagt.  I  iramDt  i1m«  ;  if  1  do  not  ai  i  it, 
biw  me.  [ExU  Mrt.  I>n-t. 

Mrs.  FhnL  Go  10  then;  we'll  uh  thu  un- 
ivbokKme  humidity,  lb>>  gron  tintiy  pompioij  ;— 
^e'lJ  teach  him  to  lutow  turtles  fmn  jayi. 

Enler  FalitaC 
fhi.   Have  I  caught  t/lte^  my  hetamly  jrird  .- 
^Vhj,  now  let  me  die,  for  I  hare  hved  lonz  eticu'^h . 
thii  ii  the  period  of  my  ambition:  O  this  bli^-ii 

Jtn.  Ford.  O  iweel  lir  John  • 

FaL  MislreM   Ford,  I  cannot  cog,  I   cnraioi 

FraU.MiureasFord     Now  shall  t  sin  hi  mv  »[■),. 
"vwojld  thy  husband  were  dead :  I'll  speak  jj  Ik-- 
(ore  the  b>^H  loitl,  I  would  make  thee  my  ladi . 

-V.I.  Ford.  I  your  lady,  sir  John!  al^.  I 
•boild  be  a  pitiful  lady. 

'W.  Let  the  court'  of  France  shoiv  me  sui-h 


*r  root  would  Kiie 


■-.  if  for 


■cled  fajthiitgale. 

une  thj  roe  were  n. 

■e,  Iboo  caut  not  hid 


faiend: 

0)  Bleachers  of  linen. 

fs  K  yodn^  small  hawk. 

viK  puppet  tbitnni M in  Lent, like  shrovr-coc 


(.  Thou 


lighfst 


I  the  Cuuntei<-gate ;  which  is  as  hateful  lo  mc  es 

Mrs.  Ford.  Well,  heaven  knows,  bow  I  love 
ou;  and  voa  •hall  one  day  find  iL 

Fai.  K«p  in  that  mind ;  I'll  dcseire  it. 

Mn.  Ford.  Nay,  I  must  tell  you, »  you  do ;  or 
Is'  1  iruiild  not  be  in  thai  mind. 

Hob.  [wiUiin.]  Mistress  Foid,  miUms  Ford  ! 
lere's  riiiilreai  Ps|e  at  (he  door,  swealint;  and 
iliiHin):,  nod  looking  wildly,  and  would  needs, 
prakHirhyouowKnUy. 

Fill-  Sh«  shall  not  ice  me ;  I  will  enscoikce^  me 

.1f>a.  Ford.  Pray  you,  do  to ;  she's  a  verj  tal- 
liii-  w,M,.in.—  [Falitaff  Ai'du  Atnui^/: 

fSnIcr  Miatrtu  Page  and  Robin. 
What's  the  matter  f  bow  now  ! 

Mn.  Pagi.  O  miatteaa  Ford,  what  ha>e  yon 
dope  ?  You're  shamed,  yon  are  overtbrowo,  you 

Mri.  Ford.  \Mial'<  the  matter,  |Dod  tiMnm 

Mrt.  Pagt.  O  well-B4laj,'mi«li 


luiband,  to  give  him 


Mrt.  Pagi.  Whi 
on  you  !  how  am 


.    Your  hmband's  i 
n,  that,  he  says,  is  )> 


Viri  Speak  louder.— [j9jiifc.]—'Ti.  i 


u  know 


e,  with  half  Windsor  at 
"   irimebefo 


a  friend  h 


re  (D  tell 
am  glad 


vou  ;  defend  your  repuiaticn,  or  bid  farewell 
ir  piod  life  tor  ever. 

Mrs.  Ford.  What  shall  I  do?— There  is  age 
mnii.  my  dear  friend ;  and  I  fear  not  mine  oi 


uch  B>  hit  peril 


Df  Ihebc 


(5)  Fonnerly  chieflv  inhalnted  by  druggistt 

(6)  Prison.        (7)  Hide.        (B)  Tapestij. 


BIERRT  WIVES  OF  YfCiDSOR. 


Mrs.  Ford.  He'i  ton  big  la  go  in  Ihoi* ;  who! 

Rt-eniir  FalsUff. 

Fill  LelnKK«'t,lelim;tre'll  Oklmetw'l! 

I'll  in,  I'JI  ID ;— follow  >oiir  tna,i\  cuuiukI  ;~I'll 

JtCri.  Pr^  What!  BrJohaFtlataff!  Arelhese 
foiirletlFn,kniehl? 
Fai.  I  luve  ihee,  and  none  but  Ihec ;  help  toe 

[^Ht  goa  into  Ini  bttsktl ,-  Uuy  cover  him  vith 

fold  lintn.] 

JUrt.  Pagi.  Help  lo  Cover  your  mailrr,  boy  ■■  ail 

roai  nten.  miuren  Ford :— Vou  dissunbUnE^iuriil  i 

Mn.For<L  Wll«^  John,  Robert,  John!   [Eiil 

Robin ;   rr-enter  Sinanli.j    Go  IhIib    op   ihefr 

clo>h«    here,  quickly;    when'i  the  cowl'ilBlTf^ 

look,  bow  }  00  dniinble  ;>  canT  IhHn  lo  tho  Inon- 

drotf  in  Dutchel  Mead ;  quickly,  cunu. 

Eittir  Ford,  Page,  Caiua,  and  Sir  Hugh  Emu. 

Ford.  Praj  you.conw  near;  if  I  suspect  wiih- 

ma  be  your  Jen ;  Idocnu  iL~Howi>Dw?  whiihcr 

Sirv.  To  the  laundm>,  romvth. 
JIfri.  Fhrd,  Why,  nlmi  hav<^  you  to  do  nhilht^r 
ibey  bear  it.'  you  were  best  Dieddletiilh  butk- 

Fori'  Bock  >  1  would  I  conld  wuh  myiclf  of 
IbebiKk!  Buck,  bock,  buck P  Bj.bucli;  I  wHr- 
w,  bock ;  and  oT  the  wauu  (do,  it  thall  ep- 
EitunI  Stnaatt  with  Ihc  baika.]  Ccnllc- 
-ni^I;  I'll  Ull  you  luy 
be  my  key  J :  »«cnd  mv 
,  search,  leek,  And  out :  TIL  WBrrant,  wc^ll 
el  Ibe  rot :— Lei  inc  atop  Ibik  way  drU  :— 
So,  now,  uncape.* 

Pagt.  CooJ  mailer  Ford,  be  contented :  yon 
WKng  yonnelf  too  much. 

FvO.  True,  master  pBie.—Up,  genllemra ;  you 
•)i*ll  MS  tport  anoD :  liA\ivt  me,  gentlemen. 

[Etit. 
Eva.  Tbit  ii  lery  ttmiasticol  humoun,  end  jci- 

Giitu.  By  pr,  'ii>  no  de  rashion  of  Fmnc« :  it 

Part.  \aj,  follow  him.  ^cnllemcn ;  ace  the  ii- 
nje  of  bin  search.  [EtmB(Ei'am,P<ij-e,nndCBiu!. 

Mrt.  Page  la  there  not  a  doi^le  excellency  In 
du.' 

Xn.  JVi  I  know  not  which  pleases  me  belter, 
ttiM  my  husband  i*  deceived,  or  »ir  Jolin. 

Mn.  Pagt.  What  a  taking  was  he  in,  when 
roar  bueband  aiked  wh»!  wai  m  ihn  basket  I 

Mrs.  Ford.  I  am  half  afraid  be  will  hn.e  need 
of  washing;  so  throwing  him  into  the  water  will 
dc  him  a  BokGl 

Jtfrt.  Pagt.    Hang    him,  dishonest   lawal !    I 


pev.  [Eitiir 


Mri.  Page.  I  will  tkc  a  plot  lo  try  Ihat:  And 
we  will  yetluTe  more  tricks  with  PalotnfT;  hiidii- 


.'tfri.  Fagr.  We'll  do  it;  let  him  be  teot  (brlo- 
rrow  eight  o'clock,  to  have  amenda. 

mla-  FortI,  Page,  Cbjus,  and  Sir  Hugh  Druu. 

'^ord.  1  cnnnot  find  him ;    may  be  the  kinre 

'  Heard  you 


jWd.  Fora 
laslerFonl.doy. 
Ford.  Ay,  1  do 
Mrl.  Foi-d.  He 


ar,  peace : — Tou  uw  me  ■ 
1  better  than  3 


ill. 


Fori  Amm. 

Mri.  Page    YoD  do  troundT  mighty  wrong, 

font  Ay,  ay !  I  most  bear  h. 


Biiemysii 
Ey«r,r-- 


Otiui.  -,  ^    , 

Pagt.  Fie,  fie,  master  Ford !  are  you  not  asham 
cd.'  Whatipiril,  whatdevilsuggestsibii  imagim 
ion .'  1  would  not  hate  vour  distemper  in  thii 
ind.  for  the  wealth  of  Windior  Caslle. 
Ford,  'Tis  my  foult,  roaater  Page :  I  toSer  for  it. 
Fni.  Vou  sufler  tor  a  padcooscience :  your  wifo 

Hoosand,  and  live  hundred  too. 

FortlWellV  '1  premised  joo  a  dinner  :~Coma, 
ome,  walk  in  the  park  ;  I  pray  you,  pardon  me ; 
will  lureoficr  tnake  known  to  you,  Khy  1  have 

irdon  me ;  pray  heartily,  pardon  m- 


L.,',  go  in; 

^ntlemen ; 

301,  trwl  me. 

we'll  mo 

ckhim.    I  do 

nvile  you  to-morrow  mom- 

ng  10  my  bou«  to  breakfart;  afte 

we'll  a  bini- 

ng  loceiher:  1  bare 

fine  bawk 

tbr  (he  bnah: 

fhrd 

i?SS-» 

£»i. 

ie,I  shall  mi 

die  twoinihe 

■af: 

■  If  there  be  one  or  two,  r  *all  make*  de 

irrl. 

Em. 

In  your  teelh 

FmTi. 

Pray  Joo  go 

master^^ 

I  pray  you  no 

on  the! 

u«-  knare,  m. 

ne'hffit. 

a>i<u 

fiat  is  good 
Alouirtnav 

by  gar,  rit 

II  my  heart. 

Era. 

;  to  have  hit  gibes  and  hit 

niDckeries- 

[Enunf. 

SCEJ^E  I^.—Atv, 

m  in  Page', 

hmai.   Enter 

j4nnt  Al 


II,  and  JVIiiren  Anne  Page. 


Why,  thou  must  be  (hyaelf 
He  doth  object,  I  am  too  gnal  of  binh ; 
And  Ihat,  mv  slate  being  gall'd  with  my  expense, 
i  seek  to  heal  itonly  by  his  weallhi 

Besides  these,  other  but  he  lays  before  me, 

My  liolt  past,  mv  wild  aocieties  1 
And  fells  me,  'ns  a  thing  impossible 
I  siMuld  love  thee,  but  as  a  pniperty. 
Anne.  May  be,  be  lell)  7011  true. 

(3)  DroMu    {t}  Uobag  the  foi.    f 5)  WtaL 


Scene  F, 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


61 


Fent.  No,  heayen  to  ipeed  me  in  my  time  to 
come! 
Albeit,  I  will  confess,  thy  father's  wealth 
Was  the  first  motive  that  I  wooM  thee,  Anne: 
Yet,  wooing  thee,  I  found  thee  of  more  value 
Than  stamps  in  gold,  or  sums  in  sealed  bags , 
And  *ti8  the  very  riches  of  thyself 
lliat  now  I  aim  at 

Anne.  Gentle  master  Fenton, 
Tet  seek  my  father's  love :  still  seek  it,  sir : 
If  opportunity  and  humble  suit 
Cannot  attain  it,  why  then — Haric  you  hither. 

[TTify  converse  apart. 

Enter  Shallow,  Slender,  and  Mrs.  Quickly. 

ShaL  Break  their  talk,  mistress  Quickly ;  my 
kinsman  shall  speak  for  himself. 

Sien.  1*11  make  a  shaft  or  a  bolt  on*t  :i  slid,  'tis 
bat  venturing. 
ShaL  Be  not  dismay'd. 

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

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

Anne.  1  come  to  him.— This  is  my  father's  chdce. 
0,  what  a  world  (^  vile  ill-favour'd  faults 
Looks  handsome  in  three  hundred  pounds  a  year ! 

[Aside. 
Qutdb.  And  bow  does  good  master  Fenton? 
Pray  you,  a  word  with  you. 

5Aat  She's  coming;  to  her,  cok.    O  boy,  thou 
hadst  a  father! 

Sien.  1  had  a  father,  mistress  Anne ; — my  uncle 
can  tell  you  good  jests  of  him : — Pray  you,  uncle, 
tell  mistress  Anne  the  jest,  how  my  father  stole  two 
geese  out  of  a  pen,  good  uncle. 
SkaL  Mistress  Anne,  my  cousin  loves  you. 
Sien.  Ay,  that  I  do;  as  well  as  Hove  any  woman 
in  Gkx^estershire. 
SuU.  He  will  maintain  you  like  a  gentlewoman. 
Sien.  Ay,  that  I  will,  come  cut  and  Icxig-tail,^ 
under  the  degree  o(  a  squire. 

ShaL  He  will  make  you  a  hundred  and  fiAy 
pounds  jointure. 

Anne.  Good  master  Shallow,  let  him  woo  for 
himself. 

S/ud.  Marry,  I  thank  you  for  it ;  I  thank  you  for 
diat  good  comfort.    She  calls  you,  coz :  1*11  leave 
you. 
Anne.  Now,  master  Slender. 
Sien.  Now,  good  mistress  Anne. 
'  Anne.  What  is  your  will  ? 
Slen.  My  will  ?  od's  hearthngs,  that's  a  pret^ 
vesi,  indeed !  I  ne'er  made  mv  will  yet,  I  thank 
hesven  ;  I  am  not  such  a  sickly  creature,  I  give 
heaven  praise. 

Anne.  I  mean,  master  Slender,  what  would  you 
with  me  ? 

Slen.  Truly,  for  mine  own  part,  I  would  little  or 
nothing  with  you  :  your  father,  and  my  uncle,  have 
nuide  motions :  if  it  be  my  luck,  so :  if  not,  happy 
man  be  his  dole  ?  They  can  tell  you  how  things  go, 
better  than  I  can :  you  may  ask  your  father ;  here 
he  comes. 

Enter  Page,  and  Mistress  Page. 

Page.  Now,  master  Slender : — ^Love  him,  daugh- 
ter Anne.— 
Why,  bow  now !  what  does  master  Fenton  here  ? 
YoQ  wimg  me,  sir,  thus  still  to  haunt  my  house : 

(1)  A  proverb— a  shaf)  was  a  long  arrow,  and  a 

U>lt  a  thid[  abort  one. 

9 


I  told  you,  sir,  my  daughter  is  dispos'd  oT. 
Fhit.  Nay,  master  I^e,  be  not  impatient 
Mrs.  Page.  Good  master  Fenton,  come  not  to 

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

Come,  master  Shallow :  come,  son  Slender ;  in : — 
Knowing  my  mind,  you  wrong  me,  master  Fenton. 
[Exevmt  Page,  Shallow,  and  Slender. 
Quick.  Speak  to  mistress  Page. 
Fent.  Good  mistress  Page,  for  that  I  love  your 
daughter 
In  such  a  righteous  fashion  as  I  do. 
Perforce,  against  all  checks,  rebukes,  and  manners, 
1  must  advance  the  colours  of  my  love. 
And  not  retire  :  let  me  have  your  good  will. 
Anne.  Good  mother,  do  not  marry  me  to  yond* 

fool. 
Mrs.  Page.  I  mean  it  not ;  I  seek  you  a  better 

husband. 
Quick.  That's  my  master,  master  doctor. 
Anne.  Alas,  I  haa  rather  be  set  quick  i'  the  earth. 
And  bowl'd  to  death  with  turnips. 
Mrs.  Page.  Come,  trouble  not  yourself:  good 
master  Fenton, 
I  will  not  be  your  friend,  nor  enemy : 
My  dau^ter  will  I  question  bow  she  loves  you. 
And  as  1  find  her,  so  am  I  affected ; 
'Till  then,  farewell,  sir : — She  must  needs  go  in ; 
Her  father  will  be  angry. 

[Exeunt  Mrs.  Page  and  Anne. 
Fent.  Farewell,  gentle  mistress ;  rarewell,  Nan. 
Quick.  This  is  my  doing  now ; — Nay,  said  I,  will 
you  cast  away  your  child  on  a  fool,  ana  a  physician  f 
Look  on  master  Fenton : — this  is  my  doing. 
Fent.  I  thank  thee ;  and  I  pray  thee,  once  to 
night 
Give  my  sweet  Nan  this  ring :  there's  for  thy  pains 

Quick.  Now  heaven  send  thee  good  fortune  !  A 
kind  heart  he  hath :  a  woman  would  run  through 
fire  and  water  for  such  a  kind  heart  But  yet,  1 
would  nil'  master  had  mistress  Anne ;  or  I  would 
master  Slender  had  her;  or,  in  sooth,  I  would 
master  Fenton  had  her  :  I  will  do  what  I  can  foi 
them  all  Uiree ;  for  so  I  have  promised,  and  I'll  be 
as  good  as  my  word ;  but  speciousl^-^  for  master 
Fenton.  Well,  I  must  of  another  errand  to  sir  John 
Falstafif  from  my  two  mistresses ;  what  a  beast  am 
I  to  slack*  it!  [Exit. 

SCEJVE  V.—A  room  in  the  Garter  Inn,   Enter 
Falstaifami  Bardolph. 

FkL  Bardolph,  I  say, — 

Bard.  Here,  sir. 

Fal.  Go  fetch  me  a  quart  of  sack ;  put  a  toast  in't. 
[Exit  Bard.]  Have  I  lived  to  be  earned  in  a  basket, 
like  a  barrow  of  butcher's  offal ;  and  to  be  thrown 
into  the  Thames  .>  Well ;  if  I  be  served  such  an- 
other trick,  I'll  have  my  brains  ta'en  out,  and  but- 
ter'd,  and  give  them  to  a  d<^  for  a  new  year's  fi:lf\. 
The  rogues  slighted  me  into  the  river  with  as  little 
remorse^  as  tl^y  would  have  drown'd  a  bitch's 
blind  puppies,  fifteen  i'  the  litter :  and  vou  may 
know  oy  my  size,  that  I  have  a  kind  of  alacrit}*  in 
sinking ;  if  the  bottom  were  as  deep  as  hell,  I  should 
down.  I  had  been  drowned,  but  tlbat  the  shore  was 
shelvy  and  shallow ;  a  death  that  I  abhor ;  for  the 
water  swells  a  man ;  and  what  a  thing  should  I 

(T)  Come  poor  or  rich.    (3)  Lot     (4)  Specially 
(.'>:  Ncjjlect      (6)  Pity. 


6'2 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR 


Act  ///. 


have  beeOf  when  I  had  been  swelled !  I  aboold 
have  been  a  mountain  of  mummy. 

Re-enter  Bardolph,  vriih  the  toine. 

Bard.  Here^  mistress  Quickly,  sir,  to  speak 
with  you. 

Fat.  Come,  let  me  pour  in  some  sack  to  thf 
I'hames  water ;  for  my  oelly's  as  cold,  as  if  I  had 
^vvallowed  snow-balls  for  pills  to  cool  the  reins. 
Call  her  in. 

Bard.  Come  in,  woman. 

Enter  Mrs,  Quickly. 

Quick.  By  your  leave ;  I  cry  you  mercy  :  give 
your  worship  good-morrow. 

FaL  Take  away  these  chalices  A  go  brew  me  a 
pottle  of  sack  finely. 

Bard,  With  eg^  sir.' 

FaL  Simple  of  itself ;  I'll  no  pullet-sperm  in  my 
brewage. — (Exit  Bardolph.] — How  now .? 

Quick.  Marry,  sir,  I  come  to  your  worship  from 
mistress  Ford. 

FaL  Mistress  Ford !  I  have  had  ford  enough  :  I 
was  thrown  into  the  ford :  I  have  my  belly  full  of 
ford. 

Quick.  Alas  the  day!  good  heart, that  was  not 
her  fault ;  she  does  so  take  on  with  her  men  ;  they 
mistook  their  erecticm. 

FaL  So  did  I  mine,  to  build  upoo  a  foolish 
woman's  promise. 

Quick.  Well,  she  laments,  sir,  for  it,  that  it 
would  yearn  your  heart  to  see  it  Her  husband 
goes  this  morning  a  birding;  she  desires  you  once 
morn  to  come  to  her  between  eight  and  nine :  I  must 
carry  her  word  quickly :  ahe'lTmake  you  amends, 
I  warrant  you. 

FaL  Well,  I  will  visit  her :  tell  her  so ;  and  bid 
hor  tliink,  what  a  man  is :  let  her  consider  his 
frailty,  and  then  judge  of  my  merit 

Quick.  I  will  tell  her. 

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

Quick.  Eight  and  nine,  sir. 

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

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

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

Enter  Ford. 

Ford.  Bless  you,  sir  ! 

Fal.  Now,  nrmster  Brook ;  you  come  to  know 
what  hathpassed  between  me  and  Ford's  wife ? 

Ford.  Tnat,  indeed,  sir  John,  is  my  business. 

FaL  Master  Brook,  1  will  not  lie  to  you ;  I  was 
at  her  house  tlie  hour  she  appointed  me. 

Ford.  And  how  speed  you,  sir  ? 

Fal.  Very  ill-favoured(y,  niaster  Brook. 

Ford.  How  so,  sir  f  Did  she  change  her  deter- 
mination ? 

FaL  No,  master  Brook ;  but  the  peaking  comu- 
lo,  her  husband,  master  Brook,  dwelling  in  a  con- 
tinual 'larum  of  jealousy,  comes  me  in  the  instant 
of  our  encounter,  after  we  had  embraced,  kissed, 
protested,  and,  as  it  were,  spoke  the  prologue  of 
our  comedy ;  and  at  his  ht^ls  a  rabble  of  his  C(Hn- 
panioiis,  thither  provoked  and  instigated  by  his  dis- 
temper, and,  forsooth,  to  search  his  housie  for  his 
wife's  love. 

'l^Cups. 

^2*  Bilboa,  where  the  best  blades  ar ?  nadc. 


Ford.  What,  while  yon  were  there .' 

Fal.  While  1  was  there. 

Ford.  And  did  he  search  for  you,  and  could  not 
find  you  ? 

FaL  You  shall  hear.  As  good  luck  would  have 
it,  comes  in  one  mistress  Page  ;  gives  intell^enoe 
of  Ford's  approach ;  and,  by  her  invention,  and 
Ford's  wife's  distraction,  they  conveyed  roe  into  a 
buck-basket. 

Ford.   A  buck-basket ! 

Fal.  By  the  Lord,  a  buck-basket :  rammed  me 
in  with  foul  shirts  and  smocks,  socks,  foul  stockings, 
and  g^reasy  napkins ;  that,  master  Brook,  there  was 
the  rankest  compound  of  villanous  smell,  that  9ver 
oftended  nostril. 

Ford.  And  how  Icwng  lay  you  there .? 

FaL  Nay,  you  shall  hear,  master  Brook,  what  I 
have  9uffci>pd  to  bring  this  woman  to  evil  for  your 
ofood.  Being  thus  crammed  in  the  basket,  a  couple 
of  Ford's  knaves,  his  hinds,  were  called  forth  by 
their  mistress,  to  carry  me  in  the  name  of  foul 
clothes  to  I^tchet-lane :  they  took  me  on  their 
shoulders ;  met  the  jealous  knave,  their  master,  in 
the  door ;  who  asked  them  once  or  twice  what  they 
had  in  their  basket :  I  quaked  for  fear,  lest  the  lu- 
natic knave  would  have  searched  it ;  but  Fate,  or- 
daining he  should  be  a  cuckold,  held  his  hand. 
Well :  on  went  he  for  a  search,  and  away  went  I 
for  foul  clothes.  But  mark  the  sequel,  master  Broc^ : 
I  suffered  the  f>angs  of  three  several  deaths  :  first, 
Ku  intolerable  fright,  to  be  detected  with  a  jealous 
rotten  bell-wether :  next,  to  be  compassed  like  a 
%ocA  bilbo,2  in  the  circumference  of  a  peck,  hilt  to 
point,  heel  to  head :  and  then,  to  be  stopped  in,  like 
a  strong  distillation,  with  stinking  clothes  that  fret- 
t<'d  in  their  own  urease  :  think  of  tfiat, — a  man  of 
my  kidney, — think  of  that;  that  am  as  subject  to 
heat  as  butter ;  a  man  of  ccxitinual  dissolution  and 
thaw  ;  it  was  a  miracle  to  'scape  sufibcation.  And 
in  the  height  of  this  bath,  when  I  was  more  than 
half  stewed  in  grease,  like  a  Dutch  dish,  to  be 
tlipDwn  into  the  Thames,  and  cooled,  glowing  hot, 
in  that  surge,  like  a  horse-shoe ;  think  of  that ; — 
hi>.<i?i2:  hot, — think  of  that,  master  Brook. 

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

Fal.  Master  Brook,  I  will  be  thrown  into  iEtna, 
as  I  have  been  into  the  Thames,  ere  I  will  leave 
her  thus.  Her  husband  is  this  morning  gone  a  bird- 
inij  :  I  have  received  from  her  another  embassy  of 
meeting ;  'twixt  eight  and  nine  is  the  hour,  master 
Brook. 

Ford.  'Tis  past  eight  already,  sir. 

Fed.  Is  it  ?  I  will  then  address  me^  to  my  appcnnt- 
ment.  Come  to  me  at  your  convenient  leisure,  and 
yon  shall  know  how  I  speed ;  and  the  conclusion 
shall  be  crowned  with  your  enjoying  her  :  adieu. 
You  shall  have  her,  master  Brook ;  master  Brook, 
you  shall  cuckold  Ford.  [Exit. 

Ford.  Hum  !  ha !  is  this  a  vision  }  is  this  a  dream  ^ 
do  I  sleep .'  Master  Ford,  awake ;  awake,  master 
Ford :  there's  a  hole  made  in  your  best  coat,  master 
F\)rd.  This  'tis  to  be  married !  this  'tis  to  hare  linen, 
and  buck-bitskets  ! — Well,  I  will  proclaim  myself 
what  I  am :  I  will  now  take  the  lecher ;  he  is  at  my 
house :  he  cannot  'scape  me ;  'tis  impossible  be 
should ;  he  cannot  creep  into'a  half-penny  purse, 
nor  into  a  pepper-box :  but,  lest  the  devil  that 
guides  him  should  aid  him,  I  will  search  impossible 
places.     Though  what  I  am  I  cannot  avoid,  yet  to 

(3)  Seriousness.         (4)  Make  myself  ready. 


Seme  1,  II. 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSCML 


63 


be  what  I  woald  not,  shall  not  make  me  tame :  if 
I  have  boroB  to  make  one  mad,  let  die  prorerb  g;o 
with  me,  1*11  be  bom  mad.  [Exit. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJfE  I—The  Street.  Enter  Mrt.  Page,  Mrs. 
Quickly,  and  William. 

Mre.  Page.  Is  he  at  master  Ford*s  already, 
think^sttbou? 

Quick.  Sure  he  is  by  this ;  or  will  be  presently  : 
but  truly,  he  is  very  courageous'  mad,  about  his 
throwing  into  the  water.  Mistress  Ford  desires  you 
to  come  suddenly. 

Mrs.  Page.  V\\  be  with  her  by  and  by ;  Pll  but 
bring  my  young  roan  here  to  school :  look,  where 
his  master  conies ;  *tis  a  playing-day,  I  see. 

Enier  Sir  Hugh  Evans. 

How  now,  sir  Hugh  f  no  school  to^lay  ? 

Eva.  No ;  master  Slender  is  let  the  boys  leave 
to  play. 

Qutck.  Blessing  of  his  heart ! 
Mrs.  Page.  Sir  Hu^  my  husband  says,  my 
aon  profits  nothing  in  me  world  at  his  book ;  I  pray 
-yoQ,  ask  him  some  questions  in  his  accidence. 

Eva.  Come  hither,  William;  hold  up  your 
head ;  come. 

Mrs.  Page.  Come  on,  sirrah ;  hold  up  your 
head  ;  answer  your  master,  be  not  afraid. 

Eva.  William,  how  many  numbers  is  in  nouns  ? 

IViU.  Two. 

Quick.  Truly,  I  thought  there  had  been  one 
number  more  ;  because  mey  sa}%  od*s  nouns. 

Eva.  Peace  your  tattlings.  What  is  /air,  Wil- 
liam.' 

/rtC  Pulcher. 

Quick.  Pouicats!  there  are  fairer  things  than 
poulcatB,  sure. 

Eva.  You  are  a  very  simplicity  *oman ;  I  pray 
you,  peace.     What  is  hpiSf  WilUam .' 

If^ilL  A  stone. 

Eva.  And  what  is  a  stone,  William? 

IViiL  A  pebble. 

Eva.  No,  it  is  lapis  ;  I  pray  you,  remember  in 
your  prain. 

H'yi  Lapis. 

Eva.  That  Ugood  William.  What  is  he,  Wil- 
liam, that  does  lend  articles  ? 

H^ilL  Articles  are  borrowed  of  the  pronoun  ; 
and  be  thus  declined,  SingtUariter,  nomtna/tvo, 
Aic,  Aorc,  hoc. 

Eva.  AaminaHvOf  hig,  hag^  hog  ;  pray  you, 
mark :  gtnitivo,  hujus:  Well,  what  is  your  accu- 
*ative  case  ? 

wan.  AccusativOf  hinc. 

Era.  I  pray  you,  have  your  remembrance, 
<^bild ;  AccusaUvOf  hmgj  hanr,  hog. 

Quick.  Hang  hog  is  Latin  tor  bacon,  I  warrant 
you. 

Eva.  Leave  your  prabbles,  *oman.  What  is 
^»e  focative  case,  William  ? 

WUL  O^Voeativo,  O. 

Eva.  Remember,  William ;  focative  is,  caret. 

Quick.  And  that's  a  good  root 

(I)  Outra<^eous.     (2)  Breeched,  i.  e.  Bogged. 
(3;  A^tt  to  learn.     (4)  Sorrowful,     (o)  Mad  fits. 


Eva.  'Oman,  forbear. 

Mrs.  Page.  Peace. 

Eva.  What  is  your  genitive  ea$e  plural,  Wil- 
liam ? 

IViO.  Genitive  case? 

Eva.  Ay. 

Will  Genitive, — ?iorum,  harwn,  horum. 

Quick.  'Vengeance  of  Jenny^s  case!  fie  on 
her ! — never  name  her,  child,  if  she  be  a  whore. 

Eva.  For  shame,  'oman. 

Quick.  You  do  ill  to  teach  the  child  such  words; 
he  teaches  him  to  hick  and  to  hack,  which  they'll 
do  fast  enough  c^  themselves ;  and  to  call  horum : — 
fie  upon  you ! 

Eva.  ^Oman,  art  thou  lunatics?  hast  thou  nb 
understandings  for  thy  cases,  and  the  numbers  of 
the  genders  ?  Thou  art  as  foolish  Christian  ciea- 
tures  as  I  would  dcisires. 

Mrs.  Page.  Pr'ythee,  hold  thy  peace. 

Eva.  Show  me  now,  William,  some  declensions 
of  your  pronouns. 

Ji^ilL  Forsooth,  I  have  foigot 

Eva.  It  is  All,  Arce,  cod;  if  you  forget  your  Ariel, 
your  kces,  and  your  cods,  you  must  be  preeches.^ 
Go  your  ways,  and  play,  go. 

Mrs.  Page.  He  is  a  better  scholar,  than  I 
thought  he  was. 

Eva.  He  is  a  good  spragS  memory.  Farewell, 
mistress  Page. 

Mrs.  Page.  Adieu,  good  sir  Hueh.  [Exit  Sir 
Hugh.]  Get  you  home,  boy. — (kvne,  we  stay 
too  long.  [Exatni. 

SCEJ^E  II.— A  room  in  Ford's  house.    Enier 
Falstaff  and  Mrs.  Ford. 

Fal.  Mistress  Ford,  your  sorrow  hath  eaten  up 
my  sufferance :  I  see,  you  are  obsequious^  in  your 
love,  and  I  profess  requital  to  a  hair's  breadth ;  not 
only,  mistress  Ford,  in  the  simple  oi^ce  of  love,  but 
in  all  the  accoutrement,  complement,  and  ceremo- 
ny of  it     But  are  you  sure  of  your  husband  now  ? 

Mrs.  Ford.  He's  a  birdins:,  sweet  sir  John. 

Mrs.  Page.  [Within.]  What hoa,  gossip Foi-d ! 
what  hoa ! 

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

[Exit  Falstaff. 

Enter  Mrs.  Phge. 

Mrs.  Page.  How  now,  sweetheart  ?  who's  at 
home  beside  yourself? 

Mrs.  Ford,  Why,  none  but  mine  own  people. 

Mrs.  Page.  Indeed? 

Mrs.  Ford.  No,  certainly;— speak  louder.  [Aside* 

Mrs.  Page.  Truly,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  no- 
body here. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Why? 

Mrs.  Page.  Why,  woman,  your  husband  is  in 
his  old  lunes^  again  :  he  so  takes  on  ycxider  with 
my  husband ;  m  rail^  against  all  married  mankind ; 
so  curses  all  Eve's  daughters,  of  what  complexion 
soever ;  and  so  buffets  himself  on  the  forehead, 
crying,  peer  out,  peer  out  .'8  that  any  madness  I 
ever  yet  beheld,  seemed  but  tameness,  civility, 
and  patience,  to  this  his  distemper  he  is  in  now  :'  I 
am  glad  the  fat  knight  is  not  here. 

Mrs.  Ford  Why,  does  he  talk  of  him  ? 

Mrs.  Page.  Of  none  but  him  ;  and  swears,  he 
was  carried  out,  the  last  time  he  searched  for  him, 
in  a  basket :  protests  to  my  husband,  he  is  now 

(6)  As  children  call  on  a  snail  to  push  forth  hia> 
horns. 


64 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDS(ML 


Act  IK. 


here ;  and  hath  drawn  him  and  the  rest  o{  their 
company  from  their  sport,  to  make  another  exj>eri- 
ment  of  his  sujipicion :  but  I  am  glad  the  knight 
M  not  here ;  now  he  shall  see  his  own  foolery. 

Jlfr«.  Ford.  How  near  is  he,  mistress  Page  ? 

Mrs.  Page.  Hard  by ;  at  street  end ;  he  will 
be  here  anon. 

Mrs.  Ford.  I  am  undone ! — the  knight  is  here. 

Mrs.  Page.  Why,  then  you  are  utterly  shamed, 
«nd  he*s  but  a  dead  man.  \Miat  a  woman  are 
yoa! — Away  with  him,  away  with  him;  better 
•hame  than  murder. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Which  way  should  he  go  ?  how 
diould  I  bestow  him  ?  Shall  I  put  him  into  the  bas- 
ket again .' 

Re-enter  Falstaff. 

Fal.  No,  rU  come  no  more  P  the  basket :  may 
I  not  go  out,  ere  he  come  ? 

Mrs.  Page.  Alas,  three  of  master  Ford's  bro- 
diers  watch  the  door  with  pistols,  that  none  should 
issue  out ;  otherwise  you  might  slip  away  ere  he 
came.     But  what  make  you  nere  f 

FaL  What  shall  I  do .'— Pll  creep  up  into  the 
chimney. 

Mrs.  Ford.  There  they  always  use  to  discharge 
their  birding-pieces :  creep  into  the  kiln-bole. 

FaL  Where  is  it  .> 

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

Foi.  ril  go  out  then. 

Mrs.  Page.  If  you  go  out  in  your  own  sem- 
blance, you  die,  sir  John.  Unless  you  go  CHit  dis- 
guised,— 

Mrs.  Ford.  How  might  we  di^^ise  him .' 

Mrs.  Page.  Alas  the  day,  I  know  not.  There 
is  no  woman's  gown  big  enough  for  him ;  other- 
wise, he  might  put  on  a  hat,  a  muffler,  and  a  ker- 
chief, and  so  escape. 

FaL  Good  hearts,  devise  something  :  any  extre- 
mity, rather  than  a  mischief. 

Mrs.  Ford.  My  maid's  aunt,  the  fat  woman  of 
Brentford,  has  a  gown  above. 

Mrs.  Page.  On  my  word,  it  will  serve  him; 
she's  as  big  as  he  is  :  and  there's  her  thrum'd  hat, 
and  her  muffler  too:  run  up,  sir  John. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Go,  go,  sweet  sir  John :  mistress 
Page  and  I  will  look  some  linen  for  your  head. 

Jttrf.  Page.  Quick,  quick;  we'll  come  dress 
you  straight :  put  on  the  gown  the  while. 

[Exit  Fal. 

Mrs.  Ford.  I  would  my  husband  would  meet 
him  in  this  shape  :  he  cannot  abide  the  old  w(vnan 
of  Brentford ;  ne  swears,  she's  a  witch ;  forbade 
her  my  house,  and  hath  threatciied  to  beat  her. 

Mrs.  Page.  Heaven  guide  him  to  thy  husband's 
cudgel ;  ana  the  devil  guide  his  cudgel  after- 
wards ! 

Mrs.  Ford.  But  is  my  husband  coming  f 
Mrs.  Page.  Ay,  in  good  sadness,^  is  he ;  and 
talks  of  the  basket  too,  howsoever  he  hath  had  in- 
telligence. 

Mrs.  Ford,  We'll  try  that ;  for  I'll  appoint  my 
men  to  carry  the  basket  again,  to  meet  nim  at  t  u 
door  with  it,  as  they  did  last  time. 

JIfrs.  Page.  Nay,  but  he'll  be  here  presently : 
let's  gpo  dress  him  Uke  the  witch  of  Brentfoid. 


^)  Short  note  o£ 


(2)  Seriousness. 


Mrs.  Ford.  I'll  first  direct  my  men,  what  they 

shall  do  with  the  basket     Go  up,  I'll  bring  linen 

for  him  straight  [E^xiL 

Mrs.  Page.  Hang  him,  dishonest  varlet!  we 

cannot  misuse  him  enough. 

We'll  leave  a  proof,  by  that  which  we  will  do» 
Wives  may  be  merry,  and^et  honest  too  : 
We  do  not  act,  that  often  jest  and  laugh  ; 
'TU  old  but  true.  Still  swine  eat  all  the  draff: 

[Exit 

Re-enter  Mrs.  Ford,  unth  two  tervanU. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Go,  sirs,  take  the  basket  again  on 
your  shoulders;  your  master  is  hard  at  door :  if  he 
bid  you  set  it  down,  obey  him  :  quickly,  despatch. 

[ExiU 

1  Serv.  Come,  come,  take  it  up. 

2  Serv.  Pray  heaven,  it  be  not  lull  of  the  knight 
again. 

1  Serv.  I  hope  not ;  I  had  as  lief  bear  so  much 
lead. 

Enter  Ford,  Page,  Shallow,  Caius,  and  Sir  Hugh 

Evaps. 

Ford.  Ay,  but  if  it  prove  true,  master  Page* 
have  you  any  way  then  to  unfool  me  again  f — Set 
down   the  basket,  villain : — Somebody   call  my 

wife : You,  youth  in  a  basket,  come  out  here ! 

— O,  you  panderly  rascals !  there's  a  knot,  a  ffing,* 
a  pack,  a  conspiracy  against  roe  :  now  shall  the 
devil  be  shamed.  What !  wife,  I  say !  come, 
come  forth ;  behold  what  honest  clothes  you  send 
forth  to  bleaching. 

Page.  Why,  this  passes;^  Master  Ford,  yoo 
are  not  to  go  loose  any  longer ;  you  must  be  pin- 
ioned. 

Eva.  Why,  this  is  lunatics !  this  is  mad  as  a  road 
doe! 

ShaL  Indeed,  roaster  Ford,  this  is  not  well ; 
indeed. 

Enter  Mrs.  Ford. 

Ford.  So  say  I  too,  sir. — Come  hither,  mistress 
Ford;  mistre^  Ford,  the  honest  woman,  the 
modest  wife,  the  virtuous  creature,  that  hath  the 
jealous  fool  to  her  husband ! — I  suspect  without 
cause,  mistress,  do  I  ? 

Mrs.  Ford.  Heaven  be  my  witness,  you  do,  if 
you  suspect  me  in  any  dishonesty. 

Ford.  Well  said,  brazen-face ;  hold  it  out 

Come  forth,  sirrah. 

[PulU  the  clothes  out  qf  the  basket 

Page.  This  passes ! 

Mrs.  Ford.  Are  you  not  ashamed.^  let  dw 
clothes  alone. 

Ford.  I  shall  find  you  anon. 

Eva.  'Tis  unreasonable !  Will  yon  take  up  yoai 
wife's  clothes  ?  Come  away. 

Ford.  Empty  the  basket,  I  say. 

Mrs.  Fora.  Why,  man,  why, — 

Ford.  Master  IHi^,  as  I  am  a  man,  there  tras 
one  conveyed  out  ot  my  house  yesterday  in  this 
basket :  Why  may  not  he  be  there  again }  In  my 
house  I  am  sure  he  is :  my  intelligence  is  true ; 
my  jealousy  is  reasonable :  Pluck  me  out  all  the 
linen. 

Mrs.  Ford.  If  you  find  a  man  there,  he  shall 
die  a  flea's  death. 

Page.  Here's  no  roan. 

(3)  Gang.    (4)  Surpasses,  to  go  beyond  bounds. 


Scene  ///,  TT, 


MERRT  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR 


65 


SkaX.  By  mj  fidelity,  this  is  not  well,  master 
Ford ;  this  wrongs  jou. 

Kva,  Master  Ford,  jou  must  praj,  and  not 
follow  the  imaginations  of  your  own  heart :  this  is 
jealousies. 

Ford,  Well,  he's  not  here  I  seek  for. 

Pogv.  No,  nor  no  where  else,  but  in  your  brain. 

Fwd,  Help  to  search  my  house  this  one  time : 
if  I  find  not  what  I  seek,  show  no  colour  for  my 
extremity,  let  me  for  ever  be  your  table-sport :  let 
them  say  of  me.  As  iealous  as  Ford,  that  scarchM 
a  hollow  walnut  for  nis  wife's  leman.i  Sotisfy  me 
OQce  more ;  once  more  search  with  nne. 

Mrs,  Ford,  What  hoa,  mistress  Paee!  come 
you,  and  the  old  woman  down ;  my  husband  will 
come  into  the  chamber. 

Ford,  Old  woman !  What  old  woman's  that? 

Mn,  Ford.  Why,  it  is  my  maid's  aunt  of  Brent- 
ford. 

Ford,  A  witch,  a  quean,  an  old  cozening  quean! 
ElaTe  I  not  forbid  her  my  house  ?  She  comes  of 
errands,  does  she  }  We  are  simple  men ;  wc  do 
not  know  what's  brought  to  pass  under  the  profes- 
sioD  of  fortune-telling.  She  works  by  charms,  by 
^lls,  by  the  figure,  and  such  daubery  as  this  is  ; 
beyond  our  element  i  we  know  nothing. — ^Come 
down,  you  witch,  you  hag  you ;  come  down,  I  say. 

Jlfrt.  Ford.  Nay,  good  sweet  husband  ; — good 
gentlemen,  let  him  not  strike  the  old  w(»nan. 

EnierYtlai^SinviomifCtdoihiM^UdhyMrs.  Page. 

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

Ford.  I'll  frai  her : Out  of  my  door,  you 

^vitch.'  \beaia  /im.]  you  rag,  you  be^^ge,  you 
Dolecat,  you  ronyon  P  out !  out .'  I'll  conjure  you, 
I'll  ibrtune-tell  you.  \Exit  Falstaff. 

Mrs.  Page.  Are  you  not  ashamed.^  I  think,  you 
have  kill'd  the  ooor  woman. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Nay,  he  will  do  it : — ^"Tis  a  goodly 
oredit  for  you. 

Ford.  liang  her,  witch ! 

Eva.  By  vea  and  no,  I  think,  the  'oman  is  a 
witch  indeed:  I  like  not  when  a  'oman  has  a  great 
peard ;  I  sp^  a  great  peard  under  her  muffler. 

Ford.  Will  you  follow,  gentlemen  }  I  beseech 
jroo,  follow ;  see  but  the  issue  of  my  jealousy :  if  I 
Ory  out  thus  upon  no  trail,'  never  trust  me  when  I 
ojien^  again. 

Page.  Let's  obey  his  humour  a  little  further; 
Oome, gentlemen.  \Ex. Page, Ford, Shal.  and  Eva. 

Mrs.  Page.  Trust  me,  he  beat  him  most  pitifully. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Nay,  b^  the  mass,  that  he  did  not ; 
Ifte  beat  him  most  unpitifullj^methought. 

Mrs.  Page.  I'll  have  the  cudgel  hallowed,  and 
llimgo'erthe  altar ;  it  hath  done  meritorious  service. 

Mrs.  Ford.  What  think  you .'  May  we,  witli  tho 
^•"arrant  of  wcnnanhood,  and  the  witness  of  a  good 
oonscience,  pursue  him  with  any  further  revenge  ^ 

Mrs.  Page.  'The  spirit  of  wantonness  is,  sure, 
Scared  out  of  him ;  if  the  devil  have  him  not  in  fce- 
■imple,  with  fine  and  recovery,  he  will  never,  I 
Clinic,  in  the  way  of  waste,  attempt  us  asain. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Shall  we  tell  our  husbancb  how  we 
Have  served  him .' 

Jlfrt.  Page.  Yes,  by  all  means  ;  if  it  be  but  to 

*cnpe  the  figures  out  of  your  husband's  brains.  If 

^r  can  find  in  their  hearts,  the  poor  unvirtuous 

fiit  knight  shall  be  any  further  afiiicted,  we  two  will 

*^  he  the  ministers. 

Mrs.  Ford.  I'll  warrant,  they'll  have  him  pub- 

0)  Lover.        (2)  Scab         (3)  Scent 


licly  shamed :  and,  me^inks,  there  would  be  no 
period  to  the  jest,  should  he  not  be  pubUcly 
shamed. 

Mrs.  Page.  Come,  to  the  foige  with  it  then, 
shape  it :  I  would  not  have  things  cool.    [Exeunt. 

SCEJVE  HI.— A  Room  in  the  Garter  Inn.  En^ 
ier  Host  and  Bardolph. 

Bard.  Sir,  the  Germans  desire  to  have  three  o( 
your  horses :  the  duke  himself  will  be  to-morrow  at 
court,  and  they  are  goine^  to  meet  him. 

Host.  What  duke  should  that  be,  comes  sc 
secretly  ?  I  hear  not  of  him  in  the  court :  Let  me 
speak  with  the  gentlemen  ;  they  speak  English  f 

Bard.  Ay,  sir ;  I'll  call  them  to  you. 

Host.  They  shall  have  mv  horses ;  but  I'll  make 
them  pay,  I'll  sauce  them :  they  have  had  my  house 
a  week  at  command ;  I  have  turned  away  my  other 
guests :  they  must  come  off;  I'll  sauce  them :  Come. 

[Exetmt. 

SCEJ^E  ir.-^  Room  in  Ford's  House.  Enitr 
Page,  Ford,  Mrs.  Page,  Mrs.  Ford,  and  iiir 
Hugh  Evans. 

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

Page.  And  did  he  send  you  both  these  letters  at 
an  instant.^ 

Mrs.  Page.  Within  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Ford.  Pardon  me,  wife:  Henceforth  do  what 
thou  wilt ; 
I  rather  will  suspect  the  sun  with  cold, 
Than  thee  with  wantonness :  now  doth  thy  honour 

stand. 
In  him  that  was  of  late  a  heretic, 
As  firm  as  faith. 

Page.  'Tis  well,  'tis  well ;  no  more 

Be  not  as  Extreme  in  submissioii. 
As  in  offence ; 

But  let  our  plot  go  forward :  let  our  wives 
Yet  once  again,  to  make  us  [wblic  sport. 
Appoint  a  meeting  with  this  old  &t  fellow, 
miere  we  may  tsJce  him,  and  disgrace  him  for  it 

Ford.  There  is  no  better  way  than  that  they 
spoke  of. 

Page.  How !  to  send  him  word  they'll  meet  him 
in  the  park  at  midnight !  fie,  fie ;  he'll  never  come. 

Eva.  You  say  he  has  been  thrown  in  the  rivers ; 
and  has  been  grievously  peaten,  as  an  old  'oman , 
methinks,  there  should  be  terrors  in  him,  that  he 
should  not  ccnne ;  noethinks  his  flesh  is  punished, 
he  shall  have  no  desires. 

Page.  So  think  I  too. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Devise  but  how  you'll  use  him  when 
he  comes. 
And  let  us  two  devise  to  bring  him  thither. 

Mrs.  Page.  There  is  an  old  tale  goes,  that  Heme 
the  hunter. 
Sometime  a  keeper  here  in  Windsor  forest. 
Doth  all  the  winter  time,  at  still  midnight. 
Walk  round  about  an  oak,  with  great  ragg'd  honv ; 
And  there  he  blasts  the  tree,  and  takes^  the  cotde , 
And  makes  milch-kine  yield  blood,  and  shakes  a 

chain 
In  a  most  hideous  and  dreadful  manner. 
You  have  heard  of  such  a  spirit ;  and  well  you 

know, 
The  superstitious  idle-headed  eld^ 
Receiv'd,  and  did  deliver  to  our  age. 
This  tale  of  Heme  the  hunter  for  a  truth. 

(4)  Cry  out        (5)  Strikes.        (6)  Old  age. 


66 


MERRT  WIVES  OF  VnNDSGR. 


Pag§.  'Wli^,TettIierew»BtDOtnui7,4iat  dofear 
Id  deep  of  nignt  to  walk  bjr  this  Heme*!  oak : 
But  what  of  Uiis? 

Mrs.  Ford,         Many,  this  is  our  device ; 
That  FaUtaff  at  that  oak  shall  meet  with  us, 
Dimiis'd  like  Heme,  with  bu^e  horns  on  his  head. 

Part.  Well,  let  it  not  be  doubted  but  hcMl  conie, 
And  in  diis  slwpe :  When  yon  have  brought  him 

thither, 
What  diall  be  done  with  him  ?  what  is  your  plot  ? 

Jtfrt.  Pagt,  That  likewise   have  we    thought 
upon,  and  thus : 
Nan  Fsge  mj  daughter,  and  my  little  son, 
And  three  or  four  more  of  their  growth,  weMl  dress 
Like  tuchans,  oophes,!  and  fairies,  CTcen  and  while, 
Widi  roondi  of  waxen  tapers  on  tneir  heads, 
And  rattles  in  Aeir  hands ;  upon  a  sudden, 
As  Falttafi^  die,  and  I,  are  newly  met. 
Let  tiiein  firam  forth  a  saw>pit  rush  at  once 
With  soma  difiused^  song ;  upcn  their  sight. 
We  two  in  great  amazeoness  will  fly : 
Then  let  them  all  encircle  him  about. 
And,  ftdnr-Uke,  to  pinch  the  unclean  knight ; 
And  ask  nim,  why,  that  hour  of  fairy  revel. 
In  tfteir  so  sacrea  paths  he  dares  to  tread. 
In  shape  profane. 

Mrs.  Ford.         And  till  he  tell  the  truth, 
Let  the  supposed  fairies  pinch  him  sound,^ 
And  bom  Dim  with  their  tapers. 

Mrs.  Page.  The  truth  being  known, 

We*ll  all  present  ourselves ;  dis-hom  the  spirit, 
And  mock  him  home  to  Windsor. 

Ford,  The  children  must 

Be  practised  well  to  this,  or  theyMl  ne'er  do't 

JSoo.  I  will  teach  the  children  their  behaviours  ; 
and  I  will  be  like  a  jack-an-apes  also,  to  bum  the 
kniriit  with  my  taber. 

FML  That  will  be  excellent  Til  go  buy  them 
visards. 

Mbrs.  Page.  Mj  Nan  idudl  be  the  queen  of  all 
the  faines, 
Finely  attired  in  a  robe  of  white. 

Page.  That  silk  will  I  go  buy  ;~and  in  that  time 
Sball  master  Sloider  steal  my  Nan  away,  [Aside. 

And  many  her  at  Eton. Go,  send  to  Falstaff 

straight. 

Ford.  Nay,  FU  to  him  again  in  name  of  Brook  : 
HeMl  tell  me  all  his  purpose :   sure  heMl  come. 

Mrs.  Page.  Fear  not  you  that :  Go,  get  us  pro> 
perties,^ 
And  tricking  for  our  fairies. 

Eva.  Let  us  about  it :  It  is  admirable  pleasures, 
•nd  fery  honest  knaveries. 

[Exeunt  P&ge,  Ford,  and  Evans. 

Mrs.  Page.  Go,  mistress  Ford, 
Send  quickly  to  sir  John,  to  know  his  mind. 

[Exit  Mrs.  Ford. 
rU  to  the  doctor;  he  hath  my  rood  will. 
And  none  but  he,  to  marry  wi£  Nan  Page. 
That  Slender,  though  well  landed,  is  an  idiot ; 
And  he  my  husband  best  of  all  affects : 
The  doctor  is  well  moncyM,  and  his  friends 
Potent  at  court ;  he,  none  but  he,  shall  have  her, 
Though  twenty  thousand  worthier  come  to  crave 
her.  [Exit 

8CEJ>rE  v.— A  room  in  the  Garter  Inn.  Enter 
Host  and  Simple. 

Host.  What  would*st  thoa  have,  boor?  what, 

(1)  Elfs,  hobgoblins.        (2)  Wild,  discordant 
(3)  Soundly.    (4)  Nee  ssaries.     (5)  Cannibal    [ 


thick-ddn.^  speak,  bmflie,  diKOM;  brief;  riiort« 
quick,  snap. 

Sim.  Many,  ar,  I  come  to  ipeak  witfi  «r  Jiobi 
FaUlaff  from  master  Slender. 

Host.  There's  his  chamber,  his  house,  hit  eastk, 
his  Stan  ling-bed,  and  tmckle-bed ;  'tw  paiBled 
about  with  me  stoiT  of  the  prodigal,  fresh  and  new: 
(to,  knock  and  call ;  he*ll  speak  like  an  AnihrO' 
pophaginian^  unto  thee :  Knock,  I  say. 

tiim.  There's  an  old  woman,  a  fat  woman,  gone 
up  into  his  chamlx?r ;  I'll  be  so  bold  as  to  stay,  sir, 
till  she  come  down :  I  come  to  speak  with  her,  in- 
df?td. 

Host.  Ha !  a  fat  woman !  the  knight  may  be  rob- 
b(d:  I'll  calL^Bully  knight!  Bully  sir  John! 
speak  from  thy  lungs  military :  Art  thou  there  ^  it 
is  thine  host,  thine  Ephesian,  calls. 

FaL  [Above.]  How  now,  mine  host  ? 

Host.  Here's  a  Bohemian  Tartar  tarries  the 
coming  down  of  thy  fat  woman :  Let  her  descend, 
bullyTlet  her  descend :  my  chambers  are  honour- 
able :  Fie !  privacy  ?  fie ! 

Enter  FalstaiT. 

FaL  There  was,  mine  host,  an  old  fat  woman 
even  now  with  me ;  but  she's  gone. 

Sim.  Pray  you,  sir,  was't  not  the  wise^  womaa 
of  Brenlfora? 

Fa/.  Ay,  marry,  was  it,  muscle-shell;  What 
would  you  with  her  ? 

Sim^  My  master,  sir,  my  master  Slender,  sent  to 
her,  seeing  her  go  through  the  streets,  to  know,  sir, 
whether  one  Nym,  sir,  that  beguiled  him  of  a  chain, 
had  the  chain,  or  na 

FaL  I  spake  with  the  old  woman  about  it 

Sim.  And  what  says  she,  I  pray,  sir  ? 

FaL  Marry,  she  savs,  that  the  very  same  man, 
that  be^iled  master  Slender  of  his  chain,  cozened 
him  of  It 

Sim.  I  would,  I  could  have  spoken  with  the 
woman  herself;  I  had  other  things  to  have  spoken 
with  her  too,  from  him. 

Fal.  What  are  they  }  let  us  know. 

Host.  Ay,  come ;  quick. 

Sim^  I  may  not  conceal  them,  sir. 

Fal.  Conceal  them,  or  thou  diest 

Sim.  Why,  sir,  they  were  nothing  but  about 
mistress  Anne  Page ;  to  know,  if  it  were  my  mas- 
ter's fortune  to  have  her,  or  na 

Fat.  'Tis, 'tis  his  fortune. 

Sim.  What,  sir  } 

Fal.  To  have  her,— or  no :  Go ;  say,  the  woman 
told  me  sa  . 

Sim.  May  I  be  so  oold  to  say  so,  sir  f 

Fal.  Ay,  sir  Tike ;  who  more  bold  f 

Sim.  I  thank  your  worship :  I  shall  msJke  my 
master  glad  with  these  tiding.  [Exit  Simp\e. 

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

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

Enter  Bardolph. 

Bard.  Out,  alas,  sir !  cotenage !  meer  cozenagia  • 
Host.  Where  be  my  horses  ?  speak  well  of  them, 
varletta 
Bard.  Run  away  with  the  cozeners ;  for  so 

(S)  Cunning  woman,  a  fortune-teller. 
(7;  Scholar-like. 


MERBT  WIVIB  OF  WINDSOR 


67 


u  I  nine  bcjmil  Eho,  the;  ibnw  Dw  nS,  Troin 
behind  one  of  Ihem,  in  •  (loi^  of  mirF :  ac 
nun,  lud  awajr,  Ulig  thiw  Cennui  itLiits 

Hial.  The;  are  gwc  bni  la  meet  tb'  duk< 
lui :  do  not  my,  Ibejr  be  Oed ;  Ceimuu  biv  h 

Knltr  Sir  Hugh  Eruu. 


lHsv. 


lithe  I 


lebort? 


lend  or  mine  conw  Id  (own,  (ellh  i 
i>  Uiree  CDiuin  Gemiuia,  OiHl  bu  coun. 
liQflU  of  Readings^  of  MaidEllheAd,  of  I '. 
ofhonnuidDnie}'.  1  (ell  you  for  ■  - 
looh  joa :  joa  ue  nise,  and  fuLL  oi  -^ 

becaaoed:  Fu«  yoa  w«ll. 

Enirr  Doctor  Ctim. 

Oirtu.  Ven  l<  mine  HBtt  3e  Jarlen-r . 

Hatt  Hen,  muter  doctor,  io  perpli- 
daabtfnl  dilemnu. 

Qbiu.  I  cunol  Mil  III  ii  dgt :  but  \[ 
ne,  dut  jou  nuke  gnnd  pirpaialian  kt  • 
Jmnmany ;  by  ray  dot,  dere  Ia  do  duU^- 

Hud.  Hue  uid  rrj,  rillun,  gor~».' 
blight  {  I  un  undone ;— flj,  run,  hue  uid 
lin !  I  un  undone '.  [Eirant  Hum  •ini<  t 
Fml  1  would,  ill  the  world  m^l  U'  ' 
Air  1  hate  been  ixoenM  end  beaten  too.  1  r 
name  u  the  ear  of  the  court,  hon  I  li, 
IIaiHfonned,andhoiiniytranaromialiDfi  1. 
mdied  and  codnlied,  iher  > 


SCEJn:  n.— JnoOer  Roam  iitlheGartrr Inn. 

EhUt  Fentoo  and  HoM. 

Hoil.  Muter  Fentoo,  talk  D0(  to  me ;  my  mind 

fliZ'Vel  hear  me  ipetik:    Auiit  me  In  mr 


II,  ril  give  (bee 


Who,  muluall;,  hath  aiuwer' 
(So  far  forth  a>  herself  might  ix 
Even  to  mv  wish :  I  haie  a  letti 


in  gold,  in 


1  bear  to  fair  Anne  Page  j 


Of  »u 


laidedwi 


tnr  fatt  diop  b^  drop,  and  ] 
■nlh   me ;  I  warrant,  thej 


Thai  neither,  lingly,  can  be  mamfeMed, 
Without  the  ihow  of  bolh ;— wherein  fat  Falttal 
Hath  a  great  acene ;  the  image  of  Ihe  jut 

I'll  ihow  JOU  here  al  lai^e.     Hatk,  good  mine  hoi 
Towiight  ai  Henie'ioak,j<u(  'twixt  ttnha  u 

Must  my  sweel  Nan  preaent  Ibe  fairy  queen  { 
The  purpoae  why,  ii  bere  ■■?  in  wbicl)  di^^siie. 
While  other  jeiu  an  (unething  rank  on  (bat. 
Her  father  hath  commanded  her  10  dip 

Immediaiely  to  tnany;  )fae  hath  conoenled: 

Her  mother,  eien  ttimg  anioM  tinl  nntcb. 
And  firm  for  doctor  Caitu,  hath  appointed 
That  he  shall  Ukewise  thuffle  her  away, 
While  Ddiertponi  are  talking  i^  their  miodl. 
And  at  the  deanery,  where  a  prieil  atlenda, 
Straight  marry  her !  to  thil  her  mother's  plot 
She,  sfcmingly  obedient,  Uiiewtso  hath 


say  mj  prayen,  J  would 


I  lbntr,.r[-  III., 
^pcnl.- 


EnltrXrt.  Quickly. 
Now  !  itheiKC  come  ym  f 

Quirk.  From  Ihe  tiro  parties,  fonotf  h, 
FaL  Thederil  takeonepar^,  BndhiH  dnm  II 
tidier,  and  so  they  shall  be  bolll  bestowi'd  r  I  li^i 
•oflervd  iooi«  lor  Iheir  aaket,  more,  Ihnii  (li<-  \1 


QuuA.  And  haTe  not  they  nrfTerwl ,'  Yr- 
WArianI ;  specroualy  one  of  tnem ;  rnistrr-^-*  K< 
gcwd  heart,  is  beaten  black  and  blue,  tbiiE  wu  ( 
oot  aee  a  white  spot  sboul  bor. 

Fai.  V\'bat  tell'st  thou  me  of  black  and  hU-  '  I 
•TBI  beaten  mi-aelf  into  all  the  colours  uf  lli. 
bow,  and  I  wu  like  to  be  apprehend*  d  fi 
■vitfhof  Brenllbrd;  but  Ihalmi  sdmruMi' 
l«rilyi/wi[,  my  coanlerfeitii^  tbe  acliiiiM.ra 
^oanw,  deKver'd  me,  Ihe  knaiecooitiiili'  hi 
Dike  P  the  stocks,  i*  the  common  stocks,  f  »r  a  ^ 

^iek.    Sir,  let  me  speak  with  yipii  in 


:  joudallh. 


Hen 


*»TOgiod  togelbei 

•TvdmT ■' 

FtL  Ci 


'haL     Good  hearts,  what  ac 


She  shall 

(For  tliey  roust  all 

Thai,  quaint*  in  gn 

Wilh  ribbands  pem 

when  (beooct 


br  tbe  hand,  and  bid  her  a 
<  with  him : — ber  mother  bat! 


Topi 
Them 

Hon.  Which-raeana  she  to 

Fmi.  Both,  my  good  host,  t 

To  stay  for  me  at  churdi.  Iwi 

ited  ceremmy. 


md  Tiiaidcd,) 
II  be  looae  enrob'd. 
;'boul  ber  bead; 
lantage  ripe, 
I,  on  inal  token, 
logo  wilh  him. 
deceiref  falhar  or 

1  go  along  wilh  me ; 
irocuR  the  vicar 


To  give  our  hearti  united  ceremmy. 
.ffoif.  Well,  husband  yuur  derice;  I'll  to  ll 

II  not  lack  a  prim, 
be  bound  to  thee; 


Briiu;  you  tbe  mud,  y<u 

Feni.  So  ahall  I  evemi 

Beiides,  I'll  make  a  preH 


ACT  V. 

SCKXE  I.— A  Roaa  tn  Bu  Gorta  /nn.  EnUr 
FalsaffandJUn.  Quickly. 

fU.  P[j'lbe«,no  more  prattling ;— go. Pll 

(S)  In  die  letter.  (3)  FantaiUcally. 


it  Ihc  diinl 
mben.     Ah  , 


HERRT  WIVES  OF  WISDSOR. 


Qui'cA.  I'll  pmvtde  you  ■  c)u 
wbii  I  iMi  TO  get  you  ■  p«it  of  bi 


oui  TO  get  you  •  p(u 


Enfn-FonL 
nr  Brook  P  Mailer  Brook,  tbemnt 


'  froi^  ber,  ni 
Th*l  uinc  ki 


die  Pali  aboul  midnighl,  Bl  Henw't  <ak, 
ihtll  Ke  vrondcn. 

Ford.  Went  )  ot 
you  loldjne  you  bad  ■ppoinled' 

Foi  Ik ■- >= 

Brook,  like 
Ford  her  \ 

ly,  in  the  ghipc  at  H  wmwD ;  tor  in  the  shape 

1  am  in  haste;  go  along  with  me;  I'll  lei  I  mu  r 
diuler  Bruiik.     Since  I  plucked  geew,    )>b> 

lobe  beaten,  lilMatel}'.     Follow  me:  I'll  tell  y 
Mnnge  thingB  of  Ihaa  knave  Ford :  oa  whom 
Qjf;^!  1  will  be  revcnnd,  and  I  will  drhver  bis 
wUe  into  your  hand.— FolUnv  :  Stnnge  ihiu{p  in 
hand,  mailer  Brook  1  Iblloir.  [Ei 


Page.  Come,  comei  we'll  coucb  i'  Ae  rn-ilr-- 
dilch,  till  we  «e  the  liEhl  of  our  fairieL~Ii,^iiH.iii- 
ber,  Hn  Slender,  my  dai^ter- 

jJloL  Ay,  Ibrwath :  I  hare  ipoke  wilL  her,  and 
we  have  ■  [iaV'WDid,3hovr  1o  know  one  ancjUier. 

hv4gil ;  and  by  that  wc  know  one  anMher. 
Sud.  ThRt's  swd  too :  But  what  oeedii  rilhet 

C  mtim,  orher  byJgrl .'  Ibe  whilewill  daciplier 
veil  eriuugh. — It  hnlh  itruck  ten  o'tlock. 
Pagt.  The  night  Ls  dark;  light  and  spirit  will 
become  it  well.     Heaien  pnieper  our  iwi  I     fi<i 

him  by  hid  horna.     Let*i  away ;  Ibllow  iti:. 


Xri.  Page.  Muster  doctor,  my  daue},(Hr  i-  it. 

land,  away  with  her  lo  the  deanery,  and  t]f'.i]irLti  U 
t  quickly '  Go  beibrc  inio  the  park ;  wc  iwo  iiku^l 
■o  together. 


Mr,.  Pnec.  Fa«  you  well, 
Myhu.bandwillnotrojoice» 
orFalMslT.athewillcWeBl' 
ingmv  daughter:  buttia  non 
tie  chiding,  than  a  great  deal  n 

Jtfri.  /brA  Where 


Nan  now,  and  her 
«■  andUie  WeUhdeyil,  Hugh.' 
Page.  They  are  all  couched  in  a  pil 
le'ioak,  with  obacured  lighU;  whk 


■7  Hi 

(!)  K«ptolh«tii 


(J)  Waicb-word. 


t.'r^  iaitantf/FabtalTiaDdoormeetiii;,  Ibcy 
III  i<iire  dnplay  TO  Ibe  nigbL 
l/ri.  >brd.  ThatcunolclKnebuI  amaze  hin>. 
)/<-]    Page,  ir  he  be  no(  amaied,  he  will  U 
■Led;  if  he  be  amaied,  be  artll  every  tnj  In 


L  The  hour  dr 


iiiurpaoi;  be  pold,  1  prsy  you;  follow  me  io 
till-  pit ;  ;jnd  when  1  give  lAe  walch-'ordi,  do  at  i 
pid  ]  ou :  Come,  cwne ;  tiib,  liib.  [£xniitl. 


Fid.  The  Windsor  bell  hath  itnich  In 


wmeother,  amanabeBat. — You  wero  alflo,  Jupiter, 

liA'el  how  near  the  god  drew  to  Ihe  covnpleuon  of 
Dgoone  !— A  bull  done  Gisl  inthefonn  oiabeaM; 
'~0  Jinr,  a  beatdj-  fault !  and  then  another  faah 
in  ib>'  -.mblance  of  a  fowl ;  think  ont,  Jon  i  a 
r'mil  Iniili.— When  godi  have  bolbwki,  whaliball 

mill  (Ik-  fattest,  I  think,  i'  th«  Ibreit :  aend  me  a 
my'i^ilov!.'  Who  Jomei  ben i  my  doe? 
Saler  JUra.  Ford  owt  Jtfrl.  Page. 
jari.FanL  SrJobn?  art  tboa  Ihen,  my  deer  ? 


'Fal.  My  doe  wilh  (he  black  Kill  ?— Let  tbe  iky 
'  I  putstoea,  let  it  Ihumlcr  TO  the  tune  of  Great 
—    i^ii  »-i--ng^roinfits,  a] 


ru.  bail  b. 

rmf  hert. 

s.  rord:    MisU 


[Ernliracing  her. 


Divide  roe  like  a  bribe-buck,  each  a  havJ 
k.rpmv  sides  lo  myself,  my  ibouldertfui 
I  of  diis  walk,  and  my  hnrtn  1  bequralh  ; 

— Why,  now  is  CupST'chil 


[.Voi> 


Ilk,  the  devil  will  not  have 


le  should  SCI 


vuuiti  n> 

Enfrr  .Sir  Hugh  Event,  ;i'tviiwryr,-Jlfr>.  Quicklv 
and  Kitol ;  Anne  Page,  lu  Ou  Fairy  Quem,  nf- 
fcnifcd  by  htr  brallitr  and  elhen,  drraed  likt 
/airttSt  \Dith  aaxen  iaperi  on  ihtir  hnuU, 
Quick.  Faiiiei,  black,  gicy,  green,  and  white, 
(3)  Keeper  of  die  fbi»I. 


Semt  V, 


BCERRT  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


69 


Yoa  moon^ine  rerellen,  and  shades  of  nigfat, 
You  orphan-heirs  of  fixed  destinj, 
Attend  your  office,  and  joar  qualit/.l  <~— 
Crier  hobgoblin,  make  the  fairy  o-yes. 
PxaL  Elves,  list  jrour  names ;  silence,  yoa  aiiy 
toys. 
Ondui^  to  Windsor  chimneys  shalt  thou  leap : 
Where  fires  thou  find^st  unrak'd,  and  hearths  un- 

swept. 
There  pinch  tne  maids  as  blue  as  bilberry  :3 
Oar  radiant  queen  hates  sluts,  and  sluttery. 
FaL  They  are  fieiiries ;  he,  that  speaks  to  them, 
shall  die. 
Pll  wink  and  couch :  No  man  their  works  must  eye. 

\Lms  down  upon  his  face. 
Eva.  Where's  Pede  ? — Go  you,  and  where  you 
find  a  maid. 
That,  ere  she  sleep,  has  thrice  her  prayers  said, 
Raise  up  the  organs  of  her  fantasy. 
Sleep  me  as  sound  as  careless  infancy ; 
Bat  those  as  sleep,  and  think  not  on  their  uns, 
Pindi  them,  arms,  l^s,  backs,  shoulders,  sides, 
and  shins. 
Quidi;.  About,  about ; 
Seiuch  Windsor  castle,  eWes,  within  and  out : 
Strew  good  luck,  ouphes,  on  every  sacred  room ; 
That  it  may  stand  till  the  perpetual  doom, 
In  state  as  wholesome,  as  m  state  'tis  fit ; 
Worthy  the  owner,  and  the  owner  it. 
The  several  chairs  of  order  look  you  scour 
With  juice  of  balm,  and  every  precious  flower : 
Eadi  fair  instalment,  coat,  and  several  crest, 
With  loyal  blazon,  evermore  be  blest ! 
And  nightly,  meadow-fairies,  look,  you  sing, 
Lake  to  the  Garter's  compass,  in  a  nng : 
Tike  expressure  that  it  bears,  green  let  it  be. 
More  fertile-fresh  than  all  the  field  to  see ; 
And,  Hony  soit  qui  mal  y  pense^  write, 
lo  emerald  tufls,  flowers  purple,  blue,  and  white ; 
Like  sapphire,  pearl,  ana  rich  embroidery,  i 

Buckled  below  fair  knighthood's  bendine  knee :   > 
Fairies  use  flowers  for  their  charactery.*  \ 

Away ;  disperse  :  But,  till  'tis  one  o'clock, 
Ov  dance  of  custom,  round  about  the  oak 
Of  Heme  the  hunter,  let  us  not  foi^t 
Eva.  Pray  you,  lock  hand  in  hand ;  yourselves 
in  order  set : 
And  twenty  glow-worms  shall  our  lanterns  be, 
To  guide  our  measure  round  about  the  tree. 
Bat,  stay  ;  I  smell  a  man  of  middle  earth. 

FaL  Heavens  defend  mc  from  that  Welch  fairy, 
lest  he  transform  me  to  a  piece  of  cheese ! 
Pisi.  Vile  worm,  thou  wast  o'er-look'd  even  in 

thy  birth. 
Quick.  With  trial-fire  touch  me  his  finger  end  : 
If  he  be  chaste,  the  flame  will  back  descend. 
And  turn  him  t6  no  pain  ;  but  if  he  start. 
It  is  the  flesh  of  a  corrupted  heart. 
J^ist.  A  trial,  come. 

Mlva.  Come,  will  this  wood  take  fire  ? 

[They  bum  him  unih  their  tapers. 
Fal.  Oh,  oh,  oh  ! 

Quick.  Corrupt,  corrupt,  and  tainted  in  desire  ! 
About  him,  fairies;  sing  a  scornful  rhyme  : 
And,  as  you  trip,  still  pinch  him  to  your  time. 

Eva.  it  is  right ;  indeed  he  is  full  of  lecheries  and 
iniquity. 

SONG. 

Fie  on  sinful  fantasy  ! 
Fit  on  hut  and  luxury  ! 


(1)  Fellowship. 
(3)  The  letters. 


(2)  Whortlebeny. 


Lust  is  but  a  bloody  fre. 
Kindled  with  unchaste  desire^ 
Fed  in  heart ;  whosefames  asjnrCj 
As  thoughts  do  blow  ihem^  higher  and  higher. 
Pinch  him^  fairies  J  mutually  ; 
Pinch  him  for  his  villany  ; 
Pinch  him,  and  bum  him^  and  turn  him  ahout^ 
Till  candles^  andstar-lighi,  andmoojtshine,  be  out. 

During  this  song,  the  fairies  pinch  Falstaff.  i)oC' 
tor  Caius  comes  one  way^  and  steals  away  a  fairy 
in  green ;  Slender  another  way,  and  takes  off"  a 
fairy  in  white ;  and  Fenton  comes,  and  steals 
auMu  Mrs.  Anne  Page.  A  noise  qf  hunting  is 
made  within.  All  the  fairies  run  away.  Fal- 
staff pulls  qff  his  budfs  htad^  and  rises. 

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

Page.  Nay,  do  not  fly :  I  think,  we  have  watch'd 
you  now; 
Will  none  but  Heme  the  himter  serve  your  turn  f 

Mrs.  Page.  I  pray  you,  come ;  hold  up  the  jest 
no  higher ; — 
Now,  g^ood  sir  John,  how  like  you  Windsor  wives  f 
See  you  these,  husband  ?  do  not  these  fair  yokes^ 
Become  the  forest  better  than  the  town  ^ 

Ford.  Now,  sir,  who's  a  cuckold  now  ? — ^Master 
Brook,  Falstaflf 's  a  knave,  a  cuckoldly  knave ;  hero 
are  his  horns,  master  Brook :  And,  master  Brook, 
he  hath  enjoyed  nothing  of  Ford's  but  his  buck- 
basket,  his  cudgel,  and  twenty  pounds  of  money ; 
which  must  be  paid  to  master  Brodc ;  his  horses 
are  arrested  for  it,  master  Brook. 

Mrs.  Ford.  Sir  John,  we  have  had  ill  luck ;  we 
could  never  meet  I  will  never  take  yrni  for  my 
love  again,  but  I  will  always  count  you  my  deer. 

FaL  I  do  begin  to  perceive  that  I  am  made  an 
ass. 

Ford.  Ay,  and  an  ox  too;  both  the  proofs  are 
extant 

Fal.  And  these  are  not  fairies  f  I  was  three  or 
four  times  in  the  thought,  the^  were  not  fairies : 
and  yet  the  guiltiness  of  my  mmd,  the  sudden  sur- 
prise of  my  powers,  drove  the  gronness  of  the  fop- 
pery into  a  received  belief,  in  despite  of  the  teeth 
of  all  rhyme  and  reason,  that  they  were  fairies. 
See  now,  how  wit  may  be  made  a  Jack-a-lent, 
when  'tis  upon  ill  employment! 

Eva.  Sir  John  Falstaff,  serve  Got,  and  leave 
your  desires,  and  fairies  will  not  pinse  you. 

Fhrd.  Well  said,  fairy  Hu^h. 

Eva.  And  leave  you  your  jealousies  too,  I  pray 
you. 

Ford.  I  will  never  mistrust  my  wife  again,  till 
thou  art  able  to  woo  her  in  good  English. 

FaL  Have  I  laid  my  brain  in  the  sun,  and  dried 
it,  that  it  wants  matter  to  prevent  so  poss  o'er- 
reaching  as  this  ?  Am  I  ridaen  with  a  Welch  ^t 
too  ?  Shall  I  have  a  coxcomb  of  frize  ?*  'tis  time 
I  were  choaked  with  a  piece  of  toasted  cheese. 

Eva.  Seese.  is  not  good  to  give  putter;  your 
pelly  is  all  putter. 

Fal.  Seeie  and  putter !  Have  I  lived  to  stand  at 
the  taunt  of  one  that  makes  fritters  of  English  ? 
This  is  enough  to  be  the  decay  of  lust  audlate- 
walking,  through  the  realm. 

Mrs.  Page.  Why,  sir  John,  do  you  think,  though 
we  would  have  thrust  virtue  out  of  our  hearts  by 

(4)  Homs  which  Falstaff  had. 

(5)  A  fool's  cap  of  Welch  materials. 


70 


BIERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


Ad  r. 


the  head  and  flhoalders,  and  have  given  ounelves 
without  scruple  to  hell,  that  ever  the  devil  could 
have  made  vou  our  delight? 

Ford.  What,  a  hodge-pudding?  a  bag  of  flax? 

Mrs,  Page.  A  pufled  man  ? 

Page.  Old,  cola,  withered,  and  of  intolerable 
entrails. 

Ford.  And  one  that  ii  as  slanderooa  as  Satan  ? 

Page.  And  as  poor  as  Job  ? 

Ford.  And  as  wicked  as  his  wife  ? 

Eva.  And  given  to  fornications,  and  to  taverns, 
and  sack,  and  wine,  and  methe|^lins,  and  to  drink- 
ings,  and  swearings,  and  stanngs,  pribbles  and 
prabbles  ? 

FaL  Well,  I  am  your  theme :  you  have  the  start 
of  me ;  I  am  dejected ;  I  am  not  able  to  answer 
the  Welch  flannel ;  ignorance  itself  is  a  plummet 
o*er  me :  use  me  as  you  will. 

Ford.  Marry,  sir,  we'll  bring  you  to  Windsor, 
to  one  master  Brook,  that  you  have  cozened  of 
money,  to  whom  you  should  have  been  a  pander : 
over  and  above  that  you  have  suffered,  I  mink,  to 
repay  that  money  will  be  a  biting  affliction. 

Jwrt.  Ford.  Nay,  husband,  let  that  go  to  make 
amends: 
Fomve  that  sum,  and  so  we*ll  all  be  (nends. 

ford.  Well,  here's  my  hand;  all's  forgiven  at 
last. 

Page.  Yet  be  cheerful,  knight :  thou  shalteat  a 
poaset  to-night  at  my  house ;  where  I  will  desire 
thee  to  lau^  at  my  wife,  that  now  laughs  at  thee : 
Tell  her,  master  Slender  hath  married  her  daughter. 

Mrt.  Page.  Doctors  doubt  that :  If  Anne  Ptire 
be  my  dau^ter,  she  is,  by  this,  doctor  Caius*  wife. 

[Aside. 

Enter  Slender. 

Slen.  Whoo,  ho !  ho !  father  Pftge ! 

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

Slen.  Despatched — I'll  make  the  best  in  Gloces- 
tershire  know  on't ;  would  I  were  hanged,  la,  else. 

Page.  Of  what,  son  ? 

Sim.  I  came  yonder  at  Eton  to  manr  mistress 
Anne  Page,  and  she's  a  great  lubberly  boy  :  If  it 
had  not  ^en  i'  the  church,  I  would  have  swinged 
him,  or  he  should  have  swinged  me.  If  I  did  not 
think  it  had  been  Anne  Page,  would  I  might  never 
•tir,  and  'tis  a  post^master^  boy. 

Page.  Upon  my  life  then,  you  took  the  wrong. 

Slen.  What  need  you  tell  me  that  ?  I  think  so, 
when  I  took  a  boy  for  a  girl :  If  I  had  been  mar- 
ried to  him,  for  all  he  was  in  woman's  apparel,  I 
would  not  have  had  him. 

Page.  Why,  this  is  your  own  folly.  Did  not  I 
tell  you,  how  you  should  know  my  daughter  by  her 
garments  ? 

SUn.  I  went  to  her  in  white,  and  cry'd  mum, 
and  she  cry'd  budget^  as  Anne  and  I  had  appointed ; 
and  yet  it  was  not  Anne,  but  a  post-masters  boy. 

Eva.  Jeshu!  Master  Slender,  cannot  you  see 
but  marry  poys  ? 

Page.  O,  I  am  vexed  at  heart :  What  shall  I  do  ? 

Mrs.  Page.  Good  George,  be  not  angiy:  I 
knew  of  your  purpose ;  turned  mv  daughter  into 
ereen ;  and,  indeed,  she  is  now  with  the  doctor  at 
we  deanery,  and  there  married. 

Enter  Caius. 
Cams  Yere  is  mistress  Page?  By  gar,  I  am 

(1 ;  Confound  her  by  your  questions.    (2)  Avoid. 


cocened;  Iha'marriedim£iar((m,aboy;  unpui- 
jan,  by  gar,  a  boy ;  it  is  not  Anne  Page :  by  gar,  I 
am  cozened. 

Mrs.  Page.  Why,  did  vou  take  her  in  green  ? 

Oaku.  Ay,  be  gar,  ancf  'tis  a  boy  :  be  gar.  111 
raise  all  Windijor.  [Exit  Caius. 

Ford.  This  is  strange  :  Who  hath  got  the  right 
Amie? 

Page.  My  heart  misgives  me :  Here  comes  mas- 
ter Fenton. 

Enter  Fcnioa  and  Anne  Page. 

How  now,  master  Fenton  ? 

Anne.  Pardon,  good  lather !  good  my  mother 
pardon! 

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

Mrs.  Page.  Why  went  you  not  with  master  doc- 
tor,  maid  ? 

Fent.  You  do  amaze^  her :  Hear  the  truth  of  it 
You  would  have  married  her  mosst  shamefully. 
Where  there  was  no  proportion  held  in  love. 
The  truth  is,  t»he  and  I,  long  since  contracted. 
Are  now  so  sure  that  nothing  can  dissolve  us. 
The  oflence  is  holy,  that  she  bath  committed : 
And  this  deceit  loses  the  name  of  craft. 
Of  disobedience,  or  unduteous  title ; 
Since  therein  she  doth  evitate^  and  shun 
A  thousand  irreligious  cursed  hours, 
Which  forced  marriage  would  have  brought  upon 
her. 

Ford.  Stand  not  amaz'd :  here  is  no  remedy : — 
In  love,  the  heavens  themselves  do  guide  the  state ; 
Money  buys  lands,  and  wives  are  sold  by  fate. 

Fat.  I  am  glad,  though  you  have  ta'en  a  special 
stand  to  strike  at  me,  that  your  arrow  hath  glanced. 

Page.  Well,  what  remedy?    Fenton,  heaven 
give  thee  joy ! 
What  cannot  be  eschew'd,  must  be  cmbrac'd. 

Fal.  When  night-dog^  run,  all  sorts  of  deer  are 
chas'd. 

Eva.  I  will  dance  and  eat  plumbs  at  your  wed- 
ding. 

Mrs.  Page.  Well,  I  will  muse  no  further: — 
Master  Fenton, 
Heaven  give  you  many,  many  merry  days  ! 
Good  husband,  let  us  every  one  go  home. 
And  laugh  this  sport  o'er  by  a  country  fire ; 
Sir  John  and  all. 

Ford.  Let  it  be  so : — Sir  John, 

To  master  Brook  you  yet  shall  hold  vour  word ; 
For  he,  to-night,  snail  lie  with  Mrs.  l^ord. 

[Exeunt 


Of  this  play  there  is  a  traditicm  preserved  by  Mr. 
Rowe,  that  it  was  written  at  the  command  of 
Queen  Elizabeth,  who  was  so  delij^hled  with  the 
character  of  Falstafl",  that  she  wished  it  to  be  dif- 
fused through  more  plays;  but  suspecting  that  it 
might  pall  by  continueil  uniformity,  directed  the 
poet  to  divcreify  his  manner,  by  showing  him  in 
love.  No  task  is  harder  than  that  of  writuig  to  the 
ideas  of  another.  Shakspeare  knew  what  thequr^^, 
if  the  story  be  true,  seems  not  to  have  known,  that 
by  any  real  passion  of  tenderness,  the  selfish  cmft, 
the  careless  jollity,  and  the  lazy  luxury  of  Falstaff 
must  have  suflered  so  much  abatement,  that  little 
of  his  former  cast  would  have  remained.  Falstaff 
could  not  love,  but  by  ceasing  to  be  Falstaff.     He 


MERRY  WIVES  OF  WINDSOR. 


71 


coald  cn]7COcinterfeitlore,and  hisproTeMions  could 
be  prompted,  not  bj  the  hope  of  pleasure,  but  of 
mooej.  Thus  the  poet  approached  as  near  at  he 
ooold  to  die  work  enjoined  him ;  yet  having  per- 
hapa  in  the  ibnner  pmjs  completed  his  own  idea, 
teems  not  to  have  been  able  to  gire  FalstafT  all  his 
Ibnner  power  of  entertainment 

Tfaia  corned  J  is  remarkable  for  the  variety  and 
Biimber  of  the  personaees,  who  exhibit  more  char- 
acters appropriated  and  discriminated,  than  per- 
haps can  be  found  in  anj  other  play. 

Whether  Shakspeare  was  the  first  that  produced 
upon  the  English  stage  the  eflect  of  language  dis- 
torted and  depraved  by  provincial  or  foreign  pro- 
'itioQ,  I  cannot  certainly  decide.    This  inode 


of  forming  ridiculous  characters  can  confer  praise 
only  on  him  who  orkinally  discovered  it,  for  it  re- 
quires not  much  of  either  wit  or  jud^ent;  its 
success  must  be  derived  almost  wholly  from  the 
player,  but  its  power  in  a  akillul  mouth,  even  he 
that  despises  it,  is  unable  to  resist 

The  conduct  of  this  drama  is  deficient ;  the  ac- 
tion begins  and  ends  often,  before  the  conclusion, 
and  the  dififerent  parts  might  change  places  with- 
out inconvenience ;  but  its  general  power,  that 
power  by  which  all  works  of  genius  shall  finally  be 
tried,  is  such,  that  peihsps  it  never  yet  had  reader 
or  spectator  who  cud  not  tlunk  it  too  sooo  at  the 
end. 

JOHNSON. 


TWELFTH-NIGHT;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 

Orrioo,  duke  oflUyria. 

Sebastian,  a  young  geniltman,  brother  to  Viola, 

Antonio,  a  tea-captain^ /riend  to  Sebastian. 

A  iea-€aptam,yriend  to  Viola. 

Corio/"^  I  S^"*'^^^"'*^^  attending  on  the  duke. 

Sir  Tobr  nelch,  unde  ofOUvia. 
Sir  Ancfrew  Ague-cheek. 
Malvolio,  steward  to  OUvia, 

Ckni^  <  '^'^^"^^  ^  Olivia. 


Olivia,  a  rich  countess. 
Viola,  in  Uwe  with  the  duke. 
Maria,  Olivia^s  woman. 


Lords,  priests  f  sailors^  officers,  musicians,  and 
other  attendants. 


Scene,  a  city  in  lUyria ;  and  the  sea-coast  near  it 


ACT  I. 

SCRNE  I. — An  apartment  in  the  Duke's  palace. 
Enter  Duke,  Curio,  Lords ;  musicians  aiietiding. 

Duke. 

IF  music  be  the  food  of  love,  play  on. 
Give  me  excess  of  it ;  that,  surteiting. 

The  appetite  may  sicken,  and  so  die. 

Tliat  strain  again ; — ^it  had  a  dying  fall : 
0,  it  came  o*er  my  ear  like  the  sweet  south, 
Tliat  breathes  upon  a  bank  of  violets, 
Stealing,  and  giving  odour. — Enough ;  no  more , 
*Tis  not  so  sweet  now,  as  it  was  before. 
0  spirit  of  love,  how  quick  and  fresh  art  diou  ! 
That  notwithstanding  thy  capacity 
Receiveth  as  the  sea,  nought  enters  there. 
Of  what  validity^  and  pitch  soever. 
But  &lls  into  abatement  and  low  price. 
Even  in  a  minute !  so  full  of  shapes  is  fancy. 
That  it  alone  is  high-fantastical.3 
Cur.  Will  you  go  hunt,  my  lord  ? 
Duke.  What,Cuno? 

Our.  The  hart 

Duke.  Why,  so  I  do,  the  noblest  that  I  have : 
OfWbeo  mine  eyes  did  see  Olivia  first, 
Methougfat,  she  purgM  the  air  of  pestilence ; 
That  instant  was  I  tum*d  into  a  hart ; 
And  m^  desires,  like  fell  and  cruel  hounds, 
E'er  smce  pursue   me. — How  now.^  what  news 
from  her  ^ 

Enter  Valentine. 

^^  So  please  my  lord,  I  might  not  be  admitted, 
But  froin  her  handmaid  do  return  this  answer : 
The  element  itself,  till  seven  years  heat,* 
^1^1  not  behold  her  fece  at  ample  view ; 
S  ^^  *  cloistress,  she  will  veiled  walk, 
^^  water  once  a  day  her  chamber  round, 
Wifli  ejenifiending  brine  :  all  this,  to  season 
^^heft  dead  love,  which  she  would  keep  fresh, 
AM^Ia8tin|,  in  her  sad  remembrance. 

Duke.  0,  she  that  hath  a  heart  of  that  fine  frame, 
To  pay  this  debt  of  love  but  to  a  brother. 
How  will  she  love,  when  the  rich  golden  shaft 

0)  Value.        (2)  Fantastical  to  the  height 


Hath  killM  the  flock  of  all  affections  else 
That  live  in  her !  when  liver,  brain,  and  heart, 
These  sovereign  thrones,  are  all  supplied,  and  filVd, 
(Her  sweet  perfections,)  with  one  self  king ! — 
Away  before  me  to  sweet  beds  of  flowers ; 
Love-thoughts  lie  rich,  when  canopied  with  bowers. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  II.— The  sea-coast.    Enter  Vk)la,  Cap- 
tain, and  Sailors. 

Vio.  What  country,  friends,  is  this  ^ 

Cap.  niyria,  lady. 

Fto.  And  what  should  I  do  in  Illyria? 
My  brother  he  is  in  Elysium. 
Perchance,  he  is  not  drowned : — ^What  think  yon, 
sailors  ? 

Cap.  It  is  Derchance,  that  you  yourself  were 
saved. 

Vio.  O  my  poor  brother!  and  so,  perchance, 
may  he  be. 

Cap.  True,  madam :  and,  to  comfort  you  with 
chance. 
Assure  yourself,  after  our  ship  did  split. 
When  you,  and  that  poor  number  saved  with  you, 
Hung  on  our  driving  ooat,  I  saw  your  brother. 
Most  provident  m  peril,  bind  himself 
(Courage  and  hope  both  teaching  him  the  prac- 
tice) 
To  a  strong  mast,  that  lived  unon  the  sea ; 
Where,  like  Arion  on  the  dolpnin^s  back, 
I  saw  him  hold  acquaintance  with  the  waves, 
So  long  as  I  could  see. 

Vio.  For  saying  so,  there's  gold  : 

Mine  own  escape  unfoldeth  to  my  hope. 
Whereto  thy  speech  serves  for  authonty. 
The  like  of  him.     Know'st  thou  this  country  ^ 

Cap.  Ay,  madam,  well;  for  I  was  bred  and 
bom. 
Not  three  hours*  travel  from  this  very  place. 

Vio.  Who  governs  here .' 

Cap.  A  noble  duke,  in  nature. 

As  in  his  name. 

Vw.  What  is  his  name  ? 

Cap.  Orsina 

Vio.  Orsino !  I  have  heard  my  father  name  him : 
He  was  a  bachelor  then. 

(3)  Heated. 


74 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


Act  L 


Cap.  And  so  is  now, 

Or  was  so  ven-  late ;  for  but  a  nionth 
A^o  I  went  from  hence ;  and  then  ^tvras  fresh 
In  murmur  (as,  you  know,  what  rreat  ooes  do, 
The  less  will  prattle  of,)  that  be  did  seek 
The  love  of  fair  Olivia. 

Vio.  What's  she  ? 

Cap.  A  virtuous  maid,  the  daughter  of  a  count 
That  died  some  twelvemonth  since;  then  leaving 

her 
In  the  protection  of  his  son,  her  brother. 
Who  shortly  also  died :  for  whose  dear  love. 
They  say,  she  hath  abJurM  the  company 
And  sight  of  men. 

Vio.  O,  that  I  served  that  lady ; 

And  might  not  be  delivered  to  the  world. 
Till  I  had  made  mine  own  occasion  mellow, 
What  my  estate  is. 

Cap.  That  were  hard  to  compass ; 

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

Vio.  There  is  a  fair  behaviour  in  thee,  captain  ; 
And  though  that  nature  with  a  beauteous  wall 
Doth  oft  close  in  pollution,  yet  of  thee 
I  will  believe,  thou  hast  a  mind  that  suits 
With  this  thy  fair  and  outward  character. 
I  pray  thee,  and  I'll  pay  thee  bounteously. 
Conceal  me  what  I  am ;  and  be  my  aid 
For  such  disguise  as,  haply,  shall  become 
The  form  of  my  intent    I'll  serve  this  duke  ; 
Thou  shah  present  me  as  a  eunuch  to  him, 
It  may  be  worth  thy  pains ;  for  1  can  sing. 
And  speak  to  him  in  many  sorts  of  music. 
That  will  allow'  me  vciy  worth  his  service. 
AVhat  else  may  hap,  to  time  I  will  commit ; 
Only  shape  thou  thy  silence  to  my  wit 

Cap.  Be  you  his  eunuch,  and  your  mute  ni  be  : 
When  my  tongue  blabs,  then  let  mine  eyes  not  see  ! 

Vio.  I  thank  thee :  lead  me  on.  \Extunt. 

SCEJSTE  ITT.—A  room  in  Olivia's  house.     En- 
ter Sir  Toby  Belch,  and  Maria. 

Sir  To.  What  a  plague  means  my  niece,  to  take 
the  death  of  her  brother  thus  ?  I  am  sure,  care's 
an  enemy  to  life. 

Mar.  By  troth,  sir  Toby,  you  must  come  in 
earlier  o'  nights ;  your  cousin,  my  lady,  takes  great 
exceptions  to  your  ill  hours. 

Sir  T\>.  Why,  let  her  except  before  excepted. 
,    Mar.  Ay,  but  you  must  confine  yourself  within 
the  modtist  limits  of  order. 

Sir  To.  Confine  ?  I'll  confine  myself  no  finer  than 
I  am  :  these  clothes  are  good  enough  to  drink  in, 
and  so  be  these  booL^  too;  ah  they  be  not,  let 
them  hanp  themselves  in  their  own  straps. 

Mar.  That  quaffing  and  drinking  will  undo  you  : 
I  heard  my  lady  talk  of  it  yesterday ;  and  of  a 
foolish  knight,  that  you  brought  in  one  night  here, 
to  be  her  wooer. 

Sir  To.  Who  ?  Sir  Andrew  Ague-cheek  ? 

Mar.  Ay,  he. 

Sir  To.  He's  as  talP  a  man  as  any's  in  Illyria. 

Mar.  Wlmt's  that  to  the  purpose  r 

Sir  To.  Why,  he  has  three  thousand  ducats  a 
year. 

Mar.  Ay,  but  he'll  have  but  a  year  in  all  these 
ducats ;  he's  a  very  fool,  and  a  prodigal. 

Sir  To.  Fie,  tliat  you'll  say  so !  he  plays  o'  the 
viol-de-gumbo,  and  si|)eaks  tliree  or  four  languages 
word  for  word  witliout  book,  and  hath  all  the  good 
gifts  of  nature. 


(1)  Approve. 


(2)  Stout. 


Mar.  He  hath,  indeed, — almost  natural :  for, 
besides  that  he's  a  fool,  he's  a  g^reat  quarrvUer ; 
and,  but  that  he  hath  the  gift  of  a  coward  to  allay 
the  gust  he  hath  in  quarrelling,  'Us  thought  amoo^ 
the  prudent,  be  would  quickly  have  the  gift  cMf  a 
grave. 

Str  To.  By  this  hand,  they  are  scoundreU,  and 
substractors,  that  say  so  of  him.     W'ho  are  ther  f 

Mar.  They  that  add  moreover,  he's  drunk  night- 
ly in  your  company. 

Sir  7*0.  With  drinking  healths  to  my  niece ;  PlI 
drink  to  her,  as  long  as  there  i»  a  passage  in  my 
throat,  and  drink  in  Illyria  :  he's  a  coward,  and  a 
coystril,'  that  will  not  drink  to  my  niece,  till  his 
brains  turn  o'  the  toe,  like  a  parish-top.  W^hat, 
wench  ?  Castiliano  vulgo ;  for  here  comes  sir  An- 
drew Ague-face. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew  Ague-cheek. 

Sir  And.  Sir  Toby  Belch !  how  now,  air  Toby 
Belch? 

Sir  To.  Sweet  sir  Andrew  ! 

Sir  And.  Bless  you,  fair  shrew. 

Mar.  And  you  too,  sir. 

Sir  To.  Accost,  sir  Andrew,  accost 

Sir  And.  What's  that? 

Sir  To.  My  neice's  chamber-maid. 

Sir  And.  Good  mistress  Accost,  I  desire  better 
acquaintance. 

Mar.  My  name  is  Mary,  sir. 

Sir  And.  Good  mistress  Mary  Accost, 

Sir  To.  You  mistake,  knight :  accost,  is,  (root 
her,  board  her,  woo  her,  assail  her. 

Str  And.  By  my  troth,  I  would  not  tmdertake 
her  in  this  company.  Is  that  the  meaning  of  accost  ? 

Mar.  Fare  you  well,  gentlemen. 

Sir  To.  An  thou  let  part  so,  sir  Andrew,  Vould 
thou  might'st  never  draw  sword  again. 

Sir  And.  An  you  part  so,  mistress,  I  would  I 
inis^ht  never  draw  sword  again.  Fair  lady,  do^'ou 
think  ^  ou  have  fools  in  hand  r 

Mar.  Sir,  I  have  not  you  by  the  hand. 

Sir  And.  Marry,  but  you  shall  have;  and  berets 
my  hand. 

Mar.  Now,  sir,  thought  is  firee :  I  pray  you, 
bring  your  hand  to  the  butteiy-bar,  and  let  it  dnnk. 

Sir  And  W^hereforo,  sweetheart?  what's  y out 
metaphor  ? 

Juar.  It's  drr,  sir. 

Sir  And.  }^  hy,  I  think  so ;  I  am  not  such  an  ass, 
but  I  can  keep  my  hand  dry.  But  what's  your  jest? 

Mar.  A  dry  jest,  sir. 

Sir  And.  Are  you  full  of  them  ? 

Mar.  Ay,  sir ;  I  have  them  at  my  fingers*  ends : 
marry,  now  I  let  go  your  hand,  I  am  barren. 

[Exit  Maria. 

Sir  To.  O  knight,  thou  lack'st  a  cup  of  canaiy  : 
when  did  I  see  thee  so  put  down  ? 

Sir  And.  Never  in  your  life,  I  think;  unless 
you  see  canary  put  me  down:  methinks,  some- 
times I  have  no  more  wit  than  a  Christian,  or  an 
ordinar)-  man  has  :  but  I  am  a  great  eater  of  beef, 
and,  I  believe,  tlmt  does  harm  to  my  wit 

Sir  To.  No  question. 

Sir  And.  An  I  thought  that,  I'd  forswear  it  I'll 
ride  home  to-morrow,  sir  Toby. 

Sir  To.  Pourqttoyj  my  dear  knight  ? 

Sir  And.  What  is  pourquoy?  door  not  do?  I 
would  I  had  bestowed  that  time  in  the  tongmes, 
that  I  have  in  fencing,  dancing,  and  bear-baitinr  * 
O,  had  I  but  fallowed  the  arts .' 

(3)  Keystril,  a  bastard  hawk. 


Scale  /r,  r. 


TWELFTH-NIGHT  J  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


?6 


Sir  To,  Then  hadst  tiioa  had  an  excellent  head 
of  hair. 

Sir  AnL  Why,  would  ttiat  have  mended  my  hair? 

Hir  To.  Past  question ;  for  thoa  seest,  it  will  not 
curl  by  nature. 

Sir  And.  But  it  becomes  me  well  enough,  does*! 
not? 

Sir  7\>.  Excellent ;  it  hangs  like  6ax  on  a  dis- 
tal}'; and  I  hope  to  see  a  housewife  take  thee  be- 
tween her  legs,  and  spin  it  off. 

Sir  And.  'Faith,  I'll  home  to-morrow,  sir  Toby : 
your  niece  will  not  be  seen ;  or,  if  she  be,  it*8  four 
ID  one  she'll  none  of  me :  the  count  himself,  here 
oard  by,  woos  her. 

Sir  7b.  She*)l  none  o*  the  count:  she'll  not 
match  above  her  d^ree,  neither  in  estate,  rears, 
nor  wit;  I  have  hei^  her  swear  it  Tut,  mere's 
life  in't,  man. 

Sir  And.  I'll  stay  a  mcMith  longer.  I  am  a  fel- 
low o*  the  strangest  mind  i'  the  world ;  I  delight  in 
masques  and  revels  sometimes  altc^ether. 

Su^  7\>.  Art  thou  good  at  these  kick-shaws, 
knight? 

Sfir  And.  As  any  man  in  Illyria,  whatsoever  he 
be,  under  the  degree  of  my  t)etter8 ;  and  yet  I  will 
not  compare  with  an  old  man. 

Sir  To.  \^liat  is  thy  excellence  in  a  galliard, 
knight? 

Sir  And.  'Faith,  I  can  cut  a  caper. 

Sir  To.  And  I  can  cut  the  mutton  to't 

Sir  And.  And,  I  think,  I  have  the  back-trick, 
Mmply  as  strong  as  any  man  in  Ill3rria. 

Sir  To.  Wherefore  are  these  things  bid  ?  where- 
fore have  these  gifts  a  curtain  before  them  ?  are 
they  like  to  take  dust,  like  mistress  Mall's  picture  ? 
^Vhy  dost  thou  not  go  to  church  in  a  galliard, 
and  come  home  in  a  coranto?  My  very  walk 
should  be  a  jig ;  I  would  not  so  much  as  make 
water,  but  in  a  sink-a-pace.'  What  dost  thou 
mean?  is  it  a  world  to  hide  virtues  in  ?  I  did  think, 
hy  the  excellent  constitution  of  thy  leg,  it  was 
fonned  under  the  star  of  a  galliard. 

Sir  And.  Ay,  'tis  strong,  and  it  does  indifferent 
*veU  in  a  flame-coloured  stock.^  Shall  we  set  about 
«iiie  revels  ? 

Sir  To.  WTiat  shall  we  do  else  ?  were  we  not 
horn  under  Taurus  ? 

Sir  And.  Taurus  ?  that's  sides  and  heart 

S«r  To.  No,  sir ;  it  is  legs  and  thighs.    Let  me 
*^  thee  caper :  ha !  higher :  ha,  ha !— -excellent ! 

[Exeunt. 

*GEJVE  JV.—A  room  in  the  Duke's   palace. 
Mmier  Valentine,  and  Viola  in  nam's  attire. 

V'aL  If  the  duke  continue  these  favours  towards 
JXMiy  C^Koio,  you  are  like  to  be  much  advanced  ; 
«c  iiath  known  you  but  three  days,  and  already 
yoti  are  no  stranger. 

^^to.  You  either  fear  his  humour,  or  my  negli- 
S^noe,  that  you  call  in  question  the  continuance  of 
uw  love :  is  he  inconstant,  sir,  in  his  favours  ? 

^^<aL  No,  believe  me. 

TMar  Duke,  Curio,  and  attendants. 

^^.  I  thank  you.     Here  comes  the  count 
I^vJu.  Who  saw  Cesario,  ho  ? 
^to.  On  your  attendance,  my  lord ;  here. 
^hike.  Stand  you  awhile  aloof. — Cesario, 
Thou  know'st  nq  less  but  all ;  I  have  unclasp'd 


(1)  Cinque-jMce^  the  name  of  a  dance. 
})  Stockina^.  (3)  Go  thy  way. 

,4)  Full  of  impediments. 


To  thee  the  book  even  of  mv  secret  soul : 
Therefore,  good  youth,  address  thy  eait'  unto  her ; 
Be  not  deny'd  access,  stand  at  her  doors. 
And  tell  than,  there  thy  fixed  foot  shall  grow. 
Till  thou  have  audience. 

Fto.  Sure,  my  noble  lord. 

If  she  be  so  abandon'd  to  her  sorrow 
As  it  is  spoke,  she  never  will  admit  me. 

Duke.  Be  clamorous,  and  leap  all  civil  bounds. 
Rather  than  make  unprofited  return. 

Fio.  Say,  I  do  speak  with  her,  my  lord ;  what 
then? 

Duke.  O,  then  unfold  the  passion  of  m^  love, 
Surprise  her  with  discourse  oif  my  dear  feith : 
It  shall  become  thee  well  to  act  my  woes ; 
She  will  attend  it  better  in  thy  youth, 
Than  in  a  nuncio  of  more  grave  aspect 

Fio.  I  think  not  so,  my  lord. 

Dvke.  Dear  lad,  believe  it ; 

For  they  shall  yet  belie  thy  happy  years 
That  say,  thou  art  a  man :  Diana's  lip 
Is  not  more  snKX>th  and  rubious ;  thy  small  pipe 
Is  as  the  maiden's  organ,  shrill  and  sound. 
And  all  is  semblative  a  woman's  part 
I  know,  thy  constellation  is  right  apt 
For  this  anair : — Some  four,  or  five,  attend  him ; 
All,  if  you  will ;  for  I  myself  am  best. 
When  least  in  company : — Prosper  well  in  this, 
And  thou  shalt  live  as  freely  as  thy  lord, 
To  call  his  fortunes  thine. 

Vio.  ril  do  my  best, 

To  woo  your  lady :  yet  [Aside.]  a  barful*  strife ! 
Whoe'er  I  woo,  myself  would  be  his  wife. 

[Elxeuni. 

SCEJ>rE  F.—A  room  in  Olivia's  house,    EnUr 
Maria  and  Clown. 

Mar.  Nay,  either  tell  me  where  thou  hast  been, 
or  I  will  not  open  my  lips  so  wide  as  a  bristle  may 
enter,  in  way  of  thy  excuse  :  my  lady  will  hang 
thee  for  thy  absence. 

Clo.  Let  her  hang  me :  he,  that  is  well  hanged 
in  this  world,  needs  to  fear  no  colours. 

Mar.  Make  that  good. 

Ch.  He  shall  see  none  to  fear. 

Mar.  A  good  lenten*  answer :  I  can  tell  Aee 
where  that  frying  was  bom,  of,  IJear  no  colours. 

Clo.  Where,  good  mistress  Mary  ? 

Mar.  In  the  wars ;  and  that  may  you  be  bold  to 
say  in  your  foolenr. 

Clo.  Well,  God  give  them  wisdom,  that  have  it . 
and  those  that  are  fools,  let  them  use  their  talents. 

Mar.  Yet  you  will  be  hanged,  for  being  so  long 
absent:  or,  to  be  turned  away,  is  not  that  as  good 
as  a  hanging  to  you  ? 

Ch.  Many  a  good  hanging  prevents  a  bad  mar- 
riage ;  and,  for  turning  away,  let  summer  bear  it 
out 

Mar.  You  are  resolute  then  ? 

Clo.  Not  so  neither ;  but  I  am  resolved  on  two 
points.* 

JIfrtr.  That,  if  one  break,  the  other  will  hold ; 
or,  if  both  break,  your  gaskins  fall. 

Clo.  Apt,  in  good  faith  ;  verj'  apt !  Well,  go  thy 
way  ;  if  sir  Toby  would  leave  drinking,  thou  wert 
as  witty  a  piece  of  Eve's  flesh  as  any  in  Illyria. 

Mar.  Peace,  you  rogue,  no  more  o'  that ;  here 
comes  my  lady:  make  your  excuse  wiselv^ou 
were  best  [Exit. 

(5)  Short  and  spare. 

(6)  Points  were  hooks  which  fastened  the  hose  or 
breeches. 


76 


TWELFTH-NIGHT;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WHJL 


Ad  L 


Enter  OUtU  and  Malvolio. 

Go.  Wit,  an*t  be  thj  will,  pat  me  into  gpod  fool- 
um !  Those  wits,  that  think  they  hare  thee,  do  very 
on  prore  fools ;  and  I,  that  am  sure  I  lack  thee, 
mnr  pass  lor  a  wise  man :  for  what  says  Quinapa- 

lot  r  Better  a  witty  ibol,  than  a  foolish  wit God 

bleat  thee,  lady ! 

OIL  Take  the  fool  away. 

do.  Do  you  not  hear,  fellows  ?  take  away  the 
bdr. 

(ml  Go  to,  yoa  are  a  dir  fool ;  HI  no  more  of 
yoa  :  besides,  vou  grow  disnooest 

Clo.  Two  faults,  madonna,!  that  drink  and  good 
coonael  will  amend :  for  give  the  dir  fool  dinnk, 
dieo  is  the  fool  not  dry ;  bid  the  dishonest  mend 
himself;  if  he  mend,  he  is  no  longer  dishonest;  if 
be  cannot,  let  the  botcher  mend  him :  any  thing, 
tbat*s  mended,  is  but  patched :  \irtue,  that  trans- 
gresses, is  but  patched  with  sin;  and  sin,  that 
amends,  is  but  patched  with  virtue :  if  that  this  sim- 
ple sylloginn  will  serve,  so ;  if  it  will  not,  what  re> 
medy  ?  As  there  is  no  true  cuckold  but  calamity, 
•o  beauty *8  a  flower : — the  lady  bade  take  away 
die  fool ;  therefore,  I  say  again,  take  her  away. 

(ML  Sir,  I  bade  them  take  away  you. 

Clo.  Misprision  in  the  highest  degree  ! — Lady, 
Uueuilut  nonfacU  numachum;  that's  as  much  as 
to  say,  I  wear  not  motley  in  my  brain.  Good  ma- 
donna, give  me  leave  to  prove  you  a  UxA. 

(Hi.  Can  you  do  it  ? 

Clo.  Dexterously,  good  madonna. 

OIL  Make  your  proot 

Clo.  I  must  catechixe  you  for  it,  madonna ;  good 
my  mouse  of  virtue,  answer  me. 

OIL  Well,  sir,  for  want  of  other  idleness,  PU 
'bide  your  proof. 

do.  Good  madonna,  why  moum*st  thou  .^ 

OU.  Good  fool,  for  my  brother's  death. 

do.  I  think,  his  soul  is  in  hell,  madonna. 

OIL  I  know  his  soul  is  in  heaven,  fool. 

Clo.  The  more  fool  you,  madonna,  to  mourn  for 
jour  brother's  soul  being  in  heaven. — Take  away 
the  fool,  gentlemen. 

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

Mai.  Yes ;  and  shall  do,  till  the  pangs  of  death 
shake  him :  infirmity,  that  decays  the  wise,  doth 
ever  make  the  better  fool. 

do.  God  send  you,  sir,  a  speedv  infirmi^,  for 
the  better  increasing  voiir  fully !  Sir  Toby  will  be 
sworn,  that  I  am  no  rox ;  but  he  will  not  pass  his 
word  for  two-pence  that  you  are  no  fool. 

OK.  How  say  you  to  that,  Malvolio  ? 

MU.  I  marvel  your  ladyship  takes  delight  in 
•uch  a  barren  rascal :  I  saw  him  put  down  the 
other  day  with  an  ordinary  fool,  that  has  no  more 
brain  than  a  stone.  Look  you  now,  he's  out  of  his 
guard  already :  unless  you  laugh  and  minister  oc- 
casion to  him,  he  is  gagged.  I  protest,  I  take  these 
wise  men,  that  crow  so  at  these  set  kind  of  fools,  no 
better  than  the  fools'  zanies.^ 

OU.  O,  you  ore  sick  of  self-love,  Malvolio,  and 
taste  with  a  distempered  appetite.  To  be  generous, 
guiltless,  and  of  free  di^iposition,  is  to  take  those 
uiings  for  bird-bolts,'  that  you  deem  cannon-bul- 
lets :  there,  is  no  slander  in  an  allowed  fool,  though 
he  do  nothing  but  rail ;  nor  no  railing  in  a  known 
discreet  man,  though  be  do  nothing  but  reprove. 

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

ri)  Ttalian,  mistress,  dame.     (2)  Fools*  baublei. 
(3)  Short  arrows.     (4)  Lying. 


/Ze-enler  Maria. 

Mar.  Madam,  there  is  at  the  gate  a  joa^  gen- 
tleman, much  desires  to  speak  with  yoa. 

OU.  From  the  count  Orsino,  is  it  ? 

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

OU.  Who  of  my  people  hold  him  in  delay  ? 

Mar.   Sir  Toby,  madam,  your  kinsman. 

OU.  Fetch  him  off,  1  pray  you ;  he  speaks  no- 
thing but  madman :  fie  on  him!  [Exit  Maria.]  Go 
you,  Malvolio  ;  if  it  be  a  suit  from  the  count,  I  am 
sick,  or  not  at  home ;  what  yoi:^will,  to  dismtss  it 
[Exit  Malvolio.]  Now  you  see,  sir,  bow  yoor  fool- 
ing grows  old,  and  people  dislike  it. 

Clo.  Thou  hast  spoke  for  us,  madonna,  as  if  thj 
eldest  son  should  be  a  fool :  whose  skull  Jove  cram 
with  brains,  for  here  he  comes,  one  of  thy  kin,  has 
a  most  weak  pia  mattr.^ 

£n/CT- Sir  Toby  Belch. 

OU.  By  mine  honour,  half  drunk. — What  is  he 
at  the  gBte,  cousin .' 

Sir  To.  A  gentleman. 

OIL  A  gentleman .'  What  gentleman  } 

Sir  To.  'Tis  a  gentleman  here — A  plague  o* 
these  {Mckle-hernngs  ! — How  now,  sot  ? 

Clo.  Good  sir  Toby, 

OU.  Cousin,  cousin,  bow  have  yoa  come  so  earij 
by  thiij  lethaig;)-  f 

Sir  To.  Lechery  !  I  defy  lecheiy :  there^s  one 
at  the  gate. 

OU.  Ay,  marry ;  what  is  he  .^ 

Sir  To.  Let  him  be  the  devil,  an  be  will,  I  care 
not :  give  me  faith,  say  I.    Well,  it's  all  ooe. 

[Exit 

OU.  What's  a  drunken  man  like,  fool  f 

Clo.  Like  a  drown'd  man,  a  fool,  and  a  mad- 
man :  one  draught  above  heat  makes  him  a  fool ; 
the  second  mads  him ;  and  a  third  drowns  hinL 

OU.  Go  thou  and  seek  the  coroner,  and  let  him 
sit  o'  my  coz ;  for  he's  in  the  third  d^ree  of  drink, 
he's  drown'd  :  go,  look  aAer  him. 

do.  He  is  but  mad  yet,  madonna ;  and  the  fool 
shall  look  to  the  madman.  [Exit  Clown. 

Rt-tnUr  Malvolia 

MaL  Madam,  yond  young  fellow  swearahe  will 
speak  with  you.  I  told  him  you  were  sick ;  he  takes 
on  him  to  understand  so  much,  and  therefore  comes 
to  speak  with  you  :  I  told  him  you  were  asleep ;  be 
seems  to  have  a  fore-knowledge  of  that  too,  and 
therefore  comes  to  speak  with  you.  W^hat  is  to  be 
said  to  him,  lady  }  he's  fortified  against  any  denial. 

OU.  Tell  him,  he  shall  not  speak  with  mc. 

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

OU.  Wbat  kind  of  man  is  he  .' 

MaL  WTiy,  of  man  kind. 

OU.  What  manner  of  man  } 

Mai.  Of  very  ill  manner :  he'll  speak  with  you, 
will  you,  or  na 

Ofi.  Of  what  personage,  and  years,  is  he  ? 

Mai.  Not  yet  old  enough  for  a  man,  nor  yoang 
enough  for  a  boy  ;  as  a  squash  is  before  'tis  a  peas- 
cod,  or  a  codling  when  'tis  almost  an  apple :  'tis 
with  him  e'en  standing  water,  between  ooy  and 
man.  He  is  very  well-favoured,  and  he  speaks 
veiT  shrewishly;  one  would  think,  his  mother's 
milk  were  scarce  out  of  him. 

(5)  The  cover  of  the  brain. 


r. 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ,  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


77 


Ofi.  Let  him  approach:  call  in  my  gentlewoman. 
MaL  Gentlewoman,  my  ladj  calU.  [Ejtt 

/2e-«nfer  Maria. 

(ML  Give  me  mj  veil :  ccHue,  throw  it  o*er  mj 
£Ace; 
We*!!  once  more  hear  Orsino*8  embaas  j. 

Enter  Viola. 

Fio.  The  honourable  ladj  of  the  houae,  which 
lithe.' 
OIL  Speak  to  me,  I  shall  answer  for  her.    Your 

Fto.  Most  radiant,  exquisite,  and  onmatchable 
beaotj, — ^I  pray  you,  tell  roe,  if  this  be  the  lady  of 
the  house,  for  1  never  saw  her :  I  would  be  loath  to 
cast  away  my  speech ;  for,  besides  that  it  is  excel- 
leatly  well  pennM,  I  have  taken  great  pains  to  con 
it    Good  beauties,  let  me  sustain  no  scorn ;  I  am 
very  comptible,i  even  to  the  least  sinister  usage. 
(mL  Whence  came  you,  sir  ? 
Fio.  I  can  say  little  more  than  I  have  studied, 
and  that  question's  out  of  my  part     Good  gentle 
one,  give  me  modest  assurance,  if  you  be  the  lady 
of  tiie  house,  that  I  may  proceed  in  my  speech. 
(XL  Are  you  a  comedian .' 
Fio.  No,  my  profound  heart :  and  yet,  by  the 
Tttj  fiuigs  of  malice,  1  swear,  I  am  not  that  I  play. 
Are  Tou  the  lady  of  the  house  f 
Ou.  If  1  do  not  usurp  myself,  I  am. 
Fio.  Most  certain,  if  you  are  she,  you  do  usurp 
yourself;  for  what  is  yours  to  bestow,  is  not  yours 
to  reserve.  But  this  is  from  my  commission :  I  will 
oo  with  my  speech  in  your  praise,  and  then  show 
JOB  the  heart  of  my  message. 

(ML  Come  to  what  is  important  in*t :  I  forgive 
yoQ  die  praise. 

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

OU.  It  is  the  more  like  to  be  feigned ;  I  pray  you 
keep  it  in.  I  heard,  you  were  saucy  at  my  gates : 
■BQ  allowed  your  approach,  rather  to  wonder  at  you 
4an  to  hear  you.   If  you  be  not  mad,  be  gone ;  if 
yotthave  reason,  be  brief:  *tis  not  that  time  of 
moon  with  me,  to  make  one  in  so  skipping  a  dia- 
fcgtte. 
JSar.  Will  you  hoist  sail,  sir.'  here  lies  your  way. 
Fto.  No,  good  swabber :  I  am  to  hull  here  a  lit- 
^  knger. — Some  mollification  for  your  giant,^ 
iwect  lady. 
OK.  Tell  me  your  mind. 
Fto.  I  am  a  messenger. 

Oh*.  Sure,  you  have  some  hideous  matter  to  de- 
firer,  when  the  courtesy  of  it  is  so  fearful  Speak 
your  office. 

Fto.  It  alone  concerns  your  ear.  I  brin^  no 
o^oture  of  war,  no  taxaticm  of  homage  ;  I  hold  the 
olive  in  my  hand :  my  words  are  as  full  of  peace 
V  matter. 

OK.  Yet  you  began  rudely.  What  are  you.' 
what  would  you .' 

Fto.  The  rudeness,  that  hath  appearM  in  me, 
*^«  I  leam'd  from  my  entertainment  What  1  am, 
•od  what  I  would,  are  as  secret  as  maid^mhead :  to 
y*'^*ftiti  divinity  ;  to  any  other's,  profanation. 
J^  Give  us  the  place  alone  :  we  will  hear  this 
™^.  [£xi<  Maria.]  Now ;  sir,  what  is  your  text .' 
F».  Most  sweet  lady, 

(J)  Accountable. 

C*)Jt a{>pears  from  several  parts  of  this  play, 
*■*  we  original  actress  of  Mana  was  very  short 

6 


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

Fto.  In  Orsino's  boscnn. 

OU.  In  his  bosom  ?  In  what  chapter  of  his  bosom .' 

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

OU.  O,  I  have  read  it ;  it  is  heresy.  Have  you 
no  more  to  say .' 

Fto.  Good  madam,  let  me  see  your  face. 

OU.  Have  you  any  ccmimission  from  your  lord  to 
negociate  with  my  face .'  you  are  now  out  of  your 
text :  but  we  will  draw  the  curtain,  and  show  you 
the  picture.  Look  you,  sir,  such  a  one  as  I  was 
this  present  •}  is't  not  well  done .'  [Unveiling. 

Vio.  Excellently  done,  if  God  did  all. 

OU.  'Tis  in  gram,  sir ;  'twill  endure  wind  and 
weather. 

Fto.  'Tis  beauty  truly  blent,^  whose  red  and 
white 
Nature's  own  sweet  and  cunning  hand  laid  on : 
Lady,  you  are  the  cruell'st  she  alive, 
If  you  will  lead  these  graces  to  the  grave, 
And  leave  the  world  no  copy. 

OU.  O,  sir,  I  will  not  be  so  hard-hearted;  I  will 
give  out  divers  schedules  of  my  beauty  :  it  shall  be 
inventoried;  and  every  particle,  and  utensil,  la- 
belled to  my  will :  as,  item,  two  lips  indifierent  red ; 
item,  two  grey  eyes,  with  lids  to  them ;  item,  one 
neck,  one  chin,  and  so  forth.  Were  you  sent 
hither  to  'praise  me .' 

Fto.  I  see  you  what  you  are :  you  are  too  proud  \ 
But,  if  you  were  the  devil,  you  are  fair. 
My  lord  and  master  loves  you ;  O,  such  love 
Could  be   but  recompens'd,  though    you    wer» 

crown'd 
The  nonpareil  of  beauty ! 

OU.  How  does  he  Im'e  me  ? 

Fto.  With  adorations,  with  fertile  tears. 
With  groans  that  thunder  love,  with  sighs  of  fire. 

OU.  Your  lord  does  know  my  mind,  I  cannot 
love  him : 
Yet  I  suppose  him  virtuous,  know  him  noble. 
Of  great  estate,  of  fresh  and  stainless  youth ; 
In  voices  well  divulg'd,^  free,  leam'd,  and  valiant 
And,  in  dimension,  and  the  shape  of  nature, 
A  gracious  person  :  but  yet  I  cannot  lo\-e  him ; 
He  might  have  took  his  answer  long  ago. 

Fto.  If  I  did  love  you  in  my  master's  flame,. 
With  such  a  suffering,  such  a  deadly  life, 
In  your  denial  I  would  find  no  sense, 
I  would  not  understand  it. 

OU.  WTiy,  what  would  you  i 

Vio.  Make  me  a  willow  cabin  at  your  gate, 
And  call  upon  my  soul  within  the  house ; 
Write  loyal  cantons*  of  contemned  love, 
And  sing  them  loud  even  in  the  deaxi  of  night ; 
Holla  your  name  to  the  reverberate'  hills, 
And  make  the  babbling  gossip  of  the  air 
Cry  out,  Olivia !    O,  you  should  not  rest 
Between  the  elements  of  air  and  earth. 
But  you  should  pity  me. 

Oli.  You  might  do  much :  What  is  your  parent^ 
age .' 

Fto.  Above  my  fortunes,  yet  my  state  is  well : 
I  am  a  gentleman. 

OU.  Get  you  to  your  lord ; 

I  cannot  love  him  :  let  him  send  no  more  ; 
Unless,  perchance,  you  come  to  me  again. 
To  tell  me  bow  he  takes  it  >  Fare  you  well : 

(3)  Presents.         (4)  Blended,  mixed  togetlier.    . 

(5)  Well  spoken  of  by  the  world. 

(6)  Cantos,  verses.        (1)  Echoing. 


78 


TWELrTH-XlGHT;  OB,  WHAT  TOC  WILL. 


JUtU 


IftMk  ra  fcr  rnvpMM:  ncnd  ifaii  far 

Lvre  aBfejK  hoi  a«a.-t  oc  flax,  tokz  j<«  ifiaH  lore : 
Aad  le<  f/sr  ienoc;.  Lkc  mr  nwwrrr^iu  be 
nac^C  a  cf-xAonpe !  Fafrw«C  fair  cratitT. 
OtL  WsAt  »  TOOT  pu»nsa£«  r 

/  «■»  «  rrmtirmam. — — I'li  t*  iwcra  Cua  art : 


mtaitT. 


Ia««,lat 


Tlbr  Uc^'^Jie,  Crr  £m:#-,  tbr  kbb*,  ac-tjcn*,  and  tpsit. 

Do  pTt  'c«M;   ^Tit-f^   bUxOQ  :^ — 3iuC   tCiO  bat  : — 

iri: .'  WJ& . 
L'akBi*  the  mucer  were  die  mail. — How  nam  ? 
ErcB  M  (^jKkiT  naj  one  caicii  the  pia^ve .' 
MdhJuk*,  I  ibfcl  t£«*  Tcmfa**  ptiiecbooa. 
With  an  iormt/>:  aod  wbcie  fCealth, 
To  creep  in  at  mioe  evet.     Well,  let  it  be. — 
H'bat,bcs51alTc4io!— 

iZe-eaiier  Mahdkx 

.MftL  Here,  madam,  at  roar  •errke. 

(ML  Rod  after  ifaat  nme  peeritb 
TIk;  coaatT  V  man  :  be  itft  um  rio^  bebina  him, 
Woiiidl,orool:  teU  kam.  Ill  oooe  of  O. 
Dam  him  not  to  flatter,  infb  hts  lord, 
fior  hciU  him  op  vritfa  bcupet :  I  am  ooc  ibr  him : 
If  that  the  jooth  trill  come  ibit  «raj  to-morro«r, 
I*U  eire  him  reaaom  for'L     Hie  tbee,  Slaltroba 

MaL  Madam,  I  vilL  [Exit 

OIL  I  do  I  koovr  doc  what :  and  fear  to  find 
Mine  ere  too  great  a  flatterer  ibr  mr  mind. 
Fate,  tooir  tbr  fbrce  :  oorielret  ire' do  not  tme  ^ 
What  it  decreied,  moft  be ;  aod  be  dat » !  {EjcU. 


ACT  n. 

SCELYE  L—The  teorCoasL    Emler  Antooio  ami 

Sebastian. 

Ani.  Will  roa  staj  no  loi^;er  ?  nor  will  roa  not, 
that  I  go  with  jou  ? 

Seb.  By  your  patience,  no :  inr  ftar«  shine  dark- 
If  orer  me ;  the  malignanry  of  my  fate  m^t, 
perhaps,  distemper  rours  ;  tberefine  I  shall  crare 
of  you  jour  leave,  that  1  majr  bear  mj  erils  alone  : 
it  were  a  bed  recompense  ibr  your  lore,  to  lay  any 
of  them  OQ  you. 

Jlni.  Let  me  yet  know  of  yon,  whither  yon  are 
bound. 

Seb.  No,  *sooth,  sir ;  my  detennnate  royage  is 
mere  extraragancy.  But  1  perceive  in  you  so  ex- 
cellent a  touch  of  modesty,  tnat  you  will  not  extort 
from  me  what  I  am  willii^  to  keep  in  ;  therefore 
it  charges  me  in  manners  the  rather  to  expresfi^ 
myselfl  You  must  know  of  me  then,  Antonio,  my 
name  is  Sebastian,  which  I  called  Rodorigo ;  my 
(ather  was  that  Sebastian  of  Messaline,  whom  1 
know,  yfiu  have  heard  of:  he  left  behind  him, 
myself,  and  a  sister,  both  bom  in  an  hour.  If  the 
heavens  had  been  pleased,  *would  we  had  so 
ended  !  but  you,  sir,  altered  that ;  for,  some  hour 
before  you  took  me  from  the  breach  of  the  sea,  was 
my  sister  drowned. 

Ant.  Alas,  the  day  ! 

•SV6.  A  lady,  sir,  though  it  vras  said  she  much 
resembled  me,  was  yet  of  many  accounted  beauti- 
ful :  but,  though  I  could  not,  with  such  estimable 
wonder,  orerfar  believe  that,  yet  thus  far  1  will 
boldly  publish  her,  she  bore  a  mind  that  enry  could 

(l)  Messei^r.      (2)  Proclamatioa  of  gentility. 
(3)  Count      (4)  Own,  possess.      (5)  Itereal 


A»L  Pa.<OA 

&■'^.  O,  rx.c.  AsJkMux 

.-laf.  If  roc 
be  joczitrrkz.1, 

Sei.  l*  j<m.  wC.  wot.  v>do  what  re 

'ia:  a,  kLL  fion  mryjOk  %  x.  baie  recoreted, 

::  nr.c     Fa*e  n  weU  at  coce :  mr  botom  is  foil  of 

kaodaesft:  aaa  1  am  T«t  »  near  12ie 

OKCker.  that  cpm  v:it  itasi  occaaixi  more, 

tyti  wdi  tell  t2je»  ci  me.     I  am  boond  lo  die 

cooes  OrsDo'i  oxn  :  LLnewelL  [ExiL 

■     .4ai.Tbesent«sK#oK'aLibegod»gowitlidfeBe! 

I  have  many  cfxmtei- si  Orsaao* court. 

Cue  wxid  I  very  «bcn!r  sec  dtee  there : 

Bet,  ccote  what  may,  I  (k>  adcre  thee  so. 

That  danger  ^ballictjn^ioct,  aad  I  will  gOL  [£c£L 
I 

SCE,\'E  U.—A  strttt    Emler  Viola ;  Blaholio 

/oliottiMg. 


Md.  Were  not  roa  crcn  now  with  ifae 
Olivia? 

fio.  Even  DOW,  sr;  oo  amodentepaoelbwre 
abce  armed  bat  bitber. 

MaL  Sberemra$diisriBgtoyoQ,w:  jvnwai^tA 
hare  saved  me  mr  pains  to  have  taken  it  away 
rooxseUl  She  adds  moreorer,  that  roa  dmrid  pirt 
your  lord  into  a  desperate  assmanoe  she  will 
of  him:  and  one  ihmg  more:  that  ym  be 
so  hardr  to  come  again  in  his  a&iia,  unless  it  be  to 
report  roar  lonTs  taking  of  tfats.     Reccire  it  sou 

r»o.'  She  took  d>e  ling  of  me:  PU  nooe  of  it 

MaL  Come,  sir,  roa  peeriihiT  tlirew  it  to  ber ; 
and  ber  will  is,  it  sboald  be  so  retnnied :  if  it  be 
worth  stoopine  for,  tbere  it  lies  in  y oar  eye;  if  not, 
be  it  his  that  Inds  it  [£xtf. 

rto.l  left  no  ring  with  her:  what  meam  this  lady? 
Fortune  forbid,  my  out«ide  hare  not  chaimM  har  I 
She  made  good  riew  of  me;  indeed, so  much. 
That,  sore,  methooght,  ber  eyes  bad  kxt  her 

tongne. 
For  she  did  speak  in  starts  dtstrectedl j. 
She  kires  me,  sure :  the  cannii^  of  lier 
Invites  me  in  this  churlish  messenger. 
None  of  my  lord*s  ring !  why,  he  sent  ber 
I  am  the  inan  ; — if  it  be  so  (as*tis,^ 
Poor  lady,  she  were  better  lore  a  oream. 
Diiigui^fe,  I  see,  thou  art  a  wickedness. 
Wherein  the  pregnant^  enemy  does  moch. 
How  easy  is  it,  for  the  proper-false^ 
In  woroen*9  waxen  beaks  to  set  their  forms ! 
Alas  !  our  frailty  is  the  cause,  not  we ; 
For,  such  as  we  are  made  of^  such  we  be. 
How  will  this  fadge  .^  My  master  loves  her  dearly; 
And  I,  poor  monster,  fond  as  much  on  him ; 
And  she,  mistaken,  seems  to  dote  on  me : 
What  will  become  of  this .'  As  1  am  man. 
My  state  b  desperate  for  my  master's  lore ; 
As  I  am  woman,  now  alas  the  dav  ! 
Wliat  thriftless  sighs  shall  poor  Olivia  breathe? 
O  time,  thou  most  untangle  this,  not  I ; 
It  is  too  hard  a  knot  for  me  to  untie.  [£attt 

SCEJV^  III— A  roam  m  Olivia's  haust,  EMkr 
Sir  Toby  Belch,  anJ^Str  Andrew  Ague-cheek. 

Sir  To.  Approach,  sir  Andrew :  not  to  be  a-bed 
aAer  midnight,  is  to  be  up  betimes ;  and  dUumUo 
surgere^  thoii  know'st, 

(6)  Dexterous,  ready  floid. 

(7)  Fair  deceiver.        (8)  Suit 


TWELFTH-NIGHT  j  OE,  WHAT  TOO  WHX. 


Sir  Alii.  NiT,  b]^  1117  tmlh,  I  b 

knoVf  hj  be  up  latef  it  (0  be  up  late. 

Sir  To.  A  W«  - — '  - '-  ■  '  "- 


up  after  midni^t,  and  to  <^.p  t 


.    ffM  I'lt 


'bed  then,  u  earlj ; .»  Ibat,  la  go  10 


id  drinkiog. 
Sir  Th.  Tboaarlagcholar;  let  lu  tbereAjr'. 
■cd  drink. — Maris,  I  uy '. a  iioop  of  w,ue 


SirAnd.  Hen  conilhe  fool,  i'lailb. 

Ob.  Howunr,  mjheani?  Did  you  s 
like  picture  of  we  three  ?t 

5d-  7^  Vltltxmt,  WH.  Hon  let'i  hare 

SirAnd.  Bjr  1117  troth,  the  Ibolhai  an  t 
breut.'  I  had  niher  Ihan  forty  ihillingi  1  I 
It  1e$ ;  and  K>  twKt  a  brrsth  to  uag,  u 
bu.     la  »o1h,  thou  wasi  in  very  ^r^ioui 


in:  letonrcaldiba,I^h«i> 

DighlF  1 
e,knif;faL 
vuticm'd 

it  bi^iM, 


SirAad.  Eia 
^,  when  all  k  doi 
Sir  7a.  Come  a 

iel't  hare  a  aoi*. 
SirAnd.  There' 

Ch.  Would  yoa  bare  a  Io>e4oDg,  or  1  nng  of 


there  it  sipence  for  : 
a  tealril  of  nw  loo;    if 


SirAnd.  Ay,  ay;  Icsre  notlbrgDodlib. 
SONG. 
Clok  O  mittrar  nme,  where  are  you  rocaning  ? 
O,  ^m  and  hear ;  jiovr  Irat  too^t  comini 

not  can  ling  hith  higk  and  Itac  .- 
Trip  nayiirtAer, pretty  tweeting; 
JtmrKty  end  in  Imeri'  metling. 

Every  wtM  man^t  ttm  dalh  hioa. 
SirAnd.  Eiccllent  good,  iTiilh. 
Sir  To.  Good,  good. 
0%a.  JV/ialiilonr  'tit  nat hereafter  : 

P^oeni  mirth  SaihpreatTiJ  lavghter; 

moTi  Is  come,  it  tlUl  uniurt ; 
In  delay  there  lia  no  pknly  : 
Tlwn  com  kitt  me  laeet-iaid-taenly, 
r<nU'i  a  ttuff"  tcili  not  endta-e. 
SirAnd.   A  mellillaoiu  mice,  aa  I  am    ( 

SirTo.  A caitagknt breath. 

SirAnd.  Very  iweet  and  contanoui,  i'fnilh. 

*>ro.  Tohearbythenc       '   '    '  '     " 


n^     Bal  th>tl  ire  mal 


the  Dighl-owl  in  a  1: 


..  1  hliall  ivier  begin,  if  I  hold  my  f 

■  And.  (lujd,  i'Eiiith  '.  Cone,  begin. 

[T-Aqranj 

£n<n- Maria. 

•r.  Wbiit  a  callerwaulinr  do  ym  b 


..,<]-''rilli-i-:.lley,>lBdj!  TAnr  dwit n man  m 
ai'tdrn.  l,i.t.,.l'^y:  [Singing. 

Chi.    Uc-liri  »  me,  Ibe  knighl'i  b  idnnrable 

SirAnd.  Ay,bodoe«w(ll  enough,  i/b«bedi»- 


To.  O.  Ilu  Jiwylft  day  of  Decembtrt— 

[Sinttng. 
ir.  For  iho  lore  of  God,  peace. 


JtfflJ.  My  m 

■  e  imkv  an  atiliouu  of  my  lady'i  bouie,  th>»  ftj 
qurakouljourcoiiert''  eatehei  without  any  mili. 
cation  or  Rmome  of  roicc  t  li  then  do  mpect  of 

Sir  To.  Wc  did  kef  p  time,  rir,  in  oar  tatcbei. 

Jtlal.  Sir  Toby,  I  mmt  be  roond  widi  yoa.  My 
lady  bsdr  mr  Icll  you,  thai,  thongh  ih*  haiboon 

s  br'rl[inEman,lbo'l  nothing  allied  to  your  di»- 

t.  If  iiiii  can  lepanileyounelf  andyourmii- 
unor*,  I  ou  are  welonie  to  dke  houae  j  if  no), 
•voiild  plrHM  you  to  lake  leale  of  her,  the  i> 
willin);  lu  bid  you  rarewell. 
To.  Hireii!tU,dtarhearl,iinalmiiitneedi 

M^.  Nbv,  good  lir  Toby. 

Clo,  liit'tyetda^unehitdaytartainoitdam 

JSal.  Ti'ter.-n»? 

F'ir  To.  But  IviU  ntvtr  die. 

Oo.  .'iir  Tobf,  (here  you  lie. 

JUal.  Thii  ii'much  credit  to  you. 

SirTo.  Shall  I  bid  him  go?  [Sngwiy. 

Clo.  ffinl  on  ifynt  do? 

SirTo.   Shall  fbid  him  go,  and  ipart  not  f 

Clo.  O  na,  nn,  no,  na,  you  dart  no(. 

.Sir  Tb.  OuI  o'  lime?  air,  ye  lie.— Art  any  more 
lan  a  tlcwaid?  Doal  thou  think,  because  thou 
rliirtvout,  there ibBll  be  do  more  calica  and  ale,' 

Cla.  \ei,  by  Saint  Anne ;  and  ginger  ihall  be 


Sir  And.  An  nn  hn  mt,  lel'a  do*t ;  I  a 

Macatch. 
Clo.  Br'r  lady,  dr,  aod  tonM  d(«>  will 

mlL 

(DLmeAeadibe.     (2)  Voice.     (3)  MiatreH. 

(A  I  did  impetticoal  thy  gratuilr. 

1^  Drink  till  the  iky  turni  remd. 

(6)  Bcoaocer.     (T)  Hunt  of  an  old  ung. 


rbilin' 


t!" 


I  i'  Ihe  rigbt — Go,  m 

_ 1: — a  Hoop  of  wine,  1 

Mai.  Mi'iTTM  Mary,  if  yon  priied  my  lady'i  6- 
lui  ■[  any  thing  more  than  ccGtempI,  you  woold 


Hangyiwradt 


9$ 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ;  OIJ.  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


Act  //. 


not  gire  means  for  this  uncivil  role  ;i  die  shall 
knovr  of  it,  by  this  hand.  [£xi<. 

Mar.  Go  shake  jour  ears. 

Sir  Andr  *Twei«  as  good  a  deed  as  to  drink 
when  a  man*s  a  hui^TV,  to  challenge  him  to  the 
field ;  and  then  to  break  promise  with  him,  ana 
make  a  fool  of  him. 

Sir  To.  Do't,  knight ;  V\\  write  thee  a  chal- 
lenge ;  or  IMl  deliver  thy  ind^nation  to  him  by 
word  of  month. 

Mar.  Sweet  sir  Toby,  be  patient  for  to-night ; 
since  the  ^  outh  of  the  count's  was  to-day  with  mv 
ladv,  she  is  much  out  of  auiet  For  monsieur  MaF- 
▼olio,  let  me  alone  with  him :  if  I  do  not  gull  him 
into  a  nay-word,3  and  make  him  a  common  recrea- 
tion, do  not  think  I  have  wit  enough  to  lie  straight 
in  my  bed :  I  know  I  can  do  it 

Sir  To.  Pbssess  us,*  possess  us ;  tell  ns  soine- 
thins  of  him. 

Mar.  Many,  sir,  sometimes  he  is  a  kind  of  Pu- 
ritan. 

Sir  And.  O,  if  I  thought  that,  I*d  beat  him  like 
a  dog. 

Sir  7V>.  What,  for  being  a  Puritan .'  thy  exqui- 
aitt  reason,  dear  knight .' 

Sir  And.  I  have  no  exquisite  reason  for't,  but  I 
have  reason  good  enough. 

Mar.  The  devil  a  Puritan  that  he  is,  or  any  thing 
constantly  but  a  time-pleaser ;  an  aflectioned^  as», 
that  cons  state  without  book,  and  utters  it  by  great 
swarths  fi  the  best  persuaded  of  himself,  so  cram- 
med, as  he  thinks,  with  excellencies,  that  it  is  his 
ground  of  faith,  that  all  that  look  on  him,  love  him : 
and  on  that  vice  in  him  will  my  revenge  find  nota- 
ble cause  to  work. 

.Sir  To.  What  wilt  tboa  do? 

Mar.  I  will  drop  in  his  way  some  obscure  ep's- 
tles  of  love ;  wherein,  by  the  colour  of  his  beard, 
the  shape  of  his  1^,  the  manner  of  his  gait,  the  cx- 
pre«sure  of  his  eye,  forehead,  and  complexion,  he 
shall  find  himself  roost  feelingly  personated :  I  can 
write  very  like  my  lady,  your  niece  ;  on  a  foi^ttrn 
matter  we  can  hardly  make  distinction  of  our  hands. 

Sir  To.  Excellent !  I  smell  a  device. 

Sir  And.  I  hav*t  in  my  nose  too. 

Sir  To.  He  shall  think,  by  the  letters  that  thou 
wilt  drop,  that  they  come  from  my  niece,  and  that 
she  is  in  love  with  him. 

Mar.  My  purpose  is,  indeed,  a  horse  of  that 
colour. 

Sir  And.  And  your  horse  now  would  make  him 
an  aw. 

Mar.  Ass,  I  doubt  not 

Sir  And.  O,  'twill  be  admirable. 

Mar.  Sport  royal,  I  warrant  you :  I  know,  my 
physic  will  work  with  him.  I  will  plant  you  twn, 
and  let  the  fool  make  a  third,  where  he  shall  find 
the  letter ;  observe  his  construction  of  it  For  this 
ni<rht,  to  bed,  and  dream  on  the  event    Farewell. 

[Exit. 

Sir  To.  Good  night,  Pcnthcsilea,« 

.Sir  And  Before  me,  she's  a  good  wench. 

Sir  To.  She's  a  beagle,  true-bred,  and  one  that 
adores  me ;  What  o'  that  ? 

Sir  And.  I  was  adored  once  too. 

Sir  To.  Let's  to  bed,  knight.— Thou  hadst  need 
s^'iid  for  more  money. 

Sir  And.  If  I  cannot  recover  your  niece,  I  am  a 
foul  way  out 

(1)  Method  of  life.    (2)  By-word.   (3)  Inform  us. 

(4)  A  fleeted. 

(5)  The  row  of  grass  left  by  a  mower. 


Sir  T\>.  Send  for  money,  knight ;  if  thou  hast 
her  not  i'  the  end,  call  me  Cut' 

Sir  And.  If  I  do  not,  never  tmst  me,  take  U  bow 
you  will. 

Sir  To.  Come,  come ;  111  ^  bum  some  sack, 
'tis  too  late  to  goto  bed  now :  come,  knight ;  come, 
knight  [Exeunt 

SCEjVE  if.— a  room  in  the  Duke's  palatt. 
Enter  Duke,  Viola,  Curio,  and  others. 

Duke.  Give  me  some  music :  Now,  good  mor- 
row, friends : — 
Now,  pood  Cesario,  but  that  piece  of  song. 
That  old  and  antique  song  we  heard  last  ni^it; 
Methought,  it  did  relieve  my  passion  much ; 
More  than  light  airs  and  recollected  terms. 
Of  these  mo6t  brisk  and  giddy-paced  times : — 
Come,  but  one  verse. 

Cur.  He  is  not  here,  so  please  your  lordship, 
that  »hould  sing  it. 

I>uke.  Who  was  it  ? 

Cur.  Feste,  the  jester,  my  lord ;  a  fod,  diat  the 
lady  Olivia's  father  took  much  delight  in :  he  b 
about  the  house. 

Duke.  Seek  him  out,  and  play  the  tune  the  while. 

Tfffit  Curia— Jtficfic. 
Cnme  hither,  boy ;  If  ever  thou  shalt  love, 
In  the  sweet  pangs  of  it  remember  me : 
Fur,  such  as  I  am,  all  true  lovers  are; 
l^iistaid  and  skittish  in  all  motions  else. 
Save,  in  the  constant  image  of  the  creature 
That  is  belov'd. — How  dost. thou  like  this  tone  ? 

Fto.  It  gives  a  ver\'  echo  to  the  seat 
Where  love  is  thron'd. 

Duke.  Thou  dost  speak  masterly : 
My  life  upon't,  young  though  thou  art,  thine  eye 
Hath  stay'd  upon  some  favoui^  that  it  loves ; 
Hath  it  not,  boy? 

J 'to.  A  little,  by  your  fayour. 

Duke.  Wliat  kind  of  woman  is't .' 

f'io.  Of  your  complexion. 

Duke.  She  is  not  worth  thee  then.  What  yeai% 
i'faith.? 

Jlo.  About  your  years,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Too  old,  by  h^ven ;  Let  still  the  woman 
take 
An  elder  than  herself;  so  wears  she  to  him, 
.So  sways  she  level  in  her  husband's  heart. 
For,  boy,  however  we  do  prai»e  ourselves. 
Our  fancies  are  more  giddy  and  unfirm. 
More  longing,  wavering,  sooner  lost  and  worn. 
Than  women's  are. 

Jlo.  I  think  it  well,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Then  let  thy  love  be  youi^r  than  thyself. 
Or  th}'  affection  cannot  hold  {he  bent  : 
For  women  arc  as  roses ;  whose  fair  flower, 
Iiein«:  once  display'd,  doth  fall  that  very  hour. 

Vio.  And  so  they  are :  alas,  that  they  are  so ; 
To  die,  even  when  they  to  peifection  grow ! 

Rt-entcr  Curio,  and  Clown. 

Duke.  O  fellow,  come,  the  song  we  had  last 
night : — 
Mark  it,  Ce^&rio ;  it  is  old  and  plain  : 
The  .vpinsters  and  the  knitters  in  the  sun. 
And  tnc  fn>e  maids,  that  weave  their  thread  with 

bones,' 
Do  use  to  chaunt  it ;  it  is  silly  sooth,iO 
And  dalli(*s  with  the  innocence  of  love, 
Like  the  old  age.'^ 

((t)  Amazon.    (7)  Horse.    (8)  Countenance. 
(9)  Lace  makers.        (10)  Simple  tzuth. 
(11)  Tinw!«  of  simplicity. 


Seem  V, 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


81 


CZo.  Are  yoa  reftdy,  sir  f 

ZHcAc.  Aj ;  pr*ythee,  sing.  [Jtfimc. 

SONG. 

Cla  Comit  away,  come  away,  death. 
And  in  sad  cypress  lei  me  be  laid ,' 

Fhf  away,  fiy  away,  breath  ;  * 

/  am  ^ain  by  a  fair  cruel  maid. 
My  shroud  of  white,  stuck  all  with  yew, 

U, prepare  it; 
My  pari  of  death  no  one  so  true 
Did  share  it. 
JVb<  a /lower,  not  a  flower  sweet. 
On  my  black  coffin  lei  there  be  strown  / 

JVol  a  friend,  not  a  friend  grui 
My  poor  corpse,  where  my  bones  shall  be 

thrown; 
A  thousand  thousand  sighs  to  «ave, 

Lay  me,  O,  where 
Sad  true  lover  ne'er  find  my  grave, 
7h  weep  there, 

jyuke.  There*8  for  thy  pains. 
Clo.  No  pains,  sir ;  I  take  pleasure  in  singing,  sir. 
Jhtke.  VW  pay  thy  pleasure  then. 
CZo.  Truly,  or,  ana  pleasure  will  be  paid,  one 
Cijme  or  another. 

Shihe,  Give  me  now  leave  to  leave  thee. 
€Jlo.  Now,  HOb  melancholy  god  protect  thee; 
*  die  taiW  make  thy  doublet  of  changeable  taf- 
,  for  thy  mind  is  a  very  opal' — I  would  have 
o(  such  constancy  put  to  sea,  that  their  busi- 
r»e»aa  might  be  ever^  thfng,  and  their  intent  every 
iv>>«re;  for  that's  it,  that  always  makes  a  good 
^age  o£  nothing. — Farewell.  [Exit  Clown. 

Let  all  the  rest  g^ve  place. 


[Exeunt  Curio  and  aitendanjls. 
Once  more,  Cesario, 
diee  to  yoa'  same  sovereign  cruelty : 
X^«^l  1  her,  my  love,  more  noble  than  the  world, 
Prizes  not  qoanti^  of  dirtv  lands ; 
T*l^.e  parts  that  fortune  hath  bestowM  upon  her, 
T*ell  ber,  I  hold  as  giddily  as  fortune ; 
^«a^  *tis  that  miracle,  and  queen  of  gems, 
T*>^t  nature  prankfl|3  her  in,  attracts  my  souL 
^id.  Bat,  if  AiA  cannot  love  you,  sir? 
Jyuke,  I  cannot  be  so  answerM. 
V^  'Sooth,  but  ^ou  must 

S^T*  that  some  lady,  as,  perhaps,  there  is, 
Watfi  for  your  love  as  great  a  pang  of  heart 
Ks  you  have  for  Olivia :  you  cannot  love  her : 
YoQ  tell  her  so;  Most  she  not  then  be  answered  f 

Ihikt.  There  is  no  woman^s  aides, 
^^xi  *bide  the  beating  of  so  strong  a  passicHi 
As  Wve  doth  give  my  heart :  no  woman's  heart 
^  big,  to  hold  so  much ;  thev  lack  retention. 
AIm,  their  love  may  be  call'a  appetite, — 
No  luotioo  of  the  liver,  but  the  palate, — 
'^  tufler  surfeit,  cloyment,  and  revolt ; 
But  mine  is  all  as  hiu^iy  as  the  sea, 
And  can  digest  as  much :  make  no  compare 
Between  tlmt  love  a  woman  can  bear  me. 
And  that  I  owe  Olivia. 
^.  Ay,  but  I  know, — 

J>vke.  What  dost  thou  know  ? 
^-  Too  well  what  love  women  to  men  may 
owe : 
In  faith,  they  are  as  true  of  heart  as  we. 
My  (kther  faiad  a  daughter  lov'd  a  man. 
As  it  might  be,  peihaps,  were  I  a  woman, 
1  «hoald  your  lordship. 

(1)  A  predoos  stone  of  all  colours.     (2)  Decks. 
(3)DiiaL 


Duke.  And  what's  her  history  ? 

Vio.  A  blank,  my  lord :  Slie  never  told  her  love. 
But  let  concealment,  like  a  worm  i'  the  bud, 
Feed  on  her  damask  cheek :  she  pin'd  in  thougiit ; 
And,  with  a  green  and  yellow  melancholy. 
She  sat  like  patience  on  a  monument. 
Smiling  at  grief.     Was  not  this  love,  indeed  ? 
We  men  may  say  more,  swear  more :  but,  indeed, 
Our  shows  are  more  than  will ;  for  still  we  prove 
Much  in  our  vows,  but  little  in  our  love. 

Duke.  But  died  thy  sister  of  her  love,  my  boy  ' 

Vio.  I  am  all  the  daughters  of  my  father^s  houst-, 
And  all  the  brothers  too ; — and  yet  1  know  not : — 
Sir,  shall  I  to  this  lady  } 

Duke.  Kj,  that's  the  theme. 

To  her  in  haste ;  give  her  this  jewel ;  say. 
My  love  can  give  no  place,  bide  no  denay.' 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  r.— Olivia's  Garden.    Enter  Sir  Toby 
Belch,  Sir  Andrew  Ague-cheek,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  Come  thy  wayv,  signior  Fabian. 

Fab.  Nay,  I'll  come  ;  if  I  lose  a  scruple  of  this 
sport,  let  me  be  boiled  to  death  with  melancholy. 

Sir  To.  Would'st  thou  not  be  glad  to  have  the 
niggardly  rascally  sheep-biter  come  by  some  nota- 
ble shame  .^ 

Fab.  I  would  exult,  man :  you  know,  he  brought 
me  out  of  favour  with  my  lady,  about  a  bear-bait- 
ing here. 

Sir  To.  To  aneer  him,  we'll  have  the  bear 
again ;  and  we  wul  fool  him  black  and  blue  -— 
Shall  we  not,  sir  Andrew  ? 

Sir  And  An  we  do  not,  it  is  pity  of  our  live». 

£n<^  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Here  comes  the  little  villain: — How 
now,  my  nettle  of  India. 

Mar.  Get  ye  all  three  into  the  box-tree :  Mai 
volio's  coming  down  this  walk ;  he  has  been  yon 
der  i'  the  sun,  practising  behaviour  to  his  own 
shadow,  this  half  hour:  ot»erve  him,  for  the  love  of 
mockery ;  for,  I  know,  this  letter  will  make  a  con- 
templative idiot  of  him.  Close,  in  the  name  of 
jesting!  [The  men  hide  themselves.]  Lie  thou 
there ;  [throws  down  a  Utter]  for  here  comes  the 
trout  that  must  be  caught  witn  tickling. 

[Exit  Maria 

EfUer  Malvolio. 

Mai  'Tis  but  fortune;  all  is  fortune.  Maria 
once  told  me,  she  did  affect  me :  and  I  have  beard 
herself  come  thus  near,  that,  should  she  fancy ,'>  it 
should  be  one  of  my  complexion.  Besidt^s,  $>hc  uses 
me  with  a  more  exalted  rosipecl,  than  any  one  else 
that  follows  her.     What  should  I  think  on't  ? 

Sir  To.  Here's  an  over-ivcening  rogue ! 

Fab.  O,  peace !  Contemplation  makes  a  rare 
turkey-cock  of  him ;  how  he  jets^  under  his  advan- 
ced plumes ! 

Sir  And  'Slight,  I  could  so  beat  the  rogue : — 

Sir  To.  Peace,  I  say. 

Mai.  To  be  count  IVIalvolio ! — 

Sir  To.  Ah,  rogue  ! 

Sir  And.  Pistol  him,  pistol  him. 

Sir  To,  Peace,  peace  I 

Mill.  There  is  example  for't ;  the  lady  of  the 
strachy  married  the  yeoman  of  the  wardrobe. 

Sir  And.  Fie  on  him,  Jezebel ! 

Fab.  O,  peace !  now  he's  deeply  in ;  look  how 
imagination  blows^  him .' 

(4)  Love.    (5)  Struts.    (6)  Puffs  him  up. 


TWELFTH^GHT;  OR,  WHAT  TOC  WILL. 


Ati  a 


MmL  HaTins  beeo  diree  mootfai  named  to  bfrr.  j 
■ttiD^  in  mr  «tat«,i — 

Sir  To.  b,  &jraftoDe-boir,  tohithiminthe  ert- ! : 

Mat  CaliineniToAoenaft>oalnae,inniTbruKh-; 
cd  Tehcrt  ecfwn :  ha^inj^  come  from  a  ^j-bcd,' 
nhf-n  I  \efi  Oii%'ia  »lc«pin^. 

•Sir  To.  Fire  and  bnnfertone ! 

Fab.  O,  pfMce,  peace ! 

•^/a/.  And  thMi  to  have  the  hnmoar  of  (tale : 
and  after  a  d^murt  txarel  ct  rej^ard, — tellins  them, 
I  know  mv  place,  as  I  would  tbejr  thould  dotheir** 
— to  a*k  iff  mv  kinanan  Tobr : 

Sir  To.  Bofu  and  tlmckles ! 

Fah.  O,  peace,  peace,  peace !  now,  now. 

Mat  Se\-en  of  mj  p»^;>le,  with  an  obedic^nt 
start,  inake  out  for  him :  I  frown  the  while :  aiid, 
perchance,  wind  np  mr  watch,  or  p|laT  with  some 
rich  jewel  Tobr  approaches :  coart*«ie»  diere  to  me : 

.Sir  To.  Shaft  thu  fellow  Ure  ? 

Fah.  Thoueh  our  silence  be  drawn  from  as  with 
i-ar»,  jet  peace. 

MaL  I  extend  mr  hand  to  him  dms,  qoenchin? 
my  familiar  smile  with  an  au»tere  regard  of  contrui : 

.Sir  To.  And  does  not  Tofaj  take  30U  a  bkwr  o* 
the  lips  then  ? 

Mat  Siyin^jQmsin  Toby,  my  fortunes  harinr 
out  me  on  your  niece^givt  me  this prtrt^aiice  o/f 
spteck: — 

Sir  To.  What,  what? 

Mai.  You  must  amend  ytmr  dnmketme$t. 

Sir  To.  Oat,  scab  ! 

Fab.  Nay,  patience,  or  we  break  the  sinews  of 
our  plot 

MaL  Besides,  you  wasU  the  trtasurt  qf  your 
time  teith  a  foolish  knight ; 

Sir  And.  That's  me,  I  warrant  joo. 

Mai  Chu  sir  Andrew  : 

Sir  And.  I  knew,  *twas  I ;  fcr  many  do  call  me 
fool. 

MaL  What  employment  have  we  here .' 

[TiiAntiif  up  the  tetter. 

Fab.  Now  is  the  woodcock  near  the  gin. 

Sir  To.  O,  peace !  and  the  spirit  of  humours  in- 
timate reading  aloud  to  him ! 

MaL  By  my  life,  that  is  my  lady*s  hand  :  the«r 
be  her  very  C\  her  (7*s,  and  her  7^» ;  and  thu* 
makes  she  her  great  F*n.  It  is,  in  contempt  of 
question,  her  hand. 

Sir  And.  Her Cs, her  U% and  her  T 's :  Wbv 
that? 

Mai.  rr»u2s]  To  the  unknown  bdoved,  this,  and 
my  good  vishes:  her  verv  ]4urases  !  By  your  leave, 
wax. — Soft! — and  the   impressure   her   Lucrfce. 

I :  'tis  my  lady :    To 


with  which  !j>he  uses  to 
whom  should  thi«  be  ? 
Fah.  Thi:4  wins  him,  lirer  and  all. 
Mai  [reodf  ]  Jove  knows,  I  love : 
But  who? 
Lips  do  not  move, 
•Vo  man  must  know. 
,Xo  man  must  know. — \N'hat  follows  ?  the  numbers 
altered  ! — wVo  man  must  know: — if  this  should  be 
thee,  Malvulio? 
Sir  To.  Marrj',  hang  thee,  brock  .'* 
Mai  /  may  command,  where  I  adore  : 

But  silence,  like  a  Lucrece  hi^fe. 
With  bloodless  stroke  my  heart  doth  gore  ; 

M,  O,  A,  I,  doth  sway  my  lifk. 
Fah.   A  fustian  riddle ! 
^  To.  Excellent  wench,  say  I. 

(1)  State-chair.     (3)  Cooch. 

(3}  Badger.    (4^Hawk.     (5)  Flies  at  it 


Mai  M,  O,  A,  I,  doA  mrmy  aiylt^— N«y,bii 

arrt,  Ift  roe  s**.— let  me  see, — let  me  see. 
Fah.  What  a  diih  of  pouon  has  she  dressed  kn! 
.Sir  To.    .\nd  with  what  wing  the   sttonycH 

checks^  at  it ! 
Alal  I  may  command  where  t  adore.  Wfay,dbe 

may  command  me :  I  serve  her,  she  is  By  hdy. 

Why.  thi»  i!^  erident  to  any  formal  capnotr.   There 

\*  no  ob«druction  in  diis: — And  the  eno^ — What 

vhould  that   alphabetical    positkm  portend?  if  I 

could    make  that  re^mble  sametfamg  in  Be,— 

NXtb  •  M.O,A,L— 

I     .Sir  To.  O,  ay !  make  ap  that »— he  ia  now  at  a 

cold  «cent 
Fah.  Sowtei<  will  ciy  npon\  fcr  aU  diia,  though 

It  be  as  rank  a<  a  km. 
Mai.  -V,— Malrolio;-vV,— why,  that  bcgiB 

mr  name. 

I     Fah.  Did  not  I  sar,  he  would  work  it  out?  iht 

<  ur  lit  excellent  at  faults. 

Mai  .V,— But  thm  there  is  no  consanancjiB 
the  !M>quel :  that  MAers  under  probatkn :  A  dhonld 
follow,  but  O  doeA. 

'     Fab.  .\nd  0  >hall  end,  I  hope. 

!     Sir  To.  Ay,  or  TU  cudgel  him,  and  Bike  Mm 

\cr}\  O. 

'Mai.  And  then  /comes  behind : 
Fab.  Ay,  an  vou  had  an  eye  behind  yon,  yoi 
might  see  more  ^traction  at  your  heels,  than  fcr 

!  tune«  before  vou. 

I    MaL  -V,  b.  A,  /,— This  simalation  is  not  M 

I  the  former  .—and  yet,  to  crush  this  a  little,  it  wooM 
bow  to  me,  for  every  one  of  these  letters  are  in  nn 
name.  Soft!  here  tollows  pnee.— ^ this /aU ink 
thy  hand,  revolve.  Inmy  stars  i  amabotetktei 
f>ui  be  not  afraid  ofgrtatness:  Some  are  ban 
great,  some  achieve  grtatness,  and  some  hare  gremi 
n€ss  thrust  upon  'them.  7^y  fates  open  that 
hands;  let  thy  blood  and  spirit  embrace  fkem 
And,  to  inurt  thyself  to  what  thou  art  like  to  be 
cast  thy  humble  slough,'  and  appear  fresh.  Be  Hf 
ptisite  with  a  kinsman,  surly  with  servants  :  leitm 
tongue  tang  arguments  of  state;  put  thyself  ink 
the  trick  of  singularity :  She  thus  adnses  tkm 
that  sighs'for  thee.  J^ewumber  who  eommemdt 
thy  yellow  stockings  ;  and  wished  to  see  thet  cw 
cross-garlered :  I  say  remember.  Go  to  ;  <XUni  mr 
made xf  thou  desirest  to  be  so;  \f  not,  Ut  mem 
thee  a  steward  still,  the  fellow  ofstrvanis,  aitdma 
irorthy  to  touch  fortune's  Jingers.  FarewelL  Sft 
that  would  alter  services  with  thee. 

The  fortwnate'Wshaffy 
Day-light  and  champian*  di«coverH  not  more  :  ua 
i-  opt-n.  I  will  be  proud,  I  will  read  politic  aathon 
I  will  baffle  sir  Toby,  I  will  wash  cff  gross  ac 
i)uaintance,  I  wpl  be  point-de-vice,'  the  very  man 
1  do  not  now  fool  myself,  to  let  imagination  ind 
nie :  for  every  reason  excites  to  this,  that  my  lad 
loves  me.  She  did  commend  mv  vellow  stockinfli  o 

mm  C3 

laU^,  <^l)c  did  prai:«e  my  leg  being  crosft-garterrd ;  ani 
in  thi«  she  manifests  herself  to  my  lo\c,  and.  wii 
n  kind  of  injunction,  drives  roe  to  these  habits  o 
her  liking.  I  thank  my  stars,  I  am  happnr.  I  wi 
be  strange,  stout,  in  yellow  stockings  aiid  croM 
gartered,  even  with  d^  swiftness  of  potting  01 
'  Jove,  and  my  rtar»  be  praised  ! — Here  is  yet  a  piM) 
;  script  Thou  canst  not  choose  but  know  who  fan 
(f  thou  entertainest  my  love,  let  ii  appear  m  M 
smiling;  thy  smiles  become  thee  wM:  therefore  t 
my  presence  still  smile,  dear  my  sweet,  I  pr*yth» 


(fi)  Name  of  a  hound.       (7)  Skin  of  a 
(8)  Open  country.      (9)  Utmost  exactness. 


•SC0M  Mm 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


83 


icff^  I  thank  thee. — I  will  smile ;  I  will  do  every 
thiM^  that  thoa  wilt  have  me.  [Exit 

tub.  I  will  not  five  mjr  part  of  this  sport  for  a 
penaioQ  of  thousands  to  be  paid  from  the  Sophy. 

Sir  To.  I  could  marry  this  weuch  for  tnis  de- 
vice. 

Sir  And,  So  could  I  toa 

Sir  To.  And  ask  no  other  dowry  with  her,  but 
such  another  jest 

Enltr  Maria. 

Sir  And.  Nor  I  neither. 

Fab.  Here  comes  my  noble  gull-catcher. 

Str  To.  Wilt  thou  set  thy  foot  o'my  neck  .? 

Sir  And.  Or  o'  mine  either  ^ 

Sir  To.  Shall  I  play  my  fieedom  at  tray-trip,' 
«iid  become  thy  bond-slave  ? 

Sir  And.  rfaith,  or  I  either. 

Sir  To.  Why,  thou  hast  put  him  in  such  a  dream, 
Ibat,  when  the  image  of  it  leaves  him,  he  must  run 
mad. 

Mar.  Nay,  but  say  true ;  does  it  work  upon  him  ? 

Sir  To.  Like  aqua-vitae  with  a  midwife. 

JUar.  If  you  will  then  see  the  fruits  of  the  sport, 
mark  his  first  approach  before  my  lady :  he  will 
come  to  her  in  yellow  stockings,  and  'tis  a  colour 
•he  abhors ;  and  cross-bartered,  a  fashion  she  de- 
tests ;  and  he  will  smile  upon  her,  which  will  now 
fce  so  unsuitable  to  her  disposition,  being  addicted 
to  a  melancholy  as  die  is,  that  it  cannot  but  tuni 
iiiro  into  a  notable  contempt :  if  you  will  see  it, 
^k>w  me. 

Sir  To.  To  the  gates  of  Tartar,  thoa  most  excel- 
lent devil  of  wit ! 

Sir  And,  1*11  make  one  toa  [Exeunt. 


ACT  in. 

^CEJ>rE  i.— Olivia's  Garden.  Enter  Viola,  and 
Clown  vnth  a  tabor. 

Vio.   Save  thee,  friend,  and  thy  music :  Dost 
fihoa  live  by  thy  tabor  .^ 

do.  No,  sir,  I  live  by  the  church. 
Fio.  Art  thou  a  churchman  f 
Ch.  No  such  matter,  sir;  I  do   live  by  the 
<^rdi :  for  I  do  live  at  my  house,  and  my  bouse 
<iod)  stand  by  the  church. 

Fio.  So  thou  may'st  say,  the  king  lies?  by  a  beg- 
f^,  if  a  beggar  dwell  near  him :  or,  the  church 
•tandi  by  thy  tabor,  if  thy  tabor  stand  by  the 
^^rarch. 

Cb.  Tou  have  said,  sir. — To  see  this  age ! — A 
•entence  is  but  a  cheveriP  glove  to  a  good  wit ; 
How  quickly  the  wrong  side  may  be  turned  out- 
ward! 

Fib.  Nay,  that's  certain ;  they,  that  dally  nicely 
with  words,  may  quickly  make  them  wanton. 

Qo.  I  would  therefore,  my  sister  had  had  no 
name,  sir. 
Fib.  Why,  man  ? 

Qo.  Why,  sir,  her  name's  a  word ;  and  to  dally 
widi  that  word,  might  make  my  sister  wanton : 
Bat,  indeed,  words  are  very  rascals,  since  bonds 
^graced  them. 
Ftb.  Thy  reason,  man  ? 

Qo.  Troth,  sir,  I  can  yield  you  none  without 
words;  and  words  are  grown  so  false,  I  am  loath 
to  piore  reasoD  with  them. 

(1)  A  boy's  diverston  thrtt  and  tip. 
(3}Dwelk  (3)  Kid. 


Fto.  I  warrant,  thou  art  a  meny  fellow,  and 
care»t  for  notliin^. 

Clo.  Not  so,  sir,  I  do  care  for  something :  but 
in  my  conscience,  sir,  I  do  not  caie  for  you ;  if  that 
be  to  care  for  nothing,  sir,  I  would  it  would  make 
you  invisible. 

Fio.  Art  not  thou  the  lady  Olivia's  fool  ? 

Clo.  No,  indeed,  sir;  the  lady  Olivia  has  no 
folly :  she  will  keep  no  fool,  sir,  till  she  be  married ; 
and  fools  are  as  like  husbands,  as  pilchards  are  to 
herrings,  the  husband's  the  bigger ;  I  am,  indeed, 
not  her  fool,  but  her  corrupter  of  words. 

Fto.  I  saw  thee  late  at  the  count  Orsino's. 

Clo.  Foolery,  sir,  does  walk  about  the  orb,  like 
the  sun ;  it  shines  every  where.  I  would  be  sorry, 
sir,  but  the  fool  should  be  as  oft  with  your  master, 
as  with  my  mistress :  I  think,  1  saw  your  wisdom 
there. 

Fio.  Nay,  an  thou  pass  upon  me,  I'll  no  more 
with  thee.     Hold,  there's  expenses  for  thee. 

Clo.  Now  Jove,  in  his  next  commodity  of  hair, 
send  thee  a  beard .' 

Fto.  By  my  troth,  Pll  tell  thee ;  I  am  almost 
sick  for  one ;  though  I  would  not  have  it  grow  on 
my  chin.     Is  thy  lady  within  ^ 

Clo.  W^ould  not  a  pair  of  these  have  bred,  sir  f 

Vio.  Yes,  being  kept  together,  and  put  to  use. 

Go.  I  would  play  lord  Pandarus^  of  Pbrygia,  sir, 
to  bring  a  Cressida  to  this  Troilus. 

Vio.  I  understand  you,  sir ;  'tis  well  beg^'d. 

Clo.  The  matter,  I  hope,  is  not  great,  sir,  beg- 
ging but  a  beg^r ;  Cressida  was  a  beggar.  My 
lady  is  within,  sir.  I  will  construe  to  them  whence 
you  come  :  who  you  are,  and  what  you  would,  are 
out  of  my  welkin  :  I  might  say,  element ;  but  the 
word  is  over-worn.  [Exit. 

Vio.  This  fellow's  wise  enou^  to  plaj^-  the  fool ; 
And,  to  do  that  well,  craves  a  und  ol  wit : 
He  must  observe  their  mood  on  whom  he  jests, 
The  Quality  of  persons,  and  the  time ; 
And,  like  the  haggard,^  check  at  every  feather 
That  comes  before  his  eye.     This  is  a  practice. 
As  full  of  labour  as  a  wise  man's  art : 
For  folly,  that  he  wisely  shows,  is  fit ; 
But  wise  men,  folly-fallen,  quite  taint  their  wit 

Enter  Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Sir  Andrew  Ague- 
cheek. 

Sir  To.  Save  you,  gentleman. 

Fio.  And  you,  sir. 

Sir  And.  Dieu  vous  garde,  monsieur. 

Vio.  Et  vous  aussi:  voire  urviteur. 

Sir  And.  I  hope,  sir,  you  are ;  and  I  am  yours. 

Sir  To.  Will  you  encounter  the  house  ?  my 
niece  is  desirous  you  should  enter,  if  your  trade  be 
to  her. 

Fto.  I  am  bound  to  your  niece,  sir :  I  mean,  she 
is  the  list*  of  my  voyage. 

Sir  To.  Taste  your  legs,  sir,  put  them  to  motion. 

Vio.  My  legs  do  better  understand  me,  sir,  than 
I  understand  what  you  mean  by  bidding  me  taste 
my  legs. 

Sir  To.  I  mean,  to  go,  sir,  to  enter. 

Fto.  I  will  answer  you  with  gait  and  entrance : 
But  we  are  prevented. 

Enter  Olivia  and  Maria. 

Most  excellent  accomplished  lady,  the  heavens  rain 
odours  on  you ! 

Sir  Ana.  That  youth's  a  rare  courtier !  Rain 
odours!  well. 

(4)  See  the  p^ay  of  Troilus  and  Cressida. 

(5)  A  hawk  not  well  trained.     (6)  Bound,  limit. 


84 


TWELFTH-NIGHT  ,  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


AiA  ill. 


Fio,  My  matter  hath  no  Toice,  lady,  but  to  your 
oirn  roost  prpf^ant^  and  vouchsafed  ear. 

Sir  And.  OdourSyprfgnani^  and  vouchujed : — 
I'll  get  'era  all  tliree  ready. 

OTt.  Let  the  garden  door  be  abut,  and  leare  roe 
to  my  bearim;. 

[Blxeuni  Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Maria. 
Give  roc  your  hand,  Mr. 

Fio.  ^lv  duty,  madam,  and  most  humble  service. 

OH.  "WheX  is  your  name  ? 

Fio.  Ccsario i^^our ser\'aiit*8  name, fair princem. 

OU.  My  servant,  sir!  Twan  never  merry  world, 
Since  lowly  feigning:  was  calPd  compliment : 
You  are  servant  to  the  count  Ontino,  youth. 

Fio.  And  he  is  yours,  and  his  must  needs  be 
yours; 
Your  servant'H  servant  is  your  servant,  roadam. 

OIL  For  him,  I  think  not  on  him :  for  his  thoug:fats. 
Would  they  were  blanks,  rather  than  filPd  with  me ! 

Fio.  Madam,  I  come  to  fvhct  your  gentle  thoughts 
On  his  behalf: — 

OIL  O,  by  your  leave,  I  pray  you ; 

I  bade  you  never  spe^k  again  of  him : 
But,  would  you  unaertake  another  suit, 
I  had  rather  hear  you  to  solicit  that, 
Than  mOsic  from  the  spheres. 

FTo.  Dear  lady, 

OH.  Give  roe  leave,  I  beseech  vou :  I  did  send. 
After  the  last  enchantment  you  did  here, 
A  ring  in  chase  of  you ;  so  aid  I  abuse 
Myself,  my  servant,  and,  I  fear  me,  you : 
lender  your  hard  construction  mu6t  I  sit. 
To  force  tliat  on  you,  in  a  shameful  cunning. 
Which  you  knew  none  of  yours :  What  might  you 

think  ? 
Have  you  not  »et  mine  honour  at  the  stake, 
And  baited  it  with  all  the  unmuzzled  thoughts 
That  tyrannous  heart  can  think  f  To  one  of  your 

receiving^ 
Enough  b  sliown ;  a  Cyprus,  not  a  bosom, 
Hides  my  poor  heart :  So  let  me  bear  you  speak. 

Fio.  I  pity  you. 

OH.  That's  a  degree  to  love. 

Fio.  No,  not  a  grise  ;*  for  'tis  a  vulgar  proof, 
That  very  oft  we  pity  enemies. 

OH.  Why,  then,  methinks,  'tis  time  to  smile 
again: 

0  world,  how  apt  the  poor  are  to  be  proud ! 
If  one  should  be  a  prey,  how  much  uic  better 
To  (all  before  the  lion,  than  the  wolf? 

[Clock  strikes. 
The  clock  upbraids  me  with  the  waste  of  time. — 
Be  not  afraifl,  good  youth,  I  will  not  have  you : 
And  yet,  wlien  wit  and  youth  is  come  to  harvest, 
Your  wife  ist  like  to  reap  a  proper  man  : 
There  lies  your  way,  due  west. 

Fio.  Then  westward-hoe : 

Grace,  and  good  disposition  'tend  vour  ladyship ! 
You'll  nothing,  madam,  to  my  lord  by  me  } 

OIL  Stay: 

1  pi^thee,  tell  me,  what  thou  think'st  of  me. 

Fto.  That  you  do  think,  you  are  not  what  you 
are. 

OH.  If  I  think  so,  I  think  the  same  of  you. 

Flo.  Tlien  think  you  right ;  I  am  not  what  I  am. 

OH.  I  would,  you  were  as  I  would  have  vou  be .' 

Fto.  Would  it  be  better,  madam,  than  1  am, 
I  wish  it  mig^t ;  for  now  I  am  your  fool. 

OH.  O,  what  a  deal  of  scorn  looks  b«iutiful 
In  the  contempt  and  anger  of  his  lip ! 

(1)  Ready.    rS)  Ready  apprehenskn.    (3)  Step. 
(4)  In  spite  of. 


A  murd'rons  guflt  shows  not  itself  more  loon 

Than  love  that  would  seem  hid :  love's  night  is  i 

('i'>ario,  by  the  roses  of  the  spring, 

Hv  maidhood,  honour,  truth,  and  every  thing, 

1  \o\  e  thee  so,  that,  maugrv^  all  thy  pride, 

\(>r  wit,  nor  reason,  can  my  passion  hide. 

Do  not  extort  thy  reasons  frum  this  clause. 

For,  that  1  woo,  thou  therefore  hast  no  cause : 

I>iit,  rather,  reaiton  thus  with  reason  fetter : 

I^)\  e  sought  is  good,  but  g^ven  unsought,  is  better. 

/  'io.  By  imu)cence  I  swear,  and  by  my  youth, 
I  have  one  heart,  one  bosom,  and  one  truth. 
And  that  no  woman  has ;  nor  never  none 
.Sliiill  mistress  be  of  it,  save  I  alone. 
And  so  adieu,  good  madam;  never  man 
Will  I  my  master's  tears  to  you  deplore. 

OH.  Yet  come  again :  for  thou,  perhaps,  may^ 
move 
That  heart,  which  now  abhors,  to  like  his  tove. 

[£xeMil. 

SCFJ^'E  II.— A  Room  in  OUvia's  house.  Enier 
Sir  Toby  Belch,  Sir  Andrew  Aguc^beek,  onJ 
Fabian. 

.Sir  And.  No,  faith,  I'll  not  stay  a  jot  longer. 
Sir  To.  Thy  reason,  dear  venom,  give  thy 


son. 

Fab.  You  must  need  yield  your  reason,  aur  An- 
drew. 

Sir  And.  Many,  I  saw  your  niece  do  more  &- 
vours  to  the  count's  serving-man,  than  ever  she 
U'stowed  upon  me ;  I  saw't  i'  the  orchard. 

Sir  To.  bid  die  see  thee  the  while,  old  bqj  ? 
tell  me  that 

Sir  And.  As  plam  as  I  see  you  now. 

Fab.  Tliis  was  a  great  argument  of  love  in  her 
toward   you. 

Sir  And.  'Slight !  will  you  make  an  ass  o*  me  ? 

Fab.  I  will  prove  it  legitimate,  sir,  upon  the 
oaths  of  judgnKrnt  and  reason. 

6'ir  To.  And  they  have  been  grand  juiy-meOy 
since  before  Noah  was  a  sailor. 

Fab.  She  did  show  favour  to  the  youth  in  joor 
sight,  only  to  exasperate  you,  to  awake  your  dor- 
nKMise  valour,  to  put  fire  in  your  heart,  and  brim- 
stone in  your  liver :  Y'ou  should  then  have  accosled 
her ;  and  with  some  excellent  jest,  fire-new  from 
the  mint,  you  should  have  banged  the  youth  into 
dumbness.  This  was  looked  for  at  your  hand,  and 
this  was  baulked :  the  double  gilt  of  this  oppor- 
tunity you  let  time  wash  off,  and  you  are  now  sailed 
into  the  north  of  my  lady's  opinion ;  where  you  will 
hang  like  an  icicle  on  a  Dutchman's  beard,  unlet! 
you  do  redeem  it  by  some  laudable  attempt,  either 
of  valour,  or  policy. 

•Sir  And.  And't'be  any  way,  it  must  he  with 
valour;  for  policy  I  hate:  I  had  as  lief  be  a 
Brownist,*  as  a  politician. 

Sir  To.  Why  then,  build  me  thy  fortunes  upon 
the  basis  of  valour.  Challen^  me  the  coimt*a 
youth  to  fight  with  him ;  hurt  hun  in  eleven  places ; 
my  niece  shall  take  note  of  it :  and  aMure  tliyaelf, 
there  is  no  love-broker  in  the  world  can  more*  pre- 
vail in  man's  commendation  with  woman,  than  re- 
port of  valour. 

Fab.  There  is  no  way  but  this,  sir  Andrew. 

•Sir  And.  Will  either  of  you  bear  me  a  chal- 
leiu^  to  him  ? 

Sir  T\>.  Go,  write  it  in  a  martial  hand;  be 
curst^  and  brief;  it  is  no  matter  how  witty,  k>  it  be 

(5)  Separatisti  in  queen  Elizabeth's  rcirn. 

(6)  Crabbed. 


Sceu  in,  IT. 


TWELFTH-NIGHT;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WHJL 


85 


eloanent,  and  full  of  invention :  taunt  him  with 
the  license  of  ink :  if  thou  tfuni'st  him  some  thrice, 
it  shall  not  be  amiss;  amd  as  many  lies  as  will  lie 
in  thy  sheet  of  paper,  although  the  sheet  were  big 
enough  for  the  oed  of  Warei  in  England,  set  *em 
down ;  go,  about  it  Let  there  be  gall  enough  in 
thy  ink ;  though  thou  write  with  a  goose-pen,  no 
matter :  About  it 

Sir  And.  Where  shall  I, find  you  ? 

Sir  To,  We'll  call  thee  at  the  cubiculo-3  Go. 

[Exit  Sir  Andrew. 

Fab.  This  is  a  dear  manikin  to  you,  sir  Toby. 

Sir  To.  I  have  been  dear  to  mm,  lad;  some 
two  thousand  strong  or  so. 

Fab.  We  shall  have  a  rare  letter  from  him :  but 
youMl  not  deliver  it 

Sir  7b.  Never  trust  me  then ;  and  by  all  means 
stir  oo  the  youth  to  an  answer.  1  think,  oxen  and 
wainropes*  cannot  hale  them  together.  For  An- 
drew, u  he  were  opened,  and  you  find  so  much 
blood  in  his  liver  as  will  clog  the  foot  of  a  flea,  FU 
eat  the  rest  of  the  anatomy. 

Fab.  And  his  opposite,  the  youth,  beam  in  his 
visage  no  great  prciMige  of  cruelty. 

Enter  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Look,  where  the  youngest  wren  of  nine 
<omes. 

Mar.  If  you  desire  the  spleen,  and  will  laugh 
yourselves  into  stitches,  follow  me  :  yon'  gull  Mal- 
^'olb  is  turned  heathen,  a  very  ren^ado ;  for  there 
xs  no  Christian,  that  means  to  be  saved  by  believing 
vightly,  can  ever  believe  such  impossible  passages 
of  grosmess.     He's  in  yellow  stockings. 
S»r  To.  And  cross-gartered  f 
Mar.  Most  villanouslv;  like  a  pedant  that  keeps 
^  school  i'  the  church. — I  have  dc^cd  him,  like  his 
urdercr :  he  does  obey  every  pomt  of  the  letter 
1 1  dropped  to  betray  him.     He  does  smile  his 
into  more  lines,  than  are  in  the  new  map,  with 
augmentation  of  the  Indies :  you  have  not  seen 
ich  a  thing  as  'tb ;  I  can  hardly  forbear  hurling 
itfs  at  him.  I  know,  my  lady  will  strike  him ;  if 
i  do,  he'll  smile,  and  take't  for  a  great  favour. 
Sir  To.  Come,  bring  us,  bring  us  where  he  is. 

[Exeunt. 

'OEJVE  III— A  street.    Enter   Antonio  and 

Sebastian. 

Sd>.  I  would  not,  by  my  will,  have  troubled  you ; 
«it,  since  you  make  your  pleasure  of  your  pains, 
■^rill  no  further  chide  you. 
Ant.  I  could  not  stay  behind  you ;  my  desire, 
ore  sharp  than  filed  steel,  did  spur  me  forth ; 
nd  not  all  love  to  see  you  (though  so  much, 
«  might  have  drawn  one  to  a  longer  voyage,) 
"^t  jealousy  what  might  befall  vour  travel, 
iogskilless  in  these  parts;  w^ich  to  a  stranger, 
^  nguided,  and  unfriended,  often  prove 
■jough  and  unhospitable  :  my  willing  love 
^^  rather  by  these  arguments  of  fear, 
^«t  ftwth  in  your  pursuit 
_  Sib,  My  kind  Antonio, 

*  can  no  other  answer  make,*  but,  thanks. 
And  thanks,  and  ever  thanks :  Often  good  turns 
Are  $huMed  off  with  such  uncurrent  pay  : 
^t,  were  my  worth,^  as  is  my  conscience,  firm, 
JOQ  ihould  find  better  dealing,     ^liat's  to  do.^ 
Shall  we  go  see  the  reliques  of  this  town  f 
'^nL  To-morrow,  sir ;  best,  first,  go  see  your 
lodging. 

0)  In  Hertfordshire,  which  held  forty  persons. 
(2)  Chamber.  (3)  Waggon  ropes. 


Seb.  I  am  not  weary,  and  'tis  loi^  to  ni^t ; 
I  pray  you,  let  us  satisfy  our  eyes 
W  ith  the  memorials,  and  the  things  of  fame. 
That  do  renown  this  citv. 

Ant.  'Would,  you'd  pardon  me ; 

I  do  not  without  danger  walk  these  streets  : 
Once,  in  a  sea-fight,  'gainst  the  count  his  galleys, 
I  did  some  senice ;  of  such  note,  indeed. 
That,  were  I   ta'en  here,  it   would  scarce  be 
answer'd. 

Seb.  Belike,  you  slew  great  number  of  his  people. 

Ant.  The  offence  is  not  of  such  a  bloody  nature ; 
Albeit  the  quality  of  the  time,  and  quarrel. 
Might  well  have  given  us  bloody  argument. 
It  mi^t  have  since  been  answer'd  in  repaying 
What  we  took  from  them ;  which,  for  trafinc  sake. 
Most  of  our  city  did  :  only  myself  stood  out : 
For  which,  if  I  be  lapsed^  in  this  place, 
I  shall  pay  dear. 

Seb.  Do  not  then  walk  too  open. 

Ant.  It  doth  not  fit  me.    Hold,  sir,  here's  my 
purse; 
In  the  south  suburbs,  at  the  Elephant, 
Is  best  to  lodge  :  I  will  bespeak  our  diet. 
Whiles  you  beguile  the  time,  and  feed  your  know- 
ledge. 
With  viewing  of  the  town ;  there  shall  you  have  me. 

Seb.  Why  I  your  purse  ? 

Ant.  Haply,  your  eye  dball  light  upon  some  toy 
You  have  desire  to  purchase  ;  and  your  store, 
I  think,  is  not  for  iole  markets,  sir. 

Seb.  I'll  be  your  purse-bearer,  and  leave  you  fin* 
An  hour. 

Ant.        To  the  Elephant— 

Seb.  1  do  remember. 

[ExevnL 


SCEJ^E  /r.— Olivia's  Garden. 

and  Maria. 


Enter  Oliyia 


Oli.  I  have  sentaf^r  him :  He  says,  he'll  come ; 
How  shall  I  feast  him  ?  what  bestow  on  him .' 
For  youth  is  bought  more  oft,  than  begg'd,  or  bor- 

row'd. 
I  speak  too  loud. 

Where  is  Malvolio  f — ^he  is  sad,  and  civil,* 
And  suits  well  for  a  servant  with  my  fortimes ; 
Where  is  Malvolio  ? 

Mar.  He's  coming,  madam ; 

But  in  strange  manner.     He  is  sure  possess'd. 

Oli.  WTiy,  what's  the  matter  ^  does  he  rave  f 

Mar.  No,  madam, 

He  does  nothing  but  smile :  your  ladvship 
Were  best  have  guard  about  vou,  if  he  come ; 
For,  sure,  the  man  is  tainted  in  his  wits. 

Oli.  Go  call  him  hither. — I'm  as  mad  as  he, 
If  sad  and  merry  madness  equal  be. — 

Enter  Malvolia 

How  now,  Malvolio.^ 

Mai.  Sweet  lady,  ho,  ho!  [Smiles Jantastically. 

OH.  Smil'st  thou  •> 
I  sent  for  thee  upon  a  sad?  occasion. 

Mai.  Sad,  lady  ?  I  could  be  sad :  this  does  make 
some  obstruction  in  the  blood,  this  cross-gartering : 
but  what  of  that,  if  it  pleafte  the  eye  of  one,  it  is 
with  me  as  the  very  true  sonnet  is  :  Please  one  and 
please  all. 

Oli.  Why,  how  dost  thou,  man }  what  ib  the  mat- 
ter with  thee .' 

MaL  Not  black  in  my  mind,  though  yellow  io 

(4)  Wealth.        (5)  Caught. 

(6)  Grave  and  demure.        (f)  Grave. 


86 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


Aam. 


my  leg;8 :  It  did  come  to  h'u  hands,  and  commands 
shall  be  excnzuted.  I  think,  we  do  know  the  sweet 
Etoman  hand. 

OH.  Wilt  thou  go  to  bed,  Malvolio  ? 

JdaL  To  bed  i  ay,  sweet-heart ;  and  PU  come 
to  thee. 

OIL  God  comfort  thee !  Why  dost  thou  smile  so, 
and  kiss  thy  hand  so  of%  ? 

Mar.  How  do  you,  Malvolio  ? 

Jdal.  At  your  request?  Yes;  nightingales  an- 
iwer  daws. 

Mar.  Why  appear  you  with  this  ridiculous  bold- 
ness  before  my  lady  ? 

Mai.  Be  not  afraid  (f  greatness : — 'Twas  well 
writ 

OU.  Yn^&i  meanest  thou  by  that,  Malvolio  f 

Mai.  Some  art  bom  greatf — 

Oli.  Ha.? 

MaL  Some  achieve  greatness, — 

Oli.  What  say'st  thou  } 

Mai.  And  some  have  greatness  thrust  upon  them. 

Oli.   Heaven  restore  thee! 

Mai.  Remember  toho  commended  thy  yellow 
stockinrs ; — 

Oli.  Thy  yellow  stockings  } 

Mai.  And  wished  to  see  thee  cross-gartered, 

Oli.  Cross-gartered.? 

Mai.  Go  to :  thou  art  made,  if  thou  desirest  to 
be  sof — 

Oli.  Am  I  made  ? 

Mai.  Ifnot^  let  me  see  thee  a  servant  still 

(Hi.  Why,  this  is  very  midsummer  madnest.1 

Enter  Servant, 

Ser.  Madam,  the  young  gentleman  of  the  count 
Or^o*s  is  returned ;  I  could  hardly  entreat  him 
back :  he  attends  your  ladyship^s  pleasure. 

OIL  ril  come  to  him.  [Exit  Servant.]  Good 
Maria,  let  this  fellow  be  looked  to.  Whereas  my 
cou^  Toby .?  Let  some  of  my  people  have  a  spe- 
cial care  of  him ;  I  would  not  have  him  misrarr}' 
for  the  half  6(  my  dowry.    [Exe.  Olivia  and  Mar. 

MaL  Oh,  ho !  do  you  come  near  me  now .?  no 
worse  man  Uian  sir  Toby  to  look  to  me  f  This  con- 
curs directly  with  the  letter :  she  sends  him  on  pur- 
pose, that  I  may  appear  stubborn  to  him ;  for  she 
mcites  me  to  that  in  the  letter.  Cast  the  humble 
slough,  says  she ;  be  opposite  with  a  kinsman,  surly 
with  servants, — lei  thy  tongue  tar^  with  argu- 
ments of  state,— put  thyse{f  into  the  trick  of  sin- 
gularity;  and,   consequently,  sets   down  the 

manner  how ;  as,  a  sad  face,  a  reverend  carriage, 
a  slow  ton^c,  in  the  habit  of  some  sir  of  note,  and 
ao  forth.  1  have  limed  her  ;3  but  it  is  Jove^s  doing, 
and  Jove  make  me  thankful !  And,  when  she  went 
away  now,  Tjet  this  fellow  be  looked  to :  Fellow !' 
not  Malvolio,  nor  after  my  degree,  but  fellow. 
Why,  every  thing  adheres  together ;  that  no  dram 
of  a  scruple,  no  scruple  of  a  scruple,  no  obstacle, 
no  incredulous  or  unsafe  circumstance, — What  can 
be  said .?  Nothing,  that  can  be,  can  come  between 
me  and  the  full  prospect  of  my  hopes.  Well,  Jove, 
not  I,  is  the  doer  of  this,  and  he  is  to  be  thanked. 

Re-enter  Maria,  with  Sir  Toby  Belch,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  To.  "Wliich  way  is  he,  in  the  name  of  sanctity  ? 
If  all  the  devils  in  hell  be  drawn  in  little,  and  Le- 
gion himself  p)ossessed  him,  yet  PU  speak  to  him. 

Fab.  Here  he  is,  here  he  is : — How  is't  with  you, 
■ir?  how  is*t  with  you,  man.? 


1)  Hot  weather  madness. 

2)  Caught  her  as  a  bird  with  birdlime. 
(3)  Companion. 


I 


Mai  Go  off;  I  discard  you ;  let  me  enjoj  my 
private ;  go  off. 

Mar.  Lo,  how  hollow  the  fiend  speaks  within 
him!  did  not  I  tell  you.? — Sir  Tobjr,  my  lad/ 
pravs  you  to  have  a  care  of  him. 

Mat  Ah,  ha .'  does  she  so .? 

Sir  To.  Go  to,  go  to ;  peace,  peace,  we  most 
deal  gently  with  him ;  let  me  alone.  How  do  yon, 
Malvolio.?'  how  is*t  with  ycm.?  What,  man  !  dgh^ 
the  d^il :  consider,  he*s  an  enemy  to  mankind. 

Mai.  Do  you  know  what  you  say .? 

Mar.  La  you,  an  you  speak  ill  of  the  devil,  how 
he  takes  it  at  heart!  Pray  God, he  be  not  be- 
witched ! 

Fab.  Carry  his  water  to  the  wise  wcrnian. 

Mar.  Marry,  and  it  shall  be  done  to-morroir 
morning,  if  I  live.  My  lady  would  not  lose  him 
for  more  than  Pll  say. 

Mai.  How  now,  mistress .? 

Mar.  Olord! 

Sir  To.  Pr'ythee,  hold  thy  peace ;  this  is  not  the 
way  :  Do  you  not  see,  you  move  him .?  let  me  akme 
with  him. 

Fab.  No*  way  but  gentleness ;  gently,  geifly : 
the  fiend  is  rough,  and  will  not  be  roughly  uhA. 

Sir  To.  Why,  how  now,  my  bawcock.?*  how 
doift  thou,  chuck .? 

MaL  Sir? 

.Sir  To.  Ay,  Biddy,  come  with  me.  What,  man  I 
Uis  not  for  gravity  to  play  at  cherry-pit*  with  Satan : 
Hang  him,  foul  collier  f^ 

Mar.  Get  him  to  say  his  prayers ;  good  sir  Toby, 
get  him  to  pray. 

MaL  My  prayers,  nunx .? 

Mar.  No,  I  warrant  you,  he  will  not  bear  of 
godliness. 

MaL  Go,  hang  yourselves  all!  yoa  are  idle 
shallow  things :  I  am  not  of  your  element ;  joa 
shall  know  more  hereaAer.  [JmsL 

Sir  To.  Is't  possible .? 

Fab.  If  this  were  played  upon  a  stage  now,  I 
could  condemn  it  as  an  improbable  fiction. 

Sir  To.  His  veiy  genius  hath  taken  the  infectioo 
of  the  device,  man. 

Mar.  Nnv,  pursue  him  now;  lest  the  device 
take  air,  ari^  taiiit 

Fab.  Why,  we  shall  make  him  mad,  indeed. 

Mar.  The  house  will  be  the  quieter. 

Sir  To.  Come,  weMl  have  him  in  a  dark  room, 
and  bound.  My  niece  is  already  in  the  belief  that 
he  is  mad ;  we  may  carry  it  thus  for  our  pleasure, 
and  his  penance,  till  our  ver}-  pastime,  tired  out  ot 
breath,  prompt  us  to  have  mercy  on  him  :  at  which 
time,  we  will  bring  the  device  to  the  bar,  and 
crown  thee  for  a  finder  of  madmen.  But  see,  but  see. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew  Ague-cheek. 

Fab.  More  matter  for  a  May  morning. 

Sir  And.  Here's  the  challenge,  read  it ;  I  war- 
rant, there's  vinegar  and  pepper  in't. 

Fab.  Is't  so  saucy  .? 

Sir  And.  Ay,  is  It,  I  warrant  him :  do  but  read. 

.Sir  To.  Give  nie.  [reads.]  Ymith,  whatsoever 
thou  art,  tliou  art  but  a  scurvy  fellow. 

Fab.  Good,  and  valiant. 

Sir  To.  IVonder  not,  nor  admire  not  in  tky 
mind,  why  I  do  call  thee  so,  for  I  will  show  Uug 
no  reason  forH. 

Fab.'  A  good  note :  that  keeps  you  from  the  blow 
of  the  law. 

(4)  Jolly  cock,  beau  and  coq. 

(5)  A  play  among  boys. 

(6)  Colliers  were  accounted  great  cheats. 


Snu/F. 

Sir  To.  Thau  aaiat  U,  thi  tody  Ohv 
■ty  n j-U  the  UMi  Out  kindly :  Imt  Viim  I 
Unuf,  thai  U -not  Ihi  malUr  I  chaUmi: 
/"■ft^  Ven  brief,  and  eicfedins  gom  I 
IteUl  vau-lay  thee  going  hu: 
-  ma  Id  kOi  mi, 


it  U  thy  Chan 


liktangulBndnviUa 


_     >.  don 

arTo.rAoutfflM(n 

fU.  StUljioukcrpo 
Good. 

Sir  To.  fore  Oue  mli  ;  And  Gad  Mi 
Vfcn  aae iif  ourimUa '.  He  mayhaei  mr 
mine ;  but  my  hope  u  idltr,  and  »  lovk  'to  (Av- 
»(j/^      Thy  friend,  at  (Aon  tun*  him,  and  thy 

Andrea  Jigue-cheik. 

it  letm  movta  him  mil,  hii  Icga 


TWELFTH-SIGHT;  OR,  WHAT  VOU  WILL.  87 

lid,  like  <h<>c,  might  b^u  mj  Kul  to  hell.  [Et. 
tlinfor.  Ke-entir  Sir  Tobj-  Belch,  and  Fatim. 

To.  Gtnileinan,  God  «ve  thee. 
To.  lift.  drli:nce  thou  bait,  beiabe  th« 


>.  ff'lh 


retj  fit  occuion  IbT"!  i  be 
xwilhmjlad.san'     " 


Cmoot :  I'll  Ei 
Mor.   You  imj  h«n 

bj  and  bj  depart. 

Sir  To.  Go,  tir  Andrew  ;  aroul  Of  lor  hit 
IlKcomcrof  Ihc  orchard,  like  a  bum-bnililT:  so 

nrear  horrible ;  for  ilconKito  pea  oti.  ibal  i 
rible  oalb,  wilb  a  iwaegehng  tcant  thi 
tmuiged  off,  fpva  manhood  more  npprobi 
than  erer  proof  iUelf  would  have  fan.rd 

s'r  JuA  Nbv,  let  me  alone  for  »m.ariiis.  | 

Sir  7b.  Now'nillnotldelirerhialriierr  fo 

behmTiour  of  the  joung  geatleman  givei  hiai 

to  be  of  i^ood  capacil)'  and  bneding;  hin  em] 

kn;  ihErefofc  Ihii  letter,  being  •>  ncellenll; 

fjod  it  comes  from  aclodpule.  But,  tir,  I  wil 
liter  bit  challenge  b;  woid  of  mouth ;  Kl 
Apie^heeh  a  notable  report  of  valoo  t ;  and  i 
(he  geolfeman  (ai.l  ""l™^  J™*  «"l  "P'L 

^11,  hiiy,  and  >mpeIuo»Ij.  Thil  Kill  »  fright 
Ibein  boih,  thai  they  will  kill  ooa  anuibi  '  ' 
look,  like  cockalricM. 

Enttr  Olivia  and  Viola. 


Oone  him,  I  know  not;  but  thy  inlercepler,  full  of 
draiuehl,  bloody  at  the  hunter,  aitend.  thee  at  (he 
onfiard  pud :  ctstoounl  thy  luek,'  be  jare'  in  Ibj 
pirpsrelioa,  fur  thj  auailani  u  quick,  tlulful,  and 

i_v  miarrel  to  me ;  my  renicrabrani*  ia  vtry  free 

.Sir To.  Yoo'lffcidit  odiemi«,l  »»ure  jou: 
iherefoiT,  it  you  hold  jour  life  at  any  price,  betake 
lyour  guard;  for  your  oppoBle  hath  in  him 
ruulh,  ttrenglh,  dill,  and  wrath,  can  fumilta 


/hi.  Here  he  coraei  will 
iwn  way ,  till  be  lake  If  are,  ani 
Sir  To.  1  will  mediuie  It 


ami  S&  Tiiiy,  Fabian,  and  Mflrii 
laid  too  much  onto*  beart  of  itoni 
honour  too  uncharyi 


I  reproves  m 
Aalt  it  is, 


Bat  luch  a  headslron)!  polen 
That  it  but  mocki  reproof. 
Fio.  With  the  >ame%av 


And,  I  beseech  you,  come  lu^n  lo-m    . 
What  ihall  you  uk  of  me,  that  I'll  deny  ; 
That  boniHr,  Hi'd,  ma^  upon  Biking  give 
fio.  Nothing  but  Ihia,  your  irue  love 


e  again  to-KMinw : 


;  toult  and  bodki  hath  be 
»pulchie:  bob,  Dob,i< 


lady.    1 


lat  put  quarrell 

vafcuT!  ^-■■•  - 


.ardofEcniekindofnK 
purposely  on  odjcrs,  to  (aate  I 

Sir  To.  Sir,  no;  hii  indignaticm  dcrivea  iltelf 
It  of  a  very  competent  injuij  ;  dwrefort,  gel  yoo 
I,  and  givebim  bit  desire.  Back  ) ou  ihall  not  (o 
e  house,  uiilfM  you  undertake  that  with  me, 
hich  wilh  01  much  aafet)-  you  might  amwer  him  i 
eiifcre,  on,  or  alrip  your  mord  Maik  naked  ; 
r  meddle  rou  molt,  (bat'i  certain,  or  fonwar  to 
iUailyou.    _  ,  ^      u 


iiuiht  whBt  my  ollence  to 

of  my  neeliireiice,  notbine  of  mj- puroose. 

Srr*r»illdo«).  %igniorfabr.n,Wy™ 
-.Erntlcman  till  my  return.  (Ei.f  «.r  t%. 
.  Praj  jou,  rir.doyou  know  of  this  matter. 
I.  llinow,theknight  ismi.cn«dBgBin«tycai, 
o  a  mortal  arlHtremcDl  ;>  but  nothing  of  the 

.  1  bfscich  you,  what  raarmer  of  man  u  he  ? 
1.  h'olhing  of  that  vtooderful  pionil'*,1o  read 


Sort.        {5)1 


(2)  Rapier.     ;3)  Ready. 


fio.  This  i 


jsoltice. 


Pi^enlrr  Sir  Toby, 

,>  Ti.  my. "»".  •« 
■   avuBgo. 


[ExeuaL 
eilh  Sir  Andi^w. 


■nblwrd,  and  all,  and  he  gives  roe  the 
and  on  (be  answer,  he  payt  jafi  ai  lunlj 


TWELrra-XICHT ;  OR,  WHAT  VOC  WILL 


Aunt. 


m  jvu  feet  fait  the  %roaod  dwr  step  on :  ihcj  mj, 
be  bat  beui  fencer  to  thft  Sopbr. 

Sir  And,  Pas  ooX  ini  not  ineddle  with  him. 

Sir  To.  At,  bat  he  «rii]  not  urm  be  pacifird : 
Fabiao  can  tf.^rce  hold  him  vonder. 

Sir  And.  Plaipie  oo*t:  aoItboushtbebadbMn 
faliant,  and  «o  cimniar  in  fence,  Fd  have  teen  him 
damnMi  ere  Td  bare  cbaJlenfred  him.  Let  him  let 
dbe  irnaer  flip,  and  rU  giTe  him  mj  bone,  grej 
CajaleL 

sir  To.  I*II  make  the  motion :  ftand  here,  make 
a  i^ood  tboir  on*l ;  tfait  fehali  «:nd  witboat  the  per- 
dition of  touU :  many,  TU  ride  your  bone  as  well 
ai  I  ride  joo.  [jiside. 

Reenter  Fabian  and  Viola. 

I  bare  hit  borie  ''to  Fab.]  to  take  up  the  qoanel ; 
I  bare  penuadedf  him,  the  youth**  a  devil. 

Fab.  He  b  as  horribly  conceited*  of  him ;  and 
pants,  and  looks  pale,  as  if  a  bear  were  at  his 
heels. 

Sir  To.  There's  no  remedy,  sir ;  be  will  fight 
with  you  for  his  oath  ftake :  many,  be  hath  better 
betbooght  him  of  hit  ouanel,  ana  he  finds  that  now 
•carce  to  be  worth  talking  of:  therefore  draw,  ibr 
the  tupportance  of  his  vow  ;  be  protests,  he  will  not 
bnrtyou. 

Kw.  Pray  God  defend  me!  A  Kttle  thing 
would  make  me  tell  them  bow  moch  I  lack  of  a 
roan.  [Aside. 

Fab.  Give  ground,  if  you  tee  him  furiout. 

Sir  To.  Come,  sir  Andrew,  there's  no  remedy ; 
die  gentleman  will,  Ibr  his  honour's  sake,  have  one 
bout  with  you :  he  cannot  by  the  duello?  avoid  it ; 
but  he  has  prunnsed  me,  as  be  is  a  gentleman  and 
a  soldier,  be  will  not  hurt  you.    Come  on ;  to't 

Sir  And.  Pray  God,  be  keep  his  oath!  [Dnups. 

Enier  Antonia 

Fto.  I  do  asnre  you,  'tis  against  my  will 

[Draw*. 
Ant.  Put  up  your  sword ; — If  this  young  gen- 
tleman 
Have  done  oAence,  I  take  the  fault  on  me; 
If  vou  ofiend  him,  I  ibr  him  defy  you.  [Drawing. 
&r  To.  You,  sir  ?  why,  what  are  you  ? 
Ani.  One,  sir,  that  (or  his  lo\'e  dares  yet  do 
more. 
Than  you  have  heard  him  brag  to  you  he  wilL 

Sir  To.  Nay,  if  you  be  an  undertaker,  I  am  for 
you.  [i>raira. 

Enier  two  Officers. 

Fab.  O  good  sir  Toby,  bold;  here  come  the 
officer*. 

Sir  To.  ril  be  with  you  anon.      [To  Antonio. 

Vio.  Pray,  sir,  put  up  your  sword,  if  ^ou  please. 

[To  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  And.  Marry,  will  I,  sir  ? — and,  for  that  I 
promiiicd  you,  PIl  be  as  good  as  my  word  :  He 
will  bnar  you  easily,  and  reins  well. 

1  O/T.  This  is  the  man ;  do  thy  office. 

2  Off'.  Antonio,  I  arrest  thee  at  the  suit 
Of  count  Orsino. 

Ant.  Tou  do  mistake  me,  sir. 

1  Off".  No,  sir,  no  jot ;  I  know  your  favour  well, 
Thoujrn  now  you  have  no  sea-cap  on  vour  head. — 
Take  htm  awav  ;  he  knows,  I  know  &m  well. 

Ant.  I  must  obey. — This  comes  with  seeking  you ; 
But  there's  no  remedy ;  I  shall  answer  it 

Ci)  Horrid  conception.        (2)  Lawi  of  duel 
(3)  Ornamented. 


What  win  yon  do  ?  Xow  bbt 
Makes  me  to  a»k  joa  for  my  porse :  It  giietca  me 
Much  more,  for  what  I  cannot  do  for  too. 
Than  what  befalls  mvsel£     Vou  stand  amas'd : 
But  be  of  comfort. 

2  Oj:  Come,  «r,  awav. 

Ani.  I  mtt«t  entneat  (/  you  some  of  that  moory. 

Fio.  \Miat  money,  sir. ^ 
For  the  fur  Lindneas  ^ou  have  ehow*d  me  here. 
And.  aart,  being  prompted  bv  your  present  tronble. 
Out  oC  my  lean  and  kNv  ability 
111  lend  yon  something :  my  baving  is  not  moch ; 
I'll  make  division  of  my  present  with  yon  : 
Hold,  there  is  hall  my  codlpr. 

Ani.  Will  you  deny  me  now .' 

Is't  possible,  that  nnr  deserts  to  you 
Can  lack  persuasion  ?  Do  not  tempt  my  miseiT, 
Lest  that  It  make  me  so  unsound  a  man, 
.\s  to  upbraid  you  with  those  kindnesses 
That  I  nave  done  for  you. 

Fio.  I  know  of  none ; 

Nor  know  I  you  by  voice,  or  any  feature : 
I  hak:  ingratitude  more  in  a  man. 
Than  lying,  vainness,  babbling, dnmkennesa, 
Or  any  taint  of  vice,  whose  strong  conuptioo 
Inbalxts  our  frail  blood. 

Ani.  O  heavens  themselret ! 

2  Ojff".  Come,  sir,  I  pray  you,  go. 

AnL  Let  me  speak  a  little.    This  youth  that 

/ou  see  here, 
one  half  out  of  the  jaws  of  death ; 

Reliev'd  him  with  such  sanctit}'  of  love, 

And  to  his  image,  which,  methoo^ht,  did  promiae 
Most  venerable  worth,  did  I  devotion. 

1  Q^  What's  that  to  us?  The  time  goes  by ; 
away. 

Ani.  But,  O,  how  vile  an  idol  proves  tins  god ! — 
Thou  hast,  Sebsstian,  done  good  feature  shame. — 
In  nature  there's  no  blemish,  but  the  mind ; 
None  can  be  call'd  deform'd,  but  the  unkind  : 
Virtue  is  beauty ;  but  the  beauteous-evil 
Are  empty  trunks,  o'ertlourt&h'd'  by  the  devil. 

1  Ojf'.  The  man  grows  mad ;  away  with  him. 
Come,  come,  sir. 

Ani.  Lead  me  on.  [Exe.  Officers,  uiih  Antonia 

Fio.  Methinks,  his  words  do  from  such  passion 

That  he  believes  himself;  so  do  not  1. 
Prove  true,  imagination,  O  prove  true. 
That  I,  dear  brother,  be  now  ta'en  for  you  ! 

Sir  To.  Come  hither,  knight ;  come  hither,  Fa- 
bian ;  we'll  whisper  o'er  a  couplet  or  two  of  inost 
sage  saws. 

Fio.  He  nam'd  Sebastian ;  I  my  brother  know 
Yet  living  in  my  glass  r*  even  such  and  so, 
In  favour  was  my  brother ;  and  he  went 
Still  in  this  fiishion,  colour,  ornament, 
For  him  I  imitate  :  O,  if  it  prove. 
Tempests  are  kind,  and  salt  waves  fresh  in  Ioi\'e  ! 

\E.x  ft. 

Sir  To.  A  ven*  dishonest  paltry  boy,  ana  nioie 
a  coward  than  a  "hare :  bis  dishonesty  appears,  in 
leaving  his  friend  here  in  nocos»itv,  and  dciivin-'' 
him ;  and  for  his  cowardiihip,  ask  t'abian. 

Fiib.  A  coward,  a  most  devout  coward,  reli 
gious  in  it. 

Sir  And.  'Slid,  I'll  after  him  again,  and  beat  hint 

Sir  To.  Do,  cuff  him  soundly,  but  never  dra«v 
thy  sword. 

Sir  And  An  I  do  not,—  [JEjciI 

Fab.  Come,  let's  see  the  event 

(4)  In  the  reflection  of  my  own  figure. 


&»M  /,  //. 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


89 


Sir  To.  I  dare  aj  any  moiiej,  'twill  be  nothing 
jret  [Elxeunt. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJ^E  I.^The  street  before  Olivifi's  fiouse. 
Enter  Sebastian  md  Clown. 

do.  Will  you  make  me  believe,  that  I  am  not 
sent  (or  you  ? 

Sd>.  Go  to,  go  to,  thou  art  a  foolish  fellow ; 
Let  roe  be  clear  of  thee. 

Oo.  Well  held  out,  i*faith !  No,  I  do  not  know 
you ;  nor  I  am  not  sent  to  you  by  my  lady,  to  bid 
you  come  speak  with  her ;  nor  your  name  is  not 
master  Cesario ;  nor  this  b  not  my  nose  neither. — 
Nothing,  that  is  so,  is  so. 

Seb.  I  pr'y  thee,  vent*  thy  folly  somewhere  else ; 
thou  know*st  not  me. 

Clo.  Vent  my  folly  !  he  has  heard  that  word  of 
some  great  man,  and  now  applies  it  to  a  fool. 
Vent  my  (cA\y  I  I  am  afraid  this  great  lubber,  the 
world,  will  prove  a  cockney. — I  pr'ythee  now,  un- 
gird  thy  strangeness,  and  tell  me  what  I  shall  vent 
to  my  lady;  shall  I  vent  to  her,  that  thou  art 
coming  ^ 

Seb.  I  pr*ytbee,  fooUsh  GreeJc,  depart  from  me ; 
There's  moo^y  for  thee ;  if  you  tarry  longer, 
I  ^all  give  WOTse  payment 

Qo.  By  my  trotn,  thou  hast  an  open  hand : — 
These  wise  men,  that  give  fools  money,  get  them- 
selves a  good  report  after  fourteen  years'  purchase. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew,  Sir  Toby,  and  Fabian. 

Sir  And.  Now,  sir,  have  I  met  you  again  ?  there's 

for  you.  [Striking  Sebastian. 

Seb.  Why,  there's  for  thee,  and  there,  and  there  : 

^re  all  the  people  mad .'      [Beating  Sir  Andrew. 

Sir  To.  Hold,  sir,  or  I'll  throw  your  dagger  o'er 

*he  house. 

Clo.  This  will  I  tell  my  lady  straight :  I  would 
*^f^  be  in  some  of  your  coats  for  two-pence. 

[Exit  Clown. 
Sir  To.  Come  on,  sir ;  hold.        [Holding  Seb. 
Sir  And.  Nay,  let  him  alone,  I'll  go  another  way 
'o  ^rcrk  with  him ;  I'll  have  an  action  of  battery 
^gpainst  bim,  if  there  be  any  law  in  Illyria  :  thougli 
I  Btr-uck  him  first,  yet  it's  no  matter  for  that 
S^h.  Let  go  thy  hand. 
•Sf«V  To.  Come,  sir,  I  will  not  let  you  go.  Come, 
Jr  jroung  soldier,  put  up  your  iron :  you  are  well 
fe»l»<ed;  c<Hne  on. 
^fie=A.  I  will  be  free  from  thee.    What  would'st 
thou  nowf 
"  d:»oo  dar'st  tempt  me  further,  draw  thy  sword. 
^  [Draws. 

SV»-  To.  What,  what  ^    Nay,  then  I  must  have 
•n  o^ance  or  two  of  this  malapert  blood  frwn  you. 

[Draws. 
Enter  Olivia. 

^^»-  Hold,  Toby ;  on  thy  life,  I  charge  thee,  hold. 

^«sr>  To.  Madam.? 

.^'«  -  Will  it  be  ever  thus  .*    Ungracious  wretch, 
^*^  *<>ir  the  mountains,  and  the  barbarous  caves, 
>Vb^r<ie  manners  ne'er  were  preach'd!  out  of  my 

sight! 
Be  J^*>t  offended,  dear  Cesario : 

Rtta«»b^',a  be  gone  I—I  pr'ythee,  gentle  friend, 

r-Exeim/ Sir  Toby,  Sir  Andrew,  and  Fabian. 

t^  tliy  ^j.  wisdom,  not  thy  passion,  sway 

C\^  Let  out'    (2)  Rude  fellow.    (3)  Violence. 
C^)  Made  up.     (5)  111  betide. 


In  this  uncivil  and  unjust  extent* 

Against  thy  peace.     Go  with  me  to  my  house ; 

And  hear  thuu  there  how  many  fruitless  pranks 

This  ruffian  hath  botch'd  up,^  that  thou  tnereby 

May'st  smile  at  this  :  thou  siialt  not  choose,  but  go  ; 

Do  not  deny  :  beshrew^  his  soul  for  me. 

He  started  one  poor  heart  of  mine  in  thee. 

Seb.  What  relish  is  in  this .'  how  runs  the  stream  ? 
Or  1  am  mad,  or  else  this  is  a  dream  : — 
Let  fancy  still  my  sense  in  Lethe  steep ; 
If  it  be  Uius  to  dream,  still  let  me  sleep ! 

0/t.  Nay,  come,  I  pr'}ihee :  'would,  thou'dit  be 


rul'd  by  me ! 
Seb.  Madam,  I  will. 
OH. 


O,  say  so,  and  so  be !  [Ext. 


SCEJ^E  II.— A  room  in  Olivia's  hmue.    Enter 
Maria  and  Cbwn. 

Mar.  Nay,  I  pr'ythee,  put  on  this  gown,  and 
this  beard ;  make  him  believe  thou  art  sir  Topai 
the  curate ;  do  it  quickly :  I'll  call  sir  Toby  the 
whilst  [Exit  Maria. 

Cto.  Well,  I'll  put  it  on,  and  I  will  dissonble* 
myself  in't ;  and  I  would  I  were  the  first  that  ever 
dissembled  in  such  a  gown.  I  am  not  fat  enough 
to  become  the  function  well ;  nor  lean  enoi:^  to 
be  thought  a  good  student;  but  to  be  said,  an 
honest  man,  and  a  good  housekeeper,  goes  as 
fairly,  as  to  say,  a  careful  man,  and  a  great  scholar. 
The  competitors^  enter. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  Belch  and  Maria. 

Sir  To.  Jove  bless  thee,  master  person. 

Cla  Bonos  dies,  sir  Toby :  for  as  the  old  hermit 
of  Prague,  that  never  saw  pen  and  ink,  venr  wit- 
tily said  to  a  niece  of  king  Gorboduc,  Thatt  thai  it, 
is:  so  I,  being  master  parson,  am  master  panmi; 
for  what  is  that,  but  that  f  and  is,  but  is  ? 

.Sir  To.  To  him,  sir  Topas. 

Clo.  Wliat,  hoa,  I  say, — Peace  in  this  prison ! 

Sir  To.  The  knave  counterfeits  well ;  a  goci 
knave. 

J^fal.  [in  an  inner  cJuanber.]  Who  calls  there  ? 

Clo.  Sir  Topas,  the  curate,  who  comes  to  visi* 
Malvolio  the  lunatic. 

Mai  Sir  Topas,  sir  Topas,  good  sir  Topas,  go 
to  mv  lady. 

do.  Out,  hyperbolical  fiend !  how  vexest  thoa 
this  man.'  talkest  thou  nothing  but  of  ladies.? 

Sir  To.   Well  said,  master  parson. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas,  never  was  man  thus  wronged ! 
fi^ond  sir  To^m;*,  do  not  think  I  am  mad;  they  have 
laid  me  here  in  hideous  darkness. 

Clo.  Fie,  thou  dishonest  Satliaii !  I  call  thee  by 
the  most  modest  terms ;  for  I  am  one  of  tliose  gentle 
ones,  that  will  use  the  devil  himself  with  courtesy : 
say'8t  thou,  that  house  is  dark  ? 

Mai.  As  hell,  sir  Topas. 

Clo.  Why,  it  hath  bay-windows,"  transparent  as 
barricadoes,  and  the  clear  stones  towards  the  south- 
north  are  as  lustrous  as  ebony ;  and  yet  complaineat 
thou  of  obstruction  ? 

MaL  I  am  not  mad,  sir  Topas ;  I  say  to  you,  this 
liouse  is  dark. 

Clo.  Madman,  thou  errest :  I  say,  there  is  no 
darkness,  but  ignorance ;  in  which  thou  art  more 
puzzled,  than  the  Egyptians  in  their  fog. 

Mai.  I  say,  this  house  is  as  dark  as  ignorance, 
though  ignorance  were  as  dark  as  hell ;  and  I  say, 
there  was  never  man  thus  abused :  I  am  no  more 

(6)  Di!^ise.        (7)  Confederates. 
(8)  Bow-windows. 


\ 


90 


TWELFTH-?nGIIT;  OR,  WHAT  TOU  WHX* 


AH  r 


mtd  than  joo  an ;  hmIw  thetmlofitmaiij 
flaiit  qoettion.! 
do.  What  it  the  opinkn  of  Pfthagons,  CQOoem- 

•K&l.  That  the  loul  of  our  grandam  mii^haply 
inhabit  a  bird. 

Clo.  What  thinkest  thoa  of  hi«  opniiaa  ? 

MaL  I  think  nobly  of  the  kniI,  and  no  waj  ap- 
prove hi<i  opinion. 

Clo.  Fare  thee  «rcll :  remain  thoa  itill  in  dark- 
neai :  th(Mi  i4)alt  hold  the  opinion  of  P^ibaroras, 
ere  I  will  alloir  of  thjr  wits;  and  fear  to  aill  a 
woodcock,  le«t  thou  dispoMe«  the  toul  of  thj  gran- 
dam.     Fare  thee  well. 

Mai.  .Sir  Topas,  sir  TopaSf — 

Sir  To.  Mv  most  exquisite  sir  Topai ! 

Clo.  Nay,  I  am  for  all  waten.3 

Mar.  Thou  might*«t  have  done  thii  withoat  thy 
beard,  and  s:own ;  he  flees  thee  not 

Sir  To.  To  him  in  thine  own  voice,  and  brii^ 
me  word  how  thou  findest  him :  I  would  we  were 
well  rid  of  this  kiiaven'.  If  he  may  be  conveni- 
oitlv  delivered,  I  would  he  were ;  for  I  am  now  so 
frr  m  offence  with  my  niece,  that  I  cannot  pursue 
with  any  safety  this  sport  to  the  upshot  Come  by 
and  by  to  my  chamber.  [Ere.  Sir  Toby  and  Mar. 

Clo.  /fey,  Robiii,j(Aly  Robin^ 

Tell  me  how  thy  lady  does.       [Singing. 

Mai.  Fool, — 

Clo.  Mif  lady  is  unkind,  perdy, 

Mai.  ^^ool, — 

Clo.  AloM,  toAy  tMsheto? 

MaL  Foul,  I  say ; — 

Clo.  S^(ooe«ano(A«r— Who  calls, ha. ^ 

Mai.  Good  fool,  as  ever  thou  wilt  deserve  well 
at  my  hand,  help  me  to  a  candle,  and  pm,  and  ink, 
and  paper ;  as  1  am  a  gentleman,  I  will  lire  to  be 
thankful  to  thee  for*t 

Clo.  Master  Malvolio ! 

Mai.  Ay,  ji^ood  fool. 

Clo.  Alas,  sir,  how  fell  you  beside  your  five  wits  f^ 

Mai. '  Foul,  there  was  never  man  so  notoriously 
•ba<9ed  :  I  am  as  well  in  my  wits,  fool,  as  thou  art. 

Clo.  But  as  well  f  then  you  are  mad,  indeed,  if 
you  be  no  better  in  your  wits  than  a  ibol. 

Mai.  They  have  here  propertied  me  ;^  keep  me 
m  darkness,  send  ministers  to  me,  asses,  and  oo  all 
thev  can  to  face  mc  out  of  my  wits. 

Clo.  Advise  you  what  you  say ;  the  minister  is 
here. — Malvolio,  Malvolio,  thy  wits  the  heavens  re- 
•ton; !  endt^vour  thyself  to  sleep,  and  leave  tliy 
vain  bibble  babble. 

Mai.  Sir  Topas, 

Go.  Maintain  no  words  with  him,  good  fellow. — 
Who,  1,  8ir  f  not  I,  sir.  God  b*wi'vou,  good  sir 
Topas. — Many,  amen. — I  will,  sir,  I  will. 

MaL  Fof)l,  ?ooI,  fool,  I  say, — 

Qo.  Alas,  sir,  be  patient  What  say  you,  sir.' 
I  am  shent^  for  speaking  to  you. 

MaL  (lood  fool,  help  me  to  some  light,  and  some 
paper ;  I  tell  thee,  I  am  as  well  in  my  wits,  as  any 
man  in  Tllvria. 

Clo.  \Vell-a-day, — that  you  were,  sir ! 

MaL  By  this  hnnd,  I  am :  good  fool,  some  ink, 
paper,  anu  light,  and  convey  what  I  will  set  down 
to  my  lady ;  it  shall  ad\*anti!^  thee  more  than  ever 
the  b«*aring  of  letter  did. 

Clo.  I  will  help  vou  to*t  But  tell  me  true,  are 
you  not  mad,  indeed  f  or  do  you  but  counterfeit  ? 

(1)  Regular  cooversation. 

^2)  .\nv  other  gem  as  a  toptu,    (3)  Senses. 

(4)  Taken  possession  of. 

(5)  Scoldedf,  reprimanded. 


MaL  Believe  ma,  I  tmnoC;  I  tell  diee'trfie. 

Go.  Nay,  1*11  ne*er  believe  a  madman,  till  I 
htsltrains.  I  will  fetch  you  light,  and  paper,  and  ink. 

MaL  Fool,  ril  requite  it  in  the  h^^nest  dq;rae 
I  pr^ytbee,  be  gone. 

Cla      lamgoiUftirj 
And  anoHf  sir, 
rU  be  triih  you  again. 
In  a  trice  ; 
Like  to  the  old  vice,* 
Your  need  to  sustain  ; 

If^Tio  vith  dagger  qf  latk, 
In  his  rage  and  his  tcraih. 

Cries,  ah,  ha  !  to  the  devil : 
Like  a  mad  lad. 
Pare  thy  nails,  dad. 

Adieu,  gowbnan  driveL  [Exit 


SCEJ<rE  ///.— Olivia*sfan2m.  Enter 

Seb.  This  is  the  air ;  that  is  the  glorious  sun; 
This  peaH  she  gave  me,  I  do  fecPt,  and  see*t : 
And  UKNigh  'tis  wonder  that  enwraps  me  thus. 
Vet  'tis  not  madness.     Where's  Aiitooio  then? 
I  could  not  find  him  at  the  Elephant : 
Yet  there  he  was ;  and  there  1  found  this  credit,' 
That  he  did  range  the  town  to  seek  me  out 
His  counsel  now  mqE:ht  do  me  golden  service : 
For  though  my  soul  disputes  well  with  mr  sense, 
That  this  may  be  some  error,  but  no  mawiesa. 
Yet  doth  this  accident  and  flood  of  fortune, 
So  far  exceed  all  instance,  all  discourse,* 
That  I  am  read^  to  distrust  mine  eyes, 
And  wrangle  with  my  reason,  that  persuades  me 
To  any  other  trust?  Init  that  I  am  mad. 
Or  else  the  lady's  mad ;  yet,  if  'twere  so, 
She  could  not  sway  her  nouse,  command  her  fol- 

lowers,w 
Take,  and  give  back,  afiairs,  and  their  despatch. 
With  such  a  smooth,  discreet,  and  stable  bearing. 
As,  I  perceive,  she  does :  there's  something  in't. 
That  IS  deceivable.     But  here  comes  the  Imj. 

Enter  Olivia  and  a  Priest 

(HL  Blame  not  this  haste  of  mine :  if  joo  mnun 
well. 
Now  go  with  me,  and  with  this  holy  man. 
Into  the  chantry' I  ^  by :  there,  before  him. 
And  luidemeatn  that  consecrated  roof. 
Plight  me  the  full  assurance  of  your  fiuth ; 
That  my  most  jealous  and  too  doubtful  soul 
May  live  at  peace  :  be  shall  conceal  it, 
VMiiles^^  you  are  willing  it  shall  come  to  note ; 
What  time  we  will  our  celebration  keep 
Accordins:  to  my  birth. — What  do  you  say  .* 

Seb.  I'll  follow  this  good  man,  and  go  with  joa ; 
And,  having  sworn  truth,  ever  will  be  true. 

Oli.  Then  lead  the  way,  good  father ; And 

heavens  so  shine. 
That  they  may  feirly  note  this  act  of  mine !  [JSaec 


ACT  V. 

SCEJV'E  I.— The  street  btfore  Olina'a  hauu. 
Enter  Clown  and  Fabian. 

F\ad>.  Now,  as  thou  lovest  me,  let  me  see  fab  letter. 

(6)  A  bufibon  character  in  the  old  pla^ys,  nnd 
father  of  the  modem  harlequin. 

(7)  Account  (8)  RraMxi.         (0)  B<>Iio€ 
(10)  Servants.    (11)  Uttle  chapel      (12%  UnliL 


Sdum/. 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


91 


do.  Good  master  Falnan,  grant  me  another  re- 
qneit 

flUt.  Anj  thin^. 

Clo.  Do  not  desire  to  see  this  letter. 

Fhb.  That  is,  to  give  a  dog,  and,  in  recompense, 
deare  my  dog  again. 

EnUr  Duke,  Viola,  and  atUndanta, 

Duke.  Belong  you  to  the  lady  Olivia,  friends  ? 

Go.  Ay,  sir ;  we  are  some  of  her  trappings. 

Duke.  I  know  thee  well ;  How  dost  thou,  my 
good  fellow  ? 

Clo.  Truly,  sir,  the  better  for  my  foes,  and  the 
worse  for  my  friends. 

Duke.  Just  the  contrary;  the  better  for  thy 
friends. 

Clo.  No,  sir,  the  worse. 

Duke.  How  can  that  be  ? 

do.  Marry,  sir,  they  praise  me,  and  make  an  ass 
of  me  ;  now  my  foes  tell  me  plainly  I  am  an  ass :  so 
^t  by  my  foes,  sir,  I  profit  in  the  knowledge  of 
nnrself ;  and  b?  my  friends  I  am  abused :  so  that, 
ooDclufflons  to  be  as  kisses,  if  your  four  negatives 
make  your  two  affirmatives,  why,  then  the  worse 
for  my  friends,  and  the  better  for  my  foes. 

Duke.  Why,  this  is  excellent 

Go.  By  my  troth,  sir,  no ;  though  it  please  you 
to  be  one  of  my  friends. 

Duke,  Thou  shall  not  be  the  worse  for  me; 
tiiere's  gold. 

Go.  But  that  it  would  be  double-dealing,  sir,  I 
would  you  could  make  it  another. 

Duke.  O,  you  give  me  ill  counsel. 

Clo.  Put  your  grace  in  your  pocket,  sir,  for  this 
once,  and  let  vour  flesh  and  blood  obey  it 

Duke.  Well,  I  will  be  so  much  a  sinner  to  be  a 
double-dealer ;  there's  another. 

Cla  Primoj  ucundo^  tertio^  is  a  good  play ;  and 
^  old  saying  is,  the  third  pays  for  all :  the  IripUx, 
sir,  is  a  good  tripp'ng  measure  ;*or  the  bells  of  St 
Bomet,  sir.,  may  put  you  in  mind ;  One,  two,  three. 

Duke,  Tou  can  fool  no  more  money  out  of  me  at 
this  throw :  if  you  will  let  your  lady  know,  1  am 
here  to  speak  with  her,  and  bring  her  along  with 
jou,  it  may  awake  my  bounty  further. 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  lullaby  to  your  bounty,  till  I 
come  again.  I  go,  sir ;  but  I  would  not  have  you 
to  think,  that  my  desire  of  having  is  the  sin  of  cov- 
eUMsiJess :  but,  as  you  say,  sir,  let  your  bounty  take 
a  nap,  I  will  awake  it  anoo.  [Exil  Clown. 

ErUer  Antonio  cmd  Officers. 

Vw.  Here  comes  the  man,  sir,  that  did  rescue  me. 

Duke.  That  face  of  his  I  do  remember  well ; 
Tet,  when  I  saw  it  last,  it  was  besmearM 
As  black  as  Vulcan,  in  the  smoke  of  war : 
^  bawbling  ve»»l  was  he  captain  of. 
Tor  diallow  draught,  and  bulk,  unprizable : 
"With  which  such  scathfuU  grapple  did  he  make 
^ith  the  most  noble  bottom  of  our  fleet, 
*rhat  very  cnw,  and  the  tongue  of  loss, 
Cnr'd  fame  and  honour  on  him.— What's  the  matter? 

1  Off.  Orsino,  this  is  that  Antonio, 
That  took  the  Phoenix,  and  her  fraught^,  from 

Candy ;     • 
And  this  is  be,  that  did  the  Tiger  board, 
^^'hcn  your  young  nephew  Titus  lost  his  lee : 
^ere  in  the  streets,  desperate  of  shame,  and  state. 
In  private  brabble  did  we  apprehend  binil 

rto.  He  did  me  kindness,  sir ;  drew  on  my  side ; 
But,  in  conclusion,  put  strange  speech  upon  me, 


(1)  BiIischieToas. 


(2)  Freight 


I  know  not  what  'twas,  but  distraction. 

DuJu.  Notable  pirate !  thou  salt-water  thief! 
What  foolish  boldness  brought  thee  to  their  mercies, 
Whom  thou,  in  terms  so  bloody,  and  so  dear, 
Hast  made  thine  enemies? 

Ant.  Orsino,  noble  sir, 

Be  pleas'd  that  I  shake  off  these  names  you  give  me, 
Antonio  never  vet  was  thief,  or  pirate. 
Though,  I  confess,  on  base  and  ground  enough, 
Orsino's  enemy.     A  witchcraft  drew  me  hither : 
That  most  inmteful  boy  there,  bv  your  side. 
From  the  ruae  sea's  enrag'd  and  foamy  mouth 
Did  I  redeem ;  a  wreck  past  hope  he  was : 
His  life  I  gave  him,  and  did  thereto  add 
My  love,  without  retention,  or  restraint. 
All  his  in  dedicaticm  :  for  his  sake. 
Did  I  expose  myself,  pure  for  his  love, 
Into  the  danger  of  this  adverse  town ; 
Drew  to  defend  him,  when  he  was  beset ; 
Where  being  apprehended,  his  false  cunning 
(Not/neaning  to  partake  with  me  in  danger,) 
Taught  him  to  face  me  out  of  his  acouaintance, 
And  grew  a  twenty-years-removed  thing, 
While  one  would  wink ;  denied  me  mine  own 

pufse. 
Which  I  bad  reownroended  to  his  use 
Not  half  an  hour  before. 

Vio.  How  can  this  be? 

Duke.  When  came  he  to  this  town  ? 

Ant.  To-day,  my  lord;  and  for  three  months 
before 
(No  interim,  not  a  minute's  vacancy,) 
Both  day  and  night  did  we  keep  c(»npany. 

Enter  Olivia  and  attendants. 


Duke.  Here  comes  the 
walks  on  earth. 


countess;  now  heaven 


But  for  thee,  fellow,  fellow,  thy  words  are  madness : 
Three  months  this  youth  hath  tended  upon  me ; 
But  more  of  that  anon. Take  him  aside. 

OU.  What  would  my  k>rd,  but  that  he  may  not 
have. 
Wherein  Olivia  may  seem  serviceable  ? — 
Cesario,  you  do  not  keep  promise  with  me. 

Vio.  Madam? 

Duke.  Gracious  Olivia, 

OU.  What  do  you  say,  Cesario.' Good  my 

lord, 

Vio.  My  lord  would  speak,  my  duty  hushes  me. 

OU.  If  It  be  ai:^ht  to  the  old  tune,  my  lord, 
It  is  as  fat'  and  fubome  to  mine  ear. 
As  howling  after  music. 

Duke.  Still  so  cruel  ? 

OH.  Still  so  constant,  lord. 

Duke.  What !  to  perverseness  ?  you  uncivil  lady. 
To  whose  ingrate  and  unauspicious  altars 
My  soul  the  faithfuH'st  ofierings  hath  brenth'd  out. 
That  e'e'r  devotion  tcnder'd !  What  shall  I  do  ? 

OU,  Even  what  it  please  my  lord,  that  shall  be- 
come him. 

Duke.  Why  should  I  not,  had  I  the  heart  to  do  it, 
Like  to  the  Elg\  ptian  tliief,  at  point  of  death. 
Kill  what  I  love ;  a  savage  jealousy, 
That  sometime  savours  nobly  ? — But  hear  me  this : 
Since  you  to  non-regardance  cast  my  faith. 
And  that  I  partly  know  the  instrument 
That  screws  me  from  my  true  place  in  your  favour. 
Live  you,  the  marble-breasted  tyrant,  still ; 
But  this  your  minion,  whom,  I  know,  you  love. 
And  whom,  by  heaven,  I  swear,  I  tender  deaily, 
Him  will  I  tear  out  of  that  cruel  eye, 

(3)  Dull,  gross 


92 


TWELFTH-NIGHT ;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


AdF. 


Where  he  sits  crowned  in  his  master*8  spite. — 
Comr  boy,  with  me ;  my  thoughts  are  npe  in  mis- 
chief: 
IMI  sacrifice  the  lamb  that  I  do  love, 
To  spite  a  raven^s  heart  within  a  dove.       [Going. 

Fto.  And  I,  most  jocund,  apt,  and  willingly. 
To  do  you  rest,  a  thousand  deaths  would  die. 

[Following. 

OU.  Where  goes  Cesario  ? 

Fib.  After  him  I  love. 

More  than  I  love  these  eyes,  more  than  my  life. 
More,  by  all  mores,  than  eVr  I  shall  love  wife : 
If  I  do  ^eign,  you  witnesses  above. 
Punish  my  life,  for  tainting  of  my  love  ! 

OIL  Ah,  mo,  detested !  how  am  I  beguird  ! 

Vio.  Who  does  beguile  you  ?  who  does  do  you 
wrong  ? 

OIL  Hast  thou  forgot  thyself?  Is  it  so  long  P — 
Call  forth  the  holy  father.       [Exti  an  Aitendani. 

Duke.  Come  a  way. 

rro"  Viola. 

O/i.  "^Tiither,  mv lord? — Cesario, husoand, stay. 

Duke.  Husband? 

OU.  Ay,  husband  ;  Can  he  that  deny  ? 

Duke.  Her  husband,  sirrah  ? 

I'io.  No,  my  lord,  not  I. 

OIL  Alas,  it  is  the  baseness  of  thy  fear. 
That  makes  thee  strangle  thv  propriety  -A 
Fear  not,  Cesario,  take  thy  fortunes  up ; 
Be  that  thou  know*st  thou  art,  and  then  thou  art 
As  great  as  that  thou  fear^st— -O,  welcome,  father ! 

Re-enter  Attendant  and  Priest 

Fatfter,  I  charge  thee,  by  thy  reverence. 
Here  to  unfold  (though  lately  we  intended 
To  keep  in  darkness,  what  occasion  now 
Reveals  before  *tis  npe,)  what  thou  dost  know. 
Hath  newly  past  between  this  youth  and  me. 

Priest.  A  contract  of  eternal  bond  of  love. 
Confirmed  by  mutual  ioinder  of  your  hands. 
Attested  by  the  holy  close  of  lifts. 
Strengthen^  by  interchangement  of  your  ring^ ; 
And  all  the  cf  reinony  of  this  compact 
SeaPd  in  my  function,  by  my  testimony  : 
Since  when,  my  watch  bath  told  me,  toward  my 

grave, 
I  have  travelled  but  two  hours. 
Duke.  O,  thou  dissembling  cub!  what  wilt  thou  be. 
When  time  hath  sew*d  a  grizzle  on  thy  case.^ 
Or  will  not  els*  thy  craft  so  quickly  grow. 
That  thine  own  trip  shall  be  thine  overthrow  ? 
Farewell,  and  take  her ;  but  direct  thy  feet. 
Where  thou  and  I  henceforth  may  never  naeet 

Fto.  My  lord,  I  do  protest, — 

Oli.  O,  do  not  swear  : 

Hold  little  faith,  though  thou  hast  too  much  fear. 

Enter  Sir  Andrew  Ague-cheek,  Vfith  his  head 

broke. 

Sir  And.  For  the  love  of  God,  a  surgeon  ;  send 
one  preftntly  to  sir  Toby. 

OIL  Whai's  the  matter  ? 

Sir  And.  He  has  broke  my  head  acn»s,  and 
has  given  sir  Toby  a  bloody  coxconib  too  :  for  th»' 
love  of  God,  your  help :  l'  had  rather  than  forty 
pound,  I  Wf^re  at  home. 

Oli.  Who  has  done  this  sr  Andrew  ? 

Sir  And.  The  count's  gentleman,  one  Cesario : 
we  took  him  for  a  coward,  but  he's  the  ver\'  do\  ii 
incardinate. 

Duke.  My  gentleman,  Cesario  ? 

(1)  Dioown  thy  property.        (2)  Skin. 
(3)  Othi-rways.      (4;  ^rious  dancers. 


5^  And.  Od*8  lifelings,  here  he  is : — ^You  broke 
my  head  for  nothing ;  and  that  that  I  did,  I  was 
set  on  to  do*t  by  sir  Tobv. 

Vio.  Ythj  do  you  speak  to  me  ?  I  never  hurt  you : 
You  drew  your  sword  upon  me,  without  cause ; 
But  I  bespake  you  fair,  and  hurt  you  not 

Sir  And.  If  a  bloody  coxcomb  be  a  hurt,  you 
have  hurt  me;  I  think,  you  set  nothing  by  a  bloody 
coxcomb. 

Enter  Sir  Toby  Belch,  drunk^  led  by  the  Clown. 

Here  comes  sir  Toby  halting,  you  shall  hear  more : 
but  if  he  had  not  been  in  drink,  he  would  have 
tickled  you  olhergatcs^  than  he  did. 

Duke.  How  now,  gentleman  ?  how  is*t  with  you  ? 

Sir  To.  That's  cdl  one ;  he  has  hurt  me,  and 
there's  the  end  on't — Sot,  did'st  see  Dick  surgeon, 
sot? 

Clo.  O  he's  drunk,  sir  Toby,  an  hour  agone ; 
his  eyes  were  set  at  eight  i'  the  morning. 

Sir  To.  Then  he's  a  rogue.  After  a  passy -mea- 
sure, or  a  pavin/  I  hate  a  dnmken  rogue. 

Oli.  Away  with  him :  who  hath  made  this  havoc 
with  them? 

Sir  And.  I'll  help  you,  sir  Toby,  because  we'll 
be  dressed  together. 

•Sir  To.  Will  you  help  an  ass-head,  and  a  cox- 
comb, and  a  knave  ?  a  tnin-faced  knave,  a  gull  ? 

Oli.  Get  him  to  bed,  and  let  his  hurt  be  looK'd  to. 
[Exeunt  Clown,  Sir  Toby,  and  Sir  Andrew, 

£n(rr  Sebastian. 

Seb,  I  am  sorry,  madam,  I  have  hurt  your  kins 
man; 
But,  had  it  been  the  brother  of  my  blood, 
I  must  have  done  no  less,  with  wit,  and  safety. 
You  throw  a  strange  regard  upon  me,  and 
By  that  I  do  perceive  it  hath  odfended  you  ; 
Pardon  me,  sweet  one,  even  for  the  vows 
We  made  each  other  but  so  late  ago. 

Duke.  One  face,  one  voice,  one  habit,  and  two 
persons? 
A  natural  perspective,  that  is,  and  is  not 

Seb.  Antonio,  O  my  dear  Antonio ! 
How  have  the  hours  rack'd  and  tortur'd  me. 
Since  I  have  lost  thee. 

Ant.  Sebastian  are  vou  ? 

Seb.  l^ear'st  thou  that,  Antonio  ? 

Ant.  How  have  you  made  .division  of  yourself? 
An  apple,  cleft  in  t^'o,  is  not  more  twin 
Than  these  two  creatures.     Wliich  is  Sebastian  ? 

Oli.  Most  wonderful ! 

S(b.  Do  I  stand  there  ?  I  never  had  a  brother : 
Nor  can  there  be  that  deity  in  my  nature. 
Of  here  and  every  where.     I  had  a  sister, 
\MK)m  the  blind  waves  and  surges  have  devour'd:— 
Of  charit}-,*  what  kin  are  you  to  me?    [To  Viola. 
\Miat  countmnan  ?  what  name  ?  what  parenia!i^>  ? 

J'io.  Of  ^le«saline :  Sebastian  was  my  father 
Such  a  Sebastian  was  mv  brother  too. 
So  went  he  suited  to  hi^  watery  tomb : 
I  f  ^MT^ti  can  assume  both  form  and  suit, 
Vou  come  to  fright  us. 

.Sf6.  A  spirit  I  am  indcc  d  ; 

But  am  in  that  dimension  grossly  clad. 
Which  from  the  womb  I  did  participate. 
Were  you  a  woman,  as  the  rest  goes  even, 
I  should  my  tears  let  fall  upon  your  cheek, 
1  And  say — Thrice  welccwne,  drowned  Viola  ! 

J7o.  My  father  had  a  mole  upcui  his  brow. 

Seb.  And  so  had  mine. 

(5)  Out  of  charity  tell  me. 


TWELFTH-NIGHT;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


93 


nd  died  diat  day  when  Viola  (romber  birth 
iberM  thirteen  years. 
,  that  record  is  lively  in  my  soul ! 
edy  indeed,  his  mortal  act, 
that  made  my  sister  thirteen  yean, 
f  nothing  lets*  to  make  us  happy  both, 
nj  masculine  usurpM  attire, 
iwrace  me,  till  eacn  circumstance 
,  time,  fortune,  do  cohere,  and  jump, 
n  Vic^ :  which  to  confirm, 
you  to  a  captain  in  this  town, 
I  my  maiden  weeds ;  by  whose  gentle  help, 
iterr'd,  to  serve  this  noble  count : 
xurrence  of  my  fortune  since 
n  between  this  lady,  and  this  lord. 

0  comes  it,  lady,  you  have  been  mistook  : 

[To  Olivia. 
re  to  her  bias  drew  in  that 
Id  have  been  contracted  to  a  maid  ; 
foa  therein,  by  my  life,  deceivM ; 
tietroth'd  both  to  a  maid  and  man. 
Be  not  amazM ;  right  noble  is  his  blood. — 
)  to,  as  yet  the  glass  seems  true, 
KVe  share  in  this  most  happy  wreck : 

01  hest  said  to  me  a  thousand  times, 

[To  Viola. 
rer  thould^st  love  woman  like  to  me. 
knd  all  those  sayings  will  I  over-swear ; 
Aioee  swearings  keep  as  true  in  soul, 
tliKt  orbed  continent  the  fire 
en  day  from  night. 

Give  me  thy  hand; 
me  Me  thee  in  th^  woman's  weeds, 
he  captain,  that  did  bring  me  first  on  shore, 
maia's  ganncnts  :  he,  upon  some  action, 
I  durance ;  at  Malvolio's  suit, 
man,  and  follower  of  my  lady*8. 
[e  AaW  enlarge  him : — Fetch  Malvolio 
bidier : — 

alaa,  now  I  remember  me, 
ff  poor  gentleman,  he's  much  distract 

JU-tnier  Clown,  toiih  a  Utter. 

txtractii^  frenzy  of  mine  own 

J  ronembrance  clearly  banish'd  hit. 

!f  he,  sirrah  ? 

Troly,  madam,  he  holds  Belzebub  at  the 

ad,  as  well  as  a  man  in  his  case  may  do 

BTC  writ  a  letter  to  vou ;  I  should  have  giv 

I  to-day  morning;  [)ut  as  a  madman's  epis- 

lo  gospels,  so  it  skills  not  much,  when  they 

ered. 

^pen  it,  and  read  it 

iOok  then  to  be  well  edified,  when  the  fool 

the  madman  : — By  the  Lord^  madams — 

low  now  !  art  thou  mad  ? 

9o,  madam,  I  do  but  read  madness :  an 

fsbip  will  have  it  as  it  ought  to  be,  you 

)W  t?0X.2 

Vythee,  read  i'  thy  right  wits. 

\o  I  do,  madonna ;  but  to  read  bis  right 

3  read  tfius  :  therefore  perpend,^  my  prin- 

1  give  ear. 

tnd  it  vou,  sirrah.  [To  Fabian. 

[reads.]  Bu  the  Lord^madam^you  wrong 

Uut world  shall  know  it:  though  you  have 

mh  darkness^  and  given  your  drunken 

mfc  oifer  me,  yet  have  1  the  benejit  of  my 

t  teett  as  your  ladyship.    I  have  your  own 

U  induced  me  to  the  semblance  /put  on  ; 


inderi.         (2)  Voice, 
rame  and  cqnstitutioii. 
7 


(3)  Attend 
(5)  Inferior. 


with  the  which  I  doubt  not  but  to  do  myself  much 
rightf  or  you  mucA  shame.  Think  oj'  me  as  you 
pUase.  J  leave  my  duty  a  Ultle  unthoughi  oJ\  and 
speak  out  qf  my  tnjury. 

The  madly-used  Malvolio. 

Oli.  Did  he  write  this  ? 

Clo.  Ay,  madam. 

Duke.  This  savours  not  much  of  distraction. 

OH.  See  him  deliver'd,  Fabian;  bring  him  hither. 

[Exit  Fabian. 
My  lord,  so  please  you,  these  thmgs  further  thought 

on. 
To  think  me  as  well  a  sister  as  a  wife. 
One  day  shall  crown  the  alliance  on't,  so  please  you, 
Here  at  mv  house,  and  at  my  proper  cost. 

Duke.  Sladaro,  I  am  most  apt  to  embrace  your 
ofler. — 
Your  master  ^uits  you ;  [To  Viola.]  and,  for  your 

service  done  him. 
So  much  against  the  mettle*  of  your  sex. 
So  far  beneath  your  s<^t  and  tender  breeding, 
And  since  you  call'd  me  master  for  so  long. 
Here  is  my  hand ;  you  shall  from  this  time  be 
Your  master's  mistress. 

Oli.  A  sister ? — ^}ou  are  the 

Re-enter  Fabian,  with  Malvolio. 

Duke.  Is  this  the  madman  ? 

Oli.  Ay,  my  lord,  this  same : 

How  now,  Malvolio  f 

Mai.  Madam,  you  have  done  me  wrong, 

Notorious  wrong. 

Oli.  Have  I,  Malvolio  f  no. 

MaL  Lady,  you  have.    Pray  you,  ))eruse  that 
letter : 
You  must  not  now  deny  it  is  your  hand. 
Write  frcxn  it,  if  you  can,  in  hand,  or  phrase ; 
Or  say,  'tis  not  your  seal,  nor  your  invention : 
You  can  say  none  of  this :  W^ell,  grant  it  then, 
And  tell  me,  in  the  modesty  of  honcHir, 
Why  you  have  given  me  such  clear  lights  of  favour ; 
Bade  me  come  smiling,  and  croes-garter'd  to  you. 
To  put  oiM'ellow  stocKings,  and  to  frown 
Upon  sir  Toby,  and  the  lighter^  people  : 
And,  acting  this  in  an  obedient  hope, 
Wliy  have  you  suffer'd  me  to  be  imprison'd. 
Kept  in  a  dark  house,  visited  by  the  priest. 
And  made  the  most  notorious  geck,^  and  kuH, 
That  e'er  invention  play'd  on  ?  tell  me  why. 

Oli.  Alas,  Malvolio,  this  is  not  my  writing. 
Though,  I  confess,  much  like  the  character  : 
But,  out  of  Question,  'tis  Maria's  hand. 
And  now  I  clo  bethink  me,  it  was  she 
First  told  me,  tliou  wast  mad ;  then  cam'st  in  smiling, 
And  in  such  forms  which  here  were  presuppos'd 
Upon  thee  in  the  letter.    Pr'ythee  be  content : 
Tnis  practice  hath  most  shrewdly  pass'd  upon  thee ; 
But,  when  we  know  the  grounds  and  authors  of  it. 
Thou  shalt  be  both  the  pl'aintififand  the  judge 
Of  thine  own  cause. 

Fab.  Good  madam,  hear  me  speak  ; 

And  let  no  quarrel,  nor  no  brawl  to  come. 
Taint  the  conditicoi  of  this  present  hour. 
Which  I  have  wonder'd  at    In  hope  it  shall  not. 
Most  freely  I  confess,  myself,  and  Toby, 
Set  this  device  against  Malvolio  here, 
(Jpon  some  stubborn  and  uncourteous  parts 
We  had  conceiv'd  against  him :  Maria  writ 
The  letter,  at  sir  Toby's  great  importance  ;7 
In  recompense  whereof,  he  hath  married  her. 
How  with  a  sportful  malice  it  was  foUow'd, 

(6)  Fool.     (7)  Importimacy. 


94 


TWELFTH-NIGUT;  OR,  WHAT  YOU  WILL. 


Ad  r. 


Mmr  nther  plodk  on  Isngfater  tfwn  rereagc ; 
If  ttMt  tfw  injories  be  yutdj  wdgfa*d, 
TlMt  have  on  both  aidet  put 

Ofi.  A  las,  poor  fool !  how  hftT«  they  bdBedi  dwe ! 

Clo.  Whj,  jome  art  bom  great,  womt  adUeve 
greatness,  and  some  have  greatness  thrown  *^pon 
Shan.  I  was  one,  sir,  in  this  interiude ;  ooe  sir  To- 
pM,  sir;  but  that's  all  ooe:— J3y  the  Lordyfool,  I 
mmnotmadf — But  do  you  remeoiber.'  Madam, 
wkjf  laugh  you  at  such  a  barren  rascal?  an  you 
smUs  nU,  fU's  gagg'd:  And  thus  the  whirligig  of 
time  briui^s  in  his  revenges. 

MaL  r\\  be  rerenged  on  the  whole  pack  of  too. 

OIL  He  hadi  been  most  notoriously  abus*a. 

Dukt.  Pursue  him,  and  entreat  him  to  peace : — 
He  hadi  not  told  us  of  the  captain  yet ; 
When  that  is  known,  and  eolden  time  coovents,) 
A  solemn  combination  ahalf  be  made 
Of  our  dear  souls — Meantime,  sweet  sister, 
We  will  not  part  from  hence. — Cesario,  come; 
For  so  Tou  shall  be,  while  you  are  a  man ; 
But,  wnan  in  other  habits  tou  are  seen, 
Orsmo's  mistress,  and  hb  nncy*s  queen.  [ElxeunL 

SONG. 

Cto.  When  thai  Iveas  and  aUtOetrnv  boy. 
With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  ram, 
AfooUsh  thing  was  but  a  toy, 
F\)r  the  ram  it  raineth  every  day. 


(1)  Cheated. 


(S)ShaU 


But  when  Teasne  to  wumU  estate. 
With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain, 

^Gainst  knave  and  thief  wun  shut  their  gate. 
For  the  rain  it  raineth  every  day. 

But  when  I  came,  alas!  to  wive. 

With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  racM, 

By  swaggering  could  I  never  thrive. 
For  Su  rain  it  raineth  every  day. 

But  when  I  came  unto  my  bed. 

With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain. 

With  toss-pots  stiU  had  drunken  head. 
For  the  rain  it  raituth  every  day. 

A  great  while  ago  (he  world  begun. 
With  hey,  ho,  the  wind  and  the  rain. 

But  thaPs  aU  one,  our  play  is  done. 
And  we'll  strive  to  please  you  every  dmi. 


This  play  b  in  the  ^Ter  part  elegant  and  easy, 
and  in  some  of  the  lighter  scenfs  exquisitely  ho- 
roorous.  AgueK:heek  is  drawn  with  great  propri- 
ety, but  his  character  is,  in  a  great  measure,  uat 
of  natural  fatuity,  and  is  theremv  not  the  |m)per 
prer  of  a  satirist  The  soliloquy  of  Malvolio  u 
truly  comic ;  he  is  betrayed  to  ridicttle  merely  by 
his  raride.  The  marriage  of  (%via,  and  the  sue- 
ceeaing  perdexity,  thoi^  well  eiKNigfa  coArived 
to  dirert  on  the  stage,  wants  credibility,  and  fiiils  to 
produce  the  prraer  instruction  required  in  the 
drama,  as  it  exhibits  no  just  pictare  of  life. 

JOHNSON. 


/   ^:   . 


t   .- 


I    ..  - 


/    ^ 


r. 


4-^ 


MUCH   ADO   ABOUa    NOIHlNtF       itV  —  Un 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


PERSONS  REPRESExNTED. 

TiBOcntio,  dmke  qf  Vienna. 

AogdOi  Ufrd  deputy  in  the  duke's  absence. 

Eacalui,  an  ancient  lord^  joined  toith  Angela  in 

the  dqnttation. 
Chmfio,  a  ytmng  genUenuoL 

TwatlOirWuradlemtn. 

Vnrioiv  •  gcnraemon,  servant  to  the  duke. 

iVtMNNrfL 


Itwofri 


Ttars. 


Dboir,  •  aimfk  constable. 
Froth,  a/aoanh  gentleman. 


Cloncn^  servant  to  Mrs.  Over-done. 
Abhorson,  an  exenitioner. 
Bamardiiie,  a  dissolute  prisoner. 


Isabella,  sister  to  Claudio. 
Mariana,  betrothed  to  Angela. 
Juliet,  beloved  by  Claudio. 
Franciica,  a  nun. 
Mistress  Over-done,  a  Imwd. 


I 


Lords,  gentlemen^  guards,  officers,  and  other  at 

tendants. 

Scene,  Vienna. 


ACT  I. 

^RXE  I. — An  apartment  in  the  Duke's /)a/ace. 
Enier  Duke,  Escalus,  Lordtt,  and  attendants. 

Duke. 

EsCALUS,— 

EscaL  My  kxi). 

Duke.  Of  f^rcnemnicnt  the  properties  to  unfold. 
Would  seem  in  nie  to  affect  speech  and  discourse; 
$*ince  I  mm  pat  to  know  that  your  own  science, 
Exceeds,  io  that,  the  listd^  of  all  advice 
Mr  ftre^;&  can  give  ^ou :  then  no  more  rrmuins 
Bot  that  to  your  sufficiency,  as  your  worth  \*  able, 
And  let  them  work.    The  nature  of  our  people, 
Oor  city^t  institutions,  and  the  terms 
For  iMMWiam  justice,  you  are  as  pregnant^  in. 
As  art  and  practice  hath  enriched  any 
TWt  ire  remember :  there  b  our  commission, 
Fnai  whidi  we  would  not  have  you  warp.--Call 


lagr,  faid come  before  us  Angelo. — 

[Exit  an  attendant. 
IVkil  fgne  of  us  think  vou  he  will  bear  ? 
For  JOD  most  know,  we  have  with  special  soul 
Bided  faini  our  absence  to  supply ; 
Lot  Iwi  our  terrrr,  drest  him  with  our  love ; 
Aad  giTcn  lus  deputation  all  the  organs 
or  oar  own  power :  what  think  you  of  it  ? 

Tmm\  If  any  in  Vienna  be  of  worth 
Tb  MdeigpD  nch  ample  grace  and  honour, 
ItW  kid  Angela 

Enier  Angela 

Dwlb.  Lode,  where  he  comes. 

Jing.  Alwaya  obedient  to  your  gracc*s  will, 
1  come  to  know  your  pleasure. 

Dulfc  Angek), 

TVre  is  a  kind  of  character  in  thy  life, 
That,  to  the  observer,  doth  thy  hi&tonr 
FqIIt  unfold  :  thvself  and  thy  belongings' 
Atv  not  thine  own  so  proper,^  as  to  waste 

^IJBoandsL     (2)  Full  of.    (3^)  Endowments. 
(4';  So  much  diy  own  property. 


Thyself  upon  thy  virtues,  them  on  thee. 

Heaven  doth  with  us,  as  we  with  torches  do ; 

Not  light  them  for  theni^lves  :  for  if  our  virtues 

Did  not  go  forth  of  us,  *twerc  all  alike 

A*  if  we  had  them  not.  Splits  are  not  finely  touch'd 

But  to  fine  i«<<$ue9  :*  nor  nature  never  lends 

The  smallest  scruple  of  her  excellence. 

But,  like  a  thrifty  uroddess,  she  determines 

Herself  the  glorj'  of  a  creditor. 

Both  thanks  and  u«e.6    But  I  do  bend  my  speech 

To  one  that  can  my  part  in  him  adverti<»e  ; 

Hold  therefore,  Ani^lo ; 

In  our  remove,  be  thou  at  full  ourself ; 

Mortality  and  mercy  in  Vienna 

Live  in  thy  tongue  and  heart :  Old  Eifcalus, 

TlK>ugh  first  in  question,  is  thy  sectmdar)' : 

Take  thy  commi.ssion. 

Ang.  Now,  good  my  lord. 

Let  there  be  some  more  test  made  of  my  metal, 
Before  so  noble  and  so  great  a  figure 
Be  stamped  upon  it 

Duke.  No  more  evasion : 

We  have  with  a  leavenM  and  prepared  choice 
Proceeded  to  you ;  therefore  take  vour  honours. 
Our  haste  from  hence  is  of  so  quicK  condition. 
That  it  prefers  itself,  and  leaves  unquestioned 
Matters  of  needful  value.    We  shaft  write  to  you 
As  time  and  our  concemings  »hall  imp6rtune, 
H(nv  it  goes  with  us  ;  and  do  look  to  know 
What  (foth  befall  you  here.     So,  fare  you  well : 
To  the  hopeful  execution  do  I  leave  you 
Of  your  commissions. 

Ang.  Yet,  give  leave,  my  lord. 

That  we  may  bring  you  >oniPthinp^  on  die  way. 

Duke.  My  ha«)te  may  not  admit  it ; 
Nor  need  you,  on  mine  honour,  have  to  do 
With  anv  scruple :  }'our  scope^  is  as  mine  own ; 
So  to  enforce,  f)r  qualify  the  laws. 
As  to  vour  soul  H>cms  good.    Give  mc  your  hand; 
V\\  pnvily  away  :  I  love  the  people. 
But  do  not  like  to  stage  me  to  their  eyes : 
Though  it  do  well,  I  do  not  relish  well 
Their  loud  applause,  and  ave^  vehement ; 

(5)  For  hi^  purposes.       (6)  Interest 
(7)  Extent  of  power.      (8)  Hailiiigs. 


I 


96 


MEASURE  FOR  MIIASCRE. 


Act  I 


G«ni.  Heaven  mni  ui  its  peace,  but  not  the 
of  Hungary's : 


Nor  do  I  think  the  man  of  safe  discretion, 
That  doc5  aUcct  it.     Once  more,  fare  ycMi  well. 

Jlng.  The  heavens  give  safety  to  your  purposes  ! 

Escal.  Lead  forth,  and  bring  you  back  in  happi- 
ness. 

Duke.  I  thank  von :  fare  you  well.  [Exit. 

EscaL  I  shall  desire  vou,  sir,  to  give  me  leave 
To  have  free  speech  witn  vou ;  and  it  concerns  me 
To  look  mto  the  bottom  of  my  place : 
A  power  I  have ;  but  of  what  strength  and  nature 
1  am  not  yet  instructed. 

Ang.  'Tis  so  with  me : — ^Let  us  withdraw  to- 
gether, 
And  we  may  soon  our  satisfaction  have 
Touching  that  point 

EscaL  ril  wait  upon  your  honour. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJVE  11— A  street.    Enter  Lucio  and  two 

Gentlemen. 

Lucio.  If  the  duke,  with  the  other  dukes,  come 
not  to  composition  with  the  king  of  Hungary,  why, 
then  all  the  dukes  fall  upon  the  king. 

1  Gent.  Heaven 
king 

2  GeiU.  Amen. 
Lucio.  Thou  concludes!  like  the  sanctimonious 

pirate,  that  went  to  sea  with  the  ten  conmiand- 
ments,  but  scraped  one  out  of  the  table. 

2  Gent.  Thou  shalt  not  steal  f 

Lucio.  Ay,  that  he  razed. 

1  Gent.  Why,  'twas  a  commandment  to  com- 
mand the  captain  and  all  the  rest  from  their  func- 
tions ;  they  put  forth  to  steal :  there's  not  a  soldier 
of  us  all,  that,  in  the  thanksgiving  before  meat, 
doth  relish  the  petition  well  that  prays  for  peace. 

2  CrCjU.  I  never  heard  any  soldier  dislike  it 
Lucio.  I  believe  thee ;  for,  I  think,  thou  never 

wast  where  grace  was  said. 

2  Gent.  No .'  a  dcnen  times  at  least 

1  Gent.  What.^  in  metre  .^ 

Lucio.  In  any  proportion,^  or  in  any  lai^age. 

1  Gent.  I  think,  er  in  any  religion. 

Lucio.  Ay  .'  why  not  f  Grace  is  grace,  despite 
of  all  controversy:  as  for  example;  thou  thyself 
art  a  wicked  villain,  despite  of  all  grace. 

1  Gent.  Well,  there  went  but  a  pcur  of  sheers 
Detween  us.^ 

Lucio.  I  grant ;  as  there  may  betwe^i  the  listsi 
ind  the  velvet :  thou  art  the  list 

1  Crent.  And  thou  the  velvet:  thou  art  food 
/elvet ;  thou  art  a three-pirdpiece, I  warrant mee : 
(  had  as  lief  be  a  list  of  an  English  kersey,  as  be 
jil'd,  as  thou  art  pil'd,  for  a  French  velvet'  Do 
I  speak  feelingly  now  i 

Lucio.  I  think  thou  dost;  and,  indeed,  with 
most  painful  feeling  of  thy  speech :  I  will,  out  of 
thine  own  confession,  leam  to  b^n  thy  health ; 
but,  whilst  I  live,  foi|;et  to  drink  after  thee. 

1  Gent.  I  think  I  have  done  myself  wrong; 
have  I  not } 

2  CrenL  Yes,  that  thou  hast ;  whether  thou  art 
tainted,  or  free. 

Lucio.  Behold,  behold,  where  madam  Mitiga- 
tion comes  !  I  have  purchased  as  many  diseases 
under  her  roof,  as  come  to— 

2  Gent.  To  what,  I  pray  ? 

1  Gent.  Judge. 

2  Gent.  To  Uiree  thousand  dollars  a  year. 
1  Gent.  Ay,  and  more. 

(1)  Measure.      (2)  A  cut  of  the  same  cloth. 
(3)  A  jest  on  the  loas  of  hair  by  the  French  disease. 


Lucio.  A  French  crown*  more. 

1  Gent.  Thou  art  always  figuring  diseases  in 
me :  but  thou  art  full  of  error;  i  am  sound. 

Lucio.  Nay,  not  as  one  would  say,  healthy; 
but  so  sound,  as  things  that  are  hollow :  tiby  bones 
are  hollow ;  impiety  nas  made  a  feast  of  m^ 

Enter  Bawd. 

1  Crent.  How  now }  Which  of  your  hips  has  tfw 
most  profound  sciatica  ^ 

Bawd.  Well,  well ;  there's  one  yonder  arrested, 
and  carried  to  prison,  was  worth  nve  tfiousaiid  of 
you  all. 

1  Gent.  Who's  that,  I  pray  thee  } 

Bav>d.  Marr}',  8ir,that'sClaudio,  signiorClaudki. 

1  Gent.  Claudio  to  prison !  'tis  not  sa 

Bawd.  Nay,  but  I  know,  'tis  so :  I  saw  him  ar- 
rested; saw  him  carried  away;  and,  which  k 
more,  within  these  three  days  his  head's  to  be  chop* 
ped  off. 

Lucio.  But,  after  all  this  fooling,  I  would  not 
have  it  so :  art  thou  sure  of  this? 

Bawd.  I  am  too  sure  of  it :  and  it  is  fi>r  gettbg 
madam  Julietta  with  child. 

Lucio.  Believe  me,  this  may  be :  be  promited 
to  meet  me  two  hours  since ;  and  he  was  ever  pre- 
cise in  promise-keeping. 

2  Gent.  Besides  you  know,  it  draws  aoinetfiing 
near  to  the  speech  we  had  to  such  a  purpose. 

1  Gent.  But  most  of  all,  agreeing  witii  the  pro* 
clamatioo. 

Lucio.  AwBy  ;  let's  go  leam  the  truth  of  it 

[Exnmt  Lucio  and  Gentlemen. 

Bawd.  Thus,  wnat  with  the  war,  what  with  dM 
sweat  ;^  what  with  the  gallows,  and  what  with 
poverty,  I  am  custom-shrunk.  How  now  f  what's 
the  news  with  you  ? 

Enter  Clown. 

Clo.  Yonder  man  is  carried  to  prison 

Bawd.  Well ;  what  has  he  done  ^ 

Clo.  A  woman. 

Bared.  But  what's  his  oAence  ? 

Clo.  Gn)ping  for  trouts  in  a  peculisir  riyer. 

Bawd.  W  hat,  is  there  a  maid  with  child  bj  him? 

Clo.  No ;  but  there's  a  woman  with  maid  by  hhn : 
you  have  not  heard  of  the  proclamation,  have  yea? 

Bawd.  What  proclamation,  man  ? 

Clo.  AH  houses  in  the  suburbs  of  Vienna  mml 
be  pluck'd  down. 

Bawd.  And  what  shall  become  of  those  in  4tt 
city .' 

Clo.  They  shall  stand  for  seed :  they  had  raw 
down  too,  but  that  a  wise  burgher  put  m  for  tbem. 

Bawd.  But  shall  all  our  houses  of  retort  in  ^ 
suburbs  be  puU'd  down  } 

Clo.  To  the  ground,  mistress. 

Bawd.  Why,  here's  a  change,  indeed,  in  tlit 
commonwealth  !    What  shall  become  ol  me .' 

Clo.  Come ;  fear  not  you  :  good  counsellors  lack 
no  clients :  though  you  change  your  place,  you  ne«d 
not  change  your  trade ;  I'll  be  your  tapster  stilL 
Courage ;  there  will  be  pity  taken  on  you :  rou  that 
have  worn  your  eyes  almost  out  in  the  senrice,  you 
will  be  considered. 

Bawd.  What's  to  do  here,  Thomas  Tapster.^  let*t 
withdraw. 

Clo.  Here  comes  signior  Claudio,  led  by  the  pro- 
vost to  prison :  and  tare's  madam  Juliet      [£m. 

(4)  Cnrona  Veneris. 

(5)  The  sweating  sickne«. 


8emc  ///,  IT. 


BfEASURE  FOR  BIEASURE. 


97 


SCELYE  III— The  $ame,  Enitr  Prorott,*  Clau- 
dio,  Juliet,  and  Officers ;  Lucio,  and  two  Geo- 
tlemen. 

Cltntd.  Fellovr,  why  dost  thou  abow  me  thus  to 
die  worid  ? 
Bear  me  to  pnaon,  where  I  am  committed. 

Proc.  I  cu>  it  not  in  evil  disposition. 
But  from  lord  Angelo  by  speaal  chaiq^ 

C3aud.  Thus  can  the  dmi-god,  Authori^, 
Make  us  pay  down  for  our  ofienoe  by  wei^t — ' 
The  wcHus  of  heaven ;— oo  whom  it  will,  it  will ; 
On  whom  it  will  not,  so ;  yet  still  *tis  just 

iMcio.  Why,  how  now,  Claudio  ?  whence  comes 
this  restraint? 

CUnuL  From  too  much  liberty,  my  Lucio,  liberty : 
As  surfeit  is  the  father  of  much  &st. 
So  every  scope  by  die  immoderate  use 
Turns  to  restraint :  our  natures  do  pursue 
(like  rats  that  ravii^  down  their  proper  bane,) 
A  thirsty  evil ;  and  when  we  drinJc,  we  die. 

LMcio.  U I  could  speak  so  wisely  under  an  arrest, 
I  would  send  for  certain  of  my  creditors :  and  yet, 
to  say  the  trudi,  I  had  as  lief  have  the  foppery  of 
freedom,  as  the  morality  of  imprisonment — ^Wluit^s 
thy  ofifence,  Claudio  f 
'Oaud,  What,  but  to  speak  of  would  offend  again. 
Lmoo,  What  is  it  ?  murder  ? 
Claud.  Na 
Lucio.  Lechery? 
Claud.  Can  it  so. 
Prvo.  A  WSJ,  sir;  you  must  ro. 
Gaud.  One  word,  good  friaid : — Lucio,  a  word 
with  you.  [  Talus  him  tuide. 

jLudo.  A  hundred,  if  diey'll  do  you  any  good. — 
fa  lechery  so  look*d  after  ? 

ClauA,  Thus  stands  it  with  me : — ^Upon  a  true 
contract, 
I  1^  possesakxi  o£  Julietta*s  bed ; 
Yoa  know  the  lady ;  she  is  fast  my  wife. 
Save  that  we  do  the  denunciation  lack 
Of  outward  order :  this  we  came  not  to, 
Only  for  propagation  of  a  dower 
Renoainii^  ia  the  coflfer  of  her  friends ; 
From  whwn  we  thoueht  it  meet  to  hide  our  love, 
TiU  time  bad  made  mem  for  us.    But  it  chances, 
The  stealth  of  our  roost  mutual  entertainment, 
^Vith  character  too  gross,  is  writ  en  Juliet 
Imoo.  With  child,  perhaps  ? 
Claud.  Unhappily,  even  so. 
^od  the  new  depu^  now  for  the  duke, — 
^^^^bether  it  be  tbe  fault  and  elimpse  of  newness ; 
Or  whether  that  the  body  public  be 
^  bone  whereon  the  governor  doth  ride, 
^^  newly  in  the  seat,  that  it  may  know 
He  can  command,  lets  it  straight  feel  the  spur : 
^^^betber  the  tyrann  v  be  in  his  place, 
^  in  his  eminence  that  fills  it  up, 
^  '^"fficn*  in : — But  this  new  governor 
AwiJus  me  all  the  enrolled  penalties, 
^^^bich  have,  like  unscourM  armour,  hung  by  the 

wan 
^  kng,  that  nineteen  zodiacs'  have  gone  round, 
^  none  of  them  been  worn ;  and,  for  a  name. 
Now  nati  the  drowsy  and  n^Iected  act 
' 'wwy  on  me : — ^*tis  surely  for  a  name. 

Imoo.  I  warrant  it  is :  and  thy  head  stands  so 
lickle*  on  thy  dMulders,  that  a  milk-maid,  if  she  be 
n  lore,  may  sigh  it  aS.  Send  after  the  duke,  and 
appeal  to  hmL 

(1)  Gaoler.        (2)  Voraciously  devour. 
(3)  Yeariy  circles.  (4)  Ticklish. 


Enter  OD  her  probatioQ.    (6)  Prompt        ||     (11)  Since 


Qaud.  I  have  done  so,  but  he*s  not  to  be  found 
Ipr^ythee,  Lucio,  do  me  this  kind  service : 
Tnis  day  my  sister  should  the  cloister  enter. 
And  there  receive  her  approbation  :< 
Acquaint  her  with  the  dai^r  of  my  state ; 
Implore  her,  in  my  voice,  that  she  make  friends 
To  the  strict  deputy ;  bid  herself  assay  him ; 
I  have  great  hope  m  that :  for  in  her  youth 
There  is  a  prone'  and  speechless  dialect. 
Such  as  moves  men ;  besides,  she  hath  prosperous  art 
When  she  will  play  with  reason  and  discourse. 

Jjudo.  1  pray  she  may :  as  well  for  the  encouraee- 
ment  ot  the  like,  which  else  would  stand  un&r 
grievous  imposition ;  as  for  the  enjoying  of  thy  life, 
who  I  would  be  sorry  should  be  thus  foolishly  lost 
at  a  game  of  tick-tack.    1*11  to  her. 

Claud.  I  thank  you,  good  friend  Lucia 

Lucio.  Within  two  hours, 

Claud.  Come,  officer,  away.  [Exeuni. 

SCEJVE  IV.— A  monastery.    Enter  Duke  and 
Friar  Thomas. 

Duke.  No ;  holy  father;  throw  away  that  thought ; 
Believe  not  that  the  dribbling  dart  of  love 
Can  pierce  a  c6mplete  bosom  :7  why  I  desire  diee 
To  give  me  secret  harbour,  hath  a  purpose 
More  g^ve  and  wrinkled  than  the  aims  and  ends 
Of  burning  youth. 

FrL  May  your  grace  8()eak  oi  it  ? 

Duke.  My  holy  sir,  none  better  knows  than  you 
How  I  have  ever  lov*d  the  life  remov'd  ;• 
And  held  in  idle  price  to  haunt  assemblies. 
Where  youth,  and  cost,  and  witless  bravery  keeps.' 
I  have  delivered  to  lord  Angelo 
(A  roan  of  stricture,^  and  him  abstinence,) 
My  absolute  power  and  place  here  in  Vienna, 
And  he  supposes  me  travellM  to  Poland ; 
For  so  I  have  strewed  it  in  the  common  ear. 
And  so  it  is  receiv'd  :  now,  pious  sir. 
You  will  demand  of  me,  why  I  do  this  f 

Fri.  Gladly,  my  lord. 

Duke.  We  have  strict  statutes,  and  most  biting 
laws 
(The  needful  bits  and  curbs  for  headstrong  steeds,) 
Which  for  these  fourteen  years  we  have  let  sleep ; 
Even  like  an  over-grown  lion  in  a  cave. 
That  goes  not  out  to  prey  :  now,  as  food  fathers 
Having  bound  up  the  threat'ning  twigs  of  birch. 
Only  to  stick  it  in  their  children's  sight. 
For  terror,  not  to  use ;   in  time  the  rod 
Becomes  more  mockM,than  fear'd :  so  our  decrees. 
Dead  to  infliction,  to  themselves  are  dead ; 
And  liberty  plucks  justice  by  the  nose ; 
The  baby  beats  the  nurse,  and  quite  athwart 
Goes  all  decorum. 

Fri.  It  rested  in  your  grace 

To  unloose  this  tied-up  justice,  when  you  pleased : 
And  it  in  you  more  dreadful  would  have  seem'd. 
Than  in  lord  Angela 

Duke.  I  do  fear,  too  dreadful : 

Sith^l  'twas  my  fault  to  give  the  people  scope, 
'T would  be  my  tyranny  to  strike,  and  gall  them 
For  what  1  bid  them  do :  for  we  bid  this  be  done. 
When  evil  deeds  have  their  permissive  pass. 
And  not  the  punishment    Therefore,  indeed,  my 

father, 
I  have  on  Angelo  impos'd  the  office ; 
Who  may,  in  the  ainbush  of  my  name,  strike  honoe, 
And  yet  my  nature  never  in  the  sight, 

7)  Completely  armed.     (8)  Retired. 

9)  Showy  dress  resides.     (10)  Strictness. 


MEASURE  f  OR  MEASURE. 


■luider :  uiiH  Id  behold  hia  fwtr, 
I  'iwcre  ■  brulher  of  jour  wder, 
li  prince  md  people !  (herefote,  [  pi'y 


Ai  our  more  leinin  thill  I  render  jou ; 
Onlj,  (his one :— Loid  An^loiA  precise; 
St&ods  al  ti  j^uard'  wi(h  envy ;  Karce  crpnf'-awt 
That  his  Wood  flows,  or  ihni  hii  appetilit 
1)  more  lo  bread  than  itone ;  hence  ihajl  wr  m 
l(  power  change  purpose,  wbal  our  Kenifrt  ))^. 

SCEfTE  F.~A  nunnery.     Enter  I»bi-lln  a. 


lab.  I 


rpniil. 


hail.  Yetjlnily:  I  jpeak  nolas  desiring  niort 

Upcn  Ihe  liilertaood,  the  votariiti  oT  Hint  ^k^<^ 
Lvcio.  Hoi  peace  be  in  Ihi»  place!  [t!-'ilH,\ 
Itab.  Who'i  Ibat  which  n\\i ' 

Fran.  Il  li  a  man'i  voice ;  i^lle  Is&licll^. 

Turn  jou  the  Ley,  and  Inow  hu  bmiucia  of  lijin ; 

When  you  bate  vow'd,  you  miut  not  tpi'ak  vrii 


But  in  the  pi 

Tb«i.if  you 


rf  thepi 


in ;  I  pray  yi 
Isab^  Peace  and  praperity ! 
£nferLuci 
-ifjou 


ulnolfpi 
'EiUFra 


Ijuda.  Hai!, 
PnKlflim  you  ai 


To 


r  unhappy  brtxhcr  Claudio .' 
I.  Why  her  unhappy  brother  ?  let  in 
ither,  for  I  noit  mull  make  you  kciui 
hal  Isabella,  and  hit  litler. 
Luao.   Gentle  and  &iri  jour  broaur 


Nott 


jreeliyoii: 


1  would  not — though  'tis  my  bmiliar  sin 
With  maid)  to  »eem  the  lapwing,  and  lo  jcB 
Tongue  far  (nm  heart.— plar  with  all  virm 
I  hold  you  as  a  thing  ensky'd,  and  rainlcu  ; 
By  your  lenouaconent,  an  immortal  tpiril : 


Iiab.  You  do  blupbeme  Ibe  good,  in  m 

Xmcio.  Do  not  beliere  iL   Fewnea  and 

'lixhui: 

Yoar  brother  and  bii  lorcr  have  embiac'd  : 

A>  ihoae  diat  Aied  grow  liill ;  ai  bloaaniin^ 

Thai  from  die  leedneii  the  bat«  hlkm  biin 


Einres 


ren  so  ber  plenleoui  wonib 

li>  and  husbandly. 

,  child  by  him  ?-Mjc(«in 

la  Kbool.maidt  chaoga  bA 


;j  vain  (hough  apt  affect 
Iwh.  b,  let  him  marry 


■ivings^iut  were  of  an  infinite  diitanc* 
1  his  tcue-meant  design.   Unoo  bis  place, 

ms  lord  Ai^lo ;  a  man,  wIuh  blood 

I  prolits  of  the  mind,  study  and  last. 

He  (to  Kive  fear  to  use  and  llberlv, 

'\'hich  have,  for  long,  run  by  the  hideous  lawi 
s  mice  by  lions,)  hadi  picked  oul  an  act, 
nder  nhoK  heavy  leiue  j-our  brolherl  Ufa 
allsinialurfeii:  he  amsts  him  on  it  i 
nd  iblloiTS  cbse  die  ri^^r  of  die  atalule. 

To  make  him  an  eiunpTe :  all  hope  is  gona, 

Ibe  giice'  by  your  &ii  prayer 

To  soften  Angelo ;  and  that^s  my  pith 


Of  bl 


iiandyc 


CI)  On  his  defence.  (l)Do 
(3)  In  (ew  and  true  words. 
(5)  Tilling.     (6)£i(ent. 


fjoA.  Duth  hi 

Lvcio,  Has  censnr'tP  Ihib 

Irrndy ;  and,  as  I  hear,  (be  piwoat  bath 

Lvcio,  Asay  die  power  joa  baTC. 

/jnfr.  My  power '.  Alas  1  I  doubt, — 

Lvcio.   '  Our  doubU  ue  trailoci, 

nd  make  us  lose  the  good  we  oil  ndgtii  win, 
By  fearine  to  attempt :  go  to  lord  Anwlo, 
\nd  lei  him  Icam  (o  know,  when  maioena  sue, 
Icngive  like  gods;  bulwhentbeyweejiandkiiBal, 
lI]  their  pe(i(>afis  ar?  as  freely  theirs 
ls  (hey  themselves  would  owe^  tbem. 

Itab.  I'll  see  what  I  can  do. 

Lvcio.  But  iptcdilT. 

Jui.  I  will  aboutil straight; 
[o  longer  staying  but  lo  give  the  mothtr" 
lotice  oi  my  aflair.     I  humbly  diank  yaa : 

11  send  him  certain  word  of  mj  succtai. 


SCEJfe  I.-^  haa  at  Annlo'i  Anue.     Eufcr 
Angela,  Escalug,  a  Justice, Proroat, Officers,  aitt 


Tbdr  percb,  and  not  their  te 


Seauf. 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


£9 


EscaL  A  J,  bat  yet 

Let  us  be  keen,  and  rather  cut  a  little, 
Than  fall,  and  bruise  to  death :  alas !  this  gentleman, 
Whom  I  would  save,  had  a  nxMt  noble  father. 
Let  but  your  honour  know* 
(Whom  I  believe  to  be  nxMt  strait  in  virtue,) 
That,  in  the  working  of  vour  own  affections, 
Had  lime  coher*d^  with  place,  or  place  with  wishing. 
Or  that  the  resolute  acting  of  your  blood 
Could  have  attained  the  effect  of  your  own  purpose, 
Wliether  you  had  not  sometime  in  your  life 
ErrM  in  this  point  which  now  you  censure  him, 
And  pull*d  the  law  upon  you. 

Aing.  *Tis  ooe  thing  to  be  tempted,  Escalus, 
Another  thing  to  fall.     I  not  deny, 
Tlie  jur)',  passing  on  the  prisoner's  life. 
May,  in  the  sworn  twelve,  have  a  thief  or  two 
Guiltier  than  him  they  try :  what's  open  made  to 

justice. 
That  justice  seizes.    What  know  the  laws, 
That  thieves  do  pass'  on  thieves  f  'Tis  very  preg- 

nant,4 
The  jewel  that  we  find,  we  stoop  and  take  it, 
Because  we  see  it;  but  what  we  do  not  see. 
We  tread  upon,  and  never  think  of  it. 
Tou  may  not  so  extenuate  his  offence. 
For'  I  bsve  had  rach  faults ;  but  rather  tell  me, 
When  I,  that  censured  him,  do  so  offend. 
Let  mine  own  judgment  pattern  out  my  death. 
And  nothing  come  in  partial.     Sir,  he  must  die. 

EscaL  E(e  it  as  your  wisdom  will. 

Ang.  W^here  is  the  provost  ? 

Prov.  Here,  if  it  like  your  honour. 

Arif^.  See  that  Claudio 

Be  executed  by  nine  to-morrow  morning  : 
Brii^  him  his  confessor,  let  him  be  prepared ; 
For  mat's  the  utmost  of  his  pilgrimage.  [Ex.  Prov. 

Escal.  Well,  heaven  forgive  him ;  and  forgive 
us  all! 
Some  rise  by  sin,  and  stxne  by  virtue  fall : 
Same  run  from  brakes?  of  vice,  and  answer  none ; 
And  some  condemned  for  a  fault  alone. 


Enter  Elbow,  Froth,  Clown,  Officen,  &c. 

Elb.  Come,  bring  them  away :  if  these  be  good 
people  in  a  common  weal,^  that  do  nothing  but  use 
their  abuses  in  common  houses,  I  know  no  law  ; 
brim^  them  away. 

Mg.  How  now,  sir !  what's  your  name  f  and 
what's  the  matter.' 

Elb,  If  it  please  your  honour,  I  am  the  poor 
duke's  constable,  ana  my  name  is  f^bow ;  I  do  lean 
opoD  ju^ice,  sir,  and  do  bring  in  here  before  your 
good  honour  two  notorious  benefactors. 

Ang.  BfoeiactcMrs  ?  Well ;  what  benefactors  are 
they  ?  are  they  not  malefactors  f 

Elb.  If  it  please  your  honour,  I  know  not  well 
wlttt  they  are  :  but  precise  villains  they  are,  that  I 
am  sure  of;  and  void  of  all  profanation  in  the  world, 
tiiat  good  Christmns  ousht  to  have. 

E^scaL  This  comes  off  well  ;9  here's  a  wise  officer. 

Ang.  Go  to :  what  quality  are  they  of.'  Elbow 
it  your  name  ?  Why  dost  thou  not  speak.  Elbow .' 

Clo.  He  cannot,  sir ;  he's  out  at  elbow. 

Ai^^.  What  are  you,  sir  f 

Elb.  He,  sir.'  a  tapster,  sis;  parceP^-bawd ;  one 
d»t  serves  a  bad  woman ;  whose  house,  sir,  was,  as 
tibey  say,  plock'd  down  in  the  suburbs;  and  now  she 
Piofeues"  a  hot-house,  which,  I  think,  is  a  very  ill 
boose  toob 

i)  Examine.     (2)  Suited.     (3)  Pass  judgment 
'4)  Plain.        (5)  Because.        (6)  Sentence. 
Ji  Thickest,  thorny  paths  of  vice.     (8)  Wealth. 


I 


EscaL  How  know  rou  that .' 

Elb.  Mv  wife,  sir,  whom  I  detest^  before  heaven 
and  your  honour, — 

Escal.  How  !  thy  wife  ? 

Elb.  Ay,  sir;  whom,  I  thank  heaven,  is  an 
honest  woman, — 

EscaL  Dost  thou  detest  her  therefore  ? 

Elb.  1  say,  sir,  I  will  detest  myself  also,  as  well 
as  she,  that  this  house,  if  it  be  not  a  bawd's  house, 
it  is  pity  of  her  life,  for  it  is  a  naughty  house. 

Eacal.  how  dust  thou  know  that,  constable .' 

Elb.  MarrJ',  sir,  by  my  wife ;  who,  if  she  had 
been  a  woman  cardinally  given,  might  have  been 
accuised  in  fornication,  adultery,  and  all  uncleanli- 
ness  there. 

EscaL  By  the  woman's  means .' 

Elb.  Ay,  sir,  by  inistre^  Over-done's  means : 
but  as  she  spit  in  his  face,  so  she  defied  him. 

Clo.  Sir,  if  it  please  your  honour,  this  is  not  so. 

Elb.  Prove  it  before  these  varlets  here,  thou 
honourable  man,  prove  it. 

EscaL  Do  you  near  how  he  misplaces  .' 

[To  Angelo. 

Clo.  Sir,  she  came  in  great  with  child ;  and  long- 
ing (saving  your  honour's  reverence)  for  ftew'd 
prunes  :  sir,  we  had  but  two  in  the  house,  which  at 
that  verv  distant  time  stood,  as  it  were,  in  a  fruit- 
dish,  a  dish  of  some  thr^-pence :  your  honours  have 
■iden  such  dishes ;  they  are  not  China  dishes,  but 
verv  good  dishes. 

Jkscal.  Go  to,  go  to :  no  matter  for  the  dish,  sir. 

Clo.  No,  indeea,  sir,  not  of  a  pin ;  you  are  then»- 
in  in  the  right :  but,  to  the  point :  as  I  say,  this 
mistress  Elbow,  being,  as  I  say,  with  child,  and  be- 
ing great  belly'd,  and  longing,  as  I  said,  for  prunes ; 
and  having  but  two  in  tl^  dish,  as  I  said,  master 
Froth  here,  this  very  man,  having  eaten  the  rest,  as 
I  said,  and,  as  I  say,  paying  for  them  very  honestly ; 
— for,  as  you  know,  master  Froth,  I  could  not  gite 
you  three-pence  again. 

Froth.  No,  indeed. 

Clo.  Very  well :  you  being  then,  if  you  be  re- 
member'd,  cracking  the  stones  of  the  foresaid 
prunes. 

Froth.  Ay,  so  I  did,  indeed. 

Ofo.  W^hy,  verv  well  :  I  tellii^  you  then,  if  you 
be  remember'd,  that  such  a  one,  and  such  a  one, 
were  past  cure  of  the  thing  you  wot  of,  unless  they 
kept  very  good  diet,  as  1  told  you. 
'    Froth.  All  this  is  true. 

Clo.  Why,  very  well  then. 

EscaL  Come,  you  are  a  tedious  fool :  to  the  pur- 
pose.— What  was  done  to  Elbow's  wife,  that  he 
nath  cause  to  complain  of.'  Come  me  to  what  was 
done  to  her.  * 

Clo.  Sir,  your  honour  cannot  come  to  that  yet 

Escal.  No,  sir,  nor  I  mean  it  not 

Clo.  Sir,  but  you  shall  come  to  it,  by  your 
h<»iour's  leave :  and  I  beseech  you,  look  into  master 
Froth  here,  sir ;  a  man  of  fourscore  pound  a  year  j 
whose  father  died  at  Hallowmas : — ^Was't  not  at 
Hallowmas,  master  Froth  ? 

Froth.  All-hollond«3  eve. 

Clo.  Why,  veiy  well ;  I  hope  here  be  truths : 
he,  sir,  sitting,  as  I  say,  in  a  lower^^  chair,  sir ; — 
'twas  in  the  Bunch  of  Gra^j  where,  indeed,  you 
have  a  delight  to  sit :  have  you  not .' 

Froth.  I  nave  so ;  because  it  is  an  open  room, 
and  good  for  winter. 

(9)  Well  told.   (10)  Partly.    (11)  Keepsabagnia 
(12)  For  protest.      (13)  Eve  of  All  SainU  day. 
(M)Easy. 


a; 


.689^'^ 


100 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


Actn 


Oo.  Wbj,  very  well  then ; — ^I  hope  here  be  | 
truths. 

Ang.  This  will  last  oat  a  night  in  Russia, 
When  nights  are  longest  there :  I'll  take  my  leave, 
And  leave  you  to  the  hearing  of  the  cause ; 
Honng,  you'll  find  good  cause  to  whip  them  all. 

t^ak.  I  think  no  less :  good  morrow  to  your 
lordship.  [£xi/  Angelo. 

Now,  sir,  come  on:  what  was  done  to  Ellww's 
wife,  once  more  ? 

Clo,  Once,  sir  }  there  was  nothing  done  to  her 
once. 

Elb.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  ask  him  what  this  man 
did  to  my  wife  ? 

Clo.  I  beseech  your  honour,  ask  me. 

Eltcal.  Well,  sir:  what  did  this  gentleman  to  her? 

Go.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  look  in  this  raitleman's 
&ce : — Good  master  Froth,  look  upon  bis  honour ; 
'tis  for  a  good  purpose :  doth  your  honour  mark 
his  face? 

EscaL  Ay,  sir,  very  welL 

do.  Nav,  1  beseech  you,  marit  it  welL 

£scai.  Well,  I  do  sa 

do.  Doth  your  honour  see  any  harm  in  his  face? 

Etcal.  Why,  no. 

Cio.  ril  be  supposed!  upon  a  book,  his  &ce  is 
the  worst  diine  about  him :  good  then ;  if  his  face 
be  the  worst  ming  about  him,  how  could  master 
Froth  do  the  constable's  wife  any  harm?  I  would 
know  that  of  your  honour. 

KtcoL  He's  in  the  right :  constable,  what  say 
3rou  to  it  ? 

ElJb.  First,  an  it  like  you,  the  house  is  a  re- 
spected house ;  next,  thu  is  a  respected  fellow  ; 
and  his  mistress  is  a  respected  woman. 

Clo.  By  this  hand,  sir,  his  wile  is  a  more 
respected  person  than  any  of  us  all. 

ElJb,  Varlet,  thou  liest ;  thou  liest,  wicked  var- 
let :  the  time  is  yet  to  come,  that  she  was  ever  re- 
spected with  man,  woman,  or  child. 

Clo.  Sir,  she  was  respected  widi  him  before  he 
married  with  her. 

Etcal.  Which  is  die  wiser  here?  justice,  or 
iniquity  ?3  Ig  this  true  ? 

Elb.  O  thou  caitiff!  O  thou  variet !  O  thou  wick- 
ed Hannibal  ^  I  respected  with  her,  before  I  was 
married  to  her  ?  If  ever  I  was  respected  with  her, 
or  she  with  me,  let  not  your  worship  think  me  the 
poor  duke's  officer : — Prove  this,  thou  wicked  Han- 
nibal, or  I'll  have  mine  action  of  batteiy  on  thee. 

EscaL  If  he  took  you  a  box  o'  the  ear,  you 
might  have  your  action  of  slander  toa 

Klb.  Marry,  I  thank  your  good  worship  for  it : 
what  is't  your  worship's  pleasure  I  shoula  do  with 
this  wicked  caitiff? 

EscaL  Truly,  officer,  because  he  hath  some  of- 
fences in  him,  that  thou  wouldst  discover  if  thou 
couldst,  let  him  continue  in  his  courses,  till  thou 
know'st  what  they  are. 

Elb.  Man^,  I  thank  your  worship  for  it : — thou 
seest,  thou  wicked  varlet  now,  what's  come  upon 
thee ;  thou  art  to  continue  now,  thou  variet ;  thou 
art  to  continue. 

EscaL  Where  were  you  bom,  friend  ?  [7b  Froth. 

Froth.  Here,  in  Vienna,  sir. 

ElscaL  Are  you  of  fourscore  pounds  a  year  ? 

Froth.  Yes,  and't  please  you,  sir. 

EscaL  Sa— What  trade  are  you  of,  sir? 

[To  the  Clown. 

Clo.  A  tapster :  a  poor  widow's  tapster. 

EscaL  Your  mistress's  name  ? 

(1)  Deposed,  sworn.     (2)  Constable  or  Clown. 


Clo.  Mistress  Over-done. 
EscaL  Hath  she  had  any  more  than  one  husband^ 
Oo.  Nine,  sir ;  Over-done  by  the  last 
EscaL  Nine  !--<^onie  hither  to  me,  master  Froth. 
Mtuiter  Froth  I  would  not  have  you  acquainted 
with  tapsters ;  they  will  draw  you,  master  Froth, 
and  you  will  hang  them :  get  you  gone,  and  let 
roe  bear  no  more  of  you. 

Froth.  I  thank  your  worship:  for  mine  own 
part,  I  never  come  into  any  room  in  a  taphouse, 
but  I  am  drawn  in. 

Escal.  Well ;  no  more  of  it,  master  Froth :  fare- 
well. [Exit  Froth.] — Come  you  hither  to  me, 
master  tapster ;  what's  your  name,  master  tapsler  ? 

Clo.  Pompey. 

Escal.  What  else  ? 

Clo.  Bum,  sir. 

Escal,  'Troth,  and  your  bum  is  the  greatest 
thins' about  you ;  so  that,  in  the  beastliest  sense,  you 
are  Pumpey  the  great  Pompey,  you  are  paitfj  a 
bawd,  Pompey,  howsoever  you  colour  it  in  being  a 
tapster.  Are  you  not?  come,  tell  me  true ;  it  shall 
be  the  better  ror  you. 

Qo.  Truly,  sir,  I  am  a  poor  fellow,  that  would 
live. 

Escal.  How  would  you  live,  Pompey  ?  by  be- 
ing a  bawd  ?  What  do  you  think  of  the  trade, 
Pompey  ?  is  it  a  lawful  trade  ? 

Clo.  If  the  law  would  allow  it,  sir. 

EsaU.  But  the  law  will  not  allow  it,  Pompey ; 
nor  it  shall  not  be  allowed  in  Vienna. 

Clo.  Does  your  worship  mean  to  geld  and  spay 
all  the  youth  in  the  city  ? 

EscaL  No,  Pompey. 

Clo.  Truly,  sir,  in  my  poor  opinion,  thej  will 
to't  then :  if  your  worship  will  take  order*  for  the 
drabs  and  the  knaves,  you  need  not  to  fear  the 
bawds. 

EscaL  There  are  pretty  orders  be^^nning,  I  can 
tell  you  :  it  is  but  headii^  and  hanging. 

Clo.  If  you  head  and  hang  all  that  offend  ^Mt 
way  but  for  ten  ^'ear  together,  you'll  be  elad  to 
v^ve  out  a  commission  for  more  heads.  If  mis  law 
hold  in  Vienna  ten  year,  I'll  rent  the  fairest  house 
in  it,  after  three-pence  a  bay :  if  vou  live  to  see 
thiM  come  to  pass,  say  Pompey  told  you  so. 

EscaL  Thank  you,  gooa  Pompey  :  and,  in  re- 
quital of  your  prophecy,  hark  you, — I  advise  you, 
let  me  not  find  you  before  me  attain  upon  any  com- 
plaint whatsoever,  no,  not  for  owelling  where  yoa 
do :  if  I  do,  Pompey,  I  shall  beat  you  to  your  tent, 
and  prove  a  shrewd  Cssar  to  you ;  in  plain  deal- 
ing, Pompey,  I  shall  have  vou  whipt :  so  for  this 
time  Pompey,  fare  you  well. 

Clo.  I  thank  your  worship  for  yourtgood  coun- 
sel ;  but  I  shall  follow  it,  as  the  flesh  and  fortune 
shall  better  determine. 

Whip  me .'  No,  no ;  let  carman  whip  his  jade  ; 
The  valiant  heart's  not  whipt  out  of  his  trade.  [Ex. 

Escal.  Come  hither  to  me,  master  Elbow ;  come 
hither,  master  Constable.  How  long  have  you 
been  in  this  place  of  constable  ? 

Elb.  Seven  years  and  a  half,  sir. 

Escal.  I  thought,  b^  your  readiness  in  the  oAice, 
you  had  continued  in  it  some  time :  You  say,  seven 
years  together?  » 

Elb.  And  a  half,  sir. 

E^caL  Alas !  it  hath  been  great  pains  to  you ! 
They  do  you  wrong  to  put  you  so  on  upon't :  Ara 
there  not  men  in  your  ward  sufficient  to  serve  it .' 

Eib»  Faith,  sir,  few  of  any  wit  in  such  matters : 


(3)  For  cannibaL 


(4)  Measures. 


MEASURE  FORMEASURL 


M  dwjr  are  choaeot  thsf  are  gbd  to  ciiooM  me  fcr 
thai ;  I  do  it  fcr  Mme  piece  of  bmmj,  and  go 
ihwiugh  wi^elL 

JEmbL  Look  joa,  bring  me  in  the  namet  of 
•omeflZorseTen,themo«t  ■ufficient  of  jonr  pari^ 

JEtt.  Tovottr wonhip^i  boute, tir? 

EaeaL  To  way  houw :  Fare  tou  welL    [Exit 
Qhtm,]  What*! o*clock,  think  you? 

JutL  Eleren,  ar. 

ElaeaL  I  prey  you  home  to  dinner  with  nie. 

JugL  I  homblj  thank  you. 

£feai.  It  grieves  me  for  the  death  of  Claudk> ; 
But  tiiere's  no  remedy. 

JuaL  Lord  Angek)  ia  serere. 

EIkoL  It  is  but  needful : 

Mercy  it  not  itself,  that  oft  looks  so : 
Fsrdoo  is  still  the  nurse  of  second  wo : 
But  yet^ — Pbor  Clandio ! — There^s  no  remedy. 
Come,  sir.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IL— Another  room  in  Ou  mme.  Enter 
ProToet  and  a  Servant 

Serv.  He*s  hearing  of  a  cause ;  he  will  come 
straiefat 
rU  tell  him  of  you. 

Prov.  Prey  you,  da  [Exit  Servant]  PlI  know 
His  pleasure ;  may  be,  he  will  rel^it:  Alas, 
He  DBHh  but  as  ofljended  in  a  dream ! 
All  sects,  all  ages,  smack  of  this  vice ;  and  he 
To  die  for  it.' 

£h<er  Angela 

Ang.  Now,  what^s  the  matter,  provost  ? 

Pror.  Is  it  your  will  Claudio  shall  die  to-morrow  ? 

Ang.  Did  I  not  tell  thee,  yea?  hadst  thou  not 
order? 
Why  dost  thou  ask  again  ? 

Prov.  Lest  I  might  be  too  rash : 

Under  your  good  correction,  I  have  seen. 
When,  after  execution,  judgment  hath 
Repented  o*er  his  doom. 

Ang.  Go  to ;  let  that  be  mine ; 

Do  vou  your  office,  or  give  up  your  place, 
Aoa  you  shall  well  be  spar*a. 

Prov.  I  crave  your  honour's  pardon. — 

What  shall  be  done,  sir,  with  the  groaning  Juliet  ? 
She*s  very  near  her  hour. 

Ang.  Dispose  of  her 

To  some  more  fitter  place ;  ana  that  with  speed. 

Re-enter  Servant 

Serv.  Here  is  the  sister  of  the  man  coodemnM, 
^Desires  access  to  you. 

Ang.  Hath  he  a  sister  ? 

Prov.  Ay,  my  good  lord  ;  aveiy  virtuous  maid, 
-And  to  be  shortly  of  a  sisterhood, 
^t  not  already. 

Ang.       Well,  let  her  be  admitted.  [Ex.  Serv. 
See  you  the  fornicatress  be  removM ; 
^t  her  have  needful,  but  not  lavish,  means ; 
There  thmU  be  order  for  it 

Enter  Lucio  emd  Isabella. 

Prov.  Save  ycMir  honour  !      [Offering  to  retire. 

Ang.  Slay  a  little  while.— [To  Isab.]    You  are 
welcome:  What's  your  will  ? 

fia6.  I  am  a  woful  suitor  to  your  honour, 
^Wsse  but  your  honour  hear  me. 

'Anr.  Well;  what's  your  suit ? 

Iw.  There  is  a  vice,  that  most  I  do  abhor, 
And  most  desire  should  meet  the  blow  of  justice ; 
'or  which  I  would  not  plead,  but  that  I  must ; 


(1)  Pity. 


(2)  Be  assured. 


Fo%  which  I  most  not  plead,  bat  that  I  am 
At  war,  *twiit  will,  ana  will  not 

Anr,  Well ;  the  matt 

leah.  I  have  a  brodter  is  coodemn'd  to  die : 
I  do  beseech  you,  let  it  l)e  hb  &nlt, 
And  not  my  brother. 

Prov.  Heaven  eive  thee  moving  gracei 

Ang.  Condemn  the  fault,  and  nottiie  actor  of  it 
Why,  every  fault's  condemn'd,  ere  it  be  done : 
Mine  were  the  veiy  cipher  of  a  function, 
To  find  the  faults,  whose  fine  stsAds  in  record. 
And  let  go  by  the  actor. 

IstUf.  O  just,  bat  severe  law ! 

I  had  a  brother  then. — Heaven  keep  your  honour ! 

[Retirii^^. 

Lucio.  [To  Isab.]  Give^t  not  6*er  so:  to  him 
again,  entreat  him ; 
Kneel  down  before  him,  hang  upon  his  gown ; 
You  are  too  cold  :  if  you  shoula  need  a  pin. 
You  could  not  with  more  tame  a  toi^;ae  desire  it : 
To  him,  I  say. 

Isab.  Must  he  needs  die  ? 

Anr.  Maiden,  no  remedy. 

Jsab.  Yes ;  I  do  think  that  you  might  pardon  him. 
And  neither  heaven,  nor  man,  g^rieve  at  the  mercy. 

Anr.  I  will  not  do't 

Isab.  But  can  yoo,  if  you  would  ? 

Ang.  Look,  what  I  will  not,  that  I  cannot  da  * 

Isab.  But  might  you  do't,  and  do  the  world  no 
wrong. 
If  so  ^'our  heart  were  touch'd  with  that  remorse* 
As  mine  is  to  him  ? 

Ang.  He's  sentenc'd ;  'tis  too  late. 

Lucio.  You  are  too  cold.  [7b  Isabella. 

Isab.  Too  late?  why,  no;  I,  that  do  speak  a  word. 
May  call  it  back  G^in :  Well  believ^  this. 
No  ceremony  that  to  great  ones  'longs. 
Not  the  king's  crown,  nor  the  deputed  sword. 
The  marshal's  truncheon,  nor  the  judge's  robe. 
Become  them  with  one  half  so  good  a  grace. 
As  mercy  does.    If  he  had  been  as  you. 
And  you  as  he,  you  would  have  slipt  like  him ; 
But  he,  like  you,  would  not  have  been  so  stem. 

Anr.  Pray  you,  begone. 

Isab.  I  would  to  heaven  I  had  your  potency. 
And  you  were  Isabel !  should  it  then  be  thus? 
No ;  I  would  tell  what  'twere  to  be  a  judge. 
And  what  a  prisoner. 

Lucio.  Ay,  touch  him :  ^re's  the  vein,  [^jtde 

Ang.  Your  brother  is  a  forfeit  of  the  law. 
And  you  but  waste  your  words. 

Isab.  Alas!  alas! 

Why,  all  the  souls  that  were,  were  forfeit  once ; 
And.  He  that  might  the  vantage  best  have  took. 
Found  out  the  remedy :  How  would  you  be, 
If  He,  which  is  the  top  of  judgment,  should 
But  judge  you  as  you  are  ?  O,  think  on  that ; 
And  mercy  then  will  breathe  within  your  lips. 
Like  man  new  made. 

Ang.  Be  you  content,  fair  maid  \ 

It  is  the  law,  not  I,  condemns  your  brother : 
Were  he  my  kinsman,  brother,  or  my  son. 
It  should  be  thus  with  him ; — He  must  die  to-mor- 
row. 

/soft.  To-morrow  ?  O,  that's  sudden !  Spare  him, 
spare  him : 
He's  not  prepar'd  for  death !  Even  for  our  kitchens 
We  kill  tnc  fowl  of  season  ;>  shall  we  serve  heaven 
With  less  respect  than  we  do  minister  < 

To  our  gross  selves  ?  Good,  good  my  lord^  bethink 

you: 
Who  is  it  that  hath  died  for  this  offence  ? 

(3)  When  in  season. 


102 


MEASURE  FQRBiEASUBE. 


Adll 


There's  inuiy  have  committed  it  ^ 

Lueio.  At,  well  said. 

Ang.  The  lavr  hath  not  been  deacl,  thoi^  it 
hath  slept : 
Those  many  had  not  dar'd  to  do  that  evil. 
If  the  fint  inan  that  did  the  edict  infringe ; 
Had  answer'd  for  his  deed :  now,  ^tis  awake ; 
Takes  note  of  what  is  done ;  and,  like  a  prophet, 
Looks  in  a  glass,  that  shows  what  future  eriu 
^ther  now,  or  by  remissness  new-conceiv*d. 
And  so  in  progress  to  be  hatchM  and  bora,) 
Are  now  to  have  no  succesuve  d^rees, 
But,  where  thejr  live,  to  end. 

IstU).  Yet  show  some  pty. 

Ang.  I  show  it  most  of  all,  when  I  show  justice ; 
For  tfa«n  I  pit}-  those  I  do  not  know. 
Which  a  dismiss^  offence  would  after  gall ; 
And  do  him  right,  that,  answering  one  toul  wrong. 
Lives  not  to  act  another.     Be  satisfied ; 
Tour  brother  dies  to-morrow :  be  content 

Itab.  So  you  must  be  the  first,  that  gives  this 
sentence : 
And  he,  that  suffers :  O,  it  is  excellent 
To  have  a  nant's  strength ;  but  it  is  tyrannous 
To  use  it  like  a  giant 

Lucio.  That*s  well  said. 

hab.  Could  ereat  men  thunder 
As  Jove  himself  does,  Jove  would  ne'er  be  quiet, 
For  every  pelting^  P^^y  officer. 
Would  use  his  heaven  for  thunder ;  nothing  but 

thunder. 

Merciful  heaven ! 

Thou  rather,  with  thy  sharp  and  sol^urous  bolt, 

Split'st  the  unwedgeable  and  gnarled  oak, 

loan  the  soft  mvi^e : — O,  but  man,  proud  man ! 

Drest  in  a  little  brief  authority ; 

Most  ignorant  of  what  he's  most  assur'd. 

His  glsuMV  essence, — like  an  angnr  ape. 

Plays  such  fantastic  tricks  befor^  hi^  heaven. 

As  make  the  angels  weep :  who,  with  our  spleens, 

Would  all  themselves  laugh  mortal 

Ludo.  O,  to  him,  to  him,  wench :  he  will  relent ; 
He's  coming,  I  perceive't 

Prov.  Pray  heaven,  she  win  him  ! 

Imib.  We  cannot  weigh  our  brother  with  ourself: 
Great  men  may  jest  with  saints :  'tis  wit  in  them ; 
But,  in  leffi,  foul  profanation. 

Lucio.  Thou  art  in  {he  right,  giri ;  more  o'  that 

Itab.  That  in  the  captain's  but  a  choleric  word, 
Which  in  the  soldier  is  flat  blasphemy. 

Zmcu>.  Art  advis'd  o'  that  ?  more  on't 

An^.  Why  do  you  put  these  savings  upon  me  ? 

isM.  Because  authority,  though  it  err  like  others. 
Hath  yet  a  kind  of  medicine  in  itself^ 
That  skims  the  vice  o'  the  top :  Go  to  your  bosom ; 
Knock  there;  and  ask  your  hrart,  what  it  doth  know 
That's  like  my  brother's  &ult :  if  it  confess 
A  natural  guiltiness,  such  as  is  his. 
Let  it  not  sound  a  thou|ht  upon  your  tongue 
Against  my  brother's  lite. 

Ang.  She  speaks,  and  'tis 

Such  sense,  that  my  sense  breeds  with  it' ^Fare 

you  well. 

Isab.  Gentle  my  lord,  turn  back. 

Ane.  I  will  betlunk  me>~Come  again  to-morrow. 

Ism.  Hark,  how  Pll  bribe  you :  Good  my  lord, 
turn  back. 

Anr.  How !  bribe  me.' 

/sa6.  Ay,  with  such  gifts,  that  heaven  shall  share 
with  you. 

(1)  Paltry.    rS)  Knotted.    (S)  Attested,  stamped. 
(4)  Preserved  from  the  corruption  of  the  world. 


Lmoo.  You  had  marr'd  all  else. 

I$ab.  Not  with  ibud  shekels  of  the  tested*  gold, 
Or  stones,  whose  rates  are  either  rich  or  poor. 
As  fancy  values  them :  but  with  true  prayers. 
That  slmll  be  up  in  heaven,  and  enter  thiere. 
Ere  sun-rise ;  pravers  from  preserved^  souls. 
From  fasting  roai^  whose  minds  are  dedicate 
To  nothing  temporal. 

Ang.  Well ;  come  to  me 

To-morrow. 

Lucio.  Go  to ;  it  is  well ;  away.  [Aside  to  Isab. 

Isab.  Heaven  keep  your  honour  nfe ! 

Aug.  Amen :  fiw  I 

Am  tl^t  way  going  to  temptation,  [Aside. 

Where  prayers  cross. 

Isab.  At  what  hour  to-morrow 

Shall  I  attend  your  lord^p? 

Ang.  At  anv  time  'fore  nooo. 

Isab.  Save  yotir  honour!  [Ext,  Luc.  Isa.  and  Pro. 

Ang.  From  thee ;  even  from  thv  virtue  ! — 

AMiat's  this  }  what's  this .'  Is  this  her  fault,  or  mine  ? 
The  tempter,  or  the  templed,  who  sins  nnost .'  Ha ! 
Not  she ;  nor  doth  she  tempt :  but  it  is  I, 
That  lying  by  the  violet,  in  the  sun. 
Do,  as  the  carrion  does,  not  as  the  flower. 
Corrupt  with  virtuous  season.    Can  it  be. 
That  modesty  may  more  betray  our  sense 
Than  womaii's  lightness .'    Having  waste  groond 

enough. 

Shall  we  desire  to  raze  the  sanctuair, 
And  pitch  our  evils  there  .'^  O,  fie,  ne,  fie ! 
What  dost  thou .'  or  what  art  thou,  Angelo  ? 
Dost  thou  desire  her  foully,  for  tlKwe  things 
That  make  her  good  ?  O,  let  her  brother  lire : 
Thieves  for  their  robberj-  have  authori^, 
Whcnjudges  steal  themselves,  ^liat.'  do  I  kwe  her. 
That  I  desire  to  hear  her  speak  again. 
And  feast  upon  her  eyes  ?  vVhat  is^t  I  dream  on  ? 

0  cunning  enemy,  that,  to  catch  a  saint. 

With  saints  dost' bait  thy  hook !  Most  dangerous 

Is  that  temptation,  that  doth  goad  us  on 

To  sin  in  loving  virtue :  never  could  the  stnunpet, 

With  all  her  double  ^isour,  art,  and  nature. 

Once  stir  my  temper ;  out  this  virtuous  maid 

Subdues  me  quite ; — Ever,  till  now. 

When  men  were  fond,  I  smil'd,  and  woodei'd  how. 

SCEJ^^m.—Aroominaprison.  Enter  TkJke^ 
Jutbiied  like  a  Friar ^  and  Provost 

Duke.  Hail  to  you,  provost ;  so,  I  think  yon  are. 
Prov.  I  am  the  provost :  What's  your  wdl,  good 

friar  .^ 
Duke.  Bound  by  my  diarity,  and  my  bloi'd 

order, 

1  come  to  visit  the  afflicted  spirits 

Here  in  the  prison :  do  me  the  common  r^;fat 
To  let  me  see  them ;  and  to  make  me  know 
The  nature  of  their  crimes,  that  I  may  minister 
To  them  accordingly. 
Prov.  I  would  do  more  than  that,  if  more  wera 
needful. 

Enier  Juliet 

Look,  here  comes  one ;  a  gentlewoman  of  mine, 
Who  falling  in  the  flames  of  her  own  youth. 
Hath  blister'd  her  report :  She  is  with  child ; 
And  he  that  got  it,  sentenc'd :  a  young  man 
More  fit  to  do  another  such  offence, 
Than  die  for  this. 
Duke,  When  most  he  die? 

'5)  See  2  Kings,  x.  27. 


Seau  IF. 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


103 


Prov.  As  I  do  think,  to-morrow. 
I  have  provided  for  you ;  stay  a  while.  [To  Juliet. 
And  you  shall  be  conducted. 

Duke.  Repent  you,  fair  one,  of  the  sin  you  carry .' 

Jtdut  I  oo;  and  bear  the  shame  most  patiently. 

Duke.  I'U  teach  you  how  you  shall  arraign  ycHir 
conscience, 
And  try  your  penitence,  if  it  be  sound, 
Or  hollowly  put  on. 

Juliet.  V\\  gladly  learn. 

Duke.  Love  you  the  man  that  wrong*d  you  } 

Juliet.  Yes,  as  I  love  the  woman  that  wroiigM 
him. 

Duke.  So  then,  it  seems,  your  most  offenceful  act 
Was  mutually  committed  ? 

Juliet.  Mutually. 

Duke.  Then  was  your  sin  of  heavier  kind  than  his. 

Juliet.  I  do  confess  it,  and  repent  it,  father. 

Duke,  *Tis  meet  so,  daughter :  But  lest  you  do 
repent, 
As  that  the  sin  hath  brought  you  to  this  shame, — 
Which  sorrow  is   always  toward  ourselves,  not 

heaven ; 
Showing,  we'd  not  spare'  heaven,  as  we  love  it. 
Bat  as  we  stand  in  tear, — 

Juliet.  I  do  repent  me,  as  it  is  an  evil ; 
And  take  the  shame  with  joy. 

Duke.  There  rest. 

Your  partner,  as  I  hear,  must  die  to-morrow, 
And  I  am  going  with  instruction  to  him. — 
Grace  go  with  you !  Benedicite !  [Eiit. 

Juliet.  Must  die  to-morrow !  O,  injurious  love, 
That  respites  me  a  life,  whose  very  comfort 
Is  still  a  dying  horror ! 

Prov.  'Tis  pity  of  him.  \Exeunt. 

SCRXE  IF.-— A  room  m  Angelo^s  house.  Enter 

Angela 

Ang.  When  I  would  pray  and  think,  I  &ink  and 

To  several  subjects :  heaven  hath  my  empty  words ; 
Whilst  my  invention,  hearing  not  my  tongue. 
Anchors  on  Isabel :  Heaven  in  my  mouth, 
As  if  I  did  but  onlv  chew  his  name ; 
And  in  my  heart,  the  strong  and  swelling  evil 
Of  my  conception  :  The  state,  whereon  1  studied. 
Is  like  a  good  thing,  being  often  read, 
Grown  fear'd  and  tedious ;  yea,  my  gravity, 
VVberein  (let  no  man  hear  me)  I  take  pride, 
.  Could  I,  with  boot,2  change  for  an  idle  phinio, 
Which  the  air  beats  for  vain.     O  place  .'  O  form ! 
How  often  dost  thou  with  thy  case,'  thy  habit. 
Wrench  awe  from  fools,  and  tic  the  wiser  semis 
To  thy  false  seeming  ?  Blood,  thou  still  art  blood  : 
Let*s  write  good  angel  on  the  deviPs  horn, 
'Tis  not  the,  devil's  crest 

Enter  Servant 

How  now,  who's  there  f 

Serv.  One  Isabel,  a  swter. 

Desires  access  to  you. 

Jing^.  '!reach  her  the  way.    [Ex.  Serv. 

0  heavens ! 

Why  does  my  blood  thus  muster  to  my  heart ; 
Making  both  it  unable  for  itself. 
And  dispossessing  all  the  other  parts 
Of  necessary  fitness  ? 

So  play  the  foolish  throngs  with  one  that  swoons ; 
Come  all  to  help  him,  and  so  stop  the  air 
By  which  he  ihoold  revive :  and  even  so 

(1)  Spare  to  ofiend  heaven.        (2)  Profit 
(3}  Outside.  (4)  People. 


The  general,^  subject  to  a  well-wish*d  king. 
Quit  their  own  part,  and  in  ot^equious  fondnesi 
Croud  to  his  presence,  where  their  untaught  love 
Must  needs  appear  offence. 

Enter  Isabella. 

How  now,  £sir  maid  f 

Is^.  I  am  come  to  know  your  pleasure. 

Ang.  That  you  might  know  it,  would  much 
better  please  me. 
Than  to  demand  what 'tis.  Your  brother  cannot  live. 

Jsab.  Even  so  ? — Heaven  keep  your  honour ! 

l^Retirittg. 

Ang.  Yet  may  he  live  a  while ;  and,  it  may  l^. 
As  long  as  you,  or  I :  Yet  he  must  die. 

Iscib.  Under  your  sentence  ? 

Anr.  Yea. 

hcJb.  When,  I  beseech  you  }  that  in  his  reprieve. 
Longer,  or  shorter,  he  may  be  so  fitted. 
That  his  soul  sicken  not 

Ang.  Ha  !  Fie,  these  filthy  vices !  It  were  as  good 
To  pardon  him,  that  hath  from  nature  stolen 
A  man  already  made,  as  to  remit 
Their  saucy  sweetness,  that  do  coin  heaven's  image. 
In  stamps  that  are  forbid :  *tis  all  as  easy 
Falsely  to  take  away  a  life  true  made. 
As  to  put  mettle  in  restrained  means, 
To  make  a  false  one. 

hab.  *Tis  set  down  so  in  heaven,  but  not  in  earth. 

Ang.  Say  you  so .'  then  I  shall  poze  you  quickly. 
Which  had'you  rather.  That  the  most  iust  law 
Now  took  your  brother's  life ;  or,  to  reaeem  him, 
Give  up  your  body  to  such  sweet  imcleaiuiess, 
As  she  that  he  hath  stain'd  ? 

Jsab.  Sir,  believe  this, 

I  had  rather  give  my  body  than  my  soul. 

Ang.  I  talk  not  of  your  soul :  Our  compell'd  sins 
Stand  more  for  number  than  accompt 

Isah.  How  say  you  i 

Ang.  Nay,  I'll  not  warrant  that ;  for  I  can  speak 
Against  the  thing  I  say.  Answer  to  this ; — 
I,  now  the  voice  of  the  recorded  law. 
Pronounce  a  sentence  on  your  brother's  life  : 
Might  there  not  be  a  chanty  in  sin, 
To  save  this  brother's  life .' 

hob.  Please  you  to  do't, 

V\\  take  it  as  a  peril  to  my  soul, 
It  is  no  sin  at  all,  but  charity. 

Ang.  Pleas'd  you  to  do't,  at  peril  of  your  soul, 
VV'ere  equal  poize  of  sin  and  charity. 

Isab.  That  I  do  beg  his  life,  if  it  be  sin. 
Heaven,  let  me  bear  it !  you  granting  of  my  suit. 
If  that  be  sin,  Pll  make  it  my  mom  prayer 
To  have  it  addfd  to  the  faults  of  mine. 
And  nothing  of  your,  answer. 

Ang.  Nay,  but  hear  rac . 

Your  sense  pursues  not  mine :  either  you  are  ignorani. 
Or  seem  so,  craftily  ;  and  that's  not  good. 

Isab.  Let  me  be  ignorant,  and  in  nothing  good. 
But  graciously  to  know  I  am  no  better. 

Ang.  Thuswisdom  wishes  to  appear  most  bright. 
When  it  doth  tax  itsflf :  as  these  black  masks 
Proclaim  an  enshield*  beauty  ten  times  louder 
Than  beauty  could  displayed. — But  mark  me ; 
To  be  receivM  plain,  PU  speak  more  gross : 
Your  brother  is  to  die. 

Isab.  So. 

Ang.  And  his  offence  is  so,  as  it  appears 
Accountant  to  the  law  upon  diat  pain.^ 

Isab.  True. 

Ang.  Admit  no  other  way  to  tare  his  life 

(5)  Enshielded,  covered.  (6)  Penalty. 


104 


BfEASURE  FOn  MEASURE. 


Act  m. 


(As  I  labscnbei  not  that,  nor  any  other, 
But  in  the  loss  c^  questian,^)  that  you,  his  sister, 
Finding^  yourself  desirM  of  such  a  person. 
Whose  credit  with  the  jud^,  or  own  ^reat  place, 
Could  fetch  your  biother  from  the  manacles 
Of  the  all-binding  law ;  and  that  there  were 
No  earthly  mean  to  save  him,  but  that  either 
You  must  lay  down  the  treasures  ofvour  body 
To  this  supposed,  or  else  let  him  sufier ; 
What  would  you  do  ? 

Itab.  As  much  for  my  poor  brother,  as  myself: 
That  is,  Were  1  under  the  terms  of  death. 
The  impression  of  keen  whips  Pd  wear  as  rubies, 
And  stnp  myself  to  death,  as  to  a  bed 
That  longing  I  have  been  sick  for,  ere  Pd  yield 
My  body  up  to  shame. 

Ang.  Then  must  your  brother  die. 

Itab.  And  *twere  the  cheaper  way : 
Better  it  were,  a  brother  diea  at  once. 
Than  that  a  sister,  by  redeeming  him, 
Should  die  for  ever. 

Ang.  Were  not  you  then  as  cruel  as  the  sentence 
That  you  have  slanderM  so  } 

Itab.  Ignomy'  in  ransom,  and  free  pardon, 
Are  of  two  houses :  lawful  mercy  is 
Nothing  akin  to  foul  redemption. 

Ang.  You  seemM  of  late  to  make  the  law  a  ty- 
rant, 
And  rather  provM  the  sliding  of  your  brother 
A  merriment  than  a  vice. 

ImU).  O,  pardon  me,  my  lord ;  it  oft  falls  out. 
To  have  what  we'd  have,  we  speak  not  what  wc 

mean : 
I  mnething  do  excuse  the  thing  I  hate, 
For  his  advantage  that  I  dearly  love. 

Ang.  We  are  all  fraiL 

Itab.  Else  let  my  brother  die, 

If  not  a  feodaiy,^  but  only  he, 
OweJ^  and  succeed  by  weakness. 

Ang.  Nay,  women  are  frail  too. 

Itab.  Ay,  as  the  glasses  where  they  view  them- 
selves; 
Which  are  as  easy  broke  as  they  make  forms. 
Women ! — Help  heaven !  men  their  creatum  mar 
In  profiting  by  them.    Nay,  call  us  ten  times  frail ; 
For  we  are  aod  as  our  complexions  are, 
And  credulous  to  false  prints.^ 

Ang.  I  think  it  well  : 

And  from  this  testimony  of  your  own  sex 
(Since,  I  suppose,  we  are  made  to  be  no  stronger 
Than  faults  may  shake  our  frames,)  let  me  be  bold ; 
I  do  arrest  your  words ;  Be  that  you  are, 
That  is,  a  woman ;  if  you  be  more,  you're  none ; 
If  you  be  one  (as  you  are  well  expressed 
By  all  external  warrants,)  show  it  now, 
By  putting  on  the  destinM  livery. 

UeUf.  I  have  no  tongue  but  one :  gentle  my  lord. 
Let  me  entreat  ycHi  speak  the  former  language. 

Ane.  Plainly  conceive,  I  love  vou. 

Itab.  My  brother  did   love   Juliet ;   and  you 
tell  me. 
That  he  shall  die  for  it 

Ang.  He  shall  not,  Isabel,  if  you  give  me  love. 

Isab,  I  know,  your  virtue  hath  a  license  in't. 
Which  seems  a  little  fouler  than  it  is, 
To  nluck  on  others. 

Ang.  Believe  me,  on  mine  honour. 

My  words  Express  my  purpose. 

Itab.  Ha .'  little  honour  to  be  much  believ'd. 
And  most  pernicious  purpose! — Seemii^,  seeming!^ 

(1)  Agree  to.     (2)  Conversation.     ^3)  Ignominy. 
(4)  Associate.       (5)  Own.        (6)  Impressions. 


I  will  proclaim  thee,  Angelo ;  look  forU : 

Sign  me  a  present  pardon  for  my  brother. 

Or,  with  an  outstretchM  throat,  I'll  tell  the  world 

Aloud,  what  man  thou  art 

Ang.  Who  will  believe  thee,  Isabel  f 

My  unsoil'd  name,  the  austereness  of  my  life. 
My  vouch^  against  you,  and  my  place  i'  the  state, 
W  ill  so  your  accusation  overweigh. 
That  you  shall  stifle  in  your  own  report. 
And  smell  of  calumny.     I  have  b^^m ; 
And  now  I  give  my  sensual  race  the  rein : 
Fit  thy  consent  to  my  sharp  appetite ; 
Lay  bv  all  nicety,  and  prolixious^  blushes. 
That  banish  what  they  sue  for ;  redeem  thy  brother 
By  yielding  up  thy  body  to  my  will ; 
Or  else  he  must  not  only  die  the  deaUi, 
But  thy  unkindness  shf^l  his  death  draw  out 
To  lingering  sufferance :  answer  me  to-mcMTOW, 
Or,  by  the  affection  that  now  guides  me  roost, 
I'll  prove  a  tyrant  to  him :  As  for  you. 
Say  what  you  can,  my  false  o'erweighs  your  tme. 

[Exii. 

Itab.  To  whom  shall  I  complain  f  Did  I  tell  this. 
Who  would  believe  me  .^  O  perilous  mouths. 
That,  bear  in  them  one  and  tne  self-same  tongue. 
Either  of  condemnation  or  approof ! 
Bidding  the  law  make  court'sy,  to  their  will : 
Hooking  both  right  and  wrong  to  the  appetite, 
To  follow  as  it  draws !  I'll  to  my  brother : 
Though  he  hath  fallen  by  prompture  of  the  blood. 
Yet  hath  he  in  him  such  a  mind  of  honour, 
That  had  he  twenty  heads  to  tender  down 
On  twenty  bloody  blocks,  he'd  yield  them  up, 
Before  his  sister  should  her  Ixxfy  stoop 
To  such  abhorr'd  pollution. 
Then  Isabel,  live  chaste,  and,  brother,  die : 
More  than  our  brother  is  our  chastity. 
I'll  tell  him  yet  of  Angelo's  request. 
And  fit  his  mind  to  death,  for  his  soul's  rest  \EixiL 


ACT  III. 

SCEJSrEI.—Aroominthepriton.  Enter  Daht, 
Claudio,  and  Provost 

Duke.  So,  then  you  hope  of  pardon  from  lord 

Angelo.^ 
Claud.  The  miserable  have  no  other  medicine. 
But  only  hope : 
I  have  hope  to  live,  and  am  prepared  to  die. 

Duke.  Be  absolute^  for  death;  either  death,  or  life. 
Shall  thereby  be  the  sweeter.    Reason  thus  with 

Ufe,— 
If  I  do  lose  thee,  I  do  lose  a  thing 
That  none  but  fools  would  keep :  a  br^th  thou  ar! 
(Servile  to  all  the  skiey  influences,) 
That  dost  this  habitation,  where  thou  keep'st. 
Hourly  aflHict :  merely,  thou  art  death's  fool ; 
For  hmi  thou  labour'st  by  th^  flight  to  shun, 
And  yet  run'st  toward  him  still :  Thou  art  not  noble; 
For  all  the  accommodations  that  thou  bear'st. 
Are  nurs'd  by  baseness :  Thou  art  by  no  meaof 

valiant : 
For  thou  dost  fear  the  soft  and  tender  fork 
Of  a  poor  worm :  Thy  best  of  rest  is  sleep. 
And  that  thou  ofl  provok'st ;  yet  grossly  tear'st 
Thy  death,  which  is  no  more.  Thou  art  not  thyaelf ; 
For  thou  exist'st  on  many  a  thousand  grains 
Tliat  issue  out  of  dust :  Happy  thou  art  not : 

(7)  Hypocrisy.    (8)  Attestation.     (9)  Reluctant. 
(10)  Determined. 


SeamI 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


105 


For  what  Aoo  hast  not,  still  thoa  striv*8t  to  get ; 
And  what  diou  hast,  ibi^t*8t ;  Thoa  art  not  certain; 
For  thj  complexion  shifts  to  strange  efiects,* 
After  the  moon :  If  thou  art  rich,  thou  art  poor; 
For,  like  an  ass,  whose  back  with  in|;ot8  bows, 
Thoif  bear'st  thy  heavy  riches  but  a  journey. 
And  death  unloads  thee :  Frioid  hast  thou  none ; 
For  thine  own  bowels,  which  do  call  thee  sire,. 
The  mere  effusion  of  th  v  proper  loins, 
Do  corse  the  gout,  serptgo,^  and  the  iheum. 
For  ending  thee  no  sooner :  Thoa  hast  nor  yooth, 

nor  age; 
Bat,  as  it  were,  an  after-dinner*s  sleep. 
Dreaming  on  both :  for  all  thy  blessed  vouUi 
Becomes  as  ased,  and  doth  o^  thee  auns 
Of  palsied  ela  ;*  and  when  thou  art  old,  and  rich, 
Titoa  hast  neither  heat,  affection,  limb,  nor  beauty, 
To  make  thy  riches  pleasant  What*s  vet  in  this, 
Hiat  bears  the  name  of  life  ?  Yet  in  this  life 
Lie  hid  more  thousand  deaths :  yet  death  we  fear. 
That  makes  diese  odds  all  even. 

CSsudL  I  humbly  thank  you. 

To  sue  to  live,  I  find,  I  seek  to  die ; 
And,  seeking  death,  find  Ufe :  Let  it  come  oo. 

Enter  Isabella. 

Jbab.  What,  ho !  Peace  here ;  grace  and  good 

company! 
Proo.  Who's  there  ?  come  in :  the  wish  deserves 

a  welcome. 
Duke,  Dear  sir,  ere  kxig  Pll  visit  yoa  again. 
Claud,  Most  holy  sir,  I  thank  you. 
/sa6.  My  business  is  a  word  or  two  with  Claudia 
Proo.  And  veiy  welcome.  Look,  signior,  here's 

yoar  sister. 
Duke,  Provost,  a  word  with  yoo. 
Proo.  As  many  as  yoa  please. 

Duke.  Brin^  them  to  speak,  where  I  may  be 
concealed, 
Tet  hear  them.  ^Exeunt  Duke  and  Provost, 

Gaud  Now,  Bister,  what's  the  comfort  ? 

bob.  Why,  as  all  comforts  are ;  most  good  in- 
deed; 
ViOrd  Angek>,  having  affairs  to  heaven, 
intends  you  for  his  swift  ambassador, 
^i^here  you  shall  be  an  everlasting  leiger  t^ 
^■gherefore  your  best  appointment^  make  with  speed ; 
'-■"oHnorrow  you  set  on. 

Gaud.  Is  there  no  remedy  f 

^ bob.  None,  but  such  remedy,  as,  to  save  a  head, 

I'o  cleave  a  heart  in  twain. 

Qaud.  But  is  diere  any  ? 

^^Imb.  Yes,  brother,  you  mav  live ; 
^HTwe  is  a  devilish  mercy  ir  the  judge, 
If  you'll  implore  it,  that  will  free  your  life, 
Rat  fetter  you  till  death. 

Qaud.  Perpetual  durance? 

/sa6.  Ay,  iust,  perpetual  durance ;  a  restraint, 
*lV)aefa  aU  tne  world's  vastidity^  you  had, 
T*oa  determin'd  scope. 

Gaud.  But  in  what  nature  ? 

Itcih.  In  such  a  one  as  (you  consenting  to't^ 
Woald  bark  your  honour  from  that  trunk  you  bear, 
And  leave  you  naked. 
Gavd.  Let  me  know  the  point 

liia6.  O,  I  do  fear  thee,  Claudio ;  and  I  quake 
W  thou  a  feverous  life  should'st  entertain, 
And  fix  or  seven  winters  more  respect 
Than  a  perpetual  honour.    Dar'st  Hboa  die.' 

(1)  Affects,  affections.     (2)  Leprous  eruptions. 
(3)  Old  age.      (4)  Resident      (5)  Preparation. 
(Q  Ya«toess  of  extent     (7)  Shut  up. 


The  sense  of  death  is  most  in  apprehenstoa  ; 
And  the  poor  beetle,  that  we  tread  upon. 
In  corporal  sufiRerance  finds  a  pang  as  g^reat 
As  when  a  giant  dies. 

Claud.  Why  |^ve  you  me  this  shame  ? 

Think  von  I  can  a  resolution  fetch 
From  noweiy  tenderness  ?    If  I  must  die, 
I  will  encounter  darkness  as  a  bride. 
And  bugjt  in  mine  arms. 

laab.  There  spake  my  brother ;  there  my  father's 
eprave 

Did  utter  forth  a  voice !  Yes,  thoa  must  die: 
Thou  art  too  '.oble  to  conserve  a  life 
In  base  appliances.   This  outward-sainted  deputy. 
Whose  settled  visage  and  deliberate  word 
Nips  youth  Tthe  head,  and  follies  doth  enmew,7 
As  falcon  doth  the  fowl, — is  yet  a  devil ; 
His  filth  within  being  cast,  he  would  appear 
A  pond  as  deep  as  bell. 

Claud  The  princely  Angelo.' 

Is€U>.  O,  'tis  the  cunning  liveiy  of  bell. 
The  damned'st  body  to  invest  and  cover 
In  princely  guards  ^  Dost  thou  think,  Claudio, 
If  I  woula  yield  him  my  virginity. 
Thou  might'st  be  freed  ? 

Claud.  O,  heavens!  it  cannot  be. 

leab.  Yes,  he  would  give  it  thee,  from  this  rank 
offence. 

So  to  offend  him  still :  This  night's  die  time 
That  I  should  do  what  I  abhor  to  name. 
Or  else  thou  diest  to-moirow. 

Claud.  Thoa  shalt  not  do't 

I$ab.  O,  were  it  but  my  life, 
I'd  throw  it  down  for  your  deliverance 
As  frankly*  as  a  pin. 

Gaud.  Thanks,  dear  Isabel. 

/«a6.  Be  ready,  Claudio,  for  your  death  tonnor- 
row. 

Gaud  Yes. — ^Has  he  affections  m  him, 
Hiat  thus  can  make  him  bite  the  law  by  the  nose, 
When  he  would  force  it  ?  Sure  it  is  no  stn ; 
Or  of  the  deadly  seven  it  is  the  least 

/sa6.  Which  is  the  least? 

Claud  If  it  were  damnable,  he,  being  ao  wise. 
Why,  would  he  for  the  momentary  trick 
Be^rdurablyio  fin'd  ?— O,  Isabel ! 

Jsab.  What  says  my  brother? 

Gaud.  Death  is  a  fearful  thing. 

Isab.  And  shamed  life  a  hateful. 

Gaud.  Ay,  but  to  die,  and  go  we  know  not  where; 
To  lie  in  cold  obstruction,  anid  to  rot ; 
This  sensible  warm  nation  to  became 
A  kneaded  cold ;  and  the  delighted  spirit 
To  bathe  in  fieiy  fioods,  or  to  reside 
In  thrilling  regions  of  thick-ribbed  ice ; 
To  be  imprison'd  in  the  viewless^^  winds. 
And  blown  with  restless  violence  round  about 
The  pendent  world ;  or  to  be  worse  than  worst 
Of  tiiose,  that  lawless  and  incertain  thoughts 
Imagine  howling ! — ^'tis  too  horrible  ! 
The  weariest  and  most  loathed  worldly  life. 
That  age,  ache,  penury,  and  imprisonment 
Can  lay  on  nature,  is  a  paradise 
To  what  we  fear  of  death. 

Isab.  Alas!  alas! 

Claud  Sweet  sister,  let  me  live ' 

What  sin  you  do  to  save  a  brother's  life, 
Nature  dispenses  with  the  deed  so  far. 
That  it  becomes  a  virtue. 

laab.  O,  yoa  beast ! 

(8)  Laced  robet.    (9)Freely.      (10)  Lastingly 
(11)  Invisible. 


106 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


Afim 


O,  faithless  coward !  O,  dishooeit  wretch ! 
Wilt  thou  be  made  a  man  out  of  my  vice  ? 
]8*t  not  a  kind  of  incest,  to  take  life 
From  thine  own  sister's  shame  ?    What  should  1 

think  ? 
Heaven  shield,  my  mother  plav'd  my  father  fair ! 
For  such  a  warped  slip  of  wil^ruessi 
Ne'er  issu'd  from  his  blood.   Take  my  defiance  :3 
Die ;  ))eri»h !   miu;ht  but  my  bendinsj  down 
Reprieve  thee  from  thy  fate,  it  should  proceed : 
I'll  pray  a  thousand  prayers  for  thy  death, 
No  word  to  save  thee. 

Claud.  Nay,  hear  me,  Isabel. 

Isab.  O,  fie,  fie,  fie  ! 

Thy  sin's  not  accidental,  but  a  trade :' 
Mercy  to  thee  would  prove  itself  a  bawd : 
'Tis  best  tiiat  thou  diest  quickly.  [Going. 

CiauJ.  O  hear  me,  Isabella. 

Re-enter  Thike, 

Duke,  Vouchsafe  a  word,  young  sister,  but  one 
word. 

Isab.  What  is  your  will  ? 

Duke.  Might  you  dispense  with  your  leisure,  I 
would  by  and  by  have  some  speech  with  you :  the 
satisfaction  I  would  require,  is  likewise  your  own 
benefit 

Isab.  I  have  no  superfluous  leisure ;  my  stay  mu«t 
be  stolen  out  of  other  afiAirs ;  but  I  will  attend  you 
a  while. 

Duke,  [To  Claudio,  aside.]  Son,  I  have  over- 
heard what  bath  passed  between  you  and  your  sis- 
ter. Angelo  had  never  the  purpose  to  corrupt  her; 
only  be  bath  made  an  essay  of  her  virtue,  to  practitic 
his  judgment  with  the  disposition  of  natures :  she, 
hafmg  the  truth  of  honour  in  her,  hath  made  him 
that  gracious  denial  which  he  is  nKMt  glad  to  re- 
ceive ;  I  am  confessor  to  Ai^lo,  and  I  kno«Y  this  to 
be  true ;  therefore  prepare  yourself  to  death :  do  not 
satisfy  your  resolution  with  hopes  that  are  &llible : 
to-morrow  you  must  die ;  go  to  your  knees,  and 
make  ready. 

Claud.  Let  me  ask  my  sister  pardon.  I  am  so 
out  of  love  with  life,  that  I  will  sue  to  be  rid  of  it. 

Duke.  Ilold^  you  there :  farewell.  [Ex.  Claud. 

i2e-«n/«r  Provost 

Pro%'08t,  a  word  with  you. 

Proo.  W^hat's  your  will,  father  ? 

Duke.  That  now  you  are  come,  you  will  be  gone : 
leave  me  a  while  with  the  maid ;  m  v  mind  promiM-s 
with  my  habit,  no  loss  shall  touch  licr  by  my  com- 
pany. 

I^rov.  In  good  time.  [Exit  Provost. 

Duke.  The  hand  that  hath  made  you  fair,  hath 
made  you  good :  the  goodnetis,  that  is  cheap  in 
beauty,  makes  beauty  brief  in  goodness ;  but  grace, 
being  the  soul  of  your  complexion,  should  keep  thi< 
body  of  it  ever  fair.  The  assault,  that  Angelo  hath 
nia^e  to  you,  fortune  hath  convey'd  to  my  under- 
htanding  ;  and,  but  that  frailty  hath  examples  for 
his  falling,  I  should  wonder  at  Angelo.  How  would 
you  do  to  content  this  substitute,  and  to  save  your 
brother .' 

Isab.  I  am  now  ^ng  to  resolve  him :  I  had 
rather  my  brother  die  by  the  law,  than  my  son 
should  ho.  unlawfully  bom.  But  O,  how  much  is 
the  good  duke  deceived  in  Anselo !  If  ever  he  re- 
turn, and  I  can  speak  to  him,  I  will  open  my  lips 
in  vain,  or  discover  his  government 


,  Wildness.         (2)  Refusal. 
^3)  An  established  habit 
(4)  CoDtinue  in  that  reaolutiao. 


91 


Duke.  That  shall  not  be  much  amiss :  yet,  at  the 
matter  now  stands,  he  will  avoid  your  accusation ; 
he  made  trial  of  you  only. — Therefore,  fastenya|ir 
ear  on  my  advisings ;  to'  the  love  I  have  in  doiiii;: 
good,  a  renM'dy  presents  itself.  1  do  make  myarli 
Ijelieve,  thai  you  may  most  uprighleou»ly  dompoor 
wronged  lady  a  merited  benefit ;  redeem  yoor  oio> 
ther  trum  the  angr}'  law  ;  do  no  stain  to  ycmr  omn 
gracious  ix>n<on  ;  and  much  plea*e  the  aihwot  dake, 
if,  peradventure,  he  shall  ever  return  to  have  hetr* 
ing  of  this  business. 

Isab.  Let  me  hear  you  speak  furtl»er;  I  hare 
spirit  to  do  any  thing  that  appears  not  foul  in  the 
truth  of  my  spirit. 

Duke.  Virtue  is  bold,  andKtx)dne8a  never feeiM. 

I  lave  not  you  heard  Npeak  of  Mariana,  the  sister  d 

Fn'derick,  the  great  soldier,  who  miscarried  Bimmf 

Isab.  I  have  heard  of  the  lady,  and  good  words 

went  with  her  name. 

Duke.  Her  should  this  Angelo  have  married ;  w»i 
afiianced  to  her  by  oath,  anu  the  nuptial  appointed : 
between  which  time  of  the  contract,  and  limit  of  the 
solemnity,  her  brother  Frederick  was  wrecked  •i 
•«a,  having  in  that  peribh'd  vesst'l  the  dowrj-  of  bk 
>ister.  But  mark,  how  heavily  this  Ixrfel  to  the  pooi 
gentlewoman  :  there  she  \wt  a  noble  and  renowned 
brother,  in  his  love  toward  her  ever  most  kind  and 
natural ;  with  him  the  portion  and  sinew  of  berfar 
lune,  her  marriage-dowiy  ;  with  both,  her  combi' 
natc:^  husband,  this  wc>ll-se*>jning  Angelo. 
Isab.  Can  thia  l)e  so.^  Did  Angelo  ao  leave  beri 
Duke.  Ix'ft  her  in  her  tears,  and  diy'd  Dotooeo 
them  with  his  comfort ;  swallowed  his  vows  whole 
pretending,  in  her,  discoveries  of  dishonour :  in  lew 
bestowed^  her  on  her  own  lamentation,  which  dM 
yet  wears  for  his  sake ;  and  he,  a  marble  to  bei 
tears,  is  washed  with  them,  but  relents  not 

Isab.  What  a  merit  were  it  in  death,  to  take  As 
poor  maid  from  the  world  !  Wliat  corruption  in  tfai 
life,  that  it  will  let  this  man  live  ! — But  huw  out  o 
this  can  she  avail  ^ 

Duke.  It  is  a  rupture  that  you  may  easily  heal 
and  the  cure  of  it  not  only  saves  your  brother,  bn 
ktHjis  you  from  dishonour  in  doing  it 
Isa6.  Show  me  how,  good  father. 
Duke.  This  fore-named  maid  hath  yet  in  her  (b 
continuance  of  her  first  affection ;  his  unjust  vo 
kindness,  that  in  all  n>ason  should  have  quendiB 
luT  love,  hath,  like  an  impediment  in  the  cunent 
made  it  more  violent  and  unruly.  Go  yoa  to  Ai^ 
|lo;  answer  his  n><{uiring  with  a  plausible  obra 
nice  ;  agree  with  his  demands  to  the  point :  onl 
refer' your!i<'lf  to  this  advantage, — first,  that  you 
<<tay  with  him  may  not  be  long ;  that  tlie  time  ma 
have  all  shadow  and  silence  in  it ;  and  the  plac 
answer  to  convenience :  this  bein^  granted  i 
<  ourse,  now  follows  all.  We  shall  advise  tU 
wrungcd  moid  to  stead  up  your  appointment,  coi 
N our  place;  if  the  encounter  acknowledge  itite 
liereafter,  it  may  coni}H-l  him  to  her  recoinpenae 
and  here,  by  this,  is  your  brother  saved,  yen 
honour  untainted,  the  poor  Mariana  advuntai^,  an 
the  corrupt  deputy  scaled.^  The  maid  will  I  fram 
and  make  fit  /or  his  attempt.  If  you  think  well  t 
rarry  this  as  you  may,  tlie  doublene.*<s  of  the  benei 
defends  the  deceit  from  reproof.  What  think  yo 
of  it.^ 

Isab.  The  image  of  it  gives  me  content  already 
and,  I  trust,  it  will  grow  to  a  most  prosperous  pa: 
fection. 
Duke,  It  lies  much  in  your  holding  up :  has 

(5)  Betrothed.     (6)  Gave  her  up  to  her  •onov? 
(7)  Have  recourse  to.         f  8)  CH'er-reacbed. 


giaw  //.  MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 

JOB  qxedilf  10  Angela  I  if  for  lhi>n%hihc>'rii 
TOO  to  hit  bed,  give  him  pnjDiiM  ti  ntiihtcior 
will  pnwnll^  lo  Sl  Lulie'a ;  Umk,  bI  Ihe  mm 
rrmpge,'  mides  Ibia  dejected  Miriaiu :  nl 
pbcecsllupaame;  sud  deipntch  with  An^lo, 


Ltieia.  HowdothmtdeHrmonel.lhjfmiHrmf 
PiDcureB  ihe  slill  ?     Hi ' 
Cia.  Troih,  lir,  she  h»ih  emUn  up  •!!  her  beef, 


iscn,  Pompej  ^ 

Bl  ttnuM,  Pompej :  fmnrell : 
hillier.     For  debt,  P«iipe;> 


beut^we' 


10  remedy  for  i1, 
le  world  driuk  bt 


Elb.  For  being  ■  bawd,  for  being  » 

Lvdo.  Weil,  then  impriion  him:  i 

iijwil  be  the  due  of  B  bawd,  wlij,  'lis 


illow'd  by  order  of  law  a  furr'd  guivn  [., 
bim  wum:  and  furr'd  wilh  foi  and  lsi,.l. 
km,  10  aignifj,  Ihal  crsfl,  being  richer  Ihuji 
ctocy,  ilandi  far  the  facing. 

Sh.  Cone  your  waj,  air:— Biesi  you, 
tadier  friar. 

Dtikt.  And  you,  good  brother  &ther: 
dfence  hath  Ihii  man  made  you,  >ir? 

£U>.  Marrf ,  BT,  he  balh  oSended  the  kw 
■t,we  Cakehiin  (a  be  a  thief  too,  kt\  Ibrnr 
baiA  Dim  lum,  air,  a  ilrange  picL-iocli,^ 
we  have  >ent  Id  the  deputy. 

DiJa.  Fie,  limb ;  a  bawd,  a  '  '  " 
The  evil  that  Cbou  cauaei 
llat  ia  Ihy  ineani  (o  live 
"Wi«fti.tocra.nama«. 
S^rem  auch  a  filthy  vice : 
Wtant  their  aboRUDible  a 
Z  drink,  I  eat,  array  myH 

„ib,ii. 


Ihe  ptiHHi,  l^oin[ 

iiow,  Pompey  ;  ) 

Oo.  1   k^i 


'y :  you  mil  lum  good  husband 

u  will  k«p  Ihe  bDUae.< 

r,  your  good  worahip  will  be  tny 


io.  No,  indeed,  will  I  not,  PonvpeJ 
ar.'     1  will  pray,  Ponipey,  Id  incn 
ixKidagB:  if  you  take  ''  —■—-:—■'-    ■■ 


TE^m  wilt  prove  hii.  Take  him 
C^onvclion  and  mslnicticn  must  h 
^Sn  Ihii  rude  beut  will  profit- 


re  him,  he  were  ai  good  go  a  mile  on  hi.  i.ri 

Xiifa.Tha1wewereBil,asBmewould».iLrM 

f  K,  fran  OUT  fcu1t»,  ai  fculU  from  Beemins, 

Enltr  Lucia. 

EOi.  Hii  neck  will  come  toyour  waial,  a  cord 

do.  I  spy  comlbrt ;  I  cry,  bail ;  here'  i  a 

^— nnn,  and  a  friend  of  mine. 

Liaio.  Hdw  now,  noble  Pompey  ?  AVI.^i,  r 
hadi  of  Cfesar  ?  An  diou  led  in  triumph  ■  \' 
■    ■  litre  none  of  Pygm"l™'»  image!,  nrw  K   r 


Mckel.  and  eilractii^  it 
Hi?  Whal  Kiy'al  thou  If 


■    \VT,.ii 


Wbaiiay'ii  ihou,  trot?     It  Ihe  world  ai  ii  i- 
»«(    Which  ia  ttie  way?    Ii  it  lad,  and 
•ndi?    OrhowF    Thelrickofil.' 
i)iifa.  Siaitfa(ii,aiidlhutl  aUllwoiwl 

m  A  Blilary  farm-hcose.       (I)  A  aweol  w 

(3)  For  a  Spaniih  padlock. 

ifl  Txd  kika  yoor  wain  with  a  n)p«- 


leyour 

Adieu,  (ruity  Ftanpey. — BIch 

Dvkt.  And  you. 

Liucio.  Doei  Bridget  painl  itdl,  Pompey  ?  Ha? 

Etb.  Come  tour  wavs,  lir  1  come. 

CTd.  Yon  will  nol  bail  me  then,  Mr  f 

Luao.  Then,  Pompey?  nor  now.— Whal  newi 

FAb   Come  jour  ways,  ait  i  come, 
iaeio.  (ri),— to  kennel,  Pompey,  go: 

{ Kivml  Elbow,  ClowD,  and  OOkert, 
HTiBl  news,  friar,  of  (be  duke? 
Dukt.  I  know  none :  can  jou  tell  me  of  aw .» 
Lucio.  Sameiey,  he  ii  wilhtbeempe^H'aCK1w■ 
■;  other  aome,  lie  ii  in  Rome:  but  when  ii  ha, 

Dvkt.  I  know  not  where : 


eal  fnan  the  ilale,  and  umrp  the  b 
as  never  bom  to.  Lord  Argelo  duke; 
ia  absence;  hepuli  lnu»CTCsaioa  lo'L 
Duki.  He  does  well  in'l. 


Dujtt.  Il  ia  100  general  a  vice,  and  aeverily  niuit 

Luein.  Yea,  in  good  looth,  the  vice  ii  of  a  (creal 

kindred;  it  is  well  all} 'd:  but  it  ia  impDnible  K> 

eitirpil  quite,  friar,  till  eating  and  drinking  be 

down.     They  lay,  IhnAngelo  "— ■"- 


put  down. 

Duke^  How 

iueio.  S.,mo 
Some,  that  he  v 

"jSuie'voua 


e  doWDrigbl  way  of 


Flween  Iwo  tto^-tUhrs : 
^rative,  thsl's  Infallible. 
1  cod-piece,  10  take  aivav 


e  of  a  roan?  Would  _  . 

Jonelhii?  Ero  be  would  have  har^'d 

for  the  Belting  a  bundled  basUrds,  he  wouli 


106 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASIJBiL 


Ad  UL 


paid  fer  tbe  norani^  a  thooHod :  be  had 

■ig  of  tbe  fport;  be  knew  ibe  Berrioe,  and  tbat 

ioftrocted  luin  to  inercT. 

Duke.  I  never  beai^  tbe  abtent  duke  mocb  de- 
tecledi  i(jf  women  ;  be  vras  not  inciined  diat  waj. 

Iauxo.  O,  Mr,  JOQ  are  deceiTed. 

Dukt.  *Tts  not  poa^ble. 

hucio.  Who?  not  thednke?  jea,  jour befprar of 
6ftr; — and  his  use  was,  to  pat  a  ducat  in  ber 
clack-di«h:  the  duke  bad  civtcbets  in  him:  be 
would  be  drunk  too;  that  let  me  inform  joa. 

Duke.  Vou  do  biro  wrong,  surely. 

L/ucio.  Sir,  I  was  an  inward  of  Kis :  a  ihj  fel- 
bw  was  tbe  duke:  and,  I  bebeve,  I  know  tbe 
cause  of  hu  withdrawing. 

Duke.  Wliat,  I  pr^vthee,  might  be  tbe  canae  ? 

LmcIo.  \o, — pardon; — 'tis  a  secret  must  be 
k>ck*d  within  (he  teeth  and  tbe  lips ;  but  this  I  can 
let  jou  undi^rstand, — The  greater  file^  of  the  sub- 
ject held  the  duke  to  be  wise. 

Duke.  Wise  ?  why,  no  question  but  he  was. 

Lucio.  A  very  superficial,  ignorant,  unwe^bing* 
fellow. 

Duke.  Either  this  is  envy  in  too,  follj,  or  mts> 
taking ;  the  verv  stream  of  bis  life,  and  tbe  business 
be  hath  belroe<f,4  must,  upon  a  warranted  need, 
give  him  a  better  proclaroatioo.  Let  him  be  but  tes- 
tiinonied  in  his  o^vn  bringings  forth,  and  he  shall 
appear  to  the  envious,  a  scholar,  a  statesman,  and 
a  soldier :  therefore,  jou  speak  unskilfully ;  or,  if 
jrour  knowledge  be  more,  it  is  much  darkened  in 
your  malice. 

Ludo.  Sir,  I  know  bim,  and  I  love  him. 

Duke.  Love  talks  with  better  knowledge,  and 
knowledge  with  dearer  love. 

iMcio.  Come,  sir,  I  know  what  I  know. 

Duke.  I  can  hardly  believe  that,  since  you  know 
not  what  you  speak.  But,  if  ever  the  duke  return 
(as  our  prayeiv  are  he  may,^  let  roe  desire  you  to 
make  your  answer  before  bun  :  if  it  be  honest  you 
have  spoke,  you  have  courage  to  maintain  it :  I  am 
bound  to  C£ul  upon  you ;  and,  I  pray  you,  your 
name.^ 

Lucio.  Sir,  my  name  is  Lucio ;  well  known  to 
the  duke. 

Duke.  He  shall  know  yon  better,  sir,  if  I  mav 
live  to  report  you. 

Lucio.  I  fear  you  not 

Duke.  0,^ou  hope  the  duke  will  return  no  more ; 
or  you  imagine  me  too  unhurtful  an  opposite.^  But, 
Indeed,  I  can  do  you  little  harm  :  youMl  forswear 
this  again. 

Lucio.  1*11  be  hangM  first :  thou  art  deceived  in 
me,  friar.  But  no  more  of  this  :  canst  thou  tell,  if 
Claudio  die  to-morrrow,  or  no.^ 

Duke,  W^hy  should  he  die,  sir.' 

Lucio.  Why .?  for  filling  a  bottle  with  a  tun-dish. 
I  would,  the  duke,  we  talk  of,  were  returned  again  : 
this  ungeniturM  agent  will  unpeople  the  province 
with  coatinency ;  sparrows  must  not  build  in  his 
house-eaves,  because  they  are  lecherous.  The  duke 
yet  would  have  dark  deieds  darkly  answer^  ;  he 
would  never  bring  them  to  light :  would  he  were  re- 
tum'd !  Marry,  this  Claudio  is  condemned  for  un- 
trussine.  Farewell,  good  friar ;  I  pr*y  thee,  pray  for 
me.  The  duke,  I  say  to  thee  again,  would  eat  mut-» 
ton«  on  Fridays.  He's  now  past  it ;  yet,  and  1  say  to 
thee,  he  would  mouth  with  a  beggar,  though  she 
•melt  brown  bread  and  garlic :  say,  ti»t  I  said  so. 
Farewell.  [Exit. 

(V\  Suspected.     (2)  The  majority  of  bis  subjects. 
(3)  Inconsiderate.    (4)  Guided.  '  (5)  Opponent 


Dmku  Ko  oaig^  DOT  greatDeat  in  mortality 
Can  cett—ie  'scape ;  back-wooodin^  ralamny 
The  whitest  virtue  stiikei ;  What  king  so  Unm^ 
Can  tie  tbe  gall  up  in  tbe  slaoderoos  tODgne  ? — 
But  who  conKS  here  ? 

Emier  Escalus,  Provost,  Bawd,  and  Offioen. 

EaeaL  Go,  away  with  ber  to  priscxi. 

AoiedL  Good  my  lord,  be  good  to  me;  yoorl 
is  accounted  a  merciful  man  :  good  my  lord. 

EscaL  Double  and  treble  admonition,  and  ftiO 
Ibdeit*  in  tbe  same  kind .'  This  would  make  mercj 
swear,  and  play  the  tvrant 

Prov.  A  bawd  of  eleven  yean  continiiaDce,  Bay 
it  please  your  honour. 

Bated.'  My  brd,  this  is  one  Lncio's  inibimatiaB 
against  me:  mistress  Kate  Keep-down  was  with 
child  by  him  in  tbe  duke's  time,  be  promised  her 
marriage ;  his  child  is  a  year  and  a  qoartn-  vAA, 
come  Fliilip  and  Jacob :  I  have  kept  it  mysdf ;  aod 
see  how  hegoe:»  about  to  abuse  me. 

EtcaL  That  fellow  is  a  felkyw  of  much  Uoenae : 
— let  bim  be  called  before  us. — Away  with  her  to 
prison  :  Go  to ;  no  more  words.  [Exetml  Bawd  mmd 
Officers.]  Provost,  my  brother  Angelo  will  act  be 
alter'd,  Claudio  must  die  to-m(MTOw ;  let  ban  be 
furnished  with  dinnes,  and  have  all  charitable  pre- 
paration :  if  my  brother  wrought  by  my  pity,  it 
should  not  be  so  with  him. 

Prov.  So  please  you,  this  fiiar  bath  been  widibn, 
and  advised  him  for  the  entertainment  of  de«dk. 

EsctU.  Good  even,  good  father. 

Duke.  Bliss  and  goodness  oo  you  ? 

EscaL  Of  whence  are  you. 

Duke,  Not  of  this  country,  thou^  my  chance  u 
now 
To  use  it  for  my  time :  I  am  a  brother 
Of  gracious  order,  late  come  from  tbe  see. 
In  jiuecial  bu»ines8  fixim  his  hoUnesa. 

KscaL  What  news  abroad  i'  the  world? 

Duke.  None,  but  that  there  is  so  great  a  fever 
on  goodness,  that  the  dissolution  of  it  must  cure  it ; 
novelty  is  only  in  request ;  and  it  is  as  dangerous  to 
be  constant  in  any  kind  of  course,  as  it  is  virtuous 
to  be  constant  in  any  undertaking.  There  is  scarce 
trutl]|  oiough  alive,  to  make  societies  secure ;  but 
security  enough,  to  make  fellowships  accurs'd :  mudi 
upon  this  riddle  runs  tbe  wisdom  of  tbe  world. 
This  news  is  old  enough,  yet  it  is  every  day's  news. 
I  pray  you,  sir,  of  what  aisposilion  was  the  duke .' 

Escal.  One,  that,  above  all  other  strifes,  contend- 
ed especially  to  know  himself. 

Duke.  WTiat  pleasure  was  he  given  to  ? 

EscaL  Rather  reioicing  to  see  another  merty, 
than  meny  at  any  thing  wluch  profess'd  to  make  him 
rejoice :  a  gentleman  of  all  temperance.  Butleave 
we  him  to  his  events,  with  a  prayer  they  may  prove 
prosperous  :  and  let  me  desire  lo  know  how  you  find 
Claudio  prepared.  I  am  made  to  understand,  that 
you  have  lent  him  visitation. 

Duke.  He  professes  lo  have  received  no  sinister 
measures  from  his  judge,  but  most  willingly  hum- 
bles himself  to  the  determination  of  justice :  yet 
had  he  framed  to  himself,  by  the  instruction  of  bis 
frailty,  many  deceiving  promises  of  life ;  which  I, 
by  my  gooa  leisure,  have  discredited  to  bim,  and 
now  IS  he  resolved^  to  die. 

Escal.  You  have  paid  the  heavens  your  function, 
and  the  prisoner  the  very  debt  of  your  calling.  I 
have  labour'd  for  the  poor  gentleman,  to  tbe  ex- 

(6)  Have  a  wench.         (7)  Transgress. 
(8)  Satisfied. 


SeemL 


MEASURE  FOR  MASURE. 


109 


traneat  shore  of  my  modesty ;  but  my  brodier  {u»- 
tice  have  I  found  ao  severe,  that  he  hath  ibicecf roe 
to  tell  him,  he  is  indeed— justice. 

DvJce,  If  his  own  life  answers  the  straitness  of 
his  proceeding,  it  shall  become  him  well ;  wherein, 
if  be  chance  to  fiul,  he  hath  sentenced  himself. 

£scai.  I  am  going  to  visit  the  prisoner:  Fareyou 
well. 

Duke.  Peace  be  with  you ! 

[Exeunt  Escalus  and  Provost 
He,  who  die  sword  of  heaven  will  bear. 
Should  be  as  holv  as  severe ; 
Pattern  in  himself  to  know, 
Grace  to  stand,  and  virtue  go  ; 
More  nor  less  to  others  paying, 
Than  bj'  self-offences  weiring. 
Shame  to  him,  whose  cruel  sinking 
Kills  for  &ult8  of  his  own  liking  i 
Twice  treble  shame  on  Angelo, 
To  weed  my  vice,  and  let  his  grow ! 
O,  what  may  man  within  him  hide, 
Though  angel  on  the  outward  side  ! 
How  may  likenest,^  made^  in  crimes. 
Making  practice  on  the  times. 
Draw  with  idle  spiders*  strings 
Most  ponderous  and  substantial  things  I 
Craft  against  vice  I  must  apply : 
With  Angelo  to-night  shall  He 
His  old  betrothed,  but  despisM ; 
So  disguise  shall,  by  die  disguised. 
Pay  with  falsehood  false  exacting, 
And  perfcMrm  an  old  contracting.  [Exit. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEl^E  I. — A  room  in  Mariana's  house.  Mari- 
ana dtMCOvend  sitting ,'  a  Boy  singing. 

SONG. 

Take,  oh  take  (hose  lips  away^ 

Thai  so  sweetly  vxre  forsworn  ; 
And  those  eyes,  vu  break  qf  day. 

Lights  tnat  do  mislead  the  mom: 
Bui  my  kisses  bring  agam, 

bring  ii^^Hf 
Seats  qf  low,  but  seaTd  m  vain, 

satTd  in  vain. 
JIftiri.  Break  off  thy  song,  and  haste  thee  quick 
away; 
Here  comes  a  man  of  comfort,  whose  advice 
H^  oAen  still*d  my  brawling  discontent — 

[ExUBoy. 
Enter  Duke, 

I  cry  yon  mercy,  sir ;  and  well  coold  wish 
You  liad  not  found  me  here  so  musical : 
Let  roe  exccne  me,  and  believe  me  so, — 
My  mirdi  it  much  displeased,  but  pleasM  my  wo. 

Duke,  'Tis  good:  though  music  oft  hath  such  a 
charm. 
To  make  bad,  good,  and  good  provdce  to  haim. 
I  piay  you,  tell  me,  hath  anv  body  inquired  for  me 
hnne  to-day  ?  much  upca  this  time  have  I  promised 
bere  to  meet 

Man.  You  have  not  been  inquired  after :  I  have 
At  here  aU  day. 

Enter  Isabella. 
Duke.  1  do  ooDStantly  believe  yoa :— The  time 

(1)  Appearance.  (2)  Trained. 

(3)  Walled  roand.        (4)  Planked,  wooden. 

(5)  iDfonned.        f6)  Wails. 


is  come,  even  now.  I  shall  crave  your  forbearance 
a  little ;  may  be,  I  will  call  upon  you  anon,  for 
some  advantage  to  yourself 

Mari.  I  am  always  bound  tq  you.  [Exit 

Duke.  Very  well  met,  and  welcome. 
What  is  the  news  from  this  good  deputjr  ? 

Isab.  He  hath  a  earden  circummur'd' with  brick, 
Whose  western  side  is  with  a  vineyard  backed ; 
And  to  that  vineyard  is  a  plancbed^  gate, 
That  makes  his  opening  with  this  bigger  key : 
This  other  doth  command  a  little  door. 
Which  from  the  vineyard  to  the  garden  leads ; 
There  have  I  made  my  promise  to  call  on  him. 
Upon  the  heavy  middle  of  the  night 

Duke.  But  shall  you  on  your  knowledge  finv. 
this  way  ? 

Isab.  I  have  ta*en  a  due  and  wary  note  upon't ; 
With  whispering  and  most  guilty  diligence, 
(n  action  all  of  precept,  he  did  show  me 
The  way  twice  o'er. 

Duke.  Are  there  no  other  tokens 

Between  vou  *greed,  concerning  her  observance .' 

Isab.  No,  none,  but  only  a  repair  i*  the  dark ; 
And  that  I  have  possess'd^  him,  my  most  stay 
Can  be  but  brief:  for  I  have  made  him  know, 
I  have  a  servant  comes  with  me  along, 
That  stays^  upcni  me ;  whose  persuasion  is, 
I  come  about  my  brother. 

Duke.  »Tis  well  bome  up. 

I  have  not  yet  made  known  to  Mariana 
A  word  of  this : — What,  ho!  within !  come  forth ! 

Re-enter  Mariana. 

I  pray  you,  be  acquainted  with  this  maid ; 
She  comes  to  do  you  good. 
Jsab.  I  do  desire  the  like. 

Duke.  Do  you  persuade  yourself  that  I  respect 

you? 
Mari.  Good  friar,  I  know  you  do ;  and  have 

found  it 
Duke.  Take  then  this  your  companion  by  the 
hand, 
Who  hath  a  stoiy  ready  for  your  ear : 
I  shall  attend  your  leisure ;  but  make  haste ; 
The  vaporous  night  approaches. 
Mart.  Wiirt  please  you  walk  aside .' 

[Exeunt  Mariana  and  Isabella. 
Duke.  O  place  and  greatness,  millions  of  &lse 
eyes 
Are  stuck  upon  thee !  volumes  of  report 
Run  with  these  false  and  most  contrarious  quests' 
Upon  thy  doings !  thousand  'scapes^  of  wit 
Make  thee  the  father  of  their  idle  dream. 
And  rack  thee  in  their  fancies ! — Welcome !  How 
agreed.^ 

Re-enter  Mariana  and  Isabella. 

Isab.  SheUl  take  the  enterprise  upon  her,  fitther. 
If  you  advise  it 

ihike.  It  is  not  my  consent. 

But  my  entreaty  toa 

Isab.  Little  have  you  to  say, 

When  you  depart  from  him,  but,  soift  and  low, 
Remember  now  my  brother. 

Maru  Fear  me  not 

Duke.  Nor,  gentle  daughter,  fear  you  not  at  all . 
He  is  your  husband  on  a  pre-contr4ct : 
To  bring  you  thus  together,  *tis  no  sin ; 
Sith^  that  the  justice  of  your  title  to  him 
Doth  flourishiu  the  deceit    Come,  let  us  go ; 

(7)  Inquisitions,  inquiries.       (8^  Sallies. 
(9)  Since.        (10)  Gild  or  vinush  over. 


BfEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


Aetir- 


^1  to  mp,  for  yet  our  thbeV  to  sow. 

[ExnmL 

SamNE  II.— A  room  in  Ihs  primm.     Enier 
Provoct  and  Clowii. 

Prov.  Come  hither,  sirrah :  can  you  cot  off  a 
mattes  head. 

Clo.  If  the  man  be  a  bachelor,  sir,  I  can :  bat  if 
he  Im  a  married  man,  he  is  his  wife's  head,  and  I 
casi  ttcrer  cut  off  a  woman's  head. 

Prov.  Come,  sir,  leave  me  joor  snatches,  and 
yield  me  a  direct  answer.  To-monow  morning  arc 
to  die  Claudio  and  Bainardine:  here  is  in  our 
pison  a  common  executiooer,  who  in  his  office 
lacks  a  helper :  if  you  will  take  it  on  you  to  Bssi»t 
him,  it  slukU  redeem  you  from  your  ^es;2  if  not, 
you  shall  have  your  rail  time  of  imprisonment,  and 
yoar  deliverance  with  an  unpitiea  whipping ;  for 
yoa  have  been  a  notorious  bawd. 

Clo.  Sir,  I  have  been  an  unlawful  bawd,  time 
out  of  mind ;  but  yet  I  will  be  content  to  be  a  law- 
Ail  hangman.  I  would  be  glad  to  receive  some  in- 
struction from  my  fellow  partner. 

Prov.  What  bo,  AbhorsoD !  Whereas  Abhorson, 


£n<0r  Abhorson. 

Abhor.  Do  vou  call,  sir  f 

Prov.  Sirrah,  here's  a  fellow  will  help  you  to- 
morrow in  your  execution :  if  you  think  him  meet, 
compound  with  him  by  die  year,  and  let  him  abide 
here  with  you :  if  not,  use  mm  for  the  present,  and 
dismiss  him :  he  cannot  plead  his  estimation  with 
you :  he  hath  been  a  bawd. 

Abhor.  A  bawd,  sir?  Fie  upon  him,  he  will  dis- 
credit our  mystery.' 

Prov.  Go  to,  sir ;  you  weigh  equally ;  a  feather 
will  turn  the  scale.  [Exit 

Clo.  Pray,  sir,  by  your  good  favour  (for,  surely, 
«r,  a  good  favour*  you  have,  but  that  you  have  a 
hanging  look,)  do  you  call,  sir,  your  occupation  a 
mystcrj'  ? 

Abhor.  Ay,  sir ;  a  mystery. 

Clo.  Painting,  sir,  I  have  h^ird  say,  is  a  mysteiy ; 
and  your  whores,  sir,  being  members  of  my  occu- 
pation, using  painting,  do  prove  my  occupation  a 
myj^tfTV :  but  what  mystery  there  should  be  in  hang- 
ing, if  1  iihould  be  hang'd,  I  cannot  imagine. 

Abhor.  Sir,  it  is  a  mysteiy. 

Oo.  Proof. 

Abhor.  Eveiy  true*  man's  apparel  fits  your 
thief:  if  it  be  too  little  for  your  thie^  your  true  man 
thinks  it  big  enough ;  if  it  be  too  big  for  your  thief, 
your  thief  thinks  it  little  enough :  so  every  true 
man'a  apparel  fits  your  thief. 

Re-enter  ^TOvoBt 

Prov.  Are  you  agreed.^ 

Clo.  Sir,  I  will  serve  him ;  for  I  do  find,  your 
haus:man  is  a  more  penitent  trade  than  your  bawd ; 
he  doth  oAcner  ask  forgiveness. 

Prov.  You,  sirrah,  provide  your  block  and  your 
axe,  to-morrow  four  o'clock. 

Abhor.  Come  on,  bawd;  I  will  instruct  thee  in 
my  trade ;  follow. 

Qo.  I  do  desire  to  learn,  sir ;  and,  I  hope,  if  you 
have  occasion  to  use  roe  for  your  own  turn,  you 
•liall  find  me  yarc  fi  for,  truly,  sir,  for  your  kindness, 
I  owe  you  a  good  turn. 

Prov.  Call  hither  Bamardine  and  Claudio : 

[Exeunt  Clown  and  Abltorson. 

( 1 )  Tilth ,  land  prepared  for  sowing.    (2)  Fetten. 
(3)  Trade.     (4)  Countenance.     ('>)  HoncsL 


One  has  my  pity ;  not  a  jot  the  other, 

Being  a  murderer,  thoi^  he  were  my  brother. 

Enter  Claudia 

Look,  here's  the  warrant,  Claudio,  for  thy  death : 
'Tis  now  dead  midnight,  and  bv  eight  to-morrow 
Thou  must  be  made  immortal.  Vr^here's  Bamardine? 
CUnui  As  fast  lock'd  up  in  sleep,  as  guiltless  la- 
bour 
^lien  it  lies  starkly'  in  the  traveller's  bones : 
He  will  not  wake. 

Prov.  Who  can  do  rood  on  him  ? 

Well,  go,  prepare  yoursel£  But  hart[,  what  noi»«  f 

[Knocking  within. 
Heaven  give  your  spirits  comfcnt !   [Exit  Claudia 

By  and  by  : — 
1  hope  it  is  some  pardon,  (nr  reprieve. 
For  the  most  gentle  Claudia — Welcome,  &tber. 

Enter  Dake. 

Duke.  The  best  and  wholesomest  spirits  of  the 
night 
Envelop  you,  good  provost !  Who  call'd  here  of  late  f 

Prov.  None,  since  the  curfew  rung. 

Duke.  Not  Isabel.' 

Prov.  No. 

Duke.  They  will  then,  ere't  be  long. 

Prov.  What  comfort  is  for  Claudio  .^ 

Duke.  There's  some  in  hope. 

Prov.  It  is  a  bitter  deputy. 

Duke.  Not  so,  not  so ;  his  life  is  parallel'd 
Even  with  the  stroke  and  line  of  his  great  justice; 
He  doth  with  holy  abstinence  subdue 
That  in  himself,  which  he  spurs  on  his  power 
To  qualify^  in  others :  were  he  meal'd^ 
With  that  which  he  corrects,then  were  he  tvrannoos; 
But  this  being  so,  he's  just.— Now  are  they  come.— 
[Knocking  within— Frovost  goes  ouL 
This  is  a  gentle  provost :  Seldom,  when 
The  steeled  ^olcr  is  the  friend  of  men. 
How  now?  What  noise?  That  spirit's  possessed 

with  haste. 
That  wounds  the  unsisting  postern  with  these 
strokes. 

Provost  returns,  speaking  to  one  at  the  door. 

Prov.  There  he  must  stay,  until  the  oflficer 
Aris^e  to  lot  him  in ;  he  is  call'd  up. 

Duke.  Have  you  no  couiitermana  for  Claudio  vet, 
But  he  must  die  to-morrow  ? 

Prov.  None,  sir,  none. 

Duke.  As  near  the  dawning,  Pro\ost,  as  it  is. 
You  shall  hear  more  ere  morning. 

Prov.  Hoppily,W 

You  something  know ;  yet,  I  believe,  tfifre  t-ocnes 
No  countermand ;  no  such  example  have  we : 
Bo!«ides,  upon  the  very  siege'i  of  justice. 
Lord  Anicvlo  hath  to  the  public  ear 
Profess'd  the  contrary. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Duke.  This  is  his  lordship's  man. 

Pruv.  And  here  comes  Claudio's  pardon. 

Jl/e.tjT.  Mv  lord  hath  sent  you  this  note ;  and  by 
me  this  furiFicr  chaige,  that  yoxx  swer\*e  not  from 
the  8nialU'!*t  article  of  it,  neither  in  time,  matter, 
nor  other  circumstance.  Good  morrow  ;  for,  as  I 
take  it,  it  is  almost  day. 

ProD.  I  shall  obey  him.  [Exit  Me<($ongcr. 

Duke.  Tliis  is  his  pardon ;  purchased  by  such 
sill*  [Aside. 

(6)  Ready.        (7)  Stiffly.      (8)  Moderate. 
(9;  Defiled.        (10)  Perhaps.         (1 1)  Seat 


SBimlll 

For  which  the  panlonei  buxKir       u 
Hotce  halh  ettaxe  hii  qu    L  celc 
Whwi  il  ii  home  in  hi^h  aulbon 
Wbeo  vice  naltft  mercy  mercj 
Tbrnt  tor  the  Ikull'i  lo  e,  tlbeoBr  d 
Nmr,  «r,  whsi  newg 

JVor.  I  told  jou     Ixmi  Ange  lo  in 

Bnirodled   pulline  gn      nieUliokt,  tin 

be  h«(h  Dol  uwd  It  berore. 
Ihiii.  ¥ny  you   1«  i  bar 
Prov.  [B«idj.|   (f^ijofwr  J  u  TFi 


nlA  d  thought^  that  morf  dfjfn 
■nuf  ycf  <2iSi>n-.     Thvifnl  mtl 
nyou  mU  antatr  I  al  your  pn 
Wh»l  «T  lou  to  this,  sr 
Dakt,  mat  il  OiBl  Bamaidw 


HUASUBE  FOR  MEASl'RE. 


Dvit   O 


tured  hbiar 

I  pnCcM  1  1 
ProD    Punir 

Dukr   Her 


de&lh^j  a  KTCkt  ditguiBer:  ftod  i*u 
1.  Shave  (he  head,  and  lie  the  bea'rd  ; 
as  Ihe  deiire  of  the  penile 


If  Btiy  thing  611  to  Tou  upon  lhi>,  more 
I  and  gqod  fortune,  by  (be  lainl  whom 


hrov    To  bun,  and  to  hit  mbftilule*. 
Diki    You  will  think  joa  have  made  no  oflWire, 
he  duke  a  ouch  the  ju9(ice  of  )our  dealing.' 

I/vkt  Not  a  resemblance,  bu(  a  certainlr.  \el 
n  e  1  w  }oa  farful,  thel  neither  my  coat,  in- 
egn  V     lor  mj  perauasion,  can  wilh  cane  atlempl 


I  of  the  duk 


Rtbecl 


IVK" 


Ptwi.  Hit  frieod*  at 
him  :  and,  indeed,  hu  ■»   , 
mrnt  of  lord  Angelo,  cann  not  o  an 

Duke.  la  it  nov  apparent ' 
Prm.  Meatman  r«t,  and   otd 
Dalu.    K>(b  he   home  hmis. 

Pnrv.  A  man  that  apprehend 
drcadfiillj,  but  u  B  drunken  bI  ff 
ken,  (ud  feaHeu  of  trhB(  b  pas 

D„it.  HeHuiUidvce. 

FroB.  He  irill  hear  none  belntheT 
Ac  liberty  <ti  the  pruon  ^ve  hitn  3 
bnce,  he  would  not  dnink  mad  h 
DK  many  dai  a  entirely  drunk  \t  I 
lea  awaked  him,  u  iT  to  CBny  h  n 
■ad  ibow'd  him  b  BCcromir  hbtibi 
WicDV-dhimata]! 

Ihdu.  More  of  him  anoo  Ti 
)w  brow,  prmoat,  bouejlj  and 


id  the  fignet  U  not  itrangie  to  jou. 


Thig  ii  a  thing,  UiBi  Ai^lo 
chanre,  of  the  duke'i  death ; 

the  aliepherd  ■■  put  not  roar- 
,  how  these  thingi  ahouUl  be  : 

ler,  and  off  with  Bsmardlne') 


oti  clear  di 
SCEJfE  III-. 


Btiaatdine  be  this  tn 
btbomelo  AiHelo. 
Pth.  Ann^  bal 


Annio  batt 

ihefBVDBT.I 


a  Ibeiii  both,  and  wi! 


(S)  Nine  yean  in  priaon. 


Clown. 
!  acquainted  here,  ag  1  wj 

nvn  bouse,  for  here  be  r 
First,  hete^B  youn^  naiU 


de  6  e  marts,  n 

ill  dead      Then 
the  sn  (  of  m 


™  f*!^'' 


request,  for  the  old  women 
I  there  here  one  masirr  Cb- 
■  Thiee-pile  (be  mercrr.  (or 

cb-colour'iJ  Mtin,  wbi.b  now 

.    Then  I 


pe   .pur 
Pudd 


,--, r     ."-.andniB^, 

ai  d  master  Starve-lackei  the  m]i 
art  >nd  young  Drop-heir  that  kllP 
and  nias(er  Forthright  (be  (ilii 
brBte  niailer  '■hoe-tie  the  great  tiHTeller,  an 
Half-cann  thai  niabb'd  Pots,  and,  I  ibink 
more  all  great  doers  in  our  trade,  and  are  i 
(be  Lord  s  sake. 

£nffl- AUxmco- 
Jiftor.  Srrah,  bring  Bamardine  hilhei'. 
C!o.  Master  Barairdine  I  you  mugl  ri«e 
hiuie'd,  master  Batnardine. 
.^Uuir.  What,  ho,  Bamardinel 
fiaitur.  [  IViAm]  A  poi  o'  your  throats 
[Mkes  that  Dtise  there?  What  are  you? 
Clo.  Your  friends,  lir ;  the  hangmao :  yc 

(3) 


ilS 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


Act  IF, 


be  90  good,  siri  to  rise  and  be  pat  to  death. 

Bamar.  [IVxthin.]  Away, you  rogue, away ;  I 
am  sleepy. 

Abhor.  Tell  him,  he  must  awake,  and  that 
quickly  too. 

Clo.  Pray,  master  Bamardine,  awake  till  you  are 
executed,  and  sleep  afterwards. 

Abhor.  Go  in  to  him,  and  fetch  him  out 

Clo.  He  is  coming,  sir,  he  is  comii^ ;  I  hear  his 
straw  rustle. 

Enter  Bamardine. 

Abhor.  Is  the  axe  upon  the  block,  sirrah  f 

Clo.  Veiy  ready,  sir. 

Bamar.  How  now,  Abhorson  ?  what*s  the  news 
with  you  ? 

Abhor.  Truly,  sir,  I  would  desire  you  to  clap 
into  your  pravers ;  for,  look  you,  the  warrant's  come. 

Bamar.  Vou  rogue,  I  have  been  drinking  all 
night,  I  am  not  fitted  for't 

Go.  O,  the  better,  sir ;  for  he  that  drinks  all 
night,  and  is  hangM  betimes  in  the  morning,  may 
sleep  the  sounder  all  the  next  day. 

Enter  Duke. 

Abhor.  Look  you,  sir,  here  comes  your  ghostly 
father ;  do  we  jest  now,  think  you  ? 

Dvke.  Sir,  induced  bv  my  charity,  and  hearing 
how  hastily  you  are  to  depart,  I  am  come  to  adri^ 
you,  comfort  you,  and  pray  with  you. 

Bamar.  Friar,  not  I ;  I  have  been  drinking  hard 
all  night,  and  I  will  have  more  time  to  prepare  me, 
or  they  shall  beat  out  mv  brains  with  billets  :  I  will 
not  consent  to  die  this  day,  that's  certain. 

Duke.  O,  sir,  you  must :  and  therefore,  I  be- 
seech you. 
Look  forward  on  the  journey  you  shall  ga 

Bamar,  I  swear,  I  will  not  die  to-day  for  any 
man's  persuasion. 

Duke.  But  hear  you, 

Bamar.  Not  a  word ;  if  vou  have  any  thing  to 
say  to  me,  come  to  my  wara ;  for  thence  will  not  I 
to-day.  \Kiit 

Enter  Provost 

Duke.  Unfit  to  live,  or  die  :  O,  gravel  heart ! — 
After  him,  fellows ;  bring  him  to  tlie  block. 

[Exeunt  Abhorson  and  Clown. 

Prov.  Now,  sir,  now  do  you  find  the  priwner.' 

Duke.  A  creature  unprepar'd,  unmeet  for  death  ; 
And,  to  transport  him  m  the  mind  he  is. 
Were  damnable. 

Prov.  Here  in  the  prison,  father. 

There  died  this  morning  of  a  cruel  fever 
One  Ragozine,  a  most  notorious  pirate, 
A  man  of  Claudio's  years ;  his  beard,  and  head, 
Just  of  his  colour  :  "V^Tiat  if  we  do  omit 
This  reprobate,  till  he  were  well  inclin'd : 
And  satisfy  the  deputy  with  the  visage 
Of  Rasrozine,  more  H:<e  to  Claudio  ^ 

Duke.  O,  'lis  an  accident  that  Heaven  provide-*  I 
D»  «patch  it  presently  ;  the  hour  draws  on 
P  ♦'fix'd  by  Ann:olo :  See,  this  be  done, 
\nd  sent  according  to  command;  whiles  I 
Persuade  this  rude  wretch  willingly  to  die. 

Prov.  This  shall  be  done,  good  father,  presently. 
But  Bamardine  must  die  this  aAernoon : 
And  how  shall  we  continue  Claudio, 
To  save  me  from  the  danger  that  might  come, 
If  he  wei«  known  alive  ? 

Duke.  Let  this  be  dooe; — Put  them  in  secret 
hdds, 

(1)  The  antipodes.       (2)  Your  heart's  desire. 


Doth  Bamardine  and  Claudio :  Ere  twice 
The  sun  hath  made  his  journal  greeting  to 
The  under  generation,!  you  shall  find 
Your  safety  manifested. 

Prov.  I  am  your  free  dependant. 

Duke.  Quick,  despatch. 

And  send  the  head  to  Angela  [Exit  Provost 

Now  will  I  write  letters  to  Angelo, — 
The  provost,  he  shall  bear  them, — whose  contents 
Shall  witness  to  him,  I  am  near  at  home ; 
And  that,  by  great  injunctions,  I  am  bound 
To  enter  publicly :  hun  I'll  desire 
To  meet  me  at  the  conseciated  fount, 
A  league  below  the  city  ;  and  from  thence. 
By  cold  gradation  and  weal-balanced  fomi, 
V^^'e  shall  proceed  with  Angelo. 

Re-enter  Provost 

Prov.  Here  is  the  head ;  I'll  carry  it  myself. 

Duke.  Convenient  is  it :  Make  a  swift  return  ; 
For  I  would  commune  with  you  of  such  things; 
That  want  no  ear  but  yours. 

Prov.  I'll  make  all  speed. 

[Exit 

Isab.  [  WUhin.]  Peace,  ho,  be  here  ! 

Duke.  The  tongue  of  Isabel : — She's  come  to 
know. 
If  yet  her  brother's  pardon  be  come  hither  : 
But  I  will  keep  her  ignorant  of  her  good. 
To  make  her  heavenly  comforts  of  despair. 
When  it  is  least  expected. 

Enter  Isabella. 

Isab.  Ho,  by  your  leave. 

Duke.  Good  moming  to  you,  fair  and  gracious 
daughter. 

Isab.  The  better,  given  me  by  so  holy  a  man. 
Hath  yet  tlie  deputy  sent  my  brother's  pardon  f 

Duke.  He  hath  releas'd  him,  Isabel,  from  the 
world ; 
His  head  is  otl*,  and  sent  to  Angelo. 

Isab.  Nay,  but  it  is  not  so. 

Duke.  It  is  no  other : 

Show  your  wisdom,  daughter,  in  your  close  pa- 
tience. 

Isab.  O,  I  will  to  him,  and  pluck  out  his  eyes. 

Duke.  You  shall  not  be  admitted  to  his  sight 

Isab.  Unhappy  Claudio  I  Wretched  Isabel  I 
Injurious  world !  Most  damned  Angelo ! 

Duke.  This  nor  hurts  him,  nor  profits  you  a  jot ; 
Forbear  it  therefore  ;  give  your  cause  to  Heaven. 
Mark  what  I  say ;  which  you  shall  find, 
IJy  every  syllable,  a  faithful  verity  : 
T^he  duke  comes  home  to-morrow  ; — nay,  dry  your 

eyes ; 
One  of  our  convent,  and  his  confessor, 
Ciives  me  this  instance :  Already  he  hath  carried 
Notice  to  Escalus  and  Angelo  ; 
NVho  do  prepare  to  meet  him  at  the  gates, 
There  to  give  up  their  power.     If  yuu  can,  pace 

your  wisdom 
In  that  good  path  that  I  would  wish  it  go ; 
And  you  shall  have  your  bosom^  on  this  wretch, 
Grace  of  the  duke,  revenges  to  your  heart. 
And  general  honour. 

Isab.  I  am  directed  by  vou. 

Duke.  This  letter  then  to  friar  Peter  gn  e  ; 
'Tis  that  he  sent  me  of  the  duke's  return  : 
Say,  by  this  token,  I  desire  his  company 
.A  t  Mariana's  house  to-night  Her  cause,  and  yours 
I'll  perfect  him  withal ;  and  he  shall  bring  you 
Before  the  duke ;  and  to  the  head  c^f  Angelo 
Accuse  him  home,  and  honie.    For  my  poor  self^ 


/r,  r,  FT. 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


113 


I  am  combined  by  a  sacred  tow, 
And  shall  be  absent   Wend)  you  with  this  letter : 
Command  these  fretting  waters  from  your  eye§ 
With  a  light  heart ;  trust  not  my  holy  order, 
If  I  pervert  your  course. — Who's  here  ? 

Enter  Lucio. 
I/ucio.  Good  even ! 

Fiiar,  where  is  the  provost  ? 
Duke,  *  Not  within,  sir. 

Imcio.  O,  pret^  Isabella,  I  am  pale  at  mine 
heart,  to  see  mine  eyes  so  red :  thou  must  be  pa- 
tient :  I  am  fain  to  dine  and  sup  with  water  and 
bran ;  I  dare  not  for  my  head  nil  my  belly ;  one 
^tful  meal  would  set  me  to*t :  But  they  say  the 
duke  will  be  here  to-morrow.  By  my  troUi,  Isabel, 
I  lov^d  thy  brother :  if  the  old  fantastical  duke  of 
daik  comers  had  been  at  home,  he  had  lived. 

[Exit  Isabella. 

Duke.  Sir,  die  duke  is  marvellous  little  beholden 

to  your  reports ;  but  the  best  is,  he  lives  not  in  them. 

Jjudo.  Friar,  thou  knowest  not  the  duke  so  well 

as  I  do :  he*s  a  better  woodman  than  thou  takest 

him  for. 

Duke.  Well,  you'll  answer  this  one  day.  Fare 
ye  well. 

Lueio.  Nay,  tarry ;  PU  go  along  with  thee ;  I 
can  tell  thee  pretty  tales  of  the  duke. 

Duke.  Tou  have  told  me  too  many  of  him  al- 
ready, sir,  if  they  be  true ;  if  not  true,  none  were 
eooo^h. 

Lucio.  I  was  ooce  before  him  for  getting  a 
wench  with  child. 
Duke.  Did  you  such  a  thing? 
Lucio.  Yes,  marrv,  did  I :  out  was  fain  to  for- 
swear it ;  they  would  else  have  married  me  to  the 
rotten  medlar. 

Duke.  Sir,  your  company  is  fairer  than  honest : 
Rett  you  well. 

Lucio.  By  my  troth,  Til  ^  with  thee  to  the 
lane's  end  :  If  bawdy  talk  ofiend  you,  we'll  have 
ver?  little  of  it :  Nay,  friar,  I  am  a  kind  of  burr,  I 
ahall  stick.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJVE  IV.—A  room  in  Angelo's  house.  Enter 
Angelo  and  Escalus. 

Escal.  Every  letter  he  hath  writ  hath  dis- 
f  ooch'd2  other. 

Ang.  In  most  uneven  and  distracted  manner.  His 
BCtioos  show  much  like  to  madness :  pray  Heaven, 
his  wisdom  be  not  tainted  !  And  wh^  meet  him  at 
^  gates,  and  re-deliver  our  authonties  there  f 

EeeaL  I  guess  not 

Ang.  And  why  should  we  proclaim  it  in  an  hour 
bdbre  his  entering,  that  if  any  crave  redress  of  injus- 
tice, thev  should  exhibit  tlieir  petitions  in  the  street  ? 

Escal.  He  shows  his  reason  for  that :  to  have  a 
despatch  of  complaints ;  and  to  deliver  us  from  de- 
rices  hereafter,  which  shall  then  have  no  power  to 
stand  against  us. 

Ang.  Well,  I  beseech  you,  let  it  be  proclaim'd 
Betimes  i'  the  mom,  I'll  call  you  at  your  house : 
Give  notice  to  such  men  of  sort  and  suit,' 
At  are  to  meet  him. 

EUeaL  I  shall,  sir :  fare  you  well.   [Exit. 

Ang.  Good  night — 
Tbi*  deed  unshapes  me  quite,  makes  me  unpreg- 

nant, 
And  dull  to  all  proceedings.    A  deflowered  maid ! 
And  by  an  eminent  body,  that  enforc'd 

(1)  Go.     (2)  Contradicted.    (3)  Figure  and  rank. 

(4)  Calls,  challenges  her  to  do  it 

(J)  Credit  unquestionable.  (6)  Utterer. 


The  law  against  it ! — But  that  her  tender  shame 

Will  not  proclaim  against  her  maiden  loss, 

How  might  she  tongue^  me  .^    Yet  reason  dares^ 

her  } — no : 
For  my  authority  bears  a  credent^  bulk, 
That  no  particular  scandal  once  can  touch, 
But  it  confounds  the  breather.*^  He  should  have  liv'd. 
Save  that  his  riotous  youth,  with  dangerous  sense, . 
Might,  in  the  times  to  come,  have  ta'en  rdvenge. 
By  so  receiving  a  dishonour'd  life, 
With  ransom  of   such  shame.    *  Would  yet  he 

had  liv'd ! 
Alack,  when  once  our  grace  we  have  forgot, 
Nothing  goes  right ;  we  would  and  we  would  not 

*       [Exit. 

SCEJVE  K— Field*  without  the  town.    Enter 
Duke  in  his  own  habit,  and  Friar  Peter. 

Duke.  These  letters  at  fit  time  deliver  me. 

[Giving  Utters. 
The  provost  knows  our  purpose,  and  our  plot 
The  matter  being  afoot,  keep  your  instruction. 
And  hold  you  ever  to  our  special  drift ; 
Though  sometimes  you  do  blench?  from  this  to  that, 
As  cause  doth  minister.  Go,  call  at  Flavius'  house, 
And  tell  him  where  I  stay :  give  the  like  notice, 
To  Valentinus,  Rowland,  and  to  Crassus, 
And  bid  them  bring  the  trumpets  to  the  gate ; 
But  send  me  Flavius  first 
F.  Peter.  It  shall  be  speeded  well. 

[Exit  Fjfiar. 
Enter  Varrius. 

Duke.  I  thank  thee,  Varrius ;  thou  hast  made 
good  haste : 
Come,  we  will  walk  :  There's  other  of  our  friends 
Will  greet  us  here  anon,  my  gentle  Varrius.  [Elxe. 

SCEJVE  FL^Sireet  near  the  city  gate.    Enter 
Isabella  aiid  Mariana. 

Isab.  To  speak  so  indirectly,  I  am  loath ; 
I  would  say  the  truth ;  but  to  accuse  him  so. 
That  is  your  part :  yet  I'm  advis'd  to  do  it ; 
He  says,  to  veil  full'  purpose. 

Mari.  Be  rul'd  bv  him. 

Jsab.  Besides,  he  tells  me,  that,  if  peracf venture 
He  speak  against  me  on  the  adverse  side, 
I  should  not  think  it  strange :  for  'tis  a  physic, 
That's  bitter  to  sweet  end. 

Mart.  I  would,  friar  Peter,— 

Isab.  O,  peace ;  the  friar  is  come. 

Enter  Friar  Peter. 
F.  Peter.  Come,  I  have  found  you  out  a  stand 
most  fit. 
Where  you  may  have  such  vantage^  on  the  duke. 
He  shall  not  pass  you  :  Twice  have  the  trumpets 

sounded ; 
The  generous^  and  gravest  citizens 
Have  hent'i  the  gates,  and  very  near  upon 
The  duke  isent'ring ;  therefore  hence,  away.  [Exe. 


ACT  V. 

SCE1.^E  I. — A  public  place  near  the  city  gate. 
Mariana  (veiled^)  Isabella,  and  Peter,  at  a  dis- 
tance. Enter  at  opposite  doors,  Duke,  Vai  rin:?, 
Lords;  Angelo,  Escalus,  Lucio,  Provost,  0th- 
cers,  and  Citizens. 

Duke.  My  very  worthy  cousin,  fairly  met : — 

(7)  Start  off.       (8)  Availful.     (9)  Advantage 
(10)  Most  noble.  (11)  Seized. 


114 


MEASURE  FOR  2JEASURE 


Aar. 


Our  old  and  faithful  friend,  we  are  glad  to  see  you. 

Ang»  if  EscaL  Happy  return  be  to  your  royal 
grace !  ^ 

Duke.  Many  and  hearty  thankines  to  vou  both. 
We  hare  made  inquiry  of  you ;  and  we  hear 
Such  goodness  of  your  justice,  that  our  soul 
Cannot  but  yield  you  forth  to  public  thanks, 
Forerunning  more  requital. 

Anr.  You  make  my  bonds  still  ereater. 

Dtuce.  O,  your  desert  speaks  loud ;  and!  should 
wrong  it, 
To  lock  it  in  the  wards  of  covert  bosom. 
When  it  deserves  with  characters  of  brass 
A  forted  residence,  'gainst  the  tooth  of  time. 
And  razure  of  oblivion :  Give  me  your  hand, 
And  let  the  subject  see,  to  make  them  know 
Tliat  outward  courtesies  would  &in  proclaim 
Favours  that  keep  within. — Come,  Escalus ; 
You  must  walk  by  us  on  our  other  hand ; — 
And  good  supporters  are  you. 

Peter  and  Isabella  comt  forward, 

F.  Peter.  Now  is  your  time ;  speak  loud,  and 
kneel  before  him. 

laab.  Justice,  O  royal  duke !  VaiU  your  regard 
Upon  a  wronged,  Pd  fain  have  said,  a  maid ! 
O  worthy  prince,  dishonour  not  your  eye 
Bv  throwing  it  on  any  other  object. 
Till  you  have  heard  me  in  my  true  complaint. 
And  give  me,  justice,  justice,  juj^tice,  juAtiix^ ! 

Dwe.  Relate  your  wrongs:  In  what.'  By  whom? 
Be  brief: 
Here  is  lord  Aiigelo  shall  give  you  justice ; 
Reveal  yourself  to  him. 

I9ab.  O,  worthy  duke. 

You  bid  me  seek  redemption  of  the'  devil : 
Hear  me  yourself;  for  that  which  I  must  speak 
Must  either  punish  me,  not  being  believed, 
Or  wring  redress  from  you :  hear  me,  O,  hear  me, 
here. 

Ang,  My  lord,  her  wits,  I  fear  me,  are  not  firm : 
She  hath  been  a  suitor  to  me  for  her  brother, 
Cut  off  by  course  of  justice. 

Isab.  By  course  of  justice  ! 

Ang.  And  she  will  speak  most  bitterly,  and 
strange. 

I$ab.  Most  strange,  but  yet  most  truly,  will  I 
speak: 
That  Angclo's  forsworn ;  is  it  not  strange.' 
That  Angelo's  a  murderer ;  is*t  not  strange  ? 
That  An^elo  is  an  adulterous  tliicf, 
A  hypocnte,  a  virgin-violator ; 
Is  it  not  strange,  and  strange .' 

Dvke.  Nay,  ten  times  strange. 

I»ab.  It  is  not  truer  he  is  Angelo, 
Than  this  is  all  as  true  as  it  is  strange  : 
Nay,  it  is  teii  times  true  ;  for  truth  is  truth 
To  the  end  of  reckoning, 

DwAe.  Away  with  her : — Poor  soul, 

She  speaks  this  in  the  infirmity  of  sense. 

I$ab.  O  prince,  I  c6njure  thee,  as  thou  believ*st 
There  is  another  comfort  than  this  world, 
That  thou  neglect  me  not,  with  that  opinion 
That  I  am  toiichM  with  madness :  make  not  im- 


That  which  but  seems  unlike:  *tis  not  impos- 
sible. 
Bat  one,  the  wickedest  caitiff  on  the  ground, 
May  seem  as  shy,  as  grave,  as  just,  as  absolute. 
As  Angelo ;  even  so  may  Angelo, 

(1)  l/)wer.     (2)  Habits  and  characters  of  oflke. 
(3)  Refuted.        (4)  Pity,        (5)  Foolish. 


In  nil  his  dressiiigs,'  characts,  titles,  forms, 
1^  an  arch-villain  :  believe  it,  royal  prince, 
if  he  be  less,  he*s  nothine ;  but  he's  more. 
Had  I  more  name  for  baoness. 

Ihtke.  By  mine  honesty, 

If  !«he  be  mad  (as  I  believe  no  other,) 
Hrr  madness  hath  the  oddest  frame  of  sense. 
Such  a  dependency  of  thing  on  thing. 
As  e'er  1  beard  in  madness.        • 

Isab.  O,  gracious  duke, 

Ilurp  not  on  that ;  nor  do  not  banish  reason 
For  inequality :  but  let  your  reason  sene 
To  make  the  truth  appear,  where  it  seems  hid ; 
And  hide  the  false,  seems  true. 

Dvke.  Many  that  are  not  mad. 

Have,  sure,  more  lack  of  reason. — What  would 
you  say .' 
hob.  I  am  ^e  sister  of  one  Claudio, 
Condemned  upon  the  act  of  fornication 
To  lose  his  head ;  condemnM  by  Angelo : 
I,  in  probation  of  a  sisterhood, 
Was  sent  to  by  my  brother :  One  Lucio 
As  then  the  messenger ; — 

Lucio.  That's  I,  an't  like  your  grace : 

I  came  to  her  frwn  Claudio,  and  drsir'd  her 
To  try  her  gracious  fortune  with  lord  Angelo, 
For  her  poor  brother's  pardon. 
Isab.  That's  he  indeed. 

Duke.  You  were  not  bid  to  speak. 
Lucio.  No,  my  good  lord ; 

Nor  wish'd  to  hold  my  peace. 

Duke.  I  wish  you  now  tfi^n ; 

Pray  you,  take  note  of  it :  and  when  you  have 
A  business  for  yourself,  pray  heaven,  you  then 
Be  perfect 
Lucio.  I  warrant  your  honour. 

Duke.  The  warrant's  lor  yourself;  take  heed 

to  it. 
Isab.  This  gentleman  told  somewhat  of  my  talc 
Lucio.  Right 

Duke.  It  may  be  right ;  but  you  are  in  the  wroag 
To  speak  before  your  time. — ^Proceed. 

Isab.  I  went 

To  this  pernicious  caitiff  deputy. 
Duke.  That's  somewhat  madly  spoken. 
Isab.  Pardon  it ; 

The  phrase  b  to  the  matter. 
Duke.  Mended  again  :  the  matter : — Proceed. 
Isab.  In  brief, — to  set  the  needless  process  by. 
How  I  persuaded,  how  I  pray'd,  and  kneel'd. 
How  Iv-  refell'd'  me,  and  how  I  reply 'd ; 
(For  this  was  of  much  length,)  the  vile  conclusion 
I  now  begin  with  grief  ana  shame  to  utter  : 
He  would  not,  but  by  gift  of  my  chaste  body 
To  his  concupiscible  intemperate  lust. 
Release  my  brother;  and, after  much  debatement. 
My  sisterly  remorse*  confutes  mine  honour. 
And  I  did  yield  to  him :  But  the  next  mom  betimes, 
Hh  purpose  surfeiting,  he  sends  a  warrant 
For  my  poor  brother's  head. 
Duke.  This  is  roost  likely  ! 

Isab.  O,  that  it  were  as  like^  as  it  is  true  ! 
Duke,  By  heaven,  fond^  wretch,  thou  know'st 
not  what  thou  spcak'st ; 
Or  else  thou  art  subom'd  against  his  honour. 
In  hateful  practice  :^ — First,  his  integrity 
Stands  without  blemish : — next,  it  imports  no  i 
That  with  such  vehemency  he  should  pursue 
Faults  proper  to  himself:  if  he  had  so  offendedt 
He  would  have  weigh'd  thy  brother  by  himself. 
And  not  have  cut  him  off:  Some  one  hath  setyoav 

(6)  Conspiracy. 


MEASURE  FOR  BAEASUBE. 


115 


die  tmlh,  and  say  by  whose  advice 
m'tt  here  to  complain. 

And  is  this  all  ? 
1,  joa  blessed  ministers  above, 
s  in  patience ;  and,  with  ripenM  time, 
be  evil  which  is  here  wrapt  up 
enance ! — Heaven  shield  your  grace  from 

wo, 

IS  wrong*d,  hence  unbelieved  go ! 
,  I  know,you*d  fain  be  gone : — An  officer ! 
n  with  her : — Shall  we  thus  permit 
ig  and  a  scandalous  breath  to  fall 
»  near  us  ?  This  needs  must  be  a  practice. 
knew  of  your  intent,  and  coming  hither  ? 
Due  that  1  would  were  here,  friar  Lodowick. 

A  ghostly  father,  belike : — Who  knows 

^t  Lodowick  ? 

^  My  lord,  I  know  him ;  *tis  a  meddling  friar; 
like  the  man :  had  he  been  lay,  my  lord, 
ain  words  he  spake  against  your  grace 
retirement,  I  Imd  swingM^  him  soundly. 
.  Words  against  me  ^  This*  a  good  mar, 

belike! 

lel  on  this  wretched  woman  here 
oar  substitute  ? — Let  this  friar  be  found, 
u  But  yesternight,  my  lord,  she  and  that 

friar 

em  at  the  prison :  a  saucy  friar, 
curvy  fellow. 

Cer.  Blessed  be  your  royal  grace ! 

lood  by,  my  lord,  and  I  have  heard 
ral  ear  abused :  First,  hath  this  woman 
QOfffolly  accused  your  substitute ; 
la  free  from  touch  or  scmI  with  her, 
ram  one  ungot 

We  did  believe  no  less, 
a  tfiat  friar  Lodowick,  that  she  speaks  of? 
!sr.  I  know  him  for  a  man  divine  and  holy ; 
vy,  nor  a  temporary  meddler, 
reported  by  this  gentleman  ; 

mj  trust,  a  man  that  never  yet 
le  vouches,  misreport  your  grace. 
K  My  lord,  mostvillanously ;  believe  it 
ier.  Well,  he  in  time  may  come  to  clear 

himself; 

bit  instant  he  is  sick,  ray  lord, 
toge  fever :  Upon  his  mere^  request 
none  to  knowlea^e  that  there  was  complaint 
i  'gainst  lord  Angelo,)  came  I  hither, 
k,  as  from  his  mouth,  what  he  doth  know 
and  false ;  and  what  he  with  his  oath, 
probation,  will  make  up  full  clear, 
ever  he*s  convented.3  First,  for  this  woman 
t^  &is  worthy  nobleman, 
iny4  and  personally  accusM,) 
B  you  hear  disproved  to  her  eyes, 
henelf  confess  it 

!.  Good  friar,  let's  hear  it 

[Isabella  is  carried  q/fy  guarded i  and 
Mariana  comes  joruHird. 
not  smile  at  this,  lord  Angelo  ? — 
a!  the  vanity  of  wretched  fools ! — 
some  8eats.--Come,  cousin  Angelo; 
ini  be  impartial ;  be  you  judge 
'Own  cause. — Is  this  the  witness,  friar? 
t  her  show  her  face  ;  and,  after,  speak. 
.  Pirdon,  my  lord ;  I  will  not  show  my  face, 
f  husband  bid  me. 
-  What,  are  you  married  ? 

•  Nbi|iDy  lord. 

Beat       (2)  Simple.       (3)  Convened. 
Pkiblicly. 


Duke.  Are  you  a  maid  ? 

Mari.  No,  my  lord. 

Duke,  A  widow  then? 

Maru  Neither,  my  lord. 

Duke,  Why,  you 

Are  nothing  then : — Neither  maid,  widow,  nor  wife? 

Lucio.  My  lord,  she  may  be  i^punk ;  for  many 
of  them  are  neither  maid,  widow,  nor  wife. 

Duke.  Silence  that  fellow:  I  would,  he  had 
some  cause 
To  prattle  for  himself.        • 

Lucio.  Well,  nw  lord. 

Mari.  My  lord,  I  do  confess  I  ne*er  was  married , 
And,  I  confess,  besides,  I  am  no  maid : 
I  have  known  my  husband ;  yet  my  husband  knows 

not, 
That  ever  he  knew  me. 

Lucio.  He  was  drunk  then,  my  lord ;  it  can  be 
no  better. 

Duke.  For  the  benefit  of  silence,  'would  thoo 
wert  so  too. 

Lucio.  Well,  my  lord. 

Duke.  This  is  no  witness  for  lord  Angela 

Mari.  Now  I  come  to't,  m^  lord : 
She,  that  accuses  him  of  fornication. 
In  self-same  manner  doth  accuse  my  husband ; 
And  charges  him,  my  lord,  with  such  a  time. 
When  I'll  depose  I  had  him  in  mine  arms, 
With  all  die  effect  of  love. 

Ang.  Charges  she  more  than  me  f 

Mari.  Not  that  I  know. 

Duke.  ^       No?  you  say,  your  husband. 

Mari.  Why,  just,  my  lord,  and  that  is  Angelo, 
Who  thinks,  he  knows,  that  he  ne'er  knew  my  body, 
But  knows,  he  thinks,  that  he  knows  Isabel's. 

Ang.  This  is  m  stnuige  abuse :' — Let's  see  thy 
face. 

Mari.  My  husband  bids  me ;  now  I  will  unmask. 

[Unveiling. 
This  is  that  face,  thou  cruel  Angelo, 
Which,  once  thou  swor'st,  was  worth  the  looking  on : 
This  is  the  hand,  which,  with  a  vow'd  contr&ct, 
Was  fast  belock'd  in  thine :  this  is  the  body 
That  took  away  the  match  from  Isabel, 
And  did  supply  thee  at  thy  garden-house. 
In  her  imagin'd  person.  , 

Duke.  Know  you  this  woman  ? 

Lucio.  Carnally,  she  says. 

Duke.  Sirrah,  no  more. 

Lucio.  Enough,  my  lord. 

Ang.  My   lord,  I  must  confess,  I  know  this 
woman ; 
And,  five  years  since,  there  was  some  speech  oi 

marriage 
Betwixt  myself  and  her ;  which  was  broke  off. 
Partly,  for  that  her  promised  proportions 
Came  short  of  ccmiposition  ^  but,  in  chief. 
For  that  her  reputation  was  disvalued 
In  levity :  since  which  time  of  five  p'ears, 
I  never  spake  with  her,  saw  her,  nor  heard  from  her. 
Upon  my  faith  and  honour. 

Man.  Noble  prince, 

As  there  comes  light  from  heaven,<and  words  from 

breath, 
As  there  is  sense  in  truth,  and  truth  in  virtue, 
I  am  afRanc'd  this  man's  wife,  as  strongly 
As  words  could  make  up  vows :  and,  my  eood  lord. 
But  Tuesday  night  last  gcme,  in  his  garaen-house, 
He  knew  me  as  a  wife :  As  this  is  true 
Let  me  in  safety  raise  me  from  my  knees ; 

(5)  Deception.       (6)  Her  fcntune  fell  dxnrt 


115 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


Adr. 


Or  else  for  ever  be  confixed  here, 
A  marble  monument ! 

Ang.  I  did  but  ^le  till  now ; 

Now,  ^ood  mv  lord,  give  me  the  scope  of  justice ; 
Mv  patience  here  is  touch'd  :  1  do  perceive, 
These  poor  informal'  women  are  no  more 
But  instruments  of  some  more  mightier  member, 
That  sot*  them  on  :  Let  me  have  way,  my  lord. 
To  find  this  practice^  out 

Duke.  Ay,  with  my  heart ; 

And  punish  them  unto  your  height  of  pleasure. — 
Thou  foolish  friar ;  and  thou  pernicious  woman, 
Cranpact  with  her  that's  gone !  think'st  thou,  thy 

oaths. 
Though  tlie^  would  swear  down  each  particular 

sauit. 
Were  testimonies  against  his  worth  and  credit, 
That's  sealed  in  approbation  ? — You,  lord  Escalus, 
Sit  with  my  cousin  ;  lend  him  your  kind  pains 
To  find  out  this  abuse,  whence  'tis  deriv'd. — 
There  is  another  friar  that  set  them  on  ; 
Let  him  be  sent  for. 

F.  Peier.  Would  he  were  here,  my  lord ;  for  he, 
indeed, 
Hath  set  the  women  on  to  this  complaint: 
Your  provost  knows  the  place  where  he  abides, 
And  he  may  fetch  him. 

Duke.  Go,  do  it  instantly. —        [Exit  Provost. 
And  you,  my  noble  and  well-warranted  cousin, 
Whom  it  concerns  to  hear  this  matter  forth,' 
Do  with  your  injuries  as  seems  vou  best, 
In  any  chastisement :  I  for  a  while 
Will  leave  you;  but  stir  not  you,  till  you  have 

well 
Determined  upon  these  slanderers. 

Escal.  My  lord,  we'll  do  it  thoroughly. — [Exit 
Duke.]  Signior  Lucio,  did  not  you  say,  you  knew 
that  fnor  Lodowick  to  be  a  dishonest  person } 

Lucio.  CucuUus  rum  Jacit  monachum:  honest 
in  nothing,  but  in  his  clothes ;  and  one  that  hath 
spoke  most  villanous  speeches  of  the  duke. 

Escal.  We  shall  entreat  you  to  abide  here  till 
he  come,  and  enforce  them  against  him :  we  shedl 
find  this  friar  a  notable  fellow. 

Lucio.  As  any  in  Vienna,  on  my  word. 

EscaU  Call  that  same  Isabel  here  once  again ; 
[To  an  attendant.]  I  would  speak  with  her:  Pray 
you,  my  lord,  give  me  leave  to  question  ;  you  shall 
Bee  how  I'll  handle  her. 

Lucio.  Not  better  than  he,  by  her  own  report 

Escal.  Say  you  ? 

Lucio.  Marry,  sir,  I  think,  if  you  handled  her 
privately,  she  would  sooner  confess;  perchance, 
publicly  she'll  be  Eishamed. 

Re-enter  Officers,  with  Isabella ;  the  Duke,  in  the 
friar's  habit^  and  Provost. 

Escal.  I  will  go  darkly  to  work  with  her. 

Lucio.  That's  the  way ;  for  women  are  light  at 
midiiiirht. 

Encal  Come  on,  mistreats  :  [To  Isabella.]  here's 
a  gentlewoman  d(>nies  all  that  you  have  said. 

Lucio.  My  lord,  here  comes  the  rascal  I  spoke 
(rf;  here,  with  the  provost 

Escal.  In  very  good  time: — speak  not  you  to 
him,  till  we  call  upon  you. 

Lucio.  Mum. 

Escal.  Come,  sir :  Did  you  set  these  women  on 
to  slander  lord  Angelo?  they  have  confess'd  you 
did. 

Duke.  'Tis  false. 

(1)  Crazy.     (2)  Conspiracy.     (3)  To  the  end. 


EscaL  How  !  know  you  where  you  are .' 

Duke,  Respect  to  your  great  place !  and  let  tiM 
devil 
Be  some  time  honour'd  for  his  burning  throne : — 
Where  is  the  duke  f  'tis  he  should  hear  me  speak. 

Escal.  The  duke's  in  us ;  and  we  will  hear  yoo 
speak : 
Look,  vou  speeJt  justly. 

Dulce.  Boldly,  at  least : — But,  O,  poor  souls. 
Come  you  to  seek  the  lamb  here  of  the  fox .' 
Good  night  to  your  redress.     Is  the  duke  gone  ? 
Then  is  your  cause  gone  too.     The  duke's  unjust, 
Thus  to  retort^  your  manifest  appeal, 
And  put  your  trial  in  the  villain's  mouth, 
Which  here  you  come  to  accuse. 

Lucio.  This  is  the  rascal ;  this  is  he  I  spoke  of. 

Escal.  Why,  thou  unreverend  and  unhallow'd 
friar ! 
Is't  not  enough,  thou  hast  subom'd  these  women 
To  accuse  this  worthy  man  ;  but,  in  foul  mouth, 
.^nd  in  the  witness  of  his  proper  ear. 
To  call  him  villain  ? 

And  then  to  glance  from  him  to  the  duke  himself; 
To  tax  him  with  injustice  ? — Take  him  hence  ; 
To  the  rack  with  him : — We'll  touze  you  joint  bj 

joint. 
But  we  will  know  this  purpose  : — What !  imjust  ? 

Duke,  Be  not  so  hot ;  the  duke 
Dare  no  more  stretch  this  finger  of  mine,  than  he 
Dare  rack  his  own  ;  his  subject  am  I  not. 
Nor  here  provincial  :^  My  business  in  this  state 
Made  me  a  looker-on  here  in  Vienna, 
Where  I  have  seen  corruption  boil  and  bubble. 
Till  it  o'er-run  the  stew  :  laws,  for  all  faults ; 
But  faults  so  countenanc'd,  that  the  strong  statutes 
Stand  like  the  forfeits  in  a  barber's  shop, 
As  much  in  mock  as  mark. 

Escal.  Slander  to  the  state  !  Away  with  him  to 
prison. 

Ang.  What  can  you  vouch  against  him,  signior 
Lucio  f 
Is  this  the  man  that  you  did  tell  us  of  .^ 

Lucio.  'Tis  he,  my  lord. — Come  hither,  goodman 
bald'pate  :  Do  you  know  me  f 

Duke.  I  remember  you,  sir,  by  the  sound  of  your 
voice  :  I  met  you  at  the  prison,  in  the  absence  of 
the  duke. 

Lucio.  O,  did  you  so.^  And  do  you  remember 
what  you  said  of  the  duke  ? 

Duke.  Most  notedly,  sir. 

Lucio.  Do  you  so,  sir  ?  And  was  the  duke  a  fle^ 
monger,  a  fool,  and  a  coward,  as  you  then  reported 
him  to  be  ? 

Duke.  You  must,  sir,  change  persons  with  me, 
ere  you  make  that  my  report :  you,  indeed,  spoke 
so  of  him  ;  and  much  more,  much  worse. 

Lucio.  O  thou  damnable  fellow  !  Did  not  I  pluck 
thee  bv  the  nose,  for  thy  speeches  ? 

Duke.  I  protest  I  love  the  duke,  as  I  love  myself. 

Ang.  Hark  !  how  the  villain  would  close  now, 
after  his  treasonable  abuses. 

Escal.  Such  a  fellow  is  not  to  be  talk'd  withal : — 
Away  with  him  to  prison  : — Where  is  the  provost? 
Away  with  him  to  prison ;  lay  bolts  enough  upoa 
him ;  let  him  speak  no  more.  Away  with  those 
giglot&6  too,  and  with  the  other  confederate  com- 
panion.       [The Provdsi  lays  hands  on  the  Duke. 

Duke.  Stay,  sir ;  stay  a  while. 

Ang.  WTiat !  resists  he  ?    Help  him,  Lucio. 
^  Lucio.  Come,  sir;  come,  sir;  come,  sir;  foh, 
sir :  VMiy,  you  bald-pated,  lying  rascal !  vou  must 
be  hooded,  must  you  f  Show  your  knave's  visage, 

(4)  Refer  back.    (5)  Accountable.     (6)  Wantons 


i. 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


117 


widi  m  pox  to  vou !  ihow  your  sheep-biting  face, 
and  be  bangM  an  boar !  WilPtnoCoff? 

[FwU  off  the/riar*s  hood,  and  discovert 
iheDuke, 
Duke.  Thou. art  the  first  knave,  that  e'er  made 

a  duke. 

First,  provost,  let  me  bail  these  gentle  three : 


not  away,  sir ;  [To  LucioJ  for  the  friar  and 
you 
Most  have  a  word  anon : — lay  hold  on  him. 
Liudo.  This  may  prove  worse  than  hanging. 
JDvke.  What  you  nave  spoke,  I  pardon ;  «t  you 

down. [  To  Escalus. 

We'll  borrow  place  of  him : — Sir,  by  your  leave : 

[To  Angela 
Hast  thou  (h:  word,  or  wit,  or  impudence, 
That  yet  can  do  thee  office  ?'    It  thou  hast,   ^ 
Rely  upon  it  till  my  tale  be  heard. 
And  hold  no  longer  out 

Aw.  O  my  dread  lord, 

I  ^KHild  be  guiltier  than  my  guiltiness. 
To  think  I  can  be  undiscemible, 
When  I  perceive,  your  grace,  like  power  divine, 
Hath  look*d  upon  my  passes  :3  Then,  good  prince, 
No  kxiger  session  bold  upon  my  shame, 
But  let  my  trial  be  mine  own  confession; 
Immediate  sentence  then,  and  sequent'  death. 
Is  all  the  grace  I  beg. 

Duke.  Come  hither,  Mariana  : — 

Say,  wast  thou  e*er  contracted  to  this  woman  ? 
Anr.  I  was,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Go,  take  her  hence,  and  many  her  in- 
stantly.— 
Do  you  the  office,  friar;  which  consummate, 
Return  him  here  again : — Go  with  him.  Provost 
USlxeunt  Angelo,  Mariana,  Peter,  and  Provost 
E$caL  My  Iwd,  I  am  more  amazM  at  his  dis- 
honour. 
Than  at  the  strangeness  of  it 

Duke.  Ckxne  hither,  Isabel : 

Tour  friar  is  now  your  prince :  As  I  was  then 
AdT^rtiaing,^  and  holy  to  your  business, 
Not  changing  heart  with  habit,  I  am  still 
Attoroey'd  at  your  service. 

liob.  O,  give  me  pardon. 

That  I,  your  vassal,  have  employed  and  pain*d 
Your  unknown  sovereignty. 

Duke.  You  are  pardon'd,  Isabel : 

And  now,  dear  maid,  be  you  as  tree  to  us. 
Your  brother's  death,  I  know,  sits  at  your  heart ; 
And  you  may  marvel,  why  I  obscurM  myself, 
Jjhoarins  to  save  his  life ;  and  would  no^  rather 
^^^  rash  remonstrance  of  my  hidden  power, 
J^  let  him  so  be  lost :  O,  most  kind  maid, 
*twa«  the  swift  celerity  of  his  death, 
JjJ^chl  did  think  with  slower  foot  came  on. 
That  brainM  mv  purpose :  But,  peace  be  with  him ! 
That  life  is  better  life,  past  fearing  death, 
Two  that  which  lives  to  fear :  make  it  your  comfort, 
So  happjr  is  yoar  brother. 

^^'•^liter  Angelo,  Mariana,  Peter,  and  Provost 

^*.  I  do.  my  lord. 

Didce.  For  this  new-married  man,  approaching 
_^^    here, 

^hoie  salt  imagination  yet  hath  wrong'd 
Youp  well^efemled  honour,  you  must  pardon 
For  Mariana's  mke :   but  as  be  adjudged  your 
.«.       brother 
ViMQ^  criminal,  in  double  violation 

0)  Service.      (2)  Devices.       (3)  Following. 
W  Attentive.        (5)  Angelo*8  own  tongue. 


Of  sacred  chastity,  and  of  promise-breach. 
Thereon  dependant,  for  your  brother's  life,) 
The  very  mercy  of  the  law  cries  out 
Most  audible,  even  from  his  proper^  tongue, 
An  Angelo  Jor  Claiudio,  deaihfor  deaUi. 
Haste  still  pays  haste,  and  leisure  answers  leisure ; 
Like  doth  quit  like,  and  Measure  still  for  Measure. 
Then,  Angelo,  thy  fault's  thus  manisfested  : 
A^liich  tlK>ugh  thou  would'st  deny,  denies  thee 

vantage: 

We  do  condemn  thee  to  the  very  block 
Where  Claudio  stoop'd  to  death,  and  with  like 

haste; — 
Away  with  him. 

Juari.  O,  my  most  gracious  lord, 

I  hope  you  will  not  mock  me  with  a  husband ! 

Duke.  It  is  your  husband  mock'd  you  with  a 
husband : 
Consenting  to  the  safeguard  of  your  honour, 
I  thought  your  marriage  fit ;  else  imputation. 
For  that  be  knew  you,  might  reproach  your  life. 
And  choke  your  good  to  come  :  for  his  possessions. 
Although  by  confiscation  they  are  ours. 
We  do  instate  and  widow  you  withal. 
To  buy  you  a  better  husband. 

Mori.  O,  my  dear  lord, 

I  crave  no  other,  nor  no  better  man. 

Duke.  Never  crave  him ;  we  are  definitive. 

Mc^ri.  Grentle  my  liege, —  [Kneeling. 

Duke.  You  do  but  lose  your  labour : 

Away  with  him  to  death. — Now,  sir,  [2\>  Lucia] 
to  you. 

Mari.  O,  my  good  lord ! — Sweet  Isabel,  take 
my  part ; 
Lend  roe  your  knees,  and  nil  my  life  to  come  / 
I'll  lend  you,  all  my  life  to  do  you  service. 

Duke.  Against  all  sensed  you  do  imp6rtune  her : 
Should  she  kneel  down,  in  mercy  of  this  fact. 
Her  brother's  ghost  his  paved  bed  would  break, 
And  take  her  henpe  in  horror. 

Mari.  *       Isabel, 

Sweet  Isabel,  do  yet  but  kneel  by  me ; 
Hold  up  your  hands,  say  nothing,  I'll  speak  all. 
They  say,  best  men  are  moulded  out  of  faults ; 
And,  for  the  most,  become  much  more  the  better 
For  being  a  little  bad  :  so  may  my  husband. 
O,  Isabel !  will  you  not  lend  a  knee  ? 

Duke.  He  dies  for  Claudio's  death. 

Isab.  Most  bounteous  sir, 

\Kneeling, 
Look,  if  it  please  you,  on  this  man  conaeinn'd. 
As  if  my  brother  liv'd  :  I  partly  think, 
A  due  sincerity  govem'd  his  deeds. 
Till  he  did  look  on  me ;  since  it  19  so, 
Let  him  not  die  :  My  brother  had  but  justice. 
In  that  he  did  the  thing  for  which  he  died  : 
For  Anffelo, 

His  act  did  not  o'ertake  his  bad  intent. 
And  must  be  buried  but  as  an  intent 
That  perish'd  by  the  way :  thoughts  are  no  subjects; 
Intents  but  merely  thoughts. 

Man.  Merely,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Your  suit's  unprofitable ;  stand  up,  I  say.— 
I  have  bethought  me  01  another  fault : — 
Provost,  how  came  it,  Claudio  was  beheaded 
At  an  unusual  hour.^ 

Frotf.  It  was  commanded  so. 

Duke.  Had  you  a  special  warrant  for  the  deed  ? 

Prov.  No,  my  good  lord ;  it  was  by  private  mes- 
sage. 

Duke.  For  which  I  do  discharge  you  of  your  office- 

(6)  Reason  and  afiection 


118 


MEASURE  FOR  MEASURE. 


Act  r. 


Give  up  your  keya. 

Prov.  P&rdon  me,  noble  lord  : 

I  thought  it  was  a  fault,  but  knew  it  not ; 
Yet  did  repent  ni«,  after  more  advice  :> 
For  testiraonv  whereof,  one  in  the  prison 
That  should  by  private  order  else  have  died, 
I  have  reservM  alive. 

Duke,  What's  he? 

Prov.  His  name  is  Bamardine. 

DiJce.  I  would  thou  had'st  done  so  by  Claudio. — 
Go,  fetch  him  hither ;  let  me  look  upon  him. 

jlj,'xt<  Provost. 

Escal.  I  am  sorry,  one  so  learned  and  so  wise 
As  you,  lord  Angelo,  have  still  appeared, 
Should  slip  so  grossly,  both  in  the  neat  of  blood, 
And  lack  of  tempered  judgment  afterward. 

Ang.  I  am  sorry,  that  such  sorrow  I  procure  : 
And  so  deep  sticks  it  in  my  penitent  heart. 
That  I  crave  death  more  willingly  than  mercy : 
*Tis  my  deserving,  and  I  do  entreat  it 

Ae-en(er  Provost,  Bamardine,  Claudio,  and  Juliet. 

Duke.  Which  is  that  Bamardine  ? 

Prov.  This,  my  lord. 

Duke.  There  was  a  friar  told  me  of  this  man  : — 
Sirrah,  thou  art  said  to  have  a  stubborn  soul. 
That  apprehends  no  further  than  this  world, 
Andsquar*8tthy  life  according.  Thou'rtcoudemnM ; 
But,  for  those  early  faults,  I  quit  them  all ; 
And  pray  thee,  take  this  mercy  to  provide 

For  better  times  to  come  : Friar,  advise  him ; 

I  leave  him  to  your  hand. — ^^\liat  muffled  fellow's 
that? 

Prov.  This  is  another  prisoner,  that  I  sav'd. 
That  should  have  died  when  Claudio  lost  his  bead ; 
As  like  almost  to  Claudio,  as  himself! 

[  UnmuMes  Claudio. 

Duke,  If  he  be  like  your  brother,  {To  Isabella.] 
for  his  sake 
Is  he  pardon'd ;  And,  for  your  lovely  sake. 
Give  me  your  hand,  and  say  you  will  be  mine, 
He  is  my  brother  too :  But  fitter  time  for  that 
By  this,  lord  Angelo  perceives  he's  safe  : 
Methinks,  I, see  a  quickening  in  his  eye  : — 
Well,  Angelo,  your  evil  quits3  you  well : 
•    t  Look  that  you  love  your  wife ;  her  worth,  worth 
yours. — 
I  find  an  apt  remission  in  mvself : 
And  yet  here's  one  in  place  1  cannot  pardon ; 
You,  sirrah,  [To  Lucio.]  that  knew  me  for  a  fool,  a 

coward. 
One  all  of  luxury ,'  an  ass,  a  madman; 
Wherein  have  I  so  deserv'd  of  you, 
That  you  extol  mc  thus  ? 

Lucio.  'Faith,  my  lord,  I  spoke  it  but  according 
to  the  trick  :*  If  you  will  hang  me  for  it,  you  may, 
but  I  had  rather  it  would  please  you,  I  might  be 
whipp'd. 

Duke.  Whipp'd  first,  sir,  and  hang'd  after.— 
Proclaim  it,  provost,  round  about  the  city  ; 
If  am*  woman's  wrong'd  by  this  lewd  fellow 
(As  I  have  heard  him  swear  himself,  there's  one 
Whom  he  begot  with  child,)  let  her  appear, 
And  he  shall  marry  her :  the  nuptial  nnish'd, 


(1)  Consideration. 
(3)  Incontinence. 


(2)  Requites. 
Tl 


(4)  Thoughtless  practice. 


Let  him  be  whipp'd  and  hang'd. 

Lucio.  I  beseech  your  highness,  do  not  many 
me  to  a  whore  !  Your  highness  said  even  now,  I 
made  you  a  duke :  good  my  lord,  do  not  recooip 
pense  me,  in  making  me  a  cuckold. 

Duke.  Upon  mine  honour,  thou  shalt  many  her. 
Thy  slanders  I  forgive ;  and  therewithal 
Remit  thy  other  forfeits  :* — Take  him  to  prison : 
And  see  our  pleasure  herein  executed. 

Lucio.  Manning  a  punk,  my  lord,  is  pressing  to 
death,  whipping,  and  hanging. 

Duke.  Sland'ring  a  prince  deserves  it — 
She,  Claudio,  that  you  wrong'd,  look  you  restore. — 
Joy  to  you,  Mariana ! — love  her,  Angelo ; 
I  have  ccwifess'd  her,  and  I  know  her  virtue. — 
Thanks,  good  friend  Escalus,  for  thy  much  goodness: 
There's  more  behind,  that  is  more  gratulate.^ 
Thanks,  provost,  for  thy  care,  and  secrecy  ; 
We  shall  employ  thee  m  a  worthier  place  : — 
Forgive  him,  Angelo,  that  brought  you  home 
The  head  of  Raeozine  for  Claudio's ; 
The  oflence  pardons  itself. — Dear  Isabel, 
I  have  a  motion  much  imports  your  good ; 
Whereto  if  you'll  a  willing  ear  incline. 
What's  mine  is  yours,  and  what  is  yours  is  mine : — 
So,  bring  us  to  our  palace ;  where  we'll  show 
What's  yet  behind,  mat's  meet  you  all  should  know. 

[Exeuni, 


The  novel  of  Giraldi  Cinthio,  from  which  Shak- 
spe^re  is  supposed  to  have  borrowed  this  fable,  may 
be  read  in  Shakspeare  Illustrated^  elegantly  trans- 
lated, with  remarks  which  will  assist  the  inquirer 
to  discover  how  much  absurdity  Shakspeare  has  ad> 
mitted  or  avoided. 

1  cannot  but  suspect  that  some  other  had  new- 
modelled  the  novel  of  Cinthio,  or  written  a  story 
which  in  some  particulars  resembled  it,  and  that 
Cinthio  was  not  the  author  whom  Shakspeare  im- 
mediately followed.  The  emperor  in  Cinthio  is 
named  Maximine  :  the  duke,  in  Shakspeare's  enu* 
meration  of  the  persons  of  the  drama,  is  called  Yin- 
centio.  This  appears  a  very  slight  remark ;  but 
since  the  duke  has  no  name  in  the  play,  nor  is  ever 
mentioned  but  by  his  title,  why  should  he  be  called 
Vincentio  among  the^«-507M,but  because  the  name 
was  copied  from  the  story,  and  placed  superflu- 
ously at  the  head  of  the  list,  by  the  mere  haWt  of 
transcription  ?  It  is  therefore  likelv  that  thote  was 
then  a  story  of  Vincentio  duke  of  Vienna,  diflferent 
from  that  of  Maximine  emperor  of  the  Romans. 

Of  this  play,  the  light  or  comic  part  is  ••tt  natu- 
ral and  pleasing,  but  the  grave  scenes,  if  a  few  pas- 
sages be  excepted,  have  more  labour  than  elegance. 
The  plot  is  rather  intricate  tlian  artful.  The  time 
of  the  action  is  indefinite  :  some  time,  w^  '<now  not 
how  much,  must  have  elaptsed  between  die  recess 
of  the  duke  and  the  imprisonment  of  Claudio  ;  for 
he  must  have  learned  the  storj'  of  Mariana  in  his 
disguise,  or  he  delegated  his  power  to  a  man  al- 
ready known  to  be  corrupted.  The  unities  of  actiou 
and  place  are  sufficiently  preserved. 

JOHNSON. 


(5)  Puoishroents. 


(6)  To  reward. 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Don  Pedro,  Prince  of  Arragcn, 

Don  John,  hia  hagtard  brother^ 

Clacidio,  a  young  lord  qf  Florence^  favouriU  to 

Don  Pedro. 
Benedick,  a  young  lord  q/*  Padua,  Javouriie  like- 

toise  of  Don  Pedro. 
Leonato,  governor  of  Meuina. 
Aotooio,  his  brother. 
Balthazar,  servant  to  Don  Pedro. 

^^    I  folhwers  of  Don  John. 
5^^^»  I   two  fooUsh  officers. 


A  Sexton. 
A  Friar. 
A  Boy. 

Hero,  davghter  to  Leonato. 
Beatrice,  niece  to  Leonato. 

UwSa!*     I  gw^iwmim  o/feniwg  on  fljfro. 
Messengers,  watch,  and  attendants. 
Scene,  Messimi. 


ACT  I. 

SCEJVIE  L-^BeforeLeoo&iol's  house.  Enter  Leo- 
Dito,  Hero,  Beatrice,  and  others,  with  a  Mes- 
Moger. 

Leonato. 

I  LEARN  in  this  letter,  that  Don  Pedro  of  Arra- 
pn,  comes  this  night  to  Messina. 

Mess.  He  is  Fer^  near  by  this ;  he  was  not  three 
leipes  off  when  I  left  him. 

Leon.  How  many  gentlemen  have  you  lost  in 
this  action  .^ 

Mtss.  But  few  of  any  sort,*  and  ncme  of  name. 

Xeofi.  A  victoiT  is  twice  itself,  when  the  achiev- 
er brings  honie*nill  numbers.  I  find  here,  that 
Don  Pedro  hath  bestowed  much  honour  on  a  young 
Ploreatine,  called  Claudio. 

Mm.  Much  deserved  on  his  part,  and  equally 
icoKmbered  by  Don  Pedro :  he  hath  borne  him- 
Mlf  beyond  the  promise  of  his  a^e ;  doing,  in  the 
figttre  of  a  Iamb,  the  feats  of  a  hon :  he  hath,  in- 
deed, better  bettered  expectation,  than  you  must 
ttpect  of  me  to  tell  you  how. 

*Mm.  He  hath  an  uncle  here  in  Messina  will  be 
wy  moch  glad  of  it 

Mm.  I  have  already  delivered  him  letters,  and 
ti>*»  appears  much  joy  in  him;  even  so  much, 
t^t  joy  could  not  show  itself  modest  enough,  with- 
out a  badge  of  bitterness. 

J^^on.  Did  he  break  out  into  tears .' 

Mm.  In  great  measure.^ 

^^on.  A  kind  overflow  of  kindness :  There  are 
no  faces  tnier  than  those  that  are  so  washed.  How 
OMK^  better  is  it  to  weep  at  joy,  than  to  joy  at 
wiping? 

•o«t  I  pray  you,  is  8%nior  Montanto  returned 
frwnthewars^or  no? 

Mm.  I  know  none  of  that  name,  lady ;  there 
^f^  liooe  such  in  the  army  of  any  sort 

*^on.  What  is  he  that  you  ask  for,  niece  ? 

•f<n>.  My  cousin  means  signior  Benedick  of 
Padua. 

(1)  Kiod.    (2)  Abnndance.    (3)  At  long  lengths. 


Mess.  O,  he  is  returned;  and  as  pleasant  aa 
ever  he  was. 

Beat.  He  set  up  his  bills  here  in  Messina,  and 
challenged  Cupia  at  the  flight  :*  and  my  uncle's 
fool,  reading  the  challenge,  subscribed  for  Cupid, 
and  challenged  him  at  the  bird-bolt — I  pray  yon, 
how  many  hath  he  killed  and  eaten  in  these  wars.' 
But  how  many  hath  he  killed  ?  for,  indeed,  I  pro- 
mised to  eat  all  of  his  killing. 

Leon,  Faith,  niece,  you  tax  signior  Benedick  too 
much ;  but  heUl  be  meet^  with  you,  I  doubt  it  not 

Mess.  He  hath  done  good  service,  lady,  in  these 
wars. 

Beat.  You  had  musty  victual,  and  he  hath  holp 
to  eat  it :  he  is  a  very  valiant  trencher-man,  he 
hath  an  excellent  stomach. 

Mess.  And  a  good  soldier  too,  lady. 

Beat.  And  a  good  soldier  to  a  lady ; — But  what 
is  he  to  a  lord  ? 

Mess.  A  lord  to  a  lord,  a  man  to  a  man ;  staffed 
with  all  honourable  virtues. 

Beat.  It  is  so,  indeed ;  he  is  no  less  than  a  stuffed 
man  :^  but  for  the  stuffing, — Well,  we  are  all  mortal. 

jLeon.  You  must  not,  sir,  mistake  my  niece :  there 
is  a  kind  of  merry  war  betwixt  signior  Benedick 
and  her :  they  never  meet,  but  there  is  a  skirmish 
of  wit  between  them. 

Beat.  Alas,  he  gets  nothing  by  that.  In  our  last 
conflict,  four  of  his  five  wits  went  halting  oft*, 
and  now  is  the  whole  man  governed  with  one :  so 
that  if  he  have  wit  enough  to  keep  himself  warm, 
lot  him  bear  it  for  a  difference  between  himself  and 
hi-s  horse  :  for  it  is  all  the  wealth  that  he  hath  left, 
to  be  known  a  reasonable  creature. — Who  is  his 
companion  now  f  He  hath  every  mouth  a  new 
sworn  brother. 

Mess.  Is  it  p>ossible  ? 

Beat.  Very  easily  possible :  he  wears  his  faith  but 
as  the  fashion  of  his  hat,  it  ever  changes  with  the 
next  block.8 

Mess.  I  see,  lady,  the  gentleman  is  not  in  your 
books. 

Beat.  No :  an  he  were,  I  would  bum  my  study. 
But,  I  pray  you,  who  b  his  companion  f  Is  there  no 

(4)  Even.    (5)  A  cuckold.     (6)  Mould  for  a  hat 


130 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


Adl 


Toang  squarer^  now,  that  will  make  a  vojrage  with 
him  to  the  de\il  ? 

Mess.  He  is  most  in  the  company  of  the  right 
noble  Claudio. 

Beat.  O  Lord !  he  will  hang  upon  him  like  a  dis- 
ease :  he  is  sooner  caught  than  the  pestilence,  and 
the  talier  runs  presently  mad.  God  help  the  noble 
Claudio !  if  he  have  caught  the  Benedick,  it  will 
cost  him  a  thousand  pound  ere  he  be  cured. 

Mess.  I  will  hold  friends  with  you,  lady. 

Beat.  Do,  good  friend. 

Leon.  You  will  never  run  mad,  niece. 

Beat.  No,  not  till  a  hot  January. 

Mess.  Don  Pedro  is  approached. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  attended  by  Balthazar,  and 
others^  X>on' John,  Claudio,  and  Benedick. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  signior  Leonato,  you  are  come 
to  meet  your  trouble :  the  fashicm  of  the  world  is  to 
avoid  cost,  and  you  encounter  it. 

Leon.  Never  came  trouble  to  my  house  in  the 
likeness  of  your  grace :  for  trouble  being  gone,  com- 
fort should  remain ;  but,  when  you  depart  from  me, 
sorrow  abides,  and  happiness  takes  his  leave. 

D.  Pedro.  You  embrace  your  charge^  loo  willing- 
ly.— I  think,  this  is  your  daughter. 

Leon.  Her  mother  hath  many  times  told  me  so. 

Bene.  Were  you  in  doubt,  sir,  that  you  asked  her.*" 

Leon.  Signior  Benedick,  no ;  for  then  were  you 
a  child. 

D.  Pedro.  You  have  it  full.  Benedick  :  we  may 
guess  by  this  what  you  are,  being  a  man.  Truly, 
Sie  lady  fathers  herself : — Be  happy,  lady  !  for  you 
are  like  an  honourable  father. 

Bene.  If  signior  Leonato  be  her  father,  she  would 
not  have  his  head  on  her  shoulders,  for  all  Messina, 
as  like  him  as  she  is. 

Beat.  I  wonder,  that  you  will  still  be  talking, 
signior  Benedick  ;  no  body  marks  you. 

Bene.  What,  my  dear  lady  Di:»dain !  are  you  yet 
Uving  f 

Beat.  Is  it  possible,  di:Mlain  should  die,  while 
she  hath  such  meet  food  to  feed  it,  as  signior  Bene- 
dick ^  Courtesy  itself  must  convert  to  disdain,  if 
you  come  in  her  presence. 

Bene.  Then  is  courteijiy  a  turn-coat : — But  it  is 
certain,  I  am  loved  of  all  ladies,  only  you  excepted  : 
and  I  would  I  could  find  in  my  heart  that  I  had  not 
a  hard  heart ;  for,  truly,  I  love  none. 

Beat.  A  tilear  happiness  to  women ;  they  would 
else  have  been  troubled  with  a  pernicious  suitor.  I 
thank  God,  and  my  cold  blooa,  I  am  of  your  hu- 
mour for  that ;  I  had  rather  hear  my  dog  bark  at  a 
crow,  than  a  man  swear  he  loves  me. 

Bene.  God  keep  your  ladyship  still  in  that  mind  ! 
so  some  gentleman  or  other  shall  'scape  a  predesti- 
nate scratched  face. 

Beat.  Scratching  could  not  make  it  worse,  an 
'twere  such  a  face  as  yours  were. 

Bene.  Well,  you  are  a  rare  parrot-teacher. 

Beat.  A  bird  of  my  tongue,  is  better  than  a  beast 
of  vours. 

^ene.  I  would  my  horse  had  the  speed  of  your 
tongue ;  and  so  good  a  continuer :  But  keep  your 
way  o'  God's  name ;  I  have  done. 

Beat.  You  always  end  with  a  jade's  trick;  I  know 
you  of  old. 

D.  Pedro.  This  is  the  sum  of  all :  Leonato, — 
si^ior  Claudio,  and  signior  Benedick, — mv  dear 
fnend  Leonato,  hath  invited  you  all.  I  tell  hmi,  we 
shall  stay  here  at  the  least  a  month;  and  he 


(1)  Quarrelsome  fellow. 


(2)  Trust 


heartily  prays  some  occasion  may  detain  us  longer. 
I  dare  swear  be  is  no  hj'pocrite,  but  prays  from  bs 
heart 

Leon.  If  vou  swear,  my  lord,  you  shall  not  be 
fo|[swom. — Let  me  bid  you  welcome,  my  lord: 
bemg  reconciled  to  the  prince  your  brother,  I  ow 
you  all  duty. 

D.  John.  I  thank  you :  I  am  not  <^  many  words» 
but  I  thank  you. 

Leon.  Please  it  your  grace  lead  on  ? 

D.  Pedro.  Your  hand,  Leonato ;  we  will  go  to* 
gether.       \Exeunt  all  but  Benedick  and  Claudia 

Claud.  Benedick,  diddt  thou  note  the  dau^ter 
of  signior  Leonato  ? 

Bene.  I  noted  her  not ;  but  I  looked  on  her. 

Claud.  Is  she  not  a  modest  young  lady  ? 

Bene.  Do  you  question  me,  as  an  honest  man 
should  do,  for  my  simple  true  judgment;  or  would 
you  have  me  speak  after  my  custom,  as  being  a  pro- 
fessed tyrant  to  their  sex  ? 

Claud.  No,  I  pray  thee,  speak  in  sober  jndg^ 
raent 

Bene.  Wliy,  i'faith,  mediinksshe  is  too  low  for  a 
high  praise,  too  brown  for  a  fair  praise,  and  too  lit- 
tle for  a  great  praise :  only  this  commendation  I  cao 
tiiford  her;  that  were  she  other  than  she  is,  she  were 
unhandisome ;  and  being  no  other  but  as  she  is,  I  do 
not  like  her. 

Claud.  Thou  thinkest,  I  am  in  sport ;  I  pray 
thee  tell  mc  truly  how  thou  likest  her  ? 

Bene.  Would  you  buy  her,  that  you  inquire  after 
her.' 

Claud.  Can  the  world  buy  such  a  jewel  ? 

Bene.  Yea,  and  a  case  to  put  it  into.  But  speak 
you  this  with  a  sad  brow  ?  or  do  you  play  the  TOot- 
mg  jack ;  to  tell  us  Cupid  is  a  good  bare-nnder,  and 
Vufcan  a  rare  carpenter .'  Come,  in  what  key  shall 
a  man  take  you,  to  go  in  the  song.' 

Claud.  In  mine  eye,  she  is  the  sweetest  lady  that 
ever  I  looked  on. 

Bene.  I  can  see  yet  without  spectacles,  and  I  see 
no  such  matter :  there's  her  cousin,  an  she  were  not 
possessed  with  a  furv,  exceeds  her  as  much  in 
beauty,  as  the  fhst  of  May  doth  the  last  of 
ber.  But  I  hope  you  have  no  intent  to  turn 
band ;  have  you  ? 

Claud.  I  would  scarce  trust  myself,  though  I  had 
sworn  the  contrary,  if  Hero  would  be  my  wife. 

Bene.  Is  it  come  to  this,  i'faith  f  Hath  not  die 
world  one  man,  but  he  will  wear  his  cap  widi 
suspicion  ?  Shall  I  never  see  a  bachelor  of  three- 
^ore  again  ?  Go  to,  i'faith ;  an  thou  wilt  needs 
thrust  thy  neck  into  a  yoke,  wear  the  print  of  it, 
and  sie^h  away  Sundays.  Look,  Don  Pedro  is  re- 
turned to  seefe  vou. 

Re-enter  Don  Pedro. 

D.  Pedro.  AMiat  secret  hath  held  you  here,  that 
you  followed  not  to  Leonato's  ? 

Bene.  I  would,  your  grace  would  constrain  him 
to  tell. 

D.  Pedro.  I  charge  the*  on  thy  allegiance. 

Bene.  You  hear,  count  Claudio:  I  can  be  secret 
as  a  dumb  man,  I  would  have  you  think  so;  but  on 
my  allegiance^ — mark  you  this,  on  m;^  allegiance- 
He  is  in  love.  With  who .' — now  that  is  your  grace** 
part— Mark,  how  short  his  answer  is . — With  Hero» 
Leonato's  short  daughter. 

Claud.  If  this  were  so,  so  were  it  uttered. 

Bene.  Like  the  old  tale,  my  lord :  it  is  not  so,  nor 
'twas  not  so ;  but,  indeed,  God  forbid  it  should  be  so. 

Claud.  If  my  passion  change  not  'shortly,  God 
forbid  it  should  be  otherwise. 


D.  Ptdro.  Anwo,  il  jau  love  ber;  for  Ibr  im 
u  Tnj  well  worthy. 
Oaud.  You  tpcak  Ihii 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 

B.  PJf 


_         *nd,bjmylwofe 

^W.  Tbal  I  tarn  her,  I  feel. 

D.  Ptdro.  That  she  is  northv,  I  kno 

£nw.  Thil  I  neither  feel  how  she 

tared,  DOT  know  how  ^le  should  be  wnHhy, 


■-   Thoa  Ksst  ever  a 


oIntlnBle 


Ibai  ahc  broiwhl  me  up,  I  likewiie  give  her  rr 
kunlile  thinks:  but  that  I  will  haie  ■  renhi 
■inded  ill  my  forehead,  or  heng  my  bude'  in 
im-iidble  baldric,'  all  women  ihail  pardoa  m-. 


&>e  i(  (for  (be  n 
D.  Ptdro. 


a  Ibee,  ere  I  die,  loot  pali 


id  Cupid. 

d«I  full  fimn  ilii 


K>4p  vnajr  blood  with  lore,  t! 
irith  drinhing,  pick  oaiminee; 
Rmker'a  pen,  and  han^  me  ui 
brothfl-hoiue,  for  (be  UEn  of  b\ 
J).  Ptdn.  Well,  if  ever  thoi 
bith,  thou  wilt  prove  a  notable 
.£fliiL  If  I  do,  han^  me  in  a  b 
■hocil  at  me;  and  he  that  hifs  me,  in  imii  uc  <n^i)- 
p«d  OQ  (he  shoulder,  and  called  Adam.^ 

.D.  PtJn,.  Well,  11  time  shall  try  : 
a*   timt  Ou  lavagl  AuU  dalh  bear  Uu  ynke, 

J3ait.  The  Miage  bull  may;  but  if  evpr  Ibc 
aasnsihiE  Benedick  bear  it,  pluck  off  the  bull'!  hams, 
and  set  them  in  my  forehead  :  and  lei  me  he  vilely 
IMtisMed;  mid  in  such  great  leltera  a>  they  wntt, 
J^'Bw-t  i$  good  horxe  to  htrt,  let  them  signily  uikdi^r 
my  aifo, — Htrtt/aumai/tetBtnediditiemiirriid 

CSawl  IftfiiidioaldeverbappeDithouwould'si 
be  hom-imd. 

X>.  Pidm.  Nay,  if  Cupid  hare  iM  ^ipeilt  oil  his 

^a*«T  in  Venice,  Ihoa  unit  quake  lor  thia  ritunly. 

.Bene  I  look  for  an  earthquake  too  then. 

i>.  Pidro.  Well,  you  will  lemporile  with  the 

Yoan.    '     ■'  -     '  ■■—■-    "--   '■  • 


lam.  I  will  not  foil  him 

supper :  for,  indetd,  la- 

-Bbb.  I  have  abnost  matter  enoul*  in  mo  for 

■«hanemba».ge;an 

•olcommilyou— 

a«d.  To  (be  (uitioQ 

ofGodi  Frommy  house 

(if  I  had  il)— 

D.  Palro-    The  utb  of  Mr :   Your  lovini 

em>d.B<«edick. 

But.  Nay,  mock  not 

mock  not!  Theb-xlv-of 

rnrdisaMne  is  some 

«ne  guarded'  with  /rag 

l««BW,«rflh«g..ard. 
oo*aie«  you  6001  old 

are  but  slightly  balled  on 

ends  «,y  further,  ei^ine 

Ileaveyon.  [Eii(  Itene. 

'"osn^j^yo^ 

good. 

0)  tin  time  (oundad 

hish»..^w'm»yd„me 

to  call  off  the  dop, 

(3)  Girdle. 

but  huw, 
,ou  shal(  see  how  apt  it 
inl  leiiKin  (hat  may  dc  ' 


Clavd.  O,  my  lord, 

Wbf  n  1  ou  went  onward  oii  (his  ended  aciiai, 
I  loDk'J  upoi  herwith  a  soldier's  eye. 
Thai  lili'iCliut  had  a  rougher  laik  in  hand 
Thnn  lo  drive  liking  to  the  name  of  love ! 
Bui  now  I  am  reium'd,  and  tbal  war.thoughU 
HnvF  lift  Iheir  place)  vacant,  in  their  romp* 
Ciinie  ElironginsK^  and  delicate  desires. 
All  pruniplinEme  how  fair  joung  Hero  is, 

fj.  I'airo,  Thou  wiUbelikealoverpresentlj, 
.^nd  tirt'  Lhe  hearcrwith  B  book  of  noins : 
If  ihou  lion  love  fair  Hero.<:heri>h  it ; 
And  I  will  break  with  her,  and  with  herfalber. 
And  ihou  shall  have  ber !  Wa.'(  nu(  (a  this  end, 
Thai  Ihoa  begon'st  (0  twist  so  fine  a  3(015  ' 

Claud.  How  sweetly  do  rou  minister  lolove, 
ThB(  know  love's  ^ef  by  his  conipleniun  1 
llut  lejit  my  liking  might  too  suddcii  seem, 
I  would  tAve  aalt'd  ii  with  a  longer  tnaiise. 

D.  Pidro.  What  need  (be  bridge  much  bioader 
than  (be Rood? 
The  fairrst  grant  is  (he  necetsit)' : 
l^k,  whU  will  serve,  >9  £( :  tjs  once,'  (bou  lov'H ; 
And  I  will  fit  thee  with  'he  remedy. 


Lean.  How  now,  hiother  ?  where  is  my  cooaid, 
rour  iiin  I*    Haih  be  provided  this  music  > 

AnI.  He  is  very  busy  about  it  But,  brother,  I 
ran  (ill  you  s(rai^  news  that  you  yet  drcuued 

Ltvn.  Are  they  good  ? 

Ant.  As  the  event  stampa  them  \  but  (hey  ham 
igoodcover,(bev<how  welloutward.  The  princa 
lud  count  Claudio,  walking  in  a  (hick-pleachedT 

;iy  iuinuofmine;  The  prince  discovewd  10  Clau- 
Jio,  thai  be  loved  my  niece  yoor  daughter,  and 
-nr^int  lo  acknowledge  it  this  n%hl  in  a  dance; 
ind,  if  he  found  ber  accoidant,  be  meant  to  take 
Ll>e  present  time  by  (be  (op,  and  instandy  break 
mih  you  of  it 
iron.  Ha(h[hB fellow onywit, (hat (old vooftisf 
AnI.  .4  good  sharp  felloir :  I  will  send  for  him, 

"'iJijr'N^,no;C^llholdila.  a  dream,  till 
It  appears  itself: — ba(  I  will  acquaint  my  daughter 
iviihal,  that  die  may  be  (be  better  piepared  lor  an 
uuwer,  if  pendventure  (his  be  (rue.  Go  you,  and 
ikII  her  of  it  [Srvtni  ptrtmu  croa  Ou  •'^'l 
Cousinj,  you  know  wbal  ycai  haw  10  do. — 0,  I 
cry  jou  mercy,  friend ;  you  go  wi(h  me,  and  I 

(4)  I'he  nanw  c/ a  fiunous  archer.     (S)  Trimmed. 

[6)  One*  tot  all        (7)  Thickly  interwoven. 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  XOTHL\a 

muiiu,  bite  b  • 


SC£.V£  IJl—AiioOur  raom  in 
Enttr  Don  Joha  and  Ci 
Cm.  Whsllh 


ij  lord !  wbj  are  jou 


D.Jolin.  There  i<  no 

thar  breedi  ir,  Iherefore  (J: 

Om.  Vou  should  heu 

Z>.  JbAn.  And  nbeo 

blesjing  hringeUi 


Cm.  Yea,        . 
of  (his,  (ill  you  mBt  di 
YotihBKof  laUttDOd  < 
and  be  halh  Ui'ea  ; ou  newlj  into  hii  grace  l 
h  ii  impoTwble  you  should  lake  true  roolt  ^ 
Ibe  lair  nreaiher  (hat  you  nuka   younelf 
needful  dial  you  rrame  the  seaaon  Tor  you 

D.  John.  I  had  rather  be  a  cankei' : 
than  ■  TOW  in  hia  rrace ;  and  il  belter  fi 
to  he  diadaiiK-d  of  alt,  than  to  fa&biolt  a  carriAET' 
lo  rob  Iwe  Snm  any  :  in  ihia,  thou||;h  I  cannot  (x- 
■aid  10  he  a  flulterin^  honnt 


i>  bluud 


a  plain-dealing  ri 


rbised  » 


civ; ;  Iheivl 

Hvlhav 

e  decreed  not  to  linr  in  m\ 

<a-<:irn«dmrn. 

™ih.lw, 

...Idhileiifl  had 

roy  liberty, 

would 

do  my  1 

kins:  in  the  meaa 

time,  lei  me 

be  that 

Con,  Can 

ran  make  DO  u« 

rfyourdi^oolenl? 

D.Joltn. 

Imake 

alluKof 

1.  (or  I  u>e  it  :«ly 

Wbae«ne> 

hen?  Whalnewa 

Borachio?          ' 

Enter  Borach 

o. 

Bora.    Ic 
prince,  your 

b"V" 

derfroRi 
sro)ally 

great  .oriprriiSe 
enlerlainedLivLeo- 

nam ;  and 

ranp' 

elligtnce  of  'an  in- 

■l^ndrd  marr. 

D.  John. 

Wni  il  aeire  Ibr 

uiir  modi-l  10  build 

mi»:hiefoo 

What 

it  be  for 

foot,  Ihal  belnilhB 

binneir  to  u 

Bora.  M 

your  brother's  lithl  hiind. 

D.  John.  Who? 

l^m«<e 

iquiii(e  Claiidio  > 

Bo™.  E. 

nhe. 

D.  John. 

Aprope 

r  squire' 

Andwbo,and,vho. 

Sora,  Marry,  on  Hero,  the  daughtt 
of  Leonalo. 

D.  John,  A  tery  forward  March  cli 


'liipl  ntf  bcliiikd  the  arra? ;  i 


at  young  atan-uj 
(i!)  Flatter. 


adi  all  the  gloiT  of  mj  orerth 
im  any  iiay,  I  ble»  myaelT  ei 
oih  sure,  and  will  aaiiit  me  t 


Om.  To  lb 

D.  J-ihn.  Let  u>  id'  the  great  nipper ;  tbdr 
hi'i  i^>  <)ie  gteater,  that  I  am  subdued :  'Wmkl 
w.  conk  were  of  my  mind  !— Shall  ne  go  pnra 

Bora.  We'll  wait  upon  your  kiidihip.  [ExtlMl. 


ACT  II, 

SCfJVE  1.—J1  hall 


I.  In 


Leonalo's  hoiat.  EnUt 
»,  Ueatrice,  and  othtru 
John  bere  at  supper  f 


Bait.  Ilontanlylbatgenllemnn looks!  Id«ts 
in  »e  him,  but  1  am  heart-bunvd  an  hour  after. 
Htnt,  He  is  of  a  very  melancholy  dispoiiiioa. 
Bmt.  He  we«  an   excelk-nt  man,  ihal  aren 

w  like  an  imagr,  and  s»* 

er,  loo  like  myOady't  eldest 


ilhing ;  and  the  oil 
n,  eivrmore  tatilin 
Lam,  Then  half 


hoi  V  ui  sipiioi 
^1.  With 


signior  Benedick's  tongue  ■ 

,  and  half  couni  John's  laelai^ 

Benedick's  face,— 

good  fool,  DDda, 


the  worid,— if  be  could  gel  her 


Leon.  By  my  Intb,  ni 
liee  a  husband,  if  ihou  b< 
jjnl.  Inraith,sheisti 
Bril.  Too  curst  is  mo 
en  Ood't  sending  that  ■ 

Ijton.  So,  l^  being  lo 
iOhDnii. 
Rm[.  JusI,  if  he  send 


It,  God  will  aeDdyoa 
»  husband;  for  tbe 


ening:  Lord!  I  could  iKit  en 
abeaidoabisface;  I  had  n 


Lean,  You  may  light  upon  a  husband,  that  bath 

Bial.  What  should  1  do  with  him !  diess  him 
in  mv  apprel,  and  make  him  my  wailing  gentle- 
H'omuu  f    He  that  halh  a  beard,  is  mon^  than  a 


.  is  less  than 
^  I  will 


a  youth  is 


him.     Therefore. 

eametl  oflhr  bear-herd,  and  lead  his  apes  into  luJi. 

iron.  Well  then,  go  you  into  hell ,' 

Bcol,  Ho;  butioIlK  gnte;  and  there  will  the 
devil  mivl  me,  like-  an  old  cuckold,  wilh  honis  on 
hi- head,  and  say,  Gitynu  tohraitti,  Bcnlrict,grl 
ynii  lo  htaren ;  htri'l  no  place  for  yoa  nui</s .-  » 
di'liier  I  up  mv  apes,  and  awnv  lo  Saint  F.-Iit  for 
Ih'!  heai  ens ;  he  shows  me  wWre  ihr  b«i<  brio™ 
lit,  and  there  live  we  as  merry  as  die  dav  i^  loiie. 

A,^.  Well,  niece,  \To  Hero.)  I  tnist,'vou  will 
lie  lulcd  by  your  father. 

Bral,  res,  faith ;  it  i)  my  cousin's  duly  to  make 
eourlrsy,  and  say.  Falhrr,  at  il  pltatt  jnH . — bnl 


£3)  Dog-™ 


C4)S 


Semt  L 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHLNG. 


123 


Leon.  Well,  niece,  I  hope  to  see  you  one  day 
fitted  with  a  husband. 

Beat.  Not  till  God  make  men  of  sonoe  other 
metal  than  earth.  Would  it  not  grieve  a  woman 
to  be  over-mastered  with  a  piece  of  valiant  dust  ? 
to  make  an  account  of  her  life  to  a  clod  of  way- 
ward marl?  No,  uncle,  Pll  none:  Adam*8  mmis 
are  my  brethren ;  and  truly,  I  hold  it  a  sin  to  match 
in  my  kindred. 

Lion.  Daughter,  remember,  what  I  told  you : 
if  the  prince  ao  solicit  you  in  that  kind,  you  know 
your  answer. 

Beat.  The  fault  will  be  in  the  music,  cousin,  if 
you  be  not  woo*d  in  good  time  :  if  the  prince  be 
too  important,!  tell  hmi,  there  is  measure  in  even- 
thii^,  and  so  dance  out  the  answer.  For  hear  me. 
Hero;  wooing,  wedding,  and  repenting,  is  as  a 
Scotch  jig,  a  measure,  and  a  cinque-pace  :  the  first 
»tiit  is  hot  and  hasty,  like  a  Scotch  jig,  and  full  at> 
fiuitastical ;  the  wedding,  mannerly-modest,  as  a 
measuK  full  of  state  and  ancientry;  and  then 
comes  repentance,  and,  with  his  bad  legs,  falls  in- 
to the  cinque-pace  faster  and  faster,  till  he  sink 
bto  his  grave. 

Lean.  Cousin,  you  apprehend  passing  shrewdly. 

Beat  I  have  a  good  eye,  uiicle :  I  can  sec  a 
church  by  day-light 

Leon.  The  revellers  are  entering ;  brother,  make 
good  room. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  Benedick,  Balthazar : 
Don  John,  Borachio,  Mai^aret,  Ursula,  and 
oihertf  masked. 

D.  Pedro.  Lady,  will  you  walk  about  with  your 
friend  .^ 

Hero.  So  you  walk  softly,  and  look  sweetly,  and 
m  nothing,  I  am  yours  for  the  walk ;  and  espe- 
cially,  when  I  walk  away. 

D.  Pedro.  With  me  in  your  company  ^ 

Hero.  I  may  say  so,  when  I  please. 

JD.  Pedro.  And  when  please  you  to  say  so  f 

Hero.  When  I  like  your  favour :  for  God  de- 
feod,'  the  lute  should  be  like  the  case ! 

D.  Pedro.  My  visor  is  Philemon^s  roof;  within 
the  house  is  Jove. 

Hero.  Why,  then  your  visor  should  be  thatch*d. 

D.  Pedro.  Speak  low,  if  you  speak  love. 

\Takes  her  asiih. 

Bene.  Well,  I  would  you  did  like  me. 

Mta^.  So  would  not  I,  for  your  own  sake  ;  for 
I  We  manv  ill  qualities. 

Bene.  Which  is  one  ? 

Mtrg.  I  (My  my  prayers  aloud. 

Bene.  I  love  you  the  better ;  the  hearers  may 
cry  Amen. 

•^HofT.  God  match  me  with  a  good  dancer ! 

fioitt.  Amen. 

Mxrg.  And  God  keep  him  out  of  my  sight, 
'"^  the  dance  is  done  ! — Answer,  clerk. 

^A.  No  nK>re  words ;  the  clerk  is  answered. 

^^  I  know  you  well  enough ;  you  are  signior 
AnUnio. 

•^)(t  At  a  word,  I  am  not 

^n.  I  know  you  by  the  waggling  of  your  head. 

•^«<.  To  tell  you  true,  I  counterfeit  him. 

^n.  You  could  never  do  him  so  ill-well,  unless 
yoo  Were  the  very  man :  Here's  his  dry  hand  up 
™  <Wn  ;  you  are  he,  you  are  he. 

•^^'  At  a  wtffd,  I  am  not 

^  Come,  come ;  do  you  think  I  do  not  know 
r*  ^  your  excellent  wit.^  Can  virtue  hide  itself.? 

0)  Importunate.       (2)  Lover.      ^3)  Forbid. 

{*)  Incredible.    -       (5)  Accosted. 
9 


Go  to,  mum,  vou  are  he :  graces  will  appear,  and 
there's  an  end. 

Beat.  Will  you  not  lell  me  who  told  you  sa 

Bene.  No,  you  shall  pardon  me. 

Beat.  Nor  will  you  not  tell  me  who  you  are  ? 

Bene.  Not  now. 

Beat.  That  I  was  disdainful, — and  that  I  had  my 
good  wit  out  of  the  Hundred  merry  Tales  f — Wt  11, 
this  was  signior  Benedick  that  said  sa 

Bene.  What's  he  f 

Beat.  I  am  sure,  you  know  him  well  enough. 

Bene.  Not  I,  believe  me. 

Beat.  Did  he  never  make  you  laugh  ? 

Bene.  I  pray  you,  what  is  he  f 

Beat.  Why,  he  is  the  prince's  jester :  a  very 
dull  fool;  only  his  gift  is  m  devij^ing  inipo^isibiH 
slanders  :  none  but  libertines  delight  in  him  ;  and 
the  commendation  is  not  in  his  wit,  but  in  his  vi'- 
lany ;  for  he  both  pleaseth  men,  and  angers  thent, 
ana  then  they  laugh  at  him,  and  beat  him  :  I  am 
sure,  he  is  in  the  fleet ;  I  would  he  had  board .^d*  m<». 

Bene.  When  I  know  the  gentleman,  I'll  tell  him 
what  you  say. 

Beat.  Do,  do :  he'll  but  break  a  comparison  or 
two  on  me  ;  which  peradventure,  not  marked,  or 
not  laughed  at,  strikes  him  into  melancholy  ;  and 
then  there's  a  partridge's  wing  savrd,  for  the  fool 
will  eat  no  supper  that  night  [Music  witJtin.] 
We  must  follow  the  leaders. 

Bene.  In  every  good  thing. 

Beat.  Nay,  if  they  lead  to  any  ill,  I  will  leave 
them  at  the  next  turning. 

[Dance.     Then  exeunt  all  but  Don  Jo&in^ 

Borachio,  and  Claudio. 

D.  John.  Sure,  my  brother  is  amorous  on  Herc*^ 
and  hath  withdrawn  her  father  to  break  with  Wni 
about  it :  the  ladies  follow  her,  and  but  one  vi»(ir 
remains. 

Bora.  And  that  is  Claudio :  I  know  him  by  hia 
bcarinp.fl 

D.  John.  Are  not  you  si^nbr  Benedick .' 

Claud.  You  know  me  well ;  I  am  he. 

D.  John.  Signior,  you  are  very  near  my  brother 
in  his  love  :  he  is  enamoured  on  Hero ;  I  pray  you, 
dissuade  him  from  her,  she  is  no  equal  for  his  birth  : 
you  may  do  the  part  of  an  honest  man  in  it 

Clavd.  How  know  you  he  loves  her  } 

D.  John.  I  heard  him  swear  his  aflfection. 

Bora.  So  did  I  too;  and  he  swore  he  would 
marry  her  to-night 

D.  John.  Come,  let  us  to  the  banquet 

[Exeunt  Don  John  and  Borachia 

Claud.  Thus  answer  I  in  name  of  Benedick, 
But  hear  these  ill  news  with  the  ears  of  Claudia— 
'Tis  certain  so ; — the  prince  woos  for  himself. 
Friendship  is  constant  in  all  other  things, 
Save  in  the  office  and  affairs  of  love  : 
Therefore,  all  hearts  in  love  use  their  own  tongues ; 
Let  even*  eye  negotiate  for  itself. 
And  trust  no  agent :  for  beauty  is  a  witch. 
Against  whose  charms  fflith  melteth  into  blood.? 
This  is  an  accident  of  hourly  proof. 
Which  I  mistrusted  not :  Farewell  therefore,  Hero ! 

Re-enter  Benedick. 

Bene.  Count  Claudio  } 

Claud.  Yea,  the  same. 

Bene.  Come,  will  you  go  with  me.' 

Claud.  Whither.? 

Bene.  Even  to  the  next  willow,  about  your  own 
business,  coimt  What  fashion  will  you  wear  the 
garland  of.'     About  your  neck,  hke  a  usurer's 

(6)  Carriage,  demeanour.      (7)  Passion. 


124 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


Ada. 


chain  ?  or  under  your  arm,  like  a  lieutenant^s  scarf? 
You  must  wear  it  one  way,  for  the  prince  hath  got 
your  Hero. 

Claud.  I  wish  him  joy  of  her. 

Bene.  Why,  that's  snoken  like  an  honest  dro\'er; 
80  they  sell  bullocks.  But  did  you  think,  the  prince 
woula  have  ser\-ed  you  thus  ? 

Claud.  I  pray  you,  leave  me. 

Beru.  Ho !  now  you  strike  like  the  blind  man  ; 
*twa!^  the  boy  that  stole  your  meat,  and  youMl  beat 
the  post 

Claud.  If  it  will  not  be.  Til  leave  you.      [Exit 

Bene.  Alas,  poor  hurt  fowl !  No*v  will  he  creep 

into  sedi^es. But,  that  mv  lady  Beatrice  should 

know  me,  and  not  know  mel  The  prince's  fool  I — 
Ha  !  it  may  be,  I  go  under  that  title,  because  I  am 
merry. — Yea;  but  so;  I  am  apt  to  domy  self  wrong  : 
1  am  not  so  reputed :  it  is  the  base,  the  bitter  dis- 
position of  lieatrice,  that  puts  the  world  into  her 
person,  and  so  gives  me  out  Well,  I'll  be  re- 
▼enged  as  I  may. 

Re-enter  Don  Pedro,  Hero,  and  Leonato. 

D.  Pedro.  Now,  signior,  where's  the  count.' 
Did  you  see  him  ? 

Bene.  Troth,  my  lord,  I  have  played  the  part  of 
lady  Fame.  I  found  him  here  as  melancholy  as  a 
lodge  in  a  warren ;  I  told  him,  and,  I  think,  I  told 
him  true,  that  your  grace  had  got  the  good  will  of 
this  young  lady ;  and  I  offered  him  my  companj 
to  a  willow  tree,  either  to  make  him  a  garland,  as 
being  forsaken,  or  to  bind  him  up  a  rod,  as  being 
worthy  to  be  whipped. 

D.  Pedro.  To  be  whipped  !  What's  his  fault  ? 

Bene.  The  flat  transgression  of  a  school-boy ; 
who,  being  overjoy'd  with  finding  a  bird's  nest, 
shows  it  his  companion,  and  he  steals  it 

D.  Pedro.  Wilt  thou  make  a  trust  a  transgres- 
sioQ  ?  The  transgression  is  in  the  stealer. 

Bene.  Yet  it  had  not  been  amiss,  the  rod  had 
been  made,  and  the  garland  too ;  for  the  garland 
he  might  have  worn  himself;  and  the  rod  he  might 
have  bestow'd  on  you,  who,  as  1  take  it,  have  stol'n 
his  bird's  nest. 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  but  teach  them  to  sing,  and 
restore  them  to  the  owner. 

Bene.  If  their  singing  answer  your  saying,  by 
my  faith,  you  say  honestly. 

D.  Pedro.  The  lady  Beatrice  hath  a  quarrel  to 
you;  the  gentleman,  that  dimced  with  her,  told 
Ker,  she  is  much  wronged  by  you. 

Bene.  O,  she  misused  me  past  the  endurance  of 
a  block ;  an  oak,  but  with  one  green  leaf  on  it, 
would  have  answered  her ;  my  very  visor  began  to 
assume  life,  and  scold  with  her :  She  told  me,  not 
.thinking  I  had  been  myself,  that  I  was  tlie  prince's 
jester ;  that  I  was  duller  than  a  great  thaw ;  hud- 
dling jest  upon  jest,  with  such  impossible^  convey- 
ance, upon  me,  that  I  stood  like  a  man  at  a  mark, 
with  a  whole  army  shooting  at  me :  she  speaks 
poniards,  and  every  wdtd  stabs :  if  her  breath  wert' 
as  terrible  as  her  terminations,  there  were  no  living 
near  her,  she  would  infect  to  the  north  star.  1 
would  not  marry  her,  though  she  were  endowed 
with  all  that  Adam  had  left  him  before  he  trans- 
gressed :  she  would  have  made  Hercules  have 
turned  spit ;  yea,  and  have  cleft  his  club  to  make 
the  fire  too.  Come,  talk  not  of  her ;  you  shall  find 
her  the  infernal  Ate^  in  good  apparel.  I  would  to 
•  God,  some  scholar  would  conjure  her;  for,  cer- 
tainly, while  she  is  here,  a  man  may  live  as  quiet 


(1)  Inrrrdible. 

(2)  The  Goddess  of  Discord 


(3^  Interest. 


in  hell,  as  in  a  sanctuary ;  and  people  sin  upon 
purpose,  because  they  would  go  thither;  so,  indeed, 
all  disquiet,  horror,  and  perturbation  follow  her. 

Re-enter  Claudio  and  Beatrice. 

/).  Pedro.  Look,  here  she  comes. 
Bene.  Will  your  grace  command  me  any  service 
to  the  world's  end  ^  I  will  go  on  the  slightest  errand 
now  to  the  Antipodes,  that  you  can  devise  to  send 
me  on  ;  I  will  fetch  you  a  toothpicker  now  from  the 
farthest  inch  of  Asia;  bring  you  the  length  ol'Pres- 
ter  John's  foot ;  fetch  you  a  hair  otl"  the  great 
Cham's  beard ;  do  you  any  embassage  to  the  Pig- 
mies, rather  than  hold  three  words'  conference  wim 
this  harpy :  You  have  no  employment  for  me  ? 

D.  Pedro.  None,  but  to  desire  your  good  com- 
pany. 

Bene.  O  God,  sir,  here's  a  dish  I  love  not :  I  can- 
not endure  my  lady  Tongue.  [Exit 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  lady,  come ;  you  have  loathe 
heart  of  signior  Benedick. 

Beat.  Indeed,  my  lord,  he  lent  it  me  a  while;  and 
I  gave  him  use'  for  it,  a  double  heart  for  his  single 
one :  marry,  once  before,  he  won  it  of  me  with 
false  dice,  therefore  your  grace  may  well  say,  I 
have  lost  it. 

D.  Pedro.  You  have  put  him  down,  lady,  yon 
have  put  him  down. 

Beat.  So  I  would  not  he  should  do  me,  my  V}rd, 
lest  I  should  prove  the  mother  of  fools.  I  luive 
brought  count  Claudio,  whom  you  sent  me  to  seek. 

D.  Pedro.  Why,  how  now,  count.'  wherefore 
are  you  sad  ? 

Claud.  Not  sad,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  How  then  >  Sick .? 

Claud.  Neither,  m^*  lord. 

Beat.  The  count  is  neither  sad  nor  sick,  nor 
merry,  nor  well :  but  civil,  count ;  civil  as  an 
orange,  and  something  of  that  jealous  coroplexiun. 

D.  Pedro.  I'faith,  lady,  I  think  your  biaaon  to 
be  true ;  though  I'll  be  sworn,  if  he  be  so,  his  con- 
ceit is  false.  Here,  Claudio,  I  have  wooed  in  thy 
name,  and  fair  Hero  is  vtcxi ;  I  have  broke  with  her 
father,  and  his  good  will  obtained :  naaie  the  day 
of  marriage,  and  God  give  thee  joy ! 

Leon.  Count,  take  of  me  my  c(ai^hter,  and  with 
her  my  fortunes :  his  g^oe  hath  made  the  match, 
and  all  grace  say  Amen  to  it ! 

Beat.  Speak,  count,  'tis  your  cue* 

Claud.  Silence  is  the  perfectest  herald  of  joy :  I 
were  but  little  happy,  if  I  could  say  how  mucih. — 
Lady,  as  you  are  mine,  I  am  yours  :  I  give  away 
myself  for  you,  and  dote  upon  the  exchange. 

Beat.  Speak,  cousin ;  or  if  you  cannot,  stop  his 
mouth  with  a  kiss,  and  let  him  not  speak,  neitner. 

D.  Pedro.  In  faith,  lady,  you  have  a  merry  heart. 

Beat.  Yea,  my  lord ;  I  thank  it,  poor  fool,  it 
keeps  on  the  windy  side  of  care : — My  cousin  tells 
him  in  his  ear,  that  he  i«  in  her  heart 

Claud.  And  so  she  doth,  cousin. 

Beat.  Good  lord,  for  alliance ! — Thus  goes  eveiy 
one  to  the  world  but  I,  and  I  am  sun-burned ;  I  rotiT 
sit  in  a  comer,  and  cry,  heigh  ho !  for  a  husbana. 

D.  Pedro.  Lady  Beatrice,  I  will  get  you  one. 

Beat.  I  would  rather  have  one  of  vour  father's 
getting :  Hath  your  grace  ne'er  a  brother  like  you  ? 
Vour  father  got  excellent  husbands,  if  a  maid  could 
come  b\'  them. 

D.  Pedro.  Will  you  have  me^  lady  ? 

Beat.  No,  my  lord,  unless  I  might  have  another 
for  working-days : — ^your  grace  is  too  costly  to  wear 
every  day : — But,  I  beseech  your  grace,  pardra 

(4)  Tarn :  a  phrase  amcog  the  pUyen. 


Scene  n,  in. 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


125 


me ;  I  was  born  to  speak  all  mirth,  and  no  matter. 
Z>.  Pedro.  Your  silence  most  offends  me,  and  to 
be  merry  best  becomes  you ;  for,  out  of  question, 
you  were  bom  in  a  merry  hour. 

BetU.  No,  sure,  my  lord,  my  mother  cry'd ;  but 
then  there  was  a  star  danced,  and  under  that  waj$ 
1  bom. — Cousins,  God  give  you  joy ! 

Leon.  Niece,  will  you  look  to  those  things  I  told 
you  of? 

Beai.  I  ciy  you  mercy,  uncle. — By  your  grace's 

pardon.  [Exit  Beatrice. 

D.  Pedro.  By  my  troth,  a  pleasant-spirited  lady. 

Leon.  There's  little  of  the  melancholy  element 

in  her,  my  lord :  she  is  never  sad,  but  when  she 

sleeps ;  and  not  ever  sad  then ;  for  1  have  heard  my 

daughter  say,  she  hath  often  dreamed  of  unhappi- 

.    ne«s,  and  waked  herself  with  laughing. 

D.  Pedro.  She  cannot  endure  to  hear  tell  of  a 
husband. 

Leon.  O,  by  no  means ;  she  mocks  all  her  wooers 
(Mit  of  suit. 

D.  Pedro.  She  were  an  excellent  wife  for  Bene- 
dick. 

Leon.  O  Lord,  mv  lord,  if  they  were  but  aVeek 
married,  they  would  talk  themselves  mad. 

D.  Pedro.  Count  Claudio,  when  mean  you  to  go 
to  church  ? 

Qaud.  To-morrow,  my  lord:  Time  goes  on 
cratches,  till  love  have  all  his  rites. 

Leon.  Not  till  Monday,  my  dear  son,  which  is 
hence  a  just  seven-night ;  and  a  time  too  brief  too, 
to  have  all  things  answer  my  mind. 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  you  shake  the  head  at  so  long 
a  breathing ;  but,  I  warrant  thee,  Claudio,  the 
time  shall  not  go  dully  by  us  ;  I  will,  in  the  interim, 
undertake  one  of  Hercules'  labours ;  which  in,  to 
bring  signior  Benedick,  and  the  lady  Beatrice  into 
a  mountain  of  affection,  the  one  with  the  other.  I 
vrould  fain  have  it  a  match ;  and  I  doubt  not  but 
to  fadiioa  it,  if  you  three  will  but  minister  such  as- 
sistance as  I  shall  give  you  direction. 

Leon.  My  lord,  I  am  for  you,  though  it  cost  mc 
t«n  nights*  watchings. 
Qaud.  And  1,  my  lord. 
D.  Pedro.  And  you  too,  gentle  Hero  f 
Hero.  I  will  do  any  modest  office,  my  lord,  to 
.l%elp  my  cousin  to  a  good  husband. 

/>.  Pedro.  And  Benedick  is  not  the  unhopefullest 
ilosband  that  I  know :  thus  far  can  I  praise  him ; 
ll«  is  of  a  noble  strain,^  of  approved  valour,  and 
ccofirmed  honesty.  I  will  teach  you  how  to  hu- 
txnr  your  cousin,  that  she  shall  fall  in  love  with 
fiowdfick : — and  I,  with  your  two  helps,  will  so 
practise  on  Benedick,  that,  in  despite  of  his  quick 
'^^K  and  his  quea^^  stomach,  he  shall  fall  in  love 
i^th  Beatrice.  If  we  can  do  this,  Cupid  is  no 
longer  an  archer ;  his  glory  shall  be  ours,  for  we 
^re  the  only  love-gods.  Go  in  with  me,  and  I  will 
tell  you  my  drift.  [Exeunt. 

StJEA'E  II. — Another  room  in  Leonato's  house. 
Enter  Don  John  tuid  Borachio. 

D.  John.  It  is  so;  the  count  Claudio  shall  marr}' 
the  daughter  of  Leonata 

Bora.  Yea,  my  lord ;  but  I  can  cross  it 
D.  John.  Any  bar,  any  crotss,  any  Impediment 
will  be  medicinable  to  me  :  I  am  sick  in  displea- 
sure to  him ;  and  whatsoever  comes  athwart  his  af- 
fcctkn,  raiq^es  evenly  with  mine.   How  canst  thou 
CRM^  marriage? 

Bora.  Not  honesdy,  my  lord ;  but  so  covertly 
^  no  dishonesty  shall  appear  in  me. 

(1)  Lineage.     (2)  Fastidious.      (3^  Pretend. 


D.  John.  Show  me  briefly  how. 

Bora.  I  think,  I  told  your  lordship,  a  year  since, 
how  much  I  am  in  the  favour  oi  Margaret,  the 
waiting  gentlewoman  to  Hero. 

L.  John.  I  remember. 

Bora.  1  can,  at  any  unseasonable  instant  of  the 
night,  appoint  her  to  look  out  at  her  lady's  cham- 
ber-window. 

D.  John.  What  life  is  in  that,  ^o  be  the  death  of 
this  marriage  ? 

Bora,  "the  poison  of  that  lies  in  you  to  temper. 
Go  vou  to  the  prince  yq^r  brother :  spare  not  to 
tell  him,  that  he  hath  wronged  his  honour  in  mar- 
rying the  renowned  Claudio  (whose  estimation  do 
you  mightily  hold  up)  to  a  contaminated  stale,  such 
a  one  as  Hero. 

D.  John.  What  proof  shall  I  make  of  that  ? 

Bora.  Proof  enough  to  misvae  the  prince,  to  ve\ 
Claudio,  to  undo  Hero,  and  kfllLeonato :  look  you 
for  any  other  issue  ? 

D.  John.  Only  to  despite  them,  I  will  endeavour 
any  thing. 

Bora.  Go  then,  find  me  a  meet  hour  to  draw 
Don  Pedro  and  the  count  Claudio,  alone :  tell  them, 
that  you  know  that  Hero  loves  me ;  intend'  a  kind 
of  zeal  both  to  the  prince  and  Claudio,  as — in  love 
of  your  brother's  honour  who  hadi  made  this  match ; 
and  his  friend's  reputatkxi,  who  is  dius  like  to  be 
cozened  with  the  semblance  <^  a  maid, — ihat  you 
have  discovered  thus.  They  will  scarcely  belipTc 
this  without  trial :  offer  thiem  iastances;  which 
shall  bear  no  less  likelihood,  than  to  see  me  at  her 
chamber-window  ;  hear  me  call  Marsaret,  Hero ; 
hear  Margaret  term  me  Borachio;  and  bring  ^m 
(o  see  this,  the  ver>'  night  before  the  intended  wed- 
ding :  for,  in  the  mean  time,  I  will  so  fashion  the 
matter,  that  Hero  shall  be  absent ;  and  there  shall 
appear  such  seeming  truth  of  Hero's  disloyalty, 
that  jealousy  shall  be  call'd  assurance,  and  all  the 
preparation  overthrown. 

Z).  John.  Grow  this  to  what  adverse  issue  it  can, 
I  will  put  it  in  practice  :  Be  cunning  in  the  work- 
ing this,  and  thy  fee  is  a  thousand  ducats. 

Bora.  Be  vou  constant  in  the  accusation,  and 
my  cunning  shall  not  shame  me. 

D.  John.  1  will  presendy  go  learn  their  day  of 
marriage.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^^E  ///.— Leonato*8  Garden.  Enter  Bene- 
dick and  a  Boy. 

Bene.  Boy, — 

Boy.  Signior. 

Bene.  In  my  chamber-window  lies  a  book ;  bring 
it  hither  to  me  in  the  orchard. 

Boy.  I  am  here  already,  sir. 

Bene.  I  know  that; — ^but  I  would  have  thee 
hence,  and  here  again.  [Exit  Boy.] — I  do  much 
wonder,  that  one  man,  seeing  how  much  another 
man  is  a  fool  when  he  dedicates  his  behaviours  to 
love,  will,  aAer  he  hath  laughed  at  such  shallow 
folIie»  in  others,  become  the  argument  of  hi.**  own 
sconi,  by  falling  in  love  :  and  such  a  man  is  Clau- 
dio. I  have  known,  when  there  was  no  music  with 
him  but  the  drum  and  fife,  and  now  had  he  rather 
hear  the  tabor  and  the  pipe :  I  have  known,  when 
he  would  have  walked  ten  mile  afoot,  to  sec  a  good 
armour ;  and  now  will  he  lie  ten  nights  awake, 
carving  the  fashion  of  a  new  doublet.  He  was 
wont  to  speak  plain,  and  to  the  purpose,  like  an 
honest  man,  and  a  soldier ;  and  now  is  he  tum'd  or- 
thographer ;  his  words  are  a  very  fantastical  ban- 
quet, ju«t  so  many  strange  dishes.  May  1  be  so 
converted,  and  see  with  these  eyes?  I  cannot  tell: 
I  think  not:   I  will  not  be  swora,  but  lo\e  may 


\u 


MLCH  ADO  ABOLT  NOTHLXG. 


Ad  !l 


transform  me  to  an  ovster;  but  IMl  take  my  oath 
<iii  it,  till  he  have  made  an  oyster  of  me,  be  shall 
never  make  mc  such  a  fool.  One  woman  is  fair ; 
\  et  I  am  well :  another  is  wise ;  vet  I  am  well  : 
unother  virtuous ;  yet  I  am  well :  but  till  all  graces 
l)e  in  one  woman,  one  woman  shall  not  come  in  my 
^racf.  Rich  she  shall  be,  that's  certain  ;  wise,  or 
I'll  none ;  virtuous,  or  I'll  never  cheapen  her ;  fair, 
(ir  I'll  never  look  on  her ;  mild,  or  come  not  near 
me ;  noble,  or  not  1  for  an  angel ;  of  good  dis- 
course, an  excellent  musician,  and  h^r  hair  shall 
be  of  what  colour  it  pfease  God.  Ha !  the  prince 
and  monsieur  Love  !  I  will  hide  me  in  the  arbour. 

[IVithdravDS. 

Enter  Don  Pedro,  Leonato,  and  Claudio. 

D.  Pedro.  Come,  shall  we  hear  this  music } 
Claud,    Yea,  my  good  lord  : — How  still  the 
evening  is, 
As  hush'd  on  purpose  to  grace  harmony ! 
D.  Pedro.  See  you  where  Benedick  hath  hid 

himself? 
Claud.  O,  verv  well,  my  lord :  the  music  ended, 
We'll  fit  the  kia-fox*  with  a  penny-worth. 

EnUr  Btlthazar,  vsith  music. 

D.  P«ft^.    Come,  Balthazar,  we'll  hear  that 
Bonganin. 

Balth.  O  gooa  my  lord,  tax  not  so  bad  a  voice 
To  slander  music  any  more  than  once. 

D.  Pedro.  It  is  the  witness  still  of  excellency, 
To  put  a  strango  &ce  on  his  own  perfection  : — 
I  pray  thee,  sing,  and  let  me  woo  no  more. 

Baltk.  Because  you  talk  of  wooing,  I  will  sing: 
Since  many  a  wooer  doth  commence  his  suit 
To  her  be  thinks  not  worthy ;  yet  he  woos ; 
Yet  will  he  swear,  he  loves. 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  pray  thee,  come  : 

Or,  if  thou  wilt  hold  longer  argument, 
Do  it  in  notes. 

Balth.  Note  this  before  my  notes. 

There's  not  a  note  of  mine  that's  worth  the  notin?:. 

D.  Pedro.  Why,  these  are  very  crotchets  that  Im* 
speaks ; 
Note,  note,  forsooth,  and  noting !  [J^Iusic. 

Rene.  Now,  Divine  air!  now  is  his  soul  ravish- 
ed I — Is  it  not  strange,  that  sheep's  guts  should  hale 
souls  out  of  men's  bodies  } — Well,  a  horn  for  my 
money,  when  all's  done. 

Balthazar  sing$. 

I. 

Balth.  Sigh  no  more^  ladies,  sigh  no  more. 
Men  were  deceivers  ever ; 
One  foot  in  sea,  and  one  on  shore  j 
2*0  one  thing  constant  never  : 
Then  sigh  not  so, 
But  lei  them  go. 
And  be  you  blith  and  bonny  ; 
Converting  all  your  sounds  of  wo 
Into,  Hey  nonny,  nonny. 

II. 

Sing  no  more  ditties,  sing  no  mo^ 
Of  dumps  so  dull  and  heavy ; 

The  fraud  of  men  was  ever  so. 
Since  summer  frst  was  Uaoy. 
Then  sigh  not  so,  ^c. 

D.  Pedro.  By  my  troth,  a  good  song. 
Balth.  And  an  ill  sir^er,  my  lord. 
D.  Pedro.  Ha  ^  no ;  no,  faith ;  thousingest  well 
enough  for  a  shiA. 


[1)  Young  or  cub-fox 


(2)  Longer. 


Bene.  [Asidc.'l  An  he  had  be<^n  a  dc^,  that 
nhould  have  howled  thus,  they  would  ha\  c  hangni 
him :  and  I  pray  God,  his  bad  voice  bode  no  nii^- 
iliief!  1  han  as»  lief  have  heard  the  nigbt-raMU, 
come  what  plague  could  have  come  after  it. 

D.  Pedro.  Yea,  many  ;  [To  Claudia] — Dost 
thou  hear,  Balthazar  .'*  I  pray  theo,  get  us  some  ex- 
cellent music ;  for  to-morrow  nipht  we  would  have 
it  at  the  ladv  Hero's  chamb«?r-w  indow. 

Balth.  I'he  bes-t  I  can,  my  lord. 

D.Pedro.  Do  so:  farewell.  [£xn/n<  Balthazar 
anil  mujtic]  Come  hither,  Leonato ;  What  wa>  it 
>ou  told  me  of  to-day.^  that  your  niece  Beatrice 
was  in  love  with  sijii»ior  Benedick  ? 

Claud.  O,  av  : — Stalk  on,  stalk  on ;  the  fowl  sitK 
[Aside  to  Pedro.l  I  did  never  think  that  lady 
would  have  loved  any  man. 

Leon.  No,  nor  I  neither;  but  most  wonderful, 
that  hhe  should  so  dote  on  signior  Benedick,  whcr.i 
>he  hath  in  all  outward  behaviours  seenK^dever  to 
abhor. 

Bene.  Is't  possible  ?  Sits  the  wind  in  that  conier  ? 

lAi-ide. 

Ijeon.  By  mv  troth,  my  lord,  I  cannot  tell  what 
to  think  of  it ;  but  tliat  she  loves  him  with  an  eti- 
raged  affection, — it  is  past  the  infinite  of  thoi:^}.t.* 

D.  Pedro.  May  be,  she  doth  but  counterfeit. 

Claud.  'Faith,  like  enough. 

Leon.  O  God  !  counterfeit !  There  never  was 
counterfeit  of  passion  came  so  near  the  life  of  pas- 
>i(>n,  as  she  discovers  it 

D.  Pedro.  Why,  what  eflfects  of  passion  show?  «hfc* 

Claud.  Bait  the  hook  well ;  this  fish  will  biif . 

[A^iile. 

Leon.  Wbat  effects,  my  lord !  She  will  sit  you, — 
You  heard  my  daughter  tell  you  how. 

Claud.  She  did  indeed. 

i>.  Pedro.  How,  how,  I  pray  you  ?  You  ann*z<> 
me  ;  I  would  have  thought  her  spirit  had  been  ii;- 
vinrible  against  all  assaults  of  atlection. 

Leon.  I  would  have  sworn  it  had,  my  lord ;  r«'f4'- 
cially  against  Benedick. 

Jifne.  [Aside.]  I  should  think  this  a  gull,  but 
i!v.\t  the  white-bearded  fellow  s{)eaks  it :  kuaveti 
cannot,  sure,  hide  itself  in  such  reverence. 

Claud.  He  hath  ta'cn  the  infection  ;  hold  it  up. 

[Aside. 

D.  Pedro.  Hath  she  made  her  affection  known  to 
Benedick  ? 

Lion.  No;  and  swears  she  never  will:  that's 
her  torment. 

Claud.  'Tis  true,  indeed;  so  your  daugbiei 
•^ays :  Shall  I,  says  she,  that  have  so  ift  fncoi.n- 
/f/-V  him  icith  scorn,  unite  to  him  that  J  love  him  .* 

Ijeon.  Thit  says  she  now  when  she  is  begimiiii;; 
lo  wiile  to  him:  for  she'll  be  up  twenty  times  a 
iu;rht  ;  and  there  will  she  sit  in  her  smock,  till  j4i;' 
have  writ  a  sheet  of  paper: — my  daughter  telU 
us  all. 

Claud.  Now  you  talk  of  a  sheet  of  paper,  remem- 
ber a  preltv  jest  vour  daughter  told  us  of 

l^on.  0! — \Vhen  she  had  writ  it,  and  was 
readinir  it  over,  she  found  Benedick  and  Beatrice 
Ixlu^^n  the  sheet.'' — 

Claud.  That. 

Ixon.  O!  she  tore  the  letter  into  a  thousait«l 
half-pence  ;  railed  at  herself,  that  she  should  lie  <o 
immode«>t  to  write  to  one  that  she  knew  would  tUnit 
her :  /  measure  him,  says  she,  by  mv  own  spirit , 
for  I  should  flout  him,  \f  he  writ  to  me ;  yen^ 
though  I  love  nim,  I  should. 

Claud.   Then  down  upon  her  knees  she  falls, 

(3)  Beyond  the  power  of  thought  to  conceive. 


Scene  III 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHIXa 


127 


weeps,  9ob«,  beats  her  heart,  tears  her  hair,  prays, 
curses  :—0  neat  Benedick  !  God  give  me  patience .' 
Ijecn.  She  doth  indeed  ;  my  daughter  says  so : 
and  the  ecstasy  >  hath  so  much  overborne  her,  that 
my  daughter  is  sometime  afraid  she  will  do  a  des- 
perate outrage  to  herself;  It  is  very  true. 

D.  Pedro.  It  were  good  that  Benedick  knew  of 
it  bv  tome  other,  if  she  will  not  di^over  it 

Claud.  To  what  end  ?     He  would  make  but  a 
sport  of  it,  and  torment  the  poor  lady  worse. 

D,  Pedro.  An  he  should,  it  were  an  alms  to  hang 
him :  she's  an  excellent  sweet  lady  ;  and,  out  of  aU 
sospicioo,  she  is  virtuous. 
Claud.  And  she  is  exceeding  wise. 
D.  Pedro.  In  every  thing,  but  in  lovine  Benedick. 
Leon,  O  my  lord,  wisdom  and  blood  combr.ting 
in  so  tender  a  body,  we  have  ten  proofs  to  one,  that 
blood  hath  the  victory.  I  am  sorry  for  her,  as  I  have 
just  cause,  being  her  uncle  and  her  guardian. 

D.  Pedro.  I  would  she  had  bestowed  this  dotage 
00  roe ;  I  would  have  daffM^  all  other  respects,  and 
made  her  half  myself:  I  pray  you,  tell  Benedick 
of  it,  and  bear  whiat  he  will  say. 
Leon.  Were  it  ^ood,  think  you  ? 
Claud.  Hero  thinks  surely,  she  will  die :  for  she 
flays,  she  will  die  if  he  love  her  not ;  and  she  will 
die  ere  d\e  makes  her  love  known  :  and  she  will 
die  if  be   woo  her,  rather  than  she  will  *bate  one 
breath  of  her  accustomed  crossness. 

D.  Pedro.  She  doth  well :  if  she  should  make  ten- 
der of  her  love,  *tis  very  possible  he'll  scorn  it;  for 
the  man,  as  you  know  all,  hath  a  con temptible^  spirit. 
Claud.  He  is  a  very  proper*  man. 
D.  Pedro.   He  hath,  indeed,  a  good  outward 
happtneas. 
Ckaud.  Tore  God,  and  in  my  mind,  very  wise. 
D.  Pedro.  He  doth,  indeed,  show  some  sparks 
(hat  are  like  wit 

Xjeon.  And  I  take  him  to  be  valiant 

Z).  Pedro.  As  Hector,  I  assure  you :  and  in  the 

managing  of  ouarrels  you  may  sav  he  is  wise ;  for 

either  he  avoios  them  with  great  discretion,  or  un- 

ciertakes  them  with  a  most  Christian-like  fear. 

JLeon.  If  he  do  fear  God,  he  mu»t  neces^iarily 


ke«rp  peace ;  if  he  brenk  the  peace,  he  ought  to 
enter  into  a  quarrel  with  fear  and  trembling. 

D.  Pedro.  And  so  will  he  do ;  for  the  man  doth 
fear  God,  howsoever  it  seems  not  in  him,  by  some 
I^J^ge  jerta  be  will  make.  Well,  I  am  8orr>'  for 
TCMir  niece :  ^all  we  go  see  Benedick,  and  tell 
Dun  of  her  love  ^ 

CSoicff.  Never  tell  him,  my  lord ;  let  her  wear  it 
out  with  good  counsel. 

L^mn.  Nay,  that's  impossible ;  she  may  wear  her 
beart  out  first 

D.  Pedro.  Well,  we'll  hear  further  of  it  by  your 

c^urhter;  let  it  cool  the  while.     I  lo\e  Benedick 

well ;  and  I  could  wish  he  would  modestly  examine 

hinitelf^  to  tee  how  much  he  is  unworthy  so  good  a 

Itdv. 

Ltan.  Mv  lord,  will  you  walk  ?  dinner  is  ready. 

Gaud,  if  be  do  not  ^ote  on  her  upon  this,  I  will 

nfver  trust  my  expectation.  [Axide. 

■D.  Pedro.  Let  there  be  the  same  net  spread  for 

her;  wad  that  must  your  daughter  and  her  gentlo- 

''waan  carry.     The'  sport  will  be,  when  they  hold 

ooe  an  opinion  of  another's  dotage,  and  no  such 

™tter;  thatS  the  scene  that  I  would  see,  which 

will  be  merely  a  dumb  show.    Let  us  send  her  to 

<^1  him  in  to  dinner.  [Aside. 

[Exeunt  Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  and  Leonato. 


Benedick  advancet/rom  above. 

Bene.  This  can  be  no  trick :  the  conference  \vh% 
sadly  bome.fi — They  have  the  truth  of  this  ixkah 
Hera     They  seem  to  pity  the  lady ;   it  aecmss  hf  r 
atfoctions  have  their  full  bent     Love  me  !  win ,  it 
must  be  requited.  I  hear  how  I  am  censured :  ih^y 
*.ay,  I  will  bear  myself  proudly,  iC  I  perceive  tli»i 
luve  come  from  her;  they  say  too,  that  she  wwi 
rather  die  than  give  any  sign  of  affection. — I  dK< 
never  think  to  marry  : — -I  must  not  seem  proud  : — 
Happy  are  they  that  hear  their  detraction»t  and 
can  put  them  to  mending.     They  say,  the  ladv  is 
fair ;  'tis  a  truth,  I  can  b^r  them  witness :  and  vir- 
tuous ; — 'tis  so,  I  cannot  reprove  it ;  and  wi>e,  but 
for  loving  me : — By  my  troth,  it  is  no  addition  to  her 
wit ; — nor  no  great  argument  of  her  folly,  for  I  will 
be  horribly  in  love  with  her. — I  may  chance  ha\  e 
some  odd  quirks  and  renuiants  of  wit  broken  on 
me,  because  I  have  railed  so  long  against  mar- 
riage : — But  doth  not  the  appetite  alter  ^  A  man 
loves  the  meat  in  his  youth,  that  he  cannot  endiirt: 
in  his  age :  ^all  quips,  and  sentences,  and  then* 
{)aper  bullets  of  the  brain,  awe  a  man  from  the  ca- 
reer of  his  humour.'  No:  the  world  must  bo  peonled. 
When  I  said,  I  would  die  a  bachelor,  I  did  not 
think  I  should  live  till  I  were  married.—Here  comr  s 
Beatrice  :  By  this  day,  she's  a  &ir  lady :  I  do  >py 
some  marks  of  love  in  her. 

Enter  Beatrice. 

Beat.  Against  my  will,  I  am  sent  to  bid  ynu 
come  in  to  dinner. 

Bene.  Fair  Beatrice,  I  thank  you  for  vour  pains. 

Beat.  I  took  no  more  pains  for  those  thanks,  tlian 
you  take  pains  to  thank  roe ;  if  it  had  been  painful, 
I  would  not  have  come. 

Bene.  You  take  pleasure  in  the  message  ? 

Beat.  Yea,  just  so  much  as  you  may  take  upon  a 
knife's  point,  and  choke  a  daw  withal: — You  have 
no  stomach,  signior:  fare  you  well.  [Erit. 

Bene.  Ha !  Against  my  will  I  am  sent  to  bid 
Ifou  come  to  dinner — there's  a  double  meaning  in 
that.  /  took  no  more  pains  for  those  thanks^  than 
yoti  took  pains  to  thank  me — that's  as  much  as  to 
•«iy,  Any  pains  that  I  ti'ko  for  you  is  as  ea«»y  as 
thanks : — If  I  do  not  take  pity  of  her,  I  am  a  vil- 
lain ;  if  I  do  not  love  her,  1  am  a  Jew :  I  will  go 
get  her  picture.  [Exit. 


ACT  in. 


Hero, 


0)  Alienation  of  mind. 
3)  ContempCiious.        (4) 


(2)  Thrown  off. 
Handsome. 


SCEyE  /.—Leonato's  Garden.     Enter 
Margaret,  and  Ursula. 

Hero.  Good  Margaret,  run  thee  into  the  parlour; 
There  shalt  thou  find  my  cousin  Beatrice 
Proposing^^  with  the  prince  and  Claudio : 
Whisper  her  ear,  and  tell  her,  I  and  Ursula 
Walk  in  the  orchard,  and  our  whole  discourse 
1 9  all  of  her;  say,  that  thou  overheard'st  us ; 
And  bid  her  steal  into  the  pleached  bower, 
Where  honey-suckles,  ripen'd  by  the  sun. 
Forbid  the  sun  to  enter ; — like  ravouriten, 
Made  proud  by  princes,  that  advance  their  pride 
Against  that  power  that  bred  it : — tlicre  will  she 

hide  her. 
To  listen  our  propose  :  this  is  thy  office^ 
Bear  thee  well  in  it,  and  leave  us  alone. 

Jiarg.  I'll  make  her  come,  I  warrant  ycu.  pre- 
sently. [Exit 

(5)  Seriouhly  carried  on.      (6)  Discoursing. 


228 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


Act  ni 


Hero.  Now,  Ursula,  when  Beatrice  doth  come, 
As  we  do  trace  this  alley  up  and  down, 
Our  talk  must  only  be  of  Benedick  : 
When  I  do  name  him,  let  it  be  thy  part 
To  praise  him  more  than  ever  man  did  merit : 
My  talk  to  thee  must  be,  how  Benedick 
Is  sick  in  love  with  Beatrice :  of  this  matter 
Is  little  Cupid's  crafty  arrow  made, 
That  only  wounds  by  hearsay.     Now  begin ; 

Enter  Beatrice,  behind. 

For  look  where  Beatrice,  like  a  lapwing,  runs 
Close  by  the  ground,  to  bear  our  conference. 

Urs.  The  pleasant^st  angling  is  to  see  the  fish 
Cut  with  her  golden  oars  the  silver  stream, 
And  greedily  devour  the  treacherous  bail : 
So  angle  we  for  Beatrice ;  who  even  now 
Is  couched  in  the  woodbine  coverture ; 
Fear  you  not  my  part  of  the  dialosrue. 

Hero.  Then  go  we  near  her,  that  her  ear  lose 
notliing 
Of  the  false  sweet  bait  that  we  lay  for  it — 

[They  advance  to  the  bower. 
No,  truly,  Ursula,  she  is  too  dii«dainful ; 
I  know,  her  spirits  are  as  coy  and  wild 
As  hazards  of  the  rock.^ 

Urs.  But  are  you  sure. 

That  Benedick  loves  Beatrice  so  entirely  ? 

Hero.  So  says  the  prince,  and  my  new-trothed 
lord. 

Urs.  A  nd  did  they  bid  you  tell  her  of  it,  madam  ? 

Hero.  They  did  entreat  me  to  acquaint  her  of  it : 
But  I  persuaded  them,  if  they  lov*d  Benedick, 
To  wish  him  wrestle  with  aaection. 
And  never  to  let  Beatrice  know  of  it. 

Urs.  Why  did  you  so  ?  Doth  not  the  gentleman 
Deserve  as  mil,  as  fortunate  a  bed. 
As  ever  Beatrice  shall  couch  upon  f 

Hero.  O  god  of  love  !  I  know,  he  doth  deserve 
As  much  as  may  be  yielded  to  a  man  : 
But  nature  never  framM  a  woman's  heart 
Of  prouder  stuiT  than  that  of  Beatrice  : 
Disaain  and  scorn  ride  sparkling  in  her  eyes, 
Misprising^  what  thev  look  on  ;  and  her  wit 
Values  itself  so  highly,  that  to  her 
All  matter  else  seenw  weak  :  she  cannot  love. 
Nor  take  no  shape  nor  project  of  affection, 
She  is  so  self-endeared. 

Urs.  Sure,  I  think  so ; 

And  therefore,  certainly,  it  were  not  good 
She  knew  his  love,  lest  she  make  sport  at  it. 

Hero.  Why,  you  speak  truth:  I  never  yet  saw  man. 
How  wise,  how  noble,  young,  how  rarely  featurM, 
But  she  would  spell  him  backward :  if  fair-facM, 
She'd  swear,  the  gentleman  should  be  her  sister  5 
If  black,  why,  nature,  drawing  of  an  antic. 
Made  a  foul  blot :  if  tall,  a  lance  ill-headed  ; 
If  low,  an  agate  very  vilely  cut : 
If  speaking,  why,  a  vane  blown  with  all  winds : 
If  silent,  why,  a  block  moved  with  none. 
So  turns  she  every  man  the  wrong  side  out ; 
And  never  gives  to  truth  and  virtue,  that 
Which  sirapleness  and  merit  purchaseth. 

Urs.  Sure,  sure,  such  carping  is  not  commendable. 

Hero.  No :  not  to  be  so  odd,  and  from  all  fashions, 
As  Beatrice  is,  cannot  be  commendable : 
But  who  dare  tell  her  so.-*  If  I  should  speak. 
She'd  mock  me  into  air ;  O,  she  would  laugh  me 
Out  of  myself,  press  me  to  death  with  wit 
Therefore  let  Benedick,  like  cover'd  fire. 
Consume  away  in  sighs,  waste  inwardly  : 

(1)  A  species  of  hawk.        (2)  Undervaluing. 
^3,  Ready.  (4)  Conversation. 


It  were  a  better  death  than  die  with  mocks ; 
Which  is  as  bad  as  die  with  tickling. 

Urs.  Yet  tell  her  of  it ;  hear  what  she  will  say. 

Hero.  No;  rather  I  will  go  to  Benedick, 
A  nd  counsel  him  to  fight  against  his  passion  : 
And,  truly,  I'll  devise  some  honest  slanders 
Tu  stain  my  cousin  with  :  one  doth  not  know, 
How  much  an  ill  word  may  empoison  liking. 

Urs.  O,  do  not  do  your  cousin  such  a  wrong. 
She  cannot  be  so  much  without  true  judgment 
(Having  so  swift^  and  e&cellent  a  wit. 
As  she  IS  priz'd  to  have,)  as  to  refuse 
So  rare  a  gentleman  as  signior  Benedick. 

Hero.  He  is  the  only  man  in  Italy, 
Always  excepted  mv  dear  Claudio. 

Urs.  I  pray  you,  be  not  angiy  with  me,  madam. 
Speaking  mv  fancy  ;  signior  Benedick, 
For  shape,  for  bearing,  argumeut,^  and  valoar, 
Goes  foremost  in  report  through  Italy. 

Hero.  Indeed,  he  hath  an  excellent  good  name. 

Urs.  His  excellence  did  earn  it,  ere  he  had  it — 
When  are  vou  married,  madam  .* 

Hero.  \Vhy,  every  day ; — to-morrow :  come,  go 
in; 
I'll  show  thee  some  attires;  and  have  thy  counsel, 
Which  is  the  best  to  furnish  me  to-morrow. 

Urs.    She's  lim'd,*   1   warrant  you;  we  have 
caught  her,  madam. 

Hero.  If  it  prove  so,  then  loving  goes  by  baps  : 
Some  Cupid  kills  with  arrows,  some  with  traps. 

[Exeitni  Hero  tmd  Ursula. 

Beatrice  advances. 

Beat.  WTiat  fire  is  in  mine  ears  ?  Can  this  be  true.' 

Stand  I  condemned  for  pride  and  scorn  so  much .' 
Contempt,  farewell !  and  maiden  pride,  adieu  ! 

No  glorj'  lives  behind  the  back  of  such. 
And,  Benedick,  love  on,  I  will  requite  thee ; 

Taming  my  wild  heart  to  thy  loving  hand  ; 
If  thou  dost  love,  my  kindness  shall  incite  thee 

To  bind  our  loves  up  in  a  holy  band  : 
For  others  say,  thou  dost  deser>e  ;  and  I 
Belie\'e  it  better  than  reportingly.  f£jrf/. 

SCE^E  //. — A  room  in  Leonato's  hotise.  En- 
ter Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  Benedick,  and  Leonalo. 

D.  Pedro.  I  do  but  stay  till  your  marriage  be 
consummate,  and  then  I  go  toward  Arras:Yjn. 

Ciavd.  I'll  bring  you  thither,  my  lord,  if  you'll 
vouchsafe  me. 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  that  would  be  as  great  n  «mI  in 
ilio  new  gloss  of  your  marriage,  as  to  show  n  child 
I  his  new  coat,  and  forbid  him  to  wear  it.  I  will  only 
be  bold  with  Benedick  for  his  company ;  for,  frt.m 
(ho  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  ft>ot,  he  is 
all  mirth  ;  he  hath  twice  or  thrice  cut  Cupid's  bow- 
>M-ing,  and  the  little  hangman  dares  not  shoot  at 
liin:  he  hath  a  heart  as  sound  as  a  bell,  and  \\m, 
foriiiue  is  the  clapper ;  for  what  his  heart  thinks,  his 
lonjTue  speak.?. 

Bene.  Gallant%  I  am  not  as  I  have  been. 

Ijeon.  So  say  I ;  methinks,  you  are  sadder. 

Claud.  I  hope,  he  be  in  love. 

D.  Pedro.  Hang  him,  truant;  there's  no  tnie 
drop  of  blood  in  him,  to  be  truly  touch'd  with  lov« : 
if  he  be  sad,  he  wants  money. 

Bene.  I  have  the  tooth- acn. 

D.  Pedro.  Draw  it 

Bene.  Hang  it ! 

Ctattd.  You  must  hang  it  fii'st,  and  draw  it  %^r- 
wards. 

D.  Pedro.  Wliat  ?  sigh  for  the  tootli-acb  ^ 

(5)  Ensnared  with  birdlime. 


Scene  lU, 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHLNG. 


129 


Ijeon,  Where  b  but  a  humour,  or  a  worm  ? 

Bent.  Well,  every  one  can  master  a  grief,  bat 
be  that  has  it 

Claud.  Yei  say  I,  he  is  in  love. 

D.  Pedro.  There  is  no  appearance  of  fancy  in  him, 
uol^s  it  be  a  fancv  that  he  nath  to  strange  disguises; 
as,  to  be  a  Dutclunan  to-day ;  a  Frenchman  to- 
morrow ;  or  in  the  shape  of  two  countries  at  once, 
as  a  German  from  the  waist  downward,  all  slop ;' 
and  a  Spaniard  from  the  hip  upward,  no  doublet : 
unless  he  have  a  fancy  to  this  fooler}',  as  it  appean 
he  hath,  he  is  no  fool  for  &ncy,  as  you  would  have 
it  appear  he  is. 

Claud.  If  he  be  not  in  lore  with  some  woman, 
there  is  no  believing  old  sinis :  he  brushes  his  hat 
o'mOTnings ;  what  should  uiat  bode  ? 

D.  Pedro.  Hath  any  man  seen  him  atthe  barber*^? 

Claud.  No,  but  the  barber*s  man  hath  been  seen 
with  him ;  and  the  old  ornament  of  his  cheek  hath 
already  stuffed  tennis-balls. 

Leon.  Indeed,  he  looks  younger  than  he  did,  by 
the  loss  of  a  beard. 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  he  rubs  himself  with  civet : 
can  you  smell  him  out  by  that  f 

CtMuL  That's  as  much  as  to  say,  the  sweet 
youth*8  in  love. 

D.  Pedro.  The  greatest  note  of  it  is  his  melan- 
choly. 

Claud.  And  when  was  be  wont  to  wash  his  face  ? 

/>.  Pedro.  Yea,  or  to  paint  himself?  for  the 
irhich,  I  h^r  what  they  say  of  him. 

Clentd.  Nay,  but  his  jesting  spirit;  which  is  now 
crept  into  a  lutestring,  and  now  governed  by  stops. 

XP.  Pedro.  Indeea,  that  tells  a  heavy  tale  fur 
ium :  conclude,  conclude,  he  is  in  love. 

Claud.  Nay,  but  I  know  who  loves  him. 

JD.  Pedro.  That  would  I  know  too;  1  warrant, 
that  knows  him  not 

Claud.  Yes,  and  his  ill  conditions ;  and,  in  dc- 

fte  of  all,  dies  for  him. 

^.  Pedro.  She  shall  be  buried  with  her  face 
upwards. 

Sene.  Yet  is  this  no  charm  for  the  tooth-ach. — 
CHci  8igni(»',  walk  aside  with  me :  I  have  studied 
ca^iit  or  nine  wise  words  to  speak  to  you,  which 
hobby-horses  must  not  hear. 

[Kccewnt  Benedick  and  Leonato. 

D.  Pedro.  For  mj  life,  to  break  with  him  about 
itrice. 

Claud.  'Tis  even  so :  Hero  and  Margaret  have 
^y  this  played  their  parts  with  Beatrice ;  and  then 
two  b^s  will  not  bite  one  another,  when  (hey 


Enter  Don  John. 

-C  John.  My  lord  and  brother,  God  save  you. 
X>.  Pedro.  Good  den,  brother. 
^X^.  John.  If  your  leisure  served,  I  would  speak 
'^tli  you. 

JD.  Pedro.  In  private  f 

X).  John.  If  it  please  vou  ; — vet  count  Claudio 
A  V  hear ;  for  what  I  would  speak  of  concerns  him. 
Jb.  Pedro.  What's  the  matter  f 
X>.  John.  Mctans  your  lordship  to  be  married 
to'tnorrow.^  [2\>  Claudio. 

■O.  Pedro.  You  know  be  does. 
-D.  John.  I  know  not  that,  when  he  knows  what 
IWnow. 

Qaud.  If  there  be  any  impediment,  I  pray  you 
«*»?erit 

D.  John,  Vou  may  think  I  love  you  not ;  let 
^t  appear  hereafter,  and  aim  better  at  me  by  that 
^  BOW  will  manifest :  for  my  brother,  1  think,  he 

f  1)  Laige  loose  breeches. 


holds  voti  well ;  and  in  deamess  of  heart  hath 
help  to  eflect  your  ensuing  marriage  :  surely,  suit 
ill  spent,  and  labour  ill  bestowed  ! 

Jj.  Pedro.  Why,  what's  the  matter  f 

D.~John.  I  came  hither  to  tell  you ;  and,  cir- 
cumstances shortened  (for  she  hath  been  too  lung 
a  talking  of,)  the  lady  is  disloyal. 

Clavd.  Who.?  Hero.? 

D.  John.  Even  she ;  Leonato's  Hero,  your  He- 
ro, every  man's  Hero. 

Claud.  Disloyal.? 

X).  John.  The  word  is  too  good  topamt  out  b*r 
wickedness ;  I  could  say,  she  were  worse ;  think 
you  of  a  worse  title,  and  I  will  fit  her  to  it  Won- 
cier  not  till  further  warrant :  go  but  with  me  {<}• 
night,  you  shall  see  her  chamber-window  entered ; 
even  the  night  before  her  wedding-day :  if  }  ou 
love  her  then,  to-morrow  wed  her ;  but  it  would 
better  fit  your  honour  to  change  your  mind. 

Claud.  May  this  be  so. 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  not  think  it 

D.  John.  If  you  dare  not  trust  that  you  see, 
confess  not  that  you  know  :  if  you  will  follow  n»e, 
1  will  show  you  enough ;  and  when  you  have  seen 
more,  and  heard  more,  proceed  accordingly. 

Claud.  If  I  see  sny  thing  to-night  why  1  should 
not  marry  her  to-morrow ;  in  the  congregation, 
where  I  should  wed,  there  will  I  shame  her. 

D.  Pedro.  And,  as  I  wooed  for  thee  to  obtain 
her,  I  will  join  with  thee  to  di^race  her. 

D.  John.  I  will  disparage  her  no  farther,  till  you 
are  my  witnesses :  bear  it  coldly  but  till  midnight, 
and  let  the  issue  show  itself. 

D.  Pedro.  O  day  untowardly  turned ! 

Claud.  O  mischief  strangely  thwarting  ! 

D.  John.  O  plague  right  well  prevented ! 
So  will  you  say,  when  you  have  seen  the  sequel. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ>rE  III— A  street.    Enter  Dogberry  and 
Verges,  with  tht  Watch. 

Dogh.  Are  you  good  men  and  true  } 

Verg.  Yea,  or  else  it  were  pity  but  they  should 
suffer  salvation,  body  and  soul. 

Dogh.  Nay,  that  were  a  punishment  too  good  for 
them,  if  they  should  have  any  allegiance  in  them, 
being  chosen  for  the  prince's  watch. 

Verg.  Well,  give  them  their  charge,  neighboui 
Dewberry. 

Dogh.  First,  who  think  you  the  most  dcsartless 
man  to  be  constable. 

1  Watch.  Hugh  Oatcake,  sir,  or  George  Sea- 
coal  ;  for  they  can  write  and  read. 

Dogh.  Come  hither,  neighbour  Seacoal.  God 
hath  blessed  you  with  a  good  name :  to  be  a  well- 
favoured  man  is  the  gift  of  fortune ;  but  to  write 
and  read  comes  by  nature 

2  Watch.  Both  which,  master  constab.e, 

Dogh.  You  have  ;  I  knew  it  would  be  your  an- 
swer. Well,  for  your  favour,  sir,  why,  give  God 
thanks,  and  make  no  boast  of  it ;  and  for  your 
writing  and  reading,  let  that  appear  when  there  is 
no  need  of  such  vanity.  You  are  thought  here  t(j 
be  the  most  senseless  and  fit  man  for  the  cotuitable 
of  the  watch ;  therefore  bear  you  the  lantern  :  this 
is  your  charge  ;  you  shall  comprehend  all  vagroni 
men  :  you  are  to  bid  any  man  stand,  in  the  princ:  's 
name. 

2  Watch.  How  if  he  will  not  stand .? 

Dogh.  WTiy  then,  take  no  note  of  him,  but  let 
him  go ;  and  presently  call  the  rest  of  the  watch 
together,  and  thank  God  you  are  rid  of  a  knave. 

Verg.  If  he  will  not  stand  when  he  is  bidden, 
he  is  none  of  the  prince's  subjects. 


130 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  KOTHliSG. 


Ad  Ul 


Dogh.  Trae,  and  they  arc  to  meddle  with  noiie 
but  the  prince's  subjects : — you  shall  also  make  no 
noise  in  the  streets ;  for,  for  the  watch  to  babble 
and  talk,  is  most  tolerable,  and  not  to  be  endured. 

2  IVatch,  We  will  rather  sleep  than  talk ;  we 
know  what  belong  to  a  watch. 

Dogb.  Why,  you  speak  like  an  ancient  and  most 
quiet  watchman;  for  I  cannot  see  how  sleeping 
should  odend :  only,  have  a  care  that  your  billsi 
be  not  stolen  : — W  ell,  you  are  to  call  at  all  tlie  ale- 
houses, and  bid  those  that  are  drunk  get  them  to  bed. 

2  IVatch.  How  if  tliey  will  not  ^ 

Dogb.  Why  then,  let  them  alone  till  they  are 
sober ;  if  they  make  you  not  then  the  better  answer, 
you  mav  say,  they  are  not  the  men  you  took  them  for. 

2  n'^aich.  Well,  sir. 

Dogb.  If  you  meet  a  thief,  you  may  suspect  him, 
by  virtue  of  vour office,  to  be  no  true  man:  and, 
for  such  kincTof  men,  the  less  you  meddle  or  make 
with  them,  why,  the  more  b  for  your  honesty. 

2  Watch.  If  we  know  him  to  be  a  thie/,  shall 
we  not  lay  hands  on  him  } 

Dogb^  Truly,  by  your  office,  you  may ;  but  I 
think,  they  that  touch  pitch  will  be  denied :  the 
most  peaceable  way  for  you,  if  you  do  take  a  tliief, 
is,  to  let  him  show  nimself  what  he  is,  and  steal  out 
of  your  company. 

Verg.  You  have  been  always  called  a  merciful 
man,  partner. 

Dogb.  Truly,  I  would  not  hang  a  dog  by  my  will ; 
much  more  a  man  who  hath  any  honesty  in  him. 

Verg.  If  you  hear  a  child  cry  in  the  ni{^t,  you 
must  call  to  the  nurse,  and  bid  her  still  it 

2  Watch.  How  if  the  nurse  be  asleep,  and  will 
not  hear  us  } 

Dogb.  Why  then,  depart  in  peace,  and  let  the 
child  wake  her  with  crymg :  for  the  ewe  tliat  will 
not  hear  her  lamb  when  it  baes,  will  never  answer 
a  calf  when  he  bleats. 

Verg,  *Tis  very  true. 

Dogb,  This  is  the  end  of  the  charge.  You,  con- 
stable,  are  to  present  the  prince's  own  person ;  if 
you  meet  the  prince  in  the  night,  you  may  stay  him. 

Verg.  Nay,  bv*r  lady,  that  I  think  he  cannot 

Dogb.  Five  shillings  to  one  on't,  with  any  man 
that  knows  the  statues,  he  may  stay  him  :  marry, 
not  without  the  prince  be  willing :  for,  indt^ed,  the 
watch  ought  to  otTend  no  man ;  and  it  is  an  odcnce 
to  stay  a  man  against  his  will. 

Verg.  By'r  lady,  I  think,  it  be  so. 

Dogb.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  Well,  masters,  good  nisrht : 
an  there  be  any  matter  of  weight  chances,  call  up 
roe :  keep  your  fellows'  counsels  and  your  own, 
and  STOoa  night — Come,  neighbour. 

2  IVatch.  Well,  masters,  we  hear  our  dianje : 
let  us  go  sit  here  upon  the  church-bench  till  tiro, 
and  then  all  to  bed. 

Dogb.  One  word  more,  honest  neighbours:  I 
pray  you,  watch  about  signior  Lconato's  d(Kir ;  for 
the  wedding  being  there  to-morrow,  there  is  a  great 
coil  to-night :  adieu,  be  vigilant,  I  beseech  \  uu. 

[JExeurU  Dogberry  and  Verges. 

Enter  Borachio  and  Conrade. 

Bora.  What!  Conrade, — 
Waich.  Peace,  stir  not  [Aside. 

Bora,  Conrade,  I  say  ! 
Con.  Here  man,  I  am  at  thy  elbow. 
Bora.  Mass,  and  my  elbow  itched ;  I  thought 
there  would  a  scab  fdlow. 
Con.  I  will  owe  thee  an  answer  for  that ;  and 

(1)  Weap.vm  of  the  watclunen. 

(2)  Unpractised  in  tie  ways  of  the  world. 


now  forward  with  thy  tale. 

Bora.  Stand  thee  close  then  under  this  penthouse, 
for  it  drizzles  rain ;  and  I  will,  like  a  true  drunkaid, 
utter  all  to  thee. 

Watch.  [Aside.]  Some  treason,  masters;  yet 
.stand  close. 

Bora.  Therefore  know,  I  have  earned  of  Doo 
John  a  thousand  ducats. 

Con.  Is  it  possible  that  any  villany  should  be  to 
dear  f 

Bora.  Thou  should'st  rather  ask,  if  it  were  poa- 
.siblc  any  villany  should  be  so  rich;  for  when  sui'h 
villains  have  need  of  poor  ones,  poor  ones  may 
make  what  price  they  will. 

Con.  1  wonder  at  it 

Bora.  That  shows  thou  art  unconfirmed  :3  thoa 
knowest,  that  the  fashion  of  a  doublet,  or  a  bat,  or 
a  cloak,  is  nothing  to  a  man. 

Con.  Yes,  it  is  apparel. 

Bora.  I  mean  the  fashion. 

Qm.  Yes,  t)ie  fashion  is  the  fashion. 

Bora.  Tush  !  I  may  as  well  say,  the  fool's  the 
fool.  But  seest  thou  not  what  a  deformed  thief 
this  fashion  fs  f 

Watch.  I  know  that  Deformed ;  he  has  been  a 
vile  tliief  this  seven  year ;  he  pies  up  and  down 
like  a  gentleman  :  1  remember  nis  name. 

Bora.  Didst  thou  not  hear  somebody  .' 

Con.  No ;  'twas  the  vane  on  the  house. 

Bora.  Seest  thou  not,  I  sav*  what  a  deformed 
thief  this  fashion  is .'  how  giddily  be  turns  about 
all  tlie  hot  bloods,  between  fourteen  and  five  and 
thirty  }  sometime,  fashioning  them  like  Pliaraoh't 
soldiers  in  the  reechy' painting ;  sometime,  tike  j^od 
Bel's  priests  in  the  old  church  window ;  soroetimey 
like  the  shaven  Hercules  in  the  smirched*  worm- 
eaten  tapestry,  where  his  cod-piece  seenos  as  masay 
as  his  club  } 

Con.  All  this  I  see ;  and  see,  that  the  fashioa 
wears  out  more  apparel  than  the  man  :  but  art  not 
thou  thyself  giddy  with  the  fashion  too,  that  thou 
hast  shiflcd  out  of  thy  tale  into  tell  big  me  of  the 
fashion  } 

Bora.  Not  so  neither :  but  know,  that  I  have  to> 
night  wooed  Margaret,  the  lady  Hero's  gentle* 
woman,  by  the  name  of  Hero :  she  leans  roe  out  at 
her  mistress'  chamber-window,  bids  me  a  thousand 
times  good  night, — I  tell  this  tale  vilely  : — I  should 
first  tell  thee,  how  the  prince,  Claudio,  and  my 
master,  planted  and  placed,  and  possessed  by  my 
master  Don  John,  saw  afar  off  in  the  orchard  this 
amiable  encounter. 

Con.  And  th<Might  they,  Margaret  was  Hero  z 

Bora.  Two  of  them  (fid,  the  prince  and  Clau- 
dio ;  but  the  devil  my  master  knew  she  was  Mar- 
garet ;  and  partly  by  his  oaths,  which  first  ]X)«iSo«»*- 
ed  them,  partly  by  Uie  dark  night,  which  did  de- 
ceive them,  but  chiefly  by  mv  villany,  which  did 
confirm  any  slander  that  Don  John  had  made,  away 
went  Claudio  enraged  :  swore  he  would  meet  her 
as  he  was  appointed,  next  morning  at  the  temple, 
and  there,  before  the  whole  congregration,  sliame 
her  with  what  he  raw  over-night,  and  send  licr 
home  asrain  without  a  hu«band. 

1  U^atch.  We  charge  you  in  the  prince's  Dume, 
iitand. 

2  Watch.  Call  up  the  right  master  constable : 
we  have  here  recovered  the  most  dangerous  piece 
of  lechery  that  ever  was  known  in  the  common- 
wealth. 

1  Watch.  And  one  Defonncd  is  one  of  them ;  I 
know  him,  he  wears  a  lock. 


(3)  Smoked. 


(4)  Soiled. 


Scgnerr^V. 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


131 


Con.  Masters,  masters. 

2  Waich.  Yoa*ll  be  made  bring  Deformed  forth, 
I  warrant  you. 

Ccn,  Masters, — 

1  Watch.  Never  speak ;  we  chaige  jou,  let  us 
obev  you  to  go  with  us. 

Bora.  We  are  like  to  prove  a  goodly^  commodity, 
being  taken  up  of  these  men*s  bills. 

Con.  A  commodity  in  question,  I  warrant  you. 
Ckxme,  we'll  obey  you.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  iF.— ^  room  in  Leonato's  A<m«.  En- 
ter Hero,  Margaret,  and  Ursula. 

Hero.  Good  Ursula,  wake  my  cousin  Beatrice, 
and  desire  her  to  rise. 
UrM.  I  will,  ladv. 
Hero.  And  bid  her  come  hither. 
Urs.  Well.  [Exit  Ursula. 

M»rg.  Troth,  I  think,  your  other  rabato^  were 
better 
Hero.  No,  pray  thee,  good  Meg,  1*11  wear  this. 
Marg.  By  my  troth,  it's  not  so  good ;  and  I  war- 
rant, your  cousin  will  say  sa 

Hero.  My  cousin's  a  fool,  and  thou  art  another; 
ril  wear  none  but  this. 

Marg.  I  like  the  new  tire^  within  excellently, 
if  the  hair  were  a  thought  browner :  and  your 
gown's  a  most  rare  fashion,  i'faith.  I  saw  the 
duchess  of  Milan's  gown,  that  they  praise  sa 
Hero.  O,  that  exceeds,  they  say. 
Mare.  By  my  troth  it's  but  a  night-gown  in  re- 
tpect  of  yours :  Cloth  of  gold,  and  cuts,  and  laced 
with  silver;  set  with  pearls,  down  sleeves,  side- 
sleeves,'  and  skirts  round,  underbome  with  a  blu- 
ish tinsel :  but  for  a  fine,  quaint,  graceful,  and  ex- 
cellent fashion,  yours  is  worth  ten  on't. 

Hero.  God  give  me  joy  to  wear  it,  for  my  heart 
a  exceeding  heavy ! 

Marg.  •Twill  be  heavier  socm,  by  the  weight  of 
a  man. 
Hero.  Fie  upon  thee !  art  not  ashamed .' 
J^rg.  Of  what,  lady  ?  of  speaking  honourably  } 
's  nxA  marriage  honourable  in  a  b^gar }    Is  not 
y<^^T  lord  honourable  without  marriage  ^    I  think 
you  would  have  me  sav,  saving  your  reverence, — 
*»    HTidtand:  an  bad  thinking  do  not  w^rest  true 
^e^kinsT,  I'll  offend  nobody :  Is  there  any  harm  in — 
f^  heavier  for  a  husband?    None,  I  think,  an  if 
'*  l>e  the  right  husband,  and  the  right  wife ;  other- 
•^3»e  'tis  lirfit,  and  not  heavy :  Ask  my  lady  Bea- 
^oe  else,  here  she  comes. 

Enter  Beatrice. 

fero.  Good  morrow,  coz. 

Good  morrow,  sweet  Hero. 
Tero.  Why,  how  now!  do  you  speak   in  the 
*»ck   tune? 

t  am  out  of  all  other  tune,  methinks.        ' 

J.  Clap  us  into — La^ht  o'  /ore ;  that  goes 

^tHoot  a  burden ;  do  you  smg  it,  and  I'll  dance  it. 

-fiSeoi.  Yea,  LAght  o'  love^  with  your  heels ! — 

™^«»  if  your  husband  have  stables  enough,  you'll 

*^^  lie  uiall  lack  no  bams. 

j-Afarg*.  O  ill^timatc  construction  !  I  scorn  that 
'^\t\k  ray  heels. 

•Beai.  *Tis  almost  five  o'clock,  cousin  ;  'tis  time 
50«  ^rerc  ready.  By  my  troth  I  am  exceeding  ill ; — 
oey  ho! 

^^Sarg.  For  a  hawk,  a  horse,  or  a  husband  } 
Beat  For  the  letter  that  begins  them  all,  H.< 

0^  A  kind  of  rtift  (2)  Head-dress. 

(3)  LongHUceves.     (4)  t.  e.  for  an  ache  or  pain. 


Mnrg.  W^ell,  an  you  be  not  turned  Turk,  there's 
no  more  sailing  by  the  star. 

Beat  What  means  the  fool,  trow  ^ 

Marg.  Nothing  1;  but  God  send  eveiy  ooe 
their  heart's  desire  I 

Hero.  These  gloves  the  count  sent  me,  they  are 
an  excellent  periutnc. 

Beat  I  am  stuffed,  cousin,  I  cannot  smell. 

Marg.  A  maid,  and  stuffed!  there's  goodly 
catching  of  cold. 

Beat.  O,  God  help  me !  God  help  me !  bow 
long  have  you  profess'd  apprehension  ? 

Marg.  Ever  since  you  left  it :  doth  not  mjr  wit 
become  me  rarely  ? 

Beat.  It  is  not  seen  enough,  you  should  wear 
it  in  your  cap. — By  my  troth,  1  am  sick. 

Marg.  Get  you  some  of  this  distilled  Carduos 
Benedictus,  and  lay  it  to  your  heart ;  it  is  the  only 
thing  for  a  qualm. 

Hero.  There  thou  prick'st  her  with  a  thistle. 

Beat  Benedictus!  why  Benedictus.'  you  have 
some  moral^  in  this  Benedictus. 

Marg.  Moral  .**  no,  by  my  troth,  I  have  no  moral 
meaning ;  I  meant,  plain  holy  thistle.  You  may 
think,  perchance,  that  I  think  you  are  in  love : 
nay,  b^V  ladv,  I  am  not  such  a  fool  to  think  what 
I  list ;  nor  I  fist  not  to  think  what  I  can  ;  nor,  in 
deed,  I  cannot  think,  if  I  would  think  mv  heart 
out  of  thinking,  that  you  are  in  love,  or  that  you 
will  be  in  love,  or  that  you  can  be  in  love:  yet 
Benedick  was  such  another,  and  now  is  he  become 
a  man :  he  swore  he  would  never  marry ;  and  ^'ct 
now,  in  despite  of  his  heart,  he  eats  his  meat  with- 
out grudging :  and  how  you  may  be  converted,  I 
know  not ;  but  methinks  you  look  with  your  eyes 
as  other  women  do. 

Beat.  WHiat  pace  is  this  that  thy  tongue  keeps  ? 

Marg.  Not  a  false  gallop. 

Re-enter  Ursula. 

Urs.  Madam,  withdraw ;  the  prince,  the  count, 
signior  Benedick,  Don  John,  and  all  the  gallants 
of  the  town,  are  come  to  fetch  you  to  church. 

Hero.  Help  to  dress  me,  good  coz,  good  Meg, 
good  Ursula.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  V. — Another  room  in  Leonato'a  house. 
Enter  Leonato,  with  Dogberry  and  Verges. 

Leon.  What  would  you  with  me,  honest  neigh- 
bour.' 

Dogb.  Marry,  sir,  I  would  have  some  confi- 
dence with  you,  that  decerns  you  nearly. 

Leon.  Brief,  I  pray  you ;  for  you  see,  'tis  a  busy 
tinje  with  me. 

Dogb.  Marry,  this  it  is,  sir. 

Verg.  Yes,  in  truth  it  is,  sir. 

Leon.  What  is  it,  my  good  friends.' 

Dogb.  Goodman  Verges,  sir,  speaks  a  little  off 
the  matter :  an  old  man,  sir,  and  bis  wits  are  not 
so  blunt,  as,  God  help,  I  would  desire  lliey  were  ; 
but,  in  faith,  honest,  as  the  skin  between  his  brows. 

Vcrc;.  Yes,  I  thank  (lod,  I  am  as  honest  as  any 
man  living,  that  is  an  old  man,  and  no  honester 
than  I. 

Dogb.  Comparisons  are  odorous  :  palabras^ 
neip:hbour  Verges. 

J^on.  Neighbours,  you  are  tedious. 

Dogb.  It  pleases  your  worship  to  say  so,  but  we 
are  tli«  poor  duke's  officers ;  but,  truly,  for  mine 
own  part,  if  I  were  as  tedious  as  a  king,  I  could 
find  in  my  heart  to  bestow  it  all  of  your  worship. 

Leon.  All  thy  tediousness  on  me  !  ha ! 

(5)  Hidden  meaning. 


132 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


Adir. 


Df^b.  Yea,  and  *tiverc  a  thousand  times  more 
than  *tis :  for  I  hear  as  ^ood  exclamation  on  your 
worship,  as  of  any  man  in  the  citv ;  and  though  I 
be  but  a  poor  man,  I  am  glad  to  hear  it 

Verg.  And  so  am  I. 

JLeon,  I  would  fain  know  what  you  have  to  say. 

Ffrg".  Marry,  sir,  our  watch  to-night,  except- 
ing your  worship's  presence,  have  ta'en  a  couple 
of  as  arrant  knaves  as  any  in  Messina. 

D6gb.  A  good  old  man,  sir ;  he  will  Ix;  talking : 
as  they  say,  *\'hen  the  age  is  in,  the  wit  is  out : 
God  help  us!  it  is  a  world  to  see!' — Well  said, 
i*fiuth|  neighbour  Verges : — well,  God's  a  goo<i 
man ;  an  two  men  ride  of  a  horse,  one  mu>it  ride 
behind: — an  honest  soul,  i'faith,  sir;  by  my  troth 
he  is,  as  ever  broke  bread  :  but,  God  is  to  be  wor- 
shipped :  all  men  are  not  alike ;  alas,  good  ncigh- 
boor! 

Leon,  Indeed,  neighbour,  he  comes  too  short  of 
you. 

Dogb,  Gifts,  that  God  gives, 

Ijton.  I  must  leave  you. 

Dogb.  One  word,  sir :  our  watch,  sir,  have,  in- 
deed, comprehended  two  auspicious  persons,  and 
we  would  nave  them  this  morning  examined  be- 
fore your  worship. 

Iaoh.  Take  their  examination  yourself,  and  bring 
it  me ;  I  am  now  in  great  baste,  as  it  may  appear 
unto  you. 

Dogb.  It  shall  be  suffigance. 

lAon,  Drink  some  wine  ere  you  go :  fare  you  well. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mtts.  My  lord,  they  stay  for  you  to  give  your 
daughter  to  her  husband. 

Lteon.  I  will  wait  upon  them ;  I  am  ready. 

[^Exeunt  Leonato  and  Messenger. 

Dogb.  Go,  good  partner,  go ;  get  you  to  Francis 
Seacoal,  bid  him  bring  his  pen  and  inkhom  to  the 
gaol ;  we  are  now  to  examination  these  men. 

V'rrg.  And  we  must  do  it  wisely. 

Dogb.  Wc  will  spare  for  no  wit,  I  warrant  you  ; 
here's  that  [Tnuditng  his  forehead.^  shall  drive 
some  of  them  to  a  non  com:  only  get  the  leanied 
writer  to  set  down  our  excommunication,  and  meet 
me  at  the  gaol.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  IV. 

SCE.XE  I.— The  inside  of  a  church.  Enter  Don 
Pedro,  Don  John,  Leonato,  Friar,  Claudio, 
Benedick,  Hero,  and  Beatrice,  &c. 

I^on.  Come,  friar  Francis,  be  brief;  only  to  the 
plain  form  (if  inurriaa^e,  and  you  shall  recount  their 
pailiciilar  diiti(!S  afterwards. 

Friar.  You  come  hillier,  my  loi-d,  to  marry  this 
ladv  ? 

Claud.   N(\ 

Leon.  To  be  married  to  her,  friar;  you  come  to 
many  her. 

Friar.  Lady,  you  come  hither  to  be  married  to 
tliis  count .' 

Hern.  I  do. 

Friar.  If  either  of  vouknow  any  inward  impedi- 
m^'Mt  why  you  should  not  be  conjoined,  I  chaise 
\on,  on  voiir  souI.h,  to  utter  it. 

Clou^.  Know  you  any.  Hero  ? 

Hero.  None,  my  loro. 

Friar.  Know  you  any,  count } 

(\)  Tt  is  worth  seeing.        (2)  Las*  ivious. 


Leon.  I  dare  make  his  answer,  none. 

Claud.  O,  what  men  dare  do !  what  men  inar  do ! 
what  men  daily  do !  not  knowing  what  thej  Col 

Bene.    How   now!  interjections.'    Why,  dien 
some  be  of  laughing,  as,  ha  !  ha !  he ! 

Claud.  Stand  thee  by,  friar  : — Father,  by  your 
leave ; 
Will  you  with  free  and  unconstrained  soul 
Give  me  this  maid,  your  daughter  ? 

Leon.  As  freely,  fxai^  as  God  did  give  her  me. 

Claud.  And  what  have  I  to  give  you  back,  whose 
worth. 
May  counterpoise  this  rich  and  precious  gift. 

D.  Pedro.  Nothing,  unless  you  render  her  again. 

Claud.  Sweet  prince,  you  learn  me  noble  ttmnk- 
fulness. — 
There,  Leonato,  take  her  back  again ; 
Give  not  this  rotten  orange  to  your  friend  ; 
She's  but  the  sign  and  semblance  of  herhoooor  >— 
Behold,  how  like  a  maid  she  blushes  here  : 
O,  what  authority  and  show  of  truth 
Can  cimning  sin  cover  ksc'lf  withal ! 
Comes  not  that  blood,  as  modest  evidence. 
To  wimess  simple  virtue .'    W^ould  you  not  swear, 
All  you  that  see  her,  that  she  were  a  maid, 
By  these  exterior  shows .'     But  she  is  none : 
She  knows  the  heat  of  a  luxurious^  bed  : 
Her  blush  is  guiltiness,  not  modesty. 

Ijeon.  What  do  you  mean,  mv  lord  } 

Claud.  Not  to  be  married. 

Not  knit  my  soul  to  an  approved  wanton. 

Leon.  Dear  my  lord,  it  you,  in  your  own  proof 
Have  vanquish'd  the  resistance  of  her  youth. 
And  made  defeat  of  her  virginity, 

Claud.  I  know  what  you  would  say  ;  If  I  hava 
known  her. 
You'll  say,  she  did  embrace  me  as  a  husband. 
And  so  extenuate  the  'forehand  sin : 
No,  Leonato, 

I  never  tempted  her  with  word  too  large  ;* 
But,  as  a  brother  to  his  sister,  show'd 
Bashful  sincerity,  and  comely  love. 

Hero.  And  seeni'd  I  ever  otherwise  to  you  ? 

Claud.  Out  on  thy  seeming !  I  will  write  againslit' 
You  seem  to  me  as  Dinn  in  her  orb ; 
As  chaste  as  is  the  bud  ere  it  be  blown  ; 
liut  you  are  more  intemperate  in  your  blood 
Than  Venus,  or  those  pjunper'd  animals 
That  rage  in  savage  sensuality. 

Hero.  U  my  lord  well,  that  he  doth  speak  so 
wide  ?* 

Leon.  Siveet  prince,  why  speak  not  you .' 

D.  Pedro.  Wnat  shoulcl  I  speak  .* 

I  stand  di»«honour'd,  that  have  gone  alx>ut 
To  link  my  dear  friend  to  a  common  stale. 

J^eon.  Are  these  tilings  sjx>ken.*  or  do  I  but  dream.' 

D.  John.  Sir,  they  are  spoken,  and  these  tliii^s 
are  true. 

Bene.  This  looks  not  like  a  nuptial. 

Herq.  True,  O  God ! 

Claud.  Leonato,  stand  I  here  ? 
Is  thi«i  the  prince  ?  Is  this  the  prince's  brother  ? 
Is  this  face  Hero's.'     Are  our  eyes  our  own  .' 

Leon.  All  this  Is  so;  hut  what  of  thix,  my  lord  .* 

Claud.  \ict  me  but  move  one  (pjestiou  to  your 
daughter ; 
.\nd,  by  that  fatherly  and  kindly  power 
That  you  have  in  her,  bid  her  an«*wer  truly. 

I^on.  I  charge  thee  do  so,  a«  thou  art  my  rliili 

Hero.  O  Ciod  defend  me  !  liow  arn  1  bea>el  !— 
What  kind  of  catechising  call  yoti  this .' 

Claud.  To  make  vou  answer  truly  to  vour  nam 

(4)  Remote  from  the  business  in  hand. 


Seem  I. 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


133 


Hero.  Is  it  not  Hero  ?  Who  can  blot  that  name 
With  any  just  reproach  ? 

Gaud.  Marrr,  that  can  Hero ; 

Hero  itself  can  blot  out  Heroes  virtue. 
What  man  was  he  talkM  with  you  yesternight 
Out  at  rour  window,  betwixt  twelve  and  one  ^ 
Now,  if  you  are  a  maid,  answer  to  this. 

Hero.  I  tatk*d  with  no  man  at  that  hour,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Why,  then  are  you  no  maiden. 
Leonato, 
I  am  sorry  you  must  hear ;  upon  mine  honour, 
Myself,  my  brother,  and  this  grieved  count. 
Did  see  her,  hear  her,  at  that  hour  last  night. 
Talk  with  a  ruffian  at  her  chamber-window ; 
Who  hath,  indeed,  most  like  a  liberal  villain, 
CoofessM  the  vile  encounters  they  have  had 
A  thousand  times  in  secret 

D.  John,  Fie,  fie !  they  are 

Not  to  be  nara*d,  my  lord,  not  to  be  spoke  of; 
There  is  not  chastity  enough  in  language. 
Without  odence,  to  utter  them :  thus,  pretty  lady, 
I  am  sorry  for  thy  much  mi^^ovemment 

ClatuL  O  Hero !  what  a  Hero  hadst  thou  been, 
If  half  thy  outward  g^ces  had  been  placed 
About  thy  thoughts,  and  counsels  of  thy  heart ! 
But,  &re  thee  well,  roost  foul,  most  fair !  farewell. 
Thou  pure  impiety,  and  impious  purity  ! 
For  thee  V\\  lock  up  all  the  gates  of  love. 
And  OQ  mr  eye-lids  shall  conjecture  hang, 
To  turn  afl  beauty  into  thoughts  of  harm. 
And  never  shall  it  more  be  gracious.^ 

Leon.  Hath  no  man's  dagger  here  a  point  for 
me  ?  [Hero  swoons. 

Seat  Why,  how  now,  cousin  ?  wherefore  sink 
you  down  f 

D.  John,  Come,  let  us  go :  these  things,  come 
thus  to  light. 
Smother  her  spirits  up. 

[Exeunt  Don  Pedro,  Don  John,  and  Claudio. 
.Bene.  How  doth  the  lady  } 
JBeat  Dead,  I  think ; — help,  uncle ; — 

xo !  why.  Hero ! — Uncle ! — Signior  Benedick ! — 


(A 


nar! 

Xjton.  O  fate,  take  not  away  thy  heavy  hand ! 
I^eckth  is  the  fairest  cover  for  her  shame, 
XTiai  may  be  wbh*d  for. 

.^eat.  How  now,  cousin  Hero  ? 

.F*ritxr.  Have  comfort,  lady. 
JL^tm.  Dost  thou  look  up  ? 

Friar.  Yea ;  wherefore  should  she  not  ? 
JJtan.  Wherefore  ?  Why,  doth  not  every  earthly 
thing 
Cry  shame  upon  her  ?    Could  she  here  deny 
T'He  story  that  is  printed  in  her  blood  ? — 
I^  not  live.  Hero ;  do  not  ope  thine  eves  : 
For  did  I  think  thou  would'st  not  quick  I  v  die, 
Tliought  I  thv spirits  were  strcMiper  than  tliy  shames, 
Myself  woufd,  on  the  rearward  of  reproaches. 
Strike  at  thy  lile.     Griev'd  I,  I  had  but  one  ? 
Chid  I  for  that  at  frugal  nature's  frame  ?' 
O,  one  too  much  by  Aee  I     Why  had  I  one  ? 
Why  ever  wast  thou  lovely  in  my  eyes  ? 
W>iy  had  I  not,  with  charitable  hand, 
TckAc  up  a  beggar's  is^ue  at  my  gates ; 
Who  smirched^  thus,  and  mired  with  infamy, 
I  "night  have  said,  J^o  part  of  it  is  mine^ 
This  shame  derives  itsel/from  vnknoum  loins? 
But  mine,  and  mine  1  lov'd,  and  mine  I  prais'd. 
And  mine  that  I  was  proud  on ;  mine  so  much, 
Tb»t  I  myself  was  to  myself  not  mine, 
"•hiing of  her;  why,  she— O,  she  is  fallen 

(1)  Too  free  of  tongue.         (2)  Attractive. 
(3)  DbpoiitioD  of  £ings. 


Into  a  pit  of  ink  !  thnt  the  wide  sea 
Hath  drops  too  few  to  wash  her  clean  again  ; 
And  salt  too  little,  which  may  season  give 
To  her  foul  tainted  flesh  ! 

Bene.  Sir,  sir,  be  patient : 

For  my  part,  I  am  so  attir'd  in  wonder, 
i  kfiow  not  what  to  sav. 

Beat.  O,  on  my  soul,  my  cousin  is  belied  ! 

Bene.  Lady,  were  you  her  bedfellow  last  night  ? 

Beat.  No,  truly,  not:  although,  until  last  nig^t, 
I  have  this  twelvemonth  been  her  bedfellow. 

Leon.  CcHifirro'd,  confirm'd  .'  O,  that  is  stronger 
made. 
Which  was  before  barr'd  up  with  ribs  of  iron  ! 
Would  the  two  princes  lie  ?  and  Claudio  lie  ? 
Who  lov'd  her  so,  that,  speaking  of  her  foulness, 
WaMh'd  it  with  tears  ?  Hence  from  her ;  let  her  die. 

Friar.  Hear  me  a  little ; 
For  I  have  only  been  silent  so  long, 
And  given  wav  unto  this  course  of  fortune. 
By  noting  of  the  lady  :  I  have  mark'd 
A  thousand  blushing  apparitions  start 
Into  her  face ;   a  thousand  innocent  shames 
In  angel  whiteness  bear  away  those  blushes; 
And  in  her  eye  there  hatl>  appear'd  a  fire. 
To  bum  the  errors  that  these  princes  hold 
Against  her  maiden  truth  : — Call  me  a  fool ; 
Trust  not  my  reading,  nor  my  observations. 
Which  with  experimental  seal  doth  warrant 
The  tenor  of  my  book ;  trust  not  my  age. 
My  reverence,  calling,  nor  divinity. 
If  tiiis  sweet  lady  lie  not  guiltless  here 
Under  some  biting  error.* 

Ijeon,  Friar,  it  cannot  be : 

Thou  seest,  that  all  the  grace  tliat  she  hath  leA| 
Is,  that  she  will  not  add  to  her  damnation 
A  sin  of  perjury  ;  she  not  denies  it : 
Why  seeK'st  thou  then  to  cover  with  excuse 
That  which  appears  in  proper  nakedness  ? 

Friar.  Lady,  what  man  is  he  you  are  accused  of? 

Hero.  They  know  that  do  accuse  me ;  1  know 
none : 
If  I  know  more  of  any  man  alive. 
Than  that  which  maiden  modesty  doth  warrant. 
Let  all  my  sins  lack  mercy ! — O  my  father, 
Prove  you  that  any  man  with  me  convers'd 
At  hours  immeet,  or  that  I  yesternight 
Maintain'd  the  change  of  words  with  any  creature. 
Refuse  me,  hate  me,  torture  me  to  death. 

Friar.  There  is  some  strange  mii<prision^  in  the 
princes. 

Bene.  Two  of  them  have  the  verv  bent  of  honour ; 
And  if  their  wisdoms  be  misled  in  this,  • 

The  practice  of  it  li\'es  in  John  the  bastard. 
Whose  spirits  toil  in  frame  of  villanies. 

Leon.  I  know  not ;  if  they  speak  but  truth  of  her. 
These  hands  shall  tear  her ;    if  they  wrong  her 

honour. 
The  proudest  of  them  shall  well  hear  of  it. 
Time  hath  not  yet  so  dried  this  blood  of  mine, 
Nor  as:*'  so  eat  up  my  invention. 
Nor  fortune  made  such  havoc  of  my  moans, 
Xor  my  bad  \i(o  reft  me  so  nuich  of  friends. 
But  they  shall  find,  awak'd  in  such  a  kind, 
Both  strength  of  limb,  and  policy  of  mind, 
Ability  in  means,  and  choice  of  friends, 
To  quit  me  of  them  thoroughly. 

Friar.  Pause  a  while. 

And  let  my  counsel  sway  you  in  this  case. 
Your  daughter  here  the  prince*  left  for  dead ; 
Let  her  a  while  be  secretly  kept  in. 
And  publish  it,  that  she  is  dead  indeed : 


f4^  Sullied. 


(5)  Misconception. 


134 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


Act  IT. 


Maintain  a  mourning  ostentatioa ; 
And  on  your  family^s  old  monument 
Hang  mournful  epitaplus  and  do  all  rites 
TKat  appertain  unto  a  burial. 

Leon.  What  shall  become  of  this?  What  wilt 
thiitdo? 

Friar.  Marn',  this,  well  carried,  shall  on  her  be- 
half 
Change  slander  to  remorse  ;  that  is  some  good : 
But  not  for  that  dream  I  on  this  strange  course, 
But  on  this  travail  look  for  greater  birth. 
She  dying,  as  it  must  be  so  inaintainM, 
Upon  the  instant  that  she  was  accused. 
Shall  be  lamented,  pitied,  aitd  excused, 
Of  «vcry  hearer :  for  it  so  falls  out, 
That  what  we  have  we  prize  not  to  the  worth. 
Whiles^  we  enjoy  it ;  but  being  lackM  and  loet, 
Why,  then  we  rack^  the  value  ;  then  we  find 
The  virtue,  that  possession  would  not  show  us 
Whiles  it  was  ours : — So  will  it  fare  with  Clau- 

dio: 
Wlien  he  shall  hear  she  died  upon'  his  words, 
The  idea  of  her  life  shall  sweetly  creep 
Into  his  study  of  imagination ; 
And  even  lovely  organ  ot*  her  life 
Shall  come  appareird  in  more  precious  habit. 
More  moving-delicate,  and  full  of  life. 
Into  the  eye  and  prospect  of  liib  soul, 
Than  when  she  livM  indeed : — then  shall  he  mourn 
f  If  ever  love  had  interest  in  hi;*  liver,) 
And  wish  he  had  not  so  accused  her ; 
No,  though  be  thought  his  accusation  true. 
Let  this  be  so,  and  doubt  not  but  success 
Will  fashion  the  event  in  better  shape 
Than  I  can  lay  it  down  in  likelihood. 
But  if  all  aim  but  this  be  levelPd  false. 
The  supposition  of  the  lady's  death 
Will  quench  the  wonder  o^  her  infamy  : 
And,  if  it  9prt  not  well,  you  may  conceal  her 
As  best  befits  her  wounded  reputation,) 
n  some  reclusive  and  religious  life. 
Out  of  all  eyes,  tongues,  minds,  and  injuries. 

Bene.  Signior  Leonato,  let  the  friar  advise  you : 
And  though  you  know  my  inwardness'*  and  love 
Is  very  mucH  unto  the  prince  nndClaudio, 
Yet,  by  mine  honour,  I  will  deal  in  this 
As  secretly,  and  justly,  as  your  soul 
Should  witli  your  body. 

Leon.  Being  that  I  flow  in  grief, 

1  he  smallest  twine  may  lead  me. 

Friar.  *Tis  well  consented  ;  presently  away  ; 
For  to  strange  sores  strangely  they  strain  the 
9      cure. — 
Come  lady,  die  to  li\'e :  this  wedding  day. 

Perhaps,  is  but  prolongM ;  have  patience,  and 
endure.        lEre.  Friar,  Hero,  and  Leon. 

Bene.  Ladv  Beatnce,  have  you  wept  all  thi> 
while  f 

Beat.  Yea,  and  I  will  weep  a  while  longer. 

Bene.  I  will  not  des^irc  that. 

Beat.  You  have  no  reason,  I  do  it  freely. 

Bene.  Surely,  1  do  believe  your  fair  cousin  i» 
wrong*d. 

Beat.  Ah,  liow  much  might  the  man  deserve  of 
me,  that  would  right  her ! 

Bene.  Is  there  any  way  to  show  such  friendship  f 

Beat.  A  very  even  way,  but  no  such  friend. 

Bene.  May  a  man  do  it  ? 

Beat.  It  is  a  man's  odice,  but  not  yours. 

Bene.  I  do  love  nothing  in  the  world  so  well  as 
you ;  is  not  that  strange  f 

(1)  While.        (2)  Ovcr-rate.        (3)  By. 
(4)  Intimacy.         (5)  Delude  her  with  hopes. 


i 


Beat.  As  strange  as  the  thing  I  know  not:  it 
were  as  possible  for  me  to  say,  1  loved  notliing  so 
well  as  you  :  but  believe  me  not ;  and  yet  I  lie  not ; 
I  confess  nothing,  nor  I  deny  nothing : — I  am  sorry 
for  my  cou:»in. 

Bene.  By  my  sword,  Beatrice,  thou  lovest  me. 

Beat.  Do  not  swear  by  it,  and  cat  it 

Bciu.  I  will  swear  by  it,  that  you  love  me; 
and  I  will  make  him  eat  it,  that  says,  I  lave  nu 
you. 

Beat  Will  you  not  eat  your  word  ? 

Bene.  With  no  sauce  that  can  be  devised  to  it : 
I  prott^t  I  love  thee. 

Beat.  Why  then,  God  forgive  me .' 

Bene.  What  offence,  sweet  Beatrice  f 

Beat.  You  have  staid  me  in  a  happy  hour ;  I 
was  about  to  protest  I  loved  you. 

Btne.  And  do  it  with  all  thy  heart 

Beat.  I  love  you  with  so  much  of  my  heart,  that 
none  is  left  to  protest 

Bine.  Come,  bid  me  do  any  thing  for  thee. 

Beat.  Kill  Claudio. 

Bene.  Ha  !  not  for  the  wide  world. 

Bent.  You  kill  me  to  deny  it:  farewelL 

Bene.  Tariy,  sweet  Beatrice. 

Beat.  I  am  goi'ie,  though  I  am  here ; — there  it 
no  love  in  you  : — nay,  I  pray  you,  let  me  go. 

Bene.  BeJitrice, — 

Beat.  In  faitli  I  \vi\\  go. 

Bene.  We'll  be  friends  first 

Beat.  You  dare  easier  be  friends  with  noe,  tfaaa 
fight  with  mine  enemy. 

Bene.  Is  Claudio  thine  enemy  f 

Beat.  Is  he  not  approv'd  in  tlie  height  a  villain, 
that  hath  slandered,  scorned,  dishonoured  my  kins- 
woman ^ — O,  lliat  1  were  a  man  I — \Mwit'i  bear 
her  in  liand^  until  they  come  to  take  hands ;  and 
tlten  with  public  accusation,  uncovered  slaniler, 
unmitigated  rancour, — O  God,  tliat  I  were  a  maul 
I  would  eat  his  heart  in  the  market-place. 

Bene.  Hear  nio,  Beatrice ; — 

Btat.  Talk  with  a  man  out  at  a  window  ? — a 
proper  saving ! 

Bene.  Nay  but,  Beatrice ; — 

Beat.  Sweet  Hero ! — she  is  wronged,  she  is  slan- 
dered, i>he  is  undone. 

Bene.  Beat — 

Beat.  Princes,  and  counties  ^  Surely  a  princelr 
te^tinK>ny,  a  goodly  count-confect  v  a  sweet  caf- 
laiit,  surely !  O  that  I  were  a  man  for  his  sake:  or 
that  I  had  any  friend  would  be  a  man  for  my  sake ! 
But  manhood  isi  melted  into  courlesies,^  valour  into 
cuniplinicnt,  and  men  are  only  turned  into  toiignc, 
and  trim  ones  too :  he  is  now  as  valiant  as  }ier- 
cules,  that  only  tells  a  lie,  and  swears  it : — I  can- 
not be  a  man  with  wishing,  therefore  I  will  die  a 
woman  witli  grieving. 

Berte.  Tariy,  good  Beatrice :  by  this  liand  I  love 
ihee, 

Batt.  Vie  it  for  my  love  some  other  way  than 
swearing  by  it 

Be/u.  Think  you  in  your  soul  the  count  Claud.V} 
hath  wronarr-d  Hero .' 

Beat  Yea,  as  sure  as  I  have  a  thought,  or  a 
soul. 

Bene.  Enough,  I  am  engaged,  I  will  challenge 
him ;  I  will  kis9  your  hand,  and  so  leave  you  :  by 
this  hand,  Claudio  shall  render  me  a  dear  account*: 
as  you  hear  of  me,  so  think  of  me.  Go,  comfort 
your  cousin :  I  must  say,  she  is  dead ;  and  mo  Aire* 
well.  [ELctunL 

(&)  Noblemen.  (7)  A  nobleman  made  out  of  sugar. 
(8}  Ceremony. 


Hi. 


MDCH  ADO  ABOUT  SOTHING. 


HCE-VEII—ApriKM.  EOer  Dogl^rrr. 
If",  and  S*»too,  in  gamu;  and  Un  \V( 
vilh  Conrade  and  Borachio. 
n<zh.  l»™ri.hol»di5«mb1j  appeared? 
'  tig.  O,  ■  gic»|  aitd  a  cushion  for  tlie  seilc 
.s,tlan.  WhicbbelhemaWBCIon? 
/!■.£■*.  Manj,  thai  am  I  and  mj-  partner. 
I  irg.  Na^,  (hat'i  certBin ;  we  hn.e  the  e»l 

.•^itirn.  Bui  which  are  the  offeadputhalarci 
.wmined'  lellhetn  come  before  masler  c™>» 
„."«*■  ^e».  mBnj,  lei  Ihem  come  before  m 
n  hai  a  your  name,  friend  ? 

A>ra.  Borachio. 

Z>o^.  Pnjwriledown— Bonchio. Vf 

Oni.  I  am  a  genlleman,  at,  and  my  nam 


Z)off6.  Write 
nde, — MaMert,  do  you  Krve  < 
Cm.  Bor«.  Yea,  tit.  we  boiK, 
Dogb.  Write  down— thai  they 
God  r— and  write  God  fint ;  for 
God  thould  go  before  nich  vtltaini 
ptored  almd;  thai  jou  are  lillle 


■Her  Ihiin  fnl 


Itwrriil  TOu  I 
Dagb.  W, 


linvourea 
relalfekna 


i)Si.  Vea,m 


r>  that'i  the  efteit  w 


_-,-.    — ,  nurn,  thi 
the  walch  come  forth !— Maitera,  I  tharce  vou  ii 
the  prince's  name,  aecn*  AeM  mPn, 

1  IFi(cA.  Thi,  man  aid,  sit,  thai  Don  Jo)ji, 
tiaepnnce't  brothrr,  was  a  villain. 
j-.-^W*-  Write  down— prince  Jolm  ■  villain :- 
v^-  hy  this  ]i  9al  perjury,  lo  call  a  prince's  brothti- 

-Sord.  Mailer  cmslahle,— 

.ZJofft.  Pmj  thee,  fellow,  peace:  r  do  nol  lik. 
•it  kiak,Ijuoniiselbee. 

-'SLerbm.  Whai  benrd  joo  tumnreln? 

a  IfafeA.  Man7,  thai  he  had  r^ei.ed  a  Ihrsi 
Jjod  ducats  of  Don  John,  for  acciuing  (he  Uii; 

J*^.  Fl«t  bnrelMy,  UBVeriraiconuniilfd 
r^«t.  Vea,  by  (he  masi,  Ihat  it  ii, 
.Serfm.  What  else,  fellow.' 
I    JTafA  And  (bat  count  Claiidio  did  nwan 
upoo  hn  words,  (o  diipacc  Hero  before  the  who!, 


\ 


evwlaeii^  r»dempIion  for  this. 
a  X'olcA.  This  i^>  ail. 
S«i(oa.  And  [his  is  more,  masfeo,  Iban 
n™?-  Prince  John  is  this  mominEiecreil 
"»y !  Hero  was  in  this  manner  Iccu«d, 
'J?j*!™"  refuspd,  aiid  upm  flic  ericf 
™*«l7  died— Master  constable,  let  iht 
M  t—J    and  brought  to  Leonato'i ;  I 


f'rrg.  Lei  them  be  in  band' 
C/n.  or;  cDicomb ! 
Dagh.  Cred'u       


I't  officer,  eoicomb. — 
Come, bind  Ihem: Thou  naughtj  varlel! 

Ditgb.  Doaltliou  nol  suspecl  mj  place'    Dc^ 
ihou  nijl  luspecl  my  jears?— Oihat  be  were  here 

ber,  llial  I  am  ui  ass;  Ihou^  it  be  not  wrilten 
dcntn,  jelfotxMnol  thallanianaia:— No,  Ihou 
villain,  dmi  an  full  of  piely,  as  shall  be  provtd 
upoii  Ihfi:  by  good  wiUieas.  I  am  a  wise  fellow ; 
and,  which  is  more,  on  olTicer ;  aod,  which  is  more 
n  housr  holder :  and,  which  is  more,  aa  pretty  a 
piece  of  Beshasany  is  in  Meuina;  ani!  ™i»  ih.t 

go  lo  1  Bfid  a  fellow  (hat  halh  had  loasea 
■eiy  thbg 


[Exaaii. 

ACT  V.  ' 

SCEJVE  l.~BtfoTt   leonato'i  Aouk.    Etd- 
Leooafo  and  Antonio. 
Anl.  V  jbu  go  on  thus,  you  will  kill  yotuMlfi 
And  'li*  not  wisdom,  thus  lo  second  grief 
Apiin.-t  yourself. 

/•*(">■  I  pray  Ihee,  cease  thy  cotmel. 

\Miich  falls  intomioe  ears  as  profitlen 

\or  lei  no  comforter  delight  mine  ear, 

IJnnf-  rac  a  father,  thai  bo  lov'd  his  child, 
VVI„«.i„,       - 
And  bid  hi 
Men'iire  hi 

As  ihu«  for  thus,  and 


,  and  such  a  erief  for  such, 

''"-~™---''"-'^-hiswld\ 

^  shoo  Id  groan; 


w,  wag!  and  I 


of  him  will  galher  patience. 
iprc  is  no  such  nan ;  For,  brother,  men 
Coti  founwl,  and  speak  comfort  lo  thai  grief 
Which  Lhey  themselves  not  feel ;  but,  lasting  it, 
counsel  turns  lo  paaiion,  which  before 
J  give  preceplial  medicine  lo  rage,        . 
strong  madness  in  a  sillien  lliread, 

Til  thtjse  that  wring  under  the  load  of  sorrow: 

u  be  w  iDoral,  when  he  shall  endure 
he  like  himself :  Iherelbre  rive  me  no  connsel : 
Iv  Kricf-  eiy  louder  than  adverlUernenl.3 
Ani.  Thercindomen  frem  children  nothing  dilli 
imn.  I  pray  ibce,  peace :  I  will  be  Besh  ai 

For  there  was  netrr  yet  philosopher. 
That  could  endure  die  toolh-ach  palienllT : 
'  'owerer  they  have  writ  the  slvle  of  gorf,, 

nd  made  a  pish  at  chance  ai^  son-erance. 

Aal.  Yet  bend  nol  all  ihc  harm  upon  louraell 
Make  tkw.lbal  do  offend  vou,  sullerloo. 

l-ton.  There  Ihou  speak'sl  reaacn !  nay,  I  w 


136 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


Ad  r. 


And  all  of  them,  that  thus  dishonour  her. 
Enter  Don  Pedro  and  Claudia 

Ant.  Here  comc»thc  prince,  and  Claudio, hastily. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  de^,  ^ood  den. 

Claud,  Good  da}'  to  both  of  you. 

Leon.  Hear  you  mv  lords, — 

D.  Pedro.  >\  e  have  some  haste,  Leonato. 

Leon.   Some  haste,  my  lord  I — well,  fare  you 
well,  my  lord : — 
Are  you  so  hasty  now  ? — well,  all  is  one. 

D.  Pedro.  Nay,  do  not  quarrel  with  us,  good 
old  man. 

ArU.  If  he  could  right  himself  with  quarrelling. 
Some  of  u«  would  lie  low. 

Claud.  Who  wrongs  him  ? 

Leon,  Marry, 

Thou,  thou  dost  wrong  me;  thou  dissembler,  thou:— 
Nay,  never  lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  sword, 
I  fear  thee  not 

Claud.  Marry,  beshrew  my  hand, 

If  it  should  give  your  age  such  cause  of  fear : 
In  faith,  mv  hand  meant  nothing  to  my  sword. 

Leon.  Tush,  tush,  man,  never  lleer  and  jest  at  me : 
I  speak  not  like  a  dotard,  nor  a  fool ; 
As,  under  privilege  of  age,  to  brag 
What  I  have  done  being  young,  or  what  would  do, 
Were  I  not  old :  Know,  Claudio,  to  thy  head. 
Thou  hast  so  wrongM  mine  innocent  child  and  me, 
That  I  am  forced  to  lay  my  reverence  by ; 
And,  with  gray  hairs,  and  bruise  of  many  days. 
Do  challenge  thee  to  trial  of  a  man. 
I  say,  thou  riast  belied  mine  innocent  child ; 
Thy  slander  hath  gone  through  and  through  her 

heart. 
And  she  lies  buried  with  her  ancestors : 
O !  in  a  tomb  where  never  scandal  slept, 
Save  this  of  her's  fram'd  by  thy  villany. 

Claud.  My  villany  f 

Leon.  Thine,  Claudio ;  thine  I  say. 

D.  Pedro.  You  say  not  right,  old  man. 

Leon.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

ni  prove  it  on  his  body,  if  he  dare ; 
Despite  his  nice  fence,  and  his  active  practice,' 
His  May  of  youth,  and  bloom  of  lusty nood. 

Claud.  Away,  I  will  not  have  to  do  with  you. 

Leon.  Canst  thou  so  daff  me.^  Thou  hast  kill'd 
my  child  ; 
If  thou  kili'st  me,  bov,  thou  shalt  kill  a  man. 

Ant.  He  shall  kill  two  of  us,  and  men  indeed  : 
But  that's  no  matter;  let  him  kill  one  first: — 
Win  me  and  wear  me, — let  him  answer  me, — 
Come,  follow  me,  boy  ;  come,  boy,  follow  me : — 
Sir  boy,  I'll  whip  you  from  vour  foining^  fence ; 
NaVi  as  I  am  a  gentleman,  \  will. 

jLeon.  Brother, — 

Ant.  Content  yourself:  God  knows,  I  lov'd  my 
niece ; 
And  she  is  degd,  slander'd  to  death  by  villains; 
That  dare  as  well  answer  a  man,  indeed, 
As  I  dare  take  a  serpejit  by  the  tongue : 
Boys,  apes,  braggarts,  Jaclcs,  milksops ! — 

Leon.  Brother  Antony, — 

Ant.  Hold  you  content ;  What,  man !  I  know 
them,  yea. 
And  what  they  wci^h,  even  to  the  utmost  scruple : 
Scrambling,  out-facing,  fashion-mong*ring  boys, 
That  lie,  and  cog,  and  flout,  deprave  and  slander. 
Go  anticly,  and  show  outward  hideousness, 
And  speak  off  half  a  dozen  dangerous  words. 
How  they  might  hurt  their  enemies,  if  they  durst, 
And  this  is  all.         ^ 


(1)  Skill  in  fencing 


(2)  Thrustiag. 


Leon.  But,  brother  Antcny, — 

Ant.  Come,  *tis  no  matter , 

Do  not  vou  meddle,  let  me  deal  in  this. 

Z>.  Pedro.  Gentlemen  both,  we  will  not  wake 
your  patience. 
My  heart  is  sorry  for  your  daughter's  death ; 
But,  on  my  honour,  she  was  charg'd  with  nothing 
But  what  was  true,  and  verj'  full  df  prooC 

Leon.  My  lord,  my  lord, — 

D.  Pedro.  I  will  not  hear  yoo. 

Leon.  No  ?— 

Brother,  away : — I  will  be  heard ; — 

Ant.  And  shall. 

Or  some  of  us  will  smart  for  it 

[Exeunt  Leonato  and  Antonia 

Enter  Benedick. 

D.  Pedro.  See,  see,  here  comes  the  man  we  went 
to  seek. 

Claud.  Now,  signior !  what  news  f 

Bene.  Good  day,  my  lord. 

D.  Pedro.  Welcome,  signior :  You  are  almost 
come  to  part  almost  a  fray. 

Claud.  'We  had  like  to  have  had  our  two  noses 
snapped  off  with  two  old  men  without  teeth. 

JD.  Pedro.  I^eonato  and  his  brother:  What 
think'st  thou  ?  Had  we  fought,  I  doubt,  we  should 
have  l)cen  too  voung  for  them. 

Bene.  In  a  /alse  quarrel  there  is  no  true  Talour. 
I  came  to  seek  vou  both. 

Claud.  W^e  (lave  been  up  and  down  to  seek  thee ; 
for  we  are  high-proof  melancholy,  and  would  &in 
have  it  beaten  away  :  Wilt  thou  use  thy  wit  ? 

Bene.  It  is  in  my  scabbard ;  shall  I  draw  it .' 

v.  Pedro.  Dost  thou  wear  thy  wit  by  thy  side  ? 

Claud.  Never  any  did  so,  though  very  many 
have  been  beside  their  wit — I  will  bid  thee  draw 
as  we  do  the  minstrels ;  draw,  to  pleasure  us. 

Z>.  Pedro.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  he  looks  pale : 
Art  thou  sick  or  angry  ? 

Claud.  What !  courage,  man  !  WTiat  though  care 
killed  a  cat,  thou  hast  mettle  enough  in  thee  to  kill 
care. 

Bene.  Sir,  I  shall  meet  your  wit  in  the  career,  an 
you  charge  it  against  me: — I  pray  you,  choose 
another  subject 

Claud.  Nay,  then  give  him  another  staff;  iioM 
last  was  broke  cross. 

Z>.  Pedro.  By  this  light,  he  changes  more  and 
more  :  I  think,  he  be  angry  indeed. 

Claud.  If  he  be,  he  knows  how  to  turn  his  girdle.' 

Bene.  Shall  I  speak  a  word  in  your  ear  f 

Ctaud.  God  bless  me  from  a  challenge ! 

Bene.  You  are  a  villain ;  I  jest  not : — I  will  make 
it  good  how  you  dare,  with  what  vou  dare,  and  when 
you  dare  : — Do  me  right,  or  I  will  protest  your  cow- 
ardice. You  have  killed  a  sweet  lady,  and  her 
death  shall  fsdl  heavy  on  you :  Let  me  hear  from 
you. 

Claud.  Well,  I  will  meet  you,  so  I  may  hare  good 
cheer. 

D.  Pedro.  What,  a  feast  ?  a  feast  f 

Claud,  rfaith,  I  thank  him  ;  he  hath  bid^  me  to 
a  calTs-head  and  a  capon ;  the  which  if  I  do  not 
carve  most  curiously,  say,  my  knife's  naught — ShaO 
I  not  find  a  woodcock  too  f 

Bene.  Sir,  your  wit  ambles  well ;  it  goes  easily. 

D.  Pedro.  I'll  tell  thee  how  Beatrice  praised  thy 
wit  the  other  day :  I  said,  thou  hadst  a  fine  wit'; 
True,  says  she,  ajine  Utile  one :  JVb,  said  I,  a  great 
wit ,'  Rights  says  she,  a  great  gross  one :  ^'ay^  said 
I,  a  good  wit :  Justf  said  sne,  it  hurts  nobody  • 

(3)  To  give  a  challenge.        (4)  Invited. 


Setne  L 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


131 


^ayj  said  I,  (he  gentleman  is  vnse ;  Certain^  said 
8h«»  a  teisej^entleman :  J^ay,  said  I,  he  haih  i/u 
tongues  ;  That  /  believe^  said  she,  Jor  he  swore  a 
thing  tome  on  Monday  nighty  which  heforsxoort 
on  Titesday  morning ;  tfiere^s  a  double  tongue  ; 
there's  tuH)  tongues.  Thus  did  she,  an  hour  to- 
gether, trans-shape  thy  particular  viKues;  yet,  at 
last,  she  concluded  with  a  sigh,  thou  woat  ilu> 
properest  man  in  Italy. 

Claud.  For  the  which  she  wept  heartily,  and 
said,  she  cared  not 

D.  Pedro.  Yea,  that  she  did ;  but  yet,  for  all 
that,  an  if  »he  did  not  hate  him  deadly,  she  would 
love  him  dearly  :  the  old  man's  daughter  told  us  all. 

Claud.  All,  all ;  and  moreover,  God  saw  him 
wKen  he  was  hid  in  the  garden. 

D.  Pedro.  Bat  when  shall  we  set  the  snvage 
boll*s  boms  on  the  sensible  Benedick's  head  i* 

Qaud.  Yea,  and  text  underneath.  Here  dwells 
Benedick  the  married  man. 

Bene.  Fare  you  well,  boy  ;  you  know  my  mind : 
I  will  leave  you  now  to  your  gossip-like  iiiurnour : 
you  break  jests  as  braggarts  do  their  blades,  which, 
God  be  thanked,  hurt  not — My  lord,  for  your  many 
courtesies  I  thank  you :  I  must  discontinue  your 
company  ;  your  brother,  the  bastard,  is  fled  from 
Messina :  you  have,  aroone  you,  killed  a  sweet  and 
innocent  lady  :  for  my  lord  Lack-beard,  there,  he 
and  I  shall  meet ;  and  till  then,  peace  be  with  him. 

[Exit  Benedick. 

D.  Pedro.  He  is  in  earnest. 

Ctaud.  In  most  profound  earnest ;  and,  Pll  war- 
rant you,  for  the  love  of  Beatrice. 

X).  Pedro.  And  hath  challenged  thee  f 

Claud.  Most  sincerely. 

D.  Pedro.  What  a  pretty  thing  man  is,  when  he 
goes  in  his  doublet  and  hose,  and  leaves  off  his  wit ! 

Enter  Dogberry,  Verges,  and  the  Watch,  with 
CoDiadc  and  Borachio. 

CUtud.  He  is  then  agiant  to  an  ape :  but  then  is 
an  ape  a  doctor  to  such  a  man. 

D.  Pedro.  But,  soft  yon,  let  be ;  pluck  up,  my 
heart,  and  be  sad  l^  Did  he  not  say  my  brotlier  was 
ted> 

Dogb,  Come,  yoo,  sir;  if  justice  cannot  tame 
/ou,  she  shall  ne'er  weigh  more  reasons  in  her 
Iwlaoce ;  nay,  an  yon  be  a  cursing  hypocrite  once, 
jroa  most  be  looked  ta 

D.  Pedro.  How  now,  two  of  my  brother's  men 
txrand  !  Borachio,  one ! 

Gaud.  Hearken  to  their  offence,  my  lord  ! 

D.  Pedro.  Officers,  what  offence  have  these  men 
clone  .^ 

Dogb.  Many,  sir,  they  have  committed  false  re- 
pNrt;  moreover,  they  have  spoken  untruths;  sc- 
crondarily,  they  are  slanders ;  sixth  and  lasth',  they 
^lave  belied  a  lady ;  thirdly,  they  have  verined  un- 
just things:  and,  to  conclude,  they  are  lying  knaves. 

D.  Pedro.  First,  I  ask  thee  what  they  have  done  : 
thirdly,  I  ask  thee  what's  their  offence;  sixth  and 
Bjkjtly,  why  they  are  committed ;  and,  to  conclude, 
>^hat  yoo  by  to  their  charge  ? 

Oaud.  lughtly  reasoned,  and  in  his  own  di- 
vision; and,  by  my  troth,  there's  one  moaning 
'^vell  suited. 

D.  Pedro.  Whom  have  you  offended,  masters, 
^tiat  you  are  thus  bound  to  your  answer.'    thi^ 
learned  constable  is  too  cunning  to  be  understood  : 
^^Hhat's  your  offence  f 

Bora,   Sweet  prince,  let  me  go  no  further  to 
Sttne  answer;  do  yon  hear  me,  and  let  this  count 


kill  me.  I  have  deceived  even  your  very  eyes : 
what  your  wisdoms  could  not  discover,  tiiese 
shallow  fools  have  brought  to  light ;  who,  m  the 
night,  overheard  me  confessing  to  this  man,  bow 
Don  John  your  brother  incensed^  me  to  slander  the 
ladv  Hero ;  hq^  you  were  brought  into  the  orchard, 
and  saw  me  court  Margaret  in  Hero's  garments ; 
huw  you  disgraced  her,  when  you  should  marry 
\\f,r :  mv  villany  they  have  upon  ^cord ;  which  I 
liad  rather  seal  witli  my  death,  man  repeat  over 
to  my  shame :  the  lady  is  dead  upon  mine  and  my 
master's  false  accusation;  and,  briefly,  I  desire 
nothing  but  the  reward  of  a  villain. 

D.  Pedro.  Runs  not  this  speech  like  iron  throu^ 
your  blood  ? 

Claud.  I  have  drunk  poison  whiles  he  utter'd  it 

D.  Pedro.  But  did  my  brother  set  thee  on  to  this  ? 

Bora.  Yea,  and  paia  me  richly  for  the  practice 
of  it 

D.  Pedro.  He  is  compos'd  and  fram'd  of  trea- 
chery : — 
And  fled  he  is  upon  this  villany^ 

Claud.  Sweet  Hero !  now  thy  image  doth  appear 
In  the  rare  semblance  that  I  loved  it  first 

Dogb.  Come,  bring  away  the  plaintiffs ;  by  this 
time  our  Sexton  hath  reformed  si^nior  Leonato  of 
the  matter :  and  masters,  do  not  forget  to  specify, 
when  time  and  place  shall  serve,  that  I  am  an  a»s. 

I'erg.  Here,  here  comes  master  signior  Leonato, 
and  the  Sexton  toa 

Re-enter  Leonato  and  Antomo,  with  the  Sexton. 

Leon.  Which  is  the  villain  ?  Let  me  see  his  eyes ; 
That  when  I  note  another  man  like  him, 
I  may  avoid  him :  Which  of  these  is  he  f 

Bora.  If  you  would  know  your  wronger,  look  on 
me. 

Leon.  Art  thou  the  slave,  that  with  thy  breath  hast 
kiU'd 
Mine  innocent  child  ? 

Bora.  Yea,  even  I  alone. 

Leon.  No,  not  so,  villain ;  thou  bely'st  thyself; 
Here  stand  a  pair  of  honourable  men, 
A  tliird  is  fled,  that  had  a  hand  in  it : — 
I  thank  you,  princes,  for  my  daughter's  death; 
Record  it  with  your  high  and  worthy  deeds ; 
'Twas  bravely  done,  if  you  bethink  you  of  it 

Claud.  I  know  not  how  to  pray  your  patience. 
Yet  I  must  speak  :  Choose  your  revenge  yourself ; 
Impose^  me  to  what  penance  your  invention 
Can  lay  upon  my  sin :  yet  sinn'd  I  not, 
But  in  mistaking. 

D.  Pedro.  By  my  soul,  nor  I ; 

And  yet,  to  satisfy  this  good  old  man, 
I  would  bend  under  any  heavy  weight 
That  he'll  enjoin  me  to. 

J^on.  I  cannot  bid  you  bid  my  daughter  liye, 
That  were  impossible ;  but,  I  pray  you  both. 
Possess"*  the  people  in  Messina  here 
How  innocent  she  died :  and,  if  your  love 
Can  labour  ought  in  sad  invention. 
Hang  her  an  epitaph  upon  her  tomb. 
And  sing  it  to  ner  ooncs ;  sing  it  to-night : — 
To-morrow  morning  come  you  to  my  house ; 
And  since  you  could  not  be  my  son-in-law. 
Be  yet  my  nephew  :  my  brother  hath  a  daughter, 
Almost  the  copy  of  my  child  that's  dead. 
And  she  alone  is  heir  to  both  of  us ; 
Give  her  the  right  you  should  have  given  her  couad, 
And  so  dies  my  revenge. 

Claud.  O,  noble  sir, 

Your  over-kindne«  doth  wring  tears  from  me ! 


(l)Serioaa. 


(2)  Incited. 


(3)  Command. 


(4)  Acquaint 


\ 


MICH  ADO  ABOLT  XOTHIXG. 


I  do  flnbricc  I'nar  oflVr :  dnd  diipcae 
For  hnir.  fiK-Ji  of  pair  Claudio. 

'   " "  '"    tbcnlwilUipeclTourcti 


Ltia  Tivr 
T'-ni^hlltalisn 
SlialLlWeeiorBce 
Who,  I  twlicve,  « 
Hir'dloilbTjoii 


itMuiRI 


So.  bj  my  i 
H  djd.  whe 


111  any  (hiiir  that  1  do  know  br  hpr. 

/><i^b.  ftlormver,  nr,  (whicli,  indwd,  i<  n 
rttr  while  uid  blacL,)  thii  plaintiff  hfre,  I 


ruiv)  money  in  Gc 
•d  BO  long,  and  at 
rd'hearted,  uid  w: 


Dogh.  YourwiHihipipeilishhe  a  moil  thiiiL 
niid  rcvfrriid  youlh  i  and  I  prsise  God  Tor  you. 

Leon.  There'a  for  thf  paini. 

Dogb.  God  Hve  Ihe  foundation  ' 

Ltaiu  Go,  I  diKhaige  (bee  of  thy  piuoncr,  a 
!  Ibank  A«. 

■hip;  which,  I  beseech  your  wonhip,  lo  corn 
youncif,  for  tbaeiarapleofolhen.  Godkefpi' 
wonhin;  1  wilh  TOur  Honhip  well ;  God  n-li 
voQ  to  neallh:  I  humbly  give  tou  leave  lo  drp.i 
and  if  a  merry  meeliiiE  may  be  wished,  God  |> 
hibii  it— Come,  neiefabour. 

[Eiaiat  Dewberry,  Verge*,  and  W:iu 
Lam.  Until  [o-moTTOw  n»ming,lord>,  rarc^ii 
ds ;  we  look  for  }  ou 


Ani.  Fan 
D.Ptdro.  We 


■night  I'll  mo 
11  Dm  Pedi 


uiClau 


Lnn.  Bring  you  tbeae  fel 

How  her  acquaintance  grew  with  Ihn  lewdl  fellow. 
[Entail. 
SCEJfE  //.— I.rona(D'>  OarJtTL     Enter  Beiie- 


Jtf«rg 


^Mar; 
at  my  hands,  by  helping  m 


IS  Mati 


Bent.  In»higb'attyle,Mai^ret,  that  » 

Ihou  dewrvcgl  iL 
Marg.  To  hare 


ahall  I  alH-ays 
Bmt.  Thy  wit 

Man 


lick  as  (be  grcybaund 

u  the  renccr'i  foil 
ithich  liil,  but  hurt  not 

Beni.  A  mcnt  manly  wit,  MargBret.  it  Mill  ni 
hTtri  a  woman;  and  so  1  pmy  th^,  call  BeadJLt 
I  yive  the*  the  bucklers. 

JIfirg.  Giie  us  the  swords,  we  have  bnckltrs  < 

Brm.  If  jon  use  tbem,  Maiwet,  you  mus(  p- 
in  the  pikps  with  a  viccj  and  Ihey  are  dangrroi 
weapons  Inr  maids, 

MuTg.  Welt,  I  will  call  Beatrice  loyou,  ivlio, 

Ibiall,  halh  legs.  [EM  Mnrgore 

(1)  iKDOnuit  (i)  Holiday  phrasca. 


Thrgvdofkne, 
That  jiU  abort. 
And  knom  me,  awl  AiKnat  mt. 
Haw  pHifai  I  ifcserw, — 
in,  in  (iiigin^;  but  in  loving, — Leander  ttta 
Mnrmmei',  Tre«lus  the  first  emptojer  of  put- 
uni]  a  whale  book  full  of  IhcM' quondam  eai- 
onsers,  whose  names  yei  run  uitiothly  in  the 
-uadol'a  blank  verse,  why,  thry  wei«  Derer 
ly  (Onied  over  and  over  as  m<  poor  self,  in 
Manj,  I  csniiotBbow  it  in  rhtmej  I  have 
.  I  can  find  out  no  rhyme  to  laav  but  6at]i, 
locmt  rhyme:  (iiTifom,honi,ttajAthfTttti 
far  ncluHit,  Jboti  a  babbluig  rhyme ;  tctj  ooiDoiia 
"  '         under  a  rhyming 


jicir. 

[Sir^ng-I 


XI  in  li^titeJ  lemH.!— 


Enter  Bealric 


/lull.  Yea,  signior,  and  depart  when  you  l^d  me. 

;jr/^.  0,  stav  but  lilt  then  I 

Heat.  The«.'u  tpoktn ;  fiire  you  well  now  ^— 
rid  jL-t,  ere  I  go,  lei  me  go  wiih  that  I  tame 
ir,  whii'li  is,  with  knowing  what  imUi  passed  be- 
i\i-tn  }  01]  and  Claudia 

Bene.  Only  foul  words;  and  Ibempon  I  will 

Rr^l.'roul 


-.  Thou  hart  fr^bled  Ihe  word  out  of  his 
n  ^.  Ml  forcible  is  thy  vril :  But,  I  must  tell 
liiiiiK",  Claudio  mulergocs'  my  challenge  ; 


':.  Hfffirhirti  neood 
idi  to,  for  I  loie  ihec  a 


epithet!  1  do  suSbr 
gainst  my  will. 
Ural,  In  spiteof  yuurbeart,!  Iliink  ;  alas!  poor 
irxn'.  If  yon  spite.  It  fut  my  sske;  I  will  «niie  it 


^n  old,  an  old  in! 


nenty  dial  will  p 
e,  dial  I 


te  be  dies,  he  shall 


ctintysagehisot 

'  ao  lifif^rin  moaiunem,  man  me  oeii  nugs, 
>  llir  widow  weeps. 

Hinl.  And  how  long  is  tfail,  think  y«i^ 

Tlmi.  Question  ?— Wj.  «n  1™"  m  clamour, 

1  nnuanerin  rheum:  TlirrefDre  it  iimost  npe- 

nt  for  Ihe  wise  (if  Don  Womi,  his  conscience, 

1  no  impediment  to  tbc  contrary,)  lo  be  the 

.  .iiip>>l  if  his  own  virtues,  as  I  am  lo  mysrtf:  So 

nuii-h  fur  praising  myself  (who,  1  myself  will  bear 

>viiiie!?,i!prBiscwonhy,)  and  now  tell  me.  How 

rVerv  iU. 
I.  And  how  do  you? 
(.  I'eryillloo. 

c.  Serve  God,  love  me,  and  mend :  Ihn* 
(3}bsubjecltii. 


Seau  in,  ir. 


MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 


139 


will  I  leave  jou  too,  for  here  comes  ooe  in  haste. 
Enter  Ursula. 

Ur9.  Madam,  you  must  come  to  your  uncle  ; 
Tonder's  old  coil'  at  home  :  it  is  proved  my  lady 
Hero  hath  been  falsely  accused,  the  prince  ancl 
Claudio  mightily  abused ;  and  Don  John  is  the 
Author  of  all,  who  is  lied  and  §one :  will  you  come 
presently  ? 

Seal,  Will  you  go  hear  this  news,  signior .' 
JBene.  I  will  live  in  thy  heart,  die  in  thy  lap,  and 
be  buried  in  thy  eyes ;  and,  moreover,  I  will  go 
nrwith  thee  to  thy  uncle's.  [Exeunt. 

SCE^TE  III— The  inside  of  a  chvrch.  Enter 
Don  Pedro,  Claudio,  and  attendants^  with  mtisic 
and  tapers. 

Claud,  Is  this  the  monument  of  Leonato  f 

Alten,  It  is,  my  lord. 

Claud.  [Reads  from  a  scroll.] 

Done  to  death  by  slanderous  tongues, 

fVas  the  Hero  that  here  lies  : 
Death,  in  guerdon^  of  her  lorangs. 

Gives  her  fame  which  never  dies: 
So  the  life,  thai  died  with  shame. 
Lives  in  death  with  glorious  fame. 

Hang  thou  there  upon  the  tomb,   [Affixing  it. 
Praising  her  when  I  am  dumb. — 

C3«r,  music,  sound,  and  sing  your  solemn  hymn. 

SONG. 

Pardon,  Goddess  of  the  night, 
T%o$e  thai  slew  thy  virgin  knight ; 
Far  the  which,  with  songs  of  wo, 
Round  about  her  tomb  they  go. 

MidtUghi,  assist  our  moan  ; 

Hdp  us  to  sigh  and  groan. 
Heavily,  heavily: 

Graves,  yawn,  and  yield  your  dead. 

Till  death  be  uttered. 
Heavily,  heavily. 

^Dlaud,  Now,  unto  thy  bones  good  night ! 
Yearly  will  I  do  this  rite. 
).  Pedro.    Good  morrow,  masters;  put  your 

torches  out  : 
The  wolves  have  preyM ;  and  look,  the  gen- 
tle dav, 
ifore  the  wheels  of  Phoebus,  round  about 
^^^      Dapples  the  drowsy  east  with  spots  of  gray : 
TVaainks  to  vou  alt,  and  leave  us  ;  fare  you  well. 
^^mid.  6ood  morrow,  masters;  each  liis. several 

way. 
-^.  Ptdro.  Come,  let  us  hence,  and  put  on  other 
weeds: 
A^<i  then  to  Leonato's  we  will  go. 

^-^2a«<t  And,  Hjrmen,  now  with  luckier  issue 
^^  speeds, 

*n*n tlws,  for  whom  we  rendered  up  this  wo ! 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^TE  IV. — A  room  in  Leonato's  hmise.  En- 
^  Leonato,  Antonio,  Benedick,  Beatrice,  Ur- 
^\  Friar,  and  Hero. 

Priar.  Did  I  not  tell  you  she  was  innocent  f 
**»».  So  are  the  prince  and  Claudio,  who  accusM 

y**  the  error  that « ou  heard  debated : 
^*  W»i^rct  was  io  s<Mne  fault  for  this ; 
I  i?^  against  hci  will,  as  it  appears 
In  ttt!  true  course  of  all  the  question. 


(1)  SUr. 


10 


question. 
(2)  Reward. 


Ant.  Well,  I  am  glad  that  all  things  sort  so  well. 

Bene.  And  so  am  I,  being  else  by  faith  enforced 
To  call  young  Claudio  to  a  reckoning  for  it 

Ijeon.  Well,  daughter,  and  you  gentlewomen  all, 
Withdraw  into  a  chamber  by  yourselves ; 
And  when  I  send  for  vou,  come  hither  mask'd  : 
The  prince  and  Claudio  promis'd  by  this  hour 
To  visit  me  : — You  know  your  office,  brother; 
You  must  be  father  to  your  brother^s  daughter. 
And  give  her  to  }  oung  (.'laudio.    [E.ieunt  Ladies. 

Ant  Which  I  will  do  wifh  confirmed  countenance. 

Bene.  Friar,  I  must  entreat  your  pains,  I  think. 

Friar.  To  do  what,  signior? 

Bene.  To  bind  mc,  or  undo  me,  one  of  them. — 
Signior  Leonato,  truth  it  is,  good  signior. 
Your  niece  rt-gards  me  with  an  eye  of  favour. 

Leon.  That  eye  my  daughter  lent  her ;  'Tismost 
true. 

Bene.  And  I  do  with  an  eye  of  love  requite  her. 

Leon.  The  sight  whereof,  1  think,  you  had  from 
me. 
From  Claudio,  and  the  prince ;  But  what's  your 
will  ? 

Bene.  Your  ansiver,  sir,  is  enigmatical : 
But,  for  my  will,  my  will  is  your  good  will 
May  stand  *vith  ours,  this  day  to  be  conjoined 
In  the  estate  of  honourable  marriage ; — 
In  which,  G:ood  friar,  I  shall  desire  your  help. 

Leon.  My  heart  is  with  your  liking. 

Friar.  And  my  help. 

Here  comes  the  prince,  and  Claudio. 

Enter  Don  Pedro  and  Claudio,  with  attendants. 

D.  Pedro.  Good  morrow  to  this  &ir  assembly. 
Leon.   Good  morrow,  prince;    good  morrow, 
Claudio ; 
We  here  attend  you ;  are  rou  vet  determined 
To-day  to  marrj'  with  my  brother's  daughter .' 
Claud.  I'll  hold  my  mind,  were  she  an  Ethiope. 
Leon.  Call  her  forth,  brother,  here's  the  friar 
ready.  [Exit  Antonia 

D.  Pedro.  Good  morrow.  Benedick :  Why,  what's 
the  matter, 
That  you  have  such  a  February  face. 
So  full  of  frost,  of  storm,  and  cloudiness.^ 

Claud.  I  think,  he  thinks  upon  the  savage  bull : — 
Tuwh,  fear  not,  man,  we'll  tip  thy  honis  with  gold. 
And  all  Europa  shall  rejoice  at  thee ; 
As  once  Europa  did  at  lusty  Jove, 
When  he  would  play  the  noble  boast  in  love. 
Bene.  Bull  Jove,  sir,  had  an  amiable  low  ; 
And  some  such  strange  bull  leap'd  your  father's 

cow, 
And  got  a  calf  in  that  same  noblr  feat. 
Much  like  to  you,  for  you  have  just  his  bleat. 

Re-enter  Antonio,  iciih  the  Ladies  masked. 

Claud.'  For  this  I  owe  you  :  here  come  other 
reckonings. 
Which  is  the  lady  I  must  seize  upon  ? 

Ant.  This  same  is  she,  and  I  do  give  you  her. 

Claud.  Why,  then  she's  mine :  Sweet,  let  me  see 
your  face. 

Leon.  No,  that  you  shall  not,  till  you  take  her  hand 
Before  this  friar,  and  sivear  to  marry  her. 

Claud.  Give  me  vour  hand  before  this  holy  friar ; 
I  am  your  hujiband,  if  you  like  of  me. 

Hero.  And  when  I  lived,  I  was  your  other  wife : 

[Unmasking, 
And  when  you  loved,  you  were  my  other  husband. 

Gaud.  Another  Hero  ? 

Hero.  Nothing  certaioer : 

One  Hero  died  defil'd ;  but  I  do  live. 
And,  surely  as  I  live,  I  am  a  maid. 


140 


ADO  ABOUT  50THD6& 


Jcf  > 


D.  Peiro.  The  former  Hefo  *  HerolhM  ii^sad! ; 
Ltm.  Sbe  died,  anr  lord,  bat  wUesherrf — '  -  ' 

fVwr.  AUtfaHMMoonaitcaalqMUy; 
When,  after  dMt  ibe  bol j  rite*  are  ended, 
l*IJ  tell  joa  UnpelT  of  &jr  Heror*t  death : 
Mean  tune,  let  woodcr  leeni  familiar. 
And  to  the  chapel  let  m  preaeollT. 

Berne.  Soft  and  fair, friar.— %1'^id)  it  Beatrice?  ; 

Beal.  laofirerlotfaataaiBe;      {V 
Vfhal  m  joat  wiU  > 

Bene.  Doootyoo  k»re  me? 

Beol,  No,  no  noi«  Aan 

jBenc  Wbf,  Aan  jonr  aDcle,  and  the  priooe, 
and  Cbodio, 
Hare  been  decenred  ;  far  dwr  tirore  joa  did. 

Beat  Do  not  yon  lore  me  ? 

Bene.  No,  no  more  than  reaaon. 

Beat   Whj  then,  mj  oomin,  Marcaret,  and 
Urmia, 
Are  roach  decdr'd ;  far  th^  did  trrear  joa  did. 

Bene  Thejr  trrore  that  joa  were  almmtsck far 
me. 

Beat  Thej  nrore  diat  joo  were  well-n%h  dead 
far  me. 

Bmc  *Tit  no  mdi  matter : — ^Then,  yoa  do  not 
lore  me? 

Beof.  No,  traly,  but  in  friendlj  recOmpenie. 

Leon.  Come,  cooiin,  I  am  lore  yoa  lore  the 
gentleman. 

Claud.  And  1*11  be  fwom  opon*t,  that  be  lores 
her; 
For  here's  a  paper,  written  in  his  hand, 
A  halting  sonnet  of  his  own  pore  brain, 
FashionM  lo  Beatrice. 

Hero.  And  here*s  anodier, 

Writ  in  my  coasin*s  hand,  Molen  from  her  pocket, 
Containimr  her  aflection  unto  Benedick. 

Bene.  A  miracle !  here*sourown  hands  against 
our  hearts ! — Come,  I  will  hare  thee ;  but,  faj  diis 
light,  I  take  thee  for  pi^. 

Ikal.  I  would  not  deny  you ; — but,  br  this  good 
day,  I  yield  upon  great  persuanon ;  ana,  partly,  to 
save  your  life,  for  I  was  told  yon  were  in  acoosurop- 
tion. 

Bene.  Peace,  I  will  stop  your  mouth. — 

[ATttfing'  her, 

D.  Pedro.  How  dost  thou.  Benedick  the  married 
man? 

Bene.  PlI  tell  thee  what,  prince ;  a  collie  of  wit- 
crackers  cannot  6out  roe  out  of  my  humour :  dost 
thou  think,  I  care  for  a  satire,  or  an  epig^ram ;  No : 
if  a  man  will  be  beaten  with  brains,  he  shall  wear 
nothing  handsome  about  him :  In  brief,  since  I  do 
propose  to  marry,  I  will  think  nothing  to  any  pur- 
nose  that  the  world  can  say  against  it ;  and  tbere- 
ibrc  never  flout  at  me  for  what  I  have  said  against 

(1)  Because. 


ID 

»  besBT 


it :  far  man  is  a  giddy 
maa. — For  thy  part,  Claadn.  I  did 
beaien  thee :  bat  in  ifaax*  ihoB  art 
iriwfMi,  lire  onbroisrd,  and  Von 

Clamd  I  had  well  hoped,  ihoBwonld'sthBtfvde' 
nied  Beatrice,  diat  I  micht  hare  cvdeclied  thee  am 
of  thr  abgie  life,  lo  nnike  thr<e  a  donUe  dealer; 
wfaicii,  oat  of  qoeiftion,  ihoa  win  be,  if  tm  coaam 
do  not  look  exceeding  namiwhr  lo  ifaee. 

Bene.  Come,  come,  we  are  friendf : — lei\  hare 
a  dance  ere  we  are  married,  that  we  bb 
oar  hearts,  and  oor  wires*  heek. 

Letm.  Well  hare  danciiK  afterwaidsu 

Bau.  First,  o'  nnr  word ;  thereface,  plar,  ma- 
fic— Priooe,  tboa  ait  sad:  ret  thee  a  w^  pt 
thee  a  wife  :  there  b  no  stafl  more  rercrend  than 
one  tipped  with  hom. 

£nier  a  BksKnger. 

Meu.  My  lord,  your  brodier  John  is  1a*ca  in 
flight. 
And  broa«:ht  widi  aimed  men  back  to  MeasiDa. 

Bene.  Think  not  on  him  till  to-morrow ;  111  de- 
rise  thee  brave  panishuKnts  far  him. — Strike  ap^ 

pipe"-  / 


This  play  mar  be  justly  said  to  contain  two  of 
the  most  sprightly  characters  that  Shakspeare  ever 
drew.  T^  wit,  die  homourist,  the  gentleman, 
and  the  soldier,  are  combined  in  Benedvck.  It  is  to 
be  lamented,  indeed,  that  the  first  and  moat  splen- 
did of  these  distinctions,  is  dise^raced  bv  unnecev 
sary  profaneness ;  far  the  goodness  of  his  heart  is 
hardly  sufficient  to  atone  for  the  license  of  his 
tongue.  The  too  sarcastic  levity,  which  flashes  out 
in  Sie  conversatkn  of  Beatrice,  may  be  excused 
on  account  of  the  steadiness  and  friendship  to  ap- 
parent in  her  behaviour,  when  she  uigps  her  k»er 
to  risk  his  life  by  a  challenge  to  ClaudioL  In  the 
conduct  of  the  fable,  however,  there  is  an  imper- 
fection similar  to  that  which  Dr.  Johnson  has  point- 
m1  out  in  The  Jdtrry  Wives  qf  Windaor ; — the 
second  contrivance  is  less  ingenious  than  the  first : — 
or,  to  speak  more  plainly,  the  same  incident  is  be- 
come stale  by  repetition.  I  wish  some  other  method 
had  been  found  to  entrap  Beatrice^  than  that  reir 
one  which  before  had  been  successfully  practised  on 
Benedick. 

Much  Ado  About  JS^olhinz  (as  I  understand 
from  one  of  Mr.  Vertue's  MSS.)  forraerlj-  passed 
under  the  title  of  Benedick  and  Beatrix.  Heming 
the  player  received,  on  the  20th  of  May,  1613,  the 
sum  of' forty  pounds,  and  twenty  pounds  more  at 
his  majesty's  gratuity,  for  exhibitine^  six  plays  at 
Hampton  Court,  among  which  was  this  comedy. 

STEEVENS. 


.1   ^^ 


.» 


/ 


HIDSUUMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM.    AalV.  —  Sceael 

Vol  I. -p.  HI. 


LOVES  LABOR  S  L  ST,  Aa/r.  — Sww2, 


MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Theseus,  duke  of  Athens. 
Egeus, /atA^r  to  Hermia. 

b^^trii,  \  •'*  '^'''  "^^  ^^"«- 

Philostrate,  master  of  the  revels  to  Theseus. 

Quince,  the  carpenter. 

I^ug,  the  joiner. 

Bottom,  the  weaver. 

Flute,  the  bellows-mender. 

Snout,  the  tinker. 

Starreling,  the  tailor. 

Hippoljta,  queen  of  the  Amaxons,  betrothed  to 

Theseus. 
HemiM,  daughter  to  Egeus^  in  love  with  Lysander. 
Helena,  in  lave  with  Demetrius. 


Oberon,  king  of  the  fairies. 

Titania,  queen  of  the  fairies. 

Puck,  or  Robin  Good-fellow,  a  fairy. 

Peas-blossom, " 

Cobweb, 

Moth, 

Mustard-seed, 

PyramuSf 


bin 

1.) 


fairies. 


Thisbe, 
Wall, 


tvau  Characters  in  the  interlude,  per- 

Moo^hine,  C  >"^  ^  ^  ^^^''^' 
Lion,  J 

Other  fairies  attending  their  king  and  queen. 

Attendants  on  TTuseus  and  Hippolyta. 

Scene,  Athens,  and  a  wood  not  far  from  it. 


ACT  I. 

SCEA^E  I.— Athens.  A  room  in  the  palace  of 
Theseus.  Enter  Theseus,  Hippolyta,  Pbilos- 
trate,  and  attendants. 

Theseus. 

INOW,  fair  Hippolyta,  our  nuptial  hour 
Draws  on  apace ;  four  happy  days  bring  in 
Another  moon :  but,  ch,  methinks,  how  slow 
Thb  old  moon  wanes !  she  lingers  my  desires, 
Like  to  a  step-dame,  or  a  dowager, 
LcN^  withenne  out  a  voung  man^s  revenue. 

A^.  Four  OAja  will  quickly  steep  themselves  in 
nights; 
Pear  nigfats  will  quickly  dream  away  the  time ; 
And  tb^  ihe  moon,  like  to  a  silver  bow 
New  bent  in  heaven,  shall  behold  the  night 
Of  oar  solemnities. 

The.  Go,  Philostrate, 

Slir  ap  the  Athenian  youth  to  merriments ; 
Awake  the  pert  and  nimble  spirit  of  mirth ; 
Tom  melancholy  forth  to  funerals, 
The  pale  companion  is  not  for  our  pomp. — 

[Exit  Philostrate. 
Ififipdyta,  I  woo*d  thee  with  my  sword, 
And  won  thy  love,  doing  thee  injuries ; 
Bat  I  wfll  wed  thee  in  another  key, 
Widi  pomp,  with  triumph,!  and  with  revelling. 

Enter  Egeus,  Hermia,  Lysander,  and  Demetrius. 

Ege.  Happy  be  Theseus,  our  renowned  duke ! 

Tlie.    Thanks,  good  Egeus:   what*s  the  news 
with  thee .' 

F^.  Full  of  vexation  come  I,  with  complaint 
Ai^nst  my  child,  my  daughter  Hermia. — 
Stand  forth,  Demetrius ; — My  noble  lord. 
This  man  hath  my  consent  to  marry  her : — 
Stand  forth,  Lysander ; — and,  my  gracious  duke. 
This  hath  bewitchM  the  bosom  of  my  child : 
Tli.'*i  thou,  Lysander,  thou  hast  given  her  rhymes. 


(1)  Shows. 


(2)  Baubles. 


And  interchang*d  love-tokens  with  my  child : 

Thou  hast  by  moon-light  at  her  window  sung, 

With  feigning  voice,  verses  of  foiling  love ; 

And  stolen  the  impression  of  her  fantasy 

With  bracelets  of  thy  hair,  rings,  gawds,2  conceits, 

Knacks,  trifles,  nosegays,  sweet-meats ;  messengers, 

Of  strong  prevailment  in  unhardcnM  youth  : 

With  cunning  hast  thou  filch*d  my  daughter's  heart ; 

TuraM  her  obedience,  which  is  due  to  me, 

To  stubborn  harshness : — and,  my  gracious  duke. 

Be  it  so  she  will  not  here  before  your  grace 

Consent  to  marry  with  Demetrius, 

I  beg  the  ancient  privilege  of  Athens ; 

As  she  is  mine,  I  may  dispose  of  her  : 

Which  shall  be  either  to  Uiis  gentleman, 

Or  to  her  death ;  according  to  our  law. 

Immediately  provided  in  that  case. 

Jhe.  What  say  you,  Hermia  i*  be  advisM,  fair  maid: 
To  you  your  father  slK>uld  be  as  fl  god ; 
One  that  composM  your  beauties ;  yea,  and  one 
To  whom  you  are  but  as  a  form  in  wax. 
By  him  imprinted,  and  within  his  power 
To  leave  the  figure,  or  disfigure  it 
Demetrius  is  a  wordiy  gentleman. 

Her.  So  is  Lysander. 

The.  In  himself  he  is  : 

But,  in  this  kind,  wanting  your  father's  voice, 
The  other  must  be  held  tne  worthier. 

Her.  I  would  my  father  look*d  but  with  my  eyes. 

The.  Rather  your  eyes  must  with  his  judgment 
look. 

Her.  I  do  entreat  your  grace  to  pardon  me. 
I  know  not  by  what  power  I  am  made  bold ; 
Nor  how  it  may  concern  my  modesty. 
In  such  a  presence  here,  to  plead  my  thoughts : 
But  I  beseech  your  grace  that  I  may  know 
The  worst  that  may  befal  me  in  this  case. 
If  I  refuse  to  wed  Demetrius. 

The.  Either  to  die  the  death,  or  to  abjure 
For  ever  the  society  of  men. 
Therefore,  fair  Hermia,  question  your  desires, 
Know  of  your  youth,  examine  well  your  blood. 
Whether,  if  you  yield  not  to  your  father's  chcuce. 


112 


MIDSUMMER-MGIITS  DREAM. 


Ad  I. 


Vou  can  enduro  the  livery  of  a  nun ; 
[■'or  a>e'  to  be  in  $ihady  cloister  mew*d, 
To  iiv  e  a  barren  sister  all  your  life, 
f 'Wanting  faint  hvmns  to  the  cold  fruitless  moon. 
Tiirice  blessed  they,  that  master  so  their  blood. 
To  undeixo  such  maiden  pilgrimaee : 
But  earthlier  happy  is  the  rose  distillM, 
Than  thatf  which,  withering  on  the  virein  thorn, 
^rows,  lives,  and  dies,  in  single  blessecuiess. 

Her.  So  will  I  grow,  so  live,  so  die,  my  lord, 
Ere  I  will  yield  my  virgin  patent  up 
(Tnto  his  lordship,  whose  unwished  yoke 
My  soul  consents  not  to  give  sovereignty. 

The.  Take  time  to  pause :  and,  by  tiic  next  new 
moon 
(The  sealing-day  betwixt  my  love  and  me. 
For  everlasting  bond  of  fellowship,) 
I'pon  that  day  either  prepare  to  die. 
For  disobedience  to  your  father^s  will ; 
Or  else,  to  wed  Demetrius,  as  he  would  : 
Or  on  Diana*s  altar  to  protest. 
For  aye,  austerity  and  single  life. 

Dem.  Relent,  sweet  Hermia ; — And,  Lysander, 
yield 
Thy  craxed  title  to  my  certain  right 

Lyt.  You  have  her  father's  love,  Demetrius ; 
Let  me  have  Hermia*s :  do  vou  many  him. 

Ege.  Scornful  Lysander  .'true,  he  hath  my  love ; 
And  what  is  mine  my  love  shall  render  him ; 
And  she  is  mine  ;  and  all  my  right  of  her 
I  do  estate  unto  Demetrius. 

Lys.  I  am,  my  lord,  as  well  derivM  as  he. 
As  well  possess^  ;  my  love  is  more  than  his ; 
My  fortunes  every  way  as  fairly  rank*d. 
If  not  with  vantage,  as  Demetrius* ; 
And,  which  is  more  than  all  these  boasts  can  be, 
I  am  belovM  of  beauteous  Hermia : 
Why  should  not  I  then  prosecute  my  right  ? 
Demetrius,  V\\  avouch  it  to  his  head. 
Made  love  to  Nedar's  daughter,  Helena, 
And  won  her  soul ;  and  she,  sweet  lady,  dotes. 
Devoutly  doles,  dotes  in  idolatry, 
Upon  this  spotted^  and  inconstant  man. 

TJie.  I  must  confess,  that  I  have  heard  so  much, 
And  with  Demetrius  thought  to  have  spoke  thereof; 
But,  being  over-full  of  self-affairs. 
My  mind  did  lose  it. — But,  Demetrius,  come ; 
And  come,  Egeus;  you  shall  go  with  me, 
\  have  some  private  schooling  for  you  both. — 
For  you,  fair  Hermia,  look  you  arm  yourself 
To  m  your  fancies  to  your  father's  will ; 
Or  else  the  law  of  Athens  yield  you  up 
(Which  by  no  means  we  may  extenuate,) 
To  death,  or  to  a  vow  of  single  life. — 
Come,  my  Hippolyta ;  what  cheer,  my  love  ? — 
Demetrius,  ana  Egeus,  go  alon^  : 
I  must  employ  you  in  some  business 
Against  our  nuptial ;  and  confer  with  you 
Of  something  nearly  that  concerns  yourselves. 

Egt.  With  duty,  and  desire  we  follow  you. 
[  Exeunt  T* lies.  Hip.  i^e.  Dem.  and  train. 

Lys.  How  now,  my  love  ?  Why  is  your  cheek 
so  pale.' 
How  chance  tlie  roses  there  do  fade  so  fast } 

Her.  Belike  for  want  of  rain ;  which  I  could  well 
lieteem  them'  from  the  tempest  of  mine  eves. 

Lys.  Ah  me !  for  aught  that  ever  I  could  read. 
Could  ever  hear  by  tale  or  histon'. 
The  course  of  true  love  never  dia  run  smooth  : 
But,  either  it  was  different  in  blood ; 

Her.  O  cross !  too  high  to  be  enthrall'd  to  low  ! 

)  Ever.       (2)  Wicked.       (3)  Give,  bestow. 
'4)  Black.      (5)  Lovers.       (6)  Pble-stars. 


r. 


Lys.  Or  else  misgrafTed,  in  respect  of  yeara : 
Her.  O  spite  !  too  old  to  be  eneag'd  to  }  oul^»  ! 
Lys.  Or  else  it  stood  upon  the  choice  of  frieuc U : 
Her.  O  hell !  to  choose  love  by  another's  eve  I 
Lys.  Or,  if  there  were  a  sympathy  in  choice. 
War,  death,  or  sickness  did  lay  siege  to  it ; 
Making  it  momentary  as  a  sound, 
Swifl  as  a  shadow,  short  as  any  dream ; 
Brief  as  the  lightning  in  the  collied^  night. 
That,  in  a  spleen,  unfolds  both  heaven  and  earth. 
And  ere  a  man  hath  power  to  say, — Behold ! 
The  jaws  of  darkness  do  devour  it  up : 
So  quick  bright  things  come  to  confusion. 

ner.  If  then  true  lovers  have  been  evercrofis'd, 
It  stands  as  an  edict  in  destiny  : 
Then  let  us  teach  our  trial  patience. 
Because  it  is  a  customary  cross ; 
As  due  to  love,  as  thoughts,  and  dreams,  and 

sighs, 
Wishes,  and  tears,  poor  fancy's*  followers. 
Lys.  A  good  persuasion;  therdore,  hear  me, 
Hermia. 
I  have  a  widow  aunt,  a  dowager 
Of  great  revenue,  and  she  hath  no  child  : 
From  Athens  is  her  house  remote  seven  league* ; 
And  she  respects  me  as  her  only  son. 
There,  gentle  Hermia,  may  I  niarry  thee ; 
And  to  that  place  the  sharp  Athenian  law 
Cannot  pursue  us :  if  thou  lov'st  me  then. 
Steal  forth  thy  father's  house  to-morro»y  night ; 
And  in  the  wood,  a  league  without  the  town. 
Where  I  did  meet  thee  once  with  Helena, 
To  do  observance  to  a  mom  of  May, 
There  will  I  slay  for  thee. 

Her.  My  good  Lysander ! 

I  swear  to  thee,  by  Cupid's  strongest  bow  ; 
By  his  best  arrow  with  the  golden  head ; 
By  the  himplicity  of  Venus'  doves ; 
By  that  which  knitteth  souls,  and  prospers  loves  ; 
And  by  that  fire  which  buni'd  the  Cartnage  queen, 
When  the  false  Trojan  under  sail  was  seen  ; 
By  all  the  vows  that  ever  men  have  lyoke. 
In  number  more  than  ever  women  spoke ; — 
In  that  same  place  thou  hast  appointed  mc. 
To-morrow  truly  will  I  meet  with  thee. 
Lys.    Keep  promise,  love:   look,  here  comes 
Helena. 

Enter  Helena. 

Her.  God  speed  fair  Helena  !  Whither  away  .' 

Hel.  Call  you  me  fair .'  that  fair  again  unsay. 
Demetrius  loves  your  fair :  O  happy  fair ! 
Your  eyes  are  lo^e-stars  ;♦'  and  your  tongue's  sweet 

air 
More  tuneable  than  lark  to  shepherd's  ear, 
Wlien  wheat  is  green,  when  hawthorn  buds  appear. 
Sickness  is  catching  ;  O  were  favour'  so  ! 
Yours  would  I  catch,  fair  Hermia,  ere  I  go ; 
My  ear  should  catch  your  voice,  my  eye  your  f^\v.^ 
M  v  tongue  should  catch  your  tongue  s  sweet  melody . 
Were  the  world  mine,  Demetrius  being  bated. 
The  rest  I'll  give  to  be  to  you  translated. 
O,  leach  me  how  you  look  ;  and  with  what  art 
You  sway  the  motion  of  Demetrius'  heart. 

Her.  1  frown  upon  him,  yet  he  loves  me  still. 

Hel.  O,  that  your  frowns  would  teach  my  smiles 
such  skill ! 

Her.  I  give  him  curses,  yet  he  eives  me  Iwc. 

Hel.  O,  that  my  prayers  coula  such  aflectioii 
move! 

Her.  The  more  I  hate,  the  more  he  follows  n  e. 

Hel.  The  more  I  love,  the  more  he  hateth  me. 

(7)  Countenance. 


Secnc  II. 


MmSUMMER.NIGHTS  DREAM. 


143 


Her.  Hi»  folly,  Helena,  is  no  fault  of  mine. 
lUL  None,  but  your  beauty  \  Vould  that  fault 

were  mine ! 
Her.  Take  comfort ;  he  no  more  diall  see  my 
face ; 
L}  Sander  and  myself  will  fly  this  place. — 
i>efoi%:  the  time  I  did  Lysander  see, 
SecniM  Athens  as  a  paradise  to  me  : 
1)  then,  what  graces  in  my  love  do  dwell, 
That  he  hath  tum'd  a  heaven  unto  hell ! 

Lys.  Helen,  to  you  our  minds  we  will  unfold : 
To-morrow  night  when  Phoebe  doth  behold 
Her  silver  visage  in  the  watVy  glass, 
Decking  with  liquid  pearl  the  biaded  grass 
(A  time  that  lovers*  flights  doth  still  conceal,) 
Through  Athens*  gates  have  we  devis*d  to  steal. 
Her.  And  in  the  wood,  where  often  you  and  I 
Upon  faint  primrose-beds  were  wont  to  lie. 
Emptying  our  bosoms  of  their  counsel  sweet : 
There  my  Lysander  and  myself  shall  meet : 
And  thence,  from  Athens,  turn  away  our  eyes. 
To  seek  new  friends  and  stranger  companies. 
Farewell,  sweet  playfellow  ;  pray  thou  for  us. 
And  good  luck  grant  thee  thy  Demetrius ! 
Keep  word,  Lysander :  we  must  starve  our  sight 
From  lovers*  food,  till  morrow  deep  midnight 

[Exit  Hermia. 
Lys.  I  will,  my  Hermia. — Helena,  adieu  : 
As  you  on  him,  Demetrius  dote  on  you ! 

[Exit  Lysander. 
Hel.  How  happy  scwne,  o*er  other  some  can  be  ! 
Through  Athens  I  am  thought  as  fair  as  she. 
But  what  of  that  ^  Demetrius  thinks  not  so ; 
He  will  not  know  what  all  but  he  do  know. 
And  as  he  errs,  doting  on  Hermia*s  eyes, 
So  I,  admiring  of  his  qualities. 
Things  base  and  vile,  holding  no  quantity, 
Love  can  transpose  to  form  and  dignity. 
Love  looks  not  with  the  eyes,  but  with  the  mind ; 
And  therefore  is  winged  Cupid  painted  blind : 
New  hath  love*s  mind  of  any  judgment  taste ; 
Wings,  and  no  eyes,  figure  unheedy  haste : 
And  therefore  is  love  said  to  be  a  child. 
Because  in  chdce  he  is  so  of t  beguil*d. 
As  waggish  boys  in  game^  themselves  forswear, 
So  the  boy  love  is  perjur*d  every  where  : 
For  ere  Demetrius  look*d  on  Hermia*s  eyne,^ 
He  hail*d  down  oaflis,  that  he  was  only  mine ; 
And  when  this  hail  some  heat  from  Hermia  felt, 
^io  he  dissolv*d,  and  showers  of  oaths  did  melt 
M.  vrill  go  tell  him  of  fair  HermiaTs  flight : 
"Then  to  the  wood  will  he,  to-morrow  night, 
.Bhirsue  her ;  and  for  this  intelligence 
Mi  I  have  thanks,  it  is  a  dear  expense : 
JBut  herein  mean  I  to  enrich  my  pain, 
"Xo  have  his  sight  thither,  and  back  again.   [Exit. 

'^SCENE  II.— The  same.  A  roam  in  a  Cottage. 
Enter  Snug,  Bottom,  Flute,  Snout,  Quince,  and 
Starveling. 

Qiftn.  Is  all  our  company  here  ^ 

Bot.  You  were  best  to  call  them  generally,  man 

man,  according  to  the  scrip. 

Quin.  Here  is  the  scroll  of  every  man*s  name, 
luch  is  thought  fit,  through  all  Athens,  to  play  in 

r  interlude  before  the  duke  and  duchess,  on  his 
cdding-day  at  night 

Bo<.  First,  gooa  Peter  Quince,  say  what  the 
play  treats  on ;  then  read  the  names  ot  the  actors ; 
80  grow  to  a  point 

Qum.  Marry,  our  play  is — ^Thc  piost  lamenta- 


pUy 

mnds 


(1)  Sport 


(2)  Eyes. 


(3)  As  i£ 


blc  comedy,  and  most  cruel  death  of  Pyramu«  and 
Thisby. 

Bot.  A  very  good  piece  of  work,  I  assure  vou, 
and  a  merry. — Now,  good  Peter  Quince,  call  forth 
your  actors  by  the  scroll :  Masters,  spread  your- 
selves. 

Qutn.  Answer,  as  I  call  you. — Nick  Bottom, 
the  weaver. 

Bot.  Ready  :  name  what  part  I  am  for,  and  pro- 
ceed. 

Quin.  You,  Nick  Bottcnn,  are  set  down  for  Pyra- 
mus. 

Bot.  What  is  Pyramus  f  a  lover,  or  a  tyrant  ^ 

Qutn.  A  lover,  that  kills  himselt  most  gallantly 
for  love. 

Bot.  That  will  ask  some  tears  in  the  true  per- 
forming of  it :  If  I  do  it,  let  the  audience  look  to 
their  eyes ;  I  will  move  storms,  I  will  condole  in 
some  measure.     To  the  rest : — Yet  my  chief  hu- 
mour is  for  a  tyrant :  I  could  play  Ercles  mrely, 
or  a  part  to  tear  a  cat  in,  to  make  all  split 
**  The  raging  rocks, 
**  With  shivering  shocks, 
(«  Shall  break  the  locks 

"  Of  prison-gates : 
**  And  Phibbus*  car 
**  Shall  shine  from  far, 
'*  And  make  and  mar 
"  The  foolish  fates.** 
This  was  lofty ! — Now  name  the  rest  of  the  play- 
ers.— This  is  Ercles*  vein ;  a  tyrant's  vein ;  a  lover 
is  more  condoling. 

Qutn.  Francis  Flute,  the  bellows-mender. 

Flu.  Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quin.  You  must  take  Thisby  on  you. 

Flu.  What  is  Thisby  f  a  wandering  knie^ht  f 

Quin.  It  is  the  lady  that  Pyramus  must  love. 

Flu.  Nay,  faith,  let  me  not  play  a  woman ;  I 
have  a  beard  coming. 

Qutn.  That's  all  one;  you  shall  play  it  in  a 
ma^k,  and  you  may  speak  as  small  as  you  will. 

Bot.  An  I  may  hide  my  fiice,  let  me  play  Thii»by 
too :  1*11  speak  in  a  monstrous  little  voice ; — This- 
ne^  TTiisnCy — Ahy  Pyramus^  my  lover  dear,'  thy 
Thisby  dear!  and  tody  dear! 

Quin.  No,  no;  you  must  play  Pyramus,  and. 
Flute,  you  Thisby. 

Bot.  Well,  proceed. 

Qutn.  Robin  Starveling,  the  tailor. 

Star.  Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Qutn.  Robin  Starveling,  ^ou  must  play  Thisby *s 
mother. — Tom  Snout,  the  tinker. 

Snout.  Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Qutn.  You,  Pyramus*s  ftither ;  myself,  Thisby's 
father ; — Snug,  the  joiner,  you,  the  lion*s  part : — 
and,  I  hope,  here  is  a  play  fitted. 

Snug.  Have  you  the  Iion*s  part  written  ?  pray 
you,  if  it  be,  give  it  me,  for  I  am  slow  of  studv. 

Quin.  You  may  do  it  extempore,  for  it  is  nothing 
but  roaring. 

Bot.  Let  me  play  the  lion  too :  I  will  roar,  that 
I  will  do  any  man*s  heart  good  to  hear  me ;  I  will 
roar,  that  I  will  make  the  duke  say,  Z#e/  him  roar 
again^  Let  him  roar  again. 

Quin.  An  you  should  do  it  too  terribly,  vou 
would  fright  the  duchess  and  the  ladies,  that  tliev 
would  shriek  :  and  that  were  enough  to  hang  us  all. 

All.  That  would  hang  us  every  mother*8  son. 

Bot.  I  grant  you,  friends,  if  that  you  should 
fright  the  ladies  out  of  their  wits,  tliey  would  have 
no  more  discretion  but  to  hang  us  :  but  I  will  ag- 
gravate my  voice  so,  that  I  will  roar  you  as  gently 
as  any  sucking  dove ;  I  will  roar  you  an'  *twere 
any  mghtingale. 


i 


144 


MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM. 


Actn. 


Quin.  You  can  play  no  part  but  Pjrainus  :  for 
Pyramus  is  a  sweet-faced  man ;  a  proper  nnan,  as 
one  shall  see  in  a  summer's  day  ;  a  most  lovely, 
gentleinan-Uke  man;  therefore  yon  must  needs 
play  Pyramus. 

Bot.  Well,  I  will  undertake  it  What  beard 
were  I  best  to  play  it  in  ? 

Quin.  Why,  what  you  will. 

Bot.  I  will  discharge  it  in  either  your  straw- 
coloured  beard,  vour  orange-lawny  beard,  your 
purple-in-gjrain  beard,  or  your  French-crown- 
colour  beard,  your  perfect  yellow. 

Quin,  Some  of  your  French  crowns  have  no  hair 
•t  all,  and  then  you  will  play  bare-faced. — But, 
masters,  here  are  your  parts :  and  I  am  to  entreat 
you,  request  you,  and  desire  you,  to  con  them  by 
to-morrow  night :  and  meet  me  in  the  palace  wood, 
a  mile  without  the  town,  by  moon-light ;  there  will 
we  rehear«e  :  for  if  we  meet  in  the  city,  we  shall 
be  dogg*d  with  company,  and  our  devices  known. 
In  the  mean  time  I  will  draw  a  bill  of  properties,' 
such  as  our  play  wants.     I  pray  you,  fail  me  not. 

Bot.  We  will  meet ;  and  there  we  may  rehearse 
more  obscenely,  and  courageously.  Take  pains; 
be  perfect;  aaieu. 

St^in.  At  the  duke*8  oak  we  meet 

Bot.  £jiough ;  Hold,  or  cut  bow-strings.^  [Exe. 


ACT  II. 

SCEUiE  l— A  iDOod  near  Athens.  Enter  aFury 
at  one  dooTf  and  Puck  at  another. 

Puck.  How  now,  spirit !  whither  wander  you  f 
Fat.  Over  hill,  over  dale, 

Thorough  bush,  thorough  brier, 
Over  park,  over  pale. 

Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire, 
I  do  wander  every  where, 
Swifler  than  the  moones  sphere ; 
And  I  serve  the  fairy  queen. 
To  dew  her  orbs^  upon  the  green : 
The  cowslips  tall  her  pensioners  be ; 
In  their  gold  coats  spots  you  sec ; 
Those  be  rubies,  fairy  favours. 
In  those  freckles  live  their  savours : 
I  must  go  seek  some  dew-drops  here, 
And  hang  a  pearl  in  every  cowslip's  ear. 
Farewell,  thou  loM  of  spirits,  PU  be  gone; 
Our  queen  and  all  her  elves  come  here  anon. 

Puck.  The  king  doth  keep  his  revels  here  to-night; 
Take  heed,  the  queen  come  not  within  his  sight 
For  Oberon  is  passing  fell  and  wrath. 
Because  that  she,  as  her  attendant,  hath 
A  lovely  boy,  stolen  from  an  Indian  king ; 
She  never  had  so  sweet  a  changeling : 
And  jealous  Oberon  would  have  the  child 
Knight  of  his  train,  to  trace  the  forests  wild : 
But  she,  perforce,  withholds  the  loved  boy. 
Crowns  him  with  flowers,  and  makes  him  all  her 

joy : 
And  now  they  never  meet  in  erove,  or  green, 
By  fountain  clear,  or  spangled  star-light  sheen.^ 
But  they  do  square  ;8  that  all  their  elves,  for  fear, 
Creep  into  acorn  cups,  and  hide  them  there. 
F\ii.  Either  I  mistsike  your  shape  and  making 
quite. 
Or  else  you  are  that  shrewd  and  knavish  sprite, 

(1)  Articles  required  in  performing  a  play. 

(2)  At  all  events.  (3)  Circles. 

(4)  A  term  of  contempt  (5)  Shining. 


CallM  Robin  Good-fellow :  are  you  not  he. 
That  fright  the  maidens  of  the  villagery  ; 
Skim  milk ;  and  sometimes  labour  in  die  queni,' 
And  bootless  make  the  breathless  housewife  chum ; 
And  sometime  make  the  drink  to  bear  no  bann;^ 
Mislead  night-wanderers,  laughing  at  their  harm : 
Those  that  Hobgoblin  call  you,  and  sweet  Puck, 
You  do  their  work,  and  they  shall  have  good  luck: 
Are  not  you  he  ? 

Puck.  Thou  speak^st  aright; 

I  am  that  meny  wanderer  of  the  nignt 
I  jest  to  Oberon,  and  make  him  smile. 
When  I  a  fat  and  bean-fed  horse  begnile. 
Neighing  in  likeness  of  a  filly  foal : 
Ana  sometime  lurk  I  in  a  gossip's  bowl. 
In  very  likeness  of  a  roasted  crab ;' 
And,  when  she  drinks,  against  her  line  I  bob, 
And  on  her  withered  dew-lap  pour  the  ale. 
The  wisest  aunt,  telling  the  saddest  tale. 
Sometime  for  three-foot  stool  mistaketh  me : 
Then  slip  I  from  her  bum,  down  topples  she, 
And  tailor  cries,  and  falls  into  a  cough ; 
And  then  the  whole  quire  hold  their  hips,  and  lofle ; 
And  waxen  in  their  mirth,  and  neeze,  and  swear 
A  merrier  hour  was  never  wasted  there. — 
But  room.  Faery,  here  comes  Oberon. 

Fat.  And  here  my  mistress : — ^'Would  that  he 
were  gone ! 

SCEl^E  ir.— Enter  Oberon,  at  one  door,  with 
his  tratn^  and  Titania,  at  another,  with  hen. 

Obe.  Ill  met  by  moon-light,  proad  Titania. 

Tita.  What,  jealous  Oberon  ?  Fairy,  skip  brace ; 
I  have  forsworn  his  bed  and  company. 

Obe.  Tany',  rash  wanton ;  Am  not  I  thy  Iwd  ? 

Tita.  Then  I  must  be  thy  lady  :   But  I'kncyw 
When  thou  hast  stol'n  away  from  fiiiry  land. 
And  in  the  shape  of  Corin  sat  all  day. 
Playing  oa  pipes  of  com,  and  versing  love 
To  amorous  Phillida.    Why  art  thou  here. 
Come  from  the  farthest  steep  of  India  ? 
But  that  forsooth,  the  bouncing  Amazon, 
Your  buskin'd  mistress,  and  Tour  warrior  love. 
To  Theseus  must  be  wedded  ;  and  you  come 
To  give  their  bed  joy  and  prospcritj'. 

Ohe.  How  canst  thou  thus,  for  shame,  Titania, 
Glance  at  my  credit  with  Hippoh'ta, 
Knowing  I  know  thy  love  to  Theseus  ? 
Didst  thou  not  lead  him  through  the  gliramering 

night 
From  Perigenia,  whom  he  ravidjcd  ? 
And  make  him  with  fair  iEgle  break  his  faith. 
With  Ariadne,  and  Antiopa  ? 

Tita.  These  are  the  forgeries  of  jealousy  : 
And  never,  since  the  middle  summer's  spring. 
Met  we  on  hill,  in  dale,  forest,  or  mead. 
By  paved  fountain,  or  by  rushy  brook. 
Or  on  the  beached  mai^ent  o^  the  sea, 
To  dance  our  ringlets  to  the  whistling  wind. 
But  with  thy  brawls  thou  hast  dislurb'd  our  sport 
Therefore  tne  winds,  piping  to  us  in  vain, 
As  in  revenge,  have  suclc'd  up  from  the  sea 
Contagious  fogs ;  which  falling  in  the  land. 
Have  every  pelting'"  river  made  so  proud. 
That  they  have  overborne  their  contments  :tt 
The  ox  hath  therefore  stretch'd  his  yoke  in  rain. 
The  ploughman  lost  his  sweat ;  and  the  green  com 
Hath  rotted,  ere  his  youth  attain'd  a  beard  : 
The  fold  stands  empty  in  the  drowned  field. 
And  crows  are  fatte<f  with  the  murrain  flock ; 

(6)  Quarrel.  (7)  Mill.  (8)  Yewt 

(9)  Wild  apple.  (10)  Petty. 

(11)  Banks  which  contain  them. 


I. 


MIDSUBAMER-NIGHTS  DREAM. 


145 


e  men^fl  morrisi  is  fillM  up  with  mud ; 
qoaiDt  maies  in  the  wanton  green 
c  of  tread,  are  undUtinguiahable : 
Btn  mortals  want  their  winter  here ; 
( is  DOW  with  hymn  or  carol  blest : — 
re  the  moon,  the  governess  of  floods, 
ber  aD|^r,  washes  all  the  air, 
eumatic  diseases  do  abound : 
rou^  this  distemperature,  we  see 
soot  alter :  hoarv-headcd  frosts 
be  finesh  lap  of  the  crimson  rose ; 
old  Hjems*  chin,  and  icy  crown, 
oas  cliaplet  of  sweet  summer  buds 
mockery,  set :  The  spring,  the  summer, 
dingS  autumn,  angry  winter,  change 
anted  liveries ;  and  the  'mazed  world, 
iiicrease,3  now  knows  not  which  is  which : 
I  tame  prc^eny  of  evils  comes 
r  debate,  mxn  our  dissension ; 
Aar  parents  and  original. 
>o  rou  amend  it  then ;  it  lies  in  you : 
mid  Titania  cross  her  Oberon  ? 
beg  a  little  changeling  boy, 
jhenchman.4 

Set  your  heart  at  rest, 
r  land  buys  not  the  child  of  me. 
wr  was  a  vot'ress  of  my  order : 
Ae  spiced  Indian  air,  by  nifht, 
D  hato  she  gossipM  by  mv  side  ; 
with  me  on  rfeptune's  yellow  sands, 
tbe  embarked  traders  on  the  flood ; 
e  have  lai^hM  to  see  the  sails  conceive, 
w  big-beUied,  with  the  wanton  wind  : 
be,  with  pretty  and  with  swimming  gait 
K  her  womb,  then  rich  with  my  young 
^qmre,) 

nitate ;  and  sail  upon  the  land, 
me  trifles,  and  return  again, 
a  voyage,  rich  with  merchandise. 
being  mortal,  of  that  boy  did  die ; 
her  sake,  I  do  rear  up  her  boy  : 
her  nke,  I  will  not  part  with  him. 
Ion  long  within  this  wood  intend  you  stay  ? 
Webanoe,  till  after  Theseus*  wedding-day. 
in  patientJy  dance  in  our  round, 
our  mooQ-Ught  revels,  go  with  us  4 
iim  roe,  and  I  will  sspare  your  haunts. 
jive  me  that  boy,  and  I  will  go  with  thee. 
Not  for  thy  kingdom. — Fairies,  away : 
I  chide  downright,  if  I  longer  stay. 

[Exeunt  Titania,  and  her  train, 
NtXi,  go  thy  way :  thou  shalt  not  from  this 
grove, 

meat  thee  for  this  injuiy.— 
la  Puck,  come  hither  :  Thou  remember'st 
oe  I  sat  upon  a  prcnnontory, 
rd  a  mermaid,  on  a  dolphm*s  back, 
such  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath, 
rode  sea  erew  civil  at  her  song ; 
lin  stars  snot  madl^  from  their  spheres, 
tfie  sea-maid's  music. 

I  remember. 
hat  veiy  time  I  saw  (but  thou  could'st  not,) 
etween  the  cold  moon  and  the  earth, 
I  aim'd :  a  certain  aim  he  took 
vestal,  tfironed  by  the  west ; 
I'd  his  love-shaft  smartly  from  his  bow, 
old  pierce  a  hundred  thousand  hearts : 

fit  see  young  Cupid's  fiery  shaft 
in  the  chaste  beams  of  the  wat'17  moon ; 
imperial  vot*ress  passed  on, 

game  played  by  boys. 

ttumn  producing  flowers  unseasonabljr. 


In  maiden  meditation,  fancy-free.' 

Yet  mark'd  I  where  the  bolt  of  Cupid  fell : 

It  fell  upon  a  little  western  flower, — 

Before,    milk-white;    now  purple    with   love's 

wound, — 
And  maidens  call  it,  love-in-idleness. 
Fetch  me  that  flower ;  the  herb  I  show'd  thee  once ; 
The  juice  of  it  on  sleeping  eyelids  laid. 
Will  make  or  man  or  woman  madly  dote 
Upon  the  next  live  creature  thut  it  sees. 
Fetch  me  this  herb :  and  be  thou  here  again. 
Ere  the  leviathan  can  swim  a  league. 

Puck.  I'll  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth 
In  forty  minutes.  [Exit  Puck. 

Obe,  Having  once  this  juice, 

I'll  watch  Titania  when  we  is  asleep, 
And  drop  the  liquor  of  it  in  her  eyes : 
The  next  thing  then  she  waking  looks  opon 
(Be  it  on  lion,  bear,  or  wolf,  or  bull, 
On  meddling  monkey,  or  on  busy  ape,) 
She  shall  pursue  it  with  the  soul  of  love. 
And  ere  I  take  this  charm  off  from  her  sight 
(As  I  can  take  it,  with  another  herb,) 
I'll  make  her  render  up  her  page  to  dmu 
But  who  comes  here .'  I  am  inviflble ; 
And  I  will  over-hear  their  conference. 

Enter  Demetrius,  Helena  /oUcwing  him. 

Dem,  I  love  thee  not,  therefore  pursue  me  not 
Where  is  Lvsander,  and  ftur  Hermia? 
The  one  I'll  slay,  the  other  slayeth  me. 
Thou  told'st  me,  they  were  stol'n  into  this  wood. 
And  here  am  I,  and  wood^  within  this  wood. 
Because  I  cannot  meet  with  Hermia. 
Hence,  eei  thee  gone,  and  follow  me  no  more. 

Hal  You  draw  me,  ^oa  hard-hearted  adamant ; 
But  yet  you  draw  not  iron,  for  my  hearfe 
Is  true  as  steel :  leave  you  yoar  power  to  draw. 
And  I  Ab\\  have  no  power  to  follow  you. 

Dem,  Do  I  entice  you  .^  Do  I  speak  you  fair .' 
Or  rather,  do  I  not  in  plainest  truth 
Tell  you — I  do  not,  nor  I  cannot  love  you  ? 

Hel.  And  even  for  that  do  I  love  you  the  more. 
I  am  your  spaniel ;  and,  Demetrius, 
The  more  you  beat  me,  I  will  fawn  on  you : 
Use  me  but  as  your  spaniel,  spurn  me,  strike  me. 
Neglect  me,  lose  me  ;  only  give  me  leave. 
Unworthy  as  I  am,  to  follow  you. 
What  worser  place  can  I  beg  in  your  lore 
(And  yet  a  place  of  high  respect  with  me,) 
Than  ta  be  used  as  yoo  use  your  dog  ? 

Dem.  Tempt  not  too  much  the  hatred  of  my  spirit ; 
For  I  am  sick,  when  I  do  look  on  thee. 

HeL  And  I  am  sick  when  I  look  not  on  you. 

Dem,  You  do  impeach'  your  modestjr  too  much. 
To  leave  the  city,  and  commit  yourself 
Into  the  hands  of  one  that  loves  you  not ; 
To  trust  the  opportunity  of  m'ght. 
And  the  ill  counsel  of  a  desert  place. 
With  the  rich  worth  of  your  virginihr. 

Hel.  Your  virtue  is  my  privilege  for  that 
It  is  not  night,  when  I  do  see  your  face. 
Therefore  I  think  I  am  not  in  tbe  night : 
Nor  doth  this  wood  lack  worlds  of  company ; 
For  you,  in  my  respect,  are  all  the  world : 
Then  how  can  it  be  said,  I  am  alone. 
When  all  the  worid  is  here  to  look  on  me  .^ 

Dem,  I'll  run  from  thee,  and  hide  me  in  the  brakes. 
And  leave  thee  to  the  mercy  of  wild  beasts. 

HeL  The  wildest  hath  not  such  a  heart  as  you. 
Run  when  you  will,  tbe  story  shall  be  chang'd ; 

(3)  Produce.     (4)  Page.     (5)  Exempt  from  love. 
((i;  Mad,  raving.  (7)  Bnng  in  question. 


146 


MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  DREAM. 


.^ct  II 


Apollo  flies,  and  Daphne  holds  the  chase; 
The  dove  pursues  the  eriffin  ;  the  mild  hind 
Makes  speod  to  catch  the  tiger  :  bootless  speed  ! 
When  cowardice  pursues,  and  valour  flies. 

Dem.  I  will  not  stay  thy  questions;  let  me  go  : 
Or,  if  tJiou  follow  me,  do  not  believe 
But  [  shall  do  thee  mischief  in  the  wood. 

I-fel.  Ay,  in  the  temple,  in  the  town,  the  field, 
V'ou  do  me  mi«chief.     Fie,  Demetrius  ! 
Vour  wrongps  do  set  a  scandal  on  my  sex  : 
We  cannot  fight  for  love,  as  men  may  do ; 
We  should  be  wooM,  and  were  not  made  to  woo. 
V\\  follow  thee,  and  make  a  heaven  of  hell, 
To  die  upon'  the  hand  I  love  so  well. 

[Exeunt  Dem.  ami  Hel. 

Obe.  Fare  thee  well,  nymph :  ere  he  do  leave 
this  grove, 
Thou  shall  fly  him,  and  he  shall  seek  thy  love. — 

Re-enter  Puck. 

Hast  thou  the  flower  there.'  Welcome,  wanderer. 

Fuck,  Ay,  there  it  is. 

Obe.  I  pray  thee,  give  it  me. 

I  know  a  bank  whereon  the  wild  thyme  blows. 
Where  ox-lips^  and  the  nodding  violet  grows ; 
Quite  over-canopied  with  lush'  woodbine. 
With  sweet  musk-roses,  and  with  eglantine  : 
There  sleeps  Titania,  scmie  time  of  the  night, 
LulPd  in  these  flowers  with  dances  and  delight ; 
And  there  the  snake  throws  her  enamelPd  skin 
Weed  wide  enough  to  wrap  a  faiiy  in  : 
And  with  the  juice  of  this  rll  streak  her  eyes. 
And  make  her  full  of  hateful  fantasies. 
Take  thou  some  of  it,  and  seek  through  this  grove  : 
A  sweet  Athenian  lady  is  in  love 
W'ith  a  disdainful  youth  :  anoint  his  e^es ; 
But  do  it,  when  the  next  thing  he  espies 
May  be  the  lady  :  thou  shalt  know  the  man 
By  the  Athenian  garments  he  hath  on. 
Etfect  it  with  some  care ;  that  he  may  prove 
More  fond  on  her,  than  she  upon  her  love  : 
And  look  thou  meet  me  ere  the  first  cock  crow. 

Puck.  Fear  not,  my  lord,  your  servant  shall  do 
so.  [Exeunt. 

SCEATE  III.^  Another  pari  qf  the  wood.    En- 
ter Titania,  with  her  train. 

Tita.  Come,  now  a  roundel ,4  and  a  fairy  song; 

Then,  for  the  third  part  of  a  minute,  hence ; 

Some,  to  kill  cankers  in  the  musk-rose  buds ; 

Svne,  war  with  rear-mice*  for  their  leathern  wings, 

To  make  my  onall  elves  coats :  and  some,  keep 
back 

The  clamorous  owl,  that  nightly  hoots,  and  won- 
ders 

At  our  quaint  spirits  i^  ane  me  now  asleep ; 

Then  to  your  offices,  and  let  roe  rest. 

SONG. 

I  Fai.     Tou  spotted  snakes^  with  double  tong-tw. 
Thorny  hedge-hogs^  be  not  seen  ,• 
A'ewtSff  and  blind^worms^  do  no  wrong  / 
Come  not  near  our  fairy  queen  : 

Chorus.    Philomelj  with  melody^ 

Sing  in  our  sweet  lullaby  : 
LullOy  lulloj  lullaby  ;  lulla^  lulla,  lullaby  : 
J\''ever  harm^  nor  spell  nor  charm^ 
Come  our  lonely  lady  nigh  ; 
So,  good  night,  with  lullaby. 

(1)  By.     (2)  Tlie  greater  cowslip.     (3)  Vigorous. 
(4)  A  kind  of  dance.     (5)  Bats.     (6)  Sports. 


II. 
2  Fai.     Weaving  spiders,  come  not  here , 

Hence,  you  long-Ugg'd  spinners,  henct 
Beetles  black,  approach  not  near  ,* 
Worm,  nor  snail,  do  no  qffence. 

Chorus.    Philomel,  with  melody,  ^-c. 

1  Fat.  Hence,  away  ;  now  all  is  well : 
One,  aloof,  stand  sentinel. 

[Exeimt  Fairies.     Titanta  skeps 

Enter  ObennL 

Obe.  What  thou  seest,  when  thou  dost  wake, 
[Squeezes  the  Jiower  an  Titania's  eye-Uds. 
Do  it  for  thv  true  love  take ; 
Love,  and  languish  for  his  siftke : 
Be  it  ounce,^  or  cat,  or  bear, 
Pard,  or  boar  with  bristled  hair, 
In  thy  eve  that  shall  appear 
When  thou  wak^st,  it  is  th^  dear ; 
Wake,  when  some  vile  thing  is  near.  [Exit. 

Enter  Lysander  and  Hennia. 

Lys.  Fair  love,  you  faint  with  wandering  in  the 
wood; 

And  to  speak  truth,  I  have  forgot  cur  way ; 
WeMi  rest  us,  Hermia,  if  you  think  it  good. 

And  tarry  for  the  comfort  of  the  day. 

Her.  Be  it  so,  Lysander :  find  yon  oat  a  bed. 
For  I  upon  this  bank  will  rest  my  head. 

Lys.  One  turf  shall  serve  as  pillow  for  as  both; 
One  heart,  one  bed,  two  bosoms,  and  one  trotfi. 

Her.  Nay,  good  Lysander ;  for  my  sake,  my  dear. 
Lie  further  on  yet,  do  not  lie  so  near. 

Ijys.  O,  take  the  sense,  sweet,  of  mj  innocence : 
Love  takes  the  meaning,  in  love*s  conference. 
I  mean,  that  my  heart  unto  your*  is  knit. 
So  that  but  one  heart  we  can  make  of  it : 
Two  bosoms  interchained  with  an  oath ; 
So  then,  two  bosoms,  and  a  single  troth. 
Then,  by  your  side  no  bed-room  roe  deny  ; 
For,  lying  so,  Hermia,  I  do  not  lie. 

Her.  Lysander  riddles  very  prettily  : — 
Now  much  beshrew  my  manners  and  my  pride. 
If  Hermia  meant  to  sav,  Lysander  lied. 
Rut,  gentle  friend,  for  love  and  courtesy 
liio  further  off;  in  human  modesty 
Such  separation,  as,  may  well  be  said, 
Horomes  a  virtuous  bachelor  and  a  maid : 
So  far  be  distant ;  and  good  night,  sweet  friend : 
Thv  love  ne'er  alter,  till  thy  sweet  life  end  ! 

).ys.  Amen,  ameJi,  to  that  fair  prayer,  say  I ; 
And  then  end  life,  when  1  end  loyalty  ! 
Here  is  mv  bed  :  sleep  give  thee  all  his  rest ! 

Her.  With  half  that  wish  the  wisher's  eyes  be 
press'd!  [They  deep. 

Enter  Puck. 

Puck.  Through  the  forest  have  I  gone, 
But  Auienian  found  I  none. 
On  whose  eyes  I  might  approve 
This  flower's  force  in  stirring  love, 
Ni<cht  and  silence  !  who  is  here  ? 
Weeds  of  Athens  he  doth  wear  : 
This  is  he,  my  master  said. 
Despised  the  Athenian  maid  ; 
Ana  here  the  maiden,  sleeping^  sound. 
On  the  dank  and  dirty  ground. 
Pretty  soul !  she  durst  not  lie 
Near  this  lack-love,  kill-courtesy. 
Churl,  upon  thy  eyes  1  throw 
All  the  power  this  chann  doth  ovre  :>* 

(7)  Eft?.     (8)  Slow-worms.     (9)  The  small  l«ei 
nO)  Possess.  ^ 


midsummeRpNigftts  dream. 


147 


IThen  thou  wak'st,  let  love  forbid 
leep  his  seat  on  thy  eydid. 
o  awake,  when  I  am  gone ; 
or  I  must  now  to  Oberon. 


[Exit. 


kr  Demetrius  and  Helena,  running. 

Itay,  though  thou  kill  me,  sweet  Demetrius. 

I  charge  thee,  hence,  and  do  not  haunt 

me  thus. 
[),  wilt  thou  darklingi  leave  me  ?  do  not  so. 

Stay,  oo  thy  peril ;  I  alone  will  go. 

\Exit  Demetrius. 
>,  I  am  out  of  breath  in  this  fond  chase ! 
«  my  prayer,  the  lesser  is  m^  grace. 
I  Hermia,  wheresoever  she  lies ; 
hath  blessed  and  attractive  eyes. 
ne  her  eyes  so  bright  f  Not  with  salt  tears : 
r  eyes  are  oftener  washM  than  hers. 
'.  am  as  ugly  as  a  bear ; 
Hm  that  meet  me,  run  away  for  fear : 
le,  no  marvel,  though  Demetrius 
monster,  fly  my  presence  thus, 
icked  and  dissembling  glass  of  mine 
e  compare  with  Hermia*s  sphery  eyne  ? 

it  here  ? — Lysander !  on  the  ground .' 
r  asleep.^  I  see  no  blood,  no  wound  : — 
r,  if  you  live,  good  sir,  awake. 
^nd  run  through  fire  I  will,  for  thv  sweet 

take.  [  iVaking. 

rent  Helena !    Nature  here  shows  art, 
oogh  thy  bosom  makes  me  see  thy  heart. 

I  Demetrius .'    O,  how  fit  a  word 
ile  name,  to  perish  on  my  sword ! 

>o  not  say  so,  Lysander ;  say  not  m : 
oogfa  he  love  your  Hermia  ?    Lord,  what 
tbou&^h.' 

nia  stiU  loves  you :  then  be  content. 
Content  with  Hermia.'  No:  I  do  repent 
oos  minutes  I  with  her  have  spent. 
nia,  but  Helena  I  love : 

II  not  change  a  raven  for  a  dove  ? 

I  of  man  is  by  his  reason  swayM ; 
ion  says  you  are  the  worthier  maid. 
{rowing  are  not  ripe  until  their  season  : 
ng  young,  till  notv  ripe  not  to  reason ; 
:hii^  now  the  point  o(  human  skill, 
lecoroes  the  marshall  to  my  will, 
k  me  to  your  eyes ;  where  I  oVrlook 
lories  written  in'  love's  richest  book. 
¥lMrefore  was  I  to  this  keen  mockeiy  bom  ? 
it  jour  hands,  did  I  de:»cr\'e  this  scorn  f 
ioon^f  is*t  not  enough,  young  man, 
lid  never,  no,  nor  never  can, 
a  tweet  look  from  Demetrius'  eye, 
must  flout  my  insufficiency  f 
idi,  you  do  me  wrong,  good  sooth,  you  do, 
dttdainful  manner  me  to  woo. 
!  you  well :  perforce  I  must  confess. 
It  Tou  lord  01  more  true  gentleness, 
a  mdy,  of  one  man  rcfu.<i'd, 
of  another,  therefore  be  abus'd  !       [Exit. 
She  sees  not  Hermia : — Hermia,  sleep  thou 
there; 
wmays'tthou  come  Lysander  near! 
•  turieit  of  the  sweetest  things 
spest  loathing  to  the  stomach  brings ; 
M  heresies,  that  men  do  leave, 
edinost  of  those  they  did  deceive ; 
I  mjr  surfeit,  and  my  heresy, 
M  hated ;  but  the  most  of  me ! 
ny  powers,  address  your  love  and  might, 
Qor  Helen,  and  to  be  Wr  knight !      [£Tt7. 


D  the  dark. 


(2)  By  all  that  is  dear. 


Her.  [Startine.]  Help  me,  Lysander,  help  me ! 
do  thy  best. 
To  pluck  this  crawling  serpent  from  my  breast ! 
Ah  me,  for  pity ! — what  a  dream  was  here ! 
Lysander,  look,  how  I  do  quake  with  fear : 
Methought  a  serpent  eat  my  heart  away. 
And  you  sat  sminng  at  his  cruel  prey : — 
Lysander!  what,  removed.'  Lysander!  lord  ! 
What,  out  of  hearing  ?  gone  f  no  sound,  no  word .' 
Alack,  where  are  you  f  speak,  an  if  you  hear; 
Speak,  of  all  loves  ;3  I  swoon  almost  with  fear. 
No  ? — then  I  well  perceive  you  are  not  nigh : 
Elithcr  death,  or  you,  IMI  find  immediately.  [Exit. 


ACT  IIL 

SCEJVE  I.—The  same.  The  queen  of  fairies 
lying  asieep.  Enter  Quince,  Snug,  Bottom, 
Flute,  Snout,  ot^  Starveling. 

Boi.  Are  we  all  met } 

Quin.  Pat,  pat ;  and  here's  a  marvellous  con- 
venient place  for  our  rehearsal :  tKIs  green  plot  shall 
be  our  stage,  this  hawthorn  brake  our  ty  ring-bouse ; 
and  we  will  do  it  in  action,  as  we  will  do  it  before 
the  duke. 

Bot.  Peter  Quince, — 

Quin.  What  say'st  thou,  bully  JBottom .' 

Bot.  There  are  things  in  this  ccxnedy  ofPyratnvs 
and  Thisby,  that  will  never  please.  First,  Py  ramus 
must  draw  a  sword  to  kill  himself;  which  the  ladies 
cannot  abide.     How  answer  you  that  ^ 

Snout  By'rlakin,*  a  parlous^  fear. 

Star.  I  believe,  we  must  leave  the  killing  out, 
when  all  is  done. 

Bot.  Not  a  whit;  I  have  a  device  to  make  all 
well.  Write  roe  a  prol(^e  :  and  let  the  prol(^ue 
seem  to  say,  we  will  do  no  harm  with  our  swordii ; 
and  that  Pyramus  is  not  killed  indeed :  and,  for 
the  more  better  assurance,  tell  them,  that  I,  Pyra>- 
mns,  am  not  Pyramus,  but  Bottom  the  weaver  r'this^ 
will  put  them  out  of  fear. 

Quin.  Well,  we  will  have  such  a  prologue ;,  and? 
it  shall  be  written  in  eight  and  six. 

Bot.  No,  make  it  two  more ;  let  it  be  wrftten  in 
eight  and  eight 

Snout.  Will  not  the  ladies  be  afeard  of  ^  lion  f 

Star.  I  fear  it,  I  promise  you. 

Bot.  Masters,  you  ought  to  consider  with  your- 
selves :  to  bring  in,  God  shield  us !  a  lion,  among 
ladies,  is  a  most  dreadful  thing ;  for  there  is  not 
a  more  fearful^  wild-fowl  than  your  lion,  living ; 
and  we  ought  to  look  to  it 

Snout.  Therefore,  another  prologue  must  tell  he 
is  not  a  lion. 

Bot.  Nay,  you  must  name  his- name,  and  half  his 
face  must  be  seen  through  the  lion's  neck ;  and  he 
himself  must  speak  through,  saying  thus,  or  to  the 
same  defect, — Ladies,  or  fair  ladies,  I  would  mah 
you,  or,  I  would  request  you,  or,  I  would  entreat 
you,  not  to  fear,  not  to  tremble :  my  life  for  youra.  If 
you  think  I  come  hither  as  a  lion,  it  were  pity  of  my 
life  :  no,  I  am  no  such  thing ;  I  am  a  man  as  other 
men  are : — and  there,  indeed,  let  him  name  his 
name ;  and  tell  them  plainly,  he  is  Snug  the  joiner. 

Quin.  Well,  it  shall  be  so.  But  there  is  two  hard 
things ;  that  is,  to  bring  the  moon-light  into  a  cham- 
ber :  for  you  know,  I^ramus  and  Thisby  meet  b\ 
moon-light. 

Snug.  Doth  the  moon  shine,  that  night  we  p'ay 
our  play  ? 


(3)  By  our  lady  kin.  (4^  Dangerous.  ^5^  Terrihlcb 


148 


MmSUMMERNIGHPS  DREAM. 


JidlH 


Boi.  A  calendar,  a  calendar !  look  in  the  alma- 
nac ;  find  out  moon-shine,  find  out  moon-shine. 

Qutn.    Yes,  it  doth  shine  that  night. 

5o<.  Wh}',  then  you  may  leave  a  casement  of 
the  great  chamber  window,  where  we  play,  open ; 
wid  the  moon  may  shine  in  at  the  casement. 

Qutn.  Ay ;  or  else  one  must  cwne  in  with  a  bush 
of  thorns  and  a  lanthoni,  and  say,  he  comes  to  dis- 
figure, or  to  present,  the  pcraon  of  moon-shine. 
Then  there  is  another  thing  :  we  must  have  a  wall 
in  the  great  chamber ;  for  Py  ramus  and  Thisbv, 
•ays  the  story,  did  talk  through  the  chinks  of  a  wall. 

Snug.  You  never  can  bnng  in  a  wall. — What 
•ay  you.  Bottom  ? 

JBot.  Some  man  or  other  must  present  wall :  and 
let  him  have  some  plaster,  or  some  loam,  or  some 
rourh-cast  about  tiim,  to  Hgnify  wall ;  or  let  him 
bolahisfinget-s  thus,  ond  throujjh  tliat  cranny  shall 
Pyramus  and  Thisby  whisper. 

Quin.  If  that  may  be,  then  all  is  well :  Come, 
•it  down,  every  molher*8  son,  and  rehearse  your 
parts.  Pyramus,  you  begin :  when  you  have  spoken 
your  speech,  enter  into  that  brake,'  and  so  every 
one  according  to  his  cue. 

Enter  Puck  behind. 

Fuck.  What  hempen  home-spuns  have  we  swag- 
gering here. 
So  near  the  cradle  of  the  fairy  queen  ? 
What,  a  play  toward  f  V\\  be  an  auditor ; 
An  actor  too,  perhaps,  if  I  see  cause. 

Quin.  Speak,  Pyramus  : — Thisby,  stand  forth. 

Pyr.     Tnishy^  the  Jiowers  of  odious  savours 
svxety — 

Qutn.  Odours,  odours. 

Pyr. Odours  savours  sweet : 

So  doth  thy  breath,  my  dearest  Thisby  dear. — 
Bui,  hark,  a  voice  !  stay  thou  but  here  a  while. 

And  by  and  by  I  una  to  thee  appear.        [Exit. 

Puck.  A  stranger  Pyramus  than  e*er  playM  here  I 

[Aside.— Exit. 

This.  Must  I  speak  now  ? 

Quin.  Ay,  marry,  must  you :  for  you  must  un- 
derstand, he  goes  but  to  see  a  noise  that  he  heard, 
and  is  to  come  again. 

This.    Most  radiant  Pyramus,  most  lily-white 
of  hue. 

Of  colour  like  (he  red-rose  on  triumphant  brier, 
Most  briskly  Juvenal,'^  and  eke  most  lovely  Jew, 

As  true  as  truest  horse,  that  yet  would  never  tire, 
rU  meet  thee,  Pyramus,  at  JN'inny'j  tomb. 

Quin.  Ninus*  tomb,  man :  why  you  must  not 
speak  that  yet ;  that  you  answer  to  Pvromus  :  you 
speak  all  your  part  at  once,  cues*  an^  all. — Pyra- 
mus enter ;  your  cue  is  past ;  it  is,  never  tire. 

Re-enter  Puck,  and  Bottom  with  an  ass^s  head. 

This.  O, — As  true  as  truest  horse,  that  yet  would 

never  tire. 

Pyr.  If  I  were  fair,  Thisby,  I  were  only  th  ine : — 

Quin.  O  monstrous  !  O  strange  I  we  ai-e  haunted. 

Pray,  masters !  fly,  masters  !  help  !  [Exe.  Clowns. 

Puck.  V\\  follow  you.  Til  lead  you  about  a  round, 

Through  bo^,  through  bush,  through  brake,  through 

bner; 
Sometime  a  horse  PI  I  be,  sometime  a  hound, 

A  hog,  a  headless  bear,  sometime  a  fire ; 
And  neigh,  and  bark,  and  grunt,  and  roar,  and  bum, 
Lake  horse,  hound,  hog,  bear,  fire,  at  every  turn. 

[Exit. 

(i)  Thicket        (2)  Young  man. 
(3)  The  last  words  of  the  preceding  speech, 
» which  serve  as  a  hint  to  him  who  is  to  speak  next 


Bot.  Why  do  they  ran  away  f  this  is  a  knarei; 
of  them,  to  make,  me  afeard.^ 

Re-enter  Snoat 

Snout.  O  Bottom,  thou  art  changed !  what  do  1 
see  on  thee  ? 

Bot.  What  do  yoo  see  ?  you  see  an  ass*8  bead 
of  your  own ;  Do  you  ? 

Re-enter  Quince. 

Quin.  Bless  thee,  Bottom !  bless  thee !  thou  art 
translated.  [ExU. 

Bot.  I  see  their  knaveiy :  this  is  to  make  an  a» 
of  me ;  to  fright  me,  if  they  could.  But  I  will  not 
stir  from  this  place,  do  what  they  can :  I  will  wallc 
up  and  down  nere,  and  I  will  sing,  that  they  shall 
hear  I  am  not  afraid.  ^cn^. 

The  ousel-cock,  so  black  of  hue. 

With  orange-tawny  btU, 
The  throstle  with  his  note  so  true. 

The  wren  with  little  quill ; 

Tila,  What  angel  wakes  me  from  my  iloweiT  bed 


Bot  JTufinch,  the  sparrow,  and  Iht  lark, 
7n€  plain-song  cuckoo^  £T<^i 
Whose  note  full  many  a  man  doth  mark. 
And  dares  not  ansu)er,  nay  f— 

for,  indeed,  who  would  set  his  wit  to  so  foolish 
bird.^  who  would  give  a  bird  the  lie,  though 
cry,  cuckoo,  never  so  f 

Tiia.  I  pray  thee,  gentle  mortal,  sing  again  : 
Mine  ear  is  much  enamoured  of  thy  note. 
So  is  mine  eye  enthralled  to  thr  shape ; 
And  thy  fair  virtue*s  force  perforce  ooth  more 
On  the  first  view,  to  say,  to  swear,  I  love  thee. 

Bot.  Methinks,  mistress,  you  should  have  li 
reason  for  that :  and  yet,  to  say  the  tratb,  rea 
and  love  keep  little  company  together  now-a-da 
the  more  the  pity,  that  some  honest  neighbours 
not  make  them  friends.  Nay,  I  can  gleek,^  a 
occasion. 

Tito.  Thou  art  as  wise  as  thou  art  beautiful 

Bot.  Not  so,  neither :  but  if  I  had  wit  enoi 
get  out  of  this  wood,  I  have  enough  to  serve 
own  turn. 

Tito.  Out  of  this  wood  do  not  desire  to  go ; 
Thou  shalt  remain  here,  whether  thou  wilt  or 
I  am  a  spirit,  of  no  common  rate  ; 
The  summer  still  doth  tend  upon  my  state. 
And  I  do  love  thee :  therefore,  go  with  me ; 
ril  give  thee  fairies  to  attend  on  thee  ; 
And  they  shall  fetch  thee  jewels  firam  die  dee 
And  sing,  while  thou  on  pressed  fiowers  dost  ' 
And  I  will  purge  thy  mortal  grossness  so, 
That  thou  snalt  like  an  airy  spirit  go. — 
Peas-blossom .'  Cobweb !  Moth !  anaMostaitl-s^^^*^' 

Enter  four  Fairies. 

1  Fai.  Ready. 

2  Fat.  And  L 

3  Fai.  And  I. 

4  Fai.  Where  shall  w-^es  ?d  ' 
Tila.  Be  kind  and  courteous  to  this  g\  iuIl       *""'■ 

Hop  in  his  walks,  and  gambol  in  his  eyes ; 

Feed  him  with  apricocks  and  dewberries,^       

With  purple  grapes,  green  figs,  and  roulben     ^**» 
The  honey  bags  steal  from  tl^  humble-bees^ 
And,  for  night  tapers,  crop  their  waxen  tl ' 
And  light  them  at  the  fieiy  glow-worm's 


(4)  Afraid.  (5)  The  cuckoo,  with  his  aiiilbnr»   "^^ 
(6)  Joke.  (7)  GooM^berries.  f  J 


MroSUMMER-NIGirrS  DREAM. 


149 


my  love  to  bed,  and  to  arise ; 
k  the  wings  from  painted  butlerilies, 
e  moon-beams  from  bis  sleeping  eyes : 
m,  elves,  and  do  him  courtesies. 

Hail,  mortal ! 

Hail! 

Hail! 

Hail! 

cry  your  worship's  mercy,  heartily. — I 

four  worship's  name. 

«bweb. 

shall  desire  you  of  more  acquaintance, 

ter  Cobweb :  if  I  cut  my  finger,  I  shall 

twithyoa.  Your  name,  honest  gentleman? 

EVas-blossom. 

mj  you,  commend  me  to  mistress  Sgimsh, 

ler,  and  to  master  Peascod,  your  hither. 

Iter  IVas-blossom,  I  sh»ll  desire  you  of 

mintance  too. — Your  name,  I  beseech 

Mustard-seed. 

ood  master  Mustard-seed,  I  know  your 
fell :  that  same  cowardly,  giant-like  ox- 
devoared  many  a  gentleman  of  your 
promise  you,  your  kindred  hath  made  my 
r  ere  now.  I  desire  you  more  acquaiut- 
d  master  Mustard-seed. 
]!ome,  wait  upon  him;  lead  him  to  my 
bower. 

xn,  methinks,  looks  with  a  watery  eve ; 
1  the  weeps,  weeps  every  little  flowe'r, 
ting  tome  enforced  chastity. 
iBjr  kwc's  tongue,  bring  him  silently. 

[Exeunt. 

IL^-^nother  part  of  the  wood.   Enter 
Oberoo. 

wonder  if  Titania  be  awak*d ; 

at  it  was  that  next  came  in  her  eye, 

•  must  dote  on  in  extremity. 

Enter  P\ick. 

et  my  messenger. — How  now,  mad  spirit  ? 
ht-Tule-  now  about  this  haunted  grove  f 
My  mistress  with  a  mon*<ter  is  in  love. 
nr  ckMe  and  consecrated  bower, 
I  was  in  her  dull  and  sleeping  hour, 
'  patches,^  rude  me<-hanicals, 
c  for  bread  upon  Athenian  stalls, 
together  to  rehean«e  a  play, 
ror  great  Theseus*  nuptial  (lay. 
>west  thick-skin  of  that  barren  sort,' 
unos  presented,  in  their  sport 
ia  scene,  and  entered  in  a  brake : 
id  him  at  this  advaiitap:e  take, 
owH  I  fixed  on  his  head  ; 
Thisbc  must  be  answered, 
my  mimic^  comes  :  when  they  him  spy, 
eeie  that  the  creeping  fowler  eye, 

rited  choughs,  many  in  sort, 
cawing  at  the  gun*s  report 
ntelves,  and  niadiv  swc'<>p  the  sky  ; 
light,  away  his  fellows  fly  : 
IT  stamp,  here  o'er  and  o*er  one  falls ; 
r  cries,  and  help  from  Athcas  calls, 
le,  thus  weak,  lost  with  their  fears,  thus 
itrong, 

Kless  things  begin  to  do  them  wrong : 
•od  thorns  at  their  apparrrl  snati^h ; 
vea ;  tome,  hats :  from  yicldcrs  all  things 
:ttch. 

Arr.         (2)  Simple  fellows. 

lid  company.     (4)  Head.     (5)  Actor. 


I  led  them  on  in  this  distracted  fear. 
And  left  sweet  Py ramus  translated  there  : 
VVhen  in  that  moment  (sso  it  came  to  pass,) 
Titania  wak'd,  and  straightway  lov*d  an  ass. 

Obe.  This  falls  out  better  than  I  could  dcvi«e. 
But  hast  thou  ^^et  latch'd«  the  Athenian'*  eves 
With  the  love-juice,  as  I  did  bid  thee  do  ?  ' 

Puck.  I  took' him  sleeping,— that  is  fini>li'd  too.— 
And  the  Athenian  woman  oy  his  side ; 
That,  when  he  wak'd,  of  force  she  must  be  ey'd. 

Enter  Demetrius  and  Hermia. 

Obe.  Stand  close ;  this  is  the  same  Athenian. 

Puck.  This  is  the  woman,  but  not  this  the  n)nii. 

Dem.  O  why  rebuke  you  him  that  loves  you  «» ? 
Lay  breath  so  bitter  on  vour  Wtter  foe. 

Her.  Now  I  but  chide,  but  I  should  use  thee 
worse; 
For  thou,  I  fear,  hast  given  me  cause  to  curse. 
If  thou  hast  slain  Lysander  in  his  sleep. 
Being  o'er  shoes  in  blood,  plunge  in  the  deep. 
And  Kill  roe  toa 

The  sun  was  not  so  true  unto  the  day. 
As  he  to  me:  Would  he  have  stol'n  away 
From  sleeping  Hermia  ?  I'll  believe  as  soon, 
This  whole  eajth  may  be  bor'd ;  and  that  the  m«on 
May  through  the  centre  creep,  and  so  disipleaM: 

I  ler  brother's  nooo-tide  with  the  Antipodes. 

II  cannot  be,  but  thou  hast  murder'd  him; 
So  should  a  murderer  look ;  so  dead,  so  grinu 

Dem,   So  should  the  murder'd  look;  and  so 
should  1, 
Pierc'd  through  the  heart  with  your  stem  cruelty  : 
Yet  you,  the  murderer,  look  as  bright,  as  clear,' 
As  yonder  Venus  in  her  glhnmering  sphere. 

Her.  What's  this  to  my  Lysander.^  where  is  he  .^ 
.\h,  good  Demetrius,  wilt  tKou  give  him  me  > 

Dim.  I  had  rather  give  his  carcase  to  my  hounds. 

Her.  Out,  dog !  out,  cur !  thou  driv'st  me  p.  st 
the  bounds 
Of  maiden's  patience.    Hast  thou  slain  him  then  ^ 
Henceforth  be  never  number'd  among  men ! 
O I  once  tell  true,  tell  true,  even  for  my  sake ; 
Durst  thou  have  look'd  upon  him,  being  awake. 
And  hast  thou  kill'd  him  sleeping  f  O  brave  touch  ;7 
Could  not  a  worm,  an  adder,  ao  so  much  ? 
An  adder  did  it :  for  with  a  doubler  tongue 
Than  thine,  thou  serpent,  never  adder  stung. 

Dem.  You  spend  your  passion  on  a  mispris'd^ 
mood: 
I  am  not  guilty  of  Ly  sender's  blood ; 
Nor  is  he  deaa,  for  aught  that  I  can  tell. 

Her.  I  pray  thee,  tell  me  then  that  he  is  well. 

Dem,  And  if  I  could,  what  should  I  get  there- 
fore.^ 

Her.  A  privilege,  never  to  see  me  more. — 
And  from  tny  hated  presence  part  I  so  : 
.See  me  no  niore,  whether  he  be  dead  or  no.  [Rrif. 

Dem.  Hiere  is  no  following  her  in  thifi  fierce 
vein: 
Here,  therefore,  for  a  while  I  will  remain. 
So  sorrow's  heaviness  doth  heavier  g^w 
For  debt  that  bankrupt  sleep  doth  sorrow  owe ; 
Which  now,  in  some  slight  measure  it  will  pay. 
If  for  his  tender  here  I  make  some  stay. 

[Lies  dov.n. 

Obe.  What  hast  thou  done .'  thou  hast  mistaken 
quite, 
And  laid  the  love-juice  on  tome  true-love's  sight : 
Of  thy  nusprisioD  must  perforce  ensue 
Some  true-love  tum'd,  and  not  a  false  tum'd  true. 

(6)  Infected.      (7)  Eipkxt      (8)  Mistaken. 


150 


BimSUMMER-MGIirS  DREAM. 


A€l  Ul 


Puck,  Then  fate  o*er-rules ;  that,  one  man  hold- 
ing troth, 
A  million  fail,  confounding  oath  on  oath. 

Obe.  About  the  wood  go  swifter  than  the  wind, 
And  Helena  of  Athens  look  thou  find  : 
All  ftmcy-sicki  ghe  is,  and  pale  of  cheer^ 
With  sighs  of  love,  that  cost  the  fresh  blood  dear : 
Bv  some  illusion  see  thou  bring  her  here ; 
1*11  charm  his  eyes,  against  she  do  appear. 

Puck,  I  go,  1  go ;  look,  how  I  go ; 
SwiAer  than  arrow  from  the  Tartar's  bow.  [£xt7. 
Obe.  Flower  of  this  purple  dye, 
Hit  with  Cupid's  archery, 
Sink  in  apple  of  his  eve  ! 
When  his  love  he  dot^  ^pyi 
Let  her  shine  as  gloriously 
As  the  Venus  of  the  skv. — 
When  thou  wak'st,  if  she  be  by, 
B^  of  her  for  remedy. 

Re-enter  Puck. 

Puck.  Captain  of  our  faiiy  band, 
Helena  is  here  at  hand ; 
And  the  youth,  mistook  by  me, 
Pleading  for  a  lover's  fee ; 
Shall  we  their  fond  pageant  see  ? 
Lord,  what  fooU  these  mortals  be ! 

Obe.  Stand  aside :  the  noise  they  make. 
Will  cause  Demetrius  to  awake. 

Puck.  Then  will  two  at  once,  woo  one ; 
That  must  needs  be  sport  alone  ; 
And  those  things  do  best  please  me, 
That  befal  preposterously. 

Enter  Lysander  and  Helena. 

Lyi.  Why  should  you  think,  that  I  should  woo 
in  scorn? 

Scorn  and  derision  never  come  in  tears : 
Look,  when  I  vow,  I  weep ;  and  vows  so  bom. 

In  their  nativity  all  trutn  appears. 
How  can  these  things  in  me  seem  scorn  to  you. 
Bearing  the  badge  of  faith,  to  prove  them  true  ^ 

HeL  Tou  do  advance  your  cunning  more  and 
more. 

When  truth  kills  truth,  O  devilish-holy  fray ! 
Thene  vows  are  Hermia's ;  Will  you  give  her  o'er  ? 

Weigh  oath  with  oath,and  you  will  notliing  weigh  : 
Your  vows,  to  her  and  me,  put  in  two  scales. 
Will  even  weigh ;  and  both  as  light  as  tales. 

Lyi.  I  had  no  judgment,  when  to  her  I  swore. 

Hd.  Nor  n(xie,  in  my  mind,  now  you  give  her 
o'er. 

Lyi.  Demetrius  loves  her,  and  he  loves  not  you. 

Dem,  [AuMkine.]  O  Helen,  goddess,  nymph, 
perfect,  divine ! 
To  what,  my  love,  shall  I  compare  thine  cync  ? 
Crystal  is  muddy.     O,  how  ripe  in  show 
Thy  lips,  those  kissing  cherries,  tempting  grow  ! 
That  pure  congealed  white,  high  Taurus'  snow, 
Fann'd  with  the  eastern  wind,  turns  to  a  crow. 
When  thou  hold'st  up  thy  hand  :  O  let  me  kiss 
This  princess  of  pure  white,  this  seal  of  bliss  ! 

HeL  O  spite  !  O  hell !  I  see  you  all  are  bent 
To  set  against  me,  for  your  merriment 
If  yoo  were  civil,  and  knew  courtesy. 
You  would  not  do  me  thus  much  injury. 
Can  you  not  hate  me,  as  I  know  you  do. 
But  you  must  join,  in  souls,'  to  mock  me  too  ^ 
If  you  were  men,  as  men  you  are  in  show. 
You  would  not  use  a  gentle  lady  so ; 
To  TOW,  and  swear,  and  sunerpraise  my  part*, 

(1)  Love-^ick.  (2)  Countenance. 

(3)  Heartily.     (4)  Degree.     [5)  Pay  dearly  for  it 


When,  I  am  sure,  you  hate  me  with  yoor  hearts. 

You  both  are  rivals,  and  love  Hermia ; 

And  now  both  rivals,  to  mock  Helena: 

A  trim  exploit,  a  manly  enterprise. 

To  conjure  tears  up  in  a  poor  maid's  eyes, 

With  your  dcrii^ion  !  none,  of  noble  sort,* 

Would  so  oAend  a  virgin ;  and  extort 

A  poor  soul's  patience,  all  to  make  you  sport. 

Lys.  You  are  unkind,  Demetrius ;  be  not  so ; 
For  you  love  Hermia ;  this,  you  know,  I  know  : 
And  here,  with  all  good  will,  with  all  my  heart. 
In  Hermia's  love  I  yield  you  up  my  part; 
And  yours  of  Helena  to  me  bequeatn, 
Whom  I  do  love,  and  will  do  to  my  disath. 

Hel.  Never  did  mockers  waste  mote  idle  breath. 

Dem.  Lysander,  keep  thy  Hermia ;  I  will  none : 
If  e'er  I  lov'd  her,  all  that  love  is  gooe. 
My  heart  with  hej^  but  as  guestwise,  sojoumM; 
And  now  to  Helena  is  it  hune  retum'd. 
There  to  remain. 

Ly$.  Helen,  it  is  not  so. 

Dem.  Disparage  not  the  &ith  thou  dost  not  kDOvr, 
Lest,  to  thy  peril,  thou  aby  it  dear.< — 
Look,  where  thy  love  coines ;  yonder  is  tiiiy  dfcar. 

Enter  Hennia. 

Her.  Dark  night,  that  from  the  eye  his  function 
takes, 
The  ear  more  quick  c^  apprehenaon  makes ; 
Wherein  it  doth  impair  tne  seeing  sense, 
It  pays  the  hearing  double  recompense : — 
Thou  art  not  by  mine  eye,  Lysander,  Ibond ; 
Mine  ear,  I  thank  it,  brought  me  to  thy  sound. 
But  why  unkindly  didst  thou  leave  roe  so .' 

Lyi.  Why  should  he  stay,  whom  loTe  dolh  jness 
to  go? 

Her.  What  love  could  press  Lysander  from  my 
side  ? 

Lys.  Lvsander*s  love,  that  would  not  let  him 
^bide. 
Fair  Helena ;  who  nK>re  engilds  the  night 
Than  all  yon  fiery  oes^  and  eyes  of  light 
Why  seeic'st  thou  me  ?  could  not  this  make  thee 

know. 
The  hate  I  bare  thee  made  me  leave  thee  so? 

Her.  You  speak  not  as  you  think ;  it  cannot  be. 

HeL  Lo,  she  is  one  of  this  confederacy ! 
Now  I  p)erceive  they  have  conjoin'd,  all  three, 
To  fashion  this  false  sport  in  spite  of  roe. 
Injurious  Hermia  !  most  ungrateful  maid  ! 
Have  you  conspir'd,  have  vou  with  these  contriv'd 
To  bait  me  witti  this  foul  aerision  ? 
Is  all  the  counsel  that  we  two  have  shar'd, 
The  sisters'  vows,  the  hours  that  we  have  spent. 
When  we  have  chid  the  hasty-footed  time 
For  parting  us, — O,  and  is  all  forgot  ? 
All  school-days'  friendship,  childhood  innocence? 
We,  Hennia,  like  two  artificial^  gods. 
Have  with  our  nceldsP  created  both  one  flower. 
Both  on  one  sampler,  sitting  on  one  cushion. 
Both  warbling  of  one  song,  both  in  one  key ; 
As  if  our  hands,  our  sides,  voices,  and  minds. 
Had  Ixien  incorporate.     So  we  grew  together. 
Like  to  a  double  cherry,  seeming  parted; 
But  yet  a  union  in  partition. 
Two  lovely  berries  Rxxilded  on  one  stem : 
So,  with  two  seeming  bodies,  but  one  heart ; 
Two  of  the  first,  like  coats  in  heraldry. 
Due  but  to  one,  and  crown'd  with  one  crest. 
Aiid^  will  you  rent  our  ancient  love  asunder, 
Tn  join  with  men  in  scorning  your  poor  fnend? 
1 1  is  not  friendly,  'tis  not  maidenly  : 

(6)  Circles.        (7)  Ingenious.        (8)  Needles. 


MIDSUAIMER.NIGUTS  DREAM. 


151 


M  well  M  I,  may  chide  you  for  it : 
alooe  do  feel  the  injury. 
un  amazed  at  your  pat»i(Miate  words : 
a  not ;  it  seems  that  you  scorn  me. 
jire  yoQ  not  set  Lysander,  as  in  sconii 
me,  and  praise  my  eyes  and  Atce  ? 
B  your  other  love;,  Demetrius 
n  but  now  did  spurn  roe  with  his  ibot,) 
iBSoddess,  nympn,  divine,  and  rare, 
odestial  ?  Wherefore  speaks  he  this 
hates?  and  wherefore  doth  Lysander 
r  kwe,  so  rich  within  his  soul, 
er  me,  forsooth,  affecticxi ; 
or  setting  on,  by  your  consent  ? 
mgh  I  be  not  so  in  grace  as  you, 
ipoo  with  love,  so  fortunate ; 
•Ue  most,  to  love  unlov'd  ? 
■hoald  pity,  rather  than  despise, 
widerstand  not  what  you  mean  by  this. 
J,  do  persever,  counterfeit  sad  looks, 
ITS*  npoQ  me  when  I  turn  my  back ; 
aidk  other ;  hold  the  sweet  jest  ud  ; 
t,  well  carried,  shall  be  chronicled. 
ve  any  pity,  grace,  or  manners, 
d  not  make  me  such  an  argument 
ye  well :  *tis  partly  mine  own  fault ; 
Midi,  or  absence,  soon  shall  remedy. 
lay,  gentle  Helena  ;  hear  my  excuse ; 
nj  hfie,  my  soul,  fair  Helena ! 
ezoellent! 

Sweet,  do  not  scorn  her  sa 
i  die  cannot  entreat,  1  can  compel. 
Ikni  canst  compel  no  more  than  she  en- 
ticat; 

ili  have  no  more  strength,  than  her  weak 
prayers. — 

lore  thee ;  by  my  life,  I  do; 
f  that  which  I  will  lose  for  thee, 
liim  false,  that  says  I  love  thee  not. 
[  lay,  I  love  thee  more  than  he  can  da 
r  Aoa  say  so,  withdraw,  and  prove  it  too. 
Qimck,  come, — 

Lysander,  whereto  tends  all  this  ? 
kWmj,  you  Ethiop ! 

No,  no,  sir : — ^he  will 
ccak  loose ;  take  on,  as  you  would  follow ; 
ome  not :  You  are  a  tame  man,  ^o ! 
luf  off,  thou  cat,  thou  burr :  vile  thing 
leCtoose; 

Atfrr  thee  from  me,  like  a  serpent 
fiYkj  are  you  grown  so  rude  f  what  change 
iithif, 
r«? 

Thy  love  ?  out,  tawny  Tartar,  out ! 
led  medicine !  hated  potion,  hence ! 
)o  yoQ  not  jest  i 

Y«,  *80oth ;  and  so  do  you. 
)lametrias,  I  will  keep  mv  word  with  thee. 
would,  I  had  your  bond ;  for,  I  perceive, 
iMXid  hcdds  you ;  Pll  not  trust  your  word. 
ifliat,  diould  I  hurt  her,  strike  her,  kill  her 
dead? 

1 1  bate  her,  I'll  not  harm  her  so. 
WhaXj  can  you  do  me  greater  harm,  than 
hate? 

!  wherefore  ?  O  me !  what  news,  my  love .' 
[  Hermia  ?  Are  not  you  Lysander  ? 
■ir  DOW,  as  I  was  erewhile. 
^yoQ  lov*d  me ;  yet,  since  night  you  left 


'ly&cet. 

worni  that  preys  on  buds  of  flowers. 

irawSib  or  mischievous.  (4)  Foolish. 


Why,  then  you  left  me,— O,  the  gods  foibid  !— 
In  earnest,  shall  I  say? 

Lyi.  Aj,  by  my  life ; 

And  never  did  desire  to  see  thee  more. 
Therefore,  be  out  of  hope,  of  question,  doubt. 
Be  certain,  nothing  truer ;  'tis  no  jest, 
That  I  do  hate  th^  and  love  Helena. 

Her,  O  me !  you  juggler !  you  canker-blossom  !^ 
You  thief  of  love !  what,  have  you  come  by  night. 
And  stol'n  my  love's  heart  from  him  ? 

HeL  Fine,i'faith: 

Have  yoa  no  modesty,  no  maiden  shame. 
No  touch  of  bashfubilMS  ?  What,  will  you  tear 
Impatient  answers  from  my  gentle  tongue? 
Fie,  fie !  yon  counterfeit,  you  puppet  you ! 

Her.  Fuppet !  why  so  r  Ay,  toat  way  goes  the 
game. 
Now  I  perceive  that  she  hath  made  compere 
Between  oar  statures,  she  hath  mg'd  her  height ; 
And  with  her  personaee,  her  tall  personaee. 
Her  height,  forsooth,  she  hath  prevail'd  wim  him. — 
And  are  you  grown  so  high  in  his  esteem, 
Because  I  am  so  dwarfish,  and  so  low  ? 
How  low  am  I,  thou  painted  maypole  ?  speak ; 
How  low  am  I  ?  I  am  not  yet  so  low. 
But  that  my  nails  can  reach  unto  thine  eyes. 

Hd,  1  pray  you,  thourii  you  mock  me,  gentlemen. 
Let  her  not  hurt  me :  I  was  never  curst  ^ 
I  have  DO  gift  at  all  in  shrewishness; 
I  am  a  right  maid  for  my  cowardice ; 
Let  her  not  strike  me :  i  ou,  perhaps,  may  tfiink. 
Because  she's  something  lower  than  myself^ 
That  I  can  match  her. 

Her.  Lower !  haiii,  again. 

HeL  Good  Hermia,  do  not  be  so  bittei  with  me. 
I  evermore  did  love  you,  Hennia, 
Did  ever  keep  your  counsels,  never  wrong'd  you ; 
Save,  that  in  love  unto  Demetrius, 
I  told  him  of  your  stealth  unto  this  wood : 
He  foUow'd  you ;  for  love,  I  follow'd  hinu 
But  he  hath  chid  me  hence ;  and  threaten'd  me 
To  strike  me,  spurn  me,  nay,  to  kill  me  too : 
And  now,  so  jou  will  let  me  quiet  go. 
To  Athens  will  I  bear  my  folly  back. 
And  follow  you  no  further :  liet  me  go : 
You  see  how  simple  and  how  fond^  I  am. 

Her.  Why,  get  you  gone :  Who  is't  that  hinders 
you? 

HeL  A  foolish  heart,  that  I  leaye  here  behind. 

Her.  What, vyith Lysander? 

HeL  With  Demetrius 

Lys.  Be  not  afraid:  die  diall  not  harm  thee, 
Helena. 

Dem.  No,  sir;  die  shall  not,  though  you  take 
her  part 

HeL   O,  when  she's  angry,  she  is  keen  and 
shrewd : 
She  was  a  vixen,  when  die  went  to  qphool ; 
And,  though  she  be  but  little,  she  is  fierce. 

Her.  Little  again  ?  nothing  but  low  and  little  ?— 
Why  will  you  suffer  her  to  flout  me  thus? 
Let  me  come  to  her. 

Lyi.  Get  you  gone,  you  dwarf; 

You  minimus,  of  hind'ring  Knot-grass*  made ; 
You  bead,  you  acorn. 

Dem.  Ton  are  too  officious. 

In  her  behalf  that  scorns  your  services. 
Let  her  alone ;  speak  not  of  Helena ; 
Take  not  her  pert :  for  if  thou  dost  intend* 
Never  so  little  show  of  love  to  her, 

(5)  Anciently  knot-grass  was  belieyed4o  prevent 
the  growth  of  childroiL 

(6)  Pretend. 


152 


MIDSUMiMER-MGHTS  DREAM. 


Act  m 


Tboa  shalt  shy  it 

Lyg.  Now  she  holds  ine  not ; 

Now  follow,  if  thou  dar*8t,  to  try  whose  ri^ht, 
Or  thine  or  mine,  is  most  in  Helena. 

Dem.  Follow  ?  nay,  I'll  ffO  with  thee,  cheek  bv 
jole.  [Exeunt  Lvs.  and  Dcni. 

Her.  You,  mistress,  all  this  coil  is  Mong  of  you  : 
Nay»  go  not  back. 

HeZ  I  will  not  trust  you,  I ; 

Nor  longer  stay  in  your  curst  company. 
Your  hands,  than  mine,  are  quicker  for  a  fray ; 
My  legs  are  longer  though,  to  run  away.      [Exit. 

Her.  I  am  amazM,  and  know  not  what  to  say. 

[Exitf  pursuing  Helena. 

Obe.  This  is  thy  negligence  :  still  thou  mistak'st. 
Or  else  commit'st  thy  knaveries  wilfully. 

Puck.  Believe  me,  king  of  shadows,  I  mistook. 
Did  not  you  tell  me,  1  should  know  tlie  man 
By  the  Athenian  garments  he  had  on  ? 
And  so  far  blameless  proves  my  enterprise. 
That  1  have  'nointed  an  Athenian's  eyes : 
And  so  far  am  I  glad  it  so  did  sort,i 
As  this  their  jangling  I  esteem  a  sport. 

06c.  Thou  seest,  these  lovers  seek  a  place  to  fight : 
Hie  therefore,  Robin,  overcast  the  night ; 
The  starry  welkin  cover  thou  anon 
With  drooping  fc^,  as  black  as  Acheron  : 
And  lead  these  testy  rivals  so  astray. 
As  one  come  not  within  another's  way. 
Like  to  Lysander  sometime  frame  thy  tongue, 
Then  stir  Demetrius  up  with  bitter  wrong ; 
And  sometime  rail  thou  like  Demetrius ; 
And  from  each  other  look  thou  lead  them  thus, 
Till  o'er  their  brows  death-counterfeiting  sleep 
With  leaden  legs  and  batty  wings  doth  creep : 
Then  crush  this  herb  into  Lysander's  eye ; 
Whose  liquor  hath  this  virtuous  property ,2 
To  take  from  thence  all  error,  with  nis  might. 
And  make  his  eye-balls  roll  with  wonted  sight 
l^lien  they  next  wake,  all  this  derision 
Shall  seem  a  dream,  and  fruitless  vision ; 
And  back  to  Athens  shall  the  lovers  wend,' 
With  league,  whose  date  till  death  shall  never  end. 
Whiles 'I  in  this  affair  do  thee  employ, 
I'll  to  my  queen,  and  beg  her  Indian  boy  ; 
And  then  I  will  her  charmed  eye  releasee 
From  monster's  view,  and  all  things  shall  be  peace. 

Puck.  My  faiiy  lord,  this  must  be  done  with 
haste  ; 
For  night's  swift  dragons  cut  the  clouds  full  fast, 
And  yonder  shines  Aurora's  harbinger ; 
At  whose  approach,  ghosts,  wandering  here  and 

there, 
Troop  home  to  church-yards  :  damned  spirits  all. 
That  in  cross-ways  ana  floods  have  burial. 
Already  to  their  wormy  beds  are  gone  ; 
For  fear  iest  day  should  look  their  shames  upon, 
They  wilfully  themselves  exfle  from  light, 
And  must  for  aye  consort  with  black-brow'd  night. 

Ohe.  But  we  are  spirits  of  another  sort : 
I  with  the  Morning's  Iiove^  have  oft  made  sport ; 
And,  like  a  forester,  the  groves  may  tread, 
Even  to  the  eastern  gate,  all  fiery  red. 
Opening  on  Neptune  with  fair  bfessed  beams, 
Turns  into  yellow  gold  his  salt-green  streams. 
But,  notwithstanding,  heiste ;  make  no  delay  : 
We  may  effect  this  ousiness  yet  ere  day. 

[Exit  Oberon. 
Puck.  Up  and  down,  up  and  down ; 
I  will  lead  them  up  and  down  : 
I  am  fear'd  iA  field  and  town ; 
Goblin,  lead  them  up  and  down. 

(1)  Happen.     (2)  Medicinal  efikacy.     (3)  Go. 


!  Here  comes  one. 

Enter  Lysander. 

Lys.  Where  art  thou,  proud  Demetrius  ?  speak 

thou  now. 
Puck.  Here  villain;  drawn  and  ready.    Where 

art  thou  ^ 
Lys.  I  will  be  with  thee  straight 
Puck.  Follow  me  then 

To  plainer  ground. 

[Exit  Lys.  asfoUowing  the  voice. 

Enter  Demetrius. 

Dem.  Lysander!  speak  agairL 

Thou  runaway,  thou  coward,  art  thou  fled .' 
S{x?ak.     In  some  bush  }  Where  dost  thou  hide  thy 
head  .•* 
Puck.  Thou  coward,  art  thou  bragging  to  the  stars. 
Tolling  the  bushes  that  thou  look'st  for  wars. 
And  wilt  not  come .'  Come,  recreant ;  come,  thou 

child ; 
I'll  whip  thee  with  a  rod :  He  is  defil'd 
That  draws  a  sword  on  thee. 
Dem.  Yea  ;  art  thou  there  ? 

Puck.  Follow  my  voice ;  we'll  try  no  manhood 
here.  [ExeunL 

Re-enter  Lysander. 

Lys.  He  goes  before  me,  and  still  dares  me  OD ; 
When  I  come  where  he  calls,  then  he  is  jETOoe. 
The  villain  is  much  lighter  heel'd  than  f: 
I  follow'd  fast,  but  faster  he  did  fly ; 
That  fallen  am  I  in  dark  uneven  way. 
And  here  will  rest  me.    Come,  thou  gentle  day  .' 

[Liea  down. 
For  if  but  once  thou  show  me  thy  ^ny  light, 
I'll  find  Demetrius,  and  revenge  this  spite.  [Sleept. 

Re-enter  Puck  and  Demetrius. 

Puck.  Ho,  ho!  ho,  ho!  Coward,  why  com') 

thou  not.^ 
Dem.  Abide  me,  if  thou  dar'st ;  for  well  I  wot. 
Thou  runn'st  before  me,  shifting  everj'  place ; 
And  dar'st  not  stand,  nor  look  me  in  the  face. 
\Vhere  art  thou  f 
Puck.  Come  hither ;  I  am  here. 

Dem.  Nay,  then  thou  mock'stme.     Tbou  shmlt 
buy  this  dear. 
If  ever  I  thy  face  by  day-light  sec : 
\(»\v,  go  thy  way.     Faintness  constrnineth  me 
jTo  measure  out  my  length  on  this  cold  bed. — 
By  day's  approach  look  to  be  visited. 

[Lies  down  and  sleeps. 

Enter  Helena. 

Ilel.  O  weary  night,  O  long  and  tedious  night. 

Abate  thy  hours  :  shine,  comforts,  from  the  east : 
T'lnl  I  may  back  to  Athens,  by  day-li|rht, 

From  these  that  my  poor  company  detfst : — 
And,  sleep,  that  sometimes  shuts  up  sorww'j.  eye- 
Steal  me  a  while  from  mine  own  company.  [Sleeps- 
Puck.  Yet  but  three  ?  Come  one  more  ; 
Two  of  both  kinds  makes  up  four. 
Here  she  comes,  curst  and  sad  : — 
Cupid  is  a  knavish  lad. 
Thus  to  make  poor  females  mad. 

Enter  Uermia. 

Her.  Never  so  weary,  never  so  in  wo. 
Bedabbled  with  the  dew,  and  torn  with  hrien- 
I  can  no  further  crawl,  no  further  go ; 

My  legs  can  keep  no  pace  wiUi  my  desires. 

(4)  Ccphalus,  the  paramour  of  Aoroim. 


MIDSUMAfER-NIGHTS  DREAM. 


163 


Here  will  I  rest  me,  till  the  bre^k  of  daj. 
HeftTens  ibaeld  Ljnnder,  if  tbej  meen  a  fray ! 

[LUidown. 
Puck,  On  the  ground 
Sleep  KNind : 
I'll  apply 
To  your  eye. 
Gentle  lover,  remedy. 

[Sweexing  the  juice  on  Lyaander's  eye. 
When  thou  wak'st, 
Thoutak'ft 
True  delight 
In  die  sight 
Of  diy  Sonaet  lady's  eye : 
And  the  country  proverb  known. 
That  every  man  uiould  take  his  own, 
In  your  waking  shall  be  shown : 
Jack  shall  Imve  Jill ; 
Nouriit  shall  go  ill ; 
Tlie  man  shall  have  his  mare  again,  and  all  shall 
be  well  [£x.  Puck. — E^m.  HeL  Sfc  iieep. 


ACT  IV. 

^CEJ^  L— The  mane.    £n<er  Titania  otui  Bot- 
tom, Fairies  (Mending;  Oberon  behind  tatseen. 

TUa.  C<»ne,  sit  thee  down  upon  this  flowery  bed, 
While  I  thy  amiable  cheeks  do  coy,i 
^nd  stick  musk-roaes  in  thy  sleek  smooth  head. 
And  kias  thy  hit  large  ears,  my  gentle  joy. 
BoL  Where's  Peas-blossom  ? 
Peae.  Ready. 

BoL  Scratch  my  bead,  Peas-blossom. — Where's 
WKNisieur  Cobweb  ? 
Cob.  Read^. 

BoL  Monsieur  Cobweb;  good  monsieur,  get 
3rour  weapons  in  your  hand,  and  kill  me  a  red-hip- 
^laed  bymble-bee  on  the  top  of  a  thistle ;  and,  good 
Kafxmsieur,  bring  me  the  honey-bag.  Do  not  fret 
3r  ourself  too  much  in  the  action,  noonsieur;  and 
l^ood  monsieur,  have  a  care  the  honey-bag  break 
;  I  would  be  loath  to  have  you  overflown  with 
honey-bag,  senior. — Where's  monsieur  Mustard- 


Jlfuit  Ready. 

BoL  Give  me  your  neif,3monsieur  Mustard-seed 
ay  you,  leave  your  courte^,  good  monsieur. 
Ami.  What's  your  will  ? 
BoL  Nothing,  good  monsieur,  but  to  help  cava- 
Cobweb  to  scratch.    I  must  to  the  barber's, 
;  for,  methtnks,  I  am  marvellous  hairy 
the  face :  and  I  am  such  a  tender  ass,  if  my 
do  but  tickle  me,  I  must  scratch. 
TUa.  What,  wilt  thou  hear  some  music,  my 

sweet  love.' 
JSbt.  I  have  a  reasonable  good  ear  in  music :  let 
have  the  tongs  and  the  bones. 
Tito.  Or,  say,  sweet  love,  what  thou  desir'st  to  eat. 
.MoL  Truly,  a  peck  of  provender;  I  could  munch 
'  good  dry  oats.    Methinks,  I  have  a  great  de- 
to  a  bottle  of  hay :  good  hay,  sweet  bay,  hath 
ielkiw. 
7ifa.  I  have  a  venturous  fairy  that  s*  all  seek 
iquirrel's  hoard,  and  fetch  thee  new  nuts. 
JBoL  I  had  radier  have  a  handful,  or  two,  of 
'  peas.    But,  I  pray  you,  let  rKtne  of  your 
People  stir  roe ;  I  have  an  exposition  of  sleep  come 


TUa.  Sleep  thou,  and  I  will  wind  thee  in  my  arms. 
(I)  Stroke.  (2)  Fist. 


Fairies,  be  gone,  and  be  all  ways  away. 
So  doth  the  woodbine,  the  sweet  honeysuckle, 
Grently  entwist, — the  female  ivy  so 
Enrings  the  barky  fingers  of  the  elm. 
O,  bow  I  love  thee !  bow  I  dote  on  dtee ! 

[Theytleef 

Oberon  advances.    Enter  Puck. 

Obe.  Welcome,  good  Robin.    See'st  thoo  this 
sweet  sight  ? 
Her  dota^  now  I  do  b^n  to  pitr. 
For  meetmg  her  of  late,  oehind  the  wood. 
Seeking  sweet  savours  for  this  hateful  fool, 
I  did  upbraid  her,  and  fall  out  with  her : 
For  she  his  hainr  temples  then  had  rounded 
With  coronet  of  fresh  and  fragrant  flowers ; 
And  that  same  dew  which  scnnetime  on  the  buda 
Was  wont  to  swell,  like  round  and  orient  pearls, 
Stood  now  within  die  [iretty  flowrets'  eves. 
Lake  tears,  that  did  their  own  disgrace  bewail. 
When  I  had,  at  my  pleasure,  taunted  her. 
And  she,  in  mild  terms,  b(»g'd  m^  patience, 
I  then  did  ask  of  her  her  chai^peluig  child ; 
Which  straight  she  save  me,  and  her  fairy  sent 
To  bear  him  to  mv  bower  in  &iry  land. 
And  now  I  have  the  boy,  I  will  undo 
This  hateful  imperfection  of  her  eves. 
And,  gentle  Puck,  take  this  transKMined  scalp 
From  off  the  head  of  this  Athenian  swain; 
Tliat  he  awaking  when  the  other  do. 
May  all  to  Athens  back  again  repair ; 
And  think  no  more  of  this  night's  accidents, 
But  as  the  fierce  vexation  of  a  dream. 
But  first  I  will  release  the  fairy  queen. 
Be,  as  thou  wast  wont  to  be ; 

[Touching  her  eyes  triih  an  herb. 
See,  as  diou  wast  wont  to  see : 
Dian's  bud  o'er  Cupid's  flower 
Hath  such  force  and  blessed  power. 
Now,  my  Titania ;  wake  you,  my  sweet  qnoem 

Tito.  My  Oberon  !  What  visions  have  l*  s^en  f 
Methouebt,  I  was  enamour'd  of  an  ass. 
Obe.  There  lies  your  love. 
TiUi.  How  came  these  tksiigs  to  pass.' 

O,  how  mine  eyes  do  loath  his  visaga  now  ! 

Obe.  Silence,  a  while. — Robin,  takeoff  this  head.— 
Titania,  music  call ;  and  strike  mere  dead 
Than  common  sleep,  of  dl  these  five  the  sense. 
TUa.  Music, ho!  music;  sucbaschanaethsLaepk 
Puck.  Now,  when  thou  wak'st,  with  tUne  own 

fool's  eyes  peep. 
Obe,  Sound,  music.    [SHS  mtistc]    Come,  my 
queen,  take  hands  with  me. 
And  rock  the  ground  whereon  these  sleepecs  be. 
Now  thou  and  I  are  new  in  amity ; 
And  will,  to-morrow  midnight,  solemnly. 
Dance  in  duke  Theseus'  house  triumphantly. 
And  bless  it  to  all  fair  posterity : 
There  shall  the  pairs  of  faithful  lovers  ba 
Wedded,  with  Theseus,  all  in  jollity. 

Puck  Fairy  king,  attend  and  mark; 
I  do  hear  the  morning  lark. 

Obe.  Then,  my  queen,  in  silence  sad. 
Trip  we  after  tlie  night's  shade : 
We  the  globe  can  compass  soon. 
Swifter  man  the  wand'ring  moon. 

Tita.  Come,  my  k)rd :  and  in  oar  Aight, 
Tell  me  how  it  came  this  night. 
That  I  sleeping  here  was  found. 
With  these  mortals,  on  the  ground.  [Elxewni 

[Horns  sound  mfJktn. 

Enter  Theseus,  Hippolyta,  Egeus,  and  train. 
The,  Go^  one  of  yo«»find  out  the  forosler;- 


154 


BfIDSUMM£R-NIGHT*S  DRE/iM. 


wflcf  ir 


For  ncm  our  observation  ia  peHbrmM  : 
And  since  we  have  the  vayward'  of  the  daj, 
M7  love  shall  hear  the  music  of  my  hounds.— 
Uncouple  in  the  western  vallev;  go: 
Despatch,  I  say,  and  find  the  iorester.— 
We  will,  fair  queen,  up  to  the  roountain*s  top, 
And  murk  the  musical  confusion 
Of  hounds  and  echo  in  conjunction. 

Hip.  I  was  with  Hercufes,  and  Cadmus,  once, 
When  in  a  wood  of  Crete  they  bavM  the  bear 
With  hounds  of  Sparta :  never  did  I  hear 
Such  eallant  chiding  ;3  for,  be»des  the  groves, 
The  skies,  the  fountains,  every  region  near 
SeemM  all  one  mutual  cry :  I  never  heard 
So  musical  a  discord,  such  sweet  thunder. 

The,  Mjf  hounds  are  bred  out  of  the  Spartan 
kind. 
So  flew*d,'  so  sanded;  and  their  heads  are  hung 
With  ears  that  sweep  away  the  morning  dew ; 
Crook-knee*d,  and  dew-lapM  like  Thessalian  bulls ; 
Slow  in  pursuit,  but  matched  in  mouth  like  bells, 
£ach  under  each.    A  ciy  nrnre  tuneable 
Was  never  hollaM  to,  nor  cheer'd  with  horn. 
In  Crete,  in  Sparta,  nor  in  Thessaly : 
Judge,  when  you  hear. — ^But,  soft ;  what  nymphs 
are  these? 

Ege.  My  lord,  this  is  my  daughter  here  asleep : 
And  this,  Lysander :  this  Demetrius  is; 
This  Helena,  old  Nedar*s  Helena  : 
I  wonder  of  their  being  here  together. 

The,  No  doubt,  thev  rose  up  early,  to  observe 
The  rite  of  May ;  and,  hearing  our  intent. 
Came  here  in  grace  of  our  solemnity. — 
But,  speak,  Egeus ;  is  not  this  the  day 
That  Hermia  should  eive  answer  of  Itor  choice? 

.E^  It  is,  my  lord. 

The,  Go,  bid  the  huntsmen  wake  &em  with 
their  hons. 

HomSf  and  thout  wUhin,    Demetrius,  Lysander, 
Hennia,  and  Helena,  toake  and  itart  up. 

7^.  Good-morrow,  friends.  St  Valentine  is  past; 
Becin  these  wood-birds  but  to  couple  now  ? 

Lys.  Pardon,  my  lord. 

[He  and  the  rest  kneel  to  Theseus. 

The.  I  pray  you  all,  stand  up. 

I  know,  you  are  two  rival  oiemies : 
How  comes  this  gentle  concord  in  the  world. 
That  hatred  is  so  far  from  jealousy. 
To  sleep  by  hate,  and  fear  no  enmity  ? 

Lys.  My  lord,  I  shall  reply  amazedlv. 
Half  'sleep,  half  waking :  But  as  yet,  I  swear, 
I  can  truly  say  how  I  came  here : 
But,  as  I  thiuK,  (for  truly  would  I  speak,— 
And  now  I  do  bethink  me,  so  it  is ;) 
I  came  with  Hermia  hither ;  our  intent 
Was,  to  be  gone  from  Athens,  where  we  might  be 
Without  the  peril  of  the  Athenian  law. 

Ege.  Enough,  enough,  my  lord ;  you  have  enough ; 
I  beg  the  law,  the  law,  upon  his  head. — 
They  would  have  stolen  away,  they  would,  Deme- 
trius, 
Thereby  to  have  defeated  you  and  me : 
Fou,  of  your  wife ;  and  me  of  my  consent ; 
Of  my  consent  that  she  should  be  your  wife. 

Dem.  My  brd,  fair  Helen  told  me  of  their  stealth, 
Of  this  their  purpose  hither,  to  this  wood ; 
And  I  in  fury  hither  followed  them ; 
Fair  Helena  in  hncy^  following  roe. 
but,  my  good  lord,  1  wot  not  by  whuat  power 
^BvL^  by  some  power  it  is,)  my  love  to  Hermia, 

fl)  Forepart.  (2)  Sound. 

(3)  The  flews  are  the  lai^  chaps  of  a  ':cii  id. 


Melted  as  doth  the  snow,  seems  to  me  noir 
As  the  remembrance  of  an  idle  gawd,* 
Which  in  my  childhood  I  did  dote  upon : 
And  all  (he  faith,  the  virtue  of  my  heart, 
The  object,  and  the  pleasure  of  mine  eye. 
Is  only  Helena.     To  her,  my  lord, 
Was  I  betrothed  ere  I  saw  Hermia : 
But,  like  in  sickness,  did  I  loath  this  food : 
But,  as  in  health,  come  to  my  natural  taste. 
Now  do  I  wish  it,  love  it,  long  for  it. 
And  will  for  evermore  be  true  to  it 

The.  Fair  lovers,  you  are  fortunately  met : 
Of  this  discourse  we  more  will  hear  anon. — 
Egeus,  I  will  overbear  your  will ; 
For  in  the  temple,  by  and  by  with  us. 
These  couples  shall  eternally  be  knit. 
And,  for  the  morning  now  is  scrniethinr  worn. 
Our  purposed  huntinr  shall  be  set  asioc— 
Away,  with  us,  to  AUiens :  Three  and  three, 
We*n  hold  a  feast  in  great  solemnity. — 
Come,  Hippolyta. 

[kxeunt  The.  Hyp.  Eee.  and  tram. 

Dem.    These  things  seem  smaU,  and  Qadis> 
tinguishable. 
Like  far-o(f  mountains  turned  into  clouds. 

Her.  Methinks,  I  see  these  things  with  parted  eye, 
When  every  thing  seems  double. 

Hel  SomethiDka: 

And  I  have  found  Demetrius  like  a  jewel. 
Mine  own,  and  not  mine  own. 

Dem.  It  seems  to  me 

That  yet  we  sleep,  we  dream. — Do  not  yon  thmk. 
The  duke  was  here,  and  bid  as  follow  hmi  ? 

Hel.  And  HippolytB. 

Her.  Yea ;  and  n^  father. 

Lys.  And  he  did  bid  us  follow  to  the  temple. 

Dem.  Why  then,  we  are  awake :  let*s  follow  him 
And,  by  the  way^  let  us  recount  oar  dreams.  [MUt, 

As  they  go  outf  Bottom  awakes. 

Bot  When  my  cue  comes,  call  me,  and  I  wtl 
answer : — my  next  is,  Most  fakt  Pyramus. — He}^ 
ho ! — Peter  Quince !  Flute,  the  bellows-mender 
Snout,  the  tinker!    Starveling!    God*s  mj  life 
stolen  hence,  and  left  me  asleep !  I  have  had  a  most 
rare  vision.    I  have  had  a  dream, — ^past  the  wit  of 
man  to  say  what  dream  it  was :  Man  is  but  an  ass, 
if  he  go  about  to  expound  this  dream.   Metboaghl 
I  was — there  is  no  man  can  tell  what  Methooghl 
I  was,  and  methought  I  had, — But  man  is  but  a 

f&tched  fool,  if  he  will  offer  to  say  what  methonght 
had.  The  eye  of  man  hath  not  heard,  the  earof 
man  hath  not  seen ;  man's  hand  is  not  able  to  taste, 
his  tongue  to  conceive,  nor  his  heart  to  report,  what 
my  dream  was.  I  will  get  Peter  Quince  to  write  a 
ballad  of  this  dream :  it  shall  be  called  Bottom's 
Dream,  because  it  hath  no  bottom :  and  I  will  sing 
it  in  the  latter  end  of  a  play,  before  tho  duke : 
Peradventure,  to  make  it  the  more  gracious,  I  shall 
sing  it  at  her  death.  [£xfL 

SCEJVE  //.—Athens.     A  room  m  Qmnce^k 
House.     Enter  Quince,  Flute,  Snout,  emd 

Starveling. 

Quin,  Have  you  sent  to  Bottom's  bouse  ?  m  hor 
come  home  yet? 

Star.  He  cannot  be  heard  o£  Oat  of  doobC  be* 
is  transported. 

Fhi.  If  he  come  not,  dwn  tfie  plaj  is  mairad  ^ 
It  roes  not  forward,  doth  it  ? 

^uin.  It  is  wJ  uossible .  you  haye  not  a  nui  fan 


(4)Lora 


(5)Tcf. 


Sceml 


BODSUMMER-NIGHPS  DREAM. 


15S 


Ul  Atbeos,  able  to  discharge  Pyramut,  but  he. 

Flu,  No;  be  hath  simply  the  best  wit  of  any 
Handicraft  man  in  Athens. 

Quin.  Yea,  and  the  best  peraoo  too :  and  he  is 
s  veiy  paramour  ibr  a  svreet  voice. 

Flu.  You  must  say,  paragon:  a  paramour  is, 
God  bless  us,  a  thing  of  nought 

Enter  Snug. 

Snug,  Masters,  the  dulce  is  coming  from  the 
temple,  and  there  is  two  or  three  lords  and  ladies 
more  married :  if  our  sport  had  gone  forward,  we 
bad  all  been  made  men. 

Fht,  O  sweet  bully  Bottom  I  Thus  ha&  he  lost 
sixpence  a-day  during  his  life ;  he  could  not  have 
*scaped  sixpence  a-day :  an  the  duke  had  not  eiven 
him  sixpence  a-day  lor  playine  Pyramus,  1*11  be 
banned ;  be  would  have  deaervedit :  sixpence  a-day, 
in  I^rramos,  or  nothing. 

Enter  Bottxum. 

BoL  Where  aie  these  lads?  where  are  these 
hearts? 

QMm.  Bottom! — O  most  courageous  day!  O 
most  happy  hour ! 

BoL  Masters,  I  am  to  discourse  wonders :  but 
ask  me  not  what ;  for,  if  I  tell  you,  I  am  no  true 
Athosian.  I  will  tell  you  every  th^g,  right  as  it 
fell  out 

Omm.  Let  us  hear,  sweet  Bottom. 

ioL  Not  a  word  of  me.  All  that  I  will  tell  you, 
is,  that  the  duke  hath  dined :  Get  your  apparel  to- 
gether; good  strings  to  your  beards,  new  ribbons 
to  }XNir  pumps;  meet  presently  at  die  palace; 
eveiy  man  look  o*er  his  part,  for,  the  short  and  the 
loQ^  is,  our  play  is  preferred.  In  any  case,  let 
ThiAj  have  clean  hnen ;  and  let  not  him,  that 
plays  the  lioo,  pare  his  naiU,  for  thev  shall  hang  out 
tor  die  lioa*s  cwws.  And,  most  dear  actors,  eat 
no  onions,  nor  gariic,  for  we  are  to  utter  sweet 
breath ;  and  I  do  not  doubt,  but  to  hear  them  say. 
It  is  a  sweet  comedy.  No  more  words ;  away ; 
go^  away.  [Exeunt 


ACT  V. 

SCEJifE  I.— The  tame.  An  apartment  tn  the 
Palace  ^  Theseus.  Enter  Theseus,  Hippoly  ta, 
FhikMtiate,  Lords^  and  Attendants, 

Hip,  'TIS  strange,  my  Theseus,  that  these  lovers 
speak  of. 

The.  More  strange  than  true.  I  never  may  believe 
These  antione  &bles,  nor  these  faiiy  toys. 
Lorers,  ana  madmen,  have  such  seethu^  brains, 
Such  shaping  ftuitasies,  that  apprehend 
Moie  than  c»ol  reason  ever  comprehends. 
The  lunatic,  the  lover,  and  the  poet. 
Are  of  imagination  all  compact  i^ 
One  sees  more  devils  than  vast  hell  can  hdd ; 
That  is,  the  madman :  the  lover,  all  as  frantic, 
Sees  Helenas  beauty  m  a  brow  of  Egypt : 
The  poet*s  eye,  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling. 
Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to 

heaven; 
And,  as  imagmation  bodies  fordi 
The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Tnns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  aiiy  nothing 
A  local  habitation,  and  a  name. 
Such  tricks  hath  strong  imagination ; 

a 

H)  Are  made  of  mere  imi^nation.     (2)  Stability. 
1)  Pastime.  f4)  Short  account 


That,  if  it  would  but  apprehend  some  joy, 
It  comprehends  some  bringer  of  that  joy ; 
Or,  in  the  night,  imagining  some  fear. 
How  easy  is  a  bush  supposed  a  bear ! 

Hip.  But  all  the  stoiy  of  the  night  told  over« 
And  all  their  minds  transfigured  so  together. 
More  witnesseth  than  fiwcy's  images. 
And  gprows  to  something  of  great  constancy  ;3 
But,  howsoever,  strange,  aM  admirable. 

Enter  Lysander,  Demetrius,  Hermia,  and  Helena. 

The.  Here  come  the  lovers,  full  of  joy  and  mirdL— 
Joy,  gentle  friends !  joy,  and  firesh  days  of  love, 
Accompany  your  hearts ! 

Lys.  More  than  to  us 

Wait  onyour  royal  walks,  your  board,  your  bed. 

TA«.  Cfome  now ;  what  masks,  what  wnces  shall 
we  have. 
To  wear  away  this  long  age  of  three  hours* 
Between  our  after-supper,  and  bed-time? 
Where  is  our  usual  manager  of  mirth? 
What  revels  are  in  hand  ?  is  there  no  play, 
To  ease  die  anguish  of  a  torturii^  hour? 
Call  Fhilostrate. 

PhUoit  Here,  mighty  Theseus. 

7%s.  Say,  what  abridgement*  have  you  for  tfaii 
evening? 
What  mask  ?  wnat  music  ?  Hcftv  shall  we  bq;tiile 
The  lazy  time,  if  not  with  some  delight  ? 

PhUotL  There  is  a  briei^^  how  many  sports  ara 
ripe; 
Make  choice  of  which  your  highness  will  see  firsll 

[Giving  a  paper. 

The.  [Readt.]  The  battle  with  the  Centaurt,  to 
betunf 

Bv  anAtheman  eunuch  to  the  harp. 
WeMl  none  of  that :  that  have  I  told  my  love, 
In  gloiy  of  mv  kinsman  Hercules. 

The  riot  qf  the  tipsy  Bacchanale^ 

Tearing  the  Thracutn  singer  in  their  rage, . 
That  is  an  old  device ;  and  it  was  playM 
When  I  from  Thebes  came  last  a  conqueror. 

The  thrice  three  Muses  mourning  for  the  death 

Of  learning,  late  deceased  in  beggary. 
That  is  some  satire,  keen,  and  criti^. 
Not  sorting  with  a  nuptial  ceremony. 

A  tedious  brief  scene  qf  young  Pyromia, 

Andhis  looe  Thisbe:  very  trahcal mirth. 
Merry  and  tragical  ?  Tedious  and  brief? 
That  is,  hot  ice,  and  wonderous  strange  snow. 
How  shall  we  find  the  concord  of  this  discord  ? 

PhilosL  A  play  there  is,  my  lord,  some  ten  words 

Which  is  as  brief  as  1  have  known  a  play : 
By  ten  words,  my  lord,  it  is  too  long ; 
Which  makes  it  tedious :  for  in  all  the  nlay 
There  is  not  one  word  apt,  one  player  fitted. 
And  tragical,  my  noble  lord,  it  is ; 
For  I^'ramus  therein  doth  kill  himself. 
Which,  when  I  saw  rehearsed,  I  must  coofea, 
Made  mine  eyes  water ;  but  more  mernr  tears 
Thepassion  of  loud  lai^ler  never  shed. 

The.  What  are  thev,  that  do  play  it? 

Plulost.  Hard-hana^  men,  that  work  in  Atheni 
here. 
Which  never  labourM  in  their  nunds  till  now ; 
And  now  have  toilM  their  unbreath'd*  memoriet 
With  this  same  pla^,  against  your  nuptial. 

The.  And  we  will  hear  it 

PhilosL  No,  my  noUtt  lonli 

It  is  not  for  you :  I  have  heard  it  over. 
And  it  is  nothing,  nothing  in  the  worla ; 

(5)  Unezeicised. 


156 


MID5(7BfMER.NIGHT*S  DREAM. 


Ad  r. 


Unlefl  joa  can  find  sport  in  their  intenti, 
Extremelj  stretched,  and  conned  with  crod  pain, 
To  do  you  service. 

The.  I  will  hear  that  plaj ; 

For  never  any  thing  can  be  amiss, 
When  simpleness  and  duty  tender  it 
Go,  bring  them  in ; — and  take  yoar  places,  ladies. 

\ExU  Philostrate. 

Hip.  I  love  not  to  see  wretcheoness  o*erchargM, 
And  duty  in  his  service  perishing. 

The.  Why,  gentle  sweet,  you  shall  see  no  such 
thing. 

Hip.  He  says,  they  can  do  nothing  in  this  kind. 

The.  The  kinder  we,  to  give  ^Sbtaa  thanks  for 
nothing. 
Onr  sport  shall  be,  to  take  what  they  mistake : 
And  what  poor  duty  cannot  do, 
Noble  respect  takes  it  in  might,  not  merit 
Where  I  nave  come,  great  clerics  have  purposed 
To  g^reet  roe  with  premeditated  welcomes ; 
Where  I  have  seen  them  shiver  and  look  l»le, 
Make  periods  in  the  midst  of  sentences, 
Throttle  their  practised  accent  in  their  fears, 
And,  in  conclusion,  dumbly  have  broke  off. 
Not  paying  me  a  welcome :  Trust  me,  sweet. 
Out  of  this  silence,  yet,  I  pick*d  a  welcome ; 
And  in  the  modes^  of  fearful  duty 
I  read  as  much,  as  from  the  rattling  toc^;iie 
Of  saucy  and  audacious  eloquence. 
Love,  therefore,  and  tongue-tied  simplicity, 
In  least,  speak  most,  to  my  capacity. 

Enter  Philostrate. 

Philott.  So  please  your  grace,  the  prologue  is 

addresti 
Tlu.  Let  him  approach.  [FUmri^qfirumpeiM. 

Enter  Prologue. 

Prol.  If  we  qffend,  U  is  unih  our  good  will. 

That  wm  ehouldthinkj we  come  not  to  qffend, 
But  tmih  good  wUL     To  show  our  simple  dcill. 

That  is  the  true  beginning  qf  our  md. 
Consider  then,  we  come  but  in  despite. 

We  do  not  came  as  minding  to  content  you. 
Our  true  intent  is.    All  for  your  deUghi, 

We  are  rwt  here.    That  you  should  here  repent 
you. 
The  actors  are  at  fumd;  andf  by  their  show. 
You  shall  know  all,  that  you  are  Uke  to  know. 

The.  This  fellow  doth  not  stand  upon  points. 

Lys.  He  hath  rid  his  prologue,  like  a  rough  colt, 
he  Imows  not  the  stop.  A  gn)d  nnoral,  my  Icnrd:  It 
is  not  enouffh  to  speak,  but  to  speak  true. 

Hip.  Indeed  he  hath  playea  on  this  prologue, 
like  a  child  on  a  recorder  ;>  a  sound,  but  not  in 
government 

The.  His  speech  was  like  a  tangled  chain ;  no- 
thing impaired,  but  all  disordered.  Who  is  next  ? 

Enter  Pyramus  anJ  Thisbe,  Wall,  Moonshine,  and 
Lion,  as  in  dtanb  show. 

ProL  '  Gentles,  perchance,  you  wonder  at  this 
show; 

*  But  wonder  on,  till  truth  make  all  things  plain. 
This  man  is  Pvraraus,  if  you  would  know ; 

*  This  beauteous  lady  Thisby  is,  certain. 

'  This  man,  with  lime  and  rough-cast,  doth  present 

*  Wall,  that  vile  wall  which  did  these  lovers 

sunder : 
*  And  through  walKs  chink,  poor  souls,  they  are  con- 
tent 

*  To  whisper ;  at  the  which  let  no  man  wonder. 


(1)  Ready. 


(3)  A  mosical  instrument 


*  This  man,  with  lantern,  do^,  and  bush  of  thom, 

*  Presenteth  moonshine  :  for,  if  you  will  know, 

*  By  moonshine  did  these  lovers  tmnk  no  acorn 

*  To  meet  at  Ninus*  tomb,  there,  there  to  woa 

*  This  grisly  beast,  which  by  name  lion  h^t,* 

*  The  tmsty  Thi!>by,  coming  first  by  night, 

*  Did  scare  away,  or  rather  did  affri|[ht : 

*  And,  as  she  fled,  her  mantle  she  did  fall ; 

*  Which  lion  vile  with  bloody  mouth  did  stain : 

*  Anon  comes  Pyramus,  sweet  youth,  and  tall, 

*  And  finds  his  trusty  Thisby*s  mantle  slain : 

*  Whereat  with  blade,  with  bloody  blameful  blade, 

*  He  bravely  broachM  his  boiling  bloodj  bieaat; 

*  And,  Thisby  tarryii^  in  mulbeny  shade, 

*  His  dagger  drew,  and  died.    For  all  the  reaC, 

*  Let  Lion,  Moonshine,  Wall,  and  lovers  twain, 

*  At  large  discourse,  while  here  they  do  remain.* 

[Exeunt  Prol.  Thisbe,  Lion,  and  Monmhiwr. 
The.  I  wonder,  if  the  lion  be  to  speak. 
Dent.  No  wonder,  my  lord :  one  lion  may,  when 
many  asses  do. 

Wall  *  In  this  same  interiude,  it  dodi  be&Il, 

*  That  I,  one  Snout  by  name,  present  a  wall : 

*  And  such  a  wall,  as  I  would  have  you  think, 

*  l^at  had  in  it  a  crannyM  hole,  or  chink, 

*  Through  which  the  lovers,  Pyrannia  and  TUsby, 

*  Did  whisper  often  veir  secretly. 

*  This  loam,  this  rougn-cast,  and  this  atoiie,  dodi 

show 

*  That  I  am  that  same  wall ;  the  truth  is  so: 

*  And  this  the  cranny  is,  i^t  and  sinister, 

*  Through  which  the  feaTiuI  lovers  are  to  wUsprr.' 

The.  Would  you  desire  lime  and  hair  to  speak 

better  f 
Dem»  It  is  the  wittiest  partition  diat  ever  I  hmd 
discourse,  my  knd. 
The.  Pyramus  draws  near  the  wall ;  iilcDce ! 

Enter  Pyramus. 

Pyr.  *  O  grim-look'd  night !  O  night  with  hoe  n 
black ! 

*  O  night,  which  ever  art,  when  dar  is  not ! 

*  O  night,  O  night,  alack,  alack,  alack, 

*  I  tear  my  Thisby*s  promise  is  foigot ! — 

*  And  thou,  O  wall,  O  sweet,  O  lovely  w&ll, 

*  That  stand*st  between  her  father*s  ground  and 

mine; 

*  Thou  wall,  O  wall,  O  sweet  and  lovely  wall, 

*  Show  me  thy  chink,  to  blink  through  with  mnw 

eyne.  [Wall  holds  up  his  ^fingers. 

*  Thanks,  courteous  wall :  Jove  shield  thee  ww  lor 

thu! 

*  But  what  see  I  .^  No  Thisbj  do  I  see. 

*  O  wicked  wall,  through  whom  I  see  no  bliss ; 

*  Curat  be  thy  stones  for  thus  deceiving  me  !* 
The.  The  wall,  methinks,  being  sensible,  should 

curse  again. 

Pyr.  No,  in  truth,  sir,  he  dKxiId  not  Deeeivmg 
me,  IS  Thisby^s  cue :  she  is  to  enter  now,  and  I  am 
to  spy  her  through  the  wall.  You  riiall  see,  it  will 
fall  pat  as  1  told  you : — Yonder  ^e  cornea. 

£rUer  Thisbe. 

This.  *  O  wall,  full  often  hast  thou  heaid  my 
moans, 

*  For  parting  my  fair  Pyramus  and  me  : 

*  Mv  cherry  lips  nave  oAen  kiss'd  thy  ttooei; 

*  Thy  stones  with  lime  and  hair  knit  up  in  thee.* 
Pyr.  *  I  see  a  voice ;  now  will  I  to  the  dunkf 

*  To  spy  an  I  can  hear  my  Thisby*s  &ce. 
'Thisby." 

This.  *Mylove!  thoo  art  my  love,  I  think.* 

'3)  Called. 


i. 


MID6UlIM£a.NlGirrS  DREAM. 


15 


Pyr.  •  TImik  wfait  Ihoa  wai,  1  am  tfaj  lov«r*s 
gnce; 

*  And  like  limander  am  I  tnuty  itilL* 

This,  <Aiid  I  Uke  Helen,  till  the  fates  roe  kai* 
Fyr,  *  Not  Shafalus  to  Proems  was  so  true.* 
This.  'As  Shafalus  to  Frocras,  I  to  jou.' 
Pyr.  '  O,  kiss  me  through  the  hole  of  this  vile 

walL' 
Thit,  *  I  kiss  the  wall*s  hole,  not  jour  lips  at  alL* 
iy>.  'Wilt  thou  at   Ninnjr*s  tomb  meet  me 

straightway  ?* 
TkU.  « Tide  life,  tide  death,  I  come  without  de- 

IFoO.  <Thushave  I,  Wall,  mj  part  discharged  so; 

*  And,  beiiu[  done,  thus  Wall  awaj  doth  ga' 

[ExemU  Wall,  Pjrramus,  an/Thisbe. 

Tkt.  Now  is  the  mural  down  between  tiie  two 
DcuHfeboufs. 

Lkm.  J^o  remedy,  my  k>rd,  when  walls  are  so 
wilful  to  hear  widiout  warning. 

Hip.  This  is  the  silliest  sluBf  that  ever  I  heard 

TTtc.  The  best  in  this  kind  are  but  shadows:  and 
tne  worst  are  no  worse,  if  ima^nation  amend  them. 

HRp,  It  must  be  your  imagmation  then,  and  not 
fheirs. 

The,  If  we  imagine  no  worse  of  them,  than  they 
of  themselves,  diey  may  pass  for  excellent  men. 
Here  come  two  noble  beasts  in,  a  moon  and  a  lion. 

Enitr  Lion  and  Moonshine. 

£•011.  *  Too,  ladies,  you,  wbosegentle  hearts  do 

fear 
'The  smallest  monstrous  mouse  that  creeps  on 

floor, 

*  May  BOW,  perchance,  bodi  quake  and  tremble 

here, 
'  When  Ikm  rough  in  wildest  rage  doth  roar. 
^  Then  know,  that  i,  one  Snug  the  joiner,  am 
'^  A  Ikm  fell,  new  else  no  lk>n*s  dam : 

For  if  I  should  as  Ikn  come  in  strife 
^  Into  this  place,  'twere  pity  on  my  life.* 

Thi,  A  Tery  gentle  beast,  and  of  a  good  con- 


DeM.  The  veiy  best  at  a  beast,  my  brd,  that 
erliaw. 

Iau,  Thb  lion  is  a  very  fox  for  his  valour. 
The.  True ;  and  a  goose  for  his  discretion. 
Dtm.  Not  so,  mj  lord:  for  his  valcmr  cannot 
his  discrctkxi ;  and  the  fox  carries  the  goose. 
%t.  Hu  discretion,  I  am  sure,  cannot  carry  his 
kmr ;  for  the  goose  carries  not  the  fox.  It  is 
eli :  leave  it  to  nis  discretion,  and  let  us  listen  to 


Moan.  '  This  lantern  doth  the  homed  moon  pre- 
sent:* 

He  should  have  worn  the  horns  on  his 
head. 
TKt.  He  is  no  crescent,  and  his  horns  are  invisi- 
within  the  circumference. 
•Voon.  *This  lantern  doth  the  homed  moon 
present; 
^Myself  the  man  i**  th*  moon  do  seem  to  be.* 
Tkt.  This  is  the  greatest  error  of  all  the  rest : 
nan  should  be  put  into  the  lantem :  How  is  it 
the  man  i*  th'  moon  } 
Jhm.  He  dares  not  come  there  for  the  candle : 
'«Toa  see,  it  b  alreadv  in  snuff. l 
•£^9.  I  am  aweary  of  this  moon :  Would,  he 
3Qladuuige ! 
^(V.  It  appears,  by  his  small  light  of  discretion, 
^'^ he  is  in  tne  wane :  but  yet,  in  courtesy,  in  all 
^*^KBi  we  must  stay  die  time. 

1^  Id  anger ;  a  quibble.         ^  Coarse  yam. 


Ly$.  Proceed,  moon. 

Moon.  All  that  I  have  to  say,  is,  to  tell  you, 
that  the  lantern  is  the  moon ;  I,  the  man  in  the 
moon ;  diis  thora-bush,  my  thorn-bush ;  and  this 
dog,  my  dog. 

Dem.  Why,  all  thesie  should  be  in  the  lantern ; 
for  they  are  in  the  moon.  But,  silence;  here  comes 
Thisbe. 

£>iterThisbe. 

Thi$.  '  This  is  old  Ninny*s  tomb:  Where  is  my 

love.^ 
LUm.  •  Ob—.' 

\The  LUm  roan. — ^Thisbe  rwu  off" 
Dem,  Well  roared,  lion. 
The.  Well  ran,  Thisbe. 
Hip.   Well  shone,  moon. — Truly,  the  moon 
shines  with  a  good  grace. 
The.  Well  mou^  lion. 

[The  lAcn  tears  Thisbe*s  wumiU^  and  exk. 
Dem.  And  so  comes  Pyramus. 
Lyi.  And  then  the  moon  vanishes. 

£iiler  Pyramus. 

Pyr.  '  Sweet  moon,  I  thank  thee  for  thy  tunny 
beams; 

*  I  thank  thee,  moon,  for  shininp^  now  so  bright . 

*  For,  by  thy  gracious,  golden  ghttering  streams, 

*  I  trust  to  taste  of  truest  Thisby*s  sight 

*  But  stay ; — O  spite ! 

'  But  mark : — Poor  knight, 

*  What  dreadful  dole  is  here ! 

*  Eyes,  do  you  see  ? 

*  O  dainty  duck !  O  dear 

*  Thy  mantle  good, 

<  What,  stain*d  with  bkxxl  * 
'  Approach,  ye  furies  fell ! 

*  O  fates !  come,  come ; 

'  Cut  thread  and  thram  ;3 
'  Quail,  crush,  conclude,  and  quell  .*** 
The.  This  passion,  and  the  death  of  a  dear 
friend,  would  go  near  to  make  a  man  look  sad. 
JFIip.  Beshrew  my  heart,  but  I  pity  the  man. 
Pyr.  *  O,  whecetore,  nature,  dudst  thou  Horn 
frame  .^ 

*  Since  lion  vile  hath  here  deflour*d  my  dear : 

*  Which  is — no,  no— which  was  the  fairest  dame, 

*  That  liv*d,  that  lov*d,  that  lik*d,  that  look*d  with 

cheer.* 

*  Come,  tears,  confound ; 
'  Out,  sword,  and  wound 

'  The  pap  of  Pyramus : 

*  Ay,  that  left  pap, 

*  Where  heart  doth  hop : 

*  Thus  die  I,  thus,  thus,  thus. 

*  Now  am  I  dead, 
'  Now  am  I  fled ; 

'  My  soul  is  in  the  sky : 

'  Tongue,  lose  thy  light ! 
'  Moon,  take  thy  flight! 
'  Now,  die,  die,  die,  die,  die. 

[Dies. — Exit  Moonshine. 
Dem.  No  die,  but  an  ace,  for  him ;  for  he  is  but 
one. 

Lys.  Less  than  an  ace,  man ;  for  he  is  dead ; 
he  is  nothing. 

The.  WiUi  the  help  of  a  surgeon,  he  might  yet 
recover,  and  prove  an  ass. 

Hip.  How  chance  Moonshine  is  gone,  before 
Thisbe  comes  back  and  finds  her  lover  ? 

The.  She  will  find  him  1^  star-light.— Here  she 
comes ;  and  her  passion  enos  the  play. 

(3)  Destroy.    (4)  Countenance. 


158 


MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  I»IEAM. 


Ad  r. 


K.fur  Thisbe. 
ERp.  Metbinks,  she  should  not  use  a  long  ooe, 
Cv  socb  a  Pyramus :  I  hope,  she  will  be  brief. 

Dfm.  A  mole  will  turn  the  balance,  which  Pjr- 
•t  uus,  which  Thisbe,  is  the  better. 

Lyi.  She  hath  spied  him  alreadj  wi^h  those 
•weet  eyes. 
DeuL  And  thus  she  nnoans,  viddicei. — 
This.  *  Asleep,  my  love  ? 
'  What,  dead,  my  dove  ? 

*  O  Pyramus,  arise, 

*  Speak,  speak.    Quite  dumb  ? 
'  Dead,  dead.'  A  tomb 

'  Must  cover  thy  sweet  eyes. 

*  These  lily  browi, 
This  cherry  nose, 

'  These  yellow  cowslip  cheeks, 

*  Are  gone,  are  gone : 

*  Lovers,  make  moan ! 

'  His  eyes  were  rreen  as  leeka. 

*  O  sisters  three, 

'  Come,  come,  to  me, 

*  With  hands  as  pale  as  milk ; 

*  Lay  them  in  gore, 

'  Since  you  have  shore 

*  With  shean  his  thread  of  silk. 

*  Tongue,  not  a  word  : — 
'  Come,  trusty  sword ; 

'  Come,  blade,  my  breast  imbrue ; 

*  And  Atrewell,  friends ; — 

*  Thus,  Thisb;^  ends : 

'  Adieu,  adieu,  adieu.*  [Dits. 

Tht,  Moonshine  and  Lioa  are  left  U>  bury  the 
dead. 

Dem.  Ay,  and  Wall  too. 

Boi.  No,  I  assure  you ;  the  wall  is  down  that 
parted  their  fathers.  Will  it  please  you  to  see  the 
epilogue,  or  to  hear  a  Beigomask  dance,  between 
two  of  our  company  ? 

The.  No  epiloerue,  I  pray  yon;  for  your  play 
needs  no  excuse.  Never  excuse ;  for  when  the  play- 
ers are  all  dead,  there  need  none  to  be  blamed. 
Marry,  if  he  that  writ  it  had  playM  I^ramus,  and 
hanged  himself  in  Thisbe*s  ^rter,  it  would  have 
been  a  fine  tragedy  :  and  so  it  is,  truly ;  and  ver)* 
notably  discharged.  But  come,  your  Bergomask : 
let  your  epilogue  alone.  [Herta  dance  q/Xkwns. 
The  iron  tongue  of  midnight  hath  told  twelve : — 
Lovers,  to  bed ;  'tis  almost  fairy  lime. 
I  fear  we  shall  out-sleep  the  coming  mom. 
As  much  as  we  this  night  have  ovenvatch*d. 
This  palpable  gross  play  hath  well  bearuird 
The  heavy  gait'  of  night— Sweet  friends,  to  bed.— 
A  fortninit  hold  we  this  solemnity. 
In  nightly  revels,  and  new  jollity.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJVE  IL— Enter  Puck. 

Puck.  Now  the  hungry  lion  roars. 

And  the  wolf  behowls  the  moon ; 
Whilst  the  heavy  ploughman  snores. 

All  with  weary  task  fordone.3 
Now  the  wasted  brands  do  glow. 

Whilst  the  scritch-owl,  scritching  loud. 
Puts  the  wretch,  that  lies  in  wo. 

In  remembrance  of  a  shroud. 
Now  it  is  the  time  of  night. 

That  the  graves,  all  gaping  wide. 
Every  one  lets  forth  his  sprite. 

In  the  church-way  patu  to  glide : 
And  we  fairies,  tfiat  do  ran 

By  Iht  triple  Hecate*i  team, 


From  the  presence  of  the  son, 

Follmvinf  darkness  like  a  dream. 
Now  are  frolic ;  not  a  mouse 
Shall  disturb  this  hallow*(|  house : 
I  am  sent,  with  broom  bef(»e. 
To  sweep  the  dust  behind  the  door. 

Enter  Oberon  and  Titania,  Ufith  their  Train. 

Obe.  Through  this  house  give  glimmering  light, 

By  the  dead  and  drowsy  fire : 
Every  elf,  and  faiir  sprite. 

Hop  as  li^t  as  bira  from  brier ; 
And  this  dit^',  after  me, 
Sii^  and  dance  it  trippinsly. 

Tito.  First  rehearse  this  song  bgr  rote : 
To  each  word  a  warbling  note. 
Hand  in  hand,  with  fairy  grace. 
Will  we  sing,  and  bless  this  place. 

SONG,  AND  DANCE. 

Obe.  Now,  until  the  break  of  day. 

Through  this  house  each  faiiy  atray. 

To  the  best  bride-bed  will  we. 

Which  by  us  shall  blessed  be ; 

And  the  issue,  there  create. 

Ever  shall  be  fortunate. 

So  shall  all  the  couples  three 

Ever  true  in  loving  oe : 

And  the  blots  of  nature's  hand 

Shall  not  in  their  issue  stand ; 

Never  mole,  hare-lip,  nor  scar. 

Nor  mark  prodigious,*  such  as  are 

Despised  in  nativity. 

Shall  upon  their  children  be. — 

With  this  field-dew  consecrate, 

Every  fairy  take  bis  gait  ;< 

And  each  several  chamber  blea. 

Through  this  palace  with  tweet  peace : 

E'er  shall  it  in  safety  rest. 

And  the  owner  of  it  blest. 
Trip  away ; 
Malte  no  stay ; 

Meet  roe  all  by  break  of  day. 

[Exeunt  Oberon,  Titania,  on^ 
Puck.  If  we  shadows  have  offended. 

Think  but  this  (andall  is  mended,) 

That  yau  have  hut  slumbered  here. 

While  these  visions  did  appear. 

And  this  weak  and  idle  theme, 

JVb  more  yielding  but  a  dreasn. 

Gentles,  do  not  reprehend  ; 

\f  you  pardon,  we  will  mend. 

And,  as  Pm  an  honest  Puck, 

If  we  have  unearned  hick 

Jfow  to  ^scape  the  serpents  longiie. 

We  will  make  amends,  ere  long 

Else  the  Puck  aUarealL 

So,  good  night  vnio  you  alL 

Give  me  your  hands,  \f  we  befriends. 

And  Robin  shall  restore  atnends        [Exi 


Wild  and  fantastical  as  this  play  ia,  all  the  pai 
in  their  various  modes  are  well  written,  and  gi 
the  kind  of  pleasure  which  the  author  ^    * 
Fairies  in  his  time  were  much  in  fadiioQ ; 
tradition  had  made  them  fimailiar,  and 
poem  had  made  them  great 

JOHNSOI» 


(l)PkogrBM. 


(S)  Oreroomei 


(3)  Poitentoat. 


W  Way. 


LOVERS  LABOUR^S  LOST. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


id,  Hn^  q/*  JVooorre. 

le,  >  lords,  attending  on  the  king. 

>  lordtt  attending  on  the  prtnceu  qf 
L)  France. 

wno  de  Aimado,  a  JimtatUcal  Spaniard. 
miel,  a  curate. 
m,  a  ichooimasier, 
mMabU. 
mdown. 
ig9  to  Armado. 


A  Foruter. 


Princen  of  Fnoce. 

Rosaline,    ) 

Maria,       >  ladies,  attending  on  theprineeu. 

Katharine,  ^ 

Jaquenetta,  a  country  wench. 


Officers  and  ethers,  attendants  on  the  king  and 
princess. 

Scene,  AVtoam. 


ACT  I. 

S  I.—Jfaoarre.    A  park,  with  a  palace 
Enter  the  King,  Biroo,  Longarille,  and 

King. 

•me,  that  all  hant  after  in  their  lives, 
istei'd  upon  our  brazen  tombs. 
1  grace  tu  in  the  disgrace  of  death ; 
|lte  of  cormorant  devouring  time, 
eavour  of  Uiis  present  breath  mav  buy 
aoar,  which  snail  bate  his  scjrthe's  keen 
•dge, 

be  us  heirs  of  all  etemihr. 
m,  brave  conquerors ! — tor  so  you  are, 
ir  against  your  own  afiections, 
hm  armv  of  the  world^s  desires,-^ 
edict  shall  strongly  stand  in  force : 
sball  be  the  wonder  of  the  world ; 
rt  shall  be  a  little  academe, 
I  eoBtemphitive  in  livin?  art 
Ml,  Bir6n,  Dumain,  ana  Longaville, 
rom  for  three  years*  term  to  live  with  me, 
nr-echolars,  and  to  keep  those  statutes, 
B  recorded  in  this  schedule  here : 
Am  are  past,  and  now  subscribe  your  names ; 
I  own  hand  may  strike  his  honour  down, 
Itles  the  smallest  branch  herein  : 
i«  ann*d  to  do,  as  sworn  to  do, 
w  to  your  deep  oath,  and  keep  it  too. 
-.  I  am  molvM :  *tis  but  a  three  years*  fa^t ; 
id  sball  banquet,  though  the  body  pine : 
ndies  have  lean  pates ;  and  dainty  bits 
dl  the  ribs,  but  bank*rout  (juite  the  wits. 
.  My  loving  lord,  Dumain  is  mortified ; 
«er  manner  of  these  world's  delie hts 
•rs  upon  the  gross  world's  baser  states : 
.  to  wealth,  to  pomp,  I  pine  and  die ; 
[  these  living  in  philosophy. 
I.  I  can  but  say  their  protestatkxi  over, 
Ldesir liege,  I  have  already  sworn. 
To  lire  and  study  here  three  years. 
PS  are  other  strict  observances : 

(1)  Dishonestly,  treacherously. 


As,  not  to  see  a  woman  in  diat  tenn ; 
Which,  I  hope  well,  is  not  enrolled  there : 
And,  one  day  in  a  week  to  touch  no  food ; 
And  but  one  meal  on  every  day  beside ; 
The  which,  I  hope,  is  not  enroUed  there : 
And  thm,  to  sleep  but  three  hours  in  the  night. 
And  not  be  seen  to  wink  of  all  the  day ; 
(When  I  was  wont  to  think  no  harm  all  night. 
And  make  a  dark  ni^t  too  of  half  the  day ;) 
Which,  I  hope  well,  is  not  enrolled  there : 
O,  these  are  Wren  tasks,  too  hard  to  keep; 
Not  to  see  ladies,  stady,  £sst,  not  sleep. 
King.  Your  oath  is  pass'd  topass  away  from  these. 
Biron.  Let  me  say  no,  my  liege,  an  if  you  please ; 
I  only  swore,  to  stody  with  your  grace. 
And  stay  here  in  your  court  for  three  years*  space. 
Long.  You  swore  to  that,  Biron,  and  to  the  rest 
Biron.  By  yea  and  nay,  sir,  then  I  swore  io 
jest. — 
What  b  the  end  of  stady  ?  let  roe  know. 
King.  Why,  that  to  know,  which  else  we  diould 

not  know. 
Biron.  Things  hid  and  barr*d,  you  mean,  from 

common  sense ; 
King.  Ay,  that  is  stady's  god-like  recompense. 
Biron.  Came  on  then,  I  wul  swear  to  stady  80» 
To  know  the  thing  I  am  forbid  to  know : 
As  thus — ^To  stady  where  I  well  vmy  dine, 

When  I  to  feast  expressly  am  forbid ; 
Or,  study  where  to  meet  some  mistress  fine, 

When  mistresses  from  common  sense  are  hid : 
Or,  having  swom  too  hard-a-keeping  oath. 
Study  to  break  it,  and  not  break  my  troth. 
If  study*8  gain  be  thus,  and  this  be  so, 
Stady  knows  that,  which  yet  it  doth  not  know : 
Swear  me  to  this,  and  I  will  ne*er  say,  na 

King.  These  be  the  stops  that  hinder  stady  quite. 
And  train  our  intellects  to  vain  delight 
Biron.    Wliy,  all  delights  are  vain;  but  that 
most  vain. 
Which,  with  pain  purchas*d,  doth  bherit  pain : 
As,  painfiilly  to  pore  upon  a  book. 

To  seek  the  like  of  truth ;  while  truth  the  while 
Doth  &lselyi  blind  the  eyesight  of  his  look : 

Light,  seeking  light,  doth  light  of  light  beguile 
So,  ere  you  find  where  light  in  darkness  lies, 
Yoor  li^  gfuws  dark  by  kisingof  jour  eyes. 


-  J 


160 


LO^TI'S  LADOUR'S  LOST. 


JietL 


Mncly  me  bow  to  please  the  eye  indeed. 

By  fixing  it  upoD  a  fairer  eye ; 
Who  dazzUng  10,  that  eye  shall  be  his  heed, 

And  give  him  light  that  was  it  blinded  Dy. 
Study  is  like  the  heaven*s  glorious  sun, 

That  will  not  be  deep-searchM  with  saucy  looks ; 
Small  have  continual  plodders  ever  won, 

Save  base  authoritv  from  others*  books. 
These  earthly  godfathers  of  heaven*s  lights. 

That  give  a  name  to  every  fixed  star, 
Have  no  more  profit  of  their  shining  nights. 

Than  those  that  walk,  and  wot  not  wlmt  they  are. 
Too  much  to  know,  is,  to  know  nought  but  fame ; 
And  every  godfather  can  give  a  name. 

King,  How  well  he*s  read,  to  reason  against 
reading ! 

Dvm.    Proceeded  well,  to  stop  all  good  pro- 
ceeding ! 

Long.  He  weeds  the  com,  and  still  lets  grow  the 
weeding. 

Biron.  llie  spring  b  near,  when  green  geese 
are  a  breeding. 

Dum,  How  follows  mat  ? 

Biron,  Fit  in  his  place  and  time. 

Dum.  In  reason  nothing. 

Biron,  l^mething  then  in  rhjrme. 

Jjonr.  Biron  is  like  an  envious  sneapingi  frost, 
That  bites  the  first-bom  infants  or  the  spring. 

Biron,  Well,  say  I  am ;  why  should  proud  sum- 
mer boast. 
Before  the  birds  have  any  cause  to  sing.' 
Why  should  I  joy  in  an  abortive  birth  ? 
At  Christmas,  I  no  more  desire  a  rose 
Than  wish  a  snow  in  May*s  new-fangled  shows  ;3 
But  like  of  each  thin^,  that  in  season  grows. 
So  you,  to  study  now  it  is  too  late. 
Climb  o*er  the  house  to  unlock  the  little  gate. 

King.  Well,  sit  you  out :  go  home,  Bir6n ;  adieu! 

Biron,  No,  my  good  lord ;  I  have  swom  to  stay 
with  yon : 
And,  though  I  have  for  barbarism  spoke  more. 

Than  for  that  angel  knowledge  you  can  say, 
Yet  confident  PU  keep  what  I  have  swore, 

And  *bide  the  penance  of  each  three  years*  day. 
Give  me  the  paper,  let  me  read  the  mme ; 
And  to  the  strictest  decrees  1*11  write  my  name. 

King.  How  well  this  yielding  rescues  thee  from 
shame ! 

Birtnt.  j^Reads.]  Item,    T%it  no  woman  shall 
eom§  vfiihtn  a  mile  qf  my  court — 
And  hath  this  been  procUum*d  f 

Long,  Four  days  ago. 

Biron.  Let*s  see  the  penalty. 
[Rtads.]  —On  pain  qf  losing  her  tongue. — 

Who  devi>*d  this  ? 

Long.  Marry,  that  did  I. 

Biron.  Sweet  lord,  and  why .' 

Long,  To  fright  them  hence  with  that  dread 
penalty. 

Biron.  A  dangerous  law  against  gentiiilv. 

[/{ftuif.]  Item,  ^  any  man  be  seen  to  laik  with 
m  woman  utithin  the  term  qf  three  years,  he  shtUt 
tndure  such  public  shamt  as  the  rest  qf  the  court 
'301  possibly  devise. — 
This  article,  my  liege,  yourself  must  break  ; 

For,  well  you  know,  here  comes  in  embassr 
Tlie  French  kii^*s  daughter,  with  yourself  to 
speak, — 

A  maid  of  grace,  and  c6mplete  majesty, — 
About  >urrenaer>up  of  Aquitain 

To  her  decivpit,  sick,  and  l>ed-rid  fadiar  t 


(1")  Nipping. 
(3)  RtMde. 


(2)  Games,  cporta^ 
(4)  TemptatHJOs. 


Tlicrefore  this  article  is  made  m  rain, 
Or  vainly  comes  the  admired  princen  hither. 
King.    What  say  you,  lords?  why,  this 

quite  Ibrgot 
Biron,  So  study  everaMre  is  overshot ; 
While  it  doth  study  to  have  what  it  would. 
It  doth  forget  to  do  the  thing  it  should  : 
And  when  it  hath  the  thing  it  hunteth  most, 
^Tis  won,  as  towns  with  fire ;  so  won,  to  lost 
King,  We  must,  of  force,  dispense  with  this 
decree; 
She  must  lie^  here  on  mere  necessity. 
Biron.  Necessity  will  make  us  all  forsworn 
Three  thousand  times  within  thb  three  years* 
space: 
For  eveiy  man  with  his  afiects  is  bom ; 

Not  by  might  master*d,  but  by  special  gmce  -. 
If  I  break  fisith,  this  word  shall  speak  for  me^ 
I  am  forsworn  on  mere  necessity. — 
So  to  the  laws  at  large  1  write  my  name : 

[Subseribit, 
And  he  that  breaks  them  in  the  least  degree. 
Stands  in  attainder  of  eternal  ^ame : 

Su^estions^  are  to  others,  as  to  roe; 
But,  I  l^ieve,  although  I  seem  so  loth, 
I  am  the  last  that  will  last  keep  his  oath. 
But  is  there  no  quick^  recreation  granted : 
King.  Av,  that  there  is :  our  court,  you  know, 
is  haunted 
With  a  refined  traveller  of  Spain ; 
A  man  in  all  the  world*s  new  fashioo  pbnted, 
That  hath  a  mint  of  phrases  in  hu  btmin : 
One,  whom  the  music  of  his  own  vain  tongue 

Doth  ravish,  like  enchanting  haimony ; 
A  man  of  complements,  whom  ri^t  and  wrong 

Have  chose  as  umpire  of  their  matmy : 
This  child  of  fancy,  that  Armado  higfat,* 

For  interim  to  our  studies,  shall  relate,. 
In  h^-bom  words,  the  worth  of  many  a  kratht 

From  tawny  Spain,  lost  in  the  world's  dtbemt. 
How  you  delight,  my  lords,  I  know  not,  I ; 
But  I  protest,  1  love  to  hear  him  lie. 
And  I  will  use  him  for  my  minstrelsy. 

Biron.  Armado  is  a  most  illustriooa  wight, 
A  man  of  fire-new  words,  fashion's  own  knMit 
Long.  Costard  the  swain,  and  he,  shall  Be  ov 
sport; 
And,  so  to  study,  three  years  is  but  AorL 

Enter  Dull,  with  a  letter,  and  Coatard. 

Dull  Which  is  the  duke's  own  person  * 

Biron.  This,  fellow ;  What  wonld'st  ? 

Dull  I  myself  reprehoid  his  own  peraon,  for  I 
am  his  grace's  tharborough :'  but  1  would  see  bis 
own  person  in  flesh  and  blood. 

Biron.  This  is  he. 

Dull.  Signior  Arme — Arme— commends  too. — 
There's  viflany  abroad;  this  letter  will  tell  joa 
more. 

Cost  Sir,  the  contempts  thereof  are  as  tooching 
me. 

King.  A  letter  from  the  munificent  Annada 

Biron.  How  low  soever  the  matter,  I  Iwpe  in 
God  for  hifh  words. 

•  Long.  A  high  hope  fora  low  having :  God  grant 
us  patience  ! 

Biron.  To  hear.'  or  forbear  bearing  ? 

Long.  To  hear  meddr,  sir,  and  to  mngh  moda- 
rately ;  or  to  forbear  bom. 

Biron.  Well,  sir,  be  it  as  Ae  style  shall  give  ■• 
cause  to  climb  in  tfaie 


(5)  Livelr,  njrightly.  (6)  Called. 

(7)  t.  e.  tLira-boroagfa,  a  peaoe-eficer^ 


//. 


LOypS  LAfiOUR*S  LOST. 


1«1 


CmL  The  matter  «  ta  me,  wr,  ••  ooDoenua; 
Jeonenette.  The  memier  of  it  it,  I  wai  taken 
widitfiemuoerJ 

Binm.  Inwhetmuoer? 

OMt,  In  maoiwr  and  form  fiillofrinr,  sir;  all 
tfKwe  three:  I  was  teen  with  her  in  me  manor 
bouse,  sitting  with  her  upon  the  fonn,  and  taken 
following  her  into  the  park ;  which,  put  together, 
is,  in  manner  and  fonn  folk>wing.  Now,  nr,  for 
the  manner, — it  is  the  manner  of  a  man  to  speak 
to  a  woman :  for  the  foim, — in  some  fonn. 

Biron.  For  the  following,  sir  ? 

CmL  As  it  shall  follow  m  my  correction ;  and 
God  defend  the  right! 

King.  Will  you  hear  this  letter  with  attention  ? 

Biron.  As  we  would  hear  an  oracle. 

Cost  Such  is  the  simplicity  of  man  to  hearken 
after  the  flesh. 

Kii^.  [i2fad!f.1  Chreat  deputy ,  the  toeMrm's  vice- 
gerent^ and  aoU  aaminator  qf  J^avarre^  fny  eouTi 
tarth^s  God,  and  body^s  fbatering  jHitronf — 

GmI.  Not  a  word  of  Costard  yet 

King.  So  it  is  f — 

GmI.  It  may  be  so :  but  if  he  lay  it  is  so,  he  is, 
m  telling  true,  but  so,  so. 

JiCtia^.  Peace. 

GmI.  —  be  to  me,  and  every  man  that  dares 
not  ^t  !— 

Kutg.  No  words. 

CoU.  —  of  other  mai*s  secrets,  I  beseech  you. 

King.  So  it  is,  besieged  with  table-coloured 
mdanduly,  I  did  commend  the  btack-oppretsing 
htmour  to  the  most  whoUsomephvsicof  thy  health- 
giving  air  ;  and,  as  lama  gentleman,  betook my- 
setf  to  walk.  The  time  when?  About  the  sixth 
hemr  ;  when  beasts  most  graze,  birds  best  peck,  and 
msn  sit  dawn  to  that  nourishnent  which  is  called 
SMpper.  So  much  for  the  time  when.  J^owfor  the 
^rmmd  which  ;  toAccA,  /  msan,  I  walked  upon  : 
tl  is  yelaed  thy  vark.  Then  for  the  place  where  ,* 
wAcre,  /mean,  I  did  encounter  that  obscene  and 
most  prefosierous  event,  that  draweth  from  my 
-Jtaow^whde  pen  the  ebon-coloured  ink,  which  here 
^hou  viewest,  beholdest,  surveyest,  or  seest:  but  to 
Jhe  place,  where, — Itstandeth  north-norih-etat  and 
^y  east  from  the  west  comer  qf  thy  curious-knot- 
ted garden :  there  did  I  see  that  low-spirited  swain, 
Mhat  base  minnow  qf  thy  mirth, 

Qtst  Me. 

Kii^.  —  thai  unlettered  small-knowing  soul. 

Cost  Me. 

Kii^.  —  that  Ludlow  vassal. 

Cost  StiU  me. 

Kii^.  — which,  as  I  remember,  hight  Cos- 


CofL  Ome! 

King.  — sorted  and  consorted,  contrary  to  thy 
^i^^^-MetiMished  proclaimed  edict  and  continent  canon, 

with — but  with  this  I  passion  to 
whsrewtm. 
Cost  With  a  wench. 

King.  — withachildqf  our  grandmother  Eve, 

^^     Jesuit ;  or,  for  thy  more  sweet  understanding, 

^— '     tDomoit.  Him  I  (as  my  ever-esieemed  duly  pricks 

"^^Ksutn)  have  sent  to  thee,  to  receive  the  meed  of 

^^•^^atwmgnt.  by  thy  sweet  grace'* s  officer,  Antony 

-^^—^vU;  a  man  qf  good  repute,  carriage,  bearing, 

^estimation. 

JhtU.  Me,  an't  diall  please  you ;  I  am  Antony 

Kin;.  For  Jaq^tenetta  (so  is  the  weaker  vessel 
•■^i  vMch  I  apprehended  with  the  aforesodd 

(1)  In  the  fact  (2)  A  young  man. 


swain,)  I  keep  her  at  •  vetid  qf  %  Uno'sfwry  ,- 
and  thaU,at  the  kael  qftky  sweet  notice,  brmg 
her  to  trial  Thine,inattemnplimenttqf  devoted 
and  heart-burning  heed  qf  duty, 

DON  ADRIANO  DE  ARMADO. 

Biron.  This  is  not  so  well  as  I  looked  for,  but 
the  best  that  ever  1  heard. 

King.  Ay,  the  best  for  the  worst  But,  sirrah, 
what  say  you  to  this.^ 

Cost.  I^r,  I  confess  the  wench. 

King.  Did  you  hear  the  proclamation  .> 

Cost.  I  do  confess  much  of  the  hearing  it,  but 
little  of  the  marking  of  it 

King.  It  was  proclaimed  a  year's  imprisonment, 
to  be  taken  with  a  wench. 

Cost.  I  was  taken  with  none,  sir,  I  was  taken 
with  a  damosel. 

King.  Well,  it  was  proclaimed  damoseL 

Cost.  This  was  no  damosel  neither,  sir ;  she  was 
a  virgin. 

Ktng.  It  is  so  varied  too ;  for  it  was  proclauned, 
vii^in. 

Cost.  If  it  were,  I  deny  her  virgmity;  I  was 
taken  with  a  maid. 

King.  This  maid  will  not  serve  your  tnm,  ar. 

Cost.  This  maid  will  serve  my  turn,  nr. 

King.  Sir,  I  will  pronounce  your  sentence ;  Too 
shall  fost  a  week  with  bran  and  water. 

CosL  I  had  rather  pray  a  month  with  mutton 
and  porridge. 

Ktng.  And  Don  Aimado  shall  be  your  keepeTd— 
My  lord  Biron  see  him  delivered  o*er. — 
And  go  we,  lords,  to  put  in  practice  that 

Which  each  to  other  hath  so  strongly  sworn. 

[Exeunt  King,  LongaviUe,  and  Dumain. 

Biron.  PU  lay  my  head  to  any  good  man^s  hat. 

These  oaths  and  laws  will  prove  an  idle  scorn.— 
Sirrah,  come  on. 

Cost.  I  suffer  for  the  truth,  sir :  for  true  it  is,  I 
was  taken  with  Jaauenetta,  and  Jaquenetta  is  a 
true  girl ;  and  therefore.  Welcome  the  sour  cup  of 
prosperity !  Affliction  may  one  day  smile  agsin, 
and  till  then.  Sit  thee  down,  sorrow !        [£«eiml. 

SCEJfE  II.— Another  part  qf  the  same,     kt- 
mado's  house.    Enter  Armado  and  Moth. 

Arm.  Boy,  what  sign  is  it,  when  a  man  of  great 
spirit  grows  melancholy? 

Moth.  A  great  sign,  sir,  that  he  will  look  sad. 

Arm.  Why,  sadness  is  one  and  the  selfsame 
thing,  dear  imp. 

Moth.  No,  no ;  O  lord,  sir,  no. 

Arm.  How  canst  thou  part  sadness  and  melan- 
cholv,  my  tender  juvenal  f' 

Jioth.  By  a  familiar  demonstration  of  the  work- 
ing, my  tough  senior. 

Arm.  Why  toueh  senior  ?  why  tough  senior  i 

Moth.  Why  ten(fer  Juvenal  ?  why  tender  juvenal .' 

Arm.  I  spoke  it,  tender  juvenal,  as  a  congruent 
epitheton,  appertaining  to  thy  young  days,  which 
wc  may  nominate  tender. 

MoUi.  And  I,  tough  senior,  as  an  appcrtinent 
title  to  your  old  time,  which  we  may  name  tough. 

Arm.  Pretty,  and  apt 

Moth.  How  mean  you,  «r  ?  I  pretty,  and  my 
saying  apt?  or  I  apt,  and  my  saying  pretty? 

Arm.  Thou  pretty,  because  little. 

Moth.  Little  pretty,  because  little :  Wberefore  apt? 

Arm,  And  therefore  apt,  because  quick. 

Moth.  Speak  yoa  this  in  my  praise,  master  ? 

Arm.  In  thy  condign  praise. 

Moth.  I  will  praiiie  an  eel  with  the  same  praise. 

Arm.  What?  that  an  eel  is  ingenious? 


102 


LOVETS  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


Aeli 


Moth.  That  an  col  w  (|uir!c. 

Arm.  I  du  »a y,  tliou  art  quick  in  aniwen :  Thou 
heate»t  my  bluod. 

Moth.  1  am  answered,  sir. 

Arm.  I  love  not  to  be  crossed. 

Moth.  Fie  speaks  the  mere  cootrtiy,  crotsesi 
love  not  him.  [Atide. 

Arm.  I  have  promised  to  study  three  jears  with 
the  duke. 

Moth.  You  may  do  it  in  an  hotifi  air. 

Arm.  Impossible. 

Moth.  How  many  is  one  thrice  told  ? 

Arm.  I  am  ill  at  reckoning,  it  fitteth  the  spirit  of 
a  tap<)ter. 

Moth.  You  are  a  gentleman,  and  a  flfunester,  sir. 

Arm.  I  confess  both ;  they  are  bo&  the  yamish 
of  a  complete  man. 

Moth.  Then,  I  am  sure  you  know  bow  much  the 
groiis  yum  of  deuce^ce  amounts  to. 

Arm.  It  doth  amount  to  one  more  than  two. 

Moth.  Which  the  base  vulgar  do  call,  three. 

Arm.  True. 

Moth.  Why,  sir,  is  this  such  a  piece  of  study  f 
Now  here  is  three  studied,  ere  youMl  thrice  wink  : 
and  how  cn.<»y  it  is  to  put  years  to  the  word  three, 
and  study  three  years  in  two  words,  the  dancing- 
horse  will  tell  you. 

Arm.  A  most  fine  figure ! 

Jtfb^A.  To  prove  you  a  cypher.  [Aside. 

Arm.  I  will  hereupon  coiuess,  I  am  in  love  :  and, 
as  it  is  base  for  a  soldier  to  love,  so  am  I  in  love 
with  a  base  wench.  If  drawiner  my  sword  against 
the  humour  of  affection  would  deliver  me  from  the 
reprobate  thought  of  it,  I  would  take  desire  pri- 
soner, and  ransom  him  to  any  French  courtier  for 
a  new  devised  courtesy.  1  think  scorn  to  sigli ; 
methinks,  I  should  out-swear  Cupid.  Comfort  me, 
boy :   What  great  men  have  been  in  love  ? 

Moth.  Hercules,  master. 
*  Arm.  Most  sweet  Hercules! — More  authority, 
dear  boy,  name  more ;  and,  sweet  my  child,  let 
diem  be  men  of  good  repute  and  carriage. 

Moth.  Samson,  master :  he  was  a  man  of  good 
carriage,  great  carriage ;  for  he  carried  the  town- 
gates  on  his  back,  like  a  porter :  and  he  was  in  love. 

Arm.  O  well-knit  Samson  !  strong-jointed  Sain- 
ton !  I  do  excel  thee  m  my  rapier,  as  much  as  thou 
didst  ine  in  carrying  gates.  I  am  in  love  too, — Who 
was  Samson's  love,  my  dear  Moth  f 

Moth.  A  woman,  master. 

Arm.  Of  what  complexion  ? 

Moth.  Of  all  the  four,  or  the  three,  or  the  two  ; 
or  one  of  the  four. 

Arm.  Tell  me  precisely  of  what  complexion. 

Moth.  Of  the  sea-water  green,  sir. 

Arm.  Is  that  one  of  the  four  complexions? 

Moth.  As  I  have  read,  sir ;  and  the  best  of  them 
too. 

Arm.  Green,  indeed,  is  the  colour  of  lovers :  but 
to  have  a  love  of  that  colour,  methinks,  Samson 
had  small  reason  for  it  He,  surely,  affected  her 
for  her  wit. 

Moth.  It  was  so,  sir ;  for  she  had  a  green  wit 

Arm.  My  love  is  nKist  immaculate  white  and  red. 

Moth.  Most  maculate  thoughts,  master,  are 
masked  under  such  colours. 

Arm.  Define,  define,  well-educated  infant 

Moth.  My  father's  wit,  and  my  mover's  tongue, 
assist  me ! 

Arm.  Sweet  invocatioo  of  a  child ;  most  pretty, 
and  pathetical ! 

(1)  The  nnme  of  a  coin  once  currejit 

(2)  Of  which  she  is  naturally  poaseased. 


Moth.  If  ^  be  made  of  white  and  red. 
Her  faults  will  ne'er  be  known ; 
For  bluithing  cheeks  by  faults  are  bf«d« 

And  fears  by  pale-white  shown  : 
Then,  if  slie  fear,  or  be  to  blame. 

By  this  you  shall  not  know ; 
For  still  her  cheeks  possess  the  same. 
Which  native  she  doth  owe.' 
A  dangerous  rhyme,  master,  against  the 
white  and  red. 

Arm,  Is  there  not  a  ballad,  boy,  of  the  Kii^  and 
the  Beggar  f 

JtfblA.  The  wcn-Id  was  very  guil^  of  such  a  ballad 
some  three  ages  since :  but,  I  think,  now  'tis  not  to 
be  found ;  or,  if  it  were,  it  would  neither  serve  fcr 
the  writing,  nor  the  tune. 

Arm.  I  will  have  the  subject  newly  writ  o'er,  that 
I  may  example  my  digression'  by  some  mighty  pre- 
cedent Boy,  I  do  love  that  country  girl,  that  I 
took  in  the  park  with  the  rational  hmd  Costard ; 
she  deserves  well. 

Moth.  To  be  whipped ;  and  yet  a  better  16ve 
than  my  master.  [Aside, 

Arm.  Sing,  boy ;  my  spirits  grow  heavy  m  love. 
Moth.  And  tliat's  great  man'el,  lo\'iiig  a  light 
wench. 
Arm.  1  say,  sing. 
Moth.  Forbear  till  this  company  be  past 

Enter  Dull,  Costard,  and  Jaquenetta. 

Dull.  Sir,  the  duke's  pleasure  it,  that  you  keep 
Costard  safe :  and  you  must  let  him  take  oo  delight, 
nor  no  penance ;  but  a'  must  fast  three  days  a-week  * 
For  tins  damsel,  I  must  keep  her  at  the  pack ;  iha 
is  allowed  for  the  day-woman.^  Fare  you  welL 
,    Arm.  I  do  betray  myself  with  blushing. — ^Mtid. 

Jag.  Man. 

Arm.  I  will  visit  tliee  at  the  lodge. 

Jag.  That's  hereby. 

Arm.  I  know  where  it  is  situate 

Jag.  Lord,  how  wise  you  are ! 

Arm.  I  will  tell  thee  wonders. 

Jag.  With  that  face  f 

Arm.  I  love  thee. 

Jag.  So  I  heard  you  say. 

Arm.  And  so  farewell. 

Jag.  Fair  weather  aAer  you ! 

Dull.  Come,  Jaouenetta,  away. 

[Exeunt  Dull  and  Jaqoencttau 

Arm.  Villain,  thou  shalt  fast  for  thy  ofllcjicca,  en 
thou  be  pardoticd. 

Cost.  \\'ell,  i»ir,  I  hope,  when  I  do  it,  I  sliall  do 
it  on  a  full  stomach. 

Arm.  Thou  slialt  be  heavily  punished. 

Cost.  I  ain  more  bound  to  you,  than  }  our  fellowt, 
for  they  are  but  lightly  rewarded. 

Arm.  Take  away  this  villain  ;  shut  him  up. 

Moth.  Come,  you  transgressing  slave ;  away. 

Cost.  Let  me  nut  be  pent  up,  sir ;  I  will  faat,*ba- 
ing  loose. 

Moth.  No,  sir ;  that  were  fast  and  loose  :  thou 
shalt  to  prison. 

Cost.  WeWf  if  ever  I  do  tee  the  mern*  dayt  of 
desolation  that  I  have  seen,  some  shall  see— 

Moth.  What  shall  some  see  ^ 

Cost.  Nay,  nothing,  master  Moth,  bat  what  they 
look  upon.  It  is  not  for  prisoners  to  be  too  tilent  n 
their  words;  and,  therefore,  I  will  say  nodung:  I 
thank  God,  I  have  as  little  patience  at  another  man ; 
and,  therefore,  I  can  be  quiet 

[Exeunt  Moth  and  Co«tard. 

Arm.  I  do  affect^  the  veiy  ground,  which  is  bate:, 

(3)  Transgre^ision.     (4)  Dai'T-womau      (5;  Lcvt. 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


1C3 


er  ihoe,  which  is  baser,  guided  by  her  foot, 
basest,  dutb  tread.  I  shall  be  forsworn 
I  ft  great  aigument  of  falsehood,)  if  I  love : 
cao  that  be  true  love,  which  is  falsely  at- 
?  Love  is  a  familiar  ;  love  is  a  devil :  there 
U  ai^l  but  love.  Yet  Samson  was  so 
:  and  he  had  an  excellent  strength :  yet  was 
to  seduced ;  and  he  had  a  very  good  wit 
batt-fhaft*  is  too  hard  for  HercuW  club, 
sfore  too  much  odds  for  a  Spaniard's  rapier. 
t  and  second  cause  will  not  serve  my  turn ; 
ido  he  respects  not,  the  duello  be  regards 
disgrace  is  to  be  called  boy ;  but  his  gloiy 
due  men.  Adieu,  valour !  rust,  rapier !  lie 
m  I  fi»r  your  manager  is  in  love ;  yea,  he 
Anist  me,  some  extemporal  god  of  rhyme, 
I  Miie,  I  shall  turn  sonnetteer.  Devise  wit; 
D ;  for  I  am  for  whole  vdumes  in  UAio. 

[ExU. 


ACT  IL 

C  L'-Anoiher  pari  of  the  tame.  A  pa- 
amd  ienis  at  a  disiance.  Enier  the  Prin- 
^  France,  Rosaline,  Maria,  Katharine, 
,  Lords,  and  other  attendants. 

.  Now,  madam,  summon  up  yourdearest^ 

ipirits: 
r  who  the  king  your  father  sends ; 
n  he  sends ;  and  what's  his  embassy : 
',  held  precious  in  the  world's  esteem ; 
ty  with  the  sole  inheritor 
arfections  that  a  man  may  owe, 
m  Navarre ;  the  plea  of  no  less  weight 
(foitain ;  a  dowry  for  a  queen, 
as  prodigal  of  all  dear  grace, 
re  was  in  making  graces  dear, 
Ik  did  starve  the  general  world  beside, . 
idwallv  gave  them  all  to  you. 

Gooa  lord  Boyet,  my  beauty,  thoi^  but 

mean, 
oC  the  painted  flourish  of  your  praise ; 
m  bought  by  judgment  of  the  eye, 
I'd  by  base  sale  of  chapmen's  tongues : 
B  proud  to  hear  you  tell  my  worth, 
Ni  much  willing  to  be  counted  wise 
Bog  3roar  wit  in  the  praise  of  mine. 
'  to  task  the  tasker, — Good  Boyet, 
not  ignorant,  all-telling  fame 
iae  abroad,  Navarre  ham  made  a  vow, 
lAd  study  shall  out-wear  three  years, 
Ml  may  approach  his  silent  court : 
re  to  us  seemeth  it  a  needful  course, 
re  enter  his  forbidden  gates, 
r  his  pleasure ;  and  in  that  behalf, 
joor  worthiness,  we  single  you 
wat-moving  fair  solicitor : 
ly  tike  dau^ter  of  the  king  of  France, 
us  business,  craving  quick  despatch, 
mat  Dersonal  conference  with  his  grace, 
igniiy  so  much ;  while  we  attend, 
mble-visag'd  suitors,  his  high  will. 
L  Piroad  of  employment,  willingly  I  go. 

[Exit. 
AH  pride  is  willing  pride,  and  yours  is  sa — 
a  tiia  rotaries,  my  loving  lords, 
a  row-fellows  with  this  virtuous  duke.^ 
ndL  Loi^ville  is  one. 

Know  you  the  man  ? 

I  know  him,  madam ;  at  a  marriage  feast, 

TOW  to  shoot  at  butU  with.  (2)  Best. 


Between  lord  Pe:igor1  and  tlie  beauteous  heir 

Of  Jaques  Falconbridge  soitrnnized, 

In  Normandy  saw  1  this  Lon^ville  : 

A  man  of  sovereign  parts  he  is  esterm'd ; 

Well  fitted  in  the  arts,  glorious  in  arms : 

Nothing  becomes  him  ill,  that  he  would  well. 

The  only  soil  of  his  fair  virtue's  gloss, 

(If  virtue's  gloss  will  stain  with  any  soil,) 

Is  a  sharp  wit  match'd  with  too  blunt  a  will ; 

Whose  edge  hath  power  to  cut,  whose  will  still 

wills 
It  should  none  spare  that  come  within  his  power. 

Prtn.  Some  merry  mocking  lord,  belike ;  is't  so  ? 

JUar.  They  say  so  most,  that  most  his  humours 
know. 

Prin.  Such  short-lir'd  wits  do  wither  as  they 
grow. 
Who  are  the  rest  f 

Kath.  The  young  Dumain,  a  well-accomplish'd 
youth. 
Of  all  that  virtue  kwe  for  virtue  lov'd : 
Most  power  to  do  most  harm,  least  knowing  ill ; 
For  he  hath  wit  to  make  an  ill  shape  good. 
And  shape  to  win  grace  though  he  had  no  wit 
I  saw  him  at  the  duke  Alen^on's  once ; 
And  much  too  little  of  that  good  I  saw, 
Is  my  report,  to  his  n«at  worthiness. 

Jcoe.  Another  of  uese  students  at  that  time 
Was  there  with  him :  if  I  have  heard  a  truth, 
Biron  they  call  him ;  but  a  merrier  man, 
Within  the  limit  of  becoming  mirth, 
I  never  spent  an  hour's  talk  withal : 
His  eye  begets  occasion  for  his  wit ; 
For  eveiy  ^ject  that  the  one  doth  catch. 
The  other  turns  to  a  mirth-moving  jest ; 
Which  his  fair  tongue  (conceit's  expositor,) 
Delivers  in  such  apt  and  gracious  words. 
That  aged  ears  play  truant  at  his  tales. 
And  younger  hearings  are  quite  ravished ; 
So  sweet  and  voluble  is  his  discourse. 

Prin,  God  bless  my  ladies !  are  they  all  in  lore ; 
Tliat  every  one  her  own  hath  garnished 
With  such  bedecking  ornaments  of  praise  ? 

Mar.  Here  comes  Boyet 

Re-enter  Boyet 

Prin.  Now,  what  admittance,  lord  f 

Boyet.  Nararre  had  notice  of  your  fair  a])proach ; 
And  he,  and  his  competitors'  in  oath. 
Were  all  address'd^  to  meet  you,  gentle  lady. 
Before  I  came.  Marry,  thus  much  I  have  learnt, 
He  rather  means  to  lodge  you  in  the  field 
(Like  one  that  comes  here  to  besiege  his  court,) 
Than  seek  a  dispensation  for  his  oath. 
To  let  you  enter  his  unpecT)led  bouse. 
Here  comes  Navarre.         *        [The  ladies  mask. 

Enter  King,  Longaville,  Dumain,  Biron,  and  at' 

iendants. 

King.  Fair  princess,  welcome  to  the  court  of 

Navarre. 
Prin.  Fair,  I  give  you  back  again ;  and,  wel- 
come I  have  not  yet :  the  roof  of  this  court  is  too 
high  to  be  yours ;  and  welcome  to  the  wild  fields 
too  base  to  be  mine. 
King.  You  shall  be  welcome,  madam,  to  my 

court. 
Prin.   I  will  be  welcome  then;  cciduct  me 

thither. 
King.  Hear  me,  dear  lady ;  I  have  sworn  an  oath. 
Prin.  Our  lady  help  mv  lord !  he'll  be  forsworn. 
King.  Not  for  the  world,  fair  madam,  by  my  will 

(3)  Coniedeiates.  (4)  Prepared. 


164 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


Ad 


ri. 


Prin,  Wbj,  will  ihall  break  it;  wQl,  and  nothing 
else. 

King.  Your  ladyship  is  ignorant  what  it  is. 

Prin.  Were  mv  lord  so,  his  ignorance  were  wise. 
Where!  now  his  knowledge  must  prove  ignorance. 
1  hear,  your  grace  hath  sworn  out  house-keeping : 
rris  deadly  sin  to  keep  that  oath,  my  lord, 
And  sin  to  break  it : 
But  pardon  me,  I  am  too  sudden-bold ; 
To  teach  a  teacher  ill  beseemeth  me. 
Vouchsafe  to  read  the  purpose  of  my  coming, 
And  suddenly  resolve  me  in  my  suit 

[Gives  a  paper. 

King.  Madam,  I  will,  if  suddenly  I  may. 

Prin.  You  will  the  sooner,  that  I  were  away ; 
For  you'll  prove  perjur'd,  if  you  make  me  stay. 

Biron.  Did  not  I  dance  with  you  in  Brabant 
once.^ 

Kos.  Did  not  I  dance  with  you  in  Brabant  once  .^ 

Biron.  I  know,  you  did. 

Am.  How  needless  was  it  then 

To  ask  the  question ! 

Biron.  You  must  not  be  so  quick. 

Aof.  'Tis  'long  of  you  that  'spur  me  with  such 
'  questions.  « 

Biron.  lour  wit's  too  hot,  it  speeds  too  fast, 
•twill  Ure. 

jRoi.  Not  till  it  leaves  the  rider  in  the  mire. 

Biron.  What  time  o'  day  ? 

Rot.  The  hour  that  fools  should  ask. 

Biron.  Now  fair  befall  your  mask ! 

Rot.  Fair  fall  the  face  it  covers ! 

Biron.  And  send  you  many  lovers ! 

Rot.  Amen,  so  you  be  none. 

Biron.  Nay,  then  will  I  be  gone. 

King.  Madam,  your  father  here  doth  intimate, 
The  payment  of  a  hundred  thousand  crowns ; 
Being  but  the  one  half  of  an  entire  sum. 
Disbursed  by  my  father  in  his  wars. 
Bat  say,  that  he,  or  we  (as  neither  have,) 
Receiv'd  that  sum ;  yet  there  remains  unpaid 
A  hundred  thousand  more ;  in  surety  of  the  which. 
One  part  of  Aquitain  is  bound  to  us, 
Aldiougfa  not  valued  to  the  money^s  worth. 
If  then  the  king  your  father  will  restore 
But  that  one  half  which  is  unsatisfied, 
We  will  give  up  our  right  in  Aquitain, 
And  hola  fair  friendship  with  his  majesty. 
But  that,  it  seems,  he  little  purposetn. 
For  here  he  doth  demand  to  have  repaid 
A  hundred  thousand  crowns ;  and  not  demands, 
On  payment  of  a  hundred  thousand  crowns. 
To  hare  his  title  live  in  Aquitain ; 
Which  we  much  rather  had  depart^  withal. 
And  have  the  numey  by  our  fatncr  lent. 
Than  Aquitain  so  gelded  as  it  is. 
Dear  princess,  wem  not  his  requests  so  far 
From  reason's  yielding,  your  fair  self  should  make 
A  yielding,  'gainst  some  reason,  in  my  breast, 
And  ^  well  satisfied  to  France  again. 

Prm.  You  do  the  kinc^  my  father  too  much  wrong. 
And  wrong  the  reputation  of  your  name. 
In  so  unseeming  to  confess  receipt 
Of  that  which  hath  so  faithfully  been  paid. 

Xtnc*.  I  do  protest,  I  never  heard  of  it ; 
And,  if  you  prove  it,  I'll  repay  it  back, 
Or  yield  up  Aquitain. 

Prin.  We  arrest  your  word : 

Boyet,  you  can  produce  acquittances. 
For  such  a  sum,  from  special  officers 
Of  Charles  his  &ther. 

King.  Satisfy  me  so. 

(1)  Whereat.        (2)  Part        (3)  Aye,  yes. 


Boyet.  So  pleaae  your  grace,  the  packet  is 
come. 
Where  that  and  other  specialities  are  bound , 
To-morrow  you  shall  have  a  sight  of  them. 

King.  It  shall  suftice  me :  at  which  intenriew,  ^ 
All  liberal  reason  I  will  yield  unto. 
Meantime,  receive  such  welcome  at  my  hand. 
As  honour,  without  breach  of  honour,  may 
Make  tender  of  to  thy  true  worthiness : 
You  may  not  come,  rair  princess,  in  my  gates ; 
But  here  without  you  shall  be  so  receiv'd. 
As  you  shall  deem  yourself  lod^'d  in  my  heait. 
Though  so  denied  fair  harbour  in  my  house. 
Your  own  good  thoughts  excuse  me,  and  frrewelT  M. 
To-morrow  shall  we  visit  you  again. 

Prin.  Sweet  health  ana  fair  desires  consort  yi 


grace 


I 


King.  Thy  own  wish  wish  I  Aee  in  evciy  pbc»r=» 
[Exeunt  King  and  Aif  TVotcTss 
*  Biron.  Lady,  I  will  commend  you  to  mj 

heart 
Ros.  'Pray  you,  do  my  commendations ;  I 
be  glad  to  see  it 
Biron.  I  would,  you  heard  it  groan. 
Rot.  Is  the  fool  sick  .^ 
Biron.  Sick  at  heart 
Rot.  Alack,  let  it  blood. 
Biron.  Would  that  do  it  good? 
Rot.  My  physic  says,  I.> 
Biron.  Will  you  prick't  with  your  eje? 
Rot.  No  poyntf*  with  my  knife. 
Biron.  Now,  God  save  thy  life ! 
Rot.  And  yours  from  long  livii^ ! 
Biron.  I  cannot  stay  thanksgiving. 
Dion.  Sir,  I  pray  you,  a  word :  Wlmt 

that  same  f 
Boyet.  The  heir  of  Alen^on,  Rosaline  her 
Dum.  A  gallant  lady !  Monsieur,  fare  you 

Long.  I  beseech  you  a  word ;  What  is  Ae  -—=*»►«  in 

the  white  .^ 
Boyet.  A  woman  sometimes,  an  you  saw  hei^  -""^r  in 

the  light 
Long.  Perc^mce,  light  in  die  light :  I  desire  E  ^ 

name. 
Boyet.  She  hath  but  one  for  herself;  (o 

that,  were  a  shame. 
Long.  Pray  you,  sir,  whose  daughter? 
Boyet.  Her  mother's,  1  have  heard. 
Long.  God's  blessing  on  your  beard ! 
Boyet.  Good  sir,  be  not  offended : 
She  is  an  heir  of  Falconbridge. 

Long.  Nay,  my  choler  is  ended. 
She  is  a  most  sweet  lady. 
Boyet,  Not  unlike,  sir ;  that  may  be. 

[Exit 
Biron.  What's  her  name,  in  the  cap  ? 
Boyet.  Katharine,  by  good  bap. 
Biron.  I»  she  wedded,  or  no."* 
Boyet.  To  her  will,  sir,  or  so. 
Biron.  You  are  welcome,  sir;  adieu  ! 
Boyet.  Farewell  to  me,  sir,  and  welcome  to  v" 
[Exit  Biron. — Indies  vmnrJ* 
Mar.  That  last  h  Biron,  the  merry  mad-cap  I 
Not  a  word  with  him  but  a  jest 
Boyet.  And  every  jest  but  a  wi 

Prin.  It  was  well  done  of  you  to  take  ' 

his  word. 
BoyeL  1  was  as  willing  to  grapple,  as  he  w 

board. 
Mar.  Two  hot  sheeps,  manr  !  ^ 

Boyet.  And  wherefore  not  sbvj 

(4)  A  French  particle  of  i  e^ti  jiu 


cm 


xnl 


lOVEfS  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


165 


^fl«r«et  kmbfimlen  we  feed  en  your  lin. 
Yott  sheep,  Biid  I  pasture ;  Shall  that  fimah 
the  jestf 
Sojoa  grant  pasture  for  me. 

[Offering  io  kiat  her. 
rQ  so,  gentle  beast ; 
9«  DO  common,  though  several*  they  be. 
Bdonging  to  whom  ? 

To  my  fortunes  and  me. 
Good  wits  will  be  jangling :  but,  gentles. 


war  of  wits  were  much  better  used 
ive  and  bis  book-men ;  for  here 'tis  abused. 
If  my  observation  (which  r«ry  seldom 
Kes,) 

tart's  still  rhetoric,  disclosed  with  eyes. 
Be  not  now,  Navarre  is  infected. 
With  what? 

WUh  that  which  we  lovers  entitle,affected. 
Tour  reason? 

Why,  all  his  behaviours  did  make  dieir 
ictire 

lort  of  his  eye,  peeping  thorough  desire : 
,  Kke  an  agate,  with  your  print  impressed, 
Ih  his  fiwro,  in  his  eye  pride  expressed, 
le,  all  impatient  to  speak  and  not  see, 
ble  with  haste  in  his  eve-si^t  to  be ; 
I  to  that  sense  did  make  their  repair, 
uly  kmkir^  on  faire!>t  of  fair : 
It,  all  his  senses  were  lock'd  in  his  eye, 
s  in  crystal  for  some  prince  to  buy ; 
deling  tl)eir  own  worth,  from  where  diey 
were  glass'd, 

jon  to  boy  them,  along  as  you  pass'd. 
» own  margent  did  quote  such  amaies, 
rfes  saw  his  eyes  enchanted  with  gazes : 
tn  Aquitain,  and  all  that  is  his, 
vn  him  for  my  sake  but  one  loving  kiss. 
}ome,  to  our  pavilion :  Boyet  is  disposed — 
Bat  to  speak  that  in  words,  which  his 
eye  hath  disclos'd : 
nemade  a  mouth  of  his  eye. 

La  tongue  which  I  know  will  not  lie. 
10  art  an  old  love-monger,  and  speak'st 
■kiUuIly. 

So  is  Cupid's  grandfather,  and  learns 
BOWS  of  him. 

lien  was  Venus  like  her  mother;  for  her 
fiitlier  M  but  grim. 
00  you  bear,  my  mad  wenches  ? 

No. 
What  then,  do  you  see  ? 
ijf  oor  way  to  be  gone. 

You  are  too  hard  for  me. 
[Exeunt. 


ACT  ni. 

>  L'^nother  pari  of  the  same.    Enter 
Armado  and  Moth. 

HTarble,  child ;  make  passionate  my  sense 
of  bearing. 

Qmeolinu [Singir^. 

Sweet  air! — Go,  tenderness  of  years ;  take 

|hre  enlargement  to  the  swain,  bring  him 

^  Ulfaer;  I  must  employ  him  in  a  Tetter 

e. 

Blaster,  will  yoa  win  your  love  with  a 

«wl.» 

BbUe,  teveml  signified  unenclosed  lands. 
lily.  (3)  A  kind  of  dance. 


Ar^  How  means't  thou  ?  brawling  in  French  ? 

Moih,  No,  my  complete  master :  mit  to  iig  otf 
a  tune  at  the  tongue's  end,  canary^  to  it  witn  your 
feet,  hiimour  it  with  turning  up  your  eyelids ;  sish 
a  note,  and  sii^  a  note;  sometime  throi^h  & 
throat,  as  if  you  swallowed  love  with  singing  love ; 
sometime  through  the  nose,  as  if  you  sntmed  up 
love  bv  smelling  love ;  wiUi  your  liat  penthouse- 
like,  o'er  the  sbra  of  your  eyes ;  with  your  arms 
crossed  on  your  tnin  faelly-dcMiblet,  like  a  rabbit  on 
a  spit ;  or  vour  hands  in  your  pocket,  like  a  man 
after  the  old  painting ;  and  keep  not  too  long  in 
one  tune,  but  a  snip  and  away :  These  are  com- 
plements, these  are  humours;  these  betray  nice 
wenches-— that  would  be  betraved  without  these ; 
and  make  them  men  of  note  (do  you  note,  men  ?) 
that  most  are  affected  to  these. 

Arm.  How  hast  thou  purchased  this  experimce  i 

Moth,  By  my  penny  of  observation. 

Arm,  Bute,— but O,— 

Moth.  — the  hobby-horse  is  forgot 

Arm.  Callest  thou  my  love,  hobby-horse  ? 

Moth.  No,  master ;  tliie  hobby-hone  is  but  a  coll, 
and  your  love,  perhaps,  a  hackney.  But  have  you 
forgot  your  love  ? 

Arm.  Almost  I  had. 

Moth.  Negligent  student .'  learn  her  by  heart 

Arm.  By  heart,  and  in  heart,  boy. 

Moth.  And  out  of  heart,  master:  all  those  diree 
I  will  prove. 

Arm.  What  wilt  thou  prove  ? 

Moth.  A  man,  if  I  live :  and  this,  by,  in,  and 
without,  upon  the  instant :  By  heart  vou  love  her, 
because  your  heart  cannot  come  by  her :  in  heart 
you  love  oer,  because  your  heart  is  in  love  with  her ; 
and  out  of  heart  you  love  her,  being  out  of  heart 
that  you  cannot  enjoy  her. 

Arm.  I  am  all  th^  three. 

Moth.  And  three  times  as  much  more,  and  yBt 
nothing  at  all ! 

Arm.  Fetch  hidier  the  swain ;  he  must  cany  me 
a  letter. 

Moth.  A  message  well  sympathised ;  a  horse  to 
be  unbassador  for  an  ass ! 

Arm.  Ha,  ha !  what  sayest  thou  ? 

Moth.  Marry,  sir,  you  must  send  the  ass  npoo 
the  horse,  for  he  is  very  slow-gaited :  But  I  go. 

Arm.  The  wav  is  but  short;  away. 

Moth.  As  swift  as  lead,  sir. 

Arm.  Thy  meaning,  pretty  ingenious  ? 
Is  not  lead  a  metal  h^vy,  dull,  and  slow  ? 

Moth.  MinmUj  honest  master ;  or  rather,  mat- 
ter, na 

Arm.  I  say,  lead  is  slow. 

Moth.  You  are  too  swift,*  sir,  to  say  so ; 

Is  that  lead  slow  which  is  fir'd  from  a  g^n  ? 

Arm.  Sweet  smoke  of  rhetoric ! 
He  reputes  me  a  cannon ;  and  die  bullet,  that*i 

he:— 
I  shoot  thee  at  the  swain. 

Moth,  Thump  then,  and  I  flee. 

[Exit. 

Arm,  A  most  acute  juvenal ;  voluble  and  free 
of  grace ! 
By  thy  favour,  sweet  welkin,  I  must  sigh  in  thy  foce ; 
Nlost  rude  melancholv,  valour  gives  thee  place. 
My  herald  is  returo'a. 

Re-enter  Moth  and  Costard. 

Moth.    A  wonder,  master;  here's  a  Cottardf^ 
broken  in  a  shin. 

(4)  Canary  was  the  name  of  a  sprightly  danoe. 
(5) Quick,i«ac^.  (6)  Ahead. 


166 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


Adt  ni 


Am,  Some  enigma,  some  riddle :  come, — f3tkj 

Venvoy  ;' — b^n. 
CoiL  No  ^;ma,  no  nddle,  no  V envoy;  no  salve 
in  the  mail,  sir  :  O,  sir,  plantain,  a  plain  plantain ; 
no  Penvoy^  no  Penvoy^  no  salve,  sir,  but  a  plantain  ! 
Arm.  By  virtue,  thou  enforcest  lauchter ;  tby 
■lly  thought,  my  spleen ;  the  heavinf  or  mv  lungs 
provoker  me  to  ridiculous  smiling :  O,  pardon  me, 
my  stars  !  Doth  the  inconsiderate  take  salve  for 
Penooyt  and  the  word,  Penvoy,  for  a  salve  ? 

JHoth.   Do  the  wise  think  them  other?  is  not 
Penooy  a  salve  ? 
Arm,  No,  page :  it  is  an  epilogue  or  discourse 
to  make  plain 
Some  obscure  precedence  that  hath  tofore  been 

sain. 
I  will  example  it . 

The  fox,  the  ape,  and  the  humble-bee, 
Were  still  at  odds,  being  but  three. 
There's  the  moral :  Now  the  Vemwy. 

Moth.  I  will  add  the  Vtnooy:   Say  the  moral 
again. 
Arm.  The  fox,  the  ape,  and  the  humble-bee, 

Were  still  at  odds,  oeing  but  three  : 
Moth.  Until  the  goose  came  out  of  door, 
And  stay'd  the  odds  by  adding  four. 
Now  will  I  begin  your  moral,  and  do  you  follow 
with  my  Penvoy. 

The  fox,  the  ape,  and  the  humble-bee, 
Were  still  at  odds,  being  but  three : 
Arm.  Until  the  goose  came  out  of  docnr. 

Staying  the  odds  by  adding  four. 
Moth.  A  good  Penvoy f  ending  in  the  goose ; 
Would  you  desire  more  ? 
Cott.  The  boy  hath  sold  him  a  bargain,  a  goose, 
that's  flat  :— 
Sir,  your  pennyworth  is  good,  an  your  goose  be 

fat.— 
To  sell  a  bargain  well,  is  as  cunnii^  as  fast  and 

loose: 
Let  me  see  a  iat  Penvoy ;  ay,  that's  a  fat  goose. 
Arm.  Come  hither,  come  hither :  How  did  this 

arg^ument  b^n? 
Moth.  By  saying  that  a  Costard  was  broken  in 
a  shin. 
Then  call'd  you  for  the  Penvoy. 
Cost.  True,  and  1  for  a  plantain ;  Thus  came 
your  argument  in ; 
Then  the  boy's  fat  Penvoy^  the  goose  that  you 

bought ; 
And  he  ended  the  market 

Arm.  But  tell  me ;  how  was  there  a  Costard 
broken  in  a  shin  ? 
Moth.  I  will  tell  you  sensibly. 
Cost.  Thou  hast  no  feeling  of  it,  Moth  ;  I  will 
speak  that  Penvoy:  — 

I,  Costard,  running  out,  that  was  safely  within. 
Fell  over  the  threwold,  and  broke  my  shin. 
Arm.  We  will  talk  no  more  of  this  matter. 
Cost.  Till  there  be  no  more  matter  in  the  shin. 
Arm.  Sirrah  Costard,  I  will  enfranchise  thee. 
Cost.  O,  marry  me  to  one  Frances: — I  smell 
some  Penvoy f  some  goose,  in  this. 

Arm.  Bv  mv  sweet  soul,  I  mean,  setting  thee  at 
liberty,  enfreeaoming  thy  person ;  thou  wert  im- 
mured, restrained,  captivated,  bound. 

Cost  Tnie,  true ;  and  now  you  will  be  my  pur- 
gation, and  let  me  loose. 
Arm.  I  give  thee  thy  liberty,  set  tfiee  from  du- 

^1)  An  old  French  term  for  cooclodii^  verses, 
which  sen'ed  either  to  convey  the  moral,  or  to  ad- 
dress the  poem  to  some  peraoo. 

(2)  Del^t/uL  (3)  lUwaid. 


t  ranee ;  and,  in  lieu  thereof,  impose  on  thee  noducr 
but  this :  Bear  this  significant  to  the  coontr}--maid 
Jaquenetta  :  there  is  remuneration ;  [Givinr  him 
money.]  for  the  best  ward  of  mine  honour,  n,  re- 
warding my  dependents.  Moth,  follow.  [£x^ 
Moth.   Like  the  sequel,  I. — Signior  Costard, 

adieu. 
Cost.  M  V  sweet  ounce  oi  man's  flesh !  my  incony> 
Jew!—  [ExUMoAl 

Now  will  I  look  to  his  remuneration.  Remunera- 
tion !  O,  that's  the  Latin  word  for  three  farthings : 
three  farthings — remuneration. — WhaCs  1h€]met 
qf  this  inkU  ?  a  penny: — M>,  PU  give  you  a  re> 
muneration :  why,  it  carries  it — ^Remuneratioii ! — 
why,  it  is  a  fairer  name  than  French  crown.  I  will 
never  buy  and  sell  out  of  this  word. 

Enter  Biron. 

Bvron.  0,my  good  knave  Costard !  exceedingly 
well  met. 

Cost.  Pray  you,  sir,  how  much  camatkn  ribUa 
may  a  man  buy  for  a  remuneration.^ 

Biron.  What  is  a  remuneration  ? 

Cost  Marry,  sir,  half-penny  farthing. 

Biron.  O,  why  then,  three-farthinrs-woilfaof  silL 

Cost.  I  thank  your  worship :  Goa  be  with  yoa  I 

Biron.  O,  stay,  slave ;  I  must  employ  thee : 
As  thou  wilt  win  my  favour,  good  my  knave. 
Do  one  thing  for  me  that  I  shall  oitreat 

Cost.  When  would  you  have  it  done,  sir? 

Biron.  O,  this  afternoon. 

Cost.  Well,  I  will  do  it,  sir :  Fare  yoo  weU. 

Biron.  O,  Uiou  knowest  not  what  it  is. 

Cost.  I  shall  know,  sir,  when  I  have  done  it 

Biron.  Why,  villain,  thou  must  know  first 

Cost.  I  will  come  to  your  worship  tOHDorrosf 
morning. 

Biron.  It  must  be  done  this  afbmooo.    Hark, 
slave,  it  is  but  this ; — 

The  princess  comes  to  hunt  here  in  the  park, 
And  in  her  train  there  is  a  gentle  lady ; 
When  tongues  speak  sweet^",  then  tfaiey  name  her 

name, 
And  Rosaline  they  call  her :  ask  for  her ; 
And  to  her  white  hand  see  thou  doccamiiend 
This  seal'd-up  counsel  There's  th^  guerdon  ;*  ga 

[Gives  Am  money. 

Cost.  Guerdon, — O  sweet  guerdon !  better  wa  * 
remuneration ;  eleven-pence  farthing  better :  Most  J 
sweet  guerdon ! — I  will  do  it,  sir,  in  print^— Guer 
don — remuneration.  f  JB*  " 

Biron.  O  •' — And  I,  forsooth,  in  love !    i, 
have  been  love's  whip ; 
A  veiy  beadle  to  a  humorous  sigh ; 
A  critic ;  nay,  a  night-watch  constable  ; 
A  domineering  pedant  o'er  the  boy, 
Than  whom  no  mortal  so  magnificent ! 
This  whimpled,^  whining,  purblind,  wayward  bu^  lif  i 
This  senior-junior,  giant-dwarf,  Daii  Cupid ; 
Regent  of  love-riiymes,  lord  of  folded  arms, 
The  anointed  sovereign  of  sighs  and  groans, 
Li^e  of  all  loiterers  and  malcontents. 
Dread  prince  of  plackets,^  king  of  codpieoei^ 
Sole  imperetor,  and  great  general 
Of  trotting  paritors,^— O  my  little  heart  !— 
And  I  to  be  a  corporal  o(  ms  field. 
And  wear  his  colours  like  a  tumbler's  hoop! 
What.^  I!  Ifove!  Isue!  Iseekawife! 
A  woman,  that  is  like  a  German  clock, 

(4)  With  the  utmost  exactness. 
(5^  Hooded,  veiled.         (6}  Petticoatt. 
(Tj  The  ofiicert  of  the  spiritual  cooits  wboi 
citations. 


/. 


LOVE»S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


167 


Still  a  repairing ;  ever  out  of  frame ; 

And  never  going  aright,  being  a  watch. 

But  being  watchM  that  it  may  still  go  right? 

Nay,  to  be  periur'd,  which  is  worat  of  all ; 

And,  among  three,  to  love  the  worst  of  aJl ; 

A  whiteljr  wanton  with  a  velvet  brow. 

With  two  pitch  balls  stuck  in  her  £ice  for  eyes ; 

At,  and,  by  heaven,  one  that  will  do  the  deed, 

Tnousfa  Aigus  were  her  eunuch  and  her  guard  : 

And  Ito  sigh  for  her  I  to  watch  for  her ' 

To  pray  for  her !  Go  to;  it  is  a  plague 

That  Cupid  will  impose  for  my  n^lect 

Of  his  ahniehty  dreadful  little  might 

Well,  I  willlovc,  write,  sigh,  pray,  sue,  and  groan ; 

Some  men  must  love  my  lady,  and  some  Joan. 

[Ent. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEKE  L— Another  port  of  the  tame.  Enter 
tht  Princess,  Rosaline,  Maria,  Katharine,  Boyet, 
LordSf  atfendantt,  andaFbruter, 

PriiL  Was  that  the  king,  that  spurr'd  his  horse 
so  hard 
Agunst  the  steep  uprising  of  the  hill  ? 

Botftt  I  know  not;  but,  I  think,  it  was  not  he. 

PrvL  Whoe'er  he  was,  he  show'd  a  mounting 
mind. 
Wen,  lords,  to-day  we  shall  have  our  despatch; 
On  Saturday  we  will  return  to  France. — 
Then,  forester,  my  friend,  where  is  the  bush. 
That  we  must  stsind  and  plav  the  murderer  in  ? 

Ear,  Here  by,  upon  the  edge  of  yonder  coppice ; 
A  stand,  where  you  may  make  the  fairest  shoot. 

/Vm.  I  thank  my  beauhr,  I  am  fair  that  shoot. 
And  thereupon  thou  speak^st,  the  &irest  shoot 

fbr,  Fardon  me,  madam,  for  I  meant  not  so. 

FrvL  What,  what  f  first  praise  me,  and  again 
say,  no. ^ 
O  short-liv'cl  pride !  Not  &ir.'  alack  tor  wo ! 

Ear.  Yea,  madam,  &ir. 
^^•^      .  Nay,  never  paint  me  now ; 

WbcPB  mir  is  not,  praise  caimot  mend  the  brow. 
Here,  good  my  glass,  take  this  for  telUn^  true ; 

.  [Giving  htm  money. 

Fair  payment  for  foul  words  is  more  than  due. 

fbr.  Nothing  but  fiur  is  that  which  you  inherit 

Prin.  See,  see,  my  beauty  will  be  sav'd  by  merit 
O  heresy  in  fair,  fit  for  these  days ! 
A  givii^  hand,  though  foul,  shall  have  fair  praise.— 
But  come,  the  bow  .-—Now  mercy  goes  to  kill, 
And  shooting  well  is  then  accounted  ill. 
Thus  will  I  save  my  credit  in  the  shoot : 
Not  WGunding,  pity  would  not  let  me  do't ; 
If  woundinr,  then  it  was  to  show  my  skill. 
That  more  for  praise,  than  purpose,  meant  to  kill. 
And,  out  of  quMtion,  so  it  is  sometimes ; 
GlotT  grows  guilty  of  detested  criknes ; 
Whra,  for  fame's  sake,  for  praise,  an  outward  part. 
We  bend  to  that  the  working  of  the  heart : 
A«  I,  for  praise  alone,  now  seek  to  spill 
The  poor  deer's  blood,  that  my  h^rt  means  no  ill. 

Boyet  Do  not  curat  wives  hold  that  self-sove- 
reignty 
Cfely  for  praise*  sake,  when  they  strive  to  be 
MWs  o'er  their  lords  ? 

^nn.  Only  for  praise :  and  praise  we  may  afibrd 
To  lay  lady  that  subdues  a  lord. 


(1)  God  give  you  fsood  even. 

(2)  Open  this  letter.        (3)  lUustfiout. 


Enter  CoKtBj^d. 


Prin,  Here  comes  a  member  of  the  ccmnxxi- 
wealth. 

Cost.  God  dig-you-deni  all .'  Pray  you,  which  is 
the  head  lady  f 

Prin.  Thou  shalt  know  her,  fellow,  by  the  rest 
that  have  no  heads. 
Cost.  Which  is  the  greatest  lady,  the  highest? 
Prin.  The  thickest,  and  the  tallest 
Cott.  The  thickest,  and  the  tallest !  it  is  so ;  truth 
is  truth. 

An  your  waist,  mistreM,  were  as  slender  as  my  wit. 
One  of  these  maids'  girdles  for  your  waist  should 

befit 
Are  not  you  the  chief  woman !  you  are  the  thickest 
here. 
Prin.  What's  your  will,  sir?  what's  your  will  ? 
Cost,  I  have  a  letter  from  monsieur  Biron,  to  one 

ladv  Rosaline. 
Prin,  O,  thy  letter,  thy  letter ;  he's  a  good  friend 
of  mine : 
Stand  aside,  good  bearer. — Boyet,  you  can  carve ; 
Break  up  this  capon.3 

Boyet.  I  am  bound  to  serve.— 

This  letter  is  mistook,  it  iroporteth  none  here ; 
It  is  vrrit  to  Jaquenetta. 

Prin.  We  will  read  it,  I  swear : 

Break  the  neck  of  the  wax,  and  every  one  give  ear. 
Boyet.  [Reads.]  By  heaven,  that  thou  art  fair, 
is  most  irUallibU;  true^  thai  thou  art  bemtteous  ; 
truth  itself,  that  thou  art  lovely :  More  fairer  than 
fairy  beautiful  than  beauteous,-  truer  than  truth 
itself,  have  commiseration  on  thy  heroical  vassal! 
The  magnanimous  and  most  iUustrat^  king  Co- 
phetua  set  eye  upon  the  pernicious  and  indtUfitate 
ofgzar  Zenelophon;  and  he  it  vfos  that  might 
rightly  say,  veni,  vidi,  vici ;  which  to  anatomize  in 
the  vulgar  (O  base  and  obscure  vulgar  !)  videlicet, 
he  came,  saw,  and  overcame :  he  came,  one ;  saw, 
two,'  overcame,  three.  JVho  came?  the  king f 
Why  didhe  come?  to  see;  Why  did  he  see?  to 
overcome:  To  whom  came  he?  to  the  beggar; 
What  saw  he?  the  beggar ;  Who  overcame  he? 
the  beggar :  The  conclusion  is  victory  ;  On  whoM 
side?  the  king's:  the  captive  is  enriclCd;  On  whose 
side  ?  the  beggar's ;  The  catastrophe  is  a  nuptial ; 
On  whose  side  ?  the  king's— no,  on  both  in  one,  or 
one  in  both,  lam  the  king;  for  so  stands  the 
comparison:  thou  (he  beggar ,- for  so  witnesseth 
thy  lowliness.  Shall  I  command  thy  love?  I  may : 
Shall  I  enforce  thy  love  ?  I  could :  Shall  I  entreat 
thy  love  ?  I  will.  What  shalt  thou  exchange  for 
rags?  robes  f  Fbr  tittles,  titles:  For  thyself,  me. 
Thus,  expecting  thy  rqtly,  I  profane  my  lips  on 
thy  foot,  my  eyes  on  thy  picture,  and  my  heart 
on  thy  every  part. 

Thine,  in  the  dearest  design  of  industry. 
Don  Adriano  de  Armado. 
Tlins  dost  thou  hear  the  Nemean  lion  roar 

*Gainst  thee,  thou  lamb,  that  standcst  as  his  prey ; 
Submissive  fall  his  princely  feet  before. 

And  he  from  forage  will  incline  to  play : 
But  if  thou  strive,  poor  soul,  what  art  thou  then  ? 
Food  for  his  rage,  repasture  for  his  den. 
Prm,  What  plume  of  feathers  is  he,  that  indited 
this  letter? 
What  vane  ?  what  weathercock  ?  did  you  ever  hear 
better? 
Boyet  I  am  much  deceived,  but  I  remember 

the  style. 
Prin.  Else  your  memoiy  is  bad,  going  o*ef  it 
erewnile.4 

(4)Jiiflt 


168 


LOXT'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


^d  TV. 


Boyei.  This  Amrrado  is  a  Spaniard,  that  keeps 
here  in  court ; 
A  phantasm,  a  Mooarcho,  and  one  that  makes  sport 
To  the  prince,  and  his  boc^-mates. 

Prin.  Thou,  fellow,  a  word : 

Who  gave  thee  this  letter? 

Cost.  I  told  you ;  my  lord. 

Prin.  To  whom  should V  thou  give  it  ? 

Cast.  From  ray  lord  to  mj  ladjr. 

Prin.  From  which  lord,  to  which  lady  i 

Cost.  From  my  lord  Biron,  a  good  master  of  mine, 
To  a  lady  of  France,  that  he  call'd  Rosaline. 

Prin.  Thou  hast  mistaken  his  letter.    Come, 
lords,  away. 
Here,  sweet,  put  up  tois ;  *twill  be  thine  another  day. 

[Exit  Princess  and  Train. 

BcytL  Who  is  the  suitor.^  who  is  the  suitor? 

Ro$.  Shall  I  teach  you  to  know  } 

Boyei.  Ay,  my  continent  of  beauty. 

Ros.  Why,  she  that  bears  the  bow. 

Finely  put  off! 

Boyet.  My  lady  goes  to  kill  horns ;  but,  if  thou 
marry, 
Hanf  me  by  the  neck,  if  boms  that  year  miscarry. 
Finely  put  cxi  I 

Ras.  Well  then,  I  am  the  shooter. 

Boyei.  And  who  is  your  deer  ? 

Rot.  If  we  choose  by  the  horns,  yourself:  come 
near. 
Finely  put  on,  indeed  ! — 

Mar.  You  still  wranele  with  her,  Boyet,  and 
she  strikes  at  the  brow. 

Boyet  But  she  herself  is  hit  lower :  Hare  I  hit 
her  now? 

Rot.  Shall  I  come  upon  thee  with  an  old  say- 
ng,  tiiat  was  a  man  wnen  king  Pepin  of  France 
was  a  little  boy,  as  touching  the  hit  it  ? 

Boyet.  So  I  may  answer  thee  with  one  as  old, 
that  was  a  woman  when  queen  Guinever  of  Britain 
was  a  Uttle  wench,  as  touching  the  hit  it 

Ros.  Thou  canst  not  hit  itf  hit  itf  hit  it.  [Singing. 

Hum  canst  not  hit  tf,  my  good  man. 
Boyet  An  I  cannot^  amnot,  cannot, 
An  I  cannotf  another  can. 

[Exeunt  Ros.  and  Kath. 

Cost.  By  my  troth,  most  pleasant !  how  both  did 

fit  it  I 
Mar.  A  mark  marvellous  well  shot;  for  they 

both  did  hit  it 
Boyet.  A  mark!  O,  mark  but  that  mark;  A 

mark,  says  my  lady ! 
Let  the  mark  have  a  prick  in*t,  to  mete  at,  if  it 

may  be. 
Mar.  Wi^e  o'  the  bow  hand !  Pfaitfa,  your  hand 

is  out. 
CotL  Indeed,  a*  must  shoot  nearer,  or  heMl  ne'er 

hit  the  clout 
Boyet.  An  if  my  hand  be  out,  then,  belike  your 

hand  is  in. 
Cost.  Then  will  she  get  the  upshot  by  cleaving 

the  pin. 
Mar.  Come,  come,  you  talk  greasily,  your  lips 

pITow  foul. 
Cost.  She*s  too  hard  for  you  at  pricks,  sir ;  chal- 
lenge her  to  bowl. 
Boyet  I  fear  too  much  rubbing ;  Good  ni^ht,  my 

good  owl.      [ExeuntBoyet  and  Maria. 

Cost.  By  my  soul,  a  swain !  a  roost  simple  clown ! 

Lord,  lord!  how  the  ladies  and  I  have  put  nim  down! 

O*  my  troth,  most  sweet  jests !  moat  ucony  vulgar 

wit! 

(1)  A  species  of  apple.       (2)  A  low  fellow. 


When  it  comes  so  smoothly  off,  so  obscenely,  as  it 

were,  so  fit 
Armatho  o*  the  one  side, — O,  a  most  dain^  man ! 
To  see  him  walk  before  a  lady,  and  to  bear  ner  fan ! 
To  see  him  kiss  his  hand !  and  how  most  sweetly 

a'  will  swear ! — 
And  his  page  o*  t'other  side,  that  handful  of  wit! 
Ah,  heavens,  it  is  a  most  pathetical  nit ! 
Sola,  sola!  [Shouting vnthin. 

[£x»/  Costard,  running. 

SC£JV£  II.— The  tame.    Enter  Htdofemes,  Sir 
Nathaniel,  and  Dull. 

JVa<A.  Very  reverent  sport,  truly ;  and  done  in 
the  testimony  of  a  good  conscience. 

Hot  The  deer  was,  as  you  know,  in  sas^uit, — 
blood ;  ripe  as  a  pomewater,'  who  now  hangeth 
like  a  jewel  in  the  ear  of  ccelo^ — the  sky,  the  wel- 
kin, the  heaven ;  and  anon  falleth  like  a  crab,  on 
the  face  of  terra^ — the  soil,  the  land,  the  earth. 

^ath.  Truly,  master  Holofemes,  the  epithets 
are  sweetly  varied,  like  a  scholar  at  the  least: 
But,  sir,  I  assure  ye,  it  was  a  buck  of  the  first  head. 

Hoi.  Sir  Nathaniel,  haud  credo, 

DulL  *Twas  not  a  haud  credo,  'twas  a  pricket 

HoL  Most  barbarous  intimation !  yet  a  Kind  of 
insinuation,  as  it  were,  in  via,  in  way,  of  explica- 
tion ;  Jacere,  as  it  were,  replication,  or,  rather,  of- 
tentare,  to  show,  as  it  were,  nis  inclination,— eAer  his 
undressed,  unpolished,  uneducated,  unpruned,  un- 
trained, or  rauier  unlettered,  or  ratherest,  uncon- 
firmed fashion — to  insert  again  my  haud  credo  for 
a  deer. 

DulL  I  said,  the  deer  was  not  a  haud  credo; 
'twas  a  pricket 

Hoi.  Twice  sod  simplicity,  his  cottut! — O  Aoa 
monster  igriorance,  how  deformed  dost  thou  look ! 

J^ath.  Sir,  he  hath  never  fed  of  the  dainties  tf»t 
are  bred  in  a  book ;  he  hath  not  eat  peper  as  it 
were  ;  he  hath  not  drunk  ink  :  his  intellect  ia  not 
replenished ;  he  is  only  an  animal,  only  aouible 
in  the  duller  parts ; 
And  such  barren  plants  are  set  before  us,  that  we 

thankful  should  be 
(Which  we  of  taste  and  feeling  are)  for  those  parti 

that  do  fructify  in  us  more  than  he. 
For  as  it  would  ill  beccune  me  to  be  vain,  indiscreet, 

or  a  fool. 
So,  were  there  a  patclP  bet  on  learning,  to  see  him 

in  a  school : 
But,  cmne  bene,  say  I ;  being  of  an  old  father's  miod. 
Many  can  brock  the  weather^  that  love  not  the 
vnnd. 

Dull.  You  two  are  book-men :  Can  you  tell  by 
your  wit. 
What  was  a  montfi  old  at  Cain's  birth,  that's  not 
five  weeks  old  as  yet  ? 

Hoi  Dictynna,  good  man  Dull ;  DictynDa,  good 
man  Dull. 

Dull.  What  is  Dictynna  ? 

JVaih.  A  title  to  Phoebe,  to  Luna,  to  the  moon. 

Hoi.  The  mooa  was  a  month  old,  when  Acfaun 
was  no  more ; 
And  raughti  not  to  five  weeks,  when  he  came  to 

fivescore. 
The  allusion  holds  in  the  evcYumee. 

Dull.  'Tis  true  indeed ;  the  a>lIusiGn  holds  in  the 
exchange. 

Hoi.  God  comfort  thy  capacity !  I  say,  the  allu- 
sion holds  in  the  exchange. 

DuU.  And  I  say  the  pollution  holds  in  the  ex- 
change ;  for  the  moon  is  never  but  a  mooth  old . 

(3)  Reached. 


n. 


LOVFS  LABOUR'S  LOST 


169 


tod  I  MIT  bMicle,tlMt  *twms  a  pricket  that  the  prin- 


killVL 

HoL  Sir  Nathaniel,  will  yoa  hear  an  extemporal 
epitaph  OQ  the  death  of  the  deer  ?  and,  to  humour 
the  ienonuit,  I  have  call'd  the  deer  the  priiiceits 
kilPc^  a  pricket 

Nath.  Ptrgtf  good  master  Holofeme8,p«y^e;  bo 
it  thall  please  you  to  abrogate  scurrility. 

HoL  I  will  something  affect  the  letter;  for  it 
ames  &cility. 

T%tpraia^fvi  princess  pierc'd  andprick'd  a  prdiy 
pleasing  pricket ; 

Some  say  J  a  sore  ;  imt  not  a  sore,  till  now  made 
sore  with  shooting. 
T%e  dags  did  yell ;  nut  L  to  sore^  then  sorel  jumps 
from  thicket; 

Orpricketf  sore,  or  eUe  sorel;  the  people  fail  a 
hooting. 
^  sore  be  sore,  then  L  to  sore  makes  ffty  sores;  O 

sore  L! 
Qf  one  sore  I  a  hundred  make^  by  adding  but 
one  more  L. 

JVoM.  A  rare  talent ! 

DulL  If  a  talent  be  a  claw,  look  how  he  claws 
hun  with  a  talent 

HoL  This  is  a  gift  that  I  have,  simple,  simple ; 
a  foolish  extravagant  spirit,  full  of  forms,  fi^cures, 
shapes,  objects,  ideas,  apprehensions,  motiorn, 
levohitions :  these  are  begot  in  the  ventricle  of 
memory,  nourished  in  the  womb  of  pia  mater;  and 
deSiverd  upon  the  mellowing  of  occasion :  But  the 
cift  is  rood  in  those  in  whom  it  is  acute,  and  I  am 
mankral  for  it 

JVW4.  Sir,  I  praise  the  Lord  for  you ;  and  so 
nay  my  parishioners ;  for  their  sons  are  well  tutor'd 
by  yon,  and  their  dai^ters  profit  very  greatly  un- 
<ier  you  :  yoa  are  a  good  member  of  the  conrunon- 
wealth. 

Hoi.  Meherde^  if  their  sons  be  ine[eniou»,  they 
riiall  want  no  instruction :  if  their  daughters  be 
capable,  I  will  put  it  to  them :  But,  vir  sapity  qui 
ftmca  l^uitur:  a  soul  feminine  saluteth  us. 

E^nier  Jaqu^ietta  and  Costard. 
Jaq.  God  give  you  good  morrow,  master  person. 
HoL  Master  parson, — qtuisi  pers-on.  And  if  one 
sdiould  be  Dierced,  which  is  the  one  ? 

Cosl.  Marry,  master  schoolmaster,  he  that  is 
likest  to  a  hogshead. 

HoL  Of  piercinE  a  hogshead  !  a  good  lustre  of 
iceit  in  a  turf  of  earth ;  fire  enough  for  a  flint, 
irl  enough  for  a  swine :  *tis  pretty ;  it  iii  well. 
Jmq.  Good  master  person,  be  so  good  as  read  me 
letter;  it  was  given  roe  by  Costard,  ancT  sent 
from  Don  Amiatho :  I  beseech  you,  read  it. 
Hd.  fhustej  precor  gelidd  quando  pecus  omne 

tub  umbrfi. 
bamiia^— and  so  forth.    Ah,  food  old  Mantuan  ! 
may  sp^  of  thee  as  the  traveller  doth  of  Venice : 

Finegia^  Vinegia^ 

Chi  nan  te  vede^  ei  non  tepregia, 

Mantuan !  old  Mantuan !  Who  understandeth 
not,  loves  thee  not. — C/lf,  re,  sol^  la,  mi^fa. — 
^•-^ader  pardon,  sir,  what  are  the  contents .'  or,  rather, 
^a«  Horace  says  in  his — What,  my  soul,  verses  } 
Jfeth.  Ay,  Mr,  and  very  learned. 
HoL  Let  roe  hear  a  staff,  a  stanza,  a  verse;  Lege, 


Jfeth.  If  kwe  make  me  forsworn,  bow  shall  I 

swear  to  love.' 
Ah,  never  fcith  could  hold,  if  not  to  beauty 

vowed! 

(1)  Hone  adoned  with  ribbands. 


Though  to  myself  foivwoni,  to  diee  1*11  fitith/ul 
j>rove ; 

Those  thoughts  to  me  were  oaks,  to  thee  like 
osiers  bowed. 
Study  his  bias  leaves,  and  makes  his  book  thine 
eyes  ; 

Where  all  those  pleasures  live,  that  art  would 
comprehend : 
If  knowledge  be  the  mark,  to  know  thee  shall  suf- 
fice; 

Well  learned  is  that  tongue,  that  well  can  thoe 
commend: 
All  ignorant  that  soul,  that  sees  thee  without  wonder; 

(Which  is  to  me  some  praise,  that  I  thy  parts 
admire ;) 
Thy  eye  Jove^s  lightning  bears,  thy  voice  his 
dreadful  thunder, 

Wliich,  not  to  anger  bent,  is  music,  and  sweet  fire. 
Celestial,  as  thou  art,  oh  pardon,  love,  this  wrong, 
That  sings  heaven's  praise  with  such  an  earthfv 
tongue ! 

HoL  You  find  not  the  apostrophes,  and  so  miss 
the  accent :  let  me  super\'i:$e  the  canzonet  Here 
are  only  numbers  mtined ;  but,  for  the  elegance , 
facility,  and  golden  cadence  of  poesy,  caret.  Ovj- 
dius  Kaso  was  the  man  :  and  why,  indeed,  Naso; 
but  for  smelling  out  the  odoriferous  flowers  of  fancy, 
the  jerks  of  invention  f  Imitari,  is  nothing :  so  doth 
the  hound  his  master,  the  ape  his  keeper,  the  tired 
horse^  his  rider. — But  damosella  virgin,  was  this 
directed  to  you  f 

Jaq.  Ay,  sir,  from  one  monsieur  Biron,  one  of 
the  strai^  queen's  lords. 

HoL  f  will  ovei^lance  the  superscript.  7b  the 
snow-white  hand  of  the  most  beauteous  ijody  Rosa- 
line.  I  will  look  again  on  the  intellect  of  the  letter, 
for  the  nominatkm  of  the  party  writing  to  the  person 
written  unto . 

Your  ladyship''s  in  all  desired  employment, 

BiRON. 
Sir  Nathaniel,  this  Biron  is  one  of  the  votaries  with 
the  king ;  and  here  he  hath  framed  a  letter  to  a  se- 
quent of  the  stranger  queen's,  which,  accidentally, 
or  by  the  way  of  progression,  hath  miscarried. — 
Trip  and  go,  my  sweet ;  deliver  this  paper  into  the 
royal  hand  of  the  king ;  it  may  concern  much :  Stay 
not  thy  compliment ;  1  forgive  thy  duty ;  adieu ! 

Jao.  Good  Costard,  go  with  me. — Sir,  God  save 
your  life ! 

Cost.  Have  with  thee,  my  girl. 

[Exeunt  Cost  and  Jau. 

JVa^A.  Sir,  you  have  done  this  in  the  fear  of  Cca, 
verv  religiously ;  and,  as  a  certain  father  saitlt 

tfoL  Sir,  tell  not  me  of  the  father,  I  do  fear 
colourable  colours.  But,  to  return  to  the  verhes ; 
Did  they  please  you,  sir  Nathaniel  ? 

JSTath.   Marvellous  well  for  the  pen. 

HoL  I  do  dine  to-day  at  the  father's  of  a  certain 
pupil  of  mine ;  where  if,  before  repast,  it  shall 
please  you  to  gratify  the  table  with  a  grace,  I  will, 
on  my  privilege  I  have  with  the  parents  of  the  fore- 
said child  or  pupil,  undertake  your  ben  venuto ; 
where  I  will  prove  those  verses  to  be  ven*  unlearn- 
ed, neither  savouring  of  poetry,  wit,  nor  invention  : 
I  beseech  your  society. 

J^aih.  And  thank  you  too :  for  society  (saith  the 
text)  is  the  happiness  of  life. 

Hid.  And,  certes,^  the  text  nooet  infalUbly  con- 
cludes it — Sir,  [  To  Dull.]  I  do  invite  you  too ;  you 
shall  not  say  me,  nay :  pauca  verba.  Awftty ;  tlie 
gentles  are  at  their  game,  and  we  will  to  our  re- 
creatkxL  [ExetmL 

(2)  In  truth. 


i 


LOVE'S  LACOUR'S  LOST. 


SCEJfE  m.—AnoOtrfoHiifthita 


s  king  be  a  hoi  .  ^  _. . 
rlf:  3icy  b»c  pitch'd 
tailiw  in  •  pitch ;  pitch  thai  ikeiUa ;  del^Lei  b  tbu 
WDcd  Well,  K(  am  Sawn,  aontiw  !  Tor  id,  the 
«,  (he  Ibol  nid,  and  u  lajr  1,  lad  I  Ibc  fool 
Well  prored,  wil '.  B7  Ihe  lord,  Ifaii  lore  ii  m  nu 
H  Aju^  il  kilU  riwcp;  il  kilU  me,  I  a  dwfp 
Well  prcpred  a^;ain  oa  m^  tide!  1  trill  not  love 
I  do,  bins  me ;  rfuth,  I  irill  not.  O,  bulhereje 
bythU  lighljbql  forherije,!  would  not  lo"!  he 
jei,  for  her  two  evei.  Well,  I  do  nolhlif  a  tli 
world  but  lie,  end  lie  in  mj  IfaneL  Bj  beeren, 
do  love :  and  it  hiih  liu^I  me  to  ihjme,  and 
bfl  melanchoir  ;  and  ber«  u  part  of  mr  thi  nw,  an 
ben  mj  melancholv.  Well,  >be  hilh  one  o  ir 
annetl  alrculr ;  (hecbwo  hen  il,  the  fool  tail 
and  the  lady  nath  it :  nveet  clown,  iweeler  kn 
iweeten  Imdj  '.  By  Ihe  world,  I  would  not  can  a 
pin  if  the  ndter  ihife  wen  in :  Here  conei  00 
with  a  paper ;  God  gire  him  ermce  (0  gnjon 

[CebupMfDiitrcr 
EiiliratEioe.mthafaptr.  , 

Kag.  Ah  IM ! 

BilOL  N^tidc.]  Shot,  bj  hearen !— Proceerl. 
fweet  Cnpid;  thou  baM  Ihnmp'd  him  with  dki- 
binl-bolt  tuder  the  leA  pap :— iVailh  aecitlt.—  ' 

JEdV"  (Rsdi-I  Sa  mwl  atutH^ffiUnann 

Ufm  OnrBH, 

havetmoJi 

hal/nbrirlu 


CitCe-  ,Th  v:  nnnbcn  win  I  tear,  lad  write  ta  pnm, 

I     L  n     [Attdi.]  0,  ifajDMi  an  gnaida  on  wanm 

"  y     ir  TW  Bme  didl  go.— 


llufunaifyrluionc  of  Aiiury* 
vlitliantlumirUBnmBHoUmrpmaiJ 
my  hmrl  to  Ouijaltifajitry  7 
forihu  Woke,  datTTt  noi  yi—'-' 


ng  a  rHUeu,  /j 


To  OumfrtA  morning  iroft  ufm 
II  On  (M-MHIU,  uAoi  ttiirfTah  rmi 


n<  nvU  o/'ilae  (hil  on  iiy  etett  Jmni jfna 
Jifyr  tUna&lritttr  moon  one  kalfnhrigfU 

Tlmuf*  iht  bwufoml  batam  ^Ouiitm, 
MioA&v/iuethrmgkUartB/mBtigmbtM 

Ttw  awiV  Dt  (Mnr  (>Br  OuU  lie  uhji.' 
Jfoint  hutliaa  toach  doth  carry  tta, 

So  rwbri  (Aau  Infusing  to  irw  wo  ; 
DabulbduiUaeleBrtaalnoeUnime, 

JlndAeyth/ glory  Ihraigh  Oa/ grief  mil  Aoic 
AddbnodoiKUyKl/','  lIunlKouiimkap 
My  Uarijbr  giauet,  and  iltlt  make  mt  w«p. 
Ooiuen  cf  ifuttni,  hou/ar  ioti  l/um  extel! 
fri/lhotirliteanakink,nor  longtuij/'morlal  UL~ 
How  dull  ibe  know  mjgnefir  I'll  drop  the  papei 
Sweet  learei,  ihade  folly.  Who  i>  be  com«  hen- 

sutler  Lcx^Tille,  toiAapaper. 
What,  Lotnritle '.  and  reading  I  littco,  r» 


King.  In  love,  I  hope ; 


|j'ji£ 


IJIiiit, 
A  fellowship  >i 
[Jliid, 


Biran.  One  drunkaid  loii*  aoodier  of  the 

[Jliid. 

Jjmg.  Am  I  Ihe  tnt  that  hare  been  pcrjur'd  xi 

^rrti.  [Aeide-]  Icouldpnl  tbeeinconibrl;  no 

by  two,  that  I  know : 

Tboa  inak'tl  the  triumtir;,  the  ooniei-cap  of  lu 

Tb«  ihspa  of  kite'a  Tybum  that  bang*  up  nii 
plicitjr. 


ir  theie  itubboni  km  lack  power 


■  AHKHivbM; 

ce  being  gian'd,atrtt  all  £igTmt*mmt 

-t  ml  brnth,  and brtmOiaw^oior  m ! 
lkoH,/inr  nm,  laUcA  on  09  (oHA  AA 

Au  'oapdorvcm;  tKlkeaUtM: 
'.  Jaa  Oai,  Hit  no  faun  ^wmm; 
1/     ymi  broke,  JVIuUfool  is  not  M  wm, 
-    oitoKKiUitoaiiiafaTaditel 
L  itH     [Anit.]   Thig  ii  the  Lira  Tctn,  wbidk 

raakea  aeih  a  deltj  : 
Errwn  pnae  a  roddea :  pan,  pan  idotatij. 
lid  ani«d  lit,  GtA  acDma  !  we  are  mocfa  out  tl 
tbewaj. 

Enter  Dumam,  miOi  apftr. 
Long.  Bjwbcni  Aall  I  atod  tfas  >— Caapan ! 

Biron   [JriJt.]  AU  hid,  all  iJ^j^Sf  mhM 

pla;: 
ike  a  demi-Eod  ben  nl  I  in  the  drr, 
nd  wrtlchcd  faoli'  aecreti  heedfiillT  oW-^o. 

It'n  >.ri<:ki  to  the  mill!  O  beareii*,!  tan  my  wM  t 


[A. 


rtum.  Om 

Eirif'^  O  meal  pro&ne  coico 
Z'lrm.  By  beaven,  the  wonder  of 
Biron.  By  earth,  «be  it  but  coipc 

Dtim.   Her  amber  bain  Its  Ibnl  hara 

BiroK.  An  amber^^otir'd  rateo ' 
DvTji  Ai  upright  ai  the  cetlar. 

Biro<i.  Ay,  a 


Stan,  liar; 

liitd.  [AiUi. 

dayi ;  but  then  no  ion  mat 
[Jbik. 


D'm.  OtbalIhidni7w{ 

Ijmt-  And  I  had  mine  >     [AtUk. 

King.  And  I  mine  too,  good  Lori!         [^liA. 


Biro*,  a' fever  id  yoar  Mood,  irhj,  tbca  iad 
roiilit  let  her  out  in  (aucen ;  Sweet  minriiiaa ! 
Ihim.  Once  more  Pll  read  tbe  oife  that  1  hat* 


,.  Onadiiv  (aladtthedeyl) 

Love,  totiose  month  u  ever  May^ 
Spird  a  bioatom,  patging  Jatr, 
Flayiitg  in  the  malon  wV .- 


IIL 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


m 


Air^  qnoCfa  he,  thy  eheekt  may  blow; 
Air,  would  I  might  trhtmpk  to! 
But  0lmek,  mM  hmnd  u  noom, 
M^er  to  ptuac  thee  from  thy  thorn: 
Vow,  mlaac,  for  yowth  unmeet; 
Youth  to  aft  to  pluck  a  tweeL 
Do  not  callU  tin  in  me. 
Thai  I om  fortwom  for  thee: 
Thou  for  whom  even  Jove  would  moear, 
Juno  but  an  Ethiop  were  ; 
And  deny  himaelfYor  Jove, 
Turning  mortal  for  thy  love. — 
This  will  I  send ;  and  tomethiiir  else  more  plain, 
That  shall  expreis  my  true  lovers  fasting  pain. 
0,  would  the  idnr,  Biron,  and  LaneaviUe, 
Were  lovers  too !  Ill,  to  example  yl, 
Wo«ld  fiom  mv  finehead  wipe  a  periur'd  note ; 
For  oone  offeno,  where  all  auke  do  dote. 
Long.  Dnmain  [adoandng.]  thy  love  is  fiu*  bom 
charity, 
l^at  ID  love's  gnef  desir'st  society : 
Yoa  maj  look  pale,  but  I  should  blush,  I  know, 
To  be  orerfaeard,  and  taken  napping  so. 
King.  Cone,  sir,  [adoandng.]  you  blush ;  as 
his  your  case  is  such ; 
You  dude  at  nan,  offending  twice  as  much : 
Tou  do  not  lore  Maria ;  Longaville 
Did  never  sonnet  for  her  sake  compile ; 
Nor  never  lay  his  wreathed  arms  athwart 
His  Vwii^  bosom,  to  keep  down  his  heart 
I  have  bm  doaely  shrouded  in  this  bush, 
And  msurk'd  yon  boUi,  and  for  you  both  did  blush. 
I  heard  Tomr  guilty  rhymes,  observ'd  your  £uhioo ; 
Saw  sins  reek  froniTOu,  noted  well  your  passion : 
Ah  me!  aaysane;  OJove.'  the  other  cries ; 
Ooa,  her  hairs  were  gold,  crystal  the  other's  eyes : 
Tou  would  for  paraifise  hnsak  foith  and  troth ; 

[7V»Long. 
•And  Jove,  for  your  love,  would  infringe  an  oath. 

[To  Dumaiu. 
IVhat  will  Biron  say,  when  that  he  shall  hear 
JL  foidi  infiing'd,  which  such  a  seal  did  swear  f 
How  will  he  scorn  f  how  will  he  spend  his  wit  f 
How  win  he  triumph,  leap,  and  laug^  at  it  ? 
Tor  all  the  wealth  that  ever  I  did  see, 
M.  would  not  have  him  know  so  much  by  me. 

Biron,  Now  step  I  forth  to  whip  hypocrisy. — 
-Ah,  good  my  liege,  I  pray  thee  pardon  me : 

[Deteende  from  the  tree. 
JGood  heart,  what  grace  bsst  thou,  thus  to  reprove 
^tieae  woods  for  bviog,  that  art  most  in  love  ? 
^^owr  ^«i  do  make  no  coaches;  in  your  tears, 
"There  m  do  certain  princess  that  appears : 
J2]oa*ll  not  be  perjur'd,  'tis  a  hateful  thing ; 
T^'uflh,  Dooe  but  minstrels  like  of  sonnetting. 
•fcsot  art  yon  not  asham'd  f  nay,  are  you  not, 
-^f^U  diree  of  jou,  to  be  thus  much  o'ershot? 
^^Tou  faond  his  mote ;  the  king  your  mote  did  see ; 
Ittt  I  a  beam  do  find  in  each  of  three. 
I,  fri»t  a  scene  of  focrfery  I  have  seen, 
sighs,  of  groans,  of  sorrow,  and  of  teen  .'< 
■e,  with  wnat  strict  patience  have  I  sat, 
\>  see  a  kii^  transformed  to  a  gnat ! 
V>  see  great  Hercules  whipping  a  gigg, 
'^Wjid  mofound  Solomon  to  tune  a  jigg, 
SLmd  rfestor  play  at  push-pin  with  iSr  boys, 
.AmA  criti<^  Timon  laugh  at  idle  toys .' 
VITbere  lies  thy  grief^  O  tell  me,  good  Dumain  ? 
^nd,  gentle  Longaville,  where  lies  thy  pain  ? 
And  where  my  hege's  ?  all  about  the  breast : — 
\ctiidle,ho.'^ 
Bag.  Too  hitler  is  thy  jest 

0)  GiieC    (S)  Cyme    (3)  In  trimming  mysel£ 


Are  we  betray'd  thus  to  thr  over>view  t 

Biron.  Not  you  by  me,  but  I  betray'd  to  you 
I,  that  am  honest;  I,  that  hold  it  sin 
To  break  the  vow  I  am  engaged  in; 
I  am  betrayed,  by  keeping  company 
With  moon-like  men,  of  strange  inconstancy. 
When  shall  you  see  me  write  a  ^tuog  in  rhyme  f 
Or  groan  for  Joan  ?  or  spood  a  minute's  time 
In  pruning*  me  ?  When  shall  you  hear  that  I 
Will  praise  a  hand,  a  foot,  a  face,  an  eve, 
A  eait,  a  state,  a  brow,  a  breast,  a  waist, 
A  les^,  a  limb.^ — 

Kmg.  Soft ;  Whither  away  so  fost  f 

A  true  man,  or  a  thief^  that  gallops  so  r 
^tron.  I  post  from  love ;  good  lover,  let  me  ga 

Enter  Jaquenetta  and  Costard. 

Jag.  God  bless  the  king ! 
King.  What  present  hast  thou  there? 

Cost  Some  certain  treason. 
King.  What  makes  treason  here  ? 

Coat  Nay,  it  makes  nothing,  sir. 
King.  If  it  mar  nothing  neither, 

The  treason,  and  you,  go  in  peace  away  together. 
Jaq.  I  beaeech  your  pace,  let  this  letter  be  read ; 
Ourparson misdoubts  it ;  'twas  treason,  he  said. 

Jung.  Biron,  read  it  over.  [Giving  hin  the  letter. 
Where  hadst  thou  it? 
Jaq.  Of  Costard. 
Kmg.  Where  hadst  thou  it? 
Cost.  Of  Dun  Adramadio,  Dun  Adramadia 
King.  How  now!  what  is  in  you?  why  dost 

thou  tear  it? 
Biron.  A  toy,  my  liege,  a  toy;  your  grace  needs 

not  fear  it 
Long.  It  did  move  him  to  passkjo,  and  therefore 

let's  hear  it 
DuHU  It  is  Biron's  writing,  and  here  is  his  name. 

[Picki  up  thepiecet. 
Biron.  Ah,  you  whoreson  bggeihead  [To  Cos- 
tard.] you  were  bom  to  do  me  shame. — 
Guilty,  my  lord,  guilty ;  I  confess,  I  confess. 
Kmg.  What? 

Biron.  That  you  three  fools  lack'd  me  fool  tc 
make  up  the  mess : 
He,  he,  and  you,  my  liege,  and  I, 
Are  pick-purses  in  (ove,  and  we  deserve  to  die. 
O,  dismiss  this  audience,  and  I  shall  tell  you  more. 
Dum.  Now  the  number  is  even. 
Biron.  True, true ;  we  are  four: — 

Will  these  turtles  be  gone  ? 
King.  Hence, sirs;  away. 

Cott  Walk  aside  the  trae  folk,  and  let  the  trai- 
tors  stay.  [Exeunt  Cost  and  Jaq. 

Biron.  Sweet  l(»ds,  sweet  lovers,  O  let  us  em- 
brace! 
As  true  we  are,  as  flesh  and  blood  can  be : 
The  sea  will  ebb  and  flow,  heaven  diow  his  fiice ; 

Young  blood  will  not  obey  an  old  decree : 
We  cannot  cross  the  cause  why  we  were  born ; 
Therefore,  of  all  hands  must  we  be  forsworn. 
King.  What,  did  these  rent  lines  show  some 

love  of  thine  ? 
Biron.  Did  they,  quoth  you  ?  Who  sees  the 
heavenly  Rosaline, 
That,  like  a  rude  and  savage  man  of  Inde, 

At  the  first  opening  of  the  gorgeous  east. 
Bows  not  his  vassal  head ;  and,  strucken  blind, 

Kisses  the  base  ground  with  obedient  breast  ? 
What  peremptory  eagle-sighted  e^'e 

Dares  look  upon  the  Maven  of  her  brow. 
That  is  not  blinded  by  her  majesty  ? 
King.  What  zeal,  what  fuxy  hath  inspir'd  thee 
now? 


i74 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


Act  IT 


Mj  loire,  her  miatresa,  is  a  gncious  moon ; 

She,  an  attendii^  star,  scarce  seen  a  Ikht 
Biron.  ^hr  eres  are  then  no  eres,  nor  1  bir6u : 
O,  but  tor  my  Ime,  dav  would  turn  to  night ! 
Of  all  complexions  the  cuU'd  sorereigntf 

Do  meet,  as  at  a  fair,  in  her  &ir  cheek ; 
Where  sereral  worthies  make  one  dignity ; 

Where  nothing  wants,  that  want  itself  doth 
seek. 
Lend  me  the  flourish  of  all  gentle  toi^^aes, — 

Fie,  painted  rhetoric  !  O,  she  ne^ds  it  not  : 
To  things  of  sale  a  seller's  praise  belongs ; 

She  passes  praise ;  then  praise  too  short  doth 
blot. 
A  wither'd  hermit,  Bre-score  winters  worn. 

Might  shake  off  fifty,  looking  in  her  eye  : 
Beauty  doth  varnish  age,  as  if  new-bom, 

And  gives  the  crutch  the  cradle's  infancy. 
O,  'tis  the  sun,  that  maketh  all  things  shine  ! 
King.  By  heaven,  thv  love  is  black  as  ebony. 
Biron,  Is  ebony  like  her  ?  O  wood  dinne  I 
A  wife  of  such  wood  were  felicity. 
O,  who  can  give  an  oath  f  where  is  a  book .' 

That  1  may  swear,  beauty  doth  beauty  lack, 
If  that  she  learn  not  of  her  eye  to  look  : 
No  face  is  fair,  that  is  not  full  so  black. 
King.  O  paradox  !  Black  is  the  badge  of  hell, 
The  hue  of  dungeons,  and  the  scowl  of  night ; 
And  beauty':»  crest  becomes  the  heavens  well. 
Biron,  Devils  soonest  tempt,  resembling  spirits 
of  Ught 
O,  if  in  black  my  lady's  brows  be  dcckt. 

It  mourns,  that  painting,  and  usurpii^  hair. 
Should  ravish  doters  with  a  felse  aspect ; 

And  therefore  is  she  bom  to  make  black  fair. 
Her  favour  turns  the  fashion  of  the  da^s ; 

For  native  blood  is  counted  painting  now  ; 
And  therefore  red,  that  would  avoid  dispraise, 
Paints  itself  black,  to  imitate  her  brow. 
Dum,  To  look  like  her,  are  chimney-sweepers 

black. 
tAnng.  And,  since  her  time,  are  colliers  countfKl 

bright 
King.  And  Ethiops  of  their  sweet  complexion 

crack. 
Dum.  Dark  needs  no  candles  now,  for  dark  i« 

light. 
Biron.  Your  mistresses  dare  never  come  in  rain, 
For  fear  their  colours  should  be  wash'd  away. 
King.  'Twere  good,  yours  did ;  for,  sir,  to  tell 
you  plain, 
ril  fiind  a  fairer  face  not  wash'd  to-day. 
Biron.  I'll  prove  her  fair,  or  talk  till  dooms-day 

here. 
King.  No  devil  will  fright  thee  then  so  much  as 

she. 
Dtan,  I  never  knew  man  hold  vile  stuff  so  dr^ar. 
l/mg.  Look,  here's  thy  love  :  my  foot  and  her 
face  see.  [Showing  his  shoe. 

Biron.  O,  if  the  streets  were  paved  with  thine 
eyes, 
Her  feet  were  much  too  dainty  for  such  tread  ! 
Dum.  O  vile !  then  as  she  goes,  what  upward 
lies 
The  street  should  see  as  she  walk'd  aver 
head. 
King.  But  what  of  this  ?  Are  we  not  all  in  love  ? 
Biron.  O,  nothing  so  sure ;  and  thereby  all  for- 
sworn. 
King.  Then  leave  this  chat ;  and,  good  Bir6n, 
now  prove 
Oar  loving  lawful,  and  our  fiuth  not  torn. 

(1)  Law-chicane. 


Dum.  Ay,  marry,  tfiere ; — some  Hatlery  fcr  this 
e^iL 

Long.  O,  some  andwritv  bow  to  proceed ; 
Some  tricks,  some  quillets,^  bow  to  cheat  the  de^il. 

Dum.  Some  salve  for  peijuiy. 

Biron.  O,  'tis  more  than  need ! — 

Have  at  you  then,  affection's  men  at  arms : 
Consider,  what  you  first  did  swear  onto ; — 
To  fast, — to  study, — and  to  see  no  woman ; — 
F'lat  treason  'gainst  the  kingly  state  of  youth. 
Say,  can  you  mst  ?  your  stomachs  are  too  yooog ; 
.\nd  abstinence  engenders  maladies. 
And  where  that  you  have  vow'd  to  study,  lords. 
In  that  each  of  you  hath  forsworn  his  book : 
Can  you  still  dream,  and  pore,  and  thereon  look' 
For  when  would  you,  my  lord,  or  you,  oryoo. 
Have  found  the  ground  of  study's  excellence. 
Without  the  beauty  of  a  woman's  &ce  ? 
From  women's  eyes  this  doctrine  I  derive ; 
They  are  the  ground,  the  books,  the  academes, 
F'rom  whence  doth  spring  the  true  Promethesui  &• 
Why,  unii-ersal  ploading  prisons  up 
The  nimble  spirib  in  the  arteries ; 
As  motion,  and  long-during  action,  tires 
The  sinewy  \igour  of  the  traveller. 
Now,  for  not  looking  cxi  a  woman's  fiscc. 
You  have  in  that  forswom  the  use  of  eyes ; 
And  study  too,  the  causer  of  your  vow  : 
F'or  where  is  any  author  in  the  world. 
Teaches  such  beauty  as  a  woman's  eye  t 
Learning  is  but  an  adjunct  to  ourself. 
And  where  we  are,  our  leamir^  likewise  ri. 
Then,  when  ourselves  we  see  in  ladies'  eyes, 
Do  we  not  likewise  see  our  leaminr  there ' 
O,  we  have  made  a  vow  to  study,  krnls ; 
And  in  that  vow  we  have  forswom  our  books , 
For  when  would  you,  my  li^^,  or  you,  or  yon. 
In  leaden  contemplation,  have  found  out 
Such  fieiy  numbers,  as  the  prompting  eyes 
Of  beauteous  tutors  have  enrich'd  you  with  f 
Other  slow  arts  entirely  keep  the  brain  ; 
And  therefore  finding  barren  practisers. 
Scarce  show  a  harvest  of  their  heavy  toil : 
But  love,  first  learned  in  a  lady's  eyes, 
Lives  not  alone  immured  in  the  brain  ; 
But  with  the  motion  of  all  elements, 
Courses  as  swiA  as  thought  in  every  power ; 
And  gives  to  every  power  a  double  power. 
Above  their  functions  and  their  offices. 
It  adds  a  precious  seeing  to  the  eye ; 
A  lover's  eyes  will  gate  an  eagle  blind  ; 
A  lover's  ear  will  hear  the  lowest  soundL, 
When  the  suspicious  head  of  theft  is  stc^p'd ; 
Love's  feeling  is  more  soft,  and  sensible. 
Than  are  the  tender  horns  of  cockled  snails ; 
Love's  tongue  proves  daintv  Bacchus  gross  in  taste 
For  valour,  is  not  love  a  l)ercules. 
Still  climbing  trees  in  the  Hesperides  ? 
Subtle  as  sphinx ;  as  sweet,  and  musical, 
As  bright  Apollo's  lute,  strong  with  his  hair ; 
And,  when  love  speaks,  the  voice  of  all  ffie  gods 
Makes  heaven  drowsy  with  the  harmony. 
iVever  durst  poet  touch  a  pen  to  write. 
Until  his  ink  were  temperd  with  love's  sighs; 
O,  then  his  lines  would  ravish  savage  eaurs, 
And  plant  in  tyrants  mild  humili^. 
From  women's  eyes  this  doctrine  I  derive : 
They  sparkle  stiU  the  right  Pkomethean  firo ; 
They  are  the  books,  the  arts,  the  academes, 
That  show,  contain,  and  nourish  all  the  world ; 
Else,  none  at  all  in  aught  proves  excellent: 
Then  fools  you  were  tttese  women  to  forswear ; 
Or,  keeping  what  is  sworn,  you  will  prove  fbol& 
For  wisdom's  sake,  a  word  that  all  men  kyrm ; 


Sccfu  I. 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


173 


Or  for  love's  sake,  a  word  that  loves  all  men ; 
Or  for  men's  sake,  the  authors  of  these  women ; 
Or  women's  sake,  by  whom  we  men  are  men ; 
Let  OS  once  lose  our  oaths,  to  find  ourseU'es, 
Or  else  we  lose  ourselves  to  keep  our  oaths : 
It  is  religioo  to  be  thus  forsworn : 
For  charity  itself  fulfils  the  law ; 
And  who  can  sever  lore  from  charity  ? 
King,  Saint  Cupid,  then !  and,  soldiers,  to  the 

field! 
Biroti.  Advance  your  standards,  and  upon  them, 
lords; 
Pell-mell,  down  with  diem !  bat  be  first  advis'd. 
In  conflict  that  you  ^t  the  sun  of  them. 

Long.  Now  to  plain-dealing;  lav  these  glozes  by : 
Siall  we  resolve  to  woo  these  girls  of  France  f 

King.  And  win  them  too :  therefore  let  us  devise 
Some  entertainment  for  them  in  their  tents. 
Biron.  First,  from  the  park  let  us  conduct  diem 
thither; 
Then,  homeward  eveiy  man  attach  the  hand 
Of  his  fisir  mistress :  in  the  aflemoon 
We  will  with  some  strange  pastime  solace  them, 
Soch  as  ^  shortness  of  the  time  can  ^ape ; 
For  revels,  dances,  masks,  and  meny  hours. 
Fore-run  fair  love,  strewing  her  way  with  flowers. 
King.  Away,  away .'  no  time  shall  be  omitted. 
That  will  be  tinie,  and  may  by  us  be  fitt^ 
Biran.  AUcm!  AUon$.'—Sow^d  cockle  reap'd 
no  com; 
And  justice  always  whirls  in  equal  measure : 
L^t  wenches  may  prove  plagues  to  men  forsworn ; 
If  so,  our  copper  buys  no  better  treasure. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

•^CELVJB  I.— Another  part  <^  the  tame.    Enter 
Holofemes,  Sir  Nathaniel,  and  Dull. 

HoL  Satis  quod  sufficit 
^lUh.  I  praise  God  for  you,  sir :  your  reasons' 
9t  dinner  have  been  sharp  and  sententious ;  pleas- 
^uA  without  scurrility,  witty  without  aflfection,^ 
^odacions  without   impudencv,  learned  without 
^ipinion,  and  strange  without  heresy.    I  did  con- 
"^rene   this  qwmdan   day  with  a  companion  of 
%he  kine's,  who  is  intituled,  nominated,  or  called, 
^K>oa  Aariano  de  Armada 
_    Hoi.  JVoot  hominem  tanqtuun  te :  His  humour 
^n  lofty,  his  discourse  peremptory,  his  tongue  filed, 
'  m  ambitkwB,  his  gait  majestical,  and  his  ^ne- 
nehavionr  vain,  ridiculous,  and  thrasomcal.s 
is  too  picked,^  too  spruce,  too  affected,  too  odd, 
it  were,  too  peri^rinate,  as  I  may  call  it 
JVol/k.  A  most  smgular  and  choice  epithet 

[Takes  out  hie  tahle-hook. 

HoL  He  draweth  out  the  thread  of  his  verboeitv 

than  the  staple  of  his  argument  I  abhor  such 

Canatical  phantasms,  such  insociable  and  point-de- 

'vifle'  companions ;  nich  rackers  of  orthography,  as 

to  ipeak,  dout,  fine,  when  he  should  sav  doubt ; 

^t,  when  he  should  pronounce  debt ;  d,  e,  b,  t ; 

^  df  e,  t:  he  clepetn  a  calf,  cauf;  half,  hauf; 

neifllibour,  vocatur,  nebour;  neigh,  abbreviated, 

^:  This  M  abhorainable  (which  he  would  call 

*^i<niDable,)  it  insinuateth  me  of  insanie ;  Ae  m- 

^^i&pM  iomxne?  to  make  frantic,  lunatic. 

Ntih.  Lam  deo,  bonetntelUgo. 


s 


1)  Discourses.         (2)  Affectation, 
i)  Boastful.  (4)  Orer-dressed. 

fb)  Finical  exactness. 


[roMoifa. 


Hoi.  Bone  7 bone^  for  beni :  Prieeian  a  little 

scratch'd ;  'twill  serve. 

Enter  Armado,  Moth,  and  Costard. 

Nath.  Videsnt  quisvemt? 

Hoi.  VideOf  et  gaudeo. 

Arm.  Chirral 

Hoi.  Quare  Chirra,  not  sirrah  ? 

Arm.  Men  of  peace,  well  encounter'd. 

H(d.  Most  military  sir,  salutation. 

Moth.  They  have  been  at  a  P^i  feast  of  lan- 
guages, and  stolen  the  scraps.    [To Costard  aside. 

Cost.  O,  they  have  lived  long  in  the  idms-basket 
of  words !  I  marvel,  thy  master  hath  not  eaten 
thee  for  a  word ;  for  thou  art  not  so  loi^  by  the 
bead  as  honoriJicabUiiudinitatiints:  thou  art  easier 
swallowed  than  a  flap-draeon.^ 

Moth.  Peace;  the  peal  b^ns. 

Arm.  Monsieur,  [To  Hol.f  are  you  not  letter'd? 

Moth.  Yes,  yes ;  he  teaches  Doys  the  hornbook : — 
What  is  a,  b,  spelt  backward,  with  a  horn  on  his 
head? 

Hoi.  Ba,  pueritia,  with  a  horn  added. 

Moth.  Ba,  most  silly  sheep,  with  a  horn : — ^You 
hear  his  learning. 

Hoi.  Quisj  qtUs^  thou  consonant  f 

Moth.  The  third  of  the  five  vowels,  if  you  re- 
peat them ;  or  the  fifUi,  if  I. 

Hoi.  I  will  repeat  them,  a,  e,  i. — 

Moth.  Tlie  sheep :  the  other  two  concludes  it ; 
o,  u. 

Arm.  Now,  by  the  salt  wave  of  the  Mediterra- 
neum,  a  sweet  touch,'  a  quick  venew  o(  wit :  mip, 
snap,  (^uick  and  honie ;  it  rejoiceth  my  intellect  : 
true  wit 

Moth.  Offer'd  by  a  child  to  an  old  man ;  which 
is  wit-old. 

Hoi.  What  is  the  figure  ?  what  is  the  figure  ? 

Moth.  Horns. 

Hoi  Thou  disputest  like  an  infant :  go,  whip 

oth.  Lend  me  your  horn  to  make  one,  and  I 
will  whip  about  your  infamy  circSan  circa  j  A  gig 
of  a  cucKold's  horn ! 

Cost.  An  I  had  but  one  penny  in  the  worid, 
thou  should'st  have  it  to  buy  g^gerbread :  hold, 
there  is  (he  very  remuneration  I  had  of  thy  master, 
thou  half-penny  purse  of  wit,  thou  pigeon-egg  of 
discretion.  O,  an  the  heavens  were  so  pleased,  that 
thou  wert  but  my  bastard !  what  a  joyful  father 
would'st  thou  make  me !  Go  to ;  thou  hast  it  ad 
dunehilly  at  the  fingers'  ends,  as  they  sav. 

HoL  O,  I  smell  &lse  Latin ;  dunghill  for  im- 
guem. 

Arm.  Arts-man,|>raMim6iiAi;  we  will  be  singled 
from  the  barbarous.  Do  you  not  educate  youth  at 
the  charge-houseB  on  the  top  of  the  mountain  ? 

Hoi.  Or,  monSf  the  hill. 

Arm.  At  your  sweet  pleasure,  for  the  mountain. 

Hoi.  I  do,  sans  Question. 

Arm.  Sir,  it  is  tne  king's  most  sweet  pleasure 
and  affection,  to  congratulate  the  princess  at  her 
pavilion,  in  the  posteriors  of  (his  day ;  which  the 
rude  multitude  call  the  afternoon. 

Hoi.  The  posterior  of  the  day,  most  generous 
sir,  is  liable,  congruent,  and  measurable  for  the  af- 
ternoon :  the  word  is  well  cull'd,  chose ;  sweet 
and  apt,  I  do  assure  you,  sir,  I  do  assure. 

Arm.  Sir,  the  king  is  a  noble  gentleman ;  and 
my  familiar,  I  do  assure  you,  very  good  friend  ^— 

(6)  A  small  inflammable  substance,  swallowed 

in  a  gla'»3  of  wiiit?. 

(7)  A  hit.       (8)  Free-school 


''W^ 


174 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


^et  r. 


For  what  is  inwardi  between  lu,  let  it  pass : — I  do 
beseech  thee,  remember  thy  courtesy; — I  beseech 
thee,  apparel  thy  head ;  and  among  other  importu- 
nate ana  most  serious  designs,— and  of  great  im- 
port, indeed,  too ; — but  let  that  pass :— for  I  must 
tell  thee,  it  will  please  his  grace  (by  the  world^ 
sometime  to  lean  upon  mv  poor  shoulder ;  and  with 
his  royal  finger,  thus,  daily  with  my  escrement,^ 
with  my  mustachio :  but  sweet  heart,  let  that  pass. 
By  the  world,  I  recount  no  fable;  some  certain 
special  honours  it  pleaseth  his  greatness  to  impart 
to  Armado,  a  soldier,  a  man  of  travel,  that  hath 
•een  the  world :  but  let  that  pass. — The  very  all  of 
all  is, — but,  sweet  heart,  I  do  implore  secrecy, — 
tf»t  the  king  would  have  me  present  die  princess, 
fweet  chuck,s  with  some  delightful  ostentation,  or 
ihoW)  or  pageant,  or  antic,  or  fire-work.  Now, 
miderstanaing  that  the  curate  and  your  sweet  self, 
are  good  at  such  eruptions,  and  sadden  breaking 
oat  of  mirth,  as  it  were,  I  have  acquainted  you 
withal,  to  the  end  to  crave  your  assistance. 

HoL  Sir,  ^ou  shall  present  before  her  the  nine 
worthies. — Sir  Nathaniel,  as  concerning  some  enter- 
tainment of  time,  some  show  in  the  posterior  of  this 
day,  to  be  rendered  by  our  assistance, — the  king's 
oomimand,  and  this  most  gallant,  illustrate,  and 
learned  gentleman, — ^before  the  princess ;  I  say, 
none  so  nt  as  to  present  the  nine  worthies. 

JVa/A.  Where  will  you  find  men  worthy  enough 
to  present  them  f 

HoL  Joshua,  yourself;  myself,  cnr  this  gallant 
gentleman,  Judas  Maccabseus ;  this  swain,  Mcause 
of  his  great  limb  or  joint,  shall  pass  Pompey  the 
great ;  the  page,  Hercules. 

Arm.  Pardon,  sir,  error:  he  is  not  quantity 
enough  for  that  worthy's  thumb :  he  is  not  so  big 
as  the  end  of  his  club. 

Hoi.  Shall  I  have  audience  ?  he  shall  present 
Hercules  in  minority :  his  enter  and  exit  snail  be 
strangling  a  snake ;  and  I  will  have  an  apology  for 
thatpurpose. 

Juoth.  An  excellent  device  !  so,  if  any  of  the 
audience  hiss,  you  may  cry :  well  dimej  Hercules  ! 
now  thou  crusheih  the  snake!  that  is  the  way  to 
make  an  ofieoce  gracious ;  though  few  have  the 
g^ce  to  do  it. 

Arm.  For  the  rest  of  the  worthies? — 

HoL  I  will  play  three  myself. 

Moth.  Thrice-worthy  gentleman ! 

Arm.  Shall  I  tell  you  a  thing  ? 

Hoi.  We  attend. 

AtTn.  We  will  have,  if  this  fadge^  not,  an  antic. 
I  beseech  you,  follow. 

Hoi.  Fta,fi  good  man  Dull !  thou  hast  spoken  no 
word  all  this  while. 

DulL  Nor  understood  none  neither,  sir. 

Hoi.  Allans  !  we  will  employ  thee. 

DuU.  I'll  make  one  in  a  (unce,  or  so ;  or  I  will 
play  Ml  the  tabor  to  the  worthies,  and  let  diem 
dance  the  hay. 

HoL  Most  dull,  honest  Dull,  to  our  sport,  away. 

[ExeuWL 

SCEJSTE  n.— Another  part  t^  the  same.  Be- 
fore the  Princess's  Pavilion.  Enter  the  Prin- 
cess, Katharine,  Rosaline,  and  Maria. 

Prin.  Sweet  hearts,  we  shall  be  rich  ere  we  depart, 
If  firings  come  thus  plentifully  in : 
A  lady  wall'd  about  with  diamonds ! — 
Look  you,  what  I  have  from  the  loving  king. 

Ros.  madam,  came  nothing  else  along  with  that  f 

a)  Confidential         (2)  BeaH.        (3)  Chick. 
(4)  Suit       (5)  Courage.        (6)  Git>w. 


Prin.  Nothing  bat  tlus  ?  yea,  as  moch  love  io 
rhyme 
As  would  be  cramm'd  up  in  a  sheet  of  P^P^f 
Writ  on  both  sides  the  leaf,  mar^nt  and  lul ; 
That  he  was  fain  to  seal  on  Cupid's  name. 

Ros.  That  was  the  way  to  make  his  god-bead 
wax;* 
For  he  hath  been  five  thousand  yean  a  boj. 

Kaih.  Ay,  and  a  shrewd  unhappy  gallows  toa 

Ros.  You'll  ne'er  be  friends  witn  him;  hekill'd 
your  sister. 

Kath.  He  made  her  melancholy,  sad,  and  heavy ; 
And  so  she  died :  had  she  been  light,  like  yoo. 
Of  such  a  merry,  nimble,  stirring  spirit. 
She  might  have  been  a  grandam  ere  she  died : 
And  so  nuiY  you ;  for  a  light  heart  lives  long. 

Ros.  What's  your  dark  meanii^,moaae,7  of  this 
light  word  f 

Kath.  A  light  condition  in  a  beauty  dark. 

Ros.  We  need  more  light  to  find  your  meaning 
out 

Kath.  Youll  mar  the  light,  by  taking  it  in  aooff  ^ 
Therefore,  I'll  darkly  end  thie  argument 

Ros.  Look,  what  you  do,  you  do  it  still  P  die  dark. 

Kath.  So  do  not  vou ;  for  you  are  a  light  wench. 

Ros.  Indeed,  I  weigh  not  you ;  and  thenubre  tight 

Kath,  You  weigh  me  not, — O,  that*s,  yoa  care  not 
forme. 

Ros.  Great  reason ;  for.  Fast  cure  m  still  past  care. 

Prin.  Well  bandied  both ;  a  set  of  wit  well  play'd. 
But  Rosaline,  you  have  a  favour  too : 
Who  sent  it  ?  and  what  is  it.' 

Ros,  I  would,  yoa  knew  t 

An  if  my  face  were  but  as  fair  as  yours. 
My  favour  were  as  great ;  be  witness  this. 
Nay,  I  have  vers&  too,  I  thank  Bir6n : 
The  numbers  true ;  and,  were  the  numb'nng  loo, 
I  were  the  fairest  goddess  on  the  ntNind ; 
I  am  compar'd  to  twenty  thousand  fisiis. 
O,  he  hath  drawn  my  picture  in  his  letter ! 

Prin.  Any  thing  like  f 

Ros.  Much,  in  the  letters ;  nothing  in  the  praise. 

Prin.  Beauteous  as  ink ;  a  good  conclnsiQO. 

Kath,  Fair  as  a  test  B  in  a  copy-book. 

Ros.  'Ware  pencils !  How  f  let  me  not  die  your 
debtor. 
My  red  dominical,  my  golden  letter : 
O,  that  your  fitce  were  not  so  full  of  Cs ! 

Kath.  A  pox  of  that  jest !  andbeshrew  aD  shrowa! 

Prin.  But  what  was  sent  to  you  dam  fair  Do- 
main.' 

Kath,  Madam,  this  glove. 

Prin.  Did  he  not  send  yoa  twain  ? 

Kath.  Yes,  madam ;  and  moreovert 
Some  thousand  verses  of  a  fiuthful  lover : 
A  huge  translation  of  hypocrisy. 
Vilely  compil'd,  profonna  simplicity. 

Jwr.  This,  and  these  peaiis,  to  me  sent  Longi- 
ville ; 
The  letter  is  too  long  by  half  a  mile. 

Prin.  I  think  no  less :  Dost  thoa  not  wish  in 
heart. 
The  chain  were  longer,  and  the  letter  abort  ? 

Mar.  Ay,  or  I  would  these  hands  might  never 
part 

Prin.  We  are  wise  girls,  to  mock  oar  lovers  sa 

Ros.  They  are  worse  fools  topurchase  mocking  so. 
That  same  Bir6n  I'll  torture  ere  I  go. 
O,  that  I  knew  he  were  but  in  by  Uie  week ! 
How  would  I  make  him  fawn,  and  b^,  and  sedc , 
And  wait  the  season,  and  observe  die  timet, 
And  spend  his  prodigal  wits  b  bootlea  Ajnes; 

(7)  Formerly  a  term  of  endeaiment  (8)  In  anger. 


n. 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


175 


And  dnpe  hit  wmce  whoU  v  to  my  bdieits ; 
And  muce  him  proud  to  ram  me  proud  that  jests ! 
So  portent-Uke  wonld  I  o'enway  his  state. 
That  he  should  be  my  Ibol,  and  I  his  ftte. 

Prin,  None  are  so  surely  caught,  when  diey  are 
catch'd. 
As  wit  tnro'd  fool :  folly,  in  wisdom  hatch'd, 
Hadi  wisdom's  warrant,  and  the  help  ci  school ; 
And  wit's  own  g;race  to  grace  a  learned  fooL 

Aoi.  The  blood  of  youth  bums  not  witi^  such 
excess, 
As  jtrarity's  revolt  to  wantonness. 

Mar.  Folly  in  foob  bears  not  so  strong  a  note. 
As  iboleiy  in  the  wise,  when  wit  doth  dote ; 
Since  all  the  power  thereof  it  doth  apply, 
To  pRwe,  by  wit,  W(nlh  in  simplicity. 

JEbiitr  Boyet 

Frin,  Here  comes  BOTet,  and  mirth  is  in  his  face. 

BoytL  O,  I  am  stabbM  with  laughter !  Where's 
her  grace? 

Frm,  Thy  news,  Boyet  ? 

BoytL  Prepare,  madam,  prepare ! — 

Arm,  wenches,  aim ;  encounters  mounted  are 
Against  your  peace :  Love  doth  approach  disguis'd, 
Ann'd  in  arguments ;  you'll  be  surpris'd : 
Muster  your  wits ;  stand  in  your  own  defence ; 
Or  hide  your  heads  like  cowards,  and  fly  hence. 

Prin,  Saint  Dennis  to  saint  Cupid!  What  are 

That  ehaice  their  breath  against  us  ?  say,  scout,  say. 

BoyeL  Under  the  cool  dbade  of  a  ^camore, 
I  dKN^t  to  close  mine  eyes  some  half  an  hour : 
When,  k> !  to  interrupt  my  purpos'd  rest, 
Toward  diat  diade  I  might  behold  addrest 
The  king  and  his  companions :  warily 
I  stole  into  a  neighbour  thicket  by. 
And  overheard  what  you  shall  overhear; 
That,  by  and  by,  disguis'd  they  will  be  here. 
Their  herald  is  a  prettv  knaviih  page. 
That  well  by  heart  ham  conn'd  his  embassage : 
Action,  and  accent,  did  thev  teach  him  there ; 
Tkmt  wmst  ihou  tpeak,  and  tints  ihy  body  bear: 
And  ever  and  anon  they  made  a  doubt, 
Preamce  maiestical  would  put  him  out : 
For,  qooth  the  king,  an  angtl  shaU  thou  ate; 
Tet  jiar  not  thoUf  but  tpeak  audaciously. 
The  bOT  replied,  An  angel  is  not  evil ; 
lakomUkaoe  Jear'd  her,  had  she  been  a  devil 
Wi^  that  all  laqgh'd,  and  clapp'd  him  on  the 

shoulder; 
Biaking  die  bold  wag  by  their  praises  bolder. 
Otoe  roob'd  his  elbow,  thus ;  and  fleer'd,  and  swore, 
A  better  speech  was  never  spoke  before : 
Ano^r,  with  his  finger  and  his  thumb, 
Ciy'd,  Fw!  v/e  will  do%  come  vahai  vriU  come : 
The  diird  he  caper'd,  and  cried,  AU  goes  well  : 
Tlie  fcortfa  tum'd  on  the  toe,  and  down  he  fell. 
Widi  diat,  they  all  did  tumble  on  the  ground, 
With  such  a  zealous  laughter,  so  profound. 
That  in  this  spleen  ridiculous  appears. 
To  check  their  folly,  passion's  solemn  tears. 
PritL  But  what,  but  what,  come  they  to  visit  us  ? 
Botftf.  They  do,  they  do;  and  are  apparel'd  thus,— 
like  Muscovites,  or  nutans:  as  I  guess, 
Thar  purpose  is,  to  parle,  to  court,  and  dance : 
And  eveiy  one  his  love-feat  will  advance 
IJniohis  several  mistress ;  which  they'll  know 
Bjr  fiivours  several,  wUcb  they  did  btestow. 
AtR.  And  win  they  so?  the  gallants  shall  be 
task'd  :— 
'0^  kdiet,  we  will  eveiy  one  be  mask'd ; 
Am  Dot  a  man  of  them  shall  have  the  grace, 
"t^  of  suit,  to  see  a  lady's  taoe.— 


Hold,  Rosaline,  this  fiivoor  thou shalt  wear; 
And  then  the  kiitf  will  court  diee  for  his  dear ; 
Hold,  teke  thou  this,  my  sweet,  and  give  me  thme ; 
So  shall  Bir6n  take  me  for  Ronline. — 
And  change  you  favours  too ;  so  shall  your  loves 
Woo  contrary,  deceiv'd  by  these  removes. 
Ros.  Come  on  then ;  wear  the  favours  most  in  nght 

Kath.  But,  in  this  changing,  what  is  your  intent  ? 
Prtn.  The  effect  of  my  intent  is,  to  cross  theirs : 
They  do  it  but  in  mockmg  merriment ; 
And  mock  for  mock  is  on^  my  intent. 
Their  several  counsels  they  unbosom  shall 
To  loves  mistook ;  and  so  be  mock'd  withal, 
Upon  the  next  occasion  that  we  meet. 
With  visages  displayed,  to  talk,  and  rreet 

Ros.  But  shall  we  dance,  if  they  desire  us  tot ! 

Prtn.  No;  to  the  death,  we  will  not  move  a  foot : 
Nor  to  their  penn'd  speech  render  we  no  grace; 
But,  while  'tis  spoke,  each  turn  away  her  race. 

Boyet.  Why,  that  contempt  will  kill  the  sp^iker*! 
heart. 
And  (joite  divorce  his  memory  from  his  part 

Prtn.  Therefore  I  do  it ;  and,  I  make  no  doubt. 
The  rest  will  ne'er  come  in,  if  be  be  out 
There*8  no  such  sport,  as  sport  by  sport  o'erthrown ; 
To  make  theirs  ours,  and  ours  none  but  our  own : 
So  shall  we  stay,  mockine  intended  game ; 
And  they,  well  mock'd,  depart  away  with  shame. 

[Trumpets  sotmd  within. 

Boyet.  The  trumpet  sounds;  be  mask'd,  the 
maskers  come.  [  The  ladies  mask. 

Enter  the  King,  Biron,  Longaville,  and  Dumain, 
in  Russian  habits,  and  masked  f  Moth,  iiiv«t- 
dans,  and  attendants. 

Moth.  All  hail !  the  richest  beauties  on  the  earth! 

Boyet.  Beauties  no  richer  than  rich  taf&ta. 

Moth.  A  holyjMurcel  of  the  fairest  dames, 

[The  ladies  turn  their  backs  to  hinb 
Tluit  ever  turned  their — backs — to  mortal  views  i- 

Biron.  Their  eyes,  villain,  their  eyes. 

Moth.  TluUeoertum^dtheireyestomortalviews! 
Out— 

Boyet.  True;  ouf, indeed. 

Moth.  Out  qf  your  favours,  heaveniy  spiriia, 
vouchsafe 
JVot  to  behold— 

Biron.  Once  to  behold,  rogue. 

Moth.  Once  to  behold  with  ytnar  aun-bman$d 
eyes, toiih  your  sun-beamed  eyes — 

Boyet.  .They  will  not  answer  to  that  epithet; 
You  were  best  call  it,  daughter-beamed  eyes. 

Moth.  They  do  not  mark  me,  and  that  brings 
me  out 

Biron.  Is  this  your  perfectness  ?  be  gone,  you 
rogue. 

Ros.  What  would  these  strangers  ?  know  .their 
minds,  Boyet: 
If  they  do  speak  our  language,  'tis  our  will 
That  some  plain  man  recount  their  purposes : 
Know  what  they  would. 

Boyet.  What  would  you  with  the  princess  ? 

Biron.  Nothing  but  peace,  and  gentle  visitation. 

Ros.  What  would  they,  say  they  ? 

Boyet.  Nothing  but  peace,  and  gentle  viutetion. 

Ros.  Why,  that  they  have ;  and  bid  them  so  be 
TOne. 

Boyet.  She  says,you  have  it,and  you  may  be  gone. 

J^tng*.  Say  to  her,  we  have  measur'd  many  miles, 
To  tread  a  measure  with  you  on  this  grass. 

Boyet.  They  say,  that  they  have  mouur'd  many 
a  mile. 
To  tread  a  measure  with  vou  on  this  grass. 

Ros.  It  is  not  so :  ask  tnem  how  many  inches 


1-^6 


LOVFS  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


AiA  r. 


Is  in  one  mile :  if  thejr  have  meMor'd  many, 
The  measure  then  of  one  is  easily  told. 

Boyd.  If,to  come  hither  you  have  measur'd  miles, 
And  many  miles ;  the  Drincess  bids  you  tell. 
How  many  inches  do  fill  up  one  mile. 

Biron.  Tell  her, we  measure  them  by  weaiy  steps. 

Boytt.  She  hears  herself. 

jRof .  How  many  weaiy  steps, 

Of  many  weary  miles  you  have  oVrgone, 
Are  number*d  in  the  travel  of  one  mile  ^ 

Biron.  We  number  nothing  that  we  spend  for  you; 
Our  duty  is  so  rich,  so  infinite. 
That  we  may  do  it  still  without  accompt 
Vouchsafe  to  show  the  sunshine  of  your  face. 
That  we,  like  savagres,  may  worship  it 

Ros.  Mr  hice  is  but  a  moon,  ana  clouded  too. 

King.  Blessed  are  clouds,  to  do  as  such  clouds  do! 
Vouchrafe,  bright  moon,  and  these  thy  stars,  to  shine 
(Those  clouds  remov'd,)  upon  our  watery  eyne. 

Ros.  O  vain  petitioner .'  oeg  a  greater  matter ; 
Thou  now  request*st  but  moonshine  in  the  water. 

King.  Thc^  in  our  measure  do  but  vouchsafe 
one  change : 
Thou  bid'st  me  be^ ;  this  b(^;ging  is  not  stranfe. 

Roi.  Play,  music,  then :  nay,  you  must  So  it 

soon.  Utfunc  plays. 

Not  yet; — no  dance : — ^thus  change  I  like  the  moon. 

Kbng.  Will  you  not  dance  ?  Howcome  you  thus 
estrang*d.^ 

Ros.  You  to(NC  the  moon  at  full ;  but  now  she's 
chang'd. 

King.  Yet  still  she  is  the  moon,  and  I  the  man. 
The  mumc  plays ;  vouchsafe  some  motion  to  it 

Ros.  Our  ears  vouchsafe  it 

King.  But  your  legs  should  do  it 

Ros.  Since  you  are  strangers,  and  come  here  by 
chance. 
We'll  not  be  nice :  take  hands ; — we  will  not  dance. 

King.  Why  take  we  hands  thai } 

Ros.  Only  to  part  friends : — 

Court'sy,  sweet  hearts ;  and  so  the  measure  ends. 

King.  More  measure  of  this  measure;  be  not  nice. 

Ros.  We  can  afford  no  more  at  such  a  price. 

King.  Prize  you  yourselves ;  What  buys  your 
company  f 

Ros.  Your  absence  only. 

King.  That  can  never  be. 

Ros.  Then  cannot  we  be  bought :  and  so  adieu; 
Twice  to  your  visor,  and  half  once  to  you ! 

King.  If  you  deny  to  dance,  let's  hold  more  chat 

Ros.  hi  private  then. 

King.  I  am  best  pleas'd  with  that. 

[7%^  converse  apart. 

Biron.  White-handed  mistress,  one  sweet  word 
with  thee. 

Prin.  Honey,  and  milk,  and  sugar;  there  'm 
three. 

Biron.  Nay  then,  two  treys  (an  if  you  grmv  so 
nice,) 
Metheglin,  wort,  and  malmsey  ; — ^Well  run,  dice ! 
There's  half  a  dozen  sweets. 

Prin.  Seventh  sweet,  adieu  ! 

Since  you  can  cog,»  PU  play  no  more  with  you. 

Biron.  One  word  in  secret 

Prin.  Let  it  not  bo  sweet 

Biron.  Thou  griev'st  my  gall. 

Prin.  (Jail  ?  bitter. 

Biron.  Therefore  met± 

[TTkcy  converse  apart 

Du$n.  Will  yoa  vouchsafe  with  me  to  change  a 
word? 

)  Falsify  dice,  lie. 

!)  A  qui\>ble  on  tlie  French  adverb  of  negation. 


8; 


Mar.  Name  it 
Dum.  Fair  lady, — 

Mar.  Say  you  so  ?  Fair  k»d<— 

Take  that  for  your  fair  lady. 

Dum.  Please  it  yoo. 

As  much  m  private,  and  Pll  bid  adieu. 

[They  converse  apmrt 
Kath.  Wliat,  was  your  visor  made  without  a 

tongue.^ 
Long.  I  know  the  reason,  lad^,  why  you  ask. 
Kath.  O,  for  your  reason !  quickly,  sir ;  I  loi^. 
Long.  You  have  a  double  tongue  within  yoor 
mask. 
And  would  afford  my  speechless  visor  half. 
Kaih.  Veal,  quoth  the  Dutchman ; — U  not  fcaS 

a  calf  .^ 
Long.  A  calf,  fair  lady  > 
Kath.  No,  a  fair  lord  cal£ 

Long.  Let's  part  the  word. 
Kaih.  No,  ril  not  be  your  half  • 

Take  all,  and  wean  it ;  it  may  prove  an  ox. 
Long.  Look,  how  you  butt  yourself  in 
sharp  mocks: 
W^ill  you  give  horns,  chaste  lady  ?  do  not  so. 
Kath.  Inen  die  a  calf,  before  your homs  do  X[row. 
Long.  One  word  in  private  with  vou,  ere  I  die. 
Kath.  Bleat  softly  then,  the  butcher  hears  yoa 
cry.  [They  converse  i^art 

Boyet.  The  tongues  of  mocking  wencbea  are  a* 
keen 
As  is  thf>  razor's  e^;e  invisible, 
Cuttinp:  a  smaller  hair  wan  may  be  seen ; 

Above  tne  sense  of  sense:  so  sensible        ' 
Seemeth  the»r  conference ;  their  conc«ts  Iwre 

wings. 
Fleeter  than  arrows,  bullets,  wind,  thought;  wmSia 
things. 
Ros.  Not  one  word  more,  my  maids ;  break  ofl^ 

break  off. 
Biron.  By  heaven,  all  dry-beaten  with  pure  scoff! 
King.  Farewell,  mad  wenches ;  you  have  ample 

wits. 
[Exeunt  King,  Lords,  Moth,  music,  and  atUmd' 

ants. 
Prin.  Twenty  adieus,  my  froeen  Muscovitet.— 
Are  these  the  breed  of  wits  so  wonder'd  at? 
Boyet.  Tapers  they  are,  with  your  I 

puflrd  out 
jRof .  Well-liking  wits  they  have ; 

fat,  fat 

Prt'n.  O  poverty  in  wit,  kinely-poor  float ! 
Wilt  they  not,  think  you,  hang  Uiemselves  to-mglilf 

Or  ever,  but  in  visors,  wow  their  fac^s  ? 
This  pert  Bir6n  was  out  of  countenance  quite. 
Ros.  O .'  they  were  all  in  lamentable  cases ! 
The  king  was  weeping-ripe  for  a  good  word. 
Prt'n.  Bir6n  did  swear  himself  out  of  all  suit 
Mar.  Dumain  was  at  my  service,  and  his  sword: 
No  pointy  quoth  I ;  my  servant  straight  was  mute. 
Kath.  Lord  Longaville  said,  I  came  o'er  his  heart; 
And  (row  you,  whust  he  call'd  me  ? 
Prin.  Qualm,  perfaapa. 

Kath.  Yes,  in  good  faith. 
Prtn.  Go,  sickness  as  thou  art ! 

Ros.  Well,  better  wits  have  worn  plain  statute- 
caps.* 
But  will  you  hear }  the  king  is  my  love  iwom. 
Prtn.  And  quick  Bir6n  hath  plighted  fiiith  to  me. 
Kath.  And  Longaville  was  tor  my  service  bom. 
Mar.  Dumain  is  mine,  as  sure  as  bark  on  tree. 
Boyet.  Madam,  and  pretty  mistresses,  give  eer 
Immediately  they  will  again  be  here 

(3)  Better  wits  may  be  found  ainoog  citlMiiai 


n. 


LOVE»S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


^.■- 


t   m 


In  dwir  oirn  ihapet ;  fcr  it  can  nerer  be, 
Thejr  will  dkctt  this  b«nh  indignity. 

Frin,  Win  ther  retura  ? 

BayeL  They  will,  tiiej  will,  God  knows ; 

And  lenp  kit  joy,  thoagh  they  arc  lame  with  blows : 
Therefore,  change  ftvoun  \}  and  when  they  rt>pair, 
Blow  like  iweet  roces  in  the  summer  air. 

Prin.  How  blow  ?  how  blow  ?  speak  to  be  un- 
derstood. 

Moyd.  Fair  ladies,  mask*d,  are  roses  in  their  bud : 
Diamask'd,  their  damask  6weet  commixture  i^hown, 
Are  angeii  veiling  cluudit,  or  ruM>4  blown. 

Prin.  Araunt,  perplexity  !  What  ithall  we  do, 
If  they  return  in  their  own  shapes  to  woo  ? 

Rat,  Gkxxl  madam,  if  by  me  you'll  be  advisM, 
Let*a  mock  them  still,  as  well  known,  as  di!«guis*d  : 
Let  vs  complain  to  them  what  fools  were  here, 
DMKiiis*d  liKe  Muscovites,  in  shapeless^  eear ; 
And  wonder  what  they  were ;  and  to  what  end 
Their  rfiallow  shows,  and  prologue  vilely  pctnnM, 
And  their  rough  carriage  so  ridiculous, 
Should  be jwesented  at  our  tent  to  us. 

BoyeL  udies,  withdraw;  the  gallants  arc  at 
hand. 

Prim.  Whip  to  our  toits,  as  roes  nm  over  land. 
[ExelaU  Princess,  Rus.  Kath.  and  Maria. 

JEnler  ik*  King,  Biron,  Longaville,  and  Dumain, 
in  their  proper  habits. 

King,  Fair  sir,  God  save  you !  Where  is  the 
princess.' 

Boyd.  Gone  to  her  tent :  Please  it  your  majesty, 
Command  me  any  service  to  her  thither.' 

King.  That  roe  vouchsafe  me  audience  for  one 
word. 

BoytL  I  will ;  and  so  will  she,  I  know,  mv  lord. 

[Etit. 

BiroiL.  This  fellow  pecks  up  wit,  as  pigeons 
peas; 
And  tttlen  it  acain  when  God  doth  please : 
He  it  wit*t  pedler;  and  retails  his  wares 
At  irakea,  and  wassela,^  meetings,  markets,  fairs ; 
And  we  that  sell  by  gpiDSS,  the  Lord  doth  know. 
Have  not  die  gprace  to  grace  it  with  such  show. 
This  ginlknt  pun  the  wenches  on  his  sleeve ; 
Had  he  been  Adam,  he  had  tempted  Eve : 
He  can  carve  too,  and  lisp :  Why,  this  is  he. 
That  lDSS*d  away  his  hana  in  courtesy ; 
Thii  is  the  ue  of  Soon,  monsieur  the  nice. 
That  when  ne  plays  at  tables,  chides  the  dice. 
In  honourable  terms !  nay,  he  can  sing 
A  nemafi  most  meanly ;  and,  in  ushering. 
Mend  hira  who  can :  the  ladies  call  him,  sweet ; 
The  stairs,  as  he  treads  on  them,  kiss  his  feet : 
This  is  the  flower  diat  smiles  on  eveiy  one, 
Todww  his  teeth  as  white  as  whale*s  bone  :< 
And  consciences,  that  will  not  die  in  debt, 
Pivhim  the  doe  of  honey-tongued  Boyet 

AtN^r.  A  blister  on  his  sweet  tongue,  with  my 
heart, 
Tlat  pot  Annado*s  page  out  of  his  part ! 

JSukr  At  Princess,  tuher'd  by  Boyet ;  Rosaline, 
Maria,  Katharine,  and  attendants. 

Btrmu  See  whore  it  comes  I — Behaviour,  what 

wert  thon, 
■ul  das  man  show'd  ^utef  and  what  art  thou 

now? 
-^iftg.  AU  hail,  sweet  madam,  and  fair  time  of 

day! 
^nn.  Fair,  in  all  hail,  is  foul,  as  I  conceive. 


U)  Features,  countenances. 
*^)  Rustic  meny-meetinju. 
^)  Tlie  tenor  in  muuc 


(2)  Uncouth. 


King.  Constniemyspeeches  better,  if  yc 
Prin.  Then  wish  me  better,  I  will  ffiveyoi 
King.  We  came  to  visit  you;  ana  purpc 
To  lead  you  to  our  court:  vouchsafe  i( 
Prin.  This  field  shaft  hold  me;  and  so  bo 
vow: 
Nor  God,  nor  I,  delight  in  pegui'd  mi 
King.  Rebuke  me  not  for  that  which  y 
voke; 
The  virtue  of  your  ^e  must  break  nij 
Prin.  You  nick^iame  virtue :  vice  you 
have  spoke ; 
For  virtue*s  office  never  breaks  men*s  t 
Now,  by  my  maiden  honour,  yet  as  pure 

As  the  unsullied  lily,  I  protest, 
A  world  of  torments  though  I  should  endni 
I  would  not  yield  to  be  your  house's  gi 
So  much  I  hate  a  breaking  cause  to  be 
Of  heavenly  oaths,  vow*d  with  integrity. 
King.  O,  you  have  liv*d  in  desolation  hei 
Unseen,  unvisited,  much  to  our  shame. 
Prin.  Not  so,  my  lonrd ;  it  is  not  so,  I  sw 
Wc  have  haid  pastimes  here,  and  pleasan 
A  mess  of  Russians  left  us  but  of  late. 
King.  How,  madam?  Russians? 
Prin.  «   Ay,  in  truth,  m; 

Trim  gallants,  full  of  courtship,  and  of  stat 
Ros.  Madam,  speak  true : — It  is  not  so,  m 
My  lady  (to  the  manner  of  the  days,^ 
In  courtesy,  gives  undeserving  praise. 
We  four,  incked,  confronted  here  with  four 
In  Russian  habit :  here  they  stayM  an  hour 
And  talkM  apace ;  and  in  that  hour,  my  k 
They  did  not  bless  us  with  one  happy  word. 
I  dare  not  call  them  fools ;  but  this  I  think. 
When  they  are  thirsty,  (ocA»  would  fein  hav< 
Biron.    This  jest  is  dry  to  me — Fair, 
sv^'ect. 
Your  wit  makes  wise  things  foolish ;  when  w 
With  eyes  best  seeing  heaven's  6eiy  eye. 
By  light  we  lose  lii^ht :  Your  capad^ 
Is  of  that  nature,  that  to  your  hiffie  store 
Wise  thincTs  seem  foolish,  and  ricn  things  bi 
Ros.  This  proves  you  wise  and  rich,  for 

eve, — 
Biron.  I  am  a  fool,  and  foil  of  pomrty. 
Ros.  But  that  you  take  what  doth  to  you ' 
It  were  a  fault  to  snatch  words  from  ray  ton 
Biron.  O,  I  am  yours,  and  all  that  I  pon 
Ros.  All  the  fool  mine? 
Biron.  I  cannot  give  y 

Ros.  Which  of  the  visors  was  it,  that  vou 
Biron.  Where?  when?  what  visor.'  w 

mand  you  this  ? 
Ros.  Thens  then,  that  visor ;  that  superfluo 
That  hid  the  worse,  and  showed  the  oetter  i 
King.  We  are  descried  :  they'll  mock  i 

downright. 
Dvm.  Let  us  confess,  and  turn  it  to  a  jei 
Prin.  AmazM,  my  k>rd?  Why  looks  yoi 

ness  sad  ? 
Ros.  Help,  hold  his  brows !  he'll  swoon 
looK  you  pale  ? — 
Sea-sick,  I  think,  coming  from  Muscovy. 
Biron.  Thus  pour  the  stars  down  plag 
perjury. 
Can  any  face  of  brass  hold  loi^r  out  i 
Here  stand  I,  lady ;  dart  thy  skill  at  me; 

Bruise  me  with  scorn,  confound  me  with 

Thrust  thy  sharp  wit  quite  through  my  igm 

Cut  me  to  pieces  with  thy  keen  concei 

(5)  The  tooth  of  the  horse-whale. 

(6)  After  the  feshion  of  the  times. 


178 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


Jlet  r 


A  lid  I  will  wish  thee  never  more  to  dance, 
Nor  never  more  in  Russian  habit  wait 
O !  never  will  I  trust  to  speeches  penn*d. 

Nor  to  the  motion  ot  a  school-boy's  toi^e ; 
Nor  never  come  in  visor  to  my  friend  \^ 

Nor  woo  in  rhvme,  like  a  blind  harper's  song : 
Taffata  phrases,  siUcen  teirns  preci&e, 

Three-pilM  hyperboles,  spmce  afiectatioo, 
Figures  pedantical ;  these  summer-flies 

Have  blown  me  full  of  maggot  ostentation: 
I  do  forsw^ur  them :  and  I  here  protest. 

By  this  white  glove,  (  how  white  the  hand, 
God  knows !) 
Henceforth  my  wooing  mind  shall  be  expressM 

In  russet  yeas,  and  honest  kersey  noes : 
And,  to  b^'n,  wench, — So  God  help  me,  la  !— 
My  love  to  thee  is  sound,  sans  crack  or  flaw. 

Kos.  Sans  sans,  I  pray  you. 

Biron,  Yet  I  have  a  trick 

Of  the  old  rage : — bear  with  me,  I  am  sick ; 
ril  leave  it  by  degrees.    Soft,  let  us  see  ; — 
Write,  Lord  have  mercy  on  im,  on  those  three ; 
They  are  infected,  in  tlieir  hearts  it  lies; 
They  have  the  pla^^,  and  caught  it  of  your  eyes : 
Th^  lords  are  visited ;  yon  are  not  free, 
For  the  Lord's  tokens  on  you  do  I  see. 

Prm.  No,  they  are  free,  that  gave  these  tokens 
tons. 

Biron.  Our  states  are  forfeit,  seek  not  to  undo  us. 

Ros.  It  is  not  so;  For  how  can  this  be  true. 
That  yoa  stand  forfeit,  being  those  that  sue  ^ 

Biron,  Peace ;  for  I  will  not  have  to  do  with  you. 

Rm.  Nor  shall  not,  if  I  do  as  I  intend. 

Biron,  Speak  for  yourselves,  my  wit  is  at  an 
end. 

King.  Teach  us,  sweet  madam,  for  our  rude 
transgression 
Some  fikir  excuse. 

Prin,  The  fairest  is  confession. 

Were  you  not  here,  but  even  now,  disguis'd  ^ 

King.  Madam,  I  was. 

Prin.  And  were  you  well  advis'd  ? 

King.  I  was,  fiur  n»dam. 

Prin.  When  you  then  were  here, 

What  did  you  whisper  in  your  lady's  ear.' 

King.  That  more  than  all  the  world  I  did  res- 
pect her. 

PHn.  When  she  shall  challenge  this,  you  will 
reject  her. 

King,  l/pon  mine  honour,  no. 

Prin.  Peace,  peace,  forbear ; 

Your  oath  once  broke,  you  forced  not  to  forswear. 

King.  Despise  me,  when  I  break  this  oath  dt  mine. 

Prin.  I  will ;  and  therefore  keep  it : — Rosaline, 
What  did  the  Russian  whisper  in  your  ear  ? 

Ros.  Madam,  he  swore,  that  he  aid  hold  me  dear 
As  precious  eye-sight ;  and  did  value  me 
Above  this  world :  adding  thereto,  moreover. 
That  he  would  wed  me.  or  else  die  my  lover. 

Prin.  God  give  thee  joy  of  him !  the  noble  lord 
Most  honourably  doth  uphold  his  word. 

King.  What  mean  you,  madam  ?  by  my  life,  my 
troth, 
I  never  swore  this  lady  such  an  oath. 

Ros.  By  heaven,  you  did ;  and  to  confirm  it  plain. 
You  pive  me  this :  but  take  it,  sir,  again. 

King.  My  faith,  and  this,  the  princess  I  did  give ; 
I  knew  her  by  this  jewel  on  her  sleeve. 

Prin,  Pardon  me,  sir,  this  jewel  did  she  wear ; 
And  lord  Bir6n,  I  thank  him,  is  my  deetr : — 
What ;  will  joia  have  me,  or  your  pearl  again  ? 

Biron,  Neither  of  either ;  I  remit  both  twain. 

(1)  Mistiws.        (3)  Make  no  difficulty. 


I  see  the  trick  on't ; — Here  was  a  consent' 

(Knowing  aforehand  of  our  merriment,) 

To  dash  It  like  a  Christmas  comedy : 

Some  cany-tale,  some  please-man,  wme  fiil^ 

xany,< 
Some  mumble-news,  some  trencber-knig^t,  mom 

Dick,— 
That  smiles  his  cheek  in  years ;  and  knows  d>e  trick 
To  make  my  lady  laugl^  when  she's  dispoa'd, — 
Told  our  intents  before :  Which  once  discka'd. 
The  ladies  did  change  favours ;  and  then  we. 
Following  the  si^;ns,  woo'd  but  the  sign  of  she. 
Now,  to  our  peijury  to  add  nxM^  terror. 
We  are  again  forsworn ;  in  will,  and  error. 
Much  upon  this  it  is : — And  might  not  joa^ 

[roBoyvt. 
Forestal  our  sport,  to  make  us  thus  untrue  ? 
Do  not  you  know  my  lady's  foot  by  the  soaire,* 

And  laufh  upon  the  apple  of  h«r  eye .' 
And  stand  oetween  her  back,  sir,  ana  the  fire. 

Holding  a  trencher,  jesting  noerrily  f 
You  put  our  page  out :  Go,  you  are  allow'd ; 
Die  when  you  will,  a  smock  shall  be  your  sbrowd. 
You  leer  upon  me,  do  you  f  there's  an  eye. 
Wounds  like  a  leaden  sword. 

Boyei.  Full  merrily 

Hath  this  brave  manage,  this  career,  been  ran. 

Biron,  Lo,  he  is  tilting  straight!  Peace;  I  have 
done. 

Enter  Costard. 

Welcome,  pure  wit !  thou  partest  a  fair  fray. 

Cost.  O  Ixm),  sir,  they  would  know. 
Whether  the  three  worthies  shall  come  in,  orno. 

Biron.  What,  are  there  but  three. 

Cost.  No,  sir ;  but  it  is  rara  fine, 

For  every  one  pursents  three. 

Biron.  And  three  times  thrice  is  nine. 

Cost.  Not  so,  sir ;  under  correction,  sir ;  I  hope, 
it  is  not  so : 
You  cannot  beg  us,  sir,  1  can  assure  yon,  ar ;  we 

know  what  we  know : 
I  hope,  sir,  three  times  thrice,  sir, — 

Biron.  Is  not  nine. 

Cost.  Under  correction,  sir,  we  know  whereoifl 
it  doth  amount 

Biron.  By  Jove,  I  always  took  three  threes  ftr 
nine. 

Cost.  O  Lord,  sir,  it  were  pity  you  shoold  get 
your  living  by  reckoning,  sir. 

Biron.  How  much  is  it? 

Cost  O  Lord,  sir,  the  parties  tbonaelves,  Am 
actors,  sir,  will  show  whereuntil  it  doth  amount : 
for  my  own  part,  I  am,  as  they  say,  but  to  perfect 
one  man,— e'en  one  poor  man ;  Pompion  tibe  great, 
sir. 

Biron.  Art  thou  one  of  the  worthies  ? 

Cost.  It  pleased  them,  to  think  me  worthy  of 
Pompion  the  sreat :  for  mine  own  part,  I  know  not 
the  degree  of  me  worthy :  but  I  am  to  stand  for  fain. 

Biron.  Go,  bid  them  prepare. 

Cost.  We  will  turn  it  dnely  oC^  sir ;  we  will  take 
some  care.  [Exit  Costani. 

King.  Bir6n,  they  will  shame  us,  let  them  not 
approach. 

Biron.  We  are  shame-proof^  my  lord :  and  *lii 
some  policy 
To  have  one  show  worse  than  iSbtb  king's  and  hii 
company. 

King.  I  say,  they  shall  not  come. 

Prin.  Nay,  my  good  lord,  let  me  o'ar-mle  yon 
now; 

(3;  Conspiracy.        (4)  BdfiMn.        (5)  Raia. 


//. 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


179 


That  sport  best  pleasei,  that  dolfa  least  knoir  how : 
Where  zeal  strives  to  content,  and  the  contents 
Die  in  the  zeal  of  them  which  it  presents, 
Their  foim  confounded  makes  roost  form  in  mirth ; 
Yihea  great  things  labouring  perish  in  their  birth. 
Biron.  A  right  description  or  oar  sport,  my  lord. 

£ii^  Axmada 

Arm.  Anointed,  I  implore  so  much  expense  of 
ihj  royal  sweet  breath,  as  will  utter  a  brace  of  words. 

[Annado  ccnoerati  wUh  the  King,  and  delioers 
him  a  paper. 

Prin.  Doth  this  man  aerre  God  ? 

Biron.  Whjaskyou.^ 

Prin,  He  speaks  not  like  a  man  of  God's  making. 

Jirm.  Hiat's  all  one,  my  £ur,  sweet,  honey 
mooardi :  for,  I  protest,  the  school-master  is  ex- 
ceeding fimtastical ;  too,  too  vain ;  too,  too  vain : 
Bat  we  will  put  it,  as  tiiey  say,  to  /orHma  della 
guerra,  I  wish  you  the  peace  of  mmd,  most  loyal 
coaplement !  [Exit  Annado. 

King.  Here  is  like  to  be  a  good  presence  of  wor* 
thies:  He  presents  Hector  of  Troy;  the  swain, 
Fomper  the  great;  the  parish  curate,  Alexander ; 
Annaclo's  page,  Hercules;  the  pedant,  Judas 
IMhchabfleus. 

And  if  these  four  worthies  in  dieir  first  show  thrive. 
These  four  will  change  habits,  and  present  the 
other  five. 

Biron,  There  is  five  m  the  first  show. 

King.  You  are  deceiv'd,  'tis  not  to. 

Btron.  The  pedant,  the  braggart,  the  hedge- 
priest,  the  fool,  and  the  boy : — 
Ab^te  a  throw  at  novum  \^  and  the  whole  worid 

Oaimot  pricks  out  five  such,  take  each  one  in  his  vein. 
King.  The  ship  is  under  sail,  and  here  she  comes 
amain. 
[Seats  brought  for  the  King,  Princess,  ifc 

Pageant  qf  the  J^/me  Worthiet.    Enter  Costard 
am^d/or  Pompey. 

Coal  t  Pompey  amy 

BoyeL  Ton  lie,  yon  are  not  he. 

Coet  I  Pompey  am^ 

BoyeL  With  libbard's  head  on  knee. 

Biron.  Well  said,  old  mocker ;  I  most  needs  be 

friends  wiUi  thee. 
Cost  I  Pompey  am^  Pompey  twmemCd  the  big, — 
Jhan.  The  great 

Coat.  It  is  great,  sir ; — Pompey  sumam*d  the 
fprtai; 
T%ai  qft  tnjieldf  vfith  targe  and  ehieldj  did  make 

my  fie  to  sweat: 
^^nd,  iravahng  along  this  coast,  I  here  am  come 

by  chance ; 
Jind  lay  mu  arms  bi^ore  the  legs  qf  this  sweet  loss 

qf  France. 
if  jonr  bdyship  would  say.  Thanks,  Pompey,  I 
bad  done. 
Prin.  Great  thanks,  great  Pompey. 
Cbff .  Tis  not  so  much  worth ;  but,  I  hope,  I 
^^lU  periect :  I  made  a  little  fault  in,  great. 

Btron.  My  hat  to  a  halfpenny,  Pompey  proves 
tbe  best  worthy. 

£fi^  Nathaniel  arm'd,  ybr  Alexander. 

Nath.  When  in  the  world  1  liv%  I  was  the 
world's  commander  ; 
B^f  eagt,  westj  north,  and  souths  I  spread  my  eon- 
gueringn^ghi: 


% 


A  gune  with  dice.        (2)  Pick. 
A  Soulier's  powder>hoiii. 


Prin. 

Nath. 


Myjscuiduon  plain  declares,  that  lamAlisanJer. 
BoyeL  Your  nose  says,  no,  you  are  not;  tor  it 

stands  too  right. 
Biron.  Your  nose  smells,  no,  in  this,  most  ten- 
der-smelling knight 

The  conqueror  is  dismay'd:    Plrooeed, 
good  Alexander. 

When  in  the  world  I  lio*d,  I  was  the 
world's  commander^— 
BoyeL  Most  true,  'tis  right ;  you  were  so,  Ali- 
Sander. 

Biron.  Pompey  the  ereat, 

CosL  Your  servant,  and  Cost&rd. 

Biron.  Take  away  the  conqueror,  take  away 
Alisander. 

Cost.  O,  sir,  [To  Nath.1  you  have  over&rown 
Alisander  the  conqueror  f  You  will  be  scraped  out 
of  the  painted  cloth  for  this :  your  lion,  that  holds 
his  poll-ax  sitting  on  a  ckise-stool,  will  be  given  to 
A-jax,  he  will  be  the  ninth  worthy.  A  conqueror, 
andafeard  to  speak !  run  away  for  shame,  Alisan- 
der. [Nath.  retires.]  There,  an't  shall  please  you; 
a  foobsh  mild  man ;  an  honest  man,  look  jon.  and 
soon  dash'd !  He  is  a  marvellous  good  n^gfabour, 
in  sooth ;  and  a  very  good  bowler :  but,  for  Alisan- 
der, alas,  you  see,  how  'tis ; — a  litde  o'erparted : — 
But  there  are  worthies  a  coming  will  speak  their 
mind  in  some  other  sort 
PHn.  Stand  aside,  good  Pompey. 

Enter  Holofemes  arm^d,  for  Judas,  and  Bloth 
arm%  /or  Hercules. 

Hoi.  Great  Hercules  is  presented  by  this  imp, 
^Aose  club  kUTdCerberus,  thai  three-headed 
canus; 
And,  when  he  was  a  babe,  a  chUd,  a  shrimp. 

Thus  did  he  strangle  serpents  in  his  manos : 
Quoniam,  he  seemeth  inminorityf 
Ergo,  /  come  with  this  apology. — 
Keep  some  state  in  thy  exit,  ana  vanish.  [£».  MoCh. 

Hoi.  Judas  I  am, — 

Dum.  A  Judas ! 

Hoi.  Not  Iscariot,  sir. — 
Judas  1  am,  ydmed  Machabtms. 

Dum.  Judas  Machabseus  dipt.  Is  plain  Judas. 

Biron.  A  kissing  traitor : — How  art  thou  prov'd 
Judas  f 

Hoi.  Judas  I  am, — 

Dum.  The  more  shame  for  you,  Judas. 

Hoi.  What  mean  you,  sir? 

Boyet.  To  make  Judas  hang  himseUl 

H^.  Bisin,  sir ;  you  are  my  elder. 

Biron.  Well  follow'd:  Judas  was  hang'd  on 
an  elder. 

Hoi.  I  will  not  be  put  out  of  countenance. 

Biron.  Because  thou  hast  no  foce. 

HoL  Whatisthisf 

Boyet.  A  cittern  head. 

Dum.  The  head  of  a  bodkin. 

Biron.  A  death's  &ce  in  a  ring. 

Long.  Tlie  &ce  of  an  old  Rraian  coin,  scarce 
seen. 

Boyet.  The  pummel  of  Csesar's  faolchion. 

Dum.  The  carv*d-bone  hce  on  a  flask.* 

Biron.  St  George's  half-cheek  in  a  brooch.^ 

Dum.  Ay,  and  in  a  brooch  of  lead. 

Biron.  Av,and  worn  in  the  cap  of  a  looth-drawen 
And  now,  forward ;  for  we  have  put  thee  in  coohp 
tenance. 

Hoi.  You  have  put  me  out  of  countenance. 

Biron.  False ;  we  have  given  thee  &ces. 

(4)  An  oniameotal  buckle  for  foitening  hal> 
bends,  ftc 


\ 


130 


LOVPS  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


jf  d  r 


JioL  But  yoa  have  oat-&c*d  tbem  all. 
Biron,  An  thou  wert  a  lion,  we  would  do  to. 
BoyeL  Therefore,  as  he  is,  an  ass,  let  him  ga 
And  so  adieu,  sweet  J  ude.'  nay,  why  dost  thou  stay  ? 
Dum.  For  the  latter  end  of  his  name. 
Biron,  For  the  aas  to  the  Jude ;  give  it  him  : — 

Jud-as,  away. 
HoL  This  is  not  generous,  not  gentle,not  humble. 
Boyd.  A  light  for  monsieur  Judsis:  it  grows 

dark,  he  may  stumble. 
Prin.  Alas,  poor  Machabaeus,  how  hath  be  been 

baited! 

Enter  ArmBido  amCd,  for  Hector. 

Biron.  Hide  thy  head,  Achilles:  here  comes 
Hector  in  arms. 

Dum.  Though  my  mocks  come  home  by  me,  I 
will  now  be  merry. 

King.  Hector  was  but  a  Trojan  in  respect  of  this. 

BoyeL  But  is  this  Hector.^ 

Dwn.  I  think,  Hector  was  not  so  clean«timber*d. 

Long.  His  leg  is  too  bi^  for  Hector. 

Dum.  More  calf,  certam. 

Boyet  No ;  he  is  best  indued  in  the  amalL 

Biron.  This  cannot  be  Hector. 

Dum.  He^s  a  god  or  a  painter ;  for  he  makes  faces. 

Arm.  The  armipoknt  Jlfars,  qf  lancet^  the  al- 
mighty. 
Gave  Hector  a  g\ft 

Dum.  A  gilt  nutm^. 

Biron.  A  lemon. 

Long.  Stuck  with  clovet. 

Dum,  No,  ckwen. 

Arm.  Peace. 
The  armipoteni  Mart,  qf  lances  the  abnighty, 

Crave  Hector  a  r^ftj  the  heir  (if  JUon  ; 
A  man  eo  breathed,  that  certain  he  umuldji^ht,  yea 

From  mom  till  nighty  out  qf  hiapainlion, 
I  am  that  ^fiowar,-~ 

Dum,  That  mint 

Long.  That  columbine. 

Arm.  Sweet  lord  Lon^ville,  rein  thy  tongue. 

Long.  I  must  rather  give  it  the  rein ;  for  it  runs 
against  Hector. 

Dum.  A  V,  and  Hector's  a  greyhound. 

Arm.  The  sweet  war-man  is  dead  and  rotten  ; 
sweet  chucks,  beat  not  the  bones  of  the  buried  : 
when  he  breath'd,  he  was  a  man — But  I  will  for- 
ward with  my  device :  Sweet  royalty,  [to  (A«  Prin- 
cess.] bestow  on  me  the  sense  of  hearing. 

[Biron  u>hisper$  Costard. 

Prin,  Speak,  brave  Hector;  we  are  much  de- 
lighted. 

Arm.  I  do  adore  thy  tweet  grace's  slipper. 

Boyd.  Loves  her  by  the  foot. 
Dum.  He  may  not  by  the  yard. 

Arm.  This  Hectorjar  surmounted  Hannibal, — 

Cost.  The  party  is  gone,  fellow  Hector,  she  is 
gone ;  she  is  two  monUis  on  her  way. 

Arm.  What  meanest  thou  ? 

Cost.  Faith,  unless  you  play  the  honest  Trojan, 
the  poor  wench  is  cast  away:  she's  quick;  the 
child  brags  in  her  belly  already  ;  'tis  yours. 

Arm.  Dost  thou  infanoonize  me  among  poten- 
tates ?  thou  shalt  die. 

Cost.  Then  shall  Hector  be  whipp'd,  for  Jaque- 
netta  that  is  quick  by  him ;  and  hang'd,  for  Pbm- 
pey  that  is  dead  by  him. 
Dum.  Most  rare  Pompey  ! 

Boyd.  Renowned  Pompey ! 

Biron.  Greater  tlian  great,  great,  great,  great 

(1)  Lance-men. 

(2)Aie  was  the  goddess  of  discord 


Pompey !  Pompey  the  huge ! 

Dum.  Hector  trembles. 

Biron.  Pompey  is  mov'd: — ^More  Ate^^voon 
Ates ;  stir  them  on !  stir  them  on ! 

Diun.  Hector  %vill  challenge  him. 

Biron.  Ay,  if  he  have  no  more  man's  blood  in'i 
belly  than  will  sup  a  flea. 

Arm.  By  the  north  pole,  I  do  challenge  diee. 

Cost.  1  will  not  fi^t  with  a  pole,  like  a  nordiem 
man  ;>  I'll  slash ;  I'll  do  it  by  me  sword  : — I  pray 
you,  let  me  borrow  my  arms  again 

Dum.  Room  for  the  incensed  worthiei. 

Cost.  I'll  do  it  in  my  shirt. 

Dum.  Most  resolute  Pompey ! 

Moth.  Master,  let  me  tsike  you  a  buttOD-liole 
lower.  Do  you  not  see,  Pompey  is  uncasing  for 
the  combat  f  What  mean  you  t  you  will  lose  joor 
reputation. 

Arm.  Gttitlemen,  and  soldiers,  pardon  me :  I 
will  not  combat  in  my  shirt 

Dum.  You  may  not  deny  it;  Pompey  helk 
made  the  challenge. 

Arm.  Sweet  bloods,  I  both  may  and  wilL 

Biron.  What  reason  have  you  for't  ? 

Arm.  The  naked  truth  of  it  is,  I  have  no  diul; 
I  go  woolward^  for  penance. 

Boyd.  True,  ana  it  was  enjoin'd  him  in  Rome 
for  want  of  linen :  since  when,  I'll  be  gwom,  be 
wore  none,  but  a  dish-clout  of  Jaaoenetta't ;  and 
that  'a  wears  next  his  heart,  [or  a  favour. 

Enter  Mercade. 

Mer.  God  save  you,  madam ! 

Prin,  Welcome,  Mercade ; 
But  that  thou  interrupt'st  our  merriment 

Mer.  I  am  sorry,  madam ;  for  the  newt  I  briogi 
Is  heavy  in  mv  tongue.    The  king  your  fathom— 

Prin.  Dead,  for  my  life. 

JtfSrr.  Even  so ;  my  tale  is  told. 

Biron.  Worthies,  away;  the  scene  b^int  to 
cloud. 

Arm.  For  mine  own  part,  I  breathe  free  bieath: 
I  have  seen  the  day  of  wrong  through  the  little 
bole  of  discretion,  and  I  will  right  myself  like  a 
soldier.  ^  [Exeunt  IVorlkieiL 

King.  How  &refl  your  majesty  .^ 

Prin.  Boyet,  prepare ;  I  will  away  to-nig^ 

King.  Madam,  not  so ;  I  do  beseech  yen,  wtaf, 

Prin.  Prepare,  I  say. — I  thank  yoa,  gradou 
loros. 
For  all  your  fair  endeavours ;  and  entreat. 
Out  of  a  new-sad  soul,  that  you  vouchsafe 
In  your  rich  wisdom,  to  excuse,  or  hide. 
The  liberal^  opposition  of  our  spirits  : 
If  over-boldly  we  have  borne  ourselves 
In  the  converse  of  breath,  vour  gentleness 
Was  guilty  of  it — Farewell,  worthy  lord  I 
A  heavy  heart  bears  not  an  humble  tongue : 
Excuse  me  so,  coming  so  short  of  thanks 
For  my  great  suit  so  easily  obtain'd. 

King.  The  extreme  parts  of  time  extremely  fomi 
All  causes  to  the  purpose  of  his  speed ; 
And  often,  at  his  very  loose,  decides 
That  which  long  process  could  not  arbitrate : 
And  though  the  mourning  brow  of  progeny 
Forbid  the  smiling  courtesy  of  love. 
The  holy  suit  which  fain  it  would  convince ; 
Yet,  since  love's  amimentwas  first  on  loot, 
Let  not  the  cloud  ol  sorrow  jusde  it 
From  what  it  purposed ;  since,  to  wail  friends  loiU 
Is  not  by  mucn  so  whol«>somf>,  profitaUe, 

(3)  A  clown.     (4)  Clothed  in  wool,  without  lineo 
(5)  Free  to  excess. 


//. 


LOVE'S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


181 


As  to  rejoice  at  friencU  but  newl^  found. 
iVtfi.   1  understand  you  not:  my  grie&  an 

double. 
Biron.  Honest  plain  words  best  pierce  the  ear 
of  grief; — 
And  by  these  badges  understand  the  king. 
For  your  6ur  sakes  have  we  neglected  time, 
Hay'd  foul  play  with  ouroeths ;  your  beauty,  ladies, 
Hath  much  deformed  us,  fashioning  our  humours 
Even  to  the  opposed  end  of  our  intents : 
And  what  in  us  hath  seem'd  ridiculous, — 
As  love  is  full  of  unbefitting  strains ; 
All  wanton  as  a  child,  skipping,  and  vain ; 
Form'd  by  the  eye,  and,  tnerefore,  like  the  eye 
Full  of  strange  shapes,  of  habits,  and  of  forms. 
Varying  in  subjects  as  the  e^e  doth  roll 
To  every  varied  object  in  his  glance : 
Which  party-coated  presence  of  loose  love 
Put  on  b V  us,  if^  in  your  heavenly  eyes. 
Have  misbeoxn'd  our  oaths  and  gravities. 
Those  heavenly  eyes,  that  look  into  these  faults, 
Si^Kested'  us  to  make :  Therefore,  ladies, 
Oi^iove  being  yours,  the  error  that  love  makes 
li  likewise  yours :  we  to  ourselves  prove  false, 
JBv  being  once  ^se  for  ever  to  be  true 
1o  those  that  make  us  both : — fair  ladies,  you : 
And  even  that  fiilsehood,  in  itself  a  sin 
Thus  purifies  itself,  and  turns  to  gprace. 

Prtn.  We  have  receiv'd  your  letters  full  of  love ; 
Tour  favours  the  embassadors  of  love ; 
And,  in  our  maiden  council,  rated  them 
Ac  courtship,  pleasant  jest,  and  courtesy, 
Aa  bombast,  and  as  lining  to  the  time : 
Bat  more  devout  than  this,  in  our  respects. 
Have  we  not  been ;  and  therefore  met  your  loves 
In  tharown  fashion,  like  a  merriment 

Zhim.  Our  letters,  madam,  show'd  much  more 

than  jest 
Long.  So  did  our  looks. 
jRot.  We  did  not  quoted  them  sa 

King.  Now,  at  the  latest  minute  of  the  hour, 
Grant  us  your  loves. 

Prin.  A  time,  methinks,  too  short 

To  make  a  Arorid-without-end  bar|;ain  in : 
Ko,  no,  my  lord,  your  gprace  is  pei^ur'd  much, 
Full  of  dcBT  guiltiness ;  and,  therefore  this, — 
If  for  niy  love  (as  there  is  no  such  cause) 
Ton  vrill  do  aught,  this  shall  you  do  for  me : 
Vocir  oath  I  will  not  trust;  but  go  with  speed 
To  some  forlorn  and  naked  hermitage. 
Remote  Atmu  all  the  pleasures  of  the  world ; 
There  stay  until  the  twelve  celestial  signs 
Have  brought  about  their  annual  reckoning ; 
If  this  austere  insociable  life 
Change  not  your  offer  made  in  heat  of  blood ; 
If  frosts,  and  fosts,  bard  lodging,  and  thin  weeds,> 
Nip  not  the  gaudy  blossoms  of  your  love. 
But  that  it  Mar  this  trial,  and  last  love : 
Tben,  at  the  expiration  of  the  year. 
Come  challenge,  challenge  me  by  these  deserts. 
And,  by  this  virgin  palm  now  kissing  thine, 
I  vrill  be  thine ;  ana  till  that  instant,  shut 
My  wofnl  self  up.  in  a  mourning  house ; 
Raining  the  tears  of  lamentation, 
Tor  the  remembrance  of  my  father's  death. 
IT  tbas  thou  do  deny,  let  our  hands  part ; 
If  either  intitled  in  the  other's  heart 

JCing.  If  this,  or  more  than  this,  I  would  deny. 
To  flatter  up  these  powers  of  mine  with  rest, 
The  sudden  hand  of  death  close  up  mine  eye ! 
Hence  ever  then  my  heart  is  in  thy  breast 


?3 


)  Tempted. 
3)  Clothing. 


(2)  Regard. 
(4)  Ydiement 


Biron,  And  what  to  me,  my  bve .'  and  what 
tome? 

Roa.  You  must  be  pursed  too,  your  sins  are  rank ; 
You  are  attaint  with  faults  and  perjury  ; 
Therefore,  if  you  my  favour  mean  to  get, 
A  twelvemonth  shall  you  spend,  and  never  rest. 
But  seek  the  weary  beds  of  people  sick. 

Jhim.  But  what  to  me,  my  love  ?  but  what  to  me? 

Kath,  A  wife  ! — A  beard,  fair  health,  and  hon- 
esty; 
With  three-fold  love  I  wish  you  all  these  three. 

Jhim.  O,  shall  1  say,  i  thank  you,  gentle  wife  f 

Katk.  Not  so,  my  lord ; — a  twelvemonth  and  a 
day 
I'll  mark  no  words  that  smooth-fac'd  wooers  say 
Come  when  the  king  doth  to  my  lady  conoe. 
Then,  if  1  have  much  love,  I'll  give  you  some. 

Dum.  I'll  serve  thee  true  and  faithfully  till  then. 

Kaih.  Yet  swear  not,  lest  you  be  forsworn  agair 

Long.    What  says  Maria  f 

Mar.  At  the  twelvemonth's  end, 

I'll  change  my  black  gown  for  a  faithful  friend. 

Long.  I'll  stay  with  patience  ;  but  the  time  is 
long. 

Mar,  The  liker  you ;  few  taller  are  so  young. 

Biron.  Studies  my  lady  ?  mistress,  look  on  me. 
Behold  the  window  of  my  heart,  mine  eye, 
What  humble  suit  attends  thy  answer  there  ; 
Impose  some  service  on  me  for  thy  love. 

Kos.  Oft  have  I  heard  of  you,  my  lord  Bir6n, 
Before  I  saw  you :  and  the  world's  large  tongue 
Proclaims  you  for  a  man  replete  with  mocks ; 
Full  of  comparisons  and  wounding  flouts ; 
'W'liich  you  on  all  estates  will  execute. 
That  lie  within  the  mercy  of  your  wit : 
To  weed  this  wormwood  from  your  fruitful  brain ; 
And,  therewithal,  to  win  me,  if  you  please, 
(Without  the  which  I  am  not  to  "be  won,) 
You  shall  this  twelvemonth  term  from  day  to  day 
Visit  the  speechless  sick,  and  still  converse 
With  groanine  wretches ;  and  your  task  shall  be, 
With  all  the  force*  endeavour  of  your  wit. 
To  enforce  the  pained  impotent  to  smile. 

Biron.  To  move  wild  laughter  in  the  throat  of 
death  ? 
It  cannot  be  ;  it  is  impossilJe  : 
Mirth  cannot  move  a  soul  in  agony. 

Ros.  Why,  that's  the  way  to  choke  a  gibing  spirit, 
Whose  influence  is  begot  of  that  loose  grace. 
Which  shallow  laughing  hearers  g^ve  to  fools : 
A  jest's  prosperity  Ties  in  the  ear 
Cn  him  tnat  hears  it,  never  in  the  tongue 
Of  him  that  makes  it :  then,  if  sickly  ears, 
E)eard  with   the  clamours  of  their  own   dear* 

groans, 
Will  hear  your  idle  scorns,  continue  then. 
And  I  will  have  you,  and  that  fault  withal ; 
But,  if  they  will  not,  tlirow  away  that  spirit. 
And  I  shall  find  you  empty  of  that  fault. 
Right  joyful  of  your  reformation. 

Biron.  A  twelvemonth  ^  well,  tfefall  what  will 
befall, 
I'll  Jest  a  twelvemonth  in  an  hospital. 

Prin.  Ay,  sweet  my  lord;  and  so  I  take  my 
leave.  [To  Me  King. 

King.  No,  madam :  we  will  bring  you  on  your 
way. 

Biron.  Our  wooing  doth  not  end  like  an  old  play ; 
Jack  hath  not  Jill :  these  ladies'  courtesy 
Might  well  have  made  our  sport  a  comedy. 

King.  Come,  sir,  it  wants  a  twelvemonth  and  a 
day, 

(5)  Immediate. 


LOVE*S  LABOUR'S  LOST. 


AeiV 


And  Awn  *twill  end. 
Binun,  That*i  too  long  tat  a  plaj. 

£Mer  Aimado. 

Arm.  Sweet  OMJettj,  Touchade  me^— 

Prin,  Was  not  that  Hector? 

Jhtm.  The  worthy  knight  of  Troj. 

Arm.  I  will  kits  thy  royal  ^Dga^  and  take 
leave :  I  am  a  votary ;  I  nave  vowedto  Jaqoenetta 
to  hold  the  plough  tor  her  sweet  love  three  yeart. 
But,  most  esteemed  rreatneas,  will  yon  hear  the 
dialogue  that  the  two  learned  men  have  compiled, 
in  praise  of  the  owl  and  the  cuckoo  ?  It  nould 
have  followed  in  the  end  of  our  diow. 

King,  Call  them  forth  quickly,  we  will  do  aa 

Arm.  Holla!  approach. — 

Enter  Holofeniet,  Nathaniel,  Modi,  Coitard,  and 

others. 

This  side  is  Hiems,  winter;  this  Ver«  the  rarinr ; 
dw  one  maintain*d  by  the  owl,  the  other  oy  the 
cuckoa    Ver,  begin. 

SONG. 

Spiing.  When  daisies  pied,  and  vioUis  Umc, 
And  lady-smocks  ail  m/mt-m/UIc, 
And  euchnhhuds  qf  ydiow  hue. 

Do  paini  the  meadows  Vfith  dsOghif 
The  cuckoo  then,  on  every  irte, 
Mocks  married  men,  for  ihtu  sings  he^ 
Cuckoo  f 
.  Cuckoot  eudeoOi—O  word  qffiaTf 
Unpkasing  to  a  married  «*•* ' 


n. 

When  shepherds  pipe  on  oaien  straws. 
And  merry  larks  are  ploughmaCs 
clocks, 
When  titrUes  tread,  and  rooks,  and  daws, 
And  maidens   bleach   their  summer 
smocks, 

(l}CooL    (f)  Wfld  applets 


The  aukoo  then,  on  every  trm. 
Mocks  married  men,  for  thus  sings  Ac, 

Cuckoo,' 
C%iekoo,  cuckoo, — O  word  qffear^ 
Unpkasing  to  a  married  ear  ! 

m. 

Wmter.  When  icicles  hanr  by  the  waU, 

And  Dick  the  uiepherd  blows  his  naU^ 
And  Tom  bears  logs  into  the  hall. 

And  milk  comes  frozen  home  in  paH, 
When  blood  is  nipp*d,  and  ways  be  fosd^ 
Then  nightly  sings  the  staring  owl^ 

Tkhwho; 
TSi-whit,  to-who,  a  merry  note. 
While  gttasy  J  ova  doth  keei^  the  poi. 

IV. 

When  aU  ahiid  the  wind  doth  blow, 

Andcoughinrdrownstheparson^ssmiSf 
And  birds  sit  brooding  in  the  snow. 

And  Marian's  nose  hoks  red  and  rass^ 
When  roasted  crahfi  hiu  m  the  bowl. 
Then  nighthf  siru^  the  staring  owl^ 

To^v£o; 
Tw^uhit,  to-who,  a  merry  note. 
While  greasy  Joan  doth  keel  the  poL 

Arm.  The  words  of  Mercury  are  Wsh  after 
the  songs  of  Apolla — You,  that  way ;  we,  this  way. 

[ExemnL 


In  this  play,  which  all  die  editm  have  concar> 
red  to  censure,  and  some  hare  rejected  as  unwor- 
diy  of  our  poet,  it  must  be  confessed  that  there  are 
many  passages  mean,  childisih,  and  vulgar :  and 
some  which  ought  not  to  have  been  exhibited,  aa 
we  are  told  they  were,  to  a  maiden  queen.  But 
there  are  scattered  through  the  whole  many  spai4s 
of  renitts ;  nor  is  there  any  play  that  has  mon 
evident  marks  of  the  hand  of  Shaksp^re. 

JOHNSON. 


MEBCHANT  OF  VENICE.    Aam.  —  SetM3. 

Vol.  I.  — p.  181 


AS  yOV  LIKE  IT.    AalV.  —  SuMZ. 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


IMb&oiFmkt, 

Anlnuo^  tht  m^chmU  of  Vtmce, 


[ 


Jrimtii  io  AnUmio  andJBattamo. 

Jim  km  mih  Jwietu 
Sbylock,mJii§. 
TMAmUm  Jew.  his  JrimJL 
LauDoehU  Qckba,  a  dotm,  tervani  io  Shylock, 
CMLGcUbts/kthsrioLinmcetoL 


Salerio,  a  mestenger /irom  Flmice. 
Leonardo,  aervani  io  Btummio. 

fi^Si  •-«*'•''-««• 

Portia,  a  rich  hnrett. 
Nerissa,  her  voaiUng'fnaid. 
Jessica,  daughter  io  Shyloek, 

Magn{ficoes  qfremee,  officers  qfihe  eouri  qfJus- 
tice^jaikr^  servants^  and  other  aiiendanis. 

Scene,  partly  at  Fiance^  and  partty  at  BebnmU^ 
the  saU  qf  Portia,  on  the  continent. 


ACT  I. 

SCMLATE  /.—Venice.   A  street   Enter  Antonio, 
SaluinOyOiMf  Salanio. 

Antonto, 

In  sooth,  I  knofr  not  why  I  am  to  lad ; 
It  wearies  me ;  von  sa^,  it  wearies  yoa ; 
Bat  how  I  caught  it,  iound  it,  or  came  by  it. 
What  stuff  *tis  made  oi,  whereof  it  is  bom, 
lam  to  learn; 

And  such  a  want-wit  sadness  makes  of  me, 
That  I  have  much  ado  to  know  mjr8el£ 

Solar.  Your  mind  is  tossing  on  the  ocean ; 
There,  where  joor  ai-giosiesi  with  portly  sail, — 
Like  seniors  and  rich  burghers  or  the  flood. 
Or,  as  it  were  dw  pageants  of  the  sea, — 
IX>  otequef  the  p^  traffickers, 
IW  corCVf  ID  them,  do  them  rearerenoe. 
As  thej Brhw  tbeffl  with  their  wmren wings. 

SalmLnsmm  me,  sir,  had  I  such  venture  forth. 
The  bedlv  part  of  my  affections  would 
Be  widi  nv  kopat  abroad.    I  should  be  still 
PlacUDK  Ifae  gns%  to  know  where  sits  the  wind ; 
Pseriii^  m  mi^  for  ports,  and  piers,  and  roads; 
And  efwy  object,  that  might  make  roe  fear 
Hisfortona  to  my  ventures,  out  of  doubt, 
^oold  nnki  ma  sad. 

Sskr.  My  wind,  cooling  mv  broth, 

"Voald  bknr  me  to  an  ague,  when  I  thought 
^^^^^  ham  a  wind  I09  creat  might  do  at  sea. 
M.  iboBld  not  sea  the  sano^  hour-glass  run, 
Sutlshoold  tfamk  of  shallows  and  of  flats; 
•And  see  nqr  wealAy  Andrew  dock'd  in  sand, 
^^yXayfl  har  high-ti^  lower  than  her  ribs, 
'*'o  kiai  her  banal.    Should  I  go  to  church, 
-Ajid  see  the  holy  edifice  of  stone, 
•And  not  bethink  me  straight  of  dangerous  rocks  ? 
^'^'liich  touching  but  my  gentle  vessels  side, 
^Qold  scatter  all  her  spices  on  the  stream ; 
Enrobe  the  roaring  waters  with  my  silks ; 
And,  in  a  word,  Irat  even  now  worth  this, 
k         Ajid  DOW  worth  nodiing?  Shall  1  have  the  thought 
^       "e (bink  on  this;  and  shaU  I  lack  the  thought, 


0)  Sliips  of  large  bortheo.        (2)  Lowering. 
13 


That  such  a  thing,  bechanced,  would  make  ma 

sad? 
But,  tell  not  roe ;  I  know,  Antonio 
Is  sad  to  think  upon  his  merchandise. 

Ant.  Believe  roe,  no :  I  thank  my  fortune  for  it. 
My  ventures  are  not  in  one  bottom  trusted. 
Nor  to  one  place ;  nor  is  my  whole  estate 
Upon  the  fortune  of  this  present  year : 
Therefore,  my  merchandise  mokes  me  not  sad. 

Solan.  Why  then  you  are  in  love. 

Ant.  Fie,  fie ! 

Solan.  Not  in  kwe  neither  ?  Then  let*s  say,  you 
are  sad. 
Because  you  are  not  merry :  and  *twere  as  easy 
For  you  to  laugh,  and  leap,  and  say,  you  are  meny . 
Because  you  are  not  sad.    Now,  by  two-headea 

Janus, 
Nature  hath  framM  strange  fellows  in  her  time : 
Some  that  will  evermore  peep  through  their  eyes. 
And  laugh,  like  parrots,  at  a  bag-piper; 
And  other  of  such  vin^;ar  aspect. 
That  thev*ll  not  show  their  teeth  in  way  of  smile. 
Though  Nestor  swear  the  jest  be  laughable. 

Enter  Bassanio,  Lorenzo,  and  Gmtiana 

Salon.  Here  comes  Bassanio,  your  most  nobis 
kinsman, 
Gratiano,  and  Lorenzo :  Fare  you  well ; 
We  leave  you  now  with  better  companv. 
Salar.  I  would  have  staid  till  I  haa  made  you 
meny, 
If  worthier  friends  had  not  prevented  me. 

Ant.  Your  worth  is  vexy  dear  in  my  r^pard. 
I  take  it,  your  own  business  calls  on  you. 
And  vou  embrace  the  occasion  to  depart 
Solar.  Good  morrow,  my  good  lords. 
Jkus.  Good  si^iors  both,  when  shall  we  laugh  .^ 
Say,  when  ? 
You  grow  exceeding  strange  :  Must  it  be  so? 
Stuar.  We'll  make  our  leisures  to  attend  00 
yours.        [Exeunt  Salarino  and  Salania 
Lor.  My  lord  Bassanio,  since  yon  have  found 
Antonio, 
We  two  will  leave  you :  but,  at  dinner-time, 
I  pray  you,  have  in  mind  where  we  must  meet 
JSost.  I  will  not  fail  you. 


184 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


AU  I 


Gra,  Toa  look  not  well,  tignior  Antonio; 
You  have  too  much  respect  upon  the  world : 
They  lose  it,  that  do  buy  it  with  much  care. 
Believe  me,  you  are  marvellously  changed. 

Ant.  I  bDid  the  world  but  as  the  world,  Gra- 
tiano; 
A  stage,  where  every  man  must  play  a  part, 
And  mine  a  sad  one. 

Gra,  Let  me  play  the  fool : 

With  mirth  and  laughter  let  old  wrinkles  come ; 
And  let  my  liver  ratner  heat  with  wine. 
Than  my  heart  cool  with  mortifying  groans. 
Why  should  a  man,  whose  blood  is  warm  within, 
Sit  like  his  grandsire  cut  in  alabaster  ? 
Sleep  when  ne  wakes  ?  and  creep  into  the  jaundice 
By  being  peevish  ?  I  tell  thee  what,  Antonio, — 
1  love  thee,  and  it  is  my  love  that  speaks ; — 
There  are  a  sort  of  men,  whose  visages 
Do  cream  and  mantle,  like  a  standing  pond ; 
And  do  a  wilful  stillness'  entertain. 
With  purpose  to  be  dressM  in  an  opinion 
Of  wisdom,  eravity,  profound  conceit ; 
As  who  should  say,  lam  sir  OracUy 
Andj  when  I  ope  my  lipsy  let  no  dog  bark  ! 
O,  my  Antonio,  I  do  know  of  these. 
That  therefore  only  are  reputed  wise. 
For  saying  nothing ;  who,  I  am  very  sure. 
If  tliey  should  speak,  would  almost  damn  thote  ears, 
Wliich,  bearing  them,  would  call  their  brothers, 

fools. 
V\\  tell  thee  more  of  this  another  time : 
But  fish  not  with  this  melancholy  bait. 
For  this  fool*s  gudgeon,  this  opinion. — 
Come,  good  Lorenzo : — Fare  ye  well,  a  while ; 
V\\  end  my  exhortation  after  dinner. 

Lor,  Well,  we  will  leave  you  then  till  dinner- 
time: 
I  must  be  (me  of  these  nme  dumb  wise  men, 
For  Gratiano  never  lets  me  speak. 

Gra.  Well,  keep  me  company  but  two  years 
more. 
Thou  shah  not  know  tha  sound  of  thine  own 
tongue. 

Ant.  Farewell :  I'll  grow  a  talker  for  this  gear. 

Qra.  Thanks,  i^faith ;  for  silence  is  only  com- 
mendable 
In  a  neaf  s  tongue  dried,  and  a  maid  not  vendible. 
[Exeunt  Gratiano  and  Lorenzo. 

Ant.  Is  that  any  thing  now  } 

Bass.  Gratiano  speaks  an  infinite  deal  of  nothing, 
more  than  any  man  in  all  Venice  :  His  reasons  are 
as  two  grains  of  wheat  hid  in  two  bushels  of  chaA'; 
you  shall  seek  all  day  ere  you  find  them ;  and,  when 
you  have  them,  they  are  not  worth  the  search. 

Ant.  Well ;  tell  me  now,  what  lady  is  this  same 
To  whom  you  swore  a  secret  pilgrimage, 
That  you  to-day  promisM  to  tell  me  of? 

Bass.  *Tis  not  unknown  to  prou,  Antonk), 
How  much  I  have  disabled  mme  estate. 
By  something  showing  a  more  swelling  port 
Irian  mv  faint  means  would  grant  contmuance : 
Nor  do  I  now  make  moan  to  be  abridged 
From  such  a  noble  rate ;  but  my  chief  care 
Is,  to  come  fairly  oflf  from  the  great  debts. 
Wherein  my  time,  something  too  prodigal, 
Halh  left  me  gaged  :  To  you,  Antonio, 
I  owe  the  most,  in  money,  and  in  love ; 
And  from  your  love  I  have  a  warranty 
To  unburdien  all  my  plots  and  purposes. 
How  to  get  clear  of  all  the  debts  I  owe. 

Afti.  I  pray  vou,  good  Bassamo,  let  me  know  it ; 
And,  if  it  stana,  as  you  yourself  still  do. 


(1}  Obstinate  silence. 


(2)  Ready. 


Within  the  eye  of  honour,  be  assured. 

My  purse,  mv  person,  my  extremest  means, 

Lie  all  unlockM  to  your  occasions. 

Bass.  In  my  school-days,  when  I  bad  lott  one 
shafll, 
I  shot  his  felbw  of  the  self-same  flight 
The  self-same  way,  with  more  advised  watd«. 
To  find  the  other  forth ;  and  by  adventuring  both, 
I  oH  found  both  :  1  ur|;e  this  cluldhood  proof^ 
Because  what  follows  is  pure  innocence. 
1  owe  you  much ;  and,  like  a  wilful  youth. 
That  which  I  owe  is  lost :  but  if  you  please 
To  shoot  another  arrow  that  self  way 
Which  you  did  shoot  the  first,  I  do  not  doubt, 
As  I  will  watch  the  aim,  or  to  find  both. 
Or  bring  vour  latter  hazard  back  ^ain, 
And  thankfully  rest  debtor  for  the  first 

AnL  You  know  me  well ;  and  herein  spend  but 
time. 
To  wind  about  my  love  with  circumstance ; 
And,  out  of  doubt,  you  do  me  now  more  wrong. 
In  making  question  of  my  uttermost. 
Than  if  you  had  made  waste  of  all  I  have : 
Then  do  but  say  to  me  what  I  should  do. 
That  in  your  knowledge  may  by  me  be  done. 
And  I  am  prest^  unto  it :  therefore,  speak. 

Bass,  In  Belmont  is  a  lady  richly  left. 
And  she  is  fair,  and,  fairer  tran  that  word. 
Of  wondrous  virtues  :  sometimes*  from  her  eyes 
I  did  receive  fair  speechless  messages  : 
Her  name  is  Portia ;  nothing  undervalued 
To  Cato's  daughter,  Brutus*  Portia. 
Nor  is  the  wide  world  ignorant  of  her  worth ; 
For  the  four  winds  blow  in  from  every  coast 
Renowned  suitors  :  and  her  sunny  locks 
Hang  on  her  temples  like  a  golden  fleece ; 
Which  makes  her  seat  of  Belmont,  Colcboa*  stnnd. 
And  many  Jasons  come  in  quest  of  her. 

0  my  Antonio,  had  I  but  the  means 
To  hold  a  rival  place  with  one  of  them, 

1  have  a  mind  presages  me  such  thrift. 
That  I  should  questionless  be  fortunate. 

Ant.  Thou  know^st,  that  all  my  fortunes  are  at 
sea; 
Nor  have  I  money,  nor  coramodi^. 
To  raise  a  present  sum :  therefore  go  fordi, 
Try  what  my  credit  can  in  Venice  do ; 
That  shall  be  rack'd,  even  to  the  utteimoat. 
To  furnish  thee  to  Belmont,  to  fair  Portia. 
Go,  presently  inquire,  and  so  will  I, 
Where  money  is ;  and  I  no  question  make. 
To  have  it  of  my  trust,  or  for  my  sake.     [EUemmL 

SCEJ^E  //.—Belmont    A  room  in  Fbr1ia*s 
house.    Enter  Portia  and  Nerianu 

Por.  By  my  troth,  Nerissa,  my  little  body  ii 
aweary  of  this  great  world. 

JVer.  You  would  be,  sweet  madam,  if  your  raise* 
ries  were  in  the  same  abundance  as  your  good  for; 
tunes  are  :  And,  yet,  for  aught  I  see,  they  are  as 
sick,  that  surfeit  with  too  much,  as  they  that  starve 
with  nothing :  It  is  no  mean  happiness  therefore,  to 
be  seated  in  the  mean ;  superfluity  conies  sooner  bj 
white  hairs,  but  competency  lives  longer. 

Por.  Good  sentences,  and  well  pronounced. 

JWr.  They  would  be  better,  if  well  folknred. 

Por.  If  to  do  were  as  easy  as  to  know  what  were  i 
^nod  to  do,  chapels  had  bcnm  churches,  and  pi 
mcirs  cottages,  princes*  palaces.  It  is  a  g^ood  divi 
that  follows  his  own  instructions :  I  can  easier  tet 
twenty  what  were  good  to  be  done,  than  be  one 
the  twenty  to  follow  mine  own  teaching. 

(3)  Formerly. 


Scene  UL 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


185 


may  devifle  laws  for  die  blood ;  but  a  hot  temper 
leaps  over  a  cold  decree  :  such  a  hare  is  madness 
the  youth,  to  skip  o*er  the  meshes  of  good  counsel 
the  cripple.  But  this  reasoning  is  not  in  the  fashion 
to  choose  me  a  husband : — O  me,  the  word  choose ! 
I  may  neither  choose  whom  I  would,  nor  refuse 
whom  I  dislike ;  so  is  the  will  of  a  living  daughter 
carb*d  by  the  will  of  a  dead  &ther : — Is  it  not  hard, 
Nerissa,  that  I  cannot  choose  one,  nor  refuse  none  f 

JVer.  Your  father  was  ever  virtuous ;  and  holy 
men,  at  their  death,  have  good  inspirations ;  there- 
lbre«  the  lottery,  that  he  hath  devised  in  these  three 
chests,  of  go(d,  silver,  and  lead,  (whereof  who 
chooaet  his  meaning,  chooses  vou,)  will,  no  doubt, 
never  be  chosen  by  any  rightly,  tmt  one  who  you 
shall  r^tlr  bve.  But  what  warmth  is  there  in 
your  amction  towards  any  of  these  princely  suitors 
that  are  already  come  f 

Pitr.  I  pray  thee,  over-name  them ;  and  as  thou 
namest  them,  I  will  deKribe  them ;  and,  according 
to  mr  deacriptioo,  level  at  my  affection. 

^er.  First,  there  is  the  Neapolitan  prince. 

Por,  Ay,  tfaat*s  a  colt,i  indeed,  for  ne  doth  no- 
thing but  talk  of  his  horse :  and  he  makes  it  a  great 
sppcopriatioD  to  his  own  good  parts,  that  he  can 
•hoe  him  himself:  I  am  much  afraid,  my  lady,  his 
mother  played  fidse  with  a  smith. 

JVer.  Then  is  there  the  county^  Palatine. 

Por.  He  (^es  nothing  but  frown ;  as  who  should 
ny,  Jin  \f  you  vnU  not  haveme,  choose :  he  hears 
merry  tales,  and  smiles  not :  I  fear,  he  will  prove 
the  weeping  {Mlosopher  when  he  ^rows  old,  being 
so  full  o^  unmannerty  sadness  in  his  youth.  I  had 
rather  be  married  to  a  death's  head  with  a  bone  in 
his  moQth,  than  to  either  of  these.  God  defend  me 
from  these  two ! 

JVer.  How  say  you  by  the  French  lord,  Mon- 
aear  Le  Bon  f 

Por.  God  made  him,  and  therefore  let  him  pas^ 
for  a  man.  In  truth,  1  know  it  is  a  sin  to  be  a 
mocker :  But,  he !  why,  he  hath  a  horse  better  than 
the  Neapolitan's;  a  better  bad  habit  of  frowning 
than  the  count  Palatine :  he  is  every  man  in  no 
man :  if  a  throstle  sing,  he  falls  straight  a  caper- 
ing ;  he  will  fience  with  his  own  shadow :  if  I  should 
many  iMm,  I  should  many  twenty  husbands :  If 
he  would  despise  me,  I  would  forgive  him ;  for  if 
be  love  me  to  madness,  I  shall  never  requite  him. 

Jfer.  What  say  you  then  to  Falconbridge,  the 
young  baron  of  England  f 

Por.  You  know,  1  say  nothing  to  him ;  for  he  un- 
denCands  not  me,  nor  1  him :  he  nath  neither  Latin, 
French,  nor  Italian ;  and  you  will  come  into  the 
court  md  swear,  that  I  have  a  poor  penny-worth 
inihe  EnrlidL  He  is  a  proper  man's  picture; 
But,  alas !  who  can  converse  with  a  dumb  show  ? 
How  o^y  he  is  suited!  I  think  he  bought  his 
doublet  in  Italy,  his  round  hose  in  France,  his  bon- 
^let  in  Germany,  and  his  behaviour  every  where. 

Jfer.  What  think  you  of  the  Scottish  lord,  his 
MM^boor.' 

Por.  That  he  hath  a  neighbourly  charity  in  him ; 
^Bar  he  borrowed  a  box  of  the  ear  of  the  English- 
vnan,  and  swore  he  would  pay  him  again,  when  he 
'Was  able :  I  think  the  Frenchman  became  his  sure- 
tjr,  and  sealed  under  for  another. 

Jfer.  How  like  you  the  youi^  German,  the  duke 
otf  Sixomr's  nephew  f 

Por.  Very  nlely  in  the  morning,  when  he  is  so- 

^^«r;  and  roort  vilelr  in  the  aAemoon,  when  he  is 

^^nmk:  when  he  is  best,  be  b  a  little  worse  than  a 

nwi;  ttid  when  be  is  worst,  he  is  little  better  than 

0)  A  beady,  gay  yonngster.  (3)  Cowit 


a  beast :  an  the  worst  fall  Ijiat  ever  fell,  I  hope,  I 
shall  make  shift  to  go  without  him. 

Act.  if  he  should  offer  to  choose,  and  choose 
the  right  casket,  you  should  refuse  to  perform  your 
fathers  will,  if  you  should  refuse  to  accept  him. 

Por.  Therefore,  for  fear  of  the  worst,  1  pray 
thee,  set  a  deep  glass  of  Rhenbh  wine  on  the  con- 
trary casket :  tor,  if  the  devil  be  within,  and  that 
temptation  without,  I  know  he  will  choose  it  I 
will  do  any  thing,  Nerissa,  ere  I  will  be  married  to 
a  spunge. 

jS/er.  You  need  not  fear,  lady,  the  having  any 
of  theiie  lords ;  they  have  acouainted  me  with  their 
determinations  :  which  is,  indeed,  to  return  to  their 
home,  and  to  trouble  you  with  no  more  suit ;  unkM 
you  may  be  won  by  fsome  other  sort  than  your  &- 
ther's  imposition,  depending  on  the  caskets. 

Por.  If  I  live  to  be  as  old  as  Sibylla,  I  will  die 
as  chaste  as  Diana,  unless  I  be  obtained  by  the 
manner  of  my  father's  will :  I  am  glad  this  parcel 
of  wooers  are  so  reasonable ;  for  there  is  not  one 
among  them  but  I  dote  on  his  very  absence,  and  1 
pray  God  grant  them  a  fair  departure. 

AVr.  Do  you  not  remember,  lady,  in  your  fk' 
ther's  time,  a  Venetian,  a  scholar,  and  a  soldier, 
that  came  hither  in  company  of  the  Marquis  of 
Moiitferrat  ? 

Por.  Yes,  yes,  it  was  Bassanio;  as  I  think,  so 
was  he  called. 

JVer.  True,  madam ;  he,  of  all  the  men  that 
ever  my  foolish  eyes  looked  upon,  was  the  best  de> 
serving  a  fair  lady. 

Por.  I  remember  him  well;  and  I  remember 
him  worthy  of  thy  praise. — How  now !  what  news? 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.  The  tour  strangers  seek  for  you,  madam, 
to  take  their  leave :  and  there  is  a  forerunner  come 
from  a  fifth,  the  prince  of  Morocco ;  who  brings 
word,  the  prince,  his  master,  will  be  here  to-nif^t 

Por.  If  I  could  bid  the  fifth  welcome  with  so 
good  heart  as  I  can  bid  the  other  four  (arewell,  I 
should  be  glad  of  his  approach :  if  he  have  the 
condition'  of  a  saint,  and  the  complexion  of  a  devil, 
I  had  rather  he  should  shrive  me  than  wive  me. 
Come,  Nerissa. — Sirrah,  go  before. — ^Whiles  we 
shut  the  gate  upon  one  wooer,  another  knocks  at 
the  door.  [Exeunt 

SCELXE  IIL— Venice.    Ayubtieplace.    Enkr 
Bassanio  and  Shylock. 

Shy.  Three  thousand  ducats, — well. 

Beua.  Ay,  sir,  for  three  months. 

Shy.  For  three  months, — well. 

Bass.  For  the  which,  as  I  told  you,  Antonio 
shall  be  bound. 

Shy.  Antonio  shall  become  bound, — ^well. 

Bass.  May  you  stead  me?  Will  you  pleasare 
me  ?  Shall  1  know  your  answer? 

Shy.  Three  thousand  ducats,  for  three  months, 
and  Antonio  bound. 

Bass.  Your  answer  to  that. 

Shy.  Antonio  is  a  good  man. 

Bass.  Have  you  beard  any  imputation  to  the 
contrary  ? 

Shy.Hoj  no,  no,  no,  no; — my  meaning,  in  say- 
ing he  is  a  good  man,  is  to  have  you  understand 
me,  that  he  is  sufficient :  yet  his  means  are  in  sup- 
position :  he  hath  an  aigosy  bound  to  Tripolia, 
another  to  the  Indies;  I  understand  moreover  upon 
the  Rial  to,  he  hath  a  third  at  Mexico,  a  fourth  fot 
Fngland, and  other  ventures  he  hath, 

(3)  Temoer,  qoalitiei. 


t86 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


Jial 


der*d  abroad :  But  ahips  are  but  boards,  sailors  but 
men:  there  be  land-rats,  and  water-rets,  water- 
thieves,  and  land-thieves;  I  mean,  pirates;  and 
then,  there  is  the  peril  of  waters,  winds,  and  rocks : 
The  man  is,  notwithstanding,  sufficient; — three 
thousand  ducats ;— I  think  I  may  take  his  bond. 

Bass.  Be  assured  you  may. 

Shy.  I  will  be  assured  I  may ;  and,  that  I  may 
be  assured,  I  will  bethink  me :  May  I  speak  with 
Antonio? 

Bass.  If  it  please  you  to  dine  with  us. 

Shy.  Yes,  to  smell  pork ;  to  eat  of  the  habita- 
tion which  your  propoet,  the  Nazarite,  conjured 
the  devil  into :  I  will  buv  with  you,  sell  with  ^ou, 
talk  with  you,  walk  with  you,  and  so  following ; 
but  I  will  not  eat  with  you,  drink  with  you,  nor 
prey  with  you.  What  news  on  the  Rialto  ? — Who 
IS  he  comes  here.^ 

Enter  Antonia 

Bass.  This  is  siniior  Antonia 

Shy.  [Aside.^  How  like  a  Owning  publican  he 
looks ! 
I  hate  him,  for  he  is  a  Christian : 
But  more,  for  that,  in  low  simplicity, 
He  lends  out  money  gntis,  and  bnnss  down 
The  rate  of  usance  bete  with  us  in  Venice. 
If  I  can  catch  him  once  upon  the  hip, 
I  will  feed  fat  the  ancient  gnidf  e  I  bear  him. 
He  hates  our  sacred  nation ;  and  he  rails. 
Even  there  where  merchants  most  do  congregate, 
On  ine,  my  bar^ins,  and  my  well-won  thrift, 
Which  he  calls  mterest :  Cursed  be  my  tribe. 
If  I  forgive  him ! 

Bass.  Shylock,  do  you  hear  f 

Shy.  I  am  debating  of  my  present  store ; 
And,  by  the  near  guess  of  my  memoiy, 
I  camiot  instantly  raise  up  the  gross 
Of  full  three  thousand  ducats :  What  of  that  f 
Tubal,  a  wealthy  Hebrew  of  my  tribe, 
Will  furnish  me :  But  soft ;  How  many  months 
Do  you  desire  f — ^Rest  you  fair,  good  nniior ; 

[To  Antonia 
Your  worship  was  the  last  man  in  our  mouths. 

Ant.  Shylock,  albeit  I  neither  lend  nor  borrow. 
By  taking,  nor  by  giving  of  excess. 
Yet,  to  supply  the  ripe  wants'  of  my  friend, 
Pll  break  a  custom  : — Is  he  yet  poasess^d,^ 
How  much  you  would? 

Shy.  Ay,  ay,  three  thousand  ducats. 

Ani.  And  for  three  months. 

Shy.  I  had  forgot, — three  months,  you  told  me  so. 

Well  then,  your  bond ;  and,  let  me  see, But 

hear  you ; 
Methouerht,  you  said,  you  neither  lend,  nor  borrow. 
Upon  aavantage. 

Ant.  1  do  never  use  it. 

Shy.  When  Jacob  grez'd  his  uncle  Laban*s  sheep. 
This  Jacob  from  our  holy  Abraham  was 
(As  his  wise  mother  wrought  in  his  behalf,) 
The  third  possessor ;  ay,  he  was  the  third. 

Ant.  And  what  of  him  ?  did  he  take  interest  ? 

I^y.  No,  not  take  interest ;  not,  as  you  would  say, 
Directly  interest :  mark  what  Jacob  did. 
When  Laban  and  himself  were  comprmnisM, 
That  all  the  eanlings  which  were  streak*d,  and 

pied, 
Should  fall  as  Jacob*s  hire ;  the  ewes,  being  rank. 
In  the  end  of  autumn  turned  to  the  rams : 
And  when  the  work  of  generation  was 
Between  these  woolly  breeders  in  the  act. 
The  ddlful  shepherd  peel*d  me  certain  wands, 

(1)  Wants  which  admit  no  longer  delay. 


And  in  the  doing  of  the  deed  of  kind,' 

He  stuck  them  up  before  the  fulsome  ew«^^ ; 

Who,  then  conceiving,  did  in  eaiiing  time 

Fall  party-colour'd  lambs,  and  those  were  Jacobs 

This  was  a  way  to  thrive,  and  he  was  blest ; 

And  thrift  is  blessing,  if  men  steal  it  not 

Ant.  This  was  a  venture,  sir,  that  Jacob  aerr^ 
for; 
A  thing  not  in  his  power  to  bring  to  pass, 
But  sway'd  and  fashion*d,  by  the  hand  of  he«T«o 
Was  this  inserted  to  make  interest  good  i 
Or  is  your  gold  and  silver,  ewes  aiul  rams? 

Shy.  I  cannot  tell :  I  nuJce  it  breed  as  &»t  s — 
But  note  me,  signior. 

Ant.  Mark  you  this, 

The  devil  can  cite  scripture  for  his  purpoee. 
An  evil  soul,  producing  holy  witness, 
Is  like  a  villain  with  a  smiling  che^ ; 
A  goodly  apple  rotten  at  the  heart ; 
O,  what  a  goodly  outside  falsehood  hath ! 

Shy  Three  thMxisand  ducats, — *tis  a  good  roond 
sum. 
Three  months  fixim  twelve,  then  let  me  see  the  nte. 

Ant.  Well,  Shvlock,shaIl  we  be  beholden  toyoo? 

Shy.  Signior  Antonio,  many  a  time  and  oA, 
In  the  Rialto  you  have  rated  me 
About  my  monies,  and  my  usances  r^ 
Still  have  I  borne  it  with  a  patient  shmg; 
For  sufferance  b  the  badge  of  all  our  tnoe : 
You  call  me — misbelieve?,  cut-throat  dog. 
And  spit  upon  my  Jewish  gaberdine. 
And  all  for  use  or  that  which  is  mine  own. 
Well  then,  it  now  appears,  you  need  my  help : 
Go  to  then ;  you  come  to  me,  and  you  say, 
Shylockf  we  wotUd  have  monies  ;  V ou  say  so ; 
You,  that  did  void  your  rheum  upon  my  beard, 
And  foot  me,  as  you  spurn  a  stranger  cur 
Over  your  threshold  ;  monies  b  your  suit 
VMiat  should  I  say  to  you  ?  Should  I  not  aay. 
Hath  a  dog  money  ?  ts  it  possible, 
A  cur  can  lend  three  thousand  ducats?  or. 
Shall  I  bend  low,  and  in  a  bondsman's  key. 
With  *bated  l»«ath,  and  whispiering  htunblenesa, 

Say  this, 

Fair  str,  you  spit  onwuon  Wednesday  lasi  ; 
Vou  spurned  me  such  a  day  ;  another  tims 
y'fju  calTd  me— dog ;  and/or  these  couriouf 
Pll  lend  you  thus  much  monies. 

Ant.  I  am  as  like  to  call  thee  so  again. 
To  spit  OD  thee  again,  to  spurn  thee  toa 
If  thou  wilt  lend  this  money,  lend  it  not 
As  to  thy  friends  (for  when  did  friendship  take 
A  breed  for  barren  metal  of  his  friend .') 
But  lend  it  rather  to  thine  enemy ; 
Who  if  he  break,  thou  may*st  with  better  &o* 
Exact  the  penalty. 

Shy.  Why,  look  you,  how  yon  eloni 

I  would  be  friends  with  you,  and  have  your  kyre. 
Forget  the  shames  that  you  have  stain*d  me  willi, 
Supply  your  present  wants,  and  take  no  doit 
Of  usance  for  my  monies,  and  you'll  not  hear  lae 
This  in  kind  I  Oder. 

Ant.  This  were  kindness. 

Shy.  This  kindness  will  I  diow  »- 

Go  with  me  to  a  notary,  seal  me  there 
Your  single  bond ;  and,  in  a  merry  ipoct. 
If  you  repav  me  not  on  such  a  day, 
III  such  a  place,  such  sum,  or  sums,  as  are 
Expressed  in  the  condition,  let  the  forfeit 
Be  nominated  for  an  equal  pound 
Of  your  fair  flesh,  to  be  cut  off  and  taken 
In  what  part  of  your  body  pleateth 


(2)  Infonned.         (3)  Nature.         (4)  Inleratt 


SetmllL 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


187 


.^iit  Content,  n&itfa:  Pll  leml  to  nch  abond, 
And  fay,  there  it  much  IdndneM  in  the  Jew. 

Bus$.  You  ahall  not  leal  to  such  a  bond  for  me, 
ni  rather  dwell'  in  my  nec^sity. 

AnL  Why,  fear  no^  nwn ;  I  will  not  forfeit  it; 
l^thin  these  two  months,  that's  a  month  before 
ThiB  bond  expires,  I  do  expect  return 
Of  thrice  three  times  the  value  of  this  bond. 
Shy.  O  fiither  Abraham,  what  these  Christians 
are; 
Whose  own  hard  dealings  teaches  them  suspect 
The  thoughts  of  others !  Pray  jou,  tell  me  mis ; 
If  he  should  break  his  day,  wlwt  should  I  gain 
By  the  exaction  of  the  forfeiture  f 
A  poond  of  man*s  flesh,  taken  from  a  man. 
Is  not  so  estimable,  profitable  neither. 
As  flesh  of  muttons,  beefe,  or  goats.  I  say. 
To  buy  his  fevour,  I  extend  this  friend^p : 
If  he  will  take  it,  so ;  if  not,  adieu ; 
And,  for  my  love,  I  pray  you,  wrong  me  not 
AnL  Yes,  Siykick,  I  will  seal  unto  this  bond. 
Shv.  Then  meet  me  forthwith  at  the  notary's ; 
Give  him  direction  for  this  meny  bond. 
And  I  will  go  and  purse  the  ducats  straight ; 
See  to  my  house,  leR  in  the  fearful  guard 
Of  an  unthriAy  knave ;  and  pre^ntly 
I  will  be  with  you.  [Exit 

AnL  Hie  diee,  gentle  Jew. 

This  Hebrew  will  turn  Christian ;  he  grows  kind. 
Boms.  I  like  not  feir  teims,  and  a  villain's  mind. 
AnL  Come  on :  in  this  there  can  be  no  dis- 
may, 
My  thips  come  home  a  month  before  the  day. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 

SCE^E  I. — ^Belmont  A  room  tn.  Portia's  house. 
Ftourish  of  cornets.  Enter  the  Prince  qf  Mo- 
rocco, tend  hie  train  ;  Portia,  Nerissa,  and  other 
i(f  kar  eMendanis. 

Mor.  Mislike  me  not  for  my  complexion. 
Hie  dwdow'd  liveiy  of  the  bumish'd  sun. 
To  whom  I  am  a  neighbour,  and  near  bred. 
Brii^  mt  the  feirest  creature  nordiward  bora, 
Where  Phoebus'  fire  scarce  thaws  the  icicles, 
And  let  us  make  incision^  for  rour  love. 
To  prove  whose  blood  is  reddest,  his  or  mine. 
I  tea  thee,  lady,  this  asp^t  of  mine 
Hath  feai'^  the  valiant ;  by  my  love,  I  swear, 
The  best-re^arded  virgins  of  our  clime 
Have  krv'd  it  too :  I  would  not  change  this  hue, 
Except  to  steal  your  thoughts,  my  gentle  queen. 

Por.  In  terms  of  choice  I  am  not  solely  led 
By  nice  directkxi  of  a  maiden's  eyes : 
Besides  the  lottery  of  my  destiny 
Ban  me  the  right  of  voluntary  choosing : 
Bat,  if  my  fether  had  not  scanted  me. 
And  hedg'd  me  by  his  wit,  to  yield  myself 
K»  wife,  who  wins  me  by  that  means  f  told  you, 
^oorteM^  renowned  prince,  then  stood  as  fair, 
•As  snjr  com«  I  have  look'd  on  yet, 
Por  my  aflectkn. 

Mur.  Even  for  that  I  thank  vou ; 

llierefere,  I  pray  you,  lead  me  to  the  caskets. 
To  try  my  fortune.     By  this  scimitar, — 

That  ilew  the  Sophy,  and  a  Persian  prince, 

a)  Abide. 

^)  AUuskm  to  the  eastern  custom  for  lovers  to 
^7  their  paiwon  by  cutting  themsf^lvcs  in  their 
"i><((cws«s^t 


That  won  three  fields  of  Sultan  Solyn»n,— 
I  would  out-stire  the  sternest  eyes  that  look. 
Out-brave  the  heart  most  daring  on  the  earth, 
Pluck  the  youne  sucking  cubs  from  the  she-bear. 
Yea,  mock  the  lion  when  he  roars  for  prey. 
To  win  thee,  lady  :  But,  alas  the  while ! 
If  Hercules,  and  Lichas,  play  at  dice 
Which  is  the  better  man,  the  greater  throw 
Ma^  turn  by  fortune  from  the  weaker  hand : 
So  IS  Alcides  beaten  by  his  page ; 
And  so  may  I,  blind  fortune  leading  me. 
Miss  that  which  one  unworthier  may  attain. 
And  die  with  grieving. 

Por.  '     You  must  take  your  chance 

And  either  not  attempt  to  choose  at  all. 
Or  swear,  before  you  choose,— if  you  choose  wroi^y 
Never  to  speak  to  lady  afterward 
In  way  of  marriage  ;  therefore,  be  advis'd.4 

Jlfor.  Nor  will  n(4;  come,  bring  me  unto  mj 
chance. 

Por.  First,  forward  to  the  temple ;  aAer  dinner 
Your  hazard  shall  be  made. 

Mor.  Good  fortune  then ! 

[Oomeit. 
To  make  me  bless'd'st,  or  cursed'st  amone  men. 

[ExetmL 

SCEJ^En.—Vemce.   AttreeL  £n(erLaunce- 

lot  Gobba 

Laun.  Certainly  my  conscience  will  serve  me  to 
run  from  this  Jew,  my  master :  The  fiend  is  at  mine 
elbow ;  and  Xempla  me,  saying  to  me,  G0660,  Launf 
celot  Gobbo,  good  Launcdcij  or  good  Gobbo,  or 
good  Launcelot  Gobbo,  use  your  legSt  take  (he 
start,  run  away :  My  conscience  savs, — no  ;  take 
heed,  honest  £avneelot,'  take  heed,  honest  Gob' 
bo,'  or,  as  aforesaid,  honest  Launcelot  Gobbo,  do 
not  run  ;  scorn  running  with  thy  heels :  Well,  the 
most  courageous  fiend  bids  me  pack;  via!  says 
the  fiend ;  away!  says  the  fiend,  jbr  the  heavens f 
rouse  up  a  brave  mmd,  says  the  fiend,  and  run* 
Well,  my  conscience,  Imn^ng  about  the  neck  of 
tny  heart,  says  ver^r  wisely  to  me, — my  honest 
Jriend  Launcelot,  being  an  honest  man^s  son^ — or 
rather  an  honest  woman's  son ; — for,  indeed,  ray 
father  did  something  smack,  something  jpfow  to,  m 
had  a  kind  of  taste ; — well,  my  conscience  savs, 
Launcelot,  budge  not ;  budge  says  the  fiend ;  buagg 
not,  says  mv  conscience :  Conscience,  sav  I,  yon 
counsel  well ;  fiend,  say  I,  vou  counsel  well :  to  be 
ruled  by  my  conscience,  I  should  stay  with  the  Jew 
my  master,  who  (God  bless  the  mark  !)  is  a  kind 
of  devil ;  and,  to  run  away  from  the  Jew,  I  should 
be  ruled  by  the  fiend,  who,  saving  your  reverence, 
is  the  devil  himself:  Certainly,  the  Jew  is  the  very 
devil  incarnation;  and,  in  my  conscience,  my  con- 
science is  but  a  kind  of  hard  conscience,  to  oflRer  to 
counsel  me  to  stay  with  th^  Jew :  The  fiend  gives 
the  more  friendly  counsel :  I  will  run,  fiend ;  my 
heels  are  at  your  commandment,  I  will  run. 

Enter  old  Gobbo,  with  a  basket. 

Gob.  Master,  young  man,  you,  I  pray  yon ; 
which  is  the  way  to  master  Jew's  f 

Laun.  [Aside.]  O  heavens,  this  is  mv  true  be^t- 
ten  father !  who,  being  mote  than  sand-blind,  hts^ 
gravel  blind,  knows  me  not : — ^I  will  try  conclo- 
sions^  with  him. 

Gob.  Master  young  gentleman,  I  pray  yon,  wfaith 
is  the  way  to  master  Jfw's  f 

Laun.  Turn  up  on  your  right  hand,  at  die  next 


(3)  Terrified. 
(5)  Kxperimcnts. 


(4)  Not  precipitate 


l(  (hot 


HERCHAYT  or  VENICE. 

!u-nnilHiniini;of>)l.«i;ourlift:    FMir  BMWWik  1 


tij  Id  the  Jf»'»  huiiw. 

Gob.  Df  Gdd't  »nlM,  'twill  be  >  bard  « i'> 
IiiL  Cuitou  kII  iw  wlKlht'r«HL>gn<:FL<(,  : 
dwell) mill  lum,d<nli  wtthbiin.M'no.' 

/.ourt  Talk  )ou  <rf  jount  nnulcr  Uunccloi  -— 
Msrh  iiMnaw:  Iniiifc.l  now  will  IrmijrMwwalin 

Talk  T«of  ]^.«  iliuirr  Limn.  .I<,i ; 

Gob.  Nornuler.Hr.  butkpo'>rinan'>iiin.  tii 
fithcr,  Unwh  I  B.r  iLii  mhiinmiiM'ciWpoai 
mwi,  tml,  Ciod  he  (hanked,  well  lo  Uve. 

LaiiH.  W»ll,1»iliiib[hcrbvwtwl  b<wai,w< 


Go*.  Your  worjiip'i  friend,  ■ 

Laim.  Bui  I  pi* ' 

ieis.-h  iM^Tsltyi 
Got.  Q(  Loiincel 
Laun.  tlrfth  n 


GoS.  CK  Laiuiceiol,  wi'i  plnue jour 
"      1,  muler  Lawscein; 


^■tcording  loAtauiiddeilmwi,! . 

in;^:  fhentt«nlhn!e.iiidludlbnndMariniini- 
■ne.Ha.  indeed, -dcceucd  Or.  tt  yoU  WOnld  uf, 
iu  ^(in  icnnii.  i;hic  lolieavni. 

Go*.  Mditv.  Cod  forbid    ihebojiwu  the  very 
tl»B  ct  my  —   ^ 


Vij  k 


ilk^BO'nl.or 


Got.  f 


iw  JiUniol.jmnijKPn- 
llmiui :  bill,  1  UTs;  jnu.  lell  me,  iamy  boy  (God 
rmbiiwul?)*liv?,  MiJad? 

tniDi,  Dd  yo"  ""l  lii»«  lie.  fat'      ' 

Oab.Alark.iir.Iiinund-blind. 

£au>l.  nsy,  indnd,  if  you  had 
mlthtUI  oflheknowinr  me:  ilii* 
know«  )>■<  own  child.     Well,  old  i  . .  .  . 

willcomrio Ji^l;  murderciinnatbF liid  ' —  " 
iitah'i  mo  may  ;  bul,  in  Ihe  irnd.  Imlh  will 

Gah.  Fny  yoD,  lir,  lUnd  up:  I  un  iU 
DTO  not  LtuncclDt,  my  boy. 

Laun.  Ptar  you.  lr.i'i  hsTB  no  mora 
iihaut-  '■-■  -■-- ui.„!._.  ■  ._ 


utboylh 


ll,JiWrwi 


Ooi.  1  c«nnot  uunk  yon  an  mt  ton. 
Lmm.  I  know  nol  whM  1  ah*ll  think  of  (hat : 
nt  (  nm  Liunirel'it,  tha  Jew't  mnn  ;  nnd,  I  an 
Hi*.  Margery,  your  »irB,«  my  moUier. 
OdA.  Hit  niuncu  Mniscrv, indeed :  I'll  beiwoni, 
if  thou  be  Launcclot,  thou  ail  raineown  llnh  and 
blood.  Lordwor^ippMnil^ihelM!wlnlBl>ennl 


niV." 


mihvchin. 
■Mil  Dobbin  mrlhill-borwihaion  hi)  Init. ' 
Lmin.  IliboilldMeU  Ihon.  IhHl  Dobbin'itnil 

liiitail,  Uiiui]hBC*aon)y  IiccwIkii    lB>t*fl»1)ini. 

Ooh.  Ijird.  liow  arl  Ihou  chuiE'd  How  oliui 
Iboo  and  thy  maMer  apvc  hB,ic  bnughl  hUii  ■ 
pnwnl ;  I  low  ^gf^  you  nan 

idioL  Wril,  wtll ;  boi,  for  my  cnrn  pari,  an  I 

Jew  ii'ivi-  liimmprvwnl!  gite  him  t  haller :  I 
tlUlkmilh'dinhiaierTice;  cou  jnay  IhII  eterv  fin- 
ger I  have  wiih  my  riba.  f'all»F,  I  Un  glad  i  ou 
*n  cone:  |<vo  meyourprejent  to  onamaiWr  [ivw- 
Miuo,>hb,  Indn4,  [ilea  rare  new  liftriot  if 
mm  not  him,  t  will  run  ai  hr  u  God  haa  any 

In  hi^^  fclher 


f.  iri<nnr*tb«Jew 


a)Sluri4iona.       (t) 


ir /J- 


Bail.  You  may  do  M ;— but  lei  ii  be  »  haitrii, 
at  wpper  be  iradv  al  [be  fajlbcat  bv  fire  of  the 
Hk:  See  IheK  leilendeliier'd;  pulthclircrin 

my  lodging.  [Eiil  a  Mrrmt 

Imin.  To  him,  fallier. 
Co*.  God  Wpm  your  wunhip '. 
Bui.  (iniiTHTcy   Would'tiiboaaiighlwilhBe' 

Gob.  Hi'n-'*Jiiy  son,  ^r.  a  pooi  boy. 

Ijiiiii    \rjl  Apiwt  iKiy,  sir,  bul  the  rich  Jew'i 

innn  (hslwould.ilr.mmj  falhenhallipnifr. 

GdA.  He)ialhBgrFalinl€<;liun,>ir.aiOncwniU 

'jjouH.  Indeed.ihe  ihorl  and  Ibr  lone  it.  I  mti* 
ihe  Jew,  uiii  I  hale  ■  detiic,  Di  my  &iber  .Aall 

Col.  Hiini>ili>randhc(»nn^yoiirwoiriiiprt 

IdtuK.  To  be  brief,  [he  very  Iniih  is,  ihat  *■ 
fpw  haling  done  nKwronfidulhciiiiK  tiK,UMy 
Talher,  bcurg     Inpc  an  OildiDan,  thall  rrulify  MM 

Go''.  I  haie  a  dlih  of  docM,  Ihal  I  would  b»- 
<tow  upon  VOUT  wonhip:  and  tiiy  *uit  ii,— .- 

Jjiun.  Til  veiy  brri  ihr  uiil  »  imiNTlLiiciiI  to 
nt-wlf,  ai  your  wonhip  (hall  Iiiicm  by  Ibit  hunol 
old  mwi;  and,  Ihoi^;h  I  tay  it,  though  M  nao, 

haa.  Oiieiiarakforboth;— WhatwooMjoif 
r^un.  iJfnejou,ilr. 

Gci6.  TtiitiiUicVtn  deTcKl  oTDwnBllrr.rii. 
Aoji.      ItiHJW  Ihu  well,  tbou  baat  obtained  Ih; 

Shylnck,  Ihy  marter,  tpoke  wilh  me  tliii  day, 
\rHl  haih  prderr'd  Ihu,  if  il  bo  preJermc^il, 

The  follower  of  B  pcxjr  D  imllemuL 
/-ikh.  Theoldjirr  ■"        '  -""- 


I'enoilf^ 


BoMi.  TtMU  jtMk'at  Ll  well  -.  Go.  & 
thy  ton;— 
I'd  liE  Imie  of  Ih.v  old  muter,  and  inqtnic 
.Ml  lodpiii; oiil ; — Give  him  ■  lirer* 

'  [To /lU/bOamm 

MorP^Brtlrdl  than  hit  fetlowa' :  Sec  it  done. 
Ijiva,  Fulher.in:^  □uii'otgr[«*.nic*',iii>^ 
havonrVr  lon^einmyWi— Wtll:  ftnoi 
lag  on MU palm.]  ifAn^DtAll  In  Italy  bate  afiuK 
iiiblr,'  which  duiliodErlofwear  upas  a  book.- 
[  ahaHluiriieoodfortuBOi  Golo,bere'a  ■  tfrnnl 
line  of  life    here',  ft  anioll  trifle  of  wiv« :  At 

meid<,!>  a  aimule  cominc-in  for  oiie  mnn^  ain 
Ihcn.lo'itape  drowning  inrice ;  and  (o  Win  per 
.,<  mi-  life  with  (he  edee  of  a  f^Iher-bed^— tw 

•III'')  n  ipiod  wench  lor  diii  Eeur^Father,  eofBa 
l'lll>kemy]cilM!of  the  Jew  in  Ihe  IwinkKai  i 
an  >.je.  [EiniiH  Laon.  mid  nUGoi 

^iuj.  I  praylhee,  ^ood  Leonardo, ihinkHllhli 
TlieH!  Ihin^  heinj  bnii^it.  and  ordrrly  bcalDn^ 
RMom  in  haate.  lor  I  da  ffasl  lo-nlelil 
My  beM.e<(eein'd  acqiiainlance ;  hie  litre,  srk 

I^on.  My'beitendraioanlballbedtnebrrai 
Enlir  GtBliino. 

Oro.  Where  ia  jout  mailer .' 


(3}  The  palm  of  dM  band  cUmdod. 


Seem  HI,  IF,  F. 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


189 


Chra,  Syiior  Biwinin^ 

Bags,  Gratiano! 
Crra,  I  have  a  suit  to  jrou. 
Bass,  You  have  obtainM  it. 

Crra,  Tou  must  not  deny  me ;  i  must  go  with 
jroa  to  Belmont 
Bass.  Why,  then  you  must ; — But  hear  thee, 
Gratiano; 
Thou  art  too  wild,  too  rude,  and  bold  of  voice ; — 
Parts,  that  become  thee  happily  enough. 
And  in  such  eyes  as  ours  appear  not  faults; 
But  where  thou  art  not  known,  why,  there  they  show 
Something  too  liberal ;' — pray  thiee,  take  pain 
To  allay  with  some  cold  drops  of  modesty 
Thy  skipping  spirit ;  lest,  through  thy  wild  beha- 
viour, 
1  be  misconstrued  in  the  place  I  go  to. 
And  lose  my  hopes. 

Gra,  Signior  Bassanio,  hear  me : 

If  I  do  not  put  on  a  sober  habit. 
Talk  with  respect,  and  swear  but  now  and  then, 
Wear  prayer-books  in  my  pocket,  look  demurely ; 
Naj  mcwe,  while  g^race  is  saying,  hood  mine  eyes 
ThiM  with  my  hat,  and  si^b,  and  say,  amen ; 
Use  all  the  observance  ot  civility. 
Like  one  well  studied  in  a  sad  ostent^ 
To  please  his  grandam,  never  trust  me  more. 
Aus.  Well,  we  shall  see  your  bearing.' 
Gra,  Nay,  but  I  bar  to-night;  you  shall  not 
gage  me 
By  what  we  do  to-night 

Bass,  '  ^  No,  that  were  pity ; 

I  would  entreat  you  rather  to  put  on 
Your  boldest  suit  of  mirth,  for  we  have  friends 
That  purpose  merriment :  But  fare  you  well, 
have  some  business. 

Gra.  And  I  must  to  Lorenzo,  and  the  rest ; 
But  we  will  visit  you  at  supper-time.       [Exeimi. 

SCXLATE  UL— The  same.  A  room  in  Shylock's 
house.    Enter  Jessica  and  Launcelot 

Jies.  I  am  sony  thou  wilt  leave  my  father  so ; 
Oor  house  is  hell,  and  thou,  a  merry  devil. 
Didst  rob  it  of  some  taste  of  tediousness : 
Bat  fisre  thee  well ;  there  b  a  ducat  for  thee. 
And,  Laimcelot,  soon  at  supper  sbalt  thou  see 
Lorauo,  who  is  thy  new  master*s  guest : 
Give  him  this  letter ;  do  it  secretly. 
And  K>  fiftrewell ;  I  would  not  have  my  father 
See  me  talk  with  thee. 

IjKtae.  Adieu ! — ^tears  exhibit  my  tongue.—  Most 
heandfol  P^n, — most  sweet  Jew  !  If  a  Christian 
do  not  play  the  knave,  and  get  thee,  I  am  much 
deoenrea:  But,  adieu!  these  foolish  drops  do  9omr- 
friiat  drown  my  manly  spirit,  adieu  !  \E.xH. 

JtM.  Farewell,  good  Launcelot — 
Alacky  what  heinous  sin  is  it  in  me. 
To  be  adiam*d  to  be  my  &ther*s  child ! 
Bitt  thoogfa  I  am  a  daughter  to  his  blood, 
I  am  DoC  to  his  manners :  O  Lorenzo, 
If  tfaoo  keep  promise,  I  shall  end  this  strife ; 
Becofpe  a  Christian,  and  thy  loving  wife.     \Rxii. 

SCSLATE  ir.— The  same.  A  street    Enter  Gn- 
tiano,  Lorenzo,  Salsurino,  and  Salanio. 

JLor.  Nay,  we  will  slink  away  in  supper-time ; 
DiagiiiM  US  at  my  lodging,  and  return 
AH  in  an  hour. 

(hrsL  We  have  not  made  good  preparation. 

Setlar,   We  have  not  spoke  us  yet  of  torch- 
bearers. 

(1)  Grots,  licentkwa. 

^  Show  of  staid  and  serious  demeanour. 


Solan,  *Tis  vile,  onlesi  it  may  be  qaaintl}  or- 
dered ; 
And  better,  in  my  mind,  not  undertook. 
Lor.  *Ti8  now  but  four  o'clock ;  we  have  two 
hours 
To  funiish  us : — 

Enter  Launcelot,  with  a  letter. 

Friend  Launcel<^  what's  the  news  f 

Laun.  An  it  shall  please  you  to  break  up  this, 
it  shall  seem  to  signify. 

Lor.  I  know  the  hand :  in  faith,  *tis  a  &ir  hand; 
And  whiter  than  the  paper  it  writ  on, 
Is  the  fair  hand  that  wnt 

Gra.  Love-newt,  in  faith. 

Laun.  By  your  leave,  sir. 

Lor.  Whither  goest  thou  f 

Laun.  Marry,  sir,  to  bid  my  old  master  the  Jew 
to  sup  to-night  with  my  new  master  the  Christian. 

Lor.  Hold  here,  take  this : — tell  eentle  Je»si(  a, 
I  will  not  fail  her ; — speak  it  privately ;  go. — 
Gentlemen,  [Exit  Launcelot 

Will  you  prepare  you  for  this  masque  to-nigni  f 
I  am  provided  of  a  torch-bearer. 

Solar.  Ay,  marry,  IMl  be  gone  about  it  straight 

Solan,  And  so  will  I. 

Lor,  Meet  me,  and  Gratiano, 

At  Gratiano*s  lodging  some  hour  hence. 

Solar.  *Tis  go(xl  we  do  sa 

[Exeunt  Salar.  and  Salao. 
Gra.  Was  not  that  letter  from  fair  Jessica  f 
Lor.  I  must  needs  tell  thee  all :  She  hath  directed. 
How  I  shall  take  her  from  her  father's  house ; 
What  gold,  and  jewels,  she  is  fumish'd  with ; 
What  page's  suit  she  hath  in  readiness. 
If  e'er  the  Jew,  her  father,  come  to  heaven. 
It  will  be  for  his  gentle  daughter's  sake  : 
And  never  dare  misfortune  cross  her  foot, 
Unless  she  do  it  under  this  excuse, — 
That  she  is  issue  to  a  faithless  Jew. 
Come,  go  with  me ;  peruse  this  as  thou  goest : 
Fair  Jessica  shall  be  my  torch-bearer.     [Exeunt 

SCEJ^EV.—Thesanu.  .B^ors  Shylock'sAoiisc 
Enter  Shy  lock  ana  Launcelot 

Shy.    Well,  thou  shalt  see,  thy  eyes  shall  be 
thy  judge. 
The  difference  of  old  Shylock  and  Bassanio : — 
What,  Jessica  ! — thou  shalt  notgormandize. 
As  thou  hast  done  with  me ; — nliat,  Jessica ! — 
And  sleep  and  snore,  and  rend  apparel  out ; — 
Why,  Jessica,  I  say ! 
LMun.  Whvt  Jessica  \ 

S/iy.  Who  bids  thee  call  >  I  do  not  bid  thee  call 
iMun,  Your  worship  was  wont  to  tell  me,  I 
could  do  nothing  without  bidding. 

Enter  Jessica. 

Jes,  Call  you .'  What  is  your  will  ? 

Shy.  I  am  bid^  forth  to  supper,  Jessica; 
There  are  my  keys : — But  wncreifore  should  I  go ; 
I  am  not  bid  for  love ;  they  flatter  me : 
But  yet  I'll  eo  in  hate,  to  teed  upon 
The  prodigal  Christian.— Jessica,  my  girl. 
Look  to  my  house  : — I  am  right  loath  to  go ; 
There  is  some  ill  a  brewing  towards  my  rest, 
For  I  did  dream  of  nx)oeyi)l)ags  to-night 

Loim.  I  beseech  you,  sit-,  go ;  my  young  master 
doth  expect  your  reproach. 

Shy.  So  do  I  his. 

Laun.  And  they  have  conspired  together,—! 
will  not  say,  you  shall  see  a  masque;  but  if  you  do, 

(3)  Carriage,  deportment        (4)  Invited. 


190 


BIERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


Adt  n 


then  H  was  not  for  nothinff  that  my  nose  fell  a  bleed- 
ing on  Black-Monday  last,  at  six  o'clock  i'the 
morning,  falling  out  that  year  on  Ash- Wednesday 

«!  four  year  in  the  afternoon. 

Shy.  What !  are  there  masques?  Hear  you  me, 
Jessica : 

Lock  up  my  doors ;  and  when  yon  bear  the  drum, 
And  the  vile  squeaking  of  the  vny-neckM  fife, 
Clamber  not  you  up  to  the  casements  then, 
Nor  thrust  your  head  into  the  public  street. 
To  gaie  on  Christian  fools  wim  vamishM  faces : 
But  stop  my  house's  ears,  I  mean  my  casements ; 
Let  not  the  sound  of  shallow  fop[)eiy  enter 
My  sober  house. — ^By  Jacob's  staff,  I  swear, 
I  nave  no  mind  of  feasting  forth  to-night : 
But  I  will  go. — Go  you  before  me,  siirah ; 
Say,  I  will  come. 

jLmm.  I  will  go  before,  sir. — 

llklnss,  look  out  at  window,  for  all  this ; 
There  will  come  a  Christian  by. 
Will  be  worth  a  Jewess*  eye.     [Exit  Laun. 

fifty.  What  says  that  fool  of  Hagar's  offspring,  ha? 

«/et.  His  words  were,  Farewell,  mistress ;  nothing 
else. 

iS%.  The  patch  is  kind  enough ;  but  a  huge  feeder, 
Snail-fllow  in  profit,  and  he  sleeps  by  day 
More  than  the  wild  cat ;  drones  hive  not  with  me  ; 
Therefore  I  part  with  him ;  and  part  with  him 
To  one  that  1  would  have  him  help  to  waste 
His  borrowed  purse. — ^Well,  Jessica,  go  in ; 
Periiaps,  I  will  return  immediately ; 
Do,  as  I  bid  vou. 

Shut  doors  aiter  you :  Fast  bind,  ^ast  find ; 
A  proverb  never  stale  in  thrifty  nund.  [Exit. 

Jet,  Farewell :  and  if  my  fortune  be  not  crost, 
I  hvn  a  father,  yon  a  daughter,  lost  [Exit. 

SCEffE  VI.— The  tame.    Enter  Gretiano  and 
Salarino,  iiKufced. 

QrtL  This  is  the  pmt-house,  under  which  Lorenzo 
Denied  us  to  make  stand. 

Solar.  His  hour  is  almost  past. 

Gra.  And  it  is  marvel  be  out-dwells  his  hour. 
For  lovers  ever  run  before  the  clock. 

Solar.  O,  ten  times  faster  Venus*  pigeons  fly 
To  seal  love's  bonds  new  made,  than  tney  are  wont, 
To  keep  obliged  faith  unforfeited ! 

Oro.  That  ever  holds :  Who  riseth  from  a  feast. 
With  that  keen  appetite  that  he  sits  down  ? 
Where  is  the  horse  that  doth  unti^ad  asain 
Hit  tedious  measures  with  the  unbated  fire 
That  he  did  pace  them  first  ?  All  things  that  are, 
Aie  with  more  spirit  chased  than  enjoy'd. 
How  like  a  yoonker,  or  a  prodigal. 
The  scarfed'^  bark  puts  from  her  native  bay, 
Hugg'd  and  embraced  by  the  strumpet  wind ! 
How  like  the  prodigal  doth  she  return, 
Widi  over-weather*d  ribs,  and  ragged  sails. 
Lean,  rent,  and  beggar*d  by  the  strumpet  wind ! 

Enter  Lorenzo. 

Solar.  Here  comes  Lorenzo; — more  of  this  here- 
after. 
ZjOT,  Sweet  friends,  your  patience  for  my  long 
abode ; 
Not  I,  but  my  aflairs,  have  made  yoa  wait ; 
When  you  shall  please  t«  play  the  thieves  for  wives, 
m  watch  as  long  for  you  then. — Approach ; 
Here  dwells  my  father  Jew : — Ho !  who*s  within  ? 

Enter  Jessica  eAooe^  in  boyU  dothet. 
Jet,  Who  are  you  ?  Tell  me,  for  more  certainty, 

(1)  Decorated  with  flags. 


Albeit  I'll  swear  that  I  doknow  yoor  tongues. 

Lor.  Lorenzo,  and  thy  love. 

Jes.  Lorenzo,  certain ;  and  my  love,  indeed ; 
For  who  love  I  so  much  ?  And  now  who  knows, 
But  you,  Lorenzo,  whether  I  am  yours  ? 

X<or.  Heaven,  and  thy  thoughts,  are  witness  that 
thou  art 

Jes.  Here,  catch  this  casket ;  it  is  worth  tfie  pains. 
I  am  glad  'tis  night,  you  do  not  look  on  me. 
For  I  am  much  ajthamed  of  my  exchange : 
But  love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see 
The  pretty  follies  that  themselves  commit ; 
For  if  they  could,  Cupid  himself  would  blush 
To  see  me  thus  transformed  to  a  boy. 

Lor.  Descend,  for  you  must  be  my  torcb-bearer. 

Jes.  What,  must  I  hold  a  candle  to  my  shames  ? 
They  in  themselves,  good  sooth,  are  too,  too  light 
Why,  'tis  an  oflke  of  discovery,  love ; 
And  f  should  be  obscur'd. 

Lor.  So  are  you,  sweet. 

Even  in  the  lovely  garnish  of  a  boy. 
But  come  at  once ; 

For  the  close  nieht  doth  play  the  mn-away. 
And  we  are  staid  for  at  mssanio's  feast 

Jes.  I  will  make  fast  the  doors,  and  gild  myself 
With  some  more  ducats,  and  be  with  yon  straight 

[£xt/,  Jrom  o^iove. 

Gra.  Now,  by  my  hood,  a  Gentile,  and  no  Jew. 

Lor.  Beshrew  me,  but  I  love  her  heartily : 
For  she  is  wise,  if  I  can  judge  of  her ; 
And  fair  she  is,  if  that  mine  eyes  be  true ; 
And  true  she  is,  as  she  hath  prov'd  herself; 
And  therefore,  like  herself,  wise,  fan*,  and  trae. 
Shall  she  be  placed  in  my  constant  aouL 

Enter  Jessica,  below. 

What,  art  thou  come  ? — On,  ^ntleroen,  away ; 
Our  masquing  mates  b^  this  tmne  for  os  star. 

[Exit  with  Jesska  and  ^alaiino. 

Enter  Antonia 

JInt.  Who's  there? 

Gra.  Signior  Antonio? 

,^nt.  Fie,  fie,  Gretiano  ?  where  are  all  the  rest  ? 
'Tis  nine  o'clock ;  our  friends  all  stay  for  yon  :^ 
No  maijque  to-nieht ;  the  wind  is  come  about, 
Bassanio  presently  will  go  aboard : 
I  have  sent  twenty  out  to  seek  for  yoa. 

Gra.  I  am  glad  on't ;  I  desire  no  nxire  delight. 
Than  to  be  under  sail,  and  gone  to-night     [Exe. 

SCEJ^E  r//.— Belmont  A  room  in  Portia's 
house.  Flourish  qf  cornels.  Enter  Poriim,  with 
the  prince  of  Morocco,  and  both  their  trains. 

For.  Go,  draw  aside  the  curtains,  and  discover 
The  several  caskets  to  this  noble  prince  : — 
Now  make  your  choice. 

Mor.  The  first,  of  gold,  who  thb  insaiptioa 
bears; — 
Who  ehooseth  me,  shall  gain  what  many  wun  desire. 
The  second ;  silver,  wbuch  this  promise  carries ; — 
Who  ehooseth  me,  shall  get  as  much  as  he  daeroes. 
This  third,  dull  lead,  with  warning  all  as  blunt ; — 
Who  ehooseth  me,  must  eiveand  hazard  all  hehath. 
How  shall  I  know  if  I  do  choose  the  right  ? 

Por.  The  one  of  them  contains  my  |Hcture,  prince ; 
If  vou  choose  that,  then  I  am  yt>ars  withaL 

^or.   Some  god  direct  my  judgment !  Let  lae 

I  will  survey  the  inscriptions  back  again :  * 

What  says  this  leaden  casket  ? 
Who  ehooseth  me,  must  give  attdhaxard  nil  he  haOL 
Must  give— For  what  ?  for  lead  ?  hazard  for  lead  ? 
This  casket  threatens :  Men,  that  ha^^  all. 


Seem  VIU,  DC 


BIERCHAI<IT  OF  Vi3«ICE. 


191 


Do  it  m  hope  of  &ir  advantaref : 

A  golden  mind  itoopt not  to  sbovrt  of  droit; 

V\[  then  nor  give,  nor  hazard,  aught  for  lead. 

Wha^  lays  tM  silver,  with  her  virgin  hoe  ? 

1Vhochoo$ethme,  ihallget  as  much  a$  he  detervet. 

As  much  as  he  deserves  ? — Pause  there,  Morocco, 

And  weigh  thy  value  with  an  even  hand : 

If  thou  be^st  rated  by  thy  estimation. 

Thou  dost  deserve  enough ;  and  yet  enough 

May  not  extend  so  far  as  to  the  lady ; 

And  yet  to  be  afeard  of  my  deserving. 

Were  but  a  weak  disabling  of  myseu. 

As  much  as  I  deserve ! — Why,  that's  the  lady : 

I  do  in  birth  deserve  her,  and  in  fortunes 

In  graces,  and  in  qualities  of  breeding ; 

Bat  more  than  these,  in  love  I  do  deserve. 

IVhat  if  I  stray *d  no  further,  but  chose  here  ? — 

Let's  see  once  more  this  saying  gravM  in  gold : 

H^hochoouihme^shaUgaintMatjnanymendenre. 

Why,  that*s  the  lady ;  all  the  world  (lesires  her : 

From  the  four  comers  of  the  earth  they  come. 

To  kiss  this  shrine,  this  mortal  breathing  saint 

The  H3nrcanian  deserts,  and  the  vasty  wilds 

Of  wiaei  Arabia,  are  as  through-fares  now, 

for  princes  to  come  view  fair  Portia  : 

The  watery  kingdom,  whose  ambitious  head 

Spits  in  the  &ce  of  h^ven,  is  no  bar 

1o  stop  the  foreign  spirits ;  but  they  come, 

As  o*er  a  brook,  to  see  fair  Portia. 

One  of  these  three  contains  her  heavenly  picture. 

f  s*t  like,  that  lead  contams  her  ?  *Twere  aamnation, 

To  think  so  base  a  thought ;  it  were  too  gross 

To  rib^  her  cerecloth  in  the  obscure  grave. 

Or  shall  I  think,  in  ulver  she's  immur'd. 

Beings  ten  times  undervalued  to  tryM  gold  f 

O  sinful  thought !  Never  so  rich  a  gem 

Was  set  in  worse  than  gold.  They  have  in  England 

A  coin,  that  bears  the  figure  of  an  angel 

Stamped  in  gold :  but  that's  insculp'd^  upon ; 

Bat  here  an  angel  in  a  golden  bed 

I^ies  all  within. — Deliver  me  the  key ; 

Here  do  I  choose,  and  thrive  I  as  I  may .' 

Par.  There,  take  it,  prince,  and  if  my  form  lie 
there. 
Then  I  am  yours.    [He  unlocks  the  golden  casket 
Jtibr.  O  hell !  what  have  we  here  ? 

A  carrion  death,  within  whose  empty  eye 

is  a  written  scroll  f  I'll  read  the  writing. 

All  that  glisters  is  not  gold. 
Often  have  you  heard  Uiat  told  : 
Many  a  man  his  life  hath  sold. 
But  my  outside  to  behold : 
Crildea  tombs  do  worms  infold. 
Had  you  been  as  wise  as  bold, 
Young  in  bmbs,  in  judgment  old. 
Your  answer  had  noi  been  inscrolPd : 
Fare  you  well ;  your  suit  is  cold. 

Cold,  indeed ;  and  labour  lost : 

Then,  &rewell,  heat ;  and,  welcome,  finost. — 


,  adieu !  I  have  too  griev'd  a  heart 
-  take  a  tedious  leave :  &as  losers  part     [Exit. 
M*or,  A  gentle  riddance : Draw  the  curtains, 

all  of  us  complexioa  choose  me  so.    [Exeunt. 

*0EA!E  FliX— Venice.    A  street.    Enter  Sal 
larino  oiuISalania 

^SSo2ar.  Why  nnn,  I  saw  Bassanio  under  sail ; 

^▼ath  him  is  Gratiano  gone  along; 

^'t^  n  their  ship,  1  am  sure,  hor&oio  is  not 

O"^  Enckise.      (2)  Engraven.      (3)  Conversed. 
^)  To  slubber  is  to  do  a  thing  carelessly. 


SoIbol  ThevillidnJairwidiootcriMiatiPdtbs 
duke; 
Who  went  with  him  to  search  Bassanio's  ship. 

Solar.  He  came  too  late,  the  ship  was  under  sail: 
But  there  the  duke  was  given  to  understand, 
That  in  a  gondola  were  seen  together 
Lorenzo  and  his  amorous  Jessica : 
Besides,  Antonio  certify'd  the  duke. 
They  were  not  with  Bassanio  in  his  ship. 

SaUm,  I  never  heard  a  passion  so  confus'd. 
So  strange,  outrageous,  and  so  variable. 
As  the  (Kie  Jew  did  utter  in  the  streets : 
My  daughter  ! — O  my  ducats! — O  my  daughter/ 
Fted  wiUi  a  Christian  ? — O  my  Christian  ducats  f 
Justice  !  the  law  !  my  ducats,  and  my  daughter  ! 
A  sealed  bag,  two  sealed  bags  qf  ducats. 
Of  double  ducats,  stoPnfrom  me  bu  my  daughter  ! 
And  jewels;  two  stones,  two  rick  and  precious 

stones, 
StoVn  by  my  daughter  ! — Justice  !  Jind  the  girlf 
She  hath  the  stones  upon  her,  and  the  ducats  ! 

Solar.  Why,  all  the  boys  in  Venice  follow  him, 
Crying, — his  stones,  his  daus[hter,  and  his  ducats. 

SaUofi.  Let  good  Antonio  look  he  keep  his  day, 
Or  he  shall  pay  for  this. 

Solar.  Marry,  well  remembei'd ; 

I  reason'd'  with  a  Frenchman  yesterday ; 
Who  told  me, — in  the  narrow  seas,  that  part 
The  French  and  English,  there  miscarried 
A  vessel  of  our  country,  richly  fraught : 
I  thought  upon  Antonio,  when  he  told  me ; 
And  wish'd  in  silence,  that  it  were  not  his. 

Solan,  You  were  best  to  tell  Antonio  what  you 
hear; 
Yet  do  not  suddenly,  for  it  may  grieve  him. 

Solar.  A  kinder  gentleman  treads  not  the  eartfL 
I  saw  Bassanio  and  Antonio  part : 
Bassanio  told  him,  he  would  make  some  speed 
Of  his  return ;  he  answer'd — Do  not  so. 
Slubber*  not  business  for  my  sake,  Bassanio, 
But  stay  the  very  riping  of  the  time  ; 
And  for  the  Jew's  bona,  which  he  hath  of  ms, 
Zjct  it  not  enter  in  your  mind  of  love: 
Be  merry,  and  employ  your  chief  est  thoughts 
To  courtship,  and  such  fair  osient^  oflavt 
As  shall  conveniently  become  you  there : 
And  even  there,  his  eye  beine  big  with  tears, 
Turning  his  face,  he  put  his  hand  behind  him. 
And  with  affection  wondrous  sensible 
He  wrung  Bassanio's  hand,  and  so  they  parted. 

Solan.  I  think,  he  onlv  loves  the  world  for  hin. 
I  pray  thee  let  us  go,  and  find  him  out. 
And  quicken  his  embraced  heaviness^ 
With  some  delight  or  other. 

Salar.  Do  we  so.    [Exeunt 

SCEJ^E  iX— Behnont     A  room  in  Portia's 
house.    Enter  Nerissa,  with  a  servant, 

JVer.  Quick,  quick,  I  pray  thee,  draw  the  cur- 
tain straight; 
The  prince  of  Arragon  has  ta'en  his  oath. 
And  comes  to  his  election  presently. 

Flourish  of  comets.    Enter  the  prince  qf  Arm- 
gon,  Portia,  and  their  trains. 

Por.  Behold,  there  stand  the  caskets,  noble  prince : 
If  you  choose  that  wherein  I  am  contain'd. 
Straight  shall  our  nuptial  rites  be  solemniz'd ; 
But  if  you  fail,  without  more  speech,  my  lord, 
You  must  be  gone  from  hence  immediately. 
Ar.  I  am  enjoin'd  by  oath  to  observe  three  thingft 

(5)  Shows,  tokens. 

(6)  The  heaviness  he  is  fond  oC 


V 


192 


MERCHANT  OF  VtSlCfL 


Act  m. 


First,  never  to  unfold  to  anj  one 

Whicl^  casket  'twas  I  cho«e ;  next,  if  I  f«l 

or  the  right  casket,  never  in  m^  life 

To  woo  a  maid  in  way  of  marriage ;  lastly, 

If  I  do  fail  in  fortune  of  my  choice, 

Immediately  to  leave  you  and  be  gone. 

Por^  To  these  injunctions  eveiy  one  doth  swear, 
Tliat  comes  to  hazard  for  my  worthless  self. 

Jlr.  And  so  have  I  addrcss'di  me :  Fortune  now 
To  my  heart's  hope  .'—Gold,  silver,  and  base  lead. 
Who  ehoo$eth  nUy  must  give  and  haxard  all  he  hath  : 
Ton  shall  look  fairer,  ere  I  give,  or  hazard. 
What  says  the  golden  chest  ?  ha!  let  me  see:— 
Who  choo$eih  me,  shall  gain  what  many  men  desire. 
'What  many  men  desire. — That  many  may  be  meant 
By  the  (bol  multitude,  that  choose  by  show. 
Not  learning  more  than  the  fond  eye  doth  teach ; 
Which  pries  not  to  the  interior,  but,  like  the  martlet, 
Builds  in  die  weather  on  the  outward  wall, 
Even  in  the  forced  and  road  of  casualty. 
I  will  not  choose  what  many  men  desire, 
Because  I  will  not  jump*  with  common  spirits. 
And  rank  me  with  the  barbarous  multitudes. 
Why,  then  to  thee,  thou  silver  treasure-house ; 
Tell  me  once  more  what  title  thou  dost  bear : 
Who  dtoosith  me,  shall  get  as  much  as  he  deserves  ,• 
And  well  said  too :  For  who  shall  go  about 
To  coieo  fortune,  and  be  honourable 
Without  the  stamp  of  merit !  Let  none  presume 
To  wear  an  undeserved  dignity. 
O,  that  estates,  degrees,  and  omces. 
Were  not  deriv'd  corruptly !  and  that  clear  bonoor 
Were  purchasM  by  the  merit  of  the  wearer ! 
How  many  tiien  should  cover,  that  stand  bare  ? 
How  many  be  commanded,  that  command  ? 
How  much  low  peasantry  would  then  be  glean'd 
From  the  tnie  seed  of  honour?  and  how  much  honour 
Pick*d  from  the  chaflf  and  ruin  of  the  times, 
To  be  new  vaniishM  ?  Well,  but  to  my  choice : 
Whochoosethme^  shall  gd  as  much  as  he  deserves ; 
I  will  assume  desert ; — Give  me  a  key  for  this, 
And  instantly  unlock  my  fortunes  here. 
Por.  Too  long  a  pause  for  that  which  you  find 

there. 
Ar.  What's  here?  the  portrait  of  a  blinking  idiot, 
Presenting  me  a  schedule  ?  I  will  read  it 
How  much  unlike  art  thou  to  Portia  ? 
How  much  unlike  my  hopes,  and  my  deservings  ? 
Who  duMseth  me,  shall  have  as  much  as  he  deserves. 
Did  I  deserve  no  more  than  a  fool's  head  ? 
Is  that  nay  prize  ?  are  my  deserts  no  better? 

Por.  To  offend,  and  judge,  are  distinct  offices, 
And  of  opposed  natures. 
Ar,  What  is  here  f 

The  fire  seven  times  tried  this ; 

Seven  times  tried  that  judpntnl  is. 

Thai  did  never  choose  amiss  : 

Soms  there  6e,  thai  shadows  kiss  ; 

Such  have  bvt  a  shadow's  bliss: 

There  be  fools  a/ire,  /  uns^* 

Silver'd  (yer  {  and  so  was  this. 

Tiske  what  wife  you  will  to  bed^ 

J  will  ever  be  your  head: 

So  begone,  nr,  you  are  sped. 

Still  more  fool  I  shall  appear 
By  the  time  I  linger  here : 
With  one  fool's  l^ad  I  came  to  woo, 
Bat  I  go  away  with  twa — 
Sweet,  adieu !  I'll  keep  my  oath, 
Patkintly  to  bear  my  wrotn. 

f  Exeunt  Arragon,  and  train. 
Por.  Thus  hath  the  candle  sing'd  the  moth. 

(1)  Prrpared.     (2)  Power.     (3)  Agree  with. 


O  these  deliberate  fools !  when  they  do  choose. 
They  have  the  wisdom  by  their  wit  to  \iomt, 

Jver.  The  ancient  saying  is  no  heresy ; — 
Hanging  and  wiving  2oes  by  de»tiny. 

Por.  Come,  draw  Uie  curtain,  Nerissa. 

Enter  a  Servant 

Serv.  Where  is  my  lady  ? 

Por.  Here ;  what  would  my  lord? 

Serv.  Madani,  there  is  alighted  at  your  gate 
A  young  Venetian,  one  that  comes  before 
To  sigmfy  the  approaching  of  his  lord : 
From  whom  he  bringeth  sensible  regreeta  ;• 
To  wit,  besides  commends,  and  courteous  breath, 
Gifts  of  rich  value ;  yet  I  have  not  seen 
So  likely  an  embassador  of  love : 
A  day  in  April  never  came  so  sweet. 
To  show  how  costly  summer  was  at  hand. 
As  this  fore-spurrer  comes  before  his  lord. 

Por.  No  more,  I  pray  thee ;  I  am  half  afeard. 
Thou  wilt  say  anon,  he  is  some  kin  to  thee. 
Thou  spend'st  such  high-dav  wit  in  praising  him.— 
Come,  come,  Nerissa ;  for  I  long  to  see 
Quick  Cupid's  post,  that  comes  so  mannerly. 

Aer.  baraanio,  lord  love,  if  thy  will  it  be  ! 

[Elxennt 


ACT  III. 

SC£A!E  /.—Venice.    A  street.    £n<fr  Salanio, 
and  Salarina 

Salon.  Now,  what  news  on  the  Rialto? 

Salar.  Why,  yet  it  lives  there  unchecked,  that 
Antonio  hath  a  ship  of  rich  ladin)^  wreck'd  on  the 
narrow  seas ;  the  Goodwins,  I  think  they  call  the 
place ;  a  very  dangerous  flat,  and  fiital,  where  tlie 
carcases  of  many  a  tall  ship  lie  buried,  as  they  say, 
if  my  gossip  report  be  an  honest  woman  of  her  word. 

I^ilan.  1  would  she  were  as  lying  a  gossip  in  that, 
as  ever  knapp'd  ginger,  or  made  her  neighbours  be- 
lieve she  wept  for  the  death  of  a  third  husband  : 
But  it  is  true, — without  any  slips  of  prolixity,  or 
crossing  the  plain  high-way  of  talk, — that  th*>  good 

Antonio,  the  honest  Antonio, O  that  I  had  a  title 

good  enough  to  keep  his  name  company  ! — 

Salar.  Come,  the  tiill  stop. 

Salan.  Ha,— what  say'st  thou  .>— Why  tlie  end 
is,  he  hath  lost  a  ship. 

Sedar.  I  would  it  might  prove  die  end  of  his 
losses! 

Salan.  Let  me  say  amen  betimes,  lest  the  devil, 
cross  my  prayer ;  for  here  he  comes  in  the  likencks 
of  a  Jew. 

Enter  Shylock. 

How  now,  Shylock?  what  news  anaong  the  mer- 
chants ? 

Shy.  You  knew,  none  so  well,  none  so  well  as 
you,  of  my  daughter's  flight 

Salar.  That's  certain ;  I,  for  my  part,  knew  the 
tailor  that  made  the  wings  she  flew  withal. 

Salan.  And  Shylock,  for  his  own  part,  knew  the 
bird  was  fledg'd ;  and  then  it  is  the  complexion  of 
them  all  to  leave  the  dam. 

Shy.  She  is  damn'd  for  it 

Solar.  That's  certain,  if  the  devil  may  be  her 

Shy.  Mv  own  flesh  and  blood  to  rebel ! 
Satan.  Out  upon  it,  old  carrion !  rebels  it  at  these 
years: 


(4)  Know. 


(5)  Silutations. 


Sk  Injr.mjr  dugfalnbDqrllcdiBndblo 

Sucr.  Then  umcm  diBeiencc  bMirnn  Ihy  I 

uid  b«n,  Ibui  between  Jet  ukd  inrj ;  more 

tween  jour  bloodi,  dun  iliere  it  be(»Mm  red  i 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 
Siy.  I  thank 


193 


Sir  There  1  tare  uMlk 
iptfft  prodi^),  wbodftret  1 
la  RUliD ;— >  begnr,  that 


tnd  moich  i  a  buik- 


not  lake  hit  fleih ;  Whal>  (hdr  good 
Sh^.  To  b«t  fiih  wiUml :  if  U  will 
elar,  It  w:il  feed  mj  rereiwe.  He  k 
DM,  and  hindered  nw  of  twU  s  loiUioi 
mj  toiei,  TDQcked  at  mj  ^ins,  Kom 
Ifawarted  mj  bunini,  cwled  i 

HathDMaJewejeaf  bathnota. , 

diiMoacnu,  wom*,  tSeclioaa,  pat>ioni  I  Ic 


feed  iKidiiE 
hQih  dii^cf 
kn:  laughed 

fiends,  healed 

n?  I  am.  Jew 

.ongaai 


I  bjf  ihe  um 

blFcd  >  if  jou  bckle  m,  da  we  not  laugh  ?  if  : 
poiann  oi,  do  we  not  die  P  and  if  Toil  *rai$ 

RM,wewil]  iwi^b>Vou  in  that,  IFa/ewwron* 


iilil,f  n 

unrmwD  wims  a  Jew,  wnaiihauld  hit  (lUi 

be  by  Cbriitian  nample  ?  why,  wvmii^ 

lilkny,  jou  leach  mr,  I  willeieeulp:  and 

gDhaid,  but  I  will  belter  the  inilnicLion. 

Enler  a  Senant 

SerV-  GentlenKD,  mj  master  Aaionia  ia 

Iniive,  and  deiirei  to  apeak  with  you  both. 

Smttr,  We  bate  been  up  and  down  lo  w 

Enttr  Tubal. 
Salan.  Hen 


;e;  If 


Jew. 


It  bemstcbed,  ni 


[a 


■  the  de>Ll 


*,  Tubal,  what  I 


Tub.  loAenca 
luM  Bad  ber. 

Sky.  Why  (here,  (here,  theie,  there !  a 
—  -    — ■ D  tboufand  ducata  in  Fi 

w  :^wo  Ihomand  dui^nl 
ill.— 1« 


?;?■ 


and  cilber  preciom,  precioui  je' 

dxaghter  were  dead  at  my  fool,! _, .    . 

tnberear!  'nouldahe were bean'daimv  foul. ai 
the  dncaU  in  ber  coffm  r  Ko  newi  of  theni '— Wh 

ViiT,  Ibm  l«  upon  kat! 
■niiak,ai>dir u  ^  i_j 

^rbat  ligfau  0*  mj  ahouldeni  no  •qch*. 

btealhinc;  no  lean,  but  o'  my  theddir 

rfi.  Tea,  odw  men  ban  iU  lock  to< 


to  &id  die  Ihief;  and  no  !iaii>- 


I  Tub 


I  Ibaidi  God,  I  thank  God  ^-la  ii 


thee,  good  Tubal ;— Good  nawa, 
goouiKwi;  db:  ha  I — Whetef  in  Genoa.* 

7'vli.  Vour  daughter  ipenl  in  Genoa,  ai  I  heard, 
«ip  night,  ibuncore  ducats. 

SAy.  Thou  alkk'il  ■  dagnr  in  me : 1  ihall 

nei'tT  HI'  my  gold  again  :  FooncoR  docala  at  a 

.Shy.  1  am  vei;  glad  of  il :  I'll  plague  bun ;  rU 
7'u'i.  OneofthemabowedmeaHng,  thai  he  has 


Tui.  ButAnloiioli certainly  undone. 

Shy,  Nay,  thal'i  true,  Ihal'a  very  true ;  Go,  Td- 
al.  lee  nKan officer,  beipeak  him  a  Ibnni^t  ba- 
>n^ :  I  will  bare  the  heart  of  him,  if  he  finftit ; 

liuidiK  I  will  i  Go,  go,  tubal,  and  mcel  mc  at 
ar  BVnBZOKue;  go,  Eood  Tubal;  al  our  itvita- 
ogue.  T^  [E.™J. 

SCFJV'E  //.—Belmont.  A  nwnt  m  Porlia'i 
at.  Enter  Baaaanio,  Portia,  Graliano,  li^ 
I,  and  altcndajilt.     3%<  caakrU  art  ul  out. 


(And iH  I 
I  would  d. 
Before  yot 


lany  ;  pHUK  a  day  or  Iwo, 
■lui  for,  in  cbooaing  wmig, 
ipany  \  therefore,  forbear  a  while 
"—  lell>  me  (but  il  i)  noI  love.) 


laiden  halh  no  longue  hui  Ihougbl,) 
le  tight,  bui  iben  1  am  forawoni  j 


',  \t  jou  do,  you'll  make 
i\  I  had  beoi  fbrawom. 
rr  bare  o'er-looli'd  me, 


.  Ihough  youB,  I 


I  ipeak  K»  1«^ ; 


voura,  Ihe  other  half  joura, 

Id  »y ;  bul  if  mine,  then  your*, 

and  their  ri^U; 


on  (he  rackTBu 


Which  tnakci 
Tne..n  I 


tingled  with  your  li 
.  uglytrea««iofm 


Por.  Ay,  but,  I  fear,  you  tpeak  upon  t 
Whtn'  men  enforced  do  epeak  any  tnii^. 


the  nek, 

ife,  tmd  rii  ^nfcH  ibe  Iralk 

ileaa,  and  lore, 


M  nw  to  my  fortune  and  tha  caikela. 

'.  Away  Ihen  :  1  am  lock'd  In  odc  </  tbcmi 

ta,  and  Iba  ral,  tiand  all  alooC — 


194 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


AdllL 


Let  mosic  sound,  while  he  doth  make  his  choice ; 
Then,  if  he  lose,  he  makes  a  swan-like  end, 
Fading  in  music :  that  the  comparison 
Bfay  stand  more  proper,  my  eye  shall  be  the  stream. 
Ana  wat*ry  deatn-bed  for  him :  He  may  win ; 
And  what  is  music  then  ?  then  music  is 
Even  as  the  flourish  when  true  subjects  bow 
To  a  new-crowned  monarch :  such  it  is, 
As  are  those  dulcet  sounds  in  break  of  dar, 
That  creep  into  the  dreaming  bridegroom's  ear. 
And  summon  him  to  marriage.  Now  he  goes, 
With  no  less  presence,'  but  with  much  more  love, 
Tlian  voting  Alcides,  when  he  did  redeem 
The  virgin  tribute  paid  by  howling  Troy 
To  the  sea-monster :  I  stand  for  sacrifice. 
The  rest  aloof  are  the  Dardanian  wives. 
With  bleared  visages,  come  forth  to  view, 
Tlte  issue  of  the  exploit  Go,  Hercules ! 
Live  thou,  I  live : — ^With  much  much  more  dismay 
I  view  the  fight,  than  thou  that  mak*st  the  fray. 

MutiCj  v^ilit  Bassanio  comments  on  the  caskda  to 

himself. 

SONG. 
1.  Tell  me,  where  is  Jancy^  bred. 
Or  in  the  heart,  or  in  the  head? 
How  begot,  how  nourished? 

Reply.  2.  It  is  engendered  in  the  eyes. 

With  gazing  fed;  and  fancy  dies 
In  the  cradle  where  it  lies: 
I  jet  us  all  ring  fancy*  s  knell; 

m  begin  it, Ding,  aong,  belL 

All.  Ding,  dong,  belL 

Bass. — So  may  the  outward  shows  be  least  thenn- 
selves ; 
The  world  is  still  deceiv*d  with  ornament 
In  law,  what  plea  so  tainted  and  corrupt. 
But,  being  seasonM  with  a  gracious'  voice. 
Obscures  the  show  of  evil  ?  In  religion, 
What  damned  error,  but  some  sober  brow 
Will  bless  it,  and  approve  it  with  a  text. 
Hiding  the  grossness  with  fair  ornament  ? 
There  is  no  vice  so  simple,  but  assumes 
Some  mark  of  virtue  on  his  outward  parts. 
How  many  cowards,  whose  hearts  are  all  as  false 
As  stairs  of  sand,  wear  yet  upon  their  chins 
The  beards  of  Hercules,  ana  frowning  Mars ; 
Who,  inward  searcbM,  have  livers  white  as  milk  ? 
And  these  assume  but  valour's  excrement. 
To  render  them  redoubted.  Look  on  beau^r. 
And  you  shall  see  'tis  purchased  by  the  weight 
Which  therein  works  a  miracle  in  nature. 
Making  them  lightest  that  wear  most  of  it . 
So  are  those  crisped^  snaky  golden  locks. 
Which  make  such  wanton  gambols  with  the  wind, 
Upon  suppiosed  fairness,  of^en  known 
To  be  the  dowry  of  a  second  head. 
The  scull  that  bred  them  in  the  sepulchre. 
Thus  ornament  is  but  the  guiled^  snore 
To  a  most  dangerous  sea  ;  the  beauteous  scarf 
Veiling  an  Indian  beauty ;  in  a  word. 
The  seeming  truth  which  cunning  times  put  on 
To  entrap  the  wisest.  Therefore,  thou  gaudy  gold. 
Hard  food  for  Midas,  I  will  none  of  thee  : 
Nor  none  of  thee,  thou  pale  and  common  drudge 
'Tween  man  and  man :  but  thou,  thou  meagre  lead. 
Which  rather  threat'nest,  than  doth  promise  aught. 
Thy  plainness  moves  me  more  than  eloquence  T 
And  nere  choose  I :  Jov  be  the  consequence ! 

For.  How  all  the  other  passions  fleet  to  air, 


(1^  Dimity  of  mien. 
(3)  Wmnmg  favour. 


(2)  Love. 
(4)  Curled. 


As  doubtful  dxNishtt,  and  rash-embracM  despair. 
And  shudd*rine  rear  and  green-ey*d  jeakMisy. 

0  love,  be  moderate,  allay  thy  ecstasy. 

In  measure  rain  thy  ioy,  scant  this  excess , 

1  feel  too  much  thy  messing,  make  it  lest. 
For  fear  I  surfeit  I 

Bass.  What  find  I  here  f 

[Opening  the  leaden  casket 
Fair  Pbrtia's  counterfeit  ?•  What  demi-god 
Hath  come  so  near  creation .'  Move  these  eyes.' 
Or  whether,  riding  on  the  balls  of  mine. 
Seem  thev  in  motion  f  Here  are  severed  lips, 
Parted  with  sugar  breath ;  so  sweet  a  bar 
Should  sunder  such  sweet  friends :    Here  in  her 

hairs 
The  painter  plays  the  spider ;  and  hath  woven 
A  golden  mesh  to  entrap  the  hearts  of  men. 
Faster  than  gnats  in  cobwebs :  But  her  eyes, — 
How  could  be  see  to  do  them  f  having  made  one, 
Methinks,  it  should  have  power  to  steal  both  his, 
And  leave  itself  unfumish'd  :  Yet  look,  how  far 
The  substance  of  my  praise  doth  wrong  this  shadow 
In  underprizing  it,  so  far  this  shadow 
Doth  limp  behind  the  substance. — Here's  the  scroll. 
The  continent  and  summer)'  of  my  fortune. 

You  that  clioose  not  by  the  view. 
Chance  as  fair,  and  choose  as  true! 
Since  this  fortune  falls  to  yosf, 
Be  content  and  seek  no  new. 
If  you  be  well  pleas'* d  unth  this^ 
And  hold  your  fortune  for  your  blisSf 
Turn  you  where  your  lady  is. 
And  daim  her  unth  a  loving  kin, 

A  gentle  scroll ; — Fair  lady,  by  your  leave  ; 

[KiMting  her. 
I  come  by  note,  to  give,  and  to  receive. 
Like  one  of  two  contending  in  a  prize. 
That  thinks  he  hath  done  well  in  ))eople*s  eyes. 
Hearing  applause,  and  universal  shout, 
Giddy  in  spirit,  stilt  gazing,  in  a  doubt 
Whether  tno^  ))eals  of  praise  be  his  or  no ; 
So,  thrice-fair  lady,  stand  I,  even  so; 
As  doubtful  whether  what  I  see  be  true. 
Until  confirmed,  sign'd,  ratified  by  you. 

Por.  You  sec  me,  lord  Bassank>,  where  I  stand. 
Such  as  I  am :  though,  for  myself  alone, 
I  would  not  be  ambitious  in  my  wish, 
To  wish  myself  much  better;  yet,  for  rou, 
I  would  be  trebled  twenty  times  myself; 
A  thousand  times  more  fair,  ten  thousand  timen 
More  rich ; 

That  only  to  stand  high  on  your  account, 
I  might  in  virtues,  beauties,  livings,  friends. 
Exceed  account :  but  the  full  sum  of  me 
Is  sum  of  something ;  which,  to  term  in  gross. 
Is  an  unlesson'd  giri,  unschooPd,  unpractis*d : 
Happy  in  this,  she  is  not  yet  so  old 
But  she  may  learn ;  and  happier  than  this. 
She  is  not  bred  so  dull  but  she  can  learn  ; 
Happiest  of  all,  is,  that  her  gentle  spirit 
Commits  itself  to  yours  to  be  directed, 
As  from  her  lord,  her  governor,  her  king. 
Myself,  and  what  is  mine,  to  you,  and  yours 
Is  now  converted  ;  but  now  I  was  the  ford 
Of  this  fair  mansion,  master  of  my  servants. 
Queen  o'er  myself;  and  even  now,  but  now. 
This  house,  these  servants,  and  this  same  myself^ 
Are  yours,  my  lord ;  I  give  them  with  this  nng ; 
Which  when  you  part  from,  lose,  or  give  away. 
Let  it  presage  the  ruin  of  your  love. 
And  be  my  vantage  to  exclaim  on  you. 

(5)  Treacherous.        (6)  Likei.ess,  portraiL 


Seem  11. 


BfERCHAM*  OF  VENICE. 


195 


Bast,  Madain,3roahaTe  bereft  me  of  all  words, 
Onlv  my  blood  speaks  to^ou  in  my  veins : 
Ana  there  is  such  confusion  in  my  powers, 
As,  after  some  oration  fairly  spoke 
By  a  bek>ved  prince,  there  doth  appear 
Among  the  buzzing  pleased  multitude ; 
Where  every  sometninr,  being  blent^  t(^ther, 
Turns  to  a  wild  of  nothing,  save  of  joy, 
Express*d,  and  not  expressed :  But  when  this  rii^ 
Farts  from  this  finger,  then  parts  life  from  brace ; 
O,  then  be  bold  to  sav,  Bas(nnio*s  dead. 

^er.  My  lord  and  lady,  it  is  now  our  time, 
That  have  stood  by,  and  seen  our  wi^es  prosper, 
To  cry,  good  jov ;  Good  joy,  my  lord,  and  ladv! 

Gra,  My  lord  Bassanio,  and  my  gentle  lady .' 
1  wish  you  all  the  joy  that  you  can  wbh ; 
For.  I  am  sure,  you  can  wish  none  from  me ; 
And,  when  your  honours  mean  to  solemnize 
The  bargain  of  your  faith,  I  do  beseech  you 
Even  at  tfiat  time  I  may  be  married  too. 

Bau.  With  all  my  heart,  so  thou  canst  get  a  wife. 

Gra.  I  thank  your  lordship ;  you  have  got  me  one. 
My  eyes,  my  lord,  can  look  as  swift  as  yours : 
You  saw  the  mistre»,  I  beheld  the  maid ; 
You  lovM,  I  lov*d ;  for  intermission^ 
No  more  pertains  to  me,  my  lord,  than  you. 
Your  fortune  stood  upon  the  caskets  there ; 
And  so  did  mine  too,  as  the  matter  falls  : 
For  wooing  here,  until  I  sweat  again ; 
And  swearing,  till  my  very  roof  was  dry 
With  oaths  of  \o\e ;  at  last, — if  promise  last, — 
IgDt  a  promise  of  this  fair  one  here. 
To  Iwve  her  love,  provided  that  your  fortune 
AchievM  her  mistress. 

Par.  Is  this  true,  Neristia  f 

^er.  Madam,  it  is,  so  you  stand  pleasM  withal. 

Bast,  And  do  you,  Gratiano,  mean  good  faith  ? 

Gra.  Yes,  *faitn,  my  lord. 

Batt.  Our  feast  shall  be  much  honoured  in  your 
marria^ 

Gra.  WeMl  play  with  them,  the  first  boy  for  a 
thousand  ducats. 

JVer.  What,  and  stake  down  ? — 

Gra.  No ;  we  shall  ne*er  win  at  that  sport,  and 

stake  down. 

Bat  who  comes  here  ?  Lorenzo,  and  his  infidel  ? 
What,  my  old  Venetian  friend,  Salerio? 

Enter  Lorenzo,  Jessica,  and  Saleria 

Bass.  Lorenzo,  and  Salerio,  welcome  hither ; 
/r  that  the  youth  of  my  new  interest  here 
Have  power  to  bid  you  welcome : — By  your  leave, 
I^  bid  niy  very  friends  and  countrymen, 
Sweet  Portia,  welcome. 

^cr.  So  do  I,  my  lord ; 

are  entirely  welcome. 
J^.  I  thank  your  honour : — For  my  part,  my 
lord, 

'^y  purpose  was  not  to  have  seen  you  here ; 
^axt  meeting  with  Salerio  by  the  way, 
E^  did  entreat  me,  past  all  saying  nay, 
"V^  come  with  him  along. 
JSale.  I  did,  my  lord, 

I  have  reason  for  it     Signior  Antonio 

him  to  you.     FGioes  Bassanio  a  letter. 
Ere  I  ope  his  letter. 


pvav  you,  tell  me  how  my  good  friend  doth. 
JSale.  Not  sick,  my  lord,  unless  it  be  in  mind ; 
l^oir  well,  unless  in  mind :  his  letter  there 
'^'^l  dbow  you  his  estate. 

Oro.  Nerissa,  cheer  yon'  stranger ;  bid  her  wel- 
come. 


Your  hand,  Salerio ;  What's  the  news  from  Venice  f 
How  doth  tliat  royal  merchant,  good  Antonio? 
I  know,  he  will  be  glad  of  our  success ;  ' 

We  are  the  Jasons,  we  have  won  the  fleece. 

SaU.  'Would  you  had  woo  the  flc«ce  that  be 
hath  lost ! 

Por.  There  are  some  shrewd  contents  in  yon' 
same  paper. 
That  steal  the  colour  from  Bassanio's  cheek : 
Some  dear  friend  dead ;  else  nothii^  in  the  world 
Could  turn  so  much  the  constitution 
Of  any  constant  man.  Y^hai,  worse  and  worse  ? — 
With  leave,  Bassanio;  I  am  half  yourself^ 
And  I  most  freely  have  the  half  cm  any  thing 
That  this  same  paper  brings  you. 

Batt.  O  sweet  Portia, 

Here  are  a  few  of  the  unpleasant'st  words, 
That  ever  blotted  paper !  Gentle  lady, 
When  I  did  first  impart  my  love  to  you,' 
I  freely  told  you,  all  the  wealth  I  had 
Ran  in  my  veins,  I  was  a  gentlonan ; 
And  then  I  told  you  true  :  and  vet,  dear  lady. 
Rating  myself  at  nothing,  you  shall  see 
How  much  I  was  a  braggart :  When  I  told  you 
M V  state  was  nothing,  I  ^ould  then  have  told  you 
That  I  was  worse  than  nothing ;  for,  inde^ 
I  have  engag'd  myself  to  a  dear  friend, 
E^igag'd  my  friend  to  his  mere  enemy, 
To  fetd  my  means.     Here  is  a  letter,  lady ; 
The  paper  as  the  body  of  my  friend. 
And  every  word  in  it  a  gaping  wound. 
Issuing  life-blood. — But  is  it  true,  Salerio? 
Have  all  his  ventures  fail'd  f  What,  not  one  hit  f 
From  Tripdis,  from  Mexico,  and  England, 
From  Lisbon,  Barbary,  and  India  ? 
And  not  one  vessel  'scape  the  dreadful  touch 
Of  merehant^narring  rocks  ? 

Saie.  Not  one,  my  lord. 

Besides,  it  should  appear,  that  if  he  bad 
The  present  money  to  dischane  the  Jew, 
He  would  not  take  it :  Never  did  I  know 
A  creature,  that  did  bear  the  shape  of  man. 
So  keen  and  greedy  to  confound  a  man : 
He  plies  the  duke  at  morning,  and  at  night : 
Ana  doth  impeach  the  freedom  of  the  state. 
If  tbev  deny  him  Justice :  twenty  merchants, 
The  duke  himself;  and  the  magnificoes* 
Of  greatest  port,  have  all  persuaded  with  him ; 
But  none  can  drive  him  from  the  envious  plea 
Of  forfeiture,  of  justice,  and  his  bond. 

Jet.  When  I  was  with  him,  I  have  heard  him 
swear. 
To  Tubal,  and  to  Chus,  his  countrymen. 
That  he  would  rather  have  Antonio's  flesh, 
Than  twenty  times  the  value  of  the  sum 
That  he  did  owe  him :  and  I  know,  my  lord, 
If  law,  authority,  and  power  deny  not, 
It  will  20  hard  with  poor  Antonia 

Por.  Is  it  your  dear  friend,  that  is  thus  in  trouble? 

Batt.  The  dearest  friend  to  me,  the  kindeft  man. 
The  best  conditioned  and  unwearied  spirit 
In  doing  courtesies ;  and  one  in  whom 
The  ancient  Roman  honour  more  appears. 
Than  anv  that  draws  breath  in  Italy. 

Por.  What  sum  owes  he  the  Jew  ? 

Batt.  For  me,  three  thousand  ducats. 

Por.  What,  no  more? 

Pay  him  six  thousand,  and  deface  the  bond  ; 
Double  six  thousand,  and  then  treble  that, 
Before  a  friend  of  this  description 
Shall  lose  a  hair  through  Bassanio's  fault 
First,  go  with  me  to  church,  and  call  me  wife  i 


(1)  Blended. 


(2)  Pause,  delay. 


y 


(3)  The  chief  men. 


lOS 


HERCHa:(T  of  VEIflCE. 


Ait  m 


And  Ota  ttnj  to  Voiicc  m  your  frind ; 
Pot  ii««r  ahill  jou  lie  br  Ponia't  tide 

Wilbin  unquiet  mil.  fou  dall  h.ve  pile 
To  paj;  tbf  petly  dc^lH  twentj'  \mn  wer; 
Whin  il  is  fsid,  brine  your  true  friend  iilcr 
"-  maid  Neri™,  «od  mj  .elf,  mMn  lime. 


Mr  maid  Ken, 
Whl  lire  u  m 


Bid  If 


I!  hence 


:ejou 


merrjfl 


Bui.  [Beadi.j  d'uwt  Amnio,  my  iAi> 
aittauearritd,  mv  crtditori grow  crud,mi, 
a  Bcrjr  low,  my  (W  (a  (At  Jtvr  is  farft,! ,  nn./ 
*m«,  in  poyiBC  i(,  iliimpatMible  IihanU  hr-. 
■11  iM(i  arr  dand  hflarat  you  and  f.ifl- 
t  blU  tet  you  al  my  ofcafA.-  no/mfAjloniftiis 
Jgwr^/HUurf:  [/"ymr  tnw  do  nol  ptrwor/ 


I  will 
Nabedstu 


-el  hi 


er  be  guillv  of  my  tiny, 
no  rest  be  inlerpoHr  'Ivixt  U9  EMTHin. 

[E.KunJ. 
SCEJVE  m. -Venice.  Mitral.  En(«rSh. 
Salanio,  Anumio,  and  Gaoler, 
Shy.    Gsoler,  look  to  him ;— TeiJ  do«  me  of 


Brev;- 
fbollhi 


oejgrslH;— 


SCF.VE  /T.-BelmoM.     , 
hout.     C»i«- Portia  Heri 

o..^  Bilthaur. 


Hadun,  tilbongh  I  ipetk  il  in  jaat  pn- 

like  amitr ;  which  ippean  moM  ■tmni'lr 

ng  lhu>  the  >b«dce  hi  jour  lord. 

tou  ktKW  to  whan  von  thow  thii  hnmr. 

le  *  eeotleman  jou 

ir  ■  Fmer  of  my  loi 


.    Jrhuib«nd, 
,  wider  of  the  wot*, 
mtonHij-  boiuily  can  enforce  joo. 
I  never  did  repent  (bt  doing  good, 


I  ii-f  must  be  needj  a  like  proportioo 
nf  lini  unenlj,  of  manner,  and  of  ipiril; 


\l^< 

d,  be  like 

mvlord 

If  il  be  ic^ 

lilll 

i<the«. 

llhavo 

be.to»M,^ 

^•f 

rchi 

•inglheieinblance 

of  my  unl 

nn 

oil 

IhoKale 

rf  helliri; 

craelf  I  ? 

Iwrefere  apeak  no  more 

I  dull-ep^'d  fool, 

,  and  Bgh,  and  yield 


To  diake  (he  bead,  r 

To  Christian  inlerceuora.     FoIIoh 

I'll  blie  no  ipealiing ;  I  will  have  mj  bond 

[Eth  si 

Sikn.  It  u  the  moct  impeoetraUe  cur 
That  erer  kept  widi  men. 

Aja.  Lei  him  alone, 

nl  fellow  him  no  more  with  bootleu  pnjer 

lofi^lirr"   "       ""  ""        ' 


lii  rorfelti 


rit  this  foHeitu 


Tberefon  he  h 

Salm. 
Will  ncter  grai 

AnI.  The  duke  cannot  deny  the  course  of 
Fbt  Ihe  commodiij-  that  itrannn  h««e 
Wjhn.inVeniee'iifitbedeSied, 
Wni  much  impeach  the  juttice  of  the  Uatej 
Since  that  the  trade  and  profit  of  the  city 
Coonittelh  of  all  natiuna.     Therefore  n : 
Tb«e  grief,  and  lose,  have  » 'baled  ™, 
That  I  ihall  haidly  apare  a  pound  of  Aeah 

To-morrow  to  mv  bloody  creditor 

Wall,  paler,  on  :-Pniy  God,  Bauanin  cooit 
To  lee  me  pay  this  debt,  ind  then  I  care  not ! 
[Exn 
(1)  Faoi  fa)  FooliA. 


T.      ■;— ;"^r--i«ngoi'myaeiri 

t  hiretore  no  more  of  it :  hear  other  thinga..— 
iio,  I  commil  Into  your  handi 
imbandry  altd  [nanage  of  my  bouae, 
iny  lord'a  return  ;  for  mine  own  Dmii. 
lowaid  beaten  br«lh'd  a  aecret^, 
e  In  prayer  and  contemplatioi, 
illaioed  by  Neriisa  here, 
her  huaband  and  my  lord'i  rclum ; 

lere  we  will  abide.     I  do  deoie  yoo, 


P'.r.  My  people  do  already  know  my  mind, 
tnd  Hill  acknowledge  you  and  Jeadca 
n  place  of  lord  Basunio  and  mjaeIC 
;u  fare  Jou  well,  till  we  shall  meet  agam. 

Lor.  Fair  thoughts,  and  happy  boiin,  attend  on 
you. 

Jri.  I  wiih  yoorladyihip  all  hearficooMiL 

Por.  I  dumk  you  for  your  widi,  and  am  well 

•o  n  i.h  it  back  on  you  :  (are  , on  mil,  Jtmct.- 
lE^tunl  Jeasica  ami  Lorenio. 
•m.  FlalihataT, 

»  [  haie  ever  found  thee  honed,  Inw, 
11  let  me  find  the«  gtlll :  Take  ihii  laiiM  leUer 
nd  inr  thou  all  the  endeavour  of  ■  mao, 
I  upcrtl  to  PsduB!  tee  (hou  render  ihia 
iiu  my  rtiUiin'a  hand,  doctor  Bellario ; 
nd,  Imli,  what  notes  and  garmenii  he  i^Mli  gire 

riiie;  ihrtn,  I  pray  dwe,  with  imagin'd  ipaed 
riKj  tile  Iranect,  to  (he  common  fcnj 
■hi,h  trsde.  to  Venice  >-waMe  do  time  in  wori^ 
11 1.TI  the*  gone ;  I  shall  be  then  before  Ibce. 
DnI,',.  Madam,  I  go  with  all  imvaueoi  apeed. 

P,,r.  Tome  on,  Norim;  I  h.™  work  in  iLi*' 


lieluri  they  think  of  ui. 
^f.  Shall  Ihey  m, 

r,.r.  TTvy  diall,  Neri*»>;  but  Tn  «, 

Thill  ilj.y  ahall  think  we  an  accompl. 

IVithtthalwelack.  Ill  bold  Ibaa  any 


/. 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


197 


When  we  are  both  accovtred  like  yoong  men, 

1*11  move  the  prettier  felloir  of  the  two, 

Ana  wear  1117  dagiger  with  the  braver  grace ; 

And  tpeak,  betwe^i  the  change  of  man  and  boy, 

With  a  ned  voice ;  and  turn  two  mincing  steps 

Into  a  manly  stride ;  and  speak  of  frays, 

Like  a  fine  braggine  youth :  and  tell  quaint  lies. 

How  honourable  ladies  sought  my  love, 

Which  I  denying,  they  fell  sick  and  died ; 

I  could  not  do  withal ; — then  Vl\  repent 

And  wish,  for  all  that,  that  I  had  not  killM  them  : 

And  twenty  of  these  puny  lies  IMl  tell. 

That  men  shall  swear  I  have  discontinued  school 

Above  a  twelvemonth : — I  have  within  my  mind 

A  thousand  raw  tricks  of  these  bragging  Jacks, 

Which  I  will  practise. 

AVr.  Why,  shall  we  turn  to  men  ? 

Por.  Fie !  what  a  question's  that, 
If  thou  wert  near  a  lewd  interpreter  ? 
But  come,  I'll  tell  thee  all  mv  whole  device 
When  I  am  in  my  coach,  wnich  stays  for  us 
At  the  park  gate ;  and  therefore  haste  away. 
For  we  must  measure  twenty  miles  to-day.   [Exe. 

SCEJ^E  v.— The  tame.    A  Garden.    Enter 
Launcelot  and  Jessica. 

Laun.  Tes,  truly: — for,  look  you,  the  sins  of 
the  fother  are  to  be  laid  upon  the  children  :  there- 
fore, I  promise  you,  I  fear  you.  I  was  always  plain 
with  you,  and  so  now  I  speak  my  agitation  of  the 
matter :   Therefore,  be  of  good  cheer ;  for,  trul^-, 
1  think,  you  are  damn'd.  Tnere  is  but  one  hope  in 
it  that  can  do  you  any  good ;  and  that  is  but  a  kind 
of  bastard  hope  neither. 
Jes.  And  what  hope  is  that,  I  pray  thee  ? 
La^n.  Mariy,  you  may  partly  hope  that  your 
iather  got  you  not,  that  you  are  not  the  Jew's 
Wlaughter. 

Jea.  That  were  a  kind  of  bastard  hope,  indeed ; 

the  sins  of  my  mother  should  be  visited  upon  me. 

Jjoun.  Truly  then  I  fear  you  are  damn'd  both 

ly  father  and  mother :  thus  when  I  shun  Scylla, 

oar  fttther,  I  fall  into  Chaiybdis,  your  mother: 

ell,  you  are  gone  both  ways. 

Jes.  I  ^all  be  saved  by  my  husband ;  he  hath 

roe  a  Christian. 

Laun.  Truly,  the  more  to  blame  he :  we  were 

hrnctians  enough  before ;  e'en  as  many  as  could 

ell  live,  one  by  another :  This  making  of  Christians 

ill  raise  the  price  of  hogs ;  if  we  grow  all  to  be 

we  shall  not  shortly  have  a  rasher  on 

coals  for  money. 

£nler  Lorenzo. 

Jes.  ril  tell  my  husband,  Launcelot,  what  you 
■y ;  here  he  comes 

Lor.  I  dkall  grow  jealous  of  you  shortly,  Launce- 
I  if  yoo  thus  get  my  wife  into  comers. 
Jei.    Nay,  yoa  need   not   fear   us,  Lorenzo; 
y  n«ttnceiot  and  I  are  out :  he  tells  me  flatly,  there 
no  mercy  for  me  in  heaven,  becuuse  I  am  a  Jew*9 

tter :  and  he  sap,  you  are  no  good  member 
commonwealth ;  for,  in  converting  Jews  to 
C^iristians,yott  raise  the  price  of  pork. 

't'Or.  I  shall  answer  that  better  to  the  common- 
^c-alth,  than  Toa  can  the  getting  up  of  the  negro's 
illy :  die  Moor  is  with  child  by  you,  Launcelot. 
■Onm.  It  if  much,  diat  the  Moor  should  be  more 
■son:  bat  i£  she  be  less  than  an  honest 
,  she  is,  indeed,  more  than  I  took  her  for. 
^Lor.  How  ereiy  fool  can  plav  upon  the  word  ! 
*^  tbiak,  the  bMt  grace  of  wit  will  shortly  turn  into 

(1)  Hatred,  malice. 


silence ;  and  diiooarwgrow  commendable  in  none 
only  but  parrots. — Go  in,  lirrah ;  Ind  them  prepare 
for  dinner. 

Laun.  That  is  done,  sir;  Ihejf  have  all  stomachs. 

Lor.  Goodly  lord,  what  a  wit-snapper  are  you ! 
then  bid  them  prepare  dinner. 

Laun.  That  is  done  too,  sir ;  only,  cover  is  the 
word. 

Zx>r.  Will  you  cover  then, sir? 

Laun.  Not  so,  sir,  neither ;  I  know  mj  duty. 

Lor.  Yet  more  quarrelling  with  occasion !  Wilt 
thou  show  the  whole  wealth  of  thy  wit  in  an  in- 
stant ?  I  pray  thee,  understand  a  plain  man  in  his 
plain  meaning  :  go  to  thy  fellows ;  bid  them  cover 
the  table,  serve  m  the  meat,  and  we  will  come  in 
to  dinner. 

Laun.  For  the  table,  sir,  it  shall  be  served  in; 
for  the  meat,  sir,  it  shall  be  covered;  for  your 
coming  in  to  dinner,  sir,  why,  let  it  be  as  humours 
and  conceits  shall  govern.  [jEJxt/ Launcelot 

Lor.  O  dear  oiscrction,  how   his   words  are 
suited ! 
The  fool  hath  planted  in  his  memoiy 
An  army  of  good  words ;  And  I  do  know 
A  many  fools,  that  stand  in  better  place, 
Gamish'd  like  him,  that  for  a  tricksy  word 
Ek'fv  the  matter.   How  cheer'st  thou  Jessica  f 
And  now,  good  sweet,  say  thy  opinion. 
How  dost  thou  like  the  lord  Bassanio's  wife  ? 

Jes.  Past  all  expressing  :  It  is  very  meet, 
The  lord  Bassanio  live  an  upright  life ; 
For,  having  such  a  blessing  ui  his  lady, 
He  finds  the  joys  of  heaven  here  on  earth ; 
And,  if  on  earth  he  do  not  mean  it,  it 
Is  reason  he  should  never  come  to  heaven. 
Why,  if  two  gods  should  play  some  heavenly  matdl. 
And  on  the  wager  lay  two  earthly  women. 
And  Portia  one,  there  must  be  something  else 
Pawn'd  with  the  other ;  for  the  poor  rude  world 
Hath  not  her  fellow. 

Lor.  Even  such  a  husband 

Hast  thou  of  me,  as  she  is  for  a  wife. 

Jes.  Nay,  but  ask  my  opinion  too  of  that 

Lor.  I  will  anon ;  first,  let  us  go  to  dinner. 

Jes.   Nay,  let  me  praise  you,  while  I  have  a 
stomach. 

Lor.  No,  pray  thee,  let  it  serve  for  table>talk, 
Then,  howsoe'er  thou  speak'st,  'mong  other  things 
I  shall  digest  it 

Jes.  Well,  I'll  set  you  forth.  [Ex9. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJVTE  /.—Venice.  A  couri  qf  Justice.  Enter 
the  Duke,  the  Magntficoes ;  Antonio,  Bassanio, 
Gratiano,  Salarino,  Salanio,  and  others, 

Duke.  What,  is  Antonio  here  ^ 

Ant.  Ready,  so  please  your  grace. 

Duke.  I  am  sony  for  thee ;  thou  art  come  to  an* 
swer 
A  stony  adversary,  an  inhuman  wretch 
(Incapable  of  pity,  void  and  empty 
From  any  dram  of  mercy. 

Anl.  I  have  heard. 

Your  grace  hath  ta'en  great  pains  to  qualifjr 
His  rigorous  course ;  but  since  he  stands  obdurate, 
And  that  no  lawful  means  can  carry  me 
Out  of  his  envy's^  reach,  I  do  oppose 
My  patience  to  his  fury ;  and  am  arm'd 
To  suffer,  with  a  quietness  of  sinrit, 
The  very  tyranny  and  rage  of  nis. 

Duke.  Go  one,  and  call  the  Jew  into  the  oonit 


198 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


An!r 


Salon,  He*B  ready  at  the  door :  he  coines,  my  lord. 
EnJUr  Shylock. 

Dukt,  Make  room,  and  let  him  stand  before  our 
fiice. — 
Shylock,  the  world  thinks,  and  I  think  so  too. 
That  thou  but  lead*8t  this  fashion  of  thy  malice 
To  the  last  hour  of  act ;  and  then,  *ti8  thought 
TbouUt  show  thy  mercy,  and  reroorse,^  more  strange 
Than  is  thy  strange  apparent^  cruelty : 
And  where)  thou  now  exact*st  the  penalty 
(Which  is  a  pound  of  this  pocN*  merchant*s  flesh,) 
Thou  wilt  not  only  lose  the  forfeiture. 
But  touchM  with  human  gentlen^s  and  love. 
Forgive  a  moie^  of  the  principal ; 
Glancing  an  eve  of  pity  on  his  losses, 
That  have  of  late  so  huddled  on  his  back ; 
Enough  to  pre»  a  royal  merchant  down. 
And  pluck  commiseration  of  his  state 
From  brassy  bosoms,  and  rough  hearts  of  flint. 
From  stubborn  Turks,  and  Tartars,  never  train*d 
To  offices  of  tender  courtesy. 
We  all  expect  a  gentle  answer,  Jew. 

Shy,  I  have  posse8S*d  your  grace  of  what  I  pur- 
pose; 
And  by  our  holy  sabbath  have  I  sworn. 
To  have  the  due  and  forfeit  of  mv  bond 
If  you  deny  it,  let  the  danger  light 
Upon  your  charter,  and  your  city*s  freedom. 
TouMl  ask  me,  why  I  rather  choose  to  have 
A  weight  of  carrion  flesh,  than  to  receive 
Three  thousand  ducats :  PU  not  answer  that : 
But,  say,  it  is  my  humour  ;^  Is  it  answered  ? 
What  if  my  house  be  troubled  with  a  rat. 
And  I  be  pleasM  to  nve  ten  thousand  ducats 
To  have  it  baned  ?  What,  are  you  answerM  yet? 
Some  men  there  are,  love  not  a  gaping^  pig ; 
Some,  that  are  mad,  if  they  behola  a  cat ; 
And  others,  when  the  bag-pipe  sings  i*  the  nose. 
Cannot  contain  their  urine ;  For  a&ction,0 
Mistress  of  passion,  sways  it  to  the  noood 
Of  what  it  likes,  or  loathis :  Now,  for  your  answer : 
As  there  is  no  firm  reason  to  be  rendered. 
Why  he  cannot  abide  a  gaping  pig ; 
Why  he,  a  harmless  necessary  cat ; 
Why  he,  a  swollen  bag-pipe ;  but  of  force 
Must  yield  to  such  inevitaole  shame, 
Ai  to  offend,  himself  being  offended ; 
So  can  I  give  no  reason,  nor  I  will  not. 
More  than  a  lodged  hate,  and  a  certain  loathing 
I  bear  Antonio,  that  I  follow  thus 
A  losing  suit  against  him.    Are  you  answerM  ? 

Bass.  This  is  no  answer,  thou  unfeeling  man. 
To  excuse  the  current  of  thy  cruelty. 

Sky.  I  am  not  bound  to  please  thee  with  my 
answer. 

Baas.  Do  all  men  kill  the  things  they  do  not 
love  ? 

Shy.  Hates  any  man  the  thing  he  would  not  kill  ? 

Bass.  Every  offence  is  not  a  hate  at  first. 

Shy.  What,  would*st  thou  have  a  serpent  sting 
thee  twice  ? 

Ant.  I  nray  you,  think  you  question^  with  the 
Jew: 
Ton  may  as  well  go  stand  upon  the  beach, 
And  bid.  the  main  flood  bate  his  usual  height ; 
Tou  may  as  well  use  question  with  the  wolf, 
Wliy  he  hath  made  the  ewe  bleat  for  the  lamb ; 
You  may  as  well  forbid  the  mountain  pines 
To  wag  their  high  tops,  and  to  make  no  noise. 
When  they  are  fretted  with  the  gusts  of  heaven ; 

^-)  Pity.  (2)  Seeming.  (3)  Whereas. 

;4)  Pkrticular  fancy.    (5)  Ciying.     (6)  Prejudice. 


a 


Tou  may  as  well  do  any  thing  most  hard. 
As  seek  to  soften  that  Ttban  which  what's  harder .') 
His  Jewish  heart : — Tnerefore,  I  do  beseech  you. 
Make  no  more  offers,  use  no  further  means, 
But,  with  all  brief  and  plain  conreniency. 
Let  me  have  judgment,  and  the  Jew  his  will. 

Bass.  For  thy  three  thousand  ducats  here  is  six 

<SAy.  If  every  ducat  in  six  thousand  ducats 
Were  in  six  parts,  and  every  part  a  ducat, 
I  would  not  draw  them,  I  would  have  my  bond. 

Duke.  How  shalt  thou  hope  for  mercy,  rendering 
none? 

Shy.  What  judgment  shall  I  dread,  doing  no 
wrong? 
You  have  among  you  many  a  purchas'd  slave. 
Which,  like  your  asses,  and  your  dogs,  and  mules, 
You  use  in  aoiect  and  in  slavish  parts. 
Because  you  bought  them : — Shall  I  say  to  you. 
Let  them  be  free,  many  them  to  your  heirs  ? 
Why  sweat  they  under  burdens  ?  let  their  beds 
Be  made  as  sof\  as  yours,  and  let  their  palates 
Be  seasoned  with  such  viands  ?  You  will  answer, 
The  slaves  are  ours  : — So  do  I  answer  you  : 
The  pound  of  flesh,  which  I  demand  of  him. 
Is  dearly  bought,  is  mine,  and  I  will  have  it : 
If  you  oeny  me,  fie  upon  your  law  ! 
There  is  no  force  in  the  decrees  of  Venice  : 
I  stand  for  judgment :  answer ;  shall  I  have  it  ? 

Duke,  l/pon  my  power,  I  may  dismiss  this  court. 
Unless  Bellario,  a  leamea  doctor. 
Whom  I  have  sent  for  to  detennine  this. 
Come  here  to-day. 

Solar.  My  lord,  here  stays  without 

A  messenger  with  letters  from  the  doctor, 
New  come  from  Padua. 

Duke.  Brine  us  the  letters ;  Call  the  messenger. 

Bass.    Good   cheer,   Antonio!    What,    man? 
courage  yet ! 
The  Jew  shall  nave  my  flesh,  blood,  bones,  and  all, 
Ere  thou  shalt  loose  for  me  one  drop  of  blood. 

Ani.  I  am  a  tainted  wether  of  the  flock, 
Mectest  for  death ;  the  weakest  kind  of  fruit 
Drops  earliest  to  the  ground,  and  so  let  me  : 
You  cannot  better  be  employ*d,  Bassaiiio, 
Than  to  live  still,  and  write  mine  epitaph. 

Enter  Nerissa,  dressed  like  a  lawyer's  clerk. 

Duke.  Came  you  from  Padua,  from  Bellario  ? 

JVer.  From  both,  my  lord :  Bellario  greets  your 
grace.  [Prewnis  a  letter. 

Bass.  Why  dost  thou  whet  thy  knife  so  ear- 
nestly ? 

Shy.  To  cut  the  forfeiture  from  that  bankrupt 
there. 

Gra.  Not  on  thy  sole,  but  on  thy  soul,  harsh  Jew, 
Thou  mak'st  thy  knife  keen :  but  no  metal  can. 
No,  not  the  hangman's  axe,  bear  half  the  keenness 
Of  thy  sharp  envy .8    Can  no  prayers  pierce  thee  ? 

Shy.  No,  none  that  thou  hast  wit  enough  to  make. 

Gra.  O,  be  thou  damnM,  inexorable  dog ! 
And  for  thy  life  let  justice  be  accus'd. 
Thou  almost  mak'st  me  waver  in  my  faith. 
To  hold  opinion  with  Pythagoras, 
That  souls  of  animals  infuse  themselves 
Into  the  trunks  of  men :  thy  currish  spirit 
Governed  a  wolf,  who,  hang'd  for  human  slaughter, 
Even  from  the  gallows  dia  his  fell  soul  fleet. 
And,  whilst  thou  lay*st  in  thy  unhallowM  dam, 
Infus'd  itself  in  thee ;  for  thy  desires 
Are  wolfish,  bloody,  starv*d,  and  ravenoos. 

Shy.  Till  thou  canst  rail  the  seal  from  off  mj 
bond, 


(7)  Converse. 


(8)  Malice. 


SeemL 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


199 


Tboa  but  oSeoiPtt  U17  lungs  to  speak  so  load : 
Repair  thy  wit,  good  youth,  or  it  will  ftJl 
To  cureless  ruin. — I  stand  here  for  law. 

Jhtke.  This  letter  from  Bellario  doth  commend 
A  Toun^  and  learned  doctor  to  our  court : — 
Where  is  be? 

•Ver.  He  attendeth  here  hard  by, 

To  know  your  answer,  whether  you*ll  adroit  hinL 

Duke.  With  all  my  heart : — some  three  or  four 
of  you. 
Go  give  him  courteous  conduct  to  this  place. — 
Mean  time,  the  court  shall  hear  Bellano^s  letter. 

[Clerk  reada.'j  Your  grace  shall  understand^ 
that,  at  the  receipt  qf  your  letter^  I  am  very  sick : 
but  in  the  instant  that  your  messenger  came^  in 
loving  visitation  was  with  me  a  young  doctor  (^ 
Bane,  his  name  is  BaUhaxar :  1  acquainted  h*m 
with  the  cause  in  controversy  between  the  Jew  and 
AiUomo  the  merchant :  we  hirn^  o'er  many  books 
together:  he  is  furnished  with  my  opinion  i  which, 
bdter'd  with  /Us  own  learning  {the  greatness 
whereqf  J  cannot  enough  commend^)  comes  with 
Aim,  iU  iity  tmpartwnity,  to  Jill  up  your  grace's 
reoueti  in  my  stead  J  beseech  you,  let  his  lack 
qf  years  be  no  impediment  to  let  him  lack  a  rever* 
endestunation;  far  I  never  knew  so  young  a  body 
with  so  old  a  head  I  leave  him  to  your  rracious 
acceptance,  whose  trial  shall  better  publish  his 
commendation. 

Duke.  You  hear  the  leamM  Bellario,  what  be 
writes: 
And  here,  I  take  it,  is  the  doctor  come. — 

KwUr  Portia,  dressed  Wee  a  doctor  qf  laws. 

Give  roe  your  hand  :  Came  you  from  old  Bellario? 

Por.  I  did,  roy  lord. 

Duke.         You  are  welcome :  take  your  place. 
Are  you  acquainted  with  the  difference 
^That  holds  this  present  question  in  the  court  ? 

Por.  I  am  intorroed  throughly  of  the  cause. 
^IVhich  is  the  merchant  here,  and  which  the  Jew  ? 

Duke.  Antonio  and  old  Shy  lock,  both  stand  forth. 

Por.  b  your  name  Sl^lock  ? 

•SAy.  Shylock  is  my  name. 

Por.  Of  a  strange  nature  is  the  suit  you  follow ; 
Yet  in  such  nUe,  tmt  the  Venetian  law 
d^aimot  impugni  you,  as  you  do  proceed. — 
Won  stand  within  his  danger,^  do  you  not  ? 

[To  Antonia 

AnL  Ay,  so  he  says. 

Por.  Do  you  confess  the  bond  ? 

JlnL  Ida 

Por.  Then  must  the  Jew  be  merciful. 

Sky.  On  what  compulsion  must  I  ?  tell  me  that 

Por.  The  quality  of  mercj  is  not  strained ; 
V*  droppeth,  as  the  gentle  ram  from  heaven 
-^pon  the  place  beneath :  it  is  twice  bless*d ; 
Jtblesseth  him  that  gives,  and  him  that  takes : 
M.'n mistiest  in  the  mightiest ;  it  becomes 
t'^tie  throned  monarch  netter  than  his  crown : 
"^is  sceptre  shows  the  force  of  temporal  power, 
rtie  attribute  to  awe  and  majepty, 
i^^^herein  doth  sit  the  dread  and  fear  of  kings; 
^ut  mercy  is  above  this  scepter*d  sway, 
*^  is  cndironed  in  the  hearts  of  kii^s, 
■t  M  an  attribute  to  God  himself; 
^l*||d  earthly  power  doth  then  show  likest  God*s, 
^^hcQ  merer  seasons  justice.    Therefore,  Jew, 
^^ough  justice  be  diy  plea,  consider  this, — 
'^^  in  the  course  of  justice,  none  of  us 
^>Bild  see  salvatkn :  we  do  pray  for  mercy ; 
W  thst  same  prayer  dodi  teach  us  all  to  render 


a)  Oppose. 


(2)  Reach  or  control. 
14 


The  deeds  of  roercy.    I  have  spoke  thus  much. 
To  mitieate  the  justice  of  thy  plea ; 
Which  if  thou  follow,  this  strict  court  of  Venice 
Must  need;)  give  sentence  *gainst  the  mercha  t 
there. 
•S^y.  My  deed*s  upon  mv  head !  I  crave  the  law, 
The  penaltv  and  forfeit  or  my  bond. 
Por.  Is  he  not  able  to  dischaice  the  money  ? 
Bass.  Yes,  here  I  tender  it  for  nim  in  the  court ; 
Yea,  twice  the  sum :  if  that  will  not  suffice, 
I  will  be  bound  to  pav  it  ten  tiroes  o*er, 
On  forfeit  of  my  lumos,  my  head,  my  heart : 
If  this  will  not  suffice,  it  must  appear 
That  malice  bears  down  tni^.  And  I  beseech  you. 
Wrest  once  the  law  to  your  authority : 
To  do  a  great  right,  do  a  little  wrong; 
And  curb  this  cruel  devil  of  his  will. 

Por.  It  must  not  be ;  there  is  no  power  in  Venice 
Can  alter  a  decree  established : 
*Twill  be  recorded  for  a  precedent ; 
And  many  an  error,  by  the  same  example, 
Will  rush  into  the  state :  it  cannot  be. 

Shy.  A  Daniel  come  to  judgment!  yea,  a  Dan- 
iel !— 
O  wise  young  judge,  how  do  I  honour  thee .' 

Por.  I  pray  ^ou,  let  roe  look  upon  the  bond. 

Shy.  Here  *tis,  most  reverend  doctor,  here  it  x*. 

Pftr.  Shylock,  there's  thrice  thy  money  offered 
thee. 

Shy.  An  oath,  an  oath,  I  have  an  oath  in  heaven  : 
Shall  I  lay  peijuiy  upon  my  soul  ? 
No,  not  for  Venice. 

Por.  Why,  this  bond  is  forfeit ; 

And  lawfully  by  thu  the  Jew  may  claim 
A  pound  of  flesh,  to  be  by  him  cut  off 
Nearest  the  merchant's  heart : — Be  merciful ; 
Take  thrice  th^  mooe^;  bid  me  tear  the  bond. 

Shy.  yfhen  it  is  paid  according  to  the  tenor.— 
It  doth  appear,  you  are  a  worthy  judge ; 
You  know  the  law,  your  exposition 
Hath  been  most  sound :  I  cnaree  you  by  the  law. 
Whereof  you  are  a  well-deservuif  pillar. 
Proceed  to  judgment :  by  my  sou!  I  swear, 
There  is  no  power  in  the  tongue  of  man 
To  alter  me :  I  stay  here  on  my  bond. 

Ant.  Most  heartily  I  do  beseech  the  court 
To  give  the  judgment 

Por.  Why  then,  thus  it  is. 

You  must  prepare  your  bosom  for  his  knife : 

Shy.  O  noble  juage .'  O  excellent  youne  man ! 

Por.  For  the  intent  and  purpose  ot  the  law 
Hath  foil  relation  to  the  penalty. 
Which  here  appeareth  due  upon  the  bond. 

Shy.  *Tis  very  true :  O  wise  and  upright  judfe ! 
How  much  more  elder  art  thou  than  thy  looks  f 

Por.  Theref(»e,  lay  bare  your  bosom. 

Shy.  Ay,  his  breast : 

So  says  the  bond  ; — Doth  it  not,  noble  judge  } — 
Nearest  his  heart,  those  are  the  very  wor^ 

Por.  It  is  so.    Are  there  balance  here,  to  we^ 
The  flesh? 

Shy.  I  have  them  ready. 

Por.  Have  by  some  surgeon,  Shylock,  on  your 
charge. 
To  stop  his  wounds,  lest  he  do  bleed  to  death. 

Shy.  Is  it  so  nominated  in  the  bond  ? 

Por.  It  is  not  so  expressed ;  But  what  of  that  ? 
*Twere  eood  you  do  so  much  for  charity. 

Shy.  I  cannot  find  it ;  *tis  not  in  die  bond. 

Por.  Come,  merchant,  have  you  any  thing  to  say  f 

AnL  But  little ;  I  am  arm*d,  and  well  prepar'd.— 
Give  me  your  hand,  Bassank) ;  fore  you  well ! 
Ctrieve  not  that  I  am  fallen  to  this  for  you ; 
For  herein  fortune  !»hows  herself  more  kind 


too 


MERCHANT  OF  \'ENICE. 


.iet  /T. 


Than  is  her  custom :  it  is  still  her  use. 

To  let  the  wretched  man  out-live  his  wealth, 

To  view  with  hollow  eye,  and  wrinkled  brow, 

An  age  of  poverty ;  from  which  lingering  pe-nanoe 

Of  liuch  a  misery  doth  she  cut  me  otT. 

Commend  me  to  your  honourable  wife : 

Tell  her  the  process  of  Antonio's  end, 

Say,  how  I  lov*d  von,  speak  me  fair  in  death ; 

And,  when  the  tale  is  told,  bid  her  be  judge, 

Whether  Bassanio  had  not  once  a  love. 

Repent  not  you  that  vou  shall  lose  your  friend. 

And  he  repents  not  that  he  pays  your  debt ; 

For  if  the  Jew  do  cut  but  deep  enough, 

ni  pay  it  instantly  with  all  my  hearL 

Bass.  Antonio,  I  am  married  to  a  wife, 
Which  is  as  dear  to  me  as  life  itself; 
But  life  itself,  my  wife,  and  all  the  world. 
Are  not  with  me  esteem*d  above  thy  life : 
I  would  lose  all,  ay,  sacrifice  them  all 
Here  to  this  devil,  to  deliver  you. 

Por.  Your  wife  would  give  you  little  thanks  for 
that. 
If  she  were  by^  to  hear  you  make  the  ofler 

Gra.  I  have  a  wife,  whom  I  protest  I  love ; 
I  would  she  were  in  heaven,  so  she  could 
Ekitreat  some  power  to  change  this  currish  Jew. 

JVW*.  *Tis  well  you  offer  it  behind  her  back ; 
The  wish  would  make  else  an  unquiet  house. 

Shy.  These  be  the  Christian  husbands :  I  have 
a  daughter; 
*Wou1d  any  of  the  stock  of  Barabbas 
Had  been  her  husband,  rather  than  a  Christian ! 

[Aside, 
We  trifle  time :  I  pTar  tfiee  pursue  sentence. 

Por.  A  pound  of  that  same  merchant's  flesh  is 
thine; 
The  court  awards  it,  and  the  law  doth  give  it 

Shy.  Most  rightful  judge ! 

Por.  And  you  must  cut  this  flesh  from  off  his 
breast; 
The  law  allows  it,  and  the  court  awards  it 

Shy.  Most  learned  judge ! — A  sentence ;  come, 
prepare. 

Por.  Tarry  a  little ; — ^there  is  something  else. — 
This  bond  doth  give  thee  here  no  iot  of  blood ; 
The  words  expressly  are,  a  pound  of  flesh  : 
Take  then  thy  bond,  take  thou  thy  pound  of  flesh ; 
But,  in  the  cutting  it,  if  thou  dost  sned 
One  drop  of  Christian  blood,  thy  lands  and  goods 
Are,  bv  the  laws  of  Venice,  confiscate 
Unto  tfie  state  of  Venice. 

Gra.  O  upright  judge  I — Mark,  Jew ; — O  learn- 
ed jua^e ! 

Shy.  Is  that  the  law  .^ 

Por.  ^      Thyself  shalt  see  the  act : 

For,  as  thou  urg^  justice,  be  assured, 
Thou  shalt  have  justice,  more  than  thou  deiiir'st 

Gra.  O  learned  judge ! — ^Mark,  Jew ; — ^a  learned 
judge ! 

Shv.  I  take  this  offer  then ; — pay  the  bond  thrice, 
And  let  the  Christian  go. 

Bass.  Here  is  the  money. 

Por.  Soft; 
The  Jew  shall  have  all  justice ; — soft ! — no  haste ; — 
He  shall  have  nothing  but  the  penalty. 

Gra.  O  Jew !  an  upright  judge,  a  learned  judj^e  I 

Por.  Therefore,  prepare  thee  to  cut  off  the  flesh. 
Shed  thou  no  blood  ;  nor  cut  thou  le»t,  nor  more, 
But  just  a  pound  of  flesh :  if  thou  tak'st  more. 
Or  less,  than  a  just  pound, — ^be  it  but  so  much 
is  makes  it  light,  or  heavy,  in  the  substance, 
Or  the  division  of  the  twentieth  part 
Of  one  poor  scniple ;  nay,  if  the  scale  do  turn 
But  in  tnc  estimation  of  a  hair, — 


Thou  diest,  and  ail  thy  goods*  are  confi«-ate. 

Gra.  A  second  Danid,  a  Daniel,  Jew  ! 
Now,  infidel,  I  have  thee  on  tlie  hip. 

Por.  Why  doth  the  Jew  pause  f  take  thy  for- 
feiture. 

Shy.  Give  me  my  principal,  and  let  me  go. 

Bass.  I  have  it  r«ady  for  thee ;  here  it  is. 

Por.  He  hath  refus'd  it  in  the  open  court ; 
He  shall  have  merely  justice,  and  his  bond. 

Gra.  A  Daniel,  still  say  I ;  a  second  Daniel ! — 
I  thank  thee,  Jew,  for  teaching  me  that  word. 

Shy.  Shall  I  not  have  barely  my  principal  ? 

Por.  Thou  shalt  have  nothing  but  the  forfeituir. 
To  be  so  taken  at  thy  peril,  Jew. 

Shy.  Why  then  tKe  devil  give  him  good  of  it ! 
I'll  stay  no  longer  question. 

Por.  Tarry,  Jew ; 

The  law  hath  yet  another  hold  on  you. 
It  is  enacted  in  the  laws  of  Venice,^ 
If  it  be  prov'd  against  an  alien, 
That  by  direct,  or  indirect  attempts, 
He  seek  the  life  of  any  citizen. 
The  party,  'gainst  the  which  he  doth  contrive, 
Shall  seize  one  half  his  goods ;  the  other  half 
Comes  to  the  privy  coffer  of  the  state ; 
And  the  offender's  life  lies  in  the  mercy 
Of  the  duke  only,  'gainst  all  other  voice. 
In  which  predicament,  I  say  thou  stand'st : 
For  it  appears  by  manifest  proceedyuig, 
That,  indirectly,  and  directly  too, 
Thou  hast  contriv'd  against  me  veiy  life 
Of  the  defendant ;  and  thou  hast  incurr*d 
The  danger  formerly  by  me  rehears'd. 
Down,  therefore,  and  lleg  mercy  of  the  duke. 

Gra.  Beg,  that  thou  may'st  bsve  leave  to  hai^ 
thyself: 
And  yet,  thy  wealth  being  forfeit  to  the  state, 
Thou  hast  not  left  the  value  of  a  cord ; 
Therefore,thou  must  be  hang'd  at  the  state'scharge. 

Duke.  That  thou  shalt  see  the  difference  of  our 
spirit, 
I  pardon  thee  thy  life  before  thou  ask  it : 
For  half  thy  wealth,  it  is  Antonio's ; 
The  other  half  comes  to  the  general  state. 
Which  humbleness  may  drive  unto  a  fine. 

Por.  Ay,  for  the  state ;  not  for  Antonia 

Shy.  Nay,  take  my  life  and  all,  pardoo  not  that: 
You  take  my  house,  when  you  do  take  the  prop 
That  doth  sustain  mv  house ;  you  take  my  life. 
When  you  do  take  the  means  whereby  I  live. 

Por.  What  mercy  can  you  render  him,  Antonio } 

Gra.  A  halter  g^ratis ;  nothing  else,  for  God's  sake. 

Ant.  So  please  my  lord  the  duke,  and  all  the 
court, 
To  quit  the  fine  for  one  half  of  his  goods ; 
I  am  content,  so  he  will  let  me  have 
The  other  half  in  use, — to  render  it, 
Upon  his  death,  unto  the  gentleman 
That  lately  stole  his  daughter : 
Two  things  provided  more, — That,  for  this  iavoor 
He  presently  become  a  Christian  : 
The  other,  that  he  do  record  a  gift. 
Here  in  the  court,  of  all  he  dies  povsess'd. 
Unto  Wii  son  Lorenzo,  and  his  daughter. 

Duke.  He  shall  do  this ;  or  else  I  do  recant 
Tlio  pardon,  that  I  late  pronounced  here. 

Por.  Art  thou  contented,  Jew,  what  doat  tboa 
say.^ 

Shy.  I  am  content 

Por.  Clerk,  draw  a  deed  of  gift. 

Shy.  I  pray  you,  give  me  leave  to  go  from  hence  * 
I  am  not  well ;  send  the  deed  after  me. 
And  I  will  sign  it 

Duke.  Get  thee  gone,  but  do  it 


MERCHANT  OF  VEmCE. 


SOI 


Ib  cbristening  thou  shall  hare  two  god- 

wen  judge,  thou  sboald'tt  hare  had  ten 
more, 
;  tibee  to  the  gallows,  not  the  font 

[Exit  Shylock. 
Sir,  I  entreat  you  home  with  me  to  ainner. 
[  hiunbly  do  desire  your  grace  of  pardon; 
way  this  night  toward  Padua, 
meet,  I  presently  set  forth. 

I  am  sorry,  that  your  lewure  serves  you 

not 

gratify  this  gendeman ; 

tyr  mind,  you  are  much  bound  to  him. 

\Exeuni  Duke,  magnificoes.  and  irain. 
Most  worthy  grentleman,  I  and  m^'  friend, 
your  wisdom  oeen  this  day  acquitted 
DOS  penalties ;  in  lieu  whereof 
OQsand  ducats,  due  unto  the  Jew, 
T  cope  your  courteous  pains  withal. 
knd  stand  indebted,  over  and  above, 
od  service  to  you  evermore. 
He  is  well  paid,  that  is  well  satisfied ; 
eli?ering  you,  am  satisfied, 
«in  do  account  myself  well  paid ; 
t  was  never  yet  more  mercenary, 
m,  know  me,  when  we  meet  again ; 
HI  well,  and  so  I  take  my  leave. 
Dear  sir,  of  force  I  must  attempt  you  fur- 
ther; 

w  remembrance  (^  us,  as  a  tribute, 
fee :  grant  me  two  things,  I  pray  yoo. 
Of  me,  and  to  pardon  me. 
ten  press  me  far,  and  therefore  I  will 
yielo. 

foar  rloves,  PU  wear  them  for  your  sake ; 
your  love,  I'll  take  this  ring  from  you : — 
raw  back  your  hand ;  PU  take  no  more ; 
in  love  sliall  not  deny  me  this. 
This  ring,  good  sir, — alas,  it  is  a  trifle ; 
t  abame  myself  to  give  you  this. 
'.  will  have  nothing  else  but  only  this ; 
,  methinks,  I  have  a  mind  to  it. 
T1iere*s  more  depends  on  this,  than  on 
the  value. 

«st  rinff  in  Venice  will  I  give  you, 
it  out  by  proclamation ; 
this,  I  pray  you,  pardon  me. 
see,  sir,  you  are  liberal  in  offers : 
lit  me  first  to  beg ;  and  now,  methinks, 
h  roe  how  a  beggar  should  be  answerM. 
Good  sir,  this  ring  was  given  me  by  my 

wife; 
BO  she  put  it  on,  she  made  me  vow, 
K»ld  neither  sell,  nor  give,  nor  lose  it. 
fhat  *8cuse  serves  many  men  to  save  their 
giAa. 

or  wife  be  not  a  mad  woman, 
w  bow  well  I  have  descrvM  Oiis  ring, 
Id  not  hold  out  enemy  for  ever, 
ig  *t  to  me.     Well,  peace  be  with  you ! 

[Exeunt  Portia  and  Neri«(sa. 
yij  lord  Bassanio,  let  him  have  the  ring ; 
eservings,  and  mv  love  withal, 
d  *gainst  your  wife's  commandment. 
Go,  Gratiano,  run  and  overtake  him, 
the  rioe:;  and  bring  him,  if  thou  canst, 
tooio^s  house : — «way,  make  haste. 

[Exit  Gratiano. 
on  and  I  will  thither  presentlv ; 
be  morning  early  will  we  both 
ird  Belmont:  dome,  Antonio.      [Exeunt. 

(1)  Reflection. 


SCEJ^TEIL—Thetanu.  A  ttreei.  Enter  PortiM 

cMuf  Nerissa. 

Par.  Inquire  the  Jew's  house  oat,  give  him  this 
deed, 
And  let  him  sism  it ;  we'll  away  to-night. 
And  be  a  day  oefore  our  husbands  home : 
This  deed  will  be  well  welcome  to  Lorenia 

£hier  Gratiana 

Gra,  Fair  sir,  you  are  well  overtaken : 
My  lord  Bassanio,  upon  more  advice,'  , 

Hath  sent  you  here  this  ring ;  and  doth  entreat 
Your  company  at  dinner. 

Por.  That  cannot  be : 

This  rinf  I  do  accept  most  thankfully. 
And  so,  I  pray  you,  tell  him :  Furthermore, 
I  pray  you,  show  my  youth  old  Shylock 's  house. 

Gra.  That  will  I  da 

JVer,  Sir,  I  would  speak  with  you  : — 

I'll  see  if  I  can  get  m^  husband's  ring,  [To* Portia. 
Which  I  did  make  hun  swear  to  keep  for  ever. 

Por,  Thou  may'st,  I  warrant :   We  thtM  have 
old  swearing, 
That  they  did  give  ine  rings  away  to  men ; 
But  we'll  outface  them,  andoutswear  them  too. 
Away,  make  haste ;  thou  know'st  where  I  will  tarry. 

JVer.  Come,  eood  sir,  will  you  show  me  to  this 
house  f  [ExeuTit. 


ACT  V. 

SCEJ>rE  /.—Belmont  Avenue  to  Portia's  house. 
Enter  Lorenzo  and  Jessica. 

Lor.  The  moon  shines  bri^t : — In  such  a  night 
as  this, 

When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees, 
And  they  did  make  no  noise ;  in  sUch  a  night, 
Troilus,  methinks,  mounted  the  Trojan  walls. 
And  sigh'd  his  soul  towiird  the  Grecian  tents. 
Where  Cressid  lay  that  night 

Jes.  '  In  such  a  night. 

Did  Tliisbe  fearfully  o'ertrip  the  dew ; 
And  saw  ihe  lion's  shadow  ere  himself, 
And  ran  dismay'd  away. 

Lor.  In  such  a  night, 

Stood  Dido  with  a  willow  in  her  hand  . 

Upon  the  wild  sea-banks,  and  wav'd  her  love 
To  come  again  to  Carthage. 

Jes.  In  such  a  n^t, 

Medea  nther'd  the  enchanted  herbs 
That  did  renew  old  iBson. 

Lor.  In  such  a  night. 

Did  Jessica  steal  from  the  wealthy  Jew : 
And  with  an  uiithrift  love  did  run  from  Venice, 
As  far  as  Belmont 

Jes.  And  in  such  a  nis^ht. 

Did  young  Lorenzo  swear  he  lov'd  her  well ; 
Stealing  her  soul  with  many  vows  of  faith. 
And  ne'er  a  true  one. 

Lor.  And  in  such  a  night. 

Did  pretty  Jessica,  like  a  little  shrew. 
Slander  her  love,  and  he  foigave  it  her. 

Jes.  I  would  out-niVht  you,  did  nobody  come  : 
But,  hark,  I  hear  the  looting  of  a  man. 

Enter  Stephana 

Lor.  Who  oxnes  so  fast  in  silence  of  the  night .' 

Steph.  A  friend. 

Lor.  A  frirnd  ?  what  friend  f  your  name,  I  pray 

you,  friend  ^ 
Sieph.  §tf>phaiio  is  my  name;  and  I  brii^  wcrdi 


«09 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


Adtr. 


Mt  niitraM  will  before  the  bi«dE  of  daj 
Be  ben  at  Befanoat:  ibe  dotb  itny  about 
Bjr  bolj  croteea,  wbere  ibe  kneeb  and  piays 
Fir  bappj  wedlock  boun.  .  ^  u     > 

Ijor,  Wbo  comes  with  ber  f 

SiifHi.  None,  but  a  holy  hermitf  and  her  maid. 
I  pray  yoo,  is  my  master  yet  returo'd  ? 
Lor,  He  is  not,  nor  we  have  not  heard  from 
him. — 
Hot  go  we  in,  I  pray  thee,  Jessica, 
And  ceremoniously  let  us  prepare 
Some  welcome  for  the  mistress  of  the  boose. 


Enter  Launcelot 

Sola,  sola,  wo  ha,  ho,  sola,  sola ! 

iior.  Who  calls?  ^  , 

Ltum,  Sola !  did  you  see  master  Lorenio,  and 
mittreM  Lorenzo !  sola,  sola ! 

Lor,  Leave  hollaing,  man ;  here. 

Xrfnm.  Sola!  where?  where? 

Lor.  Here. 

Lcmn.  Tell  him,  there's  a  post  come  from  my 
mailer,  with  his  horn  full  o(  good  news ;  my  master 
will  be  here  ere  rooming.  [^^f- 

Lor,  Sweet  soul,  let's  in,  and  there  expect  their 
coming. 
And  vet  no  matter;— Why  should  we  go  in? 
My  mend  Stephano,  signify,  I  pray  you, 
\Vithin  the  house,  your  mistress  is  at  hand ; 
And  brins:  your  music  forth  into  the  air. — 

^^  [ExU  Stephano. 

How  iweet  the  moonlight  sleeps  upon  this  bank ! 
Here  will  we  sit,  and  let  the  sounds  of  music 
Creep  in  our  ears ;  soft  stillness,  and  the  night. 
Become  the  touches  of  sweet  harmony. 
Sit,  Jessica :  Look,  how  the  ikx)r  of  heaven 
It  thick  inlaid  with  patinesi  of  bright  gold ; 
There's  not  the  smallest  oib,  which  thou  behold'st. 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  muring  to  the  young-eyM  cherubins : 
SudiDaimooy is  in  immortal  souls ; 
But,  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  ckiee  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it — 

Enter  muticiant. 


Enkr  Pbrtk  wU  Nstiw,  •!•  lifiiirTi. 
Por,  Thatligfatwesee,isbamiDgiBBgrhdL 
How  ht  tfiat  little  candle  throws  bbbeums ! 
So  shines  a  good  deed  in  a  naogblj  world. 
Jfer,  When  die  moon  shone,  we  ^  n^  sm  At 

candle. 
Por.  So  doth  the  greater  gloiy  dim  the  less  J 

A  substitute  shines  brightly  as  a  king, 
Until  a  king  be  by ;  and  then  his  state 
Empties  itself,  as  doth  an  inland  brook 
Into  the  main  of  waters.  Music !  hark ! 

JV(fr.  It  is  your  music,  madam,  of  the  boose. 

Por.  Notmng  is  good,  I  see,  withoot  respect ; 
Methinks,  it  sounds  much  sweeter  than  by  day. 

JVer.  Silence  bestows  that  virtue  on  it,  madam. 

Por.  The  crow  doth  sing  as  sweetly  as  the  larit. 
When  neither  is  attended;  and,  I  think. 
The  nightingale,  if  she  should  sing  hj  day. 
When  every  goose  is  cackling,  would  be  thought 
No  better  a  musician  than  the  wren. 


Come,  ho,  and  wake  Diana  with  a  hymn ; 
With  sweetest  touches  pierce  your  mistress'  ear. 
And  draw  her  home  with  music. 
Jet,  I  am  never  merry,  when  I  hear  sweet  music. 

[Mustc. 

Lor.  The  reason  is,  your  spirits  are  attentive : 
For  do  but  note  a  wild  and  wanton  herd, 
Or  race  of  youthful  and  unhandled  colts. 
Fetching  mad  bounds,  bellowing,  and  neighing 

loud, 
Which  is  the  hot  condition  of  their  blood ; 
U  they  but  hear  perchance  a  trumpet  sound, 
Or  any  air  of  music  touch  their  ears, 
You  uall  perceive  them  make  a  mutual  stand. 
Their  savage  eyes  tum'd  to  a  modest  gaze, 
By  the  sweet  power  of  music :  Therefore,  the  poet 
IKd  feign  that  Orpheus  drew  trees,  stones,  and 

floods; 
Since  nought  so  stockish,  hard,  and  full  of  rage. 
But  music  for  the  time  doth  change  his  nature : 
The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 
Nor  is  not  mov'd  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds. 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils ; 
The  motions  of  his  spirit  are  dull  as  night. 
And  his  afiectuns  dark  as  Erebus : 
Let  no  such  man  be  trusted. — ^Mark  the  music. 


How  many  things  by  season  season'd  are 
To  their  right  praise,  and  true  perfection ! — 
Peace,  boa!  the  moon  sleeps  with  Endymkm, 
And  would  not  be  awak'd !  [Music  oa 

Lor.  That  is  the  voice. 

Or  I  am  much  deceived,  of  Portia. 
Por.  He  knows  me,  as  the  blind  man  knows  the 
cuckoo. 
By  the  bad  voice. 
Lor.  Dear  lady,  welcome  home. 

Por.  We  have  been  praying  for  our  husbands' 
welfare. 
Which  speed,  we  hope,  the  better  for  our  words. 
Are  they  retum'd  ? 

Lor.  Madam,  they  arc  not  yet ; 

But  there  is  come  a  messenger  before. 
To  signify  their  coming.  . 

Por.  Go  in,  Nenasa, 

Give  order  to  my  servants,  that  they  take 
No  note  at  all  of  our  being  absent  henoe  ;— 
Nor  you,  Lorenio ;— Jessica,  nor  TOO. 

[A  tudbefi  tawiat. 
Lor.  Tour  husband  is  at  hand,  I  bear  his  trumpet: 
We  are  no  tell-tales,  madam ;  fear  yon  not. 
Por.  This  night,  methinks,  is  but  the  day-light 
sick. 
It  looks  a  little  paler ;  'tis  a  day. 
Such  as  the  day  is  when  the  sun  is  hid. 

Enter  Bassanio,  Antonio,  Gratiano,  mui  their /ol- 

lowers. 


Bass.  We  should  hold  day  with  the  Antij 
If  you  would  walk  in  absence  of  the  son. 

Por.  Let  me  give  light,  but  let  me  not  be  light  y 
For  a  light  wife  doth  make  a  heavy  husband, 
And  never  be  Bassanio  so  for  me ; 
But  God  sort  all !— You  are  welcome  .    . 

Bass.  I  thank  you,  madam :  give  welcome  to 
friend. — 
This  is  the  man,  this  is  Antonk), 
To  whom  I  am  so  infinitely  bound. 
Por.  You  should  in  all  sense  be  much  bound 
him, 
II  For,  as  I  hear,  he  was  much  bound  for  yoo. 
Ant.  No  more  than  I  am  well  acqpiitted  of. 
Por.  Sir,  you  are  veiy  welcome  to  onr  boose : 
It  must  appear  in  other  ways  than  words, 
Therefore,  I  scant  this  breathing  courtesy.* 

[Gratiano  am(  Nerissa  aeon  to  toil;  . 
Gra.  By  yonder  moon,  I  swear,  yon  do 
wrong; 


ii 


(1)  A  nnall  flat  dbh,  used  in  the  administration 
4f  the  Eucharist 


(2)  A  flourish  on  a  trampet 

(3)  Verbal,  complioientaiy  fana 


Setm  L 


MERCHAM*  OF  VENICE. 


SOS 


lo  faith,  I  gife  Hto  the  jodge*!  clerk : 
Would  he  were  gelt  that  had  it,  for  mj  part. 
Since  yoa  do  take  it,  love,  so  much  at  heart 
For.  A  quarrel,  ho,  already  ?  what*8  the  matter  ? 
GtxL  About  a  hoop  of  eold,  a  paltry  ring 
That  she  did  give  me ;  whose  posy  was 
For  all  the  world,  like  cutler*s  poetry 
Upon  a  knife,  Love  me,  afui  leave  me  not. 

JVer.  What  talk  you  of  the  posy,  or  the  value  ? 
Tou  swore  to  me,  when  I  did  give'  it  you, 
That  vou  would  wear  it  till  your  hour  of  death ; 
And  that  it  should  lie  with  you  in  your  g^ve : 
Though  not  for  me,  yet  for  your  vehement  oaths. 
You  abould  have  been  respective,^  and  have  kept  it 
Gave  it  a  judge's  clerk  .'--but  well  I  know. 
The  clerk  will  ne*er  wear  hair  on  his  face,  that 
had  it 
Ora.  He  will,  an  if  he  live  to  be  a  man. 
JVer.  Ay,  if  a  woman  live  to  be  a  man. 
Ora,  Now,  by  this  hand,  I  gave  it  to  a  youth, — 
A  kind  of  boy ;  a  litde  scrubb^i  boy. 
No  higher  tlum  thyself  the  judge's  clerk ; 
A  prating  boy,  that  b^g*d  it  as  a  fee ; 
I  could  not  for  my  heart  deny  it  him. 

Por.  You  were  to  blame,  I  roust  be  plain  with  you. 
To  part  so  slightly  with  your  wife*s  first  giA ; 
A  thing  stuck  on  with  oaths  upon  your  finger. 
And  riveted  so  with  faith  unto  your  flesh. 
I  gave  my  love  a  ring,  and  made  him  swear 
Never  to  part  with  it ;  and  here  he  stands ; 
I  dare  be  sworn  for  him,  he  would  not  leave  it, 
Ifar  pluck  it  fit>m  his  fii^r,  for  the  wealth 
That  the  worid  masters.    Now,  in  faith,  Gratiano, 
Yoa  give  your  wife  too  unkind  a  cause  of  grief; 
An  *twere  to  me,  I  should  be  mad  at  it 

Bau.  Whv.  I  were  best  to  cut  my  left  hand  off, 
And  swear,  I  lost  the  ring  defending  it      [Aside, 

Chu.  My  lord  Bassanio  gave  his  rine  away 
Unto  the  judge  that  beggM  it,  and,  inoeed, 
Oeaerv'd  it  too ;  and  tMn  the  boy,  his  clerk. 
That  ioxAi  some  pains  in  writing,  he  beeg*d  mine : 
And  neither  man,  nor  master,  would  tuce  aught 
Bfit  the  two  rings. 

Por.  What  ring  gave  you,  my  lord  ? 

Hot  that,  I  hope,  which  you  recejvM  of  me. 

Ban.  If  I  could  add  a  lie  unto  a  fault, 
I  wouki  deny  it ;  but  you  see  my  finger 
Hath  ncrt  the  ring  ujxxi  it,  it  is  gone. 

Par.  Even  so  void  is  your  false  heart  of  truth. 
6y  heaven,  I  will  ne'er  come  in  your  bed 
ILfntil  I  see  the  ring. 

JVS»*.  Nor  I  m  yours. 

Till  I  again  see  mine. 

JBojs.  Sweet  Portia, 

If  foa  did  know  to  whom  I  gave  the  ring. 
If  jaa  did  know  for  whom  I  gave  the  ring. 
And  would  conceive  for  what  I  gave  the  nng. 
And  how  unwillingly  I  left  the  ring, 
HVhen  nocwht  woda  be  accepted  but  the  ring, 
Yoa  woola  abate  the  strength  of  your  displeasure. 
Pa^.  If  yoa  had  known  the  virtue  of  tne  ring. 
Or  half  her  worthiness  that  gave  the  ring. 
Or  joar  own  honour  to  contain  the  ring. 
Too  would  not  then  have  parted  with  the  ring. 
Mrhat  nan  is  there  so  much  unreasonable, 
Vjroo  had  pleas'd  to  have  defended  it, 
Vmfa  any  terms  of  zeal,  wanted  the  modesty 
To  aige  the  diing  held  as  a  ceremony  ? 
Ifsrissa  teaches  me  what  to  believe ; 
t*fl  die  for't,  but  some  woman  had  the  ring. 

Boat.  No,  far  mine  honour,  madam,  by  my  soul, 
^0  woonn  haa  it,  but  a  civil  doctor. 


(1)  RegardfoL 


(2)  Advantage. 


Which  did  refuse  three  thousand  ducats  of  me. 

And  begg'd  the  ring ;  the  which  I  did  deny  him, 

And  sullerM  him  to  go  displeas'd  away  : 

Even  he  that  had  held  up  the  very  life 

Of  my  dear  friend.  What  should  1  say,  sweet  lady  f 

r  was  enforc'd  to  send  it  after  him  \ 

I  was  beset  with  shame  and  court^ ; 

My  honour  would  not  let  ingratitude 

So  much  besmear  it :  Pkrdon  me,  good -lady ; 

For,  by  these  blessed  candles  of  the  m'ght, 

Had  you  been  there,  I  think,  you  would  have  bcgg'd 

The  rine  of  me  to  give  the  worthy  doctor. 

Por.  Let  not  that  doctor  e'er  come  near  my 
house : 
Since  he  hath  got  the  jewel  that  I  lov'd. 
And  that  which  you  (ud  swear  to  keep  for  me, 
I  will  become  as  liberal  as  you  : 
I'll  not  deny  him  any  thing  I  have. 
No,  not  my  body,  nor  my  nushand's  bed : 
Know  him  I  shall,  I  am  well  sure  of  it : 
Lie  not  a  night  from  home ;  watch  me  like  Argus: 
If  you  do  not,  if  I  be  lef%  alone, 
Now,  by  mine  honour,  which  is  vet  my  own, 
I'll  have  that  doctor  for  my  bedfellow. 

JVer.  And  I  his  clerk ;  therefore  be  well  advis'd. 
How  you  do  leave  me  to  mine  own  protection. 

Gra.  Well,  do  you  so :  let  not  me  take  him  tlien ; 
For,  if  I  do,  I'll  mar  the  young  clerk's  pen. 

Ani.  I  am  the  unhappy  subject  of  these  quarrels. 

Por.  Sir,  grieve  not  you;  You  are  welcome 
notwithstanding. 

Ban.  Portia,  forgive  me  this  enforced  wrong ; 
And,  in  the  hearing  of  these  many  friends, 
I  swear  to  thee,  even  by  thine  own  fair  eyes. 
Wherein  I  see  myself, 

Por.  Mark  you  but  that ! 

In  both  my  eyes  he  doubly  sees  himself: 
In  each  eye  one : — swear  by  your  double  self. 
And  there's  an  oath  of  creoit 

Bass.  Nay,  but  hear  me : 

Pardon  this  fault,  and  by  my  soul  I  swear, 
I  never  more  will  break  an  oath  with  thee.  • 

Ani.  I  once  did  lend  my  body  for  his  wealth  ;3 
Which,  but  for  him  that  had  your  husband's  ring, 

[To  PortuL 
Had  quite  miscarried :  I  dare  be  bound  again. 
My  soul  upon  the  forfeit,  that  your  lord 
Will  never  more  break  faith  advisedly. 

Por.  Then  you  shall  be  his  sure^ :  Give  him  this; 
And  bid  him  keep  it  better  than  tne  odier. 

Ant.  Here,  lord  Bassanio ;  swear  to  keep  this 
ring. 

Bass.  Bv  heaven,  it  is  the  same  I  gave  the  doctor ! 

Por.  I  had  it  of  him :  pardon  me,  Bassanio ; 
For  by  this  ring  the  doctor  lay  with  me. 

AVr.  And  pardon  me,  my  eentle  Gratiano; 
For  that  same  scrubbed  boy,  Vm  doctor's  clerk. 
In  lieu  of  this,  last  ni^t  did  lie  with  me. 

Gra.  Why^  this  is  like  the  mending  of  highways 
In  summer,  where  the  ways  are  fair  enougn : 
What !  are  we  cuckolds,  ere  we  have  deserv'd  it } 

Por.  Speak  not  so  grossly. — ^You  are  all  amaz'd : 
Here  is  a  letter,  read  it  at  your  leisure ; 
It  comes  from  Padua,  from  Bellario : 
There  you  shall  find,  that  Portia  was  the  doctor ; 
Nerissa  there,  her  clerk  :  Lorenzo  here 
Shall  witness,  I  set  forth  as  soon  as  you, 
And  but  even  now  retum'd ;  I  have  not  yet 
Enter'd  my  house. — Antonk>,  you  are  welcome ; 
And  I  have  better  news  in  store  for  you. 
Than  you  expect :  unseal  this  letter  soon  ; 
There  you  shall  find,  three  of  your  argosies 
Are  richly  come  to  harbour  suddenly : 
You  shall  not  know  by  what  strange  accident 


t04 


MERCHANT  OF  VENICE. 


Jiti  r. 


I  chanced  on  diis  letter. 

AnL  I  un  dumb. 

Bau.  Were  yoa  the  doctor,  and  I  knew  you 
not? 

Gra.  Were  you  the  clerk,  that  is  to  make  me 
cuckold  ? 

^er.  Ay ;  but  the  cleiic  that  never  means  to  do  it, 
Unless  he  live  until  he  be  a  man. 

.6ass.  Sweet  doctor,  you  shall  be  my  bedfellow ; 
When  I  am  absent,  then  lie  with  my  wife. 

,AnL  Sweet  lady,  yoa  have  given  me  life,  and 
living; 
For  here  I  read  for  certain,  that  my  ships 
Are  safely  come  to  road. 

Par.  How  now,  Lorenzo  ? 

My  clerk  hath  some  Kood  comforts  too  for  ^'ou. 

JVW*.  Ay,  and  Plf  give  them  him  without  a 
fee. — 
There  do  I  rive  to  you,  and  Jesaca, 
From  the  ricn  Jew,  a  special  deed  of  gift. 
After  his  death,  of  all  he  dies  possessM  of. 

Lor.  Fair  laidies,  you  drop  manna  in  the  way 
Of  starved  people. 

Por,  It  is  almost  morning, 

And  yet,  I  am  sure,  you  are  not  satisfied 
Of  tMse  eyents  at  Aill :  Let  os  go  in ; 


And  charg:e  us  there  upon  inteivatonet, 
And  we  will  answer  all  things  raithfully. 

Gra,  Let  it  be  so :  The  first  inteii^toiy, 
That  my  Nerissa  shall  be  swom  on.  u^ 
Whether  till  the  next  night  she  had  rather  stay ; 
Or  go  to  bed  now,  being  two  hours  to  day  : 
But  were  the  day  come,  I  should  wish  it  dark. 
That  I  were  couchinir  with  the  doctor's  clerk. 
Well,  while  I  live,  rU  fear  no  other  thing 
So  sore,  as  keeping  safe  Nerissa's  ring. 

[ExeimL 


Of  the  Merchant  of  Venice  the  style  is  even  and 
e^v,  with  few  peculiarities  of  diction,  or  anomalies 
of  construction.  The  comic  part  raises  laughter, 
and  the  serious  fixes  expectation.  The  probability 
of  either  one  or  the  other  stcny  cannot  be  main- 
tained. The  union  of  two  actions  in  one  event  is 
in  this  drama  eminently  happy.  Dr}'den  was 
much  pleased  with  his  own  address  in  connectii^ 
the  two  plots  of  his  Spanish  Friar,  which  vet,  I 
believe,  tne  critic  will  Dnd  excelled  by  this  play. 

JOHNSON. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


i   r(mltcUf»ib<fw>MfbZ>iLb  tn  Ait 

j   wrwibioOJnwr. 

JM^ 

RoMlind.  daughtir  to  On  bamilad  Dulu. 
Cclia,  iaughUr  to  Frtdiridt. 
Phcbi,  a  MfpAAiltu. 
Audn7,  B  e«ui<py  tuoidL 

£or^  bdonging  to  lAi  iaaDuktii  pagtt^omUn, 


rA<  SccH  liu, /r><,  war  O'nKr'i  AoKW  {  o/tm 

toardt,  partly  tn  U<  UMvrfit't  eouri,  uid  fait- 
ty  in  IKt  foritt  qf  Ardtn. 


(member,  Adun,  il  iru  upon  Ihii  fa- 
bed  me;  By  will,  bur  ■  puur  ih« 

■od,  u  Ibog  ny'it,  chtrgM  m.v  tiru 
leain^,  to  breed  jne  well  :  And  Ihcre 

ndaqv.     Mj  brother  Jvmn  hr  koop  at 
md  report  ipenJia  ^Idenly  of  hb  pnȣT  ^ 

nra  proper^,  itiiji  me  bere  bI  himu^  i 
'«  cdl  jDu  Hut  keeping  for  »  c^ritLin 
Irtb,  (hil  diflen  not  rrom  the  ^\Mws  ••( 
ie  hoTKA  are  br«d  better  j  for,  iH-^idi'y  1.1 
ir  feeding,  U 

■■  oncb  boDod  lo  him  u  I.  B< 
dM  he  10  plenlilully  givei  tc^, 

hm  me  ^  be  let!  me  teed  with 
I  (be  place  of  ■  brother,  and.  u 
ica,  minea  tnj  i^nttlit]'  with  my  i 
it,  Adam,  that  rrieirea  me ;  fend 
■Iber,  which  I  Uiink  it  within  n: 


EtOit  Oliver. 
Go  apart,  Adam,  and  Ibou  tknili  h 


■  lellaw.aiidbTOrluii 


OrL  Many,  m,  I  am  helping  foa  to  nwr  that 
hicb  Gad  made,  a  poor  onworth;  btoiber  of 
faun,  wilh  tdleneN. 

Oli.    Marrr,  nr,  be  better  emjdoj'd,  and  be 

lau^ht  B  while. 

Ijrt,  !>li*11t  keep  joarbogi,iDdeathiiiki  Willi 
Ix'in .'  Wax  prodnl  portioa  hare  I  ipent,  (bal  t 

Oli.  Kmw  jdu  when  jroa  an,  air  f 

Ori.  O,  lir,  very  well !  here  m  jour  orchard. 

Oli.  Know  joa  belbn  wbotn,  air  f 

OrL  Aj,  better  than  be  I  am  before  koowi  me. 
faiiuw  roo  are  mr  eldeal  bnMber,  and,  in  Ibegeo- 
I''  ifjjiiliiioo  of  blood,  joD  ahocild  to  kuow  me; 

I'i !•.'.  uaj  of  natkni  albwt  70a  mj  better,  in 

\:.'i  yiij  .ire  the  fint-bcn;  but  the  Hme  trsdlliou 
,il..  ^  LK'i  iwaj  mj  blood,  were  there  twenty  br^ 
liH-r,  l-'(vfiit  ni:  1  have  as  much  of  my  father  in 
w.  Bi  Jin ;  albeit,  I  ccoleM,  jonr  coming  belbm 


Oil  Will  dun  bf  handi  on  me,  •illain  t 
OrL  I  un  no  TJIlaio  i>  I  am  the  joongett  «n  of 
r  Rowtaad  de  Bcii ;  be  wai  mv  blher ;  and  be 
thrice  I  villain,  (hat  layi,  Bch  a  biber  begot 
illaini :  Wert  Ihon  DM  my  brother,  t  would  not 
ike  (his  hand  rran  thr  dunt,  till  thii  otler  had 
ulledouithjrtaoguelat  H}iat;iOi  thou  bait  rait- 

Jldam.  & 


fHi  Letmego,       . 

Orl.  I  will  DO),  till  1  pl*ale ;  nn  ^1! 
My  fail^ercbarged  joum  hil  will  to{^v< 
pdni^aTJoii:  jou  Dave  rrained  me  Ijkeapi 


int  ctf  my  &lher  rrowi  atrong  in 
'       ■■    -^    -feieallDW 


ine.  Slid  I  will  no  longtroiduie  .  .  _.  _  . 

give  iiic  the  jtoDr^loUeijrinf  firlberleAme  bjte*. 


f06 


AS  YOU  UKE  IT. 


Act  I 


tament ;  with  that  I  will  go  buv  my  fortunes. 

(Mi  And  what  wilt  thou  dor  bes,  when  that  is 
ipmt  ?  Well,  sir,  get  you  in  :  I  wiU  not  long  be 
troubled  with  you :  you  shall  have  some  part  of 
VOor  will :  I  pray  you,  leave  me. 

OrL  I  will  no  further  offend  you  than  becomes 
me  form  good. 

OIL  Get  you  with  him,  you  old  6a^. 

Adam,  Is  old  dog  my  reward  ?  Most  true,  I 
have  lost  my  teeth  in  your  service. — God  be  with 
my  old  master,  he  would  not  have  spoke  such  a 
word.  rExeun/ Orlando  amf  Adam. 

OtL  Is  it  even  so  }  begin  you  to  grow  upon  me  ? 
I  will  physic  your  rankness,  and  yet  give  no  thou- 
nod  crowns  neither. — Holla,  Dennis  1 

Enter  Dennis. 

Den.  Calls  your  worship  1 

OU.  Was  not  Charles,  the  Duke^s  wrestler,  here 
to  *PC>^  with  me  ^ 

Den.  So  please  you,  be  is  here  at  the  door,  and 
importunes  access  to  you. 

m.  Call  him  in.  [Exit  Dennis.]— *Twill  be  a 
good  way ;  and  to-morrow  the  wrestling  is. 

EfUer  Charles. 

OuL.  Good  morrow  to  your  worship. 

OIL  Good  monsieur  Charles !  what^s  the  new 
news  at  the  new  court  ? 

Cha.  There's  no  news  at  the  court,  sir,  but  the 
old  news :  that  is,  the  old  duke  is  banished  by  his 
Tooi^r  brother  the  new  duke ;  and  three  or  four 
loving  lords  have  put  themselves  into  voluntary* 
esQe  with  him,  whose  lands  and  revenues  enrich 
the  new  duke ;  therefore  he  gives  them  good  leave' 
to  wander. 

OU.  Can  you  tell,  if  Rosalind,  the  duke's  daughter, 
be  banishea  with  her  father.' 

Cha.  O,  no ;  for  the  duke's  daue^hter,  her  cousin. 
•0  kwci  her, — ^being  ever  from  their  cradles  bred 
together, — that  she  would  have  followed  her  exile, 
or  have  died  to  stay  behind  her.  She  is  at  the 
conrt,  and  no  less  beloved  of  her  uncle  than  his 
own  daughter;  and  never  two  ladies  loved  as 
they  da 

0^  Where  will  the  old  duke  live.^ 

Cha.  They  say,  he  is  already  in  the  forest  of 
Arden,and  a  many  merrv  men  with  him;  and 
there  tiiey  live  like  the  old  Robin  Hood  of  England : 
they  say,  many  youn^  gentlemen  flock  to  him  every 
day ;  and  fleet  the  tune  carelessly,  as  they  did  in 
the  golden  world. 

On.  What,  you  wrestle  to-roorrow  before  the 
new  duke .' 

Cha.  Marry,  do  I,  sir ;  and  I  came  to  acquaint 
you  with  a  matter.  I  am  given,  sir,  secretly  to 
understand,  that  your  younger  brother,  Orlando, 
bath  a  disposition  to  come  in  dis^is'd  against  me 
to  ti^  a  fall ;  To-morrow,  sir,  1  wrestle  for  my 
credit :  and  he  that  escapes  me  without  some  broken 
limb  shall  acquit  him  well.  Your  brother  is  but 

Jroung,  and  tender;  and,  for  your  love,  I  would  be 
oath  to  foil  him,  as  I  must,  for  my  own  honour,  if 
be  come  in :  therefore,  out  of  my  love  to  you,  I 
came  hither  to  acquaint  you  withBiI ;  that  either  you 
mifriit  stay  him  from  his  intendment,  or  brook 
toch  disgrace  well  as  he  shall  run  into;  in  that  it 
M  a  thing  of  his  own  search,  and  altogether  against 
my  will. 

OU.  Charles,  I  thank  thee  for  thy  love  to  me, 
which  thou  shalt  find  I  will  most  kindly  requite.  I 
had  myself  nodce  of  my  brother's  purpose  neiein, 

(1)  A  ready  assent    (2)  FroUcksome  fellow. 


and  have  by  undeihand  means  laboured  to  dissuade 
him  from  it;  but  he  is  resolute.  I'll  tell  ilice, 
Charles, — it  is  the  stubbomest  young  fcUow  of 
France  ;  full  oi  ambition,  an  envious  emulator  of 
every  man's  good  parts,  a  secret  and  villanous 
contriver  against  me  his  natural  brother;  theic- 
fore  use  thy  discretion ;  I  had  as  lief  thou  did»t 
break  his  neck  as  his  finger  :  And  thou  wert  bt>t 
look  to't ;  for  if  thou  dost  him  any  slieht  disgrace, 
or  if  he  do  not  mightily  grace  himself  on  thee,  be 
will  practise  against  thee  by  poison,  entrap  thee  bv 
some  treacherous  device,  ana  never  leave  thee  till 
he  hath  ta'en  thy  life  by  some  indirect  means  or 
other :  for,  I  assure  thee,  and  almost  with  tears  I 

rk  it,  there  is  not  one  so  young  and  so  villanous 
day  living.  I  speak  but  brotherly  of  him: 
but  should  I  anatomixc  him  to  thee  as  be  is,  I 
must  blush  and  weep,  and  thou  must  look  pale 
and  wonder. 

Cha.  I  am  heartily  glad  I  came  hither  to  you: 
If  he  come  to-morrow,  I'll  give  him  his  payment : 
If  ever  he  go  alone  again,  I'll  never  wrestle  for 
priie  more :   And  so,  God  keep  your  worship ! 

[Exit 

OU.  Farewell,  good  Charles. — Now  will  I  stir 
this  gamester  :3  I  hope,  I  shall  see  an  end  of  him ; 
for  my  soul,  yet  I  know  not  why,  hates  nothins 
more  than  he.  Jf  et  he's  eentle ;  never  school'*^ 
and  yet  learned ;  full  of  noble  device ;  of  all  sorts' 
enchantingly  beloved;  and,  indeed,  so  much  in 
the  heart  of  the  world,  and  especially  of  my  own 
people,  who  best  know  him,  that  I  ara  altogether 
misprized :  but  it  shall  not  be  so  long ;  this  wrestler 
iihall  clear  all :  nothing  remains,  but  that  I  kindle 
the  boy  thither,  which  now  I'll  go  about.      [Exit. 

SCEJVE  Il^A  lawn  htfort  the  Duke's  palact. 
Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Cel.  I  pray  thee,  Rosalind,  sweet  my  coz,  be 
merry. 

Ros.  Dear  Celia,  I  show  more  mirth  than  I  ara 
mistress  of ;  and  would  you  yet  I  were  merrier  ? 
l^nless  you  could  teach  me  to  forget  a  banished 
father,  you  must  not  learn  me  how  to  remember  any 
extraorainarv  pleasure. 

Cel  Herein,  I  see,  thou  lovest  me  not  with  the 
full  weight  that  I  love  thee :  if  my  uncle,  thy  ban- 
bed  tamer,  had  banished  thy  uncle,  the  duke  my 


IS 


father,  so  thou  hadst  been  still  with  me,  I  could 
Imve  taught  my  love  to  take  thy  father  for  mine ; 
so  woulcTst  thou,  if  the  truth  cif  thy  love  to  mc 
were  so  righteously  temper'd  as  mine  is  to  thee. 

Ros.  Well,  I  w'ill  foiget  the  condition  of  my  es- 
tate, to  rejoice  in  yours. 

Ctl  You  know,  my  father  hath  no  child  but  I, 
nor  none  is  like  to  have ;  and,  truly,  when  be  dies, 
thou  shalt  be  his  heir:  for  what  he  hath  taken 
away  from  thy  father  perforce,  I  will  render  thee 
again  in  affection;  by  mine  honour,  I  will;  and 
when  I  break  that  oath,  let  me  turn  monster :  theie- 
fore,  my  sweet  Rose,  my  dear  Rose,  be  merrv. 

Ros.  From  henccforUi  I  will,  coz,  and  devise 
sports :  let  me  see ;  What  think  you  of  falling  in 
love  ? 

Cd.  Marry,  I  pr'ythee,  do,  to  make  sport  withal : 
but  love  no  man  in  good  earnest ;  oor  no  further  in 
sport  neither,  than  with  safety  of  a  pure  blush  thoa 
mav'st  in  honour  come  off  again. 

kos.  What  shall  be  our  sport  then  } 

Cd.  Let  us  sit  and  mock  the  good  bousewife. 
Fortune,  from  her  wheel,  that  hergifbmaj  hence- 
forth be  bestowed  equally. 

(3)0f  allranka. 


ASTOUUKEIT. 


901 


would,  we  could  do  lo;  for  her  beoefits 
i\v  mispUced :  and  the  bountiful  blind 
DOk  moft  mistake  in  her  gifts  to  women. 
It  true :  for  tbote,  that  tbe  makes  fair,  she 
ikes  honest ;  and  those,  that  she  makes 
e  makes  very  ill-favourMlj. 
ajr,  now  thou  goest  from  fortune's  office 
s :  fortune  reigns  in  gifts  of  the  world, 
lineaments  of  nature. 

Enter  Touchstone. 

>  ?  When  nature  hath  made  a  fair  crea- 

she  not  by  fortune  fall  into  the  fire  f — 

lature  hath  given  us  wit  to  flout  at  fortune, 

fortune  sent  in  this  fool  to  cut  off  the  ar- 

ideed,  there  is  fortune  too  hard  for  na- 

en  fortune  makes  nature's  natural  the  cut- 

nature's  wit 

eradventure,  this  is  not  fortune's   work 

lUt  nature's ;  who  perceiving  our  natural 

bit  to  reason  of  such  goddesses,  hath  sent 

al  for  our  whetstone :  for  always  the  duU- 

le  fool  is  the  whetstone  of  his  wits. — How 

f  whither  wander  you  P 

.  Mistress,  you  must  come  away  to  your 

^ere  you  made  the  messenger  ? 

.  No,  by  mine  honour ;  but  I  was  bid  to 

you. 

Vhere  teamed  you  that  oath,  fool  ? 

.  Of  a  certain  knight,  that  swore  by  his 

wj  were  good  pancakes,  and  swore  by  his 

le  mustard  was  naught :  now,  I'll  stand  to 

(K^es  were  nauu:ht,  and  the  mustard  was 

id  yet  was  not  the  kniu:ht  forstvom. 

xm  prove  you  that,  in  the  great  heap  of 

wleage? 

ly,  marry ;  now  unmuzzle  your  wisdom. 

.  Stand  you  both  forth  now  :  stroke  your 

]  swear  by  your  beards  that  I  am  a  knave. 

f  our  beards,  if  we  had  them,  thou  art 

.  By  my  knavery,  if  I  had  it,  then  I  were  : 

u  swear  by  that  that  is  not,  you  are  not 

:  no  more  was  this  knight,  swearing  by  his 

Imt  he  never  had  any ;  or  if  he  had,  he  had 

iway,  before  ever  he  aaw  those  pancakes 

MMtarcL 

r'Tthee,  whois't  that  thou  mean'st.^ 

.  One  that  old  Frederick,  your  father,  lores. 

[jr  fiiiher's  love  is  enough  to  honour  him. — 

•peak  no  more  of  him  :  you'll  be  whipp'd 
ioii,!  one  of  these  days. 
■.  The  more  pity,  that  fools  may  not  speak 
rhat  wise  men  do  foolishly. 
J  my  troth,  thou  say'st  true :  for  since  the 
,  that  fools  have,  was  silenced,  the  little 
liat  wise  men  have,  makes  a  gpreat  show, 
net  monsieur  Le  Beau. 

Enter  Le  Beau. 
Willh  his  mouth  full  of  news. 
Vhtch  he  will  put  on  us,  as  pigeons  feed 

rhen  diall  we  be  news-cramm'd. 

kll  the  better ;  we  shall  be  the  more  mar- 

Bon  jour,  monsieur  Le  Beau :  What's 

t? 


Fair  princess,  you  have  lost  much 
ft 

MT  what  coloor  f 
uu.  What  colour,  madam  ?  How  shall  I 

fOU? 


Satire. 


(2)  Perplex,  confuse. 


Roi.  As  wit  and  fortune  will 

Touch.  Or  as  the  destinies  decree. 

CeL  Well  said ;  that  was  laid  on  with  a  trowel 

Touch,  Nay,  if  I  keep  not  my  rank,— — 

Ros.  Thou  losett  thy  old  smell. 

Le  Beau.  You  amaze^  me,  ladies ;  I  would  have 
told  you  of  good  wrestling,  which  you  have  lost  the 
sight  of 

Roe,  Yet  tell  us  the  manner  of  the  wrestling. 

Le  Beau.  I  will  tell  you  the  b^^inning,  and,  if  it 
please  your  ladyships,  you  may  see  the  end ;  for  the 
best  is  yet  to  do ;  and  here,  where  you  are,  they 
are  coming  to  perform  it 

Cel.  VieW, — the  beginning,  that  is  dead  and 
buried. 

Le  Beau.  There  comes  an  old  man,  and  his 
three  sons, 

OtL  I  could  match  this  beginning  with  an  old  tale. 

Le  Beau.  Three  proper  young  noen,  of  excel- 
lent g^wth  and  presence ; 

i2os.  With  bills  on  their  necks, — Be  it  known 
unto  all  fn^nby  these  preeenle. 

Le  Beau,  llie  eld«t  of  the  three  wrestled  with 
Charles,  the  duke's  wrestler ;  wliich  Charles  in  a 
moment  threw  him,  and  broke  three  of  his  ribs, 
that  there  is  little  hope  of  life  in  him  :  so  he  served 
the  second,  and  so  the  third :  Yonder  they  lie ;  the 
poor  did  man,  their  &ther,  making  such  pitiful 
dole  over  them,  that  all  the  beholden  take  his  part 
with  weeping. 

Rm.  Alas! 

Touch.  But  what  is  the  sport,  monsieur,  that 
the  ladies  have  lost  ^ 

Le  Beau.  Why,  this  that  I  speak  of 

ToucA.  Thus  men  may  grow  wiser  every  day  ! 
it  is  the  first  time  that  ever  I  heard,  broking  of 
ribs  was  sport  for  ladies. 

Cel.  Or  I,  I  promise  thee. 

Ros.  But  is  there  any  else  longs  to  see  this  broken 
music  in  his  sides .'  is  there  yet  another  dotes  upon 
rib-bresJiing.' — Shall  we  see  this  wrestling,  cousin  ? 

Le  Beau.  You  must,  if  you  stay  here ;  for  here 
is  the  place  appointed  for  the  wrestling,  and  they 
are  ready  to  perform  it 

Cel.  Yonder,  sure,  they  are  comii^ :  Let  us  now 
stay  and  see  it 

Fkurith.    Enter  Duke  Frederick,  X^ords,  Orlan- 
do, Charles,  and  attendants. 

Duke  F.  Come  on ;  since  the  youth  will  not  be 
entreated,  his  own  peril  on  his  forwardness. 

i2o«.  Is  yonder  tne  man  ^ 

Le  Beau.  Even  he,  madam. 

Cel.  Alas,  he  is  too  young :  yet  he  looks  sue 
cessfully. 

Ditke  F.  How  now,  daughter,  and  cousin  f  an 
you  crept  hither  to  see  the  wrestling.^ 

Roe.  Ay,  my  liege .'  so  please  vou  give  us  leave. 

Duke  F.  You  will  take  little  delight  in  it,  I  can 
tell  you,  there  is  such  odds  in  the  men :  In  pity  of 
the  challenger's  youth,  I  would  fain  dissuade  him, 
but  he  wiH  not  be  entreated :  Speak  to  him,  ladies  • 
see  if  you  can  move  him. 

Cel.  Call  him  hither,  good  monsieur  Le  Beau. 

Duke  F.  Do  so;  I'll  not  be  br. 

iDuke  goes  apart 

Le  Beau.  Monsieur  the  challenger,  the  prin- 
cesses call  for  you. 

OrL  I  attend  them,  with  all  respect  and  dutf . 

Roe.  Young  man,  have  you  challenged  Charlej 
the  wrestler.' 

OrL  No,  fair  princess ;  he  is  the  general  chal- 
lenger :  I  come  but  in,  as  others  do,  to  try  with 
him  the  strength  of  my  youth. 


soft 


AS  YOU  UKE  IT. 


Ad  J 


Cel.  Young  gentlemaOf  your  spirits  are  too  bold 
fi>r  your  yean :  You  have  seen  cruel  proof  of  thu 
man^s  strength :  if  you  saw  yourself  with  your  eyes, 
or  knew  yourself  with  your  judgment,  the  fear 
of  your  adventure  would  counsel  you  to  a  more 

aual  enterprise.    We  pray  you,  for  your  own 
ke,  to  embrace  your  own  safety,  and  give  over 
this  attempt 

Ros.  Do,  young  sir ;  your  reputation  shall  not 
therefore  be  misprized  :  we  will  make  it  our  suit  to 
the  duke,  that  the  wrestling  might  not  go  forward. 

OrL  1  beseech  you,  punish  me  not  with  your 
hard  thoughts ;  wherein  1  confess  me  much  guilty, 
to  deny  so  fair  and  excellent  ladies  any  thing.  But 
let  your  &ir  eyes,  and  gentle  wishes,  go  with  me 
to  my  trial :  wherein  if  I  be  foiled,  Siere  is  but 
one  shamed  that  was  never  gracious ;  if  killed,  but 
one  dead  that  is  willing  to  be  so :  I  shall  do  my 
friends  no  wrong,  for  I  have  none  to  lament  me ; 
the  world  no  injury,  for  in  it  I  have  nothing;  only 
in  the  world  I  fill  up  a  place,  which  may  be  better 
supplied  when  I  have  made  it  empty. 

Kos.  The  little  strength  that  I  have,  I  would  it 
were  with  vou. 

Ctl.  Ana  mine,  to  eke  out  hers. 

Ros.  Fare  vou  welL  Pray  heaven,  I  be  de- 
ceived in  you  f 

CeL  Your  hearths  desires  be  with  you ! 

Cha.  Come,  where  is  this  young  gallant,  that  is 
80  desirous  to  lie  with  his  mother  earth  ? 

OrL  Ready,  sir ;  but  his  will  hath  in  it  a  more 
modest  working. 

Duke  F.  You  shall  try  but  one  fall. 

Cha.  No,  I  warrant  your  mce ;  you  shall  not 
entreat  him  to  a  second,  that  nave  so  mightily  per- 
suaded kim  from  a  first 

OrL  You  mean  to  mock  me  aAer ;  you  should 
not  have  mocked  me  before :  but  come  your  ways. 

Ros.  Now,  Hercules  be  thy  speed,  young  man  ! 

CeL  I  would  I  were  invisible,  to  catch  the  strong 
fellow  by  the  le^.      [Charles  and  Orlando  vntsUe. 

Ros.  O  excellent  young  man ! 

CeL  If  I  had  a  thunderbolt  in  mine  eye,  I  can 
tell  who  should  down.    [Charles  u  Mrotm.  Shout 

Duke  F.  No  more,  no  more. 

OrL  Yes,  I  beseech  your  grace ;  I  am  not  yet 
well  breathed. 

Duke  F.  How  dost  thou,  Charles  .> 

Le  Beau.  He  cannot  speak,  my  lord. 

Duke  F.  Bear  him  away.  [Charles  is  borne  out] 
What  is  thy  name  young  man .' 

OrL  Orlando,  my  li^e;  the  youngest  son  of 
sir  Rowland  de  Bois. 

Duke  F.  I  would,  thou  hadst  been  son  to  some 

man  else. 

The  world  esteemM  thy  father  honourable, 

But  I  did  find  him  still  mine  enemy : 

Thou  should^st  have  better  pleased  me  with  this 

deed, 
Hadst  thou  descended  from  another  house. 
But  fare  thee  well ;  thou  art  a  gallant  youth  ; 
1  would,  thou  hadst  told  me  of  another  father. 

lExeurU  Duke  Fred,  irairij  and  Le  Beau. 

CtL  Were  I  my  father,  cox,  would  I  do  this  ? 

OrL  1  am  more  proud  to  be  sir  Rowland^s  son. 
His  youngest  son; — and  would  not  change  that 

callinsr,! 
To  be  adopted  heir  to  Frederick. 

Ros.  My  father  lovM  sir  Rowland  as  his  soul. 
And  all  the  world  was  of  my  fiither^s  mind : 
Had  I  before  known  this  young  man  his  son, 

1)  Appellation.     ^2)  Turned  out  of  her  service. 
,3)  The  object  to  oart  at  in  martial  exercises. 


I 


I  should  have  given  him  tears  unto  entreaties. 
Ere  be  should  thus  have  ventured. 

Cel.  Gentle  cousin, 

Let  us  ro  thank  him,  and  encourage  him : 
My  father^s  rough  and  envious  disposition 
Sticks  me  at  heart — Sir,  you  have  well  deserr'd : 
If  you  do  keep  your  promises  in  love. 
But  justly,  as  you  have  exceeded  promise. 
Your  mistress  shall  be  happy. 

Ros.  Gentleman, 

[Giving  him  a  chain  from  her  neck. 
Wear  this  for  me ;  one  out  of  suit«  with  fortune  ;> 
That  could  give  more,  but  that  her  hand  lacks 

means. — 
Shall  we  go,  coz  } 

CeL  ky  : — Fare  you  well,  fair  gentleman. 

OrL  Can  I  not  say,  I  thank  you .'  My  better  parts 
Are  all  thrown  down;  and  that  which  here  stanosup, 
Is  but  a  Quintain,'  a  mere  lifeless  block. 

Ros.  He  calls  us  back :  My  pride  fell  with  mj 
fortunes : 
V\\  ask  him  what  he  would  : — Did  you  call,  sir  .'— 
Sir,  you  have  wrestled  well,  and  overthrown 
More  than  your  enemies. 

CeL  Will  you  go,  coz  } 

Ros.  Have  with  you : — Fare  you  well. 

[Exeunt  Rosalind  amf  Cefia. 

OrL  What  passion  hangs  these  weights  upon, 
my  tongue  ? 
I  cannot  speak  to  her,  yet  she  urgM  conference. 

Re-enter  Le  Beau. 

0  poor  Orlando !  thou  art  overthrown ; 
Or  Charles,  or  something  weaker,  masters  thee. 

Le  Beau.  Good  sir,  I  £>  in  friendship  counsel  yt 
To  leave  this  place :  Albeit  you  have  deserved 
High  conrunendation,  true  applause,  and  lo\  e ; 
Yet  such  is  now  the  duke^s  condilion,^ 
That  he  misconstrues  all  that  you  have  done. 
The  duke  is  humorous ;  what  he  is,  indeed. 
More  suits  you  to  conceive,  than  me  to  speak  of. 

OrL  I  thank  you,  sir :  and,  pray  you,  tell  me  this;« 
Which  of  the  two  was  daughter  of  the  duke 
That  here  was  at  the  wrestling  f 

Le  Beau.  Neither  his  daughter,  if  we  judge  hj 
manners ; 
But  yet,  indeed,  the  shorter  is  his  daughter : 
The  other  is  daughter  to  the  banished  duke. 
And  here  detained  by  her  usurping  uncle. 
To  keep  his  daughter  company ;  whoee  loves 
Are  dearer  than  the  natural  bond  of  sisters. 
But  I  can  tell  you,  that  of  late  this  duke 
Hath  ta*en  displeasure  *gainst  his  gentle  niece ; 
Grounded  upon  no  other  ailment. 
But  that  the  people  praise  her  for  her  virtues. 
And  pity  her  for  her  good  father's  sake ; 
And,  on  my  life,  his  malice  *g:ainst  the  lady 
Will  suddenly  break  forth. — Sir,  fare  you  well ; 
Hereafter,  in  a  better  world  than  this, 

1  shall  desire  more  love  and  knowledge  of  you. 

OrL  1  rest  much  bounden  to  you ;  fare  vou  well ! 

[Exit'Le  Beau. 
Tims  must  I  from  the  smoke  into  the  smother : 
From  t^T^it  duke,  unto  a  tyrant  brother  .• — 
But  heavenly  Rosalind !  [£jct7. 

SCEJVE  III— A  room  in  the  palace.    Enter 
Celia  and  Rosalind. 

Cd.  Why,  cousin ;  why,  Rosalind ; — Cupid  hava 
mercy  ! — Not  a  word  f 
Ros.  Not  one  to  throw  at  a  dog. 
CeL  No,  thy  words  are  too  precious  to  be 

(4)  Temper,  disposition. 


AS  TOU  USE  IT. 


409 


can,  throw  some  of  them  at  me;  come, 

itfiieuooa. 

MO  there  were  two  cocuinf  laid  ap; 

iw  ihould  be  lamed  with  reasons,  and 

lad  without  any. 

:  is  all  this  for  your  father  ? 

I,  some  of  it  ror  my  child's  father :  O, 

'  briers  is  this  working-day  world .' 

e^  are  but  burs,  cousin,  thrown  upon 

bday  £x>lery ;  if  we  walk  not  in  the 

dis,  our  very  petticoats  will  catch  them. 

ould  shake  them  off  my  coat ;  these  burs 

beart 

m  them  awav. 

roold  try ;  if  I  could  cry  hem,  and  have 

He,  come,  wrestle  with  thy  affections, 
they  take  the  part  of  a  better  wrestler 
£ 

1  ^;ood  wish  upon  you !  you  will  try  in 
ipite  of  a  fall. — But,  turning  these  jests 
loe,  let  us  talk  in  good  earnest :  Is  it 
I  such  a  sodden,  you  should  fall  into  so 
mg  with  old  air  Rowland's  youngest  son  ? 
B  crake  my  father  lovM  his  father  dearly. 
h  it  therefore  ensue,  that  you  should 
I  dearly  ?  By  this  kind  of  chase,  I  should 
hr  my  father  hated  his  father  dearly  ;i 
not  drlando. 

k  *fiuth,  hate  him  not,  for  my  sake. 
f  dtoald  I  not  .^  doth  he  not  deserve  well  f 
t  me  love  him  for  that ;  and  do  you  love 
mI  do : — ^Look, here  comes  the  duke, 
di  his  eyes  full  of  anger. 

ier  Duke  Frederick,  tnth  lords, 

B£stress,  despatch  you  with  your  safest 

isle, 

la  fiom  our  court 

Me,  uncle  ? 

You,  cousin; 
m  ten  days  if  that  thou  be*st  found 
r  pablic  court  as  twen^  miles, 

I  do  beseech  your  grace, 
knowledge  of  my  fault  bear  with  me : 

nlf  I  hold  intelligence, 

l|iiBintance  with  mine  own  desires ; 
not  dream,  or  be  not  frantic 

■t  I  am  not,)  then,  dear  uncle, 

nch  as  in  a  thought  unborn, 

I  jomr  highness. 

Thus  do  all  traitors ; 

gatkn  did  consist  in  words, 

i  innocent  as  grace  itself:— 

B  tfiee,  diat  I  trust  thee  not 

jnmr  mistrust  cannot  make  me  a  traitor; 

hereon  the  likelihood  depends. 
Thott  art  thy  father's  daughter,  there's 

Kngh. 

was  I,  when  your  highness  took  his 

ikedom; 

rhen  jroor  highness  banisb'd  him ; 

not  iiuerited,  my  lord ; 

id  derive  it  from  mir  friends, 

t  to  me .'  my  father  was  no  traitor : 

my  liqpe,  mistake  me  not  so  much, 

f  poverty  is  treacherous. 

r  sovereign,  hear  me  speak. 

Ay,  CSelia ;  we  stay'd  her  for  your  sake, 

e  widi  her  fether  rang'd  along. 

eterately.  (2)  Compassion. 

losky,  yellow-coloured  ear  th. 


CtL  I  did  not  then  entreat  to  have  her  stay. 
It  was  your  pleasure,  and  your  own  remorse  ;3 
I  was  too  young  that  time  to  value  her. 
But  now  1  know  her:  if  she  be  a  traitor. 
Why  so  am  I ;  we  still  have  slept  together. 
Rose  at  an  instant,  leara'd,  play 'd,  eat  together ; 
And  wheresoe'er  we  went,  like  Juno's  swans, 
Still  we  went  coupled,  and  inseparable. 

Dvke  F.  She  is  too  subtle  for  thee ;  and  her 
smoothness. 
Her  veiy  silence,  and  her  patience. 
Speak  to  the  people,  and  they  pity  her. 
Thou  art  a  fool :  she  robs  thee  of  thy  name ; 
And  thou  wilt  show  more  bright,  and  seem  more 

virtuous. 
When  she  is  gone :  then  open  not  thy  lips ; 
Firm  and  irrevocable  is  my  doom 
Which  I  have  pass'd  upon  her ;  she  is  banish'd. 

Cd,  Pronounce  that  sentence  then  on  me,  my 
liege; 
I  cannot  live  out  of  her  company. 

Dtike  F.  You  are  a  fool : — You,  niece,  provide 
yourself; 
If  you  out-stay  the  time,  upon  mine  honour. 
And  in  the  greatness  of  my  word,  you  die. 

[Elxeuni  Dtuce  Frederick  and  lords, 

CkL  O  my  poor  Rosalind !  whither  wilt  thou  go.' 
Wilt  thou  change  fathers  ?  I  will  give  thee  mine. 
I  charge  thee,  be  not  thou  moregnev'd  than  I  am. 

Jf2o«.  1  have  mora  cause. 

CeL  Thou  hast  not,  cousin ; 

Pr'ythee,  be  cheerful :  know'st  thou  not,  the  duke 
Hath  banish'd  me  his  daughter? 

Ros,  That  he  hath  not 

Cd.  No?  hadi  not.^  Rosalind  lacks  then  the  love 
Which  teacheth  thee  that  thou  and  I  am  one : 
Shall  we  be  sundeifd  ?  shall  we  part,  sweet  girl  ? 
No;  let  my  father  seek  another  heir, 
llierefore  devise  with  me,  how  we  may  fly. 
Whither  to  go,  and  what  to  bear  with  us : 
And  do  not  seek  to  take  your  change  upon  you. 
To  bear  your  griefs  yourself,  and  leave  me  out ; 
For,  by  this  h^ven,  now  at  our  sorrows  pale, 
Say  what  thou  canst,  I'll  go  along  with  mee. 

jRos.  Why,  whither  shall  we  go.^ 

Cd.  To  seek  my  uncle. 

Jf2o«.  Alas,  what  danger  will  it  be  to  us. 
Maids  as  we  are,  to  travel  forth  so  far  ? 
Beauty  provoketh  thieves  sooner  than  gold. 

Cd.  ril  put  myself  in  poor  and  mean  attire, 
And  with  a  kind  of  umber*  smirch  my  face ; 
The  like  do  you ;  so  shall  we  pass  ak>ng. 
And  never  stir  assailants. 

Ros.  Were  it  not  better, 

Because  that  I  am  more  than  common  tall, 
That  I  did  suit  me  all  points  like  a  man  ? 
A  gallant  curtle-axe^  upon  my  thigh, 
A  boar-spear  in  my  hand ;  and  (in  my  heart 
Lie  there  what  hidden  woman's  fear  there  will,) 
Well  have  a  swashing*  and  a  martial  outude ; 
As  many  odier  manni^  cowards  have. 
That  do  outface  it  with  their  semblances. 

Cd.   What  shall  I  call  thee,  when  thou  art  a 
man  f 

Ros.  ril  have  no  worse  a  name  than  Jove's  own 

And  therefore  look  you  call  me,  Ganymede. 
But  what  will  you  be  call'd.' 

Cd.  Soroethii^  that  hatii  a  reference  to  my  state ; 
No  longer  Celia,  but  Aliena. 

Ros.  But,  counn,  what  if  we  assay'd  to  steal 
The  clownish  fod  out  of  your  Other's  court  ? 

(4)  Cutlass.        (5)  Swaggering. 


I 


tio 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


^dlL 


Would  he  not  be  a  comfort  to  oar  timrel  ? 

Cei.  HeMI  go  alor^  o*et  me  wide  world  wMi me; 
ijtn\  e  me  alone  to  woo  him  :  Let*s  away. 
And  get  our  jeweU  and  oar  wealth  together ; 
Devise  the  fittest  time,  and  laiett  way 
To  hide  OS  from  poiaait  that  will  be  made 
After  my  flight :  now  ro  we  in  cootent, 
To  liberty,  and  not  to  baniahment  [Exe¥HL 


ACT  II. 

8CEJ^  f.— The  forest  qf  Arden.  Enter  DaVe 
tenioTy  Amiens,  and  other  Lords,  m  the  dress 
qf  Foresters, 

Duke  S.  Now,  my  co-mates,  and  brothen  in 
exfle, 
Hath  not  old  custom  made  this  life  more  sweet 
Than  (hat  of  painted  pompf  Are  not  these  woods 
More  free  from  peril  tnan  the  envious  court? 
Here  feel  we  but  the  penalty  of  Adam, 
The  seasons*  difference ;  as  the  icy  fan^, 
And  churlish  chiding  of  the  winter's  wind ; 
Which  when  it  bites  and  blows  upon  my  body. 
Even  till  I  shrink  with  cold,  I  smile,  and  lay, — 
This  is  no  flattery :  these  are  counsellors 
That  feelingly  persuade  me  what  1  am. 
Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity ; 
Which,  like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 
Wears  vet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head ; 
And  this  our  life,  exempt  from  public  haunt, 
Finds  tongues  in  trees,  books  in  the  running  brodu, 
Sermons  in  stones,  and  eood  in  every  thing. 

Ami.  I  would  not  cnange  it:  Happy  is  youi 
grace. 
That  can  translate  the  stubbornness  of  fortune 
Into  so  quiet  and  so  sweet  a  style. 

Duke  S.  Come,  shall  we  go  and  kill  us  venison? 
And  yet  it  irks  me,  the  poor  dappled  fools, — 
Being  native  bu^ghera  of  this  desert  city, — 
Should,  in  their  own  confines,  with  forked  heads^ 
Have  their  round  haunches  gor'd. 

1  Lord.  Indeed,  my  lord. 

The  melancholy  Jaques  grieves  at  that ; 
And,  in  that  kind,  swears  you  do  more  usurp 
Than  doth  your  brother  that  hath  baui^M  you. 
To-day,  my  lord  of  Amiens,  and  myself. 
Did  steal  behind  him,  as  he  lay  along 
Under  an  oak,  whose  antioue  root  peeps  out 
Upon  the  brook  that  brawls  along  this  wood: 
To  the  which  place  a  poor  sequestered  stag. 
That  from  the  nunters*  aim  had  ta'en  a  hurt, 
D'd  come  to  languish ;  and,  indeed,  my  lord. 
The  wretched  animal  heavM  forth  sucn  groans. 
That  their  discharge  did  stretch  his  leathern  coat 
Almost  to  bursting;  and  the  big  round  tears 
CoursM  one  anot^r  down  his  innocent  nose 
In  piteous  chase :  and  thus  the  hairy  fool. 
Much  marked  of  the  melancholy  Jaques, 
Stood  on  the  extremest  verge  of  the  swiA  brook. 
Augmenting  it  with  tears. 

Duke  S.  But  what  said  Jaques  ? 

Did  he  not  moralixe  this  spectacle  ? 

1  Lord  O,  yes,  into  a  thousand  similes. 
First,  for  his  weeping  in  the  needless  stream ; 
Poor  durj  quoth  he,  thou  mak'st  a  testament 
As  worldlings  doy  giving  thy  sum  qf  mors 
To  that  which  had  too  much :  Then,  being  alone, 
LeA  and  abandon*d  of  his  velvet  friends; 

(I)  Barbed  arrows.     (2)  Encounter.     (3)  Scurvy. 
l'\)  Sink  into  dejection.        (5)  Memorial. 


'TVs  r^gAi,  epoch  be;  this  misery  doik  peurt 
TheJntLx  qf  compami:  Anoo,  a  careleas  herd. 
Full  of  the  pasture,  jumps  aloi^  by  him. 
And  never  stays  to  greet  him ;  Ay,  qaodi 
Sweep  on,  you  fat  and  greasy  citisetuf 
'Tis  Just  the  fashion :  IVh^ore  do  mm  kek 
Vpon  thai  poor  and  broken  bankrtmt  there* 
Thus  most  invectively  he  piercedi  throagli 
The  body  of  the  country,  city,  court. 
Yea,  and  of  this  our  life :  swearii^,  that  w« 
Are  mere  usurpen,  tyrants,  and  vnuit**  wofse, 
To  fri|[ht  the  animals,  and  to  kill  them  up, 
In  their  assigned  and  native  dwelliiw-place. 

Duke  S.  And  did  you  leave  him  m  this  cootem- 
plation  ? 

2  Liora,  We  did,  my  lord,  weeping  and 


mentmg 
Upon  the  sobbing  deer. 

Duke  S.  Show  me  the  place ; 

I  love  to  cope3  him  in  these  sullen  fits, 
For  then  he's  full  of  matter. 

2  Lord.  V\\  bring  you  to  him  straight  [ 

SCEiyE  II— A  room  in  the  palace.  Enter  Duk* 
Frederick,  Lords,  and  attendants. 

Duke  F.  Can  it  be  possible,  that  no  mao  taw 
them? 
It  cannot  be :  some  villains  of  my  court 
Are  of  consent  and  sufierance  in  thia. 

1  Lord.  I  cannot  hear  of  any  that  did  tee  her. 
The  ladies,  her  attendants  of  her  chamber. 

Saw  her  a-bed ;  and,  in  the  monui^  early, 
They  found  the  bed  untreasur'd  of  ueir  mistrev. 

2  Lord.  Mv  lord,  the  roynish*  clown,  at 

so  oft 
Your  grace  was  wont  to  laugh,  is  also  mi«ii^. 
Hesperia,  the  princess*  gentlewoman, 
Confesses  that  she  secretly  o*erheard 
Your  daughter  and  her  cousin  much  oommend 
The  parts  and  graces  of  the  wrestler 
That  did  but  lately  foil  the  sinewy  Charless ; 
And  she  believes,  wherever  they  are  gone. 
That  youth  is  surely  in  their  company. 
Duke  F.  Send  to  his  brother ;  fetch  that 
hither; 
If  he  be  absent,  bring  his  brother  to  me, 
ril  make  him  find  him :  do  this  suddenly ; 
And  let  not  search  and  inquisition  quaiH 
To  bring  again  these  foolirti  runaways.    [ 

SCEJ^E  in.—B^ore  Oliver's  house.  Enter  Of 
lando  and  Adam,  meeting. 

Orl.  Who's  there  ? 

Adam.  What !  my  young  master  ? — O,  my  gen* 
tie  master, 
O,  my  sweet  master,  O  vou  memon-* 
Of  old  sir  Rowland !  why,  what  make  you  hen  ? 
WTiv  are  you  virtuous  ?  liVhy  do  people  lore  you? 
And  wherefore  arc  you  gentle,  strong,  and  yakant? 
Why  would  vou  be  so  fond^  to  overcome 
The  bony  pnser  of  the  humorous  duke  ? 
Your  praise  is  come  too  swiftly  home  before  yoo. 
Know  you  not,  master,  to  some  kind  of  mm 
Their  graces  serve  them  but  as  enemies  ? 
No  more  do  yours :  your  virtues,  gentle  master. 
Are  sanctified  and  holy  traitors  to  you. 
O,  what  a  world  is  this,  when  what  is  comelj 
Envenoms  him  that  bears  it  ? 

OrL  Why,  what's  the  matter? 

Adam.  O  unhappy  yoath, 

Come  not  within  these  doors ;  within  this  roof 
The  enemy  of  all  your  graces  lives : 

(6)  Inconsiderate. 


r. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


Sll 


3thcr — (no,  no  brother ;  ret  the  son — 

the  80D ; — I  will  not  call  him  son — 

[  was  about  to  call  his  father,) — 

aid  ytrar  praises ;  and  this  ni^t  he  means 

1  the  lod^;ing  where  you  use  to  lie, 

I  within  It :  if  he  fail  of  that, 

bare  other  means  to  cut  you  oflf: 

ard  him,  and  his  practices. 

lo  olace,!  this  house  is  but  a  butcheiy; 

:,  tear  it,  do -not  enter  it 

IVby,  whither,  Adam,  would^st  thou  have 

me  go? 
t.  No  matter  whither,  so  you  come  not  here. 
I¥hat,  would^st  thou  have  me  go  and  beg 

m  V  food  ? 

a  base  and  boisterous  sword,  enforce 
ih  living  on  the  common  road  ? 
last  do,  or  know  not  what  to  do : 
I  will  not  do,  do  how  I  can ; 
will  subject  me  to  the  malice 
erted  blood,^  and  bloody  brother. 
u  But  do  not  so:  I  have  five  hundred 

crowns. 
At  hire  I  savM  under  your  father, 

aid  store,  to  be  my  foster-nurse, 
srrice  should  in  my  old  limbs  lie  lame, 
^^arded  age  in  comers  thrown ; 
St :  and  He  that  doth  the  ravens  feed, 
rvidently  caters  for  the  sparrow, 
iirt  to  my  age !  Here  is  the  gold ; 
[  five  you :  Let  me  be  your  servant ; 
I  look  old,  yet  I  am  strong  and  lusty  : 
ly  vouth  I  never  did  apply 

rebellious  liquors  in  my  blood ; 
not  with  unbashful  forehead  woo 
IDS  of  weakness  and  debility ; 
re  m^  a£;e  is  as  a  lusty  winter, 
Mt  InndTy :  Let  me  go  with  you ; 
MS  service  of  a  younger  man 
or  business  and  necessities. 
)good  old  man ;  how  well  in  thee  appears 
itant  service  of  the  antique  world, 
srrice  sweat  for  duty,  not  for  meed ! 
t  not  for  the  fashion  of  these  times, 
noe  will  sweat,  but  for  promotion ; 
iog  that,  do  choke  their  service  up 
ffa  the  having :  it  is  not  so  with  thee, 
ir  old  man,  uiou  prun^st  a  rotten  tree, 
OBiot  so  much  as  a  blossom  yield, 
i  all  thy  pains  and  husbandry  : 
e  tfiT  ways,  weMl  go  along  tc^ethcr ; 

we  nave  thy  youtMul  wages  spent, 
l^t  upon  some  settled  low  content 
L  Master,  ^  on ;  and  I  will  follow  thee, 
ast  gasp,  with  truth  and  loyalty. — 
venteen  years  till  now  almost  fourscore 
ed  I,  but  now  live  here  no  more, 
iteen  years  many  their  fortunes  seek ; 
Nincore,  it  is  too  late  a  week ; 
me  cannot  recompense  me  better, 
die  well,  and  not  my  master^s  debtor. 

[Exeuni. 

S  IF.— The  Fhresi  of  Arden.  Enter 
od  tn  boy*s  clothes,  Celia  dresi  like  a 
,  and  Touchstone. 


0  Jupiter !  how  weary  are  my  spirits .' 
h.  I  care  not  for  my  spirits,  if  my  1^  were 


K 


ooold  find  in  my  heart  to  disgrace  my 


•nsioii,  residence. 
cod  tnmed  from  its  natural  course, 
piece  of  money  stamped  with  a  crosi. 


man^s  apparel,  and  t  >  cry  like  a  woman :  but  I  must 
comfort  the  weaker  vessel,  as  doublet  and  hose 
ought  to  show  itself  courageous  to  petticoat :  there- 
fore,  courage,  good  Aliena. 

CeL  I  pray  you,  bear  with  me ;  I  cannot  go  no 
further. 

Touch.  For  my  part,  I  had  rather  bear  with  you, 
than  bear  you :  yet  I  should  bear  no  cross,'  if  1  did 
bear  you ;  for,  I  think,  you  have  no  money  in  your 
purse. 

Rot.  Well,  this  is  the  forest  of  Arden. 

Touch.  Ay,  now  am  I  in  Arden :  the  more  fool 
I ;  when  I  was  at  home,  I  was  in  a  better  place ; 
but  travellers  must  be  contoit 

Ros.  Ay,  be  so,  good  Touchstone : — Look  you 
who  comes  here ;  a  young  man,  and  an  da,  in 
solemn  talk. 

Enter  Corin  and  Silvius. 

Cor.  That  is  the  way  to  make  her  scorn  you  still. 

iSnit  0  Corin,  that  thou  knew*st  how  I  do  love  her ! 

Cor.  I  partly  guess ;  for  I  have  lov*d  ere  now. 

Sil.  No,  Corin,  being  old,  thou  canst  not  guess ; 
Though  in  thy  youth  thou  wast  as  true  a  lover 
As  ever  sighM  upon  a  midnight  pillow  : 
But  if  thy  love  were  ever  like  to  mine 
(As  sure  I  think  did  never  man  love  so,) 
How  many  actions  most  ridiculous 
Hast  thou  been  drawn  to  by  thy  fantasy  ? 

Cor.  Into  a  thousand  that  I  nave  foreotten. 

Sil.  O,  thou  didst  then  ne^er  love  so  heartily : 
If  thou  remember*st  not  the  slightest  folly 
That  ever  love  did  make  thee  run  into. 
Thou  hast  not  lov*d : 
Or  if  thou  hast  not  sat  as  I  do  now, 
Wearjring  thy  hearer  in  thy  mistress*  praise. 
Thou  hast  not  lovM ; 
Or  if  thou  hast  not  broke  from  company. 
Abruptly,  as  my  passion  now  makes  me. 
Thou  hast  not  lov^d  : — O  Phebe,  Phebe,  Phebe  ! 

[Eait  Silvius. 

Ro».   Alas,  poor  shepherd!  searching  of  thy 
wound, 
I  have  l^  hard  adventure  found  mine  own. 

Touch.  And  I  mine :  I  remember,  when  I  was 
in  love,  I  broke  my  sword  upon  a  stone,  and  bid 
him  take  that  for  coming  anight^  to  Jane  Smile  : 
and  I  remember  the  kissineolherbatletj^  and  (he 
cow*s  dugs  that  her  pretty  cnopM  hands  had  milked: 
and  I  remember  the  wooing  of  a  peascod  instead 
of  her ;  from  whom  I  took  two  cods,  and  giving 
her  them  again,  said  with  weeping  tears,  JFear 
these  Jbr  my  mke,  We,  that  are  true  lovers,  run 
into  strange  capers ;  but  as  all  is  mortal  in  nature, 
so  is  all  nature  in  love  mortal  in  folly 

Ros.  Thou  8peak*st  wiser,  than  thou  art  *ware  of. 

Touch.  Nay,  I  shall  ne*er  be  *ware  of  mine  own 
wit,  till  I  break  my  shins  agrainst  it 

Ros.  Jove !  Jove !  this  uiepherd*s  passion 
Is  much  upon  my  fashion. 

7\mch.  And  mine ;  but  it  grows  something  stale 
with  me. 

Cel  I  pray  you,  one  of  you  question  yond  man, 
If  he  for  gold  will  give  us  any  food ; 
I  faint  almost  to  death. 

Touch.  Holla ;  you,  clown ! 

Ros.  Peace,  fool ;  he's  not  thy  kinsman. 

Cor.  Who  calls? 

Touch.  Your  betters,  sir. 

Cor.  Else  are  they  very  wretched. 

(A)  In  the  night 

(5)  The  instrument  with  which  washers  beat 
cbtbes. 


tl« 


AS  YOU  UKE  IT. 


Adll. 


Ros.  Peace,  1  aaj  : — 

Good  even  to  you,  friend. 

Cor.  And  to  you,  gentle  sir,  and  to  you  all 

Ros.  I  pr*ythee,  shepherd,  if  that  love,  or  gold. 
Can  in  this  desert  place  buy  entertainment, 
Hrinz  us  where  we  may  rest  ourselves,  and  feed : 
Here*s  a  young  maid  with  travel  much  oppressM, 
And  faints  for  succour. 

Gfr.  Fair  sir,  I  pity  her, 

And  wish  for  her  sake,  more  than  for  mme  own. 
My  fortunes  were  more  able  to  relieve  her : 
But  I  am  shepherd  to  another  man. 
And  do  not  shear  the  fleeces  that  I  graxe ; 
My  master  is  of  churlish  disposition. 
And  little  reckgi  to  find  the  way  to  heaven 
By  doing  deeds  of  hospitality  : 
Besides,  his  cote,  his  flocks,  and  bounds  of  feed. 
Are  now  on  sale,  and  at  our  sheepcote  now, 
Bv  reason  of  his  absence,  there  is  nothing 
limt  you  will  feed  on :  but  what  is,  come  see. 
And  in  mv  voice  most  welcome  shall  you  be. 

Ros.  What  is  he  that  shall  buy  ms  flock  and 
parture.^ 

Cor.  Tnat  young  swain  that  you  taw  here  but 
erewhile. 
That  little  cares  for  buying  any  thin^. 

Ros.  I  pray  thee,  if  it  stand  with  nonesty, 
Buy  thou  the  cottage,  pasture,  and  the  flock, 
And  thou  shalt  have  to  pav  for  it  of  us. 

CkL  And  we  will  mena  thy  wages :  I  like  this 
place. 
And  willingly  could  waste  my  time  in  it. 

Cor.  Assuredly,  the  thing  is  to  be  sold  : 
Go  with  me ;  if  you  like,  upon  report, 
The  soil,  the  profit,  and  this  kind  of  life, 
I  will  your  very  faithful  feeder  be. 
And  buy  it  with  your  gold  right  suddenly.     [Elxe. 

SCEjVE  K—The  same.    Enter  Amiens,  Jaques, 

and  others. 

SONG. 

Ami.  Under  the  greenwood  trte^ 
Who  loves  to  lie  with  me. 
And  tune  his  merry  note 
Unto  the  sweet  bird^s  throat. 
Come  hither f  come  hither ,  come  hither ; 
Here  shall  he  see 
JVb  enemy  f 
But  vjinter  and  rough  weather. 

Jaq    More,  more,  I  pr'ythee,  more. 

Ami.  It  will  make  you  melancholy,  monsieur 
Jaques. 

J€uj.  I  thank  it  More,  I  pr'ythee,  noore.  I  can 
suck  melancholy  out  of  a  song,  as  a  weazel  sucks 
e^s :  More,  I  pr'ythee,  more. 

Ami.  My  voice  is  ragged  ;3  I  know,  I  cannot 
please  you. 

Jaq.  I  do  not  desire  you  to  please  me,  I  do  desire 
you  to  sin<;:  Come,  more;  another  stanza;  Call 
you  them  stanzas  ? 

Ami.  What  you  will,  monsieur  Jaques. 

Jaq.  Nay,  I  care  not  for  their  names  ;  they  owe 
me  nothing :  Will  you  sing  ^ 

Ami.  More  at  your  request,  than  to  please  myself 

Jaq.  Well  then,  if  ever  I  thank  any  man,  I'll 
thank  you  :  but  that  they  call  compliment,  is  like 
the  encounter  of  two  dog-apes ;  and  when  a  man 
thanks  me  heartily,  mcthinks  I  have  given  him  n 
penny,  and  he  records  me  the  beggarly  thanks. 


gi 


[1)  Cares. 

V)  Ragged  and  rugged  had  formerly  the  same 
meaning. 


^ 


Come,  ang;  and  yoa  that  will  not,  bo!d  your 
tongues. 

And.  W^ell,  1*11  end  the  song. — Sirs,  oorer  tfie 
while ;  the  duke  will  drink  under  thit  tree : — he 
hath  been  all  this  da?  to  look  you. 

Jaq.  And  I  have  been  all  this  day  to  avoid  him. 
He  is  too  disputable^  for  my  company :  I  think  of 
as  many  matters  as  he ;  but  I  give  heaven  ihanka, 
and  make  no  boast  of  them.  Come,  warble,  come. 

SONG. 

Who  doth  ambition  j/^tm,  [All  together  here. 
And  loves  to  live  t*  Vie  sun. 
Seeking  the  food  he  etUs, 
And  pleas'd  with  what  he  gets. 
Come  hither,  come  hither,  come  hOher  ; 
Here  shall  he  see 
^o  enemy. 
But  winter  and  rough  weather. 
Jaq.  I'll  give  you  a  verse  to  this  note,  that  I 
made  yesteraay  in  despite  of  my  invoitioo. 
Amu  And  I'll  sing  it 
Jaq.  Thus  it  goes : 

it  do  come  to  pass, 
at  cmy  man  turn  ass. 
Leaving  hu  wealth  and  ease, 
A  stubborn  wUl  to  please, 
Dueddme,  ducddme,  duedasne  ; 
Here  shaU  he  see. 
Gross  fools  as  he. 
An  if  he  wUl  come  to  Ami 

Ami.  What's  that  (2iic<2dm«^ 

Jaq.  'Tis  a  Greek  invocatioo,  to  call  Ibob  into  a 
circle.  I'll  go  sleep  if  I  can ;  if  I  caonoC,  Pll  rail 
against  all  the  first-born  of  E^^'pt 

Ami.  And  I'll  go  seek  the  diike;  his  banquet  is  - 
prepar'd.  [JSieimi  severally. 

SCEJSi''E  Fl.—The  same.    Enter  Orlando  and 

Adam. 

Adam.  Dear  master,  I  can  go  no  further :  0, 1 
die  for  food .'  Here  lie  I  down,  and  measure  ovtmy 
grave.     Farewell,  kind  master. 

Orl.  Why,  how  now,  Adam !  no  greater  hreit 
in  thee }  Live  a  little ;  comfort  a  little ;  cheer  tfiy- 
self  a  little :  If  this  uncouth  forest  yield  any  thing 
savag-e,  I  will  either  be  food  for  it,  or  bring  it  for 
food  to  thee.  Thy  conceit  is  nearer  death  than 
thy  powers.  For  my  sake,  be  comfortable ;  hdd 
death  a  while  at  the  arm's  end  :  I  will  here  be  with 
thee  presently  ;  and  if  I  bring  thee  not  something 
to  eat,  I'll  give  thee  leave  to  die :  but  if  thou  dicst 
before  I  come,  thou  art  a  mocker  of  my  labour. 
Well  said  !  thou  look'st  chcerly :  and  V\\  be  with 
thee  quickly. — Yet  thou  licst  in  the  bleak  air: 
Come,  I  will  bear  thee  to  some  shelter ;  and  thoa 
t»halt  not  die  for  lack  of  a  dinner,  if  there  live  any 
thing  in  this  desert.  Cheerly,  good  Adam !  [£.te. 

SCEJ^E  FH— The  same.  A  table  set  out.   En- 
ter Duke  senior,  Amiens,  Jjords,  and  others. 

Duke  S.  I  think  he  be  transform'd  into  a  beast ; 
For  I  can  no  where  find  him  like  a  man. 

1  Lord.  My  lord,  he  is  but  even  now  gcme  hemce; 
Here  was  he  merry,  hearing  of  a  song. 

Duke  S.  If  he,  compact  of  jars,^  grow  musical, 
We  shall  have  shortly  discord  in  the  spheres : — 
Go,  seek  him ;  tell  htm,  I  would  speak  with  htfi«. 

Enter  Jaques. 

I  Lord.  He  saves  my  labour  by  his  own  approedk 

(3)  Di>putatiou8.       (4)  Made  up  of  discords. 


AS  Tou  LIKE  rr. 


913 


9  Why,  boiriioir,iiioosieor!  whatalife 

iithis, 

ir  pocMT  friendt  matt  woo  your  company  ? 

OD  look  merrily. 

L  fool,  a  fool ! 1  meta  fool  V  the  forest, 

fool ; — a  miserable  world ! — 
ive  by  food,  I  met  a  fool ; — 
[  him  down  and  bask*d  him  in  the  ran, 
d  oa  lady  Fortune  in  good  tenm, 
M  teims, — and  jet  a  motley  fool. 
rroi0,  fool,  quoth  I :  Ab,  ttTf  quoth  he, 
)oi/ool,  till  heaven  hath  sent  mejbriune: 
he  drew  a  dial  from  his  poke ; 
ing  on  it  with  lack-lustre  eye, 
y  wisely.  It  is  ten  o'clock : 
fweseSj  quoth  he,  funo  the  toorldwaf^: 
cuthour  <^,  since  it  toas  nine ; 
r  an  hour  more,  *iwiU  be  eleven  ; 
%tmi  hour  to  hour,  we  ripe,  and  r^pe, 
<,Jrom  hour  to  hmtr,v)e  rot,  and  rot, 
wif  hangs  a  tale.  When  I  did  hear 
i^  fool  thus  moral  on  the  time, 
Degan  to  crow  like  chanticleer, 
I  nould  be  so  deep-contemplatire ; 
I  lac^,  sans  intermission, 
nr  his  dial. — O  noble  fool ! 
fool !  Motley *8  the  only  wear.^ 
I  What  fool  is  this? 
'  worthy  fool ! — One  that  hath  been 
courtier ; 

,  if  ladies  be  but  young,  and  foir, 
e  the  gift  to  know  it :  and  in  his  brain, — 
as  diy  as  the  remainder  bisket 
lyage, — he  hath  strange  places  cramm*d 
snration,  the  which  be  rents 
id  forms : — O,  that  I  were  a  fool ! 
itkws  for  a  motley  coat 
L  Thou  shah  hare  one. 

It  is  my  only  suit ; 
Ihat  you  weed  your  better  judgments 
UOQ  that  erows  rank  in  them, 
I  wne.     1  must  have  liberty 
I  laiee  a  charter  as  the  wind, 
B  wwxn  I  please ;  for  so  fools  have : 
that  are  most  galled  with  my  folly, 
limit  laugh :  And  why, sir,  must  mey  so? 
■  plain  as  way  to  parish  church : 

I  Kol  doth  very  wisely  hit, 
foolishlv,  although  he  smart, 
n  ittiseless  of  tl:^  bob :  if  not, 
Dianas  folly  is  anatomiz'd 

be  iqoanclering  glances  of  the  fool. 
in  my  motley ;  give  me  leave 
rny  mind,  and  I  will  through  and  through 
e  foal  body  c^  the  infected  world, 
U  patiently  receive  my  medicine. 
.   Fie  on  thee!   I  can  tell  what  thou 
roold*st  da 

liat,  for  a  counter,  would  I  do,  but  good  ? 
Most  mischievous  foul  sin,  in  chiding  sin : 
bjself  hast  been  a  libertine, 
as  the  brutish  sting  itself; 
e  embossed  sores,  and  headed  evils 
with  license  of  free  foot  hast  caught, 
hoo  disgoi^  into  the  general  world. 
liy,  who  cries  out  on  pride, 
raerein  tax  any  private  party  ? 
t  flow  as  hugely  as  the  sea, 
le  very  very  means  do  ebb  ? 
Ban  in  the  city  do  I  name, 

I I  say.  The  city-woman  bears 

I  fool  was  anciently  dressed  in  a  party- 
oat. 


The  cost  of  princes  on  unworthy  sboulderv  ? 
Who  can  come  in,  and  say,  that  I  mean  her. 
When  rach  a  one  as  die,  such  is  her  neighbour? 
Or  what  is  he  of  basest  function. 
That  says,  his  braveiyS  is  not  on  my  cost 
(Thinking  that  I  mean  him,)  but  therein  suits 
His  folly  to  the  mettle  of  my  speech  ? 
There  then ;  How,  what  then  ?  Let  me  see  wherein 
My  tongue  hath  wroi»*d  him :  if  it  do  him  riglii, 
Then  he  buth  wroi^*a  himself;  if  be  be  free. 
Why  then,  my  taxing  like  a  wild  goose  flies, 
UnclaimM  of  any  man. — But  who  comes  here  ? 

Enier  Orlando,  with  his  sword  drawn, 

OrL  Forbear,  and  eat  no  noore. 

Jaq.  Why,  I  have  eat  none  jet 

On.  Norshalt  not,  till  necessity  be  senr*d. 

Jaq.  Of  what  kind  should  this  cock  come  of? 

Duke  S.  Art  thou  thus  bolden*d,  man,  by  thy 
distress; 
Or  else  a  rude  dMpiser  of  good  manners, 
That  in  civility  thcAi  seem'st  so  empty? 

OrL  Yoa  touch*d  my  vein  at  first ;  the  thorny 


point 

Of  bare  distress  hathta'en  from  me  the  show 
Of  smoodi  civility :  yet  am  I  inland  bred,* 
And  know  some  nurture  :<  But  forbear,  I  say ; 
He  dies,  that  touches  any  of  this  fruit. 
Till  I  and  my  aflUrs  are  answered. 

Jaq.  An  you  wiU  not  be  answered  with  reason, 
I  must  die. 

Duke  S.  What  would  you  have  ?   Toor  gratle- 
neas  shall  force, 
More  than  your  force  move  as  to  eentleneas. 

OrL  I  almost  die  for  food,  and  let  me  have  it 

Duke  8.  Sit  down  and  feed,  welcome  to  our 
table. 

OrL  Speak  you  so  gently?  Pardon  me,  I  pray 
you: 
I  thought  that  all  things  had  been  savs^  here ; 
And  tt^refore  put  I  on  the  countenance 
Of  stem  commandment :  But  whatever  yoa  are. 
That  in  this  desert  inaccessible. 
Under  the  shade  of  melancholy  boughs. 
Lose  and  neglect  the  creeping  hours  of  time ; 
If  ever  you  have  look*d  on  better  days ; 
If  ever  been  where  bells  have  knolPd  to  church ; 
If  ever  sat  at  any  good  man*s  feast ; 
If  ever  from  your  eye-lids  wip*d  a  tear, 
And  know  what  *tis  to  pity,  and  be  pitied; 
Let  gentleness  my  strong  enforcement  be : 
In  the  which  hope,  I  bliuh,  and  hide  my  sword. 

Duke  S.  True  is  it  that  we  have  seen  better 
days; 
And  have  with  holy  bell  been  knoll*d  to  church ; 
And  sat  at  good  men*s  feasts ;  and  wip*d  our  eyes 
Of  drops  that  sacred  pty  hath  engenaer*d : 
And  therefore  sit  you  down  in  gentleness. 
And  take  upon  command  what  help  we  have. 
That  to  your  wanting  may  be  ministred. 

OrL  Then,  but  forbear  your  food  a  little  while. 
Whiles,  like  a  doe,  I  go  to  find  my  fawn. 
And  give  it  food.     There  is  an  ola  poor  man. 
Who  after  me  hath  many  a  weary  step' 
Limped  in  pure  love ;  till  he  be  first  sutBcM, — 
Oppressed  with  two  weak  evils,  age  and  hunger, — 
I  will  not  touch  a  bit 

Duke  S.  Go  find  him  out. 

And  we  will  nothing  waste  till  you  rBtum. 

OrL  I  thank  ye ;  and  be  blessM  for  your  good 
comfort !  [ExiL 

(2)  Finery.  (3)  Well  brought  up. 

(4)  Good  manners 


214 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


Acini 


Duke  S.  Tboo  seest,  we  are  not  all  alone  on- 
happy: 
This  wide  and  universal  theatre 
Pretenta  more  woful  pag^eanu  than  the  fcene 
Wherein  we  play  in. 

Jaq.  All  the  world^s  a  ttage. 

And  all  the  men  and  women  merely  players : 
They  have  their  exits,  and  their  entrances ; 
And  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts, 
His  acts  being  seven  ages.     At  first,  the  infimt. 
Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurse's  anns; 
And  then,  the  whining  school -boy,  with  his  satchel, 
And  shining  momine  face,  creeping  like  snail 
Unwillingly  to  schod :  And  then,  me  lover ; 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woAil  ballad 
Blade  to  his  mistress*  eye-brow :  Then,  a  soldier ; 
Full  of  strange  oaths,  and  bearded  like  the  pard. 
Jealous  in  honour,  sudden^  and  quick  in  quarrel, 
Seeking  the  bubble  reputation 
Eren  in  the  cannon's  mouth :  And  then,  tiie  justice ; 
In  £ur  round  belly,  with  good  capon  lin'd. 
With  eyes  severe,  and  beard  of  formal  cut, 
Full  of  wise  saws  and  moden^  instances. 
And  so  he  plays  his  part :  The  sixth  age  shifts 
Into  the  lean  and  slipper'd  pantaloon ; 
With  spectacles  on  nose,  and  pouch  on  side ; 
His  youthful  hose  well  sav'd,  a  world  too  wide 
For  his  shrunk  shank ;  and  his  big  manly  voice, 
Tumii^  arain  toward  childish  tr^le,  pipes 
And  whisUes  in  his  sound :  Last  scene  of  all. 
That  ends  this  strange  eventful  history. 
Is  second  childishness,  and  mere  oUivion ; 
Saos  teeth,  sans  eyes,  sans  taste,  sans  every  thii^. 

Rt-enter  Orlando,  toith  Adam. 

DukeS.  Welcome:  set  down  your  venerable 
burden, 
And  let  him  feed. 

OrL  I  thank  you  most  for  him. 

Adam.  So  had  you  need; 
I  scarce  can  speak  to  thank  you  for  mysel£ 

Dtike  S.  Welcome,  fall  to :  I  will  not  trouble  you 
As  yet,  to  question  you  about  your  fortunes : — 
Give  us  some  music ;  and,  good  cousin,  sing. 

Amiens  tings, 

SONG. 

L 

Blow,  blow,  thou  ufinUr  vtmd. 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind* 
As  man's  ingratitude  ,* 
Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen, 
Because  thou  art  not  seen. 
Although  thy  breath  be  rude. 
Heigh,  ho  ! sinf^, heigh,  ho  !  unto  thegreen  hoiUy: 
Most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  Jotfing  mere 
folly: 
Then,  heigh,  ho,  the  holly  ! 
This  life  is  most  jolly. 

n. 

Freeze,  freeze,  thou  bitter  sky. 
That  dost  not  bite  so  nigh. 

As  benefits  forgot  : 
Though  thou  the  vjaters  voarp^ 
Thy  stins^  is  not  so  sharp 

As  frtend remember*d^  noL 
Heigh,  ho  !  sing,  heigh,  ho  !  4re. 

Dvke  S.  If  that  you  were  the  good  dr  Row- 
land*! son, — 

(1)  Violent  (2)  Trite,  commoa. 

(3)  Uiuatural.        (4)  Remembering. 


As  you  have  whisper'd  faithfully,  you  were ; 
And  as  mine  eye  doth  his  ed%ie8  witness 
Most  truly  limnM,  and  living  in  your  frce,-^ 
Be  truly  welcome  hither :  I  am  the  duke. 
That  kwM  your  &ther :  The  residue  of  your  Cotiaoftf 
Go  to  my  cave  and  tell  me. — Good  old  man. 
Thou  art  rig^t  welcome  as  thy  master  is : 
Support  him  by  the  arm. — Give  me  your  hand. 
Ana  let  me  all  your  fortunes  onderftand.       [£xi. 


ACT  IIL 

SCEiyE  I.— A  room  in  the  palace.  Enter  Ihikm 
Frederick,  Oliver,  Lords,  and  ntlendanis. 


Duke  F.  Not  see  him  since  ?  Sir,  sir,  that 
not  be: 

But  were  I  not  the  better  part  made  mercy, 
I  should  not  seek  an  absent  argument 
Of  my  revenge,  thou  present :  But  look  to  it ; 
Find  out  thy  orother,  wheresoever  be  is ; 
Seek  him  with  candle ;  bring  him  dead  or  Uring, 
Within  this  twelvemonth,  or  turn  thou  no  more 
To  seek  a  living  in  our  territocy. 
Thy  lands,  and  all  things  that  thou  dost  call 
Worth  seizure,  do  we  seize  into  our  hands : 
Till  thou  canst  quit  thee  by  thy  brother's  rooodi. 
Of  what  we  think  against  thee. 

OIL  O,  that  your  highness  knew  my  heart  in  this 
I  never  lov*d  my  bromer  in  my  lifie. 

Duke  F.  More  villain  thoo. — Well,  padi 
out  of  doors ; 
And  let  my  officers  of  such  a  nature 
Make  an  extent*  upon  his  house  and  lands : 
Do  this  expediently  ,8  and  turn  him  going.      [ 


SCEJ>rE  II.- 


The  Forest    fiOer  Orlando, 
a  paper. 


Orl.  Hang  there,  my  verse,  m  witness  of  my  lore      ^^ 
And,  thou,  thrice-crowned  queen  of  night,  sui  ^ 

With  thy  chaste  eye,  from  thy  pale  spbm  a' 
Thy  huntress*  name,  that  my  full  life  doth 

O  Rosalind !  these  trees  sWl  oe  mr  booka. 
And  in  their  barks  m^  thouriits  1*11 


That  every  eve,  which  m  this  forest  looka. 
Shall  see  thy  virtue  witness*d  eveiy 


Run,  run,  Oriando ;  carve,  on  eifvcj  tree. 
The  fair,  the  chaste,  and  unexpresaive^  she.  [ 

EnUr  Ck>rin  and  Toochttooe. 

Cor.  And  how  like  you  this  shepherd's  life, 
ter  Touchstone  .^ 

Tauek,  Truly,  shepherd,  in  respect  of  itself* 
is  a  ^ood  life ;  but  in  respect  that  it  is  a  shepher 
life,  it  is  naught    In  respect  that  it  is  aohtary 
like  it  very  well ;  but  in  respect  that  it  is  pri 
it  is  a  very  vile  life.    Now  in  respect  it  is  in 
fields,  it  pleaseth  me  well ;  but  in  respect  it  is 
in  the  court,  it  is  tedious.    As  it  is  a  spiupe 
look  you,  it  fits  m^  humour  well ;  but  as  tnere 
more  plenty  in  it,  it  goes  much  against  my  ston 
Hast  thou  any  philosophy  in  thw,  shepherd  } 

Cor,  No  more,  but  that  I  know,  the  more 
sickens,  the  worse  at  ease  he  is ;  and  that  he 
wants  money,  means,  and  content,  is  without 
good  friends : — That  the  property  of  rain  is  to 
and  fire  to  bum :  That  good  pasture  make^ 
sheep ;  and  that  a  great  cause  of  the  night,  is  ft 
of  the  sun :  That  te,  that  bath  leaned  no  wi^ 

(5)  Seize  by  legal  process.      (jS)  Expeditio0^T' 
(7)  Inexpressible. 


ack 


I 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


2t5 


trt,  may  complain  of  good  breedingf  or 

Teiv  dull  kindred. 

Such  a  one  is  a  natural  philosopher. — 

in  court,  shepherd  ? 

,  traly. 

Then  thou  art  dainn*d. 

T,  I  hope, 

Truly,  thou  art  damuM;  like  an  ill- 
1^,  all  on  one  side. 
r  not  being  at  court  ?  Your  reason. 
Why,  if  thou  never  wast  at  court,  thou 
It  good  manners ;  if  thou  never  saw'st 
lert,  then  thy  manners  must  be  wicked ; 
Iness  is  sin,  and  sin  is  damnation :  Thou 
rloufl  state,  shepherd. 
It  a  whit.  Touchstone :  those,  that  are 
ler^  at  the  court,  are  as  ridiculous  in  the 
I  the  behanour  of  the  country  is  most 
ftt  the  court     You  told  mc,  you  salute 
court,  but  you  kiss  your  hands ;  that 
roald  be  uncleanly,  if  courtiers  were 

Inttance,  briefly ;  come,  instance. 
1iy»  we  are  still  lundling  our  ewes ;  and 
jou  know,  are  greasy. 

Why,  do  not  your  courtier's  hands 
id  is  not  the  grease  of  a  mutton  as  whole- 
e  sweat  of  a  man  ?  Shallow,  shallow  :  A 
■Doe,  I  say ;  come. 
Slides,  our  hands  are  bard. 

Your  lips  will  feel  them  the  sooner. 
ma :  A  more  sounder  instance,  come. 
S^  they  are  often  tarr'd  over  with  the 
'  oar  sheep ;  And  would  you  have  us  kiss 
ooiirtier*s  hands  are  perfumed  with  civet 

BSost  shallow  man !  Thou  worms-meat, 
i  of  a  good  piece  of  flesh :  Indeed ! — 
the  wise,  and  perpend :  Civet  is  of  a 
1  tfMin  tar ;  the  very  uncleanly  flux  of  a 
id  die  instance,  diepherd. 
m  have  too  courtly  a  wit  for  me ;  PU  rest 

Wilt  thou  rest  damnM .?  God  help  thee, 
■n!  God  nuJce  incision  in  thee !  tnouart 

or,  I  am  a  true  labourer;  I  earn  that  I 

lat  I  wear ;  owe  no  roan  hate,  envy  no 

niness ;  glad  of  other  men's  good,  con- 

oqr  harm :  and  the  greatest  of  my  pride 

OByewes  graze,  and  my  lambs^  suck. 

That  is  another  simple  sin  in  vou ;  to 

cires  and  the  rams  together,  ana  to  ofler 

rr  Uving  by  the  copulation  of  cattle :  to 

to  a  bell-wether ;  and  to  betray  a  shc- 

i  twelvemonth,  to  a  crooked-pated,  old, 

nm,  out  of  all  reasonable  match.    If 

not  damn'd  for  this,  the  devil  himself 

I  no  shepherds ;  I  cannot  see  else  how 

td^st 'scape. 

[n9  comes  young  master  Ganymede,  my 
>'s  brother. 


hfer  Rosalind,  reading  a  paper. 

nm  the  east  to  western  Jnd, 

h  jewel  is  like  Rosalind. 

tr  worth,  being  mounted  on  the  irmtf , 

kroitgh  all  the  toorld  bears  Rosalind. 

U  the  pictures,  fairest  Un%^ 

vt  bui  black  to  Rosalind. 

d  no  face  be  kept  in  mind, 

tdthtfair*  qf  Rosalind. 

.  rn  ibyme  you  so,  eight  years  together ; 


Qaneftepced. 
omplexioo,  beauty. 

15 


(2)  Delineated. 
(4)  Grave,  solem  i. 


dinners,  and  suppers,  and  sleeping:  hours  excepted  \ 
it  is  the  right  butter-woman's  rank  to  mariiet 

Ros.  Out,  fool ! 

Touch.  For  a  taste : 

If  a  hart  do  lack  a  hind, 

Lei  him  seek  out  Rosalind. 

If  the  cat  unll  after  kind. 

So,  be  sure,  will  RosaUnd. 

Winter-garments  nmst  be  im'd, 

So  must  slender  Rosalind. 

They  that  reap,  must  sheaf  and  bind; 

Then  to  cart  tcith  Rosalind. 

Sweetest  nut  hath  sourest  rind. 

Such  a  nut  is  Rosalind. 

He  thai  sweetest  rose  will  find. 

Must  find  love's  prick,  and  Rosalind. 
This  is  the  veiy  false  gallop  of  verses;  Why  do 
you  infect  yourself  with  them  ^ 

Ros.  Peace,  you  dull  fool ;  I  found  them  on  a  tree. 

ToucIl  Truly,  the  tree  yields  bad  fruit. 

Ros.  PU  graff  it  with  you,  and  then  I  shall  gralf 

it  with  a  medlar :  then  it  will  be  the  eariiest  fruit 

in  the  country :  for  you'll  be  rotten  e'er  you  be  half 

ripe,  and  that's  the  right  virtue  of  the  medlar. 

Touch.  You  have  said ;  but  whether  wisely  or 
no,  let  the  forest  judge. 

Enter  Celia,  reading  a  paper. 

Ros.  Peace! 
Here  comes  my  sister,  reading ;  stand  aside. 

CeL  Why  should  this  desert  silent  be? 

firUiswmeopled?  JVof 
Tongues  PU  hong  on  every  tree. 

Thai  shall  Cfw7<  sayings  show. 
Some,  how  brief  theJt{fe<^  man 

Runs  his  erring  pUrnmage ; 
That  the  stretching  of  a  span 

Buckles  m  his  sum  of  age. 
SottU,  qf  violaied  vows 

^Twixt  the  souls  qf  friend  and  friend  : 
But  upon  the  fairest  boughs, 

Or  at  every  sentence' end. 
Will  I  Rosalinda  wriU  ; 

Teaching  all  that  read,  to  know 
The  quintessence  <ff  every  spriU 

Heaven  would  m  little  show. 
Therefore  heaven  nature  chared 

That  one  body  should  befiWd 
With  all  graces  wide  enlarged  : 

J^ature  presently  distiWd 
Helenas  cheek,  but  not  her  heaH  ; 

Cleopatra's  majesty  ; 
Atalania's  better  part ; 

Sad  Lucretia's  modesty. 
Thus  Rosalind  qf  many  parts 

By  heavenly  synod  uhu  devis'd  ; 
Of  many  faces,  eyes,  and  hearts. 

To  have  the  touches^  dearest  prix'd. 
Heaven  would  that  she  these  gifts  should  have. 

And  I  to  live  and  die  her  slave. 
Ros.  O  most  gentle  Jupiter !— what  tedious  ho- 
mily of  love  have  you  wearied  your  parishionora 
withal,  and  never  cry'd,  Haive  patience,  good 

CeL  How  now !  back  iHends ;— Shepherd,  go 
oflT  a  little :— Go  with  him,  sirrah. 

Touch.  Come,  shepherd,  let  us  make  an  honour- 
able retreat;  though  not  with  bag  and  baggage,  >  el 
with  scrip  and  scrippage.    [Exe.  Cor.  and  Touch. 

CeL  Efidst  thou  hear  diese  verses  ? 

Ros.  O,  yes,  I  heard  them  all,  and  more  to&, 

(5)  Features. 


sie 


AS  VOU  LIKE  IT. 


Act  III 


fer  MUM  of  than  had  in  than  more  feet  than  the 
Tenet  vrould  bear. 

OL  That*8  no  matter ;  the  feet  might  bear  tlie 
▼erws. 

Ros.  Ay,  but  the  feet  vrere  lame,  and  could  not 
bear  themselves  without  the  rersefand  therefore 
•tood  lamely  in  the  verse. 

CtL  But  didst  thou  hear,  without  wonderinif 
how  tfiy  name  should  be  hangM  and  carvM  upon 
these  trees? 

Ros.  I  was  seven  of  the  nine  days  out  of  the 
wonder,  before  you  came ;  for  look  here  what  I 
found  on  a  palm-tree :  I  was  never  so  be-rhymed 
ance  Pythagoras^  time,  that  I  was  an  Irish  rat, 
which  I  cannardly  remember. 

CtL  Trow  you,  who  hath  done  this? 

Ro»,  Is  it  a  man  ? 

CeL  And  a  chain,  that  you  once  wore,  about  his 
neck :  Change  you  colour? 

jRof .  I  prVthee,  who  ? 

CeL  O  lord,  lord !  it  is  a  hard  matter  for  friends 
to  meet;  but  mountains  may  be  removed  with 
earthquakes,  and  so  encounter. 

i2ot.  Nay,  but  who  is  it? 

CbL  Is  it  possible  ? 

Ros.  Nay,  I  pray  thee  now,  with  roost  petitionary 
fehemence,  tell  me  who  it  is. 

CeL  O  wonderful,  wonderful,  and  most  wonder- 
Ail  wonderful,  and  yet  aeain  wonderful,  and  after 
that  out  of  all  whooping  M 

i2os.  Good  my  complexion !  dost  thou  think, 
diougfa  I  am  caparisoned  like  a  man,  I  have  a 
doablet  and  hose  m  my  disposition?  One  inch  of 
delay  more  is  a  South-sea-ofl  discovery.  I  pr*y thee, 
tell  me,  who  is  it  ?  quickly,  and  speak  apace :  I 
would  thou  could^st  stammer,  that  thou  might*st 
pour  this  concealed  man  out  of  thy  mouth,  as  wine 
comes  out  of  a  narrow-mouth*d  bottle ;  either  too 
much  at  once,  or  none  at  all.  I  pr^^thee,  lake  the 
cork  out  of  thy  mouth,  that  I  may  dnnk  thy  tidings. 

CkL  So  you  mar  put  a  man  in  your  belly. 

JBof.  Is  he  of  Goa*s  making?  What  manner  of 
man  ?  Is  his  head  worth  a  hat,  or  his  chin  worth  a 
beard? 

CeL  Nay,  he  hath  but  a  little  beard. 

i2os.  \Vny,  God  will  send  more,  if  the  man  will 
be  tfiankful :  let  me  stay  the  growth  of  his  beard, 
if  thou  delay  me  not  the  knowledge  of  his  chin. 

CeL  It  is  young  Orlando;  that  tripp'd  up  the 
wrestler^s  heels,  and  your  heart,  both  in  an  instant 

i2os.  Nay,  but  the  devil  take  mocking ;  speak 
sad  brow,  and  true  maid.3 

CeL  rfaith,  cox,  *tis  he. 

Ros.  Orlando? 

CeL  Orlando. 

Ros.  Alas  the  day !  what  shall  I  do  with  my 
doablet  and  hoae  ? — ^What  did  he,  when  thou  saw^st 
bin?  What  said  he?  How  lookM  he?  Wherein 
went  he  ?'  What  makes  he  here  ?  Did  he  ask  for 
me?  Where  remains  he?  How  parted  he  with 
thee?  and  when  shalt  thou  see  him  again?  Answer 
me  in  one  word. 

Cd.  You  must  borrow  me  GaragantuaV  mouth 
first :  *tis  a  word  too  great  for  any  mouth  of  this 
age*s  size :  To  say,  ay,  and  no,  to  these  particulars, 
is  more  than  to  answer  in  a  catechism. 

Ros.  But  doth  he  know  that  I  am  in  the  forest, 
and  in  man*s  apparel  ?  Looks  he  as  freshly  as  he 
did  the  dav  he  wrestled  ? 

CeL  It  IS  as  easy  to  count  atoniies,*a8  to  resolve 

(1)  Out  of  all  nwmsure. 

(2)  Sp(>ak  serioudv  and  honestly. 

(3)  How  was  he  ((lessed  ? 


the  propositions  of  a  lover : — but  take  a  taste  of  my 
finding  niin,  and  relish  it  with  a  eood  observance. 
1  found  him  under  a  tree,  like  a  dropped  acorn. 

Ros.  It  may  well  be  caird  Jove*s  tree,  when  it 
drops  forth  such  fruit 

CeL  Give  me  audience,  good  madam. 

Ros.  Proceed. 

CeL  There  lay  he,  stretch*d  along,  like  a  wounded 
kni;;ht 

Ros.  Though  it  be  pity  to  see  such  a  sight,  it 
well  becomes  the  eround. 

CeL  Cry,  holla T  to  thy  tongue,  I  pr'ythee ;  it 
curvets  veiy  unseasonably.  He  was  ranushM  like 
a  hunter. 

Ros.  O  ominous !  he  comes  to  kill  my  heart 

CeL  I  would  sing  my  song  without  a  burden : 
thou  bring'st  me  out  of  tune. 

i2os.  Do  you  not  know  I  am  a  woman  ?  when  I 
think,  I  must  speak.  Sweet,  say  on. 

Enter  Orlando  and  Jaqoet. 

CeL  Tou  bring  me  out: — Soft!  comes  be  not 
here? 

Ros.  *Tis  he ;  slink  by,  and  note  him. 

[Celia  and  Rosalind  retirt, 

Jaq.  I  thank  you  for  your  company ;  but,  good 
faith,  I  had  as  lief  have  been  myself  alone. 

OrL  And  so  had  I :  but  yet,  for  &duon*fl  sake,  I 
thank  you  too  for  your  sociehr. 

Jag.  God  be  with  you ;  let's  meet  at  little  as  w« 
can. 

OrL  I  do  desire  we  may  be  better  atrai^rs. 

Jaq.  I  pray  you,  mar  no  more  trees  with  writinf^ 
love-songs  in  their  barics. 

OrL  I  pray  ^ou,  mar  no  more  of  nj  verses  with, 
reading  them  lU-favouredly.  ^^ 

Jao.  Rosalind  is  your  love*f  name  ? 

OrL  Yea,just 

Jao.  I  do  not  like  her  name. 

OrL  There  was  no  thought  of  pleaniq^  yon,  when 
she  was  christen'd. 

Jaq.  What  stature  is  she  of? 

OrL  Just  as  high  as  my  heart 

Jaq.  You  are  mil  of  pretty  answers ;  Hare  yoa 
not  been  acquainted  with  goldsmitfis*  wives,  and 
conned  them  out  of  rings? 

OrL  Not  so;  but  I  answer  yon  r^ht  painted 
cloth,^  from  whence  you  have  rtudied  your  qoe^ 
tions. 

Jaq.  You  have  a  nimble  wit ;  I  think  it  wai 
made  of  Atalanta's  heels.  Will  yon  sit  down  with 
me  ?  and  we  two  will  rail  against  our  mistresB  (dis 
world,  and  all  our  miseiy. 

OrL  1  will  chide  no  breather  in  die  world,  bat 
myself;  against  whom  I  know  most  fruits. 

Jaq.  The  worst  fault  vou  have,  is  to  be  in  lore. 

OrL  'Tis  a  fault  I  will  not  change  for  jow  best 
virtue.     I  am  weary  of  you. 

Jaq.  By  my  troth,  I  was  secJun^  for  a  fool, 
when  I  found  you. 

OrL  He  is  drown'd  in  the  brook ;  look  but  in, 
and  you  shall  see  him. 

Jaq.  There  shall  I  see  mine  own  figure. 

OrL  Which  I  take  to  be  either  a  fool,  or  a 
cypher. 

Jaq.  ril  tarry  no  longer  with  yon :  frrewell, 
good  signior  love. 

OrL  I  am  glad  of  yoor  departure ;  adieu,  good 
monsieur  melancholy. 
[Exit  Jaques.— Celia  and  Rosalind  etmtjhrwmd, 

(4)  The  riant  of  Rabelais.  (5)  Moles. 

(6)  An  allusion  to  the  monl  sentences  on  old 
tapestry  hangings. 


m. 


AS  YOU  UKE  I 


217 


JZot.  I  will  speak  to  hiiii  like  a  tancir  lacquey, 
ind  under  that  oabit  play  the  knave  with  him. — 
3ojrou  bear,  fomter  r 

&rL  Veiy  well ;  What  would  jrou  ? 

Rot.  I  pray  you,  what  if  *t  a*clock  ? 

OrL  Ton  diould  aik  me,  what  time  o'day ;  there** 
»  clock  in  the  forest 

JfZos.  Then  there  is  no  titie  kwer  in  the  forest ; 
dse  stt^in|^  every  minute,  and  groaning  every  hour, 
ronki  detect  the  lazy  foot  of  time,  as  well  as  aclock. 

OrL  And  why  not  the  swift  foot  of  time  ?  had 
nC  that  been  as  proper? 

Ro9.  By  no  means,  sir;  Time  travels  in  divers 
lacet  with  divers  persons :  V\\  tell  yon  who  time 
onblei  withal,  who  time  trots  witlial,  who  time 
palbps  withal,  and  who  he  stands  still  withal. 

OrL  I  my'tbee,  who  doth  be  trot  withal. 

Hos;.  Marry,  he  trots  hard  with  a  youi^  maid, 
letwccn  the  contract  of  her  marris^;e,  and  the  day 
t  it  solemnized :  if  the  interim  be  but  a  se'nnig^t, 
ime's  pace  is  so  hard  that  it  seems  the  lengdi  of 


CM.  Who  ambles  time  withal  ? 

JSof.  With  a  priest  that  lacks  Latin,  and  a  rich 
na  that  hath  not  the  gout :  for  the  one  sleeps  ea- 
Qjy  because  he  cannot  study ;  and  the  other  lives 
MRiIy,  because  he  feels  no  pain :  the  one  lacking 
he  burden  of  lean  and  wasteful  learning ;  the 
Aer  knowing  no  burden  of  heavy  tedious  penu- 
J :  These  time  ambles  withal 

OrL  Who  doth  he  gallop  withal } 

Ro9.  With  a  thief  to  the  gallows  :  for  though  he 
^  aa  softly  as  foot  can  &U,  he  thinks  himself  too 
con  tfiere. 

Ori  Who  stays  it  still  withal? 

iZoc  Widi  lawyers  in  ttie  vacation :  for  they  sleep 
lelareen  term  ana  term,  and  then  they  perceive  not 
ow  time  moves. 

OrL  Where  dwell  you,  pretty  youth  t 

Rm.  With  this  shepherdess,  my  sister ;  here  in 
he  ddrts  of  ttie  forest,  like  fringe  upon  a  petticoat 

OrL  Are  you  native  o(  this  place  ? 

Rm.  As  the  coney,  that  you  see  dwell  where 
ha  ia  kindled. 

OrL  Tour  accent  is  something  finer  than  you 
odd  purchase  in  so  removed'  a  dwelling. 

Jlot.  I  have  been  told  so  of  many :  but,  indeed, 
■  old  religions  uncle  of  mine  taught  me  to  speak, 
riw  was  in  his  youth  an  in-land^  man ;  one  that 
mnr  courtsliip  too  well,  for  there  he  fell  in  love. 

hiPe  beard  him  read  many  lectures  against  it ; 
Bd  I  thank  God,  I  am  not  a  woman,  to  m  touched 
lidi  ao  many  giddy  offences  as  he  hatii  generally 
■kM  dieir  wlwle  sex  withal. 

OrL  Can  you  remember  any  of  the  principal 
vfla,  that  he  laid  to  the  chaige  of  women  ? 

Ko§,  There  were  none  prindpal ;  they  were  all 
lie  one  another,  as  half-pence  are:  every  one  fault 
waiiiiu^  monstrous,  till  his  fellow  fault  came  to 
Balni  it 

OrL  Ipr'ythee,  recount  some  of  them. 

Jloc  No ;  I  will  not  cast  away  my  j^ysic,  but 
OB  those  that  are  sick.  There  is  a  man  haunts  the 
fcrest,  tfiat  abuses  our  young  plants  with  carving 
Rosalind  on  their  barks ;  hangs  odes  upon  haw- 
ftoras,  and  el^es  on  brambles;  all,  forsooth, 
4ifyiag  the  name  of  Rosalind :  if  I  could  meet 
fttt  fucTHtnoiiger,  I  would  give  him  some  rood 
fwawel,  nr  he  seems  to  have  me  quotidian  of  love 

ipBQflHII. 

OrL  lamhethatif  solove-shaked;  I  pray  you, 
lefl  ma  yoor  remedy. 

(1)  Sequestered.         (2)  Civilized. 

(3)  A  spirit  averse  to  conversation.     (4)Estate. 


Ro8.  There  is  none  of  my  uncle's  marks  upon  vou: 
he  taught  me  how  to  know  a  man  in  love ;  m  which 
cage  of  rushes,  I  am  sure,  you  are  not  prisoner. 

OrL  What  were  his  maiks  ? 

i2o«.  A  lean  cheek;  which  you  have  not :  a  blue 
eye,  and  sunken;  which  you  have  not:  an  un- 
questionable spirit  ^  which  you  have  not :  a  beard 
neglected;  which  you  have  not: — but  I  pardon 
you  for  that ;  for,  sunply,  your  having^  in  beard  is 
a  younger  brother's  revenue : — ^Then  yoor  hose 
should  be  ungarter*d,your  bonnet  unhanded,  your 
sleeve  unbuttoned,  your  shoe  untied,  and  every 
thing  about  you  demonstrating  a  careless  descdation. 
But  you  are  no  mich  man ;  you  are  rather  point- 
device^  in  your  accoutrements;  as  loving  yourself, 
than  seeming  the  lover  of  any  other. 

OrL  Fair  youth,  I  would  I  ojuld  make  thee  be- 
lieve I  love. 

i2os.  Me  believe  it  ?  you  may  as  soon  make  her 
that  you  love  believe  it ;  which,  I  warrant,  she  is 
apter  to  do,  than  to  confess  she  does :  that  is  one 
of  the  points  in  the  which  women  still  give  the  lie 
to  their  consciences.  But,  in  good  sooth,  are  you  he 
that  hai^  the  verses  on  the  trees,  wherein  Rosa- 
lind is  so  admired  ? 

OrL  I  swear  to  thee,  youth,  by  the  white  hand 
of  Rosalind,  I  am  that  he,  that  unfortunate  he. 

i2o«.  But  are  you  so  modi  in  love  as  your  riiymes 
tpeak? 

OrL  Neither  rhyme  nor  reason  can  express  how 
much. 

Rot.  Love  is  merely  a  madness ;  and,  I  tell  you, 
deserves  as  well  a  dark  house  and  a  whip,  as  mad- 
men do :  and  the  reason  why  they  are  not  so  pun- 
ished and  cured,  is,  tiiat  the  lunacy  is  so  ordinary, 
that  the  whippers  are  in  love  too :  Yet  I  profess 
curing  it  by  counsel. 

OrL  Did  you  ever  cure  any  so  ? 

Jf2o«.  Yes,  one ;  and  in  this  manner.  He  was  to 
imagine  me  his  love,  his  mistress ;  and  I  set  him 
every  day  to  woo  me:  At  which  time  would  I, 
being  but  a  moonish^  youth,  grieve,  be  efieminate, 
changeable,  longii^,  and  Uking ;  proud,  fantasti- 
cal, apish,  fallow,  mcoostant,  full  of  tears,  full  of 
smiles;  for  every  passion  something,  and  for  no 
passion  truly  any  thing,  as  bovs  and  women  are  for 
the  most  part  cattle  of  this  colour:  would  now  like 
him,  now  loath  him ;  then  entertab  him,  then  for- 
swear him ;  now  weep  for  him,  then  spit  at  him ; 
that  I  drave  my  suitor  from  his  mad  humour  of  love, 
to  a  living  humour  ci  madness ;  which  was,  to  for^ 
swear  the  full  stream  of  the  world,  and  to  live  in  a 
nook  merely  monastic:  And  thus  I  cured  him; 
and  this  way  will  I  take  upon  me  to  wash  vour 
liver  as  clean  as  a  sound  sheep^s  heart,  that  there 
shall  not  be  one  spot  of  love  in*t 

OrL  I  would  not  be  cured,  youdi. 

Rot,  I  would  cure  you,  if  you  would  but  call 
roe  Rosalind,  and  come  every  day  to  my  cote,  and 
woo  me. 

OrL  Now,  by  the  faith  of  my  love,  I  will ;  tell 
me  where  it  is. 

Rot.  Go  with  me  toit,  and  Pll  show  it  you  :  and, 
by  the  way,  you  shall  tell  me  where  in  the  fore;it 
you  live  :  Will  you  go  ? 

OrL  With  all  my  heart,  good  youth. 

Jf2o«.  Nay,  you  must  call  me  luasalind : — Come, 
sister,  will  you  go  ?  [£xetmf. 

SCELYE  III.^EnUr  Touchstone,  and  Audrey ; 
Jaques  at  a  dittance,  obterving  them. 

Touch.  Come  apace,  good  Audrey ;  I  will  fe^ch 
(5)  Over^xact  (6)  Variable. 


»8 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


^etm 


op  your  goats,  Audrejr :  And  bovr,  Andrey  ?  am  I 
the  man  yet  ?  Doth  my  simple  feature  content  you  ? 

Aud.  Your  features !  Lord  warrant  us !  what 
features? 

Touch.  I  am  here  with  thee  and  thy  gtiats,  as 
the  most  capricious'  poet,  honest  Ovid,  was  among 
the  Goths. 

Jaq,  O  knowledge  ill-inhabited  P  worse  than 
Jove  m  a  thatchM  house !  [Ande. 

Touch.  When  a  man*s  verses  cannot  be  under- 
stood, nor  a  man's  good  wit  seconded  with  the  for- 
ward child,  understanding,  it  strikes  a  man  more 
dead  than  a  g^reat  reckoning  in  a  little  room : — 
Truly,  I  would  the  gods  had  made  thee  poetical. 

Aud.  I  do  not  know  what  poetical  is:  Is  it 
boneit  in  deed,  and  word  f  Is  it  a  true  thing  ? 

TVttcA.  No,  truly ;  for  the  truest  poetry  is  the 
most  feigning ;  and  lovers  are  given  to  poetry  ;  and 
^dwt  thev  swear  in  poetry,  may  be  said,  as  lovers, 
they  do  feign. 

Avd.  Do  vou  wish  then,  that  the  gods  had  made 
mepoetical  r 

Toudi,  I  do,  truly  :  for  thou  swear'st  to  me,  thou 
art  honest ;  now,  if  thou  wert  a  poet,  I  might  have 
•oroe  hope  thou  didst  feign. 

Aud.  Would  vou  not  nave  me  honest } 

Touch.  No  truly,  unless  thou  wert  hard-favourM : 
for  honesty  coupled  to  beauty,  is  to  have  honey  a 
•auce  to  sugar. 

Jaq.  A  material  fool !'  [Aside. 

Aud  Well,  I  am  not  fair ;  and  therefore  I  pray 
thejEods  make  me  honest ! 

Touch.  Truly,  and  to  cast  away  honesty  upon 
8  foul  slut,  were  to  put  good  meat  into  an  unclean 


Aud.  I  am  not  a  slut,  though  I  thank  the  gods  I 
amfouM 

Touch.  Well,  praised  be  the  gods  for  thy  foul- 
nets  !  sluttishness  may  come  hereafter.  But  be  it 
as  it  may  be,  I  will  marry  thee :  and  to  that  end  I 
have  be^  with  sir  Oliver  Mar-text,  the  vicar  of  tlie 
nextvillaee ;  who  hath  promised  to  meet  roe  in  thi» 
place  of  me  forest,  and  to  couple  us. 

Jaq.  I  would  fain  see  this  meeting.         [Aside. 

Aud  Well,  the  gods  give  us  joy! 

7\md^  Amen.  A  man  may,  if  he  were  of  a 
foaHul  heart,  stagger  in  this  attempt ;  for  here  we 
have  no  temple  but  the  wood,  no  assembly  but 
bom-beasts.  But  what  though.^  Courage!  As 
boms  are  odious,  they  are  necessary.  It  is  said, — 
Many  a  man  knows  no  end  of  his  goods :  right : 
many  a  man  has  good  horns,  and  knows  no  end  of 
them.  Well,  that  is  the  dowry  of  his  wife ;  'tis 
none  of  his  own  getting. — Horns  !  Even  so 


Poormen  alone ; No,  no ;  the  noblest  deer  hath 

them  as  huge  as  the  rascal.^  Is  the  single  man 
therefore  blessed  ^  No  :  as  a  wallM  town  is  more 
worthier  than  a  village,  so  is  the  forehead  of  a  mar- 
ried man  more  honourable  than  the  bare  brow  of  a 
bachelor :  and  by  how  much  defence^  is  better  tlian 
no  skill,  by  so  much  is  a  horn  more  precious  than 
to  want 

EnUr  Sir  Oliver  Mar-text 
Here  comes  sir  Oliver : — sir  Oliver  Mar-text,  you 
are  well  met :  Will  you  despatch  us  here  under  this 
tree,  or  shall  we  go  with  vou  to  your  chapel  f 

Sir  (ML  Is  there  none  here  to  give  the  woman  ? 

Touch.  I  will  not  take  her  on  gift  of  any  man. 

Sir  OU.  Truly,  she  must  be  given,  or  the  mar- 
riage it  not  lawful. 

m  Lascivious.        (2)  IlModged. 

(3)  A  fool  with  matter  in  him.        (4)  Homely. 

(5)  Lean  deer  are  called  rascal  deer. 


Jaq.  [Discovering  himt^]  IVooeed,  procetKi 
nigive  her. 

ToucA.  Good  even,  good  master  JP^hal  ye  on^Ti 
How  do  you,  sir  .^  You  are  very  well  met :  God*ii 
you^  for  your  last  company  :  I  am  very  glad  to  »<—  ^ 
you  : — ^Even  a  toy  in  hand  here,  sir : — ^Nay  ;  praj^ 
be  covered. 

Jaq.  W\\\  you  t>e  married,  motley  ? 

Touch.  As  the  ox  hath  hb  bow,^  sir,  the  hoi 
his  curb,  and  the  faulcon  her  bells,  so  man  hath 
desires;  and  as  pigeons  bill,  so  wedlock  would 
nibbling. 

Jaq.  And  will  you,  being  a  man  of  your  bree*-  « 
ing,  be  married  under  a  bush,  like  a  begj^r?  G-^ 
you  to  church,  and  have  a  good  priest  tliat  can  t 
you  what  marriage  is  :  this  fellow  will  but  join  y<^  -, 
tc^ther  as  they  join  wainscot ;  then  one  of 
will  pro\'e  a  shrunk  pannel,  and,  like  green  tim' 
warp,  warp. 

Touch.  I  am  not  in  the  mind  but  I  were  betl^. 
to  be  married  of  him  than  of  another :  for  he  is  r^m 
like  to  marry  me  well ;  and  not  being  well  raarri^» 
it  %vill  be  a  good  excuse  for  me  hereaAer  to  I 
my  wife.  [Asi 

Jaq.  Go  thou  with  me,  and  let  me  counsel 

Touch.  Come,  sweet  Audrey ; 
We  must  be  married,  or  we  must  live  in  haw 
Farewell,  good  master  Oliver; 
Not — O  sweet  Oliver, 
O  brave  Oliver, 
Leave  me  not  behi*  thee ; 
But — Wind  away, 
Begone,  I  say, 
I  will  not  to  wedding  wi*  thee. 
[Exe.  Jaq.  l^ch.  and 

Sir  OIL  *Tis  no  matter ;  ne*er  a  fantastical  k 
of  them  all  riiall  flout  me  out  of  my  calling.  " 

SCEJVE  IT.— The  same.    Before  a  ^t"     — -jl 
Enter  Rosalind  and  Celia. 

Ros.  Never  talk  to  me,  I  will  weep. 

Cd.  Do,  I  pr^ythee ;  but  yet  have  the 
consider,  that  tears  do  not  become  a  man. 

Ros.  But  have  I  not  cause  to  weep  ? 

CeL  As  good  cause  as  one  would  desire ;  tlx/e — 
fore  weep. 

Ros.  His  very  hair  is  of  the  dissembling  colour"-^ 

CeL  Something  browner  than  Jttdat*t :  nant^^ 
his  kisses  are  Judas^s  own  children. 

Ros.  Pfaith,  his  hair  is  of  a  good  coloor. 

Cd.  An  excellent  colour:  your  chenat  wts 
ever  the  only  colour. 

Ros.  Ana  his  kissing  is  at  foil  of  tancUty  as  the 
touch  of  holy  bread. 

CeL  He  hath  bought  a  pair  of  cast  lipt  of  Diana : 
a  nun  of  winter's  sisterhcrad  kisses  not  rooce  tt*U- 
giously ;  the  very  ice  of  chastity  is  in  timn. 

Ros.  But  why  did  he  swear  be  would  come  thi« 
morning,  and  comes  not .' 

Cel.  Nay  certainly,  there  is  no  truth  in  hiuL 

Ros.  Do  you  think  so.^ 

CeL  Yes  :  I  think  he  is  not  a  pick-parse^  nor  a 
horse-stealer;  but  for  his  verity  in  love,  I  do  think 
him  as  concave  as  a  cover'd  goblet,  or  a  worm- 
eaten  nut 

Ros.  Not  true  in  love  } 

Cd  Yes,  when  he  is  in ;  but,I  think  he  is  not  in. 

Ros.  You  have  heard  him  twear  downright,  he 
was. 

Cel  Was  is  not  it  .•  besides,  die  OAth  of  a  lover 
is  no  stronger  than  the  word  of  a  taptter ;  they  ai« 

(6)  The  art  of  fencing.    (7)  God  rewaid  vou. 
(8)  Yoke.  ^ 


\\ 


^h 


_  wr. 


Ic 


AS  TOU  LIKE  IT. 


219 


B  oonfiirnen  of  false  reckonii^ :  He  at- 
sre  in  the  forest  on  the  duke  your  father. 
I  met  the  duke  yesterday,  and  had  much 
il  with  him.  He  asked  me,  of  what  parent- 
«8 ;  I  told  him,  of  as  good  as  he :  so  he 
,  and  let  me  ga  But  what  talk  we  of  fathers, 
lere  is  such  a  man  as  Orlando.' 
y^  that*s  a  brave  man!  he  writes  brave 
•peaks  brave  words,  swears  brave  oaths, 
tuu  them  bravely,  quite  traverse,  athwart 
■t  of  his  lover  :2  as  a  punv  tilter,  that  spurs 
t  but  on  one  side,  breaks  his  staff  like  a  noble 
bat  alPs  brave,  that  youth  mounts,  and  folly 
—Who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Conn. 

Afistress,  and  master,  you  have  oft  inquired 
e  fhepherd  that  complainM  of  love ; 
a  taw  sitting  by  me  on  the  turf, 
'  the  proud  disdainful  shepherdess 
IS  his  mistress. 

Well,  and  what  of  him  ? 
If  joa  will  see  a  pageant  truly  play*d, 
1  the  pale  complexion  c^  true  love 
t  red  p^low  of  scorn  and  proud  disdam, 
»  a  little,  and  I  shall  conduct  you, 
rill  mark  it 

O,  come,  let  us  retnare ; 
bt  of  lovers  feedeth  those  in  love  : — 
I  onto  this  sight,  and  you  shall  say 
e  a  busy  actor  in  their  play.         [Exeunt. 

S  V,— Another  part  qf  the  Forest     En- 
ter Silvius  and  Fhebe. 

(weet  Phebe,  do  not  scorn  me;  do  not, 

Fhebe: 
I  jou  love  me  not ;  but  say  not  so 
neaa :  The  common  executioner, 
beart  the  accustomed  sigrht  of  death  makes 

haid, 
t  the  axe  upon  the  humble  neck, 
begs  pardon ;  Will  you  sterner  be 
I  that  dies  and  lives  by  bloody  drops .' 

Rosalind,  Celia,  and  Conn,  at  a  distance. 

I  would  not  be  thy  executioner ; 

JB^  fin*  I  would  not  injure  thee. 

U*st  me,  there  is  murder  in  mine  eye : 

ttf,  sure,  and  very  probable, 

eti — that  arc  the  frairst  and  softest  things, 

It  their  coward  gates  on  atomies, — 

ae  callM  tyrants,  butchers,  murderers !  . 

b  fix>wn  on  thee  with  all  my  h^rt ; 

nine  eyes  can  wound,  now  let  them  kill 

tfiee; 
■Infeit  to  swoon ;  why  now  fall  down ; 
OQ  canst  not,  O,  for  shame,  for  shame, 
to  say  mine  eyes  are  murderers. 
m  die  wound  mine  eye  hath  made  in  thee  : 
thee  but  with  a  pin,  and  there  remains 
arof  h;  lean  but  upon  a  rush, 
itrioe  and  capable  impressure 
roiome  moment  keeps :  but  now  mine  eyes, 
'.  have  darted  at  thee,  hurt  thee  not; 
m  mire,  there  is  no  force  in  eyes 
a  do  hurt 

O  dear  Fhebe, 
[as  that  ever  may  be  near,) 
St  h>  some  fresh  cheek  the  power  of  fancy,* 
all  you  know  the  wounds  mvisible 
*^  keen  arrows  make. 

But,  till  that  time, 

oarenation.      (2)  Mistress.     (3)  Love. 


Come  not  thou  near  me:  and,  when  that  thne  comes. 
Afflict  me  with  thy  mocks,  pity  me  not ; 
As,  till  that  time,  1  shall  not  pitv  thee. 

Ros.  And  why,  I  pray  you .'  [Advancing.]  Who 
might  oe  your  mother. 
That  you  insult,  exult,  and  all  at  once. 
Over  the  wretched  ?  What  though  you  have  more 

befauty, 
(As,  by  my  fiiith,  I  see  no  more  in  you 
Than  witKout  candle  may  go  dark  to  bed,) 
Must  you  be  therefore  proud  and  pitiless  f 
Why,  what  means  this?  WTiy  do  you  look  on  me .' 
I  see  no  more  in  you,  than  in  the  ordinary 
Of  nature's  sale-work  : — Od*s  my  little  life  .' 
I  think,  she  means  to  tangle  my  eyes  too : — 
No,  'faith,  proud  mistress,  hope  not  after  it ; 
*Tis  not  your  inky  brows,  your  black-silk  hair. 
Your  bugle  eye-balls,  nor  your  cheek  of  cream. 
That  can  entame  my  spirits  to  your  worship. — 
You  foolish  shephero,  wherefore  do  you  follow  her, 
Like  foggy  soutn,  puffii^  with  wind  and  rain  f 
You  are  a  thousand  times  a  properer  man, 
Than  the  a  woman :  'Tis  such  fools  as  you. 
That  make  the  world  full  of  ill-favour'd  children : 
'Tis  not  her  glass,  but  you,  that  Batters  her ; 
And  out  of  you  she  sees  herself  more  proper. 
Than  any  <k  her  lineaments  can  show  her. — 
But,  mistress,  know  yourself;  down  on  yourlcnees. 
And  thank  heaven,  fasting,  for  a  good  man's  love  : 
For  I  must  tell  you  friendly  in  your  ear, — 
Sell  when  you  can ;  you  are  not  Am-  all  markets : 
Cry  the  man  mercy ;  love  him ;  take  his  offer ; 
Foul  is  most  foul,  being  foul  to  be  a  scoffer. 
So  take  her  to  thee,  sbep^rd ; — fare  you  well. 

Phe.  Sweet  youth,  I  pray  you  chiae  a  year  to- 
gether; 
I  had  ratber  hear  you  chide,  than  this  man  woa 

i2os.  He's  fallen  in  love  with  her  foulness,  and 
she'll  fall  in  love  with  my  anger :  If  it  be  so,  as 
fast  as  she  answers  thee  with  frowning  looks,  I'll 
sauce  her  with  bitter  words.— Why  look  you  so 
upon  me.^ 

Phe.  For  no  ill  will  I  bear  you. 

Ros.  I  pray  you,  do  not  fall  in  love  with  me. 
For  I  am  falser  than  vows  made  in  wine: 
Besides,  I  like  you  not :  If  you  will  know  my  house, 
'Tis  at  the  tuft  of  olives,  here  hard  by : — 
Will  you  go,  sister  ? — Shepherd,  ply  her  hard  : — 
Come,  sister: — Shepherdess,  look  on  him  better. 
And  be  not  proud  :  though  all  the  world  could  see. 
None  could  be  so  abus'd  in  sight  as  he. 
Come,  to  our  flock.         [Exe.  Ros.  Cel.  and  Cor. 

Phe.  Dead  shepherd!  now  I  find  thv  saw  of  might ; 
IVho  ever  lov^d^  that  lov^d  not  at  first  sight  ? 

SiL  Sweet  Phebe,— 

Pfu.  Ha !  what  say'st  thou,  Silvius .' 

SiL  Sweet  Phebe,  pity  me. 

Phe.  Why,  I  am  sorry  for  thee,  gentle  Sjlvius. 

Sil.  Wherever  sorrow  is,  relief  would  be ; 
If  you  do  sorrow  at  my  grief  in  love, 
By  giving  love,  your  sorrow  and  my  gprief 
Were  both  extirmin'd. 

Phe,  Thou  hast  my  love ;  Is  not  that  neighbourly.^ 

SiL  I  would  have  you. 

Phe.  Why,  that  were  covetousnesi. 

Silvius,  the  time  was,  that  I  hated  thee ; 
And  yet  it  is  not,  that  I  bear  thee  love : 
But  since  that  thou  canst  talk  of  love  so  well. 
Thy  company,  which  erst  was  irksome  to  me, 
I  will  enoure ;  and  I'll  employ  thee  too : 
But  do  not  look  for  further  recompense. 
Than  thine  own  gladness  that  thou  art  employed 

SiL  So  holy,  and  so  perfect  is  my  love. 
And  I  in  such  a  poverty  of  grace, 


tso 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


That  I  ibkll  flunk  it  a  moit  plenteooi  crop 
To  glean  the  t>roken  eart  after  the  man 
That  the  main  harfeet  reaps :  looee  noir  and  then 
A  ■catter'd  mile,  and  that  1*11  live  upon. 

Phe,  Know'st  diOQ  the  youth  tiiat  spoke  to  me 
ere  while? 

9iL  Not  verj  well,  but  I  have  met  him  oft ; 
And  he  hath  boi^t  the  cottage,  and  the  bounds, 
That  the  old  carlot^  once  was  roaster  ot 

Pht,  Think  not  I  love  him,  though  I  ask  for  him; 
*Tii  but  a  peeTish>  boj : — ^?et  he  talks  well ; — 
But  what  care  I  ibr  words  r  vet  words  do  well, 
When  he  that  speaks  them  pleases  those  that  hear. 
It  is  a  prettT  jouth : — not  very  pretty : — 
Bat,  sure  he*s  proud ;  and  yet  his  pride  becomes  him: 
He*ll  make  a  proper  man :  The  best  thing  in  him 
Is  his  complexion ;  and  fisster  than  his  tongue. 
Did  make  ofienoe,  his  eye  did  heal  it  up. 
He  is  not  tall ;  yet  for  his  years  he*s  tail  : 
Ifis  1^  is  but  so  so ;  and  yet  ^tis  well : 
There  was  a  pret^  redness  in  his  lip ; 
A  little  riper  and  more  lusty  red 
Than  Umi  mix'd  in  his  cheek ;  *twas  just  the  dif- 

lisrence 
Betwixt  Am  constant  red,  and  mineled  damask. 
There  be  some  women,Silvius,  had  Uiey  markMhim 
In  parceb  as  I  did,  would  have  gone  near 
To  &1I  in  lore  with  him :  but,  for  my  part, 
I  lore  him  not,  nor  hate  him  not ;  and  yet 
I  have  more  cause  to  hate  him  than  to  love  him : 
For  what  had  he  to  do  to  chide  at  me  ? 
He  said,  mine  eyes  were  black,  and  my  hair  black ; 
And,  now  I  am  remember*d,  scomM  at  me : 
I  marvel,  why  I  answer'd  not  again : 
But  Uiat*s  all  one ;  omittance  is  no  quittance, 
ril  write  to  him  a  very  taunting  letter. 
And  thou  shalt  bear  it ;  Wilt  thou,  Silvius  f 

SiL  Phebe,  with  all  my  heart 

Phe.  PU  write  it  straight ; 

The  matter*s  m  mv  head,  and  in  my  heart : 
I  will  be  bitter  with  him,  and  passins:  short : 


Go  with  me,  Silvius. 


[£xeKni. 


ACT  IV. 


SCEJ>rE  L—Tke  tame,    ErOer  Rosalind,  Celia, 

and  Jaques. 

Jaq.  I  pr'ythee,  pretty  youth,  let  me  be  better 
acouainted  with  thee. 

Ros.  They  say,  you  are  a  melancholy  fellow. 

Jaq.  I  am  so;  I  do  love  it  better  than  kughing. 

Ros.  Those,  that  are  in  extremity  of  either,  are 
abominable  fellows;  and  betray  themselves  to 
every  modem  censure,  worse  than  drunkards. 

Jaq.  Why,  ^tis  good  to  be  sad  and  say  nothing. 

Jios.  Why  then,  *tis  good  to  be  a  post. 

Jag.  I  have  neither  the  scholar^s  melancholy, 
which  is  emulation ;  nor  the  musician's,  which  ii» 
fantastical ;  nor  the  courtier's,  which  is  proud ;  nor 
the  soldier's,  which  is  ambitious ;  nor  the  lawyer's, 
which  is  politic ;  nor  the  lady's,  which  is  nice ;' 
nor  the  lover's,  which  is  all  these :  but  it  is  a  mel- 
ancholy of  mine  own,  compounded  of  many  sim- 
ples, extracted  from  many  objects :  and,  indeed, 
the  sundry  contemplation  of  my  travels,  in  which 
my  often  rumination  wraps  me,  is  a  most  humorous 
sadness. 

Ros.  A  traveller !  By  my  faith,  you  have  great 
reason  to  be  sad  :  I  fear,  you  have  sold  your  own 
lands,  to  see  other  men's ;  then,  to  have  seen  much, 


(1)  Peasant        (2)  Silly. 


'3) 


Trinin;^. 


and  to  haw  nothing,  is  to  have  rich  ejw  wad  poor 
hands. 
Ja^m  las,  I  hafv  gained  n^  n^penMoa* 

EMerOriando^ 

Ros.  And  your  experience  makes  job  adi  I 
had  rather  have  a  fool  to  make  me  inarnr,  dianas- 
perience  to  make  me  sad ;  and  to  trawl  for  it  toa 

OrL  Good  day,  and  happiness,  dear  Rosalind ! 

Jaq.  Nay,  thai,  God  be  wi*  you,  an  you  talk  in 
blank  verse.  [£ztl. 

Ros.  Farewell,  monsieur  traveller.  Look,  you 
lisp,  and  wear  strange  suits;  disable^  all  the boie- 
fit!>  of  your  own  country ;  be  out  of  love  with  your 
nativity,  and  almost  chide  God  for  making  you  that 
countenance  you  are ;  or  I  will  scarce  think  you 
have  swam  in  a  gondola. — Why,  how  now,OrlandoI 
Where  have  you  been  all  this  wliile.^  Ton  a  kwer? — 
An  you  serve  me  such  another  trick,  never  come 
in  my  sieht  more. 

Orl.  My  fair  Rosalind,  I  come  witkun  an  hoar  of 
my  promise. 

Kos.  Break  an  hour's  promise  in  love  ?  He  that 
will  divide  a  minute  into  a  thousand  parts,  and 
break  but  a  part  of  the  thousandth  part  of  a  minute 
in  the  affairs  of  love,  it  mav  be  said  of  him,  that 
Cupid  hath  clap'd  him  o'  toe  shoulder,  bat  I  war- 
rant him  heart-whole. 

OrL  Pardon  me,  dear  Rosalind. 

Ros.  Nay,  an  you  be  so  tardy,  come  no  more  in 
mv  sight ;  I  had  as  lief  be  woo'd  of  a  snaiL 

'Orl  Of  a  snail  f 

Ros.  Ay,  of  a  snail ;  for  tlxMigh  he  comes  slowly, 
he  carries  his  house  on  his  head ;  a  better  jointure, 
I  think,  than  you  can  make  a  woman :  Besides,  he 
brings  his  destiny  with  him. 

Orl.  What's  tliat.? 

Ros.  Why,  horns ;  which  such  as  you  are  fiiin 
to  be  beholden  to  your  wives  for:  bothe  com#« 
armed  in  his  fortune,  and  prevents  the  slander  of 
his  wife. 

Orl  Virtue  is  nohoro-maker;  and  my  Rosalind 
is  virtuous. 

Ros.  And  I  am  your  Rosalind. 

Cel  It  pleases  him  to  call  you  so ;  bat  he  hatfi  > 
Rosalind  of  a  better  leer*  than  you. 

Ros.  Come,  woo  me,  woo  me ;  for  now  I  am  b 
a  holiday  humour,  and  like  enou^  to  consent: — 
What  would  you  sav  to  me  now,  an  I  were  your 
verv  veiT  Rosalind  r 

Orl.  I  would  kiss,  before  I  spc^e. 

Ros.  Nay,  you  were  better  speak  first;  and 
when  you  were  gravelled  for  lack  of  matter,  you 
might  take  occasion  to  kiss.  Very  good  ontocs, 
when  they  are  out,  they  will  spit ;  and  for  lovers, 
lacking  (God  warn  us .')  matter,  the  cleanliest  shift 
is  to  kiss. 

Orl.  How  if  the  kiss  be  denied? 

Ros.  Then  she  puts  you  to  entreaty,  and  Oiere 
begins  now  matter. 

Orl.  Who  could  be  out,  being  before  his  beloved 
mistress  ? 

Ros.  Marry,  that  should  you,  if  I  were  yoar 
mii^trofiv ;  or  I  should  think  my  honesty  ranker  than 
mv  wit 

'Orl.  mat,  of  my  suit  > 

Ros.  Not  out  of  your  apparel,  and  yet  oat  of 
your  suit.     Am  not  I  your  Rosalind  f 

Orl.  I  take  some  ioy  to  say  you  are,  because  1 
would  be  talking  of  her. 

Ros.  Well,  in  her  person,  I  say — I  will  nothav 
you. 


(4)  Undc  r^'alue. 


(ri)  Complexion. 


u. 


AS  TOU  LIKE  IT. 


921 


OrL  TbeOf  m  mbe  oirn  penoo,  I  die. 

Rom.  No,  fiuth,  die  bjr  attorney.  The  poor  world 
ii  almost  fix  thoumna  years  old,  and  in  all  thus 
time  there  was  not  any  man  died  in  his  own  person, 
videlicet,  in  a  lo^e-caose.  Troilns  had  his  brains 
dashed  oat  with  a  Grecian  club;  yet  he  did  what 
be  coald  to  die  before ;  and  he  is  one  of  the  pat- 
terns of  love.  Leander,  he  would  have  lived  many 
a  fur  year,  though  Hero  had  turned  nun,  if  it  had 
HOC  been  for  a  not  midsummer  nisht :  for,  good 
Tonth,  he  went  bat  forth  to  wash  hun  in  the  Hel- 
lespont, and,  being  taken  ivith  the  cramp,  was 
drowned ;  and  the  foolish  chroniclers  of  tlmt  age 
foond  it  was— Hero  of  Sestos.  But  these  are  all 
lies ;  men  have  died  from  time  to  time,  and  worais 
have  eaten  them,  but  not  for  love. 

OrL  1  would  not  have  my  right  Rosalind  of  this 
nbd ;  for,  I  protest,  her  frown  might  kill  me. 

Rot,  By  this  hand,  it  will  not  kill  a  fly.  But 
come,  DOW  I  will  be  your  Rosalind  in  a  more 
ooraing-oo  disposition ;  and  ask  me  what  you  will, 
I  will  grant  it 

OrL  Hmu  love  me,  Rosalind. 

Roe.  Yes,  faith  will  I,  Fridays,  and  Saturdays, 
andalL 

OrL  And  wilt  thou  have  me  ? 

Roe.  Ay,  and  twenty  such. 

OrL  mat  say*st  thou? 

Roe.  Are  you  not  good  ? 

OrL  I  hope  so. 

Rot.  Why  then,  can  one  desire  too  much  of  a 
good  thing  ? — Come,  sister,  you  shall  be  the  priest, 
and  many  at. — Give  me  your  hand,  Orlando : — 
What  do  yoo  say,  sister  ? 

OrL  Pray  thee,  marry  us. 

CkL  I  cannot  say  the  words. 

Roe.  You  must  b^in, fViU  you^Orlando,— 

CH  Go  to : Will  you,  Orlando,  have  to  wife 

(hn  Rosalind? 

Ori  I  will 

Roe.  Ay,  bat  when? 

OrL   Why  now ;  as  fast  as  she  can  many  us. 

Roe.  Then  yoa  must  say,—/  take  thee,  Roea- 
Und,  for  wife. 

OrL  I  take  thee,  Rosalind,  for  wife. 

Roe.  I  might  ask  vou  for  your  commission ;  but 
—I  do  takemee,  Orlando,  for  roy  husband :  Inhere 
a  girl  goes  before  the  priest;  and,  certainly,  a 
woman's  tfioaght  runs  before  her  actions. 

OrL  So  do  all  thoughts ;  they  are  winged. 

Am.  Now  tell  me,  how  long  you  would  have 
her,  after  yoa  have  possessed  her. 

OrL  For  ever,  and  a  day. 

Roe.  Say  a  day,  without  the  ever :  No,  no,  Or- 
lando; men  are  April  when  they  woo,  December 
"when  tbey  wed :  maids  are  May  when  they  are 
snaids,  bot  the  skv  changes  when  they  are  wives. 
J  will  be  more  jealous  of  £ee  than  a  Barbary  cock- 
over  his  hen ;  more  clamorous  than  a  parrot 
t  rain;    more  new-fangled  than  an  ape: 
giddy  in  my  desires  than  a  monkey ;  I  will 
'^preep  for  nothing,  like  Diana  in  the  fountain,  and 
-K'  will  do  that  w^a  you  are  disposed  to  be  merry  ; 
^K^  win  laugh  like  a  hyen,  and  that  when  thou  art 
inclined  to  sleep. 

Orl.  Bot  will  my  Rosalind  do  so  ? 

Rot.  By  my  life,  she  will  do  as  I  da 

Ori  O,  but  she  is  wise. 

Rm.  Or  else  she  could  not  have  the  wit  to  do 

this:  the  wiser,  the  way  warder*:  Make  the  doors' 

vpoQ  a  woroan*s  wit,  and  it  will  out  at  the  caae- 

viMnt;  shut  that,  and  Hwill  out  at  the  key-hole; 

(1)  Bar  tlic  doors. 


vol 
bee 


stop  that,  'twill  fly  with  (he  moke  out  at  the 
chimney. 

OrL  A  man  that  had  a  wife  with  such  a  wit,  he 
might  sav,— fTiY,  whither  witt? 
Roe.  Nay,  you  might  keep  that  check  for  it,  till 
ou  met  your  wife*8  wit  going  to  your  neighbour's 
«d. 

OrL  And  what  wit  could  wit  have  to  excuse  that  ? 
Roe.  Marry,  to  say, — she  came  to  seek  you  there. 
You  shall  never  take  her  without  her  answer,  un- 
less you  take  her  without  her  tongue.  O,  that 
woman  that  cannot  make  her  fault  her  husband's 
occasion,  let  her  never  nurse  her  child  herself,  for 
she  will  breed  it  like  a  fool. 

OrL  For  these  two  hours,  Rosalind,  I  will  leave 
thee. 

Roe.  Alas,  dear  love,  I  cannot  lack  thee  two 
hours. 

Orl  I  must  attend  the  duke  at  dinner ;  by  two 
o'clock  I  will  be  with  thee  again. 

Roe.  Ay,  go  vour  ways,  go  your  ways ; — I  knew 
what  yoo  would  prove;  my  friends  told  me  as 
much,  and  I  thought  no  less : — that  flattering  tongue 
of  yours  won  me : — 'tis  but  one  cast  away,  and 
so, — come,  death. — Two  o'clock  is  your  hour  ? 
OrL  Ay,  sweet  Rosalind. 
Ros.  Bv  my  troth,  and  in  good  earnest,  and  so 
God  meoa  me,  and  by  all  pretty  oaths  that  are  not 
dangerous,  if  you  break  one  jot  of  your  promise, 
or  come  one  minute  behind  your  hour,  I  will  think 
TOU  the  most  pathetical  break-promise,  and  the 
most  hollow  lover,  and  the  most  unworthy  of  her 
you  call  Rosalind,  that  may  be  chosen  out  of  the 
gross  band  of  the  unfaithful :  therefore  beware  my 
censure,  and  keep  your  promise. 

OrL  With  no  less  religion,  than  if  thou  wert  in- 
deed my  Rosalind :  So,  adieu. 

Roe.  Well,  time  is  the  old  justice  that  examines 
all  such  offenders,  and  let  time  tiy:  Adieu ! 

[Exit  Orianda 
OeL  You  have  simply  misus'd  our  sex  in  vour 
love-prate :  we  must  nave  your  doublet  and  hose 
plucked  over  your  head,  and  show  the  world  what 
the  bird  hath  done  to  her  own  nest 

Ros.  O  coz,  coz,  coE,  my  pretty  little  coz,  that 
thou  didst  know  how  many  fathom  deep  I  am  in 
love !  But  it  cannot  be  sounded ;  my  affection  hath 
an  unknown  bottom,  like  the  bay  of  Portugal 

CcL  Or  rather  bottomless ;  that  as  fost  as  you 
pour  affection  in,  it  runs  out 

Ros.  No,  that  same  wicked  bastard  of  Venus, 
that  was  begot  of  thought,^  conceived  of  spleen, 
and  bom  of  madness ;  that  blind  rascally  boy,  that 
abuses  every  one's  eyes,  because  his  own  are  out, 
let  him  be  judge,  now  deep  I  am  in  love : — Pll 
(ell  thee,  Aliena,  I  cannot  be  out  of  the  si^t  of 
Orlando :  I'll  go  find  a  shadow,  and  sigh  till  he 
come. 

Cei.  And  Pll  sleep.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ>rEIL— Another  part  qf  the  Forest  Enter 
Jaques  <md  Lords,  in  the  habit  qf  Foresters. 

Jag.  AVhich  is  he  that  killed  the  deer  ? 

1  Lord.  Sir,  it  was  I. 

Jaq.  Let's  present  him  to  the  duke,  like  a  Ro- 
man conqueror ;  and  it  would  do  well  to  set  the 
deer's  horns  upon  his  head,  for  a  branch  of  victor}' : 

Have  you  no  8(xig,  forester,  for  this  purpose  ? 

2  Lord.  Yes,  sir. 
Jaq.  Sing  it ;  'tis  no  matter  how  it  be  in  tune, . 

so  it  make  noise  enough. 

(2)  Melancholy. 


Kt 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


Act  IF. 


SONG. 


1.  IFhai  ihaU  he  have,  thai  kiWd  the  deer  f 

2.  His  leather  skin,  and  horns  totoear. 

1.  Then  sing  him  home: 
Take  thou  no  scorn,  to  locor  Vie  horn ;  >  ^^^^^  ^^^ 
It  toas  a  crest  ere  thou  wast  bom ;     J  this  burden. 

1.  Thy  father'' s  father  toore  it; 

2.  And  thy  father  bore  it  : 
All.  The  horn,  the  horn,  the  lusty  horn. 

Is  not  a  thing  to  laugh  to  scorn.       [Exeant. 

SC£yV£  III— The  Forest.  Enter  Roealind  and 

Celia. 

Ros.  How  say  you  now  ?  Is  it  not  past  two 
o*clocic  ?  and  here  much  Orlando ! 

CeL  I  warrant  you,  with  pure  love,  and  troubled 
brain,  he  halh  ta'en  his  bow  and  arrows,  and  is 
gone  forth— to  sleep :  Look,  who  comes  here. 

Enter  Silvius. 

SiL  My  errand  is  to  you,  fair  youth ;— 
My  gentle  Phebe  bid  me  give  you  this : 

\Giving  a  letter. 
I  know  not  the  contents ;  but,  as  1  guess. 
By  the  stem  brow,  and  waspish  action 
Which  she  did  use  as  she  was  writing  of  il, 
It  bears  an  angry  tenor :  pardon  me, 
I  am  but  as  a  guiltless  messenger. 

Ros.  Patience  herself  would  startle  at  this  letter, 
And  play  the  swaggerer ;  bear  this,  bear  all : 
She  says,  1  am  not  fair ;  that  I  lack  manners ; 
She  calls  me  proud ;  and,  that  she  could  not  love  me 
Were  man  as  rare  as  phoenix ;  Od's  my  will ! 
Her  love  is  not  the  hare  that  I  do  hunt : 
Why  writes  she  so  to  me  ?— Well,  shepherd,  well, 
Thb  is  a  letter  of  your  own  device. 

SiL  No,  1  protest,  I  know  not  the  contents ; 
Fhebe  did  write  it 

Sos.  Come,  come,  you  are  a  tool. 

And  tum'd  into  the  extremity  of  love. 
I  taw  her  hand :  she  has  a  leathern  hand, 
A  freeitone-colourM  hand ;  I  verily  did  think 
That  her  old  gloves  were  on,  but  *twas  her  hands ; 
She  has  a  huswife's  hand :  but  that's  no  matter : 
I  say,  she  never  did  invent  this  letter ; 
This  is  a  nwn's  invention,  and  his  hand. 
SiL  Sure,  it  is  hers. 

Ros.  Why,  'tis  a  boisterous  and  cruel  style, 
A  style  for  challengers ;  why,  she  defies  me. 
Like  Turk  to  Christian  :  woman's  gentle  brain 
Could  not  drop  forth  such  giant  rude  invention, 
Such  Ethiop  wordjs,  blacker  in  their  effect 
Than  in  their  countenance :— Will  you  hear  the 
letter.^ 
SU.  So  please  you,  for  I  never  heard  it  yet ; 
Tet  heard  too  much  of  Phebe's  cruelty. 
Ros.   She  Phcbes  me :  Mark  how  the  tyrant 
writes. 
Art  thou  god  to  shepherd  turned,       [Reads. 
That  a  maiden^ s  heart  hoik  hum'd?— 

Can  a  woman  rail  thus  } 

SiL  Call  you  this  railing  ? 
Ros.  IVTiy,  thy  godhaul  laid  apart, 

Warr'^st  thou  with  a  wonuaCs  heart  ? 

Did  you  ever  hear  such  railing  ? 

While  the  eye  €f  man  did  woo  me. 
Thai  could  do  no  vengeance^  to  me. — 

Meaning  me  a  beast — 

If  the  scorn  qf  your  bright  eynfi 
Have  power  to  raise  such  love  in  mine^ 

(I)  Mischi  f.        (I)  Eye*.        (3)  Nature. 


Alack,  in  me  vJtat  stranms  ^ect 

Would  they  work  in  mild  aepict  ? 

Whiles  you  chid  me,  J  did  love , 

How  then  might  your  prayers  move? 

He,  that  brings  this  lave  to  thee. 

Little  knows  this  love  in  me  : 

And  by  him  seal  up  thv  mind  ; 

Whether  that  thy  youth  and  kind* 

WiU  the  faithful  offer  take 

Of  me,  and  aU  that  lean  make; 

Or  else  by  him  my  love  deny. 

And  then  Pll  study  how  to  die, 
SiL  Call  you  this  chiding  .> 
CeL  Alas,  poor  shepherd ! 
Ros.  Do  you  pity  hun  ?  no,  he  deserves  no  pity. 
— Wilt  thou  love  such  a  woman  ?— What,  to  make 
thee  an  instrument,  and  plav  f^lsc  strains  upon 
thee  !  not  to  be  endured  .'—Well,  go  your  way  to 


her  (for  I  see,  love  hath  made  thee  a  Ume  snake,) 
and  say  this  to  her :— That  if  she  love  me,  I  charge 
her  to  love  thee :  if  she  will  not,  I  will  never  have 
her,  unless  thou  entreat  for  her.— If  you  be  a  true 
lover,  hence,  and  not  a  woid  ;  for  here  comes  more 
company.  [^^'<  Silvius. 

Enter  Oliver. 

Oli.  Good-morrow,  fair  ones :  Pray  you,  if  yoo 
know 
Where,  in  the  puriieus*  of  this  forest,  stands 
A  sheepcote,  fenc'l!Kibout  with  olive-trees.' 

CeL  West  of  this  place,  down  in  the  neighbour 
bottom. 
The  rank  of  ot^iers,  by  the  murmuring  stream. 
Left  on  vour  right  hand,  brin^  vou  to  the  place : 
But  at  this  hour  the  house  doth  keep  itself^ 
There's  none  within. 

OIL  If  that  an  eye  may  profit  b^  a  tongue, 
Then  I  should  know  you  by  description  ; 
Such  garments,  and  such  years  :  The  boy  it  fair^ 
Of  female  favour,  and  bestmos  himself 
Like  a  ripe  sister :  but  the  toomon  low. 
And  browner  than  her  brother.     Are  not  you 
The  owner  of  the  house  I  did  inauire  for.' 

CeL  It  is  no  boast,  being  ask'o,  to  say,  we  are. 
OU.  Orlando  doth  commend  him  to  you  both ; 
And  to  that  youth,  he  calls  his  Rosalind, 
He  sends  this  bloody  napkin  ;^  Are  you  he  ? 
Ros.  I  am :  What  must  we  understand  by  this  ? 
Oli.  Some  of  my  shame ;  if  you  will  know  of  me 
What  man  I  am,  and  how,  and  why,  and  where 
This  handkerchief  was  stain'd. 

CeL  I  pray  you,  tell  it 

Oli.  When  last  the  young  Oriando  parted  from 
you, 
He  left  a  promise  to  return  again 
Within  an  hour ;  and,  pacing  through  the  forest. 
Chewing  the  food  of  sweet  and  bitter  fancy, 
Lo,  what  befel !  he  threw  his  eye  aside. 
And,  mark,  what  object  did  present  itself! 
Under  an  oak,  whose  boughs  were  nuMs'd  with  age. 
And  high  top  bald  with  dry  antiquity, 
A  wretched  rs^ged  man,  o'ergrown  with  hair, 
T^v  sleeping  on  his  back :  about  his  neck 
A  green  and  gilded  snake  had  wreath'd  itself^ 
Who  with  her  head,  nimble  in  threats,  approach'd 
The  opening  of  his  mouth  ;  but  suddenly 
Seein;;  Orlimdo,  it  unlink'd  itself. 
And  with  indented  glides  did  slip  away 
Into  n  bush  :  under  which  bush's  shadle 
A  lioness,  with  udders  all  drawn  dry. 
Lav  couching,  head  on  git>und,  with  cat-like  watch, 
when  that  (he  sleeping  roan  should  stir ;  for  'tis 

(4)  Environs  of  a  forest  (5)  Handkerchiet 


/. 


AS  Tou  UKE  rr. 


The  royal  ditpodtion  of  that  beatt, 
To  prey  oa  nothing  that  doth  teem  as  dead  : 
Thit  seen,  Orlando  did  approach  the  man, 
And  found  it  was  his  brother,  his  elder  brother. 
CeL  O,  I  have  heard  him  speak  of  that  same 
brother; 
And  he  did  render'  him  the  most  unnataral, 
That  liv*d  *mong8t  men. 

OIL  And  well  he  might  do  so, 

For  well  I  know  he  was  unnatural. 

Ros.  But,  to  Orlando ; — Did  he  leave  him  there. 
Food  to  the  sucked  and  hungry  lioness  f 

OIL  Twice  did  he  turn  his  back,  and  porposM  so: 
But  kindness,  nobler  ever  than  revenge. 
And  nature,  stronger  than  his  just  occasion, 
Aff  ade  him  eive  battle  to  the  lioness. 
Who  quickly  fell  before  him ;  in  which  hartling,^ 
From  miserable  slumber  I  awak*d. 
CeL  Are  you  his  brother  ? 

Hoi.  Was  it  you  he  rescuMP 

Cd.  Was*t  you  that  did  so  oft  contrive  to  kill 
him.^ 

Olt.  'Twas  I ;  but  'tis  not  I :  I  do  not  shame 
To  tell  you  what  I  was,  since  my  conversion 
So  sweedy  tastes,  being  the  thing  I  anL 

Ros.  But,  for  the  bloody  napkin  f — 

OU.  By  and  by. 

When  from  the  first  to  last,  betwixt  us  two. 
Tears  oar  recountments  hml  most  kindly  bathM, 

As,  how  I  came  into  that  desert  place  : 

111  brief,  he  led  me  to  the  gentle  duke. 

Who  gave  me  fresh  array,  and  entertainment. 

Committing  me  unto  my  brother's  love ; 

Who  led  roe  instantly  unto  his  cave. 

There  strippM  himself,  and  here  upon  his  arm 

The  lioness  had  torn  some  flesh  away. 

Which  all  this  while  had  bled ;  and  now  he  fainted, 

And  cryM,  in  fainting,  upon  Rosalind. 

Brief,  I  recovered  him ;  bound  up  his  wound ; 

And,  after  some  small  space,  being  strong  at  heart, 

He  sent  me  hither,  stranger  as  I  am. 

To  tell  tlus  story,  that  you  might  excuse 

His  broken  promise,  and  to  give  this  napkin, 

DvM  in  this  bbod,  unto  the  shepherd  vouth 

That  be  in  sport  doth  call  his  Rosalind. 

Od.  Why,  how  now,  Ganymede  f  sweet  Gany- 
mede? [Rosalind  yam/j. 

OIL  Many  will  swooo  when  they  do  look  on 
blood. 

CeL  There  is  more  in  it : — Cousin — Ganymede ! 

OIL  Look,  he  recovers. 

Ros.  I  would  I  were  at  home. 

Cd.  We'll  lead  you  thither  ;— 
I  pray  you,  will  you  take  him  by  the  arm  f 

OU.  Be  of  good  cheer,  youth : — You  a  man  ? — 
You  lack  a  man's  heart 

Ros.  I  do  so,  I  confess  it  Ah,  sir,  a  body  would 
think  this  was  well  counterfeited :  I  pray  you  tell 
voar  brother  how  well  I  counterfeited. — Heigh 

OIL  This  was  not  counterfeit ;  there  is  too  great 
t«>!t(imony  in  your  complexkm,  that  it  was  a  pas- 
tion  of  earnest 
Ros.  Counterfeit,  I  assure  you. 
Oil.  Well  then,  take  a  good  heart,  and  counter- 
feit to  be  a  man. 

Ros.  So  I  do :  but,  i'faith  I  should  have  been  a 
woman  by  right 

Cd.  Come,  you  look  paler  and  paler ;  pray  you, 
draw  homewards  it— Good  sir,  go  with  us. 

OU.  That  will  I,  for  I  must  bear  answer  back 
How  you  excuse  my  brother,  Rosalind. 


(I)  Describe. 


(2)  Scuffle. 


Ros.  I  shall  devise  something :  But,  I  pray  you, 
nunend  my  counterfeiting  to  hun : — Will  you  go.' 


ACT  V. 

SCEIATE  L—The  same.    Enter  Touchstone  emd 

Audrey. 

Touch.  We  shall  find  a  time,  Audrey;  patience, 
gentle  Audrey. 

Aui.  'Faim,  the  priest  was  good  enough,  for  all 
the  old  gentleman's  saying. 

Toudi.  A  most  wick^  sir  Oliver,  Audrey,  a 
most  vile  Mar-text  But,  Audrey,  there  is  a  youdi 
here  in  the  forest  lays  claim  to  you. 

Aud.  Ay,  I  know  who  'tis,  he  hath  no  interest  in 
me  in  the  world :  here  comes  the  man  you  mean. 

Enter  William. 

Touch.  It  is  meat  and  drink  to  me,  to  see  a 
clown  :  By  my  troth,  we  that  have  good  wits,  have 
much  to  answer  for ;  we  shall  be  flouting ;  we  can- 
not hold. 

IViU.  Good  even,  Audrey. 

Aud.  God  ye  good  even,  Williamu 

WilL  And  good  even  to  you,  sir. 

Touch.  Good  even,  gentle  friend:  Cover  thy 
head,  cover  thy  head ;  nay,  pr'ythee,  be  covered. 
How  old  are  you,  friend .' 

WiU.  Five  and  twenty,  sir. 

Touch.  A  ripe  age ;  h  thy  name  William .' 

WiU.  William,  sir. 

Touch.  A  fair  name :  Wast  bom  i'the  forest  here? 

WiU.  Ay,  sir,  I  thank  God. 

Touch.  Thank  God  ,'<— a  good  answer  :  Art  rich? 

WilL  'Faith,  sir,  so,  so. 

Touch.  Soj  «o,  is  good,  very  good,  very  excellent 
good : — and  yet  it  is  not ;  it  is  but  so  so.     Art  thou 
wise? 
.  WiU.  Ay,  sir,  I  have  a  pretty  wit 

Touch.  Why,  thou  say'st  well.  I  do  now  remem- 
ber a  saying ;  The  fom  doth  think  he  is  wise,  but 
the  wise  man  knows  himself  to  be  a  fooL  The 
heathen  philosopher,  when  he  had  a  desire  to  eat  a 
grape,  would  open  his  lips  when  he  put  it  into  his 
mouth ;  meaning  thereby,  that  grapes  were  made 
to  eat,  and  lips  to  open.     You  do  love  this  maid  ? 

Wm.  I  do,  sir. 

Touch.  Give  me  your  hand :  Art  thou  learned  ? 

WilL  No,  sir. 

Touch.  Then  learn  this  of  me ;  To  have,  is  to 
have:  For  it  is  a  figure  in  rhetoric,  that  drink 
being  poured  out  of  a  cup  into  a  glass,  by  filling 
the  one  doth  empty  the  other  :  For  all  your  writers 
do  consent,  that  ipse  is  he ;  now  you  ave  not  ipse, 
for  I  am  he. 

WiU.  Which  he,  sir? 

Touch.  He,  sir,  that  must  marry  this  woman  * 
Therefore,  you  clown,  abandon, — which  is  in  the 
vulgar,  leave, — the  society,  which  in  the  boorish 
ist,  company, — of  this  femal^ — which  in  the  com- 
mon is, — woman,  which  together  is,  abandon  the 
society  of  this  female ;  or,  clown,  thou  perishest ; 
or,  to  thy  better  understanding,  diest;  to  wit,  T 
kill  thee,  make  thee  away,  translate  thy  life  into 
death,  thy  liberty  into  bondage :  I  will  deal  in 
poison  with  thee,  or  in  bastinado,  or  in  steel ;  I 
will  bandy  with  thee  in  faction ;  I  will  o'er-run  thee 
with  policy ;  I  will  kill  thee  a  hundred  and  fifty 
ways ;  therefore  tremble,  and  depart 

Aud.  Do,  good  William. 

WiU.  God  rest  you  merry,  sir.  [Exit 


ti4 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


Aetr. 


EfUtT  Conn. 

Cor.  Oar  master  and  mistress  seek  yon ;  come, 
awav,  Bway. 

7^<ntch.  Trip,  Audrejr,  trip,  Audrey ; — I  attend, 
1  attend.  [Exeuni. 

SCEJ^E  II.— The  tame,    £Mer  Orlando  and 

Oliver. 

OH.  Wt  possible,  that  oo  so  little  acquaintance 
you  should  hke  her  f  that,  but  seeing,  you  should 
lore  her?  and,  lovine,  woo?  and,  wooing,  she 
should  ^rant  ?  and  wiU  you  persever  to  enjoy  her  ? 

OIL  Ndther  call  the  giddiness  of  it  in  question, 
the  poverty  of  her,  the  small  acquaintance,  my  sud* 
den  wooinf ,  nor  her  sudden  consenting ;  but  say 
with  me,  1  love  Aliena;  say  with  her,  that  shie 
loves  me ;  consent  with  both,  that  we  may  enjoy 
each  other :  it  shall  be  to  your  good ;  for  my  &• 
ther*s  house,  and  all  the  revenue  that  was  old  sir 
Rowland  ^B,  will  I  estate  upon  you,  and  here  live  and 
die  a  shepherd. 

£nfer  Rosalind. 

OrL  Tou  have  my  consent  Let  vour  wedding 
be  to-morrow :  thither  will  I  invite  the  duke,  ana 
all  his  contented  folbwers :  Go  yon,  and  prepare 
Aliena ;  for,  look  you,  here  comes  my  Rosalind. 

Rot.  God  save  vou,  brother. 

(Hi.  And  you,  nir  sister. 

Ros.  O,  my  dear  Orlando,  how  it  grieves  me  to 
see  thee  wear  thy  heart  in  a  scarf! 

OrL  It  is  my  arm. 

Ros.  I  thou^t  thy  heart  had  been  wounded  with 
the  claws  of  a  lion. 

OrL  Wounded  it  is,  but  with  the  eyes  of  a  lady. 

Ros.  Did  your  brodier  tell  you  how  I  counter- 
feited to  swoon,  when  he  showed  me  your  hand- 
kerchief? 

OrL  Ay,  and  greater  wonders  than  that 

Ros.  O,  I  know  where  you  are : — Nay,  *ti8  true : 
there  was  never  any  thins  so  sudden,  Ixit  the  fight 
of  two  rams,  and  Caesars  thrasonical  brag  of— 
t  came^  saw^  and  overcame :  For  your  brother  and 
my  sister  no  sooner  met,  but  they  looked;  no  soon- 
er looked,  but  they  loved ;  no  sooner  loved,  but 
they  sighed ;  no  sooner  s^ed,  but  they  asked  one 
another  (he  reason ;  no  sooner  knew  the  reason, 
but  they  sought  the  remedy :  and  in  these  degrees 
have  they  made  a  pair  of  stairs  to  marriage,  which 
they  will  climb  incontinent,  or  else  be  incontinent 
before  marriage:  they  are  in  the  veiy  wrath  of 
love,  and  they  will  together;  clubs  cannot  part 
them. 

OrL  They  shall  be  married  to-morrow ;  and  I 
will  bid  the  duke  to  the  nuptial.  But,  O,  how  bit- 
ter a  thing  it  is  to  look  into  nappiness  through  an- 
other man*s  eyes !  By  so  much  the  more  shall  I  to- 
morrow bo  at  the  height  of  heart-heaviness,  by  how 
much  I  shall  think  my  brother  happy,  in  having 
what  he  wishes  for. 

Ros.  Why  then,  to-morrow  I  cannot  serve  your 
turn  for  Rosalind  ? 

OrL  I  can  live  no  longer  by  thinking. 

Ros.  I  will  weary  you  no  longer  then  with  idle 
talking.  Know  of  me  then  (for  now  I  speak  to 
some  purpow,)  that  I  know  you  are  a  gentleman 
of  good  conceit :  I  speak  not  this,  that  you  should 
bear  a  good  opinion  of  my  knowledge,  insomuch, 
I  say,  I  know  you  are ;  neither  do  I  labour  for  a 
greater  esteem  than  may  in  some  little  measure 
draw  a  belief  fixxn  you,  to  do  yourself  good,  and 

'  (I)  Invite. 


not  to  grace  me.  Betiere  then,  if  yoo  please,  that 
I  can  «>  strange  things :  I  have,  nnce  J  wa«  three 
years  old,  conversed  with  a  magician,  roost  pro* 
found  in  this  art,  and  yet  not  damnable.  If  yea 
do  love  Rosalind  so  near  die  heart  asyourgtestnre 
criesit  out,  when  your  brother  marries  Aliena,  shall 
you  man^  her :  I  know  into  what  straitsof  fortooe 
she  is  driven ;  and  it  is  not  impossible  to  me,  if  it 
appear  not  inconvenient  to  you,  to  set  her  before 
your  eyes  to-morrow,  human  as  she  is,  and  without 
any  danger. 

OrL  Speakest  thou  in  sober  meanings  ? 

Ros.  By  my  life,  I  do;  which  I  tender  deariy, 
though  I  say  I  am  amagician:  Therefore,  put  yon 
in  your  best  array,  hiS  your  friends ;  finr  if  too 
will  be  married 'to-morrow,  you  shall;  and  to 
Rosalind,  if  you  will. 

Enter  Silvius  and  Fbebe. 

Look,  here  comes  a  lover  of  mine,  and  a  lover  of 
hers. 

Phe.  Youth,  you  have  done  me  much  ungentle- 
ness. 
To  show  the  letter  that  I  writ  to  you. 

Ros.  I  care  not,  if  I  have  :  it  is  my  study. 
To  seem  despiteful  and  ungentle  to  you : 
You  are  there  followed  by  a  faithful  riiepberd ; 
Look  upon  him,  love  him ;  he  worships  yoo. 

Phe.  Good  shepherd,  tell  this  youth  what  til  to 
love. 

SiL  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  sighs  and  teut; — 
And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 

Phe.  And  I  for  Ganymede. 

OrL  And  I  for  Rosalind. 

Ros.  And  I  for  no  woman. 

SiL  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  ftith  and  8ervice>— 
And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 

Phe.  And  I  for  Ganymede. 

OrL  And  I  for  Rosalind. 

Ros.  And  I  for  no  wcxnan. 

SU.  It  is  to  be  all  made  of  phantasy, 
All  made  of  passion,  and  all  made  of  widies; 
All  adoration,  duty  and  dxervance. 
All  humbleness,  all  patience,  and  impatience, 
All  purity,  all  trial,  all  observance; — 
And  so  am  I  for  Phebe. 

Phe.  And  so  am  I  for  Ganymede. 

OrL  And  so  am  I  for  Rosalind. 

Ros.  And  so  am  I  for  no  womaiL 

Phe.  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love  ma  f 

[To  Roti^ad, 

SU.  If  this  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love  yoa.' 

[7\>  Phebe. 

OrL  If  (his  be  so,  why  blame  you  me  to  love  you? 

Ros.  Who  do  you  speak  to,  Why  blame  you  wu 
to  love  you  ? 

OrL  To  her,  that  is  not  here,  nor  doth  not  bear. 

Ros.  Pray  you,  no  more  of  this ;  'tis  like  the 
howling  of  Irish  wolves  against  the  nKxin. — I  will 
help  vou,  [To  Silvius.]  if  I  can: — ^I  would  love 
you,  [To  Pnebe.]  if  1  could. — To-morrow  meet  me 
all  together. — I  will  marry  you,  [TV)  Phebe.]  if  ever 
I  marry  woman,  and  Pll  be  married  to-morrow  : — 
[  will  satisfy  you,  \To  Orlanda]  if  ever  I  satisfied 
man,  and  you  shall  be  married  to-morrow: — 1 
will  content  you,  [To  Silvius.1  if  what  pleasea 
you  contents  you,  and  you  shall  be  married  to- 
morrow.— As  you  \To  Orlanda]  love  Rosalind, 
meet; — as  you  [7b  Silvius.1  love  Phebe,  meet; 
And  as  I  love  no  woman,  I'll  meet — So,  fisre  you 
well ;  I  have  left  you  commands. 

SiL   Pll  not  fail,  if  I  live. 

Phe.  Nor  L 

OrL  Nor  L     [Ex*. 


^ 

E? 


246 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


Actt. 


your  bod^  more  seeming,!  Audrey : — as  thus,  sir. 
I  did  dislike  the  cut  of  a  certain  courtier's  beard ; 
he  sent  me  word,  if  I  said  his  beard  was  not  cut 
well,  he  was  in  the  mind  it  was :  This  is  called  the 
Tfiort  courteous.  If  I  sent  him  word  aeain,  it  was 
not  well  cut,  he  would  send  me  word,  he  cut  it  to 
please  himself:  This  is  called  the  quip  modett.  If 
again,  it  was  not  well  cut,  he  disabled  mv  judg- 
ment :  This  is  called  the  rep/v  churlish.  It  again, 
it  was  not  well  cut,  he  would  answer,  I  spake  not 
true  :  This  is  called  the  reproqf  vaUani.  If  again, 
it  was  not  well  cut,  he  woula  say,  I  lie :  This  is 
called  the  countercheck  Quarrelsome:  and  so  to 
the  lie  drcumstaniial^  ana  the  lie  direct. 

Jaq.  And  how  oft  did  you  say,  his  beard  was  not 
well  cut  ? 

7\mcA.  I  durst  go  no  further  than  the  lie  cir- 
cumstaniialf  nor  he  durst  not  give  me  the  lie 
direct ;  and  so  we  measured  swords,  and  parted. 

Jaq.  Can  you  nominate  in  order  now  the  degrees 
ofthelie.^ 

Touch,  O  sir,  we  quarrel  in  print,  by  the  book ; 
as  you  have  books  for  good  manners :  1  will  name 
you  the  degrees.  The  first,  the  retort  courteous ; 
the  second,  the  quip  modest ;  the  third,  the  reply 
churlish ;  the  fourth,  the  reproof  valiant ;  the  fifth, 
the  countercheck  quarrelsome ;  the  sixth,  the  lie 
widi  circumstance ;  the  seventh,  the  lie  direct  All 
these  you  may  avoid,  but  the  lie  direct ;  and  you 
may  avoid  that  too,  with  an  (/!  I  knew  when  seven 
justices  could  not  take  up  a  quarrel ;  but  when 
the  parties  were  met  themselves,  one  of  them 
thought  but  of  an  (/",  as,  i/*  you  said  so,  thai  I 
said  so  ;  and  they  shodc  hands,  and  swore  brothers. 
Your  (/*  is  the  onyr  peace-maker ;  much  virtue  in  ijT. 

Jaq.  Is  not  this  a  rare  fellow,  my  lord  ?  he's  as 
good  at  any  thing,  and  yet  a  fool. 

Duke  S.  He  uses  his  folly  lika  a  stalkine-horse, 
and  under  the  presentation  of  that,  he  shoots  nis  wit 

Enter  Hymen,  leading  Rosalind  in  woman^s 
clothes;  cm^Celia.   Still  music, 

Hym.  Uten  is  there  mirth  in  heaven^ 
When  earthly  things  made  even 

Atone  together. 
Good  duke,  receive  thy  daughter, 
Hymen  Jrom  heaven  brought  her. 

Yea,  brought  her  hither  ; 
That  thou  mighfsijoin  her  hand  with  his, 
Whose  heart  unthin  her  bosom  is. 

Ros.  To  you  I  give  myself,  for  I  am  yours. 

[To  Duke  S. 

To  you  I  give  myself,  for  I  am  yours.       [To  Orl. 

JjukeS.  If  there  be  truth  in  sight,  you  are  my 

daughter. 
Orl.  If  there  be  truth  in  sight,  you  are  my  Rosa- 
lind. 
P?ie.  If  sight  and  shape  be  true, 
Why  then, — my  love,  aaieu .' 
JRos.  V\\  have  no  father,  if  yon  be  not  he : — 

[To  Duke  S. 
V\\  have  no  husband,  if  you  be  not  he : — 

[To  Orlanda 
Nor  ne*er  wed  woman,  if  you  be  not  she. 

[To  Fbebe. 
Hym,  Peace,  ho !  I  bar  confusion : 
*Tis  I  must  make  conclusioa 

Of  these  most  strange  events : 
Here's  eight  that  must  take  handS| 
To  join  in  Hymen's  bands, 
If  truth  holds  true  coiitents.3 

^1)  Seemly.     (2)  Unless  truth  fails  of  veradty. 


You  and  you  no  cross  shall  part : 

[To  Orlando  and  RoMdind. 
You  and  you  are  heart  in  heart  : 

[Tb  Oliver  antfCdn. 
You  [To  Pbebe.]  to  his  love  must  accord. 
Or  have  a  woman  to  your  lord : — 
You  and  you  are  sure  together, 

[To  Touchstone  and  Andnj. 
As  (he  winter  to  foul  weather. 
Whiles  a  wedlock-hymn  we  sing, 
Feed  yourselves  with  questionine ; 
That  reason  wonder  mav  diminn^ 
How  thus  we  met,  and  these  thii^  finkh 

SONG. 

Wedding  is  great  Juno's  crown; 

0  bleued  bwid  of  board  and  bid! 
*Tis  Hymen  peoples  every  town  ; 

High  wedlock  then  be  honourid : 
Honour,  high  honour  and  rmotoit. 
To  Hymen,  godqf  every  town .' 

Duke  S.  O  my  dear  niece,  welcome  thou  art  to  me ; 
Even  daughter,  welcome  in  no  less  degree. 

Phe.  I  will  not  eat  my  word,  now  thou  art  mine ; 
Thy  faith  my  fancy  to  thee  doth  combnne.i 

[7\>  Silvka. 

Enter  Jaques  de  Bois. 

Jaq.  de  B.  Let  me  have  audience  for  ft  word  or 
two; 
I  am  the  second  son  of  old  sir  Rowland, 
That  brins  these  tidings  to  this  fair  assembly : — 
Duke  Frederick,  hearing  how  that  every  day 
Men  of  great  worth  resorted  to  this  forest. 
Addressed  a  mizhty  power  which  were  on  foot. 
In  his  own  conouct,  purposely  to  take 
His  brother  here,  and  put  him  to  the  sword  : 
And  to  the  skirts  of  this  wild  wood  he  came ; 
Where,  meeting  with  an  old  religious  man, 
AAer  some  Question  with  him,  was  converted 
Both  from  his  enterprize,  and  from  the  world : 
His  crown  bequeathing  to  his  banish'd  brother, 
And  all  their  lands  restored  to  them  again 
That  were  with  him  exf  Pd :  This  to  be  true, 
I  do  engage  my  life. 

Duke  S.  Welcome,  young  nmn ; 

Thou  offer'st  fairly  to  thy  brothers'  wedding  : 
To  one,  his  lands  withheld ;  and  to  the  other, 
A  land  itself  at  lar^e,  a  potent  dukedom. 
First,  in  this  forest,  let  us  do  those  ends 
That  here  were  well  begun,  and  well  b^ot : 
And  after,  every  of  this  happy  number. 
That  have  endur'd  shrewd  aaysand  nights  with  as. 
Shall  share  the  good  of  our  returned  fortune. 
According  to  the  measure  of  their  states. 
Meantime,  foi^et  this  new-fall'n  dignity. 
And  fall  into  our  rustic  revelry  : — 
Play,  music ; — and  you  brides  and  bridegrooms  all, 
W^ith  measure  heap'd  in  joy,  to  the  measures  fall. 

Jaq.  Sir,  by  vour  patience;  If  I  heard  you  rightly. 
The  duke  hath  put  on  a  religious  life. 
And  thrown  into  neglect  the  pompous  court .' 

Jtiq.  de  B.  He  hath. 

Jaq.  To  him  will  I :  out  of  these  convertites 
There  is  much  matter  to  be  heard  and  leam'd. — 
You  to  your  former  honour  I  bequeath ; 

[To  Duke  S. 
Your  patience,  and  your  virtue,  well  deserves  it : — 
You  yTo  Orlando.]  to  a  love,  ttiat  your  true  faith 
doth  merit : — 

(3)  Bind. 


Seem  IF. 


AS  YOU  LIKE  IT. 


9n 


Tou  \To  Olirer.]  to  your  land,  and  love,  and  great 

allies:^ — 
Ton  \To  Silrius.]  to  a  long  and  well-deserved 

bed: — 
And  yoa  \To  Touchstone.]  to  wrai^ling;  for  thy 

loving  voyage 
Is  but  for  two  months  victual*d : — So  to  yoor  plea- 
sures; 
I  am  for  other  than  for  dancing  measures. 
Duke  S,  Stay,  Jaques,  stav. 
Jaa.  To  see  no  pastime,  I : — ^what  you  would 
hare  111  stay  to  know  at  your  abandooM  cave. 

[Exit. 
IhikeS.  Proceed,  proceed :  we  will  b^in  these 
rites, 
And  we  do  trust  they*ll  end  in  true  delights. 

\A  dance. 

EPILOGUE. 

Roe,  It  b  not  the  fashion  to  see  the  lady  the  epi- 
logue :  but  it  is  no  more  unhandsome,  than  to  see 
the  lord  the  prologue.  If  it  be  true,  H^Mt  good  wine 
weeds  no  6iuX,  His  true,  that  a  good  play  needs  no 
^pilogoe:    Yet  to  good  wine  they  do  use  good 
tsoahes ;  and  good  plays  prove  tlie  better  by  the 
laelp  of  good  epilogues.  Wliat  a  case  am  I  in  then, 
cKat  am  ndther  a  good  epilogue,  nor  cannot  insiii- 
maate  with  you  in  the  behalf  of  a  good  play  ?  I  am 
fimiiihedi  like  a  beggar,  therefore  to  "beg  will 

(l}DieMed.        (S)  That  I  liked. 


not  become  me :  my  way  is,  to  conjure  tou  ;  and 
IMl  begin  with  the  women.  1  charge  you,  b  women, 
for  the  love  you  bear  to  men,  to  like  as  much  of 
this  play  as  please  them :  and  so  I  charge  you,  O 
men,  for  the  love  you  bear  to  women  (as  I  per- 
ceive by  your  simpering,  none  of  you  hate  tlx^n,) 
that  between  you  and  the  women,  the  play  may 
please.  If  I  were  a  woman,  I  would  kiss  as  many 
of  you  as  had  beards  that  pleased  me,  complexions 
that  liked  me,^  and  breaths  that  I  defied  not :  and, 
I  am  sure,  as  many  as  have  good  beards,  or  good 
faces,  or  sweet  breaths,  will,  for  mv  kind  ofler, 
when  I  make  curtesy,  bid  me  foreweU.    [Exeunt 


Of  this  play  the  fable  is  wild  and  pleasii^.  1 
know  not  now  the  ladies  will  approve  the  focility 
with  which  both  Rosalind  and  Celia  give  away 
their  hearts.  To  Celia  much  may  be  forgiven,  for 
the  heroism  of  her  friendship.  The  character  of 
Jaques  is  natural  and  well  preserved.  The  comic 
dialogue  is  very  sprightly,  with  less  mixture  of  low 
bulfoooery  than  in  «xne  other  plays ;  and  the  sraver 
part  is  eleeant  and  harmonious.  By  hastenmg  to 
the  end  of  this  work,  Shakspeare  suppressed  the 
dialogue  between  the  usurper  and  the  nermit,  and 
lost  an  opportunity  of  exhAnting  a  moral  lesson,  in 
which  he  might  bsve  found  matter  worthy  of  hu 
highest  powers. 

JoassoK 


«*    .  \ »    «    » 


\ 


\ 


\  .-<- 


A    , 


^ 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL.    JM  U— 

ViiLt-p-laBi 


TJUUNG  THE  SBBEW.    AttlV.  —  SoMl. 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED^ 


Doka  ^  Fbrcnet. 
Bertmn,  Cmmt  qf  Rtmiitton, 
Lakm,  OH  old  Jjord. 
FuoUet,«  yU<oiocr  <^  Bertram, 
SevertUyomtg  French  Lordsj  thai  aeroewUh  Ser- 
in the  FlortnOne  war. 


^^^l^learvanUtotheOrunleitofRautmon. 
Aftg«. 


CounteM  qf  RousHlon,  mother  to  Bertram. 
Helena,  a  gentlewoman  protected  by  the  CounUse, 
An  old  Widow  qf  Florence, 
Diana,  daughter  to  the  widow. 

M^^l  »»gf^^x^rs  and  friends  to  the  widow. 

Lords,  attending  on  the  King ;  Officers,  Soldiers, 
4x.  French  and  Florentine, 

Scene,  partiy  in  France,  and  partly  in  Tuscany, 


ACT  I. 

SCEJV2?  /.-^loariUon.  A  Room  tn  the  Coun- 
te»'«  Palace,  Enter  Bertram,  the  Counfeas  of 
RoiuaUoo,  Helena,  and  Lafen,  m  mourning. 

Countess, 

In  delirering  mjioo  from  me,  I  baiy  a  second 
husband. 

Ber,  And  I,  in  going,  madam,  weep  o*er  my 
fiithei's  death  anew :  but  I  most  attend  nis  majes- 
ty** command,  to  whom  I  am  now  in  ward,i  ev«r- 
taore  in  iubjectioo. 

L^.  Yoa  shall  find  of  (he  king  a  husband,  m»' 
dsm ; — you,  sir,  a  &tber :  He  that  so  gencnWy  is 
at  all  timn  9000,  most  of  necesst^  hold  his  virtue 
10  JOB ;  wfama  wortluness  would  stir  it  up  where 
it  wanted,  nlkef  than  lack  it  where  there  is  such 
^"i"*iaiice» 

Cbsosl.  WlMt  bope  is  there  of  his  majest/s 
iHiPticlnieBt  f 

Ij/I  Ha  hidi  abandoned  his  phjsidans,  madam; 
roder  wboae  piactices  he  hath  persecuted  timi; 
witb  bopa ;  and  finds  no  other  adrantage  in  the 
prooMiM onlj  the  kmng of  hope  bv  time. 

Cbunt  Tbmyoaaf;  gentiewoman  bad  a  fiither 
(0,  tiiat  had.''  nm  sada  passage  'tis !)  whose  skill 
was  almost  as  gnat  as  his  honesty ;  had  it  stretch- 
ed so  Utf  woold  have  made  nature  immortal  and 
^etA  thiM  lamwe  play  for  lack  of  work.  'Would, 
Jbr  lilt  kJng^  ssJte,  he  were  living !  I  think,  it 
wswld  bo  Um  death  of  the  king's  disease. 

Lqf.  Ham  called  you  the  man  you  speak  of, 

GNmf.  He  was  famous,  sir,  in  his  profession,  and 

ic  was  fab  creat  r%fat  to  be  so :  Gerard  de  Narbon. 

La/!  Im  was  excellent,  indeed,  madam;  (hf^ 

Viog  Terr  lately  spo|ce  of  him,  admiringly,  and 

nMnrmnqgly :  he  was  skilfiil  enough  to  have  lived 

iAJll,if  knowledge  could  be  set  up  against  mortality. 

Ber.  What  is  it,  my  good  lord,  the  king  lau- 

gniihesof? 

Litf.  A  fistula,  my  lord. 

0)  Under  his  particular  care,  as  my  guardian. 

(^  The  countess  recollects  her  own  loss  of  a 
'"^nd,  and  observes  how  heavily  had  passes 
^(nj^  her  mind. 

v^)  Qualities  of  good  breeding  and  erudition. 

16 


Ber.  I  hMtrd  no<  of  it  before. 

Ijiif.  I  would,  it  were  not  notorious. — ^Was  this 
gentlewoman  the  dau|;fater  of  Gerard  de  Narbon  ? 

Oonmt.  His  sole  child,  my  lord ;  and  bequeath- 
ed  to  my  overlooking.  I  have  those  hopes  of  her 
good,  that  her  education  promises :  herdispositioiis 
ihe  inherits,  which  make  fair  gifts  fairer;  for 
where  an  unclean  mind  carries  virtuous  qualities,* 
there  commendations  go  with  pi^,  they  are  vir- 
tues and  traitors  too ;  in  her  they  are  the  better  for 
their  simpleness;^  she  derives  her  honesty,  and 
achieves  her  goodness. 

Laf.  Your  commendatkns,  madam,  get  from 
her  td^rs. 

Count.  Tis  the  best  brine  a  maiden  can  season 
her  praise  in.  The  remembrance  of  her  fiither 
never  approaches  her  heart,  but  the  tyranny  of  her 
sorrows  takes  all  livelihoodf  fiom  her  cheek.  No 
more  of  this,  Helena,  go  to,  no  more ;  lest  it  be 
rather  thought  you  affect  a  sorrow,  than  to  have 

HeL  I  do  affect  a  sorrow,  indeed,  but  I  have  it 
toa 

Laf.  Moderate  lamentation  is  the  right  of  the 
dead,  excessive  grief  the  enemy  to  the  living. 

Count.  If  the  living  be  enemy  to  the  grief^  the 
excess  makes  it  soon  mortaL 

Ber.  Madam,  I  desire  your  holy  wishes. 

Zjof.  How  understand  we  thatr 

Count  Be  thou  blest,  Bertram!  and  succeed 
thy  father 
In  manners,  as  in  shape !  thy  blood,  and  virtue. 
Contend  for  empire  in  thee ;  and  thy  goodness 
Share  with  thy  oirthright !  Love  all,  trust  a  few. 
Do  wrong  to  none :  be  able  for  thine  enemy 
Rather  in  power,  than  use ;  and  keep  thy  mend 
Under  thy  own  lifers  key  :  be  check'd  for  silence, 
But  never  tax'd  for  speech.  What  heaven  more  will. 
That  thee  may  furuish,^  and  my  prayers  pluck 

down. 
Fall  on  thy  licad  !   Farewell. — ^Rfly  lord, 
*TiM  an  unseasoned  courtier;  g^oodfmy  lord. 
Advise  him. 

Laf.  He  cannot  want  the  best 

(4)  t.  e.  Her  excellencies  are  the  better  because 
they  are  artless. 

(/>)  A 11  appearance  of  life. 

(G)  t.  e.  That  may  help  thee  with  more  and  bet 
ter  qualifications. 


230 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


Actl. 


That  nhall  attend  his  love. 

Count.  Heaven  oless  him ! — Farewell,  Bertram. 

[Exit  Countess. 

Ber.  The  best  wishes,  that  can  be  fi>rg;ed  in  your 
tiiou^hts,  [To  Helena!  be  servants  to  you."  Be 
comfortable  to  my  mother,  your  mistress,  and  make 
much  of  her. 

Zq/!  Farewell,  pretty  lady  :  You  must  hold  the 
credit  of  your  father.      [Exe.  Bertram  and  Lafeu. 

HeL  O,  were  that  all ! — I  think  not  on  my  father ; 
And  these  great  tears  ^ce  his  remembrance  more 
Than  those  I  shed  for  him.  What  was  be  like  f 
I  have  forgot  him :  my  imas:ination 
Carries  no  favour  in  it,  but  Bertram's. 
I  am  undone  ;  there  is  no  living,  none, 
If  Bertram  be  away.  It  were  all  one, 
That  I  should  love  a  bright  particular  star, 
And  think  to  wed  it,  he  is  so  above  me : 
In  his  bright  radiance  and  collateral  li^t 
Must  I  be  comforted,  not  in  his  sphere. 
The  ambition  in  my  love  thus  plagues  itself: 
The  hind,  that  would  be  mated  by  the  lion, 
Must  die  for  love.  'Twas  pretty,  though  a  plague. 
To  see  him  every  hour ;  to  sit  and  draw 
His  arched  brows,  his  hawking  eye,  his  curls, 
In  our  heart's  table  ;>  heart,  too  capable 
Of  eveiy  line  and  trick*  of  his  sweet  favour  r^ 
But  now  he's  gone,  and  mv  iddatrous  fancy 
Most  sanctify  nis  relics.    Who  comes  here .' 

EnUr  Parollea.  * 

One  that  goes  with  him :  I  love  him  for  his  sake ; 

And  vet  I  know  him  a  notorious  liar. 

Think  him  a  great  way  fool,  solely  a  coward ; 

Yet  these  fix'd  evils  sit  so  fit  in  him. 

That  they  take  place,  when  virtue's  steely  bones 

Look  bleak  in  the  cold  wind :  withal,  full  (^  we  see 

Cold  wisdom  waiting  on  superfluous  folly. 

Par,  Save  you,  fair  queen. 

HeL  And  you,  monixch. 

Par.  Na 

HeL  And  na 

Par.  Are  you  roe(Utating  oo  virginity  } 

HeL  Ay.  Vou  have  some  stain  of  soldier  in  you ; 
let  me  ask  you  a  question :  Man  is  enemy  to  virgin- 
ity ;  how  may  we  barricado  it  against  nun  ? 

Par.  Keep  him  oaL 

HeL  But  he  assails ;  and  our  virginity,  though 
valiant  in  the  defence,  yet  is  weak :  unfold  to  us 
tome  warlike  resistance. 

Par.  There  is  none ;  man,  sitting  down  before 
you,  will  undermine  you,  and  blow  you  up. 

HeL  Bless  our  poor  virginity  from  underminers, 
and  blowers  up ! — Is  there  no  militaiy  policy,  how 
virgins  mi^t  blow  up  men  } 

Par.  Virginity,  being  blown  down,  man  will 

auicklier  be  blown  up :  marry,  in  blowing  him 
own  i^;ain,  with  the  breach  yourselves  made,  you 
lose  yoiu*  city.  It  is  not  politic  in  the  common- 
wealth of  nature,  to  preserve  virgini^.  Loss  of 
virginity  is  rational  increase ;  and  there  was  never 
virgin  got,  till  virginity  was  first  lost  That,  you 
were  made  of,  is  metal  to  make  virgins.  Virginity, 
by  being  once  lost,  may  be  ten  times  found :  by 
being  ever  kept,  it  is  ever  lost :  'tis  too  cold  a  com- 
panion ;  away  with  it. 

Hel.  I  will  stand  for't  a  little,  though  therefore 
I  die  a  virgin. 

n^  t.  e.  May  you  be  mistress  of  your  wishes, 
ana  have  power  to  bring  them  to  effect 

^2)  Helena  considers  her  heart  as  the  tablet  on 
which  his  resemblance  was  portrayed. 

(3)  Peculiarity  of  feature.     (4)  Countenance. 


Par.  There's  little  can  be  said  in't ;  'tin  against 
the  rule  of  nature.  To  speak  on  the  part  m  vir- 
ginity, is  to  accuiie  your  mothers;  which  is  most 
infallible  disobedience.  He,  that  hangs  himself,  is 
a  virgin  :  virginity  murders  itself;  and  should  be 
buried  in  highways,  out  of  all  sanctified  limit,  as 
a  desperate  offendress  against  nature.  Vii^nitf 
breeds  mites,  much  like  a  cheese ;  consumes  itself 
to  the  very  paring,  and  so  dies  with  feeding  his  own 
stomach.  Besides,  vir^nity  is  pecvi^  proud,  idle, 
made  of  self-love,  which  is  the  most  inhibited*  sin 
in  the  canon.  Keep  it  not ;  you  cannot  choose  but 
lose  by't :  Out  with't :  within  ten  years  it  will  make 
itself  ten,  which  is  a  goodly  increase;  and  the 
principal  itself  not  much  the  worse  :  Away  with'L 
HeL  How  might  one  do,  sir,  to  lose  it  to  her 
own  liking.^ 

Par.  I^t  me  see :  Marry,  ill,  to  like  him  that 
ne'er  it  likes.  'Tis  a  commodity  will  lose  the  glo« 
with  lying ;  the  longer  kept,  the  less  worth :  off 
with't,  w&le  'tis  vendible :  answer  the  time  of  re- 
quest Virginity,  like  an  old  courtier,  wean  her 
cap  out  of  fasmon  ;  richly  suited,  but  unsuitable : 
just  like  the  brooch  and  toothpick,,  which  wear 
not  now :  Your  datc^  is  better  in  your  pie  and  your 
porridge,  than  in  your  cheek :  And  your  virginity, 
your  old  virginity,  is  like  one  of  our  French  widk> 
ered  pears;  it  looks  ill,  it  eats  dryly;  marry,  'tis  a 
withered  pear ;  it  was  formerly  better ;  marry,  vet, 
'tis  a  withered  pear :  Will  you  any  thii^  with  it? 

Hel,  Not  my  virginity  yet 
There  shall  your  master  have  a  thousand  loveSi 
A  mother,  and  a  mistress,  and  a  firiend, 
A  phcmix,  captain,  and  an  enemy, 
A  guide,  a  goddess,  and  a  sovereign, 
A  counsellor,  a  traitress,  and  a  dear ; 
His  humble  ambition,  proud  humility. 
His  jarring  concord,  and  his  discord  dulcet. 
His  faith,  his  sweet  disaster ;  with  a  worid 
Of  pret^,  fond,  adoptions  Christendoms, 

That  blinking  Cupid  gossips.  Now  i^ll  he 

I  know  not  what  he  shall :— God  send  him  well  !- 
The  court's  a  learning-place ; — and  be  ii  one— 
Par.  What  one,  i'faith  ? 

Hel.  That  1  wish  well.— 'TIS  pity 

Par.  What's  pity  .> 

HeL  That  wishing  well  had  not  a  body  in't. 
Which  might  be  felt :  that  we,  the  poorer  born. 
Whose  baser  stars  do  shut  us  up  in  wishes, 
Might  with  effects  of  them  follow  our  friends. 
And  show  what  we  alone  must  think ;'  which  never 
Returns  us  thanks. 

£n(era  Page. 

Page,  Monsieur  Parolles,  my  Imd  calk  ibr  yoa. 

[ExU?B^ 

Par.  Little  Helen,  farewell :  if  I  csa  reroendber 
thee,  I  will  think  o(  thee  at  court 

Hel.  Monsieur  Parolles,  you  were  bora  tmder  a 
charitable  star. 

Par.  Under  Mars,  I. 

HeL  1  especially  think,  under  Mars. 

Par.  Why  under  Mars  f 

HeL  The  wars  have  so  kept  yoa  tmder,  that  yvn 
must  needs  be  bom  under  Mars. 

Par.  When  he  was  predominant 

Hel.  When  he  was  retrograde,  I  think,  rather. 

Par,  Vtliy  think  you  so  ? 

(5)  Forbidden. 

(6)  A  ouibble  on  date,  which  meant  i^;e, 
candied  fruit 

(7)  i.e.  And  tbow  by  realities  what  vre 
must  only  think. 


//,  ni 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


\pmriu'ns 


Qc*   -Si 


£  1   ■ 


1.3  • 


<*-*. 


Hd,  Toa  CO  80  much  backward,  when  yoa  fight 

Pmr,  Tlwni  for  advantage. 

HeL  So  b  running  away,  when  fear  propoies  the 
taletjr :  But  the  composition,  that  jrour  valour  and 
fear  makes  in  you,  is  a  virtue  of  a  good  wing,  and 
I  like  the  wear  well. 

Pwr.  I  am  lo  full  of  bunncsKs,  I  cannot  anflwer 
thee  acutely  :  I  will  return  perfect  courtier ;  in  the 
which,  my  instruction  shall  serve  to  naturalize  thee, 
80  thou  wilt  be  capable^  of  a  courtier^s  couii^l, 
and  understand  what  advice  shall  thrust  upon  thoe; 
else  tboa  diest  in  thine  unthankfulness,  and  thine 
%nomnce  makes  thee  away  :  ferewell.  When  thou 
hast  leisare,  say  thy  prayers;  when  thou  hasit 
none,  remember  thy  friends :  get  thee  a  good  hus- 
band, and  use  him  as  he  uses  mee :  so  farewell. 

[Exit 

Hd.  Our  remedies  oft  in  ourselves  do  lie, 
WUdi  we  ascribe  to  heaven  :  the  fated  Ay 
Gtret  us  free  scope ;  only,  doth  backward  pull 
Oar  dow  de8tt;ns,  when  we  ourselves  arc  dull. 
What  power  is  i^  wtuch  mounts  my  love  iio  high ; 
TT»t  makes  me  see,  and  cannot  feed  mine  eye? 
The  mUitiesC  space  in  fortune  nature  brings 
To  jomuke  Kkes,  and  kiss  like  native  thing:».3 
Impossible  be  strange  attempts,  to  those 
That  wettdi  their  pams  in  sense ;  and  do  suppose, 
What  hs^  been  cannot  be  :  Who  ever  strove 
To  ibow  her  merit,  that  did  miss  her  love  ? 
The  kin^s  disease — my  project  may  deceive  me, 
Bat  ukj  mtents  are  fix*d,  and  will  not  leave  me. 

[Exit 

SCEJfE  //.—Puis.  A  room  in  the  King's  palace. 
Flouriakiif  eorkets,  £iUcrfA«  King  of  France, 
~  ktitrti  Lordt  and  others  attending. 


Smg.  The  Fk»entines  and  Senoys^  are  by  the 


-^  '^^ 


Hare  fooght  with  equal  fortune,  and  continue 
Abravincwar. 
1  LordL  So  *tis  reported,  sir. 

JKiii^.  Nij,  'tis  most  credible ;  we  here  receive  it 
A  certaiotjr,  Toach*d  from  our  cousin  Austri^i, 
^Widi  cautwn,  that  the  Florentine  will  move  us 
Tor  speedj  aid;  wherein  our  dearest  friend 
J*rejadicate8  the  business,  and  would  seem 
To  hare  oa  make  denial. 

1  LordL  His  love  and  wisdom, 
^pprof *d  80  to  yoor  majesty,  may  plead 
^or  ampleaC  credence. 

King,  He  hath  arm*d  our  answer, 

•Aid  Fiorenoe  b  denied  before  he  comes : 
hfet,  for  our  gentlemen,  that  mean  to  see 

Taacan  service,  freely  hare  they  leave 
To  stand  on  either  part 

2  LordL  It  may  well  serve 
-^  nmseij  to  oor  gentrr,  who  are  sick 
P^or  brealhing  and  eiploit 

King,  What*8  he  comes  here .' 

Enter  Bertram,  Lafeu,  and  Parolles. 

I  Lord.  It  is  the  count  Rousillon,  my  good  lord, 
Voung  Bertnm. 

Kmg.        Tooth,  thou  bear'st  thy  father's  face : 
'Fnnk  natore,  rather  curious  than  in  haste, 
Hath  well  composM  thee.  Thy  father's  moral  parts 
MarV  thoa  ionerit  too !  Welcome  to  Paris. 

•Mr.  My  thanks  and  duty  are  your  majesty's. 

0)  I  e.  Tboa  wih  comprehend  it 

(2)  Thii^  formed  by  nature  for  each  other. 

(3)  The  dtixens  of  the  small  republic  of  which 
^Kamn  the  capital. 

(^}  To  repair,  here  signifies  to  renovate. 


King.  I  would  I  had  that  corporal  soundneai 
.\s  when  thy  fiither,  and  myself,  in  friendshi 
First  tr>'d  our  soldiership .'  He  did  look  fer 
Into  the  !scr\-ice  of  the  time,  and  was 
Discipled  of  the  bravest :  he  lasted  long ; 
But  on  us  both  did  haggish  age  steal  on. 
And  wore  us  out  of  act    It  much  repain*  n 
To  talk  of  your  good  fetber :  In  his  youth 
He  had  the  wit,  which  I  can  well  observe 
To-day  in  our  young  lords ;  but  they  may  j« 
Till  tlieir  own  sconi  return  to  them  unnoted, 
Ere  they  can  hide  their  levity  in  honour. 
So  like  a  courtier,  contempt  nor  bitterness 
Were  in  his  pride  or  sharpness  ;  if  they  wei 
Hi!)  equal  had  awak'd  them ;  and  his  hunoui 
(  lock  to  itself,  knew  the  true  minute  when 
Kxreption  bid  him  speak,  and,  at  this  time, 
ni4  tongue  obey'd  his*  hand:  who  were  belo 
He  usM  as  creatures  of  another  place ; 
And  bow'd  his  eminent  top  to  their  low  tank 
Making  them  proud  of  his  humility, 
In  their  poor  praise  he  humbled :  Such  a  ms 
Might  be  a  copy  to  these  vounger  times ; 
Which,  followM  well,  would  demonstrate  ther 
But  goers  backward. 

Ber.  His  good  remembranc 

Lies  richer  in  your  thoughta,  than  on  his  ton 
So  in  approof*  lives  not  his  epitaph, 
As  in  your  royal  speech. 

King.  'Would,  I  were  with  him !  He  woe 
ways  say, 
(Methinks,  I  hear  him  now ;  his  plausive  wc 
He  scatter'd  not  in  ears,  but  grafted  them. 
To  grow  there,  and  to  bear,)--Le<  nu  not  I 
Thu:«  his  good  melancholy  oh  began, 
On  the  cata!»trophe  and  Mel  of  pastime. 
When  it  was  out, — let  me  not  live,  quoth  he, 
Jl/ler  my  flame  lacks  oil,  to  he  (he  emiff 
Of  younger  svirits,  whose  apprehensive  sent 
All  but  new  things  disdain :  whose  judgnun 
Mere  fathers  of  their  garments;"^  whose  consU 

E  Tpire  before  tlieir  fashions : This  hfe  w 

I,  after  him,  do  after  him  wish  too. 
Since  I  nor  wax,  nor  honey,  can  bring  home 
I  quickly  were  dissolved  from  my  hive, 
To  give  Mime  labourers  room. 

2  Lord.  Ton  are  k)v'd 

They,  that  least  lend  it  you,  shall  lack  you  i 

King.  I  fill  a  place,  1  know't — How  looj 
coimt. 
Since  the  physician  at  your  fethei's  died  f 
He  was  much  fam'd. 

Ber.  Some  six  months  nnce,  my 

King.  If  he  were  living,  I  would  try  him  } 
Lend  me  an  arm ; — the  rest  have  worn  me  o 
With  several  applications : — nature  and  sick 
Debate  it  at  their  leisure.  Welcome,  count ; 
My  son's  no  dearer. 

Ber.  Thank  your  majeshr. 

[Exeunt    Flo\ 

SCEJ^E  ///.—Rousillon.  A  Room  in  the  i 
te^s's  Palace.    Enter  Countese,  Steward 

Clown. 

Covnt.  I  will  now  hear ;  what  say  you  c 
gentlewoman  ? 

Stew.  Madam,  the  care  I  have  had  to  ever; 
content,^  I  wish  might  be  found  in  the  cal' 
of  my  past  endeavours;  fcnr  then  we  woun 

(5)  His  is  put  for  its.        (6)  Approbatkxi 

(7)  Who  have  no  other  use  of  their  faculties 
to  invent  new^modes  of  dress. 

(8)  To  act  up  to  your  desires. 


ffSt 


ALL*S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


^ett 


too* 
Ido 


niodestf,  and  make  ibul  the  clearneM  of  our  de- 
•enriogs,  when  of  ourselves  we  publish  Ibem. 

Cowni.  What  does  this  knave  here  f    Get  jou 

le,  sirrah :  The  complaints,  I  have  heard  of  you, 
do  not  all  believe ;  'tis  mv  slowness,  that  I  do  not : 
for,  I  know,  you  lack  not  folly  to  commit  them,  and 
have  abili^  enough  to  make  such  knaveries  yours. 

Clo.  *Tis  not  unknown  to  you,  madam,  I  am  a 
poor  fellow. 

Count.  Well,  sir. 

Go.  No,  madam,  *tis  not  so  well,  that  I  am  poor ; 
tliough  many  of  the  rich  are  damned :  But,  if  I 
may  have  your  ladyship's  good  will  to  go  to  the 
world,!  Isbel  the  woman  and  I  will  do  as  we  may. 

Coimt.  Wilt  thou  needs  be  a  b^^r  ? 

Go.  I  do  ber  your  good  will  in  mis  case. 

Onmt.  In  wnat  case .' 

Clo.  In  label's  case,  and  mine  own.  Service 
is  no  heritage :  and,  I  tiiink,  I  shall  never  have  the 
blessing  of  God,  till  I  have  issue  of  my  body ;  for, 
they  say,  beam^  are  blessings. 

QnaU.  Tell  me  the  reason  why  thou  wilt  marry. 

Go.  Mv  poor  body,  madam,  requires  it :  I  am 
driven  on  by  the  flesh ;  and  he  must  needs  go,  that 
the  devil  drives. 

Count.  Is  this  all  your  worship's  reason  f 

Go.  Faith,  madam,  I  have  otner  holy  reasons, 
such  as  they  are. 

Count.  May  the  world  know  them  f 

Clo.  I  have  been,  nradam,  a  wicked  creature,  as 
you  and  all  flesh  and  blood  are ;  and,  indeed,  I  do 
niarty,  that  I  may  repent 

Count.  Thy  marriage,  sooner  than  thy  wicked- 
ness. 

Clo.  I  am  out  of  friends,  madam ;  and  I  hope  to 
have  friends  for  my  wife's  sake. 

Count  Such  friends  are  thine  enemies,  knave. 

Clo.  Tou  are  shallow,  madam ;  e'en  great  friends; 
for  the  knaves  come  to  do  that  for  me,  which  I  am 
a-weaiy  of.  He,  that  ean^  my  land,  spares  my 
team,  and  gives  me  leave  to  inn  die  crop :  If  I  be 
his  cuckold,  he's  mj^  drudge :  He,  that  comforts 
my  wife,  is  the  cherisher  m  my  flesh  and  blood ; 
be,  that  cherishes  my  flesh  and  blood,  loves  mv 
flesh  and  blood ;  he,  that  loves  my  flesh  and  blood, 
is  my  friend :  ergt),^  he  that  kisses  my  wife,  is  my 
friend.  If  men  could  be  contented  to  be  what  they 
are,  there  were  no  fear  in  marriage;  for  young 
Charbon  the  puritan,  and  old  Povsam  the  papist, 
howsoe'er  their  hearts  are  severed  in  religion,  tneir 
heads  are  both  one,  they  may  joU  horns  together, 
like  any  deer  i'  the  hero. 

Count.  Wilt  thou  ever  be  a  foul-mouthed  and 
calumnious  knave  ? 

Clo.  A  prophet  I,  madam;  and  I  speak  the 
truth  the  next  way  :* 

For  I  the  ballad  vnU  repeat^ 

Which  men  /uU  true  shall  Jind  ; 

Your  marriage  comes  by  desttny. 
Your  cuckoo  sings  by  kind. 

Count.  Get  you  gone,  sir;  I'll  talk  with  you 
more  anon. 

Stew.  May  it  please  you,  madam,  that  he  bid 
Helen  come  to  you ;  of  her  I  am  to  speak. 

Coimt.  Sirrah,  tell  my  gentlewoman,  I  would 
•peak  with  her ;  Helen  I  mean. 

Clo.  IVas  this  fair  face  the  cayM^  quoth  she, 

[Singing. 
Why  the  Grecians  sacked  ^Troy? 
Eond  donefi  done  fond^ 

(1)  To  be  married.        (2)  Children. 
(3)  Ploughs.  ^4)  Tlicrefore. 


Was  thts  kin^  PriamCs  joy? 
With  that  she  stghed  as  she  stood^ 
With  that  she  sighed  as  she  stood. 

And  gave  this  sentence  then; 

Among  nine  bad  jf  one  be  good, 

Among  nine  bad  \f  one  be  good. 

Thorns  yet  one  rood  m  Un, 

Count  What,  ooegoodin  tenf  youcorniptliw 
sofMT  sirrah. 

Go.  One  good  woman  in  ten,  madam ;  which 
is  a  purifying  o'  the  song:  'Would  God  wookl 
serve  the  world  so  all  the  year !  we'd  find  no  fanll 
with  the  tythe-woman,  if  I  were  the  parson :  One 
in  ten,  quoth  a' .'  an  we  might  have  a  good  woman 
bom  but  every  blazing  star,  or  at  an  eaithquake, 
Uwould  mend  ^  lottery  well ;  a  man  may  draw 
his  heart  out,  ere  he  pluck  one. 

Count.  You'll  be  gone,  sir  knave,  and  do  as  I 
command  you  ? 

Clo.  That  man  diould  be  at  woman's  oonsnand, 
and  yet  no  hurt  done  ! — Though  hooetty  be  no  pu- 
ritan, yet  it  will  do  no  hurt ;  it  will  wear  the  sur- 
plice of  humilitjr  over  die  black  gown  of  a  b^ 
neart. — I  am  going,  forsoodi :  the  bosnieaB  b  for 
Helen  to  come  hither.  \KxU  Ckwro. 

Count.  Well,  now. 

Steu).  I  know,  madam,  yon  lore  your  gentle* 
woman  entirely. 

Count.  Faith,  I  do :  her  father  bequeathed  her 
to  me ;  and  she  herself,  without  other  adrantace, 
inav  lawfulljr  make  title  to  as  much  kwe  as  wa 
&ia8 :  there  is  more  owii^  her,  than  is  paid ;  and 
more  shall  be  paid  her,  than  she'll  donaod. 

Stew.  Madfljn,  I  was  veiy  late  moi«  near  her 
than,  I  think,  she  wiiAied  me :  alone  she  was,  aivd 
did  communicate  to  herself,  her  own  words  to  her 
own  ears ;  she  thought,  I  oare  tow  for  her,  they 
touched  not  any  stranger  sense.  Her  matter  was, 
she  loved  your  son :  Fortune,  she  aaid,  was  bo 
goddess,  that  had  put  such  diflermce  betwixt  their 
two  estates ;  Love,  no  god,  that  would  not  extoid 
his  might,  only  where  qualities  were  level ;  Diana, 
no  queoi  of  virgins,  that  would  snflfer  her  poor 
knight  to  be  surprised,  without  rescue,  in  the  first 
assault,  or  ransome  afterward :  This  she  delivered 
in  the  most  bitter  touch  of  sorrow,  that  e'er  1  heaid 
virgin  exclaim  in :  which  I  held  my  duty,  speedily 
to  acquaint  you  withal ;  sithence,'  in  the  loss  that 
may  happen,  it  concerns  you  somethii^  toknow  it 

Count.  You  have  discharged  thishomsthr;  keep 
it  to  yourself:  many  likelmoods  infcmned  me  a 
tliis  before,  which  hung  so  tottering  in  the  balance 
that  I  could  neither  believe,  nor  misdoubt :  Prey 
you,  leave  me :  stall  this  in  your  bosom,  and  1 
tliank  you  for  your  honest  care:  I  will  speak  vrith  t 
you  further  anon.  [£xt<  Steward. 

Enter  Helena. 

Count  Even  so  it  was  with  me,  when  I  was  « 
young: 
If  we  are  nature's,  these  are  ours ;  this  thoni      -> 
Doth  to  our  rose  of  youth  rightly  belong; 

Our  blood  to  us,  this  to  our  blood  is  bom ; 
It  is  the  show  and  seal  of  nature's  truth. 
Where  love's  strong  passion  is  impress'd  in  youth ;    ^ 
By  our  remembrances  of  davs  foregone. 
Such  were  our  friults ;— or  then  we  thoi 

none. 

Her  eve  is  sick  on't ;  I  observe  her  now. 
Hel.  What  is  your  pleasure,  madam  ? 
Count.  Ton  know,  Heleotf^ 

(5)  The  nearest  way.        (6)  Foolishly  done. 

(7)  Since. 


thoogfat 


a 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


motber  toyoa. 

Mine  honourable  miitrest. 

L  Nay,  a  mother; 

it  a  mother?  When  I  laid,  a  mother, 

gfat  you  saw  a  serpent :  What*t  in  mother, 

« itart  at  it  ?  I  say,  I  am  voar  mother; 

t  yon  in  the  catalog^ue  of  mose 

sre  enwombed  mine :  'Tis  often  seen, 

Q  strives  with  nature ;  and  choice  breeds 

B  flip  to  us  from  foreign  seeds : 

er  oppressed  me  with  a  mother's  groan, 

ipress  to  you  a  mother's  care : — 

wrcj,  maiden !  does  it  curd  thy  blood, 

I  am  thy  mother  f  What's  the  matter, 

is  ^stemper'd  messeneer  of  wet, 

lij-coloar*d  Iris,  rounds  thine  eye  ? 

—- -diat  you  are  my  daughter? 

That  I  am  not 
L  I  say,  T  am  your  mother. 

Pardon,  madam ; 
mt  Rousillon  cannot  be  my  brother : 
IB  humble,  he  from  honour'd  name ; 
apon  my  parents,  his  all  noble : 
Iter,  my  dear  lord,  he  is ;  and  I 
sat  live,  and  will  his  vassal  die : 
t  not  be  my  brother. 

L  Nor  I  your  mother  ? 

Tea  are  my  mother,  madam ;  'Would  you 

were 
t  my  lord,  your  son,  were  not  my  brother,) 
my  mother !— or  were  you  both  our  mothers, 
9  more  for,i  than  I  do  for  heaven, 
m  not  his  sister :  Can't  no  other, 
wv  daughter,  he  must  be  my  brother  ? 
L  Yet,  Helen,  you  might  be  my  daughter- 
in-law; 
dd,yoa  mean  it  not !  daughter,  and  mother, 
s9  Dpon  your  pulse :  What,  pale  a^un  ? 
ham  catch'd  vour  fondness :  Now  I  see 
ffery  of  vour  loneliness,  and  find 
It  tears'  bead.'  Now  to  all  sense  'tis  gross, 
a  my  son ;  invention  is  asham*d, 
tfM  proclamation  of  thy  passion, 
iSboa  dost  not :  therefore  tell  me  true ; 
me  tfien,  'tis  so : — ^for,  look,  thy  cheeks 
it|  one  to  the  other ;  and  thine  eyes 
» cratsly  shown  in  thy  behaviours, 
meir  Innd^  they  speak  it :  only  sin 
iUi  obstinacy  tie  thy  tongue, 
lib  dbould  be  suspected :  Speak,  is't  so? 
ao^  you  have  wound  a  goodly  clue ; 
not,  Ibrswear't :  howe*er,  I  charge  thee, 
mi  shall  work  in  me  for  thine  avail, 
me  truly. 

Good  madam,  pardon  me ! 
L  Do  yoa  love  my  son  ? 

Tour  pardon,  noble  mistress ! 
1  Lore  yoa  my  son  ? 

Do  not  you  love  him,  madam  ? 
t   Go  not  about;    my  love  hath  in't  a 

bond, 
i  the  woria  takes  note :  come,  come,  dis- 

doae 
le  of  roar  affection;  for  your  passions 
•  the  rail  appeach'd. 

Then,  I  confess, 
I  my  knee,  before  high  heaven  and  you, 
Ate  yoa,  and  next  unto  high  heaven, 

f.  I  care  as  much  for :  I  wish  it  equally. 
Contend. 

rhe  ioarce,  the  cause  of  your  grieC 
kcoording  to  their  nature, 
c  Whose  respectable  conduct  in  age  proves 


I  love  yoar  son : — 

My  friends  were  poor,  bat  honest ;  so's  my  love : 

Be  not  oflfended ;  for  it  hurts  not  him. 

That  he  is  lov'd  of  me :  I  follow  him  not 

By  any  token  of  presumptuous  suit ; 

Nor  would  I  have  him,  till  I  do  deserve  him ; 

Yet  never  know  how  that  desert  should  be. 

I  know  I  love  in  vain,  strive  against  hope ; 

Yet,  in  this  captions  aiid  intenable  sieve, 

I  still  pour  in  the  waters  of  my  love. 

And  lack  not  to  lose  still :  thus,  Indian-like, 

Religious  in  mine  error,  I  adore 

The  sun,  that  looks  upon  his  worshipper, 

But  knows  of  him  no  more.  My  dearest  madam. 

Let  not  your  hate  encounter  with  my  love. 

For  loving  where  you  do :  but,  if  yourself, 

Whose  aged  honour  cites  a  virtuous  youth,* 

Did  ever,  in  so  true  a  flame  of  liking. 

Wish  chastely,  and  love  dearly,  that  your  Dian 

Was  both  herself  and  love  ^  O  then,  give  pity 

To  her,  whose  state  is  such,  that  cannot  choose 

But  lend  and  give,  vdiere  she  is  sure  to  lose ; 

That  seeks  not  to  find  that  her  search  implies, 

But,  riddle-like,  lives  sweetly  where  she  dies. 

Count.  Had  you  not  lately  an  intent,  speak  truly. 
To  |o  to  Paris? 

HeL  Madam,  I  had. 

Count.  Wherefore  ?  tell  troe. 

HeL  I  will  tell  tnidi ;  by  grace  itself,  I  swear. 
You  know,  my  father  left  me  some  prescriptions 
Of  rare  and  prov'd  effects,  such  as  nis  reading. 
And  manifest  experience,  had  collected 
Fcnr  general  sovereignty ;  and  that  he  will'd  me 
In  heedfiillest  reservation  to  bestow  them. 
As  notes,  whose  fieiculties  inclusive  were. 
More  than  they  were  in  note  :^  amongst  the  rest. 
There  is  a  remedy,  approv'd,  set  down. 
To  cure  the  desperate  languishes,  whereof  ^ 
The  king  is  renoer'd  lost 

CounL  This  was  your  motive 

For  Paris,  was  it  ?  speak. 

HeL  My  lordyoursonmademeto  thinkof  1h»; 
Else  Paris,  and  the  medicine,  and  th^king. 
Had,  fipom  the  conversation  of  my  thcNighta, 
Haply,  been  absent  then. 

Cwnt.  But  dunk  you,  Helen, 

If  yoa  should  tender  your  supposed  aid. 
He  would  receive  it  ?  He  ana  nis  physicians 
Are  of  a  mind ;  he,  that  they  cannot  help  him. 
They,  that  they  cannot  help :  How  shall  they  credit 
A  poor  unlearned  virsin,  when  the  schools, 
Embowell'd  of  their  aoctrine,^  have  left  off 
The  danger  to  itself? 

HeL  There's  something  hints. 

More  than  my  father's  skill,  which  was  the  greatest 
Of  his  profession,  that  his  good  receipt 
Shall,  ror  my  l^^acy,  be  sanctified 
By  the  luckiest  stars  in  heaven :  and,  would  your 

honour 
But  give  me  leave  to  trj  success,  Pd  venture 
The  well-lost  life  of  mine  on  his  grace's  cure. 
By  such  a  day,  and  hour. 

Cwnt.  Dottthoubelieve't? 

HeL  Ay,  madam,  knowingly. 

CounL  Why,  Helen,  thoa  snalt  have  my  leave, 
and  love. 
Means,  and  attendants,  and  my  loving  greetings 
To  those  of  mine  in  court;  I'll  stay  at  home, 

that  you  were  no  le«  virtuous  when  yoong. 

(6)  t.  e.  Venus. 

(7)  Receipts  in  whidi  greater  virtoes  were 
closed  than  appeared. 

(8)  Exhausted  of  their  skilL 


134 


ALL*S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


And  praj  Gocl*i  blessing  into  thj  Attempt : 
Be  gone  to-morrow ;  and  be  snre  of  this, 
What  I  can  help  thee  to,  tboa  shalt  not  miss. 

[Exetmi. 


ACT  IL 

SCEIXE  /.—Piiris.  A  room  in  Ihe  King'i  palace. 
Flourish.  Enter  King,  ufiih  young  Lords  taking 
Ua»efor  the  Florentine  ivar;  Bertram,  PftroU 
les,  and  attendants. 

King.  Farewell,  young  lord,  these  warlike  prin- 
ciples. 

Do  not  throw  from  you :— and  you,  my  lord,  fare- 
well : — 

Share  the  advice  betwixt  you ;  if  both  gain  all. 

The  ^ft  doth  stretch  itsell  as  *tis  received. 

And  IS  enough  for  both. 

1  Lord.  It  is  our  hope,  sir. 
After  well-enter*d  soldiers,  to  return 

And  find  vour  grace  in  health. 

King.  No,  no,  it  cannot  be ;  and  yet  my  heart 
Will  not  confess  he  owes  the  malady 
That  doth  my  life  besiege.  Farewell,  young  lords ; 
Whetlier  I  live  or  die,  be  you  the  sons 
Of  worthy  Frenchmen :  let  higher  Italy 
(Those  'bated,  that  inherit  but  the  fall 
Of  the  last  monarchy,!)  see,  that  you  come 
Not  to  woo  honour,  but  to  wed  it ;  when 
The  bravest  questant^  shrinks,  find  what  you  seek, 
That  iame  may  cry  you  loud :  I  say,  farewell. 

2  Lord.  Health,  at  your  bidding,  serve  your 

majesty ! 
King.  TtKMe  girls  of  Italy,  take  heed  of  them ; 
They  say,  our  French  lack  language  to  deny. 
If  they  demand :  beware  of  being  captiveit, 
BeHke  you  serve.* 
Both,  Our  hearts  receive  your  wanungs. 

King.  Farewell — Come  hither  to  me. 

[T%e  Kinr  retires  to  a  couch. 

1  Lord.  O  my  sweet  lord,  ttiatyou  will  stay  be- 

hind us. 
Par.  *Tis  not  his  fault;  the  sp^rk 

2  Lord.  O,  'tis  brave  wars .' 

Par.  Most  admirable :  I  have  seen  those  wars. 

Ber.  I  am  commanded  here,  and  kept  a  coiH  with; 

Too  youngs  and  the  next  year,  and  Uis  too  early. 

Par.  An  thy  mind  stand  to  it,  boy,  steal  away 
bravely. 

Ber.  I  shall  stay  here  the  forehorse  to  a  smock, 
Creaking  my  shoes  on  the  plain  masonry. 
Till  hoiraur  be  bought  up,  and  no  sword  worn. 
But  one  to  dance  with  !*  By  heaven,  I'll  «teal  away. 

1  Lord.  There's  honour  in  the  theA. 

Par.  Commit  it,  count. 

2  Lord.  I  am  your  accessary ;  and  so  farewell. 
Ber.  I  grow  to  you,  and  our  psirting  is  a  tortured 

body. 

1  Lord.  Farewell,  captain. 

2  Xiord.  Sweet  monsieur  Parolles ! 

Par.  Noble  heroes,  my  sword  and  yours  are  kin. 
Good  sparks  and  lustrous,  a  word,  good  metals : — 
You  slmll  find  in  the  regiment  of  the  Spinii,  one 
captain  Spurio,  with  his  cicatrice,  an  emblem  of 
war,  here  on  his  sinister  cheek ;  it  was  this  very 

(I)  t.  s.  Those  excepted  who  possess  modem 
Italy,  the  remains  of  thlB  Ronuui  empire. 

fxi  Seeker,  inquirer. 

i3)  Be  not  camives  before  yoji  are  soldiers. 

f4)  With  a  nose,  bustle. 

(5)  In  Shakspeare's  time  it  was  uaal  tat  gentle- 
men to  dance  with  swodb  on. 


sword  entrenched  it :  say  to  him,  I  Kre ;  « 
serve  his  reports  for  me. 

2  Lord.  We  shall,  noble  captain. 

Par.  Mars  dote  on  you  fin'  his  novices !  [J 
Lords.]  What  will  you  do  ? 

Ber.  Stay;  the  king [Seeing M 

Par.  Use  a  more  spacious  ceremony  lothi 
lords ;  you  have  restrained  yourself  wMbJB  1 
of  too  cold  an  adieu  :  be  more  expresiire  to 
for  tliey  wear  themselves  in  the  cap  of  timt/ 
do  muster  true  gait,'  eat,  speak,  and  mow 
the  influence  of  the  most  receivea  star ;  and  t 
the  devil  lead  the  measure,^  such  are  to  be  tiB 
after  them,  and  take  a  more  dilated  ftjimml 

Ber.  And  I  will  do  sa 

Par.  Worthy  fellows ;  and  like  to  ^mm 
sinewy  sword-men.     [Exe.  Bertram  emdFk 

Enter  Lafeu. 

Laf.  Pardon,  my  lord,  [KneeUng.]  far  I 
for  my  tidings. 

King.  I'll  fee  thee  to  stand  up. 

WT      ^  Thenheie^ 

Stanos,  that  has  brought  his  pardon.  I  wob' 
Had  kneel'd,  my  lord,  to  ask  me  mercj ;  ai 
That,  at  my  bidding,  you  could  so  staiMcl  WD 

King.  I  would  I  had ;  so  I  had  broke  w^ 
And  ask'd  thee  mercy  for't 

LaJ'.  Goodfaidi,  ma 

But,  my  p^ood  lord,  'tis  thus ;  Will  yoo  be  oi 
Of  your  mfinnity  f 

King.  Na 

Lt^f.  O,  will  yon  eet 

.Vo  grapes,  my  royal  faiL.  f  yes,  but  you  wfll^ 
My  noble  grapes,  an  if  my  royal  fox 
Could  reach  them :  I  have  seen  a  medicine, 
That's  able  to  breath  life  into  a  stone ; 
Quicken  a  rock,  and  make  you  dance  cener 
VVith  sprightly  fire  and  motion ;  whose  wnpli 
U  powerful  to  araise  king  Pepin,  nay. 
To  give  great  Charlemain  a  pen  in  nia  bmA 
And  write  to  her  a  love-line. 

King.  What  her  ii  I 

La^  Why,  doctor  she :  My  lord,  tlrni 
arriv'd. 
If  you  will  see  her, — now,  by  my  faith  and  b 
If  seriously  I  may  convey  my  thoughts 
In  this  my  light  deliverance,  I  Iwye  spoke 
VVith  one,  that,  in  her  sex,  her  years,  piofes 
Wisdom,  and  constancy,  hath  amaz'd  me  ■ 
Than  I  dare  blame  my  weakness :  Will  yon  i 
(For  that  is  her  demand,)  and  know  her  bw 
That  done,  laugh  well  at  me. 

Kin^.  Now,  goad 

Bring  in  the  admiration ;  that  wc  with  thee 
May  spend  our  wonder  too,  or  take  off  thine 
Bv  wond'ring  how  thou  took'st  it 

Laf.  Nay,  HI  I 

And  not  be  all  day  neither.  [£x«f '. 

King.  Thus  he  his  special  nothing  ever  prol 

Re-enter  Lafeu,  with  Helena. 

Ijof.  Nay,  come  your  ways. 
Ktnjp.  This  ha^  hath  wii^  ■ 

Zrfi/f  Nay,  come  your  ways ; 
This  is  his  majesty,  say  your  mind  to  him : 

OS)  They  are  the  foremost  in  the  fiuhion. 
(7)  Have  the  true  military  sten.     (8)  The  ( 
(9)  Unskilfully;  a  phrase  tssen  froratlis 
cise  at  a  quintaine. 
(10)  A  female  i^ysician.    (11)Akmdor( 
(12)  By  professMn  is  meant  her  declaration 
object  of  ner  coming. 


JL 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


235 


A  trmitor  joq  do  look  like ;  bat  such  traitors 
His  majestv  seldom  fears :  I  am  Cressid's  uncle,i 
Tl»t  dare  leave  two  together ;  fare  you  well.  [Ex. 
King.  Now,  fiur  one,  does  your  business  follow  us  ? 
Md.  Ay,  my  good  lord.  Gerard  de  Narbon  was 
My  fiither ;  in  wnat  he  did  profess,  well  found.2 
King.  I  knew  him. 

HeL  The  rather  will  I  spare  my  praises  towards 
him; 
Knowing  him,  is  enough.    On  his  bed  of  death 
Many  receipts  he  gave  me ;  chiefly  one. 
Which,  as  toe  deadest  issue  of  his  practice. 
And  of  his  old  experience  the  only  darling, 
He  bade  me  store  up,  as  a  triple  eye,' 
Safer  than  mine  own  two,  more  dear:  I  have  so : 
And,  hearing  yoor  hig^  majesty  is  louchM 
With  that  mafiffnant  cause  wherein  the  honour 
Of  my  dear  famer*s  g^ft  stands  chief  in  power, 
I  come  to  tender  it,  and  my  appliance, 
With  all  bound  humbleness. 

King,  We  thank  you,  maiden ; 

Bat  may  not  be  so  credulous  of  cure, — 
When  our  most  learned  doctors  leave  us ;  and 
The  coi^re^ted  college  have  concluded 
That  latnanne  art  can  never  ransoroe  nature 
From  her  inaidable  estate, — I  say  we  must  not 
So  stain  our  judgment,  or  corrupt  our  hope, 
To  prostitute  our  past-cure  malady 
To  ^pirics ;  or  to  dissever  so 
Our  great  self  and  our  credit,  to  esteem 
A  senseless  help,  when  help  past  sense  we  deem. 
HeL  My  duty  then  shall  pay  me  for  my  pains  : 
I  will  no  more  enforce  mine  office  on  you ; 
Humbly  entieatine  from  your  ro3ral  thoi^ts 
A  modest  one,  to  bear  me  back  i^ain. 

King.    I  cannot  give  thee  less,  to  be  calPd 
grateful ; 
Thoa  f bo^htSt  to  help  me ;  and  such  thanks  1  give, 
As  die  near  death  to  those  that  wish  him  live : 
Bat,  what  at  full  I  know,  thou  know^st  no  part ; 
I  knowinr  all  my  peril,  thou  no  art 

HeL  What  I  can  do,  can  do  no  hurt  to  try, 
Since  yoa  set  up  your  rest  'gainst  remedy : 
He  that  of  greatest  works  is  finisher, 
Oft  does  th«na  by  the  weakest  minister : 
So  holy  writ  in  babes  hath  judgment  shown, 
When  judges  have  been  babes.*  Great  floods  have 

lK»wn 
From  simple  sources  ;*  and  great  seas  have  dried, 
When  miracles  have  by  the  greatest  been  denied.^ 
Oft  expectation  fails,  and  most  oft  there 
Where  most  it  promises ;  and  oft  it  hits. 
Where  hope  is  coldest,  and  despair  most  sif«. 
King,  I  must  not  hear  thee ;  fare  thee  well,  kind 
maid; 
Tbj  pains,  not  us*d,  must  by  thyself  be  paid  : 
ProAsf*,  not  took,  reap  thanks  for  their  reward. 

HeL   Inspired  merit  so  bv  breath  is  barr*d : 
It  b  not  so  with  him  diat  all  things  knows. 
As  *tis  with  us  that  square  our  guess  by  shows  : 
Bat  most  it  is  presumption  in  us,  when 
The  help  of  heaven  we  count  the  act  of  men. 
Dear  sir,  to  my  endeavours  give  consent ; 
Of  heaven,  not  me,  make  an  experiment 
I  am  not  an  impostor,  that  proclaim 
Myself  against  the  level  of  mine  aim  \^ 

Q)  I  am  like  Pandams. 

n)  Of  acknowledged  excellence.  (3)  A  third  eye. 

r4)  An  allusion  to  Daniel  judging  the  two  Elders. 

(5)  I.  «.  When  Moses  smote  the  rock  in  Horeb. 

(6)  This  must  refer  to  the  children  of  Israel 
paasini:  the  Red  Sea,  when  miracles  had  been 
denied  by  Plmraoh. 


But  know  I  think,  and  think  I  know  most  sure. 
My  art  is  not  past  power,  nor  you  past  cure. 

King.  Art  thou  so  con^ient  f  Within  what  space 
Hop*st  thou  my  cure  f 

Hd.  The  greatest  g^ce  lending  gprace, 

Ere  twice  the  horses  of  the  sun  shall  bring 
Their  fieiy  torcher  his  diurnal  ring : 
Ere  twice  in  murk  and  occidental  damp 
Moist  Hesperus^  hath  quenchM  his  sleepy  lamp ; 
Or  four  and  twenty  times  the  pilot's  glass 
Hath  told  the  thievish  minutes  how  thev  pass: 
What  is  infirm  from  your  sound  parts  shall  fly. 
Health  shall  live  free,  and  nckness  freely  die. 

King.  Upon  thy  certainty  and  confidence, 
What  dar*st  thou  venture  ? 

HeL  Tax  of  impudence, — 

A  8trum])et*s  boldness,  a  divulged  shame, — 
TraducM  by  odious  ballads ;  mj  maiden's  name 
.Sear'd  otherwise  ;  no  worse  of  worst  extended. 
With  vilest  tcNrture  let  my  life  be  ended. 

King.   Methinks,  in  thee  some  blessed  spirit 
doth  speak ; 
His  powerful  sound,  within  an  organ  weak  : 
And  what  impossibility  would  slay' 
In  comnuMi  sense,  sense  saves  another  way. 
Thy  life  is  dear ;  for  all,  that  life  can  rate 
Worth  name  of  life,  in  thee  hath  estimate  "f 
Youth,  beauty,  wisdom,  courage,  virtue,  all 
That  happiness  and  prime^o  can  happy  call : 
Thou  this  to  hazard,  needs  must  intimate 
Skill  infinite,  or  nnonstrouB  desperate. 
Sweet  practiser,  thy  physic  I  will  try; 
That  ministers  thine  own  death,  if  I  die. 

Hd.  If  I  break  time,  or  flinch  in  proper^ 
Of  what  I  spoke,  unpitied  let  me  die ; 
And  well  deserved :  Not  helping,  death's  my  fee ; 
But,  if  1  help,  what  do  you  promise  me  } 

King.  Make  thy  demand. 

HeL  But  will  you  make  it  even  ^ 

King.  Ay,  by  my  sceptre,  and  my  hopes  of 
heaven. 

Hd.  Then  shalt  thou  give  me,  with  thy  kingly 
hand. 
What  hu!<b(uid  in  thy  power  I  will  command : 
Exempted  be  from  me  the  arrogance 
To  choose  from  forth  the  royal  blood  of  France ; 
Mv  low  and  humble  name  to  propagate 
With  any  branch  or  image  of  thy  state : 
But  such  a  one,  thy  vassal,  whom  I  know 
Is  free  for  me  to  ask,  thee  to  bestow. 

Kin^.  Here  is  my  hand ;  the  premises  ob^erv'd, 
Thy  will  by  mv  peiformance  shall  be  serv'd ; 
So  make  the  choice  of  thy  own  time ;  for  I, 
Thy  resolv'd  patient,  on  thee  still  rely. 
More  should  I  question  thee,  and  more  I  must ; 
Though,  more  to  know,  could  not  be  more  to  trust ; 
From  whence  thou  cam'st,  how  tended  on, — But 

rest 
Unquestion'd  welcome,  and  undoubted  blest. — 
Give  me  some  help  here,  ho ! — If  thou  proceed 
As  high  as  word,  my  deed  shall  match  thy  det-d. 

[Flourish.    RxeunL 

SCEJVE  //.— Rousillon.    A  room  in  (he  Coun- 
tess's Palace.    EiUer  CovmieM  and  Clown. 

CounL  Come  on,  sir ;  I  shall  now  put  you  to  the 
height  of  your  breeding. 

(7)  t.  e.  Pretend  to  greater  things  than  befits  thtr 
meoiocrity  of  my  condition. 

(8)  The  evening  star. 

(9)  t.  e.  May  be  counted  among  the  gifts  enjoyed 
by  thee. 

(10)  The  spring  or  morning  of  life. 


236 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


Jlcin 


Clo,  I  will  show  myself  highly  fed,  and  lowlj 
taoffht :  I  know  my  business  is  but  to  the  court 

Count.  To  the  court !  why,  what  place  make  you 
special,  when  you  put  off  that  with  such  contempt  ? 
But  to  the  court ! 

Go.  Truly,  madam,  if  God  have  lent  o  man 
any  manners,  he  may  easily  put  it  off  at  court :  he 
that  cannot  make  a  1^,  put  off  *s  cap,  kiss  his  hand, 
and  say  nothing,  has  neither  1^,  hands,  lip,  nor 
cap ;  and,  indeed,  such  a  fellow,  to  sav  precisely, 
were  not  for  the  court ;  but,  for  me,  I  have  an  an- 
swer  will  serve  all  men. 

Count.  Marry,  that*8  a  bountiful  answer,  that  fits 
all  questions. 

Go.  It  is  like  a  barber's  chair,  that  fits  all  but- 
tocks; the  pin-buttock,  the  quatch-buttock,  the 
brawn-buttock,  or  any  buttock. 

Count,  Will  your  answer  serve  fit  to  all  ques- 
tions? 

Clo.  As  fit  as  ten  groats  is  for  the  hand  of  an 
attorney,  as  vour  French  crown  for  your  talTata 
punk,  as  Tib's  rush  for  Tom's  fore-finger,  as  a  pan- 
cake for  Shrove-Tuesday,  a  morris  for  May-day, 
as  the  nail  to  his  hole,  the  cuckold  to  his  horn,  as 
a  scolding  quean  to  a  wrangling  knave,  as  the 
nun's  lip  to  tne  friar's  mouth ;  nay,  as  the  pudding 
to  his  skin. 

Count.  Have  yoa,  I  say,  an  answer  of  such  fit- 
ness for  all  questions  ? 

Go.  From  below  your  duke,  to  beneath  your  con- 
stable, it  will  fit  any  question. 

Count  It  must  be  an  answer  of  most  monstrous 
size,  that  must  fit  all  demands. 

Go.  But  a  trifle  neither,  in  good  faith,  if  the 
learned  should  speak  truth  of  it :  here  it  is,  and  all 
that  belongs  to't :  Ask  me,  if  I  am  a  courtier ;  it 
shall  do  you  no  harm  to  learn. 

Count.  To  be  ^ounsr  again,  if  we  could :  I  will 
be  a  fool  jn  question,  hoping  to  be  the  wiser  by 
your  answer.  I  pray  you,  sir,  are  you  a  courtier  ? 

Go.  O  Lord,  sir, There's  a  simple  putting 

off; — more,  more,  a  hundred  of  thenL 

Count.  Sir,  I  am  a  pocnr  friend  of  yours,  that 
loves  you. 

Go.  O  Lord,  sir, — Thick,  thick,  spare  not  me. 

Count.  I  think,  sir,  you  can  eat  none  of  this 
homely  meat. 

Clo.  O  Lord,  sir, — Nay,  put  me  to't,I  warrant  you. 

Count.  You  were  lately  whipped,  sir,  as  I  think. 

Clo.  O  Lord,  sir, — Spare  not  me. 

Count.  Do  you  cry,  O  Lord,  sir,  at  your  whip- 
ping, and  spare  not  me  P  Indeed,  your  O  Ixn-d, 
sir,  is  very  sequent^  to  your  whipping;  you  would 
answer  very  well  to  a  whipping,  if  you  were  but 
bound  to't. 

Clo.  I  ne'er  had  worse  luck  in  my  life,  in  my — 
O  Lord,  sir :  I  see,  things  may  serve  long,  but  not 
serve  ever. 

Count.  I  play  the  noble  housewife  with  the  time, 
to  entertain  it  so  merrily  with  a  fool. 

Go.  O  Lord,  sir,— Why,tbere't  serves  well  again. 

Count.  An  end,  sir,  to  your   business :    Give 
Helen  this. 
And  urge  her  to  a  present  answer  back : 
Commend  me  to  my  kinsmen,  and  my  son ; 
This  is  not  much. 

Go.  Not  much  commendation  to  them. 

Count  Not  much  employment  for  you :  You  un- 
derstand me  ? 

Go.  Most  fruitfully;  I  am  there  before  my  legs. 

(1)  Properly  follows.  (2)  Ordinaiy. 

(3)  Fear  means  here  the  object  of  fear. 
(4)The  dauphin.  (a)  Wicked. 


Count.  Haste  yon  again.       [Exeunt  antrmtt^ 

SCEJSTE  ///.— Riris.    A  room  in  the  King^ 
Palace.   Enter  Bertram,  Lafeu,  eand  ParoUei. 

Laf.  They  sav,  miracles  are  past ;  and  we  have 
our  philosophical  persons,  to  make  modem'  aad 
familiar  things,  supernatural  and  causeless.  Heoce 
is  it,  that  we  make  trifles  of  terrors ;  ensconcinc 
ourM;lves  into  seeming  knowledge,  when  we  should 
submit  ourselves  to  an  unknown  fear.' 

Par.  Why,  'tis  the  rarest  aigument  of  woodirt 
that  hath  shot  out  in  our  latter  times. 

Ber.  And  so  'tis. 

Ixif.  To  be  relinquished  of  the  artists, 

Par.  So  I  sav ;  both  of  Galen  and  f^raceban 

Laf.  Of  all  the  learned  and  authentic  feUowv* 

Par.  Right,  so  I  say. 

Im/.  That  gave  him  out  incurable,—- 

Par.  WTiy,  there  'tis ;  so  say  I  toa 

Ijif.  Not  to  be  helped, — 

Par.  Right :  as  'twere,  a  man  assured  of  ut-^ 

l^.  Uncertain  life,  and  sure  death. 

Par.  Just,  you  say  well ;  so  would  I  hare  said. 

Laf.  I  may  truly  say,  it  is  a  novelty  to  the  wotlfL 

Par.  It  is,  indeed :  if  you  will  have  it  io  show- 
ing, you  shall  read  it  in, What  do  yov  caH 

there  ? — 

Laf.  A  showing  (^  a  heavenly  effect  in  SOI  eartfh 
ly  actor. 

Par.  That's  it  I  would  have  said :  the  very  saaift 

Ijaf  Why,  your  dolphin*  is  not  lustier :  'ibrant 
I  speak  in  respect 

Par.  Nay,  'tis  strange,  'tis  veiy  strange,  that  it 
the  brief  and  the  tedious  of  it ;  and  he  b  cifa  noil 
facinorous^  spirit,  that  will  not  acknowledge  it  tD 
be  the 

Laf.  Veiy  hand  of  heaven. 

Par.  Ay,  so  I  say. 

Ijif  In  a  most  weak 

Par.  And  debile  minister,  great  power,  gnat 
transcendence :  which  should,  indeed,  give  m  a 
further  use  to  be  made,  than  alone  the  recoveiy  ef 
the  king,  as  to  be 

Lcf.  Generally  ^lankful. 

EnXer  King,  Helena,  tmd  attendanit. 

Par.  1  would  have  said  it ;  you  say  well :  Hen 
comes  the  king. 

Laf  LusticK,^  as  the  Dutchman  says :  I'll  ISee 
a  maid  the  better,  whilst  I  have  a  tooth  in  nay  bead : 
Why,  he's  able  to  lead  her  a  coranta 

l4r.  Mori  du  Vinaigre!  Is  not  this  Helen  ? 

Laf.  'Fore  God,  I  think  sa 

Ktng.  Go,  call  before  me  all  the  lords  in  roart— 

[Exit  an  attendant 
Sit,  my  preserver,  by  thy  patient's  side ; 
And  with  this  healthful  hand,  whose  bcuiish'd  mum 
Thou  hast  repeal'd,  a  sec(»id  time  receive 
The  confirmation  of  my  promis'd  gift, 
Which  but  attends  thy  naming. 

Enter  several  Lords. 

Fair  maid,  send  forth  thine  eye :  this  youthful  perod 
Of  noble  bachelors  stand  at  my  bestowing. 
O'er  whom  both  sovereign  power  and  father's  vok^ 
I  have  to  use :  thy  frank  election  make ; 
Thou  hast  power  to  choose,  and  they  none  to  forsake 
HeL  To  each  of  you  one  fair  and  virtuoos  mi** 
tress 
Fall,  when  love  please ! — marry,  to  each,  bat  one  9 

(6)  Lustigh  is  the  Dutch  word  for  liu4y,cheeiAd 

(7)  They  were  wards  as  well  as  sobjecta. 

(8)  Except  one,  meaning  Bertram. 


///. 


ALL'S  WE2JL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


237 


tdtf,  Pd  ghre  bay  Cartal,i  md  his  fimiitnre, 
My  moath  no  more  were  broken  than  these  bojs*, 
And  writ  M  little  beard. 

Kmg,  Penue  diem  well : 

Not  one  of  tboae,  but  had  a  noble  father. 

Hd,  Gentlemen, 
Heaven  bath,  through  me,  restor'd  the  king  to 
bealdL 
AVL  Weondenland  it,  and  thank  heaven  for  jou. 
Md.  I  am  a  simple  maid ;  and  therein  wealtmest, 

That,  I  protest,  I  simply  am  a  maid : 

Please  it  yoor  majesty,  I  have  done  already  : 
The  blushes  in  mv  cbiBeks  thus  whisper  me, 
Wt  bhuh^  thai  thou  thouUPii  choo§e;  but,  U  re- 

fus'd, 
JLet  the  tokiie  death  nl  on  ihy  ehedcjbr  ever  { 
lVe*U  n^er  come  there  a^n. 

King.  Make  choice ;  and,  see, 

Who  nnns  thy  love,  shuns  all  his  love  in  me. 

HeL  Now,  Dian,  from  thy  altar  do  I  flv ; 
And  to  imperial  Lore,  that  god  most  hi^ 
Do  my  sietis  stream.--Sir,  will  you  hear  my  suit  ? 

1  JuoriL  And  grant  it 

Hd.  Thanks,  sir;  all  the  rest  is  mute.3 

Liof,  I  had  rather  be  in  this  choice,  than  throw 
anae^-aceS  ibr  my  life. 

HeL  The  honour,  sir,  that  flames  in  your  fair  eyes, 
Befinne  I  vgitek,  too  threateningly  replies : 
Love  make  your  fortunes  twenty  times  above 
Her  that  so  wishes,  and  her  humble  love ! 

2  Ijord.  No  better,  if  you  please. 

MeL  My  wish  receive, 

IVhi<db  %reei  love  grant !  and  so  I  take  my  leave. 
Xio/I  Oo  all  they  deny  her  ?   An  they  were  sons 
of  mine,  Pd  have  them  whipped ;  or  I  would  send 
them  to  the  Turk,  to  make  eunuchs  of. 
MeL  Be  not  afraid  [To a  Lord]  that  I  your  hand 
should  take ; 
Pll  never  do  you  wrong  for  your  own  sake : 
BleMin|^  upon  your  vows !  and  in  your  bed 
Find  fairer  fortane,  if  you  ever  w^ ! 

X.a/r  These  boys  are  boys  of  ice,  they  Ml  none 
have  her :  sure,  they  are  bastards  to  the  English ; 
the  FroMrh  ne*er  got  them. 

H^  Too  are  too  young,  too  happv,  and  too  good, 

To  make  Toarself  a  son  ou*  of  my  blood. 

4  Lara,  Fair  one,  I  think  not  so. 

JLaf.  Tliere*s  one  rrape  yet, — I  am  sure,  thy 

&tfaer  drank  wine. — But  if  thou  be*8t  not  an  ass, 

I  am  a  youth  of  fijurteen ;  I  have  known  thee  al- 


liiL  I  dare  not  say  I  take  you ;  \To  Bertram.] 
but  I  give 
M«,  and  nxy  service,  ever  whilst  I  live, 
^toToar  guidif]^  power. — This  is  the  man. 
Mung,    Why  then,  young  Bertram,  take  her, 

d)e*s  thy  wife. 
Ber,  My  wife,  my  liege  ?   I  shall  beseech  your 
highness, 
^  such  a  business  give  me  leave  to  use 
llie  help  of  mine  own  eyes. 
.JCkh^.  &iow*st  thou  not,  Bertram, 

vVhat  ibe  has  done  for  me  ? 

"But,  Yes,  my  good  lord ; 

But  never  hope  to  know  why  I  should  marry  her. 
JEnsf  .  Thou  know'st,  ^  has  raisM  me  from 

my  sickly  bed. 
fia^.  But  follows  it  my  lord,  to  bring  me  down, 
Mxist  answer  for  your  raising  }  I  knew  ner  well ; 
She  hid  ho'  brecnii^  at  my  &ther*s  chaige : 

(1)  A  docked  hone. 

^  i  <.  I  have  no  more  to  say  to  you. 

(3)  The  lowest  chance  of  the  dice. 


A  poor  physician*8  daughter  my  wife !— Disdain 
Rather  corrupt  me  ever ! 

King.  *Tis  only  title*  thou  disdain*st  b  her,  tha 
which 
I  can  build  up.  Strange  is  it,  that  our  bloods. 
Of  colour,  weight,  ana  heat,  pour*d  all  together, 
Would  quite  confound  distinction,  yet  stand  off 
In  differences  so  mighty :  if  she  be 
All  that  is  virtuous,  (save  what  thou  dislik*st, 
A  poor  pbysician^s  daughter,)  thou  dislik*st 
or  virtue  for  the  name :  but  do  not  so : 
From  lowest  place  when  virtuous  things  proceed. 
The  place  is  oienified  by  the  doer*s  dmd : 
Where  great  additions  swell,'  and  virtue  none, 
It  is  a  dropsied  honour :  good  alone 
Is  good,  without  a  name ;  vileness  is  so  .-^ 
The  property  by  what  it  is  should  go. 
Not  by  toe  title.  She  is  y^oung,  wise,  fair ; 
In  these  to  nature  she's  immediate  heir ; 
And  these  |)reed  honour :  that  is  honour's  scomiy 
Which  challenges  itself  as  honour's  bom. 
And  is  not  like  the  sire :  Honours  best  thrive, 
When  rather  from  our  acts  we  than  derive 
Than  our  fore-goers :  the  mere  word's  a  slave, 
Debauch'd  on  every  tomb ;  on  every  grave, 
A  lying  trophy,  ana  as  oft  is  dumb, 
Where  dust,  and  damn'd  oblivion,  is  the  tomb 
Of  hooour'd  bones  indeed.   What  should  be  said  ? 
If  thou  canst  like  this  creature  as  a  maid, 
I  can  create  the  rest :  virtue,  and  she. 
Is  her  own  dower ;  honour,  and  wealth,  from  me. 

Ber.  I  cannot  love  her,  nor  will  strive  to  do*t 

King,  Thou  wrong'st  thyself,  if  thou  shonld'st 
strive  to  cb«)se. 

HeL  That  you  are  well  restor'd,  my  lord,  I  am 
glad; 
Let  the  rest  go. 

King,  My  honour's  at  the  stake ;  which  to  defeat, 
I  must  produce  my  power :  Here,  take  her  hand. 
Proud  scornful  boy,  unworthy  this  good  gift ; 
That  dost  in  vile  misprision  shackle  up 
My  love,  and  her  desert ;  that  canst  not  dream, 
We,  poising  us  in  her  defective  scale. 
Shall  weigh  thee  to  the  beam :  that  wilt  not  know. 
It  is  in  us  to  plant  thine  honour,  where 
We  please  to  have  it  grow  :  Check  thy  contempt  * 
Obey  our  will,  which  travails  in  thy  good : 
Believe  not  thy  disdain,  but  presently 
Do  thine  own  fortunes  that  obedient  r^t, 
Which  both  thy  duty  owes,  and  our  power  claims ; 
Or  I  will  throw  thee  from  my  care  for  ever, 
Into  the  stagers,  and  the  careless  lapse 
Of  youth  and  ignorance ;  both  my  revenge  and  hate, 
Loosing  upon  thee  in  the  name  of  justice. 
Without  all  terms  of  pity :  Speak ;  thine  answer. 

Btr.  Pbrdon,  ray  gracious  lord ;  for  I  submit 
My  fancy  to  your  eyes :  When  I  consider. 
What  great  creation,  and  what  dole  of  honour. 
Flies  where  you  bid  it,  I  find  that  she,  which  lata 
Was  in  ray  nobler  thoughts  most  base,  is  now 
The  praised  of  the  king ;  who,  to  ennobled, 
Is,  as  'twere,  bom  sa 

King.  Take  her  by  the  band. 

And  tell  her,  she  is  thine :  to  whom  I  promise 
A  counterpoise ;  if  not  to  thy  estate, 
A  balance  more  replete. 

Ber.  I  take  her  hand. 

King.  Good  fortune,  and  the  favour  of  the  kiQg, 
Smile  upon  this  contr&ct;  whose  ceremony 
Shall  seem  expedient  on  the  now-born  brief^ 

<4)  t.  e.  The  want  of  title.        (5)  Titles. 
(6)  Good  is  good  independent  of  any  woridly 
distinction,  and  so  is  vileness  vile. 


S38 


And  be  perTatln'cl  lo-n^I : 
Shill  more  iKriid  ijpon  ihc  i-unniii:  ipm 
Eipecline  abieol  fnend*     At  Ifcnii  liv>' 
Thf  Ion  a  ro  me  rcliiKiua ;  elM,  do-i  t\ 

[Extml  King,  Bcrtiun,  HeltnB,  IjK^t,  aSBd 
allendaitit. 
Laf.  Do  vdu  hear,  mm 
Pm-.  Y™rul™u«,«, 
Lqf.  Yourfonluidm 


ALL'^  WEXL  THAT  ENDS  VIU.L. 

(he  wtelnn  (tlat 


Par.  RecinlBlion  >— M/  lord  ?  my  ms^Ii . 
Laf.  Ay,  It  il  no< «  languaer.,  I  ipciik  ? 
Par.  A  mofl  h>nh  one  j  uid  ntil  to  be  undrr- 
Mttd  irithoul  bloody  lucceedinr.  My  masF 
X4/:  Am  you  compuikia  lo  tbt  couni  B«L 
iw.  To  any  counl ;  lo  bU  counli ;  lo  11 


L^.  To  »b.i  it 

coodCi 

out  I  COIUIl 

cfiHXbcrMyle. 

iW.  Voaanloo 

old,«r 

tetiluiirf 

» loo  old. 

Z41/;  I  niiiil  (ell 
•rbicE  liile  age  on 

[h«,  « 

mA,  r  ,vriu 

olhrinK 

IhM. 

P«r.  WhBlldi.r««»w' 

Id<.,ld,r- 

X4/;  I  did  Ihink 

IhM.for 

t-oodina 

■  pMIy  wiK  A-Lloi 
ToitorihTtnvet; 

*;lhou 

didit  mak 

1  might 

pM :  ya 

tDdtbeb^ncrcU, 

bouUhe 

eVdid  ,,«« 

■J*d*  nw  from  bet» 

vingOie 

■  burden.     1  liave 

low  rou 

d  1!,!^-  « 

(Iwa  •gtin,  1  eim  m 
Uliwbii[ULir«up 

3l!    TCl    Br<  tt„„,    K- 

sndll«itAoiiurl«.a 
noltbepti-ik-seo 

£q/^  Do  not  plun^  Ihpelf  too  lar  in  anger,  [eil 
tttmt  bulen  Ihf  trial ;  wtucb  if— Lord  havp  meivy 


j!  So,m)fgood'. 

ftn  tbee  well ;  thv  casemenl  I  neei 
I  look  Ibmiih  thee.  Gin  me  Ih}- 1 
Par,  My  lord,  jou  give  me  id»1  (^regiouj 


^/Ay.withaL 


Z^  E'en  a>  soon  u  Ibou  caiUt,  for  Ihmi  1 

bocild  in  Ihy  scarf,  and  bpalcn,  tbou  thall  Snd 

it  it  to  be  prtHid  of  thy  bondage.     I  have  a  dr^ire 

knowledge ;  that  I  may  mf,  in  the  debuli,'  he  la  1 

Pot.  My  lord,  yoa  do  me  nxet  insupportabli 

Ij^.  i  would  it  were  hell.painifurlhjfakp,«nii 
mr  poor  duinv  eternal :  for  doii^  I  am  pa^l ;  aa  1 

Par.  Well,  thou  haat  a  am  dlall  lake  Dili  6 
rraoe  off  me ;  scurvy,  old,  filthy,  scurvy  loni  I 
Well,  I  musl  lie  patient ;  Ibere  n  no  fi'llering 
audnrilT-  I'll  beat  him,  by  mj  lire,  if  I  can  ini 
him  irilh  any  convenience,  an  be  were  double  a 
double  a  loiti.  I'll  have  no  more  nilr  of  hit  at 
(baa  I  would  bave  of-l'll  beat  biin,  Im  if  I  coi. 
but  meet  him  again. 

Re-tnier  Lefca. 
Ijff.  Sirrah,  jour  Ion]  and  msiler'i  marrii 
mit.  While  I  lat  twice  wilh  ihw  b(  dlmu 


leserch  yow  loitUhip 
'  your  wnop :  He  ■> 


rfe  detil  it  U,  Ihai't  Bit  n»«»».  Why 
garter  ap  thy  aimi  o'  Inii  &ahaoa  ?  din4 
le  of  (hf  •leevet !  do  oabrr  ae 


Er  part  where  ftj  note 


honour,  if  1  we»  bu 

JS 

,  I'd  be.    lbee=melhink..lhdU 

tU.and 

very  man  shmid  bei 

t  th^     I 

think,  Lhou  wait  created  for  mi  lo  bmbel  them- 

wl.«.u 

pontbes. 

ord. 

amin,my 

Golo,«r 

i  jou  were  beateo  in  lUly  for 

picking 

n  kernel 
.<.  and  0 

f.l-,SErr» 

you  are  a 

111.  lordi, 

Z'l '. 

our  birth  and  virtue 

il^  v™ 

n«i.:W 

■'d'«r 

you  koav 

-     Ilea™  yon. 

[&./. 

Enter  BeMrai 
Par.  Good,  very  good  ;  it  il  (0  (ben^-Good, 
fn  good !  let  it  he  concealed  a  while. 
Jtrr,  L'ndooe,  and  forfeilrd  lo  cam  far  erer .' 

Bcr.  Ahbough  belbre  the  lolefDii  priest  1  bava 


:\aj*  berc  al  bone  j 
Spending  hit  manly  marrow  in  her  >nn^ 
IVbil  h  should  suitain  the  bound  and  Ugh  car 
Of  Man's  <ieiy  Meed:  To  Mber  n^iosia ! 


re  that  dwell  in 
i{  niioid  ber  ID  my  boose,       ^^ 


And  H'tj<  r.  lore  I  am  Bed ;  w'rite  to  Ok  ting 

1 1  dunt  not  speak :  Hit  pnaenl  giJI 


send  her  Kraighl  away :  To-momjw 

"■or.  Why,  (bete  balla  bounl :  (bcreW 

— '■flshardi 

erefore  away,  and  leave  I 
D  king  hat  drne  you  ttnai 


[£»-— ^*  " 
SCEA'E  IK—ThtioBt.   ^aoMfl-  tw-i  mi^"**  ** 
ami.     Enter  HeleoaimrfClowa. 
Pil.  My  mother  gmta  me  kindly:  Usheweir^^J 
Clo.  Six  a  out  r 

(3)  f:,«, 


er  gmeta  me  kindlr :  b 
:  well ;  bii(  yB(  dw  bu  b> 


a: 


Sam  F*. 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


239 


■be*s  ▼ery  merry ;  but  yet  she  is  not  well :  but 
thanks  be  given,  she's  very  well,  and  wants  nothing 
r  die  world  ;  but  yet  she  is  not  well. 

HeL  If  she  be  very  well,  what  does  she  ail,  that 
■he*s  not  very  well  ? 

do.  Truly,  she's  very  well,  indeed,  but  for  two 
thines. 

Hd.  What  two  things  .^ 

Cto.  One,  that  she's  not  in  heaven,  whither  God 
tend  her  quickly !  the  other,  that  die's  in  earth, 
£tam  whence  God  send  her  quickly ! 

Enier  Pbrolles. 

Par,  BleM  you,  my  fortunate  lady ! 

Hd.  I  hope,  sir,  1  have  your  good  will  to  ha^e 
mine  own  good  fortunes. 

Par.  You  had  my  prayers  to  lead  them  on :  and 
to  keep  them  on,  have  them  still. — O,  my  knave  ! 
How  aoes  my  old  lady  ? 

do.  So  (luit  vou  had  her  wrinkles,  and  I  her 
money,  I  would  she  did  as  you  say. 

Par.  Why,  I  say  nothing. 

do.  Marry,  you  are  the  wiser  man ;  for  many 
a  man's  too^e  shakes  out  his  master's  undoing : 
To  say  nothing,  to  do  nothing,  to  know  nothing, 
and  to  have  nothing,  is  to  be  a  great  part  of  your 
title ;  which  is  within  a  very  litue  of  nothing. 

Par.  Away,  thou  art  a  knave. 

do.  You  should  have  said,  sir,  before  a  knave 
thou  art  a  knave;  that  is,  before  me  thou  art  a 
knave :  this  had  been  truth,  sir. 

Par.  Go  to,  thou  art  a  witty  fool,  I  have  found  thee. 

do.  Did  you  find  me  in  yourself,  sir  ?  or  were 
yoQ  taught  to  find  me  f  The  search,  sir,  was  profit- 
able ;  and  much  fool  may  you  find  in  you,  even  to 
the  world's  pleasure,  ana  the  increase  of  laughter. 

Par.  A  good  knave,  Pfaith,  and  well  fed. — 
Madam,  m^  lord  will  go  away  to-night ; 
A  very  serious  business  calls  on  him. 
'nie  great  prerogative  and  rite  of  love, 
Which,  as  your  due,  time  claims,  he  does  acknow- 
ledge ; 
But  puts  it  on*  by  a  compeli'd  restraint ; 
Whose  want,  and  whose  delay,  is  strewed  with 

sweets. 
Which  they  distil  now  in  the  curbed  time. 
To  make  the  coming  hour  o'erflow  with  joy, 
And  pleasure  drown  the  brim. 

Hd.  What's  his  will  else? 

Par.  That  you  will  take  your  instant  leave  o' 
the  king. 
And  make  this  haste  as  your  own  good  proceeding, 
Streogthen'd  with  what  apolc^  you  think 
Minr  make  it  probable  need.i 

Md.  What  more  commands  he  ? 

Par.  That,  having  this  obtain'd,  you  presently 
Attend  hb  further  pleasure. 

Hd.  In  every  thing  I  wait  upon  his  will. 

Par.  I  shall  report  it  sa 

Hd.  I  pray  you, — Come,  sirrah, 

[Exeunt. 

SCE,yE  V. — Another  room  in  the  aanu.   Enier 
Lafeu  and  Bertram. 

Laf.  But,  I  hope,  your  lordship  thinks  not  him  a 
soldier. 

Ber.  Yes,  my  lord,  and  of  very  valiant  approof 

JLqf.  You  have  it  from  his  own  deliverance. 

Ber.  And  by  other  warranted  testimony. 

£4/!  Then  my  dial  goes  not  true ;  I  took  this 
Imik  lor  a  bunting.3 

(1)  A  specious  appearance  of  necessi^. 

(2)  The  bunting  nearly  resembles  the  sky-lark ; 


Ber.  I  do  assure  you,  my  lord,  he  is  veir  great 
in  knowledge,  and  accordingly  valiant 

Laf.  I  have  then  sinned  against  his  experience, 
and  transgressed  against  his  valour ;  and  my  state 
that  way  is  dangerous,  since  I  cannot  vet  find  in 
my  heart  to  repent  Here  he  comes ;  I  pray  you, 
make  us  frienos.    I  will  pursue  the  amity. 

Enier  Parolles. 

Par.  These  thii^  shall  be  done,  sir. 

[To  Bertram. 

La/i  Pray  you,  sir,  who's  his  tailor.^ 

Par.  Sirf 

La^.  O,  I  know  him  well :  Ay,  sir ;  he,  sir,  is  a 
good  workman,  a  very  good  tailor. 

Ber.  Is  she  gone  to  the  king  ?  [Adit  to  Parolles. 

Par.  She  is. 

Ber.  Will  she  away  to-night? 

Par.  As  you'll  have  her. 

Ber.  I  have  writ  my  letters,  casketed  my  trea- 
sure. 
Given  order  for  our  horses ;  and  to-night. 
When  I  should  take  possession  of  the  bride, — 
And,  ere  I  do  begin, 

Laf.  A  good  traveller  is  something  at  the  lat- 
ter end  of  a  dinner ;  but  one  that  lies  three-thirds, 
and  uses  a  known  truth  to  pass  a  thousand  nothings 
with,  should  be  once  heard,  and  thrice  beaten. — 
God  save  you,  captain. 

Ber.  Is  there  any  unkindness  between  my  lord 
and  you,  monsieur  ? 

Par.  I  know  not  how  I  have  deserved  to  run 
into  mr  lord's  displeasure. 

Laf.  You  have  made  shift  to  run  into't,  boots 
and  spurs,  and  all,  like  him  that  leapied  into  tlie 
custard ;  and  out  of  it  you'll  run  again,  rather 
than  sufifer  questicm  for  your  residence. 

Ber.  It  may  be,  you  have  mistaken  him,  my  lord. 

Laf.  And  shall  do  so  ever,  though  I  took  him  vA. 
bis  prayers.  Fare  you  well,  mv  lord ;  and  believe 
this  of  me,  There  can  be  no  kernel  in  this  light 
nut ;  the  soul  of  this  man  is  his  clothes :  trust  him 
not  in  matter  of  heavy  consequence ;  I  have  kept 
of  them  tame,  and  know  their  natures. — Farewell, 
monsieur :  I  have  spoken  better  of  you,  than  you 
have  or  will  deserve  at  my  hand ;  but  we  must  do 
good  against  evil.  [EtcH. 

Par.  An  idle  lord,  I  swear. 

Ber.  I  think  sa 

Par.  Why,  do  you  not  know  him  ? 

Ber.  Yes,  I  do  know  him  well ;  and  commoo 
speech 
Gives  him  a  worthy  pass.     Here  comes  my  cl(^. 

Enier  Helena. 

HeL  I  have,  sir,  as  I  was  commanded  from  you, 
Spoke  with  the  king,  and  have  procur'd  his  leave 
For  present  parting ;  only,  he  desires 
Some  private  speech  with  you. 

Ber.  I  shall  obey  his  will. 

You  must  not  marv-el,  Helen,  at  my  coui-se, 
Which  holds  not  colour  with  the  time,  nor  does 
The  ministration  and  required  office 
On  my  particular :  prepar'd  I  was  not 
For  sucn  a  business ;  therefore  am  I  found 
So  much  unsettled :  This  drives  me  to  entreat  you, 
That  presently  you  take  your  way  for  home ; 
And  rather  muse,'  than  ask,  why  I  entreat  you : 
For  my  respects  are  better  than  they  seem ; 
And  my  appointments  have  in  them  a  need, 

but  has  little  or  no  ioi^,  which  gives  estimation  to 
the  sky-lark. 
(3)  Wonder. 


t40 


ALL*S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


Adtm 


GreAler  than  ihows  itself,  at  the  fint  ?iew, 
To 70a  that  know  them  not  Thii  to  mjr  mother: 

[Gimng  a  Utter. 
*TwiU  be  two  dajs  ere  I  shall  see  jou ;  ao 
I  lea?e  70a  to  your  wisdom. 

HeL  Sir,  I  can  nodiing  say, 

But  that  I  am  your  most  obedient  servant 

Ber.  Come,  come,  no  more  of  that 

HeL  And  ever  shall 

With  true  obeenrance  seek  to  eke  out  that, 
Wherein  toward  me  my  homely  stars  ha?e  failM 
To  equal  my  great  fortune. 

Ber.  Let  that  go : 

My  haste  is  ?eij  great :  Farewell ;  hie  noniB. 

HeL  Pray,  sir,  your  pardon. 

Ber.  Well,  what  would  you  say  ? 

HeL  I  am  not  worthy  of  the  wealth  I  owe  ;i 
Nor  dare  I  say,  'tis  mine ;  and  yet  it  is ; 
But,  like  a  timorous  thief,  most  ftun  would  steal 
What  law  does  vouch  mine  own. 

Ber.  What  would  you  have  ? 

Hd.  Some^ing;  and  scarce  so  much : — nothing, 
indeed. — 
1  would  not  tell  you  what  I  would :  my  lord— *fiuth, 

yes;— 
Strangers,  and  foes,  do  sunder,  and  not  kiss. 

Ber.  I  pray  you,  stay  not,  but  in  haste  to  horse. 

HeL  I  shall  not  br»k  your  Indding,  good  my 
lord. 

Ber.  Where  are  my  other  moi,  monsieur? — 
Farewell.  lExii  Helena. 

Go  thou  toward  home ;  where  I  will  never  come. 
Whilst  I  can  shake  my  sword,  or  hear  the  drum : — 
Away,  and  for  our  flight 

Par.  Bravely,  ooragio !  [Elxe. 


ACT  IIL 

SCEJVE  /.— Fbrance.  A  room  in  flu  Duke*s 
Palace.  Flourish.  Enter  the  Duke  qfFlotence^ 
attended  ;  two  French  Lords,  and  others. 

Duke.  So  that,  from  point  to  point,  now  have 
you  heard 
The  fundamental  reasons  of  this  war ; 
Whose  great  decision  hath  much  blood  let  forth, 
And  more  thirsts  after. 

1  Lord.  Hoi  V  seems  the  quarrel 
Upon  your  grace's  part;  black  and  fearful 

On  the  oppoeer. 
Duke.  Therefore  we  marvel  much,  our  cousin 
France 
Would,  in  so  just  a  business,  shut  his  bosom 
Against  our  borrowing  prayers. 

2  Lord.  Good  my  lord, 
The  reasons  of  our  state  I  cannot  yield,3 

But  like  a  common  and  an  outward  man,* 
That  the  great  figure  of  a  council  frames 
By  self-unable  motion :  therefore  dare  not 
Say  what  I  think  of  it ;  since  I  have  found 
Myself  in  my  uncertain  grounds  to  fail 
As  often  as  I  guess'd. 

Duke.  Be  it  his  pleasure. 

2  Lord.  But  I  am  sure,  the  younger  of  our  na- 
ture,* 
That  surfeit  on  their  ease,  will,  day  by  day, 
Come  here  for  physic 

Duke,  Welcome  shall  they  be; 

(1)  Possess. 

(2)  A.  e.  I  cannot  inform  you  of  the  retioiia. 

(3)  One  not  in  the  secret  of  aflairt. 

(4)  As  we  say  at  present,  our  young  fellows. 


And  all  the  honours,  that  can  fly  from  us. 
Shall  on  them  settle.  You  know  your  placet  wd ; 
When  better  fell,  for  your  avails  they  fell : 
To-morrow  to  the  field.  [Flourish.  ExnmL 

SCEJ^E  //.— Rousillon.  A  room  in  theCaatOmH 
Palace.   Enter  Countess  and  Clown. 

Count.  It  hath  happened  all  as  I  would  liaive 
had  it,  save,  that  be  comes  not  along  with  her. 

Clo.  By  my  troth,  I  take  my  young  lord  to  be  a 
very  melancholy  man. 

Count.  By  what  observance,  I  pray  you  ? 

Go.  Why,  he  will  look  upon  his  boot,  and  sing ; 
mend  the  rnfl*,'  and  sing ;  ask  questions,  and  iSDg; 
pick  his  teeth,  and  sing :  I  know  a  man  that  had 
this  trick  of  melancbo^,  sold  a  goodly  manor  foi 
a  song. 

Count  Let  me  see  what  he  writes,  and  wfaea  he 
means  to  come.  Wpenine  a  kU». 

Clo.  I  have  no  mind  to  Isbel,  since  I  was  et 
court :  our  old  ling,  and  our  Isbels  o*  the  country, 
are  nothing  like  your  old  lii^  and  your  Isbeb  oP 
the  court :  the  brains  of  my  Cupid's  knocked  out ; 
and  I  b^n  to  bve,  as  an  old  man  loves  moaey, 
with  no  stomach. 

Count.  What  have  we  here  ? 

Qo.  E'en  that  you  have  there.  [EoL 

Count.  [Reads.]  I  have  sent  you  a  daughierim 
law:  she  hath  recovered  the  king,  and  umdons  sm. 
I  hone  wedded  her,  not  bedded  Mr;  and  sworn  Ib 
make  the  not  eternoL  You  shall  hear,  lam  nm 
awayi  know  it,  btfore  the  report  come,  (ftikert 
be  breadth  enough  in  the  world,  I  will  hUd  a  long 
distance.  My  wuty  to  you. 

Tour  unforhtnate  son, 

BERTRAfil 
This  is  not  well,  rash  and  unbridled  boy, 
To  fiv  the  fevours  of  so  good  a  king ; 
To  pluck  his  indignation  on  thy  head. 
By  the  misprizing  of  a  maid  too  virtuous 
For  the  contempt  of  empire. 

Re-enter  Clown. 

Go.  O  madam,  yonder  is  heavy  newt  withisi 
between  two  soldiers  and  my  young  lady. 

Count.  What  is  the  matter  i 

Go.  Nay,  there  is  some  comfort  in  the 
some  comfort ;  your  son  will  not  be  killed  so 
as  I  thought  he  would. 

Count.  Why  should  he  be  kill'd.^ 

Clo.  So  say  I,  nwdam,  if  he  run  away,  as  I  hear 
he  does :  the  danger  is  in  standing  to't ;  that's  Ifae 
loss  of  men,  thoi^h  it  be  the  getting  of  childrea. 
Here  they  come,  will  tell  you  more :  for  my  part,  1 
only  hear,  your  son  was  run  away.     [Exit  ClowiL 

Enter  Helena  and  two  Gentlemen. 

1  CtctU.  Save  you,  good  madam. 

HeL  Madam,  ray  lord  is  gone,  for  ever  gone. 

2  Gent.  Do  not  say  sa 

Count.  Think  upon  patience. — ^'Pray  you,  gen- 
tlemen,— 
I  have  felt  so  many  auirks  of  joy,  and  grief, 
Hiat  the  first  face'  or  neither,  00  the  start. 
Can  woman^  me  unto't : — Where  is  my  son,  I  pray 
you.? 
2  Oent  Madam,  he's  gone  to  serve  the  duke  of 
Florence : 
We  met  him  thitherward ;  from  thence  we  came, 
And,  after  some  despatch  in  hand  at  court, 

(5)  The  folding  at  the  top  of  the  boot 

(6)  1.  e.  Aflfect  me  suddenly  and  deeply,  aa  oar 
sex  are  usually  afifected. 


8em$  m,  ir. 


ALL*S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


941 


ThitHer  we  bend  ajSvn. 
HeL  Look  on  thu  letter,  madam;  liei«*i  my 
passport 

[Reads.]  JtHun  thou  eantt  ret  the  ring  vpon  my 

Jinger,^  loAtcA  never  thaU  come  off^  and  thow 

me  a  ehUd  begotten  of  thy  body,  that  I  am  father 

to,  then  call  me  hutband:  but  in  jucA  a  then  / 

write  a  never. 

This  is  a  dreadful  sentence. 
OotmL  Brought  you  this  letter,  gentlemen  f 

1  Gent.  Ay,  madam ; 
And,  for  the  contents'  sake,  are  sorry  for  our  pains. 

CounL  I  pr'ythee,  lady,  have  a  better  cheer ; 
If  thou  engrossest  all  the  griefs  are  thine,^ 
Thou  robb°st  me  of  a  moiety :  He  was  my  sod  ; 
But  I  do  wash  his  name  out  of  my  blood, 
And  ttwu  art  all  my  child. — ^Towards  Florence 
is  he? 

iChnt.  Ay,  madam. 

CounL  And  to  be  a  soldier  ? 

2  Gent.  Such  is  hu  noble  purpose :  and,  believe't, 
The  duke  will  lay  upon  him  all  the  honour 
That  good  convenience  claims. 

Cbtmt  Return  you  thidier  ? 

1  GenL  Ay,  madam,  mOi  the  swiftest  wing  of 
speed. 

Hd.  [Reads.]  I^  I  have  no  w{fe,  I  have  nothing 
inFrance,  _ 

Tis  bitter.  * 

Count       Find  you  that  there  f 

HeL  Ay,  madam. 

1  Gent  Tis  but  the  boldness  of  his  hand,  haply, 
which 
His  heart  was  not  consenting  ta 

CounL  Ifotfaiitf  in  France,  until  he  have  no  wife ! 
There's  nothing  here  that  is  too  good  for  him. 
But  only  ibe ;  and  she  deserves  a  lord. 
That  twenty  such  rude  boys  might  tend  upon. 
And  call  her  hourly,  mistress.  Who  was  with  him  .^ 

1  GenL  A  servant  only,  and  a  gentleman 
Which  I  have  some  time  known. 

Count.  Parolles,  was't  not  f 

1  (hni.  Ay,  my  good  ladv,  he. 

Count.  A  veiy  tamted  fellow,  and  full  of  wick- 
edness. 
My  SOD  corrupts  a  well-derived  nature 
Yfittk  his  inducement 

1  Gent.  Indeed,  good  lady. 
The  fellow  has  a  deal  of  that,  too  much. 
Which  holds  him  much  to  have. 

CounL  Tou  are  welcome,  gentlemen. 
I  will  entreat  you,  when  you  see  my  son. 
To  tell  him,  that  his  sword  can  never  win 
The  honour  that  he  loses :  more  I'll  entreat  you 
IVritten  to  bear  along. 

2  GenL  We  serve  you,  madam, 
In  that  and  all  your  worthi^t  affairs. 

Count.  Not  so,  but  as  we  change  our  courtesies.' 
"Wll  you  draw  near  ? 

.[Exeunt  Countess  and  Gentlemen. 
HeL    TSl  I  have  no  w{fi,  I  have  nothing  in 
France. 
Xypthing  in  France,  until  he  has  no  wife ! 
TTiou  jualt  have  none,  Rousillon,  none  in  France, 
^Tben  hast  thou  all  again.  Poor  lord .'  is't  I 
'jTiat  chase  thee  from  thy  country,  and  expose 
tender  limbs  of  thine  to  the  event 
the  none-sparing  war  f  and  is  it  I 

(1)  1.  e.  When  you  can  get  the  ring,  which  is  on 
UQsj  nnger,  into  your  possession. 

(2)  If  thou  keepest  all  thy  sorrows  to  thyself. 

(3)  In  reply  to  the  gentlemen's  declaration,  that 
^5ie}  are  her  servants,  the  coimtess  answers — no 


That  drive  thee  firom  the  sportive  court,  where  thou 

Wast  shot  at  with  feir  eyes,  to  be  the  mark 

Of  smoky  muskets.^  O  you  leaden  messengen, 

That  ride  upon  the  violent  speed  of  fire. 

Fly  with  false  aim ;  move  the  still-piecing  air. 

That  sings  with  piercing,  do  not  touch  mj  loi^  I 

Whoever  shoots  at  him,  I  set  him  there ; 

Whoever  charges  on  his  forward  breast, 

I  am  the  caitifl,  that  do  hold  him  to  it ; 

And,  though  I  kill  him  not,  I  am  the  came 

His  death  was  so  effected  :  better  'twere, 

I  met  the  ravin^  lion  when  he  roar'd 

With  sharp  constraint  of  hunger ;  better  *^^crs 

That  all  tiie  miseries  which  nature  owes. 

Were  mine  at  once:  no,  come  thou  home,  RooiSUoa, 

Whence  honour  but  of  danger  wins  a  scar, 

As  oft  it  loses  all ;  I  will  be  gone : 

My  being  here  it  is,  that  hcJds  diee  hence : 

Shall  I  stay  here  to  do't.'  no,  no,  although 

The  air  of  Paradise  did  fen  the  house. 

And  angels  offic'd  all :  I  will  be  gone ; 

That  pitiful  rumour  may  report  my  flight. 

To  consolate  thine  ear.  Come,  night ;  end,  day ! 

For,  with  the  dark,  poor  thief,  I'll  steal  away. 

[aCII. 

SCEJVi; ///.—Florence.  B^ore  the  Dake'n  Pal- 
ace. FUmrieh.  Enter  the  Duke  qf  Floreooe, 
Bertram,  Lords,  Offkert,  Soldiere,  and  othtrs. 

Duke.  The  generalofourhorse  thou  art;  and  we. 
Great  in  our  hope,  lav  our  best  love  and  credeDoe, 
Upon  thy  promising  fortune. 

Ber.  Sir,  it  is 

A  charge  too  heavy  for  my  strength ;  but  yet 
We'll  strive  to  bear  it  for  your  worthy  sau. 
To  the  extreme  edge  of  Imzard. 

Duke.  Then  go  thou  forth; 

And  fortune  play  upon  thy  prosperous  helm, 
As  thy  auspicious  mistress ! 

Ber.  This  very  day. 

Great  Mars,  I  put  myself  into  thy  file : 
Make  me  but  like  my  thoughts ;  and  I  diaU  prove 
A  lover  of  thy  drum,  hater  of  love.         [E^UunL 

SCEN'E  /Fl— Rousillon.  A  room  in  the  Coun- 
tess's Palace.    Enter  Countess  and  Steward. 

Count.  Alas !  and  would  you  take  the  lettor  of 
her? 
.Might  you  not  know,  she  would  do  as  die  has  done. 
By  sending  me  a  letter  ?  Read  it  again. 

Stew.  lam  Saint  Jaoues* pilgrim,  ihilhergmu; 

Ambitious  love  hath  so  tn  me  offended. 
That  bare-foot  plod  I  the  cold  ground  upon. 

With  sainted  vow  my  faults  to  have  amended, 
JVrite^  unite,  that,  from  the  bloody  course  qfwar, 

My  dearest  master,  your  dear  son  may  hit; 
Bless  him  at  home  in  peace,  whilst  I  from  far^ 

His  name  with  jealous  fervour  sanctify: 
His  taken  labours  bid  him  me  forgive  ; 

/,  his  despiteful  Juno,^  sent  him  forth 
From  courtly  friends,  with  campine  foes  to  Uve, 

Where  death  and  danger  dog  the  heels  ofumrth : 
He  is  too  good  and  fair  for  death  and  me  ; 
Whom  I  myself  eirUtrace,  to  set  him  free. 

Count.  Ah,  what  sharp  stings  are  in  her  mildest 

words ! 

Rinaldo,  you  did  never  lack  advice*  so  much, 

otherwise  than  as  she  returns  the  same  offices  of 
civility. 

(4)  Ravenous. 

(5)  Alluding  to  the  storv  of  Hercules. 

(6)  Discretion  or  thought 


ALL*S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


liiUiei 


'pMBto;  had  I  ipoke  with  her, 
rell  di%*ertcd  her  intents, 
hath  prevented. 

Pardon  me,  madam : 
sn  jou  this  at  over-night, 
ive  been  o*erta*cn ;  and  yet  she  writes, 
ild  be  in  vain. 

What  angels  fhall 
mworthy  husband  ?  he  cannot  thrive, 
'  preyem,  whom  Heaven  delights  to  hear, 
to  grant,  reprie^'e  him  from  me  wrath 
It  justice. — ^V>'rite,  write,  Rinaldo, 
inworthy  husband  of  his  wife ; 
y  word  weigh  hcavv  of  her  worth, 
does  weishi  too  light :  my  greatest  grief, 
little  he  do  feel  it,  set  down  sharply. 
h  the  most  convenient  messenger . — 
haply,  he  shall  hear  that  she  is  gone, 
'  return ;  and  hope  I  may,  that  me, 
so  much,  will  speed  her  foot  again, 
!r  by  pure  love :  which  of  them  both, 
bresl  tome,  I  have  no  skill  in  sense 

distinction : — Provide  this  messenger: — 
:  is  heavy,  and  mine  age  is  weak ; 
'  would  have  tears,  and  sorrow  bids  inv  opcak. 

[Eiiunt 

yEJV-E  r.^WUhout  Ikt  woOm  of  Florence. 
A  tucket  i^r  off:  EtUer  on  old  Widow  of 
Florence,  Diana,  Violenta,  Mariana,  and  othtr 
dtixent. 

Wid,  NaT,  come ;  for  if  they  do  approach  the 
dty,  we  shall  lose  all  the  sight 

Dia.  The)'  saj,  the  French  count  has  done  nxMt 
honourable  senice. 

IVid,  It  is  reported,  that  be  has  taken  their 
greatest  commsnder;  and  that  with  his  own  band 
ne  slew  the  duke*s  brother.  We  have  lost  our  la- 
bour ;  they  are  gone  a  contrary  way :  hark !  you 
mav  know  by  their  trumpets. 

Afbr.  Come,  Iet*s  return  again,  and  suffice  onr- 
•pl%'es  with  the  report  of  it  Well,  Diana,  take  h(>od 
of  Ibis  French  eari :  the  honour  of  a  maid  is  her 
name ;  and  no  legacy  is  to  rich  as  honesty. 

Wid.  I  have  told  my  neighbour,  how  you  have 
been  solicited  by  a  gentleman,  hisi  companion. 

Mar,  I  know  that  knave ;  hang  him !  one  Pb- 
rolles :  a  filthy  officer  he  is  in  llK><e  sii^s:r-<«tion>3 
for  the  youi^  eari. — Beware  of  thcin,  Diuna ;  their 
promises,  enticements,  oaths,  tdcons,  and  all  those 
engines  of  lust,  are  not  the  lhin<^  th«y  ^  under :' 
many  a  maid  bath  been  seduced  by  them ;  and 
the  misery  is,  example,  that  so  terrible  shows  in 
the  wreck  of  maidenoood,  cannot  f(ir  all  that  dis- 
suade succession,  but  that  they  are  linMKl  with  the 
twigs  that  threaten  them.  1  hope,  I  need  not  to 
advise  you  further;  but  I  hope  your  own  grace 
will  keep  yoa  where  you  are,  though  there  were 
no  further  dai^r  known,  but  the  niode!»ty  which 
is  so  lost. 

Dia.  Tou  shall  not  need  to  fear  me. 

Enitr  Helena,  in  the  dress  of  a  pilgrim. 

%Vid.  I  hope  sa Look,  Iwre  comes  a  pil- 
grim :  I  know  she  will  lie  at  mv  \m\wt :  thitl>er 
^ey  send  one  another :  Til  question  her. — 
God  save  vou,  pilgrim !  Whither  are  you  bound .' 

Hd.  1^  Saint  Jaques  le  grand. 
Where  do  dw  pahners^  lodge,  I  do  beseech  you .' 

(1)  Weigh,  here  means  to  value  or  esteem. 

(2)  Temptations. 

(3)  They  are  not  the  thii^  for  which  their  names 
would  make  them  pass. 


JVid.  At  the  Saint  Fnmcb  here,  bedde  the  lion. 

Hd.  bthitthewarf 

Wid,  Aj,  mamr,  if  it — Harit  yoa  I 

[A  wmrek  mfkr  f^ 
They  come  this  way : — If  you  will  lany,  holjr  pu- 

grini. 
Hut  till  the  tfoo|>i  come  by, 
1  \t  ill  (^HidiR-t  you  wlicre  you  shall  be  1odg*d ; 
The  rather,  fur,  I  think,  I  know  your  hosleai, 
As  ample  as  myself. 

Jiel.  Is  it  yourself.' 

/I  'id.  If  you  shall  ]>lea9e  so,  pilgrim. 

Jlel.  1  thank  you, and  will  slay  upon  )-our  feisare. 

Ji  Id.  Vou  came,  I  think,  from  France  f 

Hd.  I  did  M. 

l¥'id.  Here  you  shall  see  a  countiymanof  youn, 
That  has  dune  wortliy  service. 

Htl.  His  name,  I  prar  you  } 

Dia.  The  count  Rousillon :  iuiuwyousucJiaone? 

Hel.  But  by  the  ear,  that  heant  nx»t  nobly  of  him : 
His  face  I  know  not 

Dia.  Whatsoever  he  is, 

lle*s  bravely  taken  here.  He  stole  from  France, 
.As  *(is  reported,  fur^  the  king  had  married  him 
Against  his  liking  :  Think  you  it  is  so.' 

Hel.  Av,  surety,  mere  the  truth  ;>  I  know  his 
fady. 

Dia.  TlR-re  is  a  »>ntleman  that  servei  the  count, 
ReiMirts  but  coarsely  of  her. 

Iff  I.  Wliat*s  hit  name  > 

Dia.  Monsieur  Parolles. 

Htl.  O,  I  believe  with  Iwn, 

In  argument  of  praise,  or  to  the  worth 
0\  (Ik-  gn>at  count  himself,  she  \i  too  mean 
Tu  have  her  name  repeated ;  all  her  deservii^ 
Is  a  re«>er\'ed  htHM^sty,  and  that 
I  have  not  heard  examined. 

Dia.  Alas,  poor  lady ! 

*Tis  a  hard  bondage,  to  become  the  wife 
Of  a  detesting  lord. 

Wid.  \  right  good  creature :  wheretoe*er  she  is, 
Her  heart  weighs  sadly :  this  youi^  maid  mi|^  do 

her 
A  shrewd  turn,  if  she  plea8*d. 

//(/.  How  do  yoa  mean .' 

.Mav  be,  the  amorous  count  solicits  her 
In  the  unlawful  purpose. 

U  'id.  He  does,  indeed ; 

And  brokes^  with  all  that  can  in  such  a  suit 
( 'orrupt  the  tender  honour  of  a  maid : 
But  she  u  arm*d  for  him,  and  keeps  her  guard 
In  honestei<t  defence. 

Enter  tcith  drum  and  colours,  a  JMtrlw  <if  Iki 
Florentine  army,  Bertram,  and  PkroUe^ 

Mar.  The  gods  forbid  else ! 

Wid.  So,  now  thej  come  >^ 

That  is  Antonio,  the  duke*s  eldest  son; 
That,  Eifcalus. 

Hcl.  'Which  is  the  Frenchman  ? 

Dia.  He; 

That  with  the  plume  :  Vis  a  most  gallant  fellow ; 
I  would,  he  lov*d  his  wife :  if  he  were  honester. 
He  were  much  goodlier : — Is*t  not  a  handsome  gen- 
tleman .' 

Mrl.  I  like  him  well. 

Dia.  *Ti.H  pity  he  is  not  hooett :  Yond*s  that  tame 
knave. 
That  leads  him  to  these  placet ;  were  I  hit  lady, 

(4')  Pilgrims ;  so  called  from  a  staff  or  boi^  of 
palm  tlK'v  were  wont  tn  rarnr. 

(.=>)  R«i>ause.       (6)  The  exact,  the  entire  tralk 
(7)  Deals  with  panden. 


SamFI. 


ALUS  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


243 


Pd  poiaoQ  Uwt  vile  nacaL 

Hd.  Whichbhc? 

JHa.  That  jack-an-apes  with  scarfs :  Whjr  is  he 
melaochohr  ? 

HeL  Perchance  he's  hurt  i*  the  battle. 

Par.  Lose  our  drum !  well. 

Mar.  He's  shrewdly  vex'd  at  something:  Look, 
be  has  spied  us. 

IVid.  Marry,  hang  you ! 

Mir.  And  your  courtesy,  for  a  ring-carrier ! 

[Exeunt  Bertram,  ParoUes,  officers^  and 
Moldiers. 

Wid.  The  troop  is  past :  Come,  pilgrim,  I  will 
bring  vqp 
Where  you  shall  host :  of  enjdn'd  penitents 
There's  four  or  five,  to  great  Saint  Jaques  bound, 
Already  at  my  house. 

HeL  I  humbly  thank  you : 

Please  it  this  matron,  and  this  gentle  maid. 
To  eat  with  us  to-niffht,  the  cl»rge,  and  thanking. 
Shall  be  for  me ;  and,  to  requite  you  further, 
I  will  bestow  some  precepts  on  this  virgin, 
Worthy  the  note. 

Both.  We'll  take  your  offer  kindly.  [Exe. 

SCEJ^TE    F7.— Como  be/ore  Florence.    EnUr 
Bertram,  and  the  two  French  Lordt. 

1  Lord.  Nay,  good  my  lord,  put  him  to't ;  let 
him  have  his  way. 

2  Xiord.  If  your  lordship  find  him  not  a  hild- 
ing,i  hold  me  no  more  in  your  respect. 

1  Lord.  On  my  life,  my  lord,  a  bubble. 

Ber.  Do  you  thmk  I  am  so  far  deceived  in  him  ? 

1  Lord.  Believe  it,  my  lord,  in  mine  own  direct 
knowledge,  without  any  malice,  but  to  speak  of  him 
as  my  kinsman,  he's  a  most  notable  coward,  an  infi- 
nite and  endless  liar,  an  hourly  promise-breaker, 
the  owner  of  no  one  good  quality  worthy  your  lord- 
ship's entertainment 

2  Lord.  It  were  fit  you  knew  him ;  lest,  reposing 
too  far  in  his  virtue,  which  he  hath  not,  he  mii^ht, 
at  some  gnAt  and  trusty  business,  in  a  main  dan- 
ger, fail  you. 

Ber.  1  would  I  knew  in  what  particular  action 
to  try  him. 

2  Lord.  None  better  than  to  let  him  fetch  off  his 
drum,  which  you  hear  him  so  confidently  undertake 
to  da 

1  Lord.  I,  wi^  a  troop  of  Florentines,  wilt  sud- 
denly surprise  him ;  such  I  will  have,  whom,  I  am 
tUre,  he  knows  not  from  the  enemy  :  wc  will  bind 
and  hood-wink  him  so,  that  he  shall  suppose  no 
other  but  that  he  is  carried  into  the  leagued  of  the 
adversaries,  when  we  bring  him  to  our  tents  :  Be 
but  your  lordship  present  at  his  examination ;  if  he 
do  not,  for  the  promise  of  his  life,  and  in  the  high- 
est compulsion  of  base  fear,  offer  to  betray  you, 
and  deliver  all  the  intelligence  in  his  power  against 
joo,  and  that  with  the  divine  forfeit  of  his  soul  upon 
oath,  never  trust  mv  judgment  in  any  thin^. 

2  Lord.  O,  for  the  love  of  laughter,  let  him  fetch 
ha  drum  ;  he  says  he  has  a  stratagem  for't :  when 
jrour  lordship  sees  the  bottom  of  his  success  in't, 
And  to  what  metal  this  counterfeit  lump  of  ore.will 
be  melted,  if  you  eive  him  not  John  Drum's  enter- 
tainment, your  incuning  cannot  be  removed.  Here 
he  comfet. 

Enter  Parollet. 
1  Lord.  O,  for  the  love  of  laughter,  hinder  not 

(1)  A  paltry  fellow,  a  coward.      (2)  The  camp. 
(3)  I  would  recover  the  lost  drum  or  another,  or 
"  in  the  attempt. 


the  humour  of  his  di«ign;  let  him  fetch  off  hi* 
drum  in  any  hand. 

Ber.  How  now,  nKmsieur.^  this  drum  sticks 
sorely  in  your  dii^position. 

2  Lord.  A  pox  on't,  let  it  go ;  'tis  but  a  drum. 

Par.  But  a  drum !  Is't  but  a  drum  ?  A  drum  ra 
lost.' — There  was  an  excellent  command!  to 
charge  in  with  our  horse  upon  our  own  wings,  and 
to  il^d  our  own  soldiers. 

2  Lord.  That  was  not  to  be  blamed  in  the  com- 
mand of  the  service ;  it  was  a  disaster  of  war  that 
Caesar  himself  could  not  have  prevented,  if  he  bad 
b^en  there  to  command. 

Ber.  Well,  we  cannot  greatly  condemn  our  sac- 
cess  :  some  dishonour  we  had  in  the  loss  of  that 
drum ;  but  it  is  not  to  be  recovered. 

Par.  It  might  have  been  reco\'ered. 

Ber.  It  might,  but  it  is  not  now. 

Par.  It  is  to  be  recovered :  but  that  the  merit  of 
service  is  seldom  attributed  to  the  true  and  exact 
performer,  I  would  have  thai  drum  or  another,  or 
/Ucjacet.* 

Ber.  Why,  if  you  have  a  stomach  to't,  monsieur, 
if  you  think  your  mystery  in  stratagem  can  bring 
this  instrument  of  honour  a^ain  into  his  native 
quarter,  be  magnanimous  in  the  enterprise,  and  co 
on ;  I  will  grace  the  attempt  for  a  worthy  exploit : 
if  you  speed  well  in  it,  the  duke  shall  both  speak  of 
it,  and  ext^d  to  you  what  further  becomes  his 
greatness,  even  to  the  utmost  syllabic  of  your  wor- 
thiness. 

Par.  By  the  hand  of  a  soldier,  I  will  undertake  it. 

Ber.  But  you  must  not  now  slumber  in  it. 

Par.  I'll  about  it  this  evening :  and  I  will  pre- 
sently pen  down  my  dilemmas,^  encouraee  myself 
in  my  certainty,  put  myself  into  my  mortal  prepara- 
tion, and,  by  midnight,  look  to  hear  further  from  me. 

Ber.  May  I  be  oold  to  acquaint  his  grace,  you 
are  gone  about  it .' 

Par.  I  know  not  what  the  success  will  be,  my 
lord  ;  but  the  attempt  I  vow. 

Ber.  1  know  thou  art  valiant ;  and,  to  the  possi- 
bility of  thy  soldiership,  will  subscribe  for  thee. 
Farewell. 

Par.  I  love  not  many  word*.  [£xtl. 

1  Lord.  No  more  than  a  fish  loves  water. — Is  not 
this  a  strange  fellow,  my  lord  ?  that  so  confidently 
seems  to  undertake  this  business,  which  he  knows 
is  not  to  be  done;  damns  himself  to  do,  and  dares 
better  be  damned  than  to  do't 

2  Ijord.  You  do  not  know  him,  my  lord,  as  wa 
do :  certain  it  is,  that  he  will  steal  himself  into  a 
man's  favour,  and,  for  a  week,  escape  a  g^reat  deal 
of  discoveries;  but  when  you  find  him  out,  you 
have  him  ever  after. 

Ber.  Why,  do  you  think  he  will  make  no  deed 
at  all  of  this,  that  so  seriously  he  does  addi-ess  him- 
self unto  ? 

1  Lord.  None  in  the  world ;  but  return  with  an 
invention,  and  clap  upon  you  two  or  three  proba- 
ble lies :  but  we  have  almost  embossed  him,*  you 
shall  see  his  fall  to-night ;  for,  indeed,  he  is  not  for 
your  lordship's  respect 

2  Lord.  We'll  make  you  some  sport  with  the 
fox,  ere  we  case  him.6  He  was  first  smoked  by  the 
old  lord  Lafeu :  when  his  di»uise  and  he  is  part- 
ed, tell  me  what  a  sprat  you  shall  find  him ;  which 
you  shall  see  this  very  night 

1  Lord.  I  must  go  look  my  twigs ;  he  shall  be 
caught 

(4)  I  will  pen  down  nay  plans,  and  the  probabta 
obstructions. 

(5)  Hunted  him  down.     (6)  Strip  him  naked. 


744 


ALL'S  ^VELL  THAT  ENDS  ^"ELL. 


Ad  IT 


Ber.  Your  brother,  he  shall  ro  along  with  me. 

1  Lord.  A«*t  please  ^-ourloitWiip :  1*11  leave  joa. 

Ber.  Now  will  I  lead  you  to  the  bouse,  ana  abow 
vou 
The  lass  I  spoke  of. 

2  Lord,  But,  yxm  say,  she's  honest 
Ber.  That*s  all  the  fault :  I  spoke  with  he^  but 

once, 
And  found  her  wondrous  cold ;  but  I  sent  to  her, 
Br  this  same  coxcomb  that  we  have  i*  the  wind, 
'Ix>kens  and  letters  which  she  did  re-send ; 
And  this  is  all  I  have  done :  She*s  a  fair  creatUK ; 
Will  you  go  see  her  ? 
2  Lord,  With  all  my  heart,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  r//.— Florence.     A  Ro<m  in  the 
Widow's  house.    Enter  Helena  and  Widow. 

HeL  If  you  misdoubt  me  that  I  am  not  she, 
I  know  not  how  I  shall  assure  you  further, 
But  I  shall  lose  the  grounds  I  work  upon.t^ 

Wid,  Though  my  estate  be  &llen,  I  was  well 
bom. 
Nothing  acquainted  with  these  businesses ; 
And  would  not  put  my  reputation  now 
In  any  staining  act 

Hu,  Nor  would  I  wish  you. 

First,  give  me  trust,  the  count  he  is  my  husband ; 
And,  what  to  your  sworn  counsel  I  have  spoken, 
Is  so,  from  word  to  word ;  and  then  you  caiuiot. 
By  the  good  aid  that  I  of  you  shall  lx>rrow. 
Err  in  bestowing  it 

Ji^td,  I  should  believe  vou ; 

For^'ou  have  showed  me  that,  which  well  approves 
You  are  great  in  fwtune. 

HeL  Take  this  purse  of  gold, 

And  let  me  buy  your  friendly  help  thus  far, 
Which  I  will  over-pay,  and  pay  again. 
When  I  have  found  it    The  count  he  woos  your 

daughter. 
Lays  down  his  wanton  si^e  before  her  beauty. 
Resolves  to  carry  her ;  let  her,  in  fine,  consent. 
As  we'll  direct  her  how  *tis  best  to  bear  it. 
Now  his  important^  blood  will  nought  deny 
That  she'll  demand :  A  ring  the  county'  wears. 
That  downward  hath  succeeded  in  his  house. 
From  son  to  son,  some  four  or  five  descents 
Since  the  first  father  wore  it :  this  ring  he  holds 
In  most  rich  choice ;  yet,  in  hi-s  idle  fire. 
To  buy  bis  will,  it  would  not  seem  too  dear, 
Howe'er  repented  after. 

Wid,  Now  I  see 

The  bottom  of  your  purpose. 

HeL  You  see  it  lawful  then :  It  is  no  more. 
But  that  your  daughter,  ere  she  seems  as  won. 
Desires  this  ring ;  appoints  him  an  encounter ; 
In  fine,  delivers  me  to  fill  the  time. 
Herself  most  cha.stelv  absent :  after  this. 
To  marry  her,  I'll  a()d  three  thousand  crowns 
To  what  is  past  already. 

Wid.  I  have  \-iclded : 

Instruct  my  dau«:htcr  how  she  shall  pereever. 
That  time  and  place,  with  this  deceit  so  lawful. 
May  prove  coh<;rpnt.     Evcrv  night  he  comos 
With  musics  of  uU  sorts,  and  songs  compor)*d 
To  her  unworthiiiess :  It  nothing  steads  u«. 
To  chide  him  from  our  eaves  :^  for  he  pcrsi-jts. 
As  if  his  life  lay  on't 

Hel.  Why  then,  to-night 

(1)  t.  e.  By  discovering  herself  to  the  count. 
^2)  Importunate.  (3)  t.  e.  Count. 

(4)  From  under  our  windows. 


Let  us  assay  our  plot ;  which,  if  h  speed. 
Is  wicked  meaning  in  a  lawful  deed. 
And  lawful  meaning  in  a  lawAil  act ; 
Where  both  not  sin,  and  yet  a  sinful  fret ; 


But  let's  about  it 


[EamA 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJfE  L-~WHhout  the  Florentine  camp.  En- 
ter first  Lord,  voith  five  or  six  Soldiers  m  oas- 
bush. 

1  Lord,  He  can  come  no  other  way  but  by  this 
hedge's  comer :  When  you  sally  upon  him,  wpesk 
what  terrible  language  you  will ;  though  you  under- 
stand it  not  yourselves,  no  matter :  for  we  nrost  not 
seem  to  un<lerstand  him ;  unless  some  one  among 
us,  whom  we  must  produce  for  an  inteipn  set, 

1  Sold.  Good  captain,  let  me  be  the  mterpreter. 

1  Lord,  Art  not  acquainted  with  him?  knows 
he  not  thy  voice  ? 

1  Sold.  No,  sir,  I  warrant  yon. 

I  Lord,  But  what  linsy-woolsy  halt  Uxm  to 
speak  to  us  again  ? 

1  Sold,  Even  such  as  you  speak  to  me. 

1  Lord.  He  must  think  us  some  band  of  itmn- 
gers  i'the  adversary's  entertainment*  Now  he  hath 
a  smack  of  all  neighbouring  languages ;  therefore 
we  must  ever}'  one  oe  a  man  of  ms  own  foncy,  not 
to  know  what  we  speak  one  to  another;  to  we 
seem  to  know,  is  to  know  stra^ht  our  purpose: 
chou^'s^  language,  ^bble  enough,  and  good 
enough.  As  for  you,  mterpreter,  you  most  aeem 
ver)'  politic.  But  couch,  no!  here  be  comet;  te 
l>pguile  two  hours  in  a  sleep,  and  then  to  retain 
and  swear  tjie  lies  he  forges. 

Enter  FaroUes. 

Par.  Ten  o'clock :  within  these  three  boars 'twill 
be  time  enough  to  go  home.  What  shall  I  say  1 
have  done .'  It  must  be  a  veiy  plausive  inrentioa 
that  carries  it :  They  begin  to  smoke  me ;  and  dis> 
graces  have  of  late  knocked  too  oflen  at  my  door.  I 
find  my  tongue  is  too  fool-hardy;  but  my  heart 
hath  the  fear  of  Mars  before  it,  and  of  his  crea- 
tures, not  daring  the  reports  of  my  tongue. 

1  Iiord.  This  is  the  first  truth  that  e'er  thine  own 
tongue  was  guil^  of.  [Aside. 

Par.  What  the  devil  should  move  roe  to  imder- 
take  the  rccoven*  of  this  drum ;  being  not  ignorant 
of  (he  impossibility,  and  knowing  I  had  no  sudi 

Fuq)08e  f  I  must  give  myself  some  hurts,  and  say, 
gut  (hem  in  exploit :  Yet  slight  ones  will  not  carry 
it :  They  will  say.  Came  you  otT  with  so  little  ?  and 
great  ones  I  dare  not  exve.  W^herefbre?  what's 
the  instance  .^7  Tongue,  I  must  put  you  into  a  but- 
ter-wonmn's  mouth,  and  buy  another  of  Bajazet's 
mule,  if  you  prattle  me  into  these  perils. 

1  Lork.  Is  it  possible  he  should  know  what  he 
is,  and  be  that  he  is  f  [Aside. 

Par.  I  would  the  cutting  of  my  garmoits  would 
MTVc  the  turn;  or  the  breaking  of  my  Spanish 
sword. 

1  Lord.  We  cannot  afford  you  sa  [Aside, 

Par.  Or  the  baring  of  my  beard ;  and  to  say, 
it  was  in  stratagenL 

1  iMrd.  'Twould  not  da  [Aside. 

Par.  Or  to  drown  my  clothes,  and  say  I  was 
stripjM'd. 

1  Jxtrd.  Hardly  serve.  [.^Jidlf 

(5)  t.  e.  Foreign  troops  in  the  enemy's  pay. 

(6)  A  bii-d  like  a  jack-daw.       (7)  The  prooC 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


S4& 


ngh  I  fwore  I  leaped  from  the  window 

SI 

aow  deep  ?  [Atuk. 

rtjr&tbom. 

rhree  great  oaths  would  tcarce  make 

tved.  [Aside. 

oold  I  had  any  drum  of  the  enemy** ; 

ar  I  recoverea  it 

f ou  shall  hear  one  anon.  [Atide. 

ram  now  of  the  enem3r*s ! 

[Alarum  within. 
%roea  mavoums^  cargo,  cargo,  cargo. 
po,  cargo,  vilUanda  par  caHto^  cargo. 
ransome,  ranaome : — Do  not  bide  mine 

J  They  teixe  him  and  blindfold  him. 
M  thromuldo  boskos. 
\gm  jou  are  the  Muskos*  regiment, 
kite  my  life  for  want  of  language : 
lere  Gemian,  or  Dane,  low  Dutch, 
icoch,  let  him  speak  to  me, 
er  that  which  shall  undo 
ine. 

Boskos  vauvado : 

I  diee,  and  can  speak  thy  toiigae : 

to  diy  faith,  for  seventeen  poniards 


Oh! 

O,  pray,  pray,  pray. 

mtadulche. 

Oscorbi  dulchos  volioorca. 
lie  eeneral  is  content  to  spare  thee  yet ; 
nnk*d  as  tboti  art,  will  lead  thee  on 
om  thee :  haply,  thou  may*st  inform 
)  save  thy  life. 

0,  let  me  live, 
lecrets  of  our  camp  Pll  show, 
their  purposes :  nay,  Pll  speak  that 
irUl  wonder  at. 

But  wilt  thou  faithfully  ? 
do  not,  damn  me. 

Acordo  linta. — 
an  art  granted  space. 

[Exii,  \oiih  Parolles  guarded. 
lo,  tell  the  count  Rousillon,  and   mv 
<her, 
^t  the  woodcock,  and  will  keep  him 

ear  from  them. 

Captain,  I  wilt, 
tewin  betray  us  all  unto  ourselves ; — 
hat 

So  I  will,  sir. 
m  then,  Pll  keep  him  dark,  and  safelv 
k'd,  [ExeiaU. 

r— Florence.  A  room  in  the  Widow's 
I.  Enier  Bertram  and  Diana. 

r  told  me,  that  your  name  was  Fon- 

tlL 

rny  good  lord,  Diana. 

Titled  e:oddess ; 
:,  with  addition !  But,  fair  soul, 
frame  hath  love  no  quality  f 
fire  of  youth  light  not  your  mind, 
aaiden,  but  a  monument : 
re  dead,  you  should  be  such  a  one 
ow,  for  you  are  cold  and  stem ; 
1  should  be  as  your  mother  was, 
(weet  self  was  got 
then  was  honest 

^in<t  his  dctcrmiuod  resolution  never 
ith  Helena. 


17 


Ber.  So  dxwld  you  be. 

Dia.  No. 

My  mother  did  but  duty ;  such,  my  lord, 
As  you  owe  to  your  wifis. 

JBer.  No  more  of  that ! 

I  pr'ytibee,  do  not  strive  against  my  vows  :> 
I  was  compeird  to  her ;  rat  I  love  thee 
By  love*s  own  sweet  constraint,  and  will  for  ever 
Do  thee  all  rights  of  service. 

Dia.  Ay,  so  yon  serve  us, 

T^U  we  serve  yoa :  but  when  you  have  our  rotes. 
You  barely  leave  our  thorns  to  prick  ourselves. 
And  mock  us  with  our  bareness. 

Ber.  How  have  I  sworn  ? 

Dia.  *Tis  not  the  many  oaths  that  makd  the 
truth; 
But  the  i^ain  single  vow,  that  is  vow*d  true. 
What  is  not  holy,  that  we  swear  not  by, 
But  take  the  Highest  to  witness  :3  Then,  pray  you, 

tell  me. 
If  I  should  swear  by  Jove*s  great  attributes, 
I  lov*d  vou  dearly,  would  you  believe  my  oaths. 
When  I  did  love  you  ill  ?  this  has  no  holding. 
To  swear  by  him  whom  I  protest  to  love. 
That  I  will  work  against  him :  Therefore,  youroaths 
Are  words,  and  poor  conditions  ;  but  unseai'd ; 
At  least,  in  my  opinion. 

Ber,  Change  it,  change  it ; 

Be  not  so  holy-cruel :  love  b  holy ; 
And  my  integrity  ne*er  knew  the  crafts, 
That  ^ou  do  charge  men  with :  Stand  no  more  off. 
But  give  thyself  unto  my  sick  desires. 
Who  then  recover :  Sav,  thou  art  mine,  and  ever 
My  love,  as  it  b^ns,  shall  so  pers^ver. 

Dia.  I  see  that  men  make  hopes  in  such  afiairsv 
That  weMl  forsake  ourselves.  Give  me  that  ring. 

Ber.  Pll  lend  it  thee,  my  dear,  but  have  no  powev 
To  give  it  from  me. 

Dia.  Will  you  not,  my  lord  ? 

Ber.  It  is  an  honour  Monging  to  our  1k>usc, 
Bequeathed  down  firom  many  ancestors ; 
Which  were  the  greatest  obloquy  i*  the  world 
In  me  to  lose. 

Dia.  Mine  honour's  such  a  ring : 

My  chasdty*s  the  jewel  of  our  house. 
Bequeathed  down  from  many  ancestors ; 
Which  were  the  greatest  obloquy  i*  the  world 
In  me  to  lose  :  Thus  your  own  proper  wisdom 
Brin^  in  the  champion  honour  on  my  part. 
Against  your  vain  assault 

Ber.  Here,  take  my  ring : 

My  house,  mine  honour,  yea,  my  life  be  thine. 
And  Pll  be  bid  by  thee. 

Dia.  When  midnight  comes,  knock  at  m}  duun- 
ber  window; 
Pll  order  take,  my  mother  shall  not  hear. 
Now  will  I  charge  you  in  the  band  of  truth. 
When  you  have  conquerM  my  yet  maiden  bed, 
Remain  there  but  an  hour,  nor  speak  to  me : 
My  reasons  are  most  strong ;  and  you  shall  know 

them. 
When  back  again  this  ring  shall  be  deliverM : 
And  on  your  nneer,  in  the  ni^ht.  Pit  put 
Another  ring ;  that,  what  in  time  proceeds. 
May  token  to  the  future  our  past  deeds. 
Adieu,  till  then ;  then,  fail  not :  you  have  won 
A  wife  of  me,  though  there  my  nope  be  done. 

Ber.  A  heaven  on  earth  I  have  won,  by  wooing 
thee.  [Erit. 

Dia.  For  which  live  long  to  thank  both  hea\  cii 
and  me ! 

(2)  The  sense  i« — we  never  swear  by  what  is  not 
holy,  but  take  to  witness  the  Highest,  the  Diviniiy. 


S46 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


AttIF 


Ton  WBj  to  in  the  end. 

Mj  mother  told  me  just  bow  be  would  woo, 
At  if  ihe  sat  in  his  lieart ;  she  says,  all  men 
Have  the  like  oaths :  he  had  sworn  to  marry  me, 
When  his  wife*s  dead ;  therefore  Pll  lie  with  him, 
When  I  am  buried.    Since  Frenchmen  are  so 

braid,^ 
Many  that  will,  PU  live  and  die  a  maid : 
Only,  in  this  di^ise,  I  thiiik*t  no  sin 
To  ooaen  him,  that  would  unjustly  win.        [Exit. 

SCBJV'E  III.— The  Florentine  camp.    Enter  ihe 
two  French  Lords,  and  ttoo  or  three  SoUUerg. 

1  Lord,  You  have  not  given  him  his  mother's 
letter? 

2  Jjord.  I  have  delivered  it  an  hour  since  :  there 
it  tnfn*t>*'"g  in*t  that  stings  his  nature ;  for,  on  the 
leading  it,  he  changed  almost  into  another  man. 

1  Lord,  He  has  much  worthy  blame  laid  upon 
Um,  fiv  shaking  off  so  good  a  wife,  and  so  sweet  a 
la^. 

zLord.  Especially  he  hath  incurred  the  ever- 
lasdiw  displeasure  of  the  king,  who  had  even 
tuned  his  bounty  to  sing  happiness  to  him.  I  will 
tell  yoa  a  thing,  but  you  shall  let  it  dwell  darkly 
with  TOO. 

1  Lord.  When  you  have  spoken  it,  'tis  dead,  and 
I  am  the  grave  of  it 

S  Lord[  He  hath  perverted  a  young  gentle- 
woman here  in  Florence,  of  a  moet  chaste  renown ; 
and  this  night  he  fleshes  his  will  in  the  spoil  of  her 
honour :  he  hath  given  her  his  monumental  ring, 
and  thinks  himself  made  in  the  unchaste  compo- 
sition. 

1  Lord.  Now,  God  delay  our  rebellion ;  as  we 
me  ourselves,  what  things  are  we ! 

S  Jjord.  Merely  our  own  traitors.  And  as  in  the 
Cflmmon  course  of  all  treasons,  we  still  see  them 
ceveal  themselves,  till  they  attain  to  their  abhorred 
.ends ;  so  he,  that  in  this  action  contrives  against 
•liis  own  nobility,  in  his  proper  stream  overflows 
rtumselC^ 

1  Lord,  U  it  not  meant  damnable*  in  us,  to  be 
<tramaeters  of  our  unlawful  intents  f  We  shall  not 
'tiienWre  Us  company  to-night .' 

2  Lord.  Not  till  after  midnight ;  for  he  is  dieted 
rtohbhoar. 

1  Jjord,  That  approaches  apace:  I  would  gladly 
have  him  see  hk  company^  anatomized ;  that  he 
might  take  a  measure  of  his  own  judgments, 
vdierein  so  ouriouslv  he  had  set  this  counterfeit 

S  Lord.  We  will  not  meddle  with  him  till  he 
oome;  for  his  presence  must  be  the  whip  of  tlie 
other. 

1  Lord,  la  the  mean  time,  what  hear  you  of 
idtesewars.^ 

S  Jjord,  I  hear,  there  is  an  overture  of  peace. 

1  £iord.  Nay,  I  assure  you,  a  peace  concluded. 

S  Lord,  What  will  count  Rousillon  do  then  ? 
«wiU  he  travel  higher,  or  return  again  into  France  ? 

1  Jjord.  1  perceive,  bv  this  demand,  you  are  not 
■altogether  of  his  council. 

2  Lord,  Let  it  be  forbid,  sir !  so  should  I  be  a 
great  deal  of  bis  act 

1  Ijord.  Sir,  his  wife,  some  two  months  since, 
fled  from  his  house :  her  pretence  is  a  pilgrimage  to 
Saint  Jaques  le  grand ;  which  holy  undertaking, 
with  most  austere  sanctimony,  she  accomplished : 
and,  there  residing,  the  teademess  of  her  nature 
•became  as  a  prey  to  her  grief ;  in  fine,  made  a  groan 

I)  Crafty,  deceitful. 

1^4.6.  fietravs  his  own  secrets  in  his  own  talk. 
■Here,  as  elsewhere,  used  adverbially. 


of  her  last  breath,  and  now  she  sii^  in  heaven. 
2  Lord,  How  is  this  justified  ? 

1  Lord.  The  stronger  part  of  it  by  her  own  let- 
ters ;  which  makes  her  story  true,  even  to  the  point 
of  her  death :  her  death  itself^  which  conld  not  be 
her  office  to  say,  is  come,  was  frithfully  confirmed 
by  the  rector  of  the  place. 

2  Lord.  Hath  the  count  all  this  intell»ence .' 

1  Lord.  Ay,  and  the  particular  connrmatMns, 
point  from  point,  to  the  full  amung  of  the  verity. 

2  Lord.  I  am  heartily  sony,  that  he'll  be  glad 
of  this. 

1  Lord,  How  mightily,  sometimefl,  we  make  us 
comforts  of  our  leases ! 

2  Lord,  And  how  mightily,  some  other  times,  we 
drown  our  gain  in  tears :  The  great  di^^.  that 
his  valour  hath  here  acquired  for  him,  dudi  at  bone 
be  encountered  with  a  shame  as  ample. 

1  Lord.  The  web  of  our  life  is  of  a  milled 
yam,  good  and  ill  together :  our  virtues  wonla  be 
proud,  if  our  faults  whipped  them  not ;  and  our 
Climes  would  despair,  it  they  were  not  chexuh^d 
by  our  virtues. — 

Enter  a  Servant. 

How  now  .^  Where's  your  master  .^ 

Serv.  He  met  the  duke  in  the  street,  sb,  of 
whom  he  hath  taken  a  solemn  leave ;  his  lordship 
will  next  morning  for  France.  The  duke  bath  oi- 
fered  him  letters  of  commendatkms  to  the  king. 

2  Lord,  They  shall  be  no  more  than  needful 
there,  if  they  were  more  than  they  can  commend 

£nto- Bextram. 

1  Lord,  They  cannot  be  too  sweet  for  the  king** 
tartness.  Here's  his  lordship  now.  How  now,  my 
lord,  is't  not  after  midnight .' 

Ber.  I  have  to-night  despatdied  sixteen  bosi- 
nesses,  a  month's  length  a-piece,  by  an  abstract  of 
success :  I  have  cooge'd  with  the  doke,  done  mj 
adieu  with  his  nearest ;  buried  a  wife,  moamed  for 
her ;  writ  to  my  lady  mother,  I  am  returaing;  en- 
tertained my  convoy;  and,  between  these  main 
parcels  of  despatch,  effected  many  nicer  needs ; 
the  last  was  the  greatest,  but  that  I  have  ncK 
ended  yet 

2  Lord.  If  the  business beof  any  ^Ufficulty, and 
this  morning  your  departure  henoe,  it  reqoii 
haste  of  your  lordship. 

Ber.  I  mean,  the  business  is  not  ended,  as  feai 
ing  to  bear  of  it  hereafter :  But  shall  we  have  tht 
dialogue  between  ^e  fool  and  the  soldksr? 


Come,  bring  forth  this  counterfeit  module  \^  he 
deceived  me,  like  a  double-meaning  praphesier. 

2  Lord.  Bring  him  forth :  [Elxeuni  Soidien,] 
has  sat  in  the  stocks  all  night,  poor  g^allant  knave 

Ber.  No  matter ;  his  heels  nave  deserv'd  it,  i 
usurping  his  spurs^  so  kx^.    How  does  be 
nimselfr 

1  Lord,  I  have  told  your  lorddiip  already ; 
stocks  cany  him.    But,  to  answer  you  as 
would  be  understood ;  he  weeps,  like  a  wench 
had  shed  her  milk :  he  hath  confessed  himself  " 
Morgan,  whom  he  supposes  to  be  a  firiar,  from 
time  of  his  remembrance,  to  this  very  instant 
aster  of  his  setting  i'  the  stocks :  And  wfaAt 
you  he  hath  confessed  f 

Ber.  Nothing  of  me,  has  he  ? 

2  Lord.  His  confession  is  taken,  and  it  shall 
read  to  his  &ce :  if  your  lorddiip  be  in\  aa,  I 


^4)  For  compamon.  (5)  Model, 

(6)  An  allusion  to  the  degradation 
by  hacking  off*  his  spars. 


bt 


ktmlU. 


ALL*S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


t47 


mr%  joo  aret  Jt'Q  R"»t  ^^  ^  patience  to 
eu  it 

/{•-€iiler  Soldiers,  with  Parollea. 

Ber,  A  plague  upoa  him !  muffled !  he  can  saj 
odang  of  roe ;  huu !  hush ! 

1  Lord,  Hoodman  comes ! — Porto  iartarosta, 

1  Sold.  He  calls  for  the  tortures ;  What  will  yon 
vy  witboat  'em  f 

Par,  I  will  confess  what  I  know  without  con- 
Iraint;  if  ye  pinch  roe  like  a  pasty,  I  can  say  no 


1  Sold.  Bosko  chimureho. 
S  Lord.  BobUbindo  chicurmurco. 
1  Stdd.  Tou  are  a  merciful  eeneral: — Our  general 
ids  yoa  answer  to  what  I  uall  ask  you  out  of  a 


Pmr.  And  traly,  as  I  hope  to  live. 

1  Sold.  Firsi  demand  of  him  how  many  hone 
bff  Atfce  if  tiron^.    What  say  you  to  that  ? 

Pmr.  Fire  or  six  thousand ;  but  very  weak  and 
aamiceaMe;  the  troops  are  all  scattered,  and 
w  oomroanders  very  pocnr  rogues,  upon  my  repu- 
itkn  and  credit,  and  as  I  hope  to  live. 

1  Sold.  Stall  I  set  down  your  answer  so  ? 

Par,  Do ;  1*11  take  the  sacrament  on*t,  how  and 
ittdi  war  you  will. 

JBtr:  A11*s  one  to  him.  What  a  past-saving  slave 

this! 

1  Lord.  Yoa  are  deceived,  my  lord;  this  is 
Mnsieur  Parolles,  the  gallant  militarist  (Oiat  was 
m  own  phrase,)  that  had  the  whole  theoric'  of 
"ar  in  the  knot  of  his  scarf,  and  the  practice  in  the 
tepe?  of  his  dagger. 

%  Lord.  I  will  never  trust  a  man  again,  for  keep- 
C  bit  sword  clean ;  nor  believe  he  can  have  every 
mr  in  him,  by  wearing  his  apparel  neatly. 

I  Sold.  Well,  that's  set  down. 

Pmr.  Five  or  six  thousand  horse,  I  said, — I  will 
Lj  tnie,— or  thereabouts,  set  down, — for  I'll  speak 


the  na- 


I  JJord.  He's  very  near  the  truth  in  this. 
Bar.  But  I  con  him  no  thanks  for't,  in  1 
le  ha  delivers  it 

Pmr.  Poor  rogues,  I  pray  you,  say. 
1  Sold.  Well,  that's  set  down. 
Pmr.  1  humbly  thank  you,  sir :  a  truth's  a  truth, 
8  rogues  are  marvellous  poor. 
1  Sold.  Demand  qf  Attn,  ofvehai  strength  they 
«  e^fboi.  .  What  say  ^oo  to  that  ? 
Peer.  By  my  troth,  sir,  if  I  were  to  live  this  pre- 
it  hoar,  I  will  tell  true.    Let  me  see :  Spuno  a 
ndred  and  fifty,  Sebastian  so  many,  Corambus 
■wny,  Jaqoes  so  manv ;  Guiltian,  uosroo,  Lodo- 
cMf  and  Gratii,  two  hundred  fifW  each :  mine 
rn  companv,  Chitoi^er,  Vaumcnd,  Bentii,  two 
ndred  and  fifty  each:  so  that  the  muster-file, 
tlsii  and  sound,  upon  my  life,  amounts  not  to  fif- 
!0  thousand  pdl ;  half  of  which  dare  not  shake 
i  «iow  from  off  their  cassocks,'  lest  they  shake 
smaelves  to  pieces. 
JBkr.  What  shall  be  done  to  him. 
1  Ztord.  Nothing,  but  let  him  have  thanks.  De- 
Hid  of  him  my  cooditions,^  and  what  credit  I 
WB  with  the  diuce. 

1  Sold,  Well,  that's  set  down.  You  shaU  de- 
wmd  qf  Aim,  whether  one  captain  Dumain  be 
Uka  cama^  a  Frenchman ;  what  his  reputation  is 
the  duke,  what  his  valour ,  honesty,  and  ex- 
in  wars  ;  or  wheiher  he  thinks,  it  were 


8)  Tbeorr.    (2)  The  point  of  the  scabbard. 
)  Cassock  then  si&nufied  a  horseman's  kxtsecoat 
(^  Dispositioo  and  character. 


not  possible,  with  weU-vjeighing  su$ns  qf  gold,  to 
corrupt  him  to  a  retolt.  What  say  you  to  this  .* 
what  do  vou  know  of  it  f 

Par.  1  beseech  you,  let  me  answer  to  the  parti- 
cular of  the  intergatories  :*  Demand  them  situ;ly. 

1  Sold.  Do  you  know  this  captain  Dumain  f 

Par.  I  know  him :  he  was  a  ootcher's  'prentice 
in  Paris,  from  whence  he  was  whipped  for  getting 
the  sheriff's  fool  with  child;  a  dumb  innocent,0 
that  could  not  say  him,  nay. 

[Dumain  l\fis  up  his  hand  in  anger, 

Ber.  Nay,  by  your  leave,  hold  your  haiid«; 
though  I  know,  his  brains  are  forfeit  to  the  next 
title  that  falls. 

1  Sold.  Well,  is  this  captain  in  the  duke  of  Flo 
rence's  camp  ? 

Par.  Upon  my  knowledge,  he  is,  and  lousy. 

1  Lard,  fizy,  look  not  so  upon  me ;  we  shall 
hear  of  your  lordship  anon. 

1  Sold.  What  is  his  reputation  with  the  duke  ? 

Par.  The  duke  knows  him  for  no  other  but  a 
poor  officer  of  mine ;  and  writ  to  roe  this  other  day, 
to  turn  him  out  o'the  band :  I  think,  I  have  his  let- 
ter in  my  pocket 

1  Sold.  Manr,  we'll  search. 

Par.  In  ^^ooa  sadness,  I  do  not  know ;  either  it 
is  there,  or  it  is  upon  a  file,  with  the  duke's  other 
letters,  in  mv  tent 

1  Sold,  Here  'tis ;  here's  a  paper  ?  Shall  I  read 
it  to  you  ? 

Par.  I  do  not  know,  if  it  be  it,  or  no. 

Ber.  Our  interpreter  does  it  welL 

1  Lord.  Excellently. 

1  Sold.  Dian.    The  counts  a/ool,  and/uU  of 

Par.  That  is  not  the  duke*s  letter,  sir ;  that  is 
an  advertisement  to  a  proper  maid  in  Florence,  oue 
Diana,  to  take  heed  or  the  allurement  of  one  count 
Rousillon,  a  foolish  idle  boy,  but,  for  all  that,  very 
ruttish :  I  pray  you,  fir,  put  it  up  again. 

1  Sold.  Nay,  PU  read  it  first,  by  your  favour. 

Par.  My  meaning  in't,  I  protest,  was  very 
honest  in  the  behalf  of  the  maid :  for  I  knew  the 
youn^  count  to  be  a  dauj^rous  and  lascivious  boy ; 
who  IS  a  whale  to  virginity,  and  devours  up  all 
the  fry  it  finds. 

Ber.  Damnable,  both  sides  roeue  ! 

1  Sold.  When  he  swears  oaths,  bid  him  drop 

gold,  and  take  it ; 
Jifter  he  scores,  he  never  pays  the  score: 
HaJif  won,  is  match  well  maae;  match,  and  well 
make  it /^ 
He  ne*erpays  a/Ur-debts,  take  it  b^ore  ; 
And  say,  a  soldier,  Dian^  told  thee  this. 
Men  are  to  melt  with,  boys  arenot  tokiss: 
For  count  of  this,  the  count's  a  fool,  I  know  it. 
Who  pays  btfore,  but  not  when  he  does  owe  it. 
Thins,  as  he  vow'd  to  thee  in  thine  ear, 

PAROLLES. 
Ber.  He  shall  be  whipped  through  the  army,  with 
this  rhyme  in  his  forehead. 

2  I^d.  This  is  your  devoted  friend,  sir,  the 
manifdd  linguist,  and  the  armipotent  soldier. 

Ber.  I  could  endure  any  thing  before  but  a  cat, 
and  now  he's  a  cat  to  me. 

1  Sold.  I  perceive,  sir,  by  the  general's  looks, 
we  shall  be  fain  to  hang  yon. 

Par.  My  life,  sir,  in  any  case :  not  that  I  am 
afraid  to  die ;  but  that,  my  ofiences  being  many,  I 
would  repent  out  the  remainder  of  nature :  let  me 

(5)  For  interrtxratories.         (6)  A  natural  fooL 
(7)  t.  e.  A  matcn  well  made  u  half  won ;  make 
voor  match  therefore,  but  make  it  well. 


€48 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


Adir. 


liTBi  fir,  ID  a  dungeon,  T  tiie  stocks,  or  anjr  where, 
10 1  may  live. 

1  Sold.  We*ll  see  what  may  be  done,  so  yoa  con- 
fioas  freely;  therefore,  once  more  to  this  captain 
Domain :  You  have  answered  to  his  reputation  with 
the  duke,  and  to  his  valour :  What  is  nis  honesty  ? 

Par.  He  will  steal,  sir,  an  ^g  out  of  a  cloister  ;i 
fiv  rapes  and  ravishraents  he  parallels  Nessus.^  He 
profiases  not  keepine  of  oaths ;  in  breaking  them, 
ne  is  stronger  than  Hercules.  He  will  lie,  sir,  with 
audi  volubility,  that  you  would  think  truth  were  a 
6xA :  drunkenness  is  his  best  virtue ;  for  he  will  be 
•wine-drunk ;  and  in  his  sleep  he  does  little  harm, 
•ave  to  his  bed-clothes  about  him ;  but  they  know 
Ins  conditions,  and  lay  him  in  straw.  I' have  but 
little  more  to  say,  sir,  of  his  honesty :  he  has  every 
tfaii^  that  an  honest  man  should  not  have ;  what 
•B  honest  man  should  have,  he  has  nothing. 

1  Lord.  I  begin  to  love  him  for  this. 

Ber,  For  this  description  of  thine  honesty  ?  A 
pox  mpon  him  for  me,  he  is  more  and  more  a  cat. 

1  Soid.  What  say  yon  to  his  expertness  in  war? 

Par.  Faith,  sir,  he  has  led  the  drum  before  the 
English  tragedians, — to  belie  him,  I  will  not, — and 
more  of  his  soldiership  I  know  not ;  except,  in  that 
oouitiy,  he  had  the  nonour  to  be  the  officer  at  a 
plaoe  there  calPd  Mile-end,  to  instruct  for  the 
donbUng  of  files :  I  would  do  the  man  what  honour 
I  can,  but  of  this  I  am  not  certam. 

1  ijord.  He  hath  out-villained  villany  so  &r  that 
the  rarity  redeems  him. 

Ber.  A  pox  on  him !  he*s  a  cat  still. 

1  Sold.  His  qualities  being  at  this  poor  price,  1 
need  not  ask  vou,  if  gold  will  corrupt  him  to  revolt 

Par.  Sir,  tor  a  quart  d'ecu*  he  will  sell  the  fee- 
simple  of  his  salvation,  the  inheritance  of  it ;  and 
cat  the  entail  from  all  remainders,  and  a  perpetual 
socoesskxi  for  it  perpetually. 

1  Sold.  What*s  nis  brother,  the  other  captain 
Dumain.^ 

2  Lord.  Why  does  he  ask  him  of  roe .' 
1  Sold.  What's  he  ? 

Par.  E'en  a  crow  of  the  same  nest ;  not  altogether 
so  great  as  the  first  in  goodness,  but  greater  a  great 
deal  in  evil.  He  excels  his  brother  for  a  coward, 
yet  his  brother  is  reputed  one  of  the  best  that  is :  In 
a  retreat  he  outruns  any  lackey ;  marry,  in  coming 
on  he  has  the  cramp. 

1  Sold.  If  your  life  be  saved,  will  you  undertake 
to  betray  the  Florentine  ? 

Par.  Ay,  and  the  captain  of  his  horse,  count 
Rousillon. 

1  Sold.  1*11  whisper  with  the  general,  and  know 
hisjpleasure. 

Par.  V\\  no  more  drumming;  a  plague  of  all 
dmms !  Only  to  seem  to  deserve  well,  and  to  be- 

Sile  the  supposition^  of  that  lascivious  young  boy 
i  count,  hav6  I  run  into  this  danger :  Yet,  who 
would  have  suspected  an  ambush  where  I  was 
taken  ?  [Aside. 

1  Sold.  There  is  no  remedy,  sir,  but  you  mutit 
die :  the  general  says,  you,  that  have  so  traitorously 
discoverea  the  secrets  of  your  army,  and  made  such 
pestiferous  reports  of  men  very  nobly  held,  can 
•erve  the  world  for  no  honest  use ;  therefore  you 
most  die.    Come,  headsman,  off  with  his  head' 

Par.  O  Lord,  sir ;  let  me  live,  or  let  me  see  my 
death! 

1  Sold.  That  shall  you,  and  take  your  leave 

(1)  i.  e.  He  will  steal  any  thing  however  trifling, 
from  war  place  however  holy. 

(t)  The  Centaur  killed  by  Hercules. 

to  The  fourth  p.irt  o(  the  suntillcr  Frtnch  crown. 


of  all  your  friends.  [Unmuffling  him. 

So,  look  about  you ;  Know  you  any  here  ? 

Ber.  Good  morrow,  noble  captain. 

2  Lord  God  bless  you,  captain  Parolles. 

1  Lord  God  save  you,  noble  captain. 

2  Lord.  Captain,  what  greeting  will  yoa  to  my 
lord  Lafeu .'  I  am  for  France. 

1  Lord.  Good  captain,  will  yoa  give  me  a  copy 
of  the  sonnet  you  writ  to  Diana  in  behalf  of  die  coont 
Rousillon  ?  an  I  were  not  a  veir  coward,  Pd  compel 
it  of  you ;  but  fare  you  well.  [£are.  Ber.  Lords,  4rc. 

1  Sold.  You  are  undone,  captain:  all  but  your 
scarf,  that  has  a  knot  on*t  yet 

Par.  Who  cannot  be  crushed  with  a  plot  ? 

1  Sold.  If  you  could  find  out  a  coonti^  where 
but  women  were  that  had  received  to  moch  shame, 
you  might  begin  an  impudent  nation.  -Fare  you 
well,  sir ;  I  am  for  France  too ;  we  shall  speak  of 
)-ou  there.  [£nf. 

Par.  Yet  am  I  thankful :  if  my  heart  were  great, 
*Twould  burst  at  this :  Captain  1*11  be  no  more; 
But  I  will  eat  and  drink,  and  sleep  as  soft 
As  captain  shall :  simply  the  thing  I  am 
Shall  make  me  live.  \Slioknows  himself  a  braggart, 
Let  him  fear  this ;  for  it  will  come  to  pass, 
That  every  braggart  shall  be  found  an  a«. 
Rust,  sword !  cool,  blushes !  and,  I^rolles,  live 
Safest  in  shame !  being  fool*d,  by  foolery  thrive .' 
There's  place,  and  means,  for  every  man  alive. 
rU  after  them.  [Exit 

SCRXE  /r.— Florence.  A  room  m  Uu  Widow's 
hotise.    Enter  Helena,  Widow,  and  Diana. 

Hd.  That  you  may  well  percdve  I  have  not 
wrong'd  you. 
One  of  the  greatest  in  the  Christian  world 
Shall  be  my  surety ;  *forB  whose  throne,  'tis  needful,^,  ^h 
Ere  I  can  perfect  mine  intents,  to  kneel : 
Time  was,  I  did  hira  a  desired  office, 
I>ear  almost  as  his  life ;  which  gratitude 
Through  flinty  Tartar's  bosom  would  peep  forth,  « 

And  answer,  thanks :  I  duly  am  inform'd. 
His  erace  is  at  Marseilles;  to  which  place 
We  have  convenient  convoy.     Yoa  moat  know, 
I  am  supposed  dead :  the  army  breaking, 
My  husoand  hies  him  home ;  where,  heaven  ai 
And  by  the  leave  of  my  good  lord  tha  king. 
We'll  be,  before  our  welcome. 

JVid.  Gende  madam, 

You  never  had  a  servant,  to  whose  trust 
Your  business  was  more  welcome. 

HeL  Nor  yoa. 

Ever  a  friend,  whose  thoughts  more  truly  labour 
To  recompense  your  love ;  doubt  not,  but  Heaver^ 
Hath  broueht  me  up  to  be  your  dauriiter's  dowe^ 
As  it  hath  fated  her  to  be  mv  mothre* 
And  helper  to  a  husband.  But,  O  ttnnge  men ! 
That  can  such  sweet  use  make  of  what  they  hat^: 
When  9aucy6  trusting  of  the  cozen*d  thoughts 
Drfilcs  the  pitchy  night !  so  lust  doth  play 
With  what  it  loaths,  for  that  which  is  away : 

But  more  of  this  hereafter : You,  Diana, 

Under  my  poor  instructions  yet  must  suflfer 
Something  m  my  behalf. 

Dia.  Let  death  and  bonest^-^ 

Go  with  your  impontions,!'  [  am  yours 
Upon  your  will  to  suffer. 

HeL  Yet,  I  pray  yoa. 

But  with  the  word,  the  time  willlSrinK  on 
When  briars  shall  have  leaves  as  well  as 


(4)  To  deceive  the  opinion. 

(5)  For  mover.  ffi)  ' 
(7)  t.  e.  An  honest  deatii. 


(8) 


1. 


AUJS  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


249 


And  be  as  tweet  u  diarp.  We  matt  away; 
Our  wanoQ  is  prepared,  and  time  revives  us ; 
AWtwUthai  tndt  weU :  still  the  fineV  the  crown ; 
Wfaate*er  the  course,  the  end  is  the  renown.  [Exe. 

SCEJ^TE  F.— Ronsillon.  ^roomm(7^Coantcss*s 
FdUut.  EfUer  Coontess,  Lafeo,  and  Clown. 

Jjt^.  No,  no,  no,  your  son  was  misled  with  a 
■lipt.tafiata  fellow  there ;  whose  villanous  saffron^ 
would  have  made  all  the  unbaked  and  dooghy 

Eosith  of  a  nation  in  his  colour :  your  daughter-in- 
isr  had  been  alive  at  this  hour ;  and  your  son 
here  at  home,  more  advanced  by  the  king,  than  by 
dMt  red-tail^  humble-bee  I  speak  of. 

CbtcnI.  I  would,  I  had  not  known  him !  it  was 
the  death  of  the  roost  virtuous  gentlewoman,  that 
ever  nature  had  praise  for  creating :  if  she  had  par- 
taken of  my  flesn,  and  cost  me  t^  dearest  groans 
of  a  mother,  I  could  not  have  owed  her  a  more 
rooted  love. 

Za^.  *Twas  a  good  lady,  *twas  agood  lady :  we 
tamy  pick  a  thousand  salads,  ere  we  light  on  such 
■nodierherb. 

Cio.  Indeed,  sir,  she  was  the  sweet-marjoram  of 
ttw  aalad,  or,  rather  the  herb  of  grace.' 

X^  They  are  not  salad-herbs,  you  knave,  they 
are  noee^rbs. 

Go.  I  am  no  great  Nebuchadnezzar,  sir,  I  have 
not  nmch  skill  in  srass. 

Ijmf.  Whether  aost  thou  proiess  thyself;  a  knave, 
or  a  n>ol.^ 

do.  A  ibol,  sir,  at  a  woman^s  service,  and  a 
knave  at  a  man*s. 

£^.  Your  distinction  ? 

do.  I  would  cozen  the  man  of  his  wife,  and  do 


X4/!    So  you  were  a  knave  at  his  service. 


do.  And  I  would  give  his  wife  my  bauble,  sir, 
lo  do  her  service. 

X^  I  will  subscribe  for  thee;  thou  art  both 
knave  and  fool. 

€^.  At  your  service. 

Jjmf.  No,  no,  no. 

Go.  Wliy,  sir,  if  I  cannot  serve  you,  I  can  serve 
It  rreat  a  prince  as  you  are. 

Z^if.  Wbo*s  that  ?  a  Frenchman  ? 

Go.  Faith,  sir,  he  has  an  English  name ;  but  his 
phiaoamy  is  more  hotter  in  France,  than  there. 

JLt^.  What  prince  is  that? 

do.  The  black  prince,  sir,  oZuu,  the  prince  of 
larfcoess ;  aliatf  the  devil. 

Zdif.  Hold  thee,  there*s  mv  purse :  I  give  thee 
loC  Cfass  to  su^est^  thee  from  thy  master  thou  talkest 
/;  aerve  him  still. 

eta.  I  am  a  woodland  fellow,  sir,  that  always 
omed  a  great  fire ;  and  the  master  I  speak  oU  ever 
ieapa  a  good  fire.  But,  sure,  he  is  tne  prince  of 
be  vrorld,  let  his  nobility  remain  in  his  court  I 
im  £mr  the  house  with  the  narrow  gate,  which  I 
ake  to  be  too  little  for  pomp  to  enter :  some,  that 
uomble  themselves,  may ;  but  the  many  will  be  too 
ImU  and  tender;  and  theyMl  be  for  the  flowery 
■ray « that  leads  to  the  broad  gate,  and  the  great  fire. 

Xx|/!  Go  thy  ways,  I  b^^  to  be  a-weary  of 
;  and  I  tell  thiee  80  before,  because  1  would 
fiill  out  with  thee.  Go  thy  ways ;  let  my  horses 
an  well  looked  to,  without  any  tricks. 

Qo.  U  I  put  any  tricks  upon  *em,  sir,  they  shall 

mEnd. 

CZ)  There  was  a  fashion  of  using  yellow  starch 
Gar  baiMls  and  ruffles,  to  which  Lafeu  alludes. 
(3)  t.  e.  Rue.  (4)  Seduce. 


le  jades*  tricks ;  which  are  their  own  right  bv  the 
law  of  nature.  [Exit 

Laf.  A  shrewd  knave,  and  an  unhappy.* 

CavrU.  So  he  is.  My  lord,  that*s  gone,  made 
himself  much  sport  out  of  him :  by  his  authority  he 
remains  here,  which  he  thinks  is  a  patent  for  his 
sauciness ;  and,  indeed,  he  has  no  pace,  but  runs 
where  he  will. 

Lqf.  I  like  him  well :  *tis  not  amiss :  and  I  was 
about  to  tell  you.  Since  I  heard  of  the  good  lad\  *« 
death,  and  that  my  lord  your  son  was  upon  his  n- 
turn  home,  I  moved  the  king.my  master,  to  speak 
in  the  behalf  of  my  daughter ;  which,  in  the  mi- 
nority of  them  both,  his  majesty,  out  of  a  self-gra- 
cious remonbrance,  did  first  propose:  his  high- 
ness hath  promised  me  to  do  it :  and,  to  stop  up 
the  displeasure  he  hath  conceived  against  your  iton, 
there  is  no  fitter  matter.  How  does  your  ladyship 
like  it? 

Count.  With  venr  much  content,  my  lord,  and 
I  wi^  it  happily  effected. 

Laf.  His  nighness  comes  post  from  Marseilles, 
of  as  able  body  as  when  he  numbered  thirty ;  he 
will  be  here  to-morrow,  or  I  am  deceived  by  him 
that  in  such  intelligence  hath  seldom  failed. 

Count  It  rejoices  me,  that  I  hope  I  shall  see  him 
ere  I  die.  I  have  letters,  that  my  son  will  be  here 
to-night :  I  shall  beseech  your  lordship,  to  remain 
with  me  till  they  meet  together. 

Z^f.  Madam,  I  was  thinking,  with  what  man- 
ners I  might  safely  be  admittecL 

Count.  You  need  but  plead  your  honourable 
privilM;e. 

Zm/.  Lady,  of  that  I  have  made  a  bold  charter ; 
but,  I  thank  my  God,  it  holds  yet 
Re-^nter  Clown. 

do.  O  madam,  yonder*s  my  lord  your  son  with 
a  patch  of  velvet  on*s  face :  whether  there  be  a 
scar  under  it,  or  no,  the  velvet  knows ;  but  *tis  a 
goodly  patch  of  velvet :  his  left  cheek  is  a  chrek  of 
two  pile  and  a  half,  but  his  right  cheek  is  worn  bare. 

Lqf.  A  scar  nobly  got,  or  a  noble  scar,  is  a  good 
liveiT  of  honour ;  so,  belike,  is  that 

cio.  But  it  is  your  cartxNmdoed^  face. 

Lqf.  Let  us  go  see  your  SCO,  I  pray  you;  Iloog 
to  talk  with  the  young  noble  soldier. 

Cio.  Taith,  there's  a  dozen  of  *em,  with  delicate 
fine  hats,  and  most  courteous  feathers,  which  bow 
the  head,  and  nod  at  every  man.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

SC£JV:E/.— Marseilles.  A  tired.  £n<er  Helena, 
Widow,  and  Diana,  with  two  attendants, 

Hd.  But  this  exceeding  posting,  day  and  night. 
Must  wear  your  spirits  low  :  we  cannot  help  it ; 
But,  since  you  have  made  the  days  and  nights  as 

one. 
To  wear  your  gentle  limbs  in  my  afilairs. 
Be  bold,  you  do  so  grow  in  my  requital. 
As  nothing  can  unroot  yon.    In  happy  time ; 

Enier  a  gentle  Astringer.^ 

This  man  may  help  me  to  his  majesty's  ear. 

If  he  would  spend  his  power. — God  save  you,  sir. 

Gent.  And  you. 

HeL  Sir,  I  bsve  seen  you  in  the  court  of  France. 

Gent  I  have  been  sometimes  there. 

(S)  Mischievously  unhappy,  waggish. 
I     (6)  Scotched  like  a  piece  «  meat  tor  the  grkUroo. 
u    (7)  A  gentleman  Falconer. 


£50 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


AdV 


HeL  I  do  presmne,  sir,  that  yoa  are  not  (alien 
From  the  report  that  vofA  upon  your  goodness ; 
And  therefore,  goaded  with  most  sharp  occasions, 
Which  lay  nice  manners  by,  I  put  you  to 
The  use  of  youx  own  virtues,  for  tlie  which 
I  shall  continue  thankful. 

Gtnt.  What's  your  wUl? 

Hd,  That  it  will  please  you 
To  rive  this  poor  petition  to  the  king ; 
Ana  aid  me  with  tnat  store  of  power  you  have, 
To  come  into  his  presence. 

Gent.  The  king's  not  here. 

Hd,  Not  here,  sir? 

QenL  Not,  indeed ; 

He  hence  removM  last  night,  and  with  more  haste 
Than  is  his  use. 

Wid,  Lord,  how  we  lose  our  pains ! 

Hel.  AWt  wU  thai  end*  wU ;  yet ; 
Though  time  seem  so  adverse,  and  means  unfit — 
I  do  beseech  you,  whither  is  he  gone  ? 

Oent.  Marry,  as  I  take  it,  to  Rousilloa ; 
Whither  I  am  going. 

HeL  I  do  beseech  you,  sir. 

Since  you  are  like  to  see  the  king  before  me. 
Commend  the  paper  to  his  gracious  hand ; 
Which,  I  presume,  shall  render  you  no  blame. 
But  rather  make  you  thank  your  pains  for  it : 
I  will  come  afVer  you,  with  what  good  speed 
Our  means  will  make  us  means. 

Gent.  This  PU  do  for  you. 

HeL   And  you  shall  find  yourself  to  be  well 
thank'd, 
Whate'er  falls  more. — We  must  to  horse  again ; — 
Go,  go,  provide.  [ExetaU. 

SC£A*£ //.— Rottsillon.   The  inner  court  <f  the 
Countess's  Palace.  £n<er  Clown  ami  ParoTles. 

Par,  Good  monsieur  Lavatch,  ^ve  my  lord 
Lafeu  this  letter :  I  have  ere  now,  sir,  been  better 
known  to  you,  when  I  have  held  feimiliaritv  (vith 
fresher  clothes;  but  I  am  now,  sir,  mud(£ed  in 
fortune's  moat,  and  smell  somewhat  strong  of  her 
■trong  displeasure. 

Clo.  Truly,  fortune's  displeasure  is  but  sluttish, 
if  it  smell  so  strong  as  thou  speakest  of:  I  will 
henceforth  eat  no  fish  of  fortune's  buttering. — 
Pr'ythee,  allow  the  wind. 

Par.  Noy,  you  need  not  stop  your  nose,  sir ;  I 
•pake  but  by  a  metajdior. 

C^.  Indeed,  sir,  if  ^our  metaphor  stink,  I  will 
stop  my  nose  ;  or  against  any  man's  metaphor. — 
PrTthee,  get  thee  further. 

Par.  Pray  you,  sir,  deliver  me  this  paper. 

Go.  Fob,  pr'ythee,  stand  away ;  A  [^per  from 
fcrtune's  close-stool  to  give  to  a  nobleman  !  Look, 
here  he  comes  himself. 

£nier  Lafeu. 

Here  is  a  pur  of  fortune's,  sir,  or  of  fortune's  cat, 
fbut  not  a  musk-cat,")  that  has  fallen  into  the  unclean 
Diihpond  of  her  displeasure,  and,  as  he  says,  is  mud- 
died withal :  Pray  you,  sir,  use  the  carp  as  you 
may ;  for  he  looks  hke  a  poor,  decayed,  ingenious), 
fodiisii,  rascallv  knave.  I  do  pity  his  distress  in  my 
•miles  of  comfort,  and  leave  nim  to  your  lordship. 

[Exit  Clown. 

Par.  My  lord,  I  am  a  man  whom  fortune  hath 
cruelly  scratched. 

Laf.  And  what  would  you  have  me  to  do?  'tis 


i 


)  Tou  need  not  ask ; — here  it  is. 

)  Reckoning  or  Mtimate. 
'3)  Complete^,  in  its  full  extent 
(4)  So  b  As  you  like  it.* — to  have  ' 


much 


too  late  to  pare  her  nails  now.  Whernn  have  you 
played  the  knave  with  fortune,  that  she  should 
scratch  you,  who  of  herself  is  a  good  lady,  and 
would  not  have  knaves  thrive  long  under  herf 
There's  a  ^ari  d*ecu  for  you :  Let  the  justices 
make  you  and  fortune  firiendb ;  I  am  for  otiier  busi- 
ness. 

Par.  I  beseech  your  honour,  to  hear  roe  one 
single  word. 

Laf.  You  beg  a  single  penny  more :  come,  you 
shall  ha't ;  save  your  word.* 

Par.  My  name,  my  eood  lord,  is  Parolles. 

Lqf.  You  beg  more  than  one  word  theo.^!)ox' 
my  passion .'  give  me  your  hand : — How  does  your 
drum? 

Par.  O  my  good  lord,  you  were  the  fizct  that 
found  me. 

Laf.  Was  I,  in  sooth  .^  and  I  was  the  fint  that 
lost  thee. 

Par.  It  lies  in  you,  my  lord,  to  bring  me  in  some 
g^ce,  for  you  did  bring  me  out 

La/.  Out  upon  thee,  knave !  dost  thou  put  upon 
me  at  once  both  the  office  of  God  and  the  devil  ? 
one  brings  thee  in  grace,  and  the  other  laiiura  thee 
out  [Trumpets  sotmd.]  The  king's  coming,  I  know 
by  his  trumpets. — Sirrah,  inquire  iurtber  uter  me ; 
I  had  talk  of  you  last  night :  though  you  are  a  fool 
and  a  knave,  you  shall  eat ;  go  to,  follow. 

Par.  I  praise  God  for  you.  [ElxemnL 

SCEJ^TE  III.^The  same.  ^ /Zoom  m  lAe  Coun- 
tess's Palace.  Flourish.  Enter  King,  Coun- 
tess, Lafeu,  Lords,  Gentlemen,  guards^  tfC 


King.  We  lost  a  jewel  of  her ;  and  our 
Was  made  much  poorer  by  it :  but  TOur  son, 
As  mad  in  folly,  lack'd  the  sense  to  know 
Her  estimation  home.' 

Count.  'Tis  past,  my  liege : 

And  I  beseech  your  majesty  to  inake  it 
Natural  rebellion,  done  I'the  blaze  of  youth ; 
When  oil  and  fire,  too  strong  for  reason's  force, 
Overbears  it,  and  bums  on. 

King.  My  honoor'd  lady, 

I  have  forgiven  and  forgotten  all ; 
Though  my  revenues  were  high  bent  upon  him. 
And  watch'd  the  time  to  shoot 

Laf.  This  I  must  sar, 

But  first  I  be^  my  pardon, — The  yonng  lord 
Did  to  his  majesty,  his  mother,  and  his  lady, 
Otfence  of  migh^  note;  but  to  himself 
The  greatest  wrong  of  all :  he  lost  a  wife. 
Whose  beauty  did  astonish  the  survey 
Of  richest  eyes  ;^  whose  words  all  ears  took  captive 
Whose  dear  perfection,  hearts  that  scom'd  to  serv*- " 
Humbly  call'd  mistress. 

King.  Praising  what  is  lost. 

Makes  the  remembrance  dear. Well,  call " 

hither ; 

We  are  reconcil'd,  and  the  first  view  shall  kill 
All  repetition  :* — ^Let  him  not  ask  our  pardon ; 
The  nature  of  his  ^reat  offence  is  dead. 
And  deeper  than  oblivion  do  we  bury 
The  incensing  relics  of  it :  let  him  approach, 
A  stranger,  no  offender ;  and  infonn  nim. 
So  'tis  our  will  he  should. 

Gent.  1  shall,  my  liege. 

[Exit  Gentl 

King.  What  says  be  to  your  dai^ter? 
you  spoke? 

and  to  have  nothing,  is  to  have  rich  eyes  and 
hands.' 

;5)  t.  e.  The  first  interview  shall  pat  an 
all  recollection  of  the  past 


ALL*8  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


f51 


Jl  that  be  u  l»di  refennoe  to  jonr  higb- 

Thoi  ihaU  we  here  •  match.    I  have 

letters  Mnt  me, 

limhighinfiune. 

JESaln^  Bertram. 

He  lookf  well  0B*t 
I  an  not  a  daj  of  teaaoa,! 
naj'st  see  a  flamhiDe  and  a  hail 
jooe :  But  to  the  brightest  beaine 
I  clouds  give  waj ;  so  stand  thou  forth, 
is^again. 

Mj  high-repented  blames,^ 
idgn,  pardon  tome. 

All  is  whole ; 
Nirdmoreof  the  consumed  time, 
I  the  instant  by  the  forward  top ; 
»  old,  and  on  our  quick*st  decrees 
lible  and  noiseless  foot  of  time 
we  can  effect  them :  You  remenUier 
bier  of  this  kml? 
Aniringly,  my  liege :  at  first 
f  choice  upon  her,  ere  my  heart 
sa  loo  bolct  a  herald  of  my  ton^^ : 
e  impression  of  mine  eye  enfixing, 
his  scornful  perspective  did  leoa  me, 
irp*d  the  line  of  every  other  fovour ; 
foir  colour,  or  expressed  it  stol*n; 
or  contracted  all  proportions, 
tbideons  object:  Tbttice  it  came, 
whom  all  men  prais*d,  and  whom  myself^ 
(fa  lost,  have  lov'd,  was  in  mine  eye 
that  did  offisnd  it  . 

WellexcusM: 
i  fidst  love  her,  strikes  some  scores  away 
great  compt  But  love,that  comes  too  late, 
norseful  pardon  slowly  carried, 
eat  sender  turns  a  eour  ofience, 
bat*s  ppod  that's  gone :  our  rash  faults, 
ial  price  of  serious  things  we  have, 
mm  them,  until  we  know  their  grave : 
sfwasures,  to  ourselves  unjust, 
or  friends,  and  after  weep  their  dust : 
lova  waking  cries  to  see  what's  done, 
■Befnl  nate  sleeps  out  the  afternoon, 
reel  Helen's  knell,  and  now  foivet  her. 
1  your  amorous  token  for  fair  Maudlin : 
consents  are  had ;  and  here  we'll  stay 
r  widower's  second  marriage-day. 
Which  better  than   the  first,  O  dear 
baaven,  bless ! 

lij  meet,  in  me,  O  nature,  cease ! 
■Mon,  my  son,  in  whom  my  house's  name 
ligesled,  give  a  favour  from  you, 
a  ia  the  spirits  of  my  daughter, 
may  quickly  come. — By  my  old  beard, 
f  hair  that's  on't,  Helen,  that's  dead, 
^aet  creature ;  such  a  ring  as  this, 
bat  e'er  I  took  her  leave  at  court, 
n  her  finger. 

Hers  it  was  not 
Now,  pray  you,  let  me  see  it ;  for  mine 
eye, 

raa  speaking,  oA  was  fastened  to't — 
was  mine ;  and,  when  I  gave  it  Helen, 
r.  if  her  fortunes  ever  stood 
d  Id  help,  that  by  this  token 
tliare  her :  Had  you  that  crafl,to  reave  her 

Of  uninterrupted  rain. 
ilto  repented  of  to  the  utmost 
the  sense  of  unengaged. 
8  philosopher's  stone. 


Of  what  should  stfwd  her  most? 

Ber,  My  padous  sovereign, 

Howe'er  it  pleases  you  to  take  it  sa, 
The  ring  was  never  hen. 

Qmm.  Son,  on  my  life, 

I  have  seen  hei  wear  it ;  and  she  reckon'd  it 
At  her  life's  rate. 

Liif.  I  am  sure,  I  saw  her  wear  it 

JBer.  Yon  are  deoeiv'd,  my  lord,  she  never  saw  it 
In  Florence  was  it  from  a  casement  thrown  m^ 
Wrapp'd  in  a  paper,  which  contain'd  the  nam^ 
Of  her  tl»t  threw  it :  noble  she  was,  and  thought 
I  stood  ii^;ag'd  ^  but  when  I  had  subscrib'd 
To  mine  own  fortune,  and  infoim'd  her  fully, 
I  could  not  answer  in  tl»t  course  of  honour 
As  she  had  made  the  overture,  she  ceas'd. 
In  heavy  satisfaction,  and  would  never 
Receive  tfie  ring  again. 

Kif^.  Plntus  himself, 

That  knows  the  tinct  and  multiplying  medicine,* 
Hath  not  in  nature's  mystery  more  science. 
Than  I  have  in  this  rng :  'twas  mine,  *twas  Helen's, 
Whoever  gave  it  Tou :  Then,  if  you  know 
That  you  are  weU  acquainted  with  yourself.' 
Confess  'twas  hers,  Mid  by  what  rough  enforce- 
ment 
You  got  it  from  her :  she  call'd  the  saints  to  surety. 
That  she  would  never  put  it  from  her  6ngtt, 
Unless  she  gave  it  to  yourself  in  bed 
(Where  you  have  never  come,)  or  sent  it  us 
iJpon  her  great  disaster. 

Ber.  She  never  saw  it 

King.  Thou  speak'st  it  folsely,  as  I  love  mine 
honour; 
And  mak'st  conjectural  fears  to  come  into  me. 
Which  I  would  fain  shut  out :  If  it  should  prove 
That  thou  art  so  inhuman, — ^'twill  not  prove  so : — 
And  yet  I  know  not : — thou  didst  hate  ner  deadly, 
And  she  is  dead ;  which  nothing,  but  to  close 
Her  eyes  myself,  could  win  me  to  believe. 
More  than  to  see  this  ring.— Take  him  away.— 

[Guordf  ssue  Bertram. 
My  fore-past  prooft,  howe'er  the  matter  &1U 
Stiall  tax  my  k»rs  of  little  vanitr. 
Having  vainly  fear'd  too  little. — Away  with  him ; — 
We'll  sift  this  matter  further. 

Ber.  If  yon  shall  proive 

This  ring  was  ever  hers,  yon  shall  as  easy 
Prove  tMt  I  husbanded  her  bed  in  Florence, 
Where  yet  she  never  was.      [Exit  Ber.  guarded. 

£filer  a  Gentleman. 

King.  I  am  wrapp'd  in  dismal  thinkings. 

Gent  Gracious  sovere%n, 

Whetfa«r  I  have  been  to  blame,  or  no,  1  know  not ; 
Here's  a  petitkm  from  a  Florentine, 
Who  hath,  for  four  or  five  removes,^  come  short 
To  tender  it  herself    I  undertook  it, 
Vanquish'd  thereto  by  the  fair  grace  and  speech 
Of  the  poor  suppliant,  who  by  this,  I  know, 
U  hereattmding:  her  business  looks  in  her 
With  an  importing  visagje ;  and  she  told  me. 
In  a  sweet  verbal  brief,  it  did  concern 
Your  highness  with  herselfl 

King.  [Reads.]  Upon  hie  wumyprotesUUionslih 
marry  me,  when  kis  w{fe  was  dead,  I  btueh  to  eay 
Hfheunnme.  ^owieuueouniRoutUloinaundiAO' 
er;  hie  vowe  areforfeited  to  ms,  and  my  honour'e 
Paid  to  him.  He  eloUfrom  Florence,  taking  no 
leaoe,  and  I  follow  him  to  hie  country  for  Juetice. 

(5)  t.  e.  That  yon  bava  dw  pioper  consckms  <.  as 
of  your  own  actions. 

(6)  i\]st-stages. 


tst 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


^d  V 


Graxd  it  mty  Oking;  inyou  it  best  lies;  otherwise 
M  $eduoerHourisheSy  and  a  poor  maid  is  undone. 

DIANA  CAPULET 
Laf.  I  will  buy  roe  a  son-in-law  in  a  fair,  and 
toh  nim  :1  for  this,  IMl  none  of  hira. 

King.  The  heavens  have  thought  well  on  thee, 
Lafeu, 

To  bring  forth  this  discovery. — Seek  these  suitors : — 
<jo,  speedily,  and  bring  again  the  count 

[Exeunt  Gentleman,  and  aomt  attendants. 
I  un  afeard,  the  life  of  Helen,  lady, 
Was  icully  snatched. 
Couni.  Now,  justice  on  the  doers ! 

Enter  Bertram,  guarded. 

King,  I  wonder,  sir,  since  wives  are  monsters  to 
you. 

And  that  you  fly  them  as  you  swear  than  lordship, 
Yet  you  desire  to  marry. — What  woman^s  that? 

Rs-enier  Gentleman,  vnth  Widow  and  Diana. 

Dia.  I  am,  my  lord,  a  wretched  Florentine, 
Derived  from  the  ancient  Capulet ; 
My  suit,  as  I  do  understand,  you  know. 
And  therefore  know  how  far  I  may  be  pitied. 

Wid,  I  am  her  mother,  sir,  whose  age  and  honour 
Both  suffer  under  this  complaint  we  bring, 
And  both  shall  c^se,3  without  your  remedy. 

King.  Come  hither,  count    Do  you  know  these 
vromen.^ 

Ber.  My  lord,  I  neither  can,  nor  will  deny 
But  that  I  know  them  :  Do  they  charge  me  further? 

Dia,  Why  do  you  look  so  Strang  upon  your  wife  ? 

Ber.  Sbe*s  none  of  mine,  my  lora. 

Dia,  If  you  shall  many, 

You  give  away  this  hand,  and  that  is  mine ; 
Vou  give  away  heaven*s  vows,  and  those  are  mine ; 
VoQ  j;ive  away  myself,  which  is  known  mine ; 
For  r  by  vow  am  so  embodied  yours. 
That  she  which  marries  you,  must  marry  me, 
Either  both,  or  none. 

Ld^.  Your  reputation  [To  Bertram.]  comes  too 
short  for  my  daughter,  you  are  no  husl^d  for  her. 

Ber,  My  lord,  this  is  a  fond  and  desperate  crea- 
ture, 
Whom  sometime  I  have  laug^M  with:  let  your 

highness 
Lay  a  more  noble  thought  upon  mine  honour, 
Than  for  to  think  that  I  would  sink  it  here. 

King.  Sir,  for  ray  thoughts,  you  have  them  ill  to 

friend, 

Till  your  deeds  gain  them:  Fairer  prove  your 

honour, 
Than  in  my  thought  it  lies .' 

Dia,  Good  my  lord. 

Ask  him  upon  his  oath,  if  he  does  think 
He  had  not  my  virginity. 

King.  What  say*st  thou  to  her  } 

Ber.  She^s  impudent,  my  lord  ; 

And  was  a  common  gamester  to  the  camp.i 

Dia.  He  does  me  wrong,  my  lord ;  if  I  were  so, 
He  might  have  bought  me  at  a  common  price : 
Do  not  believe  him :  O,  behold  this  rins, 
Whose  high  respect,  and  rich  validity,^ 
Did  lack  a  parallel ;  yet,  for  all  that, 
He  gave  it  to  a  commoner  o*  the  camp, 
If  loeone. 

Cauni,        He  blushes,  and  *tis  it : 
Of  sii  preceding  ancestors,  that  gem 

(1)  Pay  toll  for  him.  (2J)  Decease,  die. 

(3)  Gamester,  when  appliedf  to  a  female,  then 
meant  a  common  woman. 

(4)  Value,  .        (5)  Noted.         (6)  Debauch'd. 


ConferrM  by  testament  to  the  wqu^nt  latuo. 
Hath  it  been  owM  and  worn.     This  is  his  wife ; 
That  ring*s  a  thousand  proofs. 

King.  MethoQght,  ^ou  said, 

You  saw  one  here  in  court  could  witness  it 

Dia.  I  did,  my  lord,  but  loath  am  to  produce 
So  bad  an  instrumpnt ;  his  name*s  Parolles. 

Laf.  I  saw  the  man  to-day,  if  man  be  be. 

King.  Find  him,  and  bring  him  hither. 

Ber.  What  of  him? 

He.^s  quoted^  for  a  most  perfidious  slave. 
With  all  the  spots  o*  the  world  tax*d  and  debosh'd;* 
Whose  nature  sickens,  but  to  speak  a  truth  : 
Am  I  or  that,  or  this,  for  what  heMl  utter, 
That  will  speak  any  thing  ? 

King.  She  hath  that  ring  o(  rxmn. 

Ber.  I  think,  she  has :  certain  it  is,  I  lik*a  her, 
And  boarded  her  i*  the  wanton  way  of  Toath : 
She  knew  her  distance,  and  did  ai^e  wr  me. 
Madding  my  eagerness  with  her  restraint. 
As  all  impediments  in  fancy  V  coune 
Are  motives  of  more  fancy ;  and,  in  fine, 
Her  insuit  coming  with  her  modem  g^ce* 
Subdued  me  to  her  rate  :  she  got  the  ring. 
And  I  had  that,  which  any  inferior  might 
At  maricet-price  have  bought 

Dia.  I  most  be  patient ; 

You,  that  tumM  off  a  first  so  noble  wife. 
May  justly  diet  me.'    I  prav  vou  yet, 
(Since  you  lack  virtue,  1  will  lose  a  h«»b«nd,) 
Si^id  for  your  ring,  I  will  return  it  home, 
.\nd  give  me  mine  again. 

Ber.  I  hare  it  not 

King.  What  ring  was  yoars,  I  pra^  yoa  ? 

Dia.  Sur,  much  like 

The  same  upon  your  finger. 

King.  Know  you  this  ring-?  this  ring  was  hb  ol 
late. 

Dia.  And  this  was  it  I  gare  him,  being  a-bed. 

King.  The  story  then  g^oes  false,  you  threw  it  him 
Out  of  a  casement 

Dia,  1  have  spoke  the  troth. 

Enter  Parolles. 

Ber,  My  lord,  I  do  confess  the  ring  was  hers. 

King,  You  boggle  shrewdly,  every  feather  alarts 

you. 

Is  this  the  man  you  speak  of? 

Dia.  Ay,  my  lord. 

King.  Tell  me,  sirrah,  but  tell  me  tnie,I  charge 
you. 
Not  fearing  the  displeasure  of  your  master 
(Which,  on  your  just  proceedii^,  PU  keep  off,) 
By  him,  and  by  this  woman  here,  what  know  yoa  ? 

Par.  So  please  your  majesty^,  mr  roaster  hath 
been  an  honourable  gentlenmn ;  tricks  he  hath  had 
in  him,  which  gentlemen  have. 

King.  Come,  come,  to  the  purpose :  Didlie  lora 
this  woman  ? 

Par.  'Faith,  sir,  he  did  love  her ;  But  how  ? 

King.  How,  I  pray  you  ? 

Par.  He  did  love  her,  sir,  as  a  gmtleman  kwes 
a  woman. 

King.  How  is  that  ? 

Par.  He  loved  her,  sir,  and  loved  h^  not 

King,  As  thou  art  a  knave,  and  no  knave  :^ 
What  an  equivocal  compemioni^  is  this  ? 

Par.  I  am  a  poor  man,  and  at  your  majesty's 
command. 

(7)  Love's. 

(8)  Her  solicitation  concurring  with  her  appear* 
ance  of  being  common. 

(9)  May  justly  make  me  fast  (10)  Fellow. 


&€fie  ///. 


ALL'S  WELL  THAT  ENDS  WELL. 


253 


Xi^/I  He*8  a  good  drum,  my  lord,  but  a  naughty 
orator. 

Dia.  Do  ^ou  know,  be  promised  me  marriage  ? 

Par.  *Faith,  I  know  more  than  Pll  speak. 

King.  But  wilt  thou  not  speak  all  thou  know*8t? 

Par.  Yes,  so  please  vour  majesty ;  I  did  go  be- 
tween them,  as  I  said ;  but  more  than  that,  he  loved 
her, — for,  indeed,  he  was  mad  for  her,  and  talked  of 
Satan,  and  of  limbo,  and  of  furies,  and  I  know  not 
what:  yet  I  was  in  that  credit  with  them  at  that 
time,  that  I  knew  of  their  going  to  bed :  and  of 
other  motions,  as  promising  her  marriage,  and 
things  that  would  derive  me  ill  will  to  speeik  of, 
therefore  I  will  not  speak  what  I  know. 

King.  Thou  hast  spoken  all  already,  unless  thou 
canst  ny  they  are  married :  But  thou  art  too  finei 
in  thy  evidence :  therefore  stand  aside. — 
This  ring,  you  say,  was  yours  ? 

Dim.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Kmg.  Where  did  ^ou  buy  it  ?  or  who  gave  it  you? 

Dia.  It  was  not  given  me,  nor  I  did  not  buy  it. 

King.  Who  lent  it  you  ? 

Dia.  It  was  not  lent  me  neither. 

Kmg.   Where  did  you  find  it  then  ? 

Dia.  I  found  it  not. 

King.  If  it  were  yours  by  none  of  all  these  ways, 
How  could  you  give  it  him  f 

Dia.  I  never  gave  it  him. 

Lqf.  This  woman's  an  easy  glove,  my  lord ;  she 
goes  off  and  on  at  pleasure. 

King.  This  ring  was  mine,  I  gave  it  his  first  wife. 

Dia.  It  might  be  yours,  or  hers,  for  aught  I  know. 

Kinjg.  Take  her  away,  I  do  not  like  her  now ; 
To  prison  with  her :  and  away  with  him. — 
Unless  thou  telPst  me  where  uou  hadst  this  ring, 
Thou  diest  within  this  hour. 

Dia.  Pll  never  tell  you. 

King.  Take  her  away. 

Dia.  VW  put  in  bail,  my  liege 

Kmg.  I  think  thee  now  some  common  customer.3 

Dia.  By  Jove,  if  ever  I  knew  man,  'twas  you. 

King.  VVherefore  hast  thou  accus'd  him  all  this 
while  f 

Dia.  Because  he's  guilty,  and  he  is  not  guilty ; 
He  knows,  I  am  no  maid,  and  he'll  swear  to't : 
m  swear,  I  am  a  maid,  and  he  knows  not 
Great  king,  I  am  no  strumpet,  bv  my  life ; 
I  am  either  maid,  or  else  this  old  man's  wife. 

[Pointing  to  Lafeu. 

King.  She  does  abuse  our  ears ;  to  prison  with 
her. 

Dia.  Good  mother,  fetch  my  ba\\. — Stay,  royal 
•ir;  [Exit  Widow. 

Tile  ieweller,  that  owes*  the  ring,  is  sent  for, 
And  he  shall  surety  me.  But  for  this  lord. 
Who  hath  abus'd  me,  as  he  knows  himself, 
Though  yet  he  never  harm'd  me,  here  I  auit  him  : 
He  knows  himself,  my  bed  he  hath  defil'a ; 
And  at  that  time  he  got  his  wife  with  child : 
Dead  though  she  be,  she  feels  her  young  one  kick ; 
So  there's  mv  riddle.  One,  that's  dead,  is  quick : 
And  now  beoold  the  meaning. 

Re-enter  Widow,  vnih  Helena. 
King,  Is  there  no  exorcist^ 

0)  Too  artful.        (2)  Conunon  woman. 
(S)  Owna.  (4)  Enchanter. 


Beguiles  the  truer  office  of  mine  eyea  ? 
Is't  real,  that  I  see  .^ 

Hcl.  No,  my  good  lord ; 

'Tis  but  the  shadow  of  a  wife  you  see, 
The  name,  and  not  the  thing. 

Ber.  Bdth,  both ;  O,  pardon  ! 

HeL  O,  my  good  lord,  when  I  was  like  this  maid, 
I  found  you  wondrous  kind.  There  is  your  ring. 
And,  look  you,  here's  your  letter ;  This  it  says, 
fVhen  from  my  Jinger  vou  can  get  this  ring^ 
And  are  by  me  with  childy  &;.c.— This  is  done  : 
Will  you  be  mine,  now  you  are  doubly  woo  ? 

Ber.  If  she,  my  liege,  can  make  me  know  thi« 
clearly, 
I'll  love  her  dearly,  ever,  ever  dearly. 

HeL  If  it  appear  not  plain,  and  prove  untrue. 
Deadly  divorce  step  between  me  and  you  ! — 
O,  my  dear  mother,  do  I  see  you  living  ? 

Laf.  Mine  eyes  smell  onions,  I  shall  weep  anon : 
— Good  Tom  Drum,  \To  Parolles.]  lena  me  a 
handkerchief:  So,  I  thank  thee ;  wait  on  me  home, 
I'll  make  sport  with  thee :  Let  thy  courtesies  alone, 
they  are  scurvy  ones. 

King.  Let  us  from  point  to  point  this  stoiy  know. 
To  make  the  even  truth  in  pleasure  flow  : — 
If  thou  be'st  yet  a  fresh  uncropped  flower, 

[TV)  Diana. 
Choose  thou  thy  husbiand,  and  I'll  pay  thy  dower : 
For  I  can  ^ess,  that,  by  the  honest  aid. 
Thou  kept'st  a  wife  herself,  thyself  a  maid. — 
Of  that,  and  all  the  progress,  more  and  less, 
Resolvedly  more  leisure  shall  express : 
All  yet  seems  well ;  and  if  it  end  so  meet, 
The  bitter  past,  more  welcome  is  the  sweet 

\FUi\mMk. 

Advancing. 

The  king's  a  beggar ^  nova  the  play  is  done : 
All  is  well  ended,  (/*  this  suit  be  toon. 
That  you  express  content ;  which  we  will  pay. 
With  strife  to  please  you,  day  exceeding  day : 
Ours  be  your  patience  then,  and  yours  our  parts  ^ 
Your  gmtle  hands  lend  us,  and  take  our  hearts. 

[ElxeunL 


This  play  has  many  deligrhtful  scenes,  though 
not  sufficiently  probable ;  and  some  happy  charac- 
ters, though  not  new,  nor  produced  by  any  deep 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  Parolles  is  a  boaster 
and  a  coward,  such  as  has  always  been  the  sport 
of  the  stage,  but  perhaps  never  raised  more  laugh- 
ter or  contempt  tnan  in  the  hands  of  Shakspeare. 

I  cannot  reconcile  my  heart  to  Bertram;  a  man 
noble  without  generosity,  and  young  without 
truth ;  who  marries  Helen  as  a  coward,  and  leaves 
her  as  a  profligate :  when  she  is  dead  by  his  un- 
kindness,  sneaks  home  to  a  second  marriage,  is  ac- 
cused by  a  woman  whom  he  has  wronged,  defends 
himself  by  falsehood,  and  is  dismissed  to  happiness. 

The  story  of  Bertram  and  Diana  had  been  told 
before  of  Mariana  and  Angelo,  and,  to  confess  the 
truth,  scarcely  merited  to  be  heard  a  second  time. 

JOHNSON. 

(5)  t.  e.  Hear  us  without  interruption,  and  tak« 
our  parts,  that  is,  rapport  and  defend  as. 


p. 

I 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


A  Lord.  \ 

Chriitopber  Sly,  a  drunken  (inker.   /  Pereons  in 
HotteUy  Page,  Piayeriy  HunUmen,  >  the  Indue- 
and  other  SeroanU  aUending  on  L  iion, 
theLord.  ) 

Baptiste,  a  rich  renUeman  of  Padua. 
Vincentio,  an  olagentUman  qf  Piea. 
Lucentio,  ton  to  VtnceniiOy  in  love  with  Bianea. 
Pfetnichio,  a  gentieman  qf  Ferona,  a  tuUor  to 
KoMorina. 


Tranio, 


tervani*  to  LueenUo. 


Bkndello, 

CurST**  I  '^'^^'^"^  ^  Petruehio. 

Pedant,  an  otdfiUow  $et  up  topenonaie  Ftneentio. 

fVidouf. 

Tailor,  Aa^erZuAer,  and  Servants,  attending  on 
Baptista  and  Petruehio. 

Scene,  eomeOmes  in  Padua,  and  sometinut  in 
Petruchio'e  Houae  m  the  Couniry. 


CHARACTERS  Ilf  THE  INDUCTION. 

To  the  Original  Play  of  The  Taming  qfaShew 
entered  on  the  Stationen*  booki  in  1594,  and 
printed  in  quarto  in  1607. 

A  Lord,&c. 

Sly. 

A  Tapeter. 

Page,  Playert,  Huniemen,  Ac. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 

Alphonsus,  a  merchant  qf  Athene. 
Jerobel,  Duke  qf  Cestue. 

Polidor,  \      -^V^^*""- 

Valeria,  eervant  to  Aureliue. 

Sander,  eervant  to  Ferando. 

I%y  lotos,  a  merchant  who  pereonatee  the  Duke. 

Kate.         f 

Emelia,      >  daughters  to  Alphonsus. 

Phylema,  > 

Tailor,  Haberdather,  and  Servants  to  Ferando 
and  Alphonsus. 

Scene,  Athens ;  and  sometimes  Ferando's  Own- 

try  House. 


INDUCTION. 

SCRXE  I.^Btfore  an  Alehouse  on  a  Heath. 
Enter  Hotteia  and  Sly. 

Sly. 

l.*LL  pheetei  ^on,  in  faith. 

Host.  A  pair  of  stocks,  von  rogue ! 

Sly.  Y'are  a  baggage ;  tne  Slies  are  no  rogues : 
Look  in  the  chronicles,  we  came  in  with  Richard 
Conqperor.  Therefore,  jMnica«pa/2a6m,'3  let  the 
world  slide :  Sessa  !* 

Host  Yon  will  not  pay  (or  the  glasses  yon  have 
bant.^ 

Sly.  No,  not  a  denier :  Go  by,  says  Jeroniniy ; — 
Go  to  thy  cold  bed,  and  warm  thee.< 

Host.  I  know  my  remedy,  I  mtist  go  fetch  the 
tfurdborou^.8  [Exit 

Sly.  Third,  or  fourth,  or  fiAh  boroosh,  rll  an- 
swer him  by  law :  1*11  not  bodge  an  inoi,  boy ;  let 
liim  come,  and  kindly. 

[Ims  down  on  the  ground,  and  Jails  asleqp. 

0)  Beat  or  knock.        (2)  Few  words. 

(3)  Be  quiet         (4)  Broke. 

(5)  Thi*  line  and  the  scrap  of  Spanish  is  used  in 
iaarlwpque  from  an  old  play  called  Hieronymo,  or 
•fce  Speuiish  Tragedy. 


Wind  horns.   Enter  a  Lord  from  hunting,  with 
Huntsmen  and  Servants. 

hard.  Huntsman,  I  charge  thee,  tender  well 
my  hounds : 
Brach7  Merriroan, — the  poor  cur  b  emboss'd,^ 
And  couple  Clowder  with  the  deep-moutb*d  brach. 
Saw*st  thou  not,  boy,  how  Stiver  made  it  good 
At  the  hedge  comer,  in  the  coldest  fault  ? 
I  would  not  lose  the  dog  for  twentv  pound. 

1  Hun.  Why,  Belman  is  as  ma  as  he,  my  lord ; 
He  cried  upon  it  at  the  merest  loss. 
And  twice  to-day  pick*d  out  the  dullest  scent : 
Trust  me,  I  take  him  for  the  better  dog. 

Lord.  Thou  art  a  fool ;  if  Echo  were  as  fleet, 
I  would  esteem  him  worth  a  doien  such. 
But  sup  them  well,  and  look  unto  them  all ; 
To-morrow  I  intend  to  hunt  again. 

1  Hun.  I  will,  my  lord. 

Xiord.  What*s  here  \  one  dead,  or  drunk  ?  See, 
doth  be  breathe  } 

2  Hvn.  He  breathes,  my  lord :  Were  he  not 

warmM  with  ale, 
This  were  a  bed  but  cold  to  sleep  so  soundly. 
Lord.  O  nKxistrous  beast !  how  like  a  swme  he 
lies! 
Grim  death, how  fokil  and  loathsome  is  thine  image! 

(6)  An  officer  whose  authority  equals  a  constable. 

(7)  Bitch.  (8)  Strained. 


256 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


indudum. 


'  SirSf  I  vnW  pmctiiie  on  this  drunken  man. 
What  think  you,  if  he  were  convejM  to  bed, 
Wrapped  in  sweet  clothes,  rings  put  upon  his  fingers, 
A  most  delicious  banquet  by  bis  bed, 
And  brave  attendants  near  htm  when  he  wakes, 
Would  not  the  b^^gar  then  forget  himself? 

1  Hun.   Believe  me,  lord,  I  think  he  cannot 

choose. 

2  Hun,  It  would  seem  strange  unto  him  when 

he  wak^d. 
Lord.  Even  as  a  flattering  dream,  or  worthless 

fancy. 
Then  take  him  up,  and  manage  well  the  jest: — 
Carry  him  gently  to  my  fairest  chamber. 
And  hang  it  round  with  all  my  wanton  pictures : 
Balm  his  foul  head  with  warm  distilled  waters. 
And  bum  sweet  wood  to  make  the  lodging  sweet : 
Procure  me  music  ready  when  he  wakes. 
To  make  a  dulcet  and  a  heavenly  sound ; 
And  if  he  chance  to  speak,  be  ready  straight, 
And,  with  a  low  submissive  reverence. 
Say, — What  is  it  your  honour  will  command  ? 
Let  one  attend  him  with  a  silver  bason. 
Full  of  ro8e«water,  and  bestrewM  with  flowers ; 
Another  bear  the  ewer,i  the  third  a  diaper,^ 
And  say, — Will't  please  your  lordship  cocJ  your 

hands  .^ 
Some  one  be  ready  with  a  costly  suit, 
And  ask  him  what  apparel  he  will  wear ; 
Another  tell  him  of  his  hounds  and  horse. 
And  that  his  lady  mourns  at  his  disease : 
Persuade  him,  that  he  hath  been  lunatic ; 
And,  when  he  says  he  is, — say,  that  he  dreams, 
For  he  is  nothing  but  a  mighty  lord. 
This  do,  and  do  it  kindly,'  gentle  sirs ; 
It  will  be  pastime  passing  excellent. 
If  it  be  husbanded  with  modesty .< 

1  Hun.  My  lord,  I  warrant  you,  we*U  play  our 

part. 
As  he  shall  think,  by  our  true  diligence. 
He  is  no  less  than  what  we  say  he  is. 

Lord.  Take  him  up  gently,  and  to  bed  with  him ; 
And  each  one  to  his  (^ce,  when  he  wakes. — 

[Some  hear  out  Sly.    A  trumpet  sounds. 
Sirrah,  go  see  what  trumpet  *ti8  that  sounds : — 

[Exit  Servant 
Belike,  some  noble  gentleman ;  that  means. 
Travelling  some  journey,  to  repose  him  here. — 

Re-enter  a  Servant. 

How  now  f  who  is  it  ? 

Serv.  An  it  please  vonr  honour. 

Players  that  offer  service  to  your  lordship. 

Lord,  Bid  them  come  near : — 

Enter  Players. 

Now,  fellows,  you  are  welcome. 

1  Play.  We  thank  your  honour. 

Lord.  Do  you  intend  to  stay  with  me  to-night  ? 

2  Play.  So  please  your  lordship  to  accept  our 

duty. 
Lord.  With  all  my  heart— This  fellow  I  re- 
member. 
Since  once  he  played  a  farmer*s  eldest  son ; — 
*Twas  where  you  woo*d  the  gentlewoman  so  well : 
I  have  forgot  your  name ;  but,  sure,  that  part 
Was  aptly  fitted,  and  naturally  performM. 

1  Play.  I  think,  *twas  Soto  that  your  honour 

means. 
Lord.  'Tis  very  true ; — thou  didst  it  excellent — 
Well,  you  are  come  to  me  in  happj  time ; 
The  rather  for  I  have  some  sport  m  hand, 

(1)  Pitcher.        (2)  Napkin.        (3)Natanll7. 


Wherein  your  cunning  can  assist  me  much. 
There  is  a  lord  will  hear  you  play  to-night : 
But  I  am  doubtful  of  your  modesties ; 
Lest,  over-eyeing  of  his  odd  behaviour 
(For  yet  his  honour  never  heard  a  play,) 
You  break  into  some  merry  passion. 
And  so  offend  him ;  for  I  tell  you,  ars. 
If  you  should  smile,  he  grows  impatient 

1  Play.    Fear  not,  my  lord ;  we  can  contain 
ourselves. 
Were  he  the  veriest  antic  in  the  world. 

Liord.  Go,  sirrah,  take  them  to  the  buttery. 
And  give  them  friendly  welcome  every  one : 
Let  them  want  nothing  that  my  house  aflRnds.— 

[Exeuni  servant  and  Players. 
Sirrah,  go  you  to  Bartholomew  my  p^c, 

[7^  a  Servant 
And  see  him  dressM  in  all  suits  like  a  lady  : 
That  done,  conduct  him  to  the  dnmkanrs  cham- 
ber. 
And  call  him — madam,  do  him  obeisance. 
Tell  him  from  me  (as  he  will  win  my  love,) 
He  bear  himself  with  honourable  action. 
Such  as  he  hath  observed  in  noble  ladies 
Unto  their  lords,  by  them  accomplished : 
Such  duty  to  the  drunkard  let  him  do. 
With  soft  low  tongue,  and  lowly  courtesy ; 
And  sa^, — What  is*t  your  honour  will  command, 
Wherem  your  lady,  and  your  humble  wife. 
May  show  her  duty,  and  make  known  her  love  ? 
And  then — with  kind   embracements,  tempting 

kisses. 
And  with  declining  head  into  his  bosom, — 
Bid  him  shed  tears,  as  being  overjoyed 
To  see  her  noble  lord  restorM  to  health, 
Who,  for  twice  seven  years,  hath  ^Jiteeroed  him 
No  better  than  a  poor  and  loathsome  beggsir : 
And  if  the  boy  have  not  a  woman's  gift. 
To  rain  a  shower  of  commanded  tears. 
An  onion  will  do  well  for  such  a  shift : 
Which  in  a  napkin  being  close  convey*d. 
Shall  in  despite  enforce  a  watery  eye. 
See  this  despatched  with  all  the  haste  thou  canst ; 

Anon  I'll  give  thee  more  instructions. 

[Exit  Servant 
I  know,  the  boy  will  well  usurp  the  grace. 
Voice,  gait,  and  action  of  a  gentlewoman  : 
I  long  to  hear  him  call  the  (minkard,  nusband ; 
And   how  my  men  will   stay   thonselves  from 

laughter. 
When  they  do  homage  to  this  simple  peasant 
I'll  in  to  counsel  them:  haply ,^  my  presence 
May  well  abate  the  over-merry  spleen. 
Which  otherwise  would  grow  into  extranes. 

[£jr€«iit 

SCEJ^E  IL—A  Bedchamber  in  the  Lord's  house. 
Sly  is  discovered  in  a  rich  nigfitgown,  with  ai 
tendants  ;  some  with  apparel,  others  vfith  ftojofi, 
et/vr,  and  other  appurtenances.    Enter  Lord, 
dressed  like  a  Servant. 

Sly.  For  God's  sake,  a  pot  of  small  ale. 

1  Serv.   Will't  please  your  lordship  drink  a  cup 

of  sack  r 

2  Serv.  Will't  please  your  honour  taste  6t  these 

conserves  ^ 

3  Serv.  What  rain>ent  will  your  honour  wear  to- 

day.' 

Sly.  I  am  Christophero  Sly ;  call  not  roe — honour, 

nor  {ordship :  I  never  drank  sack  in  my  life ;  and 

if  you  give  me  any  conserves,  give  me  coRscr>'«s 

of  beef :  Ne'er  ask  me  what  raiment  I'll  wear ;  far 


(4)  Moderation. 


(5)Periiaps. 


r. 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


«57 


10  more  doablets  Hxun  backs,  no  moreftodk- 

11  legs,  nor  no  more  shoes  than  feet ;  nay, 
les,  more  feet  than  shoes,  or  such  shoes  as 

look  through  the  overleather. 
.  Heaven  cease  this  idle  humour  in  joar 

honour! 
s  mighty  man,  of  such  descent, 

possessions,  and  so  high  esteem, 
be  infused  with  so  foul  a  spirit ! 
What,  would  you  make  me  mad  ?  Am  not 
opher  Sly,  old  Sly*s  son  of  Burton-heath ; 
I  a  pedler,  by  education  a  card-maker,  by 
tatMn  a  bear-herd,  and  now  by  present 
m  a  tinker?  Ask  Marian  Hacket,  the  fiit 
of  Wincot,  if  she  know  me  not :  if  she  say 
C  fourteen  pence  on  the  score  fer  sheer  ale, 
B  ap  for  the  lyingest  knave  in  Christendom. 

'.  am  not  bestraught  'A  Here*s 

V.  O,  this  it  is  that  makes  your  lady  mourn. 
9,  O,  this  it  is  that  makes  your  servants 

droop. 
.  Hence  comes  it  that  your  kindred  shun 

your  house, 
on  hence  b^your  strange  lunacy. 
i  lord,  bethink  thee  of  uiy  birth ; 
ne  thy  ancient  tbou^ts  from  banishment, 
uA  hence  these  abject  lowly  dreams : 
w  thy  servants  do  attend  on  thee, 
his  office  ready  at  thy  beck. 
Ni  have  music  r  hark !  Apollo  plays, 

[Mutie. 
enty  caged  nightingales  dosing : 
thou  sleep  ?  we*ll  have  thee  to  a  couch, 
nd  sweeter  than  the  lustful  bed 
nae  trinun*d  up  for  Semiramis. 
a  wilt  walk ;  we  will  bestrew  the  ground : 
thou  ride  ?  thy  horses  shall  be  trapp'd, 
mess  studdeo  all  with  gold  and  pearL 
m  love  hawking.^  thou  hast  hawks  will  soar 
he  morning  la» :  Or  wilt  thou  hunt  f 
mds  shall  make  the  welkin  answer  them, 
:h  shrill  echoes  from  the  hollow  earth. 
9,  Say,  thou  wilt  course ;  thy  greyhounds 

areas  swift 
thed  stags,  ay,  fleeter  than  the  roe. 
9.  Dost  thou  love  pictures?  we  will  fetch 

thee  straight 

painted  by  a  running  brook : 
merea  all  in  sedges  hid ; 
leem  to  move  and  wanton  with  her  breath, 
die  waving  sedges  play  with  wind. 
,  We*ll  show  tl^  lo,  as  she  was  a  maid ; 
w  she  was  beguiled  and  surprised, 
f  painted  as  uie  deed  was  done. 
9.  Or  Daphne,  roaming  through  a  thorny 

wood; 
ng  her  1^  that  one  shall  swear  she  bleeds : 
that  sight  shall  sad  Apollo  weep, 
manly  the  blood  and  tears  are  drawn. 
,  Thou  art  a  lord,  and  nothing  but  a  lord  : 
lit  a  lady  far  more  beautiful 
ly  woman  in  this  waning  age. 

And,  till  the  tears  that  she  hath  shed  for 

thee, 
rious  floods,  oVr-ran  her  lovely  face, 
'  the  fairest  creature  in  the  world ; 
she  is  inferior  to  none. 
Km  I  a  lord  ?  and  have  I  such  a  lady  ? 
dream  ?  or  have  I  dreamed  till  now  ? 
sleep :  I  see,  I  hear,  I  speak ; 
iweet  savours,  and  I  feel  soft  tilings  : — 
f  life,  I  am  a  lord,  indeed ; 

istracted.      (2)  Faith.     (3)  Court-leet 


And  not  a  tinker,  nor  Christophero  Sly.  — 
Well,  bring  our  lady  hither  to  our  wiffii , 
And  once  asain,  a  pot  o*  the  smallest  ale. 

2  Serv.  WilPt  please  your  mightiness  to  wash 

your  hands? 
[Servants  pre$ent  an  twer,  boMon,  and  napkin, 
O,  how  we  joy  to  see  your  wit  restor'd ! 
O,  that  once  more  you  knew  but  what  you  are ! 
These  fifteen  years  you  have  been  in  a  dream ; 
Or,  when  you  wak*a,  so  wak*d  as  if  you  slept 

Sly.  These  'fifteen  years  i  by  my  my ,3  «  goodly 
nap. 
But  did  I  never  speak  of  all  that  time  ? 

1  Serv.  O,  yes,  my  lord ;  but  very  idle  words :  «- 
For  though  you  lay  here  in  this  goodly  chamber, 
Yet  would  you  say,  ye  were  beaten  out  of  door ; 
And  rail  upon  the  hostess  of  the  house ; 
And  say,  you  would  present  her  at  the  leet,' 
Because  she  brought  stone  jugs  and  no  seaPd  quarts : 
Sometimes  you  would  call  out  for  Cicely  Hacket 

Sly.  Ay,  the  woman's  maid  of  the  house. 

3  Serv.  Why,  sir,  you  know  do  house,  nor  no 

such  maid ; 
Nor  no  such  men,  as  you  have  reckon*d  up, — 
As  Stephen  Sly,  and  old  John  Naps  of  Greece, 
And  Peter  Turf,  and  Heniy  Pimpemell ; 
And  twenty  more  such  names  and  men  as  these. 
Which  never  were,  nor  no  man  ever  saw. 

Sh'  Now,  Lord  be  thanked  for  my  good  amends! 

All  Amen. 

Sly.  I  thank  thee;  thou  ihalt  not  lose  by  it 

Enter  the  Page,  as  a  lady,  wUh  aUendanis. 

Page.  How  fetes  my  noble  lord  ? 

Sly.  Marry,  I  fere  well ;  for  here  is  cheer  enough. 
Where  is  my  wife  ? 

Page.  Here,  noble  lord ;  What  is  thy  will  with  her  ? 

Sly.  Are  you  my  wife,  and  will  not  call  me — 
husband? 
My  men  should  call  me — ^lord ;  I  am  vour  goodman. 

Page.  My  husband  and  my  lord,  my  lord  and 
husband ; 
I  am  your  wife  in  all  obedience. 

Sly.  1  know  it  well :— What  must  I  call  her  ? 

Liord.  Madam. 

Sly.  AVce  madam,  or  Joan  madam  ? 

Lord.  Madam,  and  nothing  else ;  so  lords  call 
ladies. 

Sly.  Madam  wife,  they  say  that  I  have  dreamed, 
and  slept 
Above  some  fifteen  year  and  more. 

Page.  Ay,  and  the  time  seems  thirty  unto  me : 
Being  all  this  time  abandonM  from  your  bed. 

Sly.  *Ti8  much ; Servants,  leave  me  and  her 

alone. 

Madam,  undress  you,  and  come  now  to  bed. 

Page.  Thrice  noble  lord,  let  me  entreat  of  you, 
To  pardon  me  yet  for  a  night  or  two ; 
Or,  if  not  so,  until  the  sun  be  set : 
For  your  physicians  have  expressly  charg'd. 
In  peril  to  incur  your  former  malady, 
That  1  should  yet  absent  me  from  your  bed : 
I  hope,  this  reason  stands  for  my  excuse. 

Sly.  Ay,  it  t^tands  so,  that  I  rnav  hardly  tarry  so 
long.  But  I  would  be  loath  to  fail  into  my  dreams 
again  ;  I  will  therefore  tarry,  in  despite  of  the  flesh 
and  the  blood. 

Enter  a  Servant 

Serv.   Vour   honour's    players,    hearing   youf 
amendment. 
Arc  come  to  play  a  pleasant  comedy. 
For  so  your  doctors  nold  it  very  meet ; 
Seeing  too  much  sadness  hath  congeal'd  your  blood, 


25S 


TABfING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


AdL 


And  melancholy  is  the  nune  of  htxaj. 
Therefore,  Ibey  thought  it  ^ood  yoa  hear  •  plaj, 
And  frame  jour  miod  to  mirth  and  merriment, 
Which  ban  a  thousand  harms,  and  lengthens  life. 

Sly.  Many,  I  will ;  let  them  play  it :  Is  not  a 
commonty^  a  Christmas  gambol,  or  •  tombling- 
trick? 

Page.  No,  my  good  lord ;  it  is  mora  pleasing 
stuff. 

Sly.  What,  household  stuff.^ 

Page.  It  is  a  kind  of  history. 

Sly.  Well,  we*ll  see't :  Come,  madam  wife,  sit 
by  my  side,  and  let  the  world  slip ;  we  shall  ne*er 
be  younger.  [''^Vy  ^  doum. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  /.— IHidua.    A  Pvhtic  Place. 
Lucentio  and  Trania 


Enter 


Luc  Tranio,  since — ^for  the  great  desire  I  had 
To  see  £sir  Padua,  nursery  of  arts,— 
I  am  arriv*d  for  fruitful  Lombardy, 
The  pleasant  garden  of  great  Italy ; 
And,  by  my  father*s  love  and  leave,  am  arm*d 
With  ms  good  will,  and  thy  good  company, 
Most  trus^  servant,  well  approv'd  in  all ; 
Here  let  us  breathe,  and  happily  institute 
A  course  of  learning,  and  ingenious'  stadia. 
Pisa,  renowned  for  g^ve  citizens. 
Gave  me  my  being,  and  my  ftither  first, 
A  merchant  of  great  traffic  through  the  world, 
Vincentio,  come  of  the  BentivoliL 
Vincentio  his  son,  brought  up  in  Florence, 
It  shall  become,  to  serve  all  nopes  conceived. 
To  deck  his  fortune  with  his  virtuous  deeds : 
And  therefore,  Tranio,  for  the  time  I  study, 
Virtue,  and  that  part  of  philosophy 
Will  I  apply,  that  treats  of  happiness 
By  virtue  'specially  to  be  achieved. 
Tell  me  thy  mind :  for  I  have  Pisa  left. 
And  am  to  Padua  come ;  as  he  that  leaves 
A  shallow  plash,!  to  plunge  him  in  the  deep, 
And  with  satiety  seeks  to  quench  hi9  thirst 

Tra.  Jtfi  perdonaUj^  gentle  master  mine, 
I  am  in  all  affected  as  yourself; 
Glad  that  you  thus  continue  your  resolve. 
To  suck  the  sweets  of  sweet  philosophy. 
Only,  |;ood  master,  while  we  do  admire 
This  virtue,  and  this  moral  discipline. 
Let's  be  no  stoics,  nor  no  stocks,  I  pray ; 
Or  so  devote  to  Aristotle's  checks,^ 
As  Ovid  be  an  outcast  quite  abiur'd : 
Talk  logic  with  acquaintance  that  you  have. 
And  practice  rhetoric  in  your  comnKxi  talk : 
Music  and  poesy  use  to  quicken^  vou ; 
The  mathematics,  and  the  metaphysics. 
Fall  to  them,  as  you  find  your  stomach  serves  jroa : 
No  profit  ^ws,  where  is  no  pleasure  ta'en ; — 
In  brief,  sir,  study  what  you  most  affect 

Luc.  Graroercies,  Tranio,  well  dost  thou  advise. 
If,  Biondello,  thou  wert  come  ashore. 
We  could  at  once  put  us  in  readiness ; 
And  take  a  lodging,  fit  to  entertain 
Such  friends,  as  time  in  Padua  shall  lM^;et 
But  stay  awhile :  What  company  is  this  ? 

Tra,  Master,  some  show,  to  welcome  m  totosni. 

(1)  For  comedy.  (2)  Ingenuooa. 

(3)  Small  piece  of  water.        (4)  Pardon 
(5)  Harsh  rulea.        (6)  Animate. 


Enier  Baptista,  Kathaiina,  Bianca,  Gremio,  ami 
Hortensm.    Lucentio  and  Tranio  tiand  aside. 

Bap.  Gentlemen,  imp6Ttnne  me  no  farther. 
For  bow  I  firmly  am  resolv'd  yoa  know ; 
That  is, — not  to  bestow  my  youngest  daog^htert 
Before  I  have  a  husband  for  the  elder ; 
If  either  of  you  both  love  Katharina, 
Because  I  know  you  well,  and  love  yoa  well, 
Lea\'e  shall  you  liave  to  court  her  at  your  pleaaorak 

Chre,  To  cart  her  rather:  She's  too  roi^  for  me 
There,  there,  Hortensio,  will  yon  any  wife? 

Kaih.  1  pray  you,  sir,  [7b  Bap.]  is  it  yoar  wiU 
To  make  a  stale' of  me  amoi^  these  mates? 

Hor.  Mates,  maid!  bow  mean  you  that?  no 
mates  for  you,  ^ 
Unless  yoa  were  of  gentler,  milder  mould. 

Kaih.  I'fiuth,  sir,  you  shall  never  need  to  foar , 
I  wis,B  it  is  not  half  way  to  h^  heart : 
But,  if  it  were,  doubt  not  her  care  should  be 
To  comb  your  noddle  with  a  three-l^g'd  stooly 
And  paint  your  face,  and  use  you  like  a  fool. 

Hor.  From  all  such  devils,  good  Lord,  deliver  oi  * 

Gre.  And  me  too,  good  Lord ! 

TVu.  Hush,  master :  here  is  some  good  pastune 
toward; 
That  wench  is  stark  mad,  or  wonderful  finoward. 

Luc  But  in  the  other's  silence  I  do  see 
Maids'  mild  behaviour  and  sobriety. 
Peace,  Trania 

Tra.  Well  said,  master;  mom!  and  gaie  jDor 
fill. 

Bap.  Gentlemen,  that  I  may  soon  make  good 
What  I  have  said, — Bianca,  get  you  in : 
And  let  it  not  displease  thee,  eood  Bianca ; 
For  I  will  love  thee  ne'er  the  leas,  my  giri. 

Kaik.  A  pretty  peat  ^  'tis  best 
Put  finger  in  the  eye, — an  she  knew  why. 

Bian.  Sister,  content  you  in  my  discontent- 
Sir,  to  your  pl^sure  humbly  I  subscribe : 
My  books,  and  instruments, -diall  be  n^  coD^iaaj ; 
On  them  to  look,  and  practise  by  myselfl 

Luc  Hark,  Tranio !  thou  may'st  hear  Bffinerva 
speak.  [AeUe. 

Hor.  Signior  Baptista,  will  3roa  be  so  stnnge  ? 
Sony  am  I,  that  our  good  will  effects 
Bianca's  griefl 

Gre.  Why,  will  you  mew'^  her  ap, 

Signior  Baptista,  for  this  fiend  of  hell. 
And  make  her  bear  the  penance  of  her  tof»ie  ? 

Bap.  Gentlemen,  content  ye ;  I  am  reaoiv'd  :— 
Go  in,  Bianc&  1^^^^  Bianca. 

And  for  I  know,  die  taketh  most  deught 
In  music,  instruments,  and  poetry, 
Schoolmasters  will  I  keep  within  mr  hoosa, 
Fit  to  instruct  her  youth. — If  you,  HorteosiOi 
Or  signior  Gremio,  you, — know  any  such, 
Prefer' 1  them  hither ;  for  to  cunningly  men 
I  will  be  very  kind,  and  liberal 
To  mine  own  children  in  |;ood  brii^i^-ap ; 
And  so  farewell.    Kathanna,  you  may  stay ; 
For  I  have  more  to  commune  with  Bianca.  [ExiL 

Kaih.  Why,  and  I  trust,  I  may  go  loo ;  May  l  not? 
What,  shall  I  be  appointed  hours ;  as  though,  belike, 
I  knew  not  what  to  take,  and  what  to  leave  ?  Ha ! 

[ExU, 

Gre.  You  may  ^  to  the  devil's  dam ;  jonr  gifbV 
are  so  good,  here  is  none  will  hold  yoa.  Their  kwe 
is  not  so  great,  Hortensio,  but  we  noay  blow  oar 
nails  together,  and  fast  it  fairly  oat ;  our  cake's 
dough  on  both  sides.    Farewell  .•—Tet,  for  ttie  lore 

(7)  A  bait  or  deccnr.      (8)  Think.        (9)  Pat 
(10)  Shut        (11)  Recoomiend. 
(12)  Knowing,  learned.        (13) 


TABCCNG  OF  THE  SHREW. 


f69 


Vf  tweet  Bianca,  if  I  can  by  any  means 
•  fit  man,  to  teach  her  that  wherein  ahe 
,  I  will  wish  him  to  her  fether. 
So  will  I,  s^ior  Gremio :  Bat  a  word,  I 
nwagh  the  natare  of  our  quarrel  yet  never 
parle,  know  now,  upon  advice,^  it  toucheth 
— that  we  may  yet  again  have  access  to  our 
ress,  and  be  happy  rivals  in  Bianca*8  love, 
oar  and  effect  one  thing  ^specially. 
What's  that,  I  pray  > 
Marrr,  sir,  to  get  a  husband  for  her  sister. 
A  husband  !  a  devil. 
I  say,  a  hu;»band. 

I  say,  a  devil :  Think*8t  thou,  HcHlensio, 
lier  father  be  very  rich,  any  man  is  so  veiy 
be  married  to  hell  ? 

Fash,  Gremio,  though  it  pass  your  patience, 
e,  to  endure  her  loud  alarums,  why,  man, 
!  good  fellows  in  the  world,  an  a  man  could 
mem,  would  take  her  with  all  faults,  and 
inoi^h. 

I  cannot  tell ;  but  I  had  as  lief  take  her 
rith  this  condition, — to  be  whipped  at  the 
m  every  morning. 

*Faith,  as  you  say,  there's  small  choice  in 
pples.  But,  come ;  since  this  bar  in  law 
ts  friends,  it  shall  be  so  fietr  forth  friendly 
led, — till  by  helping  Baptista*s  eldest 
r  to  a  husband,  we  set  his  youngest  free  for 
nd,  and  then  have  to*t  afresh. — Sweet  Bi- 
Happy  man  be  his  dole  t^  He  that  runs  fast- 
>  the  nng.  How  say  you,  signior  Gremio  ? 
I  am  agreed :  and  'would  I  nad  given  him 
borse  m  Padua  to  be^n  his  wooing,  that 
boroughly  woo  her,  wed  her,  and  b^  her, 
tfie  house  of  her.    Come  on. 

[Exeunt  Gremio  and  Hortensia 
[Advancing.]  I  prey,  sir,  tell  me, — Is  it 

possible 
re  should  of  a  sudden  take  such  hold  ? 

0  Trenio,  till  I  found  it  to  be  true, 
thought  it  possible,  or  likely  ; 

!  while  idly  I  stood  looking  on, 
the  effect  of  love  in  idleness  : 
w  in  plainn^s  do  confess  to  thee, — 
t  to  me  as  secret,  and  as  dear, 
a  to  the  queen  of  Carthage  was, — 

1  bam,  I  pine,  I  perish,  Tranio, 
ieve  not  this  young  modest  g^rl : 

me,  Tranio,  for  I  know  thou  canst; 
le,  Tranio,  for  I  know  thou  wilt. 
Master,  it  is  no  time  to  chide  you  now ; 
n  it  not  rated^  from  the  heart : 
baTe  touch'd  you,  nought  remains  but  so, — 
ei  captum  quam  qveas  minimo, 
Gramercies,  lad ;  go  forward :  this  contents; 
t  will  comfort,  for  thy  counsel's  sound. 
Master,  you  look'd  so  longly^  on  the  maid, 
i  you  mark'd  not  what's  tl^  pith  of  all. 
O  y^,  I  saw  sweet  beauty  in  her  face, 
the  daughter^  of  Agenor  had, 
sde  great  Jove  to  humble  him  to  her  hand, 
rith  his  knees  he  kiss'd  the  Cretan  strand. 
Saw  you  no  more  ?  mark'd  you  not,  how 
ber  sister 
0  tcold ;  and  raise  yp  such  a  storm, 
ortal  ears  might  haraly  endure  the  din  f 
Tranb,  I  saw  her  coral  lips  to  move, 
di  ber  breath  she  did  perfume  the  air; 
and  sweet,  was  all  I  saw  in  her. 

duideration.  (2)  Gain  or  lot. 

*rwen  out  by  chidine;.        (4)  Longingly. 
aiopa.  (6)  'Tii  encHigh. 


once 


Tra.  Nay,  then,  'tis  time  to  stir  him  from  hia 
trance. 
I  pray,  awake,  sir;  If  yoa  love  the  maid, 
Bena  thoughts  and  wits  to  achieve  her.    Thus  *t 

stands : — 
Her  elder  sister  is  so  curst  and  shrewd. 
That,  till  the  father  rid  his  hands  of  her, 
Master,  your  love  must  live  a  maid  at  home ; 
And  therefore  has  he  closely  mew'd  her  up. 
Because  she  shall  not  be  annoy'd  with  suitors. 

Zmc.  Ah,  Tranio,  what  a  cruel  father's  he  ! 
But  art  thou  not  advis'd,  be  took  some  care 
To  get  ber  cunnii^  schoolmasters  to  instruct  her  f 

Tra.  Ay,  marry,  am  I,  sir ;  and  now  'tis  plotted. 

Luc  I  have  it,  Trania 

Tra.  Master,  for  my  hand. 

Both  our  inventions  meet  and  jump  in  one. 

Imc.  Tell  me  thine  first 

Tra.  Yoa  will  be  schoolmaster, 

And  undertake  the  teachii^  of  the  maid : 
That's  your  device. 

Luc.  It  is :  May  it  be  done  ? 

Tra.  Not  possible ;  for  who  shall  bear  your  part, 
And  be  in  Padua  here  Vincentio's  son  ? 
Keep  house,  and  ply  his  book ;  welcome  his  friends ; 
Visit  his  countr>'men,  and  banquet  them  f 

Luc  Basta  ;0   content  thee ;  for  I  have  it  fiilL 
We  have  not  yet  been  seen  in  any  house ; 
Nor  can  we  be  distinguished  by  our  &ces. 
For  man,  or  master :  then  it  follows  thus ; — 
Thou  shall  be  master,  Tranio,  in  my  stead. 
Keep  house,  and  port,^  and  servants,  as  I  sboald  • 
I  will  some  other  be ;  some  Flor^itine, 
Some  Neapolitan,  or  mean  man  of  Pisa. 
'Tis  hatch'd,  and  shall  be  so : — Trank),  at 
Uncase  thee ;  take  my  coloured  hat  and  cloak : 
When  Biondello  comes,  he  waits  on  thee ; 
But  1  will  charm  him  first  to  keep  his  tongue. 

Tra.  So  had  you  need.  [J%ey  exchange  habits. 
In  brief  then,  sir,  sith^  it  your  pleasure  h. 
And  1  am  tied  to  be  obedient 
^or  so  your  father  charg'd  me  at  our  parting ; 
Be  sermceable  to  my  son,  quoth  he. 
Although,  I  think,  'twas  in  another  sense ;) 
I  am  content  to  be  Lucentio, 
Because  so  well  I  love  Lucentia 

Luc  T«uiio,  be  so,  because  Lucentio  loves : 
And  let  me  be  a  slave,  to  achieve  that  maid. 
Whose  sudden  sight  hath  thrall'd  my  wounded  ^e. 

Enter  Biondella 

Here  comes  the  rogue. — Sirrah,  where  have  you 
been? 

Bum.  Where  have  I  been.'  Nay,  how  now,  where 
are  you  ? 
Master,  has  my  fellow  Tranio  stol'n  your  clothes  ? 
Or  you  stol'n  his.'  or  both  ?  pray,  what's  the  news.' 

Luc  Sirrah,  come  hither ;  'tis  no  time  to  jest. 
And  therefore  frame  your  manners  to  the  time. 
Your  fellow  Tranio  here,  to  save  my  life, 
Puts  my  apparel  and  my  countenance  on, 
And  I  for  my  escape  have  put  on  his ; 
For  in  a  quarrel,  since  I  came  ashore, 
I  kill'd  a  man,  and  fear  I  was  descried  :^ 
Wait  you  on  him,  I  charge  you,  as  becomes. 
While  I  make  way  from  nence  to  save  my  life : 
You  understand  me  ? 

Bion.  I,  sir  f  ne'er  a  whit 

Luc  And  not  a  jot  of  Tranio  in  your  mouth ; 
Trenio  is  chang'd  into  Lucentia 

Bion.  The  better  ibr  him ; '  Woald  I  were  so  too ! 


(7)  Show,  appearance. 
C9)0bMnred. 


(8)  Since. 


i 


960 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


Acil 


Tra.  So  would  I,  *faith,  boj,  to  have  the  neit 

wish  after, — 

That  Luccntio  indeed  had  Baptista^s  youngest 

daughter. 
But,  sirrah, — not  for  my  sake,  but  your  master*s, — 

I  advise 
You  use  your  manners  discreetly  in  all  kind  of 

companies : 
When  I  am  atone,  why,  then  I  am  Tranio ; 
But  in  all  places  else,  your  master  Lucentia 

LiK.  Tranio,  let's  go : — 
One  thing  more  rests,  that  thyself  execute ; — 
To  make  one  among  these  wooers :  If  thou  ask  me 

why,— 
Sufficeth,  my  reasons  are  both  good  and  weighty. 

[Exeunt. 
1  Senr.  My  lordy  ytm  nod;  you  do  not  mind  the 

play. 
Sir.  Yesy  by  saint  Anne^  do  I.  A  good  tnaiter^ 
gurtiy  i  Comes  there  any  more  qf  H  ? 
Page.  My  lord^  Uis  but  begun. 
Sly.  *Tis  a  very  excellent  piece  qfworky  madam 
lady  i  *  WouldH  were  done  ! 

SCEiyE   II.— The  same.    Btfort   Hortcnsio's 
house.    Enter  Petruchio  (md  Grumio. 

Pet.  Verona,  for  a  while  I  take  my  leave, 
To  see  my  friends  in  Padua ;  but  of  all, 
My  best  beloved  and  approved  friend, 
Hortensio ;  and,  I  trow,  this  is  his  house : 
Here,  sirrah  Grumio ;  knock,  I  sav. 

Gru.  Knock,  sir!  whom  should  I  knock .^  is  there 
any  man  has  rebused  your  worship  } 

Pet.  Villain,  I  say,  knock  me  here  soundly. 

Gru.  Knock  vou  here,  sir  ^  why,  sir,  what  am  I, 
sir,  that  I  should  knock  you  here,  sir  } 

Pet.  Villain,  I  say,  knock  me  at  this  gate, 
And  rap  me  well,  or  IMl  knock  your  knave's  pate. 

Gru.  My  master  is  grown  quarrelsome :  I  should 
knock  you  first. 
And  then  I  know  after  who  comes  by  the  worst. 

Pet.  Will  it  not  be  ? 
'Faith,  sirrah,  and  you'll  not  knock,  I'll  wring  it ; 
I'll  try  how  you  can  so/,  fa,  and  sing  it. 

[He  wrings  Grumio  by  the  ears. 

Gru.  Help,  masters,  help !  my  master  is  mad. 

Pet.  Now,  knock  when  I  bid  you :  sirrah !  villain  ! 
Enter  Hortensio. 

Hot.  How  now  ?  what's  the  matter  ? — Mv  old 
friend  Grumio  !  and  my  good  friend  Petruchio  .' — 
How  do  you  all  at  Verona  ? 

Pet.  Signior  Hortensio,  come  you  to  part  the  fray? 
Oon  tutto  il  core  bene  trovato,  may  I  say. 

Hor.  Alia  nostra  casa  bene  venuto, 
MoUo  honorato  signor  mio  Petruchio. 
Rise,  Grumio,  rise  ;  we  will  compound  this  quarrel. 
Chru.  Nay,  'tis  no  matter,  what  he  'leges*  in  Latin. 
— if  this  be  not  a  lawful  cause  for  me  to  leave  his 
service, — Look  you,  sir, — he  bid  me  knock  him,  and 
rap  him  soundly,  sir :  Well,  was  it  fit  for  a  sen'ant 
to  use  his  master  so ;  being  perhaps  (for  aught  I 
see,)  two  and  thirty, — a  pip  out.^ 
Whom,  'would  to  God,  I  had  well  knock'd  at  first. 
Then  had  not  Grumio  come  by  the  worst. 

Pet.  A  senseless  villain ! — Good  Hortensio, 
I  bade  the  rascal  knock  upon  your  gate, 
And  could  not  get  him  for  my  heart  to  do  it 

Gru.  Knock  at  the  gate  f — O  heavens . 
Spake  you  not  these  words  plain, — Sirrah,  knock 

me  here, 

* 

(1)  Alleses.  (2)  Few  words. 

(3)  See  the  story,Na  39,  of  M  Thousand  JVo- 
iabU  Things,' 


Rap  me  here,  kfu>ck  me  well,  and  knock  me 

soundly  ? 
And  come  you  now  with — ^knocking  at  die  gate  ^ 

Pet.  Sirrah,  be  gone,  or  talk  not,  I  advise  yoa. 

Hor.  Petruchio,  patience ;  I  am  Grumio's  pledge : 
Why,  this  is  a  heavy  chance  'twixt  him  and  you ; 
Your  ancient,  trusty,  pleasant  servant  Grumia 
And  tell  me  now,  sweet  friend, — what  happ?  ^e 
Blows  you  to  Padua  here,  from  old  Verona  f 

Pet.  Such  wind  as  scatters  young  meu  through 
the  world, 
To  seek  their  fortunes  further  than  at  home, 
Where  small  experience  grows.  But,  in  a  few,' 
Signior  Hortensio,  thus  it  stands  with  me : — 
Antonio,  my  father,  is  deceas'd ; 
And  I  have  thrust  myself  into  this  roaxe. 
Haply  to  wive,  and  thrive,  as  best  I  may : 
Crowns  in  my  purse  I  have,  and  goods  at  home. 
And  so  am  come  abroad  to  see  the  world. 

Hor:  Petruchio,  shall  I  then  come  roundly  to 
thee. 
And  wish  thee  to  a  shrewd  ill-favour'd  wife  f 
Thou'dst  thank  me  but  a  little  for  my  counsel : 
And  yet  I'll  promise  thee  she  shall  be  rich. 
And  very  ricn  : — but  thou'rt  too  much  my  friend. 
And  I'll  not  wish  thee  to  her. 

Pet.  Sis^nior  Hortensio,  'twixt  such  friends  as  we. 
Few  words  suffice :  and,  therefore,  if  thou  know 
One  rich  enough  to  be  Petruchio's  wife 
(As  wealth  is  burthen  of  my  wooing  dance,) 
Be  she  as  foul  as  was  Florentius'  love,' 
As  old  as  Sybil,  and  as  curst  and  shrewd 
As  Socrates*  Xantippe,  or  a  worse. 
She  moves  me  not,  or  not  removes,  at  least. 
Affection's  edge  in  me ;  were  she  as  roug;fa 
As  are  the  swelling  Adriatic  seas  : 
I  come  to  wive  it  wealthily  in  Padua ; 
If  wealthily,  then  happily  in  Padua. 

Gru.  Nay,  look  you,  sir,  he  tells  yoa  flatlv  what 
his  mind  is:  Why,  give  him  gold  enoufli,  and 
mnrry  him  to  a  puppet,  or  an  aglet-baby  ^  or  an 
old  trot  with  ne'er  a  tooth  in  her  head,  tfiou^  die 
have  as  many  diseases  as  two  and  fifty  horses :  why, 
nothing  comes  amiss,  so  money  comes  withaL 

Hor.  Petruchio,  since  we  havestepp'd  thus  fiu'tn, 
I  will  continue  that  I  broach'd  in  jest. 
I  can,  Petruchio,  help  thee  to  a  wife 
With  wealth  enough,  and  young,  and  beauteous; 
Brought  up,  as  best  becomes  a  gentlewoman  : 
Her  only  fault  (and  that  is  faults  enough,) 
Is, — that  she  is  intolerablv  curst. 
And  shrewd,  and  frowarcl ;  so  beyond  all  measure. 
That,  were  my  state  far  worser  than  it  is, 
I  would  not  wed  her  for  a  mine  of  gold. 

Pet.  Hortensio,  peace ;  thou  know'st  not  gold's 

effect : 

Tell  me  her  father's  name,  and  'tis  enough ; 
For  I  will  board  her,  though  she  chide  as  loud 
As  thunder,  when  the  clouds  in  autumn  crack. 

Hor.  Her  father  is  Baptista  Minola, 
An  affable  and  courteous  gentleman : 
Her  name  is  Katharina  Minola, 
Renown'd  in  Padua  for  her  scoldii^  tongue. 

Pet.  I  know  her  father,  though  I  know  not  her 
And  he  knew  my  deceased  father  well : — 
I  will  not  sleep,  Horteyio,  till  I  see  her; 
And  therefore  let  me  be  thus  bold  with  yoa. 
To  give  you  over  at  this  first  encounter, 
Unless  you  will  accompany  me  thither. 

Gru.  I  pray  you,  sir,  let  him  go  while  the  ha 
mour  lasts.  O'  my  word,  an  she  knew  him  as  well 
as  I  do,  she  would  think  scolding  woald  do  little 

(4)  A  small  image  on  the  tag  of  lace. 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


f61 


iim :  She  may,  perhaps,  call  him  half 

rt§f  or  flo :  why,  thars  nothing ;  an  he 

he*U  rail  in  his  rope-tricka-i    Til  teU 

r|r--aii  she  standi  him  but  a  little,  he 

figure  in  her  face,  and  to  disfigure  her 

she  shall  have  no  more  eyes  to  see 

i  cat :  you  knovr  him  not,  sir. 

ny,  Petnichio,  I  must  go  with  thee ; 

^*8  keep*  my  treasure  is : 

jewel  of  my  life  in  hold, 

t  daiKhter,  beautifiil  Bianca ; 

Uiol(£  from  me,  and  other  more 

If,  and  rivals  in  my  love : 

:  •  thing  impossible 

efects  1  have  before  rehearsed,) 

Jatharina  will  be  woo*d, 

lis  order^  hath  Baptista  ta*en ; — 

liaU  have  access  unto  Bianca, 

ne  the  curst  have  got  a  husbaixL 

harine  the  curst ! 

maid,  of  all  titles  the  worst 

riball  m^  friend  Petnichio  do  me  grace ; 

B,  di^uisM  in  sober  robes, 

ista  as  a  schoolmaster 

n  music,  to  instruct  Bianca : 

1^  by  this  device,  at  least, 

sod  Idsure  to  make  love  to  her, 

lected,  court  her  by  herself 

io;  wUh  htm  Lucentio  duguitedj  toUh 
books  under  Jus  arm. 

w*i  no  knavery !  See ;  to  beguile  the 

w  the  young  folks  lay  their  heads  to- 

ister,  master,  lode  about  you :    Who 

ha! 

oe,  Gnmuo ;  'tis  the  rival  of  my  love : — 

tand  by  a  while. 

MToper  stripling,  and  an  amorous .' 

[They  retire. 
«ry  well ;  I  have  perus*d  the  note. 
ir;  V\\  have  tbera  very  fairly  bound : 
love,  see  that  at  any  hand  ;6 
read  no  other  lectures  to  her : 
and  me : — Over  and  beside 
tista*s  liberality, 

rith  a  largess :' — Take  your  papers  too, 
have  them  very  well  perfumM ; 
ireeter  than  perfume  itself, 
mj  go.   What  will  you  read  to  her  ? 
late'er  I  read  to  her,  IMI  plead  for  you, 
stron  (stand,  you  so  assurd,) 
yourself  were  still  in  place  : 
erhaps)  with  more  successful  words 
mless  you  were  a  scholar,  sir. 
lis  learning !  what  a  thing  it  is ! 
SOS  woodcock !  what  an  ass  it  is ! 
«,  sirrah. 

muo,  mum! — God  save  you,  signior 
efflio! 

1  you're  well  met,  signior  Hortensio. 
ow  you, 

n  going  f — To  Baptista  Minola. 
>  inquire  carefully 
3olmaster  for  fair  Bianca : 
id  fortune,  I  have  lighted  well 
ig  man ;  for  learning,  and  behaviour, 
ini ;  well  read  in  poetry, 
ooks,— ^ood  ones,  I  warrant  you. 
I  well :  and  I  have  met  a  gentleman, 
i*d  me  to  help  me  to  another, 
aan  to  instruct  our  mistress ; 

re  langnasfft.         (2)  Withstand. 
dy.  (4)  These  measures. 

18 


So  diall  I  no  whit  be  bebind  m  duty 
To  &ir  Bianca,  so  belovM  of  me. 

Ore.  Belov'd  of  me, — and  that  my  deeds  shall 
prove. 

Gru.  And  that  his  b^  shall  prove.       [Aside, 

Hor.  Gremio,  'tis  now  no  time  to  vent  our  love  t 
Listen  to  me,  and  if  vou  speak  me  £ur, 
I'll  tell  you  news  indifferent  good  for  either. 
Here  is  a  gentleman,  whom  by  chance  I  met. 
Upon  agreement  from  us  to  his  liking. 
Will  undertake  to  woo  curst  Katharine ; 
Yea,  and  to  marry  her,  if  her  dowry  please. 

dre.  So  said,  so  done,  is  well : — 
Hortensio,  have  you  told  him  all  her  faults  ? 

Pet.  I  know,  she  is  an  iricsome  brawlit^  scold ; 
If  that  be  all,  masters,!  hear  no  harm. 

Crre,  No,  say'st  me  so,  friend  ?   What  countiy- 
man.^ 

Pet  Bom  in  Verona,  old  Antonio's  son : 
My  father  dead,  my  fortune  lives  for  me ; 
And  I  do  hope  good  days,  and  long,  to  see. 

Gre,  O,  ur,  such  a  hfe,  with  such  a  wife,  were 
strange: 
But,  if  you  have  a  stomach,  to't,  6*  God's  name ; 
You  shall  have  me  assisting  you  in  alt 
But  will  you  woo  this  wild  cat? 

Pet  Will  I  live? 

Gru.  Will  be  woo  her  ?  ay,  or  I'll  hang  her. 

[Aside, 

Pet.  Why  came  I  hither,  but  to  that  intent  ? 
Think  you,  a  little  din  can  daunt  mine  ears  ? 
Have  I  not  in  my  time  heard  lions  roar  ? 
Have  I  not  heard  the  sea,  puff'd  up  with  winds. 
Rage  like  an  angry  boar,  chafed  with  sweat  ? 
Have  I  not  heara  rreat  ordnance  in  the  fields 
And  heaven's  artilleiy  thunder  in  the  skies  ? 
Have  I  not  in  a  pitched  battle  heard 
Loud 'larums,  neighing  steeds,  and  trumpets^  dang^ 
And  do  you  tell  me  of  a  woman's  tongue ; 
That  gives  not  half  so  ^"eat  a  blow  to  the  ear« 
As  will  a  chesnut  in  a  tarmer's  fire  ? 
Tush !  tush !  fen  boys  with  bugs.^ 

GrtL  For  he  f^rs  non«w 

[Asid^ 

Gre.  Hortensio,  baric ! 
This  gentleman  is  happily  arrivM, 
My  mind  presumes,  for  lus  own  good,  and  yours. 

Hor.  I  promis'd,  we  would  be  contributors, 
And  bear  nis  charge  of  wooing,  whatsoe'er. 

Gre.  And  so  we  will ;  provided,  that  he  win  her^ 

G^rtt.  I  would,  I  were  as  sure  of  a  good  dinner. 

[Asids. 

Enter  Tranio,  hraoely  appareXUd;  and  Biondella 

Tra.  Gentlemen,  God  save  you.^  If  I  may  be  bold, 
Tell  me,  I  beseech  you,  which  is  the  readiest  way 
To  the  house  of  signior  Baptista  Minola  ? 

Gre.  He  that  has  the  two  fair  daughters : — is'l 
[Aside  to  Trania]  he  you  mean  ? 

Tra.  Even  he.    Biondello ! 

Chre.  Hark  you,  sir;  You  mean  not  her  to 

Tra.  Perhaps,  him  and  her,  sir;  What  have 
you  to  do  ? 

Pet.  Not  her  that  chides,  sir,  at  any  hand,  I  pray. 

Tra.  I   love  no  chiders,  sir: — Biondello,  let's 
away. 

Luc.  Well  begun,  Trania  [Aside* 

Hor.  Sir,  a  word  ere  you  go ; — 
Are  you  a  suitor  to  the  maid  you  talk  of,  yea, 
or  no? 

Tra.  An  if  I  be,  sir,  is  it  any  offimce? 

(5)  Versed.        (6)  Rate.        (7)  Present 
(8;  Fright  bovs  with  bug-bears. 


f62 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


Ada 


Gre.  No ;  if,  without  mora  words,  you  will  get 
you  fc^ce. 

TVa.  Wkw,  sir,  I  pray,  are  not  the  streets  u  free 
For  me,  as  for  you  ? 

Gre,  But  so  is  not  she. 

Trti,  For  what  reason,  I  beseech  you  ? 

Ore.  For  this  reason,  iif  you'll  know,^— 
That  she's  the  choice  love  of  si^nior  Gremia 

Hot.  That  she's  the  chosen  of  signior  Hortensia 

Tra.  Softly,  my  masters !  if  you  be  gentlemen. 
Do  me  this  right, — hear  me  with  patience. 
Baptista  is  a  noble  gentleman. 
To  %«hom  my  father  is  not  all  unknown ; 
And,  were  his  daughter  fairer  than  she  is. 
She  may  more  suitors  have,  and  me  for  one. 
Fair  Leda's  daughter  had  a  thousand  wooeri; 
Then  well  one  more  may  fair  Bianca  have : 
And  so  she  shall ;  Lucentio  shall  make  one, 
Though  Paris  came,  in  hope  to  speed  alone. 

Gre.  What !  this  gentleman  will  out-talk  us  all. 

Zjuc,  Sir,  give  him  head ;  I  know,  he'll  prove  a 
lade. 

Pei,  Hortensio,  to  what  end  are  all  these  words  ? 

Hot.  Sir,  let  me  be  so  bold  as  to  ask  you, 
Did  you  vet  ever  see  Baptista's  daughter  ? 

Tra.  No,  sir;  but  bear  I  do,  that  he  hath  two; 
The  one  as  famous  for  a  scolding  tongue, 
As  is  the  other  for  beauteous  modesty. 

Pei.  Sir,  sir,  the  first's  for  me ;  let  her  go  by. 

Gre.  Yea,  leave  that  labour  to  great  Hercules ; 
And  let  it  be  more  than  Alcides'  twelve. 

Pet.  Sir,  understand  you  this  of  me,  insooth ; — 
The  youngest  daughter,  whom  you  hearken  for. 
Her  rather  keeps  mun  all  access  of  suitors ; 
And  will  not  promise  her  to  any  man. 
Until  the  elder  sister  first  be  wed : 
The  youneer  then  is  free,  and  not  before. 

Tra.  If  it  be  so,  sir,  that  you  are  the  man 
Must  stead  us  all,  and  me  among  the  rest ; 
An  if  you  break  the  ice,  and  do  this  feat, — 
Achieve  the  elder,  set  the  youne er  free 
For  our  access, — whose  hap  shul  be  to  have  her. 
Will  not  so  graceless  be,  to  be  ingrate.i 

Hot.  Sir, you  say  well,  and  well  you  do  conceive; 
And  since  you  do prc^ess  to  be  a  suitor. 
You  must,  as  we  do,  gratify  this  gentleman. 
To  whom  we  all  rest  generally  l^holden. 

Tra.  Sir,  I  shall  not  be  slack :  in  sign  whereof. 
Please  ye  we  may  contrive  this  afternoon. 
And  Guaff  carouses  to  our  mistress'  health ; 
And  do  as  adversaries  do  in  law, — 
Strive  mightily,  but  eat  and  drink  as  friends. 

Gru.  Bum.  O  excellent  motion  I — Fellows,^  let's 
b^one. 

Hot,  The  motion*s  good  indeed,  and  be  it  so ; — 
Petruchio,  I  shall  be  your  ben  vertuio.      [Exeumt. 


ACT  II. 

SCRyE  I.—Tht  mme.    A  room  in  Baptista's 
house.    Enter  Katharina  and  Bianca. 

Bian.  Good  sister,  wrong  me  not,  nor  wrong 
yourself, 
To  make  a  bondmaid  and  a  slave  of  me ; 
That  I  disdain  :  but  for  these  other  gawds,' 
Unbind  my  hands,  I'll  pull  them  off  myself, 
Yea,  all  my  raiment,  to  my  petticoat ; 
Or,  what  you  will  command  me,  will  I  do, 
So  well  I  know  my  duty  to  my  elders. 


s 


)  UnjgratefuL  (2)  Companions. 

[3)  Tniling  ornament!. 


Kaih.  Of  all  thy  suitors,  here  I  charge  (bee,  ten 
Whom  thou  bv'st  best :  see  thou  dissemble  not 

Bian,  Believe  me,  sister,  of  all  tbe  men  alite, 
I  never  vet  beheld  that  special  fisce 
Which  i  could  &ncy  more  than  any  other. 

Kaih,  Minion,  tliou  liest ;  Is't  not  HorteiMio  ? 

Bian,  If  you  affect^  him,  sister,  heie  I  swear, 
I'll  plead  for  vou  myself^  but  you  shall  have  him. 

Kaih.  O,  then,  belike,  you  fancy  riches  moia ; 
You  will  have  Gremio  to  keep  you  fiur. 

Bian.  Is  it  for  him  you  do  envy  roe  so  f 
Nay,  then  vou  jest ;  and  now  I  will  perceive. 
You  have  but  jested  with  me  all  this  while : 
I  prVthee,  sister  Kate,  untie  my  hands. 

kaih.  If  that  be  jest,  then  all  the  rest  was  to. 

[Sirikt$  hit. 

£n(er  Baptista. 

J3qp.  Why,  bow  now,  dame!  wfaenoe  grows 

this  insolence  f 

Bianca,  stand  aside ; — poor  girl !  she  weept  :— 
Go  plv  thy  needle ;  meddle  not  with  her. — 
For  shame,  thou  hilding<  of  a  devilish  spirit. 
Why  dost  thou  wrong  her  &at  did  ne*er  wrong  thee? 
When  did  she  cross  thee  with  a  bitter  word! 

Kaih,  Her  silence  flouts  me,  and  PU  be  revengM. 

[JFTtet  s(/ler  Biancs. 

Bap.  What,  in  my  s^ht  .'—-Bianca,  get  thee  in. 

Jfxi^Biancs. 

Kaih.  Will  you  not  sufier  me.^  Nay,  now  I  ses, 
She  is  your  treasure,  die  most  have  a  husband? 
I  must  dance  bare-foot  on  her  weddmg<daT, 
And,  for  your  love  to  her,  lead  apes  in  beU. 
Talk  not  to  me ;  I  will  go  sit  ana  weep, 
Till  I  can  find  occasion  of  rev^ige.     [Eixii  Kath. 

Bap.  Was  ever  gentleman  thus  gnev'd  as  I  ? 
But  who  comes  here? 

Enter  Gremio,  wiih  Lucentio  m  the  hainiqfa 
mean  man ;  Petruchio,  teith  Hcntensio  os  a  wm- 
sician ;  and  Tranio,  with  Biondello  bearing  a 
lute  and  books. 

Gre.  Good-morrow,  neighbour  Baptistm. 

Bap.  Good-morrow,  neighbour  Uremio:  God 
save  you,  gentlemen ! 

PeL  And  you,  good  sir!  IVaj,  have  yoa  not  a 
daughter 
Call'd  Kathanna,  fair,  and  virtuous? 

Bap.  I  have  a  daughter,  sir,  call'd  Kallttrini. 

Crre.  You  are  too  blunt,  go  to  it  orderly. 

Pet.  You  wrong  me,  sigmor  Gremio ;  giva  ma 
leave. — 
I  am  a  gentleman  of  Verona,  sir. 
That,— bearing  of  her  beauty,  and  her  wit. 
Her  affability,  and  bashful  moidestv. 
Her  wondrous  qualities,  and  mild  oekHiTioiir,—- 
Am  bold  to  show  myself  a  forward  guest 
Within  your  house,  to  make  mine  eye  the  wifnen 
Of  that  report  which  I  so  oft  have  heud. 
And,  for  an  entrance  to  my  entertainment, 
I  do  present  you  with  a  man  of  mine, 

[Presenting  HoiiBama. 

Cunning  in  music,  and  the  mathematica, 
To  inhtruct  her  fully  in  those  sciences. 
Whereof,  I  know,  uie  is  not  ignorant : 
Accept  of  him,  or  else  you  do  me  wrong ; 
His  name  is  Licio,  bom  in  Mantua. 

Bap.  You're  welcome,  sir;  and  be»  fior  you 
good  sake: 
But  for  my  daughter  Katharine,— Ifait  I  knoir. 
She  is  not  finr  your  turn,  the  more  my  grie£ 

Pet.  I  see,  you  do  not  mean  to  part  with  her; 


(4)  Love. 


(5)  A  wordiliM 


Seoul 


TAMINO  OF  THE  SHREW. 


263 


Or  elae  jon  like  not  of  mj  company. 

Sap.  Afiftake  roe  not,  I  speak  tnit  ai  I  find. 
Whence  aieyoa, air?  whatmaylcdljroiir  name? 

FtL  Petrocfaio  is  mj  name ;  Antonio*!  son, 
A  man  well  known  Ihitx^phoot  all  Italy. 

jBt^.  I  know  him  well :  yon  are  welcome  for  his 
sake. 

Chre,  Saving  your  tale,  Petruchio,  I  pray, 
Let  us,  thai  are  poor  petitioners,  speak  too : 
Baccare  l^  you  are  marvellous  forward. 

PeL  O,  pardon  me,  signior  Gremio ;  I  would  fain 
be  doii^. 

Gre,  I  doubt  it  not,  sir;  but  you  will  curse  your 

wooinff* 

Ne^bour,  this  is  a  giA  veiy  grateful,  I  am  sure  of 
it  To  exmess  the  like  kindness  myself,  that  have 
been  more  kindly  beholden  to  you  than  any,  1  freely 
give  unto  you  this  young  scholar  [Presenting  Lu* 
centio.]  that  hath  been  long  studying  at  Rheims ; 
u  cunning  in  Greek,  Latin,  and  other  languages, 
as  the  other  in  music  and  mathematics :  his  name 
is  C^ambio ;  pray,  accept  his  service. 

Bcqf.  A  dxMisand  thanks,  signior  Gremio :  wel- 
conae,  good  Gambia — But,  gende  sir  [To  Tranio.] 
methmks  you  walk  like  a  stranger ;  May  I  be  so 
bold  to  know  the  cause  of  your  coming? 

Tra.  Fudon  me,  sir,  the  boldness  is  mine  own ; 
That,  being  a  stranger  in  this  city  here. 
Do  make  myself  a  suitor  to  your  daughter, 
Unto  Btanca,  &ir,  and  virtuous. 
Nor  is  your  firm  resolve  unknown  to  me, 
In  the  preferment  of  the  eldest  sister : 
This  liberty  is  all  that  I  request, — 
That,  upon  knowledge  of  my  parentage, 
I  may  have  welcome  *mongst  we  rest  that  woo, 
And  free  access  and  favour  as  the  rest 
And,  toward  the  education  of  your  daughters, 
I  here  bestow  a  simple  instrument. 
And  this  small  packet  of  Greek  and  Latin  books : 
If  joa  accept  tnem,  then  their  worth  is  great. 

Bap.    Lcicentk)  is  your  name?   of  whence,  I 

Tra.  Of  Km,  sir ;  son  to  Yincentkx 
Bt^.  A  mighty  man  of  Pisa ;  by  report 

I  kncnv  him  well :  you  are  very  welcome,  sir. — 

Take  you  [To  Hor.l  the  lute,  and  you  [To  Luc] 
me  set  of  books. 

Ton  4iall  go  see  your  pupils  presoitly. 

HoUa,  within! 

£n<er  a  Servant 

Simhfkad 

These  gentlemen  to  my  daughten ;  and  tell  them 

both. 
These  are  their  tutors;  bid  them  use  them  well. 
[Exit  Servant,  with  Hortensio,  Lucentio,  and 
Bk)odella 
We  will  go  walk  a  little  m  the  orchard. 
And  then  to  dinner :  You  are  passing  welcome, 
And  so  I  pray  you  all  to  think  yourselves. 

Pet.  Signwr  Baptista,  my  business  asketh  haste. 
And  every  day  I  cannot  come  to  woa 
Too  knew  niy  ftither  well ;  and  in  him,  me. 
Left  solely  heir  to  all  his  lands  and  goods. 
Which  I  nave  bettered  rather  than  decreas'd : 
Then  tell  me, — if  I  get  your  daughter*s  love. 
What  dowry  shall  I  nave  with  her  to  wife  ? 

Btq».  After  my  death,  the  one  half  of  my  lands : 
An<l,  in  possession,  twenty  thousand  crowns. 

PeL  And,  for  that  dowry,  V\\  assure  her  of 

(1 )  A  proveiUal  exclamation  then  in  use. 

(2)  A  fret  in  music  is  the  stop  which  causes  or 
rqpilates  the  vibration  of  the  string. 


Her  widowhood^ — ^be  it  that  she  survive  me, — 
In  all  ro^  lands  and  leases  whatsoever : 
Let  specialties  be  tfierefbre  drawn  between  us. 
That  covenants  may  be  kept  on  either  hand.  # 

JBop.  A  V,  when  the  special  thing  is  well  obtain*d. 
This  19, — her  love  ;  for  that  is  all  in  alL 

Pet.  Why,  that  is  nothing ;  for  I  tell  you,  father, 
I  am  as  peremptory  as  she  proud-minded ; 
And  where  two  raging  fires  meet  together, 
They  do  consume  the  thing  that  feeds  their  fury : 
Though  little  fire  grows  great  with  litde  wind. 
Yet  extreme  gusts  will  blow  out  fire  and  all : 
So  I  to  her,  and  so  she  yields  to  me : 
For  I  am  rough,  and  woo  not  like  a  babe. 

Bap.  Well  may^st  thou  woo,  and  happy  be  thy 
speed ! 
But  be  thou  arm*d  for  some  unhappy  words. 

Pet.  Ay,  to  the  proof;  as  mountains  are  for  winds, 
That  shake  not,  ttiough  th^  blow  perpetually. 

Re-enter  Hortensio,  toith  kit  head  broken. 

Bap.  How  now,  my  friend  ?  why  dost  thou  look 
so  pale  ? 

Hor.  For  fear,  I  promise  you,  if  I  look  pale. 

Bap.  What,  will  my  daughter  prove  a  good 
musician  ? 

Hor.  I  think  sheMl  sooner  prove  a  soldier ; 
Iron  may  hold  with  her,  but  never  lutes. 

Bap.  Why,  then  thou  canst  not  break  her  to  the 
lute  ? 

Hor.  Why,  no ;  for  she  hath  broke  tiie  lute  to  me. 
I  did  but  teA  her,  she  mistook  her  frets,' 
And  bowM  her  hand  to  teach  her  fingering ; 
When,  with  a  most  impatient  deviliim  spirit. 
Frets f  call  you  these  ?  quoth  she :  P\X  fume  with 

them : 
And,  with  that  word,  she  struck  me  on  the  head, 
And  throuerh  the  instrument  my  pate  made  way  ; 
And  there  I  stood  amazM  for  a  while, 
As  on  a  pillory,  looking  through  the  lute  : 
While  she  did  call  me, — rascal  fiddler. 
And — ^twaiigling  Jack ;'  with  twenty   such   vile 

terms, 
As  she  had  studied  to  misuse  nie  so. 

Pet.  Now,  by  the  world,  it  is  a  lusty  wench ; 
I  love  her  ten  times  more  than  e'er  I  cud : 
O,  how  1  long  to  have  some  chat  with  her ! 

Bap.  Well,  go  with  me,  and  be  not  so  discomfited. 
Proceed  in  practice  with  my  vounger  daughter ; 
She's  apt  to  learn,  and  thankful  "for  good  turas.^ 
Signior  Petruchio,  will  you  go  with  us ;    ^ 
Or  shall  I  send  my  daughter  Kate  to  vou  ? 

PeL  I  pray  you  do ;  I  will  attend  her  here, — 
[Exe.  Bap.  Gre.  Tra.  and  Hor. 
And  woo  her  with  some  spirit  when  she  comes. 
Say,  that  she  rail ;  Why,  then  I'll  tell  her  plain. 
She  sings  as  sweetly  as  a  nightingale : 
Say,  that  she  frown ;  I'll  say,  she  looks  as  clear 
As  morning  roses  newly  wash'd  with  dew : 
Say,  she  be  mute,  and  will  not  speak  a  word ; 
Then  I'll  commend  her  volubility. 
And  say— she  uttereth  piercing  eloquence : 
If  she  do  bid  me  pack,  I'll  give  her  thanks. 
As  though  she  bid  me  stay  by  her  a  week ; 
If  she  deny  to  wed,  I'll  crave  the  day 
When  I  shall  ask  the  banns,  and  when  be  married:— 
But  here  she  comes ;  and  now,  Petruchio,  speak. 

Enter  Katharine. 

Good-morrow,  Kate ;  for  that's  your  name,  I  bear. 
Kath.  Well  have  you  heard,  but  something  hard 
of  hearing ; 

(3)  Paltry  musician. 


S64 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


Actn. 


Tbej  call  me — ^Katharine,  that  do  talk  of  me. 

PeL  You  lie,  ia  laith ;  for  yoa  are  call*d  plain 
.  Kate, 

And  honny  Kate,  and  sometimes  Kate  the  curst ; 
But  Kate,  the  prettiest  Kate  in  Christendom, 
Kate  of  Kate-hall,  my  super-daintjr  Kate, 
For  dainties  are  all  cates :  and  therefore,  Kate, 
Take  this  of  me,  Kate  o(  my  consolation ; — 
Hearing^  thy  mildness  praised  in  every  town. 
Thy  virtues  spoke  of,  and  thy  beauty  sounded, 
(Yet  not  so  deeply  as  to  thee  belongs,) 
Myself  am  movM  to  woo  thee  for  mv  wife. 

Kaih.  Mov*d !  in  good  time :  let  him  that  mov'd 
you  hither, 
Remove  you  hence :  I  knew  you  at  the  first, 
You  were  a  moveable. 

Pet  Why,  what*8  a  moveable  ? 

Kath,  A  joint-stool. 

Pet.  Thou  hast  hit  it :  come,  sit  on  me. 

Kath.  Asses  are  made  to  bear,  and  so  are  you. 

Pet.  Women  are  made  to  bear,  and  so  are  you. 

Kath.  No  such  jade,  sir,  as  you,  if  me  you  mean. 

Pet.  Alas,  good  Kate  !  I  will  not  burden  thee  : 
For,  knowing  thee  to  be  but  young  and  light, — 

Kath.  Too  light  for  such  a  swain  as  ycm  to  catch ; 
And  yet  as  heavy  as  my  weight  should  be. 

Pet.  Should  be  ?  should  buz. 

Kath.  Well  ta*en,  and  like  a  buzzard. 

Pet.  O,  slow-wing'd  turtle !  shall  a  buzzard  take 
thee.^ 

Kath.  Ay,  for  a  turtle ;  as  he  takes  a  buzzard. 

Pet.  Come,  come,  you  wasp;  i'faith,  you  are 
too  angry. 

Kath.  If  I  be  waspish,  best  beware  my  sting. 

Pet.  My  remedy  is  then,  to  pluck  it  out. 

Kath.   Ay,  if  the  fool  could  find  it  where  it  lies. 

Pel.  Who  knows  not  where  a  wasp  doth  wear 
his  sting? 
In  his  tail. 

Kath.       In  his  tongue. 


Pet. 


Whose  tongue  ? 


Kaih.   Yours,  if  you  talk  of  tails ;  and  so  fare- 
well. 

Pet.  What,  with  my  tongue  in  your  tail  f  nay, 
come  again, 
Giood  Kate ;  I  am  a  gentleman. 

Kath.  That  Pll  try. 

[Strikir^  hitn. 

Pet.  I  swear  Pll  cuff  you,  if  you  strike  again. 

Kath.  So  may  you  lose  your  arms : 
If  you  strike  me,  you  are  no  gentleman ; 
And  if  no  gentleman,  why,  then  no  arras. 

Pet.  A  herald,  Kate  ?  O,  put  me  in  thy  books. 

Kath.  What  is  your  crest  r  a  coxcomb  ? 

Pet.   A  combless  cock,  so  Kate  will  be  mv  hen. 

Kath.  No  cock  of  mine,  you  crow  too  like  a 
craven.  I 

Pet.  Nay,  come,  Kate,  come ;  you  must  not  look 
so  sour. 

Kath.  It  is  my  fashion,  when  I  see  a  crab. 

Pet.  Why,  here's  no  crab ;  and  therefore  look 
not  sour. 

Kath.  There  is,  there  is. 

Pet.  Then  show  it  me. 

Kath.  Had  I  a  glass,  I  would. 

Pet.  What,  you  mean  my  face.^ 

Kath.  Well  aim'd  of2  such  a  young  one. 

Pet.  Now,  by  Saint  George,  I  am  too  young  for 
you. 

Kath.  let  you  are  wither*d. 

Pet.  'Tis  with  cares. 

Kath.  I  care  not 


(1)  A  degenerate  cock. 


2)  By 


Pet.  Nay,  hear  yon,  Kate :  in  tooth,  you  *sospe 
not  sa 

Katfi.  I  chafe  you,  if  I  tany ;  let  me  go. 

Pet.  No,  not  a  whit ;  I  find  you  passing  eentlc 
'Twas  told  me,  vou  were  rough,  and  coy,  and  suUco, 
And  now  I  find  report  a  very  liar; 
For  thou  art  pleasant,  gamesome,  passing  oow 

teous; 
But  slow  in  speech,  yet  sweet  as  spring-time  fbweis: 
Thou  canst  not  frown,  thou  canst  not  look  askance, 
.Vor  bite  the  lip,  as  angry  wenches  will ; 
Xor  hast  thou  pleasure  to  be  cross  in  talk ; 
But  thou  with  mildness  entertain*st  thy  wooent, 
With  eejitle  conference,  soft  and  afifable. 
Why  does  the  world  report,  that  Kate  doth  limp? 
O  slanderous  world !  Kate,  Uke  the  hazle-twig, 
Fs  straight  and  slender ;  and  as  brown  in  hoe 
As  hazle  nuts,  and  sweeter  dian  the  kemela. 
O,  let  me  see  thee  walk  :  thou  dost  not  halt 

Kath.  Go,  fool,  and  whom  thou  keep^st  command. 

Pet.  Did  ever  Dian  so  become  a  g'rove. 
As  Kate  this  chamber  with  her  princely  gait? 
O,  be  thou  Dian,  and  let  her  be  Kate ; 
And  then  let  Kate  be  chaste,  and  Dian  sportful ! 

Kath.    Where  did  you  study  all  this  goodf 
speech? 

Pet.  It  IS  extempore,  from  my  modMr-wit 

Kath.  A  witty  mother !  witless  else  her  son. 

Pet.  Am  I  not  wise  ? 

Kath.  Yes ;  keep  yon  waim. 

Pet.  Marry,  so  I  mean,  sweet  Katharine,  ia  dfjr 

And  therefore,  setting  all  this  chat  ande. 
Thus  in  plain  terms : — Your&ther  hadi  consented 
l^at  you  shall  be  my  wife ;  ^our  dowry  *greedofi; 
And,  will  you,  nill  von,  I  wiU  many  yon. 
Now,  Kate,  I  am  a  husband  for  your  turn ; 
For.  by  this  light,  whereby  I  see  thy  beauty 
(Thy  beauty,  tnat  doth  make  me  like  diee  w^ 
Thou  must  be  married  to  no  man  iMit  me : 
For  I  am  he,  am  bom  to  tame  yoa,  Kate ; 
And  bring  vou  from  a  wild  cat  to  a  Kate 
Coriformaofe,  as  other  household  Kates. 
Hore  comes  your  father ;  never  make  denml, 
r  must  and  will  have  Katharine  to  my  wife. 

Re-enter  Baptista,  Gremio,  etnd  Tiania 

Jifip.  Now, 
Sienriior  Petruchio :  How  speed  yoa  witti 
My  daughter  ? 

Pet.  How  but  well,  sir  ?  how  bat  well } 

It  were  impossible  I  should  speed  amiss. 

Bap.  Wny,  how  now,  daughter  Katharine.'  in 
your  dumps  ? 

Kath.  Call  you  me  daughter  ?  now  I  proousevoOi 
Vou  have  show'd  a  tender  fifitheriy  regard. 
To  wish  me  wed  to  one  half  lunatic ; 
A  mad-cap  ruffian,  and  a  swearing  Jack, 
That  thinks  with  oaths  to  &ce  the  matter  out 

Pet.  Father,  'tis  thus, — ^yourself  and  all  the  world, 
That  talkM  of  her,  have  talkM  amiss  of  her ; 
If  she  be  curst,  it  is  for  policy  : 
For  »he*8  not  froward,  but  modest  as  the  dove; 
She  ii  not  hot,  but  temperate  as  the  mom ; 
For  patience  she  will  prove  a  second  Grissel ; 
And  Roman  Lucrecc  for  her  chastity  : 
And  to  conclude, — we  have  *gp^eed  to  well  tv 

gether. 
That  upon  Sunday  is  the  wedding-dar. 

Kath.  Pll  see  tnee  hang*d  on  Sunaay  (irA. 

Gre.  Hark,  Petruchio !  she  says,  sheMl  see  thee 
hanj^M  first 

Tra.  Is  this  your  speeding?  nay,  then,  good 
night  our  part ! 


TAM1N9  OF  THE  SHREW. 


265 


ktient,  gentlemen;  I  choooe  her  for 

elf; 

)e  pleas'd,  what^s  that  to  vcm  f 

1  *tfvixt  UB  twain,  being  alone, 

1  still  be  curat  in  company. 

I  incredible  to  believe 

le  knret  me :  O,  the  kindest  Kate ! — 

ut  mj  neck ;  and  kiss  on  kiss 

ut,  protesting  oath  on  oath, 

ok  sne  won  me  to  her  love. 

rices !  *tifl|,a  world  to  see,3 

ben  men  and  women  are  alone, 

rretch  can  make  the  curstest  shrew. — 

land,  Kate :  I  will  unto  Venice, 

ttl  'gainst  the  wedding-day  : — 

latt,  fiither,  and  bid  tM  guests ; 

,  my  Katharine  shall  be  mie. 

m  not  what  to  say :  but  give  me  your 

ioj,  Petruchio !  *tis  a  match. 
Amen,  say  we ;  we  will  be  witnesses. 
r,  and  wire,  and  gentlemen,  adieu ; 

oe,  Sunday  comes  apace : 

rings,  and  things,  and  fine  array ; 
Kate,  we  will  m  married  o^Sunday. 
I  Petruchio  and  Katharine,  severaUy. 
erer  match  clappM  up  so  suddenly  ? 
,  gentlemen,  now  I  play  a  merctmnt*K 

nadly  on  a  desperate  mart 
•  a  commodity  lay  fretting  by  you : 
OQ  gain,  or  perisn  on  the  seas. 
I^in  I  seek  is— quiet  in  the  match. 
Nibt,  but  he  hath  got  a  quiet  catch, 
itista,  to  your  younger  daughter ; — 
f  we  long  have  looked  for ; 

rbbour,  and  was  suitor  first 
am  one,  that  love  Bianca  more 
n  witness,  or  your  thoughts  can  guess. 
;ling !  thou  canst  not  love  so  dear  as  I. 
•brard  !  thy  love  doth  freeze. 

But  thine  doth  fiy. 
I  back ;  *tis  age  that  nourisheth. 
ooth,  in  ladies*  eyes  that  flourisheth. 
»t  you,  gentlemen;  Pll  compound 
itrite: 

oat  win  the  prize ;  and  he,  of  both, 
re  my  daughter  greatest  dower, 
iiica*8  love. — 

rremio,  what  can  you  assure  her.^ 
ai  you  know,  my  house  within  the 

ih*d  with  plate  and  gold ; 
wers,  to  lave  her  dainty  bands ; 
all  of  Tynan  tapestry : 
9  I  have  stuflfM  my  crowns ; 
!t(8  my  arras,  counterpoints,^ 
I,  tents,  and  canopies, 
irkey  cushions  boss*d  with  pearl, 
Koice  gold  in  needle-work, 
«SB,  and  all  things  that  belong 
KNisekeepn^ :  tben,  at  my  farm, 
red  milch-kme  to  the  pail, 
ten  standing  in  my  stalls, 

I  answerable  to  this  portion. 
Qck  in  years,  I  must  confess ; 
to-morrow,  this  is  hers, 

e,  she  will  be  only  mine. 

and  revie  were  term«  at  cards  now 
ibe  word  brag. 

II  worth  seeing, 
rdlr  creature. 

gt  foe  beds ;  now  called  counterpanes. 


Tra.  That  only  came  well  in Sir,  list  to      , 

[  am  my  father*s  heir,  and  only  son : 

If  I  may  have  your  daughter  to  my  wife, 

Pll  leave  her  houses  three  or  fcmr  as  good. 

Within  rich  Pisa  walls,  as  any  one 

Old  signior  Gremio  has  in  Padua ; 

Besides  two  thousand  ducats  by  the  year. 

Of  firuitful  land,  all  which  shall  be  her  jointure. — 

What,  ha\'e  I  pinched  you,  signior  Grenuo  f 

Gre.  Two  thousand  ducats  by  the  year,  of  land ! 
My  land  amounts  not  to  so  much  in  all : 
That  she  shall  have ;  besides  an  argosy,^ 
That  now  is  lying  in  Marseilles*  road :— — 
What,  have  I  clrakM  yon  with  an  argosy  } 

Tra.  Gremio,  *tis  known,  my  (ather  hath  no  less 
Than  three  ^jeaX  argosies ;  besides  two  galliasses,^ 
And  twelve  tight  g^ies  :  these  I  will  assure  her. 
And  twice  as  much,  whatever  thou  ofier^st  next. 

Gre.  Nay,  I  have  ofierM  all,  I  have  no  more ; 
And  she  can  have  no  more  than  all  I  have ; — 
If  you  like  me,  she  ^all  have  me  and  mine. 

Tra,  Why,  tben  the  maid  is  mine  from'  all  (he 
world. 
By  your  firm  promise ;  Gremio  is  out-vied. 

Bap.  I  must  confess,  your  offer  is  the  best ; 
And,  let  your  father  make  her  the  assurance. 
She  is  your  own ;  else,  you  must  pardon  me  : 
If  you  should  die  before  him,  whereas  her  dower .' 

Tra.  That*s  but  a  cavil ;  he  is  old,  I  young. 

Grt.  And  may  not  young  men  die,  as  well  as  old.' 

Bap.  Well,  gentlemen, 
I  am  thus  resolv'd : — On  Sunday  next  you  know. 
My  daughter  Katharine  is  to  be  married : 
Now,  on  the  Sunday  following,  shall  Bianca 
Be  bride  to  you,  if  you  make  this  assurance ; 
If  not,  to  signior  Gremio : 
And  so  I  taSe  my  leave,  and  thank  you  both.  [Ex. 

Gre.  Adieu,  good  neighbour. — Now  I  fear  thee 
not; 
Sirrah,  young  gamester,  your  father  were  a  fool 
To  give  thee  all,  and,  in  his  waning  aee. 
Set  foot  under  thy  table :  Tut !  a  toy! 
An  old  Italian  fox  is  not  so  kind,  my  boy.     \Erit, 

Tra.  A  vengeance  on  your  cra%  witner*a  hide ! 
Yet  I  have  faced  it  with  a  card  of  ten.? 
*Tis  in  my  head  to  do  my  master  good  :— 
I  see  no  reason,  but  suppos'd  Lucentio 
Must  get  a  father,  callM — suppos*d  Vincentio ; 
And  that*s  a  wonder :  fathers,  conmionly. 
Do  get  their  children ;  but,  in  this  case  of  wooing, 
A  child  shall  get  a  sire,  if  I  £ul  not  of  my  cunning. 

[ExiL 


ACT  III. 

SCEJ^E  I.— A  room  in  Baptista*8  AoK#e. '  Enter 
Lucentio,  Hortensio,  and  Bianca. 

Luc.  Fiddler,  forbear ;  you  grow  too  forward,  ar: 
Have  you  so  soon  forgot  me  entertainment 
Her  sister  Katharine  welcomed  you  withal  ? 

Hor.  But,  wrangling  pedant,  this  is 
The  patroness  of  heavenly  harmony : 
Then  give  me  leave  to  have  prerogative ; 
And  whea  in  music  we  have  sptni  an  hcmr. 
Your  lecture  shall  have  leisure  for  as  much. 

Luc.  Preposterous  ass !  that  never  read  so  &r 
To  know  the  cause  why  music  was  ordain'd  I 

(5)  A  large  merchant-ship. 

(6)  A  vessel  of  burthen  worked  both  with  sailt 
and  oars. 

(7)  The  highest  card. 


S66 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


Ad  IE 


Was  it  not,  to  refresh  the  mind  of  nwn, 
At\er  his  studies,  or  his  usual  pain  f 
Then  give  me  leave  to  read  philosophy, 
And,  while  I  pause,  serve  in  your  harmony. 

Hot.  Sirrah,  I  will  not  bear  these  braves  of  thine. 

Bian.  Why,  gentlemen,  you  do  me  double  wrong. 
To  strive  for  that  which  resteth  in  my  choice : 
I  am  no  breeching:  scholar'  in  the  schools ; 
V\\  not  be  tied  to  hours,  nor  'pointed  limes. 
But  learn  my  lessons  as  I  please  myselC 
And,  to  cut  off  all  strife,  here  sit  we  down  ^y- 
Take  you  your  instrument,  play  you  the  whiles ; 
His  lecture  will  be  done  ere  you  have  tun*d. 

Hor.  YouMl  leave  his  lecture  when  I  am  in  tune  ? 
[To  Bianca. — Hortensio  retires. 

Luc.  That  will  be  never ;— tune  your  instrument. 

Butn,  Where  left  we  last  ? 

Laic.  Here,  madam : 

Hoc  ibat  Simois  ,•  Ate  est  Sigeia  tellut  ; 
Hie  steterat  Priami  regia  ctUa  senis. 

Bian.  Construe  them. 

Luc.  Hoc  ibatt  as  I  told  you  before, — Simois,  I 
am  Lucentio, — hie  est,  son  unto  Vincentio  of  Pisa, 
—Sigeia  tellus,  disguised  thus  to  get  your  love  ;— 
Hie  sttttrat,  and  that  Lucentio  that  conies  a  woo- 
ing,— Priami,  is  my  man  Tranio, — regia,  bearing: 
my  port, — celsa  senis,  that  we  might  beguile  the  old 
pantaloon.3 

Hor.  Madam,  my  instnmiait's  in  tune. 

[Returning. 

Bian   Let's  hear; —  [Hortensio p^y«. 

0  fie  !  the  treble  jars. 

Luc.  Spit  in  tlie  hole,  man,  and  tune  a^in. 
Bian.  Now  let  me  see  if  I  can  construe  it :  Hac 
^Mi  Simois,  I  know  you  not ;  Me  est  Sigeia  tellus, 

1  trust  you  not,-  -Hie  steterat  Priami,  take  heed  he 
bear  us  not; — regia,  presume  not; — celsa  senis, 
despair  not. 

Hor.  Madam,  'tis  now  in  tune. 

L/uc.  AH  but  the  ba.^. 

Hor.  The  base  is  right;  *tis  the  base  knave  tliat 
jars. 
How  fiery  and  forvrsLrd  our  pedant  is ! 
Now,  for  my  life,  the  knave  doth  court  my  love : 
Pedascule}  I'll  watch  you  better  yet. 

Bian.  In  time  I  may  believe,  yet  I  mistrust 

Luc.  Mistrust  it  not ;  for,  sure,  iEacides 
Was  Ajax,— ^all'd  so  from  his  grandfather. 

Bian.  I  must  believe  my  master ;  else,  I  promise 
you, 
I  should  be  arguing  still  upon  that  doubt : 
But  let  it  rest — Now,  Licio,  to  you : — 
Good  masters,  take  it  not  unkindly,  pray. 
That  I  have  been  thus  pleasant  with  you  both. 

Hor.   You  may  go  walk,  [To  Lucentia]  and 
give  me  leave  a  while ; 
My  lessons  make  no  music  in  three  parts. 

Luc.  Are  you  so  formal,  sir }  well,  I  must  wait, 
And  watch  withal ;  for,  but  I  be  deceiv'd, 
Our  fine  musician  groweth  amorous.  [Aside. 

Hor.  Madam,  before  yon  touch  the  instrument, 
To  learn  the  order  of  my  fingering, 
I  must  beg^n  with  rudiments  of  art ; 
To  teach  ycm  gamut  in  a  briefer  sort. 
More  pleasant,  pithy,  and  effectual. 
Than  nath  been  tan^t  by  any  of  my  trade : 
And  thferc  it  is  in  writing,  fairly  drawn. 

Bian.  Why,  I  am  past  my  gamut  km^  aga 

Hor.  Yet  read  the  gamut  of  Hortensia 

Bian.  [Reads.']  Gamut  lam,  the  ground  qf  all 
accord^ 

0)  No  schoolbov,  liable  to  be  whipped. 
(2)  The  old  cully  in  Italian  fiirces. 


A  re,  to  plead  HortensioU  passion  ; 
B  mi,  Bianca,  take  him  for  thy  lord, 

C  faut,  tfuit  loves  with  all  affectum; 
D  sol  re,  one  cliff,  two  notes  have  I; 
E  la  mi,  show  pity,  or  1  die. 

Call  you  this — gamut  f  tut !  I  like  it  not : 
Old  teshions  please  me  best ;  I  am  not  so  mce,^ 
To  change  true  rules  for  odd  inventions. 

£n(er  Servant 

Serv.  Mistress,  your  iatbtr  prays  you  leave  joa 
books. 
And  help  to  dress  your  sister's  chamber  op; 
You  know,  to-morrow  is  the  wedding-day. 
Bian.  Farewell,  sweet  masters,  both ;  1  mutbe 
gone.         [Exeunt  Bianca  mnd  ServaaL 
Luc.  'Faith,  mistress,  then  I  have  no  cauie  to 
stay.  [Exit- 

Hor.  But  I  have  cause  to  pry  into  tins  pedaitf; 
Me  thinks  he  looks  as  though  he  were  in  love  ^- 
Yet  if  thy  thoughts,  Bianca,  be  ao  faumUe, 
To  cast  thy  wand'ring  eyes  on  every  stale,' 
Seize  thee,  that  list :  If  once  I  find  thee  ranging 
Hortensio  will  be  quit  with  thee  by  changinr. 

SCEJ^E  n.— The  same.  Before  Bw^tB'ihaiim. 
Enter  Baptista,  Gremio,  Tranio,  Katharins,  Bi- 
anca,  Lucentio,  and  atteruiants. 

Bap.  Signior  Lucentio,  [To  Trania]  this  ii  tbe 
'pointed  day 
That  Katharine  and  Petrachio  should  be  minied, 
And  yet  we  hear  not  of  our  son-in-law : 
What  will  be  said  i  what  mockeiy  wilt  it  be, 
To  want  the  bridegroom,  when  tbe  priest  attendi 
To  speak  the  ceremonial  rites  of  marriage? 
What  says  Lucentio  to  this  shame  of  oun  ? 

Kath.  No  shame  but  mine :  I  most,  fonoolbi  be 
forc'd 
To  give  my  hand,  oppos'd  i^inst  my  hearl, 
Unto  a  mad-brain'd  rudesby,  full  of  8|deen  "f 
\\\\o  woo'd  in  haste,  and  means  to  wed  at  leisO** 
I  told  you,  I,  he  was  a  frantic  fool. 
Hiding  his  bitter  jests  in  blunt  bebmoor : 
And,  to  be  noted  for  a  merry  man. 
He'll  woo  a  thousand,  'point  the  day  of  marrngCf 
Make  friends,  invite,  yes,  and  proclaim  the  banns; 
Yet  never  means  to  wed  where  he  hath  VrooU 
\ow  must  the  world  point  at  poor  Katharine, 
And  say, — Lo,  there  ts  mad  Petrudhio^s  w^t, 
If  it  wauldpUase  him  come  and  marry  her. 

Tra.  Patience,  good  Katharine,  and  Baptist* 
too; 
I'pon  my  life,  Petruchio  means  bat  well, 
W  hatever  fortune  stays  him  from  hn  word : 
Though  he  be  blunt,  I  know  him  passii^  wiie; 
Though  he  be  merry,  yet  withal  he's  hcnest 

Kaih.  'Would  ^tharine  had  never  seea  ^ 
thcm^ ! 

[Exit,  weeptng,  followed  by  Bianca,  anitf^ 

Bap.  Go,  girl ;  I  cannot  blame  thee  now  toWC'P* 
For  such  an  injury  would  vex  a  saint. 
Much  more  a  uirew  of  thy  impatiait  hmnoar* 

Enter  Biondella 

Bion.  Master,  master !  news,  old  newt,  sod  in^ 
news  as  vou  never  heard  of !  ^ 

Bap.  Is  it  new  and  old  too?  how  mar  thst  be^. 

Bion,  Why,  is  it  not  news,  to  hear  of  ^UucoiO' 
coming.^ 

Bap.  Is  be  come? 


(3)  Pedant         (4)  Fantastical. 
(5)  Bait,  decoy.        (6)  Caprice, 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


267 


IVbj,  nO|  sir. 

Vhfttthen? 

He  ifl  coining. 

Vben  will  be  be  bere  ? 

When  be  ttauds  wbere  I  am,  «nd  tees 

• 

tuL  taji  wbftt : — ^To  thine  old  news. 
Whj,  Petruchio  is  coming,  in  a  new  hat 
d  jerkin ;  a  pair  of  old  breeches,  thrice 
pair  of  boots  that  have  been  candle-cases, 
led,  another  laced ;  an  old  rusty  sword 
of  the  town  armory,  with  a  brdcen  hilt, 
deH;  with  two  broken  points :  His  horse 
(th  an  old  roothy  saddle,  the  stirrups  of  no 
betides,  possessed  with  the  elanders,  and 
le  in  &e  cnine ;  troubled  with  the  lampass, 
fitti  the  &shions,i  full  of  wind-galls,  sped 
int,  raied  with  the  yellows,  past  cure  of 
'  tiark  spoird  with  the  stagers,  begnawn 
Ixitt ;  swayed  in  the  back,  and  shoulder- 
ne'er-legged  before,  and  with  a  half- 
bit,  and  a  head-stall  of  sheep*s  leather ; 
ting  restrained  to  keep  him  from  stum- 
h  men  often  burst,  and  now  repaired  with 
le  girt  six  times  pieced,  and  a  woman^s 
it  velure,'  which  nath  two  letters  for  her 

Ktet  down  in  studs,  and  here  and  there 
packthread. 
iVho  comes  with  him  ? 
O,  tir,  his  lackey,  for  all  the  world  capa- 
ke  the  horse ;  with  a  linen  stock^  on  one 
a  kersey  boot-hose  on  the  other,  gartered 
i  and  blue  list :  an  old  hat,  and  The  hu- 
fortyjandes  pricked  in*t  for  a  feather: 
r,  a  very  monster  in  apparel ;  and  not  like 
la  £x»tboy,  or  a  gentleman*s  lackey. 
Ht  tome  odd  humour  pricks  him  to  thi« 
&^od; — 

times  be  goes  but  mean  apparell'd. 
I  am  glad  he  is  come,  nowsoe*er  he 
comes. 

Why,  sir,  he  comes  not. 
IXdst  thou  not  say,  he  comes  ? 
Who?  that  Petruchio  came  ? 
^T,  diat  Petruchio  came. 
NOb  tir:  I  say,  his  horse  comes  with  him 
ck. 

I¥hy,  that*8  all  one. 

Najr,  By  Saint  Jamy,  1  hold  you  a  penny, 
ma  a  man  is  more  than  one,  and  yet  not 
many. 

Enter  Petruchio  and  Grumia 

kiBe,  where  be  these  gallants.^  who  is  at 

home? 

foa  are  welcome,  sir. 

And  yet  I  come  not  well. 
iiid  yet  you  halt  not. 

Not  to  well  apparelPd 
lyoQ  were. 

I^ere  it  better  I  should  rush  in  thus. 
»  u  Kate  ?  where  is  my  lovely  bride  ? 
et  my  &ther  ?— Gentles,  methinks  you 
fiown : 

ir^ire  gaze  this  goodly  company ; 
f  taw  some  wondrous  monument, 
net,  or  unusual  prodi^'  ? 
IVhy,  sir,  you  know,  dus  is  your  wedding- 
day: 
»  we  tad,  fearing  you  would  not  come ; 

fcy. 

fee ;  a  distemper  in  horses,  little  difTering 

strangles. 


Now  sadder,  that  you  come  to  miprovided. 
Fie  !  dod'  this  hamt,  shame  to  Tour  estate, 
An  eye-sore  to  our  solemn  fesbval. 

Tra,  And  tell  us,  what  occasion  of  import 
Hath  all  so  kxi^  detained  you  from  your  wife. 
And  sent  you  hither  so  unlike  yourself? 

Pet.  Tedious  it  were  to  tell,  and  harsh  to  hear : 
Sufficeth,  I  am  come  to  keep  my  word. 
Though  in  some  part  enforced  to  digress  ;* 
Which,  at  more  leisure,  I  will  so  excuse 
As  you  shall  well  be  satisfied  withal. 
But,  where  is  Kate  ?  I  sta^  too  long  from  her ; 
The  morning  wears,  *tis  time  we  were  at  church. 

Tra,  See  not  your  bride  in  these  unreverent 
robes; 
Go  to  my  chamber,  put  on  clothes  of  mine. 

Pet.  Not  I,  beliere  me ;  thus  PU  visit  her. 

Bap,  But  thus,  I  trust,  you  will  not  merry  her. 

Pd,  Good  sooth,  even  thus ;  therefore  have  done 
with  words ; 
To  me  she*s  married,  not  unto  my  clothes : 
Could  I  repair  what  she  will  wear  in  me. 
As  I  can  cnange  these  poor  accoutrements, 
*Twere  well  for  Kate,  and  better  for  myself. 
But  what  a  fool  am  I,  to  chat  with  you. 
When  I  should  bid  eood-morrow  to  my  bride. 
And  seal  the  title  with  a  lovely  kiss  ? 

[Exeuni  Petruchio,  Grumio,  and  Biondella 

Tra.  He  hath  some  meaning  in  his  mad  attire  : 
We  will  persuade  him,  be  it  possible, 
To  put  on  better  ere  he  go  to  church. 

j£ip.  PU  after  him,  and  tee  the  event  of  this. 

[Exit. 

Tra.  But,  sir,  to  her  love  concemeth  us  to  add 
Her  father's  liking :  Which  to  brin^  to  pass. 
As  I  before  imparted  to  your  worship, 
I  am  to  get  a  man, — whatever  he  be. 
It  skilli^  not  much :  we'll  fit  him  to  our  turn,— 
And  he  shall  be  Vincentio  of  Hsa ; 
And  make  assurance,  bere  in  Padua, 
Of  ereater  sums  than  I  have  promised. 
So  Niall  you  quietly  enjoy  your  hope. 
And  marnr  sweet  bianca  with  consent 

Luc.  Were  it  not  that  my  fellow  schoolmaster 
Doth  watch  Bianca's  steps  so  narrowly, 
'Twere  good,  methinks,  to  steal  our  marriage ; 
Which  once  performed,  let  all  the  world  say — no, 
Pll  keep  mine  own,  despite  of  all  the  woria. 

Tra.  That  by  degrees  we  mean  to  look  into, 
.\iid  watch  our  vantage  in  this  business : 
We'll  over-reach  the  greybeard,  Gremio, 
The  narrow-prying  father,  Minola ; 
The  quaint^  musician,  amorous  Licio ; 
All  £31*  my  master's  take,  Lacentio.— 

/2e-€n<er  Gremia 

Signior  Gremio !  came  you  from  the  church  ? 
Gre.  As  willingly  as  e'er  I  came  from  school. 
Tra.  And  is  the  bride  and  bridegroom  coming 

home? 
Gre.  A  bridegroom,  say  you  ?  'tit  a  groom,  in- 
deed. 


Tra.  Why,  she's  a  devil,  a  devil,  the  devil's  d^m. 

Gre.  Tut !  she's  a  lamb,  a  dove,  a  fool  to  him. 
rU  tell  you,  sir  Lucentio ;  When  the  priest 
Should  ask— 4f  Katharine  should  be  his  wife, 
^y,  by  gogs-wount,  quoth  he ;  andswMe  to  loud, 

(3)  Velvet        (4)  Stocking. 

(5)  t.  e.  To  deviate  from  my  promise. 

(b*)  Matters.        (7)  Strange. 


I 


S68 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


Adtr. 


That  all  amazM,  the  priest  let  (all  the  book  : 
And,  as  he  8toop*d  a^in  to  take  it  up, 
The  niad-brain*d  bridegroom  took  him  such  a  cufl*, 
That  down  fell  priest  and  book,  and  book  and  priest; 
JVbt0  taJu  them  us,  quoth  he,  \f  any  Ust. 

Tra.  What  said  the  wench,  when  he  arose  a^in? 

Gre.  Trembled  and  shook ;  for  why,  be  stampM, 
and  swore. 
As  if  the  vicar  meant  to  cozen  him. 
But  after  many  ceremonies  done. 
He  calls  for  wine  : — A  healthy  quoth  he ;  as  if 
He  had  been  aboard  carousing;  to  his  mates 
Afler  a  storm  : — QuafTM  off  me  muscadel,! 
And  threw  the  sops  all  in  the  sexton's  &ce ; 
Having  no  other  reason, — 
But  that  his  beard  grew  thin  and  hungerl^, 
And  seemM  to  ask  him  sops  as  he  was  drinking. 
This  done,  he  took  the  bride  about  the  neck  ; 
And  kissM  her  lips  with  such  a  clamorous  smack, 
That,  at  the  partmg,  all  the  church  did  echa 
I,  seeing  this,  came  thence  for  very  shame ; 
And  aAer  me,  I  know,  the  rout  is  coming : 
Such  a  mad  marriage  never  was  before ; 
Hark,  hark !  I  hear  the  minstrels  play.      [Music. 

Enter   Petruchio,  Katharina,   Bianca,  Baptista, 
Horteiisio,  Grumio,  and  train* 

Pet.  Gentlemen  and  friends,  I  thank  you  for 
your  pains : 
I  know,  you  think  to  dine  with  me  to-day. 
And  have  prepared  great  store  of  wedding  cheer ; 
But  so  it  is,  my  haste  doth  call  me  hence, 
And  therefore  here  I  mean  to  take  my  leave. 

Bap.  Is*t  possible,  you  will  away  to-night  ? 

Pet  I  must  away  to-day,  before  ni^ht  come : — 
Make  it  no  wonder;  if  you  knew  myl)usines8, 
You  would  entreat  me  rather  go  than  stay. 
And,  honest  company,  I  thank  you  all. 
That  have  beheld  me  give  away  myself 
To  this  most  patient,  sweet,  and  virtuous  wife : 
Dine  with  my  father,  drink  a  health  to  me ; 
For  I  must  hence,  and  farewell  to  you  all. 

Tra.  Let  us  entreat  you  stay  till  after  dinner. 

Pet.  It  may  not  be. 

Chre.  Let  me  entreat  you. 

Pet.  It  cannot  be. 

Kaih.  Let  me  entreat  you. 

Pet.  I  am  content. 

Kaih.  Are  you  content  to  stay .' 

Pet.  I  am  content  you  shall  entreat  me  stay ; 
But  yet  not  stay,  entreat  me  how  you  can. 

Kaih.  Now,  if  you  love  me,  stay. 

Ptt.  Grumio,  my  horses. 

Chru.  Ay,  sir,  they  be  ready;  the  oats  have 
eaten  the  horses. 

Kath.  Nay,  then. 
Do  what  thou  canst,  I  will  not  go  to-day ; 
No,  nor  to-morrow,  nor  till  I  please  myself. 
The  door  is  open,  sir,  there  lies  your  way. 


That  take  it  on  you  at  the  first  ao  roundly. 

Pei.  O,  Kate,  content  thee;  pr*ytbee,  be  not 
angry. 

Kaih.  I  will  be  angry ;  What  hast  thou  to  do.?— 
Father,  be  quiet ;  he  shall  sta^  my  leisure. 

Gre.  Ay,  marry,  sir :  now  it  begins  to  work. 

Kaih.  Gentlemen,  forward  to  the  bridal  dinner : — 
I  see  a  woman  may  be  made  a  fool, 

(1)  It  was  the  custom  for  the  company  present 
to  drink  wine  immediately  after  the  marriage- 
ceremor^. 


If  she  had  not  a  spirit  to  resist. 

Pet.  They  shall  go  forward,  Kate,  at  thy  com 
mend : — 
Obey  the  bride,  you  that  attend  on  her : 
Go  to  the 'feast,  revel  and  domineer, 
('arouse  full  measure  to  her  maidenhead. 
Bo  mad  and  merry,— K)r  go  hang  yourselves ; 
But  for  my  bonny*  Kate,  she  must  with  me. 
Nay,  look  not  big,  nor  stamp,  nor  stare,  nor  fret 
I  will  be  master  of  what  is  mine  own  : 
She  is  my  goods,  my  chattels ;  she  is  my  boose, 
My  household-stuff,  my  field,  my  bom. 
My  horse,  my  ox,  my  ass,  my  any  thing; 
And  here  she  stands,  touch  her  whoever  dare; 
(Ml  bring  my  action  on  the  proudest  be 

That  stops  my  way  in  Padua. Grumio, 

Draw  forth  thv  weapon,  we're  beset  with  thieves; 

Rescue  thy  rmstress,  if  thou  be  a  man  : — 

Fear  not,  sweet  wench,  they  shall  not  touch  thee, 

Kate ; 
PU  buckler  thee  against  a  million. 

[Exeunt  Petruchio,  Katharine,  and  Gnmikx 

Bap.  Nay,  let  them  go,  a  couple  of  quiet  ones. 

Gre.  Went  they  not  quickly,  I  should  die  with 
laughing. 

Tra.  Of  all  mad  matches,  never  was  the  like ! 

Luc.  Mistress,  what's  your  opinion  of  jrour  sister.' 

Bian.  That,  being  mad  herself,  she's  madly 
mated. 

Gre.  I  warrant  him,  Petruchio  is  Kated. 

Bap.  Neighbours  and  friends,  though  bride  and 
bridegroom  wants 
For  to  supply  die  places  at  the  table, 
Vou  know,  there  wants  no  junkets'  at  the  feast ; — 
Luccntio,  vou  shall  supply  me  bridegroom's  place  ; 
And  let  Bianca  take  her  sister's  room. 

Tra.  Shall  sweet  Bianca  practise  how  to  bride  it.^ 

Bap.  She  shall,  Luccntio. — Come,  gcntkanco* 
let's  ga  [JSxcioa. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJ^E  L—A  haU  in  Petnichio's  couniry  houtt 
Enter  Gnmiia 

Gru.  Fie,  fie,  on  all  tired  jades !  on  all  mad 
masters !  and  all  foul  ways !  Was  ever  man  so 
beaten .?  was  ever  man  so  rayed .?'  was  ever  man 
so  weary  ?  I  am  sent  before  to  make  a  fire,  and  they 
are  coming  after  to  warm  them.  Now,  were  not 
I  a  little  pot,  and  soon  hot,  my  very  lips  might 
freeze  to  my  teeth,  my  tongue  to  the  roof  of  my 
mouth,  my  heart  in  niy  belly,  ere  I  should  come  by 
a  fire  to  thaw  me  : — But  I,  with  blowii^  the  fire, 
shall  warm  myself;  for,  considerir^  the  weather, 
a  taller  man  than  I  will  take  cold.~-Holla,  ho* ! 
Curtis ! 

Enter  Curtis. 

Curt.  Who  is  that,  calls  so  coldly  f 

Gru.  A  piece  of  ice :  If  thou  doubt  it,  tbon 
may'st  slide  from  my  shoulder  to  my  heel,  with  no 
greater  a  run  but  my  head  and  my  neck.  A  fire, 
good  Curtis. 

Curt.  Is  my  master  and  his  wife  coming,  Gnumo? 

Gru.  O,  ay,  Curtis,  ay :  and  therefore  fire,  fire ; 
cast  on  no  water. 

Curt.  Is  she  so  hot  a  shrew  as  she's  reported  f 

Gru.  She  was,  good  Curtis,  beftnv  mis  frott : 
but,  thou  know'st,  winter  tames  man,  woman,  and 
beast;  for  it  hath  tamed  my  dd  master,  and  nqr 
new  mistress,  and  myself,  fellow  Curtis. 

(2)  Delicacies.         (3)  Bewrayed,  dirtj 


Scent  L 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


269 


Curt  Awar,  jou  three-inch  fool .'  I  un  no  beast. 

Gru,  Am  I  bat  three  inches  ?  why,  diy  bom  is 
a  foot;  and  so  long  am  I,  at  the  least  But  wilt 
thou  make  a  fire,  or  shall  I  complain  on  thee  to  our 
mistress,  whose  hand  (she  being  now  at  hand)  thou 
shalt  soon  feel,  to  thy  cold  comfort,  for  being  slow 
in  thy  hot  office. 

Curt.  I  pr'ythec,  good  Grumio,  tell  roe,  How 
goes  the  world  ? 

Gru,  A  cold  world,  Curtis,  in  every  office  but 
thine ;  and,  therefore,  fire  :  IX>  thy  duty,  and  have 
thy  daty ;  for  my  master  and  mistress  are  almost 
frozen  to  death. 

Curt  There's  fire  ready ;  And  therefore,  good 
Grumio,  the  news  ? 

Gru.  Why,  Jack  boy!  ho  boy  !  and  as  much 
news  as  thou  wilt 

Curt.  Come,  you  are  so  full  of  conycatching : — 

Gru,  Why,  therefore,  fire ;  for  I  have  caught  ex- 
treme cold.  Where's  the  cook  ?  is  supper  readv, 
the  house  trimmed,  rashes  strewea,  cobwebs 
swept;  the  serving-men  in  their  new  fustian,  their 
white  stockings,  and  every  officer  his  wedding- 
garment  on  ?  Be  the  jacks  fair  within,  the  jills  fair 
without,  the  carpets  laid,  and  every  thing  in  order  ? 

Curt.  All  ready ;  And  therefore,  I  pray  thee, 
news  ? 

Gru.  First,  know,  my  horse  is  tired ;  my  mas- 
ter and  mistress  fallen  out 

Curt.  How? 

Gru.  Out  of  their  saddles  into  the  dirt ;  And 
thereby  hangs  a  tale. 

Curt  Let's  ha't,  good  Grumio. 

Gru.  Lend  thine  ear. 

Curt.  Here. 

Gru.  There.  [Striking  him. 

Curt.  This  is  to  feel  a  tale,  not  to  hear  a  tale. 

Gru.  And  therefore  'tis  called,  a  sensible  tale : 
and  this  cuff  was  but  to  knock  at  your  ear,  and  be- 
ieech  listening.  Now  I  b^n :  Imprimis,  we  came 
down  a  fool  hill,  my  master  riding  behind  my  mis- 
tress:— 

Curt.  Both  nn  one  horse  ? 

Gru.  What's  that  to  thee  ? 

Curt.  Why,  a  horse. 

Gru.  Tell  thou  the  tale : ^Buthadst  thou  not 

crossed  me,  thou  shonld'st  have  heard  how  her  horse 
fell,  and  she  under  her  horse ;  thou  shcmld'st  have 
hea^  in  how  miry  a  place :  how  she  was  bemoil- 
ed  ;i  hqw  he  left  her  with  the  horse  upon  her ;  how 
he  beat  me  because  her  horse  stumbled ;  how  she 
waded  through  the  dirt  to  pluck  him  off  me ;  how 
he  swore ;  how  she  prayedf— that  never  prayed  be- 
fore ;  how  I  cried ;  now  the  horses  ran  away ;  how 
her  bridle  was  burst  ;3  how  I  lost  my  crapper ; — 
with  imn^  thin^  of  worthy  memory ;  whicn  now 
shall  die  m  oblivion,  and  thou  return  unexperien- 
ced to  thy  grave. 

Curt  By  this  reckoning,  he  is  more  shrew  than 
die. 

Gru.  Ay ;  and  that,  thou  and  the  proudest  of 
yoQ  all  shall  find,  when  he  comes  home.  But  what 
talk  I  of  this  ?— call  forth  Nathaniel,  Joseph,  Nich- 
olas, Philip,  Walter,  Sugar9op,  and  the  rest ;  let 
their  heads  be  sleekly  combed,  their  blue  coats 
bnuiied,  and  their  garters  of  an  indifferent^  knit : 
let  tiiem  curtsey  with  their  left  legs ;  and  not  pre- 
•ame  to  touch  a  hair  o(  my  master's  horse-tail,  till 
they  kiss  their  hands.  Are  they  all  ready  ? 
CurL  They  are. 


fo 


)  Bemired.  (2)  Broken. 

3)  Not  different  one  from  the  other. 
(4)  A  torch  of  pitch. 


Gru.  Call  them  forth. 

Curt.  Do  you  hear,  ho.^  you  must  meet  my 
master,  to  countenance  my  mistress. 

Gru.  Why,  she  hath  a  face  of  her  own. 

Curt.  Who  knows  not  that .' 

Gru.  Thou,  it  seems ;  that  callest  fw  company 
to  countenance  her. 

Curt.  I  call  them  forth  to  credit  her. 

Gru,  Why,  she  comes  to  borrow  nothing  of  them. 

Enter  teveral  Servants. 

JVo/A.  Welcome  home,  Grumio. 

Phil.  How  now,  Grumio  f 

Jos.  What,  Grumio .' 

JVich.  Fellow  Gramio ! 

^ATath.  How  now,  old  lad  f 

Gru.  Welcome,  you ; — how  now,  you ; — ^what, 
you ; — fellow,  you ;  and  thus  much  for  greeting. 
Now,  ray  sprace  companions,  is  all  ready,  and  all 
things  neat  f 

Jvaih.  All  things  is  ready:  How  near  is  our 
master? 

Gru  E'en  at  hand,  alighted  bv  this ;  and  there- 
fore be  not, Cock's  passion,  silence  I 1  hear 

my  master. 

Enter  Petrachio  and  Katharina. 

Pet.  Where  be  these  knaves  ?    What,  no  man 
at  door. 
To  hold  my  stirrap,  nor  to  take  my  horse  ? 
Where  is  Nathaniel,  Gr^^ory,  Philip  ^ 

All  Serv.  Here,  here,  sir ;  here,  sir. 

Pet.  Here,  sir .'  here,  sir !  here,  sir !  here,  sir  I— 
You  logger-headed  and  unpolish'd  grooms ! 
What,  no  attendance  ?  no  regard  ?  no  duty  f — 
Where  is  the  foolish  knave  I  sent  before  ? 

Chru.  Here,  sir ;  as  foolish  as  I  was  before. 

Pet.  You  peasant  swain!  you  whoreson  malt- 
horse  drudge ! 
Did  I  not  bid  thee  meet  me  in  the  park. 
And  bring  along  these  rascal  knaves  with  thee  ? 

Chru.  Nathaniel's  coat,  sir,  was  not  fully  made. 
And  Gabriel's  pumps  were  all  unpink'd  i'the  heel ; 
There  was  no  link^  to  colour  Peter's  hat. 
And  Walter's  dagger  was  not  come  from  sheathing : 
There  were  none  fine,  but  Adam,  Ralph,  and 

Gregoiy; 
The  rest  were  ragged,  old,  and  beggarly ; 
Yet,  as  they  are,  here  are  they  come  to  meet  you. 

Pet.  Go,  rascals,  go,  and  fetch  mv  supper  in. — 

{Exeunt  some  of  the  Servants. 

IVhereislheUfethatlaUIUdr-  fSings. 

Where  are  those Sit  down,  Kate,  and  welcome. 

Soud,  soud,  soud,  soud  .'^ 

Re-^nter  Servants,  with  supper. 

Why,  when,  I  say  ? — Nay,  good  sweet  Kate,  be 

merry. 
Off  with  my  boots,  you  rogues,  you  villains ;  When? 
//  toas  the  friar  of  orders  grey,  [Sings. 

As  he  forth  walked  on  his  way  .• — 
Out,  out,  you  rogue !  you  pluck  my  foot  awry  : 
Take  that,  and  mend  the  plucking  off  the  other.  — 

[Strikes  him. 
Be  merry,  Kate : — Some  water,  here ;  what,  ho ! — 
Where's  my  spaniel  Troilus.^ — Sirrah,  get  you 

hence. 
And  bid  my  cousin  Ferdinand  come  hither : — 

[Exit  Servant 
One,  Kate,  that  you  must  kiss,  and  be  acquainted 
with. — 

(5)  A  word  coined  by  Shakspeare  to  express  the 
noise  made  by  a  person  heated  and  fatigued. 


«70 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


Ad  /r. 


Where  are  my  slippers  ? — Shall  I  have  some  water? 

[A  bason  tM  presented  to  him. 
Come,  Kate,  and  wash,  and  welcome  heartily : — 

[Servant  lets  the  ewer  falL 
Yoa  whoreson  villain !  will  you  let  it  fall  ? 

{Strikes  him, 
Kath.  Patience,  I  pray  you ;  'twas  a  fault  un- 
willing. 
Pet.  A  whoreMn,beetle-headed,flap-ear*d  knave! 
Come,  Kate,  sit  down  ;  I  know  you  have  a  stomach. 
Will  you  ^ve  thanks,  sweet  Kate ;  or  else  shall  I  f — 
What  is  this  ?  mutton  f 
1  Serv.  Ay. 

Pet.  Who  brought  it  .> 

I  Serv.  I. 

Pet.  *Tis  burnt ;  and  so  is  all  the  meat : 
What  dogs  are  these  ? — Where  is  the  rascal  cook  ? 
How  durst  you,  villains,  bring  it  from  the  df«sser. 
And  serve  it  thus  to  me  that  love  it  not  f 
There,  take  it  to  you,  trenchers,  cups,  and  all : 

[Throws  the  meat,  SfC.  ahout  the  stage. 
You  heedless  joltheads,  and  unmannerM  slaves  ! 
What,  do  you  grumble  ?  V\\  be  with  you  straight. 
Kath.  I  pray  you,  husband,  be  not  so  disquiet ; 
The  meat  was  well,  if  you  were  so  contented. 
Pet.  I  tell  thee,  Kate, 'twas  burnt  and  dried 
away; 
And  I  expressly  am  forbid  to  tmich  it, 
For  it  engenders  choler,  planteth  anger ; 
And  better  'twere,  that  both  o(  us  did  fast, — 
Since,  of  ourselves,  ourselves  are  choleric, — 
Than  feed  it  with  such  over-roasted  fle^. 
Be  patient ;  to-morrow  it  shall  be  mended, 
Ana,  for  this  night,  we'll  fast  for  company : — 
Come,  I  will  bring  thee  to  thy  bridal  chsjnber. 

[Exeunt  Petruchio,  I^tharina,  and  Curtis. 
Nath.  {Ad2>ancing.]  Peter,  didst  ever  see  the 

like  f 
Peter.  He  kills  her  in  her  own  humour. 

Re-enter  CvLT^a, 

Gru.  Where  is  he  ? 

Curt.  In  her  chamber, 
MakinjE^  a  sermon  of  continency  to  her : 
And  rails  and  swears,  and  rates;  that  she,  poor  soul. 
Knows  not  which  way  to  stand,  to  look,  to  speak ; 
And  sits  as  one  new-risen  from  a  dream. 
Away,  away  !  for  he  is  coming  hither.     [Exeunt. 

Re-enter  Petruchio. 

Pet.  Thus  have  I  politicly  begun  my  reign, 
And  'tis  my  hope  to  end  succes^ully : 
My  falcon  now  is  sharp,  and  passing  empty ; 
And  till  she  stoop,  she  must  not  be  full-gorg'd. 
For  then  she  never  looks  upon  her  lure.i 
Another  way  I  have  to  man  my  ha^ard,^ 
To  make  her  come,  and  know  her  keeper's  call, 
That  ii, — to  watch  her,  as  we  watch  these  kites. 
That  bate,'  and  beat,  and  will  not  be  obedient 
She  eat  no  meat  to-day,  nor  none  shall  eat ; 
Last  night  she  slept  not,  nor  to-night  she  shall  not ; 
As  with  the  meat,  some  undeserved  fault 
I'll  find  about  the  making  of  the  bed  ; 
And  here  I'll  fling  the  pillow,  there  the  bolster. 
This  way  the  coverlet,  another  way  the  sheeto : — 
Av,  and  amid  this  hurly,  I  intend,^ 
That  all  is  done  in  reverent  care  of  her  ; 
And,  in  conclusion,  she  shall  watch  all  night : 
And,  if  she  chance  to  nod,  I'll  rail,  and  brawl. 
And  with  the  clamour  keep  her  still  awake. 

(1)  \  thing  stuffed  to  look  like  the  game  which 
(he  hawk  was  to  pursue. 

(2)  To  fame  my  wild  hawk. 


This  is  the  wav  to  kill  a  wife  wi<h  kindness ; 
And    thus  I'll  curb  her  mad    and    headstrong 

humour : — 
He  that  knows  better  how  to  tame  a  shrew, 
Now  let  him  speak ;  'tis  charity  to  show.      [Exit. 

SCKXE  //.—Padua.    Before  Baptista's  house. 
Enter  Tranio  and  Hortensio. 

Tra.  Is't  possible,  friend  Licio,  that  Bianca 
Doth  fancy  any  other  but  Lucentio .' 
I  tell  you,  sir,  she  bears  me  fair  in  hand. 

Nor.  Sir,  to  satisfy  you  in  what  1  have  said. 
Stand  by,  and  mark  the  manner  of  his  teaching. 

[They  stand  eMde. 

Enter  Bianca  and  Lucentio. 

Luc.  Now,  mistress,  profit  you  in  what  yoa  read  ? 

Bian.  What,  master,  read,  you  .^  first  resolve  me 
that 

Luc,  I  read  that  I  profess  the  art  to  love. 

Bian,  And  may  you  prove,  sir,  master  of  ynur 
art! 

Luc  While  you,  sweet  dear,  prove  mistress  of 
my  heart  [They  retire, 

Hor.  Quick  proceeders,  many !  Now,  tell  me, 
I  pray, 
Vou  that  durst  swear  that  your  mistress  Bianca 
Lov'd  none  in  the  world  so  well  as  Lucentia 

Tra.  O  despiteful  love!  unconstant  woman- 
kind!— 
I  tell  thee,  Licio,  this  is  wonderful. 

Hor.  Mistake  no  more :  I  am  not  licio, 
Nor  a  musician,  as  I  seem  to  be ; 
But  one  that  scorn  to  live  in  this  disguise, 
For  such  a  one  as  leaves  a  gentleman. 
And  makes  a  god  of  such  a  cullioo  :* 
Know,  sir,  that  I  am  call'd — Hortensio. 

Tra,  Signior  Hortensio,  I  have  often  heard 
Of  your  entire  affection  to  Bianca ; 
And  since  mine  eyes  are  Mritness  oif  her  lightness, 
I  will  with  you, — if  you  be  so  contented, — 
Forswear  Bianca  and  her  love  for  ever. 

Hor.  See,  how  they  kiss  and  couit ! Signior 

Lucentio, 
Here  is  my  hand,  and  here  I  firmly  vow- 
Never  to  woo  her  more ;  but  do  forswear  iKf, 
As  one  unworthy  all  the  former  favours 
That  I  have  fondly  flatter'd  her  withal. 

Tra.  And  here  I  take  ^  like  unfe^ned  oath,-' 
Ne'er  to  marry  with  her  though  she  would  entreat : 
Fie  on  her !  see,  how  beastly  she  doth  court  hira. 

Hor.  'Would,  all  the  world,  but  he,  had  quite 
forsworn ! 
For  me, — that  I  may  surely  keep  mine  oath, 
I  will  be  married  to  a  wealthy  widow. 
Ere  three  days  pass ;  which  bath  as  king  lofv'd  me. 
As  I  have  lo\''d  this  proud  disdainful  haggard : 
And  so  farewell,  signior  Lucentia — 
Kindness  in  wcHnen,  not  their  beauteous  looks. 
Shall  win  my  love : — and  so  I  take  my  leave. 
In  resolution  as  I  swore  before. 

[Exit  Hortensio. — Luc.  and  Bian.  advemetm 

Tra.  Mistress  Bianca,  bless  you  with  such  graca 
As  'longeth  to  a  lover's  blessed  case  ! 
Nay,  I  have  ta'en  you  napping,  gentle  love ; 
And  have  forsworn  you,  with  Hortensio. 

Bian.  Tranio,  you  jest ;  But  have  you  bofli  for* 
sworn  me? 

Tra.  Mistress,  we  hare. 

I'tic.  Then  we  are  rtd  oT  Licio. 

Tra.  Pfoith,  he'll  have  a  lusty  widow  now, 

(3)  Flutter.  (4)  Pretend. 

(5)  Despicable  fellow. 


ni. 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


271 


That  flball  be  woo*d  and  wedded  in  a  daj. 

Bian,  God  give  him  joy  ! 

Tra.  Ay,  and  he'll  tame  her. 

Bian,  He  aajs  90,  Tranio. 

Tra.  *Faith,  be  is  gone  unto  the  tamii^-achool. 

Bian,  The  taming-flchool !  what,  ia  there  such 
a  place  ? 

Tra,  Ay,  mtstresi,  and  Petruchio  it  the  matter ; 
That  teacheth  tricks  eleven  and  twenty  long,— 
To  tame  a  shrew,  and  charm  her  chattering  tongue. 

Enter  Biondello,  running. 

Bian.  0  master,  master,  I  have  watch'dso  long, 
That  I'm  dog-weary  ;  but  at  last  I  spied 
An  ancient  angeU  coming  down  the  hill. 
Will  serve  the  turn. 

Tra.  What  is  he,  Biondello  ? 

Bion.  Master,  a  mercatante,  or  a  pedant,^ 
I  know  not  what ;  but  formal  in  apparel. 
In  gait  and  countenance  surely  like  a  father. 

Imc.  And  what  of  him,  Tranio  ? 

Tra.  If  he  be  credulous,  and  trust  my  tale, 
rU  make  him  glad  to  seem  Vincentio ; 
And  give  assurance  to  Baptista  Minola, 
As  if  ne  were  the  right  Vincentio. 
Take  in  your  love,  and  then  let  me  alone. 

[Exeunt  Lucentio  and  Bianca. 

Enter  a  Pedant 

Fed.  God  save  you.  sir .' 

Tra.  And  you,  sir !  you  are  welcome. 

Travel  you  far  on,  or  are  you  at  the  furthest  ? 

Fed.  Sir,  at  the  furthest  for  a  week  or  two : 
But  then  up  further,  and  as  hr  as  Rome ; 
And  so  to  Tripoly,  if  God  lend  me  life. 

Tra.  What  countryman,  I  pray  ? 

Fed.  Of  Mantua. 

Tra.  Of  Mantua,  sir  ? — marry,  God  forbid ! 
And  come  to  Padua,  careless  of  your  life  ? 

Fed.  Mv  life,  sir  I  how,  I  pray  f  for  that  goes  hard. 

Tra.  ^i»  death  for  any  one  in  Mantua 
To  come  to  Padua ;  Know  you  not  the  cause  f 
Your  ships  are  staid  at  Venice ;  and  the  duke 
(For  private  quarrel  'twixt  your  duke  and  him,) 
Hath  publish'd  and  proclaim'd  it  openly : 
*Tis  marvel ;  but  that  you're  but  newly  come. 
Yon  might  have  heard  it  else  proclaim'd  about 

Fed.  Alas,  sir,  it  is  worse  for  me  than  so ; 
For  I  have  Inlls  for  money  by  exchange 
From  Florence,  and  must  here  deliver  them. 

Tra.  Well,  sir,  to  do  you  courtesy. 
This  will  I  do,  and  this  will  I  advise  you  ;— 
First,  tell  me,  have  you  ever  been  at  risa  ? 

Fed.  Ay,  sir,  in  Pisa  have  I  often  been ; 
Pisa,  renowned  for  grave  citizens. 

Tra.  Among  th«n,  know  you  one  Vincentio  ? 

Fed.  I  know  him  not,  but  I  have  heard  of  him ; 
A  merchant  of  incomparable  wealth. 

Tra.  He  is  my  father,  sir ;  and,  sooth  to  say. 
In  countenance  somewhat  doth  resemble  you. 

Bion.  As  much  as  an  apple  doth  an  oyster,  and 
an  one.  [Aside. 

Tra.  To  save  your  life  in  this  extremity, 
This  favour  will  1  do  you  for  his  sake ; 
And  think  it  not  the  worst  of  all  your  fortunes. 
That  you  are  like  to  sir  Vincentia 
His  name  and  credit  shall  you  undertake, 
-And  in  my  house  you  shall  be  friendly  lodg'd ; — 
Look,  that  you  take  upon  you  as  you  should ; 
You  understand  me,  sir  ;-^  shall  you  stay 
Till  you  have  done  your  business  in  the  city : 
If  this  be  courtesy,  sir,  accept  of  it 

(1)  Messenger.    (2)  A  merchant  or  a  tchoolmastar. 


Fed.  O,  sir,  I  do;  and  will  repute  you  ever 
The  patron  of  my  life  and  liberty. 

Tra.  Then  go  with  me,  to  malce  the  matter  good. 
This,  by  the  way,  I  let  you  understand  ; — 
My  ^tber  is  here  look'd  for  every  day, 
To  pass  assurance  of  a  dower  in  marriage 
'Twixt  me  an4  one  Baptista's  daughter  here  : 
In  all  these  circumstances  I'll  instruct  you : 
Go  with  me,  sir,  to  clothe  you  as  becomes  you. 

[Exeunt 

SCRATE  III.— A  room  in  Petruchio's  house.  En- 
ter Kalharina  and  Grumia 

Gfru.  No,  no ;  forsooth ;  I  dare  not,  for  my  life. 

Kath.  The  more  my  wrong,  the  more  his  spite 
appears: 
What,  did  be  many  me  to  famish  me  ? 
Beggars,  that  come  unto  my  father's  door. 
Upon  entreaty,  have  a  present  alms ; 
If  not,  elsewhere  they  meet  with  charity  : 
But  I, — ^who  never  knew  how  to  entreat, — 
Am  starv'd  for  meat,  giddy  for  lack  of  sleep ; 
With  oaths  kept  wakmg,  and  with  brawling  fed : 
And  that  which  spites  me  more  than  all  these  wants. 
He  does  it  under  name  of  perfect  love ; 
As  who  should  say, — If  I  should  sleep,  or  eat, 
'Twere  deadly  sickness,  or  else  present  death.— 
I  pr'ythee  go,  and  get  me  some  repast ; 
I  care  not  what,  so  it  be  wholesome  food. 


Gru.  What  say  you  to  a  neat's  foot  ? 
Kath.  'Tis  passing  good;  I  pr'ythee  let 


passing 
have  it 


me 


Gru.  I  fear  it  is  too  choleric  a  meat : — 
How  say  you  to  a  fat  tripe,  finely  broil'd  f 

Kath.  I  like  it  well ;  good  Gruroio,  fetch  it  me. 

Gru.  1  cannot  tell ;  I  fear  'tis  choleric. 
What  say  you  to  a  piece  of  beef,  and  mustard  f 

Kath.  A  dish  that  I  do  love  to  feed  upon. 

Gru.  Ay,  but  the  mustard  is  too  hot  a  little. 

Kath.  Why,  then  the  beef,  and  let  the  mustard 
rest 

Gru.  Nay,  then  I  will  not ;  you  shall  have  the 
mustard. 
Or  else  you  get  no  beef  of  Grumio. 

Kath.  Then  both,  or  one,  or  any  thing  thou  wilt 

Gru.  Why,  then  the  mustard  without  the  beef. 

Kath.  Go,  get  thee  gone,  thou  &lse  deluding 
slave,  [BeaU  him. 

That  feed'st  me  with  the  very  name  of  meat : 
Sorrow  on  thee,  and  all  the  pack  of  you. 
That  triumph  thus  upon  my  misery  I 
Go,  get  thee  gone,  I  say. 

Enter  Petruchio  with  a  dish  qf  meat;  and  Hor 

tensia 

Fet.  How  fares  my  Kate  ?  What,  sweeting,  all 
amort  .^' 

Hor.  Mistress,  what  cheer? 

Kath.  'Faith,  as  cold  as  can  be. 

Fet.  Pluck  up  thy  spirits,  look  cheerAiUy  upon 
me. 
Here,  love ;  thou  see'st  how  diligent  I  am. 
To  dress  thy  meat  myself,  and  bring  it  thee : 

[Sets  the  dish  on  a  table, 
I  am  sure,  sweet  Kate,  this  kindness  merits  thanks. 
What,  not  a  word  f  Nay,  then,  thou  lov'st  it  not ; 

And  all  my  pains  is  sorted  to  no  proof: 

Here,  take  away  this  dish. 

Kath.  'Pray  you,  let  it  stand. 

Pet.  The  poorest  service  is  repaid  with  thanks ; 
And  BO  shall  mine,  before  you  touch  the  meat 

Katfu  I  thank  you,  air. 

(3)  Dispirited;  a  gallidnL 


272 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


Act  IV 


Hor.  Signior  Petruchio,  fie !  you  are  to  blame ! 
Come,  mistress  Kate,  Pll  bear  you  company. 
Pet.  Eat  it  up  all,  Horteosio,  if  thou  lov'st  roe. — 

[Atidt. 
Much  good  do  it  unto  thy  gentle  heart ! 
Kate,  eat  apace : — And  now,  my  honey  love, 
Will  we  return  unto  thy  father's  house ; 
And  revel  it  as  bravely  as  the  best, 
'  With  silken  coats,  and  caps,  and  golden  rinn. 
With  mils,  and  cuffs,  and  farthingales,  and  wings ; 
With  scarfs,  and  fans,  and  double  change  of  bra- 
very,' 
With  amber  bracelets,  beads,  and  all  this  knavery. 
What,  hast  thou  din*d  ?  The  tailor  stays  thy  leisure, 
To  deck  thy  body  with  his  ruffling^  treasure. 

Enter  Tailor. 

Come,  tailor,  let  us  see  these  ornaments. 

Enter  Haberdasher. 

Lay  forth  the  gown. — ^What  news  with  you,  sir  ? 

HcUj.  Here  is  the  cap  your  worship  did  bespeak. 

Pet  Why,  this  was  moulded  on  a  porringer; 
A  velvet  dish ; — fie,  fie  !  *tis  lewd  and  filthy : 
Why,  'tis  a  cockle,  or  a  walnut  shell, 
A  knack,  a  toy,  a  trick,  a  baby's  cap ; 
Away  with  it,  come,  let  me  have  a  bigger. 

Kaih.  I'll  have  no  bigger ;  this  doth  fit  the  time, 
And  gentlewomen  wear  such  caps  as  these. 

Pet.  When  you  are  gentle,  you  shall  have  one 
too, 
And  not  till  then. 

Hor.  That  will  not  be  in  haste.  [Aside. 

Kath.  Why,  sir,  I  trust  I  may  have  leave  to 
speak; 
And  speak  I  will ;  I  am  no  child,  no  babe : 
Your  betters  have  endur'd  me  say  my  mind ; 
And,  if  you  cannot,  best  you  stop  your  ears. 
My  tongue  will  tell  the  anger  of  my  heart ; 
0^  else  my  heart,  concealing  it,  will  break : 
And,  rather  than  it  shall,  I  will  be  free 
Even  to  the  uttermost,  as  I  please,  in  words. 

Pet.  Why,  thou  say'st  true ;  it  is  a  paltry  cap, 
A  custard-coffin,'  a  bauble,  a  silken  pie  : 
i  love  thee  well,  in  that  thou  lik'st  it  not 

Kath.  Love  me,  or  love  me  not,  I  like  the  cap ; 
And  it  I  will  have,  or  I  will  have  none. 

Pet.  Thy  gown  ?  why,  ay :— Come,  tailor,  let  us 
see't 

0  mercy,  God !  what  masking  stuff  is  here  f 
What's  this  f  a  sleeve.^  'tis  like  a  demi-cannon : 
What !  up  and  down,  carv'd  like  an  apple-tart  ? 
Here's  smp,  and  nip,  and  cut,  and  slish,  and  slash, 
Like  to  a  censer^  in  a  barber's  shop  : — 

Why,  what,  o'devil's  name,  tailor,  call'st  thou  this  ? 

Mor.  I  see,  she's  like  to  have  neither  cap  nor 
gown.  [Aside. 

TcU.  You  bid  me  make  it  orderly  and  well, 
According  to  the  fashion,  and  the  time. 

Pet.  Marry,  and  did ;  but  if  ycm  be  remembered, 

1  did  not  bid  you  mar  it  to  the  time. 
Go,  hop  me  over  every  kennel  home. 
For  you  shall  hop  without  my  custom,  sir : 
I'll  none  of  it ;  hence,  make  your  best  of  it 

Kath.  I  never  saw  a  better-fashion'd  gown. 
More  quaint,'  more  pleasing,  nor  more  commend- 
able: 
Belike  you  mean  to  make  a  puppet  of  me. 
Pet.  Whjy  true ;  he  means  to  make  a  puppet  of 
thee. 

n^Finenr.  (2)  Rustling. 

(3)  A  coffin  was  the  culinary  term  for  raised  crust 

(4)  These  cenien  resembled  oar  braners  in  shape. 


Tai.  She  says,  your  worship  means  to  make  a 
puppet  of  her. 

Pet.  O  monstrous  arrogance !  Thou  liest,  thou 
thread. 
Thou  thimble, 

Thou  yard,  three-quarters,  half-yard,  quarter,  nail. 
Thou  flea,  thou  nit,  thou  winter  cricket  thou : — 
Brav'd  in  mine  own  house  with  a  skein  of  thread! 
Away,  thou  rag,  thou  quantity,  thou  remnant; 
Or  I  shall  so  be-mcte^  thee  with  thy  yard. 
As  thou  shalt  think  on  prating  whilst  thou  liv'st ! 
I  tell  thee,  I,  that  thou  hast  marr'd  her  gown. 

Tat.  Your  worship  isdeceiv'd ;  the  gown  is  made 
Just  as  my  master  bad  direction : 
Grumio  gave  order  how  it  should  be  done. 

Gru.  I  gave  him  no  order,  I  gave  him  the  stutt 

TaL  But  how  did  you  desire  it  bhould  be  imide.^ 

Gru.  Many,  sir,  with  needle  and  thread. 

Tai.  But  did  you  not  request  to  have  it  cut? 

Gru.  Thou  hast  &ced  many  things.  7 

Tai.  I  have. 

Gru.  Face  not  me :  thou  hast  brav'd  many  men ; 
brave  not  me  ;  I  will  neither  be  faced  nor  braved. 
I  say  unto  thee, — I  bid  thy  master  cut  out  the 
gown ;  but  I  did  not  bid  him  c^t  it  to  pieces :  erga^ 
thou  liest. 

Tai.  Wliy,  here  is  the  note  of  the  fashion  to  testify. 

Pet.  Read  it 

Gru.  The  note  lies  in  his  throat,  if  he  say  I  said  sol 

Tai.  Imprimis,  a  loose-bodied  gmon : 

Gru.  Master,  if  ever  1  said  loose-bodied  gown, 
sew  me  in  the  skirts  of  it,  and  beat  me  to  death 
with  a  bottom  of  brown  thread :  I  said,  a  gown. 

Pet.  Proceed. 

Tai.  With  a  small  compassed  cope^ 

Gru.  I  confess  the  cape. 

Tai.  IVith  a  trunk  sleeve  f 

Gru.  I  confess  two  sleeves. 

Tai.  The  sleeves  curiously  cut. 

Pet.  Ay,  there's  the  villany. 

Gru.  Error  i'the  bill,  sir;  error  i'the  bill.  I 
commanded  the  sleeves  should  be  cut  out,  and 
sewed  up  affain;  and  that  I'll  prove  upon  thee, 
though  thy  little  finger  be  arm'd  in  a  thimble. 

TaL  This  is  true,  that  I  say ;  an  I  had  thee  in 
place  where,  thou  should'st  know  it 

Gru.  I  am  for  thee  straight :  take  thou  the  bill, 
give  me  thy  mete-yard,^  and  spare  not  me. 

Hor.  God-a-mercy,  Grumio  I  then  he  shall  have 
no  odd's. 

Pet.  Well,  sir,  in  brief,  the  gown  is  not  for  me. 

Gru.  You  are  i'the  right,  sir ;  'tis  for  my  mistress. 

Pet.  Go,  take  it  up  unto  thy  master's  use. 

Gru.  Villain,  not  for  thy  life :  Take  up  my  raiM- 
tress's  gown  for  thy  master's  use  ! 

Pet.  Why,  sir,  what's  your  amcdt  in  that  ? 

Gru.  O,  sir,  the  conceit  is  deeper  than  you  think 
for: 
Take  up  my  mistress'  gown  to  his  master's  use .' 
O,  fie,  ne,  fie .' 

Pet.    Hortensio,  say  thou  wilt  see  the  tailor 
paid : —  [AsuU, 

Go  take  it  hence ;  be  gone,  and  say  no  more. 

Hor.  Tailor,  I'll  pay  thee  for  thy  gown  to-mor- 
row. 
Take  no  unkindness  (/  his  hasty  words : 
Away,  I  say ;  commend  me  to  thy  master. 

[Exit  Tailor. 

Pet.  Well,  come,  my  Kate ;  we  will  unto  yooi 
&tber't, 

(S)  Curious.        (6)  Be-meaiore. 

(7)  Turned  up  many  garments  with  fectnea. 

(8)  A  round  cape.        (9)  MeMuring^yard 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


273 


tiete  hooest  mean  habilimeDts; 

« tball  be  proud,  our  garments  poor: 

le  mind  that  makes  the  bodjr  ricn ; 

«  sun  breaks  through  the  darkest  clouds, 

r  peereth^  in  the  meanest  habit 

the  Jay  mora  precious  than  the  lark« 

lis  feathers  are  more  beautiful  f 

idder  better  than  the  eel, 

Its  minted  skin  contents  the  eye  ? 

od  Kate ;  neither  art  thou  the  worse 

wor  furniture,  and  mean  array. 

xount*st  it  shame,  lay  it  on  me : 

^bie,  frolic ;  we  will  hence  forthwith, 

md  sport  us  at  thy  fiither*s  house. — 

ny  men,  and  let  us  straijg^ht  to  him ; 

Sour  horses  unto Long-mne  end, 
we  mount,  and  thither  walk  on  foot — 
;  I  think,  *tis  now  some  seven  o'clock, 
we  may  come  there  by  dinner-time. 
[  dare  assure  you,  sir,  *tis  almost  two ; 
1  be  supper-time,  ere  you  come  there, 
shall  be  seven,  ere  I  eo  to  horse : 
at  I  speak,  or  do,  or  mink  to  do, 
dll  crossing  it — Sirs,  letH  alone : 
go  to^ay ;  and  ere  I  do, 
>  what  o'clock  I  say  it  is. 
liy  so !  this  gallant  will  command  the  sun. 

[ElxeunL 

IV. — Padua.    Btfon  Baptista*s  houte. 
Franio,  and  the  Pedant  dressed  Wet  Vin- 

ir,  this  is  the  house ;  Please  it  yoo,  diat  I 

call  > 

y,  what  else?  and,  but  I  be  deceived, 

sptista  may  remember  me, 

ity  years  ago,  in  Genoa,  where 

lodgers  at  the  Pegasus. 

'Tis  well ; 
your  own,  in  any  case,  with  such 
••  Mongeth  to  a  father. 

Enter  Biondello. 
warrant  you :  But,  sir,  here  comes  your 
boy; 

ood  he  were  schooPd. 
'ear  you  not  him.    Sirrah,  Biondello, 
our  duty  throughly,  I  advise  yon ; 
twere  the  right  Vincentio. 
Tut !  fear  not  me. 

lut  hast  thou  done  thy  errand  to  Baptista  ? 
[  told  him,  that  your  father  was  at  Venice ; 
Tou  look'd  for  him  this  day  in  Padua, 
rhou'rt  a  talP  fellow ;  hold  thee  that  to 
drink, 
es  Baptista: — set  your  countenance,  sir. — 

'Enter  Baptista  imd  Lucentio. 

sptista,  ycm  are  haply  met : — 

W  Pedant] 

e  gentleman  I  told  you  of; 

0,  stand  good  father  to  roe  now, 

Sianca  for  my  patrimony. 

oft,  son! — 

itr  leave :  having  come  to  I^dua 

*  in  some  debts,  my  son  Lucentio 
acquainted  with  a  weighty  cause 

etween  your  daughter  and  himself: 

*  the  good  report  I  hear  of  you ; 

M  love  he  b^&reth  to  your  aau^ter, 
D  him, — ^to  stay  him  not  too  long, 
ent,  in  a  good  father's  care, 

peareth.      (2)  Brave.      (3)  Scrupuloiis. 
ure  or  convey.        (o)  Betrothed. 


To  have  him  match'd ;  and, — if  you  please  to  like 
No  wone  than  I,  sir, — upon  some  agreement. 
Me  shall  you  find  most  ready  and  most  willing 
With  one  consent  to  have  her  so  bestow*d ; 
For  curious*  I  cannot  be  with  you, 
Signior  Baptista,  of  whom  I  hear  lo  welL 

Bap.  Sir,  pardon  me  in  what  I  have  to  say ; — 
Your  plainness,  and  your  shortness,  please  me  well. 
Right  true  it  is,  your  son  Lucentio  here 
Doth  love  my  daughter,  and  she  loveth  him, 
Or  both  dissemble  deeply  their  afiections : 
And,  therefore,  if  you  say  no  more  than  this, 
That  like  a  father  you  wul  deal  with  turn. 
And  pas8<  my  daughter  a  sufficient  dower. 
The  match  is  fully  made,  and  all  is  done : 
Your  son  shall  have  my  daughter  with  consent 

Tra.  I  thank  you,  sir.  Wnere  then  do  you  know 
best. 
We  be  affied  ;<  and  such  assurance  ta*en. 
As  shall  with  either  part's  agreement  stand  } 

Bap.  Not  in  my  house,  Lucentio ;  for,  you  know, 
Pitchers  have  ears,  and  I  have  many  servants : 
Besides,  old  Gremio  is  heark'ning  still ; 
And,  happily,^  we  might  be  interrupted. 

Tra.  Then  at  my  lodging,  an  it  like  you,  sir : 
There  doth  my  &tlier  lie ;  and  there,  this  night. 
We'll  pass  the  business  privately  and  well : 
Send  for  your  daughter  \>y  your  servant  here. 
My  boy  shall  fetch  the  scrivener  presently. 
The  worst  is  this, — that,  at  so  slender  warning, 
You're  like  to  have  a  thin  and  slender  pittance. 

Bap.  It  likes  me  well : — Cambio,  hie  you  home, 
And  b^  Bianca  make  her  ready  straight ; 
And,  if  you  will,  tell  what  hath  happened  :— 
Lucentio's  father  is  arriv'd  in  Padua, 
And  how  she's  like  to  be  Lucentio's  wife. 

Lue.  Ipray  the  gods  she  may,  with  all  my  heart ! 

Tra.  VtWy  not  with  the  gods,  but  get  tb«e  gone. 
Sienior  Baptista,  shall  I  lead  the  way  ? 
Welcome !  one  mess  is  like  to  be  your  cheer : 
Come,  sir ;  we'll  better  it  in  Pisa. 

Bap.  I  follow  you. 

J[Extuni  Tranio,  Pedant,  and  Baptista. 
ambia — 

Zittc.  What  say'st  thou.  Biondello .' 

Bum.  You  saw  my  master  wink  and  laugh  upon 
you.' 

Luc  Bkmdello,  what  of  that? 

Bion,  'Faith,  nothing ;  but  he  has  left  me  here 
behind,  to  expound  the  meaning  or  morale  of  his 
signs  and  tokens. 

Luc.  Ipray  thee,  moralize  them. 

Bion.  Then  thus.  Baptista  is  safe,  talking  with 
the  deceiving  father  of  a  deceitAil  son. 

Lax.  Ana  what  of  him  ? 

Bion.  His  daughter  is  to  be  brought  by  yoa  to 
the  supper. 

Luc.  And  then.'— 

Bion.  The  old  priest  at  Saint  Luke's  church  is 
at  your  command  at  all  hours. 

lAie.  And  what  of  all  this  ? 

Bion.  I  cannot  tell ;  except  they  are  busied 
about  a  counterfeit  assurance :  Take  you  assurance 
of  her,  cum  privilegio  ad  imprimendum  solum  : 
to  the  church ; — take  the  priest,  clerk,  and  some 
sufficient  honest  witnesses : 
If  this  be  not  that  you  look  for,  I  have  no  more  to 

But,  bid  Bianca  farewell  for  ever  and  a  day. 

[Going. 
Luc  Hear'st  thou,  Biondello? 
Bion.  I  cannot  tany :  I  knew  a  wench  married 


(6)  Accidentally. 


(7)  Secret  purpose 


«74 


TABfINQ  OF  THE  SHREW. 


{oanaAeiiiooiiaMdie  went  to  <lw  gurdai  fiir  pm- 
fer  to  fCoff  a  nbbit ;  aod  to  maj^roa,  iir,  tad  lo 
adiea,  ar.  Mjamterhathappouiteaiiie  togoto 
Saint  Lake*!,  to  bid  the  priest  be  ready  to  come 
againit  joa  come  with  rour  appeodii.         [Exit. 

Lmc  I  may,  and  will,  if  she  be  so  contented : 
She  will  be  pleait*d,  then  wherefore  should  I  doubt  ? 
Ihp  what  hap  may,  Pll  roundly  go  about  her ; 
It  Miall  go  hard,  if  Cambio  go  without  her.  [£xt/. 

SCEJiTE  F.—A  fybUc  road.    Enter  Petrochio, 
Katharina,  and  Hortensia 

Pit  Come  on,  o^  God*8  name ;  once  more  to- 
ward our  Cither's. 
Good  Lord,  bow  bright  and  goodly  shines  the  moon ! 
JEott.  The  moon .'  the  sun ;  it  is  not  moonlight 


PH.  I  say,  it  is  the  moon  that  shines  so  bri^t 

KsUk,  I  Know,  it  is  the  sun  that  shines  so  bnght 

PtL  Now,  by  my  mother's  son,  and  that's  myself, 
It  shall  be  moon,  or  star,  or  what  I  list, 
Or  ere  I  joaraey  to  your  Other's  house : — 
Go  on,  and  fetoi  our  horses  back  a^in. — 
Eveimore  cross'd,  and  cross'd ;  nothing  bat  crots'di 

Hot,  Say  as  he  says,  or  we  shall  never  go. 

KmUl  Forward,  I  pray,  since  we  hare  come  to 
iar. 
And  be  it  moon,  or  sun,  or  what  vou  please : 
And  if  yon  please  to  call  it  a  rush  candle. 
Henceforth  I  vow  it  shall  be  so  for  me. 

PtL  I  say,  it  is  the  moon. 

JEal^  I  know  it  is. 

PtL  Nay,  then  you  lie ;  it  is  the  blessed  son. 

KoOl  Then,  God  be  bless'd,  it  is  the  blesMd 
son: — 
But  son  it  is  not,  when  you  say  it  is  not ; 
And  the  moon  changes,  even  as  your  mind. 
What  yon  will  have  it  nam'd,  even  that  it  is ; 
And  to  it  shall  be  so,  for  Katharine. 

Hot,  Pfetruchio,  go  thy  ways ;  the  field  is  won. 

PtL    Well,  forward,  forward:    thus  the  bowl 
rfiould  run, 
And  dbt  unluckily  against  the  bias. — 
But  soft ;  what  company  is  coming  here  ? 

Enier  Yincentio,  in  a  travelling  drett. 

Good-morrow,  gentle  mistress :  Where  avray  ?-~ 

[T\>  Yincentio. 
Tell  me,  sweet  Kate,  and  tell  me  truly  too. 
Hast  thou  beheld  a  fresher  gentlewoman? 
Such  war  of  white  and  red  within  her  cheeks ! 
What  stars  do  spangle  heaven  with  such  beauty. 
As  those  two  eyes  become  that  heavenly  &ce  ? — 
Fair  lovely  maid,  once  more  good  day  to  thee  ^— 
Sweet  Kate,  embrace  her  for  lier  beauty's  sake. 

Hor.  'A  will  make  the  man  mad,  to  make  a 
woman  of  him. 

Kaih.  Young  budding  virgin,  fair,  and  fiesh,  and 
sweet. 
Whither  away  ;  or  where  is  thy  abode  f 
Happv  the  parents  of  so  fair  a  child ; 
Hsppier  the  man,  whom  favourable  stars 
Allot  thee  for  his  lovely  bed-fellow ! 

Pet  Why,  how  now,  Kate !  I  hope  thou  art  not 
mad: 
This  is  a  man,  old,  wrinkled,  faded,  witheHd ; 
And  not  a  maiden,  as  thou  say'st  he  is. 

Kath.  Pardon,  old  father,  my  mistaking  eyes, 
That  have  been  so  bedazzled  with  the  son. 
That  every  thing  I  look  on  seemeth  green : 
Now  I  perceive,  thou  art  a  reverend  father ; 
Pardon,  I  pray  thee,  for  my  mad  mistaking. 

Pet.  Do,  good  old  grandsire ;  and,  witmd,  make 
kiMwa 


Which  way  ihoD  tnfiDMl  I  If  aloiK  wMi  as 
We  shall  be  jogriU  of  iiyc—pMy. 

Fin,  Fair  iirr-and  yon  nj 
That  with  your  itmnge 


Myname  is  calPd— Vmositfo:  waj  dwenhy-Wi^ 
And  bound  I  am  to  ISdoa ;  Oeve  tovWt 
A  son  of  mine,  which  k»s  I  have  not  eeen. 

Pet.  What  is  his  name  f 

Fin.  Locentio,  gentle  ar. 

Pet.  Happily  met ;  the  happier  for  thy  ioo. 
And  now  by  law,  as  well  as  reverend  age, 
I  may  entitle  thee — my  k>ving  &ther ; 
The  sister  to  my  wife,  this  gentlewoman. 
Thy  son  by  this  hath  marrwd :  Wondnr  nott 
Nor  be  not  griev'd ;  die  is  of  good  esteem, 
Her  dowry  wealthy,  and  of  worthy  birth ; 
Beside,  so  qualifiea  as  may  beseem 
The  spouse  of  any  noble  gmtlemao. 
Let  me  embrace  with  old  Yinceitio: 
And  wander  we  to  see  ttiy  honest  son. 
Who  will  of  ttiy  arrival  be  foil  jovooi^ 

Fin.  But  is  this  true  ?  or  is  it  else  your  pleMue 
Like  pleasant  travellers,  to  break  a  jett 
Upon  the  company  you  overtake .' 

Hor.  I  do  assure  thee,  fother,  so  it  i& 

Pet  Come,  go  along,  and  see  the  tratti  hereof; 
For  our  first  merriment  hath  made  thee  jealoos. 
\  Exeunt  Petruchio,  Katharine,  ojhI  Viocentk). 

Hor.  Well,  Petruchio,  this  hath  put  me  in  heart. 
Have  to  my  widow ;  and  if  she  be  forward, 
Tlien  hast  thou  taught  Hortensio  to  be  untoward. 

[Exit 


ACT  V. 

SCEJfE  /.—Padua.  Befort  Locentfo't  Aovts. 
Enier  on  one  side  Bkndelfo,  Locentio,  and  Bi- 
anca;  Grenuo  walking  on  the  other  ttdt, 

Bian.  Softly  and  swiftly,  sir;  for  the  prieit  b 
ready. 

Luc.  I  fly,  Biondello :  but  tfiqr  may  cfaanoe  to 
need  thee  at  home,  ther^Mv  leave  us. 

JBton.  Nay,  faith,  I'll  see  the  church  o^  yoor 
back ;  and  then  come  back  to  my  master  as  soon 
as  I  can.  [Exeunt  Luc  Bian.  and  Bion. 

Gre,  I  marvel  Cambio  comes  not  all  this  while. 

Enter  Petruchio,  Katharine,  YincentiOy  ontf  «^ 

tendantt. 

Pet.  Sir,  here's  the  door,  this  is  Loceotio's  hoose. 
My  father's  bears  more  toward  the  maiket-plaoe ; 
Thither  must  I,  and  here  I  leave  you,  sir. 

Fin.  You  shall  not  choose  but  drink  before  yon 
go; 
I  think,  I  shall  command  yoor  wekome  here. 
And,  by  all  likelihood,  some  cheer  if  towvd. 

Ch'e.  They're  busy  within,  you  were  beet  knock 

louder. 

Enter  Pedant  ahaoe,  at  a  wmdom* 

Ped.  What's  he,diat  knocki  at  he  would  beat 

down  the  gate  ? 

Fin.  Is  signior  Lucentio  witfiin,  sir? 

Ped.  He's  within,  sir,  but  not  to  be  spokfo  wilhaL 

Fin.  What  if  a  man  bring  him  a  hundred  poud 
or  two,  to  make  merry  withal  } 

Ped.  Keep  your  hundred  pounds  to  yooraelf ;  ha 
diall  need  iKXie,  so  long  as  I  live. 

Pet  Nay,  I  told  tou,  your  ton  was  belovwl  ii 


SeauL 


TAMIIiG  OF  THE  SHREW. 


275 


Ftadoa.— rDo  70a  hear,  nr? — to  leave  fiivolous  cir- 
cumstances,— ^I  pray  you,  tell  signior  Lucentio, 
that  his  father  is  come  from  Pisa,  and  is  here  at  the 
door  to  >peak  with  him. 

Ped.  Thou  liest ;  his  father  is  come  from  Pisa, 
and  here  looking  out  at  the  window. 

Ftn.  Art  thou  his  father  ? 

Ped,  Ay,  sir ;  so  his  mother  says,  if  I  may  be- 
lieve her. 

Pet.  Why,  how  now,  gentleman !  [To  Yincen.] 
why,  this  is  flat  knaveiy,  to  take  upon  you  another 
man*s  name. 

Ped,  Lay  hands  on  the  villain;  I  believe  *a 
means  to  coxen  somebody  in  this  city  under  my 
countenance. 

JRe-enler  Biondello. 

Bion.  I  have  seen  them  in  the  church  toother ; 
God  send  *em  good  flipping ! — But  who  is  here  ? 
mine  old  master,  Yincentio?  now  we  are  undone, 
and  brought  to  nothing. 

Fin.  Gome  hither,  crack-hemp. 

[Seeing  Biondello. 

Bion.  I  hope,  I  may  choose,  sir. 

Fin.  Come  hither,  y(xi  rogue ;  What,  have  you 
forgot  me.' 

Bum.  Forgot  you  f  no,  sir :  I  could  not  forget 
you,  (at  I  never  saw  you  before  in  all  my  life. 

Fin.  What,  you  notorious  villain,  didsf  thou 
never  Me  thy  master's  father,  Yincentio  f 

Bion.  miat,  my  old,  worshipful  old  master.' 
yes,  many,  sir ;  see  where  he  looks  out  oi  the  win- 
dow. 

Ftn.  Is't  so, indeed?  fBeots  Biondello. 

Bion.  Help,  help,  help !  here's  a  madman  will 
murder  me.  [Exit. 

Ped.  Help,  son !  help,  signior  Baptista ! 

[&xitJrom  the  window. 

Pet  Pr'ythee,  Kate,  let's  stand  aside,  and  see 
the  end  of  this  controversy.  [They  retire. 

JU-€KUr  Pedant  hdow  ;  Baptista,  Tranio,  and  ser- 
vants. 

TVa.  Sir,  what  are  you,  that  offer  to  beat  my 

Ftn.  What  am  I,  sir .'  nay,  what  are  you,  sir .' — 
O  ummortal  gods .'  O  fine  villain!  A  silken  doublet ! 
«  velvet  hose !  a  scarlet  cloak !  and  a  copatain  hat  !i 
— O,  I  am  undone !  I  am  undone !  while  I  play  the 
^ood  husband  at  home,  my  son  and  my  servant 
append  aliat  the  university. 

Tra.  How  now !  what's  the  matter  ? 

JBap.  What,  is  the  man  lunatic  f 

Tra.  Sir,  you  seem  a  sober  ancient  gentleman 
bj  year  bktit,  but  your  words  show  you  a  mad- 
iiian :  Why,  sir,  what  concerns  it  yon,  if  I  wear 
pearl  and  gold  f  I  thank  my  good  fiither,  I  am  able 
to  maintain  it 

Fin.  Thy  &ther  ?  0,  villain !  he  is  a  jail-maker 
IQ  Bergamo. 

Bap.  You  mistake,  sir ;  you  mistake,  sir :  Pray, 
ynrhai  do  you  diink  is  his  name  f 

Ftn.  His  name .'  as  if  I  knew  not  his  name !  I 
bave  brou^t  him  up  ever  since  he  was  three  years 
old,  and  his  name  is — Trania 

Ped.  hy99j,  away,  mad  ass !  his  name  isLucen- 
tio ! — and  he  is  mine  only  son,  and  heir  to  the  lands 
of  me,  sicnior  Yincentio. 

Fin.  Dwentk) !  O,  he  hath  murdered  his  mas- 
ter S— Lay  hold  on  him,  I  chaige  you,  in  die  duke's 

(1)  A  hat  widi  a  conical  crown. 

(t)  Cheated.         (3)  Deceived  thy  eyes. 

(4^  Tricking,  underhand  contrivances. 


name : — O,  my  son,  ray  son  \ — (ell  me,  thou  villain, 
where  is  my  son  Lucentio .' 

Tra.  Call  forth  an  officer:  [Enter ome  with  an 
officer.]  carry  this  mad  knave  to  the  gaol : — Father 
Baptista,  I  charge  you  see,  that  he  be  fcvth-coming. 

Fin.  Carry  me  to  the  gaol ! 

Gre.  Stay,  officer ;  he  shall  not  go  to  prison. 

Bap.  Talk  not,  signior  Gremio;  I  say,  he  shall 
go  to  prison. 

Chre.  Take  heed,  signior  Baptista,  lest  you  be 
conycatchefP  in  this  business ;  1  dare  swear,  this 
is  the  right  Yincentio. 

Ped  Swear,  if  thou  darest 

Gre.  Nay,  I  dare  not  swear  it 

Tra.  Then  thou  wert  best  say,  that  I  am  not 
Lucentio. 

Gre.  Yes,  I  know  thee  to  be  signior  Lucentia 

Bap.  Away  with  the  dotard ;  to  the  gaol  with 
him. 

Fin.  Thus  strangers  may  be  haled  and  abus'd : — 
O  monstrous  villain ! 

Re-enter  Biondello,  with  Lucentio,  and  Bianca. 

Bion.  O,  we  are  spoiled,  and — ^Yonder he  is; 
demr  him,  forswear  him,  or  else  we  are  all  undone. 

Luc.  Pardon,  sweet  father.  [Kneeling. 

Fin.  Lives  my  sweetest  son  f 

[Biondello,  Tranio,  and  redant  run  out. 

Bian.  Pardon,  dear  father.  IKneeUng, 

Bap.  How  hast  thou  offended.' — 

Where  is  Lucentio  ? 

Luc.  Here's  Lucentio, 

Right  son  unto  the  right  Yincentio ; 
That  have  by  marriage  made  thy  daughter  mine^ 
While  counterfeit  supposes  blear'd  thine  eyne.* 

Gre.  Here's  packing,^  with  a  witness,  to  deceive 
us  all .' 

Fin.  Where  is  that  damned  villain,  Tranio, 
That  fac'd  and  brav'd  me  in  this  matter  so.' 

Bap.  Why,  tell  roe,  is  not  this  my  Cambio? 

Bian.  Cambio  is  chang'd  into  Lucentio. 

Luc.  Love  wrought  these  miracles.  Bianca's  love 
Made  me  exchange  my  state  with  Tranio, 
While  he  did  bear  my  countenance  in  the  town ; 
And  happily  I  have  arriv'd  at  last 
Unto  the  wished  haven  of  mv  bliss : — 
What  Tram'o  did,  myself  enrorc'd  him  to; 
Then  pardon  him,  sweet  father,  for  my  sake. 

Fin.  Pll  slit  the  villain's  nose,  diat  would  have 
sent  me  to  the  gaol. 

Bap.  *But  do  you  hear,  sir .'  [  7V>  Lucentia]  Have 
you  married  my  daughter  without  asking  my  good- 
will .' 

Fin.  Fear  not,  Baptista ;  we  will  content  yoo, 
go  to :  But  I  will  in,  to  be  revenged  for  this  villan^. 

[Exit, 

Bap,  And  I,  to  sound  the  depth  of  this  knavery. 

[ExtL 

Luc  Look  not  pale,  Bianca ;  thy  father  will  not 
frown.  [Exeuni  Luc.  and  Bian. 

Gr€.  My  cake  is  dough  A  But  Pll  in  among  the 
rest; 
Out  of  hope  of  all, — ^but  my  share  of  the  feast 

[Exit 

Petruchio  and  Katharine  mfeonec. 

Kath.  Husband,  let's  follow,  to  see  the  end  of 

this  ado. 
Pet  First  kiss  me,  Kate,  and  we  will. 
Kaih.  What,  in  the  midst  of  the  street  ? 
PeL  What,  art  thou  ashamed  of  me? 

(5)  A  proverbial  expressioii,  repeated  afW  t 
disappointment 


«76 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


AdV 


Kath.  No,  sir ;  God  forbid : — bot  ashamed  to  kiss. 
Pet.  Why,  then  let^s  home  again : — Come, sirrah, 

let's  away. 
Kath.  Nay,  I  will  give  thee  a  kiss :  now  pray 

thee,  love,  stay. 
Pet.  Is  not  this  well  ?— Come,  my  sweet  Kate ; 
Better  once  than  never,  for  never  too  late.     [Exe. 

SCEUVE  II. — A  room  in  Lacentio*s  house.  A 
banquet  set  out.  Enter  Baptista,  Vincentio, 
Gremio,  the  Pedant,  Lucentio,  Bianca,  Petruchio, 
Katharina,  Hortensio,  and  Widow.  Tranio, 
Biondello,  Grumio,  and  others,  attending. 

Luc.   At  last,  though  long,  our  jarring  notes 
agree: 
And  time  it  is,  when  raging  war  is  done. 
To  smile  at  'scapes  and  perils  overblown. — 
My  fair  Bianca,  bid  my  father  welcome, 
While  I  with  self-same  kindness  welcome  thine  : — 
Brother  Pelruchio, — sister  Katharina, — 
And  thou,  Hortensio,  with  thy  loving  widow, — 
Feast  with  the  best,  and  welcome  to  my  house ; 
Mv  banquet^  is  to  close  our  stomachs  up. 
After  our  great  good  cheer :  Pray  ycm,  sit  down ; 
For  now  we  sit  to  chat,  as  well  as  eat 

[They  sit  at  table. 
Pet.  Nothing  but  sit  and  sit,  and  eat  and  eat ! 
Bap.  Padua  affords  this  kindness,  son  Petruchio. 
Pet.  Padua  affords  nothing  but  what  is  kind. 
Hor.  For  both  our  sakes,  I  would  that  word 

were  true. 
Pet.  Now  for  my  life,  Hortensio  fears?  his  widow. 
If^id.  Then  never  trust  me  if  I  be  afeard. 
Pet.   You  are  sensible,  and  yet  you  miss  my 
sense; 
I  mean,  Hortensio  is  afeard  of  you. 

H^id.  He  that  is  giddy,  thinks  the  world  turns 

round. 
Pet.  Roundly  replied. 

Kath.  Mistress,  how  mean  you  that  ? 

IVid.  Thus  I  conceive  by  him. 
Ptt.  Conceives  by  me  ! — How  likes  Hortensio 

that? 
Hor.  My  widow  says,  thus  she  conceives  her 

tale. 
Pet.  Very  well  mended :  Kiss  him  for  that,  good 

widow. 
Kath.  He  that  is  giddy,  thinks  the  world  turns 
round : — 
I  pray  you,  tell  me  what  you  meant  by  that 
JVid.    Your  husband,   being  troubled  with  a 
shrew. 
Measures  my  husband's  sorrow  by  his  wo : 
And  now  you  know  my  meaning. 
Kath.  A  very  mean  meaning. 
Wid.  Right,  I  mean  you. 

Kath.  And  I  am  mean,  indeed,  respecting  you. 
Pet.  To  her,  Kate! 
Hor.  To  her,  widow  ! 
Pet.  A  hundred  marks,  my  Kate  does  put  her 

down. 
Hor.  That's  my  office. 
Pet.  Spoke  like  an  officer : — Ha'  to  thee,  lad. 

[Drinks  to  Horteii!>io. 
Bap.  How  likes  Gremio  these  quick-witted  folks  ? 
Gre.  Believe  mc,  sir,  they  butt  together  well. 
Bian.  Head,  and  butt  ?  a  hasty-witted  body 
Would  say,  your  head  and  butt  were  head  and  horn. 
Fin.  Ay,  mi>tress  bride,  hath  that  awaken'd  you  ? 
Bian.  Ay,  but  not  frighted  me;  therefore  I'll 
sleep  again. 

f  1)  A  banquet  was  a  refection  consisting  of  fruit, 
cakes,  &c. 


Pet.  Nay,  diat  you  shall  not;  since  you  have 
begun, 
Have  at  you  for  a  bitter  jest  or  twa 

Bian.  Am  I  your  bird?  I  mean  to  shift  my  bosh. 
And  then  pursue  me  as  you  draw  your  bow : — 
You  are  welcome  all.  • 

[Exeunt  Bianca,  Katharina,  emd  Widow. 

Pet.   She  bath  prevented  me. — Here,  Slgnkv 
Tranio, 
This  bird  you  aim'd  at,  though  vou  hit  her  not ; 
Therefore,  a  health  to  all  that  shot  and  miss'd. 

Tra.  O,  sir,  Lucentio  slipp'd  me  like  his  grey- 
hound. 
Which  runs  himself,  and  catches  for  his  master. 

Pet.  Agood swift' simile, but  something  currish. 

Tra.  'Tis  well,  sir,  that  ycm  hunted  for  yourself; 
'Tis  thoujrhl,  your  deer  does  hold  you  at  a  bay. 

Bap.  O  ho,  Petruchio,  Tranio  hits  you  now. 

Luc.  I  thank  thee  for  that  gird,^  good  Trankx 

Hor.  Confess,  confess,  hath  he  not  hit  you  here  ? 

Pet.  'A  has  a  little  gall'd  me,  I  confess ; 
And  as  the  jest  did  glance  away  from  me, 
'Tis  ten  to  one  it  maim'd  you  two  outright 

Bap.  Now,  in  good  sadn^s,  son  Petruchio, 
I  think  thou  hast  the  veriest  shrew  of  all. 

Pet.  Well,  I  say — no :  and  therefcwe,  for  am* 
ance. 
Let's  each  one  send  unto  his  wife ; 
And  he,  whose  wife  b  most  obedient 
To  come  at  first  when  he  doth  send  for  her. 
Shall  win  the  wager  which  we  will  propose. 

Hor.  Content: What  is  the  wager? 

Luc.  Twenty 


Pet.  Twenty  crowns ! 
I'll  venture  so  much  on  my  hawk,  or  hound. 
But  twenty  times  so  much  upon  my  wife. 

Lvc.  A  hundred  then. 

Hor.  Content 

Pet.  A  match ;  *tit  donft 

Hor.  Who  shall  b^n  ? 

Luc.  That  will  I.  Go, 

Biondello,  bid  your  mistress  come  to  me. 

Bion.  I  go.  [£xtf. 

Bap.  Son,  I  will  be  your  half,  Bianca  comes. 

Luc.  I'll  have  no  halves ;  I'll  bear  it  all  myselC 

Re-enter  Bicmdella 

How  now !  what  news  f 

Bion.  Sir,  my  mistress  sends  yoa  woni 

That  she  is  busy,  and  she  cannot  come. 

Pet.  How  !  she  is  busy,  and  she  cannot  come ! 
Is  that  an  answer  i 

Gre.  Av,  and  a  kind  one  too : 

Pray  God,  sir,  your  wife  send  you  not  a  worse. 

Pet.  I  hope,  better. 

Hor.  Sirrah,  Biondello,  go,  and  entreat  mf 
wife 
To  come  to  me  forthwith.  [Exit  Biondello 

Pet.  0,  ho !  entreat  her ! 

Nay,  then  she  must  needs  come. 

Hor.  I  am  afraid,  sir 

Do  what  you  can,  yours  will  not  be  entreated. 

Re-enter  Biondello. 

Now,  where's  my  wife  ? 
Bion.  She  says,  you  have  some  goodly  jest  m 
hand; 
She  will  not  come ;  die  bids  voa  come  to.  her. 
Pet.  Worse  and  worse;  sne  will  not  ocxne!  O 
vile, 
Intolerable,  not  to  be  endur'd ! 
Sirrah,  Grumio,  go  to  your  mistress ; 

(2)  Dreads.    (3)  Witty.      (4)  Saitnan. 


Sam  11. 


TAMING  OF  THE  SHREW. 


2T7 


Say,  I  command  her  come  to  me.    [Exit  Gruinia 
Hot.  1  know  her  answer. 
Pet  What? 

Hor.  She  will  not  come. 

Pet,  The  fouler  fortune  mine,  and  there  an  end. 

Enter  Katharina. 

Bap.  Now,  by  iny  holidame,  here  comes  Katha- 
rina ! 

Kath,  What  is  your  will,  sir,  that  you  send  for 
me? 

Pet.  Where  is  your  sister,  and  Hortenstio^s  wife  ? 

Kath.  Thev  sit  conferring  by  the  ))arlour  fire. 

Pet   Go,  fetch  them  hither;  if  they  deny  to 
come, 
Swir^  noe  them  soundly  forth  unto  their  husbands  : 
Away,  I  say,  and  bring  them  hither  straight. 

[Exit  Katharina. 

Luc.  Here  is  a  wonder,  if  you  talk  of  a  wonder. 

Hor.  And  so  it  is :  I  wonder  what  it  bodes. 

Pet.  Marry,  peace  it  bodes,  and  love,  and  quiet 
life. 
An  awAiI  rule,  and  right  supremacy ; 
And,  to  be  short,  what  not,  that's  sweet  and  happy. 

Bap.  Now  fair  befall  thee,  good  Petruchio  I 
The  wager  thou  hast  won ;  and  I  will  add 
Unto  their  losses  twenty  thousand  crowns ; 
Another  dowry  to  another  daughter. 
For  she  is  changed,  as  she  had  never  been. 

Pet.  Nay,  I  will  win  my  wager  better  yet ; 
And  show  more  sign  of  her  obedience. 
Her  new-built  virtue  and  obedience. 

Re-enter  Katharina,  viith  Bianca,  and  Widow. 

See,  where  she  comes ;  and  brings  your  froward 

wives 
As  prisoners  to  her  womanly  persuasion. — 
Katharine,  that  cap  of  yours  becomes  you  not ; 
Off  with  that  bauble,  throw  it  under  foot 

[Katharina  puU$  off' her  capy  and  throws  it  dovm. 

Wid.  Lord,  let  me  never  have  a  cause  to  sigh, 
Till  I  be  brought  to  such  a  silly  pass ! 

Bian.  Fie !  what  a  foolish  duty  call  you  this  ? 

Luc.  I  would,  your  duty  were  as  foolish  too: 
The  wisdom  of  your  duty,  fair  Bianca, 
Hath  cost  iTie  a  hundred  crowns  since  supper-time. 

Bian.    The  more  fool  you,  for  laying  on  my 
duty. 

Pet.  Katharine,  I  charge  thee,  tell  these  head- 
strong women 
yf\aX  duty  they  do  owe  their  lords  and  husbands. 

IVid.  (Jome,  come,  you're  mocking;  we  will 
have  no  telling. 

Pet  Come  on,  I  say ;  and  first  begin  with  her. 

}Vid.  She  shall  not 

Pel.  I  say,  she  shall ; — and  first  begin  with  her. 

Kath.  Fie,  fie !  unknit  that  threatening  unkind 
brow; 
And  dart  not  scornful  glances  from  those  eyes. 
To  wound  thy  lord,  thy  king,  thy  governor : 
It  blots  thy  beauty,  as  frosts  bite  the  meads ; 
Confounds  thy  tame,  as  whirlwinds  shake  fair  buds ; 
And  in  no  sense  is  meet,  or  amiable. 
A  woman  mov'd,  is  like  a  fountain  troubled. 
Muddy,  ill-seeming,  thick,  bereft  of  beauty ; 
And,  while  it  is  so,  none  so  dry  or  thirsty 
Will  deisn  to  sip,  or  touch  one  drop  of  it 
Thy  husband  is  thy  lord,  thy  life,  thy  keeper, 

(1)  Gentle  temper. 
19 


Thy  head,  thy  sovereign ;  one  that  cores  for  thee, 
And  for  thy  maintenance  :  commits  his  body 
To  painful  labour,  both  by  sea  and  land; 
To  watch  the  night  in  storms,  the  day  in  cold, 
While  thou  liest  warm  at  home,  secure  and  safe  ; 
And  craves  no  other  tribute  at  ibv  hands. 
But  love,  fair  looks,  and  true  obedience ; — 
Too  little  payment  for  so  great  a  debt 
Such  duty  as  the  subject  owes  the  prince. 
Even  such,  a  woman  oweth  to  her  nusband  : 
And,  when  she's  froward,  peevish,  sullen,  soulr. 
And,  not  obedient  to  his  honest  will. 
What  is  she,  but  a  foul  contending  rebel. 
And  graceless  traitor  to  her  loving  lord  ? — 
r  am  asham'd,  that  women  are  so  simple 
To  offer  war,  where  they  should  kneel  for  peace, 
Or  seek  for  rule,  supremacy,  and  sway. 
When  they  are  bound  to  serve,  love,  and  obey. 
Why  are  our  bodies  soft,  and  weak,  and  smooth^ 
Unapt  to  toil  and  trouble  in  the  world ; 
But  that  our  soft  conditions,)  and  our  hearts. 
Should  well  agree  with  our  external  parts  ? 
Come,  come,  you  froward  and  unable  worms  ! 
My  mind  hatli  been  as  big  as  one  of  yours. 
My  heart  as  great ;  my  reason,  haply,  more. 
To  bandy  word  for  word,  and  frown  for  frown  : 
But  now,  I  see  our  lances  are  but  straws ; 
Our  strength  as  weak,  our  weakness  past  corn- 
pa  re,— 

That  seeming  to  be  most,  which  we  least  are. 
Then  vail  your  stomachs,^  for  it  is  no  boot ; 
And  place  your  hands  below  your  husband's  foot : 
In  token  of  which  duty,  if  he  please. 
My  hand  is  ready,  may  it  do  him  ease. 

Pet.  Why,  there's  a  wench ! — Come  on,  and  kist 
me,  Kate. 

Luc.  Well,  go  thy  ways,  old  lad ;  for  thou  shalt 
ha't 

Vin.  *Tis  a  eood  hearing,  when  children  are 
towara. 

Luc.  But  a  harsh  hearing,  when  women  are 
froward- 

Pet.  Come,  Kate,  we'll  to  bed  : 

We  three  are  married,  but  you  two  are  sped. 
'Twas  I  won  the  wager,  though  you  hit  the  white ; 

[To  Lucentia 
And,  being  a  winner,  God  give  you  good  night ! 

[Exeunt  Petniciiio  ana  Kath. 

Hor.  Now  go  thy  ways,  thou  hast  tam'd  a  curst 
shrew. 

Luc.  'Tis  a  wonder,  by  your  leave,  she  will  be 
tam'd  sa  [Exeunt. 


Of  this  play  the  two  plots  are  so  well  united, 
that  they  can  hardly  be  called  two,  without  injury 
to  the  art  with  which  they  are  interwoven,  i  he 
attention  is  entertained  with  all  the  variety  of  a 
double  plot,  yet  is  not  distracted  by  unconnected 
incidents. 

The  part  between  Katharine  and  Petruchio  is 
eminently  sprightly  and  diverting.  At  the  marriage 
of  Bianca,  the  arrival  of  the  real  father,  perhaps, 
produces  more  perplexity  than  pleasure.  The 
whole  play  is  veiy  popular  and  diverting. 

JOHNSON. 


(2)  Abate  toot  ipiriti. 


»> 


'      'As'-        V      /' 

4^  > 

\y 

V  ,  V 


> 


WINTEE'S  TALE.    AalT—ScauS. 
YoL  L  — p.  SJa 


COMEDY   OF   EBKOES.     Aa  F.— Swwl. 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Lfontei,  Jtsv  q/'  Sieitia, 
MamilMiu,  &  »». 
CunUlo,  \ 

Antigotuu,      f 
Clsnno,     (  Sicilian  lorJt. 


Ragaa,  a  SUHian  geniltman. 
Jin  aHaubnf  «n  Ut  Vf"^  frw* 
f^an  nf  a  amri  iffju£cattirt. 
Puliiaita,  jbiw  of  Boliania. 
"lotnel.iuKiH. 


All  oU  A^kiri,  T^uUdfaOcr  of  Ptriita. 


qf  (o  (Ac  oU  Atphtrd. 
ioa,  a  ngjit. 

iOH,  qvan  to  Ltaida- 
K,  daurhier  to  Lemia  and  Htm 
a,  imfi  fa  ^Htigoirui, 
I  ^  »_?''__    >  nJfcni£injf  CAc  uvoa 


rwo  olAn-  lojtei 


Dortu,    i 

CordM,ladia,andallmdaal4;  latyrt  Jhr a di 

$luphenh,thiflitrdtuet,siiarJi,  4-c. 
Scene,  mmitma  tnSidlia,  KmtKma  in  Bolu 


If  joa  ihill  chucc,  Cunillo,  to  fiiil  Bohrrr 

Cut,  you  tluJI  Kc,  u  1  hats  »id,  ereai  dillt 
betiniil  DOT  Bolwfliia  uid  your  Sicliia. 

Cam.  1  dunk,  Ihii  comlni;  MiiuDcr,  ilv  kinE  r>f 
!Ski\im  meuu  to  psy  Bobemia  the  -visiiaiiuii  which 

,4rD(.  WbereiD  oar  enleRumiEnl  thall  (hnn: 
iH,  we  will  be  juMifiediDourlovei:  Tor,  iiidwd,- 

Cam.  'BneBchvou, 

Ank.  Vm\f,  I  Bpak  It  Id  the  fncdoin  of  in 
kaowlcdga :  m  cumol  widi  Mch  Du^fic«>cr~ 

HI  n  nn— 1  know  not  wW  Id  ■.<- W«  ivi 

gJTj  JOB  4wpr  diinkl ;  tlHt  joar  iniKi,  uninl^ll 
g(M  rf  oar  HMiffickDCe,  nuy,  Ibaugh  llie>  cai 
not jmiM  tk,  u  Utile  accuie  lu. 

dm.  Ton  p>j>  gnat  dal  too  dear,  br  ivhal 

•4fTL  BolieTe  me,  E  ipeak  u  mf  undcraiaiidiri 


Om.  SeOiacinnodl 
Botwim.  TbcT  irens 
cUdhDodii  and  there  i. 
•neb  Ml  1001:1100,  nhich 
■a*.    Siac<  their  mars  n 


L  of  the,, 


nconaieri,  tbourh 
Mkanicd,!  with  uitsrchan^  of  sifti,  tflttrs  Iotwi*; 
sabuiia ;  that  they  have  Kemtd  lo  he  lo^eiher, 
ihoigh  ahienl ;  shook  hands,  aa  or?r  a  ra«l  :>  and 
■Uwiiced,  ai  il  were,  from  the  aids  of  -oppowd 
"iiidi.  The  heoieni  continue  1helrlo>a  ! 
^rck.  I  think,  there  ii  not  in  tb«  world  either 
of  embann. 


!T,  Id  alter  iL     You  haTe  an  uii- 

■Kof  your  young  pnnce  Hainillitv; 
1  of  Ihe  grealetl  pttuniM,  that  ever 

veil  arree  vrilh  you  inihe  hopeiof 
ant  child :  one  Ihnl,  indrrd,  phy- 


Arch.  Would  Ibeyelj 
C^m.  Yet;  if  there  v 
'V  ihouiddeiiretolivi 


^CE.^"e  H.—TTu  nmt.  A  ream  itf  tatt  ni  Ihi 
Enter  Leonlej,  Pdiiene^  Heimione, 
iui,  CBTTiillo,  and  attendoTih. 
.  ._  .  ine  change!  of  the  wal'17  Mar  have  been 
The  >liept>erd'i  Dote,  lince  we  have  left  ovr  throne 
IViihuiji  abunlen:  time  u  lone  aei in 
Would  bF  fill'd  op,  my  bmther,  with  our  Ihanki ; 
And  I'et  ire  ihoufd,  for  perpetuity, 
~      '  debt;  And  therdbre,  like  a  cipher. 


iron. 


ending  in 


iltiply, 
ny  IhouBandim 

IT  lhanki  a  whit 


..e.lion'd 
Or  bi&f  d  upon  c 

..  ,piaE^  windi  at  home, 
Thi,  U  put  forth  toy  Irvlg!  : 

£«i7i.  We  an  tot^her,  brother, 

L putuitoV 


in,  of  what  may  chance, 
'''      -d 


Pal. 

Lion.  One  leven-nu-lil  kmse 
/■,>!.  Ve° 

L«,n.  WeHlpailtheliDieb 

(3)  \ihri>  I  cotdjal  to  the  Hi 


No  longer  .lay. 


280 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


Adl 


V\\  no  gain-saying. 

Pol.  Press  me  not,  ^beseech  yoQ,  so ; 

There  is  no  tongue  that  moves,  nooe,  none  i'the 

world, 
So  soon  as  yours,  cx>uld  win  me :  so  it  dioold  now. 
Were  there  necessity  in  your  request,  although 
*Twere  needful  I  denied  it  My  a/Tairs 
Do  even  drag  me  homeward :  which  to  hinder. 
Were,  in  your  love,  a  whip  to  me ;  my  stav, 
To  you  a  charg^e,  and  trouble :  to  save  boui, 
Farewell,  our  brother. 

Leon.        Tongue-tied,  our  queen  f  speak  you. 

Her.  I  had  thought,  sir,  to  have  held  my  peace, 
until 
You  had  drawn  oatltt  from  him,  not  to  stay.  You,  sir, 
Charge  him  too  coldly :  Tell  him,  you  are  sure. 
All  in  Bohemia's  well :  this  satisfaction 
The  by-gone  dav  proclaimed ;  say  this  to  him. 
He's  beat  from  his  best  ward. 

Leon.  Well  said,  Hermione. 

Her.  To  tell,  he  longs  to  see  his  son,  were  strong : 
But  let  him  say  so  then,  and  let  him  go ; 
But  let  him  swear  so,  and  he  shall  not  stay. 
We'll  thwack  him  hence  with  distaffs. — 
Yet  of  your  royal  presence  [TbPblixenes.]  PU  ad- 
venture 
The  borrow  of  a  week.  When  at  Bohemia 
You  take  my  lord,  PU  give  him  my  commission. 
To  let  him  there  a  month,  behind  the  gest^ 
Prefix'd  for  his  parting :  yet,  good  de^,3  Leonteai, 
I  love  thee  not  a  jar*  o*  the  clock  behind 
What  lady  she  her  lord.— You'll  stay.^ 

PoL  No,  madam. 

Her.  Nay,  but  you  will  f 

PoL  I  may  not,  verily. 

Her.  Verily ! 
You  put  me  oflf  with  limber^  vows :  But  I, 
Though  you  would  seek  to  unsphere  the  stars  with 

oaths. 
Should  yet  say,  Sir^  tut  going.  Verily, 
You  shall  not  go ;  a  la<nr*s  verily  is 
As  potent  as  a  lord's.  Will  you  go  yet  ? 
Force  me  to  keep  you  as  a  prisoner. 
Not  like  a  guest;  so  you  shall  pay  your  fees. 
When  you  depart,  and  save  your  thanks.  How  say 


you 


My  prisoner?  or  my  guest  f  by  your  dread  verily, 
One  of  them  you  shall  be. 

Pol.  Your  guest  then,  madam : 

To  be  your  prisoner,  should  import  offending ; 
Which  is  for  me  less  easy  to  commit. 
Than  you  to  punish. 

Her.  Not  your  gaoler  then, 

But  your  kind  hostess.  Come,  PU  questkxi  you 
Of  my  lord's  tricks,  and  yours,  when  you  were 

boys; 
You  were  pretty  lordings^  then. 

Pol.  We  were,  fair  queen, 

Two  lads,  that  thought  there  was  no  more  behind, 
But  such  a  day  to-morrow  as  to-day. 
And  to  be  boy  eternal. 

Her.  Was  not  my  lord  the  verier  wag  o'the  two  ? 

PoL  We  were  as  twinn'd  lambs,  mat  did  frisk 
i'the  sun. 
And  bleat  the  one  at  tlic  other :  what  we  chang'd, 
Was  innocence  for  innocence  ;  we  knew  not 
The  doctrine  of  ill-doing,  no,  nor  dream'd 
That  any  did :  Had  we  pursued  that  life. 
And  our  weak  spirits  ne'er  been  higher  rear'd 

(1)  Gests  were  the  names  of  the  stages  where 
the  king  appointed  to  lie,  during  a  roval  progress. 

(2)  Indeed.         (3)  Tirk.         (4;  flimsy. 
(5)  A  diminutive  of  lords. 


With  stronger  blood,  we  should  have  answepd 

heaven 
Boldly,  JVb/  guiiiy  /  the  imposition  clear'd, 
Hereditaiy  ours.^ 

Her,  By  this  we  gather. 

You  have  tripp'd  since. 

PoL  O  m  V  most  sacred  lady. 

Temptations  have  since  then  been  bocn  to  as :  kt 
In  those  unfledg'd  days  was  my  wife  a  girl ; 
Your  precious  self  had  then  not  crots'd  the  eyes 
Of  my  young  play-feUow. 

Her.  Grace  to  boot ! 

Of  this  make  no  conclusion ;  lest  you  say. 
Your  oueen  and  I  are  devik :  Yet,  go  oo ; 
The  offences  we  have  made  you  do,  we'll  amwer: 
If  you  first  sinn'd  with  us,  and  that  with  us 
You  did  continue  fault,  and  that  you  slippM  not 
With  any  but  with  us. 

Leon.  Is  he  woo  yet  ? 

Her.  He'll  stay,  my  lord. 

Leon.  At  my  request,  he  would  not 

Hermione,  my  dearest,  thou  never  spok'at 
To  better  purpose. 

Her.  Never  ? 

Leon,  Never,  bat  once. 

Her.  What?  have  I  twice  said  well?  wheo 
was't  before  ? 
I  pr'ythee,  teU  me:  Cram  us  with  praise,  and 

make  us 
As  fat  as  tame  things:    One  good  deed,  dyio^ 

tongueless. 
Slaughters  a  thousand,  waiting  upon  that 
Our  praises  are  our  wages :  You  may  ride  us, 
With  one  soft  kiss,  a  thousand  furlones,  ere 
With  spur  we  heat  an  acre.  But  to  t^  goal ; — 
Mv  last  good  was,  to  entreat  his  stay ; 
W'hat  was  my  first  ?  it  has  an  elder  sister. 
Or  1  mistake  you :  O,  would  her  name  were  Grrace! 
But  once  before  I  spoke  to  the  purpose.  When  ? 
Nav,  let  me  have't ;  I  long. 

Leon.  Why,  that  was  when 

Three  crabbed  months  had  sour'd  themselves  to 

death. 
Ere  I  could  make  thee  open  thy  white  band. 
And  clap  Uiyself  my  love ;  thai  didst  tivm  otter, 
/  am  yours  for  ev§r. 

Her.  It  is  Grace,  indeed. 

Why,  lo  you  now,  I  have  spoke  to  the  purpose  twice : 
The'  one  for  ever  eam'd  a  royal  husoand ; 
The  other,  for  some  while  a  friend. 

[Giving  fur  hand  to  PoUienes. 

fjcon.  Too  hot,  too  hot:    [^aidt. 

To  mingle  friendship  far,  is  mmglii^  bloods. 
I  have  tremor  cordis^  on  me  :  my  heart  dances ; 
But  not  for  joy, — not  joy. — This  entertainment 
May  a  free  face  put  on ;  derive  a  Uber^ 
From  heartiness,  from  bounty,  fertile  bosom. 
And  well  become  the  agent :  it  may,  I  grant : 
But  to  be  paddling  palms,  and  pinching  fin^rs. 
As  now  they  are ;  and  making  practis'd  smiles. 
As  in  a  looking-glass ; — and  men  to  sigh,  as  'twere 
The  mort  o'the  deer  ^  O,  that  is  entertainment 
My  bosom  likes  not,  nor  my  brows. — Mamiilius, 
Art  thou  my  boy  ? 

Mam.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Leon.  Pfecks? 

Wliy,  that's  my  bawcock.9  What,  haat  snmtch'd 

thy  nose  f — 
They  say,  it's  a  copy  oat  of  mine.  Come,  captaia 

(ft)  5y>ttine:  aside  original  sin. 

(7)  Trembling  of  the  heart 

(f])  The  tune  played  at  the  death  of  the  deer. 

(9)  Hearty  fellow. 


r. 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


231 


A  be  neat ;  not  neat,  bat  cleanl  j.  captain : 
^  steer,  the  heifer,  and  the  calf^ 
»ll*d,  neat — Still  virginallingl 

[Obstrvir^  PoUxenes  and  Heimione. 

I  palm  ? — How  now,  you  wanton  calf? 
.  my  calf? 

Tea,  if  you  will,  my  lord. 

Thou  want'st  a  rou^  pash,  and  the  shoots 

that  I  have,3 

ill  like  roe : — ^yet,  they  say,  we  are 
M  like  as  em ;  women  say  so, 

II  say  any  unng :  But  were  they  false 
lied  blacks,  as  wind,  as  waters ;  false 
are  to  be  wishM,  by  one  that  fixes 

a*  twixt  his  and  mine ;  yet  were  it  true 
fais  boy  were  like  me. — Come,  sir  paee, 
me  with  your  welkin^  eye :  Sweet  villain  ! 
ir*st !  my  coUop ! — Can  thy  dam  ? — may*t 

I !  thy  infection  stabs  the  centre : 
•t  make  possible,  things  not  so  held, 
iicat*st  wi  th  dreams; — (How  can  this  be?)^ 
tat*s  unreal  thou  coactive  art, 
3w'st  nothing :  Then,  'tis  very  credent,* 
ay*st  co-join  with  something;  and  thou 
dost; 

It  beyond  commission ;  and  I  find  it,) 
t  to  the  infection  of  my  brains, 
lening  of  my  brows. 

What  means  Sicilia  ? 
He  something  seems  unsettled. 

How,  my  lord  ? 
eer?  how  is*t  with  you,  best  brother? 

You  look, 
1  held  a  brow  of  much  distraction : 
Dioy'd,  my  lord  ? 

No,  in  good  earnest — 
letimes  nature  will  betray  its  folly, 
mess,  and  make  itself  a  pastime 
ir  boaoms !  Looking  on  tne  lines 
]nr*s  &ce,  methoughts,  I  did  recoil 
miee  years ;  and  saw  myself  unbreechM, 
een  velvet  coat ;  my  da£;ger  muzzled, 
ould  bite  its  master,  and  so  prove, 
tents  oft  do,  too  dangerous. 
!,  methooght,  I  then  was  to  this  kernel, 
lah,^  this  gentleman : — mine  honest  fiiend, 
take  eges  for  money  ?f 
No,  my  lord.  Til  fight 
You  will  ?  why,  happy  man  be  his  dole  .'* — 
My  brother, 

10  fond  o(  your  young  prince,  as  we 
to  be  of  ours  ? 

If  at  home,  sir, 
ny  exercise,  my  mirth,  m^  matter : 
•worn  friend,  and  then  mine  enemy ; 
nte,  my  soldier,  statesman,  all ; 
s  a  July's  day  short  as  December ; 
b  his  varying  childness,  cures  in  me 
I  that  would  thick  my  blood. 

So  stands  this  squire 
ith  me :  We  two  will  walk,  my  lord, 
e  you  to  your  graver  steps. — Hermione, 
1  lov'st  us,  show  in  our  brother's  welcome  ; 
is  dear  in  Sicily,  be  cheap : 
lyself,  and  my  young  rover,  he's 
9  to  my  heart 

If  you  would  seek  us. 

Playing  with  her  fingers  as  if  on  a  spinnet 
Ml  wantest  a  rough  head,  and  the  budding 

1 1  have. 

ondary.         (4)  Blue.        (5)  Credible. 
i-cod.  (7)  Will  you  be  cajoled  ?      ' 


We  are  yoon  i*tbe  garden :  ShalPs  attend  you 

there? 
Leon.  To  your  own  bents  dispose  yon :  you'll  be 

found. 
Be  you  beneath  the  sky : — I  am  an£;ling  now, 
Thou^  you  perceive  me  not  how  f  give  line. 
Go  to,  go  to .' 

[Aridi,    Observing  Polixenes  and  Hermione. 
How  she  holds  up  the  neb,io  the  bill  to  him ! 
And  arms  her  with  the  boldness  of  a  wife 
To  her  allowing^i  husband !  Gone  already ; 
Inch-thick,  kn^-deep ;  o'er  head  and  ears  a  fork'd 

ooe.>2— 

[Elxetmt  Polixenes,  Hermione,  and  atiendantt. 
Go,  play,  boy,  play ; — thy  mother  plays,  and  I 
Play  too ;  but  so  dusgrac'd  a  part,  whose  issue 
Will  hiss  me  to  my  grave;  contempt  and  clamour 
Will  be  my  knelL-— Go,  play,  boy,  play ; — There 

have  been. 
Or  I  am  much  deceiv'd,  cuckolds  ere  now ; 
And  many  a  man  there  is,  even  at  this  present. 
Now,  while  I  speak  this,  holds  his  wife  by  the  arm. 
That  little  thinks  she  has  been  sluic'd  in  his  absence. 
And  his  pond  fish'd  by  his  next  neighbour,  by 
Sir  Smile,  his  neighbour :  nay,  there's  comfort  in't, 
Whiles  other  men  have  gates;  and  those  gates 

open'd, 
As  mine,  against  their  will :  Should  all  despair 
That  have  revolted  wives,  the  tenth  of  mankind 
Would  hanf  themselves.  Physic  for't  there  is  none  ; 
It  is  a  bawdy  planet,  that  will  strike 
Where  'tis  predominant ;  and  'tis  powerful,  think  it. 
From  east,  west,  north,  and  south :  Be  it  concluded. 
No  barricado  for  a  belly ;  know  it ; 
It  will  let  in  and  out  the  enemy. 
With  bag  and  baggas^e :  many  a  thousand  of  as 
Have  the  disease,  and  feel't  not — How  now,  boy  ? 

Mam.  1  am  like  you.  they  say. 

Leon.  Why,  that's  some  comfort — 

What!  Camillo there? 

Cam.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

lAon.  Uo  play,  Maroillins;  thou'rt  an  honest 
man. —  [Exit  Mamillius 

Camillo,  this  great  sir  will  yet  stay  longer. 

Cam.  You  had  much  ado  to  make  his  anchor  hdd 
When  you  cast  out,  it  still  came  home. 

Leon.  Didst  note  it? 

Cam.  He  would  not  stay  at  your  petiti<ms ;  nuide 
His  business  more  material. 

Leon.  Didst  perceive  it  ?— 

They're  here  with  me  already ;  whimpering,  round- 
ing," 
Sicilia  is  a  so-/orth:  'TIS  far  gone, 
When  I  shall  gust"  it  last — How  came't,  Camillo, 
That  he  did  stay  ? 

Cam.  Ap  the  eood  queen's  entreaty. 

Leon.  At  the  queen's,  be't:  good,  should  be 
pertinent ; 
But  so  it  IS,  it  is  not  Was  this  taken 
By  any  understanding  pate  but  thine  ? 
For  thy  conceit  is  soeuung,  will  draw  in 
More  Uian  the  common  blocks : — Not  noted,  is't. 
But  of  the  finer  natures  ?  by  some  severals. 
Of  head-piece  extraordinary  ?  lower  messes,!^ 
Perchance,  are  to  this  business  purblind :  say. 

Cam.  Bu!«iness,  my  loid  ?  I  tnink,  most  under 
stand 
Bohemia  stays  here  longer. 

(8)  May  his  share  of  life  be  a  happy  one  ! 

(9)  Heir  apparent,  next  claimant    (10)  Mouth. 
(11)  Approving.    (12)  A  homed  one,  a  cuckold 

(13)  To  round  in  the  ear  was  to  tell  secretly. 

(14)  Taste.  (15)  Inferiors  in  rank. 


7-12 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


Ad  I 


Leon.  Ha? 

Cam.  Stajs  here  longer. 

Leon.  Ay,  but  why  f 

Cam.  To  satisfy  your  highness,  and  the  entreaties 
Of  our  nxMt  gracious  mistress. 

Leon.  Satisfy 

The  entreaties  of  your  mistress.' satisfy? — 

Lei  that  suffice.    I  have  trusted  thee,  Caimlio, 
With  all  the  nearest  things  to  my  heart,  as  well 
My  chamber-counsels :  wherein,  priest-like,  thou 
Hast  cleans^  mv  bosom ;  I  from  thee  departed 
Thy  penitent  reK)rm*d :  bnit  we  have  been 
Deceived  in  thy  integrity,  deceived 
In  that  which  seems  so. 

Cofn.  Be  it  forbid,  my  lord ! 

Leon.  To  bide  upon't ; — Thou  art  not  honest :  or, 
If  thou  inclin*8t  that  way,  thou  art  a  coward ; 
Which  hoxesi  honesty  behind,  restraining 
From  course  requirM  :  Or  else  thou  must  be  counted 
A  servant,  grafted  in  my  serious  trust. 
And  therein  negligent ;  or  else  a  fool, 
That  seest  a  game  play'd  home,  the  rich  stake 

drawn. 
And  tak*st  it  all  for  jesL 

Cam.  My  rracious  lord, 

I  may  be  negligent,  foolish,  and  fearful ; 
In  every  one  of  these  no  man  is  free. 
But  that  his  negli^nce,  his  folly,  fear. 
Amongst  the  infinite  doings  of  the  world. 
Sometime  puts  forth :  In  vour  affairs,  my  lord. 
If  ever  I  were  wilful-negfi^ent. 
It  was  my  folly ;  if  industriously 
I  playM  the  fool,  it  was  my  neg^ligence. 
Not  weighing  well  the  ena ;  it  ever  fearful 
To  do  a  thing,  where  I  the  issue  doubted, 
Whereof  the  execution  did  cry  out 
Ae^ainst  the  non-performance,  'twas  a  fear 
Which  oft  affects  the  wisest :  these,  my  lord. 
Are  such  allowM  infirmities,  that  honesty 
Is  never  free  of.     But,  'beseech  your  grace, 
Be  plainer  with  me ;  let  me  know  my  trespass 
By  Its  own  visage :  if  I  then  deny  it, 
*Tis  none  of  mine. 

Leon.  Have  not  you  seen,  Camillo, 

(But  that's  past  doubt :  vou  have ;  or  your  eve-glass 
Is  thicker  than  a  cuckold's  horn ;)  or  heard 
(For,  to  a  vision  so  apparent,  rumour 
Cannot  be  mute,)  or  tnoueht  (for  cogitation 
Resides  not  in  that  man,  mat  does  not  think  it,) 
My  wife  is  slipperv  ?  If  thou  wilt  confess, 
(Or  else  be  impudently  negative, 
To  have  nor  eyes,  nor  ears,  nor  thought,)  then  say. 
My  wife's  a  hobby-horse ;  deserves  a  name 
As  rank  as  any  flax- wench,  that  puts  to 
Before  her  troth-plight :  my  it,  and  justify  it 

Cam.  I  would  not  be  a  stander-by,  to  hear 
My  sovereign  mistress  clouded  so,  without 
My  present  vengeance  taken :  'Shrew  my  heart. 
You  never  spoke  what  did  become  you  less 
Than  this  :  which  to  reiterate,  were  sin 
As  deep  as  that,  though  true. 

I^on.  Is  whisf)ering  nothing  ? 

Is  leaning  cheek  to  cheek  ?  is  meeting  noses  ? 
Kissing  with  inside  lip  ?  stopping  the  career 
Of  laughter  with  a  sigh  ?  (a  note  infallible 
Of  breaking  honesty  •)  horsing  foot  on  foot? 
Skulking  in  comers  ?  wishing  clocks  more  swift  ? 
Hours,  minutes?  noon,  midnight?  and  all  eyes 

blind 
W^ith  the  pin  and  web,3  but  theirs,  theirs  only. 


(1)  To  box  is  to  hamstring. 

(2)  Disorders  of  the  eye. 

(3)  Hour-glass.  (4)  Hasty. 


That  would  unseen  be  wicked  ?  is  this  iKiihing? 
Why,  then  the  world,  and  all  that's  in't,  is  nothing ; 
The  covering  sky  is  nothing ;  Bc^iemia  nothing ; 
My  wife  is  nothing^  nor  nothing  have  these  nothings, 
If  this  be  nothing. 

Cam.  Good  my  lord,  be  cux'd 

Of  this  diseas'd  opinion,  and  betimes ; 
For  'tis  most  dangerous. 

Leon.  Say,  it  be ;  'tis  tnie. 

Cam.  No,  no,  my  lord. 

Leon.  It  is ;  you  lie,  you  lie : 

I  say,  thou  liest,  Camillo,  and  I  hate  thee ; 
Pronounce  thee  a  gross  lout,  a  mindless  slave ; 
Or  else  a  hovering  temporizer,  that 
Canst  with  thine  eyes  at  once  see  good  and  evil. 
Inclining  to  ihem  both  :  Were  my  wife's  liver 
Infected  as  her  life,  she  would  not  live 
The  running  of  one  glass.' 

Cam.  Wlio  does  infect  her? 

Leon.  Why  he,  that  wears  her  like  her  medal, 
han^ng 
About  his  necK,  Bohemia :  Who — ^if  I 
Had  servants  true  about  me ;  that  bare  eyes 
To  see  alike  mine  honour  as  their  profits, 
Their  own  particular  thrifU, — they  would  do  that 
Which  should  undo  more  doing :  Ay,  and  thou 
His  cup-bearer, — whom  I  from  meaner  form 
Have  bench'd,  and  rear'd  to  worship ;  who  may's! 

see 
Plainly,  as  heaven  sees  earth,  and  earth  sees  heavoi. 
How  I  am  galled, — might'st  bespice  a  cup. 
To  ^ve  mine  enemy  a  lasting  wink ; 
W^ich  draught  to  me  were  cordial. 

Cam.  Sir,  my  lord^ 

I  could  do  this ;  and  that  with  no  rash^  potuo. 
But  with  a  line'ring  dram,  that  should  not  wori[ 
Maliciously^  like  poison  :  But  I  cannot 
Believe  this  crack  to  be  in  my  dread  mistrev, 
So  sovereisnly  being  honourable. 
I  have  lov'd  thee, 

Lam.  Make't  thy  question,  and  go  rot 

Dost  think,  I  am  so  muddy,  so  unsettled. 
To  appoint  myself  in  this  vexation  ?  sully 
The  purity  and  whiteness  of  my  sheets, 
Which  to  preserve  is  sleep ;  which  being  spotted, 
Is  goads,  tJioms,  nettles,  tails  of  wasps  ? 
Give  scandal  to  the  blood  o'the  prince  my  son. 
Who,  I  do  think  is  mine,  and  love  as  miiM ; 
Without  ripe  moving  to't?  Would  I  do  this? 
Could  man  so  blench  f^ 

Cam.  I  must  believe  yoo,  sir ; 

I  do ;  and  will  fetch  off  Bohemia  for't :        • 
Provided,  that  when  he's  remov'd,  your  highness 
Will  take  again  your  queen,  as  yours  at  first ; 
Even  for  your  son's  sake ;  and,  thereby,  for  sealing 
The  injury  of  tongues,  in  courts  and  kingdoms 
Known  and  allied  to  youn. 

Leon.  Thou  dost  advise  me. 

Even  so  as  I  mine  own  course  have  set  down : 
I'll  give  no  blemish  to  her  honour,  none. 

Cam.  My  lord. 
Go  then ;  and  with  a  countenance  as  clear 
As  friendship  wears  at  feasts,  keep  with  Bobenaa^. 
And  with  your  queen :  I  am  his  cupbearer ; 
If  from  me  he  have  wholesome  beverage. 
Account  me  not  your  servant. 

Leon.  This  is  all : 

Do't,  and  thou  hast  the  one  half  of  my  heart ; 
Do't  not,  thou  splitt'st  thine  own. 

Own.  I'll  do't,  my  lord — 

(5)  Maliciously,  with  effects  openly  hurtful. 

(6)  t.  e.  Could  any  man  so  start  off  fiun 
priety? 


Semtn. 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


283 


Leon.  I  will  tetsn  friendly,  as  tboo  hast  advisM 

me.  *  [Exit. 

Cam.  O  miserable  lady  ! — But,  for  me. 
What  caw  stand  I  in  ?  I  must  be  the  poisoner 
Of  good  Polixenes :  and  my  ground  to  do't 
Is  the  obedience  to  a  master ;  one, 
Who,  in  rebellion  with  himself,  will  have 
All  that  are  his,  so  too. — To  do  this  deed, 
Promotion  follows :  If  I  could  find  example 
Of  thousands,  that  had  struck  anointed  kings. 
And  floarish'd  after,  I'd  not  do't :  but  since 
Nor  brass,  nor  stone,  nor  parchment,  bears  not  one. 
Let  villany  itself  forswear't     I  must 
Forsake  the  court :  to  do't,  or  no,  is  certain 
To  roe  a  break-neck.     Happy  star,  reign  now  ! 
Here  comes  Bdiemia. 

Enier  Polixenes. 

PoL  This  is  strange !  methinks. 

My  favoar  here  begins  to  warp.    Not  speak  ? 

Good-day,  Camilla 

Coon.  Hail,  most  royal  sir ! 

PcL  What  is  the  news  i'the  court  ^ 

Cam.  None  rare,  my  lord. 

PoL  The  king  hath  on  him  such  a  countenance, 
As  he  had  lost  some  province,  and  a  region, 
Ixw'd  as  he  loves  himself:  even  now  I  met  him 
With  customary  compliment ;  when  he, 
Waftine  his  eyes  to  the  contrary,  and  falling 
A  lip  of  much  contempt,  speeds  from  me;  and 
So  leaves  me  to  consider  what  is  breeding. 
That  chances  thus  his  manners. 

Cam.  I  dare  not  know,  my  lord. 

Pfd.  How !  dare  not  ^  do  not.    Do  you  know, 
and  dare  not 
Be  intelligent  to  me  ^  'Tis  thereabouts ; 
For,  to  yourself,  what  you  do  know,  you  must ; 
And  cannot  say,  you  ^are  not    Good  Camillo, 
Your  chang'd  complexions  are  to  me  a  mirror 
Which  shows  me  mine  chang'd  too :  for  I  must  be 
A  party  in  this  alteration,  finding 
Myself  thus  alter'd  with  it. 

Cam.  There  is  a  sickness 

Which  pots  some  of  us  vi  distemper ;  but 
I  cannot  name  the  disease ;  and  it  is  caught 
Of  you  that  yet  are  well. 

PoL  How !  caught  of  me  .^ 

Make  me  not  sighted  like  the  basilisk : 
I  have  bok'd  on  mousands,  who  have  sped  the  better 

By  my  r^ard,  but  kill'd  none  so.    Uamillo, 

A!s  you  are  certainly  a  gentleman ;  thereto 
«Clerk-like,  experienc'd,  which  no  less  adorns 
Our  gentry,  than  our  parents'  noble  names. 
In  whose  success!  we  are  genlle,^ — I  beseech  you. 
If  you  know  aught  which  does  behove  my  know- 
ledge 
Thereof  to  he  inform'd,  imprison  it  not 
i  n  ignorant  concealment 

Cam.  I  may  not  answer. 

PoL  A  sickness  caught  of  me,  and  yet  I  well ! 
I  must  be  answer'd. — Dost  thou  hear,  Camillo, 
I  c6njure  thee,  bv  all  the  parts  of  man. 
Which  honour  does  acknowledge, — whereof  the 

least 
Is  not  this  suit  of  mine, — that  thou  declare 
What  incidency  thou  dost  guess  of  harm 
Is  creeping  toward  me ;  how  far  off,  how  near ; 
Which  way  to  be  prevented,  if  to  be ; 
If  not,  how  best  to  bear  it 

Cam.  Sir,  I'll  tell  you; 

ri)  For  succession. 

(2)  Gentle  was  opposed  to  simple ;  well  boriL 


Since  I  am  charg'd  in  honour,  and  by  him 

That  I  think  honourable :  Therefore,  mark  my 

counsel ; 
Which  must  be  even  as  swiftly  follow'd,  as 
I  mean  to  utter  it ;  or  both  yourself  and  me 
Cry,  lost^  and  so  g^ood-night 

PoL  On,  good  Camillo. 

Cam.  I  am  appointed  Him  to  murder  you.' 

PoL  By  whom,  Camillo  f 

Cam.  By  the  king. 

PoL  For  what.' 

Cani.  He  thinks,  nay,  with  all  confidence  he 
swears. 
As  he  had  seen't,  or  been  an  instrument 
To  vice^  you  to't, — that  you  have  touch'd  his  queen 
Forbiddenly. 

Pol  O,  then  my  best  blood  turn 

To  an  infected  jelly ;  and  my  name 
Be  yok'd  wilh  his,  that  did  betray  the  best ! 
Turn  then  my  freshest  reputation  to 
A  savour,  that  may  strike  the  dullest  nostril 
Where  I  arrive ;  and  my  approach  be  shunn'd, 
Nay,  hated  too,  worse  than  tne  great'st  infection 
That  e'er  was  heard,  or  read ! 

Cam.  Swear  his  thought  over 

By  each  particular  star  in  heaven,  and 
By  all  their  influences,  you  may  as  well 
Forbid  the  sea  for  to  obey  the  moon. 
As  or,  by  oath,  remove,  or  counsel,  shake 
The  fabric  of  his  folly ;  whose  foundation 
Is  pil'd  upon  his  faith,^  and  will  continue 
The  stanaing  of  his  body. 

PoL  How  should  this  grow  ^ 

Cam.  I  know  not :  but,  I  am  sure,  'tis  safer  to 
Avoid  what's  grown,  than  question  bow  'tis  born. 
If  therefore  you  dare  trust  my  honesty, — 
That  lies  enclosed  in  this  trunk,  whicfi  you 
Shall  bear  along  impawn'd, — away  to-night. 
Your  followers  1  will  whisper  to  the  business ; 
And  will,  by  twos,  and  threes,  at  several  posterns. 
Clear  them  o'  the  city  :  For  myself,  I'll  put 
My  fortunes  to  your  ser\'ice,  which  arc  here 
By  this  discovery  lost     Be  not  uncertain ; 
For,  by  the  honour  of  my  parents,  I 
Have  utter'd  truth  :  which  if  you  seek  to  jirove, 
I  dare  not  stand  by ;  nor  shall  vou  be  safer 
Than  one  condemn'd  by  the  king's  own  mouth, 

thereon 
His  execution  sworn. 

PoL  I  do  believe  thee : 

I  saw  his  heart  in  his  face     Give  me  thy  hand ; 
Be  pilot  to  me,  and  thy  places  shall 
Still  neighbour  mine  :  My  ships  are  ready,  and 
My  people  did  expect  my  hence  departure 
Two  days  ago. — This  jealousy 
Is'for  a  precious  creature  :  as  she's  rare. 
Must  it  oe  great ;  and,  as  his  person's  migh^. 
Must  it  be  violent;  and  as  he  does  conceive 
He  is  dishonour'd  by  a  man  which  ever 
Profess'd  to  him,  why,  his  revenges  must 
In  that  be  made  more  bitter.  Fear  o'ershades  me 
Good  expedition  be  my  friend,  and  comfort 
The  gracious  queen,  part  of  his  theme,  but  notnmg 
Of  his  ill-ta'en  suspicion !  Come,  Camillo; 
I  will  respect  thee  as  a  father,  if 
Thou  bear'st  my  life  off  hence :  Let  us  avoid. 

Cam.  It  is  in  mine  authority,  to  command 
The  keys  of  all  the  posterns :  Please  your  highneii 
To  take  the  urgent  nour :  come,  sir,  away. 

[Exeunt 

(3)  t.  f.  I  am  the  perwn  appointed,  &c. 

(4)  Draw.  (3)  Settled  belieC 


f84 


WLYTER'S  TALE. 


Act  II 


ACT  II. 

SCEJ^TE  L—The  tair^.     Enter  Hermiooe,  Ma- 
millias,  and  Ladiu, 

Her.  Take  the  bojr  to  joa :  he  so  troables  me, 
'Tis  pait  enduring. 

1  Lady.  Come,  my  gracious  lord. 

Shall  I  be  your  play-fellow  ? 

Mam.  No,  Pll  none  of  you. 

1  Lady.  Why,  my  sweet  lord.? 

Mam.  YouMl  kiss  me  hard ;  and  speak  to  me  as  if 
I  were  a  baby  still. — I  love  you  better. 

2  Lady.  And  why  so,  my  good  lord  } 

Mam.  Not  for  because 

Your  brows  are  blacker :  yet  black  brows,  they  say, 
Become  some  women  best ;  so  that  there  be  not 
Too  much  hair  there,  but  in  a  semi-circle, 
Or  half-moon  made  with  a  pen. 

2  Lady.  Who  taught  you  this  ? 

Mam.  I  ]eam*d  it  out  of  women's  &ces. — Pray 
now 
What  colour  are  your  eye-brows .' 

1  Lady.  Blue,  my  lord. 
Mom.  Nay,  that's  a  mock :  I  have  seen  a  lady's 

nose 
That  has  been  blue,  but  not  her  eye-brows. 

2  Lady.  Hark  ye  : 
The  queen,  your  mother,  rounds  apace :  we  sliaU 
Present  our  services  to  a  fine  new  prince. 

One  of  these  days ;  and  then  you'dwanton  with  us. 
If  we  would  have  you. 

1  Lady.  She  is  spread  of  late 

Into  a  goodly  bulk  :  Good  time  encounter  her ! 

Her.  What  wisdom  stirs  amongst  you  ?    Come, 
sir,  now 
f  am  for  you  again :  Pray  you  sit  by  us. 
And  tell 's  a  tale. 

Mam.  Merry,  or  sad,  shall't  be  ? 

Her.  As  merry  as  you  will. 

Mam,  A  sad  tale's  best  for  winter : 

I  have  one  of  sprites  and  goblins. 

Her.  Let's  have  that,  sir. 

Come  on,  sit  down : — Come  on,  and  do  your  best 
To  fright  me  with  your  sprites :  you're  powerful 
at  it. 

Mam.  There  was  a  man, 

Her.  Nay,  come,  sit  down ;  then  on. 

Mam.  Dwelt  by  a  church-yard ;— I  will  tell  it 
softly; 
Yon  crickets  uiall  not  bear  it 

Her.  Come  on  then. 

And  give't  me  in  mine  ear. 

Enter  Leontes,  Antigonus,  Ijordt^  and  others. 

Leon.  Was  he  met  there.?  his  train.?  Camillo 
with  him .? 

1  Lord.  Behind  the  tuft  of  pines  I  met  them : 
never 
Saw  I  men  scour  so  on  their  way :  I  ey'd  them 
Even  to  their  ships. 

Leon.  How  bless'd  am  I 

In  m V  just  censure .?»  in  my  true  opinion  ? — 
Alack,  for  lesser  knowledge  .'2  How  accurs'd, 
In  being  so  blest  .'—There  may  be  in  the  cup 
A  spider^  steep'd,  and  one  may  drink ;  depart. 
Ana  yet  partake  no  venom ;  fen:  his  knowledge 
Is  not  infected  :  but  if  one  present 
The  abhorr'd  ingredient  to  his  eve,  make  known 
How  he  hath  drank,  he  cracks  £is  goige,  his  sides, 

(X)  Judgment 

(2)  O  thmt  my  knowledge  were  less ! 

(3)  Spiders  were  esteemed  poisonous  in  our  au- 
thor's time. 


With  violent  hefts  .•4— I  have  drank,  and  teeo  the 

spider. 
Camillo  was  his  help  in  this,  his  pander  .*— 
There  is  a  plot  against  my  life,  my  crown; 
All's  true  that  is  mistrusted :— -that  fiilse  villain, 
Whom  I  employ'd,  was  pre-employ'd  by  him : 
He  has  discover'd  my  design,  and  I 
Remain  a  pinch'd  thing  .*  yea,  a  very  trick 
For  them  to  pla v  at  will : — ^How  came  the  portenif 
So  easily  open  : 

1  Lord.  By  his  great  authority ; 

Which  often  hath  no  less  prevaii'd  than  so. 
On  your  command. 

Leon.  I  know't  too  well. 

Give  me  the  boy ;  Iamglad,youdidnotnuraehim: 
Though  he  does  bear  some  signs  of  me,  yet  you 
Have  too  much  blood  in  him. 

Her.  What  is  this .?  sport  ? 

Leon.  Bear  the  boy  hence,  he  shall  not  come 
about  her ; 
Away  with  him  : — and  let  her  sport  herself 
With  that  she's  big  with ;  for  'tis  Polixenea 
Has  made  thee  swell  thus. 

Her.  But  I'd  say,  he  had  not. 

And,  I'll  be  sworn  you  would  believe  my  sayii^, 
Hone'er  you  lean  to  the  nayward. 

Leon.  You,  nay  lords. 

Look  on  her,  mark  her  well ;  be  but  about 
To  sapr',  she  is  a  goodly  lady,  and 
The  justice  of  your  hearts  will  thereto  add, 
'7't5  pity  she's  not  honest,  honourable  : 
Praise  her  but  for  this  her  withont-door  foim, 
(Which,  on  my  faith,  deserves  high  speech,)  and 

straight 
The  shrug,  the  hum,  or  ha;  these  petty  brands. 
That  calumny  doth  use  : — O,  I  am  out. 
That  mercy  does ;  for  calumny  will  seat* 
Virtue  itself: — These  shrugs,  these  hums,  and  ha's, 
I  When  you  have  &aid,  she's  goodly,  come  between. 
Ere  you  can  say  she's  honest :  But  be  it  known. 
From  him  that  has  most  cause  to  grieve  it  should  be, 
She*s  an  adultress. 

Her.  Should  a  villain  say  so, 

The  nfK>st  replenish'd  villain  in  the  world. 
He  were  as  much  more  villain :  you,  my  lord. 
Do  but  mistake. 

Leon.  You  have  mistook,  my  lady, 

Polixrnes  for  Leontes  :  O  thou  thing. 
Which  I'll  not  call  a  creature  of  thy  place. 
Lest  barbarism,  making  me  the  prece^lent. 
Should  a  like  language  use  to  all  degrees. 
And  mannerly  distinguishment  leave  out 
Betn'ixt  the  prince  and  bq^gar ! — I  have  said. 
She's  an  adultress ;  I  have  said  with  whom : 
More,  she's  a  traitor ;  and  Camillo  is 
A  foderarv^  with  her ;  and  one  that  knows 
What  she  should  shame  to  know  herself, 
Bu(S  with  her  most  vile  prindpal,  that  she's 
A  bed-8wer\er,  even  as  oad  as  those 
That  vulgnrs  give  bold  titles ;  ay,  and  privy 
To  this  their  late  escape. 

Htr.  No,  by  my  life. 

Privy  to  none  of  this :  How  will  this  grieve  you. 
When  you  shall  come  to  clearer  knowledge,  that 
You  thus  have  publish'd  n>e .?  Gentle  my  lord. 
You  scarce  can  right  me  throughly  then,  to  say 
You  did  mistake. 

L^on,  No,  no ;  if  I  mistake 

In  those  foundations  which  I  build  upon, 

(4)  Heavings. 

(5)  A  thing  pinched  out  of  clouts,  a  poppet 

(6)  Brand  as  infamous.         (7)  Confederate. 
(8)  Only. 


It 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


28& 


The  centre  u  not  big  enough  to  bear 
A  echool-boy't  top. — Away  with  her  to  priion : 
He,  who  Bhall  speak  for  her,  is  afar  off  guilty,! 
Bat  that  be  speaks.^ 

Her,  There's  some  ill  planet  reigns  : 

I  must  be  patient,  till  the  heavens  look 
With  an  asp^   more   favourable. — Good  my 

lords, 
I  am  not  prone  to  weeping,  as  our  sex 
Commonly  are ;  the  want  of  which  vain  dew, 
Perchance,  shall  diy  your  pities :  but  I  have 
That  honourable  grief  lodg'd  here,  which  bums 
Worse  than  tears  drown :  'Beseech  you  all,  my 

lords, 
Widi  thoughts  so  qualified  as  your  charities 
Shall  best  uistruct  you,  measure  me ; — and  so 
The  king's  will  be  perfonn'd ! 

Leon.  Shall  I  be  heard  ? 

[To  the  guards. 

Her,  Who  is't,  that  goes  with  me  ? — 'Beseech 
your  highness, 
My  women  may  be  with  me ;  for,  you  see. 
My  plight  requires  it    Do  not  weep,  good  fools ; 
There  is  no  cause:  when  you  shall  know,  your 

mistress 
Has  deserv'd  prison,  then  abound  in  tears. 
As  I  come  out :  this  action,  I  now  go  on. 
Is  for  my  better  grace. — Adieu,  my  lord : 
I  never  wish'd  to  see  you  sorry ;  now, 

I  trust,  I  shall. My  women,  come ;  you  have 

leave. 

Ijun.  Go,  do  our  bidding;  hence. 

[Exeunt  Queen  and  Ladies. 

1  Lord.  'Beseech  your  highness,  call  the  queen 
again. 

AnL  Be  certain  what  you  do,  sir;  lest  your 
iustice 
Prove  violence;  in  the  which  three  great  ones  suffer, 
Yourself,  your  queen,  your  son. 

1  Lord,  For  her,  my  lord, — 

I  dare  my  life  lay  down,  and  will  do't,  sir. 
Please  you  to  accept  it,  that  the  queen  is  spotless 
Pthe  eyes  of  heaven,  and  to  you ;  1  mean. 
In  this  which  you  accuse  her. 

^nt  If  it  prove 

She's  otherwise,  Pll  keep  my  stables'  where 
I  lodge  my  wife ;  I'll  go  in  couples  with  her ; 
Than  wh^  I  feel,  and  see  her,  no  further  trust  her ; 
For  every  inch  of  woman  in  the  world, 
Ay,  every  dram  of  woman's  flesh,  is  false, 
If  she  be. 

Leon.       Hold  your  peaces. 

1  Lord.  Good  my  lord,— 

Ant.  It  is  for  you  we  speak,  not  for  ourselves : 
You  are  abns'd,  and  by  some  putter-on,^ 
That  will  be  damn'd  for't;  'would  I  knew  the 

villain, 
I  would  land-damn  him :  Be  she  honour-flaw'd, — 
I  have  three  daughters ;  the  eldest  is  eleven ; 
The  second,  and  the  third,  nine,  and  some  five ; 
If  this  prove  true,  they'll  pay  for't:  by  mine 

honour, 
I'll  geld  them  all ;  fourteen  they  shall  not  see. 
To  bring  false  generations :  they  are  co-heirs ; 
And  I  Imd  rather  glib  myself,  than  they 
Should  not  produce  fiur  issue. 

Leon.  Cease ;  no  more. 

Yoa  smell  this  business  with  a  sense  as  cold 
JKs  h  a  dead  man's  nose :  I  see't,  and  feel't, 
As  you  feel  doing  thus ;  and  see  withal 
*The  instruments  that  feeL 

(1)  R«)motely  8;uilty.      (2)  To  merely  s]ieaking. 
(3)  Take  my  station.  (4)  Instigator. 


Anl.  If  it  be  to, 

We  need  no  grave  to  bury  honesty ; 
There's  not  a  nain  of  it,  the  &ce  lo  sweeten 
Of  the  whtAe  dungy  earth. 

Leon.  What !  lack  I  credit? 

1  Lord.  I  had  rather  you  did  lack,  than  I,  my 
lord. 
Upon  this  ground :  and  more  it  would  content  me 
To  have  her  honour  true,  than  your  suspickm ; 
Be  blam'd  for't  how  you  might 

Leon.  Why,  what  need  we 

Commune  with  you  of  this  ?  but  rather  folbw 
Our  forceful  instigation.     Our  prerogative 
Calls  not  your  counsels ;  but  our  natural  eoodness 
Imparts  this :  which, — if  you  (or  stupifieo. 
Or  seeming  so  in  skill,)  cannot,  or  will  not. 
Relish  as  truth,  like  us ;  inform  yourselves. 
We  need  no  more  of  your  advice :  the  matter, 
The  loss,  the  gain,  the  ordering  on't,  is  all 
Properly  ours. 

Ant.  And  I  wish^  my  liege. 

You  had  only  in  your  silent  judgment  tried  it. 
Without  more  overture. 

Leon.  How  could  that  be .' 

Either  thou  art  most  ignorant  by  age. 
Or  thou  wert  bom  a  fool.    Camillo's  flight, 
Added  to  their  familiarity, 
(Which  was  as  gross  as  ever  touch'd  conjecture, 
That  lack'd  sight  only,  nought  for  approbation,* 
But  only  seeing,  all  other  circumstances 
Made  up  to  the  deed,)  doth  push  on  this  proceeding. 
Yet,  for  a  greater  confirmation, 
(For,  in  an  act  of  this  importance,  'twere 
Most  piteous  to  be  wild,)  1  have  despatch'd  in  post, 
To  sacred  Delphos,  to  Apollo's  temple, 
Cleomenes  ana  Dion,  whom  you  know 
Of  stuff'd  sufficiency  ;0  Now,  finom  the  oracle 
They  will  bring  all ;  whose  spiritual  counsel  had^ 
ShaU  stop,  or  spur  me.     Have  I  done  well  f 

1  Zjord.  Well  done,  mv  lord. 

Leon.  Though  I  am  satisfied,  and  need  no  novp* 
Than  what  I  know,  vet  shall  the  oracle 
Give  rest  to  the  minos  of  others ;  such  as  he,, 
Whose  ignorant  credulity  will  not 
Come  up  to  the  tmth :  So  have  we  thought  it  gpod^ 
From  our  free  person  she  should  be  confin'd'; 
Lest  that  the  treachery  of  the  two,  fled  hence, 
Be  left  her  to  perfonn.    Come,  follow  us ; 
Wc  are  to  speak  in  public :  for  this  bosinest 
Will  raise  us  all. 

Ant.  [./9nc2e.]  to  laughter,  as  I  take  it. 
If  the  good  train  were  known.  [BxeunL 

SCEJSTE  n:—The  same     The  euier  room  of  a 
prison.     Enter  Paulina  and  attendants. 

PaxtL  The  keeper  of  the  prison,— call  to  him ; 

[Extt  an  attendant 
Let  him  have  knowledge  who  I  am.— Good  lady ! 
No  court  in  Europe  is  too  good  for  tnee. 
What  dost  thou  tnen  in  prison  ? — Now,  good  sir. 

Re-enter  attendantj  unth  the  Kteper. 

You  know  me,  do  you  not  f 

Keep.  For  a  worthy  lady. 

And  one  whom  much  I  honour. 

Paul.  Pray  you,  then, . 

Conduct  me  to  the  queen.  * 

Keep.  I  may  not,  madam ;  to  the  contrary 
I  have  express  commandment 

Paul.                                      Here's  ado, 
To  lock  up  honesty  and  honour  from 
The  access  of  gentle  visitors  I Is  it  lawful, 

(5)  Pttx>f     (6)  Of  abiIitie».more  than  sufllicient 


S86 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


Ad  n 


Pnj  joa,  to  tee  her  women  ?  any  of  them  ? 
Emilia  ? 

Keqf.  So  please  yoii,  madam,  to  put 
Apart  these  your  attendants,  I  shall  brings 
Emilia  forth. 

PauL  I  pray  now,  call  her. 

Withdraw  yourselves.  [Exeunt  attend. 

Keep.  And,  madam, 

I  must  be  present  at  your  conference. 

Paul.  Well,  be  it  so,  pr'ythec.     [Exit  Keeper. 
Here*8  such  ado  to  make  no  stain  a  stain, 
As  passes  colouring. 

Re-enter  Keeper,  with  Emilia. 

Dear  gentlewoman,  bow  fares  our  gracious  lady  ? 

Emil.  As  well  as  one  so  great,  and  so  forlorn, 
Mav  hold  together :  On  her  frights,  and  griefs, 
(Which  never  tender  ladv  hath  borne  greater,) 
she  is,  something  before  her  time,  delivered 

Paul  A  boy  f 

EmiL  A  daughter ;  and  a  goodly  babe. 

Lusty,  and  like  to  live  :  the  queen  receives 
Much  comfort  in't :  says,  My  poor  prisoner^ 
I  am  innocent  as  you. 

PauL  I  dare  be  sworn : 

These  dangerous  unsafe  lunesi  o*the  king!   be- 

shrew  them ! 
He  must  be  told  on*t,  and  he  shall :  the  oflSce 
Becomes  a  woman  best ;  Pll  take*t  upon  me  : 
If  I  prove  honey-mouthed,  let  my  tongue  blister ; 
And  never  to  my  red-lookM  anger  be 
The  trumpet  any  more : — Pray  you,  Emilia, 
Commend  my  best  obedience  to  the  queen ; 
If  she  dares  trust  me  with  her  little  babe, 
V\\  show^t  the  king,  and  undertake  to  be 
Her  advocate  to  th*  loudest :  We  do  not  know 
How  he  may  soAen  at  the  sight  o^the  child ; 
The  silence  often  of  pure  innocence 
Persuades,  when  speaking  fails. 

EmiL  '       Most  worthy  madam, 

Vour  honour,  and  your  goodness,  is  so  evident, 
That  your  free  undertaking  cannot  miss 
A  thriving  issue ;  there  is  no  lady  living. 
So  meet  tor  this  gpreat  errand :  rlease  your  lady- 
ship 
To  visit  the  next  room,  Pll  presently 
Acquaint  the  queen  of  your  most  noble  offer ; 
Who.  but  to-day,  hammerM  of  this  design ; 
But  durst  not  tempt  a  minister  of  honour. 
Lest  she  should  be  denied. 

PttMl.  Tell  her,  Emilia, 

Pll  use  that  tongue  I  have  :  if  wit  flow  from  it. 
As  boldness  from  my  bosom,  let  it  not  be  doubted 
I  shall  do  good. 

EtmL  Now  be  you  blest  for  it ! 

PU  to  the  queen:  Please  you,  come  something 
nearer. 

Kup.  Madam,  iPt  please  the  queen  to  send  the 
babe, 
I  know  not  what  I  shall  incur,  to  pass  it. 
Having  no  warrant 

Paw,.  You  need  not  fear  it,  sir  • 

The  child  was  prisoner  to  the  womb ;  and  is. 
By  law  and  process  of  great  nature,  thence 
FrecM  and  enfranchised  :  not  a  party  to 
•  The  anger  of  the  king;  nor  guilty  of. 
If  any  be,  the  trespass  of  the  queen. 

Ktep.  I  do  believe  it. 

Paul.  Do  not  you  fear :  upon 

Mine  honour  I  will  stand  'twixt  you  and  danger. 

\ExeunJt. 

<1)  Frenzies.       (2)  Marie  and  aim.      (3)  Alone. 


SCEJ^E  III— The  same.  A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Leontes,  Antigonus,  Lords,  and  other 
attendants. 

Leon.  Nor  night,  nor  day,  no  rest:  It  is  hat 
weakness 
To  bear  the  matter  thus ;  mere  weakness,  if 
The  cause  were  not  in  being ; — part  o*the  cause. 
She,  the  adul  tress ; — for  the  harlot  kii^ 
Is  quite  beyond  mine  arm,  out  of  the  blank 
And  leveP  of  my  brain,  plot-proof:  but  she 
I  can  hook  to  me  :  Say,  that  she  were  gone. 
Given  to  the  fire,  a  moiety  of  my  rest 
Might  come  to  me  again. Who's  there  ? 

1  Atten.  My  lord? 

[Advanemg. 

Leon.  How  does  the  boy.' 

1  Atten.  He  took  good  rest  to-n^t ; 

*Tis  hopM,  his  sickness  is  discnarg^d. 

Leon.  To  see, 

His  nobleness ! 

Conceiving  the  dishonour  of  his  mother. 
He  straight  declined,  drooped,  took  it  deeply ; 
Fastened  and  fix'd  the  shame  on*t  in  himself; 
Threw  off  his  spirit,  his  appetite,  his  sleep, 
And  downright  languished. — Leave  me  solely :* 

—go, 
See  how  he  fares.  [Exit  attend.] — Fie,  fie !  no 

thought  of  him ; — 
The  very  thoi^t  of  my  revenges  that  way 
Recoil  upon  me  :  in  himself  too  m^ty  ; 
And  in  his  parties,  his  alliance, — Let  him  be. 
Until  a  time  may  ser\'e :  for  present  vengeance. 
Take  it  on  her.  Camillo  and  Polixenes 
Laugh  at  me ;  make  their  pastime  at  my  scmtow  : 
They  should  not  laugh,  if  I  could  reach  them ;  nor 
Shall  she,  within  my  power. 

Enter  Paulina,  with  a  ehUd. 

1  Lord.  You  must  not  enter. 

PauL  Nay,  rather,  good  my  lords,  be  second 
to  me : 
Fear  you  his  tyrannous  passion  more,  alas. 
Than  the  queen's  life .'  a  gracious  innocent  sonl ; 
More  free,  than  he  is  jealous. 

Ant.  That's  enough. 

1  Atten.  Madam,  he  hath  not  slept  to-night; 
commanded 
None  should  come  at  him. 

Paid.  Not  so  hot,  good  sir; 

I  come  to  bring  him  sleep.  'Tis  such  as  you, — 
That  creep  like  shadows  by  him,  and  do  sigh 
At  each  his  needless  heavings, — such  as  you 
Nourish  the  cause  of  his  awaking :  I 
Do  come  with  words  as  med'cinal  as  trae; 
Honest,  as  either;  to  purge  him  of  that  humour. 
That  presses  him  from  sileep. 

Leon.  What  noise  there,  ho  ? 

PauL  No  noise,  my  lord ;  but  needful  conference. 
About  some  gossips  for  your  highness. 

jUon.  Hawf 

Away  with  that  audacious  lady :  Antigonus, 

I  charg'd  thee,  that  she  should  not  come  about  me ; 

I  knew  she  would. 

AnL  I  told  her  so,  my  lord, 

On  your  displeasure's  peril,  and  on  mine, 
She  should  not  visit  you. 

Leon.  What,  canst  not  rule  her? 

PauL  From  all  dishonest v,  he  can :  in  this, 
(Unless  he  take  the  course  that  you  have  done. 
Commit  me,  for  committing  honour,)  trust  it, 
He  shall  not  rule  roe. 

Ant.  Lo  you  novT';  yoa  bear  I 

When  she  will  take  the  rein,  I  let  her  ran , 


Seetulir, 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


?87 


But  ^*U  not  stumble. 

PauL  Good  mj  lieg^e,  I  come, — 

And,  I  beseech  you,  hear  me.  Who  profets 
Myself  your  loval  servant,  your  physician. 
Your  most  obedient  counsellor ;  yet  that  dare 
Less  appear  so,  in  comforting  your  evils,^ 
Than  such  as  nK»t  seem  yours : — I  say,  I  come 
From  your  good  queen. 

Leon.  Good  queen ! 

PauL  Good  queen,  my  lord,  good  queen :  I  say, 
g^ood  queen ; 
And  would  by  combat  make  her  good,  so  were  I 
A  man,  the  worst^  about  you. 

Leon,  Force  her  hence. 

PatU.  Let  him  that  makes  but  trifles  of  his  eyes, 
First  hand  me  :  on  mine  own  accord,  I'll  off; 
But,  first,  V\\  do  my  errand. — The  good  queen. 
For  she  is  good,  hath  brought  you  forth  a  daughter; 
Here  'tis ;  commends  it  to  your  blessing. 

[Laying  down  the  child. 

Leon.  Out ! 

A  mankind'  witch !  Hence  with  her,  out  o'door : 
A  most  intelligencing  bawd  I 

PauL  Not  so : 

I  am  as  ignontit  in  that,  as  you 
III  so  entitling  me :  and  no  less  honest 
Than  you  are  mad ;  which  is  enough,  IMl  warrant, 
As  this  world  goes,  to  pass  for  honest 

IjMn.  Traitors  I 

"Will  you  not  push  her  out?  Give  her  the  bastard : — 
Thou  dotard,  [To  Antigonus.]  thou  art  woman- 

tir'd,^  unroosted 
Br  thy  dame  Partlet  here, — take  up  the  bastard ; 
Take't  up,  I  say ;  give*t  to  thy  crone.* 

PauL  For  ever 

Unvenerable  be  thy  hands,  if  thou 
Tak'st  up  the  princess,  by  that  forced^  baseness 
Which  be  has  put  upon't ! 

Leon.  He  dreads  his  wife. 

PauL  So  I  would  you  did ;  then,  'twere  past  all 
doubt, 
You'd  call  your  children  yours. 

Leon.  A  nest  of  traitors ! 

^ni.  I  am  none,  by  this  good  light 

PaitL  Nor  I ;  nor  any, 

But  one,  that's  here ;  and  that's  himself:  for  he 
The  sacred  honour  of  him<)elf,  his  queen's, 
His  hopeful  son's,  his  babe's,  betrays  to  slander. 
Whose  sling  is  sharper  than  the  sword's;  and  will 
not 

g^or,  as  the  case  now  stands,  it  is  a  curse 
e  cannot  be  compell'd  to't,)  once  remove 
The  root  of  his  opinion,  which  is  rotten, 
As  ever  oak,  or  stone,  was  sound. 

Leon.  A  callat,^ 

Of  boundless  tongue :  who  late  hath  beat  her  hus- 
band, 
And  DOW  baits  me ! — This  brat  is  none  of  mine ; 
It  is  the  issue  of  Polixenes : 
Hence  with  it  ^  and,  together  with  the  dam, 
Commit  them  to  the  fire. 

Paul.  It  is  yours ; 

And,  might  we  lay  the  old  proverb  to  your  charge. 
So  like  you,  'tis  the  worse. — Behold,  my  lords. 
Although  the  print  be  little,  the  whole  matter 
And  copy  of  uie  father :  eye,  nose,  lip. 
The  trick  of  his  frown,  his  forehead ;  nay,  the  valley. 
The  pretty  dimples  of  his  chin,  and  cheek ;  his 
smiles; 

(1)  Abettinp^  your  ill  courses.        (2)  Lowest 

(3)  Masculine. 

(4)  Pecked  by  a  woman ;  hen-pecked. 

(5)  Worn-out  old  woman. 


The  very  mould  and  frame  of  hand,  nail,  finger  - — 
And  thou,  good  goddess  nature,  which  hast  made  if 
So  like  to  him  that  got  it,  if  thou  hast 
The  ordering  of  the  mind  too,  'moogst  all  colours 
No  yellow^  in't ;  lest  she  suspect,  as  oe  does. 
Her  children  not  her  husband's ! 

Leon.  A  gra»  hag ! — 

And,  loKel,9  thou  art  worthy  to  be  hang'd. 
That  wilt  not  stay  her  tongue. 

^n/.  Hang  all  the  husbands 

That  cannot  do  that  feat,  you'll  leave  yourself 
Hardly  one  subject 

Leon.  Once  more,  take  her  hence. 

Paul.  A  most  unworthy  and  unnatural  loid 
Can  do  no  more. 

Leon.  1*11  have  thee  bum'd. 

PauL  I  care  not : 

It  is  a  heretic,  that  makes  the  fire, 
Not  she,  which  bums  in't  I'll  not  call  you  tynat ; 
But  this  most  cruel  usage  of  your  queen 
(Not  able  to  produce  more  accusation 
Than  your  own  weak-hing'd  fancy,)  somethir^ 

savours 
Of  tyranny,  and  will  ignoble  make  you, 
Yea,  scandalous  to  the  i^orld. 

Leon.  On  your  allegiance. 

Out  of  the  chamber  with  her.  W^ere  I  a  tyrant. 
Where  were  her  life  ?  she  durst  not  call  me  so. 
If  she  did  know  me  one.  Away  with  her. 

Paul.  I  pray  you,  do  not  push  me ;  I'll  be  gone. 
Look  to  your  l»be,  my  lord ;  'tis  yours :  Jove  send 

her 
A  betterguiding spirit ! — What  need  these  hands? — 
You  that  are  thus  so  tender  o'er  his  follies, 
Will  never  do  him  good,  fiot  one  of  you. 
So,  so  : — Farewell ;  we  are  gone.  [EriL 

Leon.  Thou,  traitor,  hast  set  on  thy  wife  to  this.-  • 
My  child  ?  away  with't ! — even  thou,  that  hast 
A  heart  so  tender  o'er  it,  take  it  hence. 
And  see  it  instantly  consum'd  with  fire ; 
Even  thou,  and  none  but  thou.  Take  it  bp  straight : 
Within  this  hour  bring  me  word  'tis  done 
(And  by  good  testimony,)  or  I'll  seize  tliy  \i(e. 
With  what  thou  else  call'st  thine :  If  thou  refuse. 
And  wilt  encounter  With  my  wrath,  say  so ; 
The  bastard  brains  with  these  my  proper  hands 
Shall  I  dash  out  Go,  take  it  to  the  fire ; 
For  thou  sett'st  on  thy  wife. 

JlnL  I  did  not,  sir : 

These  lords,  my  noble  fellows,  if  they  please. 
Can  clear  me  in't 

1  Lord.  We  can ;  my  royal  liege. 

He  is  not  guilty  of  her  coming  hither. 

Leon.  You  are  liars  all. 

I  Lord.  'Beseech  your  highness,  give  us  better 
credit : 
We  have  alway-s  truly  serv'd  you ;  and  beseech 
So  to  esteem  of  us :  And  on  our  knees  we  beg 
(As  recompense  of  our  dear  services. 
Past,  and  to  come,)  that  you  do  change  this  pur^ 

pose; 
Which,  being  so  horrible,  so  bloody,  must 
Lead  on  to  some  foul  issue  :  We  afl  kneel. 

Leon.  I  am  a  feather  for  each  wind  that  blows :  — 
Shall  I  live  on,  to  see  this  bastard  kneel 
And  call  me  father  ?  Better  bum  it  now. 
Than  curse  it  then.  But  be  it ;  let  it  live : 
It  shall  not  neither. — You,  sir,  come  you  hither ; 

[i'o  Antigoiiiis. 
You,  that  have  been  so  tenderly  officious 

(6)  Forced  is  false ;  uttered  with  iriolonce  tn  rmlK 

(7)  Trull.  (8)  The  colour  of  iealou»\ . 
(9)  Worthless  fellow. 


S88 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


Actm 


With  lady  Margery,  your  nudwife,  there. 
To  rave  this  bastard's  life  : — for  'tis  a  bastard. 
So  sure  as  this  beard's  grey, — what  will  you  ad- 
venture 
To  save  this  brat's  life? 

Ard.  knj  thing,  my  lord. 

That  my  ability  may  undergo, 
And  nobleness  impose  :  at  least,  thus  much ; 
I'll  pawn  the  little  blood  which  I  have  left, 
To  save  the  innocent :  any  thing  possible. 

Leon.  It  shall  be  possible :  Swear  by  this  sword,  > 
Thou  wilt  perform  my  bidding. 

Aid.  I  will,  my  lord. 

Lton.  Mark,  and  perfonn  it ;  (seest  thou  ?)  for 
the  fail 
Of  any  point  in't  shall  not  only  be 
Death  to  thyself,  but  to  thy  lewd-tongu'd  wife ; 
Whom,  for  this  time,  we  pardon.  Yla  enjoin  thee. 
As  thou  art  liegeman  to  lu,  that  thou  carry 
This  female  bastard  hence ;  and  that  thou  bear  it 
To  some  remote  and  desert  place,  quite  out 
Of  our  dominions ;  and  that  there  thou  leave  it. 
Without  more  mercy,  to  its  own  protection, 
And  favour  of  the  climate.  As  by  strange  fortune 
It  came  to  us,  I  do  in  justice  charge  thee, — 
On  thy  soul's  peril,  and  thy  body's  torture, — 
That  thou  commend  it  strangely  to  some  place,3 
Where  chance  may  nurse,  or  end  it :  Take  it  up. 

^nt.  I  swear  to  do  this,  though  a  present  death 
Had  been  roan  merciful. — Come  on,  poor  babe : 
Some  powerful  spirit  instruct  the  kites  and  ravens, 
To  be  thy  nurses !  Wolves,  and  bears,  they  say, 
Casting  meir  savagenets  aside,  have  done 
Like  omces  of  pity. — Sir,  be  prosperous 
In  more  than  this  deed  doth  require !  and  blessing. 
Against  this  cruelty,  fight  on  thv  side. — 
Pwr  thing,  condemn'd  to  loss !  [£jr.  wUh  the  diild. 

Leon.  No,  I'll  not  rear 

Another's  issue. 

1  Atten.  Please  your  highness,  posts, 

From  those*you  sent  to  the  oracle,  are  come 
An  hour  since :  Cleorooies  and  Dion, 
Bein^  well  arriv'd  from  Delpbos,  are  both  landed, 
Hastmg  to  the  court 

1  I^rd.  So  please  you,  sir,  their  speed 

Hath  been  beyond  account 

Leon.  Twenty-three  days 

They  have  been  absent :  'Tis  |ood  speed ;  foretels. 
The  great  Apollo  suddenly  will  have 
The  truth  of  this  appear.     Pnepare  you,  lords ; 
Summon  a  session,  that  we  may  arraign 
Our  most  disloyal  lady :  for,  as  she  hath 
Been  publicly  accus'cl,  so  shall  she  have 
A  just  and  open  trial.    While  die  lives, 
My  heart  will  be  a  burden  tome.'    Leave  me ; 
And  think  upon  my  bidding.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  in. 

SCEJSTE  l.—Tlu  same.    A  street  in  some  Town. 
Enter  Cleomenes  and  Dion. 

Cleo.  The  climate's  delicate ;  the  air  most  sweet ; 
Fertile  the  isle ;  the  temple  much  surpassing 
The  common  praise  it  bears. 

Dion.  I  shall  report. 

For  most  it  caught  me,  the  celestial  habits 
(Methinks,  I  so  should  term  them,)  and  the  reve- 
rence 

(1)  It  was  anciently  a  practice  to  swear  by  the 
cross  at  the  hilt  of  a  swoitL 

(2)  t.  e.  Commit  it  to  some  place  as  astrsjoger. 


Of  the  grave  wearers.    O,  the  sacrifice ! 
How  ceremonious,  solenm,  and  unearthly 
it  was  i'tbe  offering ! 

Cleo.  But,  of  all,  the  burst 

And  the  ear-deafening  voice  o'the  oracle. 
Kin  to  Jove's  thunder,  so  surpris'd  my  sense, 
That  I  was  nothing. 

Dion.  If  the  event  o'the  kmrney 

Prove  as  successful  to  the  queen, — O,  be't  so ! — 
As  it  hath  been  to  us,  rare,  pleasant,  speedy, 
The  time  is  worth  the  use  on't> 

Cleo.  Great  Apollo» 

Turn  all  to  the  best !    These  proclamations. 
So  forcing  faults  upon  Hermione, 
I  little  like. 

Dion.        The  violent  carriage  of  it 
Will  clear,  or  end  the  business :  When  the  orade. 
(Thus  by  Apollo's  great  divine  seal'd  up,) 
Shall  the  contents  £scover,  somethii^  rare. 

Even  then  will  rush  to  knowledge. Go,  fresh 

horses; — 
And  gracious  be  the  issue  I 

SCEJfE  II.— The  same.  A  court  of  jvstke, 
Leontcs,  Lords,  and  Officers,  ofpear  properly 
seated. 

Leon.  This  sessions  (to  our  great  grief^  we  pn^ 
nounce,) 
Even  pushes  'gainst  our  heart :  TYtt  party  tried. 
The  daughter  of  a  king ;  our  wife ;  ami  one 
Of  us  too  much  belov'o. — Let  us  be  clear'd 
Of  being  tyrannous,  since  we  so  openly 
Proceed  in  justice ;  which  shall  have  due  course, 

Even^  to  the  guilt,  or  the  purgation. 

Produce  the  prisoner. 

Ojfi.  It  is  bis  highness'  pleasure,  that  tfie  queeo 
Appear  in  person  here  in  court — Silence ! 

Hermione  is  brought  in,  guarded;  IHiulina  and 
Ladies,  aUending, 

Leon.  Read  the  indictment. 

Offi.  Hermione,  queen  to  the  worthy  Leootea, 
king  of  Sicilia,  thou  art  here  accused  and  or- 
raigned  of  high  treason,  in  committing  aduUery 
with  Polixenes,  king  of  Bohemia ;  and  conspiring 
with  Camillo,  to  take  away  the  life  of  our  sovereign 
lord  the  king,  thy  royal  husband;  the  prelenet^ 
whereof  being  by  circumstances  partly  laid  ofrn, 
thou,  Hermione,  contrary  to  the  faith  and  alle- 
giance of  a  true  subject,  didst  counsel  and  aia 
them,  for  their  better  safety,  to  fly  away  by  nighL 

Her.  Since  what  I  am  to  say,  most  be  but  that 
Which  contradicts  my  accusation ;  and 
The  testimony  on  my  part,  no  other 
But  what  comes  from  myself;  it  shall  scarce  boot 

me 
To  say,  ^ot  guilty:  mine  integrity. 
Being  counted  falsehood,^  shall,  as  I  expraas  it, 
Be  so  receiv'd.    But  thus, — If  powers  divine 
Behold  our  human  actions  (as  tkydo,) 
I  doubt  iK>t  then,  but  innocence  shall  make 
False  accusation  blush,  and  tyranny 
Tremble  at  patience. — You,  my  lord,  best  fauir 
(Who  least  will  seem  to  do  so,)  my  past  life 
Hath  been  as  continent,  as  chaste,  as  true. 
As  I  am  now  unhappy ;  which  is  more 
Than  histoiy  can  pettem,  though  devis*d. 
And  play'd,  to  take  spectators ;  For  behold  me,— ^ 
A  fellow  of  the  royal  bed,  which  owe^ 


(3)  t.  e.  Our  journey  has  recompensed 
time  we  spent  in  it 

(4)  Equal.     (5)  Scheme  laid.      (6) 
(7)  Own,  ' 


«  dM 


WmTER'SfTALE. 


289 


of  the  throne,  a  great  kiiig*8  dangfater, 
ler  to  a  hopeful  prince, — here  Btaading 
and  talk  for  life,  and  honour,  *fore 
lae  to  come  and  hear.    For  life,  I  prise  it 
i;fa  grief,  which  I  would  spare :  for  Moour, 
rivative  from  me  to  mine, 
that  I  stand  for.    I  appeal 
own  conscience,  sir,  before  Pblixenei 
jroor  court,  how  I  was  in  your  grace, 
ited  fo  be  so ;  since  he  came, 
at  encounter  so  uncurrent  I 
dn*d,  to  appear  thus :  if  one  jot  bejood 
id  of  honour;  or.  in  act,  or  will, 
r  inclining ;  bardenM  be  the  hearts 
U  bear  me,  and  my  near'st  of  kin 
npoa  my  grave  I 

I  ne*er  heard  yet, 
of  these  bolder  vices  wanted 
ideoce  fo  gainsay  what  they  did, 
perform  it  first 

That*s  true  enoogfa ; 
tit  a  saying,  sir,  not  due  fo  me. 
Ton  will  not  own  it 

More  than  mistress  of, 
mes  to  me  in  name  of  fault,  I  must  not 
mowledge.    For  Polixenes 
nm  I  am  accus*d,)  I  do  confess, 
m,  as  in  honour  he  requir'd ; 
h  a  kind  of  love,  as  might  become 
ce  me ;  with  a  love,  even  such, 

0  other,  as  yourself  commanded ; 

It  to  have  done,  I  think,  had  been  in  me 

bedience  and  ingratitude, 

md  toward  your  friend ;  whose  love  had 

spoke, 

«  it  could  speak,  from  an  in&mt,  freely, 

aa  yours.    Now,  for  conspiracy, 

ot  bow  it  tastes ;  though  it  be  dishM 

>  try  how :  all  I  know  of  it, 

kmujlo  was  an  honest  man ; 

f  be  left  your  court,  the  gods  themselves, 

10  more  than  I,  are  ignorant 

Ton  knew  of  his  departure,  as  you  know 

1  have  underta*en  to  do  in  his  absoace. 

k  a  language  that  I  understand  not : 
taiids  in  the  level'  of  your  dreams, 

11  lay  down. 

Your  actions  are  my  dreams ; 
a  bastard  by  Polixenes, 
:  dreamM  it : — As  you  were  past  all  duune, 
r  TOur  iact3  are  so,)  so  past  all  truth : 
•  deny,  concerns  noore  than  avails : 

hath  hem  cast  out,  like  to  itself^ 
owning  it  (which  is,  indeed, 
ninsJ  in  the«,  than  it,)  so  thou 
oar  justice ;  in  whose  easiest  passage, 
DO  less  than  death. 

Sir,  spare  your  threats  : 
which  you  would  fright  me  with,  I  seek. 
tn  life  be  no  commodity : 
m  and  comfort  of  my  life,  your  favour,    ' 
lost ;  for  I  do  feel  it  gone, 
f  not  bow  it  went :  My  second  joy, 
iruits  of  my  body,  from  his  presence, 
r'd,  like  one  infectious :  My  third  com« 
fort, 
loat  onluckily,'  is  from  my  breast, 

irithin  the  reach. 

cy  who  have  done  like  you. 

4lMred;  bom  under   an   inauspicious 


The  innocent  milk  in  itt  most  innocent  mouth. 
Haled  out  to  murder :  Myself  on  every  post 
Proclaim*d  a  strumpet;  With  immodest Wred 
To  child-bed privilc^  denied,  which  Mongs 
To  women  of  all  fadrion : — Lsstly,  harried 
Here  to  this  place,  i*the  open  air,  before 
I  have  got  strength  of  Ifamt^    Now,  my  liege. 
Tell  me  what  listings  I  have  here  alive. 


(Which  I  would  free,)  if  I  shall  be  condemnM 
Upon  surmises ;  all  proo6  sleeping  else. 
But  what  yoor  jealousies  awake ;  I  tell  yoa, 
*Tis  rigour,  and  not  law. — Yoor  hoooon  all, 
I  do  rdfer  me  to  the  oracle; 
Apollo  be  my  judge. 

1  Ziori,  This  your  request 

Is  altogether  just :  therefore,  bring  forth. 
And  in  Apollo*s  name,  his  oracle. 

[Exeuni  certain  OtGcen^ 

Her,  The  emperor  of  Kussia  was  my  fother : 
O,  that  he  were  alive,  and  here  beholding 
His  daughter's  trial !  that  he  did  but  see 
The  flatness  of  my  misery ;  yet  with  eyes 
Of  pity,  not  revenge! 

/2e-<nler  Officert  %Biik  Cleomenes  and  Dion. 

OffL  Yoa  here  shall  swear  apoa  this  sword  of 
justice. 
That  yoo,  Cleomenes  and  Dkxi,  have 
Been  both  at  Delpbos;  and  fitxn  thence  have 

brought 

This  seal*d-up  oracle,  by  the  hand  deliver'd 
Of  great  Apulo's  priest ;  and  that,  since  then, 
Yoa  have  not  dar'd  to  break  the  hdy  seal, 
Nor  read  the  secrets  in*t 

Cleo.  Dton.  All  diis  we  swear. 

Leon.  Break  up  the  seals,  and  read. 

Offi,  [Rtad9.'\  Hennkxie  ts  cAoste,  Polixenes 
blameless,  Camillo  a  true  subject,  Leontes  a  Jeal" 
ous  tyranij  his  innoceni  babe  trviy  begotten;  and 
the  Ittng  shall  Uve  without  an  heir,  if  thai,  vhick 
is  lost,  be  not  found. 

Lords.  Now  blessed  be  the  great  Apollo ! 

Her.  Praised* 

Leon.  Hast  tfaoa  read  truth  ? 

OjffL  Ay,  my  lord;  even  so 

As  It  is  here  set  down. 

Leon.  There  is  no  truth  at  all  i*die  oracle : 
The  sesskms  diall  proceed ;  this  is  mere  falsehood. 

Enter  a  Servant,  hatOhf. 

Sero.  My  lord  the  king,  the  kin|[ ! 

Leon.  What  IS  the  business? 

Serv.  O  sir,  I  shall  be  hated  to  report  it : 
The  prince  your  son,  with  mere  conceit  and  fear 
Of  the  queen's  speecl,^  is  gone. 

Leon.  How!  gone.' 

Sero.  Is  dead. 

Leon.  Apollo's  angiy;  and  the  heavens  them- 
selves 
Do  strike  at  my  injustioe.  [Hemnooeyotn/s.]  How 
now  there.' 

PauL  This  news  is  mortal  to  the  queen: — Look 
down. 
And  see  what  death  is  doing. 

Leon,  Take  her  hence : 

Her  heart  is  but  o^ercharg'd ;  she  will  recover.— 

(4)  t.  e.  The  degree  of  strength  which  it  is  cus- 
tomaiy  to  acquire  before  women  an  suffered  togo 
abroad  after  child-bearing. 

(5)  Of  the  event  of  the  qneeo't  trial 


S90 


WlNTiai'S  TALE. 


Actm 


I  have  (00  much  believM  mine  own  sospickn : — 
'Beseech  you,  tenderly  apply  to  her 
Some  remedies  for  life. — Apollo,  pardon 

[Exeitnt  Paulina  and  Ladies,  ufith  Her. 
My  great  profaneness  *gainst  thine  oracle  ! — 
I  Ml  reconcile  me  to  Poiixenes ; 
New  woo  my  queen ;  recall  the  good  Camillo; 
Wliom  I  proclaim  a  man  of  truth,  of  mercy  : 
For,  being  transported  by  my  jealousies 
To  bloody  thoughts  and  to  revenge,  1  chose 
Camillo  for  the  minister,  to  poison 
My  friend  Polixenes ;  whicn  had  been  done, 
But  that  the  good  mind  of  Camillo  tardied 
My  swift  command,  though  I  with  death,  and  with 
Reward,  did  threaten  and  encourage  him. 
Not  doing  it,  and  being  done  :  he,  nKMt  humane, 
And  fiird  with  honour,  to  my  kingly  guest 
I'nclasp^d  my  practice;  quit  his  fortunes  here, 
Which  you  knew  great ;  and  to  the  certain  hazard 
Of  all  incertainties  himself  commended,! 
No  richer  than  his  honour : — How  he  glisters 
Thorough  my  rust !  and  how  his  piety 
Does  my  deeds  make  the  blacker : 

Re-enter  Paulina. 

Paul.  Wo  the  while  ! 

O,  cut  my  lace ;  lest  my  heart,  cracking  it. 
Break  too ! 

1  Lord.  What  fit  is  this,  good  lady  ? 

Paul.  What  studied  torments,  tyrant,  hast  for  me  ? 
Wliat  wheels?  racks?  fires?  What  flaying?  boiling, 
In  leads,  or  oils  ?  what  old,  or  newer  torture 
Must  I  receive ;  whose  every  word  deserves 
To  taste  of  thv  most  worst  ?  Thy  tyranny 
Together  working  with  thy  jealousies, — 
Fancies  too  weak  for  bovs,  too  green  and  idle 
For  girls  of  nine  ! — O,  think,  what  thev  have  done. 
And  then  run  mad,  indeed ;  stark  ma^  !  for  all 
Thy  bv-gone  fooleries  were  but  spices  of  it. 
That  thou  betray*dst  Polixenes,  *twas  nothing ; 
That  did  but  show  thee,  of  a  fool,  inconstant. 
And  damnable  ungrateful :  nor  wasU  much. 
Thou  would^st  have  poisonM  good  Camillo*s  honour, 
To  have  him  kill  a  king ;  poor  trespasses, 
Moie  monstrous  standing  by :  wiiereof  I  reckon 
The  casting  forth  to  crows  thy  baby  daughter. 
To  be  or  none,  or  little ;  though  a  devil 
Would  have  shed  water  out  of  fire,3  ere  done*t : 
Nor  i»'t  directly  laid  to  thee,  the  death 
Of  the  youn^  prince  ;  whose  honourable  thoughts 
(Thoughts  high  for  one  so  tender,)  cleft  the  heart 
That  could  conceive,  a  gross  and  foolish  sire 
Blemished  his  gracious  dam :  this  is-not,  no, 
Laid  to  thy  answer :  But  the  last, — O,  lords. 
When  I  have  said,  cry,  wo! — the  queen,  the  queen, 
The  sweetest,  dearest,  creature's  dead ;  and  ven- 
geance for*t 
.\ot  dropped  down  yet 

1  Lord.  The  higher  powers  forbid  I 

Paul.  I  say,  she's  dead ;  1*11  swear^t :  if  word, 
nor  oath. 
Prevail  not,  go  and  see :  if  you  can  bring 
Tincture,  or  lustre,  in  her  lip,  her  eve. 
Heat  outwiirdly,  or  breath  within,  fMl  serve  you 
As  I  would  do  the  gods.— But,  O  thou  tyrant ! 
Do  not  repent  these  things ;  for  they  are  heavier 
Than  all  thy  woes  can  stir :  therefore,  betake  thee 
To  nothing  but  despair.  A  thousand  knees 
Ten  thousand  years  toother,  naked,  fasting, 
Upon  a  barren  mountain,  and  still  winter 

(1)  Committed. 

^'2)  I.  e.  A  devil  would  have  shed  tears  of  pity, 
•  5  he  would  have  perpetrated  such  an  action. 


Tn  storm  perpetual,  cnt^M  not  move  the  gods 
To  look  that  way  thou  ivert 

Leon.  Go  on,  go  OD : 

Thou  canst  not  speak  too  much ;  I  have  desenr'd 
All  tongues  to  talk  their  bitterest 

1  Lord,  Say  no  more , 

However  the  business  goes,  you  have  made  fiiolt 
Pthe  boldness  of  your  speech. 

Paul.  I  am  sorry  fbr't ; 

All  faults  I  make,  when  I  shall  come  to  know  them, 
1  do  repent :  Alas,  I  have  showM  too  much 
The  rashness  of  a  woman :  he  is  touch'd 
To  the  noble  heart. — What's  gone,  and  what's  past 

help. 
Should  be  past  grief:  Do  not  receive  afflictioii 
At  my  petition,  I  beseech  you ;  rather 
Let  me  be  punish'd,  that  have  minded  yoa 
Of  what  you  should  forget  Now,  good  my  li^e, 
Sir,  royal  sir,  forgive  a  foolish  woman  : 
The  love  I  bore  your  queen, — lo,  fool  again ! — 
ril  speak  of  her  no  more,  nor  of  your  childr»i; 
I'll  not  remember  vou  of  my  own  lord. 
Who  is  lost  too :  l" ake  your  patience  to  you. 
And  I'll  say  nothing. 

Leon.  Thou  didst  speak  but  well. 

When  most  the  truth ;  which  I  receive  much  better 
Than  to  be  pitied  of  thee.  Pr'y  thee,  bring  me 
To  the  dead  bodies  of  my  queen,  and  bon : 
One  grave  shall  be  for  both ;  upon  them  shall 
The  causes  of  their  death  appear,  unto 
Our  shame  perpetual :  Once  a  day  I'll  visit 
The  chapel  where  they  lie ;  and  tears,  abed  there. 
Shall  be  my  recreation :  So  long  as 
Nature  will  bear  up  with  this  exercise. 
So  long  I  daily  vow  ao  use  it  Come, 
And  lead  me  to  these  sorrows.  [ElxtunL 

SCRXE  ///.—Bohemia.  A  deaert  eovniry  near 
the  sea.  Enter  Antigcous,  vnih  the  child;  and  a 
Mariner. 

Ant.   Thou  art  perfect'  then,  our  ship  hath 
touch'd  upon 
The  deserts  of  Bohemia  ? 

Mar.  Ay,  my  lord :  and  fear 

We  have  landed  in  ill  time;  me  skies  look  grimly. 
And  threaten  present  blusters.  In  my  codscience. 
The  heavens  with  that  we  have  in  hand  are  angiy. 
And  frown  upon  us. 

Ani.    Their  sacred  wills  be   dcoe! — Go,  get 
aboard ; 
Look  to  thy  bark ;  I'll  not  be  long,  before 
I  call  upon  thee. 

Mar.  Make  your  best  haste ;  and  go  not 

Too  far  i'the  land :  'tis  like  to  be  loud  weather; 
Iksides,  this  place  is  famous  for  the  creatures 
Of  prey  that  keep  upon't 

Ant.  Go  thoa  away : 

I'll  follow  instantly. 

Mar.  I  am  glad  at  heart 

To  be  so  rid  o'the  business.  [£!riif. 

Ant.  Come,  poor  babe : 

I  have  heard  (but  not  believ'd,)  the  spirit|iof  the  dead 

May  walk  again  :  if  such  thing  be,  thy  mother 

Appear'd  to  me  last  night ;  for  ne'er  was  dream 

So  like  a  waking.  To  me  comes  a  creature. 

Sometimes  her  head  on  one  side,  some  another; 

I  never  saw  a  vessel  of  like  sorrow, 

So  fill'd,  and  so  becoming :  in  pure  white  robes. 

Like  veiy  sanctity,  she  did  approach 

My  cabin  where  I  lay :  thrice  bow'd  before  roe ; 

And,  gasping  to  begin  some  speech,  har^jm 

Became  two  spouts :  the  fury  spent,  anon 

(3)  Well-assured. 


ni 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


291 


Did  this  break  from  her :  GiH>d  Antt^onat, 
5mee  faU^  against  thy  better  dixpantion. 
Hath  made  thy  per  ton  for  the  thrower-aui 
Of  my  poor  babe,  according  to  thine  oath^ — 
Plaeea  remote  enough  are  in  Bohemia, 
Hure  weep,  and  leave  it  crying  ;  and,  for  the  6a6e 
Im  counted  lost  for  ever,  Perdita, 
lpr*ythee,  calVt ;  for  this  ungentle  business^ 
rut  on  thee  by  my  lord,  thou  ne*er  shall  see 
Thy  wtfe  Paulina  more : — and  so,  with  shrieks, 
ISte  melted  into  air.  Affrighted  much, 
I  did  in  time  collect  myself;  and  thought 
This  was  so,  and  no  slumber.  Dreams  are  toys : 
Tet,  for  this  once,  yea,  superstitiously, 
I  will  be  squared  by  this,  i  do  believe, 
Hennione  hath  suffer*d  death ;  and  that 
Apollo  would,  this  being  indeed  the  issue 
Or  kio^  Polixenes,  it  should  here  be  laid, 
Either  for  life,  or  death,  upon  the  earth 

Of  its  right  father. BIosmmh,  speed  thee  well ! 

[Laying  down  the  child. 
Hme  lie ;  and  there  thy  character  .-i  there  these ; 

[Laying  down  a  bundle. 
Which  may,  if  fortune  please,  both  breed  thee, 

pretty. 
And  still  rest  thine. The  storm  begins: — Poor 

wretch. 
That,  for  thv  mother's  (ault,  art  thus  expos'd 
To  kMS,  and  what  may  follow  ! — Weep  I  cannot. 
But  my  heart  bleeds :  and  most  accurs'd  am  I, 
To  be  tfy  oath  enjoin'd  to  this. — Farewell ! 
Hie  day  frowns  more  and  more ;  thou  art  like  to 

have 
A  lullaby  too  rough :  I  never  saw 
The  heavens  so  dim  by  day.— ^A  savage  clamour? — 

Well  may  I  get  abos^ ! This  is  the  chace ; 

I  am  gone  for  ever.        [Exit,  pursued  by  a  bear. 

Enter  an  old  Shepherd. 

Ship.  I  would,  there  were  no  age  between  ten 
and  three-and-twenty ;  or  that  youth  would  sleep 
oat  the  rest :  for  there  is  nothing  in  the  between 
bat  getting  wenches  with  child,  wronging  the  an- 
cientry, stealing,  fightii^. Hark  you  now  ! — 

Woald  any  but  these  boiled  brains  of  ninet^n,  and 
two-and-twenty,  hunt  this  weather.^  They  have 
scared  awaj  two  of  my  best  sheep ;  which,  I  fear, 
the  wolf  will  sooner  find,  than  the  master :  if  any 
where  I  have  them,  'tis  by  the  sea-side,  browxing 
€Kk  ivy.  Good  luck,  an't  be  th;^  will !  what  have  we 
herer  [Taking  up  the  child.']  Mercy  on's,  a 
!  ;3  a  very  pretty  bame !  A  Doy,  or  a  child,'  I 
sr  ?  A  pretty  one ;  a  veiy  pretty  one  :  Sure, 
sca^  :  though  I  am  not  bookish,  yet  I  can 
waiting-gent^woman  in  the  scape.  This  has 
been  some  stair-work,  some  trunk-work,  sbme  be- 
lund-door-work :  they  were  warmer  that  got  this, 
than  the  poor  thing  is  here.  I'll  take  it  up  for  pity : 
jret  I'll  tarry  till  my  son  come ;  he  hoUaed  hoX 
«reo  now.     Whoa,  ho  hoa ! 

Enter  Clown. 

Clo.  Hilloa,  loa ! 

Skep,  What,  art  so  near  ?  If  thou'lt  see  a  thing 
to  tsJk  on  when  thou  art  dead  and  rotten,  come 
llither.     What  ailest  thou,  man  ? 

CZo.  1  have  seen  two  such  sights,  by  sea,  and  by 
land ; — but  I  am  not  to  say,  it  is  a  sea,  for  it  is  now 

fl)  The  writing   afterward   discovered    with 

fS)  Child.     (3)  Female  infant.     (4)  Swallowed. 
(5)  The  mantle  in  which  a  child  vtrxi  carried  to 
be  baptised. 

90 


the  sky ;  betwixt  the  firmament  and  it,  you  cannot 
thrust  a  bodkin's  point 

^lep.  Why,  boy,  how  is  it  f 

Clo.  I  would,  you  did  but  see  how  it  chafes,  how 
it  rages,  how  it  takes  up  the  shore !  but  that's  not 
to  the  point :  O,  the  most  piteous  cry  of  the  poor 
souk !  sometimes  to  see  'em,  and  not  to  see  ^m : 
now  the  ship  boring  the  moon  with  her  main-mast ; 
and  anon  swallowed  with  yest  and  froth,  as  you'd 
thrust  a  cork  into  a  hogshead.  And  then  for  the 
land  service, — To  see  how  the  bear  tore  out  his 
shoulder-bone ;  how  he  cried  to  roe  for  help,  and 
said,  his  name  was  Antigonus,  a  nobleman : — But 
to  make  an  end  of  the  uiip : — to  see  how  the  sea 
flap-dragoned^  it : — ^but,  first,  how  the  poor  souls 
roared,  and  the  sea  mocked  them ; — and  how  the 
poor  gentleman  roer'd,  and  the  bear  mocked  him, 
both  roaring  louder  than  the  sea,  or  weather. 

Shep.  'Name  of  mercy,  when  was  this,  boy  f 

Go.  Now,  now ;  I  have  not  winked  since  I  saw 
these  sights :  the  men  are  not  yet  cold  under  water, 
nor  the  bear  half  dined  on  the  gentleman ;  he's  at 
it  now. 

Shep.  Would  I  had  been  by,  to  have  helped  the 
old  man! 

do.  I  would  you  had  been  by  the  ship-side,  to 
have  helped  her ;  there  your  diarity  would  have 
lacked  footing.  [Aside. 

Shep.  Heavy  matters !  heavy  matters !  but  look 
thee  here,  boy.  Now  bless  Uiyself;  thou  met'st 
with  things  dying,  I  with  things  new  bom.  Here's 
a  sight  for  tKec ;  look  thee,  a  bearing-cloth*  for  a 
squire's  child!  Look  thee  here;  take  up,  take  up, 
boy;  opcn't.  So,  let's  see;  It  was  told  me,  I 
should  be  rich  by  the  fairies :  this  is  some  change- 
ling:*— open't :  What's  within,  boy  f 

Go.  You're  a  made  old  man ;  if  the  sins  of  your 
youth  are  forgiven  you,  you're  well  to  live.  Gold  ! 
aU  gold ! 

1^^.  This  is  foiry  gold,  boy,  and  'twill  prove  so . 
up  with  it,  keep  it  close ;  home,  home,  the  next' 
way.     We  are  lucky,  boy ;  and  to  be  so  still  re- 

2|uires  nothing  but  secrecy. — Let  my  sheep  go : — 
yome,  good  boy,  the  next  way  home. 

Go.  Go  you  the  next  way  with  your  findings ; 
I'll  go  see  if  the  bear  be  gone  from  the  gentleman, 
and  how  much  he  hath  eaten :  they  are  never  curst,* 
but  when  they  are  hungry :  if  there  be  any  of  him 
left,  I'll  bury  it 

Shep.  That's  a  good  deed :  If  thou  mav'st  dis- 
cern by  that  which  is  left  of  him,  what  he  is,  fetch 
me  to  the  sight  of  him. 

Go.  Marry,  will  I ;  and  you  shall  help  to  put 
him  i'the  ground. 

Shep.  'Tis  a  lucky  day,  boy ;  and  we'll  do  good 
deeds  on'L  [Exeunt. 


ACT  IV. 

Enter  Time,  as  Chorus, 

Ttme.  I, — that  please  some,  try  all ;  both  joy, 
and  terror. 
Of  good  and  bad ;  that  make,  and  unfold  error, — 
Now  take  upon  me,  in  the  name  of  Time, 
To  use  my  wings.     Impute  it  not  a  crime, 
To  me,  or  my  swift  ptanage,  that  I  slide 
O'er  sixteen  years,  and  leave  the  growth  untried 

(6)  Some  child  left  behind  by  the  fairiet,  in  the 
room  of  one  which  they  had  stolen. 

(7)  Nea*esU        (8)  Mischievons. 


t92 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


Act  IF, 


Of  that  wide  ffap  ;>  since  it  is  in  my  power 
To  o*erthrow  Taw,  and  in  one  self- bom  hour 
To  plant  and  o*erwheim  custom :  Let  me  pass 
The  same  I  am,  ere  ancient*8t  order  was, 
Or  what  is  now  receivM :  i  witness  to 
The  times  that  brought  them  in  ;  so  shall  I  do 
To  the  freshest  things  now  reigning ;  and  make  stale 
The  glistening  of  wis  present,  as  m^  tale 
Now  seems  to  it     Your  patience  this  allowing, 
I  turn  my  glass ;  and  give  my  scene  such  growing, 
As  you  had  slept  between.     Leontes  Icavuig 
The  effects  of  his  fond  jealousies ;  so  gpneving, 
That  he  shuts  up  himself;  imagine  me,3 
Gentle  spectators,  that  I  now  may  be 
In  fair  Bohemia ;  and  remember  well, 
I  mentioned  a  son  o*the  king's,  %vhich  Florizel 
I  DOW  name  to  you ;  and  with  speed  so  pace 
To  speak  of  Perdita,  now  grown  in  grace 
Ex]ual  with  wondVing  :  What  of  her  ensues, 
I  list  not  prophesy  ;  but  let  Time*s  news 
Be  known,  when  *tis  brought  forth  : — a  shepherd's 

daughter. 
And  what  to  ner  adheres,  which  follows  after, 
Is  the  argument^  of  Time  :    Of  this  allow ,^ 
If  ever  you  have  spent  time  worse  ere  now ; 
If  never  yet,  that  Time  himself  doth  say, 
He  wishes  earnestly,  you  never  may.  [Exit. 

SiCB^E  I. — The  same.    A  room  in  the  palace  (if 
Polixenes.     Enter  Polixenes  and  Camillo. 

Pol.  I  pray  thee,  good  Camillo,  be  no  more  im- 
portunate ;  *tis  a  sickness,  denying  thee  any  tiling ; 
a  death,  to  grant  this. 

Cam.  It  is  fifteen  years,  since  I  saw  my  countr)' : 
though  I  have,  for  the  most  part,  been  aired  abroad, 
I  desire  to  lay  my  bones  there.  Besides,  the  peni- 
tent king,  my  master,  hath  sent  for  ;iie :  to  whose 
feeling  sorrows  I  might  be  some  allay,  or  I  o*er- 
ween<  to  think  to ;  which  is  another  spur  to  my 
derarture. 

PoL  As  thou  lovest  me,  Camillo,  wipe  not  out 
the  rest  of  thy  services,  by  leaving  me  now  :  the 
need  I  have  of  thee,  thine  own  goodness  hath  made; 
better  not  to  have  had  thee,  than  thus  to  want 
thee:  thou,  having  made  me  businesses,  which 
none  without  thee  can  sufficiently  manage,  must 
either  stay  to  execute  them  thyself,  or  take  away 
with  thee  the  very  services  thou  hast  done  :  which 
if  I  have  not  enough  considered  (as  too  much  1 
cannot,)  to  be  more  thankful  to  thee,  shall  be  mv 
study  ;  and  my  profit  therein,  the  heaping  friena- 
•hips.^  Of  that  fatal  country,  Sicilia,  pr  y  thee  »pcak 
no  more :  whose  very  naming  punishes  me  witli  the 
remembrance  of  that  penitent,  as  thou  calPst  him, 
and  reconciled  king,  my  brother ;  whose  loss  of 
his  most  precious  queen,  and  children,  are  even  now 
to  be  afresh  lamented.  Say  to  me,  when  saw'st 
thou  the  prince  Florizel  my  son  ?  Kings  are  no  less 
unhappy,  their  issue  not  being  gracious,  than  they 
are  in  losing  them,  when  they  have  approved  their 
virtues. 

Cam.  Sir,  it  is  three  dayv,  since  I  saw  the  prince  : 
What  his  happier  affairs  may  be,  are  to  me  un- 
known :  but  i  have,  missingly,  noted,?  he  is  of  late 
much  retired  from  court ;  and  is  less  frequent  to  his 
princely  exercises,  than  formerly  he  hath  appeared. 

PoL  I  have  considered  so  much,  Camillo ;  and 

(1)  t.  e.  Leave  unexamined  the  progress  of  the 
iiitennediate  time  which  filled  up  toe  gap  in  Per- 
dita's  story. 

(2)  Imagine  for  me.    (3)  Subject    (4)  Approve. 
^5)  Think  too  highly.        (6)  Friendly  omcet. 
(7)  Obsened  at  intenals.        (8)  Tnlk. 


with  some  care  ;  so  (ar,  diat  I  have  eyes  under  my 
itervicc,  which  look  upon  his  reroovedness  :  from 
whom  I  have  this  intelligence ;  That  he  is  seldut 
Irani  the  house  of  a  most  homely  shepherd ;  a  man, 
they  say,  that  from  verv  nothing,  and  beyond  the 
itnagiiiation  of  his  neighboun,  is  grown  into  an 
uiisuc>akable  estate. 

Cam.  I  have  heard,  sir,  of  such  a  man,  who  Imth 
a  daughter  of  most  rare  note :  the  report  of  her  is 
extended  nrK>re,  than  can  be  thought  to  befpn  froia 
a»uch  a  cottage. 

PoL  That's  likewise  part  of  my  intelligtence. 
But,  I  fear  the  angle  that  plucks  our  son  thither. 
Thou  shalt  accompany  us  to  the  place :  where  we 
ivill,  not  appearing  what  we  are,  have  some  qoes- 
tion^  with  the  shepherd  ;  from  whose  simplicity,  I 
think  it  not  uncasv  to  get  the  cause  of  my  80O*s 
I  c!$urt  thither.  Pr'ytbee,  be  my  present  partner  in 
this  business,  and  lay  aside  the  thoughts  of  Skrilia. 

Cam.  I  willingly  obey  vour  command. 

PoL  My  best  Camillo  .'—We  must  diseuise  our- 
!>clves.  [£x«sail. 

SCEJSTE  Il^The  same.    A  road  near  the  Sh^ 
herd's  cottage.     Enter  Autolycus,  smging;. 

If 'ken  daffodils  begin  to  peer^ 

iVithjiuigh  !  the  doxy  over  the  dale, — 
jyhyy  then  comes  in  the  stout  o*the  year  ; 

For  the  red  blood  reigns  in  the  winter^ s  pak.^ 
The  white  sheet  bleaching  on  the  hedge, — . 

fi^ithf  hey  !  the  stoeet  btrdSf  O,  how  they  ^ng  .'— 
Doth  set  my  pvgging^^  tooth  an  edge  ; 

For  a  qttart  of  ale  is  a  dish  for  a  king. 
The  lark  J  that  tirra-Urra  chants, — 

IFiYA,  hey  !  toitk,  hey!  the  thruA  and  the  jay: — 
Are  summer-songs  for  me  and  my  at(ni«,ti 

While  we  lie  tumbling  in  the  hay. 
I  have  served  prince  Florizel,  and,  in  my  time,  won 
three-pile  ;13  but  now  I  am  out  of  service : 

But  shall  I  go  mourn  for  thai,  my  dear? 

The  pale  moon  shines  by  night : 
And  when  I  wander  here  and  there, 

I  then  do  mast  go  right. 

If  tinkers  may  have  leave  to  live. 

And  bear  the  sow-skin  budget ; 
Then  my  account  I  well  may  give. 

And  tn  the  stocks  avouch  it. 

My  traffic  is  sheets ;  when  the  kite  bQilds,  look  to 
lesser  linen.  My  father  named  roe,  Autolycus ; 
who,  being,  as  I  am,  littered  under  Mercury,  wai 
likewise  a  snapper-up  of  unconsidered  tn6es: 
With  die,  and  arab,  I  purchased  this  caparison ; 
and  my  revenue  is  the  silly  cheat :"  Gallows,  and 
knock,  are  too  powerful  on  the  highway  :  beating, 
and  hanging,  are  terrors  to  me ;  for  the  life  to  come, 
I  sleep  out  the  thought  of  it — A  |nize !  a  prize ! 

Enter  Clown. 

Clo.  Let  me  sec  : — Every  Meven  wether — tods  ;M 

every  tod  yields— -pound  and  odd  shilling :  fifteen 

hundred  shorn, — What  comes  the  wool  to.' 

AiU,  If  the  springe  hold,  the  cock*s  mine.  \Aside, 

Clo.  I  cannot  do*t  without  counters. i^ — Let  oie 

(9)  t.  e.  The  spring  blood  reigns  over  the  pnrti 
lately  under  the  dominion  of  winter. 

(10)  Thievish.  (11)  Doxies. 

(12)  Rich  velvet  (13)  Picking  pockHtL 

(14)  Eveiy  eleven  sheep  will  produce  a  tod  or 
twenty-eight  pounds  of  wool 

(15)  Circular  pieces  of  base  metal,  anciently  osed 
by  the  illiterate,  to  adjust  their  reckonings. 


HI. 


WINTER'S  TALE 


293 


e ;  what  I  am  to  buy  for  our  sheep-shearing  feast  ? 
ftree  pound  q/"  sugar  ;  Jive  pound  qf  eurranU  ; 
e»  What  will  this  sister  of  mine  do  with  rice  ? 
It  my  father  hath  made  her  mistress  of  the  feast, 
id  toe  lays  it  on.  She  hath  made  ine  four-and- 
'caty  nose^ys  for  the  shearers :  three-man  song- 
en'  all,  and  very  rood  ones ;  but  they  are  most 
them  means3  and  bases :  but  one  Puritan  amongst 
em,  and  he  sings  psalms  to  hornpipes.  I  must 
iTo  aaffrony  to  colour  the  warden'  pies ;  mace^ — 
icf , — none ;  that*s  out  of  my  note :  nuimegtf 
9tH;  a  raee^  or  two,  qf  ginger ;  but  that  I  may 
f^'i—/our  pound  of  prunes^  and  at  many  qf 
uinto^Uie  sun, 
AuL  O,  that  ever  I  was  bom  ! 

[Groveiling  on  Ihe  ground. 

do.  Pthe  name  of  me, 

Aui.  O,  help  me,  help  me !  pluck  but  off  these 
gi ;  and  then,  death,  death  ! 
Clo.  Alack,  poor  soul !  thou  hast  need  of  more 
gi  to  lav  on  tnee,  rather  than  have  these  off. 
MuL  O,  sir,  the  loathsomeness  of  them  offends 
B  more  dian  the  stripes  I  have  received  ;  which 
e  mightv  ones  and  millions. 
Clo.  Alas,  poor  man !  a  million  of  beating  may 
RMS  to  a  great  matter. 

AuL  I  am  robbed,  sir,  and  beaten  ;  my  money 
d  apparel  ta*en  from  me,  and  these  detestable 
um  put  upon  me. 

(So.  What,  by  a  horse-man,  or  a  foot-man  ? 
AuL* A  foot-man,  sweet  sir,  a  foot-man. 
do.  Indeed,  he  should  be  a  foot-man,  by  the 
jments  he  has  left  with  thee ;  if  this  be  a  horse- 
yi*s  coat,  it  hath  seen  veiy  hot  service.  Lend  me 
f  hand,  1*11  help  thee :  come,  lend  me  thv  hand. 

[Helping  him  up. 
AuL  O I  good  sir,  tenderly,  oh ! 
do.  Alas,  poor  soul. 

Aui.  O,  good  sir,  soflly,  good  sir :  I  fear,  sir, 
f  dioulder-blade  is  out 
do.  How  now  ?  canst  stand  ? 
AuL  Soflly,  dear  sir ;  [Picks  his  pockety  good 
,  toftly :  you  ha*  done  me  a  charitable  ofnce. 
Ch.    Dost  lack  any  money.'  I  have  a  little 
mey  for  thee. 

AuL  No,  good  sweet  sir ;  no,  I  beseech  you,  sir : 
iBve  a  kinsman  not  past  three-ouarters  of  a  mile 

unto  whom  I  was  going ;  I  shall  there  have 
tj,  or  any  tiling  I  want :  Offer  me  no  money, 
imj  you ;  that  kills  my  heart. 
do.  What  manner  of^  fellow  was  he  that  robbed 
nf 

Aui.  A  fellow,  sir,  that  I  have  known  to  go 
imt  with  trol-my-damcs  r*  I  knew  him  once  a  ser- 
■t  of  the  prince ;  I  cannot  tell,  good  sir,  for 
ildi  of  his  virtues  it  was,  but  he  was  certainly 
lipped  out  of  the  court. 

Clo.  His  vices,  you  would  say ;  there*s  no  virtue 
lipped  out  of  the  court :  they  cherish  it,  to  make 
iCaj  there ;  and  yet  it  will  no  more  but  abide.* 
AuL  Vices  I  would  say,  sir.  I  know  this  man 
\\ :  be  hath  been  since  an  ape-bearer ;  then  a 
)ces»-server,  a  bailiff;  then  he  compassed  amo- 
nl<*  of  the  prodigal  son,  and  married  a  tinker*s 
fe  within  a  mile  where  my  land  and  living  lies ; 
d,  having  fbwn  over  many  knavish  professions, 
settled  only  in  rogue :  some  call  him  Autolycus. 
do.  Out  upon  him !  Prig,'  for  my  life,  prig :  he 

waket,  fairs,  and  be^J^baitings. 


I)  Singers  of  catches  in  three  parts. 
'   Tenors.  (3)  A  species  of  pears. 

(4)  The  machine  used  in  the  game  of  pigeon- 


AuL  Very  trtie,  sir ;  he,  sir,  he ;  that's  the  rogue, 
that  put  me  into  this  apparel. 

Clo,  Not  a  more  cowardly  rogue  in  all  Bohemia ; 
if  you  had  but  kx>ked  big,  and  spit  at  him,  he*d 
have  run. 

Aui,  I  must  confess  to  yon,  sir,  I  am  no  fighter : 
I  am  false  of  heart  that  way ;  and  that  he  knew,  I 
warrant  him. 

Clo,  How  do  you  now  } 

Aui,  Sweet  sir,  much  better  than  I  was ;  I  can 
stand,  and  walk :  I  will  even  take  my  leave  of  you, 
and  pace  softly  towards  my  lMnsman*s. 

Clo.  Shall  I  bring  thee  on  the  way  > 

Aui.  No,  good-faced  sir ;  no,  sweet  sir. 

Clo.  Then  fere  thee  well ;  I  must  go  buy  Kpiceo 
for  our  sheep-shearing. 

Aut,  Prosper  you,  sweet  sir! — [Exit  Clown.] 
Your  purse  is  not  hot  enough  to  purchase  your 
spice.  1*11  be  with  vou  at  )rour  sheep-shearing  too : 
If  I  make  not  this  cheat  brine  out  another,  and  the 
shearers  prove  sheep,  let  me  be  unrolled,  and  my 
name  put  in  the  book  of  virtue ! 

Jog  oUy  jog  on,  ihe  foot-paOi  uwy, 

And  mtnily  heni^  the siiU-a  .• 
A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day. 

Your  sad  tires  in  a  miU-a.         *       [Exit 

SCEJVE  HI.— The  same.  A  shtphtr^s  cottage. 
Enier  Florizel  and  Peidita. 

f7o.  These  your  unusual  weeds  to  each  part  of  you 
Do  give  a  life :  no  shepherdess ;  but  Flora, 
Peering  in  April*s  front  This  your  sheep-shearing 
Is  as  a  meeting  of  the  petty  gods, 
And  you  the  queen  on*t 

Per,  Sir,  my  gracious  lord, 

To  chide  at  your  extremes,^  it  not  becomes  me ; 
O,  pardon,  that  I  name  them :  your  high  self. 
The  g^cious  mark'O  o*the  land,  you  have  obscur'd 
With  a  swain*s  wearing ;  and  me,  poor  lowly  maid. 
Most  goddess-like  prank*d  up  :ii  But  that  our  feast* 
In  ever^  mess  have  folly,  and  the  feeders 
Digest  it  with  a  custom,  I  should  blush. 
To  see  you  so  attired ;  sworn,  I  think. 
To  show  myself  a  glass. 

Flo,  I  bless  the  time. 

When  my  eood  falcon  made  her  flight  across 
Thy  father's  ground. 

Per.  Now  Jove  afford  you  cause  ! 

To  nne,  the  difference'^  foiges  dread ;  your  greatneiw 
Hath  not  been  us*d  to  fear.     Even  now  I  tremble 
To  think,  your  father,  by  some  accident, 
Should  pass  this  way,  as  you  did :  O,  the  fates ! 
How  would  he  look,  to  see  his  work,  so  noble. 
Vilely  bound  up.^     What  would  he  say  ?  Or  how 
Should  I,  in  these  my  borrow*d  flaunts,  bahold 
The  sternness  of  his  presence  ? 

FTo,  Apprehend 

Nothing  but  jollity.    The  gods  themselves,       ^ 
Humbling  tfaieir  deities  to  love,  have  taken 
The  shapes  of  beasts  upon  them :  Jupiter 
Became  a  bull,  and  bellow'd ;  the  green  Neptune 
A  ram,  and  bleated ;  and  the  fire-rw*d  god, 
Golden  Apollo,  a  poor  humble  twain. 
As  I  seem  now :  Their  transformations 
Were  never  for  a  piece  of  beauty  rarer; 
Nor  ill  a  way  so  cnaste :  since  my  desires 
Run  not  before  mine  honour ;  nor  my  lusts 
Bum  hotter  than  my  faith. 

(5)  Sofoom.       (6)  Puppet^how.        (7)  Thiefl 

(8)  Take  hold  of.  (9)  Excesses. 

(10)  Object  of  all  men*s  notice. 

(1  n  Dressed  with  ostentatioo.  (12)  i  e.  Of  station. 


f94 


WLVTER'S  TALE. 


Ad  IT. 


Per.  O  but,  dear  sir, 

Tour  resolutioo  cannot  bold,  when  'tis 
Oppos'd,  as  it  roust  be,  bj  the  power  o^the  king : 
One  of  these  two  must  be  necessities. 
Which  then  will  speak ;  that  you  must  change  this 

purpose. 
Or  I  roy  hfe. 

Fh.  Thou  dearest  Perdita, 

With  these  forcM^  thoughts,  I  pr*ythee,  darken  not 
The  mirth  o'the  feast :  Or  Til  be  thine,  my  £ur. 
Or  not  my  father*s :  for  I  cannot  be 
Mine  own,  nor  any  thing  to  any,  if 
1  be  not  thine :  to  this  I  am  most  constant. 
Though  destiny  say,  JVb.    Be  mernr,  gentle ; 
Strangle  such  thoughts  as  these,  with  any  thing 
That  you  behold  the  while.     Your  guests  are 

coming : 
Lift  up  your  countenance ;  as  it  were  the  day 
Of  celebration  of  that  nuptial,  which 
We  two  have  sworn  shall  come. 

Per.  O  lady  fortune, 

Stand  you  auspicious ! 

Enter  Shej^rd,  with  Polixenes  and  Camillo,  dis- 
guised ;  Ck)wn,  Mopsa,  Dorcas,  and  others. 

Flo.     •  See,  your  guests  approach : 

Address  yourself  to  entertain  them  sprightly. 
And  let^s  be  red  with  mirth. 

Shq9.  Fie,  daughter !  when  my  old  wife  Iiv*d, 
upon 
This  day,  she  was  both  pantler,  butler,  cook ; 
Both  dame  and  servant :  welcomM  all ;  served  all : 
Would  sing  her  song,  and  dance  her  turn :  now  here, 
At  upper  end  o*the  table,  now,  i^the  middle ; 
On  his  shoulder,  and  his  :  her  face  o^fire 
With  labour ;  and  the  thing  she  took  to  quench  it, 
She  would  to  each  one  sip :  You  are  retired, 
.\!i  if  you  were  a  feasted  one,  and  not 
The  liostess  of  the  meeting :  Pray  you,  bid 
These  unknown  friends  to  us  welcome :  for  it  is 
A  way  to  make  us  better  friends,  more  known. 
Come,  quench  your  blushes ;  and  present  yourself 
That  which  you  are,  mistress  o*the  feast :  Come  on, 
And  bid  us  welcome  to  vour  sheep-shearing. 
As  your  good  flock  shall  prosper. 

Per.  Welcome,  sir!  [To  Pol. 

It  is  my  father^s  will,  I  should  take  on  me 
The  hostess-ship  o*the  day  : — You're  welcome,  sir ! 

[To  Camillo. 
Gire  me  those  flowers  there,  Dorcas. — Reverend 

sirs. 
For  you  there's  rosemary,  and  rue ;  these  keep 
Seeming,  and  savour,^  all  the  winter  long : 
Grace,  and  remembrance,  be  to  you  both. 
And  welcome  to  our  shearii^  I 

Pol.  Shepherdess 

A  fair  one  are  you,)  well  you  fit  our  ages 
'Vilh  flowers  of  winter. 

Per.  Sir,  the  year  growing  ancient, — 

Not  yet  on  summer's  death,  nor  on  the  birth 
Of  trembling  winter, — the  fairest  flowers  o'the 

season 
Are  our  carnations,  and  streak'd  gillyflowers, 
Which  some  call  nature's  bastards :  of  that  kind 
Our  rustic  garden's  barren ;  and  I  care  not 
To  get  slips  of  them. 

PoL  Wherefore,  gentle  maiden, 

Do  you  n^lect  them  ? 

Per.  For"  I  have  heard  it  said, 

There  is  an  art,  which,  in  their  piedness,  shares 
With  great  creating  nature. 

(1)  Far-fetched.  (2)  Likeness  and  smell. 

(3)  Because  that        (4)  A  tool  to  set  plants. 


k' 


PoL  Say,  there  be; 

Yet  nature  is  made  better  by  no  mean. 
But  nature  makes  that  mean  :  so,  o'er  that  art, 
Which,  you  say,  adds  to  nature,  is  an  art 
That  nature  makes.  You  see,  sweet  maid,  we  many 
A  gentler  scion  to  the  wildest  stock ; 
And  make  conceive  a  baik  of  baser  kind 
By  bud  of  nobler  race ;  Thu  is  an  art 
Which  does  mend  nature, — change  it  rather :  bol 
The  art  itself  is  nature. 

Per.  So  it  is. 

PoL  Then  make  your  garden  rich  in  gillyflowers, 
And  do  not  call  them  bastards. 

Per,  rU  not  pot 

The  dibble^  in  earth  to  set  one  slip  of  them : 
No  nK>re  than,  were  I  painted,  I  would  wish 
This  youth  should  say,  'twere  well;   and  only 

therefore 
Desire  to  breed  by  me. — Here's  flowers  ibr  you ! 
Hot  lavender,  mints,  savory,  marjoram ; 
The  marigold,  that  goes  to  bed  with  the  sun, 
And  with  him  rises  weeping ;  these  are  flowers 
Of  middle  summer,  and,  I  think,  they  are  given 
To  men  of  middle  age :  You  are  very  welcome. 

Cam.  I  should  leave  g^razing,  were  1  of  your  flock. 
And  only  live  by  gazing. 

Per.  Out,  alas ! 

You'd  be  so  lean,  that  blasts  of  January 
Would  blow  you  through  and  through. — Now,  iny 

fiairest  friend, 
I  would  I  had  some  flowers  o'the  spring,  that  might 
Rocome  your  time  of  day ;  and  yours,  and  yoon ; 
That  wear  upon  vour  viiigin  branches  yet 
Vour  maidenheaos  growing : — O  Proserpina, 
For  the  flowers  now,  that,  frif^ted,  tboa  lett'st  fall 
From  Dis's*  waggon !  daffodils, 
That  come  before  the  swallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty ;  violets,  dim, 
Hut  sweeter  than  the  hds  of  Juno's  eyes. 
Or  Cytherea's  breath ;  pale  primroses. 
That  die  unmarried,  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  I^cebus  in  his  strength,  a  malady 
Most  incident  to  maids ;  bold  oxiips,  and 
The  crown-imperial ;  lilies  of  all  kinds. 
The  flower-de-luce  being  one !  O,  these  I  lack. 
To  make  you  garlands  of;  and,  my  sweet  friend. 
To  strew  him  o'er  and  o'er. 

Flo.  What  f  like  a  cone  ? 

Per.  No,  like  a  bank,  for  love  to  lie  and  play  on : 
Not  like  a  corse :  or  if, — not  to  be  buried. 
But  quick,6  and  in  mine  arms.    Come,  take  yoni 

flowers : 
Methinks,  I  play  as  I  have  seen  them  do 
In  Whitsun'  pastorals :  sure,  this  robe  of  mine 
l>or;9  change  my  disposition. 

Mo.  What  you  do. 

Still  betters  what  is  done.  ^Iten  you  speak,  sweet, 
rd  have  you  do  it  ever :  when  you  sing, 
rd  have  you  buy  and  sell  so;  so  g:ive  alms; 
Pray  so;  and,  for  the  ordering  your  affairs, 
To  sing  them  too :  When  you  do  dance,  I  wish  yon 
A  wave  o'the  sea,  that  you  might  ever  do 
Nothing  but  that ;  move  still,  still  so,  and  own 
\o  other  function :  Each  your  doing. 
So  singular  in  each  particular, 
Cwwns  what  you  are  doing  in  the  present  deeds. 
That  all  your  acts  are  queens. 

Per.  O  Doricles, 

Your  praises  are  too  large :  but  that  year  youth. 


(5)  Pluto's. 


(6^  Livinc. 


Scene  m. 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


S96 


Yoa  woo'd  me  the  false  way. 

Fio.  I  think  yoa  have 

As  little  skill  to  fear,  as  I  have  purpose 
To  put  you  to't — But,  come ;  our  dance,  I  pray : 
Your  hand,  my  Perdita :  so  turtles  pair. 
That  never  mean  to  part 

Per.  VW  swear  for  'em. 

PoL  This  is  the  prettiest  low-bom  lass,  that  ever 
Ran  oo  the  green-sward  :>  nothing  she  does,  or 

seems, 
But  mriacks  of  something  greater  than  herself; 
Too  noble  for  this  place. 

Cam.  He  tells  her  something. 
That  makes  her  blood  look  out :  Good  sooth,  she  is 
The  cjueen  of  curds  and  cream. 

GZo.  Come  on,  strike  up. 

Dor,   Mopsa  must  be  your  mistress:  marry, 
earlic. 
To  mend  her  kissing  with. — 

Mop.  Now,  in  &;ood  time  ! 

do.  Not  a  word,  a  word;  we  stand  upon  our 
manners. — 
Come,  strike  up.  [Music. 

Here  a  dance  qf  shepherds  and  shepherdesses. 

PoL  Pray,  good  shepherd,  what 
Pair  twain  istUs,  which  dances  with  your  daughter.' 

i^ep.  They  call  him  Doricles,  and  he  boasts 
himself 
To  have  a  worthy  feeding^  :3  but  I  have  it 
Upon  his  own  report,  ana  I  believe  it ; 
He  looks  like  sooth  :>     He  says,  he  loves  my 

daughter ; 
I  think  so  too;  for  never  gaz'd  the  moon 
Upon  the  water,  as  he'll  stand,  and  read. 
As  'twere,  my  daughter's  eyes :  and,  to  be  plain, 
[  think  there  is  not  half  a  kiss  to  choose, 
l¥ho  loves  another  best 

PoL  She  dances  featly.^ 

Ship.  Soshe does  any  thing;  though  I  report  it, 
riuit  should  be  silent :  if  young  Doncles 
Do  light  upon  her,  she  shall  bring  him  that 
Which  he  not  dreams  of 

Enter  a  Servant 

Serv.  O  master,  if  vou  did  but  hear  the  pedler 
it  the  door,  you  would  never  dance  again  after  a 
abor  and  pipe ;  no,  the  bagpipe  could  not  move 
roa :  be  sings  several  tunes,  faster  than  you'll  tell 
iKKiey ;  he  utters  them  as  he  had  eaten  ballads, 
ad  all  men's  ears  grew  to  his  tunes. 

Qo.  He  could  never  come  better :  he  shall  come 
a :  I  love  a  ballad  but  even  too  well ;  if  it  be  dole- 
nl  matter,  merrily  set  down,  or  a  very  pleasant 
liiiig  indeed,  and  sung  lamentably. 

Sero,  He  hath  songs,  for  man  or  woman,  of  all 
iwt:  no  milliner  can  so  fit  his  customers  with 
lores :  he  has  the  prettiest  love-songs  for  maids ; 
)  without  bawdry,  which  is  strange ;  with  such  de- 
cafe  burdens  of  dildos  and  fadings ;  jump  her 
nd  Ihump  her ;  and  where  some  stretcb-mouth'd 
ucal  would,  as  it  were,  mean  mischief,  and  break 
ion\  gap  into  the  matter,  he  makes  the  maid  to 
nfwer,  tVhoopj  do  me  no  Aarm,  good  man ;  puts 
im  off,  slights  him,  with  iVhoop,  do  me  no  harm, 
yiodman. 

PoL  This  is  a  brave  fellow. 

(1)  Green  turf. 

(2)  A  valuable  tract  of  pastur^e. 

(3)  Troth.  (4)  Neatly. 

(5)  Plain  goods.  (6)  Worsted  galloon, 

(7)  A  kind  of  tape.  (8)  The  cutTs. 

(9)  The  work  about  the  bosom. 


do.  Believe  me,  thou  talkest  of  an  admirable 
conceited  fellow.     Has  he  any  unbraided  wares .'' 

Serv.  He  hath  ribands  of  all  the  colours  i'the 
rainbow  ;  points,  more  than  all  the  lawyers  in  Bo- 
hemia can  learnedly  handle,  though  they  come  to 
him  by  the  gross;  inkles,'  caddisses,^  cambrics, 
lawns:  whv,  he  sings  them  over,  as  they  were 
gods  or  goddesses ;  you  would  think  a  smock  were 
a  she-angel ;  he  so  chants  to  the  sleeve-hand,^  and 
the  work  about  the  square  oo't^ 

Clo.  Pr'ythee,  bring  him  in;  and  let  him  ap- 
proach singing. 

Per.  Forewarn  him,  that  he  use  no  scurrilous 
words  in  his  tunes. 

Clo.  You  have  of  these  pedlers,  that  have  wate 
in  'em  than  you'd  think,  sister. 

Per.  Ay,  good  brother,  or  go  about  to  think. 

Enter  Autolycus,  singing. 

Liawn,  as  white  as  driven  snow  ; 
Cyprus,  black  as  e'er  was  crow  ; 
Gloves,  as  sweet  as  damask  roses  ; 
Masks  for  faces,  and  for  noses  ; 
Bugle  bracelet,  necklace-amber, 
Perfume  for  a  ladu^s  chamber  ;W 
Golden  guoifs,  and  stomachers^ 
For  my  lads  to  give  their  dears  ; 
Pins  and  poking-sticks  of  steel. 
What  maids  lade  from  head  to  heel : 
Come,  buy  of  me,  come ;  come  buy,  come  buy ; 
Buy,  lads,  or  else  your  lasses  cry  ; 
Come,  buy,  ifc. 

Clo.  If  I  were  not  in  love  with  Mopsa,  thoa 
should'st  take  no  money  of  me;  but  being  enthrall'd 
as  I  am,  it  will  also  be  the  bondage  of  certain 
ribands  and  gloves. 

Mop.  I  was  promis'd  them  against  the  feast; 
but  they  come  not  too  late  now. 

Dor.  He  hath  promised  you  more  than  that,  or 
there  be  liars. 

Mop.  He  hath  paid  you  all  he  promised  you  : 
may  be  he  has  paid  you  more ;  which  will  shame 
you  to  give  him  again. 

Clo.  Is  there  no  manners  leA  among  maids .'  will 
they  wear  their  plackets,  where  they  should  bear 
their  faces .'  Is  there  not  milking-time,  when  .you 
are  going  to-bed,  or  kiln-hole,^^  to  whistle  off  these 
secrets ;  but  you  must  be  tittle-tattling  before  all 
our  guests .'  'Tis  well  they  are  whispering :  Cla- 
mour your  tongues,^  and  not  a  word  more. 

Mop.  I  have  done.  Come,  you  promised  me  a. 
tawdiy  lace,  13  and  a  pair  of  sweet  glovra. 

do.  Have  I  not  told  thee,  how  I  was  cozened 
by  the  way,  and  lost  all  my  money  } 

Aid.  And,  indeed,  sir,  tKere  are  cozeners  abroad; 
therefore  it  behoves  men  to  be  wary. 

do.  Fear  not  thou,  man,  thou  shalt  lose  nothing 
here. 

Aut.  I  hope  so,  sir ;  for  I  have  about  me  many 
parcels  of  change. 

Clo.  What  hast  here.'  ballads.' 

Mop.  Pray  now,  buy  some :  I  love  a  ballad  in 
print,  a'-life ;  for  then  we  are  sure  they  are  true. 

Aut.  Here's  one  to  a  very  doleful  tune,  How  a 
usurer's  wife  was  brought  to-bed  of  twenty  money- 
bags at  a  burden ;  and  how  she  longed  to  eat  ad- 
ders' heads,  and  toads  carbonadoed. 

(10)  Amber,  of  which  necklaces  were  made  fit 
to  perfume  a  lady's  chamber. 

(11)  Fire-place  for  drying  malt;  still  a  noted 
•50?$!  pine-place. 

(12)  Ring  a  dumb  peal. 

(13)  A  lace  to  wear  about  the  head  or  waiit 


f96 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


Actir. 


Mcf.  Is  it  true,  thmk  Ton  ? 

AvL  Very  true ;  and  but  a  month  old. 

Dor.  Bless  roe  from  mamring  a  usurer ! 

Aui.  Here*8  the  midwife^i  name  to\  one  mis- 
trass  Taleporter ;  and  five  or  six  honest  wives*  that 
were  present :  Why  should  I  carry  lies  abroad  ? 

Mop.  Pray  you  now,  buy  it 

Clo.  Come  on,  lay  it  by :  And  let*8  first  see  more 
ballads ;  weMI  buy  the  other  things  anon. 

Avi.  Here^s  another  ballad,  <a  a  fish,  that  ap- 
peared upon  the  coast,  on  Wednesday  the  fourscore 
oC  April,  forty  thousand  fathom  above  watier,  and 
sang  this  ballad  against  the  hard  hearts  of  maids : 
it  was  thought  she  was  a  woman,  and  was  turned 
into  a  cold  fish,  for  Ae  would  not  exchange  flesh 
with  one  that  loved  her :  The  ballad  is  very  pitiful, 
and  as  true. 

Dor.  Is  it  true  too,  think  you  ? 

Aui.  Five  justices*  hands  at  it;  and  witnesses, 
more  than  my  pack  will  hold. 

Cio.  Lay  it  by  too :  Another. 

Aui.  This  is  a  meny  ballad ;  but  a  veiy  pretty 
one. 

Mop.  Let's  have  some  meny  ones. 

Aui.  Why  this  is  a  pacing  meny  one;  andgoe:^ 
to  the  tune  c^,  Two  maids  wooing  a  man :  there'8 
scarce  a  maid  westward,  but  she  sings  it ;  'tis  in 
request,  I  can  tell  you. 

M(qt.  We  can  both  sing  it ;  if  thou'lt  bear  a  part, 
thou  shalt  hear ;  'tis  in  three  parts. 

Dor.  We  had  the  tune  on't  a  month  ago. 

Aui.  I  can  bear  my  part;  you  mustknoiv,  'ti» 
my  occupation :  have  at  it  with  you. 

SONG. 
A.  Gei  you  hence,  for  Imusi  go ; 
IVhere^  U  Jits  not  you  to  knmo. 

D.  Whither?    U.O,whHher?  D.  Whither? 
M.  It  becomes  thy  oath  full  wellf 
Thou  to  me  thy  secrets  tell: 

D.  Me  toOf  let  me  go  ihiiher. 

M.  Or  thou  go*si  to  the  grange,  or  mill 
D.  If  to  either,  thou  dost  ill 

A.JV'either.   D.TVhai,  neither?  A.J^either. 
D.  Thou  hast  suHnm  my  love  to  be  ; 
M.  Thou  hast  summ  it  more  to  me : 

Then,  whither  go*st?  say,  whither? 

Go.  We'll  have  this  song  out  anon  by  ourselves  : 
My  father  and  the  gentlemen  are  in  sad^  talk,  and 
we'll  not  trouble   them:  Come,  bring  away  thy 

gack  after  me.    Wenches,  I'll  buy  for  you  both  :— 
fedler,  let's  have  the  first  choice. — Follow  me,  erirls. 
Aut.  And  you  shall  pay  well  for  *em.    [Aside. 

Will  you  buy  any  tape. 

Or  lace  for  your  cane. 
My  dainty  dude,  my  dear-a? 

Any  siUc,  any  thread. 

Any  toys  for  your  head, 
Of  the  newest,  and  finest,  Jin'st  loear-a  ? 

Come  to  the  pedler  ; 

Money^s  a  medler. 
That  doth  utter^  all  men^s  unre-a. 

[Exe^int  Clown,  Autolycus,  Dorcas,  and 
Mopsa. 

Enter  a  Servant 

Sen.  Master,  there  is  three  carters,  three  shep- 
herds, three  neat-herds,  three  swine-herds,  that 
have  made  themselves  all  men  of  hair ;'  they  call 

(1)  Serious.  (2)  Vend. 

(3)  Dresited  them<ielvcs  in  habits  imitating  hair. 

(4)  Satyr*.         f5)  Mcd'.j-y.       («^  Foot-rule. 


themselves  saltiers  ^  and  they  have  a  dance  which 
the  wenches  say  is  a  gallimaufry^  of  gambols,  be- 
cause they  are  not  in't ;  but  they  thonselves  an: 
o'the  mind  (if  it  be  not  too  rough  for  some,  that 
know  little  but  bowling,)  it  will  please  plentifully. 

Shep.  Away!  we'll  none  on't;  here  has  been 
too  much  humble  foolery  akt»dy : — I  know,  sir, 
we  weary  you. 

PoL  You  weary  those  that  refresh  os :  Piay  let's 
see  these  four  threes  of  herdsmen. 

Serv.  One  three  of  them,  by  their  own  report, 
sir,  hath  danced  before  the  king ;  and  not  the  wor>t 
of  the  three,  but  jumps  twelve  foot  and  a  half  by 
the  squire.^ 

Shep.  Leave  your  prating ;  since  these  good  men 
are  pleased,  let  them  come  in ;  but  quickly  now. 

Serv.  Why,  they  stay  at  door,  sir.  [Exit. 

Re-enter  Servant,  with  twelve  rustics,  habited  like 
Satyrs.     They  dance,  and  then  exeunt. 

Pol  O,  father,  you'll  know  more  of  that  here- 
after.— 
Is  it  not  too  far  gone  ?— 'Tis  time  to  part  them  — 
He's  simple,  and  tells  much.  [Aside.]— U<m  no%v, 

fair  shepherd  f 
Vour  heart  is  full  of  something,  that  does  take 
Vour  mind  from  feasting.  Sooth,  when  I  wasyoun?. 
And  handed  love,  as  you  do,  I  was  wont  '^* 

To  load  my  she  with  knacks :  I  would  have  ran- 

sack'd 
The  pedler's  silken  treasury,  and  have  poar'd  it 
To  her  acceptance ;  you  have  let  him  go, 
Add  nothing  marted?  with  him :  if  your  lass 
Interpretation  should  abuse;  and  call  this 
\'our  lack  of  love,  or  bounty :  you  were  straikd  < 
For  a  reply,  at  least,  if  you  nmke  a  care 
Of  happy  holding  her. 

Fto.  Old  sir,  I  know 

She  prizes  not  such  trifles  as  these  are  : 
The  gifts,  she  looks  from  me,  are  pack'd  and  lock'd 
Tp  in  my  heart;  which  I  have  given  already. 
But  not  deliver'd. — O,  hear  me  breathe  my  lile 
Before  this  ancient  sir,  who,  it  should  seem, 
llHth  sometime  lov'd :  I  take  thy  hand  ;  this  hand, 
A?*  «oft  as  dove's  down,  and  as  white  as  it ; 
Or  Ethiopian's  tooth,  or  the  fann'dsnow. 
That's  bolted^  by  the  northern  blasts  twice  o'er. 

Pol.  What  follows  this.'— 
How  priittily  the  young  swain  seems  to  wash 
The  hand,  was  fair  before  ! — I  have  put  you  out :-  - 
But  to  your  protestation;  let  me  hear 
What  you  profess. 

Fh.  Do,  and  be  witness  to'L 

PoL  And  this  my  neighbour  too.' 

Flo.  And  he,  and  morr 

Than  he,  and  men;  the  earth,  the  heavens,  and  all : 
That, — were  I  crown'd  the  most  imperial  nxmarch, 
Thereof  most  worthy ;  were  I  the  fairest  youth 
That  ever  made  eye  swerve ;  had  force,  aiid  know- 
ledge. 
More  than  was  ever  man's, — I  would  not  priie  thf-m. 
Without  her  love :  for  her,  employ  them  all ; 
Commend  them,  and  condemn  them,  to  her  service. 
Or  to  their  own  perdition. 

Pol.  Fairly  ofifer'd. 

Cam.  This  shows  a  sound  aflfection. 

Shep.  But,  my  daughter, 

Say  you  the  like  to  him  ? 

P^r.  I  cannot  speak 

So  well,  notliing  so  well ;  no,  nor  mean  better : 

(7)  Bought,  traflfcked.     (8)  Pot  to  diflSciilties. 
(9)  The  sieve  used  to  separate  flour  from  bran 

calhd  a  bolting-cloth. 


Semein. 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


«97 


By  the  [jattero  of  mine  awn  tiboogfati  I  cut  out 
liie  parity  of  his. 

Ship.  Take  hands,  a  bargain ; 

And,  fnoids  unknown,  you  shall  bear  witness  to*t : 
I  give  my  daughter  to  him,  and  will  make 
Her  portion  equal  his. 

Flo.  O,  that  must  be 

Pfhe  virtue  of  jour  daughter :  one  being  dead, 
I  shall  have  more  than  you  can  dream  of  yet ; 
Enough  then  for  your  wonder :  But,  come  on, 
Contract  us  *fore  these  witnesses. 

Shep.  Come,  your  hand ; 

And,  daughter,  yours. 

PiU.  Soflt,  swain,  a  while,  *beseech  you ; 

Have  you  a  father  f 

Flo.  I  have :  But  what  of  him  f 

Pol.  Knows  he  of  this  f 

Flo.  He  neither  does,  nor  shall. 

PoL  Methinks,  a  father 
Is,  at  the  nuptial  of  his  son,  a  guest 
That  best  becomes  the  table.  Pray  you,  once  more ; 
Is  imi  your  father  grown  incapable 
Of  reasonable  affairs  ?  is  he  not  stupid 
With  age,  and  altering  rheums  ?  Can  he  speak  ? 

hear.' 
Know  man  from  man  ?  dispute  his  own  estate .'' 
Lies  he  not  bed-rid  f  and  again  does  nothing. 
But  what  he  did  being  childish  ? 

Flo.  No,  good  sir ; 

He  has  his  health,  and  ampler  strength,  indeed. 
Than  most  have  of  his  age. 

Pol.  By  my  white  beard. 

You  ofler  him,  if  this  be  so,  a  wrong 
Something  unfilial :  Reason,  my  son 
Should  choose  himself  a  wife ;  but  as  good  reason, 
The  &ther  (all  whose  joy  is  nothing  else 
But  fair  posterity,)  should  hold  some  counsel 
In  such  a  business. 

Flo.  I  yield  all  this ; 

But,  for  some  other  reasons,  my  g^ve  sir. 
Which  *tis  not  fit  you  know,  I  not  acquaint 
My  fiither  of  this  business. 

PoL  Let  him  know*t. 

Flo.  He  shall  not 

PoL  Prithee,  let  him. 

Flo.  No,  he  must  not. 

Shep.  Let  him,  my  son ;  he  shall  not  need  to  grieve 
At  knowing  (^  thy  choice. 

Flo.  Come,  come,  he  must  not  :— 

Mark  our  contract. 

PoL  Mark  your  divorce,  young  pir, 

[Discovering^  himself. 
Whom  ioo  I  dare  not  call ;  thou  art  too  base 
To  be  acknowledge  :  Thou  a  sceplre*s  heir. 
That  thus  affect'st  a  sheep-hook  ?— Thou  old  traitor, 
I  am  sorrj',  that,  by  baneing  thee,  I  can  but 
Shorten  thv  life  one  week.— And  thou,  fiwh  piece 
Of  excellent  witehcrafi ;  who,  of  force,  must  know 
The  royal  fool  thou  cop'st  with  ; 

Shep.  Ot  my  heart ! 

PoL  ni  have  thy  beauty  scratched  with  briars, 
and  made 
More  homely  than  thy  state.— For  thee,  fond  boy,— 
If  I  may  ever  know,  thou  dost  but  sigh. 
That  thou  no  more  shalt  see  this  knack  (as  never 
J  mean  thou  shalt,)  weMI  bar  thee  from  succession  ; 
Not  hold  thee  of  our  blood,  no,  not  our  kin. 
Far*  than  Deucalion  off; — Mark  thou  my  words ; 
Follow  us  to  the  court. — Thou  churl,  for  this  lime. 
Though  full  of  our  displeasure,  yet  we  free  tliee 
From  the  dead  blow  of  it — And  you,  enchant- 
ment— 

(I)  Tal'-i  on-r  his  affairs.        (2)  Further. 


Worthy  enoof^  a  herdanui ;  yea,  him  too, 

That  makes  hunself,  but  for  our  honour  therein, 

Unworthy  thee, — if  ever,  henceforth,  thou 

These  rural  latches'  to  his  entrance  open. 

Or  hoop  his  body  more  with  thy  embraces, 

I  will  oevise  a  death  as  cruel  for  thee, 

As  thou  art  tender  to't  [ExiL 

Per.  Even  here  undone  ! 

I  was  not  much  afeard :  for  once,  or  twice, 
I  was  about  to  speak ;  and  tell  him  plainly. 
The  self-same  sun,  that  shines  upon  his  court. 
Hides  not  his  visaee  from  our  cottage,  but 
Looks  on  alike. — Wiirt  please  you,  sir,  be  gone  ? 

[To  Floriiel. 
I  told  you,  what  would  come  of  this  :  *Beseech  you. 
Of  ^our  own  state  take  care :  this  dream  of  mine,— 
Bemg  now  awake,  Pll  queen  it  no  inch  further, 
But  milk  my  ewes,  and  weep. 

Cam,  yf^Jt  ^^  DOW,  jfather .' 

Speak,  ere  thou  diest 

Shot.  I  cannot  speak,  nor  think. 

Nor  dfare  to  know  that  which  I  know.—O,  sir, 

[To  Florizel. 
You  have  undone  a  man  of  fourscore  three. 
That  thought  to  fill  his  grave  in  ouiet ;  yea, 
To  die  upon  the  bed  my  father  died. 
To  lie  close  by  his  honest  bones :  but  now 
Some  hangman  must  put  on  my  shroud,  and  lay  roe 
Where  no  priest  shovels-in  dust — O  cursed  wretch! 

[To  Perdita. 
That  knew'st  this  was  the  prince,  and  would'st 

adventure 
To  mingle  faith  with  him. — Undone !  undone ! 
If  I  mi^t  die  within  this  hour,  I  have  Kv*d 
To  die  when  I  desire.  [Exit 

Flo.  Why  look  you  so  upon  me .' 

I  am  but  sonT,  not  afeard ;  delay'd. 
But  nothing  alterM :  What  I  was,  I  am : 
More  straining  on,  for  plucking  back ;  not  following 
My  leasM  unwillingly. 

Cam.  Gracious  mv  lord. 

You  know  your  father*s  temper :  at  this  time 
He  will  allow  no  speech, — which,  I  do  guess. 
You  do  not  purpose  to  him ; — and  as  hanily 
Will  he  enaure  your  sight  as  yet,  I  fear: 
Then,  till  the  fury  of  his  highness  settle, 
Come  not  before  him. 

Flo.  I  not  purpose  it 

I  think,  Camillo. 

Cam.  Even  he,  my  lord. 

Per.  How  oAen  have  I  told  you,  'twould  be  thus  ? 
How  oAen  said,  my  dignity  would  last 
But  till  'twere  known  ? 

Flo.  It  cannot  &il,  but  by 

The  violation  of  mv  faith ;  And  then 
Let  Nature  crush  the  sides  o'the  earth  together. 
And  mar  the  seeds  within  ! — Lift  up  thy  looks  : — 
From  my  succession  wipe  me,  &ther !  I 
Am  heir  to  my  aflcction. 

Cam.  Be  advis'd. 

Flo.  I  am ;  and  by  my  fancy  :^  if  my  reason 
Will  thereto  be  obedient,  I  have  reason ; 
If  not,  my  senses,  better  pleas'd  with  madness. 
Do  bid  it  welcome. 

Cam.  This  is  desperate,  sir. 

Flo.  So  call  it :  but  it  does  fulfil  my  vow ; 
I  needs  must  think  it  honesty.     Camillo, 
Not  for  Bohemia,  nor  the  pomp  that  may 
Be  thereat  glean'd  ;  for  all  the  sun  sees,  or 
The  close  earth  wombs,  or  the  profound  leas  h'd« 
In  unknown  fiithoms,  will  I  break  my  oath 
To  this  my  fair  belov'd :  Therefore,  1  pray  you, 

(3;  Doors.     (4)  A  loading  string.      (5)  Loi*. 


t98 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


Ad  IF. 


As  yoa  hare  e*er  been  my  father's  hoaour'd  friend, 

When  he  shall  miss  me  (as,  in  faith,  I  mean  not 

To  see  him  any  more,)  cast  vour  e^ood  counsels 

Upon  his  passion ;  Let  myself  and  fortune 

Tuff  for  tne  time  to  come.     This  you  may  know, 

And  so  deliver, — I  am  put  to  sea 

With  her,  whom  here  1  cannot  hold  on  shore ; 

And,  most  opportune  to  our  need,  I  have 

A  vessel  rides  fast  by,  but  not  preparM 

For  this  design.     What  course  I  mean  to  hold, 

Shall  nothing  benefit  your  knowledge,  nor 

Concern  me  the  reporting. 

Qtm,  O,  my  lord, 

I  would  your  spirit  were  easier  for  advice, 
Or  stronger  for  yo«ir  need. 

Flo.  Hark,  Perdita. [Takes  f^er  aside. 

V\\  hear  you  by  and  by.  [To  Camillo. 

CBun.  He's  irremovable, 

ResolvM  for  flight :  Now  were  I  happy,  if 
His  going  I  could  frame  to  serve  my  turn ; 
Save  him  from  danger,  do  him  love  and  honour ; 
Purchase  the  sight  again  of  dear  Sicilia, 
And  that  unhappy  king,  my  master,  whom 
I  io  much  thirst  to  see. 

Flo.  Now,  ^;ood  Camillo, 

I  am  so  fraught  with  curious  busuiess,  that 
I  leare  out  ceremony.  [Going. 

Cam.  Sir,  I  think. 

Too  have  heard  of  my  poor  services,  i'the  love 
That  I  have  borne  your  father  f 

Flo.  Very  nobly 

Have  you  deserv'd  :  it  is  my  fether's  music. 
To  speak  your  deeds ;  not  little  of  his  care 
To  have  them  recompensed  as  thought  on. 

Cam.  Well,  my  lord. 

If  you  may  please  to  think  I  love  the  king; 
And,  through  him,  what  is  nearest  to  him,  which  is 
Your  gracious  self;  embrace  but  my  direction 
(If  your  more  ponderous  and  settled  project 
May  suffer  alteration,)  on  mine  honour 
1*11  point  you  where  you  shall  have  such  receiving 
As  shall  become  your  highness ;  where  you  may 
Enjoy  your  mistress  (from  the  whom,  I  see. 
There's  no  disjunction  to  be  made,  but  by. 
As  heavens  forefend !  your  ruin :)  marry  her ; 
And  (with  my  best  enaeavours,  in  your  absence,) 
Yoar  discontenting^  father  strive  to  qualify. 
And  bring  him  up  to  liking. 

Flo.  How,  Camillo, 

May  this,  almost  a  miracle,  be  done  ? 
That  I  may  call  thee  something  more  than  man. 
And,  aAer  that,  trust  to  thee. 

Cam.  Have  you  thought  on 

A  place  whereto  you'll  go  ^ 

Fh.  Not  any  yet : 

But  as  the  unthought-on  accident^  is  guilty 
To  what  we  wildly  do ;  so  we  profess 
Ourselves  to  be  the  slaves  of  chance,  and  flies 
Of  every  wind  that  blows. 

Cam^  Then  list  to  me : 

This  follows, — if  you  will  not  change  your  purpose, 
But  undergo  this  flight; — Make  for  Sicilia  ; 
And  there  present  yourself,  and  your  fair  princess 
(For  so,  I  see,  she  must  be,)  'fore  Leontes ; 
She  shall  be  habited,  as  it  becomes 
The  partner  of  your  bed.    Methinks,  I  see 
Leontes,  opening  his  free  arms,  and  weeping 
Hb  welcomes  forth :  asks  thee,  the  son,  forgiveness, 
As  'twere  i'the  father's  person :  kisses  the  hands 

(1)  For  discontented. 

(2)  This  unthought-on  accident  is  the  unexpect- 
ed discovery  made  by  Polixenes. 

(3)  The  council-days  were  called  the  sittings. 


Of  your  fresh  princess :  o'er  and  o'er  divides  bim 
'Twixt  his  unkindness  and  his  kindness ;  the  OM 
He  chides  to  hell,  and  bids  the  other  gprow. 
Faster  than  thought,  or  time. 

Flo.  Worthy  CamOlo, 

What  colour  for  my  visitation  shall  I 
Hold  up  before  him  f 

Cam.  Sent  b^  the  king  your  fistber 

To  greet  him,  and  to  give  hun  comforts.     Sir, 
The  manner  of  your  bearing  towards  him,  with 
What  you,  as  from  your  father,  shall  deliver. 
Things  known  betwixt  us  three,  I'll  write  you  down 
The  which  shall  point  you  forth  at  every  sitting,' 
What  you  must  say ;  that  he  shall  not  perceive, 
But  that  you  have  your  father's  bosom  there, 
And  speak  his  very  heart 

Flo.  I  am  bound  to  you : 

There  is  some  sap  in  this. 

Cam.  A  course  more  promisii^ 

Than  a  wild  dedication  of  yourselves 
To  unpath'd  waters,  undream'd  shores ;  most  cer- 
tain. 
To  miseries  enough :  no  hope  to  help  yoa ; 
But,  as  you  shake  off  one,  to  take  ano^er : 
Nothing  so  certain  as  your  anchors :  who 
Do  their  best  office,  if  they  can  but  stay  yoa 
Where  ^'ou'll  be  loath  to  be :  Besides,  you  know, 
Prospenty's  the  very  bond  of  love ; 
Whose  fresh  complexion  and  whose  heart  togetiier 
Affliction  alters. 

Per.  One  of  these  is  true : 

I  think,  aflliction  may  subdue  the  cheek. 
But  not  take  in<  the  mind. 

Cam.  Yea,  say  yoa  so? 

There  shall  not,  at  your  father's  bouse,  these  seven 

years. 
Be  bom  another  such. 

Flo.  My  good  CanniUo, 

She  is  as  forward  of  her  breedii^,  as 
I'the  rear  of  birth. 

Cam.  I  cannot  say,  *tis  pity 

She  lacks  instructions ;  for  she  seems  a  mistress 
To  most  that  teach. 

Per.  Your  pardon,  sir,  for  this, 

I'll  blush  you  thanks. 

Flo.  My  prettiest  Perdita. 

But,  O,  the  thorns  we  stand  upon  !— Camdlo, — 
Pre8er\'er  of  my  father,  now  of  roe; 
The  medicine  of  our  house ! — how  shall  we  do? 
We  are  not  fumish'd  like  Bohemia's  soo ; 

Nor  shall  appear  in  Sicily 

0am.  My  lord. 

Fear  none  of  this :  I  think,  you  know,  my  foctones 
Do  all  lie  there :  it  shall  be  so  my  cai« 
To  have  you  royally  appointed,  as  if 
The  scene  you  play,  were  mine.  For  instance,  sir, 
That  you  may  know  you  shall  not  want,— one  word. 

[They  UMlk  aside. 
Enter  Autolycus. 

Aut  Ha,  ha !  what  a  fool  honesty  is !  and  tra^ 
his  sworn  brother,  a  very  simple  gentleman !  I  have 
sold  all  my  trumpeiy ;  not  a  counterfeit  stone,  not 
a  riband,  glass,  pomander,*  brooch,  table-book, 
ballad,  knife,  tape,  glove,  shoe-tie,  bracelet,  hnn- 
ring,  to  keep  my  pack  from  fastine :  they  throng 
who  should  buy  first ;  as  if  my  trinkets  had  been 
hallowed,  and  brought  a  benediction  to  the  bayer : 
b^  which  means,  I  saw  whose  purse  was  best  in 
picture ;  and,  what  I  saw,  to  my  good  use,  I  re- 


(4)  Conquer. 

(5)  A  little  ball  noade  of  perfiDiies,  and  iron 
prevent  infiectkn  in  times  or  pbgoo. 


Seumlll, 


WINTER'S  TALE 


S99 


anembered.  tdy  clovm  (who  wants  but  something 
to  be  a  reaaonable  man,)  grew  so  in  love  with  the 
NreDches*  aoo^,  that  he  would  not  stir  his  pettitoes, 
till  he  had  both  tune  and  words ;  which  so  drew  the 
rest  of  the  herd  to  me,  that  all  their  other  senses 
itnck  in  ears  :  you  might  have  pinched  a  placket, 
it  was  senseless ;  'twas  nothing,  to  geld  a  cod- piece 
of  a  purse ;  I  would  have  file^  keys  off,  that  hung 
in  chains :  no  hearing,  no  feeling,  but  my  sir's  son|^, 
and  admiring  the  nothing  of  it.  So  mat,  in  this 
time  of  letharg}',  I  picked  and  cut  most  of  their 
festival  purses  :  and  had  not  the  old  man  come  in 
with  a  whoobub  against  his  daughter  and  the  king's 
•on,  and  scared  my  choughs'  from  the  chaff,  i  had 
not  left  a  purse  alive  in  the  whole  army. 

[Camillo,  Florizel,  and  Perdita,  come  forward. 
Cam.  Nay,  but  my  letters  by  this  means  being 
there 
So  soon  as  you  arrive,  shall  clear  that  doubt 
Flo.  And  those  that  you'll  procure  from  king 

Leontes, 

Cam.  Shall  satisfy  your  father. 
Per.  Happy  be  you ! 

All,  that  you  speak,  shows  fair. 

Cam.  Who  have  we  here  ? 

[Seeing  Autolycus. 
We'll  make  an  instrument  of  this ;  omit 
Nothing  may  give  us  aid. 

AuL  If  they  have  overheard  me  now, why 

hanging.  [Aside, 

Oon.  How  now,  good  fellow.'  Why  shakes! 
diou  so  }  Fear  not,  man ;  here's  no  harm  intended 
to  thee. 

AtU.  I  am  a  poor  fellow,  sir. 
Cam.  Why,  be  so  still ;  here's  nobodv  will  stf>al 
that  from  thee :  Yet,  for  the  outside  of  ttiy  poverty, 
we  must  make  an  exchange :  therefore,  disca.sc 
thee  instantly  (thou  must  think  there's  neces^tity 
in't,)  and  cKange  garments  with  this  gentleman  : 
Though  the  pennyworth,  on  his  side,  be  the  worst, 
yet  hold  thee,  there's  some  booL^ 

AuL  I  am  a  poor  fellow,  sir : — I  know  ye  well 
enough.  [Aside. 

Cum.  Nay,  pr'3rthee,  despatch:  the  gentleman 
is  half  flayed'  already. 

AtU.  Are  you  in  earnest,  sir  1 — ^I  smell  the  trick 
of  it —  [Aside. 

Flo.  Despatch,  I  pr'ythee. 
AwL  Indeed,  I  have  had  earnest ;  but  I  cannot 
with  conscience  take  it. 
Cam.  Unbuckle,  unbuckle. — 

[Flo.  and  Aut  exchange  garments. 
Fortunate  mistress, — let  my  prophecy 
Come  home  to  you ! — ^you  must  retire  yourself 
Into  some  covert :  take  your  sweetheart's  hat. 
And  pluck  it  o'er  your  brows :  muffle  your  face ; 
Dismantle  you  :  and  as  you  can,  disliken 
The  truth  of  your  own  seeming ;  that  you  may 
fFor  I  do  fear  eyes  over  you,)  to  shipboard 
Oet  undescried. 

Per.  I  see  the  play  so  lies. 

That  I  most  bear  a  part 

Cam.  No  remedy. — 

Have  you  done  there  f 

Flo.  Should  I  now  meet  my  father, 

fie  would  not  call  me  son. 

Cam.  Nay,  you  shall  have 

Ho  hat : — Come,  lady,  come. — Farewell,  my  friend. 
AuL  Adieu,  sir. 

Flo.  O  Perdita,  what  have  we  twain  forgot  J 
Piay  you,  a  word.  [They  converse  apart. 

(1)  Birds.        (2)  Something  over  and  above. 
(3)  Stripped.       (4)  Bundle,  parcel. 


Cam,  What  I  do  next,  aball  be,  to  tell  the  king 

[Andt. 
Of  this  escape,  and  whither  they  are  bouna ; 
Wherem  my  hope  is,  I  shall  so  pro-ail. 
To  force  him  after :  in  whose  company 
I  shall  review  Sicilia ;  for  whose  sight 
I  have  a  woman's  longing. 

FUt.  Fortune  speed  us  f-— 

Thus  we  set  on,  Camillo,  to  the  sea-side. 

Cam.  The  swifter  speed,  the  better. 

[Exeuni  Floriiel,  Perdita,  and  Camillo. 

Aui.  I  understand  the  business,  I  hear  it :  To 
have  an  open  ear,  a  quick  eye,  and  a  nimble  hand, 
is  necessaiy  for  a  cut-purse;  a  good  nose  b  re- 

?uisite  also,  to  smell  out  work  for  the  other  senses, 
see,  this  is  the  time  that  the  unjust  man  doth 
thrive.  What  an  exchange  had  this  been  without 
boot.'  what  a  boot  is  here, with  this  exchange.' 
Sure  the  gods  do  this  year  cormive  at  us,  and  we 
may  do  any  thing  extempore.  The  prince  himself 
is  about  a  piece  of  iniquity ;  stealing  away  from 
his  father,  with  his  dog  at  his  heels :  If  I  thought 
it  were  not  a  piece  of  honesty  to  acquaint  the  king 
withal,  I  would  do't :  I  hold  it  the  more  knavery 
to  conceal  it :  and  therein  am  I  constant  to  my  pro- 
fession. 

Enter  Clown  and  Shepherd. 

Aside,  aside ; — here  is  more  matter  for  a  hot  brain : 
Every  lane's  end,  every  shop,  church,  session,  hang- 
ing, yields  a  careful  man  work. 

Clo.  See,  see ;  what  a  man  you  are  now  !  there 
is  no  other  way,  but  to  tell  the  king  she's  a  diange- 
ling,  and  none  of  your  flesh  and  blood. 

Shep.  Nay,  but  hear  me. 

Clo.  Nay,  but  hear  me. 

Shep.  Go  to  then. 

Clo.  She  being  ncme  of  your  flesh  and  blood, 
your  flesh  and  blood  has  not  offended  the  king ; 
and,  so,  your  flesh  and  blood  is  not  to  be  puniriied 
by  him.  Show  those  things  you  found  about  her ; 
those  secret  things,  all  but  what  she  has  with  her : 
This  being  done,  let  the  law  go  whistle ;  I  warrant 
you. 

Sh^.  I  will  tell  the  king  all,  eveiy  word,  yea, 
and  lus  son's  pranks  too ;  who,  I  may  say,  is  no 
honest  man  neither  to  his  &ther,  nor  to  me,  to  go 
about  to  make  me  the  king's  brother-in-law. 

Clo.  Indeed,  brother-in-law  was  the  furthest  off 
you  could  have  been  to  him ;  and  then  your  blood 
had  been  the  dearer,  by  I  know  how  much  an  ounce. 

Aut.  Very  wisely ;  puppies !  [Aside. 

Sh^.  Well ;  let  us  to  the  king ;  there  is  that  in 
this  fardel,^  will  make  him  scratch  his  beard. 

Aut.  I  know  not  what  impediment  this  com- 
plaint may  be  to  the  flight  of  my  master. 

Clo.  'Pray  heartily  he  be  at  palace. 

Aut.  Though  I  am  not  naturally  honest,  I  am  so 
sometimes  by  chance  : — Let  me  pocket  up  my  ped- 
ler's  excrement* — [Takes  qjff'nis  false  beard.] 
How  now,  rustics .'  whither  are  you  bound .' 

Shqf.  To  the  palace,  an  it  like  your  worship. 

Aut.  Your  affairs  there.'  what.'  with  whom.' 
the  condition  of  that  fardel,  the  place  of  your 
dwelling,  your  names,  your  aps,  of  what  having,^ 
breeding,  and  any  thing  that  is  fitting  to  be  known, 
discover. 

Go.  We  are  but  plain  fellows,  sir. 

Aut.  A  lie ;  ^ou  are  rough  and  hairy :  Let  me 
have  no  lying ;  it  becomes  none  but  tradesmen,  and 
they  often  give  us  soldiers  the  lie :  but  we  pay  them 
for  it  with  stamped  coin,  not  stabbing  steel ;  tiiere- 
fore  they  do  not  give  os  the  lie. 


(5)  His  false  beard.  (6)  Estate,  property. 


300 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


Act  r. 


do.  Toar  wonhip  had  like  to  have  given  us  one, 
if  you  had  not  taken  yourself  vrith  the  manner.' 

SShep.  Are  you  a  courtier,  an*t  like  you,  sir  ? 

Aui.  Whether  it  like  me,  orno,  I  am  a  courtier. 
See*8t  thou  not  the  air  of  the  court,  in  these  enfold- 
ings  f  hath  not  my  gait  in  it  the  measure  of  the 
court  .^  receives  not  thv  nose  court-odour  from 
me  ?  reflect  I  not  on  thy  baseness,  court-contempt  ? 
Think'st  thou,  for  that  I  insinuate,  or  toze*  from 
thee  thy  businen,  I  am  therefore  no  courtier  f  I  am 
courtier,  cap-a-pe;  and  one  that  will  either  push  on, 
or  pluck  back,  thy  business  there :  whereupon  1 
command  thee  to  open  thy  afiair. 

Shep.  Mv  business,  sir,  is  to  the  king. 

Aui.  What  advocate  hast  thou  to  him  } 

Shep.  I  know  not,  an*t  like  you. 

CUt.  Advocate's  the  court-word  for  a  pheasant ; 
say,  you  have  none. 

Shep.  None,  sir ;  I  have  no  pheasant,  cock  nor  hen. 

AtU.  How  bless'd  are  we,  that  are  not  simple 
men ! 
Vet  nature  might  have  made  me  as  these  are, 
Therefore  IMI  not  disdain. 

Go.  This  cannot  be  but  a  great  courtier. 

S^.  His  garments  are  rich,  but  he  wears  them 
not  handsomely. 

C^.  He  seems  to  be  the  more  noble  in  being 
fantastical ;  a  ereat  man,  IMl  warrant ;  I  know  by 
the  picking  on  s  teeth. 

Aui.  The  fardel  there?  what's  i'the  fardel? 
Wherefore  that  box  ? 

Shep.  Sir,  there  lies  such  secrets  in  this  fardel, 
and  box,  which  none  must  know  but  the  king ;  and 
which  he  shall  know  within  this  hour,  if  I  may 
come  to  the  speech  of  him. 

Aut.  Age,  thou  hast  lost  thy  labour. 

Shep.  Why,  sir? 

Aut.  Thekin^  is  not  at  the  palace ;  he  is  gone 
aboard  a  new  ship  to  purge  melancholy,  and  air 
himself:  For,  if  thou  be'st  capable  of  things  serious, 
thou  must  know,  the  king  is  full  of  grief. 

^lep.  So  'tis  said,  sir ;  about  his  son,  that  should 
have  married  a  shepherd's  daughter. 

Aut.  If  that  shepherd  be  not  in  hand-fast,  let 
him  fly  ;  the  curses  he  shall  have,  the  tortures  he 
shall  feel,  will  break  the  back  of  man,  the  heart  of 
monster. 

Clo.  Think  you  so,  sir  ? 

Aut.  .\ot  he  alone  shall  suffer  what  wit  can  make 
heavy,  and  vengeance  bitter ;  but  those  that  are 
germane^  to  him,  though  removed  fifty  times,  shall 
all  come  under  the  hang^man  :  which  though  it  be 
groat  pity,  yet  it  is  necessary.  An  old  sheep-whis- 
tling rc^e,  a  ram-tender,  to  ofl^er  to  have  his  daugh- 
ter come  into  grace  !  Some  say,  he  shall  be  stoned  ; 
but  that  death  is  too  soft  for  him,  say  I :  Draw  our 
throne  into  a  sheep-cote  !  all  deaths  are  too  few, 
the  sharpest  too  easy. 

Clo.  Has  the  old  man  e'er  a  son,  sir,  do  you  hear, 
an't  like  vou,  sir? 

Aut.  j^e  has  a  son,  who  shall  be  flayed  alive  : 
then,  'nointcd  over  with  honey,  set  on  the  head  of 
a  w&tp's  nest ;  then  stand,  till  he  be  three-quarters 
and  a  dram  dead  :  then  recovered  again  with  aqua- 
viiie,  or  some  other  hot  infusion :  then,  raw  as  ht* 
is,  and  in  the  hottest  day  prc^ostication  proclaims,^ 
shall  be  set  against  a  brick  wall,  the  sun  Icmking 
with  a  southward  eye  upon  him  ;  where  he  is  to  b<'- 
hold  him,  with  flies  blown  to  death.  But  what  talk 
we  of  these  traitorly  rascals,  whose  miseries  are  to 
be  smiled  at,  their  offences  being  so  capital  ?   Tell 

(1)  In  the  fact.   (2)  The  statelv  tread  of  courtiers. 
f3)  Cajole  or  force.  (4)  Related. 


ine  ffor  yoa  wttm  to  be  honest  plain  men,^  what 
you  have  to  the  king :  being  something  gently  coo- 
sidered,^  I'll  bring  you  where  he  is  aboard,  tender 
your  persons  to  his  presence,  whisper  him  in  your 
behalfs ;  and,  if  it  be  in  man,  besides  the  kii^  to 
effect  your  suits,  here  is  itasn  shall  do  it. 

Clo.  He  seems  to  be  of  great  authority ;  elate 
with  him,  give  him  gold ;  and  though  authority  be 
a  stubborn  bear,  yet  he  is  oA  led  by  the  nose  with 
gold :  show  the  inside  of  your  purse  to  the  outsid* 
of  his  hand,  and  no  more  ado :  Remember  stoned, 
and  flayed  alive. 

Shep.  An't  please  you,  sir,  to  undertake  the 
business  for  us,  nere  is  that  gold  I  have :  V\\  make  it 
as  much  more ;  and  leave  mis  youi^  man  in  pawn, 
till  I  bring  it  you. 

Aut.  Kdet  I  have  done  what  I  pronused  ? 

Shep.  Ay,  sir. 

Aut.  Well,  give  me  the  moiety : — Are  yoa  a 
partv  in  this  business  ? 

Cao.  In  some  sort,  sir :  but  though  my  case  be  a 
pitiful  one,  I  hope  I  shall  not  bo  flayed  out  of  it 

Aui.  O,  that's  the  case  of  the  shepherd's  son : — 
Flang  him,  he'll  be  made  an  example. 

Clo.  Ckimfort,  good  comfort:  we  must  to  the 
king,  and  show  our  strange  sights ;  be  must  know, 
'tis  none  of  your  daughter,  nor  my  sister ;  we  are 
gone  else.  Sir,  I  will  give  you  as  much  as  this  old 
man  docs,  when  the  business  is  performed ;  and  re- 
main, as  be  says,  your  pawn,  till  it  be  brought  you. 

Aut  I  will  trust  you.  Walk  before  toward  the 
sea-side ;  go  on  the  right  hand ;  I  will  but  look 
upon  the  hedge,  and  follow  you. 

Clo.  We  are  blessed  in  this  man,  as  I  may  say, 
even  blcfsed. 

Shep.  Let's  before,  as  he  bids  us :  he  was  pro* 
vidc'd  to  do  us  good.      [  Exeunt  Shep.  and  Cknrn. 

Aut.  If  I  had  a  mind  to  be  honest,  I  see,  for> 
tunn  would  not  suffer  me ;  she  drops  booties  in  my 
mouth.  I  am  courted  now  with  a  double  occasion; 
t;old,  and  a  means  to  do  the  prince  my  master  good; 
which,  who  knows  how  that  may  turn  back  to  my 
advancement  ?  I  will  bring  these  two  motet,  the^ 
blind  ones,  aboard  him :  if  he  think  it  fit  to  shore 
(hem  again,  and  that  the  complaint  they  have  Id  the 
king  concerns  him  nothing,  let  him  call  me  rogue, 
for  being  so  far  officious ;  for  I  am  proof  against 
that  title,  and  what  else  shame  belongs  to^t :  To 
him  will  I  present  them,  there  may  be  matter  in  it 

[Exit. 


ACT  V. 

SCEJ^E  I. — Sicilia.  A  room  in  the  palace  of 
Lcontes.  Enter  Leontes,  Cleomenet,  Dion,  Psih 
lina,  and  others. 

Cko.  Sir,  you  have  done  enough,  and  have  per- 
form'd 
A  snint-like  sorrow :  no  fault  could  yoa  make. 
Which  you  have  not  redeem'd ;  indeed,  paid  down 
More  penitence,  than  done  trespass :   At  the  last, 
Do,  as  the  heavens  have  done  ;  forget  your  evil ; 
With  them,  forgive  yourself. 

Leon.  Whilst  I  remember 

Her,  and  her  virtues,  I  cannot  forget 
My  blemishes  in  them  ;  and  so  still  think  of 
The  wrong  I  did  myself:  which  was  so  much. 
That  heirless  it  hath  made  my  kingdom ;  and 
Do^troy'd  the  sweet'st  companion,  that  e*er  man 
Bred  his  hopes  out  of.  ' 

{n)  The  hottest  day  foretold  in  the  abnanac. 
(6)  Being  handsomely  bribed. 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


301 


Titw,  too  true,  my  lord : 
'  one,  yoa  wedded  all  the  world, 
the  all  that  are,  took  somethine  good, 
a  perfect  woman ;  she,  yoa  kurd, 
5  unparallelM. 

I  think  la  Kill'd? 
*d  ?  I  did  80 :  but  thou  8trik*8t  me 
I  my  I  did ;  it  is  as  bitter 
'  tongue,  as  in  my  thought :  Now,  good 
now, 
rt  seldom. 

Not  at  all,  good  lady : 
at  have  spoken  a  thousand  things  that 
would 

e  the  time  more  b^iefit,  and  grac*d 
loess  better. 

You  are  one  <^  those, 
tve  him  wed  again. 

If  you  would  not  so, 
not  the  state,  nor  the  remembrance 
•t  sovereipTi  dame ;  consider  little, 
igers,  by  his  highness*  fail  of  issue, 
t  upon  ms  kingdom,  and  devour 
lookers-on.  What  were  more  holr, 
ejoice,  the  former  aueen  is  well  f^ 
er,  than, — for  royalty's  repair,  • 
at  comfort  and  for  future  good, — 
lie  bed  of  majesty  again 
reet  fellow  ton? 

There  is  none  worthy, 
g  her  that's  gone.  Besides,  the  gods 
t  fulfillM  their  secret  purposes  : 
ot  the  divine  Apollo  said, 
e  tenor  of  his  oracle, 
;  Leoutes  shall  not  have  an  heir, 
Mt  child  be  found  ^  which,  that  it  shall, 
KNistrous  to  our  human  reason, 
it^onus  to  break  his  grave, 
»  again  to  me ;  who,  <xi  my  life, 
I  with  the  infant  *Tis  your  counsel, 
bould  to  the  heavens  be  contrary, 

{aiost  their  will. Care  not  for  issue ; 

[To  Leontes. 
n  will  find  an  heir :  Great  Alexander 
» the  worthiest ;  so  his  successor 
to  be  the  best 

Good  Paulina, — 
the  memory  of  Hermione, 
I  honour, — O,  that  ever  I 
I'd  me  to  thy  counsel ! — then,  even  now, 
ire  look*d  upon  my  queen's  full  eyes ; 

en  treasure  from  her  lips, 

And  leA  them 
I,  for  what  they  yielded. 

Thou  speak'st  truth, 
nch  wives ;  therefore,  no  wife :  one  worse, 
r  us'd,  would  make  her  sainted  spirit 
•ess  her  corpse ;  and,  on  this  stage 
re  offenders  now  appear,)  soul-vex'd, 
%d  why  to  me  7 

Had  she  such  power, 
ut  cause. 

She  had ;  and  would  incense^  me 
gr  her  I  married. 

I  should  so : 
le  ghost  that  walk'd,  Td  bid  you  mark 
and  tell  me,  for  what  dull  part  in't 
!  her :  then  I'd  shriek,  that  even  your  cars 
t'  to  hear  me ;  and  the  words  that  follow'd 
),  Renumber  mine. 

Stars,  very  stars. 

At  rest,  d^d.  (2)  Instigate. 

Split  (4)  Meet 


.\nd  all  eyes  else  dead  coals ! — ^fear  thoa  no  wife, 
I'll  have  no  wife,  Paulina. 

Paul  Will  you  iwear 

Never  to  many,  but  by  my  free  leave  ? 

Leon.  Never,  Paulina ;  so  be  bless'd  my  spirit ! 

PauL  Then,  good  my  lords,  bear  witness  to  his 
oath. 

CUo,  You  tempt  him  over-much. 

Paul  Uqleas  another. 

As  like  Hennione  as  is  her  picture. 
Affront^  his  eye. 

Geo,  Good  madam, — 

PauL  I  have  done. 

Yet,  if  mv  lord  will  mariy^T-if  7<mi  will,  sir. 
No  remeay,  but  you  will ;  give  me  the  office 
To  choose  you  a  queen :  sm  shall  not  be  so  yooi^ 
As  was  vour  former ;  but  she  shall  be  such. 
As,  walk'd  your  first  queen's  ghost,  it  dxNild 

take  joy 
To  see  her  in  your  arms. 

Leon,  My  tme  Paulina, 

We  shall  not  many,  till  thou  bidd'st  us.       ' 

PauL  That 

Shall  be,  when  your  first  queen's  again  in  Ineath ; 
Never  till  then. 

Enter  a  Gentleman. 

GenL  One  that  gives  out  himself  prince  Florixel, 
Son  of  Polixenes,  with  his  princess  (she 
The  fairest  I  have  yet  beheld,)  desires  access 
To  your  high  presence. 

Leon,  What  with  him  ?  he  comes  not 

Like  to  his  father's  greatness :  his  approach. 
So  out  of  drcumstance,  and  sudden,  tells  us, 
'TIS  not  a  visitation  fram'd,  but  forc'd 
By  need,  and  accident  What  train .' 

Gent.  But  few, 

And  those  but  mean. 

Leon,  His  princess,  say  you,  with  him .' 

Gent.  At  ;  the  most  peerless  piece  of  earth,  I 
think. 
That  e'er  the  sun  shone  bright  on. 

PauL  O  Hennione, 

As  eveiy  present  time  doth  boast  itself 
Above  a  better,  gone ;  so  must  th^  grave 
Give  wav  to  what's  seen  now.     Sir,  vou  yourself 
Have  said,  and  writ  so  (but  your  wnting  now 
Is  colder  than  that  theme,*j)  She  had  not  6em, 
J>ror  was  not  to  be  equalTdf — thus  your  verse 
Flow'd  with  her  beauty  once ;  'tis  shrewdly  ebb'd. 
To  say,  you  have  seen  a  better. 

Gent. '  Pardon,  madam : 

The  one  I  have  almost  forgot ;  (your  pardon,) 
The  other,  when  she  has  obtain'd  your  eye. 
Will  have  your  tongue  toa  This  is  such  a  creature. 
Would  she  begin  a  sect,  might  quench  the  zeal 
Of  all  professors  else ;  make  proselytes 
Of  who  she  but  bid  follow. 

Paul.  How  f  not  women  f 

Gent.  Women  will  love  her,  that  she  is  a  woman 
More  worth  than  any  man ;  men,  that  she  is 
The  rarest  of  all  women. 

I^on.  Go,  Cleomenes ; 

Yourself,  assisted  with  your  honoiir'd  friends. 
Bring  them  to  our  embracement — Still  'tis  strange, 
[Exeunt  Cleomenes,  Lords,  and  Gentlemen. 
He  tlms  should  steal  upon  us. 

Paul.  Had  our  prince 

(Jewel  of  children,)  seen  this  hour,  he  had  pair'd 
Well  with  this  lord ;  there  was  not  full  a  month 
Between  their  births. 

(5)  t.  e.  Than  the  cone  of  Hennkxie,  the  sub- 
ject of  your  writing 


302 


WLNTiai'S  TALE. 


ji€ir. 


Letm.              Pr'ythce,  no  more ;  thou  kmm'st 
He  dies  to  me  again,  when  talkM  of:  sure. 
When  I  shall  see  this  gentleman,  thy  speeches 
Will  bring  me  to  consider  that,  which  maj 
Unfurnish  me  of  reason. — They  are  come. 

Rt-enUr  Cleomenes,  with  Florizel,  Perdita,  and 

attendants. 

Your  mother  was  most  true  to  wedlock,  prince ; 
For  she  did  print  vour  royal  father  ofi". 
Conceiving  you  :  Were  I  but  twenty -on*. 
Your  father^  image  is  so  hit  in  you, 
His  very  air,  that  I  should  call  you  brother, 
As  I  did  him ;  and  speak  of  something,  wildly 
By  us  performed  before.     Most  deariy  welcome ! 
And  your  feir  princess,  goddess ! — O,  alas ! 
1  lost  a  couple,  that  ^twixt  heaven  and  earth 
Might  thus  have  stood,  begetting  wonder,  as 
You,  gracious  couple,  do !  and  then  I  lost 
^All  mine  own  folly,)  the  society, 
Amity  too,  of  your  brave  father ;  whom. 
Though  bearing  misery,  I  desire  my  life 
Once  more  to  look  upon. 

Fio.  By  his  command 

Have  I  here  touch*d  Sicilia ;  and  from  him 
Give  you  all  greetings,  that  a  king,  at  friend. 
Can  send  his  orother  :  and,  but  infirmity 
(Which  waiU  upon  worn  time,)  hath  something 

seiz*d 
His  wishM  ability,  he  had  himself 
The  lands  and  waters  *twixt  your  throne  and  his 
Measured,  to  look  upon  you ;  whom  he  loves 
THe  bade  me  say  so,)  more  than  all  the  sceptres, 
And  those  that  bear  them,  living. 

Leon.  O,  my  brother, 

(Good  gentleman  .•)  the  wrongs  I  have  done  thee, 

stir 
Afresh  within  me ;  and  these  thy  offices, 
So  rarely  kind,  are  as  interpreters 
Of  my  behind-hand  slackness  .'—Welcome  hidier. 
As  is  the  spring  to  the  earth.     And  hath  he  too 
Exposed  this  paragon  to  the  fearful  usage 
(At  least,  ungentle,)  of  the  dreadful  Neptune, 
To  greet  a  man,  not  worth  her  pains ;  much  less 
The  adventure  of  her  person  } 

Flo.  Good  my  lord. 

She  came  from  Libya. 

Leon.  Where  the  warlike  Smalus, 

That  noble  honoured  lord,  is  fearM,  and  lov'd  } 

Flo.  Most  royal  sir,  from  thence;  from  him, 
whose  daughter 
His  tears  proclaimM  his,  parting  with  her:  thence 
(A  prosperous  south-wind  friendly ,)  we  have  crossed. 
To  execute  the  charge  my  father  gave  me, 
For  visiting  your  highness :  My  bert  train 
I  have  from  your  Sicilian  shores  dismiss'd; 
Who  for  Bohemia  bend,  to  signify 
Not  only  my  success  in  Libya,  sir, 
But  my  arrival,  and  my  wife*8,  in  safe^ 
Here,  where  we  are. 

Leon,  The  blessed  gods 

Purge  all  infection  from  our  air,  whilst  you 
Do  climate  here  !  You  have  a  holy  father, 
A  gracefuU  gentleman ;  against  whose  person, 
So  sacred  as  it  is,  I  have  done  sin : 
For  which  the  heavens,  taking  angry  note. 
Have  left  me  issueless;  and  your  father*s  blessM, 
(As  he  from  heaven  merits  it,)  with  you, 
Worthy  his  goodness.     What  might  I  have  beent 
Might  I  a  son  and  daughter  now  nave  lod(*d  on, 
Such  goodly  things  as  you .' 

(1)  Full  of  grace  and  virtue. 

(2)  Seize,  arrest        (3)  Convenatioa 


.Seller  a  Lord. 

Lord.  Most  noble  sit. 

That,  which  I  shall  report,  will  bear  no  credit, 
Were  not  the  proof  so  nigh-  Please  you,  great  ar, 
Bohemia  greets  you  from  himself,  by  roe : 
Desires  you  to  attach^  his  son ;  who  has 
(His  dignity  and  duty  both  cast  off,) 
Fled  from  his  father,  from  his  hopes,  and  with 
A  shepherd*8  daughter. 

Lean.  Wbere*s  Bohemia  ?  speak. 

Lord.  Here  in  the  ci^ ;  I  now  came  fromhoa 
I  speak  amazedly ;  and  it  becomes 
My  marvel,  and  my  messapne.    To  your  ooorC 
Whiles  he  was  hastening  (m  the  chase,  it  teemi, 
Of  this  fair  couple,)  meets  he  oo  the  way 
The  father  of  tnis  seeming  lady,  and 
Her  brother,  having  both  their  country  quitted 
With  this  young  prince. 

Flo.  CamiUo  has  betrajM  me ; 

Whose  honour,  and  whoee  honesty,  till  now, 
EndurM  all  weathers. 

Lord  Lay*t  so,  to  his  dmge ; 

He*s  with  the  king  your  father. 

Leon.  Who.^  CamiUo? 

Lord  Camillo,  sir ;  I  spake  with  him ;  who  now 
Has  these  poor  men  in  question.'    Never  saw  I 
Wretches  so  quake :  they  kneel,  they  kiss  (h^  earth; 
Forswear  themselves  as  often  as  they  speak : 
Bohemia  stops  his  ears,  and  threatens  mem 
With  divers  deaths  in  death. 

Per.  O,  my  poor  &tlier  !— 

The  heaven  sets  spies  upon  us,  will  not  hare 
Our  contract  celebrated. 

Leon.  You  are  married  i 

Flo.  We,are  not,  sir,  nor  are  we  like  to  be; 
The  stars,  I'see,  will  kiss  the  valleys  first : — 
The  odds  for  high  and  low's  alike.^ 

Leon.  My  lotd, 

Is  this  the  daughter  of  a  king  ? 

Flo.  She  is, 

When  once  she  is  my  wife. 

Leon.  That  once,  I  see,  by  your  good 
speed. 
Will  come  on  very  slowly.    I  am  Mnrnr,  ^ 
Most  sorry,  you  have  broken  from  his  liking'. 
Where  you  were  tied  in  duty :  and  as  sorry. 
Your  choice  is  not  so  rich  in  worth*  as  beauty. 
That  you  might  well  enjoy  her. 

Flo.  Dear,  \o6k 

Though  fortune,  visible  an  enemy, 
Should  chase  us,  with  my  father ;  power  no  joC  ^ 
Hath  she,  to  change  our  loves. — 'Beseech  you,  m^ 
Remember  since  you  ow'd  no  more  to  time 
Than  I  do  now :  with  thought  of  your  afifectiont. 
Step  forth  mine  advocate ;  at  your  request. 
My  father  will  grant  precious  things,  as  trHIesi 

Leon.  Would  ho  do  so,  I'd  beg  your  precion^ 
mistress. 
Which  he  counts  but  a  trifle. 

Paul  Sir,  my  Kege, 

Your  eye  hath  too  much  youth  in't :  not  a  maoA 
'Fore  your  queen  died,  she  was  more  worlfa  waA 

garcs 
Than  what  you  look  on  now. 

Leon.  I  thought  of  her, 

Even  in  these  looks  I  made. — But  your  petition 

[T^FkxiMl 
Is  yet  unanswer'd :  I  will  to  your  father ; 
Your  honour  not  o'erthrown  by  your  deMrei, 
I  am  a  friend  to  them,  and  you  :  upon  which 
I  now  go  toward  him ;  therefore,  follow  dok, 

(4)  A  quibble  on  the  fidse  dice  so  called. 

(5)  Descent  or  wealth. 


a 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


303 


And  murk  what  mmj  I  mtke :  Come,  good  nqr 
kNrd.  [ExaaU. 

SCEJMS  n.—Tkt  tame.  Btfort  (he  paiace.  En- 
Ur  Autoljcui  and  a  Gentleman. 

Aut  'Beseech  you,  sir,  were  jrou  present  at  this 
relatioa  ? 

1  Gtni.  I  was  by  at  the  opening  of  the  fardel, 
heard  the  old  shepherd  deliver  the  manner  how  he 
found  it :  whereupon,  after  a  little  amazedness,  we 
were  all  commanded  out  of  the  chamber;  only 
this,  methought  I  heard  the  shepherd  say,  he  found 
the  child. 

AtU.  I  would  most  eladlv  know  the  issne  of  it. 

1  Gtni.  I  make  a  brcucen  deliveir  of  the  business ; 
— But  the  changes  I  perceii'ed  m  the  king,  and 
Camillo,  were  very  notes  of  admiration :  they 
seemed  almost,  with  staring  oo  one  another,  to  tear 
the  casc«  of  their  eyes ;  there  was  speech  in  their 
dumbness,  language  in  their  veiy  g^ture;  they 
looked,  as  they  had  heard  of  a  world  ransomed,  or 
one  destroyed :  A  notable  passion  of  wonder  ap- 
peared in  them  :  but  the  wisest  beholder,  that  knew 
no  more  but  seeing,  could  not  say,  if  the  importance' 
were  joy,  or  sorrow :  but  in  the  extremity  of  the 
one,  it  must  needs  be. 

Enter  another  Gentleman. 

Here  comes  a  gentleman,  that,  happily,  knows  more : 
The  news,  I^raro? 

2  Oent.  Nothing  but  bonfires :  The  oracle  is  ful- 
filled ;  the  king*s  daughter  is  found :  such  a  deal 
of  wonder  is  broken  out  within  this  hour,  that  bal- 
lad-makers cannot  be  able  to  express  it 

Enter  a  third  Gentleman. 

Here  comes  the  lady  Paulina's  steward  ;  he  can 
deliver  you  more. — How  goes  it  now,  sir?  this 
news,  which  is  called  true,  is  so  like  an  old  tale, 
tfiat  the  verity  of  it  is  in  strong  suspicion :  Has 
die  king  found  his  heir  ? 

3  Gmi.  Most  true ;  if  ever  truth  were  pregnant 
by  circumstance:  that,  which  you  hear,  you'll 
awear  you  see,  there  is  such  unity  in  the  proofs. 
The  mantle  of  queen  Hermione: — her  jewel  about 
die  neck  of  it : — the  letters  of  Antigonus,  found 
with  it,  which  they  know  to  be  his  character : — the 
majesty  of  the  creature,  in  resemblance  of  the 
mother ; — the  affection^  of  nobleness,  which  nature 
shows  above  her  breeding, — and  many  other  evi- 
dences, proclaim  her,  with  all  certainty,  to  be  the 
king's  daughter.  Did  you  see  the  meeting  of  the 
two  kings  P 

2  Gent.  Na 

3  Gtnt,  Then  have  you  lost  a  sight,  which  was 
to  be  seen,  cannot  be  spoken  of.  There  might  you 
have  beheld  one  joy  crown  another ;  so,  ana  in 
such  manner,  that,  it  seemed,  sorrow  wept  to  take 
leave  of  them;  for  their  joy  waded  in  tears.  There 
was  casting  up  of  eyes,  holding  up  of  hands;  with 
countenance  of  such  distraction,  that  they  were  to 
be  known  by  garment,  not  by  favour.'  Our  king, 
hmnz  ready  to  leap  out  of  himself  for  joy  of  his 
foona  dau^ter ;  as  if  that  joy  were  now  become 
a  lots,  cries,  O,  thy  motfur,  thy  mother  I  then  asks 
Bohemia  forgiveness ;  then  embraces  his  son-in- 
Jaw;  then  again  worries  he  his  daughter,  with 
clipping*  her ;  now  he  thanks  the  old  shepherd, 
which  stands  by,  like  a  weather-beaten  conduit  of 
gaany  king^'  reigns.  I  never  heard  of  such  another 

(1)  The  thing  imported. 

(2)  DisDosition  or  quality. 


encounter*  which  lames  report  to  follow  it,  and  on 
does  descriDtKNi  to  do  JL 

2  Gent.  What,  pray  ton,  became  of  Antigouoa, 
that  carried  hence  the  cnild  ? 

3  Gent  Like  an  old  tale  idll ;  whidi  will  have 
matter  to  rehearse,  though  credit  be  asleep,  and 
not  an  ear  open :  He  was  torn  to  pieces  with  a 
bear :  this  avouches  the  shei^rd's  son ;  who  has 
not  only  his  innocence  (whicn  seems  much,)  to  jus- 
tify him,  but  a  handkerchief,  and  rings,  of  his,  that 
Paulina  knows. 

1  Gent.  What  became  of  his  baric,  and  his  fol- 
lowers f 

3  Gent.  Wrecked,  the  same  instant  of  their 
master's  death ;  and  in  the  view  of  the  shepherd : 
so  that  all  the  instruments,  which  aided  to  expoee 
the  child,  were  even  then  lost,  when  it  was  found. 
But,  O,  the  noble  combat,  that,  'twixt  joy  and  V>r> 
row,  ivas  fought  in  Paulina  !  She  had  one  eye  de- 
clined for  the  loss  of  her  husband ;  another  elevated 
that  the  oracle  was  fulfilled :  She  lifted  the  prin- 
cess from  the  earth ;  and  so  locks  her  in  embracing, 
as  if  she  would  pin  her  to  her  heart,  that  she  mig^t 
no  more  be  in  danger  of  losing. 

1  GerU.  The  dignity  of  this  act  was  worth  the 
audience  of  kings  ana  princes ;  for  by  such  was  it 
acted. 

3  Gent.  One  of  the  prettiest  touches  of  all,  and 
that  which  angled  for  mine  eyes  (caught  the  water, 
though  not  the  fish,)  was,  when  at  me  relation  of 
the  queen's  death,  with  the  manner  how  she  came 
to  it  (bravely  confessed,  and  lamented  by  the  king,) 
how  attentiveness  wounded  his  daughter :  till,  from 
one  sign  of  dolour  to  another,  she  did,  with  an 
alas  /  I  would  fain  ny,  bleed  tears ;  for,  I  am  sure, 
my  heart  wept  blood.  Who  was  most  marble  there,* 
changed  colour ;  some  swooned,  all  sorrowed  :  if 
all  the  world  could  have  seen  it,  the  wo  had  been 
universal. 

1  Gent.  Are  they  returned  to  the  court  f 

3  GerU.  No :  the  princess  hearing  of  her  mother's 
statue,  which  is  in  me  keeping  of  nulina, — apiece 
many  years  in  doing,  and  now  newly  performed  by 
that  rare  Italian  master,  Julio  Romano ;  who,  had 
he  himself  eternity,  and  could  put  breath  into  his 
woric,  would  beguile  Nature  of  her  custom,  so  per- 
fectly he  is  her  ape :  he  so  near  to  Hermione  bath 
done  Hermione,  that,  they  say,  one  would  speak  to 
her,  and  stand  in  hope  of  answer:  thither,  with  all 

Seediness  of  afifection,  are  they  gone ;  and  there 
ey  intend  to  sup. 

2  Gent.  I  thought,  she  had  some  great  matter 
there  in  hand;  for  she  hath  privateUr,  twice  or 
thrice  a  day,  ever  siace  the  aeath  oi  Hennione. 
visited  that  removed^  house.  Shall  we  diither,  ana 
with  our  conipany  piece  the  rejoicing.' 

1  Gent.  Who  would  be  thence,  that  has  the  bene- 
fit of  access  f  every  wink  of  an  eye,  some  new 
grace  will  be  bom  :  our  absence  nuikes  us  unthrif- 
ty to  our  knowledge.    Let's  along. 

[Exeunt  Gentlemen. 

Aut.  Now,  had  I  not  the  dash  of  my  former  life 
in  me,  would  preferment  drop  on  my  head.  I 
brought  the  old  man  and  his  son  aboard  the  prince ; 
told  him,  I  heard  him  talk  of  a  fardel,  and  I  know 
not  what :  but  he  at  that  time,  over-fond  of  the 
shepherd's  daughter  (so  he  then  took  her  to  be,) 
who  b^^  to  be  much  sea-sick,  and  himself  little 
better,  extremity  of  weather  continuii^,  this  mys- 
tery remained  undiscovered.  But  'tis  all  one  to 
me :  for  had  I  been  the  finder-out  of  this  secret,  it 

(3)  Countenance,  features.        (4)  Embracing. 
(5)  Most  petrified  with  wonder.        (6)  Remote. 


304 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


AdV. 


wou^d  not  have  relished  amoi^  my  other  discredits. 
Ktder  Shepherd  and  Clown. 

Here  come  those  I  have  done  good  to  against  m^ 
will,  and  already  appearing  in  the  blossoms  oT  their 
fintune. 

<S^.  Ckxne,  boy ;  I  am  past  more  children ;  but 
dij  sons  and  daughters  will  be  all  gentlemen  bom. 

do.  You  are  well  met,  sir :  You  denied  to  fight 
with  me  this  other  day,  because  I  was  no  gentle- 
man bom :  See  you  these  clothes  "i  say,  you  see 
them  not,  and  think  me  still  no  gentleman  bora  : 
vou  were  best  say,  these  robes  are  not  gentlemen 
bom.  Give  me  the  lie ;  do ;  and  tiy  whether  I  am 
not  now  a  gentleman  bom. 

Aut  I  know,  you  are  now,  sir,  a  gentleman  born. 

Qo.  Ay,  and  have  been  so  any  time  these  four 
hoars. 

Shep.  And  so  have  I,  bov. 

do.  So  you  have : — but  1  was  a  gentleman  bora 
before  my  father :  for  the  king's  son  took  me  by  the 
hand,  and  called  me,  brother ;  and  then  the  two 
kings  called  my  father,  brother;  and  then  the 
prince,  my  brother,  and  tlvi  princess,  my  sister, 
called  my  father,  father ;  and  so  we  wept :  and 
there  was  the  first  gentleman-like  tears  that  ever 
we  shed. 

Shep.  We  may  live,  son,  to  shed  many  more. 

Clo.  Ay  ;  or  else  'twere  hard  luck,  being  in  so 
preposteroas  estate  as  we  are. 

Aui,  I  humbly  beseech  you,  sir,  to  pardon  nne 
all  the  faults  I  nave  committed  to  your  worship, 
and  to  give  me  your  good  report  to  the  prince  my 
master. 

Skep.  'Pr'ythee,  son,  do;  for  we  must  be  gentle, 
DOW  we  are  gentlemen. 

Clo.  Thou  wilt  amend  thy  life  ? 

Aut.  Ay,  an  it  like  your  good  worship. 

do.  Give  me  thy  hand :  I  will  swear  to  the 
prince,  thou  art  as  honest  a  true  fellow  as  any  is  in 
Bohemia. 

Ship.  You  may  say  it,  but  not  swear  it. 

Go.  Not  swear  it,  now  I  am  a  gentleman  }  Let 
boors  and  franklins'  say  it,  I'll  swear  it 

Shtp.  How  if  it  be  false,  son  ? 

Go.  If  it  be  ne'er  so  false,  a  true  gentleman  may 
•wear  it,  in  the  behalf  of  his  friend : — And  I'll 
swear  to  the  prince,  thou  art  a  talP  fellow  of  thy 
hands,  and  that  thou  wilt  not  be  drunk;  but  I 
know,  thou  art  no  tall  fellow  of  thy  hands,  and  that 
thou  wilt  be  drunk ;  but  I'll  swear  it :  and  I  would, 
thou  would'st  be  a  tall  fellow  of  thy  hands. 

Aul.  I  will  prove  so,  sir,  to  my  power. 

Cl/a.  Ay,  by  any  means  prove  a  tall  fellow :  if  I 
do  not  wonder,  how  thou  darest  venture  to  be 
drunk,  not  being  a  tall  fellow,  trust  me  not. — Hark ! 
the  kings  and  tne  princes,  our  kindred,  are  going 
to  see  the  queen's  picture.  Come,  follow  us  :  we'll 
be  thy  good  masters.  [£lxeunl. 

SCEJ^E  Ill—The  same,  A  room  in  Paulina's 
house.  Enter  Leontes,  Polixenes,  Florizel,  Per- 
dita,  Camillo,  Paulina,  Lords,  and  Attendants. 

Leon.  O  grave  and  good  Paulina,  the  great  com- 
fort 
That  I  have  had  of  thee ! 

PauL  What,  sovereign  sir, 

I  did  not  well,  I  meant  well :   All  my  services, 
You  have  paid  home :  but  that  you  have  vouchsaPd 
With  your  crown'd  brother,  and  these  your  con- 
tracted 
Heirs  of  your  kingdoms,  my  poor  house  to  vint, 


(1)  Yeomen. 


(2)  Stoat 


It  is  a  surplus  of  your  grace,  which  never' 
My  life  may  last  to  answer. 

Leon.  '      O  Paulina, 

We  honour  you  with  trouble :  But  we  came 
To  see  the  statue  of  our  queen  :  your  galleij 
Have  we  pass'd  through,  not  without  much  content 
In  many  singularities ;  but  we  saw  not 
That  which  my  daughter  came  to  kwk  upon. 
The  statue  of  her  mother. 

Paul.  As  she  liv'd 

So  her  dead  likeness,  I  do  well  believe. 
Excels  whatever  yet  you  look'd  upon. 
Or  hand  of  man  hath  done ;  therefore  I  keep  it 
Lonely,  apart :  But  here  it  is :  prepare 
To  see  the  life  as  lively  mock'd,  as  ever 
Still  sleep  nnock'd  death :  behold ;  and  say,  'tis  well. 
[Paulina  undraws  a  curtain^  emd  Us- 
covers  a  ^iue. 
I  like  your  silence,  it  the  more  shows  off 
Your  wonder :  But  yet  speak ; — first,  yoa,  my  liege. 
Comes  it  not  something  near  f 

Leon.  Her  natural  postme  !— 

Chide  me,  dear  stone ;  that  I  may  say,  mdeed. 
Thou  art  Hermione :  or,  rather,  thou  art  she. 
In  thy  not  chiding ;  for  she  was  as  tender, 
As  infancy,  and  grace. — But  yet,  Paulina, 
Hermione  was  not  so  much  wrinkled ;  nothing 
So  aged,  as  this  seems. 

PoL  O,  not  by  much. 

PauL  So  much  the  more  our  carver's  exodlence ; 
Which  lets  go  by  some  sixteen  years,  and  makes  her 
As  she  liv'd  now. 

Leon.  As  now  she  might  have  done. 

So  much  to  my  good  comfort,  as  it  is 
Now  piercing  to  my  soul.    O,  thus  she  stood. 
Even  with  such  life  of  majesty  (waim  life. 
As  now  it  coldly  stands,)  when  first  I  woo'd  her ! 
I  am  asham'd  :  Does  not  the  stone  rebuke  me. 
For  being  more  stone  than  it  ? — O,  royal  piece. 
There's  magic  in  thy  majesty ;  which  has 
My  evils  conjur'd  to  remembrance  ;  and 
From  thy  admiring  daughter  took  the  spirits. 
Standing  like  stone  with  thee ! 

Per.  And  give  me  leave 

And  do  not  say,  'tis  superstition,  that 
I  kneel,  and  then  implore  her  blessing. — ^Lady, 
Dear  queen,  that  ended  when  I  but  b^an. 
Give  me  that  hand  of  yours,  to  kiss. 

Paul.  O, 

The  statue  is  but  newly  fix'd,  the  colour's 
Not  dry. 

Cam.  My  lord,  your  sorrow  was  too  sore  laid  on 
Which  sixteen  winters  cannot  blow  away, 
So  many  summers,  dry  :  scarce  any  joy 
Did  ever  so  long  live  ;  no  sorrow, 
But  kill'd  itself  much  sooner. 

Pol.  Dear  my  brother. 

Let  him,  that  was  the  cause  of  this,  have  power 
To  take  off  so  much  grief  from  you,  as  be 
Will  piece  up  in  himself. 

Paul.  Indeed,  my  lord, 

[f  I  had  thought,  the  sight  of  my  poor  image 
Would  thus  have  wrought?  you  (for  die  stone 

mine,) 
I'd  not  have  show'd  it 

Leon,  Do  not  draw  the  cnrtai 

PauL  No  longer  shall  you  g^aze  on*t ;  last 
fancy 
May  think  anon,  it  moves. 

Leon.  Let  be,  let  be. 

Would  I  were  dead,  but  that  methinks  alread 
What  was  he,  that  did  make  it  ? — See,  my 

(3)  Worked,  agitated. 


Scene  If  I. 


WINTER'S  TALE. 


305 


Would  you  not  deem,  it  breathM  f  and  (hat  thoae 

veins 
Did  reriljr  bear  blood  ? 

Po/.  Masterly  done : 

The  very  liie  seems  warm  upon  her  lip. 

Leon.  The  fixure  of  her  aye  has  motion  in*t,l 
Aa^  we  are  mock*d  with  art. 

Paul  V\\  draw  the  curtain ; 

My  lord's  almost  so  far  transported,  that 
He*ll  think  anon,  it  lives. 

Zjeon.  O  sweet  Paulina, 

Make  me  to  think  so  twenty  years  tc^ether ; 
No  settled  senses  of  the  world  can  match 
The  pleasure  of  that  madness.     Let't  alone. 
PauL   I  am  sorry,  sir,  1  have  thus  far  stirr'd 
you :  but 
I  could  afflict  you  further. 

Leon,  Do,  Paulina ; 

For  this  affliction  has  a  taste  as  sweet 
As  any  cordial  comfort — Still,  methinks, 
There  is  an  air  comes  from  her :  What  fine  chisel 
Could  ever  yet  cut  breath .'  Let  no  man  mock  me, 
For  I  will  UM  her. 

Paul.  Good  my  lord,  forbear : 

The  ruddiness  upon  her  lip  is  wet ; 
You'll  mar  it,  if  you  kiss  it ;  stain  your  own 
With  oily  painting  :  Shall  I  draw  the  curtain  ? 
Leon.  No,  not  these  twenty  years. 
Per.  So  long  could  I 

Stand  by,  a  looker  on. 

PauL  Either  forbear, 

Quit  presently  the  chapel ;  or  resolve  you 
For  more  amazement :  If  you  can  behold  it, 
I'll  make  the  statue  move  indeed ;  descend. 
And  take  you  by  the  hand :  but  then  you'll  think 
(Which  I  protest  against,)  I  am  assisted 
By  wicked  powers. 

Leon.  What  you  can  make  her  do, 

f  am  content  io  look  on :  what  to  speak, 
I  am  content  to  hear ;  for  'tis  as  easy 
To  make  her  speak,  as  move. 

PauL  It  is  requir'd. 

You  do  awake  your  faith  :  Then,  all  stand  still ; 
Or  those,  that  think  it  is  unlawful  business 
I  am  about,  let  them  depart 

Li<fn.  Proceed ; 

No  iboi  shall  stir. 

PauL  Music ;  awake  her :  strike — 

[Music. 

*Tis  time ;  descend ;  be  stone  no  more  :  approach ; 
Strike  all  that  look  upon  with  marvel.    Come ; 
^'11  fill  your  grave  up :  stir ;  nay,  come  away  ; 
bequeath  to  death  your  numbness,  for  from  him 
MDe^T  life  redeems  you. — You  perceive,  she  stirs  : 

[Hermioiie  comes  down  from  the  pedestal. 
^tart  not :  her  actions  shall  be  holy,  as, 
^oa  hear,  my  spell  is  lawful :  do  not  shun  her, 
lentil  you  see  her  die  aeain ;  for  then 
You  kill  her  double  :  Nay,  present  your  hand  : 
^^Vben  die  was  young,  you  woo'd  her  ;'now,  in  age, 
1«  she  become  ue  suitor. 

Leon,  O,  she's  wnrm  !  [Embracing  her. 

If  this  be  ma^c,  let  it  be  an  art 
X^«awful  aa  eaUng. 

C^)  t.  e.  Though  her  eye  be  fixed,  it  seems  to  have 
i0tknin  it 
C3)Aiif: 


PoL  She  embraces  him. 

Cam.  She  hanffs  about  his  neck ; 
If  she  pertain  to  life,  let  her  speak  toa 

PoL  Ay,  and  make't  manifest  where  she  has 
liv'd. 
Or,  how  stol'n  from  the  dead. 

PauL  That  she  is  living. 

Were  it  but  told  you,  should  be  booted  at 
Like  an  old  tale ;  but  it  appears,  she  lives. 
Though  yet  she  speak  not  Mark  a  little  while. — 
Please  you  to  interpose,  fair  madam ;  kneel. 
And  pray  your  mother's  blessing. — Turn,  good 

laa^; 
Our  Perdita  is  found. 

[Presenting  Per.  who  kneels  to  Her. 

Her.  You  gods,  look  down. 

And  from  vour  sacred  vials  pour  your  graces 
Upon  mv  daughter's  head ! — Tell  me,  mine  own. 
Where  bast  uou  been  preserv'd  ?  where  liv'd  f 

how  found 
Thy  father's  court  ?  for  thou  shalt  hear,  that  I, — 
Knowing  by  Paulina,  that  the  oracle 
Gave  hope  thou  wast  in  being, — have  preserv'd 
Myself,  to  see  the  issue. 

PauL  There's  time  enough  for  that ; 

Lest  they  desire,  upon  this  push  to  trouble 
Your  joys  with  like  relation. — Go  together. 
You  precious  winners'  all ;  your  exultation 
Partake^  to  every  one.     I,  an  old  turtle. 
Will  wing  me  to  some  wither'd  bough ;  and  there 
My  mate,  that's  never  to  be  found  again, 
Lament  till  I  anfi  lost 

Leon.  O  peace,  Paulina  ; 

Thou  should'st  a  husband  take  by  my  consent. 
As  I  by  thine,  a  wife :  this  is  a  match. 
And  made  between's  by  vows.     Thou  hast  foa 

mine; 
But  how,  is  to  be  question'd  :  for  I  saw  her. 
As  I  thought,  deao  ;  and  have,  in  vain,  said  many 
A  prayer  upon  her  grave :  I'll  not  seek  far 
(For  him,  I  partly  know  his  mind,)  to  find  thee 
An  honourable  husband  : — Come,  Camillo, 
And  take  her  by  the  hand:  whose  worth,  and 

honesty. 
Is  richly  noted ;  and  here  justified 
By  us,  a  pair  of  kings. — Let's  from  this  place. — 
what  ? — Look  upon  my  brother : — both  your  par- 
dons. 
That  e'er  I  put  between  your  holy  looks 
My  ill  suspicion. — This  your  son-in-law. 
And  son  unto  the  king  (whom  heavens  directing,) 
Is  troth-plight  to  your  daughter. — Good  Paulina, 
Lead  us  from  hence ;  where  we  may  leisurely 
Each  one  demand,  and  answer  to  his  part 
Perform'd  in  this  wide  gap  of  time,  since  first 
We  were  dissever'd :  Hastily  lead  away.      [Exe. 


This  play,  as  Dr.  Warburton  justly  observes,  is, 
with  all  its  absurdities,  very  entertaining.  The 
character  of  Autolycus  is  naturally  conceived,  and 
strongly  represented. 

JOHNSON. 

(3)  You  who  by  this  discovery  have  gained  what 
you  desired. 

(4)  Participate 


'\ 


■  w 
►  ■ 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


^  Ephesus. 

iatU  of  SyracuM. 

twin  brothers,  and  tons 
to^gtan  and  JEmi- 
Ua,  but  unhwnon  to 
each  other, 
tufin  brothers^  and  at- 
tendants on  the  two 
Aniipholus's, 


Uphesus, 
lyracuM, 


\esus 
acute 


rehant, 
mith. 


A  tncrehantf  friatd  to  AnHphohu  qf  Syraaut. 
Fiach,  a  schoobnattar,  and  a  eos\furor. 

jEmilta,  io(/e  to  JEgeon,  an  abbeu  ai  Ephesus, 
Adriana,  to(/e  to  AnHphoius  qf  Ephesus, 
Luciana,  her  sister. 
Luce,  herseroaant 
A  caurttaan. 

Gaoler  f  officers,  and  other  aUendanis, 
Scene,  Ephssus* 


ACT  I. 

I  hallin  the  Duke's  Palace.    Enter 
1,  Gaoler,  officer,  and  other  attend- 

^geon. 

mliiioi,  to  procure  my  fall, 

xn  of  deatn,  end  woes  and  all. 

hant  of  SyracHsa,  plead  no  more ; 

1,  to  infringe  our  laws : 

i  discord,  which  of  late 

e  rancorous  outrage  of  your  duke 

oar  well-dealing  countrymen, — 

guilders^  to  redeem  their  lives, 

rigorous  statute?  with  their  bloods, — 

ly  from  our  threatening  looks. 

nortal  and  intestine  jars 

itious  coun(r)'men  and  us, 

in  synods  been  decreed, 

recusans  and  ourselves, 

iffic  to  our  adverse  towns : 

Ephesus,  be  seen 
lan  marti^  and  fairs ; 
Syracusan  bom 
ly  of  Ephesus,  he  dies, 
tscate  to  the  duke^s  dispose : 
ind  marks  be  levied, 
lalty,  and  to  ransom  him. 
,  Talued  at  the  highest  rate, 
:  unto  a  hundred  marks ; 
>aw  thou  art  condemn'd  to  die. 
lis  my  comfort ;  when  your  words 
one, 

ikewise  with  the  evening  sun. 
,  Syracusan,  say,  in  brief,  the  cause 
artedst  from  thy  native  home  ; 
»use  thou  earnest  to  Ephe«u». 
iTier  task  could  not  have  been  im- 

ik  my  griefs  unspeakable  : 
'orld  may  witness,  that  my  end 
by  nature,'  not  by  vile  offence, 
my  sorrow  gives  me  leave, 
at  I  bom;  and  wed 

sofa  coin.  (2^  Markets. 

21 


Unto  a  woman,  happy  but  fijr  me, 
And  by  me  too,  had  not  our  bap  been  bad. 
With  her  I  liv'd  in  joy ;  oar  wealth  increas'd. 
By  proeperous  voyages  I  oAen  made 
To  Epidamnom,  till  my  Au^tor's  death ; 
And  be  (great  care  of  goods  at  random  left) 
Drew  me  from  kind  enu>racenientf  of  my  spouse : 
From  whom  my  absence  was  not  six  months  old, 
Before  herself  (almost  at  fiunting,  under 
The  pleasing  punishment  that  women  bear,) 
Had  made  provision  for  her  following  me. 
And  soon,  and  safe,  arrived  where  I  was. 
There  she  had  not  been  long,  but  she  became, 
A  joyful  mother  of  two  goodly  sons  ; 
And,  which  was  strange,  the  one  so  like  the  other, 
As  could  not  be  distinguish*d  but  by  names. 
That  very  hour,  and  in  the  self-same  inn, 
A  poor  mean  woman  was  delivered 
Of  such  a  burden,  male  twins,  both  alike : 
Those,  for  their  parents  were  exceeding  poor, 
I  bought,  and  brought  up  to  attend  my  sons. 
My  wife,  not  meanly  proud  of  two  such  boys. 
Made  daily  motions  for  our  home  return : 
Unwilling  I  s^^reed ;  alas,  too  soon. 
We  came  aboard : 

A  league  from  Epidamnum  had  we  sail*d, 
Before  the  always-wind-obeying  deep 
Gave  any  tragic  instance  of  our  harm : 
But  longer  did  we  not  retain  much  hope ; 
For  what  obscured  light  the  heavens  aid  grant 
Did  but  convey  unto  our  fearful  minds 
A  doubtful  w;arrant  of  immediate  death ; 
Which,  though  myself  would  gladly  have  embracM 
Yet  the  incessant  weepings  of  my  wife. 
Weeping  before  for  wnat  she  saw  must  come. 
And  piteous  plainings  of  the  pretty  babes,    • 
That  moumM  for  fa^ion,  ignorant  what  to  fear, 
ForcM  me  to  seek  delays  for  them  and  me. 
And  this  it  was,— for  other  means  was  none. — 
The  sailors  sought  for  safety  by  oar  boat. 
And  lef^  the  ship,  then  sinkmg-ripe,  to  as : 
My  wife,  more  careful  for  the  latter-bom. 
Had  fasten*d  him  unto  a  small  spare  mast. 
Such  as  sea-faring  men  provide  for  storms ; 
To  him  one  of  the  other  twins  was  bound. 
Whilst  I  had  been  like  heedful  of  the  other. 
The  children  thus  dispos*d,  my  wife  and  I, 

(3)  Natural  affection. 


308 


CX)M£DY  OF  ERRORS. 


Jd/ 


Fixing  oar  ejea  an  whom  our  care  wa  fix*d, 
FastenM  oanelves  at  either  end  the  mast ; 
And  floating  straight,  obedient  to  the  stream. 
Were  carried  towards  Corinth,  as  we  thoi^t 
At  length  the  sun,  gazing  upon  the  earth, 
Disp)er»*d  tho«e  vapours  that  oflended  as ; 
And,  bj  the  beneat  of  his  wished  light. 
The  »ea«  wa\M  calm,  and  we  discovered 
Two  ships  from  &r  making  amain  to  us. 
Of  Corinth  that,  of  Epidaurus  this  : 
But  ere  they  came, — O,  let  roe  say  no  more  ! 
(iather  the  sequel  by  that  went  before. 

Duke.  Nay,  forward,  old  man,  do  ooC  break  off 


so 


For  we  ma}  pity,  though  not  pardon  thee. 

^'Ege.  O,  had  the  gtxls  done  so,  I  had  not  now 
Worthily  tenn'd  th<'m  merciless  to  us  I 
For,  erf  the  ships  could  meet  by  twice  fire  leagues, 
We  were  encountered  by  a  mighty  rock ; 
Whi<  h  being  violently  borne  upon. 
Our  helpful  »hip  was  splitted  in  the  midst. 
So  that,  in  this  unjust  oivorce  of  us. 
Fortune  had  left  to  both  of  us  alike 
What  to  delight  in,  what  to  sorrow  for. 
Her  part,  poor  soul !  seeming  as  burdened 
W^ith  lesser  wei^t,  but  not  with  lesser  wo. 
Was  carried  witn  more  speed  before  the  wind ; 
And  in  our  sight  they  three  were  taken  up 
By  fishermen  of  Connfh,  as  we  thought 
At  length,  another  ^'p  had  seizM  on  us; 
And,  knotving  whom  it  was  their  hap  to  save. 
Gave  helpful  welcome  to  their  shipwrecked  guests : 
And  would  have  reA^  the  fishers  of  their  prey, 
Had  not  their  bark  been  very  slow  of  sail. 
And  therefore  homeward  did  they  bend  their  course. 
Thus  have  you  heard  me  severM  from  my  b\m ; 
That  by  misfortunes  was  my  life  proloogM, 
To  tell  sad  stories  of  my  own  mishaps. 
Duke.  And,  for  the  nke  of  them  thou  sorrowest 
for, 
Do  me  the  favour  to  dilate  at  full 
What  liAth  befall*n  of  them,  and  thee,  till  now. 

^ge.  My  youngest  boj-,  and  yet  my  eldest  care, 
At  eighteen  years  became  inquisitive 
After  his  brother ;  and  imp6rtun*d  me. 
That  his  attendant,  (for  his  case  was  like. 
Reft  of  his  brother,  but  retained  his  name,) 
Mi^ht  bear  him  company  in  the  quest  of  him : 
Whom  whilst  I  labourM  of  a  love  to  sec, 
f  hazarded  the  loss  of  whom  I  lovM. 
Five  summers  have  I  spent  in  furthest  Greece, 
Roaming  clean^  through  the  bounds  of  Ar»ia, 
And,  coasting  homeward,  came  to  Ephesus ; 
Hopeless  to  find,  yet  loth  to  leave  unsought. 
Or  that,  or  any  place  that  harbours  men. 
But  here  must  end  the  story  of  mv  life ; 
And  happy  were  I  in  my  timely  death. 
Could  all  my  travels  warrant  me  they  live. 
Duke.  Hapless  -Sgeon,  whom  the  fates 
markM 
To  ^r  the  extremity  of  dire  mi^ap  ! 
Now,  tnwt  me,  were  it  not  against  our  laws, 
Ayainst  my  crown,  mv  oath,  my  dignity, 
Which  princes,  would  thfy,  may  not  disannul, 
My  soul  should  sue  an  advocate  for  thee. 
But,  though  thou  art  adjudged  to  the  death. 
And  passed  sentence  may  not  be  recalPd, 
But  to  our  honour^  great  disparagement. 
Yet  will  I  favour  thee  in  what  I  can  : 
Therefore,  merchant,  V\\  limit  thee  diis  day, 
To  seek  thy  help  by  beneficial  help : 

(1)  Deprived.         (2)  Clear,  completely 
(3)  Go.         (4)  The  sign  of  their  hotel. 


have 


Try  all  the  friends  thou  hast  in  Ephesas ; 
Beg  thoQ,  or  borrow,  to  make  op  the  sum. 
And  live ;  if  not,  then  thou  art  aooiD*d  to  (fie : — 
Gaoler,  take  him  to  thy  custody. 

GaoL  I  will,  my  lord. 

.£^.  Hopeless,  and  helpless,  doCh  JEgeon  wend,! 
But  to  procrastinate  his  lifieless  end.  [ElxeumL 

SCELXE  II.— Jl  pubiie  place.  Enter  AotiphoftM 
and  Dromio  of  Syracuse,  and  a  MaxkanL 

Mer.  Therefore,  give  out,  you  are  of  Ej 
Lest  that  your  gooicu  too  soon  be  confiscate. 
This  very  day,  a  Syracosan  merchant 
Is  apprehended  for  arrival  here ; 
Ana,  not  being  able  to  buy  out  his  life, 
Accordii^  to  the  statute  of  the  town. 
Dies  ere  we  weary  sun  set  in  the  west. 
There  is  your  money  that  I  had  to  keep. 

Jini.  S.  Go  bear  it'to  the  Centaur,^  where  we  boil, 
And  stay  there,  Dromio,  till  I  come  to  thee. 
Within  this  hour  it  will  be  dini>er>tiroe  : 
Till  that,  Pll  view  the  manners  of  the  tofwn. 
Peruse  the  traders,  gaze  upon  the  buildings. 
And  then  return,  and  sleep  within  mine  inn; 
For  with  long  travel  I  am  stiff  and  weary. 
Get  thee  away. 

Dro.  S.  ftfany  a  roan  would  take  yoa  at  joor 
word. 
And  go  indeed,  having  so  good  a  mean. 

[fxilDroiSi 

Ani.  S.  A  trusty  villain,*  sir ;  that  veir  oA, 
When  I  am  dull  with  care  and  melancfacAj, 
Lightens  my  humour  with  hi«  merry  jests. 
What,  will  you  walk  with  me  about  the  town. 
And  then  go  to  my  inn,  and  dine  with  me  ? 

Mer.  1  am  invited,  sir,  to  certain  mercfaanti, 
Of  whom  I  hope  to  make  much  benefit ; 
I  crave  your  pardon.  Soon,  at  five  oVlock, 
Plea!»e  you,  Til  meet  with  you  upon  the  mart,* 
And  afterwards  consort  vou  till  bed-time; 
Mv  present  business  calls  me  from  you  now. 

'Jint.  S.  Farewell  till  then  :  I  will  go  lose  myieK; 
And  wander  up  and  down,  to  view  the  city. 

Mer.  Sir,  I  coounend  you  to  your  own  content 

[Exit  MerchuiL 

Ant.  S.   He  that  conmiends  me  to  mine  own 
content. 
Commends  me  to  the  thing  I  cannot  gi^ 
I  to  the  world  am  like  a  drop  of  water. 
That  in  the  ocean  seeks  another  drop ; 
\Mk),  falling  there  to  find  his  fellow  fixtfa, 
Unseen,  inuuisitive,  confounds  himself : 
So  I,  to  find  a  mother,  and  a  InxMher, 
In  quest  of  them,  unhappy,  lose  myaelfl 

Enter  Dromio  of  Ephesas. 

Here  comes  the  almanac  of  my  true  date, — 
XMiai  now  ?  How  chance,  thou  art  retuni*d  so  soon? 

Dro.  E,  Return^  so  soon !  rather  approadi*il 
too  late : 
The  capon  bums,  the  pig  falls  from  the  spit; 
The  clock  hath  stnicken  twelve  upon  the  bell. 
My  mistress  made  it  one  upon  my  cheek : 
^he  is  so  hot  because  the  meat  is  cold ; 
The  meat  is  cold,  because  vou  come  not  home; 
You  come  not  home,  because  you  have  no  stomach 
You  have  no  stomach,  havii^  broke  yoor  fast ; 
Rut  %ve,  that  knew  what  His  to  fast  and  pray, 
Are  penitent  for  your  default  to-day. 

Ant.  S.  Stop  in  yoar  wind,  sir ;  tell  me  thiii 
pray; 
Wliere  have  yoa  left  the  money  that  I  gare  job' 


(5)  t.  e.  Servant    (6)  Ezdiange,  markel-pboft 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


309 


5. 0, — ax-pence,  that  I  had  o'  Wednesday 
last, 

be  saddler  for  mv  mistregs'  crupper ; — 
Her  had  it,  sir,  I  kept  it  not 
(.  I  am  not  in  a  sportive  humour  now  : 
and  dally  not,  where  is  the  money  ? 
j;  strangers  here,  how  dar^st  thou  trust 
a  charge  from  thine  own  custody  ? 
5. 1  pray  you,  jest,  sir,  as  you  sit  at  dinner : 
y  mistress  come  to  you  in  post ; 
rn,  I  shall  be  post  indeed  : 
fill  score  your  fault  upon  my  pate. 
I,  your  maw,  like  mine,  should  be  your 
clock, 

ce  you  home  without  a  messenger. 
S.  Come,  Dromio,  come,  these  jests  are 
out  of  season ; 

them  till  a  merrier  hour  than  this  : 
I  the  gold  I  g^ve  in  charge  to  thee  ? 
SI  To  me,  sir  ^  why  you  gave  no  gold  to  me. 
31  Come  on,  sir  knave,  have  done  3  our 
foolishness, 

me,  how  thou  hast  disposM  thy  charge. 
S.  My  charge  was  but  to  fetch  you  from 
tile  mart 

your  house,  the  Phoenix,  sir,  to  dinner ; 
ess,  and  her  sister,  stay  for  you. 
I  Now,  as  I  am  a  Christian,  answer  me, 
Hife  place  you  have  bestowM  my  money ; 
1  br^k  that  merr)'  sconce^  of  yours, 
ids  on  tricks  when  T  am  undisposed  : 
die  thousand  marks  thou  hadst  of  me .' 
S.  I  have  some  marks  of  yours  upon  my 
pate, 

mv  mistress*  marks  upon  my  shoulders, 
,  mousand  marks  between  you  both. — 
Id  pay  your  worship  those  again, 
e,  you  will  not  bear  them  patiently. 
L  Thy  mistress*  marks .'   what  mistress, 
slave,  hast  thou  ? 

5.  Your  worship's  wife,  my  mistress  at 
the  Phomix ; 

doth  fast,  till  you  come  home  to  dinner, 
'i,  that  you  will  hie  you  home  to  dinner. 
.  What,  wilt  thou  flout  me  thus  unto  my 
£u:e, 

bid  ^  There,  take  you  that,  sir  knave. 
B.  What  mean  you,  sir.^  for  God's  sake, 
hold  your  hands ; 
roo  will  not,  sir.  Til  take  my  heels. 

[Kxit  Dromio  E. 
.  Upon  my  life,  by  some  device  or  other, 
in  is  o'er-raught^  of  all  my  money. 
,  this  town  is  full  of  cozenage ; 
le  jugglers,  that  deceive  the  eye, 
king  sorcerers,  that  change  the  mind, 
ig  witches,  that  deform  the  body  ; 
cheaters,  prating  mountebanks, 
r  such  like  liberties  of  sin  : 
s  io,  I  will  be  gone  the  sooner. 
Centaur,  to  go  seek  this  slave ; 
fear,  my  money  is  not  safe.  [Exit. 


ACT  II. 

/. — A  public  place.    Enter  Adriana, 

and  Luciana. 
sither  my  husband,  nor  the  slave  retum'd, 
ich  haste  I  sent  to  seek  his  master ! 
iana,  it  is  two  o'clock. 


)He«d. 


(2)  0%'er-reached. 


Lvc.  Perhaps,  some  merchant  hath  invited  him. 
And  from  the  mart  he's  somewhere  gone  to  dinner, 
(lood  sister,  let  us  dine,  end  never  fret : 
A  man  is  master  of  his  liberty  : 
Time  is  their  master ;  and,  when  they  see  time. 
They'll  go,  or  come :  If  so,  be  patient,  sister. 

Adr.  Why  should  their  liberty  than  ours  be  mo«-? 

Luc.  Because  their  business  still  lies  out  o'door. 

Adr.  Look,  when  I  serve  him  so,  he  takes  it  ill. 

Luc.  O,  know,  he  is  the  bridle  of  your  will. 

Adr.  There's  none,  but  asses,  will  be  bridled  sr.. 

Luc.  Why,  headstrong  liberty  is  lash'd  with  wo. 
There's  nothing,  situate  under  heaven's  eye. 
But  hath  his  bound,  in  earth,  in  sea,  in  sky  : 
The  beasts,  the  fishes,  and  the  winged  fowls, 
Are  tlicir  males'  subjects,  and  at  their  controls  : 
Men,  more  divine,  and  masters  of  all  these, 
Lords  of  the  wide  world,  and  wild  watry  seas. 
Indued  with  intellectual  sense  and  souls. 
Of  more  pre-eminence  than  fish  and  fowls, 
Are  masters  to  their  females,  and  their  lords : 
Then  let  your  will  attend  on  their  accords. 

Adr.  This  servitude  makes  you  to  keep  unwed. 

Luc.  Not  this,  but  troubles  m  the  marriage  bed. 

Adr.  But,  were  you  wedded,  you  would  bear 
some  sway. 

Luc.  Ere  I  learn  love,  Pll  practise  to  obey. 

Adr.   How  if  your  husband  start  some  other 
where  .^ 

IjUC.  Till  he  come  home  again,  I  would  forbenr. 

Adr.  Patience  unmov'd,  no  marvel  though  she 
pause; 
They  can  be  meek,  that  have  no  other  cause. 
A  wretched  soul,  bruis'd  with  adversity. 
We  bid  be  quiet,  when  we  hear  it  cry  ; 
But  were  we  burthen'd  with  like  weight  of  pain. 
As  much,  or  more,  we  should  ourselves  complain  : 
So  thou,  that  hast  no  unkind  mate  to  grieve  thee. 
With  ureing  helpless  patience  would'st  relieve  me  : 
But,  if  mou  live  to  see  like  right  bereft. 
This  fbol-beeg'd  patience  in  tnee  will  be  left. 

Zmc.  Well,  I  will  marry  one  day,  but  to  try ; — 
Here  comes  your  man,  now  is  your  husband  nigh. 

Enter  Dromio  qf  Ephesus. 

Adr.  Say,  is  your  tardy  master  now  at  hand .' 

Dro.  E.  Nay,  he  is  at  two  hands  with  me,  and 
that  my  two  ^rs  can  witness. 

Adr.  ^y,  didst  thou  speak  with  him  ?  know'st 
thou  his  mind  f 

Dro.  E.  Ay,  av,  he  told  his  mind  upon  mine  ear : 
Beshrew  his  hanci,  I  scarce  could  understand  it. 

Luc.  Spake  he  so  doubtfully,  thou  couldst  not 
feel  his  meaning  f 

Dro.  E.  Nay,  he  struck  so  plainly,  I  could  too 
well  feel  his  blows ;  and  withal  so  doubtfully,  that 
I  could  scarce  understand  them.' 

Adr.  But  say,  I  pr'ythee,  is  he  coming  home  f 
It  seems,  he  hath  great  care  to  please  his  wife. 

Dro.  E.  Why,  mistress,  sure  my  master  is  horn- 
mad. 

Adr.  Horn-mad,  thou  villain  ? 

Dro.  E.  I  mean  not  cuckold-mad ;  but,  sure, 
he's  stark  mad : 
When  I  desir'd  him  to  come  home  to  dinner. 
He  ask'd  me  for  a  thousand  marks  in  gold  : 
'7Y5  dinner-time^  quoth  I ;  My  gold,  quoth  he  : 
Ymir  meat  doth  hum^  quoth  I ;  My  gold^  quoth  he : 
H  'ill  you  come  home  ?  quoth  I ;  J^gold^  quoth  be : 
Where  is  the  thousand  marks  I  rave  thee^  villain  ? 
The  pigy  quoth  I,  is  burn'd  ;  Jay  gold^  quoth  he  . 
My  mistresSf  sir^  quoth  I ;  Hang  up  thy  mistress , 

(3)  t.  e.  Scarce  stand  under  them. 


310 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


j»c/  /I. 


/  know  not  Ihy  mistress ;  out  on  thy  mistress  ! 

Luc.  Quoth  who? 

Dro.  E.  Quoth  my  nriaster : 
/ knoWf  quoth  he,  no  house,,  no  wtfe^  nomistressf — 
So  that  my  errand,  due  unto  my  tongue, 
I  thank  him,  I  bear  home  upon  my  shoulders ; 
For,  in  conclusion,  he  did  beat  roe  there. 

Adr.  Go  back  again,  thou  slare,  and  fetch  him 
home. 

Dro.  E.  Go  back  again,  and  be  new  beaten 
home? 
For  God*s  sake,  send  some  other  messenger. 

Adr.  Back,  slave,  or  I  will  break  thy  pate  across. 

Dro.  E.  And  he  will  bless  that  cross  with  other 
beating : 
Between  you  1  shall  have  a  holy  head. 

Adr.  Hence,  prating  peasant ;  fetch  thy  master 
home. 

Dro.  E.  Am  I  so  round  with  you,  as  you  with  me, 
That  like  a  football  you  do  spurn  me  thus  ^ 
You  spurn  me  hence,  and  he  will  spurn  me  hither : 
If  I  last  in  this  service,  you  must  case  me  in  leather. 

[BlxU. 

Lmc.  Fie,  how  impatience  lowreth  in  your  face ! 

Adr.  His  company  must  do  his  minions  grace, 
Whilst  I  at  home  starve  for  a  merry  look. 
Hath  homely  age  the  alluring  beauty  took 
From  my  poor  cheek?  then  he  hath  wasted  it : 
Are  my  discourses  dull  ?  barren  my  wit? 
If  voluble  and  sharp  discourse  be  marr*d, 
Unkindness  blunts  it,  more  than  marble  hard. 
Do  their  *gay  vestments  his  affections  bait  ? 
That*s  not  my  fault,  he*s  master  of  my  state 
What  ruins  are  in  noe  that  can  be  found 
By  him  not  ruinM  ?  then  is  be  the  ground 
Of  my  defeatures  -.^  My  decayed  fair^ 
A  sunny  look  of  his  would  soon  repair : 
But,  too  unruly  deer,  he  breaks  the  pale. 
And  feeds  from  home ;  poor  I  am  but  his  stale.' 

Luc.  Self-arming  jealousy  ! — fie,  beat  it  hence. 

Adr.  Unfeeling  fools  can  with  such  wrongs  dis- 
pense. 
I  know  his  eye  doth  homage  otherwhere ; 
Or  else,  what  lets^  it  but  he  would  be  here  ? 
Sister,  you  know  he  promised  me  a  chain  ;— 
Would  that  alone,  alone  he  would  detain, 
So  he  would  keep  fair  quarter  with  his  bed ! 
I  see,  the  jewel,  best  enamelled. 
Will  lose  his  beauty  ;  and  though  gold  *bides  still. 
That  others  touch,  yet  oAen  touching  will 
Wear  gold  :  and  so  no  man,  that  hath  a  name. 
But  falsehood  and  corruption  doth  it  shame. 
Since  that  my  beauty  cannot  please  his  eye, 
I'll  weep  what^s  leA  awav,  and  weeping  die. 

Lmc.  How  many  fond  fools  ser\'e  mad  jealousy  ! 

\Exeunt. 

SCEJS'E  II.—The  same.    Enter  Antipholua  qf 

Syracuse. 

Ant.  iS.^The  gold,  I  gave  to  Dromio,  is  laid  up 
Safe  at  the  Centaur ;  and  the  heedful  slave 
Is  wandered  forth,  in  care  to  seek  me  out 
By  computation,  and  mine  host's  report, 
I  could  not  speak  with  Dromio,  since  at  first 
I  sent  him  from  the  mart :  See,  here  he  comes. 

Enter  Dromio  qf  Syracuse. 

How  now,  sir?  is  your  merry  humour  alterM  ? 
As  you  love  stroices,  so  jest  with  me  again. 
Yoo  know  no  Centaur?  you  received  no  gold  ? 

f  1)  Alteration  of  features.     (2)  Fair,  for  fairness. 
(3)  Stalking-horse.  (4)  Hinders. 

(5)  t.  e.  Intrude  on  them  when  you  please 


Your  mistress  sent  to  have  me  home  to  dinner  ? 
My  house  was  at  the  Phcenix  ?  Wast  thou  ntiad. 
That  thus  so  madly  thou  didst  answer  roe  ? 

Dro.  S.  What  answer,  sir  ?  when  spake  I  sacb 
a  word  ? 

Ant.  S.  Even  now,  even  here,  not  half  an  hoar 
since. 

Dro.  S.  1  did  not  see  you  since  yoo  sent  me 
hence, 
Home  to  the  Centaur,  with  the  gold  rou  gave  me. 

ArU.  S.  Villain,  thou  didst  deny  the  (^d*s  re- 
ceipt ; 
And  told'st  me  of  a  mistress  and  a  dinner ; 
For  which,  I  hope,  thou  felt*6t  I  was  dbpleas*d. 

Dro.  S.  I  am  ^lad  to  see  you  in  this  merry  vein  : 
What  means  this  lest  ?  I  pray  you,  master,  tell  me. 

Ant.  S.  Yea,  aoet  thou  jeer,  and  flout  me  in  the 
teeth? 
Think'st  thou,  I  jest?  Hold,  take  tboa  that,  and 
that  [JBsating  him. 

Dro.  S.  Hold,  sir,  for  God*s  sake:  now  your 
jest  is  earnest : 
Upon  what  bargain  do  you  give  it  roe? 

Ant.  S.  Because  that  I  fiuniliarly  sometimes 
Do  use  you  for  my  fool,  and  chat  with  you. 
Your  sauciness  will  jest  upon  my  love. 
And  make  a  conunon  of  my  senous  hours.' 
\N'hcn  the  sun  shines,  let  fo<Jish  gnats  make  sport. 
But  creep  in  cranhies,  when  he  hides  his  beams. 
If  vou  wilt  jest.fvith  me,  know  my  aspect,* 
And  fashion  youi^-demeanour  to  my  looks. 
Or  I  will  beat  this  method  in  TOur  sconce. 

Dro.  S.  Sconce,  call  you  it. ^  so  yon  would  leare 
battering,  I  had  rather  have  it  a  head:  an  you 
u.se  these  blows  long,  I  must  get  a  sconce  for  my 
head,  and  insconce'  it  too ;  or  else  I  shall  seek  my 
wit  in  my  shoulders.  But,  I  pray,  sir,  whj  am  1 
beaten  ? 

Ant.  S.  Dost  thou  not  know  ? 

Dro.  S.  Nothing,  sir;  but  that  I  am  beaten. 

Ant.  S.  Shall  1  tell  vou  why? 

Dro.  S.  Ay,  sir,  and  wherefore ;  for,  they  say, 
everv  why  hath  a  wherefore. 

Ant.  S.  Why,  first, — for  flouting  me ;  and  then, 
wherefore, — 
For  urging  it  the  second  time  to  me. 

Dro.  S.  Was  there  ever  any  man  thus  beaten 
out  of  season. 
When,  in  the  why,  and  the  wherefore,  is  ndther 

rhyme  nor  reason  f — 
Well,  sir,  I  thank  you. 

Ant.  S.  Thank  me,  sir  ?  for  what? 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  for  this  something  that  you 
gave  me  for  nothing. 

Ant.  S.  IMl  make  you  amends  next,  to  give  you 
nofhirig  for  something.  But  say,  sir,  is  it  dinner- 
time ? 

Dro.  S.  No,  sir ;  I  think,  the  meat  wants  that  I 
have. 

Ant.  S.  In  good  time,  sir,  whafs  tfiat? 

Dro.  S.  Basting. 

Ant.  S.  Well,  sir,  then  'twill  be  dry. 

Dro.  S.  If  it  be,  sir,  I  pray  you  eat  none  of  it 

Ant.  S.  Your  reason  ? 

Dro.  S.  Lest  it  make  you  choleric,  and  purchase 
me  another  dry  basting. 

Ant.  S.  Well,  sir,  feam  to  jest  in  good  time ; 
There's  a  time  for  all  things. 

Dro.  S.  I  durst  have  denied  that,  befixe  yoa 
were  so  choleric. 

Ant.  S.  By  what  rule,  sir? 

(6)  Study  my  countenance. 

(7)  A  sconce  was  a  fortifiostjon. 


//. 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


311 


Dro.  S.  Marry,  nr,  bj  a  rule  as  plain  aa  the 
Dlain  bald  pate  of  father  Time  himself. 

AnL  S.  Let's  hear  it 

Dro,  S.  There's  no  time  for  a  man  to  recover 
his  hair,  that  grows  bald  b^  nature. 

ArU.  S.  May  he  not  do  it  bv  fine  and  recovery  ? 

Dro.  S,  Yes,  to  pay  a  fine  for  a  peruke,  and  re- 
cover  the  lost  hair  of  another  man. 

Ani.  S.  Why  is  time  such  a  niggard  of  hair, 
being,  as  it  is,  so  plentiful  an  excrement? 

Dro.  S.  Because  it  is  a  blessing  that  he  bestows 
oa  beasts :  and  what  he  hath  scanted  men  in  hair, 
be  hath  given  them  in  wit 

Ani.  S,  Why,  but  there's  many  a  man  hath  more 
hair  than  wit 

Dro.  S.  Not  a  man  of  those,  but  he  hath  the  wit 
to  lose  his  hair. 

AnL  S.  WhjT,  thou  didst  conclude  hairy  men 
plain  dealers  without  wit 

Dro.  S.  The  plainer  dealer,  the  sooner  lost :  Yet 
he  loseth  it  in  a  kind  of  jolli^. 

AnLS.  For  what  reason  .^ 

Dro.  S.  For  two ;  and  sound  ones  too. 

Ani.  S.  Nay,  not  sound,  I  pray  you. 

Dro.  S.  Sure  ones  then. 

Ani.  S.  Nay,  not  sure,  in  a  thing  falsing. 

Dro.  S.  Certain  ones  then. 

Ani.  S.  Name  them. 

Dro.  S.  The  one,  to  save  tne  money  that  be 
mads  in  tiring;  the  other,  that  at  dinner  they 
■hould  not  drop  in  his  porridj^ 

AnL  S.  You  would  all  tms  time  hare  proved 
tfiere  b  no  time  for  all  thines. 

Dro.  S.  fiiarry,  and  did,  sir ;  namely,  no  time 
to  recover  hair  lost  by  nature. 

Ani.  8.  But  your  reason  was  not  substantial, 
why  there  is  ilb  time  to  recover. 

Dro.  8.  Thus  I  mend  it :  Time  himself  is  bald, 
and  tberelbie,  to  the  world's  end,  will  have  bald 
followen. 

AnL  8  I  knew,  'twould  be  a  bald  conclusion : 
But  soA !  who  wahsi  us  yonder? 

Enter  Adriana  and  Luciana. 

Adr,   Ay,  ay,  Antipholus,  look  strange,  and 
frown; 
Some  other  mistress  hath  thy  sweet  aspects,     • 
I  am  not  Adriana,  nor  thy  wife. 
The  time  was  once,  when  thou  unurg*d  would'st 

TOW, 

Tbmi  never  words  were  music  to  thine  ear, 
T^iat  never  object  pleasing  in  thine  eye. 
That  never  loiich  well-welcome  to  thy  hand, 
Hiat  never  meat  sweet-savour'd  in  thy  taste, 
Unless  I  spake,  look'd,  touch'd,  or  carv'd  to  thee. 
How  comes  it  now,  my  husband,  oh,  how  comes  it, 
'niat  thou  art  then  estranged  from  tfiyself  ? 
Thyself  I  call  it,  being  strange  to  me, 
Tlaat,  undividable,  incorporate. 
Am  better  tlian  thy  dear  selPs  better  part 
Ah,  do  not  tear  away  thyself  from  me ; 
For  know,  my  love,  as  easy  may'st  thou  fall 
A  drop  of  water  in  the  breaking  gulf. 
And  take  unmingled  thence  that  arop  again, 
Without  addition,  or  diminishing. 
As  take  from  me  thyself,  and  not  roe  too. 
How  dearly  would  it  touch  thee  to  the  quick, 
Should'st  thou  but  hear  I  were  licentious ; 
And  diat  this  body,  consecrate  to  thee. 
By  ruffian  lust  should  be  contaminate ! 
Woold'st  tboo  not  spit  at  me,  and  spurn  at  ma, 
And  horl  the  name  of  husband  in  my  ho^ 


(l)Beckoai. 


(2)  Unfertile. 


And  tear  the  stain'd  skin  off  my  harlot  brow. 

And  from  my  false  hand  cut  the  wedding  ring, 

And  break  it  with  a  deep-divorcing  vow  r 

I  know  thou  canst ;  and  therefore,  see,  thou  do  it 

I  am  possess'd  with  an  adulterate  blot ; 

My  blood  is  mingled  with  the  crime  of  lust : 

For,  if  we  two  be  one,  and  thou  play  &lse, 

1  do  digest  the  poison  of  thy  flesh. 

Being  strumpeted  by  thy  contagion. 

Keep  then  fair  league  and  truce  with  thy  true  bed 

I  live  dis-stain'd,  thou  undisbonoured. 

Ani.  S.  Plead  you  to  me,  fair  dame  ?  I  know 
you  not  : 
In  Ephesus  I  am  but  two  hours  <Jd, 
As  strange  unto  your  town,  as  to  your  talk ; 
Who,  evei^  word  by  all  my  wit  being  scann'd. 
Want  wit  in  all  one  word  to  understand. 

Luc.  Fie,  brother !  how  the  world  is  chang'd 
with  you ! 
When  were  you  wont  to  use  my  aster  thus? 
She  sent  foryou  by  Dromio  home  to  dinner. 

AnLS.  By  Dromio? 

Dro.  S.  By  me  ? 

Aih".  By  thee :  and  this  thou  didst  return  (torn 
Wm, — 
That  he  did  buffet  thee,  and,  in  his  blows, 
Deny'd  ray  house  for  his,  me  for  his  wife. 

AnL  S.  Did  you  converse,  sir,  with  this  gende- 
woman? 
What  is  the  course  and  drift  of  your  comp&ct  ? 

Dro.  S.  I,  sir  ?  I  never  saw  her  till  this  time. 

Ani.  S.  Villain,  thou  liest ;  for  even  her  very 
words 
Didst  thou  deliver  to  roe  on  the  mart 

Dro.  S.  I  never  spake  with  her  in  all  my  lifis. 

Ani.  S.  How  can  she  thus  then  call  us  by  our 
names. 
Unless  it  be  by  inspiratkxi  ? 

Adr.  How  ill  agrees  it  with  your  gravity. 
To  counterfeit  thus  grossly  with  your  slave, 
Abetting  him  to  thwart  me  in  my  mood ! 
Be  it  my  wrong,  you  are  from  me  exempt. 
But  wrong  not  that  wron^  with  a  more  coatenpt 
Come,  I  will  fasten  on  this  sleeve  of  thine : 
Thou  art  an  elm,  my  husband,  I  a  vine ; 
Whose  weakness,  married  to  thy  stronger  state, 
Makes  me  with  thy  strength  to  communicate : 
If  aught  possess  thee  from  me,  it  b  dross, 
Usurping  ivy,  briar,  or  idle^  moss ; 
Who,  alt  for  want  of  pruning,  with  intrusion 
Infect  thy  aap,  and  live  on  thy  confusion. 

Ani.  S.  To  me  she  speaks;  die  moves  me  for 
her  theme : 
What,  was  I  married  to  her  in  my  dream  ? 
Or  sleep  I  now,  and  think  I  bear  all  this? 
What  error  drives  our  eyes  and  ears  amiss? 
Until  I  know  this  sure  uncertainty, 
ril  entertain  the  offer'd  fallacy. 

Luc.  Dromio,  go  bid  the  servants  spread  for 
dinner. 

Dro.  S.  O,  for  my  beads !  I  fcrots  me  for  a  sinner. 
This  is  the  fairy  land ; — O,  spite  of  spites ! — 
We  talk  with  goblins,  owls,  and  elvish  sprites ; 
if  we  obey  them  not,  this  will  ensue. 
They'll  suck  our  breath,  or  pinch  us  black  and  blue. 

Luc.  Wliy  prat'st  thou  to  thyself^  and  answer'st 
not? 
Dromio,  thou  drone,  thoo  snail,  thou  slug,  thou  sot ! 

Dro.  S.  1  am  transform'd,  master,  am  not  I  ? 

AnL  S.  I  think,  thoo  art,  in  mind,  and  so  am  L 

Dro.  S.  Nay,  master,  both  in  mind,  and  in  my 
shape. 

AnL  S.  Thou  bast  thine  own  Ibnn. 

Dro.  8.  No,  1  tm  on  ape. 


312 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


^ei  III 


Luc.  If  thou  art  changM  to  aught,  *tis  to  an  ass. 

Dro.  S.  *Tt8  true ;  she  rides  me,  and  I  long  for 
grass. 
*Tis  80, 1  am  an  ass ;  else  it  could  ne?er  be, 
But  I  should  know  her  as  well  as  she  knows  me. 

Adr.  Come,  come,  no  longer  will  1  be  a  fool, 
To  put  the  finger  in  the  eye  and  weep. 
Whilst  mem,  and  master,  lau^h  my  woes  to  scorn. — 
Come,  sir,  to  dinner ;  Dromio,  keep  the  gate : — 
Husband,  IMl  dine  above  with  you  to-day, 
And  shrive^  you  of  a  thousand  idle  pranks  : 
Sirrah,  if  any  ask  you  for  your  master. 
Say,  he  dines  forth,  and  let  no  creature  enter. — 
Come,  sister : — Dromio,  play  the  porter  well. 

Ani.  S.  Am  1  in  earth,  in  heaven,  or  in  hell  f 
Sleeping,  or  waking  ?  mad,  or  well-advisM .' 
Known  unto  these,  and  to  myself  disguised  ! 
IMl  say  as  they  say,  and  pers^ver  so, 
And  in  this  mist  at  all  adventures  ga 

Dro.  S.  Master,  shall  I  be  porter  at  the  eatc  ? 

Adr.  Ay ;  and  let  none  enter,  lest  1  breuL  your 
pate. 

Lmc.  Come,  come,  Antipholus,  we  dine  too  late. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  III. 

SCEIJ^E  l.—The  same.  Enter  Antipholus  of 
Ephesus,  Dromio  <^f  Ephesus,  Angelo,  cmd  Bal- 
tlmar. 

Ani.  E.  Good  agnior  Angelo,  you  must  excuse 
us  all ; 
My  wife  is  shrewish,  when  I  keep  not  hours : 
Say,  that  I  lineer'd  with  you  at  your  shop, 
To  see  the  making  of  her  carkanet,^ 
And  that  to-morrow  vou  will  bring  it  home. 
But  here*s  a  villain,  that  would  face  me  down 
He  met  me  on  the  mart ;  and  that  I  beat  him, 
And  charffM  him  with  a  thousand  markii  in  gold ; 
And  that  I  did  deny  my  wife  and  house : — 
Thou  drunkard,  thou,  what  didst  thou  mean  by 
this.' 
Dro.  E.  Say  what  you  will,  sir,  but  I  know  what 
1  know: 
That  you  beat  me  at  the  mart,  I  have  your  hand  to 

show: 
If  the  skin  were  parchment,  and  the  blows  you 

eave  were  ink, 
Your  own  nand-w rising  would  tell  you  what  I  think. 
Ant.  E.  I  think,  tbou  art  an  ass. 
Dro.  E.  Marry,  so  it  dolh  appear 

By  the  wrongs  I  suffer,  and  the  blows  1  bear. 
I  should  kick,  being  kickM;  and,  beine  at  that  pass. 
You  would  keep  from  my  heels,  and  beware  of  an 
ass. 
Ant.  E.  You  are  sad,  signior  Balthazar :  Tray 
God,  our  cheer 
May  answer  my  good  will,  and  your  good  welcome 
here. 
Bal.  I  hold  your  dainties  cheap,  sir,  and  your 

welcome  dear. 
Ant.  E.  O,  sigm'or  Balthazar,  either  at  flesh  or 
fish, 
A  table  full  of  welcome  makes  scarce  one  dainty 
dish.  / 

BaL  Good  meat,  sir,  is  common;  that  every 

churl  aflbrds. 
AnL  E.  And  welcome  more  common ;  for  that's 
nothing  but  words. 

(1)  Abwive.     (2)  A  necklace  strmig  with  pearls. 
(J>  Dishes  of  meat     (4)  Blockhead.      (5)  Fool. 


Bal.  Small  cheer,  and  great  welcoihe,  makes  a 

merry  feast 
Ant.  E.   Ay,  to  a  niggardly  host,  and  more 

sparing  guest : 
But  though  my  cates^  be  mean,  take  them  in  good 

part; 
Better  cheer  may  you  have,  but  not  with  better 

heart. 
But,  sof^ ;  my  door  islockM ;  Go  bid  them  let  as  in. 
Dro.  E.  Maud,  Bridget,  Marian,  Cicely,  Gil- 
lian, Jen* ! 
Dro.  S.  [JViUiin.'j   Mome,^  malt-horse,  capon, 

coxcomb,  idiot,  patch  .'^ 
Either  get  thee  from  the  door,  or  sit  down  at  the 

hatch : 
Dost  thou  conjure  for  wenches,  that  thou  calPst  for 

such  store. 
When  one  is  one  too  many  }  Go,  get  thee  from  the 

door. 
Dro.  E.  What  patch  is  made  oar  porter?  My 

master  stays  in  the  street 
Dro.  S.  Let  him  walk  from  whence  he  came, 

lest  he  catch  cold  on's  feet. 
Ant.  E.  Who  talks  within  there .'  ho,  open  the 

doQT.. 
Dro.  S.  Right,  sir,  I'll  tell  you  when,  an  you'll 

tell  me  wheref6re. 
Ani.  E.  Wheref6re .'  for  my  dinner ;  I  hare  not 

din'd  to-day. 
Dro.  S.  Nor  to-day  here  you  mutt  not ;  come 

again,  when  you  may. 
Ant.  E.  What  art  thou,  that  keep'st  me  out  from 

the  house  1  owe  ^ 
Dro.  S.  The  porter  for  this  time,  sir,  and  my 

name  is  Dromia 
Dro.  E.  O  villain,  thou  hast  stolen  botti  mine  of- 
fice and  my  name ; 
The  one  ne'er  got  me  credit,  the   other  mickle 

blame. 
If  thou  hadst  been  Dromio  to-day  in  my  place. 
Thou  would^t  have  chang'd  thy  fece  for  a  name, 

or  thy  name  for  an  ass. 
Luce.  [Within.]  What  a  coiR  is  there .'  Dromk), 

who  are  those  at  the  gate  f   . 
Dro.  E.  Let  tuy  master  in,  Luce. 
Luce.  Faith,  no ;  he  comes  too  late; 

And  so  tell  your  master. 

Dro.  E.  O  Lord,  I  roust  laagh : — 

Have  at  you  with  a  proverb. — Shall  I  set  in  my 

staff? 
Luce.  Have  at  you  with  another:  that's, — When? 

can  you  tell  ? 
Dro.  S.  If  thy  name  be  call'd  Lace,  Luce,  thou 

hast  answer'd  him  well. 
Ani.  E.  Do  you  hear,  yoa  minioo  ?  yoo*U  let  us 

in,  I  hope  ? 
Luce.  I  thought  to  have  ask'd  tou. 
Dro.  S.  And  yoa  said,  na 

Dro.  E.   So,  come,  help ;  well  struck ;  there 

was  blow  for  blow. 
Ant.  E.  Thou  baggage,  let  me  in. 
Luce.  Can  you  tell  for  whose  sake  ? 

Dro.  E.  Master,  knock  the  door  hard. 
Luce.  Let  him  knock  till  it  ache. 

Ant.  E.  You'll  ciy  for  this,  minioo,  if  I  beat  the 

door  down. 
Luce.  What  needs  all  that,  and  a  pair  of  stocks 

in  the  town  ? 
Adr.   [Withni]  Who  U  that  at  the  door,  that 

keeps  all  this  noise  ? 
Dro»  S.  By  my  troth,  your  town  it  troobied  with 

onruly  boys. 

(G)  I  own,  am  Ofwner  of.     (7)  Bustle,  tomulL 


Seme  U. 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


313 


AnL  E.  Are  yoa  there,  wUe  ?  you  might  have 

come  before. 
Adr.  Your  wife,  sir  knave  ?  go,  get  you  from 

the  door. 
Ihro.  E.  If  vou  went  in  pain,  master,  this  knave 

woula  go  sore. 
Ang.  Here  is  neither  cheer,  sir,  nor  welcome  ; 

we  would  fain  have<either. 
BaL  In  debating  which  was  best,  we  shall  part' 

with  neither. 
JDro.  E.  They  stand  at  the  door,  master ;  bid 

them  welcome  hither. 
Ani.  E.  There  is  something  in  the  wind,  that  we 

cannot  get  in. 
Dro.  E.  You  would  say  so,  master,  if  your 
garments  were  thin. 
Your  cake  here  is  warm  within ;  you  stand  here 

in  the  cold  : 
It  would  make  a  man  mad  as  a  buck,  to  be  so 
bought  and  9old.3 
AnL  E.  Go,  fetch  me  something,  PU  break  ope 

the  gate. 
Dro.  S.  Break  any  breaking  here,  and  IMl  break 

your  knave^s  pate. 
Dro.  E.  A  man  may  break  a  word  with  you, 
sir :  and  words  are  but  wind  ; 
Ay,  and  break  it  in  your  face,  so  he  break  it  not 
behind. 
Dro.  S.  It  seems,  thou  wantest  breaking :  Out 

upon  thee,  hind ! 
Dro.  E.   Kerens  too  much,  out  upon  thee!  I 

pray  thee,  let  me  in. 
Dro.  S.  Ay,  when  fowls  have  no  feathers,  and 

fish  have  no  fin. 
Ani.  E.  Well,  IMl  break  in ;  Go  borrow  me  a 

crow. 
Dro.  E.  A  crow  without  a  feather;  master, 
mean  you  so  f 
For  a  fish  without  a  fin,  there*s  a  fowl  without  a 

feather : 
If  a  crow  help  us  in,  sirrah,  weMl  pluck  a  crow 
together. 
Ant.  E.  Go,  get  thee  gone,  fetch  me  an  iron 

crow. 
BaL  Have  patience,  sir ;  O,  let  it  not  be  so ; 
Herein  you  war  against  your  reputation. 
And  draw  within  the  compass  of  suspect 
The  unviolated  honour  of  your  wife. 
Once  this, — Your  long  experience  of  her  wisdom, 
Her  sober  virtue,  years,  and  modesty. 
Plead  on  her  part  some  cause  to  you  unknown ; 
And  doubt  not,  sir,  that  she  will  well  excuse 
Why  at  this  time  the  doors  are  made'  against  you. 
Be  ruPd  by  me  ;  depart  in  patience, 
And  let  us  to  the  Tiger  all  to  dinner . 
And,  about  evening,  come  yourself  alone, 
"To  know  the  reason  of  this  strange  restraint. 
Jf  by  strong  hand  you  offer  to  break  in, 
Jfow  in  the  stirring  passage  of  the  day, 
^  vulnr  comment  will  be  made  on  it ; 
.And  that  supposM  by  the  common  rout 
^gainst  your  yet  ungalled  estimation, 
*That  may  with  foul  intrusion  enter  in, 
^nd  dwell  upon  your  grave  when  you  are  dead  : 
Wor  slander  lives  upon  succession ; 
War  ever  housM,  wnere  it  once  gets  possession. 
AnL  E.  You  have  prevaiPd ;  I  will  depart  in 
quiet, 
^And,  in  despite  of  mirth,  mean  to  be  merry. 
9  know  a  wench  of  excellent  discourse, — 

CI)  Have  part.         (2)  A  proverbial  phrase. 

C^)  f.  e.  Made  fast  (4)  By  this  time. 

^  j)  Ixive-springs  are  youn^  plants  or  shoots  of  love. 


Pretty  and  witty ;  wild,  and,  yet  too,  gentle ; — 

There  will  we  dine  :  this  woman  that  1  mean. 

My  wife  (but,  1  protest,  without  desert,) 

Hath  oftentimes  upbraided  me  withal ; 

To  her  will  we  to  dinner. — Get  you  home. 

And  fetch  the  chain ;  by  this,^  I  know,  *tis  made  : 

Bring  it,  I  pray  you,  to  the  Porcupine ; 

For  there^s  the  house  ;  that  chain  will  I  bestow 

(Be  it  for  nothing  but  to  spite  my  wife,) 

Upon  mine  hostess  there :  good  sir,  make  haste : 

Since  mine  own  doors  refuse  to  entertain  me, 

Pll  knock  elsewhere,  to  see  if  thevMl  disdain  me. 

Ang.  Ptl  meet  you  at  that  place,  some  hour 
hence. 

AnL  £.  Do  so :  This  jest  shall  cost  me  some 
expense.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJVE  IJ.^The  same.    Enter  Luciana,  and 
Antipholus  o/*  Syracuse. 

Luc.  And  may  it  be  that  you  have  quite  ibrg^oC 

A  husband's  office  f  Shall,  Antipholus,  hate. 
Even  in  the  spring  of  love,  thy  love-sprinig;a&  rot.' 

Shall  love,  in  building,  grow  so  ruinate  ? 
If  you  did  wed  my  sister  for  her  wealth. 

Then,  for  her  wealth's  sake,  use  her  with  more 
kindness : 
Or,  i^  you  like  elsewhere,  do  it  by  stealth ; 

Muffle  your  false  love  with  some  show  of  blind- 
ness : 
Let  not  my  sister  read  it  in  your  eye ; 

Be  not  thy  toneue  thy  own  shame's  orator ; 
Look  sweet,  speak  fair,  become  disloyalty ; 

Apparel  vice  like  virtue's  harbinger : 
Bear  a  fair  presence,  though  your  heart  be  tainted; 

Teach  sin  the  carriage  of  a  holy  saint ; 
Be  secret-false  :  What  need  she  be  acquainted  f 

What  simple  thief  brags  of  his  own  attaint  ? 
'Tis  double  wrong,  to  truant  with  your  bed. 

And  let  her  read  it  in  thy  looks  at  board : 
Shame  hath  a  bastard  fame,  well  managed ; 

111  deeds  are  doubled  with  an  evil  word. 
Alas,  poor  women !  make  us  but  believe. 

Being  compact  of  credit,^  that  you  love  us ; 
Though  others  have  the  arm,  show  us  the  sleeve  ; 

We  in  your  motion  turn,  and  you  may  move  us. 
Then,  eentle  brother,  get  you  in  again ; 

Comfort  my  sister,  cheer  her,  c^l  her  wife : 
'Tis  holy  sport  to  be  a  little  vain,' 

When  the  sweet  breath  of  flattery  conquers  strife. 

Ani.  S.  Sweet  mistress  (what  your  name  is  else, 
I  know  not. 

Nor  by  what  wonder  you  do  hit  on  mine,) 
Less,  in  your  knowledge,  and  your  g^ce,  you  show 
not. 

Than  our  earth's  wonder ;  more  than  earth  divine. 
Teach  me,  dear  creature,  how  to  think  and  speak ; 

Lay  open  to  my  earthly  gross  conceit, 
Smother'd  in  errors,  feeble,  shallow,  weak. 

The  folded  meaning  of  your  word's  deceit 
Against  my  soul's  pure  truth  why  labour  vou, 

To  make  it  wander  in  an  unknown  field  ^ 
Are  you  a  god .'  would  you  create  me  new  ? 

Transform  me  then,  and  to  your  power  I'll  yield 
But  if  that  I  am  I,  then  well  I  know, 

Your  weeping  sister  is  no  wife  of  mine, 
iVor  to  her  bed  no  homage  do  I  owe ; 

Far  more,  far  more,  to  you  do  I  decline. 
O,  train  me  not,  sweet  mermaid,^  with  thy  note. 

To  drown  me  in  thy  sister's  flood  of  tears ; 
Sing,  siren,  for  thyself  and  I  will  dote : 

(fi)  I.  e.  Bein^  made  altogether  of  credulity. 
(7)  Vain,  is  light  of  tongue.    (8)  Mennaid  for  sireo 


3U 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


Spread  o'er  the  silver  watres  th?  gold^  hairs, 
Ana  as  a  bed  V\\  take  thee,  and  there  lie; 

And,  in  that  glorious  supposition,  think 
He  gains  bj  death,  that  hath  such  means  to  die : — 

Let  love,  being  light,  be  drowned  if  she  sink ! 

Iaic.  What,  are  you  mad,  that  you  do  reason  so? 

AnL  S.  Not  mad,  but  mated  ;>  bow,  I  do  not 
know. 

Luc.  It  is  a  fault  that  springeth  from  jour  eje. 

Ant.  S.  For  g^ng  on  jour  beams,  &ir  sun, 
being  by. 

Lmc  Gaie  where  you  should,  and  that  will  clear 
jour  sight 

Ani.  S.  As  g«Kl  to  wink,  sweet  love,  as  look  on 
night 

Luc  Whv  call  jou  me  love  f  call  my  sister  sa 

Ani.  S,  Thj  sister*s  sister. 

Luc  That's  my  sister. 

Ani.S.  No; 

It  is  thyself,  mine  own  selPs  better  part ; 
Mine  eye*s  clear  eye,  my  dear  heart's  dearer  heart ; 
My  food,  my  fortune,  and  my  sweet  hope's  aim. 
My  sole  earth's  heaven,  and  my  heaven's  claim. 

Luc.  All  this  my  sister  is,  or  else  should  be. 

Ant.  S.  Call  thyself  sister,  sweet,  for  I  aim  thee : 
Thee  will  I  love,  and  with  thee  lead  mv  life ; 
Thou  hast  no  husband  yet,  nor  I  no  wife : 
Give  me  thy  hand. 

Luc  O,  soft,  sir,  hold  you  still ; 

I'll  fetch  my  sister,  to  get  her  good  will. 

[Exit  Luciaha. 

EfdeTyfrom  ihehouie  qf  Antipholus  qf  Ephesus^ 
Dromio  t(f  Syrahute. 

AnL  S.  Why,  how  now,  Dromio  ?  where  rann'st 
thou  so  fast  ? 

Dro,  S.  Do  you  know  me,  sir  ?  am  I  Dromio  f  am 
I  your  man .'  am  I  myself.^ 

AnL  S.  Thou  art  Dromio,  thou  art  my  roan, 
thou  art  t^  /self. 
*  Dro.  S.  I  am  an  ass,  I  am  •  woman's  man,  and 
bendes  myself. 

AnL  S.  What  woman's  man  ?  and  how  besides 
thvself.^ 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  besides  myself,  I  am  due  to 
a  woman ;  one  that  claims  me,  one  that  haunts  me, 
one  that  will  have  me. 

Ant.  S.  What  claim  lays  she  to  thee  ? 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  such  claim  as  you  would  lay 
to  your  horse ;  and  she  would  have  me  as  a  beast : 
not  that,  I  being  a  beast,  she  would  have  ine ;  but 
that  she,  being  a  very  beastly  creature,  la}  s  claim 
tome. 

Ant.  S.  What  is  she  ? 

Dro.  S.  A  very  reverent  body ;  ay,  such  a  one 
as  a  man  may  not  speak  of,  without  he  say,  sir 
reverence  :  I  have  but  lean  luck  in  the  match,  and 
yet  is  she  a  wondrous  &t  marriage. 

Ant.  S.  How  dost  thou  mean,  a  fat  marriage  ? 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  she's  the  kitchen>wench,  and, 
all  grease ;  and  I  know  not  what  use  to  put  her  to, 
but  to  make  a  lamp  of  her,  and  run  from  her  by 
lier  own  li^ht.  I  warrant,  her  rags,  and  the  tallow 
in  them,  will  bum  a  Poland  winter :  if  she  Tive» 
till  doomsdav,  she'll  bum  a  week  longer  than  the 
whole  world. 

Ant.  S.  What  complexion  is  she  of  f 

Dro.  S.  Swart,2  like  my  shoe,  but  her  face  no- 
thing like  so  clean  kept ;  For  why  .>  she  sweats,  a 
man  may  go  over  shoes  in  the  grime  of  it 

«#     .C      T'l.aff.  a   A^mI*   *k»«  .-^i \U   . 


Ant.  S.  That's  a  &ult  that  water  will  mend. 


(1)  t.  e.  Confounded. 
(3)  Large  ships. 


(2)  Swarthy. 
(4)  Affianced. 


Dro.  S.  N  >,  sir,  'tis  in  grain ;  Noah's  flood  coold 
not  do  it 

AnL  S.  What's  her  name  f 

Dro.  S.  Nell,  sir; — but  her  name  and  Uiree 
quarters,  that  is,  an  ell  and  three  quarters,  will  not 
nieabure  her  from  hip  to  hip. 

Ant.  S.  Then  she  bears  some  breadth .' 

Dro.  S.  No  longer  from  head  to  foot,  than  frcro 
hip  to  hip :  she  is  spherical,  like  a  globe ;  I  coakl 
find  out  countries  in  her. 

Ant.  S.  In  what  part  of  her  body  stands  Ireland  ^ 

Dro.  S.  Marty,  sir,  in  her  buttocks ;  I  found  it 
out  by  the  bo^s. 

AnL  S.  Where  Scotland  ? 

Dro.  S.  I  found  it  by  the  barrenness;  hard,  in 
the  palm  of  the  hand. 

Ant.  S.  Where  France  ? 

Dro.  S.  In  her  forehead ;  arm'd  and  reverted, 
making  war  against  her  hair. 

Ant.  S.  Where  England  ? 

Dro.  S.  I  look'd  for  the  chalky  clifls,  but  I  could 
find  no  whiteness  in  them :  but  I  guess  it  stood  in 
her  chin,  by  the  salt  rheum  that  ran  between 
France  and  it 

Ant.S.  Where  Spain.? 

Dro.  S.  Faith,  I  saw  it  not ;  but  I  felt  it,  hot  in 
her  breath. 

Ant.  S.  Where  America,  the  Indies .' 

Dro.  S.  O,  sir,  upon  her  nose,  all  o'er  embel1»<h'd 
with  rubies,  carbuncles,  sapphires,  declining  thdr 
rich  aspect  to  the  hot  breath  of  Spain ;  w^  sent 
whole  armadas  of  carracks*  to  be  ballast  at  her  no^e. 

Ant.  S.  Where  stood  Belgia,  the  NetheHaiid» .' 

Dro.  S.  O,  sir,  I  did  not  look  so  low.  To  con- 
clude, this  drudge,  or  diviner,  laid  claim  to  me ; 
call'd  me  Dromio ;  swore,  I  was  assur'd^  to  her ; 
told  roe  what  privv  marks  I  had  about  me,  as  the 
mark  of  my  shoulder,  the  mole  in  my  neck,  the 
ereat  wart  on  my  lef^  arm,  that  I,  amazed,  ran 
from  her  as  a  witch :  and,  I  think,  if  my  breast  had 
not  been  made  of  faith,  and  mv  heart  of  steel,  she 
had  transfonn'd  me  to  a  curtail-dog,  and  made  me 
turn  i'the  wheel.* 

AnL  S.  Go,  hie  thee  presently,  post  to  the  road ; 
And  if  the  wind  blow  any  way  from  shore, 
I  will  not  harbour  in  this  town  to>night 
If  any  bark  put  forth,  come  to  the  mart. 
Where  I  will  walk,  till  thou  return  to  me. 
If  every  one  know  us,  and  we  know  none, 
'Tis  time,  I  think,  to  trudge,  pack,  and  be  gone. 

Dro.  S.  As  from  a  bear  a  man  would  ran  RMr  lif^. 
So  fly  I  from  her  that  would  be  my  wife.      [ExiL 

Ant.  S.  There's  none  but  witches  do  inhabit  here ; 
And  therefore,  'tis  high  time  that  I  were  hence. 
She,  that  doth  call  me  husband,  even  my  soul 
Doth  for  a  wife  abhor :  but  her  fair  sister, 
Possess'd  with  such  a  gentle  sovereign  grace. 
Of  such  enchanting  presence  and  discourse. 
Hath  alnKMt  made  me  traitor  to  myself: 
But,  lest  myself  be  guilty  to  self-wronr, 
I'll  stop  mine  ears  against  the  mermaid's  song. 

Enter  Angela 

Ang.  Master  Antipholus .? 
Ant.  S.  Ay,  that's  my  name. 
Ang.  I  know  it  well,  sir  :  Lo,  here  is  the  chain  7 
I  thought  to  have  ta'en  you  at  the  Porcupine : 
The  chain  unfinish'd  made  me  stay  thus  Ions. 
Ant.  S.  What  is  your  will,  that  I  shall  ^  with 

this.? 
Ang.  What  please  yourself,  fir ;  I  have 
it  for  you. 


U 


(5)  A  tani^t 


Scene  L 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


315 


Ant.  S.  Made  it  for  me,  air?  I  bespoke  it  not 

Ang.  Not  once,  nor  twice,  but  twenty  timet  jou 
have: 
Go  home  with  it,  and  please  jonr  wife  withal ; 
And  toon  at  tupper-time  IMI  visit  jou. 
And  then  receive  my  money  for  the  chain. 

AnL  S.  1  pray  yoa,  tir,  receive  the  money  now ; 
For  fear  you  ne*er  tee  chain,  nor  money,  more. 

Ang.  Vou  are  a  merry  man,  tir ;  fare  you  well. 

[Exit. 

Ant.  S.  What  I  should  think  of  thit,  I  cannot  tell; 
But  thit  I  think,  there*t  no  man  it  to  vain. 
That  would  refute  so  fair  an  offerM  chain. 
I  tee,  a  man  here  needt  not  live  by  thiftt. 
When  in  the  streett  he  meett  such  ^Iden  gifts, 
ril  to  the  mart,  and  there  for  Drcxnio  ttay; 
1/  any  ship  put  out,  then  straight  away.       \ElxiL 


ACT  IV. 

SCEUfE  L— -The  same,    £n/«r  a  Merchant,  An- 
gelo,  and  an  Officer. 

Mer.  Tou  know,  since  Pentecost  the  sum  is  due. 
And  since  I  have  not  much  imp6rtunM  you ; 
Nor  now  I  had  not,  but  that  I  am  bound 
To  Persia,  and  want  guildersi  for  my  voyage  : 
Therefore  make  present  satisfaction, 
Or  1*11  attach  you  by  this  officer. 

Ang.  Even  just  the  sura,  that  I  do  owe  to  you. 
It  g^wingS  to  me  by  Antipholus : 
Aira,  in  the  instant  that  I  met  with  you. 
He  had  of  me  a  chain ;  at  five  o*clock, 
1  shall  receive  the  money  for  the  same  : 
Pleateth  you  walk  with  me  down  to  his  house, 
I  will  discharge  my  bond,  and  thank  you  too. 

Enter  Antipholus  qf  Ephesut,  and  Dromio  qf 

Ephesus. 

Off".  That  labour  may  you  save ;  see  where  he 
comes. 

AnL  E.  While  I  go  to  the  goldsmith*s  house,  go 
thou 
And  buy  a  rope*s  end ;  that  will  I  bestow 
Among  my  wife  and  her  confederates. 
For  locking  me  out  of  my  doors  by  day. — 
But  toft,  I  see  the  goldsmith : — get  thee  gone ; 
Buy  thou  a  rope,  and  bring  it  home  to  me. 

bro,  E.  I  buy  a  thousand  pound  a  year !  I  buy 
a  rope  !  [Exit  Dromio. 

AnL  E.  A  man  is  well  holp  up,  that  trusts  to 
you : 
I  promised  your  presence,  and  the  chain ; 
But  neitherchain,  nor  goldsmith,  came  to  me : 
Belike,  you  thought  our  love  would  last  too  long. 
If  it  were  chainM  together ;  and  therefore  came  not 

Ang.  Saving  your  merry  humour,  here*s  the  note. 
How  much  your  chain  weighs  to  the  utmost  carat ; 
Tbe  fineness  of  the  gold,  and  chargeful  fashion ; 
Wluch  doth  amount  to  three  odd  oucats  more 
Than  I  stand  debted  to  this  gentleman ; 
I  pray  ^ou,  see  him  presently  discharged, 
For  he  is  bound  to  sea,  and  stays  but  tor  it 

Ant.  £.  I  am  not  furnish*^  with  the  present 
money; 
Besides,  I  have  some  business  in  the  town  : 
Good  signior,  take  the  stranger  to  my  house. 
And  wiUi  vou  take  the  chain,  and  bid  my  wife 
IKtbune  the  turn  on  the  receipt  thereof; 
Perchance,  I  will'  be  there  as  soon  as  yoo. 

(1)  A  coin.        (2)  Accruing.        (3)  I  shall 


Ang.  Then  yxM  will  bring  the  chain  to  her  your- 
self? 
Ant.  E.  No ;  bear  it  with  you,  lest  I  come  not 

time  enough. 
Ang.  Well,  sir,  1  will :  Have  you  the  chain  about 

you .' 
AnL  £.  An  if  I  have  not,  sir,  I  hope  you  have ; 
Or  else  you  may  return  without  your  money. 
Ang.  Nay,  come,  I  pray  you,  sir,  give  me  the 
chain: 
Both  wind  and  tide  stays  for  this  gentleman. 
And  I,  to  blame,  have  held  him  here  too  long. 
AnL  E.  Good  k>rd,  you  use  this  dalliance  to 
excuse 
Your  breach  of  promise  to  the  Porcupine : 
I  should  have  chid  you  for  not  bringing  it. 
But,  like  a  shrew,  you  first  berin  to  brawl. 
Mer.  The  hour  steals  oo;  I  pray  you,  sir,  des- 
patch. 
Ang.  You  hear,  how  he  imp6rtunes  me;  the 

chain — 
Ant.  E.  Why,  give  it  to  my  wife,  and  fetch  your 

mdney. 
Ang.  Come,  come,  you  know,  I  gave  it  you 
even  now; 
Either  send  the  chain,  or  send  me  by  some  token. 
Ant.  E.  Fie  !  now  you  run  this  humour  out  of 
breath:  * 

Come,  Where's  the  chain  f  I  pray  you  let  me  see  it. 
Mer.  My  business  cannot  brook  this  dalliance ; 
Good  nr,  say,  whe*r  youMl  answer  me,  or  no ; 
If  not,  IMI  leave  him  to  the  officer. 
Ant.  E.  I  answer  you !  What  should  I  answer 

you? 
Ang.  The  money,  that  you  owe  me  for  the  chain. 
Ant.  E.  I  owe  you  none,  till  I  receive  the  chain. 
Ang.  You  know,  I  gave  it  you  half  an  hour  since. 
AnL  E.  You  gave  me  none ;  you  wrong  me  much 

to  say  sa 
Ang.  You  wrong  me  more,  sir,  in  denying  it : 
Consider,  how  it  stands  upon  my  credit 
Mer.  Well,  officer,  arrest  him  at  my  suit 
Ojff^.  I  do ;  and  charge  you  in  the  duke*8  name, 

to  obey  me. 
Ang.  This  touches  me  in  reputation : — 
Esther  consent  to  pay  this  sum  for  me. 
Or  I  attach  you  by  this  officer. 

Ant.  E.  Consent  to  pay  thee  that  I  never  had ! 
Arrest  me,  foolish  fellow,  if  thou  dar*st 

Ang.  Here  is  thy  fee ;  arrest  him,  officer ; 
I  would  not  spare  my  brother  in  this  case, 
If  he  should  scorn  me  so  apparently. 
Offl  I  do  arrest  you»  tir ;  vou  h«ir  the  tuit 
Ant.  E.  I  do  obey  thee,  till  I  give  thee  bail : — 
But,  tirrah,  you  thai  I  buy  thit  sport  as  dear 
As  all  the  metal  in  your  shop  will  answer. 

Ang.  Sir,  tir,  1  t'hall  have  law  in  Ephesus, 
To  your  notorious  diame,  1  doubt  it  not 

Enter  Dromio  qf  Syracuse. 

Dro.  S.  Master,  there  is  a  bark  of  Epidamnum, 
That  stays  but  till  her  owner  comes  aboard. 
And  then,  sir,  bears  away :  our  fraughtage,^  sir, 
I  have  conveyed  aboard ;  and  I  have  bought 
The  oil,  the  balsamum,  and  aqua-vitae. 
The  ship  is  in  her  trim ;  the  merry  wind 
Blows  fair  from  land :  they  stay  ror  nought  at  all. 
But  for  their  owner,  matter,  and  yourtelf. 

Ant.  E.  How  now  ?    a  madman !   Why  tboa 
peevish*  theep. 
What  ship  of  Epidamnum  ttay t  for  me  ? 

Dro.  6.  A  ship  you  sent  me  to,  to  hire  waftagie.* 

(4)  Freight,  caiga    (5)  Silly.    (6)  Carriage. 


316 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


Actir. 


Afd.  E.  Thou  dnuiken  slave,  I  sent  thee  for  a 
rope  ; 
And  (old  thee  to  what  parpose  and  what  end. 

Dro.  S.  You  sent  me,  sir,  for  a  rope*8  end  as 
soon : 
You  sent  me  to  the  bay,  sir,  for  a  baric. 

ArU.  E.  1  will  debate  this  matter  at  more  leisure, 
And  teach  your  ears  to  listen  with  more  heed. 
To  Adriana,  villain,  hie  thee  straig^ht : 
Give  her  this  key,  and  tell  her,  in  the  desk 
That**  covered  o*er  with  Turkish  tapestry, 
There  is  a  purse  of  ducats :  let  her  send  it ; 
Tell  her,  I  am  arrested  in  the  street, 
And  that  shall  trail  me  :  hie  thee,  slave;  be  gone. 
On,  oflVcer,  to  prison  till  it  come. 

[Exeuni  Mer.  Ang.  Off.  and  Ant.  E. 

Dro.  S.  To  Adnana  !  that  is  where  he  din*d. 
Where  Dowssabel  did  claim  me  for  her  husband  : 
She  is  t(X)  bi^,  1  hope,  for  me  to  compass. 
Thither  I  must,  although  against  my  will. 
For  servants  must  their  masters*  minds  fulfil.  [Ex. 

SCEJ^E  II.— The  same.    Enter  Adriana  and 

Luciana. 

Adr.  Ah,  Luriana,  did  he  tempt  thee  so? 

Mieht*st  thou  )ierceive  austerely  in  his  eye 
That  ne  did  plead  in  earnest,  yea  or  no? 

Looked  he  or  red,  or  pale ;  or  sad,  or  merrily  ? 
What  obser\'ati(ui  mad*st  thou  in  this  case. 
Of  his  heart*s  meteors  tilting  in  his  face  ?> 

Luc.  First,  he  denied  you  had  in  him  no  right. 

Adr.  He  meant,  he  did  me  none ;  the  more  my 
spite. 

Luc.  Then  swore  he,  that  he  was  a  stranger  here. 

Adr.  And  true  be  swore,  though  yet  forsworn 
he  were. 

Lue.  Then  pleaded  I  for  you. 

Adr.  And  what  said  he  ? 

Luc.  That  love  I  bcgg'd  for  you,  be  begg*d  of  me. 

Adr.  With  what  persuasion  did  be  tempt  thy 
love  ? 

Luc.  With  words,  that  in  an  honest  suit  might 
move. 
First  he  did  praise  my  bcautj ;  then,  my  speech. 

Adr.  Did*st  speak  him  fair  ? 

Luc.  Have  patience,  I  beseech. 

Adr.  I  cannot,  nor  I  will  not,  hold  me  still ; 
My  tontine,  though  not  my  heart,  shall  have  his  will. 
He  \n  deformed,  crooked,  old,  and  sere,^ 
lll-facM,  worse-bodied,  shapeless  every  where ; 
Vicious,  ungentle,  foolish,  blunt,  unkind  ; 
.Sti^iiiatical  in  making,'  worse  in  mind. 

Luc.  Who  would  be  jealous  then  of  such  a  one  ? 
No  evil  lost  is  wailM  when  it  is  gone. 

Adr.  Ah !  but  I  think  him  better  than  I  say, 

And  yet  would  herein  others*  eyes  were  worse  : 
Far  from  her  nest  the  lapwing  cnes  away  ;^ 

My  heart  prays  for  him,  though  my  tongue  do 
curse. 

Enter  Dromio  of  Syracuse. 

Dro.  S.  Here,  go ;  the  desk,  the  purse ;  sweet 

now,  make  haste. 
Luc.  How  hast  tltou  lost  thy  breath  ? 
Dro.  S.  By  running  fast 

Adr.  Where  is  thy  master,  Dromio  ?  is  he  well  ? 
Dro.  S.  No,  he*s  in  tartar  limbo,  worse  than  hell : 
A  devil  in  an  everlasting  garment  hath  him, 

(1)  .\n  allusion  to  the  redness  of  the  northern 
Ws^^u  likened  to  the  appearance  of  armies. 

(2)  Dr}',  withered. 

(3)  Marked  by  nature  with  deformity. 

(4)  Who  crieth  most  where  her  nest  is  not 


One,  whose  hard  heart  is  butlon*d  up  with  steel ; 

A  fiend,  a  fairy,  pitiless  and  rough ; 

A  wolf,  nay,  won^e,  a  fellow  all  in  buff;* 

A  back-friend,  a  shoulder-clapper,  one  that  coun 

termands 
The  passages  of  alleys,  creeks,  and  narrow  lands : 
A  hound  that  runs  counter,  and  yet  draws  dry-foot 

well; 
One  that,  before  the  judgment,  carries  poor  souls 
to  hell.< 
Adr.  Why,  man,  what  is  the  matter  ? 
Dro.  S.  I  do  not  know  the  matter :  he  is  'rested 

on  the  case. 
Adr.  What,  is  he  arrested  ?  tell  me,  at  whose  suit 
Dro.  S.  I  know  not  at  whose  suit  he  is  arrested, 
well; 
But  he*s  in  a  suit  of  buff,  which  'rested  him,  that 

can  I  tell : 
Will  you  send  him,  mistress,  redemption,  the  mo- 
ney in  the  desk  ? 
Adr.  Go  fetch  it,  sister. — This  I  wonder  at, 

[Exii  Luciana. 
That  he,  unknown  to  me,  should  be  in  debt : 
Tell  me,  was  he  arrested  on  a  band  f^ 

Dro.  S.  Not  on  a  band,  but  on  a  stronger  thing; 
A  chain,  a  chain  ;  do  you  not  hear  it  ring  i 
Adr.  What,  the  chain  ? 
Dro.  S.  No,  no,  the  bell :  'tis  time,  that  I  were 
gone. 
It  was  two  ere  I  left  him,  and  now  ^be  clock  strikes 
one. 
Adr.  The  hours  come  back !  that  did  I  never  hear. 
Dro.  S.  O  yes,  if  any  hour  meet  a  sergeaut, 

a'tums  back  for  veiy  fear. 
Adr.  As  if  time  were  in  debt !  how  fondly  dost 

thou  reason! 
Dro.  S.  Time  is  a  ven*  bankrupt,  and  owes  more 
than  he*s  worth  to  season. 
Nay,  he*s  a  thief  too  :  Have  you  not  heard  men  saj, 
That  time  comes  stealing  on  by  night  and  day  ? 
If  he  be  in  debt,  and  theft,  and  a  sergeant  in  the  wav, 
Hath  he  not  reason  to  turn  back  an  hour  in  a  daj  ? 

Enter  Luciana. 

Adr.  Go,  Dromio ;  there's  the  money,  bear  it 

straight ; 
And  bring  thy  master  home  immediately. — 
Come,  sister ;  I  am  press*d  down  with  oooceit  ^ 
Conceit,  my  comfort,  and  my  injury.   [ElxetmL 

SCEJVE  III— The  same.    Enter  Antipholas  tff 

Syracuse. 

Ant.  S.  There's  not  a  man  I  meet,  but  doth 
salute  me 
As  if  I  were  their  well-acquainted  friend ; 
And  every  one  doth  call  me  by  my  name. 
Some  tender  money  to  me,  some  invite  me ; 
Some  other  give  me  thanks  for  kindnesses 
Some  offer  me  commodities  to  buy  : 
Even  now  a  tailor  cali'd  me  in  his  shop, 
And  show'd  me  rilks  that  he  had  bouj^t  for  me. 
And,  therewithal,  took  measure  of  my  body. 
Sure,  these  are  but  imaginary  wiles,    , 
And  Lapland  sorcerers  inhabit  here. 

Enter  Dromio  qf  Syracuse. 

Dro.  S.  Master,  here's  the  gold  yon  sent  me  for : 
What,  have  you  got  the  picture  of  old  Adam  new 
apparell'd  ? 

(5)  The  officers  in  those  days  were  clad  in  botf, 
which  is  also  a  cant  expression  for  a  roan's  skin. 

(6)  Hell  was  the  cant  term  for  prison. 

(7)  t.  e.  Bond.  (3)  Fanciful  conception. 


Scene  IF. 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


317 


Ani.  S.  ^Vhat  gold  is  this?  what  Adam  dost 
thou  meaa  ? 

Dro.  S.  Not  that  Adam,  that  kept  the  paradise, 
but  that  Adam,  that  keeps  the  pnsoo :  he  that  goes 
in  the  calf  *9*skin  that  was  kill'd  for  the  prodigal ; 
be  that  came  behind  you,  sir,  like  an  evil  angel, 
and  bid  you  forsake  your  liberty. 

JinL  S.  {  understand  thee  not 

Ihro.  S.  No  ?  why,  *tis  a  plain  case :  he  that  went 
like  a  base-viol,  in  a  case  of  leather ;  the  man,  sir, 
that,  when  gentlemen  are  tired,  gives  them  a  fob, 
and  *re8ts  them  :  he,  sir,  that  takes  pity  on  decayed 
men,  and  gives  them  suits  of  durance ;  he  that  set» 
up  his  rest  to  do  more  exploits  with  his  mace,  than 
a  morris-pike. 

w9n^  iS.  What !  thou  meanest  an  oflScer.' 

Dro.  S.  Ay,  sir,  the  sei^eant  of  the  band ;  he, 
that  brings  any  man  to  ans^ver  it,  that  breaks  his 
band  :  one  that  thinks  a  man  always  going  to  bed, 
and  says,  God  give  you  good  rest. 

Ant.  S.  Well,  sir,  there  rest  in  your  foolery.  Is 
there  any  ship  puts  forth  to-night?  may  we  be  gone  ? 

Dro.  S.  Why,  sir,  I  brought  you  word  an  hour 
since,  that  the  bark  Expedition  put  forth  to-night ; 
and  then  were  you  hindered  by  the  sergeant,  to 
tarry  for  the  hoy.  Delay  :  Here  are  the  angels  that 
you  sent  for,  to  deliver  you. 

Ani.  S.  The  fellow  is  distract,  and  so  am  I ; 
And  here  we  wander  in  illusions  ; 
Some  blessed  power  deliver  us  from  hence ! 

Enter  a  Courtezan. 
Cbur.  Well  met,  well  met,  master  Antipholut. 


I  tee,  sir,  you  have  found  the  goldsmith  now  ; 
b  that  the  chain,  you  promised  me  to-day? 

Ani.  S.  Satan,  avoid !  I  charge  thee,  tempt  me 
not! 

Dro.  S.  Master,  is  this  mistress  Satan  ? 

Ani.  S.  It  is  the  devil. 

Dro.  S.  Nay,  she  is  worse,  she  is  the  devil*8  dam ; 
and  here  she  comes  in  the  habit  o(  a  light  wench  ; 
and  thereof  comes,  that  the  wenches  say,  God 
damn  m«,  that^s  as  much  as  to  say,  God  make  me 
•  light  tvench.  It  is  written,  they  appear  to  men 
like  angeU  of  light :  light  is  an  effect  of  fire,  and 
fire  will  bum ;  ergo^  light  wenches  will  bum ; 
Come  not  near  her. 

Cour.  Your  man  and  you  are  marvellous  merry, 
sir. 
^Vill  you  go  with  me  ?  WeMI  mend  our  dinner  here. 

Dro.  S.  Master,  if  you  do  expect  spoon-meat, 
bespeak  a  long  spoon. 

Ani.  S.  Why,  Dromio  ? 

Dro.  S.  Marrv,  he  must  have  a  long  spoon, 
that  must  eat  witli  the  devil. 

Am.  S.  Avoid  then,  fiend !  what  telPst  thou  me 


of 


supping  i 


Thoa  art,  as  you  are  all,  a  sorceress  : 
1  c6njure  thee  to  leave  me,  and  be  gone. 

Cour.  Give  me  the  ring  of  mine  you  had  at 
dinner. 
Or,  for  my  diamond,  the  chain  you  promised  ; 
And  Pll  be  gone,  sir,  and  not  trouble  you. 

Dro.  S.  ?y>me  devils  ask  but  the  paring  of  one's 
nail, 
•A  rush,  a  hair,  a  drop  of  blood,  a  pin, 
A  nut,  a  cherry-stone :  but  she,  more  covetous, 
^Yould  have  a  chain. 
I^4aster,  be  wise;  and  if  you  give  it  her, 
*l*be  devil  will  shake  her  chain,  and  fright  us  with  it 
Cmtr.  I  pray  you,  sir,  my  ring,  or  else  the  chain  ; 
I  hope,  yuu  do  not  mean  to  cheat  me  so. 

(1)  Correct  them  all. 


Ani.  S.  Avaunt,  thoa  witch!  Come,  Dromio, 
let  us  go. 

Dro.  S.  Fly  pride,  says  the  peacock  :  Mistress, 
that  you  know.     [Exeunt  Ant  and  Dra 

Cour.  Now,  out  of  doubt,  Antipholus  is  mad, 
Else  would  he  never  so  demean  himself: 
A  ring  he  hath  of  mine,  worth  forty  ducats, 
And  lor  the  same  he  promisM  me  a  chain  ! 
Both  one,  and  other,  he  denies  me  now. 
The  reason  that  I  gather  he  is  mad 
(Besides  this  present  instance  of  his  rage,) 
Is  a  mad  tale,  he  told  to-day  at  dinner. 
Of  his  own  doors  being  shut  against  his  entrance. 
Belike,  his  wife,  acquainted  with  his  fits. 
On  purpose  shut  the  doors  against  his  way. 
My  way  is  now,  to  hie  home  to  his  house. 
And  tell  his  wife,  that,  being  lunatic, 
He  rushM  into  my  bouse,  and  took  perforce 
My  ring  away  :  This  course  I  fittest  choose ; 
For  forty  ducats  is  too  much  to  lose.  [Elxit 

SCEJSTE  ir.—The  tame.   Enter  Antipholus  qf 
EpfiesuSf  and  an  Ofiice/. 

Ant.  E.  Fear  me  not,  man,  I  will  not  break  away ; 
IMI  give  thee,  ere  I  leave  thee,  so  much  money 
To  warrant  thee,  as  I  am  *rested  for. 
My  wife  is  in  a  wayward  mood  to-day ; 
And  will  not  lightly  trust  the  messenger, 
That  I  should  he  attachM  in  Ephesus  : 
I  tell  you,  'twill  sound  harshly  in  her  ears. — 

Enter  Dromio  o/  Ephesus,  with  a  ropeU  end. 

Here  comes  my  man ;  I  think,  he  brings  the  nwney. 
How  now,  sir  ?  have  you  that  I  sent  you  for  ? 

Dro.  E.  Here's  that,  I  warrant  you,  will  pay 
them  all.' 

Ant.  E.  But  Where's  the  money  ? 

Dro.  E.  Why,  sir,  I  gave  the  money  for  the  rope. 

Ani.  E.  Five  hundred  ducats,  villain,  for  a  rope? 
Dro.  E.  I'll  serve  you,  sir,  five  hundred  at  the  rate. 

Ani.  E.  To  what  end  did  I  bid  thee  hie  thee 
home? 

Dro.  E.  To  a  rope's  end,  sir ;  and  to  that  end 
am  I  retum'd. 

ArU.  E.  And  to  that  end,  sir,  I  will  welcome 
you.  [Beating  him. 

Off.  Good  sir,  be  patient 

Dro.  E.  Nay,  'tis  for  me  to  be  patient ;  I  am 
in  adversity. 

Off.  Good  now,  hold  thy  tongue. 

Dro.  E.  Nay,  rather  persuade  him  to  hold  his 
hands. 

Ant.  E.  Thou  whoreson,  senseless  villain  ! 

Dro.  E.  I  would  I  were  senseless,  sir,  that  I 
might  not  feel  your  blows. 

Ant.  E.  Thou  art  sensible  in  nothing  but  blows, 
and  so  is  an  ass. 

Dro.  £.  I  am  an  ass,  indeed  ;  ^'ou  may  prove  it 
by  my  long  ears.  I  have  serv'd  him  from  tne  hour 
of  nativity  to  this  instant,  and  have  nothing  at  his 
hands  for  my  service,  but  blows :  when  I  am  cold, 
he  heats  me  with  beating :  when  I  am  warm,  he 
cools  me  with  beating :  1  am  waked  with  it,  when 
I  sleep ;  raised  with  it,  when  I  sit ;  driven  out  of 
doors  with  it,  when  I  go  from  home ;  welcomed 
home  with  it,  when  I  return  :  nay,  I  bear  it  on  my 
shoulders,  as  a  beggar  wont  her  brat ;  and,  1  think, 
when  he  hath  lamed  me,  I  shall  beg  with  it  from 
door  to  door. 

Enter  Adriana,  Luciana,  and  the  Courtezan,  with 
Pinch,  and  others. 

Ant.  E.  Come,  go  along;  my  wile  is  coming 
yonder. 


318 


COMEIA  OF  ERRORS. 


Aarr. 


Dvo.  E.  Mistress,  respiee  Jmem^  respect  jour 
end ;  or  rather  the  prophecy,  like  the  parrot,  Be- 
ware the  rope*t  end. 

Ant.  E.  Wilt  thou  still  talk  ?  [BeaU  him, 

Cour.  How  say  you  now  ?  is  not  your  husband 

mad? 
Adr.  His  incivility  confirms  no  less. — 
Good  doctor  Pinch,  you  are  aVconjurer ; 
Establish  him  in  his  true  sense  again, 
And  I  will  please  you  what  you  will  demano. 
Luc.  Alas,  how  fiery  and  how  sharp  he  looks ! 
Omr.  Mark,  how  hie  trembles  in  his  ecstasy ! 
Pinch.  Give  roe  your  hand,  and  let  me  ^eel  your 

pulse. 
Ani.  K.  There  is  my  hand,  and  let  it  feel  your 

ear. 

Pinch.  I  charge  thee,  Satan,  housed  within  this 
man, 
To  vield  possession  to  my  holy  prayers, 
Ana  to  thy  state  of  darkness  hie  thee  straight ; 
I  c6njure  thee  by  all  the  saints  in  heaven. 
AnL  E.  Peace,  doting  wiiard,  peace ;  I  am  not 

mad. 
Adr.  O,  that  thou  wert  not,  poor  distressed  soul ! 
AnL  E.  You  minion  you,  are  these  your  cus- 
tomers ? 
Did  this  companion'  with  a  safifron  face 
Revel  and  feast  it  at  my  house  to-day. 
Whilst  upon  ine  the  guilty  doors  were  shut, 
And  I  denied  to  enter  in  mv  house .' 
Adr.  O,  husband,  God  doth  know,  you  din*d  at 
home. 
Where  *would  you  had  remainM  until  this  time. 
Free  from  these  slanders,  and  this  open  shame ! 
AnL  E.  I  din*d  at  home  I  Thou  villain,  what 

8ay*st  thou  ? 
Dro.  E.  Sir,  sooth  to  say,  you  did  not  dine  at  home. 
AnL  E.  Were  not  my  doors  lock*d  up,  and  I 

shut  out  ? 
Dro.  E.  Perdy,3  your  doors  were  lock'd,  and 

you  shut  out 
Ant.  E.  And  did  not  ^e  herself  revile  me  there  f 
Dro.  E.  Sans  fable,' she  herself  revilM  you  there. 
AnL  E.  Did  not  her  kitchen-maid  rail,  taunt, 

and  scorn  me  ^ 
Dro.  E.    Certes,^  she  did ;  the  kitchen-vestal 

scomM  you. 
Ant.  E.  And  did  not  I  in  rage  depart  from  thence.' 
Dro.  E.  In  verity  you  did ; — my  bones  bear 
witness. 
That  since  have  felt  the  vigour  of  his  rage. 
Adr.  Wt  good  to  sooth  him  in  these  contraries  ? 
Pinch.  It  is  no  ^ame ;  the  fellow  finds  his  vein, 
And,  yielding  to  him,  humours  well  his  frenzy. 
Ani.  E.  Th6u  hast  subomM  the  goldsmith  to  ar- 
rest me. 
Adr.  Alas,  I  sent  you  money  to  redeem  you, 
By  Dromio  here,  who  came  in  haste  for  it. 
Dro.  E.  Money  by  me .'  heart  and  good-will 
you  might. 
But,  surety,  master,  not  a  rag  of  money. 
Ani.  E.  Went^st  not  thou  to  her  for  a  purse  of 

ducats  } 
Adr.  He  came  to  me,  and  I  delivered  it 
Lmc.  And  I  am  witness  with  her,  that  she  did. 
Dro.  E.    God  and  the  rope-maker  bear  roe 
witness. 
That  I  was  sent  for  nothing  but  a  rope  ! 

Pinch.  Mistress,  both  man  and  master  is  pos- 
sessM; 

fl)  Fellow. 

(2)  A  corruption  of  the  French  oath— par  ditu. 

«3)  Without  a  fable.  (4)  Certainly. 


I  know  it  by  their  pale  and  deadly  looks : 
They  must  be  bound,  and  laid  in  some  dark  room. 
Ant.  E.  Say,  wherefore  didst  thou  lock  me  kxrh 
to-day. 
And  why  dost  thou  deny  the  bag  of  gold  ? 
Adr.  I  did  not,  gentle  husband,  lock  thee  ibrth. 
Dro.  E.  And,  gentle  master,  I  receivM  no  gold ; 
But  I  confess,  sir,  that  we  were  lockM  out 
Adr.  Dissembling  villain,  thou  speak*st  fidse  in 

both. 
Ant.  E.  Dissembling  harlot,  thou  art  false  in  all ; 
And  art  confederate  with  a  damned  pack. 
To  make  a  loathsome  abject  scorn  of  roe : 
But  with  these  nails  Pll  pluck  out  these  fidse  eyes, 
That  would  behold  in  me  this  shameful  sport 

[Pinch  and  his  assisianis  bind  Ant  and  Dro. 
Adr.  O,  bind  him,  bind  him,  let  him  noC  come 

near  me. 
Pinch.    More  company; — the  fiend  is  itioog 

within  him. 
Luc.  Ah  me,  poor  man,  how  pale  and  wan  he 

looks ! 
Ant.  E.  What,  will  you  murder  roe  f    Tboa 
gaoler,  thou, 
I  am  thy  prisoner ;  wilt  thou  sufler  them 
To  make  a  rescue  ? 

Off.  Masters,  let  him  go ; 

He  is  my  prisoner,  and  you  shall  not  have  him. 
Pinch.  Go,  bind  this  man,  for  he  is  frantic  toa 
Adr.  What  wilt  thou  do,  thou  peevish^  officer? 
Hast  thou  delight  to  see  a  wretched  man 
Ek)  outrage  ana  dbpleasure  to  himself? 

Cff.  He  is  my  prisoner ;  if  I  let  him  go. 
The  debt  he  owes  will  be  required  of  me. 

Adr.  I  will  discharge  thee,  ere  I  go  from  thiee : 
Bear  me  forthwith  unto  his  creditor. 
And,  knowing  how  the  debt  grows,  I  will  pay  it 
Good  master  doctor,  see  him  safe  convcy'd 
Home  to  my  house. — O  most  unhappy  day  ! 
Ant.  E.  O  most  unhappy*'  strumpet ! 
Dro.  E.   Master,  I  am  here  entered  in  bond  for 

you. 
ArU.  E.  Out  on  thee,  villain !  wherefore  doit 

thou  mad  me  ? 
Dro.  E.  Will  you  be  bound  for  nothing  ?  be  road. 
Good  master ;  cry,  the  devil. — 
Luc.  God  help,  poor  souls,  how  idly  do  they  talk ! 
AJr.  Go,  bear  nim  hence. — Sister,  go  you  with 

me. — 
[Exe.  Pinch  and  assistants^  with  Ant  and  Dtfk 
Say  now,  whose  suit  is  he  arrested  at  ? 

Off  One  Angelo,  a  golds^mith ;  Do  you  know  him  ? 
Adr.  I  know  the  man :  What  is  the  sum  he  owes? 
Q/f!  Two  hundred  ducats. 
Adr.  Say,  how  grows  it  due  ? 

Off.  Due  for  a  chain,  your  husband  had  of  him. 
Adr.  He  did  bespeak  a  chain  for  me,  but  bad  it 

not 
Cour.  When  as  your  husband,  all  in  rage,  to-^j 
Came  to  my  house,  and  took  away  my  ring 
(The  ring  I  saw  upon  his  finger  now,) 
Straight  after,  did  I  meet  him  with  a  chain. 

Adr.  It  may  be  so,  but  I  did  never  see  it : — 
Come,  gaoler,  bring  me  where  the  goldsmith  is, 
I  long  to  know  the  truth  hereof  at  iBi^e, 

Enter  Antipholus  of  Syracuse^  with  his  racier 
drawn^  and  Dromio  qf  Syrac%iM. 

Luc  God,  for  thy  mercy  !  they  are  loose  again. 
Adr.  And  come  with  naked  swords ;  let*s  cil! 
more  help, 

(5)  Foolish. 

(6)  Unhappy  for  unlucky,  t.  e.  roischjevous 


Sane  I. 


CX>MEDT  OF  ERR(XIS. 


319 


To  have  them  bound  again. 

Of.  Away,  tbejMl  kill  us. 

[Exeunt  OS.  Adr.  and  Luc. 

Ant.  S.  I  see,  tbete  witches  are  afraid  of  swords. 

Dro.  S,  She,  that  would  be  jour  wife,  now  ran 
from  you. 

Ant.  S.  Come  to  the  Centaur;  fetch  our  stuffs 
from  thence : 
I  long,  that  we  were  safe  and  sound  aboard. 

Dro.  S.  Faith,  stay  here  this  night,  they  will 
surely  do  us  no  harm ;  you  saw,  they  speak  us  fair, 
gire  us  gold :  methinks,  they  are  such  a  ecntle 
nation,  that,  but  for  the  mountain  of  mad  flesh  that 
claims  marriage  of  me,  I  could  find  in  my  heart  to 
stay  here  still,  and  turn  witch. 

Ant.  S.  I  will  not  stay  to-night  for  all  the  town : 
Tberelore  away,  to  get  our  stuff  aboard.      [Exe. 


ACT  V. 

$C£JV£  I.— The  fame.    Enter  Merchant  and 

Angelo. 

Ang.  I  am  sorry,  sir,  that  I  have  hinder'd  you ; 
But,  1  protest,  he  had  the  chain  of  me. 
Though  most  dishonestly  he  doth  deny  it. 

Mer.  How  is  the  man  esteemM  here  in  the  city  f 

Ang.  Of  very  reverend  reputation,  sir, 
Of  credit  infinite,  highly  belov'd. 
Second  to  none  that  lives  here  in  the  city ; 
His  word  mieht  bear  my  wealth  at  any  time. 

Mtr.  Spe^  softly :  yonder,  as  I  think,  he  walks. 

Enter  Antipholus  and  Dromio  of  Syracuse. 

Ang.  *Ti8  so ;  and  that  self  chain  about  his  neck, 
^Vhich  he  forswore,  most  monstrouslv,  to  have. 
Ciood  sir,  draw  near  to  me,  Pll  speaJc  to  him. 
5<Mgnior  Antipholus,  I  wonder  much 
That  you  would  put  me  to  this  shame  and  trouble ; 
^nd  not  without  some  scandal  to  yourself, 
AVith  circumstance,  and  oaths,  so  to  deny 
*Xhw  chain,  which  now  you  wear  so  openly : 
Ceaides  the  charge,  the  shame,  imprisonment, 
^'oo  have  done  wrong  to  this  my  honest  friend; 
'Who,  but  for  staying  on  our  controversy, 
IHad  hoisted  sail,  and  put  to  sea  to-day  : 
"This  chain  you  had  of  me,  can  you  deny  it.' 

Ant.  S.  I  think,  I  had ;  I  never  did  deny  it 

Mer.  Yes,  that  you  did,  sir;  and  forswore  it  too. 

Ant.  S.  Who  heard  me  to  deny  it,  or  forswear  it  ? 

Mer.  These  ears  of  mine,  thou  knowest,  did 
hear  thee  : 
Sne  on  thee,  wretch  !  'tis  pity,  that  thou  liv*st 
To  walk  where  any  honest  men  resort 

Ant.  S.  Thou  art  a  villain,  to  impeach  me  thus : 
I'*ll  prove  mine  honour,  and  mine  honesty, 
^Against  thee  presently,  if  thou  dar*st  stand. 

JIfer.  I  dare,  and  oo  defy  thee  for  a  villain. 

[They  draw. 

Enter  Adriana,  Luciana,  Courtezan,  and  others. 

Adr.  Hold,  hurt  him  not,  for  God's  sake ;  he  is 
mad : — 
Some  get  within  him  ^  take  his  sword  away : 
^tnd  Dromio  too,  and  bear  them  to  my  house. 
Dro.  S.  Run,  master,  run  ;  for  God*s  sake,  take 
a  house.' 
This  is  tome  priory ; — In,  or  we  are  spoiPd. 

[Exeunt  Ant  and  Dro.  to  the  priory. 

(1)  Baggage.     (2)  i.  e.  Clow,  grapple  with  him. 


Enter  (he  Abbeu. 
Abb.  Be  quiet,  people ;  Wherefore  tfiroDg  you 

hither? 
Adr.  To  fetch  my  poor  distracted  husband  benoe; 
Let  us  come  in,  that  we  may  bind  him  fast. 
And  bear  him  home  for  his  recoveiy. 
Ang.  I  knew,  he  was  not  in  his  perfect  wits. 
Mer.  1  am  sorry  now,  that  I  did  draw  oo  hinL 
Abb.  How  long  hath  this  posseasioo  held  the 

man.' 
Adr.  This  week  he  hath  been  heavy,  tour,  sad. 
And  much,  much  different  from  the  man  he  was ; 
But,  till  this  afternoon,  his  passion 
Ne'er  brake  into  extremity  of  rage. 
Abb.  Hath  he  not  lost  much  wealth  by  wreck  at 
sea.' 
BuryM  some  dear  friend.'  Hath  not  else  his  cy« 
Stray'd  his  affection  in  unlawful  love  ? 
A  sin,  prevailing  much  in  voulbful  men, 
Who  pve  their  eyes  the  liberty  of  gazinr. 
Which  of  these  sorrows  is  he  subject  to  r 

Adr.  To  none  <^  these,  except  it  be  the  last : 
Namely,  some  love,  that  drew  him  oft  from  home. 
Abb.  You  should  for  that  have  reprehended  him. 
Adr.  Why,  so  I  did. 

Abb.  Ay,  but  not  rough  enough. 

Adr.  As  roughly,  as  my  modesty  would  let  me. 
Abb.  Haply,  in  private. 
Adr.  And  in  aaserobliet  too. 

Abb.  Ay,  but  not  enough. 
Adr.  It  was  the  copy^  of  our  conference : 
In  bed,  he  slept  not  for  my  urging  it ; 
At  board,  he  led  not  for  my  urging  it : 
Alone,  it  was  the  subject  of  my  theme ; 
In  company,  I  often  glanced  it ; 
Still  dia  I  tell  him  it  was  vile  and  bad. 

.^66.  And  thereof  came  it,  that  the  man  was  mad: 
The  venom  clamours  of  a  jealous  woman 
Poi:<on  more  deadly  than  a  mad  dog's  tooth. 
It  seems  his  sleeps  were  hindered  by  thy  railing : 
And  thereof  comes  it  that  his  head  is  light 
Thou  say'st  his  meat  was  sauc'd  with  thy  upbraid* 

ings: 
Unquiet  meals  make  ill  digestions. 
Thereof  the  raging  fire  of  fever  bred ; 
And  what's  a  fever  but  a  fit  (^  madness .' 
Thou  say'st,  his  sports  were  hinder'd  by  thy  Inawlt: 
Sweet  recreation  barr'd,  what  doth  ensue, 
But  moody  and  dull  melancholy, 
(Kinsman  to  grim  and  comfortless  despair ;) 
And,  at  her  heels,  a  huge  infectious  troop 
Of  pale  distemperatures,  and  foes  to  life  r 
In  food,  in  sport,  and  life-preserving  rest. 
To  be  disturb'd,  would  mad  or  man,  or  beast ; 
The  consequence  is  then,  thy  jealous  fits 
Have  scared  thy  husband  from  the  use  of  wita. 

Luc.  She  never  reprehended  him  but  mildly, 
Wiien  he   demean'o  himself  rough,  rude,  and 

wildly. — 
Why  bear  you  these  rebukes,  and  answer  not .' 

Adr.  She  did  betray  me  to  my  own  repntit. — 
Good  people,  enter,  and  lay  hold  on  him. 
Abb.  No,  not  a  creature  enters  in  my  house. 
Adr.  Then,  let  your  servants  bring  my  husband 

forth. 
Abb.  Neither ;  he  took  this  place  for  sanctuary. 
And  it  shall  privilege  him  from  your  hands, 
Till  I  have  brought  him  to  his  wits  again, 
Or  lose  my  labour  in  assaying  it 

Adr.  I  %vill  attend  my  husband,  be  his  nurse 
Diet  his  sickness,  for  it  is  my  office. 
And  will  have  no  attorney  but  myself; 

(3)  t.  e.  Go  into  a  hooae.       (4)  Tbema. 


320 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


^ctr. 


And  therefore  let  roe  have  him  home  mth  roe. 

Abh.  Be  pafient ;  for  I  will  not  let  him  stir, 
Till  1  have  tuM  the  approved  means  I  have, 
With  wholesome  syrups,  drug^,  and  holy  prayers, 
To  make  of  him  a  formal  man  again  :> 
It  is  a  branch  and  parceP  of  mine  oath, 
A  charitable  duty  of  my  order; 
Therefore  depart,  and  leave  him  here  with  me. 

jidr.  1  will  not  hence  and  leave  my  husband 
here; 
And  ill  it  doth  beseem  your  holiness. 
To  M>parate  the  husband  and  the  wife. 

Abb.  Be  quiet  and  depart,  thoa  shalt  not  have 
him.  [Exit  Abbess. 

Iaic.  Complain  unto  the  duke  of  this  indignity. 

Adr.  Come,  go ;  1  will  fall  prostrate  at  his  feet, 
And  never  rise  until  my  tears  and  prayers 
Have  won  his  grace  to  come  in  person  hither. 
And  take  perforce  my  husband  from  the  abbess. 

JHer.  By  this,  I  think,  the  dial  points  at  five : 
Anon,  I  am  sure,  the  duke  himself  in  persoo 
Comes  this  wav  to  the  melancholy  vale. 
The  place  of  death  and  sorrv'  execution, 
Behind  the  ditches  of  the  abbey  here. 

Ang.  Upon  what  cause  ? 

Mer.  To  see  a  reverend  Svracusan  merchant. 
Who  put  unluckily  into  this  bay 
Against  the  laws  and  statutes  of  this  town. 
Beheaded  publicly  for  his  ofience. 

Ang.  S^,  where  they  come ;  we  will  beliold  his 
death. 

Luc.  Kneel  to  the  duke,  before  he  pass  the  abbey. 

Enier  Duke  attended;  .£geoa  hare-headed;  with 
the  Headsman  asm  other  affictrt. 

Duke.  Yet  once  again  proclaim  it  publicly, 
If  any  friend  will  pay  the  sum  for  him, 
He  shall  not  die,  so  much  we  tender  him. 

Adr.  Justice,  most  sacred  duke,  against  the  ab- 
bess! 

Duke.  She  is  a  virtuous  and  a  reverend  lady  ; 
it  cannot  be,  that  she  hath  done  thee  wrong. 

Adr.  May  it  please  your  g^race,  Antipholus,  my 
husband, — 
Whom  I  made  lord  of  me  and  all  I  had. 
At  your  important^  letters, — this  ill  day 
A  most  outrageous  fit  of  madness  took  him ; 
That  desperately  he  hurried  through  the  street 
(With  him  his  bondman,  all  as  mad  as  he,) 
Doing  displeasure  to  the  citizens 
By  rushing  in  their  houses,  bearing  thence 
Rings,  jewels,  any  thing  his  rage  did  like. 
Once  did  I  eet  him  bound,  and  sent  him  home, 
Whilst  to  take  order*  for  the  wrongs  1  went. 
That  here  and  there  his  fury  had  committed. 
Anon,  I  wot*  not  by  what  strong  escape. 
He  broke  from  those  that  had  the  guard  of  him ; 
And,  with  his  mad  attendant  and  himself. 
Each  one  with  ireful  passion,  with  drawn  swords. 
Met  us  again,  and,  madly  bent  on  us, 
Chas'd  us  away  ;  till  raising  of  more  aid. 
We  came  again  to  bind  them  :  then  they  fled 
Into  this  abbey,  whither  we  pursued  them ; 
And  here  the  abbess  shuts  the  gates  on  us. 
And  %vill  not  suffer  us  to  fetch  him  out. 
Nor  send  him  forth,  that  we  may  bear  him  hence. 
Therefore,  most  gracious  duke,  with  thy  command, 
Let  him  be  brought  forth,  and  borne  hence  for 
help. 


iJ 


1)  t.  e.  To  bring  him  back  to  his  senses.     (2)  Fart 
~)  Sad.         (4)  Importunate. 
5)  t.  «.  To  take  measures.  (6^  Know. 

7)  t  f   Successively,  ooe  afler  anotner. 


Duke.  Long  since,  thy  husband  served  me  in 
my  wars ; 
And  I  to  thee  engaged  a  prince's  word, 
When  thou  didst  make  him  master  of  Ay  bed. 
To  do  him  all  the  grace  and  good  I  could. — 
(Jo,  joine  of  vou,  knock  at  the  abbey-gate. 
And  bid  the  lady  abbess  come  lo  me  ; 
I  will  determine  this,  before  I  stir. 

Enier  a  Servant 

Sero.  O  mistress,  mistress,  shift  and  save  yonrtelf ! 
My  master  and  his  man  are  both  broken  looae. 
Beaten  the  maids  a-row,?  and  bound  the  doctor. 
Whose  beard  they  have  singed  off  with  brands  of 

fire; 
And  ever  as  it  blazed,  thev  threw  on  him 
Great  pails  of  puddled  mfre  to  quench  the  hair ; 
My  master  preaches  patience  to  him,  while 
His  man  with  scissars  nick»^  him  like  a  fool : 
And,  sure,  unless  you  send  some  present  help, 
Between  them  they  will  kill  the  conjurer. 

Adr.  Peace,  fool,  thy  master  ana  his  man  an 
here; 
And  that  is  false  thou  dost  report  to  us. 

Serv.  Mistress,  upon  my  life,  I  tell  you  true  ; 
I  have  not  breathM  almost,  since  I  did  see  it 
He  cries  for  you,  and  vows,  if  he  can  take  yon, 
To  scorch  your  face,  and  to  disfigure  vou : 

(Crytoilkin, 
Hark,  hark,  I  hear  him,  mistress ;  fly,  be  gtmc. 

Duke.  Come,  stand  by  me,  fear  nothing:  Guard 
with  halberds. 

Adr.  Ah  roe,  it  is  my  husband  !  Witness  yoa. 
That  he  is  borne  about  invisible : 
Gven  now  we  housM  him  in  the  abbey  here ; 
And  now  he*s  there,  past  thought  of  human  reason. 

Enter  Antipholus  and  Dromio  of  Ephesni. 

Ani.  E.  Justice,  most  gracious  duke,  ch,  gnat 
me  justice ! 
Even  for  the  service  that  long  since  I  did  thee, 
When  I  bestrid  thee  in  the  wars,  and  took 
Deep  scars  to  save  thy  life ;  even  for  the  blood 
That  then  1  lost  for  thee,  now  grant  me  justice. 

JEge.  Unless  the  fear  of  death  doth  make  roe  dote, 
I  see  my  son  Antipholus,  and  Dromia 

Ant.   E.   Ju-Jtice,  sweet  prince,  against  that 
woman  there. 
She  whom  thou  gav'st  to  me  to  be  my  wife ; 
That  hath  abused  and  dishonoured  me. 
Even  in  the  strength  and  height  of  injury ! 
Beyond  imagination  is  the  wrong. 
That  she  this  day  hath  shameless  thrown  on  roe. 

Duke.  Discover  how,  and  thou  shalt  find  me  just 

Ani.  E.  This  day,  great  duke,  she  shut  the  doors 
upon  me. 
While  she  with  harlots^  feasted  in  my  house. 

Duke.  A  grievous  fault:    Say,  woman,  didst 
thou  so  ? 

Adr.  No,  my  good  lord ; — myself,  he,  wad  my 
sister. 
To-day  did  dine  together :  So  befall  my  soul. 
As  this  is  false,  he  burdens  mc  withal .' 

Luc.  Ne^er  may  I  look  on  day,  nor  sleep  on  night, 
But  she  tells  to  your  highness  simple  tnith  ! 

Ang.  O  perjurM  woman !  They  are  both  for- 
sworn. 
In  this  the  madman  justly  chargeth  them. 

Ant.  E.  My  liege,  I  am  advised  what  I  say ; 

(R)  t.  e.  Cuts  his  hair  close. 

(9)  Harlot  was  a  term  of  reproach  applied  to 
cheats  among  men  as  well  as  to  wantons  among 
women. 


Seeng  J. 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


321 


Neither  dtsturbM  with  the  effect  of  wine, 
Nor  beady -rash,  provokM  with  raging  ire, 
Albeit,  my  wrongi$  might  make  one  wiser  mad. 
This  woman  lockM  me  out  this  day  from  dinner : 
That  eoldsmith  there,  were  he  not  pack'd  with  her, 
Coula  witness  it,  for  he  was  with  me  then ; 
Who  parted  with  me  to  go  fetch  a  chain, 
Promising  to  bring  it  to  the  Porcupine, 
Where  Balthazar  and  I  did  dine  together. 
Our  dinner  done,  and  he  not  coming  thither, 
1  went  to  seek  liim :  in  tlie  street  1  met  him ; 
And  in  his  company,  that  gentleman. 
There  did   this    perjur'd    goldsmith    swear    me 

down, 
That  1  this  day  of  him  receivM  the  chain. 
Which,  God  he  knows,  I  saw  not :  for  the  which. 
He  did  arrest  me  with  an  officer. 
I  did  obey  ;  and  sent  my  peasant  home 
For  certain  ducats :  he  with  none  returned. 
Then  fairly  1  bespoke  the  officer, 
To  go  in  person  with  me  to  my  house. 
13v  the  way  we  met 
My  wife,  her  sister,  and  a  rabble  more 
Oi^  vile  confederates ;  along  with  them 
They  brought  one  Pinch ;  a  hungry  lean-facM  vil- 
lain, 
A  mere  anatomy,  a  mountebank, 
A  thread-bare  juggler,  and  a  fortune-teller ; 
A  needy,  hollow-eyM,  sharp-looking  wretcli, 
A  living  dead  man  :  this  pernicious  slave. 
Forsooth,  took  on  him  as  a  coniurer ; 
And,  gating  in  mine  eyes,  feelmg  my  pulse, 
And  with  no  face,  as  Mwere,  outfacing  me. 
Cries  out,  1  was  possessM  :  then  all  together 
They  fell  upon  me,  bound  me,  bore  me  thence ; 
And  in  a  dark  and  dankish  vault  at  home 
There  left  me  and  my  man,  both  bound  tc^ther ; 
Till,  gnawing  with  my  teeth  my  bonds  in  sunder, 
I  gain*d  my  freedom,  and  immediately 
Ran  hither  to  your  grace ;  whom  1  beseech 
To  give  me  ample  satisfaction 
For  these  deep  shames  and  great  indignities. 

Ang.  My  lord,  in  truth,  tnus  far  I  witness  with 
«      him; 
That  be  dined  not  at  home,  but  was  locked  out. 

Ditke,  But  had  he  such  a  chain  of  thee,  or  no  ? 

Jing.  He  had,  my  lord ;  and  when  he  ran  in  here, 
These  people  saw  the  chain  about  his  neck. 

JUb*.  Besides,  I  will  be  sworn,  these  ears  of 
mine 
Heard  you  confess  you  had  the  chain  of  him, 
After  you  first  forswore  it  on  the  mart. 
And,  thereupon,  I  drew  my  sword  on  you ; 
And  then,  you  fled  into  this  abbey  here, 
From  whence,  I  think,  you  are  come  by  miracle. 

^nt.  E.  I  never  came  within  these  abbey  walls, 
Nor  ever  didst  thou  draw  thy  sword  on  me : 
1  never  saw  the  chain,  so  help  me  heaven ! 
And  this  is  false,  you  burden  me  withal. 

Duke.  Why,  what  an  intricate  impeach  is  this  ! 
J  think,  you  all  have  drank  of  Circe^s  cup. 
If  here  you  hou'^'d  him,  here  he  would  have  been ; 
Jf  he  were  mad,  he  would  not  plead  so  coldly  : — 
You  9ay,  he  dined  at  home ;  the  goldsmith  here 
Denies  that  saying : — Sirrah,  what  say  you  ? 

Dro.  E.  Sir,  he  dined  with  her  there,  at  the 
Porcupine. 

Cour.  He  did  ;  and  from  my  finger  snatcli'd 
that  ring. 

JIni.  E.  'Tis  true,  my  liege,  this  ring  I  had  of  her. 

Duke.  Saw*st  thou  him  enter  at  the  abbey  here  f 

Cour.  As  sure,  my  liege,  as  I  do  see  your  grace. 

(1)  Confounded.      (2)  Alteration  of  features.   I 


Duke.  Why,  this  b  strange : — Go  call  the  abbesf 
hither ; 
I  think  you  are  all  uiated,i  or  stark  mad. 

[Exit  an  attendant 

JEge.  Most  mighty  duke,  vouchsafe  roe  speak 
a  word; 
Haply  I  see  a  friend  will  save  my  life. 
And  pay  the  sum  that  will  deliver  me. 

Duke.  Speak  freely,  Syracusan,  what  thou  wilt. 

»^ge.  Is  not  your  name,  sir,  calPd  Antipholus? 
And  is  not  that  your  bondman  Dromio  ? 

Dro.  E.  Within  this  hour  1  was  his  bondman,  sir, 
But  he,  I  thank  him,  gnaw'd  in  two  my  cords ; 
Now  am  I  Dromio,  and  his  man,  unbound. 

*^ge.  I  am  sure,  you  both  of  you  remember  roe. 

Dro.  E.  Ourselves  we  do  remember,  sir,  by  you 
For  lately  we  were  bound  as  you  are  now. 
You  are  not  Pinches  patient,  are  you,  sir.^ 

^ge.  Why  look  you  strange  on  me  ?  you  know 
me  well. 

Ant  E.  I  never  saw  you  in  my  life,  till  now. 

^ge.  Oh !  grief  hath  chang'd  roe,  since  yon 
saw  me  last ; 
And  careful  hours,  with  Timers  deformed  hand. 
Have  written  strange  defeatures^  in  my  face  : 
But  tell  me  vet,  dost  thou  not  know  my  voice  ? 

Ant.  E.  Neither. 

»^ge.  Dr(»nio,  nor  thou  } 

Dro.  E.  No,  trust  me,  sir,  nor  I. 

o^ge.  I  am  sure,  thou  dost 

Dro.  E.  Ay,  sir?  but  I  am  sure,  I  do  not ;  and 
whatsoever  a  roan  denies,  you  are  now  bound  to 
believe  him. 

JBg-tf.  Not  know  my  voice !  O,  timers  extrenuty  ! 
Hast  thou  so  crackM  and  splitted  my  poor  tcngue. 
In  seven  short  years,  that  here  my  only  son 
Knows  not  my  feeble  key  of  untunM  cares  f 
Though  now  this  grained^  face  of  mine  be  hid 
In  sap-consuming  winter's  drizzled  snow. 
And  all  the  conduits  of  my  blood  froze  up; 
Yet  hath  my  night  of  life  some  memory, 
My  wasting  lamp  some  fading  glimmer  leA, 
My  dull  deaf  ears  a  little  use  to  hear : 
All  these  old  witnesses  (I  cannot  err,) 
Tell  me,  thou  art  my  son  Antipholus. 

Ant.  E.  I  never  saw  my  &ther  in  my  life. 

JEge.  But  seven  years  since,  in  Syracusa,  boy, 
Thou  know'st,  we  parted :  but,  periiaps,  my  son. 
Thou  sham*st  to  aclcnow  ledge  me  in  misery. 

Ant.  E.  The  duke,  and  eJl  that  know  me  m  th« 
city. 
Can  witness  with  roe  that  it  is  not  so ; 
I  ne'er  saw  Syracusa  in  roy  life. 

Duke.  I  tell  thee,  Syracusan,  twen^  yean 
Have  I  been  patron  to  Antipholus, 
During  which  time  he  ne'er  saw  Syracusa : 
I  see,  thy  age  and  dangers  make  thee  dote. 

Enter  the  Ahbess,with  Antipholus  Syracusan, an</ 
Dromio  Syracusan. 

Abb.  Most  mighty  duke,  behold  a  man  much 
wrong'o.  [All  gather  to  see  htm. 

Adr.  I  see  two  husbands,  or  mine  eyes  deceive  me. 

Duke.  One  of  these  men  is  Genius  to  the  other ; 
And  so  of  these  :  Wbich  is  the  natural  man. 
And  which  the  spirit  f  Who  deciphers  them .' 

Dro.  S.  I,  sir,  am  Dromio ;  command  him  away. 

Dro.  E.  I,  sir,  am  Dromio ;  pray,  let  me  stay. 

Ant.  S.  iEgeon,  art  thou  not  f  or  else  his  ghwt  ? 

Dro.  S.  O,  my  old  master !  who  hath  bound  him 
here.' 

^66.  Whoever  bound  him,  I  will  loose  his  bonds, 

(3)  Farrowed,  lined. 


522 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


Aetr. 


And  gain  a  husband  bj  his  liberty : — 
Sueak,  old  iE^eon,  if  thou  be*9t  the  man 
That  had*8t  a  wife  once  calPd  £milia. 
That  bore  thee  at  a  burden  two  fair  sons  : 

0,  if  thou  be^st  the  same  iBeeon,  speak. 
And  iipeak  unto  the  same  iunilia ! 

^gt.  If  I  dream  not,  thou  art  JEmilia ; 
If  thou  art  she,  tell  roe,  where  is  that  son 
That  Boated  with  thee  on  the  fatal  raft  ? 

Abb.  By  men  of  Epidamnum,  he,  and  I, 
And  the  twin  Dromio,  all  were  taken  up; 
But,  by  and  bj  rude  fishermen  of  Corinth 
By  force  took  Dromio  and  my  son  from  them. 
And  me  they  left  with  those  of  Epidamnum ; 
What  then  became  of  them,  I  cannot  tell : 

1,  to  this  fortune  that  you  see  me  in. 

Duke.  Why,  here  bM;ins  his  morning  story  right ;' 
These  two  Antipholus%  these  two  so  like. 
And  these  two  Dromio^  one  in  semblance, — 
Ikaiides  her  urging  of  her  wreck  at  sea, — 
These  are  the  parents  to  these  children, 
Which  accidentally  are  met  together. 
Antipholus,  thou  cam*st  from  &>rinth  first 

Ant.  S.  No,  sir,  not  I ;  I  came  from  Syracuse. 

Duke.  Stay,  stand  apart  I  I  know  not  which  is 
which. 

Ant.  E.  I  came  from  Corinth,  my  most  gracious 
lord. 

JDro.  E.  And  I  with  him. 

Ant.  E.  Brought  to  this  town  with  that  most 
famous  warrior 
Duke  Menaphon,  your  most  renowned  uncle. 

Adr.  Which  of  you  two  did  dine  with  me  to-day  ? 

Ant.  S.  I,  gentle  mistress. 

Adr.  And  are  not  you  my  husband  ? 

Ant.  E.  No.  I  sar  nay  to  that 

Ant.  S.  And  so  do  I,  yet  did  she  call  me  so ; 
And  this  fair  gentlewoman,  her  sister  here. 
Did  call  me  brother : — What  I  (old  you  then, 
I  hope,  I  shall  have  leisure  to  make  good ; 
If  this  be  not  a  dream,  I  see,  and  hear. 

Ang.  That  is  the  chain,  sir,  which  you  had  of  me. 

Ant  S.  I  think  it  be,  sir;  I  deny  it  not 

Ant.  E.  And  you,  sir,  for  this  chain  arrested  me. 

Ang.  I  think  I  did,  sir;  I  deny  it  not 

Adr.  I  sent  you  money,  sir,  to  be  your  bail, 
By  Dromio ;  but  I  think  he  brought  it  not. 

Dro.  E.  No,  none  by  me. 

Ant.  S.  This  purse  of  ducats  I  received  from  you. 
And  Dromio  mv  man  did  bring  them  me : 
I  see,  we  still  aid  meet  each  other^s  man. 
And  I  was  ta^en  for  him,  and  he  for  me. 
And  thereupon  these  Errors  are  arose. 

Ant.  E.  These  ducats  pawn  I  for  my  father  here. 

Duke.  It  shall  not  need,  thy  father  hath  hU  life. 

Cour.  Sir,  I  must  have  that  diamond  from  you. 

AnL  E.  There,  take  it ;  and  much  thanks  for 
my  good  cheer. 

Abb.  Renowned  duke,  vouchsafe  to  take  the  pains 
To  go  with  us  into  the  abbey  here. 
And  hear  at  large  discoursed  all  our  fortunes : — 

(1)  The  morning  story  is  what  £geoQ  tells  the 
duke  in  the  first  scene  of  this  play. 


And  all  that  are  assembled  in  this  p1ac«. 
That  by  this  sympathized  one  day*s  error  ' 
Have  sufierM  wrong,  go,  keep  us  company. 
And  we  shall  make  full  satisraction. — 
Twenty-five  years  have  I  but  gone  in  travail 
Of  you,  my  sons ;  nor,  till  this  present  hour. 
My  heavy  burdens  are  delivered : — 
The  duke,  my  husband,  and  my  children  both, 
And  you  the  calendars  of  their  nativity, 
Go  to  a  gossip's  feast,  and  go  with  roe ; 
Af)er  so  long  grief,  such  nativity  ! 
Duke.  With  all  my  heart,  IMl  gossip  at  this  feast. 
[E^xeuni  Duke,  Abbess,  iElgeon,  Courtezan, 
Merchant,  Angelo,  emd  ailendants. 
Dro.  S.  Master,  slull  1  fetch  your  stuff  fnxn 
shipboard .' 
Ant.  E.  Dromio,  what  stuff  of  mine  hast  thou 

embarkM  ? 
Dro.  S.  Your  goods,  that  lay  at  boat,  sir,  in  die 

Centaur. 
Ant.  S.  He  speaks  to  me ;  I  am  your  master, 
Dromio: 
Come,  go  with  us :  weMl  look  to  that  anon : 
Embrace  thy  brother  there,  rejoice  with  him. 
[Extuni  Antipholus  S.  and  E.  Adr.  and  Loc. 
Dro.  S.  There  is  a  fat  friend  at  yoor  master's 
house. 
That  kitchen'd  me  for  ^oa  to-day  at  dinner ; 
She  now  shall  be  my  sister,  not  my  wife. 
Dro.  E.  Melhinks,  you  are  my  glass,  and  not 
my  brother : 
I  see  by  you,  I  am  a  sweet-faced  youth. 
Will  you  walk  in  to  see  their  gossiping.' 
Dro.  S.  Not  I,  sir ;  you  are  my  elder. 
Dro.  E.  That's  a  question :  bow  shall  we  tiy  it .' 
Dro.  S.  We  will  draw  cuts  for  the  senior :  till 
then,  lead  thou  first 

Dro.  E.  Nay,  then  thus  : 
We  came  into  the  world,  like  brother  and  brodier ; 
And  now  let's  go  hand  in  hand,  not  one  before 
another.  [Exeunt. 


On  a  careful  revision  of  the  forgoing  scenes,  I 
do  not  hesitate  to  pronounce  them  the  composition 
of  two  very  unequal  writers.  Shakspeare  bad  un- 
doubtedly a  share  in  them;  but  that  the  entire  )Jay 
was  no  work  of  his,  is  an  opinion  which  (as  Bene- 
dict sa}-s)  *  fire  cannot  melt  out  of  me  ;  I  will  die  in 
it  at  tlie  stake.'  Thus  as  we  are  informed  by  Aulus 
Gellius,  Lib.  III.  Cap.  3.  some  plan's  were  abso- 
lutely ascribed  to  Plautus,  which  in  truth  had  onlv 
been  {rttractatce  et  expoHta)  retouched  and  pol- 
ished by  him. 

In  this  comedy  we  find  more  intricacy  of  plot 
than  distinction  of  character ;  and  our  attention  b 
less  forcibly  engaged,  because  we  can  guesb  in  great 
measure  how  the  denouement  will  be  brought 
about.  Yet  the  subject  appears  to  have  been  re- 
luctantly dismissed,  even  m  this  last  and  unneces- 
sary scene ;  where  the  same  mistakes  are  contijiu- 
ed,  till  the  power  of  affording  entertainment  is 
entirel)  lost  STEEVENS. 


V 


MACBETH.    Act  III.— Scene*. 


KING   JOHN.     Act  111.  —  Scene  i. 


MACBETH. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


\j  king  qf  Scotland: 
^        ihis  sons. 

generals  qf  the  kin^s  army. 


^ 

S 

% 


>  noblemen  qf  Scotland. 


s,  ion  to  Banquo. 

t  mrl  qf  ^orihumberlandf  general  qf  the 

English  forces : 
Sward,  hts  son. 

an  qfficer  attending  on  Macbeth. 
Macduff. 


An  English  Doctor.    A  Scotch  Doctor. 
A  Soldier.    A  Porter.    An  old  Man. 

Lady  Macbeth. 

Lady  Macdofil 

Gentlewoman  attending  on  lady  Macbeth. 

Hecate,  and  thru  Witches. 

Lords,  Gentlemen,  Officers,  Soldiers,  Murderers, 

Attendants,  and  Mtsungers. 
The  Ghost  qf  Banquo,  and  several  other  Appari- 
tions. 

Scene,  in  the  end  of  the  fourth  act,  lies  in  Eng- 
land ;  through  the  rest  of  the  play,  in  Scotland, 
and,  chiefly,  at  Macbeth''s  castle. 


CE  L—An 
lightning. 


ACT  I. 

open  place.     Thunder 
Enter  three  Witches. 

1  Witch. 


and 


'SS  shall  we  three  meet  aeain 

der,  li^htnins,  or  in  rain  r 

itch.  When  Uie  hurly burly *si  done, 

the  battlers  lost  and  won. 

ilcA.  That  will  be  ere  set  of  sun. 

UdL  Where  the  place  ^ 

Utk.  Upon  the  heath : 

Udi.  There  to  meet  with  Macbeth. 

lUh.  I  come,  Graymalkin ! 

Fbddock  calls : — Anon. — 

bal,  and  foul  is  fair : 

hrough  the  fog  and  filthy  air. 

[Witches  vanish. 

E  //. — A  Camp  near  Fores.  Alarum 
n.  Enter  King  Duncan,  Malcolm,  Donal* 
Lenox,  with  attendants,  meeting  a  bleed- 
hUier. 

What  blood  V  man  is  that  ?  He  can  report, 
ledi  by  his  pli^t,  of  the  revolt 
rest  state. 

This  is  the  sergeant, 
ke  a  good  and  hardv  soldier,  fought 

my  captivity  : Hail,  brave  friend  ! 

he  kiiif  the  knowledge  of  the  broil, 

didst  leave  it. 

Doubtfully  it  stood ; 
spent  swimmers,  that  do  cling  together, 
ofce  their  art.     The  merciless  Macdonwald 
If  to  be  a  rebel ;  for,  to  that, 
iltiplying  villanies  of  nature 

'amult. 
e.  Supplied  with  light  and  beary-armed 

ause.        (4)  The  opposite  to  comfort 


Do  swarm  upon  him,)  from  the  western  isles 
Of  Kernes  and  Gallowglasses  is  supplied  ;3 
And  fortune,  on  hia  damned  quarrel'  smiling, 
Show*d  like  a  rebers  whore  :  But  alPs  too  weak : 
For  brave  Macbeth  (well  he  deserves  that  name,) 
Disdaining  fortune,  with  his  brandishM  steel, 
Which  smokM  with  bloody  execution. 
Like  valour*s  minion, 

Carv*d  out  his  passage,  till  he  fac*d  the  slave ; 
And  ne'er  shook  hands,  nor  bade  farewell  to  him 
Till  he  unscam'd  him  from  the  nave  to  the  chaps. 
And  fix*d  his  head  upon  our  battlements. 

Dun.  O,  valiant  cousin !  worthy  gentleman ! 

Sold.  As  whence  the  sun  *gins  liis  reflection 
Shipwrecking  storms  and  direful  thunders  break ; 
So  from  that  spring,  whence  comfort  secm'd  to  come, 
Discomfort^  swells.  Mark,  king  of  Scotland,  mark : 
No  sooner  justice  had,  with  veuour  arm'd, 
Ck>mpeird  these  skipping  Kernes  to  trust  their  heels : 
But  tbe  Norweyan  lord,  sun'eying  vantage. 
With  furbishM  arms,  and  new  supplies  m  men, 
Began  a  fresh  assault 

Dun.  Dismayed  not  this 

Our  captains,  Macbeth  and  Banquo  f 

Sold.  Yes; 

As  sparrows,  eacles ;  or  the  hare,  the  lion. 
If  I  say  sooth,'  f  must  report  they  were 
As  cannons  overcharged  with  double  cracks ; 
So  they 

Doubly  redoubled  strokes  upon  the  foe  : 
Except  they  meant  to  bathe  in  reeking  wounds, 
Or  memorize  another  Golgotha,^ 

1  cannot  tell : 

But  1  am  faint,  my  gasbet  cry  for  help. 

Dun.  So  well  thy  words  become  thee,  as  thy 
wounds; 
They  smack  of  hcooiir  both : — Go,  ^t  him  sar- 
geoDS.  [Exit  Soldier,  attended, 

(5)  Troth. 

(6^  Make  another  Golgotha  ts  memorable  as 
the  first 


324 


MACBETH. 


JiaL 


Enter  Ront. 


Who  comeii  here? 

Md,  The  worthy  thMie  of  Borne, 

Len,  What  a  haste  looka  through  hia  eye«!    So 
should  he  look, 
That  iecma  to  speak  things  strange.  ..... 

Hoste,  God  save  the  kin^! 

Dun.  Whence  cam*st  thou,  worthy  thane  ? 

jlosse.  From  Fife,  great  king, 

Where  the  Norweyan  banners  flout^  the  sky, 

And  &n  our  people  cold. 

Norway  hinuelf,  with  terrible  numbers, 

Assisted  by  that  roost  disloyal  traitor 

The  thane  oT  Cawdor,  'gan  a  dismal  conaict : 

Till  that  Bellona's  bride*;roora,a  lapp'd  in  proof,' 

Confronted  him  with  sclt-comparisons. 

Point  against  point  rebellious,  arm  'gainst  arm, 

Curbing  his  lavish  spirit :  And,  to  conclude, 

The  victory  fell  on  us ; «       ^      .       i 

D^  Great  happiness ! 

Roste.  That  now 
Sweno,  the  Norways'  kinff,  craves  composition; 
Nor  would  we  deign  him  Durial  of  his  men, 
Till  he  disbursed,  at  Saint  Colmes'  inch, 
Ten  thousand  dollars  to  our  general  use. 

Dun,  No  more  that  thane  of  Cawdor  shall  de- 
ceive ..    J      u 
Our  bosom  interest :— Go,  pronounce  his  death, 
And  with  his  former  title  greet  Macbeth. 

Rosse,  ril  see  it  done.  t.  .,  u  ^u 

Dun,  What  he  hath  lost,  noble  Macbeth  hath 
won.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^TE  IIL-^  Heaih.    ITiunder.   Enter  the 
three  Witches. 

1  Witch,  Where  hast  thou  been,  sister? 

2  Witch,  Killing  swine. 

3  frticA.  Sister,  where  thou? 
1  Witch.  A  sailor's  wife  had  chesnuts  in  her  lap. 

And  mounch'd,  and  mounch'd,  and  mounch'd : 

Gijye  mtj  quoth  I : 


And,  like  a  rat  without  a  tail, 
ini  do,  I'll  do.  and  I'll  da 

2  Witch.  I'll  give  thee  a  wind. 
1  Witch.  Thou  art  kind. 

3  Witch.  And  I  another. 

1  Witch.  I  myself  have  all  the  other; 
And  the  very  ports  they  blow. 
All  the  quarters  that  they  know 
I'the  shijOTian's  card.* 
1  will  drain  him  dry  as  hay : 
Sleep  shall,  neither  night  nor  day. 
Hang  upon  his  pent-house  lid  ; 
He  Sail  live  a  man  forbid  :J 
Weary  sev'n-nighls,  nine  times  nine. 
Shall  he  dwindle,  peak,  and  pine : 
Though  his  bark  cannot  be  lost. 
Yet  it  shall  be  tempest-toss'd. 
Look  what  I  have. 

2  Witch.  Show  me,  show  me. 
1  Witch.  Hero  I  have  a  pilot's  thumb, 

Wreck'd,  as  homeward  he  did  come. 

[Drum  unthtn. 

3  Witch.  A  drum,  a  drum ; 
Macbeth  doth  come. 

(1)  Mock.        (2)  Shakspeare  means  Mart. 
(3)  Defended  by  armour  of  proofc 
4)  Avaunt,  begone, 
^5)  A  scurvy  woman  fed  on  oflals. 
(6)  Sailor's  chart        (7)  Accursed. 


AU,  The  weird  sisters,'  hand  m  hand* 
Posters  of  the  sea  and  land. 
Thus  do  go  about,  about ; 
Thrice  to  thine,  and  thrice  to  mine. 
And  thrice  again,  to  make  up  nine : 
Peace !— the  charm's  wound  up. 

I  Enter  Macbeth  and  Banqno. 

'     Macb.  So  foul  and  fair  a  day  I  have  not 

Ban.  How  fiir  is't  call'd  to  Fores  ?— What  ait 
these 
So  wither'd,  and  so  wild  in  their  attire ; 
That  look  not  like  the  inhabitants  o'the  eaiA, 
And  yet  are  on't?  Live  vou  ?  or  are  you  "g^t 
That  roan  may  questkm  ?  You  seem  to  understiad 

By  each  at  once  her  choppy  finger  laying 

lypon  her  skinny  lips :— You  should  be  wcmeo, 
And  yet  your  beards  forbid  me  to  interpret 
That  you  are  sa 
Macb.        Speak,  if  you  can ;— What  are  too  ? 

1  Witch.  All  hail,  Macbeth !  hail  to  thee,  thue 
c^  Glamis ! 

2  ^atch.  All  hail, Macbeth!  hail  totfaee,thtfie 
of  Cawdor!  .    .  .    »^. 

3  WUch,  All  hail,  Macbeth !  that  shall  be  kng 
hereafter. 

Bon.  Good  sir,  why  do  you  start;  and  seem  tft 

fear,  . 

Things  that  do  sound  so  fair  .>--l'the  name  of  treth, 
Are  ye  fantastical,^  or  that  indeed 
Which  outwardly  ye  show  ?  My  noble  partner 
You  greet  with  present  grace,  and  great  predictiOD 
Of  noble  having,^  and  of  ro>'al  hope. 
That  he  seems  rapt"  withal ;  to  me  you  speak  not . 
If  you  can  look  into  the  seeds  of  time. 
And  sav,  which  grain  will  grow,  and  which  will  nol 
Speak  then  to  me,  who  neither  beg,  nor  fear. 
Your  favours,  nor  your  hate. 
I     1  Witch.  Hail  f 

2  Witch.  Hail ! 

3  Witch.  Hail ! 

1  Witch.  Lesser  than  Macbeth,  and  greater. 

2  Witch.  Not  so  happy,  yet  much  happier. 

3  Witdi.  Thou  shall  get  kings,  though  thou  be 

none: 
So,  all  hail,  Macbeth,  and  Banquo ! 

1  Witch.  Banquo,  and  Macbeth,  all  bail ! 

Macb.  Stay,  vou  imperfect  speakers,  tell  me  more: 
By  Sincl's  death,  I  know,  I  am  thane  of  Glums; 
But  how  of  Cawdor  ?  the  thane  of  Cawdor  lives, 
A  prosperous  gentleman ;  and  to  be  king, 
Stands  not  wiUiin  the  prospect  of  belief. 
No  more  than  to  be  Cawdor.    Say,  from  whenca 
You  owe  this  strange  intelligence  ?  or  why 
Uiwn  this  blasted  heath  you  stop  our  way 
With  such  prophetic  greeting  ?— Speak,  I  chain 

Ban.  The  earth  hath  bubbles,  as  the  water  htf. 

And  these  are  of  them :— Whither  are  thev  va^h^ 

Macb.  Into  the  air ;  and  whal  seem'd  coiponl, 

melted  ,    ,      .ji 

As  breath  into  the  wind.— 'Would  they  hadsteid! 
Ban,  Were  such  things  here,  as  we  do  apcftk 
about? 
Or  have  we  eaten  of  the  insane  root," 
That  takes  the  reason  prisoner  ? 
Macb.  Your  children  shall  be  kings. 
Ban,  You  shall  be  kian 


t 


8)  Prophetic  sasteis. 

'9)  Supernatural,  spiritua]. 

11)  Rapturously  affected. 

12)  The  root  which  makes  iniana. 


(10) 


MACBETH. 


325 


nd  thane  of  Cawdor  too;  went  it  not  lo? 
the  self-same  tune,  and  words.  Who's 
nf 

JSJnIer  Roese  and  Angus. 

le  king  hath  bappiW  receiv*d,  Macbeth, 
f  dij  success :  and  when  he  reads 
lal  renture  in  the  rebels*  fight, 
%  and  his  praises  do  contend, 
Ud  be  thine,  or  his :  SilencM  with  that, 
o*er  the  rest  o*the  self-sanie  day, 
ee  in  the  stout  Norweyan  ranks, 
«rd  of  what  thyself  didst  make, 
iges  of  death.    As  thick  as  tale,i 
with  post;  and  every  one  did  heu 
I  in  his  kingdom's  great  defence, 
I  them  down  before  him. 

We  are  sent, 
«,  from  our  royal  master,  thanks ; 
ftiee  into  his  sight,  not  pay  thee, 
ind,  for  an  earnest  of  a  greater  honour, 
e,  from  him,  call  thee  thane  of  Cawdor : 
dditioo,3  hail,  most  worthy  thane ! 
ioe. 

What,  can  the  devil  speak  true  ? 
rhe  thane  of  Cawdor  lives;  Why  do 
on  dress  me 
i  robes? 

Who  was  the  thane,  lives  yet ; 
heavy  judgment  bears  that  life 
deserves  to  lose.     Whether  he  was 
srith  Norway ;  or  did  line  the  rebel 
en  help  and  vantage ;  or  that  with  both 
d  b  his  country's  wreck,  I  know  not ; 
u  capital,  coniess'd,  and  prov'd, 
duown  him. 

Glamis,  the  thane  of  Cawdor : 
•t  is  behind. — Thanks  for  your  pains. — 
t  hope  your  children  shall  be  kings, 
ethat  gave  the  thane  of  Cawdor  to  me, 
olcMMto  them.^ 

That,  trusted  home, 
enkindle*  you  unto  the  crown, 
B  thane  of  Cawdor.    But  'tis  strange : 
imes,  to  win  us  to  our  harm, 
ments  of  darkness  tell  us  truths ; 
Ifa  honest  trifles,  to  betray  us 

conseouence. — 

word,  1  pray  you. 

Two  truths  are  told, 
prologues  to  the  swelling  act 
erial  theme. — I  thank  you,  gentlemen. — 
natural  soliciting^ 

ill ;  cannot  be  good :  f  f  ill, 

it  given  me  earnest  of  success, 
ng  m  a  truth  ?  I  am  thane  of  Cawdor : 
rbr  do  I  yield  to  that  suggestion* 
tnd  image  doth  unfix  my  hair, 

nay  seated^  heart  knock  at  my  ribs, 
e  ose  of  nature  ?    Present  fears 
nn  horrible  imaginings : 
It,  whose  murder  yet  is  but  fantastical, 
nay  single  state  of  man,  that  function 
'd  in  surmise  ;7  and  nothing  is, 
is  not 

Look,  how  our  partner's  rapt, 
f  chance  will  have  me  king,  why,  chance 
nay  crown  me, 


Without  my  stir. 

Ban,  New  boooon  conae  opon  him 

Like  our  strange  garments;  cleave  not  to  theii 

mould. 
But  with  the  aia  of  use. 

Maeb.  Come  what  conae  may ; 

Time  and  die  hour*  runs  through  the  roughest  dajr. 

Ban.  Worthy  Macbeth,  we  stay  upon  your  lei- 
sure. 

Maeb.  Give  me  your  &voar  .**— my  doll  brain 
was  wroij^t 
With  things  forgotten.  Kind  gentlemen,  your  pains 
Are  register'd  where  every  day  I  tym 
The  1^  to  read  them. — Let  us  toward  the  kin|^. — 
Think  upon  what  hath  chanc'd :  and,atmoretmie. 
The  interim  having  weigh'd  it,  let  us  speak 
Our  free  hearts  each  to  other. 

Ban,  Very  gladly. 

Jdacb,  Till  then,  enough. — Come,  friends.  [Exe, 

SCEJfE  /r.— Fores.  A  room  in  the  paJaoe, 
flourish.  Enter  Duncan,  Malcolm,  Donalbain 
Lenox,  and  attendantt. 

Dun.  Is  execution  done  on  Cawdor  ?  Are  not 
Those  in  commission  yet  retum'd  ? 

MaL  My  liege, 

Thev  are  not  yet  come  back.    But  I  have  spoke 
With  one  that  saw  him  die :  who  did  report, 
That  veiy  frankly  he  confess'd  his  treasons ; 
Iropk>r'd  your  highness'  pardon ;  and  set  forUi 
A  oeep  repentance :  nothing  in  his  life 
Became  bun,  like  the  leaving  it :  he  died 
As  one  that  had  been  studied  in  his  death. 
To  throw  away  the  dearest  thing  he  ow'd,iO 
As  'twere  a  careless  trifle. 

Dun.  There's  no  art. 

To  find  the  mind's  construction  in  the  hot  'M 
He  was  a  gentleman  on  whom  I  built 
An  absolute  trust — O  worthiest  cousin ! 

Enier  Macbeth,  Banquo,  Rosse,  and  Angus. 

The  sin  of  my  ingratitude  even  now 

Was  heavy  on  me :  Thou  art  so  far  before, 

That  swiftest  wing  of  recompense  is  slow 

To  overtake  thee.   'Would  thou  hadst  less  deserv'd ; 

That  the  proportion  both  of  thanks  and  payment 

Might  have  bc»en  mine !  only  I  have  left  to  say, 

More  is  thydue  than  more  man  all  can  pay. 

Maeb.  The  service  and  the  loyalty  I  owe. 
In  doing  it,  pays  itself.    Your  highness'  part 
Is  to  receive  our  duties :  and  our  duties 
Are  to  your  throne  and  state,  children,  and  servants 
Which  do  but  what  they  should,  by  doing  every 

thing 
Safe  toward  your  love  and  honour. 

Dwi.  Welcome  hither : 

I  have  begun  to  plant  thee,  and  will  labour 
To  make  thee  full  of  growing,  i^— Noble  Banquo, 
That  hast  no  less  deserv'd,  nor  must  be  known 
No  less  to  have  done  so,  let  me  infold  thee, 
And  hold  thee  to  my  heart 

Ban.  There  if  I  grow. 

The  harvest  is  your  own. 

Dun.  Mv  plenteous  joys. 

Wanton  in  fulness,  seek  to  hide  themselves 
In  drops  of  sorrow. — Sons,  kinsmen,  thanes. 
And  you  whose  places  are  the  nearest,  know, 
We  will  establish  our  estate  upon 


hst  as  they  could  be  counted.  (2)  Title, 
rotate.  (4)  Encitement. 

optation.         (6)  Firmly  fixed. 
\  powers  of  action  are  oppressed  by  con- 


^8)  Time  and  opportunity.  (9)  Pardon. 

(10}  Owned,  possessed. 

(11)  We  cannot  construe  the  dispontioQ  of  tfie 
mind  by  the  lineaments  of  tfie  foce. 

(12)  Exuberant 


326 


MACBETa 


Ad  I 


a 


Oar  eldest,  Malcolm ;  wb(xn  we  name  hereafter, 
The  prince  of  Cumberland :  which  honour  most 
Not,  unaccompanied,  invest  him  onlj, 
But  si^s  of  nobleness,  like  stars,  shall  shine 
On  all  descrvers. — From  hence  to  Inverness, 
And  bind  us  further  to  you. 

Macb,  The  rest  is  labour,  which  is  notus*d  for  you 
I'll  be  m>»elf  the  harbinger,  and  make  joyful 
The  hearing  of  my  wife  with  your  approach ; 
So,  humbly  take  my  leave. 

Dun.  My  worthy  Cawdor  ! 

Macb.  The  prince  of  Cumberland  f— That  is  t 
step. 
On  which  I  must  ieXX  down,  or  else  overleap, 

[Ande. 
For  in  m^  way  it  lies.     Stars,  hide  your  fires ! 
Let  not  light  see  my  black  and  deep  desires : 
The  eve  wink  at  the  hand  !  yet  let  that  be, 
Which  the  eye  fears,  when  it  is  done,  to  see.  [Ex. 

Dttn.  True,  worth v  Banquo;  he  is  full  so  valiant;^ 
And  in  his  commendations  I  am  fed ; 
It  is  a  banquet  to  me.     Let  us  after  him. 
Whose  care  is  rone  before  to  bid  us  welcome : 
It  is  a  peerless  kinsman.         [Flourish,    Exeunt. 

SCEJ^''E  K.— Inverness.    A  room  in  Macbeth's 
eastk.    Enter  Lady  Macbeth,  reading  a  letter. 

Lad  V  M.  They  met  me  in  the  day  qf  tuccest ; 
and  1  have  learned  by  the  perjectesi  report,^  they 
hwH  more  in  ihem  than  mortal  knowledge.  When 
t  burned  in  desire  to  question  them  further^  thev 
made  themselves — air^  into  which  they  vanishea. 
Whiles  I  stood  rapt  in  the  wonder  of  it,  came 
missives^  from  the  king,  who  all-hailed  me.  Thane 
of  Cawdor ;  by  whidi  tiUe,  before,  these  weird 
sisters  saluted  me,  and  r^erred  me  to  the  coming 
on  of  timef  with.  Hail,  king  that  shalt  be !  Thts 
have  I  thought  good  to  &iver  thee,  my  dearest 
partner  of  greatness ,'  thai  thou  mightest  not  lose 
the  dues  qf  rejoicings  by  being  ignorant  of  what 
greatness  is  promixd  thee.  Lay  it  to  thy  heart, 
andfaretoelL 

Glamis  thou  art,  and  Cawdor ;  and  shalt  be 
What  thou  artpromisM : — Yet  do  I  fear  thy  nature ; 
It  is  too  full  o*the  milk  of  human  kindness, 
To  catch  the  nearest  way :  Thou  would^st  be  great ; 
Art  not  without  ambition ;  but  without 
The  illness  should  attend  it    What  thou  would^st 

highly. 
That  would^st  thou  holily ;  would^st  not  play  false. 
And  yet  would^st  wrongly  win :  thouM^st  have, 

great  Glamis, 
That  which  cries.  Thus  thou  must  do,  \f  thou 

have  it ; 
And  that  which  rather  thou  dost  fear  to  do. 
Than  wishest  should  be  undone.     Hie  thee  hither, 
That  I  ma^  pour  my  spirits  in  thine  ear ; 
And  chastise  with  the  valour  of  my  tongue 
All  that  impedes  thee  from  the  golden  round  ^ 
Which  fate  and  metaphysical^  aid  doth  seem 
To  have   thee  crowiiM  withaL — What  is  your 

tidings  ? 

Enter  an  Attendant 

Attend.  The  king  comes  here  to-night 

Lady  M.  Thou'rt  mad  to  saj  it : 

Is  not  thy  master  with  him  ^  who,  were*t  so, 

Would  have  informM  for  preparation. 

1)  Full  as  valiant  as  described. 

I)  The  best  intelligence.        (3)  MeflKOgen. 
14)  Diadem.        (5)  SupematuraL 
(6^  Murderous.        (7)  Pity. 
(8)  Wrap  as  in  a  manUe. 


Attend.  So  please  yoa,  it  if  tme ;  our  thane  if 
coming: 
One  of  my  fellows  had  the  speed  of  him ; 
Who,  almost  dead  for  breath,  had  scarcely  more 
Than  would  make  up  his  message. 

Lady  J\i.  Give  him  tendii^. 

He  brings  great  news.  The  raven  himself  is  hoarse, 

[Exit  Attenduit 
That  croaks  the  fatal  entrance  of  Duncan 
Under  my  battlements.    Come,  come,  yoa  spirits 
That  tend  on  mortal^  thoughts,  unsex  me  here ; 
And  fill  me,  from  the  crown  to  the  toe,  top-^ 
Qf  direst  cruelty  !  make  thick  my  blood, 
Stop  up  the  access  and  passage  to  renxMve ;' 
That  no  compunctious  visitings  of  nature 
Shake  my  felt  purpose,  nor  keep  peace  betweeo 
The  effect,  ana  it :  Come  to  my  woman's  breasts. 
And  take  m^  milk  for  e&ll,  you  murdVing  muusten. 
Wherever  m  your  si^tless  substances 
You  wait  on  nature's  mischief!  Come,  thick  n^t, 
And  pall^  thee  in  the  dunnest  smoke  of  hell ! 
That  my  keen  knife^  see  not  the  wound  it  makes ; 
Nor  heaven  peep  throu^  the  blanket  of  the  dark. 
To  cry,  Hold,  Hold!-^teaX  Glamis,  worthy  Caw- 
dor! 

EnJter  Macbeth. 

Greater  than  both,  by  the  all-bail  hereafWr ! 
Th^  letters  have  transported  roe  beyond 
This  ignorant  present,'^  and  I  feel  noisr 
The  future  in  tne  instant 

Macb.  My  dearest  kwe, 

Duncan  comes  here  to-night 
Lady  M.  And  when  goes  hence  f 

Macb.  To^norrow, — as  he  poipoaeSi 
Lady  M.  O,  Defer 

Shall  sun  that  morrow  see ! 
Your  face,  my  thane,  is  as  a  book,  where  men 
May  read  strange  matters : — To  beguile  die  time. 
Look  like  the  time ;  bear  welcome  in  ytwr  eye. 
Your  hand,  your  tongue:  look  like  the  innocent 

flower. 
But  be  the  serpent  under  it  He  that's  comiog 
Must  be  provided  for :  and  you  shall  pot 
This  nig^t^s  great  business  into  my  despatch ; 
Which  shall  to  all  our  nights  and  days  to  ocoie 
Give  solely  sovereign  sway  and  masterdom. 
Macb.  We  will  speak  further. 
Lady  M.  Only  look  up  dear; 

To  alter  favour"  ever  is  to  fear : 
Leave  all  the  rest  to  me.  [ExeunL 

SCEJ^E  VI.—The  tame,  Btfort  ikt  castle. 
Hautboys.  Servants  qf  Macbeth  sMending. 
Enter  Duncan,  Malcolm,  Dooalbain,  Banqna, 
Lenox,  Macdu^  Rosse,  Angus,  and 

Dun.  This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  teat ;  tibe  air 
Nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  gende  senses. 

Ban.  This  guest  of  mmmer, 

The  temple-haunting  martlet,  does  approve. 
By  his  lov'd  roansioniy,  that  ihe  heaven's  Ineadi 
Smells  wooingly  here ;  no  jutty,  frieie,  buttress, 
Nor  c(Hgne  of  vantage,i3  but  thb  bird  hath  made 
His  pendent  bed,  and  procreant  cradle:  Where  tfae^« 
Most  breed  and  haunt,  I  have  obserr'd,  the  air   ' 
Is  delicate. 


f  9)  Knife  anciently  meant  a  sword  or  dagnr. 

(10)  i.  e.  Beyond  the  present  tkne,  winch  ■, 
cordii^  to  the  proceas  of  nature,  jgnomBt  of 
future. 
(11)  Lack,  coontaiiaooe.  (12)  Convcoieiit 


Smw/.  '  MA 

EiUirLadyMachtth. 

Dot,  S«,  Ke  I  OUT  hooovr'd  limir' 

The  lova  Hm  folloni  lu,  HmelinK  it  our  troubi 
Which  ilill  AS  (blink  u  loie.  Hereia  I  teu  t^  i < 
Hov  fou  ihall  bid  God  yieldi  lu  forj'our  Viiiut, 
&ad  (bulk  lu  for  your  trouble. 

LaJyM.  kUoartnicf 

la  eveij  point  (wic«  done,  uid  (beu  done  dtjubj 
Were  poor  and  lingle  bunness,  to  cai(en(i 
Af^HHI  (boK  hooours  detp  and  brtsd,  wh'  i-^^ 
Your  mueil]'  kmdi  our  bouK  :  For  (how  r.f  „j,; 
And  ibc  la(e  dignitiu  beap'd  up  (o  tbem, 
Werertjo«rhennil..a 

Dun.  Where'itbeUianerfCriudc 

We  courted  him  at  (he  heelt,  uid  had  a  pur^H''^ 
To  be  bii  purreyor :  bu(  be  ridei  welt ; 
And  bis  greil  Uwe,  gharp  u  bia  ipur,  h*(btii.<1pti 
To  hit  bone  before  ui :  Fair  ud  noble  bi,-.ii  >t. 
We  IR  your  gueil  to-niabl. 

LitJyM.  Touriemnr.<> 

Hive  (bein,  tbeiDKliel,  and  nbat  ii  liuir; 

compl," 
To  make  their  audit  at  joor  higbneai^  plea.iurf, 
Still  lo  teium  joui  own. 

CoodnctUM  to  roiaehoat;  tie  kne  bim  hi;;lily, 

Andihall  continue  our  grace*  lotnudt  him. 

Bjjoutleatfe,boa(e»  [Ei,u 

-SCEJVE  VU.^Thi  aamt  Arvmaih,  c, 

Hauibcya  and  torzha.     Eriitr^  and  pn^s  •TtF 

(At  liagt,  m  Snnrr,*  and  lUtert  Smxoils  mil: 

diAa  and  Mtrvia.  Thai  tnler  Macbeth. 

Mact.  I(  it  were  doK,  whoi  'tit  done. 


new 


Cooidtr 
With  hi« 

Might  b. 


ite\  up  lh»  conB«iiiFnce.  and  ciw< 


We'd  lump  di 
WeMiUhaTC. 


jui^meni  here 


lit  Uking^ff: 


To  plague  the  inra 

CoinnHadi  the  inpedienli  of  our  poiionM  i 

To  oar  own  bj*  He'i  here  in  double  lni>i . 

SlrcHig  both  against  the  deed ;  then,  u  hi?  Il 
Who  rimld  againit  hit  murdciet  ihut  (hi-  i!i 
Not  bear  (he  knife  myself  Besidea,  (bit  Dii[i 
Hath  borne  hit  Imct'ltiet  lo  meek,  bath  ham 
So  ctnr  in  hit  prut  office,  1ha(  his  virtuei 
Will  plead  like  angeli,  trumpet-lo^ed,  na 

The  deep  damnation  of  h'-  -'-' '- 

And  pi  IT,  like  a  naked  u 

Stfidf-'t- 

"P" 

Kail  blow  &e  h 

TbntteuriMll 

To  prick  the  ndi 

VauWambilk 

AodUtiaatba 

EitiT  Lad;/  Macbelb. 

LmdsM  He  hai  almost  nipp'd;  Wby  he.c  i 
M  Ibe  cbambec ! 

Mktb.  Hath  be  aak'd  Ibr  mr  > 

Laif  M.  Know  you  not.  he  hi 

Moih.  Wawnijaacecdnorunheiintbitbu'iuii 

(l)IUward. 

It)  Lt.  We  at  hermits  iball  crer  pray  ibr  ;< 

(3)  Sabfec(  to  accoont 

(4)  An  officer  ao  called  from  fail  pladog  Ibediibet 

(nthtiablb 


3rrid  deed  in  ereiy  n^ 

irom  (he  wind. — I  havF  no  «]nii 
IS  of  my  intent,  but  only 


BLb  bonoor'dmeof  lalej  and  I  ban  boogbt 

m  opinionf  from  all  aorfs  of  peopler 
h  would  be  worn  now  in  their  neweat  gloia, 


Eo  look  io  green  and  pale 
«ly  f  From  tbii  linv. 
We.  Art  Ihou  afeard 


>  Would'it  Ibou  hi 


VhM  made  you  break  1 


nd  dsih'd  dw  bnioi  out,  bad  I  so  iwom,  at  yon 

-Uo.ft.  If  we  ihoold  fail, 

L<,.lyM.  WeftiH 

lit  tcrcw  your  couraee  to  the  iticking-place, 

\\h<  F>eto  the  ratber  shall  bis  day'i  hard  joumej 


le  wardet*  of  the  brain, 
and  the  receijii  of  rean 
When  ta  (Winiib  iteep 


iched  ni 

k'lint  cannot  you  and  I  perftina  upon 
h.'  unguarded  Duncan?  what  not  put  npco 
li' -[Ongy  officen;  who  iball  bear  (be  guilt 
if  'mt  great  quell  ?» 

Much.  BriiK  tiTth  men-children  oolj  1 

nr  ihr  undaimled  raeKle  (bould  compoae 
.iThing  but  males.   Will  il  not  be  received," 
\'h>'n  we  bare  mark'd  with  blood  tboae  ileepy  two 
If  hit  own  chamber,  and  ua'd  Ibdr  reiy  daggen, 
'hnt  ibev  hat*  doiw't.' 
Ijily  M.  Who  dares  recara  h  other, 

.  ^  *■■-  shall  make  our  giiefi  and  clamoui  mar 
U,K.n  his  death F 

JiUtb.  t  am  lettled,  and  bend  up 

Rnrh  corporal  went  lo  this  tenible  feat 
AtvHj,  and  modi  Ibe  time  with  UreKibow; 
Fal^hcemunhidewhat  the  bite  heart  dolh  know. 
[ExnaA 

ACT  II. 

.SCK.VE  l.—TJit  tame.    Omrt  n'Mn  Ou  eaOe. 
Etltr  Banquo  and  Flaancc,  and  a  ttrvoHl,  wiUl 
n  lorth  btjvrt  tium. 
Bat.  How  goes  (he  nighl,  boy ! 

^.'i)  Winds;  ngbdeas  is  inriiible. 
(6)  In  the  laiiM  wnte  ai  citera. 

iraDco.  (9)  Orerptma. 

I.  (10)  Mnrder.  (11)  ' 


328 


MACBETH. 


AdU, 


Fie.  The  moon  is  down ;  I  have  not  heaid  the 
clock. 

Ban.  And  she  goes  down  at  twelve. 

FU.  I  take*t,  'tis  later,  sir. 

Ban.  Hold,  take  mj  sword : — There's  husbandr^r* 
in  heaven, 
Their  candles  are  all  out — Take  thee  that  toa 
A  >ieavj-  sununons  lies  like  lead  upon  me, 
And  yet  I  would  not  sleep  :  Merciful  powers ! 
Restrain  in  me  the  cursed  thoughts,  that  nature 
Gives  way  to  in  repose ! — Give  me  my  sword ; — 

Enier  Macbeth,  and  a  servant  toUh  a  torch, 

^^^K)'8  there.? 

Macb.    A  friend. 

Ban.  Whnt,  sir,  not  yet  at  rest.?  The  king's  a-bed: 
He  hath  been  in  unusual  pleasure,  and 
Sent  forth  great  largess?  to  your  offices  :* 
This  diamond  lie  greets  your  wife  withal. 
By  the  name  of  most  kind  hostess ;  and  shut  up4 
In  measureless  content 

Macb.  Being  unprepar'd. 

Our  will  became  the  servant  to  defect ; 
Which  else  should  free  have  wrought 

Ban.  All's  well. 

I  dreamt  last  night  of  the  three  weird  sisters : 
To  you  they  have  show'd  some  truth. 

Jnac6.  I  think  not  of  them ; 

Yet,  when  we  can  entreat  an  hoar  to  serve. 
Would  spend  it  in  some  words  upon  that  business. 
If  you  would  grant  the  time. 

Ban.  At  your  kind'st  leisure. 

Macb.  Ifyou  shall  cleave  to  my  consent, — when 
'tis, 
It  shall  make  honour  for  you. 

Ban.  So  I  lose  none, 

In  seeking  to  auement  it,  bat  still  keep 
My  bosom  franchis'd,  and  all^^iance  clear, 
I  shall  be  counsel'd. 

Maeb.  Good  repose,  the  while  ! 

Ban.  Thanks,  sir;  The  like  to  you !  [Ex.  Ban. 

Macb.  Go,  bid  thy  mistress,  when  my  drink  is 
ready. 
She  strike  upon  the  bell  Get  thee  to-bed.  [Ex.  Ser. 
Is  this  a  dagger,  which  I  see  before  me. 
The  handle  toward  my  hand  ?  Come,  let  me  clutch 

thee : 

I  have  thee  not,  and  yet  I  see  thee  still. 

Art  thou  not,  fatal  vision,  sen«ble 

To  feeling,  as  to  si^ht  ?  or  art  thoa  but 

A  dagger  of  the  mind ;  a  false  creation. 

Proceeding  from  the  heat-oppressed  brain  f 

I  see  thee  yet,  in  form  as  palpable. 

As  this  which  now  I  draw. 

Thou  marshal'st  me  the  way  that  I  was  going ; 

And  such  an  instrument  I  was  to  use. 

Mine  eyes  are  made  the  fools  o'the  other  senses. 

Or  else  worth  all  the  rest :  I  see  thee  still ; 

And  on  thy  blade,  and  dudgeon,*  gouts^  of  blood, 

Which  was  not  so  before. — There's  no  such  tiling : 

It  is  the  bloody  business,  which  informs 

Thus  to  mine  eves. — Now  o'er  the  one  half  world 

Nature  seems  ^ead,  and  wicJced  dreams  abu<ie 

The  curtain'd  sleep ;  now  witchcraft  celebrates 

Pale  Hecate's  oAerings ;  and  wither'd  murder, 

Alarum'd  by  his  sentinel,  the  wolf, 

Wliose  howl's  his  watch,  thiu  with  his  stealthy 

pace. 
With  Tarquin's  ravishing  strides,  towards  his  de- 
sign 
Moves  like  a  ghost ^Thou  sure  and  firm  set  earth, 

(n  Thrift.  (2)  Boonty. 

(3)  The  rooms  appropriated  to  servants. 


Hear  not  my  steps,  which  way  they  walk,  for  fetr 
The  veiy-  stones  prate  of  my  where-about. 
And  take  the  present  horror  from  the  time. 
Which  now  suits  with  it — Whiles  I  threat,  he  livtii; 
Words  to  the  heat  of  deeds  too  cold  breath  tawta. 

[AffeUrin^ 
I  go,  and  it  is  done ;  die  bell  invites  me. 
Hear  it  not,  Duncan ;  for  it  is  a  knell. 
That  summons  thee  to  heaven,  or  to  belt     [EmL 

SCEJ^E  IL—The  mme.    Enter Ladyyt»ebeflBL 

Lady  M.  That  which  hath  made  them  dnmlt, 
hath  made  me  bdd  : 
What  hath  quench'd  them,  hath  given  me  fire  >— 

Haric  .'—Peace ! 
It  was  the  owl  that  shriek'd,  die  fatal  belfaiian. 
Which  gives  the  stem'st  good-night  He  w  aboot  it : 
The  doors  are  open ;  and  the  surfeited  grooms 
Do  mock  their  cnarge  with  mores :  I  have  dnigg^ 

their  possets, 
That  death  ana  nature  do  contend  about  Ifaem, 
Whether  they  live  or  die. 

Macb.  \mthin.]  Who's  there .>— what,  ho! 

Lad^  M.  A  lack  !  I  am  afraid  they  have  awak'd. 
And  'tis  not  done : — the  attempt,  ana  not  the  deed, 
Confounds  us : — Haric ! — I  laia  their  daggers  readv, 
He  could  not  miss  them. — Had  he  not  resemblfa 
My  father  as  he  slept,  I  had  dooe't — Mj  hosbKid  ? 

Enier  Macbeth. 

Macb.  I  have  done  the  deed : — Didst  thoa  aoC 
hear  a  noise? 

LadyM.  I  heard  the  owl  scream,  and  tiie  crick* 
ets  cry. 
Did  not  you  speak  ? 

Macb.  When  ? 

I^ady  M.  Now. 

Macb.  At  I  descended.* 

Jjady  M.  Ay. 

Macb.  Hark ! — 
Who  lies  i'the  second  chamber  f 

iMdy  M.  Dooalbain. 

M<icb.  This  is  a  sony  siriit 

[XooAcmf  on  Asf  AmAi 

Lady  M.  A  foolish  thought,  to  say  a  sony  sigiil 

Macb.  There's  one  did  Tai^h  in  his  ileep,  sn^ 
one  cried,  murder  ! 
That  they  did  wake  each  other ;  I  stood  and  heard 

them: 
But  they  did  say  their  prayers,  and  address'd  tben 
Again  to  sleep. 

Lady  M.         There  are  two  lodg'd  together. 

Macb.  One  cried,  Crod  bless  us  !  and,  Am/n^  (be 
other; 
As7  they  had  seen  me,  with  these  hangman's  hsodji 
Listening  their  fear,  I  could  not  say,  amen, 
When  they  did  say,  God  bless  us. 

Lady  M.  Consider  it  not  so  deeplf' 

Macb.  But  wherefore  could  not  I  prooouiKSi 
amen.^ 
I  had  most  need  of  blessing,  sund  amen 
Stuck  in  rny  throat 

/vufv  •^         These  deeds  most  not  be  thoogM 
kfter  these  ways ;  so,  it  will  make  us  mad. 

Macb.  Methought,  I  heard  a  voice  ciy,  Sb?"^ 
more! 
Macbeth  does  murder  sleep,  the  itmoceni  steep  i 
.Sleep,  that  huts  up  the  raveWd  steamfi  qf  aar*i 
The  death  of  each  day's  Itfe^  sore  labmu's  bsA^ 
Bahn  of  hurt  minds,  great  nature's  seeaeid  eatifftt 
Chief  nourisher  in  lyVs  feast  f — 

(4)  Conclude.         (5)  Haft        (6)  Dropi. 
(7)  As  if.       (8)  Sleeve  is  unwroognt  silk. 


Seem  III 


MACBETR 


329 


lady  M.  What  do  von  mean  ? 

Mtdf.  Still  it  cried,  Skep  no  more  I  to  all  the 
house: 
Giamis  hath  murdered  deep  ;  and  Iherrfore  Caw- 
dor 
Shall  sUep  no  more,  Macbeth  shall  sUepnomore! 

LadyM  Who  was  it  that  thus  cried?  Why, 
worthy  thane. 
You  do  unbend  your  noble  strength,  to  think 
So  brainsickly  <rf  thin^ :— -Go,  get  some  water, 
And  wash  this  filthy  witness  trani  your  hand. — 
Why  did  you  bring  these  daggers  from  the  place  ? 
They  must  lie  there :  Go,  carry  them ;  and  smear 
The  sleepy  grooms  with  blood. 

Much.  Pll  go  no  more : 

I  am  afraid  to  think  what  I  have  done ; 
Look  on*t  again,  I  dare  not 

Zjody  M.  Infirm  of  purpose  ! 

Give  roe  the  daggers :  The  sleeping  and  the  dead. 
Are  but  as  pictures :  *tis  the  eye  of  childhood, 
That  fears  a  painted  devil.     If  he  do  bleed, 
rU  gild  the  faces  of  the  grooms  withal, 
For  it  must  seem  their  euilt. 

lExit.    Knocking  within. 

Macb.  Whence  is  that  knocking  ? 

How  is't  with  me,  when  every  noise  appals  me : 
What  hands  are  here.*  Ha !  they  pluck  out  mine 

eyes! 
Will  all  great  Neptune*s  ocean  wash  this  blood 
Clean  from  my  hand  ?  No ;  this  my  hand  will  rather 
The  multitudinous  seas  incamardine,! 
Making  the  green  one  red. 

Re-enter  Ijody  Macbeth. 

Lady  M.  My  hands  are  of  your  colour;  but  I 

shame 
To  wear  a  heart  so  white,  [i&iodfe.]   I  hear  a 

knocking  , 

At  the  south  entry  : — retire  we  to  our  chamber : 
A  little  water  clears  us  of  this  deed  : 
How  easy  is  it  then !    Your  constancy 
Hath  left  you  unattended. — [/iCnocArtn;.]  Hark! 

more  knocking : 
Get  on  your  night-gown,  lest  occasion  call  us. 
And  show  us  to  be  watchers : — Be  not  lost 
So  poorly  in  your  thoughts. 
Math.  To  know  my   deed, — ^'twere  best  not 

know  myself.  \K.nock. 

Wake  Duncan  with  thy  knocking!  Ay,  *wouId 

thou  could^st !  \Rxeunt. 

SCEJ^E   III.^The   same.     Enter  a   Porter. 
[Knocking  mthin.] 

Porter.  Here's  a  knocking,  indeed !  If  a  man 
were  porter  of  hell-^te,  he  should  have  old^  turn- 
inr  the  key.  [Knocking.]  Knock,  knock,  knock : 
Who's  there,  i'the  name  of  Belzcbub?  Here's  a 
fiumer,  that  hanged  himself  on  the  expectation  of 
plenty* :  Come  in  time;  have  napkins'  enough  about 
Tou;  here  you'll  sweat  for't.  [Knocking.]  Knock, 
knock  :  Who's  there,  i'the  other  devil's  name  ? — 
*Faith,  here's  an  equivocator,  that  could  swear  in 
joth  tlie  scales  against  either  scale;  who  committed 
treason  enough  for  God's  sake,  yet  could  not  equi- 
vocate to  Heaven :  O,  come  in,  eouivocator.  [Knock- 
ing.] Knock,  knock,  knock  :  Who's  there  f  'Faith, 
here's  an  Elngtish  tailor  come  hither,  for  stealing  out 
of  a  French  nose :  Come  in,  tailor ;  here  you  may 
roast  your  goose.  [Knocking.]  Knock,  knock :  Ne- 

(1)  To  incamardine  is  to  stain  of  a  flesh-colour 

(2)  Frequent.         (3)  Handkerchief. 

(4)  Cock-crowing. 

(5)  t.  e.  AflTords  a  cordial  to  it. 


ver  at  quiet !  What  are  you  .^— But  this  place  is  too 
cold  for  hell.  Pll  devil-porter  it  no  furtner:  I  had 
thought  to  have  let  in  some  of  all  profimsions,  that 
eo  the  primrose  way  to  the  everlasting  bonfire. 
[Knocking.]  Anon,  aoon ;  I  pray  you,  remembei 
the  porter.  [Opms  the  gaU.. 

Enter  Macdufif  and  Lenox. 

Macd  Was  it  so  late,  friend,  ere  you  went  t» 
bed, 
That  you  do  lie  so  late  f 

Port.  'Faith,  sir,  we  were  carousiBg  tiH  the 
second  cock  r^  and  drink,  sir,  is  a  great  provoker 
of  three  things. 

Macd.  What  three  things  does  drink  especially 
provoke  f 

Port.  Marry,  sir,  nose-painting,  sleep,  and  urine. 
Lechery,  sir,  it  provokes,  and  unprovokes  :  it  pro- 
vokes the  desire,  but  it  takes  away  the  performance: 
Therefore,  much  drink  may  be  said  to  oe  an  equivo- 
cator with  lecher)' :  it  makes  him,  and  it  mars  him ; 
it  sets  him  on,  and  it  takes  him  off;  it  persuades 
him,  and  disheartens  him ;  noakes  him  stand  to,  and 
not  stand  to :  in  conclusion,  equivocates  him  in  a 
sleep,  and,  giving  him  the  lie,  leaves  him. 

Jnacd.  I  l^lieve,  drink  gave  thee  the  lie  last  night. 

Port.  That  it  did,  sir,  i'the  very  throat  o'me : 
But  I  requited  him  for  his  lie ;  and,  I  think,  being 
too  strong  ft>r  him,  though  he  took  op  my  legs 
sometime,  yet  I  made  a  shift  to  cast  him. 

Macd.  Is  thy  master  stirring  .* — 
Our  knocking  has  awak'd  him ;  here  he  comet 

Enter  Macbeth. 

Len.  Good-morrow,  noble  sir ! 
Macb.  Good-morrow,  both  I 

Macd  Is  the  king  stirring,  worthy  thane  .* 
Macb.  Not  J9h. 

Macd  He  did  command  me  to  call  timely  oahim ;. 

I  have  almost  slipp'd  the  hour. 
Macb.  I'll  bring  yoat  to  hiro< 

Macd.  I  know,  this  is  a  joyful  trouble  to  you ; 

But  vet,  'tis  one. 
Macb.  The  labour  we  delight  in,  physics^  paiiw 

This  is  the  door. 
Macd.  I'll  make  io  bold  ta  call, 

For  'tis  my  limited  service.^  [Exit  Macd. 

Len.  GoM  the  king 

From  hence  to-day  f 
Macb.  He  does  .^-^he  did  appoint  it  80< 

Len.  The  night  has  been  unruly :  Wnere  we  lay« 

Our  chimneys  were  blown  down :  and^  as  Ihej  say,. 

Lamentings  heard  i*the  air;  strange  screams  ot 
death ; 

And  prophesying,  with  aecents  terrible. 

Of  dire  combustion,  and  confustd  events^ 

New  hatch'd  to  the  woful  time.    The  obscvre  bird 

Clamour'd  the  livelong  night :  sonae  say,  Ihe  earth 

Was  feverous,  and  dia  shake. 
Macb.  •Twas  a  rough  night, 

Len.  My  young  remembrance  caanot  parallel 

A  fellow  to  it 

Jtesnier  Macduff. 

Macd.  O  horror !  harror  !  hwror !  Tongue,  nor 
heart. 
Cannot  conceive,  nor  name  thee  !7 
Macb.  Len.  What's  the  matter  .* 

Macd.  QnfusioD  now  hath  made  bis  master- 
piece! 

(6)  Appointed  service. 

(7)  Tne  U9e  of  two  negatives,  not  to  make  an 
affirmative,  but  to  deny  more  strongly,  is  common 
in  our  author. 


330 


MACBETH. 


Ada 


Moft  sacrilegiouf  murder  hath  broke  ope 
The  Lord^s  anointed  temple,  and  stole  thence 
The  life  o^the  building. 

Macb.  What  i8*t  you  sa/  ?  the  life  ? 

Len.  Mean  you  his  majesty  f 

M<icd.   Approach    the  chamber,  and   destroy 
your  sight 
With  a  new  Gorgon : — Do  not  bid  me  speak ; 
See,  and  then  speak  yourselves. — Awake!  awake  \-r- 

\ExeufU  Macbeth  and  Lenox. 
Ring  the  alanim-bell : — Murder !  and  treason ! 
Banquo,  and  Donalbain !  Malcolm  !  awake ! 
Shake  off  this  downy  sleep,  death^s  counterfeit, 
And  look  on  death  itself! — up,  up,  and  see 
The  g^at  doom^s  image ! — Malcolm !  Banquo ! 
As  from  your  graves  ritte  up,  and  walk  like  sprites, 
To  countenance  this  horror !  [^tt  rings. 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth. 

Lady  M.                            What^s  the  business. 
That  such  a  hideous  trumpet  calls  to  parley 
The  sleepers  of  the  house  ?  speak,  speak, 

Macd.  O,  gentle  lady 

*Tis  not  for  you  to  hear  what  I  can  speak : 
The  repetition,  in  a  woman*s  ear. 
Would  murder  as  it  fell. O  Banquo!  Banquo! 

Enter  Banqua 

Our  rojal  master's  murderM ! 

Lady  M.  Wo,  alas ! 

What,  in  our  house  f 

Ban.  Too  cruel,  any  where.-^ 

Dear  Duff,  I  pr*ythee,  contradict  thyself, 
And  say,  it  is  not  so. 

Re-enter  Macbeth  arid  Lenox. 

Macb.  Had  I  but  died  an  hour  before  this  chance, 
I  had  liv*d  a  blessed  time ;  for,  from  this  instant, 
There's  nothing  serious  in  mortality  : 
All  is  but  tors :  renown,  and  mce,  is  dead ; 
The  wine  of  life  is  drawn,  ana  the  mere  lees 
b  left  this  vault  to  brag  of. 

Enier  Malcolm  and  Donalbain. 

Don,  What  is  amiss .' 

Macb,  You  are,  and  do  not  know  it : 

The  spring,  the  head,  the  fountain  of  your  blood 
U  stopped ;  the  very  source  of  it  is  stopped. 

Macd.  Your  royal  father's  murder'a. 

MaL  O,  by  whom  ? 

Len.  Those  of  his  chamber,  as  it  seeroM,  had 
done't: 
Their  hands  and  faces  were  all  badg'd  with  blood, 
So  were  their  daggers,  which,  unwipM,  we  found 
Upon  their  pillows  : 

Tney  starM,  and  were  distracted ;  no  man's  life 
Was  to  be  trusted  with  them. 

Macb.  O,  yet  I  do  repent  me  of  my  fury. 
That  I  did  kill  them. 

Macd.  Wherefore  did  you  so  ^ 

Macb.  Who  can  be  wise,  amaz'd,  temperate, 
and  furious, 
'Loyal  and  neutral,  in  a  m(»nent  ^  No  man : 
The  expedition  of  my  violent  love 
-Out-ran  the  pauser  reason. — Here  lav  Duncan, 
His  silver  skin  lac'd  with  his  golden  blood ; 
And  his  gash'd  sUibs  look'd  like  a  breach  in  nature, 
For  ruiirs  wasteful  entrance :  there,  the  murderers, 
Steep'd  in  the  colours  of  their  trade,  their  daggers 
Unmannerly  breech'd  with  gore  :J  Who  could  re- 
frain. 
That  had  a  heart  to  love,  and  in  that  heart 
(Courage,  to  make  his  love  known  ? 

(1)  Covered  with  bloo<l  to  their  hilt 


LadyM.  Help  me  hence,  bo . 

Macd,  Look  to  the  lady. 

MaL  Wh^'  do  we  hold  our  toitt;Qei, 

That  most  may  claim  this  ai^nuncnt  for  oun.^ 

Don.  What  should  be  spdten  here. 
Where  our  fate,  hid  within  an  augre-bole. 
May  rush,  and  seixe  us.^  Let's  away ;  our  teen 
Are  not  yet  brew'd. 

MaL  Nor  our  strong  sorrow  od 

The  foot  of  motion. 

Ban.  Look  to  the  lady : — 

[Lady  Macbeth  ur  carried  cuL 
And  when  we  have  our  naked  frailties  hid. 
That  suffer  in  exposure,  let  us  nneet. 
And  question  this  most  bloody  piece  of  work. 
To  know  it  further.    Fears  and  scruples  shake  as: 
In  the  great  hand^  qX  God  I  stand ;  and,  thence. 
Against  the  undivulg'd  pretence'  I  fight 
Of  treasonous  malice. 

Macb.  And  so  do  L 

All.  So  all 

Macb.  Let's  briefly  put  on  manly  readiness, 
And  meet  i'the  hall  together. 

All  Well  contented. 

[Exeunt  alt  but  Mai.  and  Don. 

Mai.  What  will  you  do  f  Let's  not  consort  with 
them: 
To  show  an  unfelt  sorrow,  is  an  o&ce 
Which  the  false  man  does  easy :  I'll  to  England. 

Don.  To  Ireland,  I ;  our  separated  fortune 
Shall  keep  us  both  the  scJer :  where  we  are. 
There's  daggers  in  men's  smiles :  the  near  in  blood. 
The  nearer  bloody. 

MaL  This  murderous  shaft  that's  shot. 

Hath  not^et  lighted;  and  our  safest  way 
Is,  to  avoid  the  ainL     Therefore,  to  horse ; 
And  let  us  not  be  dainty  of  leave-taking. 
But  shift  away :  There's  warrant  in  that  iheh 
Which  steals  itself,  when  there's  no  mercnr  left 

[Exeunt, 

SCEJiE  IF.^Withaut  the  cattU.    Enier  Rotse 
and  an  Old  Man, 

Old  M.  Threescore  and  ten  I  can  remember 
well : 
Within  the  volume  of  which  time,  I  have  seen 
Hours  dreadful,  and  things  strange ;  but  this  sore 

night 
Hath  trifled  former  knowings. 

Rosee.  Ah,  good  father. 

Thou  see'st,  the  heavens,  as  trouble  with  man's 

act. 
Threaten  his  bloody  stage :  by  the  clock,  'tis  day. 
And  yet  dark  night  strangles  the  travelling  lamp: 
Is't  night^s  predominance,  or  the  day's  shame. 
That  darkness  does  the  face  of  earm  intomb. 
When  living  light  should  kiss  it.' 

Old  M.  »Tis  unnatural, 

Even  like  the  deed  that's  done.    On  Tuesday  last, 
A  falcon,  tow'ring  in  her  pride  of  place. 
Was  by  a  mousing  owl  hawk'd  at,  and  kill'd. 
Rosse.    And  Duncan's  horses  (a  thing   most 
strange  and  certain,) 
Beauteous  and  swift,  the  minions  of  their  race, 
Tum'd  wild  in  nature,  broke  their  stells,  flung  out. 
Contending  'gainst  obedience,  as  they  would  make 
War  with  mankind. 
Old  M.  *T'w  said,  they  eat  each  other. 

Rosee,  They  did  so ;  to  the  amazement  of  mine 
eyes. 
That  look'a  upon't    Here  comes  the  good  Msc- 
duff: 


(2)  Power. 


(3)  Intentioo. 


SeeuL 


MACBETH. 


331 


Enter  Macdafil     , 

How  goes  the  world,  sir,  now  ? 

Mm.  Whj,  tee  joa  not  ? 

Rotae,  Is't  known  who  did  this  more  than  bloody 
deed? 

Macd,  Those  that  Macbeth  hath  slain. 

Bow.  Alas,  the  daj ! 

What  good  coald  thej  pretend  ?i 

Macd.  They  were  subomM  : 

Malcolm,  and  Donalbain,  the  king*8  two  sons. 
Are  stoPn  away  and  fled ;  which  puts  upon  them 
Suspicion  of  the  deed. 

Hosst.  ^Gainst  nature  still : 

Thriftless  ambitioQ,  that  wilt  ravin  up 
Thine  own  life's  means  ! — Then  'tis  most  like, 
The  sovereignty  will  fall  upon  Macbeth. 

Macd.  He  is  already  nam'd ;  and  gone  to  Scone, 
To  be  invested. 

Roste.  Where  is  Duncan's  body  i 

Macd.  Carried  to  Cobnes-kill ; 
The  sacred  storehouse  of  his  predecessors, 
And  guardian  of  their  bones. 

Roue.  Will  you  to  Scone  ? 

Macd.  No,  cousm,  PU  to  Fife. 

Roue.  Well,  I  will  thither. 

Macd.  Well,  ma;^  you  see  things  well  done 

there ; — adieu  .' 

Lest  our  old  robes  sit  easier  than  our  new ! 

Ro$$e.  Father,  farewell. 

(Hd  M.  God's  benisoQ  go  with  you ;  and  with 
those 
That  would  make  good  of  bad,  and  friends  of  foes ! 

[ExeuiU. 


ACT  III. 

SCRyEI.—Fores.  A  room  in  the  palace.  En- 
ter Banqua 

Ban.  Thou  hast  it  now,  King,  Cawdor,  Glamis, 
all. 
As  the  weird  women  promis'd ;  and,  I  fear. 
Thou  play'dst  most  foully  for't :  yet  it  was  said, 
It  should  not  stand  in  thy  posterity ; 
But  that  myself  should  be  the  root,  and  father 
Of  many  kings.     If  there  come  truth  from  them 
(As  upon  thee,' Macbeth,  their  speeches  diine,) 
Why,  by  the  verities  on  thee  made  good. 
May  they  not  be  my  oracles  as  well. 
And  set  me  up  in  hope  ?  But,  hush  ;  no  more. 

Senei  sounded.  Enter  Macbeth,  at  king;  Lady 
Macbeth,  as  queen ;  Lenox,  Rosse,  Lords^  La- 
dits,  and  attendants. 

Macb.  Here's  our  chief  guest 

Lady  M.  If  he  had  been  forgotten, 

It  had  been  as  a  eap  in  our  great  feast, 
And  all-things  unbecominfi;;. 

Macb.  To-night  we  hold  a  solemn  supper,  sir, 
And  I'll  request  your  presence. 

Ban.  Let  your  highness 

Connnand  upon  mc  ;  to  the  which,  my  duties 
Are  with  a  noost  indissoluble  tie 
For  ever  knit. 

Macb.  Ride  you  this  afternoon  ? 

Ban.  Ay,  mv  good  lord. 

Macb,  We  should  }iave  else  desir'a  your  good 
advice 
rWhich  still  hath  been  both  grave  and  prosperous,) 
In  this  day's  council ;  but  we'll  take  to-morrow. 
Is'tfaryou  ride? 

(1)  Intend  to  themselves.       (2)  Commit 
(3)Nobleoesa.        (4)  For  defiled. 


Ban.  As  far,  my  lord,  as  will  fill  up  the  time 
'Twixt  this  and  supper :  go  not  my  horse  the  betteri 
I  must  become  a  borrower  of  the  night. 
For  a  dark  hour,  or  twain. 

Macb.  Fail  not  our  feast 

Ban.  My  lord,  I  will  not 

Macb.  We  hear,  our  bloody  cousins  are  bestow'd 
In  England,  and  in  Ireland ;  not  confessing 
Their  cruel  parricide,  filling  their  hearers 
With  strange  inventicHi :  But  of  that  to-morrow ; 
When,  therewithal,  we  shall  have  cause  of  state, 
Craving  us  jointly.     Hie  you  to  horse  :  Adieu, 
Till  you  return  at  night     Goes  Fleance  with  yon  ? 

Ban.   Ay,  my  good  lord :  our  time  does  call 
upon  us. 

Macb.  Iwishyourhorsesswift,  and  sure  of  foot; 
And  so  I  do  commend^  you  to  their  backs. 

Farewell. [Blxit  Banqua 

Let  every  man  be  master  of  his  time 
Till  seven  at  night ;  to  make  society 
The  sweeter  welcome,  we  will  keep  ourself 
Till  supper-time  alone :  while  then,  dod  be  with  you. 
[Exeunt  Lady  Macbeth,  Lords^  Ladies^  SfC 
Sirrah,  a  word :  Attend  those  men  our  pleasure  ? 

Atten.  They  are,  my  lord,  without  tbe  palace- 
gate. 

Macb.   Bring  them  before  us. — [Blxit  Atten.] 
To  be  thus,  is  nothing ; 
But  to  be  safely  thus : — Our  fears  in  Banquo 
Stick  deep ;  and  in  his  royalty*  of  nature 
Reigns  that,  which  woufd  be  fear'd:  'Tis  much 

he  dares; 
And,  to  that  dauntless  temper  of  his  mind. 
He  hath  a  wisdom  that  dotn  guide  his  valour 
To  act  in  safety.     There  is  none,  but  he. 
Whose  being  I  do  fear :  and,  under  him, 
My  genius  is  rebuk'd  ;  as,  it  is  said, 
Mark  Antony's  was  by  Caesar.  He  chid  the  sisteni. 
When  firsit  (bey  put  the  name  of  king  upon  me. 
And  bade  them  speak  to  him ;   then,  prophet-lik% 
They  hail'd  him  hither  to  a  line  of  kings  : 
Upon  my  head  they  placed  a  fruitless  crown. 
And  put  a  barren  sceptre  in  my  gripe. 
Thence  to  be  wrench'd  with  an  unlmeal  hand. 
No  son  of  mine  succeeding.     If  it  be  so. 
For  Banquo's  issue  have  I  fil'd^  my  mina ; 
For  them  the  g^cious  Duncan  have  I  murder'd  * 
Put  rancours  in  the  vessel  of  my  peace 
Only  for  them ;  and  mine  eternal  jewel 
Given  to  the  common  enemy  of  man. 
To  make  them  kings,  the  seed  of  Banquo  king<  ! 
Rather  than  so,  come,  fate,  into  the  list. 

And  champion  me  to  the  utterance  !* ^Who's 

there  .^ — 

Re-enter  Attendant,  with  two  Murderers. 

Now  to  the  door,  and  stay  there  till  we  call. 

[Exit  Attendant 
Was  it  not  yesterday  we  spoke  toeether  ? 
1  Mur.  It  was,  so  please  your  birimess. 
Micb.  Well  then,  now 

Have  you  consider'd  of  my  speeches  ?  Know, 
That  It  was  he,  in  the  times  past,  which  held  you 
So  under  fortune ;  which,  you  thousrht,  had  been 
Our  innocent  self:  this  I  made  eood  to  you 
In  our  last  conference ;  pass'd  m  probation^  with 

you. 
How  you  were  borne  in  hand  ;7  how  cros8*d ;  the 

instniments; 
Who  wrou^t  with  them;  and  all  things  else,  that 

might, 

(5)  Challenge  me  to  extremitiea. 
(6;  Pitwed.      ,     (7)  Deluded. 


332 


MACBETH. 


Act  in. 


To  half  a  soal,  and  a  notioD  craz*d. 
Say,  Thus  did  Banquo. 

1  Mur.  You  made  it  known  to  us. 

Mach.  I  did  so ;  and  went  further,  which  is  now 
Our  point  of  second  meeting.    Do  you  find 
Your  patience  so  predominant  in  your  nature. 
That  you  can  let  this  go.^  Are  you  so  gospeird,^ 
To  pray  for  that  good  man,  and  for  his  issue. 
Whose  heavy  hand  hath  bowM  you  to  the  grave, 
And  beggar'd  yours  for  ever  ^ 

1  Mur.  We  are  men,  my  liege. 
Macb.  ky^  in  the  catalogue  ye  go  for  men ; 

As  hounds,  and  greyhounds,  mongrels,  spaniels, 

curs, 
Shoughs,^  water-rugs,  and  demi-wolves,  are  cleped- 
All  by  the  name  of  do^ :  the  valued  file 
Distinguishes  the  swift,  the  slow,  the  subtle. 
The  house-keeper,  the  hunter,  every  one 
Accordino^  to  the  &;ift  which  bounteous  nature 
Hath  in  him  closM ;  whereby  he  does  receive 
Particular  addition,^  hom  mt  bill 
That  writes  them  all  alike :  and  so  of  men. 
Now,  if  you  have  a  station  in  the  file. 
And  not  in  the  worst  rank  of  manhood,  say  it ; 
And  I  will  put  that  business  in  your  bosoms, 
Whose  execution  takes  your  enemy  oflf; 
Grapples  you  to  the  heart  and  love  of  us. 
Who  wear  our  health  but  sickly  in  his  life. 
Which  in  his  death  were  perfect 

2  Mur.  I  am  one,  my  liege, 
Whom  the  vile  blows  and  buffets  of  the  world 
Have  so  incensed,  that  I  am  reckless^  what 

I  do,  to  spite  the  world. 

1  Mur.  And  I  another, 

So  weary  with  disasters,  tuggM^  with  fortune. 
That  I  would  set  my  life  on  any  chance. 
To  mend  it,  or  be  nd  on*t 

Miuh.  Both  of  you 

Know,  Banquo  was  your  enemy. 

2  Mur.  True,  mv  lord. 
Mach.  So  is  he  mine :  and  in  such  blooay  dis- 

tance,7 
That  every  minute  of  his  being  thrusts 
Arainst  my  nearest  of  life  :  And  though  I  could 
With  bare-facM  power  sweep  him  from  my  sight. 
And  bid  my  will  avouch  it ;  yet  I  must  not, 
For*^  certain  friends  that  are  both  his  and  mine. 
Whose  loves  I  may  not  drop,  but  wail  bis  fall 
Whom  I  myself  struck  down  :  and  thence  it  is. 
That  I  to  your  assistance  do  make  love ; 
Masking  uie  business  from  the  common  eye. 
For  sundry  weighty  reasons. 

2  Mur.  We  shall,  my  lord, 

Perform  what  you  command  us. 

1  Mur.  Though  our  lives 


Mach.  Your  spirits  shine  through  you.    AVithin 
this  hour,  at  most, 
I  will  advise  you  where  to  plant  yourselves. 
Acquaint  you  with  the  perfect  spy  o^the  time, 
The  moment  on*t ;  for*t  must  be  done  to-night, 
And  something  from  the  palace ;  always  thought 
That  I  require  a  clearness:  And  with  him, 
(To  leave  no  rubs,  nor  botches,  in  the  work,) 
Fleance  his  son,  that  keeps  him  company, 
Whose  absence  is  no  less  material  to  me 
Than  is  his  father^s,  must  embrace  the  &te 
Of  that  dark  hour.     Resolve  yourselves  apart ; 

(1)  Are  you  so  obedient  to  the  precept  of  the 
Gospel. 

(i)  Wolf-dogs.  (3)  Called. 

(4)  Title,  description.  (5)  Careless. 

(fi)  Worried.  (7)  Mortal  enmity. 

(8)  BeciuM  of.  (9)  .Most  melancholy. 


ni  come  to  you  anoo. 

2  Mur.  We  arc  resolved,  m^  lord. 

Mach.  I*ll  call  upon  you  straight ;  abide  within. 

[t  is  concluded : Banquo,  thy  souPs  flight, 

If  it  find  heaven,  must  find  it  out  to-night     \Ex€, 

SCRXE  II.—The  same.  Another  room.   Enter 
Lady  Macbeth,  and  a  Servant 

LadyM.  Is  Banquo  gone  from  court.' 
Serv.  Ay,  madam,  but  returns  again  to-night 
Lady  M.  Say  to  the  king,  I  would  attend  hit 
leisure 
For  a  few  words. 
Serv.  Madam,  I  will.  [Elxit 

Lady  M.  Nought*8  had,  all*s  spent, 

Where  our  desire  is  got  without  content : 
*Tis  safer  to  be  that  which  we  destroy. 
Than,  by  destruction,  dwell  in  doubtful  joj. 

Enter  Macbeth. 

How  now,  my  lord  ?  why  do  you  keep  alooe, 
Of  sorriest^  fancies  your  companions  making  ? 
Using  those  thoughts,  which  should  indeed  have  died 
With  them  they  think  on .'  Things  without  remedy, 
Should  be  without  regard  :  what's  done,  is  done. 

Mach.  We  have  scotched  the  snake,  not  kilPd  it ; 
SheMl  close,  and  be  herself;  whilst  our  poor  malice 
Remains  in  danger  of  her  former  tooth. 
But  let 

The  frame  of  things  disjoint,  both  the  worlds  suffer. 
Ere  we  will  eat  our  meal  in  fear,  and  sleep 
In  the  affliction  of  these  terrible  dreams. 
That  shake  us  nightly  :  Better  be  with  the  dead. 
Whom  we,  to  gain  our  place,  have  sent  to  peace, 
Than  on  the  torture  of  the  mind  to  lie 
In  restless  ecstasy. ^^  Duncan  is  in  his  grave ; 
.Vfter  life's  fitful  Kver,  he  sleeps  well ; 
Treason  has  done  his  worst :  nor  steel,  nor  poisoo. 
Malice  domestic,  foreign  levy,  nothing, 
Can  touch  him  further ! 

Lady  M.  Come  on ; 
(lentlc  my  lord,  sleek  o'er  your  rugged  looks ; 
Be  bright  and  jovial  'mong  your  guests  to-night 

Mach.  So  shall  I,  love ;  and  so,  I  pray,  be  you : 
I/Ot  your  remembrance  apply  to  Banquo; 
Presicnt  him  eminence,!  1  both  with  eye  and  tongue : 
Unsafe  the  while,  that  we 
Mu>t  lave  our  honours  in  these  flattering  streams ; 
And  make  our  faces  vizards  to  our  hearts. 
Disguising  what  they  are. 

Isady  M  You  must  leave  this. 

Mach.  O,  full  of  scorpions  is  my  mind,  dear  wife ! 
Thou  know'st,  that  Banquo,  and  his  Fleance,  lives. 

lAidy  M.  But  in  them  nature's  copy's  not  etcme.w 

Mach.  There's  comfort  yet ;  they  are  assailable ; 
Then  be  thou  jocund:  Ere  the  bat  hath  flown 
His  cloister'd  flight ;  ere,  to  black  Hecate's  sum- 
mons. 
The  shard-borne  beetle,"  with  his  drowsy  hums, 
Hath  run^  night's  yawning  peal,  there  shall  be  done 
A  deed  of  dreadful  note. 

Lady  M.  What's  to  be  done .' 

Macb.  Be  innocent  o(  the  knowledge,  dearest 
chuck,i< 
Till  thou  applaud  the  deed.  Come,  seeling^^  night, 
Skarf  up  the  tender  eye  of  pitiful  day ; 
And,  with  thy  bloody  and  invisible  hand, 

(10)  Agony.      (11)  Do  him  the  hiehest  honours. 

(12)  t.  e.  The  copy,  the  lease,  by  which  they  hold 
their  lives  from  nature,  has  its  time  c^  terminaikio. 

(13)  The  beetle  borne  in  the  air  by  its  shards  or 
scaly  wings. 

(14)  A  term  of  eiidearment        (15)  BUndii^. 


&0M  ill^  /T. 


MACBETH. 


333 


Cancel,  and  tear  to  pieces,  that  great  bood 
Which  keeps  me  pale ! — Light  mickeos ;  and  the 

crow 
Makes  wing  to  the  rooky  wood  : 
Good  things  of  day  begin  to  droop  and  drowse ; 
Whiles  night*8  black  agents  to  their  prey  do  rouse. 
Thou  manrellV  at  my  words ;  but  hold  thee  still ; 
Things,  bad  begun,  make  strong  themselves  by  ill : 
So,  pr'ytbee,  go  with  me.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJVE  IJI.—The  same.  A  park  or  lawn,  tnth 
a  gate  leading  to  the  palace.  ErUer  three  Mut- 
derers. 

1  Mur.  But  who  did  bid  thee  join  with  us  ? 

3  Mur.  Macbeth. 

2  Mur.  He  needs  not  our  mistrust;  since  he de- 

livers 
Ouroflkes,  and  what  we  have  to  do, 
To  the  direction  just 

1  Mur.  Then  stand  with  us. 
The  west  yet  glimmers  with  some  streaks  of  day : 
Now  spurs  the  lated  traveller  apace, 

To  ga*n  the  timely  inn ;  and  near  approaches 
The  subject  of  our  watch. 

3  Mur.  Hark !  I  hear  horses. 
Ban.  [  IVWiin.]  Give  us  a  light  there,  ho ! 

2  Mur  Then  it  is  he;  the  rest 
That  are  within  the  note  of  expectation,* 
Already  are  i*the  court 

1  Mur.  His  horses  go  about 

3  Mur.  Almost  a  mile :  but  be  does  usually, 
So  all  men  do,  from  hence  to  the  palace  gate 
Make  it  their  walk. 

Enter  Banquo  and  Fleance,  a  eervantwtth  a  torch 
preceding  them. 

ZMur.  A  light,  a  light! 

3  Mur.  Tis  he. 

1  Mur.  Stand  to*t 
Ban.  It  will  be  rain  to-night 
1  Mur.  Let  it  come  down. 

[Jissaults  Banquo. 
Ban.  O,  treacheiy  I  Fly,  good  Fleance,  fly,  fly, 

fly; 

Then  may*8t  revenge. O  slave ! 

[Dies.  Fleance  and  servant  escape. 
3  Mur.  Who  did  strike  out  the  light  .^ 

1  Mur.  Was*t  not  the  way  ? 
3  Mur.  There*s  but  one  down ;  the  son  is  fled. 

2  Mur.  We  have  lost  best  half  of  our  afiair. 

1  Mur.  Well,  Iet*s  away,  and  say  how  much  k 
done.  [Exeunt. 

SCBiyE  IF.— A  room  of  state  in  the  palace.  A 
banquet  prepared.  Enter  Macbeth,  Lady  Mac- 
beth, Rcsse,  Lenox,  Lords,  and  attendants. 

Mad).  You  know  your  own  degrees,  sit  down : 
at  first 
.And  last,  the  hearty  welcome. 

JLords.  Thanks  to  your  majesty. 

Macb.  Onrself  will  mingle  with  society, 
^nd  play  the  humble  host 
Our  hostess  keeps  her  state  ;3  but,  in  best  time, 
y^Ve  will  require  her  welcome. 

Lady  M.  Pronounce  it  for  me,  sir,  to  all  our 
friends; 
^or  ray  heart  speaks,  they  are  welcome. 

Enter  first  Murderer,  to  the  door, 

Macb.  See,  they  encounter  thee  with  their  hearts* 
thanks: 

(1)  t.  e.  They  who  are  set  down  in  the  list  of 
and  expected  to  supper. 


Both  sides  are  even  :  Here  PU  at  Pthe  midiit : 
Be  laree  in  mirth ;  anon,  weMl  drink  a  measure 
The  table  round. — There's  blood  upon  thy  fece. 

Mur.  'Tis  Banquo*s  then. 

Mad>.  'Tis  better  thee  without,  than  he  within. 
Is  he  despatch'd  }  . 

Mur,  My  lord,  his  throat  is  cut ;  that  I  dia  for 
him. 

Macb,  Thou  art  the  best  o'the  cut-throaU :  Yet 
he'seood. 
That  did  the  like  for  Fleance :  if  thou  didst  it, 
Thou  art  the  nonparieL 

Mur.  Most  royal  sir, 

Fleance  is  'scap'd. 

Macb.  Then  comes  my  fit  again:  I  had  else 
been  perfect ; 
Whole  as  the  marble,  founded  as  the  rock ; 
As  broad,  and  general,  as  the  casing  air : 
But  now,  I  am  cabin'd,  cribb'd,  confin'd,  bound  in 
To  saucy  doubts  and  fears.    But  Banquo's  safe? 

Mur.  Ay,  my  good  lord :  safe  in  a  ditch  he  bides, 
With  twenty  trenched  gashes  on  his  head ; 
The  least  a  death  to  nature. 

Macb.  Thanks  for  that : 

There  the  grown  serpent  lies ;  the  worm,  that's  fled. 
Hath  nature  that  in  time  will  venom  breed. 
No  teeth  for  the  present — Get  thee  gone ;  to-mor- 
row 
We'll  hear,  ourselves  again.         [£xt<  Murderer. 

Lady  M  My  royal  lord. 

You  do  not  give  the  cheer :  the  feast  is  sold. 
That  is  not  often  vouch'd,  while  'tis  a  making, 
'Tis  given  with  welcome :  To  feed,  were  best  at 

home; 
From  thence,  the  sauce  to  meat  is  ceremcoy : 
Meeting  were  bare  without  it 

Maco.  Sweet  remembrancer ! — 

Now,  good  digestion  wait  on  appetite. 
And  health  on  both  ! 

Lien.  May  it  please  your  highness  sit .' 

[The  Ghost  qf  Banquo  rues,  and  sits  in 
Macbeth's  place. 

Macb.  Here  had  we  now  our  countnr's  honour 
roof'd. 
Were  the  grac'd  person  of  our  Banquo  present ; 
Who  may  I  rather  challenge  for  unkindness, 
Than  pity  for  mischance  1 

Rosse.  His  absence,  sir, 

Lays  blame  upon  his  promise.    Please  it  your 

highness 
To  erace  us  with  your  royal  company  ? 

Macb.  The  table's  full. 

Len.  Here's  a  place  reserved,  sir. 

Macb.  Where  f 

Len.  Here,  my  lord.   What  is't  that 

moves  your  highnen  ^ 

Macb.  Which  of  you  have  done  this  } 

Lords.  What,  my  good  lord  ? 

Macb.  Thou  canst  not  say,  I  did  it :  never  shake 
Thy  gory  locks  at  me. 

Rosse.  Gentlemen,  rise ;  his  highness  is  not  well. 

Lady  M  Sit,  worthy  friends : — my  lord  is  often 
thus. 
And  hath  been  finm  his  youth :  'Pray  you,  keep 

seat; 
The  fit  is  momentary ;  upon  a  thought* 
He  will  again  be  well :  If  much  you  note  him, 
You  shall  offend  him,  and  extena  his  passion  ^ 
Feed,  and  r^ard  him  not. — Are  you  a  man  } 

Macb.  A  V,  and  a  bold  one,  that  dare  look  on  thai 
Which  might  appal  the  devil 

(2)  Continues  in  her  chair  of  state. 

(3)  As  quick  as  thought    (4)  Prolong  his  suflieriDg. 


334 


MACBETH. 


Aaui 


Lady  M.  O  proper  stuff! 

Thu  is  the  vciy  painting  of  jour  fear : 
This  is  the  air^irawn  dagger,  which,  you  said, 
Led  you  to  Duncan.    O,  tnese  flaws,  ^  and  starts 
^mpostors  to  true  fear,)  would  well  become 
A  woman^s  story,  at  a  winter^s  fire, 
AuthorizM  by  her  grandam.     Shame  itself! 
Why  do  you  make  such  faces  ?  When  all's  done, 
You  look  but  on  a  stool. 

Macb.  Pr'ythee,  see  there !  behold !  look !  lo ! 

how  say  you  ? 

Whv,  what  care  I }  If  thou  canst  nod,  speak  too. — 
If  charnel-houses,  and  our  graves,  must  send 
Those  that  we  bury,  back,  our  monuments 
Shall  be  the  maws  of  kites.       [Ghost  disappears. 

Lady  M.  What !  quite  unmannM  in  folly  .' 

Macb.  If  I  stand  here,  I  saw  him. 

Lady  Jtf.  Fie,  for  shame  ! 

Macb.  Blood  hath  been  shed   ere  now,  i*the 
olden  time, 
Ere  human  statute  purg*d  the  gentle  weal ; 
Av,  and  since  too,  murders  have  been  pcrform'd 
Too  terrible  for  the  ear :  the  times  have  been, 
That,  when  the  brains  were  out,  the  man  would  die. 
And  there  an  end ;  but  now,  they  rise  again, 
With  twenty  mortal  murders  on  their  crowns, 
And  push  us  from  our  stools :  This  is  more  strange 
Than  such  a  murder  is. 

Lady  M.  My  worthy  lord, 

Your  noble  friends  do  lack  you. 

Macb.  I  do  forget : — 

Do  not  muse2  at  me,  my  most  worthy  friends ; 
I  have  a  strange  infirmity,  which  is  nothing 
To  those  that  know  me.    Come,  love  and  health 
to  all ; 

Then  Pll  sit  down : Give  me  some  wine,  fill 

full : 

I  drink  to  the  general  joy  of  the  whole  table, 

Ghoit  rises. 
And  to  our  dear  friend  Banquo,  whom  we  miss ; 
Would  he  were  here !  to  all,  and  him,  we  thirst, 
And  all  to  all.> 

Lords.  Our  duties,  and  the  pled^^e. 

Macb.    Avaunt !  and  quit  my  sight !  Let  the 
earth'  hide  thee ! 
Thy  bones  are  marrow  less,  (hy  blood  is  cold  ; 
Thou  hast  no  speculation  in  those  eyes 
Which  thou  dost  glare  with  ! 

Ijady  M.  Think  of  this,  good  peers, 

But  as  a  thing  of  custom  :  *tis  no  other ; 
Only  it  spoils  the  pleasure  of  the  time. 

Macb.  What  man  dare,  1  dare : 
Approach  thou  like  the  ru^ed  Russian  bear, 
The  arm'd  rhinoceros,  or  tne  Hyrcan  tiger. 
Take  any  shape  but  that,  and  my  firm  nerves 
Shull  never  tremble  :  Or,  be  alive  again. 
And  dare  me  to  the  desert  with  thy  sword; 
If  trembling  I  inhibit^  thee,  protest  me 
The  baby  of  a  girl.     Hence,  horrible  shadow  ! 

[Ghost  disappears. 
Unreal  mockery,  hence  ! — Why,  so ;— being  gone, 
I  am  a  man  again. Pray  you,  sit  still. 

Lady  M.  You  have  displaced  the  mirth,  broke 
the  good  meeting. 
With  most  admired  disonkr. 

Macb.  Can  such  things  be, 

And  overcome^  us  like  a  summer's  cloud. 
Without  our  special  wonder.^  You  make  me  strange 
Even  to  the  disposition  that  I  owefi 
"When  now  I  think  you  can  behold  such  sights, 

(1)  Sudden  gusts.  (2)  Wonder. 

(3)  i.  e.  All  good  wishes  to  all.         (4)  Forbid. 

(o)  Pais  over.        (6)  Possess.      (7)  Magpies. 


And  keep  the  natural  nibj  of  joor  cheeks. 
When  mine  are  blanchM  with  fear. 

Jiosse.  What  sights,  mj  lord  ? 

Z^y  Jlf.  I  pray  yoo,  speak  not ;  be  grows  worse 
and  worse ; 
Question  enrages  him :  at  once,  good  night  :^ 
Stand  not  upon  the  order  of  your  going, 
But  go  at  once. 

Lai.  Good  night,  and  better  healdli 

Attend  his  majesty ! 

Lady  M.  A  kind  good  night  to  all ! 

[Exeunt  Lords  and  attendants 

Macb.  It  will  have  blood ;  they  say,  blood  will 
have  blood : 
Stones  have  been  known  to  move,  and  trees  to 

speak; 
Augurs,  and  understood  relations,  have 
By  magot-pies,7  and  choughs,  and  rooks,  brought 

forth 
The  secret'st  man  of  blood. — ^Vhat  is  the  night  ? 

LadyM.  Almost  at  odds  with  momifi^,  whidi 
is  which. 

Macb.  How  say*st  thou,  that  Macduff  denies 
his  person. 
At  our  great  oidding  ? 

LadyM.  Did  yon  send  to  him,  sir? 

Macb.  I  hear  it  by  the  way ;  but  I  will  send : 
There's  not  a  one^  of  them,  but  in  his  house 
I  keep  a  servant  feed.    I  will  to-nnonovr 
(Betimes  I  will,)  unto  the  weird  sisters  : 
Niore  shall  they  speak ;  for  now  I  am  bent  to  know, 
By  the  worst  means,  the  worst :  for  mine  own  good. 
Ail  causes  shall  give  way.  I  am  in  blood 
Slept  in  so  far,  that,  should  I  wade  no  more. 
Returning  were  as  tedious  ms  go  o'er : 
Strange  Uiings  I  have  in  head,  that  will  to  hand ; 
VN'hich  must  oe  acted,  ere  they  mav  be  scano'd.* 

Lady  M.  You  lack  the  season  of  all  natures,  sleep. 

Macb.  Come,  we'll  to  sleep :    My  strange  and 
self-abuse 
U  the  initiate  fear,  that  wants  hard  use  : — 
We  are  yet  but  young  in  deed.  [Exeunt 

SCKN'E  r.— The  heath.   Thunder.   Enter  He- 
cate,  meeting  the  three  Witches. 

1  irHch.  Why,  how  now,  Hecate?  joa  kwk 
angeriy. 

Hec.  Have  I  not  reason,  beldams,  as  you  are, 
Shucv,  and  overbold?  How  did  you  dare 
To  trade  and  trnflk  with  Macbeth, 
In  riddles  and  affairs  of  death  ; 
\nd  I,  the  mistress  of  your  charms, 
The  close  contriver  of  all  harms, 
U'as  never  call'd  to  bear  my  part, 
Or  show  the  glory  of  our  art  ? 
And,  which  is  worse,  all  you  have  dooe 
Math  been  but  for  a  wayward  son. 
Spiteful,  and  wrathful,  who,  as  others  do, 
Ix^ves  for  his  own  ei:ds,  not  for  you. 
But  make  amends  now :  Get  you  gone. 
And  at  the  pit  of  Acheron, 
Meet  me  i'the  morning ;  thither  he 
Will  come  to  know  his  destiny. 
Y[our  vessels,  and  your  spells,  provide, 
Vour  charms,  and  every  thing  beside : 
I  am  for  the  air ;  this  night  I*U  spend 
Unto  a  dismal-fatal  end. 
Great  business  must  be  wrought  ere  noon : 
Upon  the  comer  of  the  moco 
There  hangs  a  vaporous  drop  pralband;* 

(8)  An  individual.  (9)  Exanuoed  nicely. 

(10)  t.  e.  A  drop  that  has  deep  or  hidden 

ities. 


IfACBETH. 


335 


it  ere  it  come  to  ground : 

f  distiUM  by  magic  slights, 

•  sm:ti  artificial  sprites, 

e  strength  of  their  illuMon, 

IT  him  on  to  his  confusion : 

miini  hiBj  scorn  death,  and  bear 

I 'bore  wisdom,  grace,  and  fear : 

all  knovr,  securi^ 

•*  chiefest  enemy. 

[IVithin.]  Count  moay,  come  oiooy,  tfC 

im  calPd ;  my  little  spirit,  see, 

bg^  cloud,  and  stays  for  me.        \Kxit. 

A.  Xlome,  let*s  make  haste ;  sheMl  soon 

be  back  again.  [Extuni. 

IF/. — Fores.  A  room  in  the  palace.  En- 
Ur  Lenox  and  another  Ijox^ 

My  former  speeches  have  but  hit  your 
thoughts, 

in  interpret  further :  only,  I  say, 
•re  been  strangely  borne :   The  gracious 
Duncan 

m1  of  Macbeth : — marry,  he  was  dead : — 
r^t-valiant  Banquo  walk*d  too  late ; 
ou  may  say,  if  it  please  you,  Fleance  killM, 
nee  fled.  Men  must  not  walk  too  late,   v 
loot  want  the  thought,  how  monstrous 
r  Malcolm,  and  for  Dooalbain, 
leir  gracious  father  }  damned  fact ! 
lid  grieve  Macbeth !  did  he  not  straight, 
rage,  the  two  delinquents  tear, 
mUie  slaves  of  drink,  and  thralls  of  sleep  ? 
that  nobly  done  ?  Ay,  and  wisely  too ; 
old  have  anger*d  any  heart  alive, 
the  men  deny  it.  So  that,  I  say, 
WttMt  all  thines  well :  and  I  do  think, 
/d  he  Duncan's  sons  under  his  key 
I  please  heaven,  he  shall  not,)  they  should 
find 

vere  to  kill  a  fi&ther ;  so  should  Fleance. 
oe ! — for  from  broad  words,  and  'cause  he 
fiul'd 

ence  at  the  tyrant's  feast,  I  hear 
Uvea  in  disgrace :  Sir,  can  you  tell 
le  bestows  himself? 

The  son  of  Duncan, 
horn  thia  tyrant  holds  the  due  of  birth, 
the  EJiglish  court ;  and  is  received 
loet  pious  Eklward  with  such  ^ce, 
t  malevolence  of  fortune  nothing 
om  his  high  respect :  Thither  Macdulf 

0  pray  the  holy  king,  on  his  aid 

1  Northumberland,  and  warlike  Siward : 
the  lielp  of  the^e  (with  Him  above 

r  the  work,)  we  may  again 

wr  table  meat,  sleep  to  our  nig:ht8  ; 

n  our  feasts  and  banquets  bloody  knives ; 

ill  homage,  and  receive  free  honours,' 

:h  we  pine  for  now  :  And  this  report 

nasperate^  the  kin^,  that  he 

I  for  some  atempt  of  war. 

Sent  he  to  Macdufl*? 
He  did :  and  with  an  absolute,  iS'tr,  not  /, 
idy  messenger  turns  me  his  back, 
m ;  as  who  should  say,  Yau^U  rue  the  time 
^t  me  voith  this  answer. 

And  that  well  might 
lim  to  a  cautkm,  to  hold  what  distance 
km  can  provide.     Some  holy  angel 
Ae  court  of  Elngland,  and  unfold 
nge  ere  he  come ;  that  a  swift  blessing 

onours  freely  bestowed. 
or  exasperated. 


Mar  soon  return  to  this  our  nifiSmng  countiy 
Under  a  hand  accursM ! 
Lord,  My  prayen  with  him ! 

[£jc«wiit 


ACT  IV. 

SCELNEL^A  dark  cave.    In  the  middle  a  caul 
drmiboiUng,  Thunder.  Enter  Three  Witches. 

1  Witch.  Thrice  the  brinded  cat  hath  mew'd. 

2  Witch.  Thrice;  and  once  thehedge^pi^whin'd. 

3  Witch.  Harper  cries : — 'Tb  time,  'tis  time. 

1  Witch.  Round  about  the  cauldron  go; 

In  the  poison'd  entrails  throw. 

Toad,  that  under  coldest  stone. 

Days  and  nights  hast  thirty-one 
Swelter'ds  vo«om  sleeping  rot. 
Boil  thou  first  i'the  charmea  pot ! 

AU.  Double,  double  toil  and  trouble ; 
Fire,  bum ;  and,  cauldron,  bubble. 

2  Waeh.  Fillet  of  a  fenny  snake. 
In  the  cauldron  boil  and  bake : 
Eve  of  newt,  and  toe  of  frog, 
V^'ool  of  bat,  and  tongue  of  dog. 
Adder's  fork,  uid  blind-woim's  sting. 
Lizard's  leg,  and  owlet's  wing. 

For  a  charm  of  powerful  trouole, 
Like  a  hell-broth  boil  and  bubble. 

AIL  Double,  double  toil  and  trouble; 
Fire,  bum ;  and,  cauldron,  bubble. 

3  Witch.  Scale  of  dragon,  tooth  of  wolf; 
Witches'  mummy ;  maw,  and  gulf,< 

Of  the  ravin'd*  salt-sea  shark ; 
Root  of  hemlock,  digg'd  i'the  dark ; 
Liver  of  blaspheming  Jew ; 
Gall  of  goat,  and  slips  of  yew, 
Sliver'd  in  the  moon's  eclipse ; 
Nose  of  Turk,  and  TartarS  Ups; 
Finffer  of  birth-stransled  babe, 
DitcrHdeliver*d  br  a  drab,  -        \ 

Make  the  gruel  thick  and  slab : 
Add  thereto  a  tiger*s  chaudron,' 
For  the  ingredients  of  our  cauldron. 

AU.  Double,  double  toil  and  trouble ; 
Fire,  bum ;  and,  cauldron,  bubble. 

2  Witch.  Cool  it  with  a  baboon*8  blood, 
Then  the  charm  is  firm  and  good. 

Enter  Hecate,  and  the  other  Three  Witchef 
Nee.  O,  well  done  !  I  commend  your  pains  , 

And  eveiy  one  shaM  share  i'the  gains. 

And  now  about  the  cauldron  sing, 

Like  elves  and  fairies  in  a  ring, 

Ejichanting  all  tha^you  put  in. 

SONG. 
Black  spirits  and  white. 
Red  spirits  and  ffrey  ; 
MingUt  mingle,  mtngie. 
You  thai  mingle  may. 

2  Witch.  By  the  pricking  of  my  thumbs. 

Something  wicked  this  way  comes : 

Open,  kxks,  whoever  knocks. 

JSiiler  Macbeth. 

Maeb,  How  now,  you  secret,  black,  and  mid- 
night hags  ? 
What  isH  you  do? 
AIL  A  deed  without  a  name. 

» 

(3)  This  word  is  employed  to  sicnify  that  the 
animal  was  hot,  and  sweating  with  venom,  al- 
though sleeping  under  a  cold  stone. 

(4)  The  throat    (5)  Ravenous.    (6)  Entrails. 


336 


MACBETH. 


Ad  IT 


Maidb,  I  c6njure  you,  by  that  which  yoa  profe« 
(Howe*er  you  come  to  know  it,)  answer  me  : 
Though  you  untie  the  winds,  and  let  them  fight 
Against  the  churches ;  though  the  yestyi  waves 
C^found  and  swallow  navigation  up ; 
Though  bladed  corn  be  lodgM,^  and  trees  blown 

down; 
Though  castles  topple'  on  their  warders*  heads ; 
Though  palaces,  and  pyramids,  do  slope 
Their  heads  to  their  foundations ;  though  the  trea- 
sure 
Of  nature's  gemiins^  tumble  all  together, 
Even  till  destruction  sicken,  answer  me 
To  what  I  ask  you. 

1  WUch,  Speak. 

2  WiicK,  Demand. 

3  Witch.  We'll  answer. 
1  Witch.  Say,  if  thou'd'st  rather  hear  it  from  our 

nwuths, 
Or  from  our  masters'  ? 

Macb.  Call  them,  let  me  see  them. 

1  Witch.  Pour  in  sow's  blood,  that  hath  eaten 
Her  nine  farrow ;  grease,  that's  sweaten 
From  the  murderer's  gibbet,  throw 
Into  the  flame.  • 

AIL  Come,  high,  or  low , 

Thyself,  and  office,  deftly*  show. 

Thunder.  An  Api^n^oaqf  an  armed  Head  rises, 

Macb.  Tell  me,  thou  unknown  power, 

1  Witch.  He  knows  thy  thought ; 

Hear  his  speech,  but  say  thou  nought. 
Aj^.  Macbeth  !  Macbeth !  Macbeth !  beware 
Macduff;     ' 
Beware  the  thane  of  Fife. — ^Dismiss  me : — ^Ejiough. 

[Descends. 
Macb.  Whate'er  thou  art,  for  thy  good  caution, 
thanks; 
Thou  hast  harp'd^  my  fear  aright : — ^But  one  word 
more: — 
1  Witch.  He  will  not  be  commanded :  Here's 
another. 
More  potent  than  the  first. 

7%under,  An  Apparition  of  a  bloody  Child  rises. 

App.  Macbeth  !  Macbeth !  Macbeth  !— 

Macb.  Had  I  three  ears,  I'd  hear  thee. 

App.  Be  bloody,  bold, 

And  resolute :  laugh  to  scorn  the  power  o(  man, 
For  none  of  woman  bora  shall  harm  Macbeth. 

[Descends. 

Macb.  Then  live,  Macduff;  What  need  I  fear 
of  thee.^ 
But  yet  I'll  make  assurance  double  sure. 
And  take  a  bond  of  fate :  thou  shalt  not  live ; 
That  I  may  tell  pale-hearted  fear,  it  lies. 
And  sleep  m  spite  of  thunder. — What  is  this, 

Thunder.    An  Apparition  of  a  Child  crowned^ 
toith  a  tree  in  his  hand^  rises. 

That  rises  like  the  issue  of  a  king ; 

And  wears  upon  his  baby  brow  uie  round 

And  top  of  sovereignty  V 

All.  Listen,  but  speak  not. 

App.  Be  lion«niettled,  proud ;  and  take  no  care 
Who  chafes,  who  frets,  or  where  conspirers  are : 
Macbeth  shall  never  vanquish'd  be,  until 

(1)  Frothy.  (2)  Laid  flat  by  wind  or  rain. 

?3)  Tumble. 

f  4)  Seeds  which  have  begun  to  sprout 

(5)  Adroitly. 

(6)  Touched  on  a  passion  as  a  harper  toachei  a 
•tnng. 


Great  Bimam  wood  to  high  Donsinane  hill 
Shall  come  against  him.  [Descends 

Macb.  That  will  never  be ; 

Who  can  impress  the  forest ;®  bid  the  tree 
Unfix  his  earth-bound  root  ?  sweet  bodements !  good ! 
Rebellious  head,  rise  never,  till  tfte  wood 
Of  Bimam  rise,  and  our  high-plac'd  Macbeth 
Shall  live  the  lease  of  nature,  pay  his  breath 
To  time,  and  mortal  custom. — Vet  my  heart 
Throbs  to  know  one  thing ;  Tell  me  (if  your  art 
Can  tell  so  much,)  shall  Banquo's  issue  ever 
Reipi  in  this  kingdom.' 

JiU.  Seek  to  know  no  more. 

Macb.  I  will  be  satisfied :  deny  me  this, 
And  an  eternal  curse  fall  on  you !  Let  me  know  : — 
Why  sinks  that  cauldron  }  and  what  noised  b  this .' 

[HttuUHjys, 

1  Witch.  Show! 

2  Witch.  Show! 

3  Witch.  Show! 

AU.  Show  his  eyes,  and  grieve  his  heart; 
Come  like  shadows,  so  depart 

Eight  Kings  appear,  and  pass  over  the  stage  tn 
order  ;  the  last  vnih  a  glass  in  his  hand;  Ban- 
quo  foUowing. 

Macb.  Thou  art  too  like  the  spirit  of  Banqoo; 
down ! 
Thy  crown  does  sear  mine  eye-balls : — And  thy  Lair, 
Thou  other  gold-bound  brow,  is  like  the  first : — 
A  third  is  like  the  former : — Filthy  haga ! 
Why  doyou  show  me  this .' — A  fourth  f — Start,  eyes ! 
What !  will  the  line  stretch  out  to  the  crack  of 

doom?)0 
Another  yet  f — A  seventh  f — ^I'll  see  no  more : — 
And  yet  the  eighth  appears,  who  bean  a  elasa, 
Which  shows  me  many  more ;  and  some  I  see. 
That  two-fold  bells  and  treble  sceptres  carry : 
Horrible  sight ! — Ay,  now,  I  see,  'tis  tree ; 
For  the  blood-bolter'di>  Banouo  smiles  upon  me. 
And  points  at  them  for  his. — What,  is  this  so  ? 

1  Witch.  Ay,  sir,  all  this  is  so : — But  why 
Stands  Macbeth  thus  amazedly  f — 
Come,  sisters,  cheer  we  up  his  spri^ts,!^ 
And  show  the  best  of  our  delights ; 
I'll  charm  the  air  to  g^ve  a  sound. 
While  you  perform  your  antique  round . 
That  this  great  king  may  kindly  say, 
Qur  duties  did  his  welcome  pay. 

[Music     The  Witches  dance,  and  vaniA. 
Macb.  Where  are  they  ?  Gone  ? — Let  that  per- 
nicious hour 

Stand  aye  accursed  in  the  calendar ! 

Come  in,  without  there ! 

Enter  Ijexwirk, 

Len.  What's  your  gi«oe*s  will  ? 

Macb.  Saw  you  the  weird  sisters  ? 

Len,  No,  my  lord. 

Macb.  Came  they  not  by  you  ? 

Len.  No,  indeed,  my  lord. 

Macb.  Infected  be  the  air  whereon  they  ride ; 
And  damn'd,  all  those  that  trust  them ! — I* did  heai 
The  galloping  of  hone :  Who  was't  came  by  ? 

I^n.  'Tis  two  or  three,  my  lord  that  brii^  you 
word, 

(7)  The  round  is  that  part  of  a  crown  whi«:h  en- 
circles the  bead :  the  top  it  the  ornament  which 
rises  above  it 

(8)  Who  can  command  the  forest  to  lervM  hkn 
like  a  soldier  impressed  ? 

(9)  Music.  (10)  The  disMlation  of  natute. 
(11)  Besmeared  with  bk)od.     (12)  t.  <.  Spirits. 


Some  n.  III 


MACBETH. 


337 


Macduff  is  fled  to  England. 

Maeb,  Fled  to  England  ? 

Lm,  Ajf  my  good  lord. 

Math.  Time,  thoa  anti^pat^st'  my  dread  ei- 
ploits: 
The  flighty  purpose  never  is  o*er(ook, 
UnleM  the  aeea  go  with  it :  From  thUi  moment, 
The  veiy  firstlings  of  my  heart  shall  be 
The  firstlings  of  my  hand.     And  even  now 
To  crown  my  thoii^hts  with  acts,  be  it  thought 

and  done: 
The  castle  of  Macduff  I  will  surprise ; 
Seize  upon  Fife ;  give  to  the  edge  o*the  sword 
His  wife,  his  babes,  and  all  unfortunate  souls 
That  traced  his  line.    No  boasting  like  a  fool ; 
This  deed  IMl  do,  before  this  purpose  cool  : 
But  no  more  sights ! — ^Where  are  these  gentlemen  ? 
Come,  bring  me  where  they  are.  \Kxtuni. 

SCKKE  II.^Fife.    A  room  in  Macduff^s  castle. 
Enter  Lady  Macdufi^  her  Son,  and  Rosse. 

L.  Macd.  What  had  he  done,  to  make  him  fly 
the  land  ? 

Ro99e.  You  must  have  pati^ice,  madam. 

L.  Macd,  He  had  none : 

His  flight  was  madness :  When  our  actions  do  not, 
Our  fears  do  make  us  traitors.' 

Rosae.  You  know  not. 

Whether  it  was  his  wisdom,  or  his  fear. 

L.  Macd,  Wisdom !  to  leave  his  wife,  to  leave 
his  babes, 
His  mansion,  and  his  titles,  in  a  place 
From  whence  himself  does  fly  ?  lie  loves  us  not ; 
He  wants  the  natural  touch  "^  for  the  poor  wren. 
The  most  diminutive  of  birds,  will  ^nt. 
Her  youns  ones  in  her  nest,  against  tne  owl. 
All  is  the  fear,  and  nothing  is  the  love ; 
As  litde  is  the  wisdom,  where  the  flight 
So  runs  against  all  reason. 

/Zosse.  My  dearest  coz\ 

f  pray  you,  school  yourself :  But,  for  your  husband, 
1^  is  noble,  wise,  judicious,  and  best  knows 
The  fits  o^the  season.    I  dare  not  speak  much 

further: 
But  CTtiel  are  the  times,  when  we  are  traitors. 
And  do  not  know  ourselves ;  when  we  hold  nimour 
From  what  we  fear,  yet  know  not  what  we  fear ; 
But  float  nyxk  a  wila  and  violent  sea, 
Kach  way,  and  move. — I  take  my  leave  of  you : 
Shall  not  be  long  but  1*11  be  (lere  again  : 
Things  at  the  worst  will  cease,  or  else  climb  up- 
ward 
To  what  they  were  before,— My  pretty  cousin. 
Blessing  upon  you ! 

L.  Macd.  Fathered  he  is,  and  yet  he*s  fatherless. 

Rmm.  I  am  so  much  a  fool,  should  I  stay  longer, 
ft  would  be  my  disgrace,  and  your  discomfort : 
f  take  my  leave  at  once.  [Exit  Rosse. 

L.  Maed.  Sirrah,*  your  father's  dead ; 

And  what  will  you  do  now  f  How  will  you  live  ^ 

Son.  As  bircfs  do,  mother. 

L.  Macd.  What,  with  worms  and  flies? 

Son.  With  what  I  get,  I  mean ;  and  so  do  they. 

l^MacL  Pborbird!  thou*dst  never  fear  the  net, 
nor  lime. 
The  pit-fall,  nor  the  gin. 

Sim.  Why  should  I,  mother  ?  Poor  birds  they 
are  not  set  for. 
My  fedier  is  not  dead,  for  all  your  saying. 

(1)  Preventest,  by  taking  away  the  opportunity. 

(2)  Follow. 

(3)  t.  e.  Our  flight  is  consid  -^red  as  evidence  of 
our  treason 

93 


L.  Macd.  Yes,  he  is  dead ;  how  wilt  thon  do 
for  a  father  .^ 

San.  Nay,  how  will  you  do  for  a  husband  ? 

L.  Macd.  Why,  I  can  buy  me  twenty  at  any 
market. 

Son.  Then  you*ll  buy  *em  to  sell  again. 

L.  Macd.  Thou  speak^st  with  all  my  wit ;  and 
yet,  iYaith, 
With  wit  enough  for  thee. 

Son.  Was  my  father  a  traitor,  mother  } 

L.  Macd.  ky^  that  he  was. 

Son.  What  is  a  traitor.' 

L.  Macd.  Why,  one  that  swears  and  lies. 

Son.  And  be  all  traitors,  that  do  so.' 

L.  Macd.  Every  one  that  does  so,  is  a  traitor, 
and  must  be  hanged. 

Son.  And  must  they  all  be  hang*d,  that  swear 
and  lie  ? 

L.  Macd.  Every  one. 

Son.  Who  must  hang  them  ? 

L.  Macd.  Why,  the  honest  men. 

Son.  Then  the  liars  and  swearers  are  fools :  for 
there  are  liars  and  swearers  enough  to  beat  the 
honest  men,  and  hang  up  them. 

L.  Macd.  Now,  G^  nelp  thee,  poor  monkey ! 
But  how  wilt  thou  do  for  a  father  } 

Son.  If  he  were  dead,  you*d  weep  for  him :  if 
you  would  not,  it  were  a  good  sign  that  I  should 
quickly  have  a  new  fether. 

L.  Macd.  Poor  prattler !  bow  thou  talk*st ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Bless  you,  fair  dame !  I  am  not  to  yoi> 
known. 

Though  in  your  state  of  honour  1  am  perfect.* 
I  doubt,  some  danger  does  approach  you  nearly : 
If  you  will  take  a  homely  man*s  advice. 
Be  not  found  here ;  hence,  with  your  little  ones. 
To  fright  you  thus,  methinks,  I  am  too  savage ; 
To  do  woise  to  you,  were  fell  cruelty. 
Which  is  too  nigh  your  person.    Heaven  preserve 

you! 
I  dare  abide  no  longer.  [EMt  Messenger. 

L.  Macd.  Whither  should  I  fly  f 

I  have  done  no  harm.     But  I  remember  now 
I  am  in  this  earthly  world  ;  where,  to  do  haiin. 
Is  of^en  laudable :  to  do  good,  sometime. 
Accounted  dangerous  folly  :  Why  then,  alas  I 
Do  I  put  up  that  womanly  defence. 

To  say  I  have  done  no  harm  ? ^What  are  these 

feces.' 

E^nier  Murderers. 

Mur.  Where  is  your  husband  ? 
L.  Macd.  I  hope,  in  no  place  so  unsanctified, 
W^here  such  as  thou  may*st  find  him. 
Mur.  He's  a  traitor. 

Son.  Thou  ly'st,  thou  shag-ear'd  villain. 
Mur.  What,  you  egj? .' 

[Stabbing^  him. 
Young  fry  of  treachery .' 

Son.  He  has  killed  me,  mother ; 

Run  away,  I  pray  you.  [Dies. 

[Exit  Lady  Macduff,  crying  murder, 
and  pursued  by  the  Murderers. 

SCEJSTE  ///.—England.    A  room  in  the  King's 
palace.    Enter  Malcolm  and  Macduff 

MU.  Let  us  seek  out  some  desolate  shade,  and 
there 

(4)  Natural  affection. 

(5)  Sirrah  was  not  in  our  author's  time  a  term  of 
reproach. 

(G)  1  am  perfectly  acquainted  with  your  rank. 


338 


MACBETH. 


Aetir. 


Weep  our  tad  bosoms  emptj. 

Jkkicd.  Let  OS  rather 

Hold  fast  the  mortal  svrord ;  and,  like  good  nten, 
Bestride  our  downfalPn  birtbdom:'    Each  new 

nK>rn, 
New  widows  howl ;  new  orphans  cry ;  new  sorrows 
Strike  heaven  on  the  face,  that  it  resKXinds 
As  if  it  felt  with  Scotland,  and  yeWd  out 
Like  syllable  of  dolour. 

Mai  What  I  believe.  Til  wail ; 

What  know,  believe ;  and,  what  I  can  redress, 
As  I  shall  find  (he  (inie  to  friend,^  I  will. 
What  you  have  spoke,  it  may  be  so,  perchance. 
This  tyrant,  whose  sole  name  blisters  our  tongue, 
Was  once  thought  honest :  you  have  lov^d  him  well ; 
He  bath  not  touchM  you  yet.    I  am  young ;  but 

something 
You  may  deserve  of  him  through  me ;  and  wisdom 
To  offer  up  a  weak,  poor,  innocent  lamb, 
To  appease  an  angry  god. 

Jnacd.  I  am  not  treacherous. 

Mai.  But  Macbeth  is. 

A  good  and  virtuous  nature  may  recoil. 
In  an  imperial  charge.'    But  ^crave  your  pardon ; 
That  which  you  are,  my  thoughts  cannot  transp>ose  : 
Angels  are  bright  still,  though  the  brightest  fell : 
Though  all  things  foul  would  wear  me  brows  of 

grace. 
Yet  grace  must  still  look  so. 

JOacL  I  have  lost  my  hopes. 

MaL  Perchance,  even  there,  where  I  did  find 
my  doubts. 
Why  in  that  rawness  left  you  wife  and  child 
(Those  precious  nx>tives,  those  strong  knots  of  love,) 
Without  leave-taking  ? — I  pray  p  ou, 
Let  not  my  jealousies  be  your  dishonours, 
But  mine  own  safeties : — You  may  be  righdy  just, 
Whatever  I  shall  think. 

Macd.  Bleed,  bleed,  poor  country  ! 

Oreat  tyranny,  lay  thou  thy  basis  sure. 
For  goodness  dares  not  check  thee !  wear  thou  thy 

wrongs. 
Thy  title  is  affeer'd  !*— Fare  thee  well,  lord : 
T  would  not  be  the  villain  that  thou  think^st 
For  the  whole  space  that*s  in  the  tyrant^s  grasp. 
And  the  rich  east  to  boot 

MaL  Be  not  oflfended  : 

I  speak  not  as  in  absolute  fear  of  you. 
I  think,  our  country  sinks  beneath  the  yoke ; 
It  weeps,  it  bleeds ;  and  each  new  day  a  gash 
Is  added  to  her  wounds  :  I  think,  withal. 
There  would  be  hands  uplifted  in  my  right ; 
And  here,  from  gracious  England,  have  1  cfier 
Of  g^oodly  thousands  :  But,  for  all  this, 
Wl^n  I  shall  tread  upon  the  tyrant^s  head. 
Or  wear  it  on  my  sword,  yet  my  poor  country 
Shall  have  more  vices  than  it  had  before  ; 
More  suffer,  and  more  sundry  ways  than  ever, 
By  him  that  shall  succeed. 

Macd.  What  should  he  be  f 

MaL  It  is  myself  I  mean  :  in  whom  I  know 
All  the  particulars  of  vice  so  grafted. 
That,  when  they  shall  be  opcnM,  black  Macl3cth 
Will  seem  as  pure  as  snow  ;  and  the  poor  state 
Esteem  him  as  a  lamb,  being  compar  d 
With  mv  confineless  harms. 

Macd.  Not  in  the  legions 

Of  horrid  hell,  can  come  a  devil  more  danuiM 
In  evils,  to  top  Macbeth. 

MaL  I  grant  him  bloody, 

(1)  Birthright.        (2)  Befriend. 
(3)  t.  e.  A  good  mind  may  recede  from  good- 
ness in  the  execution  of  a  roval  ccvnmissiun. 


Luxurious^,  avaricious,  false,  deceitful. 
Sudden,^  malicious,  smacking  of  e\-er7  ^ 
That  has  a  nante  :  But  there^s  no  bottom,  none, 
In  my  voluptuou!»iiej» :  your  wives,  your  daughters, 
Your  matrons,  and  your  maids,  could  not  fill  np 
The  cistern  of  my  lust ;  and  my  desire 
All  continent  impediments  would  o*er-bear. 
That  did  oppose  my  will :  Better  Macbeth, 
Than  such  a  one  to  reign. 

Macd.  Boundless  intemperance 

In  nature  is  a  tyranny ;  it  hath  been 
The  untimely  emptying  of  the  happy  throne. 
And  fall  of  many  kings.     But  fear  not  yet 
To  take  upon  you  what  is  yours  :  you  may 
Convey  your  pleasures  in  a  spacious  plenty, 
And  yet  seem  cold,  the  time  you  may  so  hood-wink 
We  have  willing  dames  enough ;  there  cannot  be 
That  vulture  in  you,  to  devour  so  many 
As  will  to  greatness  dedicate  themselves, 
Finding  it  so  inclined. 

MaL  With  this,  there  grows, 

III  my  most  ill-compo6*d  affection,  such 
A  stanchless  avarice,  that  were  I  king, 
I  should  cut  off  the  nobles  for  their  lands ; 
Desire  his  jewels,  and  this  other's  house  : 
And  mv  more-having  would  be  as  a  sauce 
To  make  me  hunger  more ;  that  I  should  forge 
Quarrels  unjust  against  the  good,  and  loyal. 
Destroying  them  for  wealth. 

Macd  This  avarice 

Sticks  deeper ;  grows  with  more  pemicioas  root 
Tlian  summer-seeding  lust :  and  it  hath  been 
The  sword  of  our  slain  kings :  Yet  do  not  fear: 
Scotland  hath  foysons^  to  fill  up  your  will. 
Of  your  mere  own  :  All  these  are  ptnlable,* 
With  other  graces  weighed. 

MaL  But  I  have  none:  The  king-becoraing 
graces. 
As  justice,  verity,  temperance,  stableneas, 
Boun^,  perseverance,  mercy,  lowliness, 
Devotion,  jmtience,  courage,  fortitude, 
I  have  no  relish  of  them ;  but  abound 
In  the  division  of  each  several  crime. 
Acting  it  many  ways.  Nay,  had  I  power,  I  aboold 
Pour  tne  sweet  milk  of  concord  into  hell, 
Uproar  the  universal  p^ce,  confound 
All  unity  on  earth. 

Mad  O  Scotland !  Scotland ! 

MaL  If  such  a  one  be  fit  to  govern,  apeaik : 
I  am  as  I  have  spoken. 

Macd.  ,     Fit  to  govern  ! 

No,  not  to  live. — O  nation  miserable. 
With  an  untitled  tyrant  bloody-scepter'd. 
When  shalt  thou  see  thy  wholesome  days  again  f 
Since  that  the  truest  issue  of  thy  throne 
By  his  own  interdiction  stands  accursed. 
And  does  blaspheme  his  breed  ? — Thy  royal  fath^ 
Was  a  most  sainted  king ;  the  queen,  that  DOf«  ' 
Oftner  upon  her  knees  than  on  her  feet. 
Died  every  day  she  lived.     Fare  thee  well ! 
These  evils,  thou  repeat'st  upon  thyself. 
Have  banishM  me  from  Scotland.-^^,  my 
Thy  hope  ends  here  ! 

J^InL  Macduff,  this  noble 

Child  of  integrity,  hath  from  my  soul 
WipM  the  black  scruples,  reconcilM  my  thoogk:^^ 
1  o  thy  good  truth  ana  honour.    Devilish  Macb^^ 
By  many  of  these  trains  hath  sought  to  win  me 
Into  his  power :  and  modest  wisdom  j^n^u 

(4)  Le^lly  setUed  by  those  who  had  the 
adjudicaUon. 

(5)  Lascivious.  (6)  Piassionate. 
(7)  Plenty.             ^8)  May  be  endiued. 


I 


MACBETH. 


339 


BT-credulous  haste  :i  But  God  above 
nreen  thee  and  me  !  for  even  now 
felf  to  thy  direction,  and 
mine  own  detraction,  here  abjure 
U  and  blames  I  laid  upon  myself, 
igen  to  h\y  nature.    1  am  yet 
1  to  woman  ;  never  was  forsworn ; 
have  coveted  what  was  mine  own  ; 
36  broke  my  faith ;  would  not  betray 
1  to  his  fellow ;  and  delight 

I  truth,  than  life  :  my  first  false  speaking 
upon  myself:  What  1  am  truly, 

uid  my  poor  country*8,  to  command : 
,  indeed,  before  thy  here-approach, 
jd,  with  ten  thousand  warlike  men, 
f  at  a  point,  was  setting  forth : 

II  together ;  And  the  chance,  of  goodness, 
ir  warranted  quarrel !  Why  are  you  silent? 

Such  welcome  and  unwelcome  things  at 

OQce, 

1  to  reconcile. 

Enter  a  Doctor. 

i¥ell ;  more  anon. — Comes  the  king  forth, 
I  pray  you  ? 

It,  sir :  there  are  a  crew  of  wretched  souls, 
r  nis  cure :  their  malady  convinces^ 
t  assay  of  art ;  but,  at  his  touch, 
ctity  hath  heaven  given  bis  hand, 
iMOtly  amend. 

I  thank  you,  doctor.  [Ex.  Doct. 
What  is  the  disease  he  means  ? 

*Tis  cali'd  the  evil : 
liraculous  work  in  this  good  king ; 
ten  since  my  here-rcmain  in  England, 
en  him  do.     How  he  solicits  heaven, 
MM  knows  :  but  strangely-visited  people, 
I  and  ulcerous,  pitiful  to  the  eye, 
t  despair  of  8ur«;ery,  he  cures ; 
a  golden  stamp^  about  their  necks, 
ith  holy  prayers :  and  *tis  spoken, 
cceieding  roValty  he  leaves 
OK  benediction.   W^'th  this  strange  virtue, 
I  heavenly  gift  of  prophecy  ; 

^  blessings  hang  about  his  throne, 
him  AiU  of  grace. 

£7t^Rosse. 

See,  who  comes  here  ? 
fy  counti^-man ;  but  ^et  I  know  him  not 
My  ever-gentle  cousin,  welcome  hither. 
know  him  now: — Good  God,  betimes 
remove 
It  thai  make  us  strangers ! 

Sir,  Amen. 
Stands  Scotland  where  it  did  ? 

Alas,  pKX>r  country ; 
■aid  to  know  itself!  It  cannot 
or  mother,  but  our  grave :  where  nothing, 
:nows  nothing,  is  once  seen  to  smile ; 
hs,  and  groans,  and  shrieks  that  rent  the 
lir, 

not  mark*d ;  where  violent  sorrow  seems 
ecstasy  ;4  the  dead  man^s  knell 
imrce  ask*d,  for  who;  and  good  men^s 
ires 

ore  the  fk>wcr9  in  their  caps, 
ere  they  sicken. 

O,  relation 
and  jet  too  true ! 

Over-hasty  credulity. 
Overpowers,  subdues. 
The  coin  calicd  an  angeL 


Mai  What  is  the  newest  grief.' 

Rosse.    That  of  an  hour*s  age  doth  hiss  the 
speaker ; 
Each  minute  teems  a  new  one. 
Macd,  How  does  my  wife.' 

Rosse.  Why,  well. 

Macd.  And  all  my  children .' 

Rosse  Well  too. 

Macd.  The  tyrant  has  not  batter*d  at  their  pe^cc? 
Rosse.  No ;  they  were  well  at  peace,  when  1  dtcl 

leave  them. 
Mticd.  Be  not  a  niggard  of  your  speech ;  How 

goes  it.' 
Rosse.  When  I  came  hither   to  transport  the 
tidings. 
Which  I  have  neavily  borne,  there  ran  a  rumour 
Of  many  worthy  fellows  that  were  out ; 
Which  was  to  my  belief  witness*d  the  rather. 
For  that  I  saw  the  tyrant*s  power  a-foot : 
Now  is  the  time  of  help ;  your  eye  in  Scotland 
Would  create  soldiers,  make  our  women  fight. 
To  dotT'  their  dire  distresses. 

MoL  Be  it  their  comfort. 

We  are  coming  thither :  nacious  EIngland  hath 
Lent  us  good  Siward,  and  ten  thousand  men ; 
An  older,  and  a  better  soldier,  none, 
That  Christendom  gives  out 

Rosse.  'Would  I  could  answer 

This  comfort  with  the  like !  But  I  have  words, 
That  would  be  howPd  out  in  the  desert  air. 
Where  hearing  should  not  latch^  them. 

Macd.  What  concern  they  .' 

The  general  cause .'  or  is  it  a  fee-grief,^ 
Due  to  some  single  breast  ? 

Rosse.  No  mind,  that*s  honest. 

But  in  it  shares  some  wo ;  though  the  main  pai-t 
Pertains  to  you  alone. 

Macd.  If  it  be  mine, 

Keep  it  not  from  me,  quickly  let  me  have  it. 
Rosse.  Let  not  your  ears  despise  my  tongue  for 
ever. 
Which  shall  possess  them  with  the  heaviest  sound. 
That  ever  yet  they  beard. 
Macd.  Humph !  I  guess  at  it 

Rosse.  Tour  castle  is  surprizM ;  your  wife,  and 
babes. 
Savagely  slaughtered :  to  relate  the  manner. 
Were,  on  the  quany*  of  these  murderM  deer. 
To  add  the  death  of  you. 

M(U.  Merciful  heaven .' — 

What,  man  !  ne'er  pull  your  hat  upon  your  brows ; 
Give  sorrow  words :  the  grief,  that  does  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'er-fraught  heart,  and  bids  it  break. 
Macd.  My  children  too .' 
Rosse.  Wife,  children,  servants,  all 

That  could  be  found. 

Macd.  And  I  must  be  from  thence ! 

My  wifekill'dtoo.' 
Rosse.  I  have  said. 

Mat  Be  comforted : 

Let's  make  us  med'cines  of  our  g^reat  revenge. 
To  cure  this  deadly  grief. 

Macd.  He  has  no  children. — All  my  pretty  ones? 
Did  you  say,  all .'— O,  hell-kite !— All ! 
What,  all  my  pretty  chickens,  and  their  dam. 
At  one  fell  swoop .' 
Mai.  Dispute  it  like  a  man. 
Macd.  I  shall  do  so ; 

But  I  must  also  feel  it  as  a  man : 
I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were. 


(4)  Common  distress  of  mind.  (5)  Put  ofll 

(6)  Catch.     (7)  A  grief  that  has  a  tingle  owner. 
(8)  The  game  after  it  it  kUled. 


340 


MACBETH. 


Adr 


That  were  most  precious  to  me.— Did  heaven  look 

on, 
And  would  not  take  their  part  f  Sinful  Macduff, 
They  were  all  struck  for  thee !  naught  that  I  am, 
Not  for  their  own  demerits,  but  for  mine, 
Fell  slaughter  on  their  souls :  Heaven  rest  them 


now 


MaL  Be  this  the  whetstone  of  your  sword :  let 
grief 
Convert  to  aneer;  blunt  not  the  heart,  enrage  it 

Micd.  O,  1  could  play  the  woman  with  mine 
eyes. 
And  braggart  with  my  tongue !— But,  gentle  heaven, 
Cut  short  all  intermission  ;>  front  to  front. 
Bring  thou  this  fiend  of  Scotland,  and  myself; 
Within  my  sword^s  length  set  him ;  if  he  ^scape. 
Heaven  forgive  him  too ! 

J\IcU,  This  tune  goes  manly. 

Come,  go  we  to  the  king ;  our  power  is  ready ; 
Oar  lack  is  nothing  but  our  leave  :  Macbeth 
Is  ripe  for  shaking,  and  the  powers  above 
Put  on  their  instruments.   Receive  what  che«r  you 

may; 
The  night  is  long,  that  never  finds  the  day.  [£xe. 


ACT  V. 

SCEJ^TE  1. — Dunsinane.  A  room  in  the  ea$tle. 
linter  a  Doctor  qf  Physic^  and  a  waiting 
Gentlewoman. 

Doct.  1  have  two  nights  watched  with  you,  but 
can  perceive  no  truth  in  your  report  When  was  it 
she  last  walked? 

Gent  Since  his  majesty  went  into  the  field,  I 
have  seen  her  rise  from  her  bed,  throw  her  night- 
gown upon  her,  unlock  her  closet,  take  forth  pa]x?r, 
fold  it,  write  upon  it,  read  it,  afterwards  seal  it,  and 
again  return  to  bed ;  yet  all  this  while  in  a  most 
rast  sleep. 

Doct.  A  great  perturbation  in  nature !  to  receive 
at  once  the  benefit  of  sleep,  and  do  the  eflects  of 
watching. — In  this  slumbry  agitation,  besides  her 
walking,  and  other  actual  performances,  what,  at 
any  time,  have  you  heard  her  say  ? 

Gent.  That,  sir,  which  I  will  not  report  after  her. 

Doct.  You  may,  to  me ;  and  'tis  most  meet  you 
should. 

Gent.  Neither  to  you,  nor  any  one,  having  no 
wimess  to  confirm  my  speech. 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth,  toiih  a  taper. 

Lo you,  here  she  comes !  This  is  her  ver}*  guise ;  and, 
upon  my  life,  fast  asleep.  Observe  her;  stand  close. 

Doct.  How  came  she  by  that  light  ? 

Gent.  Why,  it  stood  by  her :  she  has  light  by 
her  continually  ;  *tis  her  command. 

Doct.  You  see,  her  eyes  are  open. 

Gent.  Av,  but  their  sense  is  shut. 

Doct.  V\  hat  is  it  she  does  now  f  Look,  how  she 
rubs  her  hands. 

Gent.  It  is  an  accustomed  action  with  her,  to 
seem  thus  washing  her  hands  ;  I  have  known  her 
continue  in  this  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Lady  M.  Yet  here's  a  spot. 

Doct.  Hark,  she  speaks  :  I  will  set  down  what 
comes  from  her,  to  satisfy  my  reniembrance  the 
more  strongly. 

LadyM.  Out,  damned  spot !  out,  I  say ! — One  : 
Two;  Why,  then  'tis  time  to  do»t :— Hell  b  murky .'2 

(1)  All  pause.      (2)  Dark.        (3)  Confounded. 


— Fie,  mv  lord,  fie  !  a  soldier,  an  \  afear'd .'  What 
ne€>d  we  fear  who  knows  it,  w  hen  none  can  <-all  our 
power  to  account .' — Yet  who  would  have  thouehi 
the  old  man  to  have  had  so  much  blood  in  him  ? 

Doct.  Do  vou  mark  that .'  •  _ 

Lady  M.  The  thane  of  Fife  had  a  wife ;  V^Tiere 
is  she  now.' — What,  will  these  hands  ne'er  be 
clean .' — No  more  o'that,  my  lord,  no  more  o'that : 
you  mar  all  with  this  starting. 

Doct.  Go  to,  go  to ;  you  have  known  what  you 
should  not 

Gent.  She  has  spoke  what  she  should  not,  I  am 
sure  of  that :  Heaven  knows  what  she  has  known. 

Lady  M.  Here's  the  smell  of  the  blood  still :  all 
the  perfumes  of  Arabia  will  not  sweeten  this  little 
hand.     Oh  !  oh  !  oh  ! 

Doct  What  a  sigh  is  there !  The  heart  is  sorely 
charged. 

Gent.  I  would  not  have  such  a  heart  in  my 
bosom,  for  the  dignity  of  the  whole  body. 

Doct.  Well,  well,  well,— 

Gent.  'Pray  God,  it  be,  sir. 

Doct.  This  disease  is  beyond  my  practice  :  Yet 
I  have  known  those  which  have  walked  in  theii 
sleep,  who  have  died  holily  in  their  beds. 

JLadyM.  Wash  your  hands,  pat  on  your  nieht- 
?owri ;  look  not  so  pale : — ^I  tel^you  yet  again,  Bau" 
(juo's  buried ;  he  cannot  come  out  of  his  grave. 

Doct.  Evpn  so.' 

Lady  M.  To  bed,  to  bed ;  there*s  knocking  at 
the  gate.  Come,  come,  come,  come^  give  me  your 
hand ;  What's  done,  cannot  be  undone :  To  bed, 
to  bed,  to  bed.  [Exit  Lady  Macbeth 

Doct  WiW  she  go  now  to  bed  ? 

Gent.  Directly. 

Doct  Fcnil  whisperings  are  abroad :  Uraiatura 
deeds 
Do  breed  unnatural  troubles :  Infected  minds 
To  their  deaf  pillows  will  discharge  their  secrets. 
More  needs  she  the  divine,  than  the  physician. — 
(iod,  God,  forgive  us  all !    Look  after  her ; 
Remove  from  her  the  means  of  all  annoyance. 
And  still  keep  eyes  upon  her : — So,  gooil  night : 
My  mind  she  has  mated,'  and  amax'd  my  «ght : 
I  think,  but  dare  not  speak. 

Gent.  Good  night,  good  doctor. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ\''E  II. — The  country  near  Dansinane.  En- 
ter^ with  drum  and  colours^  Menteth,  Cathnc^ 
Angus,  Lenox,  and  Soldiert. 

Ment  The  English  power  is  near,  led  on  bf 
Malcolm, 
His  uncle  Siward,  and  the  good  Macduff. 
Revfinges  bum  in  them  :  for  their  dear  causes 
Would,  to  the  bleeding,  and  the  grim  alarm. 
Excite  the  mortified  man.^ 

Jln^.  Near  Bimam  wood 

Shall  we  well  meet  them ;  that  way  are  they  comin 

Ciiih.   Who  knows,  if  Donalbain  be  with  li 
bn>ther.' 

/^n.  For  certain,  sir,  he  is  not :  I  have  a  file 
or  all  the  grntry ;  there  is  Si  ward's  son. 
And  many  unrough^  youths,  that  even  now 
Protest  their  first  of  manhood. 

Ment.  What  does  the  tym 

Cttth.  Great  Dimsinane  he  strongly  fortifirs : 
Some  say,  he's  mad ;  others,  that  lesser  hate  hmk 
Do  call  it  valiant  fury :  but,  for  certain. 
He  cannot  buckle  his  distemper'd  cause 
Within  the  belt  of  rule. 

Ang.  Now  does  be  feel 

(4)  A  religious ;  an  ascetic.        (5)  Uubcardtr<3F 


/f,  /r,  r. 


MACBETR 


341 


ret  murders  stickinf^  on  his  hands ; 
inutely  revolts  upbraid  his  faith-breach ; 
M  commands,  move  only  in  command, 
;  in  love :  now  does  he  feel  his  title 
XMe  about  him,  like  a  giant's  robe 
dwarfish  thie£ 

Who  then  shall  blame 
ter'd  senses  to  recoil,  and  start, 
til  that  is  within  him  does  condemn 
NT  being  there  ? 

Well,  march  we  on, 
obedience  where  'tis  truly  ow*d : 
B  the  medicin>  of  the  sickly  weal ; 
th  him  pour  we,  in  our  country's  puige, 
x>pof  us. 

Or  so  much  as  it  needs, 
the  sovereign  flower,  and  drown  the  weeds. 
ft  oar  march  towards  Bimam. 

[Eoceunif  marching. 

E  III. — Dunsinane.    j9  room  in  the  castle. 
4tr  Macbeth,  Doctor,  andaitendantt. 

*.  Bring  roe  no  more  reports ;  let  them  fly 

all; 
Daft  wood  remove  to  Dunsinane, 
t  taint  with  fear.  What's  the  boy  Malcolm  ? 
not  bora  of  woman  ?  The  spirits  that  know 
lal  consequents,  pronounc'd  me  thus : 
t,  Macbeth  ;  no  manj  thaCs  bom  qfwomanj 
^  have  power  on  thee. Then  fly,  false 

thanes, 
iffle  with  the  Enelish  epicures : 
id  I  sway  by,  and  the  heart  1  bear, 
versaggS  with  doubt,  nor  shake  with  fear. 

Enter  a  Servant 

fl  damn  thee  black,  thou  cream-fac'd  loon ;' 
gQt*st  thou  that  goose-look  ? 

There  is  ten  thousand 

Geese,  villain? 
Soldiers,  »ir. 
.  Gio,  prick  thy  face,  and  over-red  thy  fear, 
r-liver'd  boy.     What  soldiers,  patch  ?* 
r  thy  soul !  those  linen  cheeks  of  thine 
Dsellors  to  fear.  What  soldiers,  whey -face.' 
The  Ejigiish  force,  so  please  you. 
.  Take  thy  face  hence. — Seyton! — I  am 

Mck  at  heart, 

behold — Seyton,  I  say ! — This  push 
ser  me  ever,  or  disseat  me  now. 
iv'd  long  enough :  my  way  of  life 
into  the  sear,^  the  yellow  leaf: 
t  which  should  accompany  old  age, 
ur,  love,  obedience,  troops  c^  friends, 
lOt  look  to  have ;  but,  in  their  stead, 
not  loud,  but  deep,  mouth-honour,  breath, 
be  poor  heart  would  fain  deny,  but  dare  not 

Enter  Seyton. 

What  is  your  gracious  pleasure  ? 

What  news  more .' 

1.11  is  confirra'd,  my  lord,  which  was  re- 
ported. 

.  I'll  flccht,  till  from  my  bones  my  flesh  be 
hack'd. 

I  my  armour. 

'Tis  not  needed  yet 

.  I'll  put  it  on. 

t  more  horses,  skirr*  the  country  roimd ; 

ose  that  talk  of  fear. — Give  me  mine  ar* 
mour. — 

he  physician.     (2)  Sink.     (3)  Baw  fellow. 
a  appellation  of  contempt        (5)  Dry. 


How  does  your  patient,  doctor  f 

Dod.  Not  so  sick,  my  lord. 

As  she  is  troubled  with  thick-coming  fancies. 
That  keep  her  from  her  rest 

Macb.  Cure  her  of  that : 

Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseas'd ; 
Pluck  from  the  memoiy  a  rooted  sorrow ; 
Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain ; 
And,  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote. 
Cleanse  the  stutifd  boeom  of  that  perilous  stuff 
Which  weighs  upon  the  heart  ^ 

DocL  Therein  the  patient 

Must  minister  to  himself. 

Macb.  Throw  physic  to  the  dogs,  I'll  none  of  it. — 
Come,  put  mine  armour  on ;  give  me  mv  sfafl': — 
Seyton,  send  out — ^Doctor,  the  thanes  fly  from  me:— 
Come,  sir,  despatch : — If  thou  could'st,  doctor,  cast 
The  water  of  my  land,  find  her  disease. 
And  purge  it  to  a  sound  and  pristine  health, 
I  would  applaud  thee  to  the  very  echo. 
That  should  applaud  again. — Pull't  off,  I  say.— 
What  rhubarb,  senna,  or  what  purgative  drug. 
Would  scour  these  English  hence  ? — Hearest  thou 
of  them.' 

DoeL  Ay,  my  good  lord ;  your  royal  preparation 
Makes  us  bear  something. 

Macb.  Bring  it  after  me.— 

I  will  not  be  afraid  of  death  and  bane. 
Till  Bimam  forest  come  to  Dunsinane.  [Exit 

Doct  Were  I  from  Dunsinane  away  and  clear, 
Profit  again  should  hardly  draw  me  here.     [£xt't 

SCEJ^E  IV. — Couniry  near  Dunsinane :  A  vjood 
in  view.  JEnter^  with  drvm  and  colours^  Mal- 
colm, Old  Siward  and  Jiis  Son^  Macduff,  Men- 
teth,  Cathness,  Angus,  Lenox,  Rosse,  and  Sol- 
diers, marching. 

Mat  Cousins,  I  hope,  the  days  are  near  at  hand 
That  chambers  will  be  safe. 

Meni.  We  doubt  it  nothing. 

Siw.  What  wood  is  this  before  us.' 

Meni.  The  wood  of  Bimam. 

MaL  Let  every  soldier  hew  him  down  a  bough. 
And  bear't  before  him ;  thereby  shall  we  shadow 
The  numbers  of  our  host,  and  make  discovery 
Err  in  report  of  us. 

Sold.  It  diall  be  done. 

Siw.  We  learn  no  other,  but  the  confident  tyrant 
Keeps  still  in  Dunsinane,  and  will  endure 
Our  setting  down  befor't 

MaL  *Tis  his  main  hope : 

For  where  there  is  advanta^  to  be  given. 
Both  more  and  less^  have  given  him  the  revolt ; 
And  none  serve  with  him  but  constrained  tilings. 
Whose  hearts  are  abeent  toa 

Macd.  Letour  just  censures 

Attend  the  true  event,  and  put  we  on 
Industrious  soldiership. 

Siw.  The  time  approaches. 

That  will  with  due  decision  make  us  know 
What  we  shall  say  we  have,  and  what  we  asxe. 
Thoughts  speculative  their  unsure  hopes  telale ; 
But  certain  issue  strokes  must  arbitrate  ^ 
Towards  which,  advance  the  war. 

[Exeuntt  marching, 

SCEJ^E  F.— Dunsinane.  Within  the  ca.9l!e. 
Enter^  with  drumt  and  cotaurt,  Macbeth,  Sey- 
ton, and  Soldiers. 

Macb.  Hang  out  oar  banners  on  the  outward 
walls; 

(6)  Scour.       (7)  i.  e.  Greater  and  lest. 
(8)  Determine. 


d42 


MACBETH. 


Acir< 


The  crj'  is  still,  TTuy  come :  Our  castle's  strength 
Will  laugh  a  siege  to  scorn :  here  let  them  lie, 
Till  famine,  and  the  ague,  eat  them  up  : 
Were  they  not  forced  with  those  that  should  be  ours. 
We  might  have  met  them  direful,  beard  to  beard, 
And  beat  them  backward  home.  What  is  that  noise  ? 

[A  cry  wiihiity  of  women. 

Sev-  It  is  the  cry  of  women,  my  good  lord. 

Jnacb.  1  have  almost  forgot  the  taste  of  fears : 
The  time  has  been,  my  senses  would  have  cooPd 
To  hear  a  night-shriek  ;  and  my  felji  of  hair 
Would  at  a  dismal  treatise  rouse,  and  stir 
As  life  were  in't :  I  have  suppM  full  with  horrors ; 
Direness,  familiar  to  my  slaughterous  thoughts. 
Cannot  once  start  me. — Wherefore  was  that  cry .' 

Sev.  The  queen,  mv  lord,  is  dead. 

J^lacb.  She  should  have  died  hereaOer; 
There  would  have  been  a  time  for  such  a  word. — 
To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 
Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day, 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time  ; 
And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 
The  way  to  dusty  death.     Out,  out,  brief  candle  ! 
Life's  but  a  walking  shadow ;  a  poor  player. 
That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage. 
And  then  is  heard  no  more :  it  is  a  tale 
Told  b^  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury, 
Signifying  nothing. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Thou  com'st  to  use  thy  tongue ;  thy  story  quickly. 

Mess.  Gracious  my  lord, 
I  shall  report  that  which  I  say  I  saw, 
But  know  not  how  to  do  it 

Macb.  Well,  say,  sir. 

Mess.  As  I  did  stand  my  watch  upon  the  hill, 
I  look'd  toward  Bimam,  and  anon,  methought, 
The  wood  began  to  move. 

MtKb.  Liar,  and  slave  ! 

[Striking  him. 

Mess.  Let  me  endure  your  wrath,  ift  be  not  so: 
Within  this  three  mile  may  you  see  it  coming ; 
I  say,  a  moving  gprove. 

Jnacb.  Tf  thou  speak'st  false. 

Upon  the  next  tree  shalt  thou  hang  alive. 
Till  famine  cling^  thee :  if  thy  speech  be  sooth, 
I  care  not  if  thou  doet  for  me  as  much. — 
I  pull  in  resolution  ;  and  begin 
To  doubt  the  equivocation  of  the  fiend. 
That  lies  like  truth  :  Fear  not^  till  Bimam  wood 
Do  come  to  Dunsinane  f — and  now  a  wood 
Comes  toward  Dunsinane. — Arm,  arm,  and  out! — 
If  this,  which  he  avouches,  does  appear. 
There  is  nor  flying  hence,  nor  tarrying  here. 
I  'gin  to  be  a-weary  of  the  sun. 
And  wish  the  estate  o'the  world  were  now  undone. — 
Ring  the  alarum  bell : — Blow,  wind!  come,  wrack  ! 
At  least  we'll  die  with  harness^  on  our  back. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJSTE  VI.— The  same.  A  plain  before  the 
castle.  Enter ^  with  drums  and  colours^  Malcolm, 
Old  Siward,  Macduff,  ^c.  and  their  army^  with 
boughs. 

Mat.  Now  near  enough ;  your  leavy  screens  throw 
down. 
And  show  like  those  ^ou  arc : — You,  worthy  uncle. 
Shall,  with  my  cousin,  your  right-noble  son. 
Lead  our  first  battle  :  worthy  MacdiifT,  and  we, 
Shall  take  upon  us  what  else  remains  to  do, 
According  to  our  order. 

Siw.  Fare  yoa  well. — 

(1)  Skin.  (2)  Shrivel.  (3)  Armour. 


Do  we  but  find  the  tyrant's  power  to-night. 
Let  us  be  beaten,  if  we  cannot  fight 
Macd.  Make  all  our  trumpets  speak ;  give  thrro 
all  breath. 
Those  clamorous  harbingers  of  blood  and  death. 

[Exeunt  Alarums  continued. 

SCEJVE  FIT.— The  same.  Another  part  of  the 
plain.     Enter  Macbeth. 

Macb.  They  have  tied  me  to  a^take ;  I  cannot  fly 
But,  bear-like,  I  must  fight  the  course. — What's  lie^ 
That  was  not  born  of  woman  f  Such  a  one 
Am  I  to  fear,  or  none. 

Enter  Young  Siward. 

Yo.  Siw.  What  is  thy  name  ? 
Macb.  "f  hou'lt  be  afitud  to  hear  it.. 

Yo.  Siw.  No ;  though  thou  call'st  thyself  a  hot- 
ter name 
Than  any  is  in  hell. 
Macb.  My  name's  Macbeth. 

Yo.  Siw.  The  devil  himself  could  not  pronounce 
a  title 
More  hateful  to  mine  ear. 
Macb.  No,  nor  ipore  fearful. 

Yo.  Siw.  Thou  liest,  abhorred  tyrant;  with  my 
sword 
I'll  prove  the  lie  thou  speak'st 

[They  Jight,  and  Yoxtng  Siward  is  52atn_ 

Macb.  Thou  wast  bom  of  woman. 

But  swords  I  smile  at,  weapons  laugh  to  Morn, 
Brandish'd  by  man  that's  of  a  woman  bom.  [Ex  ^ 

Alarums.  £n/rr  Macduflf. 

Macd.  That  way  the  noise  is: — Tyrant,  shofv^ 
thy  face : 
If  thou  be'st  slain,  and  with  no  stroke  of  mine. 
My  wife  and  children's  ghosts  will  haunt  nie  still. 
I  cannot  strike  at  wretched  kernes,^  whose  arms 
Are  hir'd  to  bear  their  staves;  either  thou,  Macbeth^ 
Or  else  my  sword,  with  an  unbatter'd  edge, 
I  sheath  again  undeeded.  There  thou  should'st  be  ^ 
By  this  great  clatter,  one  of  greatest  note 
Seems  bruited  :^  Let  me  find  him,  fortune  ! 
And  more  I  beg  not  [Exit.  Alaruam--' 

Enter  Malcolm  and  Old  Siward. 

Siw.  This  way,  my  lord; — the  castle's  gcnil 
rendcr'd : 
The  tyrant's  people  on  both  sides  do  fight ; 
The  noble  thanes  do  bravely  in  the  war ; 
The  day  almost  itself  professes  yours. 
And  little  is  to  do. 

McU.  We  have  met  with  foes 

That  strike  beside  us. 

•Stir.  Enter,  sir,  the  castle. 

[Exeunt.  Ala 

Re-enter  Macbeth. 

Macb.  Vfhy  should  I  play  the  Roman  fool, 
die 
On  mine  own  sword  ^  whiles  I  see  lives,  the 
Do  better  upon  them. 

Re-enter  MacdufiT. 

Macd.  Turn,  hell-hound,  turn 

Macb.  Of  all  men  else  I  have  avoided  thee  : 
But  get  thee  back,  mv  soul  is  too  much  charg* 
With  blood  of  thine  already. 

Macd.  I  have  no  woi 

My  voice  is  in  my  sword ;  thoa  bloodier  villairt 
Than  terms  can  give  thee  out !  [  They  ji^^^ 

Macb.  Thou  lofiest1ab<»«"' 

(4)  Soldiers.        (5)  Reported  with  ciunoor. 


SeemFIl 


MACBETH. 


343 


4s  essT  may*8t  thou  the  intrenchant  air* 
With  tnjr  keen  sword  impress,  as  make  me  bleed  : 
Let  &11  thv  blade  on  vulnerable  crests ; 
1  bear  a  charmed  life,  which  must  not  yield 
To  one  of  woman  bom. 

Macd.  Despair  thj  charm ; 

And  let  the  angel,  whom  thou  still  hast  servM, 
Tell  thee,  MacdulT  was  from  his  roother*s  womb 
Untimely  ripp'd 

Macb,  Accursed  be  that  tongue  that  tells  mt  so, 
For  It  hath  cowM  my  better  part  of  man .' 
And  be  thew  juggling  fiends  no  more  believM, 
That  palter^  with  us  in  a  double  sense ; 
That  keep  the  word  of  promise  to  our  ear, 
And  break  it  to  our  hope. — Pll  not  fight  with  thee. 

Macd.  Then  yield  tnee,  coward, 
And  live  to  be  the  show  and  gaze  o*the  time. 
We*ll  have  thee,  as  our  rarer  monsters  are, 
Painted  upon  a  pole ;  and  underwrite 
Htre  may  you  su  tht  tynuiL 

Macb.  V\\  not  yield, 

To  kiss  the  ground  before  younr  Malcolm's  feet, 
And  to  be  baited  with  the  rabble's  curse. 
Tbooeh  Bimam  wood  be  come  to  Dunsinane, 
And  thou  opposed,  being  of  no  woman  bom. 
Yet  I  will  try  the  last :  Before  my  body 
I  throw  my  warlike  shield :  lay  on,  Macdufi*; 
And  damn'd  be  him  that  first  cries.  Hold,  enough. 

[Exeuntf  Jighting. 

Rtbrtat  Flourish.  Rt-tnier^  Ufith  drum  and 
coUmrt,  Malcolm,  Old  Si  ward,  Rosse,  Lenox, 
Angus,  Cathness,  Menteth,  and  Soldiert. 

MaL  I  would,  the  friends  we  miss  were  safe  ar- 
rived. 

Stiff.  Some  must  go  off:  and  yet,  by  these  I  see. 
So  great  a  dav  as  this  is  cheaply  bought 

Md,  Macduff  is  missing,  and  your  noble  son. 

RosH.  Your  son,  my  lord,  has  paid  a  soldier's 
debt  • 
He  only  liv'd  but  till  he  was  a  noan ; 
The  wnich  no  sooner  had  his  prowess  confirm'd 
In  the  unshrinking  station  where  he  fought. 
Bat  like  a  man  he  died. 

Siw.  Then  he  is  dead  ? 

Rout.  Aj,  and  brought  off  the  field :  your  cause 
of  sorrow 
Must  not  be  measur'd  by  his  worth,  for  then 
It  hath  no  end. 

Siw.  Had  he  his  hurts  before  ? 

Ro»$e.  Ay,  on  the  front. 

Siw.  Why  then,  God*s  soldier  be  he .' 

Had  I  as  many  sons  as  I  have  hairs, 
I  would  not  wish  them  to  a  fiurer  death : 
And  so  his  knell  is  knolPd. 

(1)  The  air,  which  cannot  be  cut    (2)  Shuffle. 


Mai.  He's  worth  more  sorrow, 

And  that  I'll  spend  for  him. 

Siw.  He's  worth  no  more  ; 

They  say,  he  parted  well,  and  paid  his  score  : 
So,  Uod  oe  with  him ! — Here  comes  newer  comfort. 

Re-enter  Macduff,  with  Macbeth's  head  on  a  pole. 

Macd.  Hail,, king!  for  so  thou  art:   Behold, 
where  stands 
The  usurper's  cursed  head :  the  time  is  free : 
I  see  thee  compass'd  with  thy  kingdom's  pearl,' 
That  speak  my  salutation  in  their  minds ; 
Whose  voices  I  desire  aloud  with  mine,— 
Hail,  king  of  Scotland ! 

AIL  King  of  Scotland,  hail  • 

[FUniriA. 

MaL  We  shall  not  spend  a  large  expense  of  time. 
Before  we  reckon  with  your  several  loves, 
And  make  us  even  with  you.  My  tibanes  and  kins- 
men. 
Henceforth  be  earls,  the  first  that  ever  Scotland 
In  such  an  honour  nam'd.    What's  more  to  do, 
Which  would  be  planted  newly  with  the  time, — 
As  calling  home  our  exil'd  friends  abroad. 
That  flea  the  mares  of  watchful  tyranny  . 
Producing  forth  the  cruel  ministers 
Of  this  dead  butcher,  and  his  fiend-like  queen  ; 
Who,  as  'tis  thought,  by  self  and  violent  hands 
Took  off  her  life  ; — ^Hus,  and  what  needful  else 
That  calls  upon  us,  by  the  grace  of  Grace, 
We  will  perform  in  measure,  time,  and  place : 
So  thanks  to  all  at  once,  and  to  each  one. 
Whom  we  invite  to  see  ui  crown'd  at  Scone. 

[Flouri^    Exeunt. 


This  play  is  deservedly  celebrated  for  the  pro- 
priety or  its  fiction,  and  solemnity,  mndeur,  and 
variety  of  its  action ;  but  it  has  no  nice  discrimina- 
tions of  character :  the  events  are  too  great  to  ad- 
mit the  influence  of  particular  dispositions,  and  the 
course  of  the  action  necessarily  determines  the  con- 
duct of  the  agents. 

The  danger  of  ambition  is  well  described ;  and 
I  know  not  whether  it  may  not  be  said,  in  defence 
of  some  parts  which  now  seem  improbable,  that 
in  Shakspeare's  time  it  was  necessary  to  warn  cre- 
dulity against  vain  and  illusive  predictkxis. 

The  passions  are  directed  to  their  trae  end.  Lady 
Macbeth  is  merely  detested ;  and  though  the  cou- 
rage of  Macbeth  preserves  some  esteem,  yet  every 
reader  rejoices  at  his  falL 

JOHNSON. 

(3)  The  kmgdom*!  wealth  or  onamenL 


iil 


f  • 


K    ,:1" 


KING  JOHN. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


King  John. 

Prince  Hennr,  fusion;  afierward  King  Henry  III. 

Arthur,  duke  of  Bretagru^  9on  q/*  Geffrey ^  lale 

duke  qf  Brete^ntf  the  elder  brother  qf 

King  John, 
William  Marshall,  Earl  qf  Pembroke. 
Gefirey  Fitz-Peter,  Earl  qf  Essex,  chief  justici' 

ary  of  England, 
William  Longsword,  Elarl  of  Salisbury. 
Robert  Bigot,  Earl  of  JVorfolk. 
Hubert  de  Burgh,  chamberlain  to  the  king. 
Robert  Faulconbridge,  son  qf  Sir  Robert  Foul- 

conbridge. 
Philip  Faulconbridge,  his  half-brotfur,  bastard 

son  to  King  Richard  the  First. 
James  Gumey,  servant  to  Lady  Faulcofdnridge. 
Peter  of  Pomfret,  a  prophet. 

Philip,  King  qf  France, 


Lewis,  the  dauphin. 

Arch-duke  of  Austria. 

Cardinal  Pandulph,  thepope'^s  legate. 

Melun,  a  Frtnch  lord. 

Chatillon,  anUnusadorfrom  France  to  King  Johr*. 

Elinor,  the  vndow  qf  King  Henry  //.  and  mothar 

qf  King  John. 
Constance,  mother  to  Arthur. 
Blanch,  daughter  to  Alphonso,  King  qf  Cat^U^ 

and  niece  to  King  John. 
Lady  Faulconbridge,  mother  to  the  bastardy  and 

Robert  faulconbridge. 

Lords  f  ladies^  citizens  qfAngiers,  sheriff,  heralds, 
officers,  soldiers,  messengers,  and  otKer  attend- 
ants. 

Scene,  sometimes  in  England,  and  sometimes  in 

France. 


ACT  I. 

SCEJ^TE  /.—Northampton.  A  room  qf  state  in 
the  palace.  Enter  King  John,  Queen  Elinor, 
Pembroke,  Essex,  Salisbury,  and  others,  with 
Chatillon. 

King  John. 

JNOW,  say,  Chatillon,  what  would  France  with 
us? 
ChaL  Thus,  after  greeting,  speaks  the  king  of 
France, 
In  my  behaviour,*  to  the  majesty. 
The  borrowed  majesty  of  England  here. 
Eli.  A  strange  oeginning ; — borrowed  majesty  .' 
K.  John.  Silence,  good  mother ;  hear  tlie  em- 


Chat.  Philip  of  France,  in  right  and  true  behalf 
Of  thy  deceased  brother  Geffrev's  son, 
Arthur  Plantagenet,  lays  most  lawful  claim 
To  this  fair  island,  and  the  territories ; 
To  Ireland,  Poictiers,  Anjou,  Touraine,  Maine : 
Desiring  thee  to  lay  aside  the  sword. 
Which  sways  usurpingly  these  several  titles ; 
And  put  the  same  into  young  Arthur^s  hand, 
Thy  nephew,  and  right  royal  sovereign. 

iC.  John.  What  follows,  if  we  disallow  of  this  ? 

GuU.  The  proud  control  of  fierce  and  bloody  war, 
To  enforce  these  rights  so  forcibly  withheld. 

K.  John.  Here  have  we  war  for  war,  and  blood 
for  blood, 
Controlment  for  controlment ;  so  answer  France. 

OuU.  Then  take  my  king's  defiance  from  my 
mouth. 
The  furthest  limit  of  my  embassy. 

K.  John.  Bear  mine  to  him,  and  so  depart  in 
peace: 
Be  thou  as  lightning  in  the  eyes  of  France ; 
For  ere  thou  canst  report  I  will  be  there, 

(1)  In  the  manner  I  now  do. 


I  The  thunder  of  my  cannon  shall  be  heard : 
So,  hence !  Be  thou  the  trumpet  of  our  wrath. 
And  sullen  presage  of  your  own  decay. — 
An  honourable  conduct  let  him  have : — 
Pembroke,  look  to*t :  Farewell,  Chatillon. 

[Exeunt  Chatillon  and  Pembroke. 

Eli.  What  now,  my  son  ?  have  1  not  ever  said. 
How  that  ambitious  Constance  would  not  cease, 
Till  she  had  kindled  France,  and  all  the  worid, 
Upon  the  right  and  party  of  her  son  ? 
This  might  nave  been  prevented,  and  made  whole, 
With  very  easy  arguments  of  love ; 
Which  now  the  manage^  of  two  kingdoms  mast 
With  fearful  bloody  issue  arbitrate. 

K.  John.  Our  strong  possession,  and  our  right 
for  us. 

EU.  Your  strong  possession,  much  more  than 
your  right ; 
Or  else  it  must  go  wrong  with  you,  and  me : 
So  much  my  conscience  whispers  in  your  ear; 
Which  none  but  heaven,  and  you,  and  I,  shall  hear. 

Enter  the  Sheriff  qf  Northamptonshire,  who  whiS' 

pers  Essex. 

Essex.  My  liege,  here  is  the  strangest  controversy, 
Come  from  the  country  to  be  judg'd  by  you. 
That  e*er  I  heard  :  Shall  I  produce  the  men  ? 

K.  John.  Let  them  approach. —    [Exit  Sheriff 
Our  abbies,  and  our  priories,  shall  pay 

Re-enter  Sheriff,  with  Robert  Faulconbridge,  and 
Philip,  his  bastard  brother. 

This  expedition's  charge.— What  men  are  you  ? 

Bast.  Your  faithful  subject  I,  a  eentlemau. 
Bom  in  Northamptonshire ;  and  eldest  son. 
As  I  suppose,  to  Robert  Faulconbridige ; 
A  soldier,  by  the  honour-eivinf  hana 
Of  Cceur-de-lion  knighted  in  the  field. 

K.  John.  Whatart  thou.^ 

(2)  Conduct,  administratioa. 


346 


KING  JOHN. 


Act  I 


Rob.  The  son  and  beir  to  that  same  Faulcoo- 
bridge. 

K.  John,  h  that  the  elder,  and  art  thou  the  heir? 
You  came  not  of  one  mother  then,  it  seems. 

Bast.  Most  certain  of  one  mother,  mighty  king, 
That  is  well  known ;  and,  as  I  think,  one  father  : 
But,  for  the  certain  knowledge  of  tliat  truth, 
I  put  you  o'er  to  Heaven,  and  to  my  mother ; 
Of  that  1  doubt,  as  all  men*s  children  may. 

Eli.  Out  on  thee,  rude  man !  thou  dost  shame 
thy  mother. 
And  wound  her  honour  with  this  diffidence. 

Bast.  I,  madam  ?  no,  I  have  no  reason  for  it ; 
That  iij  my  brother^s  plea,  and  none  of  mine ; 
The  which  if  he  can  prove,  *a  pops  me  out 
At  least  from  fair  five  nundred  pound  a  year : 
Heaven  «uard  my  mother^  honour,  and  my  land  ! 

K.  John.  A  good  blunt  fellow . — Why,  being 
younger  bom. 
Doth  he  lay  claim  to  thine  inheritance .' 

Bast.  I  know  not  why,  except  to  get  the  land. 
But  once  he  slanderM  me  with  bastardy : 
But  whe'r'  I  be  as  true  begot,  or  no. 
That  still  I  lay  upon  my  mother^s  head ; 
But,  that  1  am  as  well  begot,  my  liege, 
(Fair  fall  the  bones  that  took  the  pains  for  me !) 
Compare  our  faces,  and  be  judge  yourself. 
If  old  sir  Robert  did  beget  us  both, 
And  were  our  father,  and  this  son  like  him ; — 

0  old  sir  Robert,  father,  on  my  knee 

1  give  Heaven  thanks,  I  was  not  like  to  thee. 

K.  John.  Why,  what  a  madcap  hath  Heaven 
lent  us  here ! 

£/t.  He  hath  a  trick^  of  Coeur-de-lion*8  face, 
The  accent  of  his  tongue  affecteth  him  : 
Do  you  not  read  sonne  tokens  of  my  son 
In  ue  large  composition  of  this  man  ? 

K.  John.  Mine  eye  hath  well  examined  his  parts, 

And  finds  them  perfect  Richard. Sirrah,  spr:ak. 

What  doth  move  you  to  claim  your  brother's  land  ? 

Bast.  Because  he  hath  a  half-face,  like  my  father; 
With  that  half-face  would  he  have  all  my  land  : 
A  half-fac*d  groat  five  hundred  pound  a  year ! 

Rob.  My  gracious  liege,  when  that  my  father  liv'd, 
Your  brother  did  employ  my  father  much  ; — 

Bast,  Well,  sir,  by  this  you  cannot  get  my  land ; 
Your  tale  must  be,  how  he  employed  my  mother. 

Rob.  And  once  de^patch'd  him  in  an  erabasity 
To  Germany,  there,  with  the  emperor. 
To  treat  of  high  affairs  touching  that  time  : 
The  advantage  of  his  abi^ence  took  the  king. 
And  in  the  mean  time  sojoumM  at  my  father's  ; 
Where  how  he  did  prevail,  1  shame  to  speak  : 
But  truth  is  truth ;  large  lengths  of  seas  and  shores 
Between  my  father  and  my  mother  lay 
(As  I  have  neard  my  father  speak  himself,) 
When  this  same  lusty  gentleman  was  got. 
Upon  his  death-bed  he  by  will  bequeath'd 
His  lands  to  me ;  and  took  it,  on  his  death, 
That  this,  my  mother's  son,  was  none  of  his ; 
And,  if  he  were,  he  came  into  the  world 
Full  fourteen  weeks  before  the  course  of  time. 
Then,  good  my  liege,  let  me  have  what  is  mine, 
My  father's  land,  as  was  my  father's  will. 

K.  John.  Sirrah,  your  brother  is  legitimate ; 
Your  father's  vvife  did,  after  wedlock,  bear  him : 
And,  if  she  did  play  false,  the  fault  was  hers ; 
Which  fault  lies  on  the  hazards  of  all  husbands 
That  marry  wives.     Tell  me,  how  if  my  brother, 
Who,  as  you  say,  took  pains  to  get  this  son, 
Had  of  your  father  claim'd  this  son  for  his  } 

(1)  Wh(  Iher.         (2)  Trace,  outline. 
(3)  Dijnit}  of  appearance. 


In  sooth,  good  friend,  your  fat^  ''  cni|ht  hare  kept 
This  calf,  bred  from  his  cow,  tivnii  all  the  world  ; 
In  sooth,  he  might :  then,  if  he  were  my  brothei'!>. 
My  brother  might  not  claim  him ;  nor  your  fatht^r, 
Being  none  of  his,  refuse  him  :  This  concludes,^ 
My  mother's  son  did  get  your  father's  heir ; 
Your  father's  heir  must  have  your  father's  land. 

Rob.  Shall  tlien  my  father  s  will  be  of  no  fotce. 
To  dispossess  that  child  which  is  not  his  } 

Bast.  Of  no  more  force  to  dispossess  me,  sir, 
Than  was  his  will  to  get  me,  as  1  think. 

Eli.  Whether  hadst  thou  rather, — be  a  Faulcon 
bridge, 
And  like  thy  brother,  to  enjoy  thy  land ; 
Or  the  reputed  son  of  Cceur-de-lion, 
Lord  of  thy  presence,'  and  no  land  beside? 

Bast.  Madam,  an  if  my  brother  had  my  shape. 
And  I  had  his,  sir  Robert  his,  like  him ; 
And  if  my  legs  were  two  such  riding-rods. 
My  arms  such  eel-skins  stuff 'd ;  my  face  so  thin. 
That  in  mine  ear  I  durst  not  stick  a  rose. 
Lest  men  should  say,  Look,  where  three-fartbiogl 

goes ! 
And,  to  his  shape,  were  heir  to  all  this  land, 
'Would  I  might  never  stir  from  ofif  this  place, 
I'd  give  it  every  foot  to  have  this  face ; 
I  would  not  be  sir  Nob*  in  any  case. 

Eli.  I  like  thee  well;  Wilt  thou  forsake  thy  <br» 
tune. 
Bequeath  thy  land  to  him,  and  follow  me .' 
I  am  a  soldier,  and  now  bound  to  France. 

Bast.  Brother,  take  you  my  land,  I'll  take  my 
chance : 
Your  face  hath  got  five  hundred  pounds  a  year ; 
Yet  sell  your  face  for  five  pence,  and  'tis  dear.— 
Madam,  I'll  follow  you  unto  the  death. 

Eli.  Nay,  I  would  have  you  go  before  roe  thither. 

Bast.  Our  countr}'  manners  give  our  betters  way 

K.  John.  What  is  thy  name  ? 

Bast.  Philip,  my  liege ;  so  is  my  name  begun ; 
Philip,  good  old  sir  Robert's  wife's  eldest  son. 

K.  John.  From  hejiceforth  bear  his  name  whose 
form  thou  bear'st : 
Kneel  thou  down  Philip,  but  arise  more  great; 
Arise  sir  Richard,  and  Plantagenet. 

Bast.  Brother,  by  the  mother's  side,  give  rat 
your  hand ; 
My  father  gave  me  honour,  yours  gave  land : — 
Now  blessed  be  the  hour,  by  night  or  day. 
When  I  was  got,  sir  Robert  was  away. 

Eli.  The  very  spirit  of  Plantai'enet ! — 
[  am  thy  grandame,  Richard  ;  call  me  so. 

Bast.  Madam,  by  chance,  but  not  by  truth: 
What  though  f 
Something  about,  a  little  from  the  right. 

In  at  the  window,  or  else  o'er  the  natch : 
Who  dares  not  stir  by  day,  must  walk  by  n^ht; 

And  have  is  have,  however  men  do  catch : 
Near  or  far  off,  well  won  is  still  well  shot ; 
.\nd  I  am  I,  howe'er  I  was  begot 

K.  John.  Go,  Faulconbridge ;  now  hast  thou 
thy  desire, 
A  landless  knight  makes  thee  a  landed  'squire— 
Come,  madam,  and  come,  Richard  ;  we  must  spe*" 
For  France,  for  France ;  for  it  is  more  than  nf"- 

Bast.  Brother,  adieu ;  Good  fortune  come  to  the<^ 
For  thou  wast  got  i'the  way  of  honesty. 

[Exeunt  all  but  the  Btstftr^^- 
A  foot  of  honour  better  than  I  was ; 
But  many  a  many  foot  of  land  the  worse. 

Well,  now  can  I  make  any  Joan  a  lady  : • 

Good  den^^  sir  Richard^ — God-a-mert^^/eUoVt^ 

(4)  Robert.  (5)  Good  eveniiig. 


SeemL 


KING  JOHN. 


347 


And  if  hb  name  be  George,  1*11  call  him  Peter : 
For  new-made  honour  doth  forget  men*8  names ; 
Tis  too  respective^i  and  too  sociable, 
For  your  conversion.^    Now  your  traveller, — 
He  and  his  tooth-pick  at  my  worship^s  nness; 
And  when  my  knightly  stomach  is  sufficed. 
Why  then  1  suck  my  teeth,  and  catechise 

My  picked  man  of  countries  :* Mu  dear  rir, 

fThus,  leaning  on  mine  elbow,  I  begin,) 
/  ihall  btseech  you — That  is  question  now ; 
And  then  comes  answer  like  an  ABC-book  'S — 
O,  «r,  says  answer,  at  your  best  command  ; 
Jit  your  employment ;  at  your  service^  sir  .•- 


^o  sir,  says  question,  /,  su>eet  sir,  at  yours : 

And  sio,  ere  answer  knows  what  question  would 

f Saving  in  dialogue  of  compliment ; 

And  talking  of  the  Alps,  and  Apennines, 

The  Pyrencan,  and  the  river  Po,) 

It  draws  towards  supper  in  conclusion  sa 

But  this  is  worshipful  society. 

And  fits  the  mounting  spirit,  like  myself: 

For  1^  is  but  a  bastard  to  the  time. 

That  doth  not  smack  of  observation 

(And  so  am  I,  whether  I  smack,  or  no;) 

And  not  alone  in  habit  and  device, 

Exterior  form,  outward  accoutrement ; 

But  from  the  inward  motion  to  deliver 

Sweet,  sweet,  sweet  poison  for  the  age*8  tooth  • 

Which,  though  I  will  not  practise  to  deceive, 

Yet,  to  avoid  deceit,  I  mean  to  learn  : 

For  it  shall  strew  the  footsteps  of  my  rising. — 

But  who  comes  in  such  haste,  in  riding  rqbes  ? 

What  woman-post  is  this?  hath  she  no  husband, 

That  will  lake  pains  to  blow  a  horn  before  her.^ 

Enter  Lady  Faulconoridge  and  James  Gumey. 

O  me !  it  is  my  mother  : — How  now,  good  lady  f 
What  brings  you  here  to  court  so  hastilv  ? 

Lady  F.  VVhere  is  that  slave,  thy  brother.^  where 
is  he  f 
That  holds  in  chase  mine  honour  up  and  down  f 

Bast  My  brother  Robert  ?  old  sir  Robert's  son  f 
Colbrand  the  giant,  that  same  mighty  man  f 
Is  it  sir  Robert's  son,  that  you  seek  so  ? 
Lady  F.  Sir  Robert's  son  !  Ay,  thou  unreverend 
boy. 
Sir  Robert's  son :  Why  scom'st  thou  at  sir  Robert? 
He  is  sir  Robert's  son ;  and  so  art  thou. 
Bast.  James  Gumey,  wilt  thou  give  us  leave  a 

while  ? 
Gur.  Good  leave,  good  Philip. 
Bast.  Philip  f — sparrow ! — James, 

There's  toys*  abroad ;  anon  1*11  tell  thee  more. 

[Exit  Gumey. 
Madam,  I  was  not  old  sir  Robert's  son  ; 
Sir  Robert  might  have  cat  his  part  in  me 
Upon  Good- Friday,  and  ne'er  nroke  his  fast : 
Sir  Robert  could  do  well ;  Marry  (to  confess !) 
Could  he  get  me  ?  Sir  Robert  could  not  do  it ; 
Wc    know   his    handy-work: — Therefore,  good 

mother. 
To  whom  am  I  beholden  for  these  limbs  ? 
Sir  Robert  never  holp  to  make  this  leg. 

Lady  F.  Hast  thou  conspired  with  thy  brother  too, 
That  for  thine  own  gain  should'st  defend  mine 

honour  ? 
What  means  this  scorn,  thou  most  untoward  knave? 
Bast.   Knight,  knight,  good  mother, — Basilisco- 
like:6 
What !  I  am  dubb'd ;  I  have  it  on  my  shoulder. 

(V  Respectable.         (2)  Change  of  condition. 
?3*  My  travelled  fop.         (4)  Catechism. 
(5)  Idle  reports.  * 


But,  mother,  I  am  not  sir  Robert's  son ; 

I  have  disclaim'd  sir  Robert,  and  my  land ; 

Legitimation,  name,  and  all  is  gone  : 

Then,  good  my  mother,  let  me  know  my  father ; 

Some  proper  man,  I  hope ;  Who  was  it,  mother  ? 

Laay  F.  Hast  thou  denied  thyself  a  Faulcon* 
bridge  ? 

Bast.   As  faithfully  as  I  deny  the  devil. 

Lady  F.  King  Richard  CcEur-de-lion  was  thy 
father ; 
By  long  and  vehement  suit  I  was  seduc'd 

To  make  room  for  him  in  my  husband's  bed  : 

Heaven  lay  not  my  transgression  to  my  charge ! 

Thou  art  the  issue  of  my  dear  offence. 

Which  was  so  strongly  urg'd,  past  my  defence. 

Bast.  Now,  by  this  light,  were  I  to  gel  again, 
Madam,  1  would  not  wish  a  better  father. 
Some  sins  do  bear  their  privilege  on  earth. 
And  so  doth  yours ;  your  fault  was  not  your  folly  : 
Needs  must  you  lay  your  heart  at  his  dispose, — 
Subjected  tribute  to  commanding  love, — 
Against  whose  fury  and  unmatched  force 
The  awless  lion  could  not  wage  the  fight. 
Nor  keep  his  princely  heart  from  Richard's  hand. 
He,  that  perforce  robs  lions  of  their  h«jarts. 
May  easily  win  a  woman's.     Ay,  my  mother. 
With  all  my  heart  I  thank  thee  for  my  father  ! 
Who  lives  and  dares  but  say,  thou  didst  not  well 
When  I  was  got,  I'll  send  his  soul  to  hell. 
Come,  lady,  f  will  show  thee  to  my  kin ; 

And  they  shall  say,  when  Richard  me  begot, 
If  thou  hadst  said  him  nay,  it  had  been  sin  : 

Who  says  it  was,  he  liea;  I  say,  'twas  not  [Exe. 


ACT  II. 

SCEJ^E  /.—France.  Btfore  the  walls  of  Xa- 
giers.  Enter,  on  one  side,  the  Archduke  of  Aus- 
tria, and  forces  f  on  the  other,  Philip,  King  qf 
France,  and  forces  /  Lewis,  Constance,  Arthur, 
and  attendants. 

Lew.  Before  Angiera  well  met,  brave  Austria. — 
Arthur,  that  great  forerunner  of  thy  blood, 
Richard,  that  robb'd  the  lion  of  his  heart, 
And  fought  the  holy  wars  in  Palestine, 
By  this  brave  duke  came  early  to  his  grave  : 
And,  for  amends  to  his  posterity. 
At  our  importance,^  hither  is  he  come. 
To  spreaa  his  colours,  boy,  in  thy  behalf; 
And  to  rebuke  the  usurpmtion 
Of  thy  unnatural  uncle,  English  John  : 
Embrace  him,  love  him,  give  him  welcome  hither. 

Arth.  God  shall  forgive  youCoeur-de-lion's  death, 
The  rather,  that  you  give  his  offspring  life. 
Shadowing  their  right  under  your  wings  of  war : 
I  give  you  welcome  with  a  powerless  hand, 
But  with  a  heart  full  of  unstained  love : 
Welcome  before  the  gates  of  Anglers,  duke. 

Lew.  A  noble  boy  !  Who  would  not  do  thee  right' 

Aust.  Upon  thy  cheek  lay  I  this  zealous  kiss. 
As  seal  to  tnis  indfenture  of  my  love ; 
That  to  my  home  I  will  no  more  return. 
Till  Angiers,  and  the  right  thou  hast  in  France, 
Together  with  that  pale,  that  whitc-fac'd  shore, 
Whose  foot  spurns  back  the  ocean's  roaring  tides. 
And  coops  from  other  lands  her  islanders. 
Even  till  that  England,  hedg'd  in  with  the  main. 
That  water-walled  bulwark,  still  secure 

(fy)  A  character  in  an  old  drama,  called  Soliman 
ana  Perseda. 
(7)  Importunity. 


548 


KING  JOHN. 


Acta 


\nd  confident  from  foreign  purpoiet, 
Kven  till  that  utmost  comer  of  the  west 
Salate  thee  for  her  king :  till  then,  fair  boj, 
Will  I  not  think  of  home,  but  follow  arms. 

QmtL  Of  take  his  motber*s  thanks,  a  widow's 
thanks. 
Till  your  strong  hand  shall  help  toeive  him  strength, 
To  make  a  more  requital  to  your  love. 

Atut.  The  peace  of  heaven  is  theirs,  that  liA 
their  swords 
In  such  a  just  and  charitable  war. 

K,  Phi.  Well  then,  to  work ;  our  cannon  shall 
be  bent 
Against  the  brows  of  this  resisting  town.— — 
Call  for  our  chiefest  men  of  discipline. 
To  cull  the  plots  of  best  advantages  :> — 
WeMl  lay  before  this  town  our  royal  boues. 
Wade  to  the  market-place  in  Frenchmen's  blood, 
But  we  will  make  it  subject  to  this  boy. 

Corui.  Stay  for  an  answer  to  your  embassy, 
Lest  unadvised  vou  stain  your  swords  with  blood  : 
My  lord  Chatilion  may  from  Ejigland  bring 
That  right  in  peace,  which  here  we  urge  in  war ; 
And  then  we  shall  re])ent  each  drop  of  blood, 
That  hot  rash  haste  so  indirectly  shed. 

Enter  Chatilion. 

IC  Phi.  A  wonder,  lady ! — lo,  upon  thy  wish. 
Our  messenger  Chatilion  is  arrivM. — 
What  England  says,  say  briefly,  rentle  lord, 
We  coldly  pause  for  thee ;  Chatilion,  speak. 

Oiat.  Then  turn  your  forces  from  this  paltry  siege. 
And  stir  them  up  against  a  mightier  task. 
England,  impatient  of  your  iust  demands. 
Hath  put  himself  in  arms ;  the  adverse  winds. 
Whose  leisure  I  have  staid,  have  given  him  time 
To  land  his  l^ions  all  as  soon  as  I : 
His  marches  are  expedient^  to  this  town, 
His  forces  strong,  his  soldiers  confident. 
With  him  along  is  come  the  mother-queen. 
An  At^,s  stirring  him  to  blood  and  strife ; 
With  her  her  niece,  the  lady  Blanch  of  Spain ; 
With  them  a  bastard  of  the  king  deceas'a  : 
And  all  the  unsettled  hunx)ur8.of  the  land, — 
Rash,  inconsiderate,  fiery  voluntaries. 
With  ladies*  faces,  and  fierce  dragons*  spleens, — 
Have  sold  their  fortunes  at  their  native  homes. 
Bearing  their  birthrights  proudly  on  their  backs. 
To  make  a  hazard  of  new  fortunes  here. 
In  brief,  a  braver  choice  of  dauntless  spirits. 
Than  now  the  English  bottoms  have  waft  o*er, 
Did  never  float  upon  the  swelling  tide, 
To  do  offence  and  scath^  in  Christendom. 
The  interruption  of  their  churlish  drums 

[Drums  beat. 
Cuts  otf  more  circumstance :  they  are  at  hand, 
To  parley,  or  to  fight ;  therefore,  prepare. 

K.  Phi.  How  much  unlookM  for  is  this  expedi- 
tion ! 

Atut.  By  how  much  unexpected,  by  so  much 
We  must  awake  endeavour  Tor  defence ; 
For  courage  mounteth  with  occasion  : 
Let  them  be  welcome  then,  we  are  prepared. 

Enter  King  John,  Elinor,  Blanch,  the  Bastard, 
Pembroke,  and  forces, 

IC  John.  Peace  be  to  France;  if  France  in 
])eace  permit 
Our  just  and  lineal  entrance  to  our  own  ! 
..f  not ;  bleed  France,  and  peace  ascend  to  heaven ! 

ft)  Best  stations  to  over-awe  the  town. 

(2)  Immediate,  expeditious. 

(3;  The  goddess  of  revenge.  (4)  Mischief. 


Whiles  we,  God*s  wradifbl  agent,  do  correct 
Their  proud  contempt  that  beat  his  peace  toheavea 

K.  rhL  Peace  be  to  England;  if  that  war  relom 
From  France  to  England,  there  to  live  in  peace ! 
England  we  love ;  and,  for  that  £ogland*8  sake. 
With  burden  of  our  armour  here  we  sweat : 
This  toil  of  ours  should  be  a  work  of  thine ; 
But  thou  from  loving  England  art  so  far. 
That  thou  hast  under-wrought^  his  lawful  kin^,  , 
Cut  off  the  sequence^  of  po(»terity. 
Outfaced  infant  state,  ana  done  a  rape 
Upon  the  maiden  virtue  of  the  crown. 
Look  here  upon  thy  brother  Geflrey's  &ce ; — 
These  eyes,  these  brows,  were  moulded  out  of  his : 
This  little  abstract  doth  contain  that  large. 
Which  died  in  Geffrey ;  and  the  hand  of  time 
Shall  draw  this  brief  into  as  huge  a  volame. 
That  GeflTrey  was  thy  elder  brother  bom. 
And  this  his  son ;  England  was  Geffrey's  right. 
And  this  is  Geflfrey's  :  In  the  name  of  God, 
How  comes  it  then,  that  thou  art  calPd  a  king. 
When  living  blood  doth  in  these  temples  beat, 
W'hich  owe  the  crown  that  thou  o*er-masterest.^ 

K.  John.  From  whom  hast  thou  this  great  codb- 
mission,  France, 
To  draw  my  answer  from  thy  articles  ? 

K.  Phi.  From  that  supernal^  judge,  that  Kin 
good  thoughts 
In  any  breast  of  strong  authority. 
To  look  into  the  blots  and  stains  of  r^t 
That  judge  hath  made  me  guardian  to  this  boy : 
Under  whose  warrant,  I  impeach  thy  wrcog ; 
And,  by  whose  help,  I  mean  to  chastise  it 

K.  John.  Alack,  thou  dost  usurp  authority. 

K.  Phi.  Excuse ;  it  is  to  beat  usurping  down. 

Eli.  Who  is  it,  thou  dost  call  usurper,  France? 

Const.  Let  me  make  answer ; — thy  usurping  sob. 

Eli.  Out,  insolent!  thy  bastard  ^all  be  king; 
That  thou  may*st  be  a  queen,  and  check  the  world! 

Const.  My  bed  was  ever  to  thy  son  as  true. 
As  thine  was  to  thy  husband  :  and  this  boy 
Liker  in  feature  to  his  father  Geffrey, 
Than  thou  and  John  in  manners ;  b^i^  as  like. 
As  rain  to  water,  or  devil  to  his  dam. 
M^  boy  a  bastard  !  By  my  soul,  I  think. 
His  father  never  was  so  true  begot ; 
It  cannot  be,  an  if  thou  wert  his  mother. 

Eli.  There's  a  good  nwther,  boy,  that  blots  tbf 
father. 

Const.    There's  a   good  grandam,  bo}',   tfast 
would  blot  thee. 

Aust.  Peace! 

Bast.  Hear  the  crier. 

Aust.  What  the  devil  art  thoo.' 

Bast.  One  that  will  play  the  devil,  »t,  with 
you. 
An  *a  mav  catch  your  hide  and  you  alone. 
You  are  the  hare  of  whom  the  proverb  goes, 
Whoiie  valour  plucks  dead  lions  by  the  beaid; 
[MI  tfinokc  vour  skin-coat,^  an  I  catch  you  right ; 
Sirrah,  loolc  to't ;  i'faith,  I  will,  i'faith. 

Blanch.  O,  well  did  he  become  that  lion's  robe, 
That  did  disirobe  the  lion  of  that  robe  ! 

Bast.  It  lies  as  sightly  on  the  back  of  him. 
As  great  Alcides*  shoes  upon  an  ass : — 
But,  ass,  I'll  take  that  burden  from  your  back ; 
Or  lay  on  that,  shall  make  your  shoulders  crack. 

Aust.  What  cracker  is  this  same,  that  d^  our 
ears 
With  this  abundance  of  supeiflaous  breath  ? 

(5)  Undemiined.  (6)  Succe»ioa 

(7)  A  short  writing.  (8)  CelestiaU 

(9)  Austria  wears  a  lion's  skin. 


Scene  I. 


KING  JOHN. 


349 


K.  Phi.  Lewia,  deteimine  what  we  ahall  do 
straight 

Lew.  Wcunen  and  fiwls,  break  off  joar  confer- 
ence.— 
Kin^  John,  this  is  the  verjr  sum  of  all, — 
Enjpaiid,  and  Ireland,  Anjou,  Touraine,  Maine, 
In  rig^ht  of  Arthur  do  I  claim  of  thee : 
Wilt  thou  resini  them,  and  lay  down  thv  arms  f 

K.  John,  my  life  as  soon : — I  do  defy  thee, 
France. 
Arthur  of  Bretagne,  yield  thee  to  my  hand ; 
And,  out  of  ray  dear  love,  Pll  eive  thee  more 
Than  e*er  the  coward  hand  of  France  can  win : 
Submit  thee,  boy. 

Eli.  Come  to  thy  grandam,  child. 

Const.  Do,  child,  go  to  it*  grandam,  child ; 
Give  grandam  kingdom,  ana  it*  grandam  will 
Give  it  a  plum,  a  cherry,  and  a  % : 
There*s  a  good  grandam. 

Arih.  Good  my  mother,  peace ! 

I  would,  that  I  were  low  laid  in  my  grave ; 
I  am  not  worth  this  coil'  that's  made  for  me. 

EU.  His  mother  shames  him  so,  poor  boy,  he 
weeps. 

Const.  Now  shame  upon  you,  whe'r^  the  does, 
or  no! 
His  grandam*s  wrongs,  and  not  his  mother's  shames. 
Draw  those  heaven-moving  pearls  from  his  poor 

eyes, 
Which  heaven  shall  take  in  nature  of  a  fee ; 
Ay,  with  these  cr)-stal  beads  heaven  shall  be  brib'd 
To  do  him  justice,  and  revenee  on  you. 

EIL  Thou  monstrous  slanderer  of  heaven  and 
earth! 

Const  Thou  monstrous  injurer  of  heaven  and 
earth! 
Call  not  me  slanderer ;  thou,  and  thine,  usurp 
The  dixninations,  royalties,  and  rights. 
Of  this  oppressed  boy :  This  is  thy  eldert  son's  son, 
Infortunate  in  nothing  but  in  thee; 
Thy  sius  are  visited  in  this  poor  child ; 
The  canon  of  the  law  is  laid  on  him. 
Being  but  the  second  generation 
Removed  from  thv  sin-conceiving  womb. 

K.  John.  Bedfam,  have  done. 

Const.  I  have  but  this  to  say, — 

That  he's  not  only  plagued  for  her  sin. 
But  God  hath  made  her  sin  and  her  the  plague 
On  this  removed  issue,  plagu'd  for  her. 
And  with  her  plague,  her  sin;  his  injury 
Her  injury, — the  beadle  to  her  sin  ; 
All  punish'd  in  the  person  of  this  child, 
Andf  all  for  her ;  A  plague  upon  her ! 

Eli.  Thou  unadvised  scola,  I  can  produce 
A  will,  that  bars  the  title  of  thy  son. 

Const.  Ay,  who  doubts  that  ?  a  will !  a  wicked  will ; 
A  woman's  will ;  a  canker'd  grandam's  will  I 

K.  Phi.  Peace,  lady  ;  pause,  or  be  more  tem- 
perate : 
It  ill  beseems  this  presence,  to  cry  aim* 
To  these  ill-tuned  repetitions. — 
5v>nie  trumpet  summon  hither  to  the  walls 
These  men  of  Anpiers ;  let  u<!  hear  them  speak, 
\Vho!»e  title  they  admit,  Arthur's  or  John's. 

Trumpets  sound.    Enter  Citizens  upon  the  vmlls. 

1  Cit.  Who  is  it,  that  hath  wam'd  us  to  the  walls.' 
K.  Phi.  'Tis  France,  for  Fns:Iand. 
K.  John.  England,  for  itself: 

Vou  men  of  Angiers,  and  my  lovine  subjects, — 
K.  Phi.  You  loving  men  of  Angiers,  Arthur's 
subjects, 

(1)  Bustle.      (2)  ^liether.    (3)  To  encourage. 


Our  trumpet  call'd  you  to  this  gentle  par1e.< 

K.  John,  For  our  advantage ; — ^Theref(xre,  bear 

us  first 

These  flags  of  France,  that  are  advanced  here 
Before  the  eye  and  prospect  of  your  town, 
Have  hither  march'd  to  your  endamagement : 
The  cannons  have  their  bowels  full  of  wrath ; 
And  ready  mounted  are  they,  to  spit  forth 
Their  iron  indignation  'gainst  your  walls : 
All  preparation  for  a  bloody  siege. 
And  merciless  proceeding  by  these  French, 
Confmit  your  city's  eyes,  your  winking  gates ; 
And,  but  for  our  approach,  those  sleeping  stones. 
That  as  a  waist  do  girdle  you  about. 
By  the  compulsion  of  their  ordnance 
By  this  time  from  their  fixed  beds  of  lime 
Had  been  dishabited,  and  wide  havoc  made 
For  bloody  power  to  rush  upon  your  peace. 
But,  on  the  sight  of  us,  your  lawful  king. 
Who  painfully,  with  much  expedient  march. 
Have  brought  a  countercheck  before  your  gates. 
To  save  unscratch'd  your  city's  threaten'd  cheeks, — 
Behold,  the  French,  amaz'd,  vouchsafe  a  parle : 
And  now,  instead  of  bullets  wrapp'd  in  fire, 
To  make  a  shaking  fever  in  your  walls. 
They  shoot  but  calm  words,  folded  up  in  smoke. 
To  make  a  faithless  error  in  your  ears : 
Which  trust  accordingly,  kind  citizens. 
And  let  us  in,  your  king;  whose  labour'd  spirits, 
Forwearied^  in  this  action  of  swift  speed. 
Crave  harbourage  within  your  city  walls. 

K.  Phi.  When  I  have  said,  make  answer  to  as 
both. 
Lo,  in  this  right  hand,  whose  protection 
Is  most  divinely  vow'd  upon  the  right 
Of  him  it  holds,  stands  young  Plantagenet ; 
Son  to  the  elder  brother  of  this  man. 
And  king  o'er  him,  and  all  that  he  enjoys : 
For  this  down-trodden  equity,  we  tread 
III  warlike  march  these  g^reens  before  your  town . 
Being  no  further  enemy  to  you. 
Than  the  constraint  of  hospitable  zeal. 
In  the  relief  of  this  opprcs:»cd  child. 
Religiously  provokes.     Be  pleased  then 
To  pay  that  duty,  which  you  truly  owe. 
To  dim  that  owea^  it ;  namely,  this  young  prince : 
And  then  our  arms,  like  to  a  muzzled  bear. 
Save  in  aspect,  ha^'e  all  offence  seal'd  up ; 
Our  cannons'  malice  vainly  shall  be  spent 
Against  the  invulnerable  clouds  of  heaven ; 
And,  with  a  blessed  and  unvex'd  retire. 
With  unhack'd  swords,  and  helmets  all  unbruis'd. 
We  will  bear  home  that  lusty  blood  again. 
Which  here  we  came  to  spout  against  your  town. 
And  leave  your  children,  wives,  and  you,  in  peace. 
But  if  you  fondly  pass  our  proffer'd  offer, 
'Tis  not  the  roundure^  of  your  old-fac'd  walls 
('ail  hide  you  from  our  messengers  of  war; 
Though  all  these  English,  and  tlieir  discipline, 
Were  harbour'd  in  their  rude  circumference. 
Then,  tell  us,  shall  your  city  call  us  lord. 
In  that  behalf  which  we  have  challeng'd  it  ? 
Or  (•hall  we  give  the  signal  to  our  rage. 
And  stalk  in  blood  to  our  possession  f 

1  Cit.  In  brief,  we  are  the  king  of  England's 
subjects ; 
For  him,  and  in  his  right,  we  hold  this  town. 

K.  John.  Acknowledge  then  the  king,  and  let 


me  m. 


1  Cit. 


That  can  we  not :  but  he  that  proves  the 
king. 


(4)  Conference        (5)  Worn  out 
(6)  Owns.  (7)  Circle. 


350 


KING  JOHN. 


Ad  U. 


To  him  will  we  prove  loyal ;  till  that  timely 
Have  we  ramm^a  up  our  gates  against  the  world. 
K.  John,  Doth  not  the  crown  of  England  prove 
the  king? 
And,  if  not  that,  1  bring  you  witnesses, 
Twice  fifteen  thousand  hearts  of  Eoglaiid^s  breed, — 
Beat.  Bastards,  and  else. 
K.  John,  To  verify  our  title  with  their  lives. 
.    K.  Phi.  As  many,  and  as  well-bom  bloods  as 

those, 

Bast  Some  bastards  too. 
K.  Phi.  Stand  in  his  face,  to  contradict  his  claim. 
1  Cii.  Till  you  compound  whose  right  is  worthiest, 
We,  for  the  worthiest,  hold  the  right  from  both. 
K.  John.  Then  God  forgive  tlus  sin  of  all  those 
souls. 
That  to  their  everlasting  residence. 
Before  the  dew  of  eveinng  fall,  shall  fleet. 
In  dreadful  trial  of  our  kingdom^s  king! 
K.  Phi.  Amen,  Amen  ! — Mount,  chevaliers !  to 

arms ! 
BasL  St  George, — (hat  swingM  the  dragon,  and 
e'er  since. 
Sits  on  his  horseback  at  mine  hostess'  door. 
Teach  us  some  fence  ! — Sirrah,  were  I  at  home. 
At  your    den,  sirrah,   \To  Austria,]   with  your 

lioness, 
I'd  set  an  ox  head  to  your  lion's  hide, 
And  make  a  nuxister  of  you. 
Aiist.  Peace ;  no  more. 

Bast  O,  tremble ;  for  you  hear  the  lion  roar. 
K.  John.  Up  higher  to  the  plain ;  where  we'll 
set  forth. 
In  best  appointment,  all  our  regiments. 
Bast.  Speed  then,  to  take  advantage  of  the  field. 
K.  Phi,  It  shall  be  so  \—[To  Lewis.]  and  at  the 
other  hill 
Command  the  rest  to  stand. — God,  and  our  right ! 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJVE  11.— The  same.  Alarums  and  Excur- 
sions ;  then  a  Retreat.  Enter  a  French  Herald, 
%Bith  trumpets^  to  the  gates. 

F.  Her.  You  men  of  Angiers,  open  wide  your 
gates, 
And  let  youn^  Arthur,  duke  of  Brctagne,  in; 
Who,  by  the  hand  of  France,  this  day  hath  made 
Much  work  for  tears  in  many  an  English  mother, 
W^hose  sons  lie  scattered  on  the  bleeding  gixHind  : 
Many  a  widow's  husband  grovelling  lies. 
Coldly  embracing  the  discolour'd  earth  ; 
And  victory,  with  little  loss,  doth  play 
Upon  the  dancing  banners  of  the  French ; 
Who  are  at  hand,  triumphantly  display'd, 
To  enter  conquerors,  and  to  proclaim 
Arthur  of  Bretagne,  Englana's  king,  and  yours. 

Enter  an  English  Herald,  with  trumpets. 

E.  Her.  Rejoice,  you  men  of  Angiers,  ring  your 
bells ; 
King  John,  your  king  and  England's,  doth  approach. 
Commander  of  this  hot  malicious  day  ! 
Their  armours,  that  march'd  hence  so  silver-bright. 
Hither  return  all  gilt  with  Frenchmen's  blood ; 
There  stuck  no  plume  in  any  English  crest. 
That  is  removed  by  a  staff  of  France ; 
Our  colours  do  return  in  those  same  hands 
That  did  display  them  when  we  first  march'd  forth ; 
And,  like  a  jolly  troop  of  huntsmen,  come 
Our  lusty  English,  all  with  purpled  hands, 
Died  in  the  dying  slaughter  of  their  foes : 
Open  your  gates,  and  give  the  victors  way. 

(])  Judged,  determined.         (2)  Potentates. 


Cit.  Heralds,  from  ofifour  towers  we  might  behold. 
From  first  to  last,  the  onset  and  retire 
Of  both  your  armies ;  whose  equality 
By  our  best  eyes  cannot  be  censurea  :* 
Blood  hath  bought  blood,  and  blows  have  answo'd 

blows ; 
Strength  matched  with  strength,  and  power  oon- 

fiXHited  power : 
Both  are  alike ;  and  both  alike  we  like. 
One  must  prove  greatest :  while  they  weigh  so  even, 
We  hold  our  town  for  neither ;  yet  for  both. 

Enter ^  at  one  side.  King  John,  vAth  his  power , 
Elinor,  Blanch,  and  the  Bastard ;  a/  the  other, 
King  Philip,  Lewis,  Austria,  €md  Forces. 

K.  John,  France,  hast  thou  yet  more  blood  to 
cast  away  f  ' 
Say,  shall  the  current  of  our  right  run  on .' 
A^'nose  passage,  vex'd  with  thy  impediment. 
Shall  leave  his  native  channel,  and  o'er-swell 
With  course  disturb'd  even  thy  confining  shores ; 
Unless  thou  let  his  silver  water  keep 
A  peaceful  prepress  to  the  ocean. 

K.  Phi.  England,  thou  hast  not  sav'd  one  drop 
of  blood. 
In  this  hot  trial,  more  than  we  of  France ; 
Rather,  lost  more  :  And  by  this  hand  I  swear. 
That  sways  the  eaKh  this  climate  overlooks, — 
Before  we  will  lay  down  our  just-borne  anns. 
We'll  put  thee  down,  'gainst  whom  these  arms  we 

bear. 
Or  add  a  royal  number  to  the  dead  ; 
Gracing  the  scroll,  that  tells  of  this  war's  toes, 
With  slaughter  coupled  to  the  name  of  kings. 

Bast.  Ha,  majesty !  how  hi^h  thy  gloiy  towers, 
When  the  rich  blood  of  kings  is  set  en  fire ! 
O,  now  doth  death  line  his  dead  chaps  with  steel ; 
The  swords  of  soldiers  are  his  teeth,  his  fiuigs ; 
And  now  he  feasts,  mouthing  the  flesh  at  men, 
In  undetermin'd  differences  of  kings. — 
Why  stand  these  royal  fronts  amazed  thus  ^ 
Cry,  havoc,  kings  !  back  to  the  stained  field, 
You  equal  potents,^  fiery-kindled  spirits ! 
Then  let  confusion  of  one  part  confirm 
The  other's  peace ;  till  then,  blows,  blood,  and 
death ! 

K.  John.   Whose  party  do  the  townsmen  yet 
admit } 

K.  Phi.   Speak,  citizens,  for  England;  who's 
your  king  ^ 

1  Cit.  The  king  of  England,  when  we  know  the 
king. 

K.  Phi.  Know  him  in  us,  that  here  bold  up  bis 
right. 

K.  John.  In  us,  that  are  our  own  gn^eat  deputy, 
And  bear  possession  of  our  person  here ; 
Lord  of  our  presence,  Angiers,  and  of  you. 

I  Cit.  A  greater  power  than  we,  denies  all  thb; 
And,  till  it  be  undoubted,  we  do  lock 
Our  former  scruple  in  our  strong-barr'd  gates : 
King'd  of  our  fears;  until  our  /ears,  resolv'd, 
Be  by  some  certain  king  purg'd  and  depos'd. 

Bast,  By  heaven,  these  scroyles*  of  Angioi 
flout  you,  kings ; 
And  stand  securelv  on  their  battlements. 
As  in  a  theatre,  whence  they  gape  and  point 
At  your  industrious  scenes  and  acts  of  death. 
Your  royal  presences  be  rul'd  by  me ; 
Do  like  the  mutines^  of  Jerusalem, 
Be  friends  a  while,  and  both  conjointly  bend 
Your  sharpest  deeds  of  malice  on  this  town : 
By  east  and  west  let  France  and  Elngland  moant 

(3)  Scabbv  fellofws.  (4)  Motineen. 


KING  JOHN. 


351 


cannon^  charged  to  the  mouths ; 
saring  clainoura  have  brawPd  down 
3f  this  contemptuous  city : 
fitly  upon  these  jades, 
ed  de;iolation 
naked  as  the  vulgar  air. 
ever  your  united  strengths, 
nningfed  colours  once  again  { 
;e,  and  bloody  point  to  point : 
lent,  fortune  shall  cull  forth 
her  happy  minion ; 
'our  she  sliall  give  the  day, 
ith  a  glorious  victor)', 
lis  wild  counsel,  mighty  states  ? 
wnething  of  the  policy  ? 
w,  by  the  sky  that  hang^  above  our 

•France,  shall  we  knit  our  powers, 
^ers  even  with  the  ground ; 
hi  who  shall  be  king  of  it  ? 
hou  hast  the  mettle  of  a  king, — 
as  we  are,  by  this  peevish  town, — 
nouth  of  thy  artillery, 
,  against  these  saucy  walls : 
(7e  have  dashM  them  to  the  ground, 
-  each  other ;  and,  pell-mell, 
a  ourselves,  for  heaven,  or  hell, 
it  be  so : — Say,  where  will  you  as- 

)  from  the  west  will  send  destruction 

XMom. 

I  the  north. 

Our  thunder  from  the  south, 
drift  of  bullets  on  this  town, 
ent  discipline !  From  north  to  south, 
ince  shoot  in  each  other^s  mouth  : 

[Aside. 
it : — Come,  away,  away ! 
OS,  great  kings :  vouchsafe  a  while 

V  you  peace,  and  fair-faced  league ; 

ty  without  stroke,  or  wound ; 

eathin^  lives  to  die  in  beds, 

)  sacrifices  for  the  field  : 

lit  hear  me,  mighty  kings. 

tak  on,  with  favour ;  we  are  bent  to 

daughter  there  of  Spain,  the  lady 

ind  ;  Look  upon  the  years 

auphin,  and  that  lovely  maid : 

ya\d  go  in  quest  of  beauty, 

le  find  it  fairer  than  in  Blanch  ? 

should  go  in  search  of  virtue, 

le  find  it  purer  than  in  Blanch  ? 

u  sought  a  match  of  birth, 

und  richer  blood  than  lady  Blanch  ? 

in  beauty,  virtue,  birth, 

luphin  every  way  complete  : 

,  O  say,  he  is  not  she ; 

ivznt3  nothing,  to  name  want, 

it,  that  she  in  not  he : 

>art  of  a  blessed  man, 

led  by  such  a  she ; 

iivided  excellence, 

ii  perfection  lies  in  him. 

rcr  currents,  when  they  join, 

wnks  that  bound  them  in : 

lores  to  two  such  streams  made  one, 

rolling  bounds  shall  you  be,  kings, 

rinces,  if  you  marry  them. 

I  do  more  than  battery  can, 

(2)  Speed.  (3)  PictttPe. 


To  our  fast-closed  gates ;  for,  at  this  match. 
With  swifter  spleen^  than  powder  can  enforce, 
The  mouth  of  passage  shall  we  fling  wide  ope. 
And  give  you  entrance ;  but,  without  this  match. 
The  sea  enraged  is  not  half  so  deaf. 
Lions  more  confident,  mountains  and  rocks 
More  free  from  motion ;  no,  not  death  himself 
In  mortal  fury  half  so  peremptory. 
As  we  to  keep  this  city. 

B€ut.  Here*s  a  stay. 

That  shakes  the  rotten  carcase  of  old  death 
Out  of  his  rags !  Here*s  a  large  mouth,  indeed. 
That  spits  forth  death,  and  mountains,  rocks,  and 

seas; 
Talks  as  familiarly  of  roaring  lions, 
As  maids  of  thirteen  do  of  puppy-dogs ! 
What  canooneer  begot  this  lusty  blood  f 
He  speaks  plain  canooo,  fire,  and  smoke,  and 

bounce; 
He  gives  the  bastinado  with  his  tongue ; 
Our  ears  are  cudgePd ;  not  a  word  of  his. 
But  buffets  better  than  a  fist  of  France : 
Zounds !  I  was  never  so  bethump*d  with  words, 
Since  I  first  call*d  my  brother^s  lather,  dad. 

EU.  Son,  list  to  this  conjunction,  make  this  match; 
Give  with  our  niece  a  dowry  lai^e  enough : 
For  by  this  knot  thou  shalt  so  surely  tie 
Thy  now  unsurM  assurance  to  the  crown. 
That  yon  green  boy  shall  have  no  sun  to  ripe 
The  bloom  that  promiseth  a  mighty  fruit 
I  see  a  yielding  m  the  looks  of  France; 
Mark,  how  they  whisper :  urge  them,  while  their 

souls 
Are  capable  o(  this  ambition : 
Lest  zeal,  now  melted,  by  the  windy  breath 
Of  soft  petitions,  pity,  and  remorse. 
Cool  and  congeal  again  to  what  it  was. 

1  at.  Why  answer  not  the  double  majesties 
This  friendly  treaty  of  our  threaten^  town  ? 

K.  Phi.  Speak  England  first,  that  hath  been  for- 
ward first 
To  speak  unto  this  city :  What  say  you  f 

K.  John.  If  that  the  Dauphin  there,  thy  prince- 
ly  son. 
Can  in  this  book  of  beauty  read,  I  love, 
Her  dowry  shall  weigh  equal  with  a  queen : 
For  Anjou,  and  fair  Touraine,  Maine,  Pdctiers, 
And  all  that  we  upon  this  side  the  sea 
(Except  this  city  now  by  us  besiegM) 
Find  liable  to  our  crown  and  dignity. 
Shall  gild  her  bridal  bed ;  and  make  her  rich 
In  titles,  honours,  and  promotions. 
As  she  in  beauty,  education,  blood. 
Holds  hand  with  any  princess  of  the  world. 

K.  Phi.  What  say'st  thou,  boy .'  look  in  the  lady's 
ftice. 

Lew.  I  do,  my  lord,  and  in  her  eye  I  find 
A  wonder,  or  a  wondrous  miracle, 
The  shadow  of  myself  formM  in  her  eye ; 
Which,  being  but  the  shadow  of  your  son. 
Becomes  a  sun,  and  makes  your  son  a  shadow : 
I  do  protest,  I  never  lov'd  myself. 
Till  now  infixed  I  beheld  myself. 
Drawn  m  the  flattering  table*  of  her  eye. 

[  Whispers  toith  Blanch. 

Bast.  Drawn  in  the  flatterii^  table  of  her  eye  I — 
HangM  in  the  frowning  wrinkle  of  her  brow  I — 
And  quarter^  in  her  heart ! — he  doth  espy 
Himself  love*s  traitor :  This  is  pity  now, 
That  hane'd,  and  drawn,  and  quartered,  there 

mould  be. 
In  such  a  love,  to  vile  a  lout  as  he. 

Blanch.  My  uncle's  will,  in  this  respect,  is  mine : 
If  be  tee  aught  in  yoo,  that  makes  hun  like 


352 


KLNG  JOHN. 


Act  in 


That  an?  thing  he  tees,  which  moret  hi*  likiag, 
I  ran  with  ea«e  translate  it  to  my  will ; 
Or,  if  you  will  (to  speak  more  properly,) 
I  will  enforce  it  easily  to  my  lo^e. 
Further  I  will  not  flatter  you,  my  lord, 
That  all  I  see  in  you  is  worthy  love. 
Than  this, — that  nothing  do  i  see  in  yoa 
(Though  churl ifih  thoughts  themselres  ihoald  be 

yourjudge,^ 
That  I  can  find  should  merit  any  hate. 

K.  John.  What  say  these  young  ones  ?  What 
sayjou,  my  niece ? 

Blanch.  That  nhc  is  bound  in  honour  still  to  do 
What )  ou  in  wi^lom  shall  vouchsafe  to  say. 

K.  John.  Speak  then,  prince  Dauphin  ;  can  you 
love  ihl'*  lady .? 

Lew.  Nny,  ank  me  if  I  can  refrain  from  love , 
For  1  do  love  her  most  unfeiffnedly. 

K.  John.  Then  do  I  give  Vol(iuessen,Touraine, 
Maine, 
Pf>ictiers,  and  Anjou,  these  five  provinces, 
With  h<;r  to  thee  ;  and  this  addition  more, 
Full  thirty  thousand  marks  of  Ejiglish  coin. — 
Philip  of  France,  if  thou  be  pleaird  withal. 
Command  thy  Mon  and  daughter  to  join  hands. 

K.  Phi.  It  likes  us  well ; — Young  princes,  close 
your  hands. 

Aiut.  And  your  lips  too ;  for,  I  am  well  assured. 
That  I  did  so,  when  I  was  first  assured. i 

K.  Phi.  Now,  citizens  of  Angiers,  ope  your  gates, 
LfCt  in  that  amity  which  you  have  made ; 
For  at  saint  Mary's  chapel,  presently, 
The  rites  of  marriage  shall  be  solemnized. — 
Is  not  the  lady  Constance  in  this  troop? — 
I  know,  she  is  not ;  for  this  match,  made  up. 
Her  presence  would  have  interrupted  much : — 
Where  u  she  and  her  son  ?  tell  roe,  who  knows. 

Lew.  She  is  sad  and  passionate^  at  your  high- 
ness* tent. 

K.  Phi.  And,  by  my  faith,  this  league,  that  we 
have  made. 
Will  give  her  sadness  very  little  cure. 
Brother  of  En{2:Iand,  how  may  we  content 
This  widow  lady  ?  In  her  right  we  came  ; 
Which  we,  Gort  knows,  have  turned  another  way, 
To  our  own  vantage.' 

K.  John.  We  will  heal  up  all : 

For  wcMl  create  youne  Arthur  duke  of  Bretagne, 
And  carl  of  liichmond  ;  and  this  rich  fair  town 
We  make  him  lord  of.— Call  the  lady  Constance ; 
.*^oinc  speedy  messenger  bid  her  repair 
To  our  HoU'mnity  : — 1  trust  we  shall, 
If  not  fill  up  the  measure  of  her  will. 
Yet  in  8omc  measure  satisfy  her  so, 
That  we  shall  stop  her  exclamation, 
(io  we,  as  well  as  haste  will  sufier  us. 
To  thin  unlocked  for  unprepared  pomp. 

[Eicunt  all  hut  M«  Bastard.— TA*  Citizens 
retire  ft  om  the  walls. 

Bast.  Mad  world !  mad  kings !  mad  composition ! 
John,  to  stop  Arthur's  title  in  the  whole, 
Htith  willingly  df  parted  with  a  part : 
And  France  (whose armour  conscience  buckled  on; 
Whom  zeal  and  charity  brouglit  to  the  field, 
A,*  God's  own  soldier,)  rounded-*  in  the  ear 
VViththat  same  punxwc-changer,  that  siv  d^-vil ; 
That  broker,  that  still  breaks  the  pate  ot*  faith ; 
That  daily  break-vow  ;  he  that  wms  of  all, 
Of  kings,  of  beggars,  old  men,  young  men,  maids ; — 
Who  having  no  external  thing  to  lose 
But  the  word  maid, — cheats  the  poor  maid  of  that ; 

(1)  Affianced.     (2)  Mournful.     (3)  Advantage. 
(4)  Coiu$pircd.  <'>,  lulerc^t. 


That  snooth-&ced  gentkiiMii,  tickling  conmo 

dity,^ 
Commodity,  the  bias  of  the  world ; 
The  world,  who  of  itself  is  peised^  well. 
Made  to  run  even,  upoo  even  ground ; 
Till  this  advantage,  this  vile  drawii^  bias, 
This  sway  of  motion,  this  commodity, 
.Makes  it  take  head  from  all  indifierencj. 
From  all  direction,  purpose,  course,  intent : 
And  this  same  bias,  this  commodity. 
This  bawd,  this  broker,  this  all-chamwg  word, 
('lapp'd  on  the  outward  eye  of  fickle  FrBnce, 
Hath  drawn  him  from  his  own  detennin'd  aid, 
From  a  resolv'd  and  honourable  war, 
To  a  most  base  and  vile-concluded  peace. — 
And  why  rail  I  on  this  conunodity  ? 
But  for  because  he  hath  not  woo'd  me  yet : 
Not  that  I  have  the  power  to  clutch'  my  hand. 
When  his  fair  angels^  would  salute  my  palm : 
But  for  my  hand,  as  unattempted  yet. 
Like  a  poor  beggar,  raileth  on  the  rich. 
Well,  whiles  1  am  a  beggar,  I  will  rail. 
And  say, — there  is  no  sin,  but  to  be  rich ; 
And  being  rich,  my  virtue  then  shall  be. 
To  say, — ^there  is  no  vice,  but  b€^:gary  : 
Since  kings  break  fiiith  upon  conunodjty. 
Gain,  be  my  lord !  for  I  will  worship  tbee !  [Etni 


ACT  III. 

SCEJ^E  I.^Thetame.  TheFnnchkmg'^teiii 
Enter  Constance,  Arthur,  and  Salbbuiy. 

Const.  Gone  to  be  married .'  gone  to  swear  • 
peace .' 
False  blood  to  false  blood  join'd !  Gone  to  be 

friends ! 
Shall  Lewis  have  Blanch  f  and  Blanch  thote  pro- 
vinces ? 
It  is  not  so ;  thou  hast  misspc^e,  misheard ; 
Be  well  advis'd,  tell  o'er  thy  tale  again : 
It  cannot  be ;  thou  dost  but  say,  'tis  so : 
1  tru»t,  I  may  not  trust  thee ;  ior  thy  wwd 
Is  but  the  vain  breath  of  a  common  man : 
Believe  me,  I  do  not  believe  thee,  man ; 
I  have  a  king's  oath  to  the  contrary. 
Thou  shalt  be  punish'd  for  thus  fnghting  me. 
For  I  am  sick,  and  capable^  of  fears ; 
Oppre^'d  with  wrongs,  and  therefore  full  of  fean; 
A  widow,  husbandless,  subject  to  fears ; 
A  woman,  naturally  bom  to  fears ; 
.\nd  though  thou  now  confess,  thou  didst  but  jest, 
With  my  vex'd  spirits  I  cannot  take  a  truce, 
But  they  will  quaKc  and  tremble  all  this  day. 
What  dost  thou  mean  by  shaking  of  thy  bead.' 
Why  dost  thou  look  so  sadly  on  my  son  ? 
What  means  that  hand  upon  that  breast  of  thine. 
Why  holds  thine  eye  that  lamentable  rheum. 
Like  a  proud  river  peering'^  o'er  his  bounds  f 
Be  these  sad  signs  confirmers  of  thy  words  ? 
Then  speak  again ;  not  all  thy  former  tale. 
But  thii)  one  word,  whether  thy  tale  be  true. 

Sal.  As  true,  as,  I  believe,  you  think  them  lalse, 
That  give  vou  cause  to  prove  my  Kaying  true. 

Const.  6,  if  thou  teach  me  to  believe  mis  sonow 
Teach  thou  this  sorrow  how  to  make  me  die ; 
And  let  bf^lief  and  life  encounter  so, 
As  doth  (he  fury  of  two  desperate  men, 
Which,  in  the  very  meeting,  f^ll,  and  die.— 

(6)  Poised,  balanced.        (7)  Clasp. 

(8j  Coin.     (9)  Su8cepti*ble.     (10)  Appetiii«^ 


KING  JOHN. 


353 


imny  Blanch !  O,  boy,  then  where  art  tboa  ? 
I  friend  wilh  England !  what  becomes  of 

me? — 
,  be  gone  ;  I  cannot  brook  thy  sight; 
!W8  hath  made  thee  a  most  u^lv  man. 
What  other  harm  ha%'e  I,  good  lady,  done, 
3ke  the  harm  t^at  is  by  ojihers  done  ? 
i.  Which  harm  within  itself  so  heinous  is, 
lakes  harmful  all  that  speak  of  it 
u  I  do  beseech  you,  madam,  be  content. 
i.  If  thou,  that  bid^st  me  be  content,  wert 

grim, 
ind  slanderous  to  thy  mother's  womb, 

unpleasing  blots,  and  sightless*  stains, 
foolish,  crooked,  swart,  prodigious,^ 
I  with  foul  moles,  and  eve-oflending  marks, 
I  oot  care,  I  then  would  be  content ; 
in  I  should  not  love  thee ;  no,  nor  thou 
s  thy  great  birth,  nor  deserve  a  crown. 
«  art  &ir ;  and  at  thy  birth,  dear  boy .' 
and  fortune  joined  to  make  thee  great : 
ire*s  gifts  thou  may*st  with  lilies  boast, 
ith  the  half-blown  rose  :  but  fortune,  O ! 
xxTupted,  changM,  and  won  from  thee ; 
literates  hourly  with  thine  uncle  John  ; 
ith  her  golden  hand  hath  pluckM  on  France 
id  down  fair  respect  of  sovereignty, 
ide  his  majesty  the  bawd  to  theirs. 

is  a  bawd  to  fortune,  and  king  John ; 
mmpet  fortune,  that  usurping  John : — 
e,  thou  fellow,  is  not  France  forsworn  f 
m  him  with  words  ;  or  get  thee  gone, 
ftve  those  woes  alooe,  which  I  alone 
ind  to  under-bear. 

Pardon  me,  madam, 
lot  go  without  you  to  the  kings. 
t  Thou  may*8t,  thou  shalt,  I  will  not  go  with 

thee: 
istnict  my  sorrows  to  be  proud ; 
ef  is  proud,  and  makes  his  owner  stout 

and  to  the  stated  of  my  great  grief, 
gs  assemble ;  for  my  grief's  so  great, 
9  supporter  but  the  huge  firm  earth 
Id  it  up :  here  I  and  sorrow  sit ; 

my  throne,  bid  kings  come  bow  to  it 

[She  throws  herself  on  the  ground. 

King  John,  King  Philip,  Lewis,  Blanch, 
nor,  Bastard,  Austria,  and  attendants, 

*hi.  'Tis  true,  fair  daughter ;  and  this  bless- 
ed day, 
I  France  shall  be  kept  festival : 
ffnnize  this  day,  the  glorious  sun 
I  his  course,  and  plays  the  alchemist ; 
g,  with  splendor  of  his  precious  eye, 
sagre  claddy  earth  to  glittering  gold  : 
arly  course,  that  brings  this  day  about, 
ever  see  it  but  a  holyday. 
t  A  wicked  day,  and  not  a  holydav  ! 


[hiung. 

Mth  Ihis  day  deserved  ?  what  hath  it  dune ; 
in  golden  letters  should  be  set, 
the  high  tidcs,^  in  the  kalendar  f 
itber,  turn  this  day  out  of  the  week ; 
ij  of  shame,  oppression,  perjury  : 
[  must  stand  still,  let  wives  with  child 
iiat  their  burdens  may  not  fall  this  day, 
it  their  hopes  prodigiously  be  crossed : 
this  day,  let  seamen  fear  no  wreck  ; 
^ains  break,  that  are  not  this  day  made : 
\r  all  things  begun  come  to  ill  end  ; 
Ith  itself  to  hollow  falsehood  change ! 

nghtly.  (2)  Portentous.  (3)  Seated  in  state. 
24 


K.  Phi.  By  heaven,  ladv,  you  shall  have  no  cau»e 
To  cuise  the  fair  proceedings  o£  this  day : 
Have  I  not  pawnM  to  you  my  majes^  ? 

Const  You  have  beguird  me  with  a  counferf*  it. 
Resembling  majesty  ;  which,  being  toucliM,  and 

tried, 
Proves  valueless :  You  are  forsworn,  forsworn  ; 
You  came  in  arms  to  spill  mine  enemies*  blood, 
But  now  in  arms  you  strengthen  it  with  yours : 
The  grappling  vigour  and  rough  frown  of  war. 
Is  cold  in  amity  and  painted  peace. 
And  our  oppression  hath  made  up  this  league  : — 
Arm,  ann,  you  heavens,  against  these  perjured 

kings! 
A  widow  cries ;  be  husband  to  me,  heavens ! 
Let  not  the  hours  of  this  ungodly  day 
Wear  oat  the  day  in  peace ;  but,  ere  sunset. 
Set  armed  discord  Uwixt  these  perjurM  kings ! 
Hear  me,  O,  hear  me ! 

Atist.  Lady  Constance,  peace. 

Const.  War !  war .'  no  peace  I  peace  is  to  me  a 
war. 

0  Lymoges !  O  Austria !  thou  dost  shame 

That  bloody  spoil :  Thou  slave,  thou  wretch,  thou 

coward; 
Thou  little  valiant,  great  in  villany ! 
Thou  ever  strong  upon  the  stronger  side ! 
Thou  fortune's  champion,  that  dost  never  fight 
But  when  her  hunumxis  ladyship  is  by 
To  teach  thee  safety  !  thou  art  perjur'd  too, 
And  sooth'st  up  greatness.    What  a  fool  art  thou, 
.\  ramping  fool ;  to  brag,  and  stamp,  and  swear, 
Upon  my  party !  Thou  cold-blooded  slave. 
Hast  thou  not  spoke  like  thunder  on  my  side  ? 
Been  sworn  my  soldier  f  bidding  me  depend 
Upon  thy  stars,  thy  fortune,  and  thy  strength  f 
And  dost  thou  now  fall  over  to  my  foes  ? 
Thou  wear  a  lion's  hide !  dcff^  it  for  shame. 
And  hang  a  calPs-skin  on  those  recreant  limbs. 

AusL  O,  that  a  man  should  speak  those  words 
tome! 

Bast  And  hang  a  calTs-skin  on  those  recreant 
limbs. 

Ausi.  Thou  dar'st  not  say  so,  villain,  tor  thy  lif*^. 

Bast.  And  hang  a  calPs-skin  on  those  recreoiii 
limbs. 

K.  John.  We  like  not  this;  thou  dost  forgot 
thyselC 

Enler  Pandulph. 

K.  Phi  Here  comes  the  holy  legate  of  the  pop*. 
Pond.  Hail,  vou  anointed  deputies  of  heaven  ! — 
To  thee,  king  John,  mv  holy  errand  is. 

1  Pandulph,  of  fair  Milan  cardinal. 
And  from  pope  Innocent  the  legate  here. 
Do,  in  his  name,  religiously  demand. 

Why  thou  against  the  church,  our  holy  mother. 
So  wilfully  dost  spurn ;  and,  force  peHbrce, 
Kcejp  Stephen  Langton,  chosen  archbishop 
Of  Canterbury,  from  that  holy  see  ? 
This,  in  our  'foresaid  holy  father's  name, 
Pope  Innocent,  I  do  demand  of  thee. 

A.  John.  What  earthly  name  to  interrogatories. 
Can  task  the  free  breath  of  a  sacred  king  f 
Thou  canst  not,  cardinal,  devise  a  name 
So  slight,  unworthy,  and  ridiculous, 
To  charge  me  to  an  answer,  as  the  pope. 
Tell  him  this  tale ;  and  from  the  mouth  of  England, 
Add  thus  much  more, — That  no  Italian  priest 
Shall  tithe  or  toll  in  our  dominions ; 
But  as  we  under  heaven  are  supreme  head. 
So,  under  him,  that  great  supremacy, 


(4)  Solemn 


(5)  Do  off. 


i 


354 


KING  JOHN. 


Act  III 


Where  we  do  reign,  we  will  alone  uphold. 
Without  the  assistance  of  a  mortal  hand  : 
So  tell  the  pope ;  all  reverence  set  apart. 
To  binit  and  his  usurpM  authority. 

K.  PfU.  Brother  or  England,  you  blaspheme  in 
this. 

K.  John.  Though  you,  and  all  the  kings  of 
Christendom, 
Are  led  80  grossly  by  this  meddling  priest, 
Dreading  the  curse  mat  money  may  buy  out ; 
And,  by  the  merit  of  vile  gold,  dross,  dfust. 
Purchase  corrupted  pardon  of  a  man. 
Who,  in  that  sale,  sells  pardon  from  himself: 
Though  you,  and  all  the  rest,  so  grossly  led, 
This  ju^ling  witchcraA  with  revenue  cherish ; 
Yet  I,  alone,  alone  do  me  oppose 
Against  the  pope,  and  count  nis  friends  my  foes. 

Pond.  Then,  by  the  lawful  power  that  I  have. 
Thou  sbalt  stand  cursed,  and  excommunicate  : 
And  blessed  shall  he  be,  that  doth  revolt 
Krom  his  allegiance  to  a  heretic; 
And  meritorious  shall  that  hand  be  calPd, 
Canonized,  and  worshippM  as  a  saint, 
That  takes  away  by  any  secret  course 
Thy  hateful  life. 

(Jonst.  O,  lawful  let  it  be. 

That  [  have  room  with  Rome  to  curse  a  while ! 
Good  father  cardinal,  cry  thou,  amen. 
To  my  keen  curses ;  for,  without  my  wrong, 
There  is  no  tongue  hath  power  to  curse  him  right. 

Pand.  There^s  law  and  warrant,  lady,  for  my 
curse. 

Const.  And  for  mine  too;  when  law  can  do  no 
right. 
Let  it  be  lawful,  that  law  bar  no  wrong : 
Law  cannot  eive  my  child  his  kingdom  here ; 
For  he,  that  holds  his  kingdom,  holds  the  law : 
Therefore,  since  law  itself  is  perfect  wrong. 
How  can  the  law  forbid  my  tongue  to  curse  ? 

Pand.  Philip  of  France,  on  peril  of  a  curse. 
Let  go  the  hand  of  that  arch-heretic ; 
And  raise  the  power  of  France  upon  his  head. 
Unless  he  do  submit  himself  to  Kome. 

Eli.  Look*st  thou  pale,  France }  do  not  let  go 
thy  hand. 

Canst.  Liook  to  that,  devil!  lest  that  France 
repent. 
And,  by  disjoining  hands,  bell  loose  a  soul. 

Aust.  Kmg  Philip,  listen  to  the  cardinal. 

Btist.  And  hang  a  calPs-skin  on  his  recreant 
limbs. 

Aust.  Well,  ruffian,  I  must  pocket  up  these 
wrongs. 
Because 

Bcisi.  Your  breeches  best  may  carrj'  them. 

K.  John.  Philip,  what  say'st  thou  to  the  car- 
dinal } 

Const.  What  should  he  say,  but  as  the  cardinal .' 

Lew.  Bethink  you,  father ;  for  the  difference 
Is,  purchase  of  a  heavy  curse  from  Rome, 
Or  the  light  loss  of  England  for  a  friend : 
Forego  the  easier. 

Blanch.  Thai's  the  curse  of  Rome. 

Const  O  Lewis,  stand  fast;  the  devil  tempts 
thee  here. 
In  likeness  of  a  new  untrimmedi  bride. 

Blanch.  The  lady  Constance  speaks  not  from 
her  faith. 
But  from  her  need. 

Omst.  O,  if  thon  grant  my  need, 

Which  oniy  lives  but  by  the  death  of  fieulh, 

(1)  *When  unadornM,  adomM  the  most.' 

Thonison*^  Autumn.  206. 


That  need  must  needs  infer  this  principle, 

That  faith  would  live  again  by  death  cm  need ; 
O,  then,  tread  down  mv  need,  and  faith  mounts  up; 
Ke<p  my  need  up,  and  faith  is  trodden  down. 

K.  John.  The  king  is  roov'd,  and  answers  not 
to  this. 

Const.  O,  be  removM  from  him,  and  answer  well. 

Aust.  Do  so,  king  Philip ;  hang  no  more  in  doubt. 

Bast.  Hang  nothing  but  a  calrs^kin,  most  sweet 
lout 

K.  Phi.  I  am  perplex'd,  and  know  not  what  to  say. 

Pand.  What  canst  thou  say,  but  will  perplex 
thee  more. 
If  thou  stand  excommunicate,  and  cnrs'd.^ 

K.  Phi.  Good  reverend  father,  make  my  penon 
yours, 
And  tell  me,  how  you  would  bestow  younelt 
This  royal  hand  and  mine  are  newly  knit ; 
And  the  conjunction  of  our  inward  souls 
Married  in  league,  coupled  and  link'd  together 
With  all  religious  strength  of  sacred  vows ; 
The  latest  breath  that  gave  the  sound  of  words, 
Was  deep-sworn  faith,  peace,  amity,  true  love. 
Between  our  kingdoms,  and  our  royal  selves ; 
And  even  before  this  truce,  but  new  before, — 
No  longer  than  wc  well  could  wa^  our  hands, 

To  clap  this  royal  bargain  up  of  peace, 

Heaven  knows,  they  were  besnvear'd  and  wvt- 

stained 
With  slaughter's  pencil ;  where  revenge  did  paint 
The  fearftil  difference  of  incensed  kings : 
And  shall  these  hands,  so  lately  purg'd  of  blood. 
So  newly  join'd  in  love,  so  strong  in  Doth, 
Unyoke  this  seizure,  and  this  kind  regreet  .^ 
Play  fast  and  loose  with  faith .'  so  icst  with  heavftn, 
Make  such  unconstant  children  of  ourselves. 
As  now  again  to  snatch  our  palm  from  palm ; 
Unswear  faith  sworn ;  and  on  the  marriage  bed 
Of  smiling  peace  to  march  a  bloody  host. 
And  make  a  riot  on  the  gentle  brow 
Of  true  sincerity  ^  O  holy  sir. 
My  reverend  father,  let  it  not  be  so : 
Out  of  your  grace,  devise,  ordain,  impose 
Some  gentle  order ;  and  then  we  shall  be  bless'd 
To  do  your  pleasure,  and  continue  friends. 

Pand.  All  form  is  formless,  order  orderless. 
Save  what  is  opposite  to  England's  love. 
Therefore,  to  arms !  be  champion  of  our  church ! 
Or  let  the  church,  our  mother,  breathe  her  curse, 
A  mother's  curse,  on  her  revolting  scm. 
France,  thou  may'st  hold  a  serpent  by  the  tongue, 
A  cased  lion  by  the  mortal  paw, 
A  fasting  tiger  safer  by  the  tooth. 
Than  keep  in  peace  that  hand  which  thou  dost  bold. 

K.  Phi.  I  may  disjoin  my  hand,  but  not  my  faith. 

Pand.  So  mak'st  thou  Uuth  an  enemy  to  faith ; 
And,  like  a  civil  war,  set'st  oath  to  oath. 
Thy  tongue  against  thy  tongue.     O,  let  thy  vow 
First  made  to  heaven,  ^rst  l^  to  hea%'en  perfonn'd , 
That  is,  to  be  the  champion  of  our  church  ! 
What  since  thou  swor'st,  is  sworn  against  Aysdf^ 
And  may  not  be  performed  by  thyself: 
For  that,  which  tnou  hast  sworn  to  do  amiss, 
Is  not  amiss  when  it  is  truly  done ; 
And  being  not  done,  where  doing  tends  to  ill, 
The  truth  is  then  most  done  not  doing  it : 
The  better  act  of  purposes  mistook 
Is,  to  mistake  again ;  though  indirect, 
Yet  indirection  thereby  grows  direct. 
And  falsehood  falsehood  cures ;  as  fire  cools  firft 
Within  the  scorched  veins  of  one  new  bum'd. 
It  is  religion,  that  doth  make  vows  kept ; 

(2)  Exchange  of  salutation. 


SctiuIIJ, 


KING  JOHiN. 


356 


But  thou  hast  sworn  af^inst  religion ; 

Bj  what  thou  swear'st,  against  the  thing    thou 

swear'st ; 
And  mak*8t  an  oath  the  suretv  for  thy  truth 
Against  an  oath :  The  truth  thou  art  unsure 
To  swear,  swear  onlj  not  to  be  forsworn  ; 
Else,  what  a  mockery  should  it  be  to  swear ! 
But  thou  dost  swear  only  to  be  forsworn ; 
And  roost  forsworn,  to  keep  what  thou  dost  swear. 
Therefore,  thy  latter  vows,  against  thy  first. 
Is  in  thyself  rebellion  to  thyself: 
And  better  conquest  never  canst  thou  make. 
Than  arm  thy  constant  and  thy  nobler  parti 
Against  those  giddy  loose  suggestions : 
Upon  which  better  part  our  praters  come  in, 
ir  thou  vouchsafe  them ;  but,  if  not,  then  kiiow. 
The  peril  of  our  curses  light  on  thee ; 
So  heavy,  as  thou  shall  not  shake  them  off, 
But,  in  despair,  die  under  their  black  weight 

^ust.  Rebellion,  flat  rebellion  ! 

Bast  Wiirtnotbfl? 

Will  not  a  calPs^skin  stop  that  mouth  of  thine  ? 

Lew.  Father,  to  arms : 

Blanch.  Upon  thy  wedding  day  ? 

Asrainst  the  blood  that  thou  nast  married  ? 
What,  shall  our  feast  be  kept  with  slaughtered  men  ? 
Shall  braying  trumpets,  and  loud  churlish  drums, — 
Clamours  of  hell — be  measures^  to  our  pomp  ? 

0  husband,  hear  me  ! — ah,  alack,  how  new 

Is  husband  in  my  mouth !— «ven  for  that  name. 
Which  till  this  time  my  tongue  did  ne*er  pronounce. 
Upon  my  knee  I  beg,  go  not  to  arms 
Against  mine  uncle. 

Const.  O,  upon  my  knee, 

Made  hard  with  kneeling,  I  do  pray  to  thee. 
Thou  virtuous  Dauphin,  alter  not  tbe  doom 
Fore*dKnight  by  heaven. 
Blanch.  Now  shall  I  see  thy  love  ;  What  motive 
may 
Be  stronger  with  thee  than  the  name  of  wife  f 
Const   That   which   upholdeth  him  that  thee 
upholds. 
His  honour :  O,  thine  honour,  Lewis,  thine  honour ! 
Lew.  I  muse,3  your  majesty  doth  seem  so  cold. 
When  such  profound  respects  do  pull  you  on. 
Pond.  I  will  denounce  a  curse  ujpon  his  head. 
K.  Phi.  Thou  Shalt  not  need :— England,  Pll  fall 

from  thee. 
Const.  O  fair  return  of  banished  majes^  ! 
EIL  O  foul  revolt  of  French  inconstancy  ! 
K.  John.  France,  thou  shalt  rue  this  hour  with- 
in this  hour. 
Bast  Old  time  the  clock-setter,  that  bald  sexton 
time, 
Is  it  as  he  will .'  well  then,  France  shall  rue. 
Blanch.  The  sun's  overcast  with  blood:  Fair 
day,  adieu ! 
Which  is  the  side  that  I  must  go  witlial  f 

1  am  with  both  :  each  army  hath  a  hand ; 
And,  in  their  rage,  I  havini^  hold  of  both. 
They  whirl  asunder,  and  dismember  me. 
Humnd,  I  cannot  pray  that  thou  may*st  win ; 
Uncle,  I  needs  must  pray  that  thou  may'st  lose ; 
Father,  I  may  not  wish  the  fortune  thine ; 
Grandam,  I  will  not  wi«h  thy  withes  thrive : 
Whoever  wins,  on  that  side  shall  I  lose ; 
Assured  lo^s,  before  the  match  be  play'd. 

Lew.  Ladv,  with  me ;  with  me  thy  fortune  lies. 

Blanch.  There  where  my  fortune  lives,  there  my 
life  dies. 

K.  John.  Cousin,  go  draw  our  puissance*  to- 
gether— ^  [Exit  Bastard. 

(1)  Music  for  dancing.        (2)  Wonder. 


France,  I  am  bum'd  up  with  indHming  wrath ; 
A  rage,  whose  heat  hath  this  condition. 
That  nothing  can  allay,  nothing  but  blood. 
The  blood,  and  dearest-valu'd  blood,  of  France. 

K.  PhL  Thy  rage  shall  bum  thee  up,  and  thou 
shalt  turn 
To  ashes,  ere  our  blood  shall  quench  that  fire : 
Look  to  thyself,  thou  art  in  jeopardy. 

K.  John.  No  more  than  be  that  threats. — To 
arms  let's  hie !  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  II.^Thesamt,  Plains  near  Angiers. 
Alarumst  Excurtiont.  JSnier  (Ae  Bastard,  urt/A 
Austria's  hutd. 

Bast.  Now,  by  my  life,  this  day  grows  won- 
drous hot ; 
Some  airy  devil  hovers  in  the  sky, 
.\  nd  pours  down  mischie£  Austria's  head  lie  there ; 
While  Philip  breathes. 

Enter  King  John,  Arthur,  and  Hubert 

K.  John.  Hubert,  keep  this  boy :— Fhili]},  Make 
up: 
My  mother  is  assailed  in  our  tent, 
And  ta'en,  I  fear. 

Bast  My  lord,  I  rescu'd  her ; 

Her  highness  is  in  safety,  fear  vou  not ; 
But  on,  my  liege :  for  very  little  pains 
Will  bring  this  labour  to  a  happy  end     [Elxeuni. 

SCEJ^E  ni.—Ths  toiru.  Alarums;  Excur- 
sions; Retreat  JSnier /Tm^  John,  Elinor,  Ar- 
thur, the  Bastard,  Hubert,  and  Lords. 

K.  John.  So  shall  it  be ;  your  grace  shall  stay 
behind,  [7\>  Elinor. 

So  strongly  guarded.— Coostn,  look  not  sad : 

[To  Arthur. 
Thy  grandam  loves  thee ;  and  thy  uncle  will 
As  dear  be  to  thee  as  thy  father  was. 
Arth.  O,  this  will  make  my  mother  die  with  grief. 
K.  John.  Cousin,  [To  the  Bastard.]  away  for 
lilngland;  haste  before : 
And,  ere  our  coming,  see  thou  shake  the  bags 
Of  hoarding  abbots :  angels^  imprisoned 
Set  thou  at  liberty :  the  tat  ribs  of  peace 
Must  by  the  hun^  now  be  fed  upon : 
Use  our  commission  in  his  utmost  force. 
Bast  Bell,  book,  and  candle,  shall  not  drive  me 
back, 
When  gold  and  silver  becks  me  to  come  on. 
I  leave  your  highness : — Grandam,  I  will  pray 
(If  ever  I  remember  to  be  holy) 
For  your  feir  safety ;  so  I  kiss  your  hand. 
Eli.  Farewell,  my  gentle  cousin. 
K.  John.  Cot,  ferewell. 

[Exit  Bastard. 
Eli.  Come  hither,  litde  kinsman ;  hark,  a  word. 

[She  takes  Arthur  aside. 
K.  John.  Come  hither,  Hubert    O  my  erentle 
Hubert, 
We  owe  thee  much ;  within  this  wall  of  flesh 
There  is  a  soul,  counts  thee  her  creditor, 
And  with  advantage  means  to  pay  thy  love  : 
And,  my  good  friend,  thy  voluntary  oath 
Lives  in  tlus  bosom,  dearly  cherished. 
Give  me  thy  hand.     I  had  a  thing  to  say, — 
But  I  will  ot  it  with  some  better  time. 
By  heaven,  Hubert,  I  am  almost  asham'd 
To  say  what  good  respect  I  have  of  thee. 
Hub.  I  am  much  bounden  to  your  majesty. 
K.  John.  Good  friend,  thou  hsist  no  cause  to  say 
so  yet: 

(3)  Force.  (4)  Gold  coin. 


356 


KING  JOHN. 


Act  III 


But  thou  shalt  have ;  and  creep  time  ne*er  so  slow, 

Yet  it  »hall  come,  for  me  to  do  thee  good. 

I  had  a  thing  to  say, — But  let  it  go : 

The  sun  is  in  the  heaven,  and  the  proud  day. 

Attended  with  the  pleasures  of  the  world, 

L«  all  too  wanton,  and  too  full  of  gawds,* 

To  give  me  audience  : — If  the  midnight  bell 

Did,  with  his  iron  tongue  and  brazen  mouth, 

Sound  one  unto  the  drowsy  race  of  night ; 

If  this  same  were  a  church-yard  where  we  stand. 

And  thou  possessed  with  a  thousand  wrongs; 

Or  if  that  surly  spirit,  melancholy, 

Had  bak*d  thy  blood,  and  made  it  heavy-thick 

(Which,  else,  runs  tickling  up  and  down  the  veins, 

Niaking  that  idiot,  laughter.  Keep  mcn'seyes, 

And  :>train  their  cheeks  to  idle  merriment, 

A  pa<^ion  hateful  to  my  purposes;) 

Or  if  that  thou  could^st  see  me  wiUiout  eyes. 

Hear  me  without  thine  ears,  and  make  reply 

Without  a  tongue,  using  conceit^  alone, 

Without  eyes,  ears,  and  harmful  sound  of  words  ; 

Then,  in  despite  of  brooded  watchful  day, 

I  would  into  thy  bosom  pour  my  thoughts  : 

But  ah,  1  will  not : — Yet  I  love  thee  well ; 

And,  by  my  troth,  I  think,  thou  lov'^t  me  well. 

Huh.  So  well,  that  what  you  bid  me  under- 
take. 
Though  that  my  death  were  adjunct'  to  my  act, 
By  heaven,  Td  do't. 

K.  John.  Do  not  I  know,  thou  would^st  ? 

Good  Hubert,  Hubert,  Hubert,  throw  thine  eye 
On  yon  young  boy :     PU    tell   thee  what,  my 

friend, 
He  is  a  very  serpent  in  my  way  : 
And,  wheresoever  this  foot  of  mine  doth  tread. 
He  lies  before  me :  Dost  thou  understand  nrte .' 
Thou  art  his  keeper. 

Hub.  And  I  will  keep  him  ao. 

That  he  shall  not  offend  your  majesty. 

K.  John.  Death. 

Hub.  My  lord  ? 

-K.  John,  A  grave. 

Hub.  He  shall  not  live. 

K.  John.  Enough. 

I  could  be  merry  now  :  Hubert,  I  lote  thee  ; 
W^ell,  n)  not  say  what  I  intend  for  thee  : 

Remember. Madam,  fare  you  well : 

ni  *«'»d  those  powers  o'er  to  your  majesty. 

Eli.  My  blessing  go  with  thee  ! 

K.  John.  For  England,  cousin  : 

Hubert  shall  be  your  man,  attend  on  you 
With  all  true  duty. — On  toward  Calais,  ho ! 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  IV.— The  same.  The  French  king's 
tent.  Enter  King  Philip,  Lewis,  Pandulph, 
nnd  attendants. 

K.  Phi.  So,  by  a  roaring  tempest  on  the  flood, 
A  whole  armado^  of  convicted^  sail 
I»  scattered  and  disjoined  from  fellowship. 

Pand.  Courage  and  comfort!  all  shall  yet  go 
well. 

K.  Phi.  What  can  go  well,  when  we  have  run 
so  ill .? 
Are  we  not  beaten  ^  Is  not  Angiers  lost.' 
Arthur  ta'en  prisoner  .*  divers  dear  friends  slain.* 
And  bloody  England  into  EIngland  gone, 
Overbearing  interruption,  spite  of  France .' 

Lew.  What  be  hath  won,  that  hath  he  fortified : 
So  hot  a  speed  with  such  advice  disposed, 
Such  temperate  order  in  so  fierce  a  cause, 

(T)  Showy  ornaments.        (2)  Conception. 
(J;  Joined.         (4)  Fleet  of  war. 


Doth  want  example  :  Wlio  hath  read,  or  heard. 
Of  any  kindred  action  like  to  this  ? 
K.  Phi.  Well  could  I  bear  that  England  hac: 
this  praise. 
So  we  could  fiind  some  pattern  of  our  shame. 

Enter  Constance. 

l/x>k,  who  comes  here  !  a  grave  unto  a  soul ; 
Holding  the  eternal  spirit,  against  her  will, 
In  the  vile  prison  of  afflicteof  breath  : — 
I  pr'yihee,  lady,  go  away  with  me. 

Const.  Lo,  now !  now  see  the  issue  of  your  peace ' 

K.  Phi.   Patience,  good  lady  I  conifort,  gentle 
Constance ! 

Const.  No,  I  deA^  all  counsel,  all  redress, 
But  that  which  ends  all  counsel,  true  redress, 
Dc;ath,  death : — O  amiable  lovely  death  .' 
Thou  odoriferous  stench  !  sound  rottenneiK ! 
Arise  forth  from  the  couch  of  lasting  night. 
Thou  hate  and  terror  to  prosperity, 
And  I  will  kiss  thy  detestable  bones; 
And  put  my  eye-balls  in  thy  vanity  brows ; 
And  ring  these  fingers  with  thy  household  worms; 
And  stop  tliis  gap  of  breath  with  fu)K)me  du^ 
And  be  a  carrion  monster  like  thyself: 
Come,  g^n  on  me ;  and  I  will  thmk  thou  smirst. 
And  buss  thee  as  thy  wife !    Miser) *8  love, 
O,  come  to  me  ! 

K.  Phi.  O  fair  affliction,  peace. 

Const.  No,  no,  I  will  not,  having  breath  to  ciy  :— 
O,  that  my  tongue  were  in  the  thunder's  mouth ! 
Then  with  a  passion  would  I  shake  the  world; 
And  rouse  from  sleep  that  fell  anatomy. 
Which  cannot  hear  a  lady^s  feeble  voice, 
W'hich  scorns  a  modern^  invocation. 

Pand.  Lady,  you  utter  madnen,  and  not  sorrow 

Const.  Thou  art  not  holy  to  belie  me  so ; 
I  am  not  mad  :  this  hair  I  tear,  is  mine  ; 
My  name  is  Constance ;  I  was  Geffrey's  wife  ; 
Young  Arthur  is  my  son,  and  he  is  lost : 
I  am  not  mad ; — I  would  to  heaven,  I  were ! 
For  then,  'tis  like  I  should  forget  myself: 
O,  if  I  could,  what  grief  should  I  forget  I — 
Preach  some  philosophy  to  make  me  mad. 
And  thou  shall  be  canonizM,  cardinal ; 
For,  being  not  mad,  but  sensible  of  grief, 
My  reasonable  part  produces  reason 
How  I  may  be  aeliver^d  of  these  woes. 
And  teaches  me  to  kill  or  hang  myself; 
If  I  were  mad,  I  sliould  forget  my  son  ; 
Or  madly  think,  a  babe  of  clouts  were  he  : 
I  am  not  mad ;  too  well,  too  well  I  fee! 
The  different  plague  of  each  calamity. 

K.  Phi.  Bind  up  those  tresses  :  O,  what  love  I 
note 
In  the  fair  multitude  of  tho^e  her  hairs  ! 
Where  but  by  chance  a  silver  drop  hath  &llen. 
Even  to  that  drop  ten  thousand  wiry  friends 
Do  gle*v  themselves  in  sociable  g^rief ; 
Like  true,  inseparable,  faithful  loves. 
Slicking  together  in  calami^. 

Const.  To  England,  if  you  will. 

K.  Phi.  Bind  np  your  bairs 

Const.  Yes,  that  I  will ;  and  wherefore  will  I  do  it 
I  tore  them  from  their  bonds ;  and  cried  aloud, 
O  that  these  hands  could  so  redeem  my  soUj 
As  they  have  given  these  hairs  their  uberty  ! 
But  now  I  envy  at  their  liberty, 
And  will  again  commit  them  to  their  bonds. 

Because  my  poor  child  is  a  prisoner. 

And,  father  cardinal,  I  have  heard  yoa  say. 
That  wc  shall  see  ani  know  our  friencb  in  heaven 

(5)  Overcome.      (6)  Refuse.     (7)  Coramoo 


^ceruL 


KING  JOHN. 


357 


If  that  be  true,  I  shall  see  my  boy  again ; 
For,  since  (he  birth  of  Cain,  the  first  male  child, 
To  him  that  did  but  yesterday  suspire,' 
There  was  not  such  a  gracious^  creature  bom. 
But  now  will  canker  sorrow  eat  my  bud. 
And  chase  the  native  beauty  from  his  cheek, 
And  he  will  look  as  hollow  as  a  ghost ; 
As  dim  and  meag^  as  an  ague's  fit ; 
And  so  heMl  die  ;  and,  rising  so  again, 
When  I  shall  meet  him  in  the  court  of  heaven, 
1  shall  not  know  him :  therefore  never,  never 
Must  I  behold  my  pretty  Arthur  more. 

Pond.  You  hold  too  heinous  a  respect  of  grief. 
Const.  He  talks  to  me,  that  never  had  a  son. 
K.  Phi:  You  are  as  fond  of  grief,  as  of  your  child. 
Const.  Grief  fills  the  room  up  of  my  absent  child, 
Lies  in  his  bed,  walks  up  and  down  with  me ; 
Puts  on  his  pretty  looks,  repeats  his  words. 
Remembers  me  of  all  his  gracious  parts, 
Stutfs  out  his  vacant  garments  with  his  form ; 
Then,  have  I  reason  to  be  fon4  of  grief. 
Fare  you  well :  had  you  such  a  loss  as  I, 
I  could  give  better  comfort  than  you  do. — 
]  will  not  keep  this  form  upon  my  head, 

[Tearing  off  her  head-dress. 
When  there  is  such  disorder  in  my  wiL 
O  lord  !  my  boy,  my  Arthur,  my  fair  son ! 
My  life,  my  joy,  my  food,  my  all  the  world  ! 
My  widow-comfort,  and  my  sorrows*  cure !  [Exit. 
K.  PhL  1  fear  some  outrage,  and  I'll  follow  her. 

[Exit. 
Iaw,  There's  nothing  in  this  world,  can  make 
me  joy: 
Life  is  as  tedious  as  a  twice-told  tale. 
Vexing  the  dull  ear  of  a  drowsy  man ; 
And  bitter  shame  hath  spoil'd  the  sweet  world's 

taste. 
That  it  yields  nought,  but  shame,  and  bitterness. 

Pond.  Beforie  the  curing  of  a  strcmg  disease, 
Even  in  the  instant  of  repair  and  health. 
The  fit  is  strongest ;  evils,  that  take  leave, 
On  their  departure  most  of  all  show  evil : 
What  have  you  lost  by  losing  of  this  day  ^ 
Lew.  All  days  of  glor}',  joy,  and  happiness. 
Pand.  If  you  have  won  it,  certainly  you  had. 
No,  no  :  when  fortune  means  to  men  roost  good, 
She  looks  upon  them  with  a  threatening  eye. 
*Tis  strange,  to  think  how  much  king  Jcmn  hath  lost 
In  this  which  he  accounts  so  clearly  won  -. 
Are  not  you  grieved,  that  Arthur  is  his  prisoner.' 
L0ew.  As  heartily,  as  he  is  glad  he  hath  him. 
Pand.  Your  mincl  is  all  as  youthful  as  your  blood. 
Now  hear  me  speak  with  a  prophetic  spirit ; 
For  even  the  breath  of  what  I  mean  to  speak 
Shall  blow  each  dust,  each  straw,  each  little  rub. 
Out  of  the  path  which  shall  directly  lead 
Thy  foot  to  England's  throne ;  and,  therefore,  mark. 
John  hath  seized  Arthur ;  and  it  cannot  be, 
That,  whiles  warm  life  plays  in  that  infant's  veins. 
The  misplac'd  John  should  entertain  an  hour, 
One  minute,  nay,  one  quiet  breath  of  rest : 
A  sceptre,  snatch'd  wiOi  an  unruly  hand, 
IVIust  be  as  boisterously  maintain'd  as  gain'd  : 
And  he,  that  stands  upon  a  slippery  place. 
Makes  nice  of  no  vile  hold  to  stay  him  up  : 
That  John  may  stand,  then  Arthur  needs  must  fall ; 
So  be  it,  for  it  cannot  be  but  so. 

Lew.  But  what  shall  I  gain  by  young  Arthur's 

Pand.  You,  in  the  right  of  lady  Blanch,  your 
wife. 
May  then  make  all  the  claim  that  Arthur  did. 

(1)  Breatlie.      (2)  Graceful.      (3)  Tapestry. 


I.,ew.  And  lose  it,  life  and  all,  as  Arthur  did. 

Pand.  How  green  are  you,  and  fresh  in  this  old 
world ! 
John  lays  you  plots ;  the  times  conspire  with  you : 
For  he,  that  steeps  his  safety  in  true  blood, 
Shall  find  but  bloody  safety,  and  untrue. 
This  act,  so  evilly  bom,  shall  cool  the  hearts 
Of  all  his  people,  and  freeze  up  their  zeal ; 
That  none  so  small  advantage  shall  step  forth, 
To  check  his  reign,  but  they  will  cherish  it : 
No  natural  exhalation  in  the  sky, 
i\o  'scape  of  nature,  no  distemper'd  day, 
No  common  wind,  no  customed  event. 
But  they  will  pluck  away  his  natural  cause, 
And  call  them  meteors,  prodigies,  and  signs. 
Abortives,  presages,  and  tongues  of  heaven. 
Plainly  denouncing  vengeance  upon  John. 

Z^ew.  May  be,  be  will  not  touch  young  Arthur's 
life. 
But  hold  himself  safe  in  his  pris<mment. 

Pand.  O,  sir,  when  be  shall  hear  of  your  ap- 
proach. 
If  that  young  Arthur  be  not  gone  already. 
Even  at  that  news  he  dies :  and  then  the  hearts 
Of  all  his  people  shall  revolt  from  him, 
And  kiss  the  lips  of  unacquainted  change ; 
And  pick  strong  matter  of  revolt,  and  wrath. 
Out  of  the  bloody  fingers'  ends  of  John. 
Methinks,  I  see  this  hurly  all  on  foot ; 
And,  O,  what  better  matter  breeds  for  you. 
Than  I  have  nam'd  ! — The  bastard  Faulconbridge 
Is  now  in  England,  ransacking  the  church, 
Offending  charity  :  If  but  a  dozen  French 
Were  there  in  arms,  they  would  be  as  a  call 
To  train  ten  thousand  English  to  their  side  ; 
Or,  as  a  little  snow,  tumbled  about. 
Anon  becomes  a  mountain.     O  noble  Dauphin, 
Go  with  me  to  the  king :  'Tis  wonderful. 
What  may  be  wrought  out  of  their  discontent : 
Now  that  their  souls  are  topful  of  oflence. 
For  England  go  ;  I  will  whet  on  the  kin^. 
Lew.  Strong  reasons  make  strong  actions :  Let 
OS  go; 
If  you  say,  ay,  the  king  will  not  say,  now  [£x«tmf. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJVE  I. — Northampton.  A  room  in  the  castle. 
Enter  Hubert  (uid  two  Attendants, 

Huh.  Heat  me  these  irons  hot :  and,  look  thoo 
stand 
Within  the  arras :'  when  I  strike  my  foot 
Upon  the  bosom  of  the  ground,  rush  forth : 
And  bind  the  boy,  which  you  shall  find  with  me, 
Fast  to  the  chair :  be  heedful :  hence,  and  watch. 
1  Attend.  I  hope,  your  warrant  will  bear  out 

the  deed. 
Hub.  Uncleanly  scruples !  Fear  not  you :  look 
to't. —  [Exeunt  Attendants. 

Young  lad,  come  forth ;  I  have  to  say  with  you. 

Enter  Arthur. 

Arth.  Good  morrow,  Hubert. 

Hub.  Good  morrow,  little  prince 

Arth.  As  little  prince  (having  so  great  a  title 
To  be  more  prince^  as  may  be. — You  are  sad. 

Hub.  Indeed,  I  nave  been  merrier. 

Arth.  Mercy  on  me  * 

Methinks,  nobody  should  be  sad  but  I : 
Yet,  I  remember,  when  I  was  in  France, 
Young  gentlemen  would  be  as  sad  as  n^ht, 


358 


KING  JOHN. 


Act  IT. 


Only  fat  vrantonneas.    Bj  my  Christendom, 

So  I  were  out  of  prison,  and  kept  sheep, 

[  should  be  as  merrv  as  the  day  is  long ; 

And  to  I  would  be  here,  but  tnat  I  doubt 

My  uncle  practises  more  harm  to  me  : 

He  is  afraid  of  me,  and  1  of  him  : 

Is  it  my  fault  that  I  was  Geflrey^s  son  ? 

No,  indeed,  isU  not ;  And  I  would  to  heaven, 

I  were  your  son,  so  you  would  love  me,  Hubert. 

Huh.  If  I  talk  to  him,  with  his  innocent  prate 
He  will  awake  my  mercy,  which  lies  dead : 
Therefore  I  will  be  sudden,  and  despatch.  [Aside. 

Arth,  Are  you  sick,  Hubert  f  you  look  pale  to- 
day : 
In  looth,  1  would  you  were  a  little  sick ; 
That  I  might  sit  all  night,  and  watch  with  you : 
I  warrant,  I  love  vou  more  than  you  do  me. 

Hftb.  His  woros  do  take  possession  of  my  bo- 
som.— 
Read  here,  young  Arthur.    [Shomng  a  paper.] 
How  now,  foolish  rheum .'  [Aside. 

Turning  dispiteous  torture  out  of  door ! 
I  must  Be  bnef ;  lest  resolution  drop 

Out  at  mine  eyes,  in  tender  womanish  tears. 

Can  you  not  read  it  f  is  it  not  fair  writ  f 

Arth.  Too  fairly,  Hubert,  for  so  foul  effect : 
Must  you  with  hot  irons  bum  out  both  mine  eyes  ? 

Hub.  Young  boy,  I  musL 

Arth.  And  will  you  f 

Hub.  And  I  will. 

Arth.  Have  you  the  heart.'  When  your  head 
did  but  ache, 
f  knit  my  handkerchief  about  your  brows, 
(The  best  I  had,  a  princess  wrought  it  me,) 
And  I  did  never  ask  it  you  again  : 
And  with  my  hand  at  midnight  held  your  head  ; 
And,  like  the  watchful  minutes  to  the  hour, 
Still  and  anon  cheered  up  the  heavy  time ; 
Saying,  What  lack  you.'  and,  Where  lies  your 

grief.' 
Or,  WTiat  good  love  may  I  perform  for  you  ? 
Many  a  poor  man*s  son  would  have  lain  still. 
And  ne*er  have  spoke  a  loving  word  to  you  ; 
But  you  at  your  sick  service  had  a  prince. 
Nay,  you  may  think,  my  love  was  crafty  love. 
And  call  it  cunning;  Ik),  an  if  you  will : 
If  heaven  be  pleasM  that  you  must  use  me  ill, 
Why,  then  you  must. — Will  you  put  out  mine 

eyes.' 
These  eyes,  that  never  did,  nor  never  shall. 
So  much  as  frown  on  you .' 

Hub.  I  have  sworn  to  do  it ; 

And  with  hot  irons  must  I  bum  them  out. 

Arth.  Ah,  none,  but  in  this  iron  ago,  would  do  it ! 
The  iron  of  itself,  though  heat  red-hot, 
Approaching  near  these  eyes,  would  drink  my 

tears. 
And  quench  his  fiery  indignation, 
Even  m  the  matter  of  mine  innocence : 
Nay,  after  that,  consume  away  in  rust. 
But  for  containing  fire  to  harm  mine  eye. 
Are  you  more  j>tubbom-hard  than  hamnierM  iron  ? 
An  if  an  angel  should  have  come  to  me, 
And  told  me,  Hubert  should  put  out  mine  eves, 
I  would  not  have  believM  no  tongue,  but  HuWrt^s. 

Hub.  Come  forth.  [Stamps. 

Re-enter  Attendants,  ufith  cord,  irons,  ^-c. 

Do  as  I  bid  you  do. 
Arth,  O,  save  me,  Hubert,  save  me !  my  eyes 
are  out. 
Even  with  the  fierce  looks  of  these  bloody  men. 

(1)  In  cruelty  I  have  not  deserved. 


Hub.  Give  me  the  iron,  I  say,  and  1  inc  him  herp 

Arth.    Alas,  what  need  you  be  so  boi8t*rout 
rough.' 
r  will  not  straggle,  I  will  stand  stone-still. 
For  heaven*8  sake,  Hubert,  let  me  rtot  be  bound  ! 
Nay,  hear  me,  Hubert !  drive  these  men  away. 
And  I  will  sit  as  quiet  as  a  lamb ; 
I  will  not  stir,  nor  wince,  nor  speak  a  word. 
Nor  look  upon  the  iron  angerly  : 
Thmst  but  these  men  away,  and  PU  foi^ve  you. 
Whatever  torment  you  do  put  me  ta 

Hub.  Go,  stand  within ;  let  me  alone  with  him. 

I  Attend.  I  am  best  pleasM  to  be  from  such  a 
deed.  [Exeunt  Attendants. 

Arth.  Alas .'  I  then  have  cnid  away  nAy  friend ; 
fie  hath  a  stem  look,  but  a  gentle  heart : — 
Let  him  come  back,  that  his  compassion  may 
Give  life  to  yours. 

Hub.  Come,  boy,  prepare  yourself. 

Arth.  Is  there  no  remedy .' 

Hub.  None,  but  to  lose  your  eyes, 

Arth.  O  heaven ! — that  there  were  but  a  mote  in 
yours, 
A  grain,  a  dust,  a  gnat,  a  wandering  hair, 
Any  annoyance  in  that  precious  sense ! 
Then,  feeling  what  small  things  are  boist'rous there. 
Your  vile  intent  must  needs  seem  horrible. 

Hub.  Is  this  your  promise .'  go  to,  bold  your 
tongue. 

ArVi.  Hubert,  the  utterance  of  a  brace  of  tongues 
Must  needs  want  pleading  for  a  pair  of  ^es : 
Let  me  not  hold  my  tongue ;  let  roe  not,  Hubert ! 
Or,  Hubert,  if  you  will,  cut  out  my  tongue. 
So  I  may  keep  mine  eyes ;  O,  spare  mine  ^es ; 
Though  to  no  use,  but  still  to  look  on  you ! 
Lo,  by  my  troth,  the  instnmient  is  cold, 
.And  would  not  harm  me. 

Hub.  I  can  heat  it,  boy. 

Arth.  No,  in  good  sooth ;  the  fire  is  dead  with 
grief. 
Being  create  for  comfort,  to  be  us*d 
In  undeservM  extremes  :*  See  else  yourself; 
There  is  no  malice  in  this  burning  coal ; 
The  breath  of  heaven  hath  blown  his  spirit  out. 
And  strewM  repentant  ashes  on  his  bend. 

Hub.  But  with  my  breath  I  can  revive  it,  boy. 

Arth.  And  if  you  do,  you  will  but  make  it  blush. 
And  glow  with  shame  of  your  proceedings,  Hubert  - 
Nay,  it,  perchance,  will  sparkle  in  your  eyes ; 
And,  like  a  dc^  that  is  compelled  to  fight. 
Snatch  at  his  master  that  doth  tarre^  him  oo. 
All  things,  that  you  should  use  to  do  roe  wrong. 
Deny  their  ofllke  :  only  you  do  lack 
That  mercy,  which  fierce  fire,  and  iron,  extends. 
Creatures  of  note,  for  mercy-lacking  uses. 

Hub.  Well,  see  to  live ;  I  will  not  touch  thine 
eyes 
For  all  the  treasure  that  thine  uncle  owes  :* 
Yet  am  I  sworn,  and  I  did  purpose,  boy, 
With  this  same  very  iron  to  bum  them  out. 

Arth.  O,  now  3'ou  look  like  Hubert!   all  this 
while 
You  were  dit^ised. 

Hub.  Peace :  no  more.     Adicm  ; 

Your  uncle  must  not  know  but  you  are  dead : 
V\\  fill  these  d(^ed  spies  with  false  reports. 
And,  pretty  child,  sleep  doubtless,  and  secure. 
That  Hubert,  for  the  wealth  of  all  the  world. 
Will  not  offend  thee. 

Arth.  O  heaven  ! — I  thank  yoo,  Hubert. 

Hub.  Silence ;  no  more :  Go  cloeel}"^  in  with  me : 
Much  danger  do  I  undergo  for  thee.        [£twii^. 

(2)  Sri  him  on.       (3)  Owns.       (4)  Secwtly. 


Seme  11 


KING  JOHN. 


359 


SCEJ^E  IL— The  same,  A  room  qf  siaU  in  the 
ptUaee.  Enter  King  John,  crownMf  Pembroke, 
Salisbury,  and  other  lords.  The  long  lakes  his 
state. 

K.  John.  Here  once  again  we  sit,  once  again 
crownM, 
And  Iook*d  upon,  I  hope,  with  cbeertui  ejes. 
Pem.  This  once  again,  but  that  your  highness 
pleas'd. 
Was  once  superfluous :  you  were  crown'd  before, 
And  that  high  royalty  was  ne'er  pluck*d  off; 
The  faiths  of  men  ne'er  stained  with  revolt ; 
Fresh  expectation  troubled  not  the  land. 
With  any  loog'd-for  change,  or  better  state. 

SaL  Therefore,  to  be  possessed  with  double  pomp, 
To  guard>  a  title  that  was  rich  before, 
To  gild  refined  gold,  to  paint  the  lily, 
To  throw  a  perfume  on  tne  violet. 
To  smooth  tne  ice,  or  add  another  hue 
Unto  the  rainbow,  or  with  taper-light 
To  seek  the  beauteous  eye  of  heaven  to  gamish,^ 
Is  wasteful,  and  ridiculous  excess. 

Pem.  But  that  your  royal  pleasure  must  be  done, 
This  act  is  as  an  ancient  tale  new  told ; 
And,  in  the  last  repeating,  troublesome, 
^(^  urged  at  a  tune  unseasonable. 

Sal.  In  this,  the  antique  and  well-noted  face 
Of  plain  old  form  is  much  disfigured : 
Ana,  like  a  shifted  wind  unto  a  sail. 
It  makes  the  course  of  thoughts  to  fetch  about ; 
Startles  and  frights  consideration ; 
Makes  sound  opinion  sick,  and  truth  suspected. 
For  putting  on  so  new  a  fashion'd  robe. 
Pem.   When  workmen  strive  to  do  better  than 
well. 
They  do  confound  their  skill  in  covetousness :' 
And,  oftentimes,  excusing  of  a  fault. 
Doth  make  the  fault  the  worse  by  the  exdise ; 
As  patches,  set  upon  a  little  breach. 
Discredit  more  in  hiding  of  the  fault, 
Than  did  the  fault  before  it  was  so  patch'd. 

SaL  To  this  effect,  before  you  were  new-crown'd. 
We  breathed  our  counsel :  but  it  pleas'dyour  high- 
ness 
To  overbear  it ;  and  we  are  all  well  pleasM  ; 
Since  all  and  every  part  of  what  we  would. 
Doth  make  a  stana  at  what  your  highness  will. 

K.  John.  Some  reasons  of  this  double  coronation 
I  have  possessed  you  with,  and  think  them  strong  ; 
And  more,  more  strong  (when  lesser  is  my  fear,) 
I  shall  indue  you  with  :  Meantime,  but  ask 
What  you  would  have  reforraM,  that  is  not  well ; 
And  well  shall  you  perceive,  how  willingly 
I  will  both  hear  and  grant  you  your  requests. 

Pem^  Then  I  (as  one  that  am  the  tongue  of  these, 
To  sounds  the  purposes  of  all  their  hearts,) 
Both  for  myseir,  and  them  (but,  chief  of  all. 
Your  safety,  for  the  which  myself  and  them 
Bend  their  best  studies,)  heartily  request 
The  enfranchisement^  of  Arthur;  wiiose  restraint 
I>oth  move  the  murmuring  lips  of  discontent. 
To  break  into  this  dangerous  argument, — 
If,  what  in  rest  you  have,  in  right  you  hold, 
Why  then  your  fears  (which,  as  they  say,  attend 
The  steps  of  wrong,)  should  move  you  to  mew  up 
ITour  tender  kinsman,  and  to  choke  his  days 
With  barbarous  ignorance,  and  deny  hb  youth 
The  rich  advantage  of  good  exercise  ? 
That  the  time's  enemies  may  not  hare  this 
To  grace  occasions,  let  it  be  our  suit. 
That  you  have  bid  us  ask  his  liberty ; 


\^liich  for  our  goods  we  do  no  further  ask. 
Than  whereupon  our  weal,  on  you  depending. 
Counts  it  your  weal,  he  have  his  liberty. 
K.  Jofm.  Let  it  be  so;  I  do  commit  his  youth 

Enter  Hubert 

To  your  direction. — Hubert,  what  news  with  tou  ? 
Pem.  This  is  the  man  should  do  the  bloody  deed ; 
He  show'd  his  warrant  to  a  friend  of  mine : 
The  image  of  a  wicked  heinous  fault 
Lives  in  his  eye  ;  that  close  aspect  of  his 
Does  show  the  niood  of  a  much-troubled  breast ; 
And  I  do  fearfully  believe,  'tis  done. 
What  we  so  fear'd  he  had  a  charge  to  do. 

SaL  The  colour  of  the  king  doth  come  and  go, 
Between  his  purpose  and  his  conscience, 
Like  heralds  'twixt  two  dreadful  battles  set : 
His  passion  is  so  ripe,  it  needs  must  break. 
Pem.   And,  when  it  breaks,  I  fear,  will  issue 
thence 
The  foul  corruption  of  a  sweet  child's  death. 
K.  John.    We  cannot  hold  mortality's  strong 
hand: — 
Good  lords,  although  my  will  to  give  is  living. 
The  suit  which  you  demand  is  gone  and  dead  ; 
He  tells  us,  Arthur  is  deceas'd  to-night. 
SaL  Indeed,  we  fear'd,  his  sickness  was  pajsi^^u^. 
Pem.  Indeed  we  heard  how  near  his  deat^ik^M^f! 
Before  the  child  himself  felt  be  was  sicK  ; 
This  must  be  answer'd,  either  here,  or  Wvca. 
K.  John.  Why  do  you  bend  such  aUnmn  browa 
on  me.^ 
Think  you,  I  bear  the  shears  of  dMtiny  ? 
Have  I  commandment  on  the  poke  of  life  ? 
Sal.  It  is  apparent  foul  play ;  and  'tis  sba 
That  greatness  should  so  grossly  offer  it : 
So  thrive  it  in  your  game  I  and;  so  farewell  * 

Pem.  Stay  yet,  lord  S^lisbmr ;  I'll  go  with  the«^ 
And  find  the  inheritaiM:e  of  this  poor  child. 
His  little  kingdom  of  a  forced  grave 
That  blood,  which  gw'dfi  the  breath  of  all  this  isle. 
Three  foot  of  it  doth  hold ;  Bad  world  the  while  ^ 
This  must  not  be  thus  borne :  this  will  breaJt  out 
To  all  our  sorrows,  andere  long»  I  doubt 

[B^xeuni  LoT^ 
K.  John.  They  burn  in  indignation ;  I  repent ; 
There  is  no  sure  foundation  set  oo  blood ; 
No  certaiQ  liiie  achiev'd  by  others'  death. 


(I)  Lace.  (2)  Dworafe. 

'3)  De»ire  of  excelling. 


(4)  Publish. 


Enter  a  Messenger. 

A  fearful  eye  thou  hast ;  Where  is  that  bloody 
That  I  have  seen  inhabit  in  those  cheeks  f 
Sofbul  a  sky  clears  not  without  a  storm : 
Pbur  down  thy  weather :— How  goes  all  in  France  * 

JItess.  From  France  toEngland.— ^ver  such  h 
power^ 
For  any  foreign  preparation. 
Was  levied  in  the  body  of  a  land ! 
The  copy  of  your  speed  is  leam'd  by  them ; 
For,  when  you  should  be  told  they  do  prepare, 
The  tidings  come,  that  they  are  all  arriv'dT 

K.  John.  0,  where  hath  our  iatelligeace  been 
drunk  ? 
WTiere  hath  it  slept  ?  Where  is  my  mother's  care; 
That  such  an  army  could  be  drawn  ia  France, 
And  she  not  hear  of  it? 

J^ess.  My  liege,  her  ear 

Is  stopp'd  with  dust;  the  first  of  April,  died 
Your  noble  mother :  And,  as  I  hear,  my  lord. 
The  lady  Constance  in  a  f^eazy  died 
Three  days  befbre  :  but  this  from  rumour's  toagu« 
I  idly  heard ;  if  true,  or  false,  I  know  not 

(5)  Releasement      (jS)  Owned     (7)  Forctk 


360 


KING  JOHN. 


AdLir 


K.  John,  Withhold  thy  speed,  dreadful  occason! 
O,  make  a  league  with  me,  till  1  have  pleas'd 
My  dwcontented  peers  .'—What !  mother  dead  ? 
How  wildly  then  walks  my  estate  in  France  ! — 
Under  whose  conduct  came  those  powers  of  France, 
liat  thou  for  truth  giv'st  out,  are  lauded  here  ? 

Mum.  Under  the  dauphin. 
EnUr  the  Bastard,  and  Peter  of  Pom/ret. 

K.  John.  Thou  hast  made  me  giddv 

With  these  ill  tidings.— Now,  what  says  the  world 
To  your  proceedings  ?  do  not  seek  to  stuff 
My  head  with  more  ill  news,  for  it  is  full. 

Bait.  But,  if  you  be  afeard  to  hear  the  worst. 
Then  let  the  worst,  unheard,  fall  on  your  head. 

K.  J(^.  Bear  with  me,  cousin ;  for  I  was  amaz'di 
Under  the  tide :  but  now  I  breathe  again 
Aloft  the  flood ;  and  can  give  audience 
To  any  tongue,  speak  it  of  what  it  will. 

BaH.  How  I  have  sped  among  the  clergymen, 
The  sums  I  have  collected  shall  express 
But,  as  I  travelled  hither  through  the  land, 
I  find  the  people  strangely  fantasied ; 
^MsessM  widi  rumours,  full  of  idle  dreams ; 
Not  knowing  what  they  fear,  but  full  of  fear : 
And  heie*s  a  prophet,  that  I  brought  with  me 
From  forth  the  streets  of  Pomfret,  whom  I  found 
With  many  hundreds  treading  on  his  heels ; 
To  whom  nc  sung,  in  rude  harsh-sounding  rhymes. 
That,  ere  the  next  Ascension-day  at  noon, 
Vour  hi(^ness  should  deliver  up  your  cro*vn. 

It  John.  Thou  idle  dreamer,  wherefore  didst 
thou  90  ^ 

Peter.  Foreknowing  that  the  truth  will  fell  out  so. 

K.  John.  Hubert,  away  with  him;  imprison  him ; 
And  on  that  day,  at  noon,  whereon  he  says 


Four  fixed ;  and  the  fifth  did  whirl  about 
The  other  four,  in  wond'rous  motion. 
K.  John.  Five  moons  f 

jiub.  Old  men,  and  beldams 

in  the  streets 
Do  prophesy  upon  it  dangerously : 
Young  Arthur*s  death  is  common  in  their  mouths : 
And  when  they  talk  of  him,  they  shake  their  heads, 
And  whisper  one  another  in  the  ear ; 
And  he,  that  speaks,  doth  gripe  the  hearer's  wrist; 
Whilst  he,  that  hears,  makes  fearful  action. 
With  wrinkled  brows,  with  nods,  with  rolling 

eyes. 
I  saw  a  smith  stand  with  his  hammer,  thus. 
The  whilst  his  iron  did  on  the  anvil  cool, 
With  open  mouth  swallowing  a  tailor's  news , 
Who,  with  his  shears  and  measure  in  his  hand. 
Standing  on  slippers  (which  his  nimble  haste 
Had  felsely  thrust  upon  contrary  feet,) 
Told  of  a  many  thousand  warlike  French, 
That  were  embatteled,  and  rank'd  in  Kent : 
Another  lean  unwashM  artificer 
Cuts  off  his  tale,  and  talks  of  Arthur's  death. 
K.  John.  Why  seek'st  thou  to  poseeas  roc  with 
these  fears  ? 
Why  urgest  thou  so  oft  young  Arthur's  death  ? 
Thy  hand  hath  murder'd  him :  I  had  mightv  cause 
To  wish  him  dead,  but  thou  hadst  none  to  kill  him. 
Hub.  Had  none,  my  lord !  why,  did  you  not 

provoke  me  f 
K.  John.  It  is  the  curse  of  kings,  to  be  attended 
By-  slaves,  that  take  their  humours  for  a  warrant 
1\>  break  within  the  bloody  house  of  life : 
And,  on  the  winking  of  authority. 
To  understand  a  law ;  to  know  the  meaning 


I  shall  yield  up  my  crown,  let  him  be  han^  «  . 

Deliver  him  to  safety  ,2  and  return. 

For  I  must  use  thee.— O  my  gentle  cousin, 

[Exit  Hubert,  with  Peter. 
Hear*st  thou  the  news  abroad,  who  are  arrivM  P 

Bait  The  French,  my  lord ;  men's  mouths  are 
full  of  it  : 
Besideit  I  met  lord  Bigot,  and  lord  Salisbury, 
(With  eyes  as  red  as  new-enkindled  fire,) 
An<^  others  more,  going  to  seek  the  grave 
Of  Arthur,  who,  Aey  say,  is  kill'd  to-night 
On  your  suggestion. 

A.  John.  Gentle  kinsman,  go, 

And  thrust  thyself  into  their  companies : 
I  have  a  way  to  win  their  loves  again ; 
Bring  them  before  me. 

Bast.  I  will  seek  them  out. 

K.  John.  Nay,  but  make  haste ;  the  better  foot 

before. ^ 

O,  let  me  have  no  subject  enemies. 
When  adt'erse  foreigners  affri^t  my  towns 
With  dreadful  pomp  of  stout  mvasion  !— 
Be  Mercury,  set  feathers  to  thy  heels ; 
And  fly,  like  thought,  from  them  to  me  again. 

BatL  The  spirit  of  the  time  shall  teach  me  ^peed. 

[Erit. 

K.  John.  Spoke  like  a  sprightful  noble  gentle- 
man.— 
Go  after  him ;  for  he,  perhaps,  shall  need 
Some  messenger  betwixt  me  and  the  peers ; 
And  be  thou  be. 
Mest.  With  all  mv  heart,  my  liege.  [Exit. 

K.  John.  My  mother  dead ! 

Re-enter  Hubert 
Hub.  My  lord,  they  say,  five  nxxms  were  seen 
to-night : 

(1)  Stunned,  confounded.  (2)  Custody. 


Of  dangerous  majesty,  when,  perchance,  it  frowns 
More  upon  humour  wan  advis'd  respect.> 
Hub.  Here  is  your  hand  and  sesd  for  what  I 

did. 
K.  John.  O,  when  the  last  account  'twixt  hea- 
ven and  earth 
Is  to  be  made,  then  shall  this  hand  and  seal 
Witness  against  us  to  damnation ! 
How  oft  the  sight  of  means  to  do  ill  deeds. 
Makes  deeds  iU  done !  Hadest  not  thou  been  by, 
A  fellow  by  the  hand  of  nature  mark'd. 
Quoted,^  and  sign'd,  to  do  a  deed  of  shame, 
This  murder  had  not  come  into  my  mind : 
But,  taking  note  of  thy  abhorr'd  aspect. 
Finding  thee  fit  for  bloody  villany. 
Apt,  liable,  to  be  employ'd  in  danger, 
I  faintly  broke  with  thee  of  Arthur's  death ; 
And  thou,  to  be  endeared  to  a  king. 
Made  it  no  conscience  to  destroy  a  prince. 

Hub.  My  lord, 

K.  John.  Hadst  thou  but  shook  thy  head,  or 
made  a  pause, 
When  I  spake  darkly  what  I  purposed ; 
Or  tum'd  an  eye  of  doubt  upon  my  fece. 
As  bid  me  tell  ray  tale  in  express  words ; 
Deep  shame  had  struck  me  dumb,  made  me  break 

off. 
And  those  thy  feara  might  have  wrought  fears  b 

me: 
But  thou  didst  understand  me  by  my  signs. 
And  didst  in  signs  again  parley  with  sin  ; 
Yea,  without  stop,  didst  let  thy  heart  conseot. 
And,  consequently,  thy  rude  hand  to  act 
The  deed,  which  both  our  tongues  held  Tile  to 

name. — 
Out  of  my  sight,  and  never  see  me  more ! 
My  nobler  leave  me ;  and,  my  state  is  bimv'd, 

(3)  Deliberate  coosideratkm.    (4)  Obierved. 


I 


ScefuIII, 


KING  JOHN. 


361 


Even  at  my  gates,  with  ranks  of  foreign  powers : 

Nay,  in  the  body  of  this  fleshly  landf' 

This  kingdom,  wis  confine  of  blood  and  breath, 

Hostility  and  civil  tumult  rei^s 

Between  my  conscience,  and  my  cousin's  death. 

Hitb.  Arm  you  against  your  other  enemies, 
ril  make  a  peace  between  your  soul  and  you. 
Young  Arthur  is  alive :  This  hand  of  mine 
Is  yet  a  maiden  and  an  innocent  hand, 
Not  p>ainted  with  the  crimson  spots  of  blood. 
Witnin  this  bosom  never  enterM  yet 
The  dreadful  motion  of  a  murd'rous  thought. 
And  you  have  slanderM  nature  in  my  form ; 
Which,  howsoever  rude  exteriorly. 
Is  yet  the  cover  of  a  fairer  mind 
Than  to  be  butcher  of  an  innocent  child. 

K,  John,  Doth  Arthur  live.^  O,  haste  thee  to 
the  peers, 
Throw  this  report  on  their  incensed  rage. 
And  make  them  tame  to  their  obedience  ! 
For^ve  the  comment  that  my  passion  made 
Upon  thy  feature  ;  for  my  raee  was  blind. 
And  foul  imaginary  eyes  of  blood 
Presented  thee  more  hideous  than  thou  art 
O,  answer  not ;  but  to  my  closet  bring 
The  angry  lords,  with  all  expedient^ haste: 
1  c6njure  thee  but  slowly  ;  run  more  fast      [Ete. 

SCEIJ^E  JIL—The   same.    Before  the   castle. 
Enter  Arthur,  on  the  walls. 

Arih,  The  wall  is  high  \  and  yet  will  I  leap 
down : — 
Good  ground,  be  pitiful,  and  hurt  me  not ! — 
There's  few,  or  none,  do  know  me ;  if  they  did, 
This  ship-boy*s  semblance  hath  disguised  me  quite. 
I  am  afraid  ;  and  vet  Pll  venture  it 
If  1  get  down,  and  do  not  break  my  limbs, 
IMl  find  a  thousand  shifts  to  get  away  : 
As  g;ood  to  die,  and  go,  as  die,  and  stay. 

[Leaps  down. 
O  me !  my  uncle's  spirit  is  in  these  stones  : — 
Heaven  take  my  soul,  and  England  keep  my  bones ! 

[Dies. 
Enter  Pembroke,  Salisbury,  and  Bigot. 

Sal.  Lords,  I  will  meet  him  at  Saint  Edmund's- 
bury ; 
It  is  oar  safety,  and  we  must  embrace 
This  gentle  dfer  of  the  perilous  time. 

Pern.  Who  brought  that  letter  from  the  cardinal  ? 

SaL  The  Count  Melun,  a  noble  lord  of  France  ; 
Whose  private  with  me^,  of  the  dauphin's  love, 
Is  much  more  general  than  these  lines  import. 

Big.  To-morrow  morning  let  us  meet  him  then. 

Sol  Or,  rather  then  set  forward  :  for  'twill  be 
Two  long  days'  jouniey,  lords,  or  e'er  we  meet. 

EiUer  the  Bastard. 
BasL  Once  more  to-day  well  met,  disteraper'd^ 
lords ! 
The  king,  by  me,  requests  your  presence  straight. 
Sed.  The  king  hath  disnossess'd  himself  of  us ; 
We  will  not  line  his  thin  oeslained  cloak 
With  our  pure  honours,  nor  attend  the  foot 
That  leaves  the  print  of  blood  where'er  it  walks : 
Return,  and  tell  him  so;  we  know  the  worst 
Bast.  Whate'er  you  think,  good  words,  I  think, 

were  best 
Sal.  Our  griefs,  and  not  our  manners,  reason  now. 
•  Bast.  But  there  is  little  reason  in  your  grief; 
Therefore,  'twere  reason,  you  had  manners  now. 


(1)  His  own  body. 
(3)  Private  account 
(5)  Pity. 


(2)  Expeditious. 
(4)  Out  of  humour. 


Pern.  Sir,  sir,  impatience  hath  his  privilege. 

Bast.  'Tis  true ;  to  hurt  his  master,  no  man  else. 

SaL  This  is  the  prison :  What  is  he  lies  here  } 

[Seeing  Arthur 

Pern.  O  death,  made  proud  with  pure  and  prince- 
ly beauty  I 
The  earth  had  not  a  hole  to  hide  this  deed. 

Scd.  Murder,  as  hating  what  himself  hath  done. 
Doth  lay  it  open,  to  urge  on  revenge. 

Big.  Or,  when  he  doom'd  this  beauty  to  a  grare. 
Found  it  too  precious-princely  for  a  grave. 

Sal.  Sir  Richard,  what  think  you.'  Have  you 
beheld, 
Or  have  you  read,  or  heard .'  or  could  you  think  } 
Or  do  you  almost  think,  although  you  see. 
That  you  do  see .'  could  thought,  without  this  object. 
Form  such  another .'  This  is  the  very  top, 
The  height,  the  crest,  or  crest  unto  the  crest. 
Of  murder's  arms  :  this  is  the  bloodiest  shame. 
The  wildest  savagei^',  the  vilest  stroke. 
That  ever  wall-ey'd  wrath,  or  staring  rage, 
Presented  to  the  ears  of  soft  remorse.* 

Pem.  All  murders  past  do  stand  excus'd  in  this: 
And  this,  so  sole,  and  so  unmatchable. 
Shall  give  a  holiness,  a  purity. 
To  the  yet-unbegotten  sin  of  time ; 
And  prove  a  deadly  bloodshed  but  a  jest, 
Exampled  by  this  heinous  spectacle. 

Bast.  It  is  a  damned  and  a  bloody  work ; 
The  graceless  action  of  a  heavy  hand, 
If  that  it  be  the  work  of  any  hand. 

Sal.  If  that  it  be  the  work  of  any  hand  ? — 
We  had  a  kind  of  light,  what  would  ensue : 
It  is  the  shameful  work  of  Hubert's  hand ; 
The  practice,  and  the  purpose,  of  the  king  :— 
From  whose  obedience  I  forbid  my  soul, 
Kneeling  before  this  ruin  of  sweet  life. 
And  breathing  to  his  breathless  excellence, 
The  incense  of  a  vow,  a  holy  vow ; 
Never  to  taste  the  pleasures  of  the  world. 
Never  to  be  infected  with  delight. 
Nor  conversant  with  ease  and  idleness, 
Till  I  have  set  a  glory  to  this  hand,^ 
By  givin^it  the  worship  of  revenge. 

Pan.  Big.   Our  souls  religiously  confinn   thy 
words. 

Enter  Hubert 

Huh.  Lords,  I  am  hot  with  haste  in  seeking  yoa : 
Arthur  doth  live ;  the  king  hath  sent  for  vou. 

Sal.  O,  he  is  bold,  and  blushes  not  at  death :— • 
Avaunt,  thou  hateful  villain,  get  thee  gone  i 

Hub.  I  am  no  villain. 

Sal  Must  I  rob  the  law  .> 

[Drawing  his  sword. 

Bast.  Your  sword  is  bright,  sir ;  put  it  up  again. 

Sal.  Not  till  I  sheath  it  in  a  murderer's  skin. 

Hub.  Stand  back,  lord  Salisbury,  stand  back,  I 
say; 
By  heaven,  I  think,  my  sword's  as  sharp  as  yours : 
I  would  not  have  you,  lord,  forget  yourself. 
Nor  tempt  the  danger  of  my  true'  defence ; 
I-^st  I,  by  marking  of  your  rage,  forget 
Your  worth,  your  greatness,  and  nobility. 

Big.  Out,  dungnill !  dar'st  thou  brave  a  noble- 
man.' 

Hub.  Not  for  my  life :  but  yet  I  dare  defend 
My  innocent  life  against  an  emperor. 

Sal.  Thou  art  a  murderer. 

Hub.  Do  not  prove  me  lo  ;* 

(6)  Hand  should  be  head:  a  glory  is  the  circle  ol 
rays  which  surrounds  the  heads  of  saints  in  pictures. 

(7)  Honest     (8)  By  compelling  me  to  Kill  you. 


362 


KING  JOHN. 


AetF, 


Yet,  I  am  none :  Whose  tongue  »oe*er  speaks  false. 
Not  truly  speaks ;  who  speaks  not  truly,  lies. 
Pern.  Cut  him  to  pieces. 
Bast.  Keep  the  peace,  I  say. 

iiaL.  Stand  by,  or  I  shall  gall  you,Faulconbridge. 
Bast.  Thou  wert  better  gall  the  devil,  Salisbuiy  : 
If  thou  but  frown  on  me,  or  stir  thy  foot. 
Or  teach  thy  hasty  spleen  to  do  me  shame, 
ril  strike  thee  dead.     Put  up  thy  sword  betime ; 
Or  Pll  so  maul  you  and  your  toasting-iron. 
That  you  shall  think  the  devil  is  come  from  hell. 

Big.  What  wilt  thou  do,  renowned  Faulconbridge .' 
Second  a  villain,  and  a  murderer  ^ 
Hub.  Lord  Bigot,  1  am  ncme. 
Big.  Who  kiird  this  pnnce .' 

Hub.  ^Tis  not  an  hour  since  I  left  him  well : 
1  honoured  him,  I  lovM  him ;  and  will  weep 
My  date  of  life  out,  for  his  sweet  lifers  loss. 

Sal.  Trust  not  those  cunning  waters  of  his  eyes. 
For  villany  is  not  without  such  rheum,> 
And  he,  long  traded  in  it,  makes  it  seem 
Like  rivers  of  remorse^  and  innocency. 
Away,  with  me,  all  you  whose  souls  abhor 
The  uncleanly  savours  of  a  slaughter-houise, 
For  I  am  stifled  with  this  smell  of  sin. 

Big.  Away,  toward  Bury,  to  the  dauphin  there ! 
Pern.  There,  tell  the  king,  he  may  inquire  u8 
out  VExeuni  Lords. 

Baai.  Here*s  a  good  world ! — Knew  you  of  tliis 
fair  work  ^ 
Beyond  the  infinite  and  boundless  reach 
Of  mercy,  if  thou  didut  this  deed  of  death. 
Art  thou  damned,  Hubert 
Hub.  Do  but  hear  roe,  sir. 

Bast.  Ha!  IMl  tell  thee  what; 
Thou  art  damnM  as  black — nay,  nothing  is  so 

black  ; 
Thou  art  more  deep  damnM  than  prince  Lucifer 
There  is  not  yet  so  ugly  a  fiend  of  hell 
Ah  thou  shalt'be,  if  thou  didst  kill  this  child. 

Hub.  Upon  my  soul, 

Bast.  If  thou  didst  but  consent 

To  this  most  cruel  act,  do  but  despair. 
And,  if  thou  want^st  a  cord,  the  smallest  thread 
That  ever  spider  twisted  from  her  womb 
Will  serve  to  strangle  thee ;  a  rush  will  be 
A  beam  to  hang  thee  on ;  or  would*st  thou  drown 

thyself, 
Put  but  a  little  water  in  a  spoon. 
And  it  shall  be  as  all  the  ocean. 

Enough  to  stifle  such  a  villain  up. 

I  do  suspect  thee  very  grievously. 

Hub.  If  I  in  act,  consent,  or  sin  of  thought. 
Be  guilty  of  the  stealing  that  sweet  breath 
Which  was  embounded  in  this  beauteous  clay. 
Let  hell  want  pains  enough  to  torture  me ! 
I  left  him  well. 

Bast.  Go,  bear  him  in  thine  arms. — 

I  am  amazM,'  me  thinks ;  and  lose  my  way 
Among  tho  thorns  and  dangers  of  this  world. — 
How  easy  doHt  thou  take  all  England  up ! 
From  forth  this  niorsicl  of  dead  royalty, 
The  life,  the  rischt,  and  truth  of  all  this  realm 
Is  fled  to  heaven  ;  and  England  now  is  left 
To  tug  and  scamble,  and  to  part  by  the  teeth 
The  unowed^  interest  of  proud-swelling  state. 
Now,  for  the  bare-pick'd  oone  of  majesiy. 
Doth  dogged  ivar  bristle  his  angry  crest. 
And  snarlelh  in  the  gentle  eyes  of  peace : 
Now  powers  from  home,  and  discontents  at  home, 
Meet  in  one  line  ;  and  vast  confusion  waits 
(As  doth  a  raven  on  a  sick-fallen  beastt,) 

'  (1)  Moisture.         (2)  Pity.         (3)  Confounded. 


The  imminent  decay  of  wrested  pomp. 
Now  happy  he,  whose  cloak  and  cioctore*  can 
Hold  out  this  tempest     Bear  away  that  child. 
And  follow  me  with  speed ;  IMl  to  the  king  : 
A  thousand  businesses  are  brief  in  band. 
And  heaven  itself  doth  frown  upoo  the  land. 

[ExerniL 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.— The  same.  A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  King  John,  Pandulph  toiih  the  eroum^ 
and  attendants. 

K.  John.  Thus  have  I  yielded  up  into  your  hand 
The  circle  of  my  glory. 

Pond.  Take  again 

[diving  John  Uu  crowh. 
From  this  my  hand,  as  holding  of  the  pope. 
Your  sovereign  greatness  and  authority. 

K.  John.  Now  keep  your  holy  word  :  go  meet 
the  French ; 
And  from  his  holiness  use  all  your  power 
To  stop  their  marches,  *fore  we  are  inflamed. 
Our  discontented  counties  do  revolt ; 
Otir  people  quarrel  with  obedience ; 
Swearing  allegiance,  and  the  love  of  soal. 
To  stranger  blood,  to  foreign  royalty. 
This  inundation  of  mistemperM  humour 
Rests  by  you  only  to  be  qualified. 
Then  pause  not ;  for  the  present  time's  so  sick. 
That  present  medicine  must  be  minister'd. 
Or  overthrow  incurable  ensues. 

Pond.  It  was  my  breath  that  blew  this  ten 
pest  up, 
Upon  your  stubborn  usage  of  the  pope : 
But,  since  you  are  a  gentle  convertite,* 
My  tongue  shall  hush  again  this  storm  of  war. 
And  make  fair  weather  in  your  blustering  land. 
On  this  Ascensk)n-day,  remember  well, 
Uix)n  your  oath  of  service  to  the  pope. 
Go  I  to  make  the  French  lay  down  their  arms. 

[Exit 

K.  John.  Is  this  Ascension-day  f   Did  not  the 
prophet 
Say,  that,  before  Ascension-day  at  noon, 
Mv  crown  I  should  give  oSf    Even  so  I  h»»e  : 
I  did  suppose,  it  should  be  on  constraint ; 
But,  heaven  be  thank*d,  it  is  but  voluntary. 

Enter  the  Bastard. 

Bast.  All  Kent  hath  yielded;    nothing   'here 
holds  out, 
But  Dover  castle :  London  hath  received. 
Like  a  kind  hmt,  the  dauphin  and  his  power? 
Your  nobles  will  not  hear  you,  but  are  gone 
To  offer  service  to  your  enemy  ; 
And  wild  amazement  hurries  up  and  down 
The  little  number  of  your  doubtful  friends. 

K.  John.   Would  not  my  lords  return  tc  nw 
again. 
After  thev  heard  young  Arthur  was  alive .' 

Bast.  They  found  him  dead,  and  cast  intc  the 
streets ; 
An  empty  casket,  where  the  jewel  of  life 
By  some  damnM  hand  was  robbM  and  ta*en  awav. 

K.  John.  That  villain  Hubert  told  roe,  he  did 
live. 

Bast.  So,  on  my  soul,  he  did,  for  aught  he  knew 
But  wherefore  do  you  droop.'  why  look  you  lad.' 
Be  great  in  act,  as  you  have  been  in  thoi^t ; 

(4)  Unowned.         (5)  Girdle.  (6)  ConTeii 


7. 


KING  JOHN. 


3«3 


;  the  world  see  fisar,  and  sad  distnut, 

the  motion  of  a  kingly  eye : 
■ing  as  the  time ;  be  fire  with  fire ; 
en  the  threat*ner,  and  outface  the  brow 
;ging  horror :  so  shall  inferior  eyes, 
MTOW  their  behaviours  from  the  great, 
;reat  by  your  example,  and  put  on 
untless  spirit  of  resolution. 

and  glister  liice  the  god  of  war, 
be  intendeth  to  become  the  field : 
oldness,  and  aspiring  confidence, 
shall  tbev  seek  the  lion  in  his  den, 
{ht  him  there  ?  and  make  him  tremble  there  f 
t  not  be  said  ! — Forage,  and  run 
it  displeasure  further  from  the  doors ; 
apple  with  him,  ere  he  come  so  nigh. 
fwtn.    The  legate  of  the  pope  hath  been 

with  me, 
lare  made  a  happy  peace  with  him ; 

hath  promised  to  dismiss, the  powers' 

the  dauphin. 

O,  inglorious  league ! 
e,  upon  the  fbotine  of  our  land, 
jr-play  orders,  and  make  compromise, 
tion,  parley,  and  base  trace, 
s  invasive  ^  shall  a  beardless  boy, 
er*d3  silken  wanton,  brave  our  fields, 
sh  his  spirit  in  a  warlike  soil, 
c  the  air  with  colours  idly  spread, 
d  no  check  ?  ^et  us,  my  liege,  to  arms : 
ice,  the  cardinal  cannot  make  your  peace ; 
i  do,  let  it  at  least  be  said, 
iw  we  had  a  purpose  of  defence. 
ihn.  Have  you  the  ordering  of  this  present 

time. 
Away  then,  with  good  courage ;  yet,  I  know, 
ty  may  well  meet  a  prouder  foe.  [Exeunt. 

E 11. — A  plain  J  near  St.  EJanund'a-Bury. 
r,  tn  arms,  Lewis,  Salisbury,  Melun,  Pern- 
i,  Bigot,  and  soldiers. 

My  lord  Melun,  let  this  be  copied  out, 
ep  it  safe  for  our  remembrance  : 
the  precedent  to  these  lords  again ; 
aving  our  fair  order  written  down, 
ey,  and  we,  perusing  o*er  these  notes, 
low  wheref6re  we  took  the  sacrament, 
ep  our  faiths  firm  and  inviolable, 
upon  our  sides  it  never  shall  be  bn^en. 
me  dauphin,  albeit  we  swear 
itary  zeal,  and  unurgM  faith, 
r  proceedings;  yet,  believe  me,  prince, 
)t  glad  that  such  a  sore  of  time 
seek  a  plaster  by  contemnM  revolt, 
&1  the  inveterate  canker  of  one  wound 
ing  many  :  O,  it  grieves  my  soul, 
nrnist  draw  this  metal  from  my  side 
I  widow-maker  ;  O,  and  there, 
honourable  rescue,  and  defence. 
It  upon  the  name  of  Salisbur)'  : 
h  is  the  infection  of  the  time, 
>r  the  health  and  physic  of  our  right, 
mot  deal  but  with  the  very  hand 
1  injustice  and  confused  wrong. — 
t  not  pity,  O  mv  grieved  friends ! 
e,  the  sons  and  children  of  this  isle, 
om  to  sec  so  sad  an  hour  as  this ; 
n  we  step  after  a  stranger  march 
er  gentle  bosom,  and  fill  up 
motes*  ranks  (I  must  withdraw  and  weep 
le  spot  of  this  enforced  cause,) 
96  tne  gentry  of  a  land  remote. 


Tcet. 


(2)  Fondled.       (3)  Emhraccth. 


And  follow  unacquainted  coknirs  here  ? 
What,  here.^ — O  nation,  that  thou  could*8t  remove ! 
That  Neptune*8  arms,  who  clippeth*  thee  about, 
Would  bear  thee  from  the  knowledge  of  thyself. 
And  grapple  thee  unto  a  Pagan  shore ; 
Where  mese  two  Christian  armies  might  conbino 
The  blood  of  malice  in  a  vein  of  league. 
And  not  to  spend  it  so  unneighbouriy  ! 

Lew.  A  noble  temper  dost  thou  show  in  tiiis ; 
And  great  affections,  wrestling  in  thy  bosom, 
Do  make  an  earthquake  of  nobility. 

0,  what  a  noble  combat  hast  thou  fought, 
Between  compulsion  and  a  brave  respect  I* 
Let  me  wipe  off  this  honourable  dew. 
That  silveriy  doth  progress  on  thy  cheeks : 
My  heart  hath  melted  at  a  lady*s  tears, 
Being  an  ordinary  inundation ; 

But  mis  effusion  of  such  manly  drops. 

This  shower,  blown  up  by  tempest  of  the  soul, 

Startles  mine  eyes,  and  nmkes  me  more  amaz*d 

Than  had  I  seen  ^e  vaulty  top  of  heaven 

Figur'd  quite  o*er  with  burning  meteors. 

Lift  up  thy  brow,  renowned  Salisbury, 

And  with  a  great  heart  heave  awav  this  stonn : 

Commend  these  waters  to  those  baby  eyes. 

That  never  saw  the  giant  world  enragM ; 

Nor  met  with  fortune  other  than  at  feasts. 

Full  warm  of  blood,  of  mirth,  of  gossiping. 

Come,  come ;  for  thou  shalt  thrust  my  hana  as  deep 

Into  the  purse  of  rich  prosperity. 

As  Lewis  himself: — so,  nooles,  shall  you  all. 

That  knit  your  sinews  to  the  strength  of  mine. 

Enter  Pandulph,  attended. 

And  even  there,  methinks,  an  angel  spake : 
Look,  where  the  holy  legate  comes  apace. 
To  give  us  warrant  from  the  hand  or  heaven ; 
And  on  our  actions  set  the  name  of  right, 
With  holy  breath. 

Pond.  Hail,  noble  prince  of  France ! 

The  next  is  this, — ^King  John  hath  reconcil'd 
Himself  to  Rome ;  his  spirit  is  come  in. 
That  so  stood  out  apiinst  the  hoty  church. 
The  great  roetropohs  and  see  of  Kome : 
Therefore  thy  threatening  colours  now  wind  up. 
And  tame  the  savage  spirit  of  wild  war ; 
That,  like  a  lion  fostered  up  at  hand, 
It  may  lie  gently  at  the  foot  of  peace. 
And  be  no  further  harmful  than  in  show. 

Lew.  Your  grace  shall  pardon  me,  I  will  not  back; 
[  am  too  high-bom  to  be  propertied,' 
To  be  a  secondary  at  control. 
Or  useful  serving-man,  and  instrument, 
To  any  sovereign  state  throughout  the  world. 
Your  breath  first  kindled  the  dead  coal  of  wars. 
Between  this  ch4stisM  kingdom  and  mvself. 
And  brought  in  matter  that  should  (eea  this  fire ; 
And  now  *tis  far  too  huge  to  be  blown  out 
With  that  same  weak  wind  which  enkindled  it 
You  taught  me  how  to  know  the  face  of  right. 
Acquainted  me  with  interest  to  this  land, 
Vea,  thrust  this  enterprise  into  my  heart ; 
And  come  you  now  to  tell  me,  John  hath  made 
H\»  peace  with  Rome  ?  What  is  that  peace  to  me  .^ 

1,  by  the  honour  of  my  marriage-bed, 

After  young  Arthur,  claim  this  land  for  mine ; 
And,  now  it  is  half-conquer*d,  must  I  beck, 
Because  that  John  hath  made  his  peace  with  Rome: 
Am  I  Rome*s  slave  ?  What  penny  nath  Rome  borne. 
What  men  provided,  what  munition  sent. 
To  underprop  this  action  ?  is*t  not  I, 
That  undergo  this  chaige  ?  who  else  but  I, 

(4)  Lore  of  coantxy.  (5)  Appropriated. 


364 


KING  JOHN. 


Aar 


And  such  as  to  my  claim  are  liable. 
Sweat  in  this  biuiness,  and  maintain  this  war  ? 
Have  I  not  heard  these  islanders  shout  out, 
Vivt  le  roy  !  as  I  have  bankM  their  towns  ? 
Have  I  not  here  the  best  cards  for  the  game, 
To  win  this  easy  match  play'd  for  a  crown  ? 
And  shall  I  now  give  o'er  the  yielded  set? 
No,  on  my  soul,  it  never  shall  be  said. 

Fand.  You  look  but  on  the  outside  of  this  work. 

7>tr.  Outside  or  inside,  I  will  not  return 
Till  my  attempt  so  much  be  glorified 
As  to  my  ample  hope  was  promised 
Before  I  drew  this  gallant  bead  of  war, 
And  culPd  these  fiery  spirits  from  the  world, 
To  outlook!  conquest,  and  to  win  renown 
Even  in  the  jaws  of  danger  and  of  death.— 

[Trumpet  iounds. 
What  lusty  trumpet  thus  doth  summon  us? 

Enter  the  Bastard,  attended. 

Bast  According  to  the  fair  play  of  the  world, 
Let  me  have  audience ;  I  am  sent  to  speak : — 
My  holy  lord  of  Milan,  from  the  king 
I  come,  to  learn  how  you  have  dealt  for  him ; 
And  as  you  answer,  I  do  know  the  scope 
And  warrant  limited  unto  my  tongue. 

Pand.  The  dauphin  is  too  wilful-opposite, 
And  will  not  temporize  with  my  entreaties ; 
He  flatly  says,  he'll  not  lay  down  his  arms. 

Bast.  By  all  the  blood  that  ever  fury  breathed. 
The  youth  says  well : — Now  hear  our  English  king; 
For  thus  his  royalty  doth  speak  in  me. 
He  is  prepared  ;  and  reason  too,  he  should : 
This  apisn  and  unmannerly  approach. 
This  hamess'd  masque,  and  unadvised  revel, 
This  unhair'd  sauciness,  and  boyish  troops. 
The  king  doth  smile  at ;  and  is  well  preparM 
To  whip  this  dwarfish  war,  these  pigmy  anns. 
From  out  the  circle  of  his  territones. 
That  hand,  which  had  the  strength,  even  at  your 

door. 
To  cudgel  you,  and  make  you  take  the  hatch  ;3 
To  dive,  like  buckets,  in  concealed'  wells ; 
To  crouch  in  litter  of  your  stable  planks ; 
To  lie,  like  pawns,  lock'd  up  in  chest^and  trunks; 
To  hug  with  swine ;  to  seek  sweet  safety  out 
In  vaults  and  prisons ;  and  to  thrill,  and  shake, 
Even  at  the  crying  of  your  nation's  crow,^ 
Thinking  his  voice  an  armed  Englishman ; — 
Shall  that  victorious  hand  be  feebled  here. 
That  in  your  chambers  gave  you  chastisement  ? 
No :  Know,  the  gallant  monarch  is  in  arms ; 
And  like  an  eagle  o'er  his  aieiy^  towers. 
To  souse  annoyance  that  comes  near  his  nest — 
And  you  degenerate,  you  ingrate  revolts, 
You  bloody  Neroes,  ripping  up  the  womb 
Of  your  dear  mother  England,  blush  for  shame : 
For  your  own  ladies,  and  pale-visag'd  maids, 
Like  Amazons,  come  tripping  aAer  drums ; 
Their  thimbles  into  armea  gauntlets  change. 
Their  neelds^  to  lances,  and  their  gentle  hearts 
To  fierce  and  bloody  inclination. 

Lew.  There  end  thy  brave,'  ^d  turn  thy  face 
in  peace , 
We  grant,  thou  canst  outscold  us  *  fare  thee  well ; 
We  hold  our  time  too  precious  to  be  spent 
With  such  a  brabbler. 

Pand.  Give  ms  leave  to  speak. 

Bast.  No,  I  will  speak. 

Lew.  We  will  attend  to  neither: — 

Strike  up  the  drums ;  and  let  the  tongue  of  war 

(1)  Face  down«        (2)  Leap  over  the  hatch. 
(3)  Covered.        (4)  The  crowing  of  a  cock. 


Plead  for  our  interest,  and  our  being  hen . 
Bast.  Indeed,  your  drums,  being  beaten,  will 
cry  out ; 
And  so  shall  you,  being  beaten :  Do  but  start 
An  echo  with  the  clamour  of  thy  drum. 
And  even  at  hand  a  drum  is  ready  brac'd. 
That  shall  reverberate  all  as  loud  as  thine ; 
Sound  but  another,  and  another  shall. 
As  loud  as  thine,  rattle  the  welkin's^  ear, 
And  mock  the  deeproouth'd  thunder :  for  at  hand 
(Not  trusting  to  this  halting  legate  here. 
Whom  he  hath  us'd  rather  for  sport  than  need,) 
Is  warlike  John  ;  and  in  bis  forehead  sits 
A  bare-ribb'd  death,  whose  office  is  this  day 
To  feast  upon  whole  thou»nds  of  the  French. 
Lew.  Strike  up  our  drums,  to  find  this  danger  out 
Bast.  And  thou  shalt  find  it,  dauphin,  do  not 
doubt  [E^xeunL 

SCEJSTE  111.— The  same,    A  Jidd  of  hamt 
Alarums.    Enter  King  John  and  Hubert 

K.  John.  How  goes  the  day  with  us  ?  O,  tell 

me,  Hubert 
Hub.  Badly,  I  fear :  How  fares  your  majesty  ? 
K.  John.  This  fever,  that  hath  troubled  me  so 
long. 
Lies  heavy  on  roe ;  O,  my  heart  is  sick ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord,  your  valiant  kinsman,  Fanloan- 
bridge. 
Desires  your  majes^r  to  leave  the  field ; 
And  send  him  wora  by  me,  which  way  jaa  ga 

K.  John.  Tell  him,  toward  Swinstead,  to  the 
abbey  there. 

Mess.  Be  of  good  comfort ;  for  the  great  supply, 
That  was  expected  by  the  dauphin  here. 
Are  wreck'd  three  nights  ago  on  Goodwin  sands. 
This  news  was  brought  to  Richard  but  even  now : 
The  French  fight  coldly,  and  retire  themselvesu 

K.  John.  Ah  me !  this  tyrant  fever  bums  roe  up, 

And  will  not  let  me  welcome  this  good  news. 

Set  on  toward  Swinstead  :  to  my  litter  straight ; 
Weakness  possesseth  me,  and  I  am  faint       [Exi, 

SCEJSTE  IV.—Tlu  same.  Another  part  of  ih* 
same.  Enter  Salisbury,  Pembroke,  Bigot,  and 
others. 

Sal.  I  did  not  think  the  king  so  stor'd  with  friendi 

Pern.  Up  once  again ;  put  spirit  in  the  French; 
If  they  miscarry,  we  miscarry  too. 

Sal.  That  misbegotten  devil,  Faulconbridge, 
In  spite  of  spite,  alone  upholds  the  day. 

Pern.  They  say,  king  John,  sore  sick,  hath  left 
the'field. 

Enter  Melun  unundedj  and  led  by  solders, 

Mel.  I.iead  me  to  the  revolts  of  England  here. 

Sal.  When  we  were  happy,  we  had  other  names. 

Pern.  It  is  the  count  IVlelun. 

Sal.  Wounded  to  death. 

Mel.  Fly,  noble  English,  you  are  bought  and  aoklj' 
Unthread  the  rude  eye  of  retsellion, 
And  welcome  home  again  discarded  faith. 
Seek  out  king  John,  and  fall  before  his  feet; 
For,  if  the  French  be  lords  of  this  loud  day. 
He  It)  means  to  recompense  the  pains  you  take. 
By  cutting  off  your  heads :  Thus  hath  be  swoili, 
And  I  with  him,  and  many  more  with  me. 
Upon  the  altar  at  Saint  E^und's-Buiy ; 
Even  on  that  altar,  where  we  swore  to  ytn 
Dear  amity  and  everlasting  love. 

(5)  Nest     (6)  Needles.     (7)  Boast     (8)  SkyV. 
(9)  A  proverb  intimating  treachery.     (10)  Lewti. 


Scene  T,  FI,  VIL 


KING  JOHN. 


3G5 


Sal.  May  this  be  po^ible  ?  may  this  be  true  ? 

J^d.  Have  I  not  hideous  deatli  within  my  vietv, 
Retaining  but  a  quantity  of  life ; 
Which  meeds  away,  even  as  a  form  of  wax 
Resolved  from  his  figure  *^inst  the  fire  ?' 
What  in  the  world  should  make  me  now  deceive, 
Since  I  mast  lose  the  use  of  all-  deceit  ? 
Why  should  I  then  be  false ;  since  it  is  true, 
That  I  must  die  here,  and  live  hence  by  truOi  ? 
I  sa^'  a^in,  if  Lewis  do  win  the  da^. 
He  IS  forsworn,  if  e'er  those  eyes  of  yours 
Behold  another  day  break  in  the  east : 
But  even  this  night, — whose  black  contagious  breath 
Already  smokes  about  the  burning  crest 
Of  the  old,  feeble,  and  day -wearied  sun, — 
Even  this  ill  night,  your  breathing  shall  expire ; 
Paying  the  fine  of  rated  treachery. 
Even  with  a  treacherous  fine  of  all  your  lives, 
If  Lewis,  by  your  assistance,  win  the  day. 
Commend  me  to  one  Hubert,  with  your  king ; 
The  love  of  him, — and  this  respect  l^esides. 
For  that  my  grandsire  was  an  Englishman, — 
Avvakes  my  conscience  to  confess  all  this. 
In  lieu'  whereof,  I  pray  you,  bear  me  hence 
From  forth  the  noise  and  rumour  of  the  field ; 
W^here  I  may  think  the  remnant  of  my  thoughts 
In  peace,  and  part  this  body  and  my  soul 
W'ilh  contemplation  and  devout  desires. 

Std.  We  do  believe  thee, — And  beshrew'  my  aoul, 
But  I  do  love  the  favour  and  the  form 
Of  this  most  fair  occasion,  by  the  which 
We  will  untread  the  steps  of  damned  flight ; 
And,  like  a  bated  and  retired  flood, 
Leaving  our  rankness  and  irregular  course, 
Stoop  low  within  those  bounds  we  have  o'erlookM, 
And  calmlv  run  on  in  obedience. 

Even  to  our  ocean,  to  our  great  king  John. 

My  arm  shall  give  thee  help  to  bear  thee  hence ; 

For  I  do  see  the  cruel  pangs  of  death 

Right^  in  thine  eye. — Away,  ray  friends !   New 

flight ; 
And  happy  newness,^  that  intends  old  right. 

[Excunl,  leading  off  Melun. 

SCBU^E   v.— The  same.     The  French  camp. 
Enter  Lewis  and  hie  train. 

Lew.  The  sun  of  heaven,  methought,  was  loath 

to  set; 
But  stayM,  'and  made  the  western  welkin^  blush, 
When  the  English  measur'd  backward  their  own 

ground. 
In  faint  retire :  O,  bravely  came  we  off. 
When  with  a  volley  of  our  needless  shot. 
After  such  bloody  toil,  we  bid  good  night ; 
And  wound  our  tatterM  colours  clearly  up, 
Last  in  the  field,  and  almost  lords  of  it ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 
Mess.  ViThepe  is  ray  prince,  the  dauphin  } 
Leio.  Here  : — \Vhat  news  ? 

Mess.  The  count  Melun  is  slain ;  the  English 
lords. 
By  his  persuasion,  are  again  fallen  oflf : 
And  your  supply,  which  you  have  wished  so  long, 
Are  cast  away,  and  sunk,  on  Goodwin  sands. 
Lew.  Ah,  foul  shrewd  news ! — Bcshrew  thy  very 
heart ! 
I  did  not  think  to  be  so  sad  to-night. 
As  this  hath  made  me. — Who  was  he,  that  said, 
King  John  did  fly,  an  hour  or  two  before 
The  stumbling  night  did  part  our  weary  powers? 

(1)  In  allusion  to  the  images  made  by  witches. 
h)  Place.         (3)  111  betide.         (4)  Immediate. 
(5)  Innovation.  (6)  Sky. 


»Mess.  Whoever  spoke  it,  it  is  true,  my  lord. 

Lew.  Well ;  keep  good  quarter/  and  good  care 
to-night ; 
The  day  shall  not  be  up  so  soon  as  I, 
To  try  the  fair  adventure  of  to-raorruw.  [Exeunt. 

SCEjYE  VI. — An  open  place  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Swinstead  abbey.  Enter  the  Bastai  d 
and  Hubert,  meeting. 

Hub.  Who*8  there  ?  speak,  ho !  speak  quickly, 
'  or  I  shoot 

Bast.  A  friend : — What  art  thou .' 

Hub.  Of  the  part  of  England. 

Bast.  Whither  dost  thou  go .' 

Hub.  What^s  that  to  thee  7  Why  may  not  I  de- 
mand 
Of  thine  aflairs,  as  well  as  thou  of  mine  ^ 

Bast.  Hubert,  I  think. 

Hub.  Thou  hast  a  perfect  thought : 

I  will,  upon  all  hazards,  well  believe 
Thou  art  my  friend,  that  know*st  my  tongue  so  well: 
Who  art  thou  ^ 

Bast.  iMio  thou  wilt :  an  if  you  please. 

Thou  may*st  befriend  me  so  much,  as  to  think, 
I  come  one  way  of  the  Plantagenets. 

Huh.   Unkind  remembrance  .'  thou,  and  eyeless 
night,    . 
Have  done  me  shame  : — Brave  soldier,  pardon  me, 
That  any  accent,  breaking  from  thy  tongue. 
Should  'scape  the  true  acquaintance  of  mine  ear. 

Bast.    Come,  come ;   sans?  compliment,  what 
news  abroad  ^ 

Hub.    Why,  here  walk  I,  in  the  black  brow  of 
night. 
To  find  you  out. 

Bast.  Brief,  then ;  and  what's  the  news .' 

Hub.  O,  my  sweet  sir,  news  fitting  to  the  nighty 
Black,  fearful,  comfortless,  and  horrible. 

Bast.  Show  me  the  very  wound  of  this  ill  news ; 
I  am  no  woman,  1*11  not  swoon  at  it. 

Hub.  The  king,  I  fear,  is  poison*d  by  a  monk : 
I  left  him  almost  speechless,  and  broke  out 
To  acquaint  you  with  this  evil :  that  you  might 
The  better  arm  vou  to  the  sudden  time, 
Than  if  you  ha()  at  leisure  known  of  this. 

Bast.  How  did  he  take  it }  who  did  tasie  to  him .' 

Hub.  A  monk,  I  tell  you;  a  resolved  villain. 
Whose  bowels  suddenly  burst  out :  the  king 
Vet  speaks,  and,  pcradventure,  may  recover. 

Bast.  Who  didsit  thou  leave  to  tend  his  majesty  ? 

Hub.  Why,  know  you  not.^  the  lords  are  all 
come  back. 
And  brought  prince  Henry  in  their  company ; 
At  whose  request  the  king  hath  pardoned  them, 
And  thev  are  all  about  his  majesty. 

Bast.  Withhold  thine  indignation,  mighty  heaven. 

And  tempt  us  not  to  bear  above  our  power! 

I'll  tell  thee,  Hubert,  half  my  power*  this  night. 
Passing  these  flats,  are  taken  by  the  tide. 
These  Lincoln  washes  have  devoured  them ; 
Myself,  well-mounted,  hardly  have  escapM. 
Away,  before  !  conduct  me  to  the  king ; 
I  doubt  he  will  be  dead,  or  ere  I  come.   [Exeunt, 

SCEJ^E  VH.^The  orchard  of  Swinstead  abbey. 
Enter  Prince  Henry,  Salisbury,  onrf  Bigot. 

P.  Hen.  It  is  too  late  ;  the  life  of  all  his  blood 
Is  touched  corruptibly  \  and  his  pure  brain 
(Which  some  suppose  the  sours  frail  dwelling- 
house,) 
Doth,  by  the  idle  comments  that  it  makes, 

(7)  In  your  posts  or  stations. 

(8)  Without  (9)  Forces. 


KING  JOHN. 


336 

Foretel  the  ending  of  mortality. 
Enter  Pembroke. 

Pan.  His  highness  jet  doth  speak ;  and  holds 
belieC 
That,  beine  brought  into  the  open  air, 
It  would  aUay  the  burning  quality 
Of  that  fell  poison  which  assaileth  him. 

P.  Hen.  Lei  him  be  brought  into  the  orchard 
here. — 
Doth  he  still  rage  f  [Exit  Bigot 

Penu  He  is  more  patient 

Than  when  you  left  him;  even  now  he  sung. 

P.  Hen.  O  vanity  of  sickness !  fierce  extremes. 
In  their  continuance,  will  not  feel  themselves. 
Death,  having  preyM  upon  the  outward  parts. 
Leaves  them  insensible  ;  and  his  siege  is  now 
Against  the  mind,  the  which  he  pricks  and  wound^s 
With  many  legions  of  strange  fantasies; 
Which,  in  their  throng  and  press  to  that  last  hold, 
Confound  themselves.     'Tis  strange,  that  death 

should  sing. 

I  am  the  cygnet  to  this  pale  faint  swan. 
Who  chants  a  doleful  hymn  to  his  own  death  ; 
And,  from  the  organ-pipe  of  frailty,  sings 
Hisi  soul  and  body  to  their  lasting  rest 

Sal.  Be  of  gooa  comfort,  prince ;  for  you  are  bom 
To  set  a  form  upon  that  inaigest 
Which  he  hath  left  so  shapeless  and  so  rude. 

Re-enter  Bigot  and  attendants^  voho  bring  in  King 
John  in  a  chair. 

K.  John.  Ay,  many,  now  my  soul  hath  elbow- 
room  ; 
It  would  not  out  at  windows,  nor  at  doors. 
There  is  so  hot  a  summer  in  my  bosom. 
That  all  my  bowels  crumble  up  to  dust : 
I  am  a  scribbled  form,  drawn  with  a  pen 
Upon  a  parchment ;  and  ag^nst  this  ore 
Do  I  shrink  up. 

P.  Hen.  How  fares  your  maiesty  f 

K.  John.    Poisoned, — ill  fare ;— oead,  forsook, 
cast  ofl*: 
And  none  of  you  will  bid  the  winter  come. 
To  thrust  his  icy  fingers  in  my  maw  ; 
Nor  let  my  kingdom^s  rivers  take  their  course 
Through  my  bumM  bosom ;  nor  entreat  the  north 
To  make  his  bleak  winds  kiss  my  parched  lips. 
And  comfort  me  with  cold : — I  do  not  ask  you  much, 
I  bf^g  cold  comfort ;  and  you  are  so  strait,' 
And  so  ingrateful,  you  deny  me  that 

P.  Hen.  O,  that  there  were  some  virtue  in  my 
tears. 
That  might  relieve  you ! 

K.  John.  The  salt  in  them  is  hot — 

Within  me  is  a  hell ;  and  there  the  poison 
Is,  as  a  fiend,  confined  to  tyrannize 
On  unreprievable  condemned  blood. 

Enter  the  Bastard. 

Bast.  O,  I  am  scalded  with  my  violent  nootion, 
And  spleen  of  speed  to  see  your  majesty. 

K.  John.  O  cousin,  thou  art  come  to  set  mine  eye : 
The  tackle  of  my  heart  is  crackM  and  bum*d ; 
And  all  the  shrouds,  wherewith  my  life  should  sail. 
Are  turned  to  one  thread,  one  little  hair : 
My  heart  hath  one  poor  string  to  stay  it  by. 
Which  holds  but  till  thy  news  be  uttered  ; 
And  then  all  this  thou  see^st,  is  but  a  clod. 
And  module^  of  confounded  royalty. 

Bast.   The  dauphin  is  preparing  hitherward ; 
Where,  heaven  he  knows,  now  we  shall  answer  him : 
For,  in  a  night,  the  best  part  of  my  power. 


JldP 


As  I  upon  advantage  did  remove. 
Were  m  the  wa^ies  all  unwarily, 
Devoured  by  the  unexpected  flood. 

[The  king  die$, 
Sal  You  breathe  these  dead  news  in  as  dead  ao 
ear. — 
My  liege !  my  lord !— But  now  a  king,— now  thus. 
P.  Hen.  Even  so  must  I  run  on,  ana  even  so  stop^ 
What  surety  of  the  world,  what  hope,  what  slay. 
When  this  was  now  a  king,  and  now  is  clay  ! 

Bast.  Art  thou  gone  so  ?  I  do  but  stay  behind. 
To  do  the  office  for  thee  of  revenge ; 
And  then  my  soul  shall  wait  on  thee  to  heaven. 

As  it  on  earth  hath  been  thy  servant  still. 

Now,  now,  you  stars,  that  move  in    your  right 

spheres. 
Where  be  your  powers .'  Show  now  your  mended 

faiths; 
And  instantly  return  with  me  again. 
To  push  destruction,  and  perpetual  shame. 
Out  of  the  weak  door  of  our  fainting  land  : 
Straight  let  us  seek,  or  straight  we  shall  be  songfat; 
The  dauphin  rages  at  our  very  heels. 

So/.  It  seems,  you  know  not  then  so  much  as  we : 
The  cardinal  Pandulph  is  within  at  rest. 
Who  half  an  hour  since  came  from  the  dauphin  ; 
And  brings  from  him  such  oflTers  of  our  peace. 
As  we  with  honour  and  respect  may  take. 
With  purpose  presently  to  leave  this  war. 

Bast.  He  will  the  rather  do  it,  when  he  sees 
Ourselves  well  sinewed  to  our  defence. 

Sal.  Nay,  it  is  in  a  manner  done  already ; 
For  many  carriages  he  hath  de*patch'd 
To  the  sea-side,  and  put  bis  cause  and  qoarrd 
To  the  disposing  of  tne  cardinal  : 
With  whom  yourself,  myself,  and  other  lords. 
If  you  think  meet,  this  afternoon  will  po«t 
To  c6n8nmmate  this  business  happily. 

Bast.  Let  it  be  so :— And  you,  my  noble  prince, 
W^ith  other  princes  that  may  best  be  spared. 
Shall  wait  upon  your  father's  funeral. 

P.  Hen.  At  Worcester  must  his  body  be  intcn'd; 
For  so  he  wilPd  it 

Bast  Thither  shall  it  then. 

And  happily  may  your  sweet  self  put  on 
The  lineal  state  and  glory  of  the  land  ! 
To  whom,  with  all  submission,  on  my  knee, 
I  do  bequeath  my  faithful  ser\ice8 
And  true  subjection  everlastingly. 

Sal  And  the  like  tender  of  our  love  we  make, 
To  rest  without  a  spot  for  evermore, 
P.  Hen.  I  have  a  kind  soul,  that  would  giveyw 
thanks. 
And  knows  not  how  to  do  it,  but  with  tears. 

Beutt.  O,  let  us  pay  the  time  but  needful  wo. 
Since  it  hath  been  beforehand  with  our  griefs.— 
This  England  never  did  (nor  never  shall) 
Lie  at  the  proud  foot  of  a  conqueror. 
But  when  it  first  did  help  to  wound  itself. 
Now  these  her  princes  are  come  home  again. 
Come  the  three  comers  of  the  world  in  ani»» 
And  we  shall  shock  them  :  Nought  shall  make  M 


rue 


(1)  Narrow,  avaricious. 


(2)  Model. 


If  England  to  itself  do  rest  but  true.         Exm^ 


The  tragedy  of  King  John,  though  not  written 
with  the  utmost  power  of  Shakspeare,  is  varied  with 
a  very  pleasing  interchange  of  incidents  and  chs^ 
acters.  The  lady's  grief  is  very  affecting ;  ind  thj 
character  of  the  Bastard  contains  that  mixture  n 
greatness  and  levity,  which  this  author  delightedto 
ixhibit  JOHNSON. 


/.: 


\ 


4- 


V 


\ 


^ 


.V 


\ 


KING   KICHARD   II.     Aa  F.— &«n«3. 
VoLr.-n  W. 


KING   HENRY  IV.     FART   L     AnV.—  Su^i. 


KING  RICHARD  II. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


JEim^  Richard  the  Second. 

EdmandqfLsngkyt  Duke  qf  York  ;  )   uncles  to 

John  qf  Goimi,  Dukeqf  Lancxtster;  )  the  King. 

Houy,  tumamed  Bobngbroke,  Duke  qf  Here- 
ford^ tan  to  John  qf  (^nmi;  qfieneardt  King 
Heniy  IV. 

Duke  of  Atimerie,  ton  to  the  Duke  qf  York. 

M owbraj,  Didu  qf  Norfolk. 

Dttke  oj  Sorrey. 

£aWof  Salisboiy.    Earl  Berkley, 

Bushy,    ^ 

Bagot,    >  creaiuree  to  King  Richard, 

Green,    N 

Earl  qf  Northumberland : 

Henry  Percy,  his  son. 


Lord  Bobs.    Z«on2  Willoughbj.  Z^orrf  Fitswater. 
Bishop  of  Carlisle.    Mbot  qf  Westminster. 
Zjord  MarduU  ;  and  another  Lord, 
Sir  Pierce  qf  Exton.    Sir  Stephen  Scroop. 
Captain  qf  a  band  qf  Welshmen, 

Queen  to  King  Richard, 
Duchess  of  Gloster. 
Duchess  qf  York. 
Lsdy  aitmding  on  the  Queen. 

Lords,  heralds,  officers,  soldiers,  two  gardeners, 
keeper,  messenger,  groom,  and  other  aUendomU, 

Scene,  dispersedly  in  England  and  fVales, 


ACT  I. 

SCKYE  /.—London.  A  room  m  (he  palace. 
Enter  King  Richard,  attended ;  John  qf  Gaunt, 
and  other  nobles,  mih  him. 

King  Richard, 

Old  John  of  Goant,  time-honour*d  Lancaster, 
Hast  thou^  according  to  thy  oath  and  band,l 
Brought  hither  Hennr  Hereford  thy  bold  son ; 
Here  10  make  good  the  boisterous  late  appeal. 
Which  then  our  leisure  would  not  let  us  hear, 
AgHinst  the  duke  of  Norfolk,  Thomas  Mowbray  ? 
Gaunt.  I  have,  my  li^e. 
K.  Rich,  Tell  me  moreover,  hast  thou  sounded 
him. 
If  he  appeal  Uie  duke  on  ancient  malice  ; 
Or  worthily  as  a  good  subject  should. 
On  some  hinown  ground  of  treachery  in  him  ? 
GaunL  As  near  as  I  could  iid  him  on  that  ar- 
gument,— 
On  some  apparent  danger  seen  in  him, 
Aim*d  at  your  highness ;  no  inveterate  malice. 
K.  Rial,  Then  call  them  to  our  presence ;  face 
to  face. 
And  frowning  brow  to  brow,  ourselves  will  hear 
The  accuser,  and  the  accused,  freely  speak : — 

[Exeunt  some  attendants. 
High-atomachM  are  they  both,  and  full  of  ire. 
In  rage  deaf  as  the  sea,  hasty  as  fire. 

Rt-enter  attendants,  with  Bolingbroke  and  Norfolk. 

Boling.  May  many  years  of  happy  days  befall 
My  gracious  sovereign,  my  most  loving  liege ! 

JVor*.  Each  day  still  better  other*s  happiness ; 
Until  the  heavens,  envying  earth's  good  hap, 
Add  an  inunortal  title  to  your  crown ! 

K  Rich.  We  thank  you  both :  yet  one  but  flat- 
ters us. 
As  well  appeareth  by  the  c«use  you  come ; 
Namely,  to  appeal  3  each  other  of  high  treason. — 
Cousin  of  Hereford,  what  dwt  thou  object 

(1)  Bond.      (2)  Charge.       (3)  Uninhabitable. 
25 


Against  the  duke  of  Norfolk,  Thomas  Mowbray  ? 

Boling.    First  (heaven  be  the  record  of  my 
speech  !J 
In  the  devotion  of  a  subject^s  love. 
Tendering  the  precious  safety  of  my  prince,. 
And  free  from  other  misbe^tten  hate. 
Come  I  appellant  to  this  princely  presence.— > 
Now,  Thomas  Mowbray,  do  I  turn  to  thee. 
And  mark  my  greeting  well ;  for  what  I  speak^ 
My  body  shall  make  good  upon  this  earth. 
Or  my  divine  soul  answer  it  m  heaven. 
Thou  art  a  traitor,  and  a  miscreant ; 
Too  good  to  be  so,  and  too  bad  to  live  ; 
Since,  the  more  fair  and  crystal  is  the  sky^ 
The  uglier  seem  the  clouds  that  in  it  fly. 
Once  more,  the  more  to  aggravate  tfle  notey 
With  a  foul  traitor's  name  stuflf  I  thy  throat ; 
And  wish  (so  please  my  sovere^,)  ere  I  more. 
What  my  tongue  speaks,  my  nght-drawn  sword 
may  prove. 

^or.  Let  not  my  cold  vfor^  here  accuse  my  teal 
'Tb  not  the  trial  of  a  woman's  war, 
The  bitter  clamour  of  two  eager  tongues. 
Can  arbitrate  this  cause  betwixt  us  twain : 
The  blood  is  hot,  that  must  be  coolM  for  this. 
Yet  can  I  not  of  such  tame  patience  boast. 
As  to  be  hush'd,  and  nought  at  all  to  say  ; 
First,  the  fair  reverence  of  your  highness  cvrbs  mm 
From  giving  reins  and  spurs  to  my  free  speech,; 
Which  else  would  post,  until  it  had  retum'd 
These  terms  of  treason  doubled  down  his  throaL 
Setting  aside  his  hisrh  blood's  royalty. 
And  let  him  be  no  kinnman  to  my  hege. 
I  do  defy  him,  and  I  spit  at  him ; 
Call  him — a  slanderous  coward,  and  a  villain : 
Which  to  maintain,  I  would  allow  him  odd^ ; 
And  meet  him,  were  I  tied  to  run  a-foot 
Even  to  the  frozen  ridges  of  the  Alps, 
Or  any  other  ground  inhabitable* 
Where  ever  ^iglishman  durst  set  his  foot 
Mean  time,  let  this  defend  my  loyalty, — 
By  all  mv  boi)es,  mo<>t  falsely  doth  he  lie. 

Bnlihg.  Piile  trembling  coward,  there  I  thftM 
my  gage. 


368 


KING  RICHARD  H. 


Disclaiming  here  the  kindred  of  a  king ; 
And  lay  aside  my  high  blood^s  royalty, 
Which  fear,  not  reverence,  makes  thee  to  except : 
If  guilty  dread  hath  leA  thee  so  much  strength, 
As  to  take  up  mine  honour's  pawn,  then  stoop ; 
By  that,  ana  all  the  rites  of  knighthood  else. 
Will  I  make  good  against  thee,  arm  to  arm, 
What  I  have  spoke,  or  thou  canst  worse  devise. 

JVbr.  I  take  it  up ;  and,  by  that  sword  I  swear, 
Which  gently  layM  my  knighthood  on  my  shoulder, 
ni  answer  thee  in  any  fair  degree. 
Or  cnivalrous  design  of  knightly  trial : 
And,  when  I  mount,  alive  may  I  not  light. 
If  1  be  traitor,  or  uniustly  fight ! 
K.  Rich.  What  doth  our  cousin  lay  to  Mow- 
bray's charge  ? 
It  must  be  great,  that  can  inheriti  us 
So  much  as  of  a  thought  of  ill  in  liim. 
Baling.  Look,  what  I  speak  my  life  shall  prove 
it  true ; —  1 

That  Mowbray  hath  received  ei^ht  thousand  nobles, 
In  name  of  tendings  for  your  highness'  soldiers ; 
The  which  he  hath  detaiii'd  for  lewd^  employments, 
Like  a  false  traitor,  and  injurious  villain. 
Besides  I  say,  and  will  in  battle  prove, — 
Or  here,  or  elsewhere,  to  the  furthest  verge 
That  ever  was  sur\eyM  by  English  eye, — 
That  all  the  treasons,  for  these  eighteen  years 
Complotted  and  contrived  in  this  land, 
Petcn  from  false  Mowbray  their  first  head  and 

spring. 
Further  I  say, — and  further  will  maintain 
Upon  his  bad  life,  to  make  all  this  good, — 
That  he  did  plot  the  duke  of  Gloster's  death ; 
Suggest'  his  soon-believing  adversaries ; 
And,  conscciuently,  like  a  traitor  coward, 
Sluic'd  out  nis  imiocent  soul  through  streams  of 

blood: 
Which  blood,  like  sacrificing  Abel's,  cries. 
Even  from  the  tongueless  caverns  of  the  earth. 
To  me  for  justice,  and  rough  chastisement ; 
And  by  the  glorious  worth  of  my  descent, 
This  arm  shall  do  it,  or  this  life  oe  mient. 
K,  Rick.    How  high  a  pitch  nis  resolution 
soars! — 
Thomas  of  Norfolk,  what  say'st  thoa  to  this  ^ 

J^or.  O,  let  my  sovereign  turn  away  his  face. 
And  bid  his  ears  a  little  while  be  deaf. 
Till  I  have  told  this  slander  of  his  blood,^ 
How  God,  and  good  men,  hate  so  foul  a  liar. 
K.  RicL  Mowbray,  impartial  are  our  eyes,  and 
ears  : 
Were  he  my  brother,  nay,  my  kingdom's  heir, 
(As  he  is  but  my  father's  brother's  son,) 
Now  by  my  sceptre's  awe  I  make  a  vo^v. 
Such  neighbour  nearness  to  our  sacred  blood 
Should  nothing  privilege  him,  nor  partialize 
The  unstooping  firmness  of  my  upright  <jou1  ; 
He  is  our  subject,  Mowbray,  so  art  thou ; 
Free  speech,  and  fearless,  I  to  thee  alk)w. 

^or.  Then,  Bolingbroke,  as  low  as  to  thy  heart. 
Through  the  fal!<e  passa^  of  thy  throat,  tiiou  lieat ! 
Three  parts  of  that  rec«pt  I  had  for  Calais, 
Disburs'd  I  duly  to  his  highness'  soldiers . 
The  other  part  reserv'd  1  by  consent ; 
For  that  my  sovereign  li^e  was  in  my  debt, 
Upon  remainder  of  a  dear  account, 
'  Since  last  I  went  to  France  to  fetch  his  queen  : 

Now  swallow  down  that  lie. ForGlo»ter's 

death,— 
.  I  slew  him  not ;  but  to  my  own  disgrace, 

(1)  Possess.       (2)  Wicked.        (3)  Prompt 
(4)  Reproach  to  his  ancestry.         (5)  Charged. 


Neglected  my  sworn  duty  in  that  case.— 
For  you,  my  noble  lord  of  Lancaster, 
The  honourable  father  to  rny  foe. 
Once  did  I  lay  an  ambush  for  your  life, 
A  trespass  that  doth  vex  my  grieved  •oal: 
But,  ere  I  la^t  receiv'd  the  sacrament, 
I  did  confess  it ;  and  exactly  b^g'd 
Your  grace's  pardon,  and,  I  hope,  I  had  it 
This  is  irw  fault :  As  for  the  rest  appeaPd^ 
It  issues  mvn  the  rancour  of  a  villain, 
A  recreant  and  most  des;eneTate  traitor : 
Which  in  myself  I  boldly  will  defend; 
And  interchangeably  hurl  down  mj  gi|^ 
Upon  this  overweening^  traitor's  foot. 
To  prove  myself  a  loyal  gentleman 
Even  in  the  oest  blood  clmrober'd  in  his  bo 
In  haste  whereof,  most  heartily  I  mj 
Your  hi^ness  to  assign  our  trial  aay. 

K.  Rich.  Wrath-lundled  gentlemen,  bt] 
me; 
Let's  purge  this  choler  without  letting  bloc 
This  we  prescribe  though  no  physician  { 
Deep  malice  makes  too  deep  incision : 
Forget,  forgive ;  conclude,  and  be  agreed: 
Our  doctors  say,  this  is  no  time  to  bleeds— 
Good  uncle,  let  this  end  where  it  began; 
We'll  calm  the  duke  of  Norfolk,  you  jtwr 

Gauni.  To  be  a  make-peace  shall  beoc 
age; 
Throw  down,  my  son,  the  duke  of  Norfiilk 

K.  Rich.  And,  Norfolk,  throw  down  hii 

Gaynt.  When,  Hairy? 

Obedience  bids,  I  should  not  bid  again. 

K.  Rich.  Norfolk,  throw  down ;  we  bid 
is  no  boot.' 

^or.  Myself  I  throw,  dread  soveie^n 
foot : 
My  life  thou  shall  command,  but  not  raj  i 
The  one  iny  duty  owes ;  but  my  fair ; 


(I>e.spite  of^^  death,  that  lives  upon  my  |^i 
To  aark  dishonour's  use  thou  shall  not  hw 
I  am  di^rac'd,  impeach'd,  and  baffled  be 
Pierc'd  to  the  soul  with  slander's  venooiNd 
The  which  no  balm  can  cure,  but  his  bei 
Which  breath'd  this  poison. 

K.  Rtch.  Rage  must  be  wi 

Give  me  his  gage : — Lions  make  leoperdi 

^or.  Yea,  but  not  change  their  spots  s 
my  shame, 
And  I  resign  my  g^ge.    My  dear  deer  lo 
The  purest  treasure  mortal  times  afibid. 
Is — spotless  reputation ;  that  away. 
Men  are  but  gilded  loam,  or  painted  cky 
A  jewel  in  a  ten-times-barr'df-up  cheit 
Is — a  bold  spirit  in  a  loyal  breast 
Mine  honour  is  my  life  ;  both  grow  in  on 
Take  honour  from  me,  and  my  life  is  doB 
Then,  dear  my  lieee,  mine  honour  let  m 
In  that  I  live,  and  for  that  will  I  die. 

K.  Rich.  Cousin,  throw  down  your  | 
you  begin. 

Bohng,  O,  God  defend  my  soul  book  i 
sin! 
Shall  I  seem  crest-fallen  in  my  father's  ^| 
Or  with  (wle  beggar-fear  impeach  mj  bei 
Before  this  outdar'd  dastard :  Ere  my  toe 
Shall  wound  my  honour  with  such  feeble 
Or  sound  so  base  a  parle,  my  teeth  riieU  I 
The  slavish  motive  of  recanting  fear; 
And  spit  it  bleeding  in  his  high  diagreceb 
Where  shame  doth  harbour,  even  in  Iw 
face.  [JEU 

(6)  Arrogant       (7)  No  adrentsfe  k 


ISctJU  II,  III, 


KLNG  RICHARD  II. 


369 


K.  Ridi.  We  were  not  bom  to  sue,  but  to  com- 
mand: 
Which  since  we  cannot  do  to  make  you  friends. 
Be  ready,  as  your  lives  shall  anHwer  it. 
At  Coventry,  upon  Saint  Lambert's  day ; 
There  shall  your  swords  and  lances  arbitrate 
The  swelling  difference  of  your  settled  hate ; 
Since  we  cannot  atone'  you,  we  shall  see 
Justice  desig^P  the  victor's  chivaliy. — 
Marshal,  command  our  officers  at  armi 
Be  ready  to  direct  these  home  alarms.     [Exeunt. 

SCEiyE  II.—The  same.  A  room  in  the  Dvke 
q/*  Lancaster's /Mi/oce.  Enter  Ghuni^  and  Duch- 
ess of  Gloster. ' 

Gaunt.  Alas  !  the  part'  I  had  in  Gloster's  blood 
Doth  more  solicit  me,  than  your  exclaims, 
To  stir  against  the  butchers  of  his  life. 
But  since  correction  lieth  in  those  hands. 
Which  made  the  fault  that  we  cannot  correct, 
Put  we  our  quarrel  to  the  will  of  heaven  ; 
Who,  when  he  sees  the  hours  ripe  on  earth. 
Will  rain  hot  vengeance  on  offenders*  he^ds. 

Duch.  Finds  brotherhood  in  thee  no  sharper 
spur  ? 
Hath  love  in  thy  old  blood  no  living  fire  ? 
Edward's  seven  sons,  whereof  thyself  art  one, 
Were  as  seven  phials  of  his  sacred  blood. 
Or  seven  fair  branches  springing  from  one  root : 
Some  of  those  seven  are  dried  bv  nature's  course, 
.Some  of  those  branches  by  the  destinies  cut : 
But  Th<wmas,  my  dear  lord,  my  life,  my  Gloster, — 
One  phial  full  oif  Edward's  sacred  blood. 
One  flourishing  branch  of  his  most  royal  root, — 
Is  crack'd,  and  all  the  precious  liquor  spilt ; 
Is  back'd  down,  and  his  summer  leaves  all  faded. 
By  envy's  hand,  and  murder's  bloody  axe. 
Ah,  Gaunt .'  his  blood  was  thine ;  that  bed,  that 

womb. 
That  mettle,  that  self-mould,  that  fashion'd  thee. 
Made  him  a  man;  and  though  thou  liv'st,  and 

breath'st. 
Yet  art  thou  slain  in  him :  thou  dost  consent^ 
In  some  large  measure  to  thy  father's  death. 
In  that  thou  seest  thv  wretched  brother  die. 
Who  was  the  model  of  thy  father's  life. 
Call  it  not  patience.  Gaunt,  it  is  despair : 
In  suffering  thus  thy  brother  to  be  slaughter'd, 
Thou  show'st  the  naked  pathway  to  thy  life, 
Teaching  stem  murder  how  to  butcher  thee : 
That  which  in  mean  men  we  entitle — patience. 
Is  pale  cold  cowardice  in  noble  breasts. 
What  ^all  I  say  ?  to  safeguard  thino  own  life^ 
The  best  way  is — to  'venge  my  Gloster's  death. 

QaunL  rieaven's  is  tm  quarrel;  for  heaven's 
substitute. 
His  deputy  anointed  in  his  sight. 
Hath  caus'd  his  death :  the  which  if  wrongfully. 
Let  heaven  revenge ;  for  I  ma^  never  lift 
An  angry  arm  against  his  minister. 

Ihich.  Where  then,  alas !  may  I  complain  myself? 

CUnmt.  To  heaven,  the  widow's  champion  and 
defence. 

D%uh.  Why  then,  I  will.  Farewell,  old  Gaunt 
Thou  go'st  to  Coventry,  there  to  behold 
Our  cousm  Hereford  and  fell  Mowbray  fight : 
O,  sit  my  husband's  wrongs  on  Hereford's  spear. 
That  it  nn«y  enter  butcher  Mowbray's  breast ! 
Or,  if  misfortune  miss  the  first  career, 
Be  Mowbray's  sins  so  heavy  in  his  bosom, 
That  they  may  break  his  foaming  courser's  back, 


[ 


1)  Reconcile.     (2)  Show.     fS)  Relationship. 
l4)  Assent.  (5)  A  base  villain. 


And  throw  the  rider  headlong  in  the  lists,      ' 
A  caitiff*  recreant*  to  my  cousin  Hereford ! 
Farewell,  old  Gaunt;  thy  sometime  brother's  wile 
With  her  c€>mpaiiion  grief  must  end  her  life. 

Gaunt.  .Sistf-r,  farewell :  I  must  to  Coventry: 
As  much  good  stay  with  thee,  as  go  with  me  ! 

Duch.    Vet  one  word  more; — Gnef  boundetb 
where  it  falls. 
Not  with  the  empty  hollowness,  but  weight : 
I  take  my  leave  before  I  have  begun  ; 
For  sorrow  ends  not  when  it  seemeth  done. 
Commend  me  to  my  brother,  Edmund  York. 
Lo,  thii)  is  all : — Nay,  yet  depart  not  so ; 
Thou<2;h  this  be  all,  do  not  so  quickly  go ; 
I  shall  remember  more.     Bid  him — O,  what.' — 
With  all  good  speed  at  Plashy'  visit  me. 
Alack,  and  what  shall  good  old  York  there  see, 
But  empty  lodgings  and  unfumish'd  walls. 
Unpeopled  offices,  untrodden  stones.' 
And   what   cheer   there   for  welcome,   but  my 

groans .' 
Therefore  commend  me ;  let  him  not  come  there. 
To  seek  out  sorrow  that  dwelb  every  where : 
Desolate,  desolate,  will  I  hence,  and  die ; 
The  last  leave  of  thee  takes  my  weepiru;  eve. 

[£lx€uni, 

SCEJVE  ///.— Gosford  Green,  near  Coventry. 
Lists  set  ovty  and  a  throne.  Heralds^  if^.  at' 
tending.  £n/eriA« Z<orc2  Marshal, omfAnmerle. 

Mar.  My  lord  Aumerle,  is  Harry  Hereford  arm'd.' 

Aum.  Yea,  at  all  points;  and  longs  to  enter  in. 

Mar.  The  duke  of  Norfolk,  sprightmllv  and  bold, 
Stays  but  the  sununons  of  the  appellant's  trumpet. 

Aum,  Why  then,  the  champoos  are  prepai'd, 
and  stay 
For  nothing  but  his  majesty's  approach. 

Flourish  qf  trumpets.  Enter  King  Richard,  who 
takes  his  seat  on  his  throne;  Gaunt,  and  several 
noblemen^  who  take  their  places.  A  trumpet  is 
sounded^  and  ansroered  by  another  trumpet  with- 
in.  Then  enter  Norfolk  in  armour,  preceded  by 
a  herald. 

K.  Rich.  Marshal,  demand  of  yonder  champioo 
The  cause  of  his  arrival  here  in  arms : 
Ask  him  his  name ;  and  orderiy  proceed 
To  swear  him  in  the  justice  of  his  cause. 

Mar.  In  God's  name,  and  the  king's,  say  who 
thou  art. 
And  why  thou  com'st,  thus  knightly  clad  in  aiTM : 
Against  what  man  thou  com'st,  and  what  thy 

quarrel : 
Speak  truly,  on  thy  knighthood,  and  thy  oath ; 
And  so  defend  th^  heaven,  and  thy  valour ! 

J^or.  My  name  is  Thomas  Mowbray,  duke  of 
Norfolk; 
Who  hither  come  engaged  by  my  oath 
(Which,  heaven  defeno,  a  knight  should  violate  T) 
Both  to  defend  my  loyalty  and  troth. 
To  God,  my  king,  and  my  succeeding  issue. 
Against  tlra  duke  of  Hereford  that  appeals  me ; 
And,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  this  mine  arm. 
To  prove  him,  in  defending  of  myself, 
A  traitor  to  my  God,  my  king,  and  me : 
And,  as  I  truly  fight,  defend  roe  heaven ! 

[He  takes  his  seai. 

Trumpet  sounds.   Enier  Bolingbroke,  in  armour  ; 
pr^xdedby  a  harald, 

K.  Rich,  Marshal,  ask  yonder  knight  in  annt, 
Both  who  he  is,  and  why  be  cometh  hither 


(6)  Cowardly. 


(7)  Her  house  in  Easex. 


T70 


KING  RICHAPD  11. 


Adl 


Thus  plated  in  habiliments  of  war; 
And  formally  according  to  oar  law 
Depose  him  in  the  justice  of  his  cause. 
Mar.  What  is  tlijr  name  ?  and  wherefore  oom*st 

thou  hither, 
Before  king  Richard,  in  his  royal  lists  ? 
Against  whom  comest  thou ;  and  what*s  thyqoarreL' 
Speak  like  a  true  knight,  so  defend  thee  heaven ! 
BoUng.    Harry  (tf  Hereford,  Lancaster,  and 

Derby, 
Am  I ;  who  ready  here  do  stand  in  arms. 
To  prove,  by  heaven's  grace,  and  my  bodv*s  valour. 
In  lists,  on  Thomas  Nknvbray,  duke  of  Norfolk, 
That  he*8  a  traitor,  foul  and  dangerous. 
To  God  of  heaven,  king  Richar{  and  to  roe ; 
And,  as  I  truly  fight,  defend  me  heaven ! 

Mar.  On  pain  of  death,  no  person  be  so  bold. 
Or  daring-hardy,  as  to  touch  the  lists ; 
Except  the  marshal,  and  such  officers 
Appointed  to  direct^these  fair  designs. 
BoUng.  Lord  marshal,  let  me  kiss  my  sovereign's 

hand. 
And  bow  my  knee  before  his  majesty : 
For  Mowbrav,  and  myself,  are  like  two  men 
That  vow  a  long  and  weary  pilgrimage ; 
Then  let  us  take  a  ceremonious  leave. 
And  loving  &rewell,  of  our  several  friends^ 
Mar.    The  appellant  in  all  duty  greets  your 

highness. 
And  craves  to  kiss  ^our  hand,  and  take  his  leave. 
K.  Rich.  We  will  descend,  and  fold  him  in  our 

arms. 
Cousin  of  Hereford,  as  thy  cause  is  right. 
So  be  th V  fortune  in  this  royal  fight  i 
Farewell,  my  blood ;  which  if  to-day  thou  shed. 
Lament  we  may,  but  not  revenge  thee  dead. 

Boiing.  O,  let  no  noble  eye  profane  a  tear 
For  me,  if  I  be  ^r'd  with  Mowbray's  spear; 
As  confident,  as  is  the  fiJcon's  flight 

Against  a  bird,  do  I  with  Mowbray  fight 

My  loving  lord,  [To  JJord  Marshal]  I  take  my 

leave  of  you; — 
Of  you,  my  noble  cousin,  lord  Auroerle : — 
Not  sick,  although  I  have  to  do  with  death ; 

But  lusty,  young,  and  cheerlv  drawing  breath. 

Lo,  as  at  English  feasts,  so  I  regreet 

The  daintiest  last,  to  make  the  end  most  sweet : 

O  thou,  the  earthly  author  of  my  blood, — 

[7b  Gaunt. 
Whose  youthful  spirit,  in  me  regenerate. 
Doth  with  a  two-told  vigour  lift  me  up 
To  reach  at  victory  above  my  head, — 
Add  proof  unto  my  armour  with  thy  prayers ; 
And  with  thy  blessings  steel  my  lance's  point, 
That  it  mav  enter  Mowbray's  waxeni  coat, 
And  furbish^  new  the  name  of  John  of  Gaunt, 
Even  in  the  lusty  'haviour  of  his  son. 
Gaunt.  Heaven  in  thy  good  cause  make  thee 

prosperous ! 
Be  swift,  like  lighming,  in  the  execution ; 
And  let  thy  blows,  doubly  redoubled. 
Fall,  lil^e  amaxing  thunder,  on  the  casque' 
Of  thy  adverse  pernicious  enemy : 
Rouse  up  thy  youthful  blood,  be  valiant,  and  live. 
Boiing.  Mine  innocency,  and  Saint  George  to 

thrive !  [He  takes  his  seat. 

Nor.  [Rising.]  However  heaven,  or  fortune,  cast 

my  lot, 
rhere  lives  or  dies,  true  to  King  Richard's  throne, 
A  loyal,  just,  and  upright  gentleman  : 
Never  dia  captive  with  a  freer  heart 

(1)  Yielding.    (2)  Brighten  up.     (3)  HeUnet 
(4)  Play  a  part  in  a  mask. 


Cast  oiT  his  chains  of  bondage,  and  embrace 
His  golden  uacontroll'd  enfranchisement. 
More  than  my  dancing  soul  doth  celebrate 
This  feast  of  battle  with  mine  adversely.— 
Most  mighty  liege, — and  my  companion  peers. 
Take  from  mv  mouth  the  wish  of  happy  years : 
As  gentle  and  as  jocund,  as  to  jest,^ 
Go  I  to  fight ;  Truth  hath  a  quiet  breast. 

K.  Rich.  Farewell,  my  lord  :  securely  T  espy 

Virtue  wifti  valour  couched  in  thine  eye. 

Order  the  trial,  marshal,  and  begin. 

[The  King  and  the  Lords  return  to  their  teaU. 

Mar.  Harry  of  Hereford,  Lancaster,  and  Derby, 
Receive  thy  lance :  and  God  defend  die  right ! 

Boiing.  [Rising.]  Strong  as  a  tower  in  em^w,  I 
cry — amen. 

Mar.  Go  bear  this  lance  [7\>  an  officer,]  to 
Thomas  duke  of  Norfolk. 

1  Her.  Harr}'c^Hereford,  Lancaster,  and  Derby, 
Stands  here  for  God,  his  sovereign,  and  hiroseli^ 
On  pain  to  be  found  false  and  recreant. 

To  prove  the  duke  of  Norfolk,  Thomas  Mowbray. 
A  traitor  to  his  God,  his  king,  and  him. 
And  dares  him  to  set  forward  to  the  fight 

2  Her.  Here  standeth  Thomas  Mowbray,  duke 

of  Norfolk, 
On  pain  to  be  found  false  and  recreant. 
Both  to  defend  himself,  and  to  approve 
Henry  of  Hereford,  Lancaster,  and  Derby, 
To  God,  his  sovereign,  and  to  him,  disloyal ; 
Courageously,  and  with  a  frft  desire. 
Attending  but  the  signal  to  b^n. 

Mar.  Sound,  trumpets ;  ana  set  forward,  eoro- 
batants.  [A  chewge  munded, 

Stav,  the  king  hath  thrown  his  wardei^  down. 

At.  Rich.  Let  them  lay' by  their  helmets  and 
their  spears. 

And  both  return  back  to  their  chairs  again  : 

Withdraw  with  us : — and  let  the  trumpets  sound, 
VMiile  we  return  these  dukes  what  we  decree. — 

[A  Umgjlaurish. 
Draw  near,  \To  Ike  wmbatants. 

And  list,  what  with  our  council  we  have  done. 
For  that  our  kingdom's  earth  ^oold  not  be  soiPd 
With  that  dear  blood  which  it  hath  fostered  ;< 
And  for  our  eyes  do  hate  the  dire  aspect 
Of  civil  wounds  plough'd  up  with  ne^hbonn' 

swords ; 
And  for  we  think  the  eagle-winged  pride 
Of  sky -aspiring  and  ambitious  thoughts. 
With  rival-hating  envy,  set  you  on 
To  wake  our  peace,  which  in  our  countryV  cradle 
Draws  the  sweet  infant  breath  of  gentle  sleep ; 
Which  so  rous'd  up  with  boisterous  untun'd  drums. 
With  harsh  resounding  trumpets*  dreadfiil  bray. 
And  grating  shock  of  wrathtul  iron  arms. 
Might  from  our  quiet  confines  fright  fair  peace. 
And  make  us  wade  even  in  our  kindred's  olood ; — 

Therefore,  we  banish  you  our  territories : 

You,  cousin  Hereford,  upon  pain  of  death. 
Till  twice  five  summers  nave  enrich'd  our  fields. 
Shall  not  regreet  our  fair  dominions. 
But  tread  the  stranger  paths  of  banishment. 

Boiing.  Your  will  be  done :  This  must  my  com- 
fort be, 

That  sun,  that  warms  you  here,  shall  shine  on  me; 
And  those  his  golden  beams,  to  you  here  loit, 
Shall  point  on  me,  and  gild  my  banishment 

K.  Rich.  Norfolk,  for  thee  remains  a  beavio 
doom. 
Which  I  with  snine  unwillingness  prooomicc : 
The  fly-slow  hours  shall  not  detenmnate 


(5)  Truncheon. 


(6)  Naned. 


HcaulIL 


KING  RICHARD  U. 


371 


The  dateless  limit  of  thy  dear  ex  fie ; — 
The  hopeless  word  <rf — never  to  return 
Breathe  I  against  thee,  upon  pain  of  life. 

^or.  A  heavy  sentence,  my  most  sovereign  liege, 
And  all  unloolcM  for  from  your  highness*  mouth : 
A  dearer  merit,  not  so  deep  a  maim 
As  to  be  cast  forth  in  the  common  air, 
Have  I  deserved  at  your  highness*  hand. 
The  langu^e  I  have  learned  these  forty  years, 
My  native  &iglish,  now  I  must  forego : 
And  now  my  tongue*s  use  is  to  me  no  noore. 
Than  an  unstnnged  viol,  or  a  harp ; 
Or,  like  a  canning  instrument  casM  up, 
Or,  being  open,  put  into  his  hands 
That  knows  no  touch  to  tune  the  haiTOcny. 
Within  my  nnouth  vou  have  engaolM  mv  tongue, 
Doubl V  portcuUisM,!  with  m^  teeth,  ana  lips ; 
And  dull,  unfeeling,  barren  ignorance 
Is  made  mv  gaoler  to  attend  on  me. 
I  am  too  Old  to  fawn  upon  a  nurse. 
Too  far  in  years  to  be  a  pupil  now ; 
What  is  thy  sentence  then,  but  speechless  death. 
Which  robs  my  tongue  from  breathing  native 
breath? 

K.  Rich.  It  boots  thee  not  to  be  compassionate  ;2 
After  our  sentence,  plaining  comes  too  late. 

^or.  Then  thus  I  turn  me  from  my  country^s 
light. 
To  dwell  in  solemn  shades  of  endless  ni^t 

[Keiiring. 

K,  Ridi.  Return  again,  and  take  an  oath  with 
thee. 
Lay  on  our  royal  sword  your  banishM  hands ; 
Swear  by  the  duty  that  you  owe  to  heaven 
(Our  part  therein  we  bainish  with  yourselves,) 
To  keep  the  oath  that  we  administer : — 
You  never  riutU  fso  help  you  truth  and  heaven  !) 
Embrace  each  otner*s  love  in  banishment ; 
Nor  never  look  upon  each  other's  face ; 
Nor  never  write,  regreet,  nor  reconcile 
This  lowering  tempest  of  your  home-bred  hate ; 
Nor  never  by  advised'  purpose  meet. 
To  plot,  contrive,  or  complot  any  ill, 
Hjainst  us,  our  state,  our  subjects,  or  our  land. 

Baling,  I  swear. 

^or.  And  I,  to  keep  all  this. 

BoUng.  Norfolk,  so  far  as  to  mine  enemy ; — 
By  this  time,  had  the  king  permitted  us, 
Okie  of  our  souls  had  wander*d  in  the  air, 
BanishM  this  frail  sepulchre  of  our  flesh. 
As  now  our  flesh  is  banishM  from  this  land : 
Confess  diy  treasons,  ere  thou  fly  the  realm ; 
Since  thou  hast  &r  to  go,  bear  not  along 
The  clog8;ing  burden  of  a  guilty  soul. 

JVbr^  r^  Bolingbroke ;  if  ever  I  were  traitor. 
My  name  be  blotted  from  the  book  of  life. 
And  I  from  heaven  banishM,  as  from  hence ! 
But  what  dxNi  art,  heaven,  thou,  and  I  do  know; 
And  all  too  soon,  I  fear,  the  king  shall  rue. — 
Farewell,  my  liege : — Now  no  way  can  I  stray ; 
Save  back  to  Enirland,  all  the  world's  my  wav. 

[Exit. 

K.  Rich.  Uncle,  even  in  the  glasses  of  thine  eyes 
I  see  thy  grieved  heart :  thv  sad  aspect 
Hath  from  the  number  of  his  banishM  years 
PluckM  four  away ; — Six  frozen  winters  spent. 
Return   [To  Boling.]  with  welcome  heme  from 
banishment 

Boling.  How  long  a  time  lies  in  one  little  word  I 
Four  lagging  winters,  and  four  wanton  springs, 
Eod  in  a  wcra ;  Such  is  the  breath  of  kings. 


(1)  Barred. 
(3)  Concerted.. 


To  move  compassion. 
(4)  Consideration. 


Gaunt.  I  thank  my  li^e,  that,  in  regard  of  me, 
He  shortens  four  years  of  my  son's  exile  : 
But  little  vantage  shall  I  reap  thereby  ; 
For,  ere  the  nx  years,  that  be  hath  to  spend. 
Can  change  their  moons,  and  bring  their  times 

about. 
My  oil-dried  lamp,  and  time-bewasted  lights 
Shall  be  extinct  with  age,  and  endless  night ; 
My  inch  of  taper  will  be  burnt  and  done. 
And  blindfold  death  not  let  roe  see  my  son. 

K.  Rich.  Why,  uncle,  thou  hast  many  years  to  live. 

Gaunt.  But  not  a  minute,  king,  that  thou  cawrt 
give: 
Shorten  my  days  thou  canst  with  sullen  sorrow. 
And  pluck  nights  from  me,  but  not  lend  a  morrow : 
Thou  canst  help  time  to  furrow  me  with  age. 
But  stop  no  wnukle  in  his  pilgrimage ; 
Thy  word  is  current  with  him  for  my  death; 
But,  dead,  thv  kingdom  cannot  buy  my  breath. 

K.  Rich.  Thy  son  is  banishM  upon  good  advice,^ 
Whereto  thy  tongue  a  party*  veraict  gave  ; 
Why  at  our  iustice  seem'st  thou  then  to  lower? 

Gaunt.  Things  sweet  to  taste,  prove  in  digestkxi 
sour. 
You  urgM  me  as  a  iudge ;  but  I  had  rather. 
You  would  have  bid  me  argue  like  a  father  :— 
O,  had  it  been  a  stranger,  not  my  child. 
To  nnooth  his  fault  I  mould  have  been  more  mild : 
A  partial  slandei^  sought  I  to  avoid. 
And  in  the  sentence  my  own  life  dettrov'd. 
Alas,  I  lookM,  when  some  of  you  should  say, 
I  was  too  strict,  to  make  mine  own  away : 
But  vou  gave  leave  to  my  unwilling  tongue, 
Against  my  will,  to  do  myself  this  wrong. 

K.  Rich,  Cousin,  farewell :— and,  uncte,  bid  him 
so; 
Six  years  we  banish  him,  and  he  shall  go. 

[Flourish,  Exeunt  K.  Rich,  and  train, 

Aum,  (Jousin,  farewell:  what  presence  must 
not  know. 
From  where  vou  do  remain,  let  paper  show. 

Mar.  My  lord,  no  leave  take  I ;  for  I  will  ride, 
As  far  as  land  will  let  me,  by  your  side. 

Gaunt.  0,to  what  purpose  dost  thou  hoard  tbj 
words. 
That  thou  retum'st  no  greeting  to  thy  friends  ? 

Boling.  I  have  too  few  to  take  my  leave  of  you, 
Ulien  the  tongue's  office  should  be  prodigal 
To  breathe  the  abundant  dolour^  of  the  heart. 

GaurU.  Thy  grief  is  but  thy  absence  for  a  time. 

Boling.  Joy  absent,  grief  is  present  for  that  time. 

GaujiU.  What  is  six  winters  ?  they  are  quickly 
gone. 

Boling.  To  men  in  joy ;  but  grief  makes  one 
hour  ten. 

Gaunt.  Call  it  a  travel  that  thou  tak'st  for 
pleasure. 

Boling.  Mv  heart  will  sigh,  when  I  miscall  it  so, 
Which  finds  it  an  enforced  pilgrimage. 

Gaunt.  The  sullen  passage  of  thy  weaiy  stepe 
Esteem  a  foil,  wherein  thou  art  to  set 
The  precious  jewel  of  thy  home-return. 

Boling.  Nay,  rather,  eveiy  tedious  stride  I  make 
Will  but  remember  me,  what  a  deal  of  world 
I  wander  from  the  jewels  that  I  love. 
Must  I  not  serve  a  long  apprenticebood 
To  foreign  passages ;  ana  m  the  end. 
Having  my  freedom,  boast  ol'  nothing  elite, 
But  that  I  was  a  journeyman  to  g^ef  ? 

Gaunt,  All  places  that  the  eye  of  heaven  visits, 
Are  to  a  wise  man  ports  and  happy  havens : 


U(5)  Had  a  pert  or  share. 
(6)  Reproach  of  partiality. 


(7)  Grief. 


372 


nXG  RICHARD  IL 


AaiL 


Teach  thj  necenitr  to  mson  th« ; 

There  is  no  rirtue  like  necesmtj. 

Think  ooC,  the  king  did  baniab  thee ; 

But  thou  the  kii^  :  Wo  doth  the  hearier  tit. 

Where  it  peroeire«  it  b  but  faintly  borne. 

Go,  my — 1  sent  thee  forth  to  purchase  hoooar, 

And  not — the  king  exilM  thee :  or  suppose, 

Devouring  pestilence  hangs  in  our  air, 

And  thou  art  flying  to  a  fresher  clime. 

Look,  what  thy  soul  holds  dear,  imagine  it 

To  lie  that  wa^  thou  go*st,  not  whence  thou  comV : 

Suppose  the  suiging  birds,  musicians ; 

The  grass  whereon  thou   tread^st,  the  presence' 

strew*d ; 
The  flowers,  fair  ladies ;  and  thy  steps,  no  more 
Than  a  delightful  measure,  or  a  dance  : 
For  gnarlingS  sorrow  hath  less  power  to  bite 
The  man  that  mocks  at  it,  and  sets  it  light 

BoUim;.  O,  whocan  hold  a  fire  in  bis  hand. 
By  thinking  on  the  frosty  Caucasus  ? 
Or  cloy  the  hungry  edge  of  appetite. 
By  bare  imagination  of  a  feast  r 
Or  wallow  naked  in  December  snow. 
By  thinking  on  fantastic  summer's  hcAt  ? 
O,  no !  the  apprehension  of  the  good. 
Gives  but  the  greater  feeling  to  the  worse: 
Fell  sorrow's  tooth  doth  never  rankle  more. 
Than  when  it  bites,  but  lanceth  not  the  sore. 

Gaunt.  Come,  come,  my  son,  I'll  bring  thee  on 
thy  way : 
Had  I  thy  youth,  and  cause,  I  would  not  stay. 

Boling.  Then,  England's  ground,  farewell ;  sweet 
soil,  adieu 
Mr  mother,  and  my  nurse,  that  bears  me  yet ! 

Where'er  I  wander,  boast  of  this  I  can, 

Though  banish'd,  yet  a  true-bom  Englishman. 

[Exewii. 

SCEJVE  ir.--The  tame,  A  room  in  the  king's 
castle.  Enter  King  Richard,  Bagot,  and  Green ; 
Aumerle  following. 

K.  Rich.  We  did  observe. — Cousin  Aumerle, 
How  far  brought  you  high  Hereford  on  his  way  ? 

Aum.  Ibrou^t  high  Hereford,  if  you  call  him  so. 
But  to  the  next  highway,  and  there  I  left  him. 

JC  Rich.  And,  say,  what  store  of  parting  tears 
were  shed  } 

Aum.  'Faith,  none  by  me :  except  the  north- 
east wind. 
Which  then  blew  bitterly  against  our  faces, 
Awak'd  the  sleeping  rheum ;  and  so  by  chance, 
Did  grace  our  hollow  parting  with  a  tear. 

iCRich.  What  said  our  cousin,  when  you  j)arted 
with  him  ? 

Aum.  Farewell: 
And,  for  my  heart  disdained  that  my  tongue 
Should  so  profane  the  word,  that  taught  me  craft 
To  counterfeit  oppression  of  such  grief. 
That  words  seem'd  buried  in  mv  sorrow's  grave. 
Marry,  would  the  word  farewefl  have  Icngthen'd 

hours, 
And  added  years  to  his  short  banishment. 
He  should  have  had  a  volume  of  farewells ; 
But,  since  it  would  not,  he  had  none  of  me. 

K.  Rich.  He  is  our  cousin,  cousin ;  but  'tis  doubt, 
When  time  shall  call  him  home  from  banishment, 
Whether  our  kinsman  come  to  see  his  friends. 
Ourself,  and  Bushy,  Bagot  here,  and  Green, 
Observ'd  his  courtship  to  the  common  people : — 
How  he  did  seem  to  dive  into  their  hearts. 
With  humble  and  familiar  courtesy  ; 
What  reverence  he  did  throw  away  on  slaves ; 

(1)  Presence-chamber  at  court     (2)  Growling. 


W^ooii^  poor  craflsmen,  with  the  craft  of 

And  patient  underbearing  of  his  Ibrtaoe, 

As  'twere,  to  bani&h  their  aflects  with  him. 

Od*  goes  his  bonnet  to  an  oyster-weocfa ; 

A  brace  of  draymen  bid— God  speed  hini  wdl, 

.\nd  had  the  tribute  of  his  supple  knee. 

With Thanks^  my  coKnirymm,  wiy   Ums^ 

friends} — 
As  were  our  England  in  rerersioii  htf, 
.\nd  be  our  subjects'  next  degree  in  hope. 

Great.  Well,  he  is  gone;  uid  with  mm  go  diese 
thoughts. 
Now  for  the  rebels,  which  stand  out  in  Ireland ; — 
Ex[)edient'  manage  must  be  made,  my  liege ; 
Ere  further  leisure  yield  them  further  means, 
For  their  advantage,  and  your  h^;hnea8s'  losa. 

K.  Rich.  We  will  ourself  in  peraoo  to  this  war. 
And,  fbr^  our  coders — with  too  great  a  court. 
And  liberal  largess,— are  grown  somewhat  l%lrt, 
We  are  enforc'd  to  farm  our  royal  realm ; 
The  revenue  whereof  shall  furnish  us 
For  our  af&irs  in  hand  :  If  that  come  short. 
Our  substitutes  at  home  shall  have  blank  charters; 
Whereto,  when  they  shall  know  what  men  are  rich, 
They  shall  sulxicribe  them  for  large  sums  of  gokl. 
And  send  them  aAer  to  supply  our  wants; 
For  we  will  make  for  Ireland  presently. 

Enter  Bushy. 

Bushy,  what  news  } 

Bushy.  Old  John  of  Gaunt  is  grierous  sick,  mf 
lord; 
Suddenly  taken ;  and  hath  teai  post-haste. 
To  entreat  your  majesty  to  visit  him. 

K.Rich.  Where  Ues he? 

Bushy.  At  Ely-house. 

K.  Rich.  Now  put  it,  heaven,  in  his  phjticiaD'i 
mind. 
To  help  him  to  his  grave  inunediately  ! 
The  lining  of  his  coders  shall  make  coats 
To  deck  our  soldiers  for  these  Irish  wars. — 
Come,  gentlemen,  let's  all  go  visit  him : 
Pray  God,  we  may  make  haste,  and  ccme  too  late ! 

[ElxcunL 


ACT  II. 

SCEJ^  i.— London.  A  room  in  Ely-house. 
Gaunt  on  a  couch;  the  Duke  of  York,  end 
others  standing  by  him. 

Gaunt.  Will  the  king  come .'  that  I  may  breathe 
my  last. 
In  wholesome  counsel  to  his  anstaied  youth. 
York.  Vex  not  yourself,  nor  strive  not  with  your 
breath; 
For  all  in  vain  comes  counsel  to  his  ear. 

Gaunt.  O,  but  they  say,  the  tongues  of  dying  men 
Enforce  attention,  like  aeep  harmony  : 
Where  words  are  scarce,  Uiey  are  seldom  spent  in 

vain ; 
For  they  breathe  truth,  that  breathe  their  words  io 

pain. 
He,  that  no  more  must  say,  is  listen'a  more 
Than  they  whom  youth  and  ease  have  tai^t  to 
glose;^ 
More  are  men's  ends  mark'd,  than  their  lives  befbre : 

The  setting  sun,  and  music  at  the  close. 
As  the  last  taste  of  sweets,  is  sweetest  last ; 
Writ  in  remembrance,  more  than  things  long  past: 
Though  Richard  my  life's  counsel  would  not  b^r, 

(3)  Expeditious.      (A'\  Because.      (5)  Flattv 


KING  RICHARD  IL 


373 


th*s  sad  tale  may  yet  undeaf  his  ear. 

.  No;  it  is  stopp'd  with  other  flattering 

sounds, 
ses  of  his  state :  then,  diere  are  found 
«ts  metres ;  to  whose  venom  sound 
ill  ear  of  youth  doth  always  listen : 
af  fashions  in  proud  Italy ; 
manners  still  our  tardy  apish  nation 
fter,  in  base  imitation, 
doth  the  world  thrust  forth  a  vanity 
i  new,  there's  no  respect  how  vile,) 
not  quickly  buzz*d  into  his  ears  ? 
1  too  late  comes  counsel  to  be  heard, 
will  doth  mutiny  with  wit's  regard, 
ot  him,  whose  way  himself  wul  choose ; 
ath  thou  lack'st,  and  that  breath  wilt  tlxNi 

lose. 
1  Methinks,  I  am  a  prophet  new  in«p!rM ; 
ti,  expiring,  do  foretel  of  him : 
I  fierce  blaze  of  Hot  cannot  last ; 
ent  fires  soon  bum  out  themselves : 
owers  last  long,  but  sudden  storms  are  short; 
betimes,  that  spurs  too  fast  betimes ; 
ger  feeding,  food  doth  choke  the  feeder : 
inity,  insatiate  cormorant, 
ine  means,  soon  preys  upon  itself, 
althrone  of  king^,  this  scepterM  isle, 
lh  of  majesty,  this  seat  of  Mara, 
er  Eden,  demi-paradise ; 
tress,  built  by  nature  for  herself, 
infection,  and  the  hand  of  war ; 
3py  breed  of  men,  this  little  world ; 
ictous  stone  set  in  the  silver  sea, 
lerves  it  in  the  office  of  a  wall, 
noat  defensive  to  a  house, 
the  envy  of  less  happier  lands : 
eased  plot,  this   earth,  this   realm,   this 

England, 
■se,  mis  teeming  womb  of  royal  kingfs, 
ij  their  breed,  and  famous  by  their  birth, 
ed  for  their  deeds  as  far  from  home 
ristian  service,  and  true  chivaliy,) 
i  sepulchre  in  stubborn  Jewry, 
rorld's  ransom,  blessed  Mary's  son : 
d  of  such  dear  souls,  this  dear  dear  land, 

her  reputation  through  the  world, 
eas*d  out  (I  die  pronouncing  it,) 
ft  tmement,  or  pelting^  farm : 
,  bound  in  with  the  triumphant  sea, 
tx:ky  shore  beats  back  the  envious  siege 
ry  Neptune,  is  now  bound  fh  with  shame, 
cy  blots,  and  rotten  parchment  bond:^ ; 
^and,  that  was  wont  to  conquer  others, 
ide  a  shameful  conquest  of  itself: 
]  the  scandal  vanish  with  my  life, 
[ypy  then  were  my  ensuing  acath ! 

ing  Richard,  and  Queen ;  Aumerle,  Bushy, 
«en,  Bagot,  Roes,  and  Willoughby. 

Tlie  king  is  come :  deal  mildly  with  his 

youth; 

ig  hot  colts,  being  rag'd,  do  rage  the  more. 
.  How  fares  our  noble  uncle,  Lancaster? 
ieh.  What  comfort,  man  ?  How  is't  with 

s«ed  Gaunt  ? 

t.  O,  how  that  name  befits  my  composition ! 
nt,  indeed  ;  and  gaunt^  in  being  old : 
ne  grief  hath  kept  a  tedious  fast ; 
>  abstains  from  meat,  that  is  not  gaunt  ? 
ping  England  long  time  have  I  watch'd ; 
g  breeds  leanness,  leanness  is  all  gaunt : 
isure,  that  some  fathers  feed  upon, 

Jtry.         (2)  Lean,  thin.         (3)  Mad. 


Is  my  strict  fast,  I  mean — my  children's  looks ; 
And,  therein  fasting,  hast  thou  made  me  gaunt : 
Gaunt  am  I  for  the  grave,  gaunt  as  a  grave. 
Whose  hollow  womb  inherits  nought  but  bones. 

K.  Rich.  Can  sick  men  play  so  nicely  with  theli 
names  .^ 

Oauni.  No,  miseiy  makes  sport  to  nrKx:k  itself: 
Since  thou  dost  seek  to  kill  my  name  in  me, 
I  mock  my  name,  great  king,  to  flatter  thee. 

K.  Rial.  Should  dying  men  flatter  with  thoce 
that  live  ? 

Gaunt.  No,  no;  men  living  flatter  those  that  die. 

K.  RieK.  Thou,  now  a  dying,  say'st — thou  flat- 
terest  me. 

Gaunt.  Oh !  no;  thou  diest,  though  1  the  sicker  be. 

K.  Rteh.  I  am  in  health,  I  breathe,  and  see  thee  ill. 

Gaunt.  Now,  He  that  made  me,  knows  1  see 
thee  ill ; 
III  in  myself  to  see,  and  in  thee  seeing  ill. 
Thy  death-bed  is  no  lesser  than  the  land. 
Wherein  thou  liest  in  reputation  sick  : 
And  thou,  too  careless  patient  as  thou  art, 
Commit'st  thy  anointed  body  to  the  cure 
Of  those  physicians  that  firat  wounded  thee : 
A  thousand  flatteren  sit  within  thy  crown, 
Whose  compass  is  no  bigger  than  thy  head ; 
And  yet,  incaged  in  so  small  a  verge. 
The  waste  is  no  whit  lesser  than  thy  land. 
O,  had  thy  grandsire,  with  a  prophet's  eye. 
Seen  how  his  son's  son  should  destroy  his  sons. 
From  forth  thy  reach  he  would  have  laid  thy  shame; 
Deposing  thee  before  thou  wert  possessed. 
Which  art  poasess'd'  now  to  depose  thyself. 
Why,  cousin,  wert  thou  resent  of  the  world. 
It  were  a  slMime  to  let  this  land  by  lease  : 
But,  for  thy  world,  enjoying  but  this  land. 
Is  it  not  more  than  shame,  to  shame  it  so  f 
Landlord  of  England  art  thou  now,  not  king : 
Thy  state  of  law  is  bondslave  to  the  law ; 
And  thou 

K.  Rich.         a  lunatic  lean-witted  fool, 

Presuming  on  an  ague's  privilege, 
Dar'st  with  thy  frozen  admonition 
Make  pale  our  cheek ;  chasing  the  rojral  blood. 
With  fury,  from  his  native  residence. 
Now  by  my  seat's  right  royal  majesty, 
Wert  tnou  not  brother  to  great  Edward's  son. 
This  tongue  that  runs  so  roundly  in  thy  head, 
Should  run  thy  head  from  thy  unreverend  shoulders. 
Gaunt.  O,  spare  me  not,  my  brother  Edward's  son. 
For  that  I  was  his  father  Edward's  son ; 
That  blood  already,  like  the  pelican. 
Hast  thou  tapp'd  out,  and  drunkenly  carous'd : 
My  brother  Uloster,  plain  well-meaning  soul 
(Whom  fair  befall  in  heaven  'mongst  happy  souls .') 
May  be  a  precedent  and  witness  good. 
That  thou  respect'st  not  spilling  Edward's  blood : 
Join  with  the  present  sickness  that  I  have  ; 
And  thy  unkindness  be  like  crooked  age. 
To  crop  at  once  a  too-long  wither'd  flower. 
Live  in  thy  shame,  but  die  not  shame  with  thee  !— 
These  words  hereafter  thy  tormentors  be  ! — 
Convey  me  to  my  bed,  then  to  my  grave : 
Love  they  to  live,  that  love  and  honour  have. 

[Exiif  borne  cut  by  his  atimdantn. 

K.  Rich.  And  let  them  die,  that  age  and  sullens 
have; 
For  both  hast  thou,  and  both  become  the  jn^ve. 

York.  'Beseech  your  majesty,  impute  his  woris 
To  wayward  sickliness  and  age  in  faim : 
He  loves  you,  on  my  life,  and  holds  von  dear 
As  Harnr,  duke  of  Hereford,  were  he  here. 

K.  Rtek.  Right :  you  say  true  :  as  Hereford's 
love,  so  his : 


374 


KING  RICHARD  il. 


Act  a 


At  theirs,  so  mine ;  and  all  be  as  it  is. 
Enter  Northamberland. 

JVbrf/i.  My  liege,  old  Gaunt  commends  him  to 
your  majesty. 

K.  Rich.  What  says  he  now  f 

JVorth.  Nay,  nothing ;  all  is  said : 

His  tongue  is  now  a  strinfless  instrument ; 
Words,  life,  and  all,  old  Lancaster  has  spent. 

York.  Be  York  the  next  that  must  be  bankrupt  so ! 
Though  death  be  poor,  it  ends  a  mortal  wo. 

K.  /2tc/i. Theripestfruitfirstfalls,and sodothhe; 
His  time  is  spent,  our  pilgrimage  must  be : 

So  much  for  that Now  for  our  Irish  wars : 

We  must  supplant  those  rough  rug-headed  kerns ;' 
Which  live  liKe  venom,  where  no  venom  else. 
But  only  they,  hath  privilege  to  live.3 
And  for  these  great  affairs  do  ask  some  charge. 
Towards  our  assistance,  we  do  seize  to  us 
The  plate,  coin,  revenues,  and  moveables. 
Whereof  our  uncle  Gaunt  did  stand  possessM. 

York.  How  long  shall!  be  patient?  Ah,  how  long 
Shall  lender  duty  make  me  suffer  wron^.^ 
Not  Gloster*s  death,  nor  Hereford's  banishment, 
NotGaunt's  rebukes,  nor  England's  private  wrongs 
Nor  the  prevention  of  poor  bolingbroke 
About  his  marriage,  nor  my  own  disgrace. 
Have  ever  made  me  sour  my  patient  cheek. 
Or  bend  one  wrinkle  on  my  sovereign's  face. — 
I  am  the  last  of  noble  Edward's  sons. 
Of  whom  thy  father,  prince  of  Wales,  was  first ; 
In  war,  was  never  lion  rag'd  more  fierce. 
In  peace,  was  never  gentle  lamb  more  mild. 
Than  was  that  young  and  princely  gentleman :  , 
His  face  thou  hast,  for  even  so  looK'd  be, 
Accomplish'd  with  the  number  of  thy  hours ;' 
But,  when  he  frown'd,  it  was  against  the  French, 
And  not  against  his  friends :  his  noble  hand 
Did  win  what  he  did  spend,  and  spent  not  that 
Which  his  triumphant  father's  hand  had  won : 
His  hands  were  guil^  of  no  kindred's  blood, 
But  bloody  with  the  enemies  of  his  kin. 
O,  Richaiia  !  York  is  too  &r  gone  with  grief. 
Or  else  he  never  would  compare  between. 

K.  Rich.  Why,  uncle,  wnat's  the  matter? 

York.  O,  mv  liege. 

Pardon  me,  if  you  please;  if  not,  I  pleas'd 
Not  to  be  par<ion'd,  am  content  witlial. 
Seek  you  to  seize,  and  gripe  into  your  hands. 
The  royalties  and  rights  of  banish'd  Hereford  ? 
Is  not  Gaunt  dead  ?  and  doth  not  Hereford  live  ? 
Was  not  Gaunt  just  ?  and  is  not  Harry  true  ? 
Did  not  the  one  deserve  to  have  an  heir  ? 
Is  not  his  heir  a  well-desen'ing  son  ? 
Take  Hereford's  rights  away,  and  take  from  time 
His  charters,  and  his  customary  rights ; 
Let  not  to-morrow  then  ensue  to-day ; 
Be  not  thyself,  for  how  art  thou  a  king. 
But  by  fair  sequence  and  succession  ? 
Now,  afore  God  (God  forbid,  I  say  true  .*) 
If  you  do  wrongfully  seize  Hereford's  rights. 
Call  in  the  letters  patents  that  he  hath 
By  his  attomies-general  to  sue 
His  livery,*  and  deny  his  offer'd  homage, 
YyM  pluck  a  thousand  dan^rs  on  your  head. 
You  lose  a  thousand  well-^sposed  hearts, 
And  prick  my  tender  patience  to  those  thoughts 
Which  honour  and  allegiance  cannot  think. 

K.  Rich.  Think  what  you  will ;  we  seize  into 
our  hands 

(1)  Irish  soldiers. 

(2)  Alluding  to  the  idea  that  no  venomous  rep- 
tiles live  in  Ireland. 


His  plate,  his  goods,  his  money,  and  his  lands. 

York.  I'll  not  be  by,  the  while:   My  liege, 
farewell : 
What  will  ensue  hereof,  there's  none  can  tell ; 
But  by  bad  courses  may  be  undentood, 
That  their  events  can  never  fall  out  good.     [EliiL 

K.  Rich.  Go,  Busby,  to  the  eari  of  Wiltshire 
straight; 
Bid  him  repair  to  us,  to  Ely-house, 
To  see  this  business :  To-morrow  next 
We  will  for  Ireland;  and  'tis  time,  I  trow ; 
And  we  create,  in  absence  of  ourself. 
Our  uncle  York,  lord  governor  of  England, 
For  he  is  just,  and  always  lov'd  us  well. — 
Come  on,  our  queen  :  to-morrow  must  we  part ; 
Be  merry,  for  our  time  of  stay  is  short  [flounsA. 
[Exeunt  King,  Queen,  Bushy,  Aumerie, 
Green,  and  Bagot 

JS'br/A.  Well,  lords,  the  duke  of  Lancatter  ii 
dead. 

Ross.  And  living  too ;  for  now  his  soo  is  duke. 

IViUo.  Barely  in  title,  not  in  revenue. 

J^orih.  Richly  in  both,  if  justice  had  her  right 

Ross.  My  heart  is  great ;  but  it  must  break  with 
silence, 
Ere't  be  disburden'd  with  a  liberal'  tongue. 

J^orth.  Nay,  speak  thy  mind ;  and  let  him  ne'ef 
speak  more. 
That  speaks  thy  words  again,  to  do  thee  harm ! 

WiUo.  Tends  that  thou'dst  speak,  to  the  doka 
of  Hereford  ? 
If  it  be  so,  out  with  it  boldU,  man ; 
Quick  is  mine  ear  to  hear  oT  good  towards  him. 

Ross.  No  good  at  all,  that  I  can  do  for  him; 
Unless  you  call  it  good  to  pity  him. 
Bereft  and  gelded°  of  his  patrimony. 

J^Torth.  Now,  afore  h^ven,  'tis  shame,  Mich 
wrongs  are  borne. 
In  him  a  royal  prince,  and  many  more 
Of  noble  blood  in  this  declining  land. 
The  king  is  not  himself,  but  basely  led 
By  flatterers ;  and  what  they  will  infonn, 
^lereIy  in  hate,  'gainst  any  of  us  all. 
That  will  the  king  severely  prosecute 
'Gainst  us,  our  lives,  our  children,  and  our  heirs. 

Ross.  The  commons  hath  he  pill'd^  with  grieyoot 
taxes. 
And  lost  their  hearts :  the  nobles  hath  he  fin'd. 
For  ancient  quarrels,  and  quite  lost  their  hearts. 

WiUo.  And  daily  new  exactions  are  devis'd ; 
.\s  blanks,  benevolences,  and  I  wot  not  what : 
But  what,  o'God's  name,  doth  become  of  this  ? 

J^Torth.  Wars  have  not  wasted  it,  for  wan'd  he 
hath  not. 
But  basely  yielded  upon  ccxnpromise. 
That  which  his  ancestors  achiev'd  with  blows  * 
More  hath  he  spent  in  peace,  than  they  in  wars. 

Ross.  The  earl  of  Wiltshire  hath  toe  realm  in 
farm. 

WiUo.  The  king's  grown  bankrupt,  like  a  broken 
man. 

^orth.  Reproach,  and  dissdutioii,  hangeth  over 
him. 

Ross.  He  hath  not  money  for  these  Irish  wait, 
His  burdenous  taxations  notwithstanding. 
But  by  the  robbing  of  the  banish'd  duke. 

JVorth.  His  noble  kinsman :  mo8td^;enermtekiii|^! 
But,  loids,  we  hear  this  fearful  tempest  sing. 
Yet  seek  no  shelter  to  avoid  the  storai : 
We  see  the  wbd  sit  sore  upon  our  sails, 

(3)  When  of  thy  a^ 

(4)  Taking  possession.  (5)  Free. 
(6)  Deprived.           (7)  Fillip 


Scene  IL 


KING  RICHARD  U. 


375 


And  yet  we  strike  not,  but  securely  perish,  i 

Ross.  We  see  the  verv  wreck  that  we  must  sufier ; 
And  unavoided  is  the  danger  now, 
For  saffierinfi;  so  the  causes  of  our  wreck. 

^orth.  Not  so ;  even  through  the  hollow  eyes  of 
death, 
I  spy  life  peerii^ ;  but  I  dare  not  say 
How  near  the  tidings  of  our  comfort  is. 

IVULo.  Nay,  let  us  share  thy  thoughts,  as  thou 
dost  ours. 

Ross.  Be  confident  to  speak,  Northumberland : 
We  three  are  but  thyself;  and,  speaking  so. 
Thy  words  are  but  as  thoughts;  therefore,  be  bold. 

Jforth.  Then  thus : — I  luve,  from  Port  le  Blanc, 
a  bay 
In  Brittany,  received  intelligence. 
That  Harry  Hereford,  Reignold  lord  Cobham 
rrhe  son  of  Richard  earl  of  Arundel,] 
That  late  bi%ke  from  the  duke  of  Exeter, 
His  brother,  archbishop  late  of  Canterbury, 
Sir  Thomas  Erpingham,  sir  John  Ramston, 
Sir  John  Norbery,  sir  Robert  Waterton,  and  Fran- 
cis Quoint, 

All  diese  well  fumij^*d  by  the  duke  of  Bretagne, 
Widi  eight  talP  ships,  three  thousand  men  of  war. 
Are  making  hither  with  all  due  expedience,' 
And  shortly  mean  to  touch  our  northern  shore : 
Perhaps,  they  had  ere  this ;  but  that  they  stay 
The  first  departing  of  the  king  for  Ireland. 
If  thea  we  shall  shake  off  our  slavish  yoke, 
*  Imp*  out  our  drooping  country's  broken  wing, 
Reaeem  from  brolcing  pawn  tne  blemishM  crown, 
Wipe  off  the  dust  that  hides  our  sceptre*s  gilt,^ 
And  make  high  majesty  look  like  itself. 
Away,  with  me,  in  post  to  Ravenspurg : 
But  if  you  faint,  as  fearing  to  do  so. 
Stay,  and  be  secret,  and  myself  will  go. 

Kasi.  To  horse,  to  horse !  urge  doubts  to  them 
that  fear. 

WiUo.  Hold  out  my  horse,  and  I  will  first  be 
there.  [Exeunt. 

8CRKE  II.— The  same.    A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Queen,  Bushy,  and  Bagot 

BtuAy.  Madam,  your  majes^  is  too  much  sad : 
You  promis'd,  when  you  parted  with  the  king, 
To  lay  aside  life-harming  heaviness, 
And  entertain  a  cheerful  disposition. 
QMetn.  To  please  the  king,  I  did;  to  please  my- 
self, 
I  cannot  do  it ;  yet  I  know  no  cause 
Wliy  I  should  welcome  such  a  guest  as  grief, 
Sare  bidding  farewell  to  so  sweet  a  guest 
As  ray  sweet  Richard  :  Yet,  again,  methinks, 
Some  unbora  sorrow,  ripe  in  fortune's  womb. 
Is  coinins:  towards  me ;  and  my  inward  soul 
With  nothing  trembles :  at  something  it  grieves, 
More  than  with  parting  from  my  lord  the  king. 
Bushy.  Each  substance  of  a  grief  hath  twenty 
shadows, 
"Which  show  like  grief  itself,  but  are  not  so : 
for  sorrow's  e^e,  glazed  with  blinding  tears, 
Diyidea  one  thmg  entire  to  many  objects ; 
'Like  perspectives,^  which,  rightly  gaz*d  upon, 
Show,  nothing  but  confusion ;  eyM  awry, 
^Distinguish  form :  so  your  sweet  majesty, 
liooking  avTry  upon  your  lord*s  departure, 
Finds  shapes  of  grief,  more  than  himself,  to  wail ; 
Wliich,  look*d  on  as  it  is,  is  nought  but  shadows 
Of  what  it  is  not    Then,  thrice-gracious  queen, 

(1)  Perish  by  confidence  in  our  security. 

(2)  Stout.  (3)  Expedition. 

(4)  Supply  with  new  feathers.      (5)  Gilding^. 


More  than  your  lord's  departure  weep  not ;  more*! 

not  seen; 
Or  if  it  be,  *tis  with  false  scnrow's  eye, 
Which,  for  things  true,  weeps  thii^  imaginary. 

Queen.  It  may  be  so ;  but  yet  my  inward  soul, 
Persuades  me,  it  is  otherwise  :  Howe'er  it  be, 
I  cannot  but  be  sad ;  so  heavy  sad. 
As, — though,  in  thinking,  on  no  thought  I  think, — 
Makes  me  with  heavy  ixrthing  faint  and  shrink. 

Bushy.  *Tis  nothing  but  conceit,^  my  gracious 
lady. 

Queen.  'Tis  nothing  less :  conceit  ii  still  deriv'd 
From  scrnie  fore-father  grief;  mine  is  not  so ; 
For  nothing  hath  begot  my  something  grief; 
Or  something  hath  the  nothing  that  J  grieve : 
'Tis  in  reversion  that  I  do  possess ; 
But  what  it  is,  that  is  not  vet  known ;  what 
I  cannot  name ;  'tis  nameless  wo,  I  woL* 

Enter  Green, 

Oreen,  God  save  your  maj^^ ! — and  well  met, 
gentlemen : — 
I  hope,  the  king  is  not  yet  shipp'd  for  Ireland. 

Queen.  Why  hop'st  thou  so?  'tis  better  hope, 
he  is; 
For  his  designs  crave  haste,  his  haste  good  hope ; 
Then  wherefore  dost  thou  hope,  he  is  not  shipp'd  f 

Green.  That  he,  our  hope,  might  have  retired 
his  power,9 
And  driven  into  despair  an  enemy's  hope. 
Who  strongly  hath  set  footing  in  this  land  : 
The  bcmisl?a  Bolingbroke  repeals  himself, 
And  with  uplifted  arms  is  safe  arrivM 
At  Ravenspurg. 

Queen.  Now  God  in  heaven  forbid ! 

Chreen.  O,  madam,  'tis  too  true:  and  that  is 
worse, — 
The  lord  Northumberland,  his  young  son  Heniy 

Percy, 
The  lords  of  ftoss,  Beaumond,  and  Willoushby, 
With  all  their  powerful  friends,  are  fled  to  him. 

Btuhy.  Why  have  you  not  proclaim'd  Northum* 
berland. 
And  all  the  rest  of  the  revolting  faction. 
Traitors  ? 

Green.  We  have :  whereon  the  earl  of  Worcester 
Hath  broke  his  staff,  resign'd  his  stewardship. 
And  all  the  household  servants  fled  with  him 
To  Bolingbroke. 

^leen.  So,  Green,  thou  art  the  midwife  to  my  wo, 
And  Bolingbroke  my  sorrow's  dismal  heir: 
Now  hath  my  soul  brought  forth  her  prodigy ; 
And  I,  a  gasping  new-deliver'd  mother. 
Have  wo  to  wo,  sorrow  to  rarrow  join'd. 

Bushy.  Despair  not,  madam. 

Queen.  Who  shall  hinder  me  ? 

I  will  despair,  and  be  at  enmihr 
With  cozening  hope ;  he  is  a  flatterer, 
A  parasite,  a  Iceeper-back  of  death. 
Who  gently  would  dissolve  the  bands  of  life, 
Which  false  hope  lingers  in  extremity. 

EnUr  York. 

Crreen.  Here  comes  the  duke  of  York. 

Queen.  With  signs  of  war  about  his  aged  neck* 

O,  full  of  careful  business  are  his  looks ! 

Uncle, 

For  heaven's  sake,  speak  comfortable  words. 

York.  Should  I  do  so,  I  should  belie  my  thoughts : 
Comfort's  in  heaven ;  and  we  are  on  tM  eartn. 
Where  nothing  lives  but  crosses,  care,  and  grief 


rS)  Pictures. 
(8)  Know. 


(7)  Fanciful  conception. 
(9)  Dnwn  it  back. 


376 


KING  RICHARD  II. 


Act  IL 


Yotir  husband  he  is  gone  to  save  far  off, 
Whilst  olhors  come  to  make  him  lose  at  home : 
Here  am  I  left  to  underprop  his  land  ; 

"Who,  weak  with  age,  cannot  support  myself: 

Now  comes  the  sick  hour  that  his  surfeit  made  ; 
Now  shall  he  try  his  friends  that  flattered  him. 

Enter  a  Servant 

Serv.  My  lord,  your  son  was  gone  before  I  came. 

York.  He  was  ? — Why,  so ! — go  all  which  way 

it  will ! 

The  nobles  they  are  fled,  the  commons  cold. 

And  will,  I  fear,  revolt  oo  Hereford's  side. 

Sirrah, 

Get  thee  to  Flashy,  to  mv  sister  Gloster ; 
Bid  her  send  me  presently  a  thousand  pound : 
Hold,  take  my  ring. 

Serv.  My  lord,  1  had  forgot  to  tell  your  lordship : 
To-day,  as  I  came  by,  I  called  there ; 
But  I  shall  (grieve  you  to  report  the  rest. 

York,  W^bat  is  it,  knave  f 

Serv.  An  hour  before  I  came,  the  duchess  died. 

York.  God  for  his  mercy  !  what  a  tide  of  woes 
Comes  rushing  on  this  woful  land  at  once  ! 
I  know  not  what  to  do : — I  would  to  God, 
(So  my  untruth^  had  not  provoked  him  to  it,) 
The  king  had  cut  off  mv  head  with  my  brother's. — 
What,  are  there  posts  despatched  for  Ireland  f — 
How  shall  we  do  for  money  for  these  wars.^ — 
Come,  sister,— cousin,  I  would  say  :  pray,  pardon 

me. — 
Go,  fellow  [  To  the  Servant]  get  thee  home,  provide 

some  carts. 
And  bring  away  the  armour  that  is  there. — 

[Exit  Servant 
Gentlemen,  will  you  go  muster  men  ?  if  I  know 
How,  or  which  way,  to  order  these  affairs, 
Thus  thrust  disorderly  into  my  hands. 
Never  believe  me.     Both  are  my  kinsmen ; — 
The  one's  my  sovereign,  whom  both  my  oath 
And  duty  bias  defend ;  the  other  again. 
Is  my  kinsman,  whom  the  king  hath  wrong'd  ; 
Whom  conscience  and  my  kindred  bids  to  right. 
Well,  somewhat  we  must  do. — Come,  cousin,  I'll 
Dispose  of  you  : — Go,  muster  up  your  men, 
And  meet  me  presently  at  Berkley-castle. 

I  should  to  Flashy  too; 

But  time  will  not  permit: — All  is  uneven, 
And  every  thing  is  left  at  siii  and  seven. 

[Exeunt  York  om^ Queen. 

Bushy.  The  wind  sits  fair  for  news  to  go  to 
Ireland, 
But  none  returns.     For  us  to  levy  power. 
Proportionable  to  the  enemy, 
Is  all  impossible. 

Green.  Besides,  our  nearness  to  the  king  in  love, 
Is  near  the  Imic  of  those  love  not  the  king. 

Bagot.  And  that's  the  wavering  conunons  :  for 
their  love 
Lies  in  their  purses ;  and  whoso  empties  them. 
By  <K>  much  nils  their  hearts  with  deadly  hate. 

Bushy.  Wherein  tlie  king  stands  generally  con- 
drmn'd. 

Bagot.  If  judgment  lie  in  them,  then  so  do  we, 
Because  we  ever  have  been  near  the  king. 

Green.  Well,  I'll  for  refuge  straight  to  Bristol 
castle ; 
The  earl  of  Wiltshire  is  already  there. 

Bushy.  Thither  will  I  with  you :  for  little  office 
The  hateful  commons  will  perform  for  us ; 
Except  like  curs  to  tear  us  all  to  pieces. — 
Will  you  go  along  with  us  } 

(I)  Disloyaltr. 


Bagot.  No;  I'll  to  Ireland  to  his  majesty. 
Farewell :  if  heart's  presages  be  not  vain. 
We  three  here  part,  that  ne'er  shall  meet  again. 

Bushy.  That's  as  York  thrives  to  beat  back  B<v 
lingbroke. 

Green.  Alas,  poor  duke  !  the  task  he  undertakes 
Is — nuinb'ring  sands,  and  drinking  oceans  dr^' ; 
Where  one  on  his  side  fights,  thousands  will  dy. 

Bushy.  Farewell  at  once  ;  for  once,  for  all,  and 
ever. 

Green.  Well,  we  may  meet  again. 

BagoL  1  fear  me,  never.  [Exeunt. 

.SCEJVE  ITI.^The  Wilds  in  Glosterahire.  Enter 
Bolingbroke  and  Northumberland,  with  Forces. 

Boling.  How  far  is  it,  my  lord,  to  Berkley  now  ? 

JVorth.  Believe  me,  noble  lord, 
I  am  a  stranger  here  in  Glostershire. 
These  high  wild  hills,  and  rough  uneven  ways. 
Draw  out  our  miles,  and  make  them  wearisome : 
And  yet  your  fair  discourse  hath  been  as  sugar, 
Making  the  hard  way  sweet  and  delectable. 
But,  I  bethink  me,  what  a  wear)-  war 
From  Ravenspurg  to  Cotswold,  will  be  found 
In  Ross  and  Willoughby,  wanting  your  company; 
Which,  I  protest,  hath  very  much  beguil'd 
The  tediousness  and  process  of  my  travel : 
But  theirs  is  sweeten'd  with  the  hope  to  have 
The  present  benefit  which  I  possess : 
And  nope  to  joy,  is  little  less  in  joy. 
Than  hope  enjoy'd :  by  this  the  weary  lords 
Shall  make  their  way  seem  short ;  as  miiK  hath  done 
By  sight  of  what  I  nave,  your  noble  company. 

Boling.  Of  much  less  value  is  my  company. 
Than  your  good  words.    But  who  comes  here .' 

Enter  Harry  Percy. 

J^orth.  It  is  ray  son,  young  Harry  Percy, 
Sent  from  my  brother  Worcester,  wbencesoever.— 
Harry,  how  fares  your  uncle  ^ 

Percy.  I  had  tliought,  my  lord,  to  have  leani'd 
his  health  oT  you. 

J^Torth.  Why,  is  he  not  with' the  queen  I 

Percy.  No,  my  good  lord ;  be  hath  forsook  the 
court, 
Broken  his  staff  of  office,  and  dbpers'd 
The  household  of  the  king. 

J^orth,  What  was  his  reason .' 

He  was  not  so  resolv'd,  when  last  we  spake  to* 
gether. 

Percy.  Because  yotir  lordship  was  proclaimed 
traitor. 
But  he,  my  lord,  is  gone  to  Ravenspurg, 
To  offer  service  to  the  duke  of  Hereford ; 
.And  sent  me  o'er  by  Berkley,  to  discover 
What  power  the  duke  of  York  had  levied  there; 
Then  with  direction  to  repair  to  Ravenspurg. 

J^orih.  Have  you  forgot  the  duke  of  Hereford, 
bo)  ? 

Percy.  No,  my  good  lord ;  for  that  is  not  forgot. 
Which  ne'er  I  did  remember :  to  my  knowledge, 
I  never  in  my  life  did  look  on  him. 

JSTorth.  Then  learn  to  know  him  now ;  this  is 
the  duke.  ^ 

Percy.   My  gracious  lord,  I  tender  you  my 
service, 
Such  as  it  Is,  being  tender,  raw,  and  yoni^ ; 
Which  elder  days  shall  ripen,  and  confirm 
To  more  approv'd  service  and  desert 

Boling.  1  thank  thee,  gentle  Percy ;  and  bt  sure, 
I  count  myself  in  nothing  else  so  happy. 
As  in  a  soul  rememb'ring  my  eood  friends ; 
And,  as  my  fortune  ripens  witn  thy  love. 
It  shall  be  still  thy  true  love's  recompense  : 


KINO  RICHARD  IL 


377 


ftm  corenant  makes,  my  hand  thuf 
abit 

low  far  is  it  to  Berkley  ?  And  what  stir 

old  York  there,  with  his  men  of  war  ? 

"here  stands  the  castle,  by  yon  tufit  of 


h  three  hundred  men,  as  I  have  heard : 

«  the  lords  of  York,  Berkley,  and  Sey- 

oor; 

r  came,  and  noble  estimate. 

UUer  Ross  and  Willoughby. 

lere  come  the  lords  of  Ross  and  Wil- 
ughby, 

I  spurring,  fiery-red  with  haste. 
Welcome,  my  lords :  I  wot,i  your  lo?e 
irsues 

traitor;  all  my  treasury 
nfelt  thanks,  which,  more  enrichM, 
ar  love  and  labour^s  recompense. 
Mir  presence  makes  us  rich,  most  noble 
rd. 

ind  Su  surmounts  our  labour  to  at- 
in  It 

Eremiore  thanks,  the  exchequer  of  the 
»r; 

my  infant  fortune  comes  to  years, 
ny  bounty.    But  who  comes  here .' 

Enter  Berkley. 

i  is  my  lord  of  Berkley,  as  I  ^ess. 

r  lord  of  Hereford,  my  messa^  is  to  you. 

My  lord,  my  answer  is — to  Lancaster; 

iome  to  seek  that  name  in  England : 

:  find  that  title  in  your  tongue, 

ike  reply  to  aught  you  say. 

listake  me  not,  my  lord;  *tis  not  my 

eaning, 

B  title  of  your  honour  out : — 

'  lord,  I  come  (what  lord  you  will,) 

KMt  glorious  regent  of  this  land, 

>f  York  ;  to  know,  what  pricks  you  on 

vantage  of  the  absent  time,3 

our  native  peace  with  self-bora  arms. 

Enter  York,  attended. 

I  shall  not  need  transport  my  words  by 
»; 

I  his  grace  in  person. — My  noble  uncle ! 

[KneeU. 
how  me  thy  humble  heart,  and  not  thy 
nee, 

y  is  deceivable  and  false. 
My  gracious  uncle  ! — 
'ut,  tut ! 

K>  g^race,  nor  uncle  me  no  uncle : 
titor*s  uncle ;  and  that  word — grace, 
scious  mouthf  is  but  profane : 
those  banish*d  and  forbidden  legs 
to  touch  a  dust  of  1;^gland^s  ground  ^ 

lore  why ; Why  have  they  dar^d  to 

larch 

liles  upon  her  peaceful  bosom ; 
•er  pale-fac*d  villages  with  war, 
ation  of  despised  arms  ? 
u  because  the  anointed  kin|^  is  hence .' 
fh  bov,  the  king  is  left  behind, 
loyal  bosom  lies  his  power. 
t  now  the  lord  of  such  hot  youth, 
rave  Gaunt,  thy  father,  and  myself, 
e  Black  Prince,'that  young  Mars  of  men, 
the  ranks  of  many  thousand  French; 

(2)  Time  of  the  king*s  absence, 
tial.     (4)  The  persons  who  wrong  hina. 


O,  then,  how  quickly  should  this  arm  of  mine, 
Now  prisoner  to  the  palsy,  chastise  thee, 
And  minister  correction  to  thv  fiiult .' 

Boling.  My  gracious  uncle,  let  me  know  my 
fault; 
On  what  condition  stands  it,  and  wherein  ? 

York,  Even  in  condition  of  the  worst  degree, — 
In  gross  rebellion,  and  detested  treason  : 
Thou  art  a  banish*d  man,  and  here  art  come. 
Before  the  expiration  of  thy  time. 
In  braving  arms  against  thy  sovereini. 

BoUng.  As  I  was  banished,  I  was  banished  Hera 
ford; 
But  as  I  come,  I  come  for  Lancaster. 
And,  noble  uncle,  I  beseech  vonr  grace. 
Look  on  my  wrongs  with  an  indifferent'  eye : 
You  are  mr  father,  for,  methinks,  in  you 
I  see  old  Gsunt  alive ;  O  then,  mv  father ! 
Will  you  pennit  that  I  shall  stana  condemn*d 
A  wand*nng  vagabond ;  my  rights  and  royalties 
PluckM  from  my  arms  perforce,  and  given  away 
To  upstart  unthrifts  ?  Wherefore  was  I  bom  ? 
If  that  my  cousin  king  be  king  of  England, 
It  must  be  granted,  I  am  duke  of  Lancaster. 
You  have  a  son,  Aumerle,  my  noble  kinsman  ; 
Had  you  first  died,  and  he  been  thus  trod  down. 
He  should  have  found  his  uncle  Gaunt  a  father. 
To  rouse  his  wrongs,^  and  chase  them  to  the  bay. 
I  am  denied  to  sue  my  livery*  here. 
And  vet  my  letters-patent  eive  me  leave : 
My  father's  goods  are  all  oistrain'd,  and  sold ; 
And  these,  and  all,  are  all  amiss  employ *d. 
What  would  you  bisve  me  do  .^  I  am  a  subject. 
And  challenge  law  :  Attomies  are  denied  me ; 
And  therefore  personally  I  lay  my  claim 
To  my  inheritance  of  free  descent 

JVorth.  The   noble  duke  hath  been  too  much 
abusM. 

Ross.  It  stands  your  grace  upon,^  to  do  him  right. 

JVillo.  Base  men  by  his  endowments  are  made 
neat 

York,  my  lords  of  England,  let  me  tell  you  this,— 
I  have  had  feeling  of  mv  cousin^s  wrongs. 
And  laboured  all!  could  to  do  him  right : 
But  in  this  kind  to  come,  in  braving  arms. 
Be  his  own  carver,  and  cut  out  his  way. 
To  find  out  right  with  wrong, — it  may  not  be ; 
And  vou,  that  do  abet  him  in  this  kind, 
Chensh  rebellion,  and  are  rebels  all. 

JSTorth.  The  noble  duke  hath  sworn,  his  coming  is 
But  for  his  own  :  and,  for  the  ri^ht  of  that. 
We  all  have  strongly  sworn  to  rive  him  aid ; 
And  let  him  ne*er  see  ioy,  that  breaks  that  oath. 

York.  Well,  well,  I  see  the  issue  of  these  arms ; 
I  cannot  mend  it,  I  must  needs  confess. 
Because  my  power  is  weak,  and  all  ill  left : 
But,  if  I  could,  by  him  that  gave  me  life, 
I  would  attach  you  all,  and  make  you  stoop 
Unto  the  sovereign  mercy  of  the  king ; 
But,  since  I  cannot,  be  it  known  to  you, 
I  do  remain  as  neuter.     So,  fare  you  well ; — 
Unless  you  please  to  enter  in  the  castle. 
And  there  repose  you  for  this  night 

BoUng.  An  offer,  uncle,  that  we  will  accept 
But  we  must  win  your  grace,  to  go  with  us 
To  Bristol  castle ;  whicn,  they  say,  is  held 
Bv  Bushy,  Bagot,  and  their  complices, 
Tne  caterpHllars  of  the  commonwealth. 
Which  I  have  swoni  to  weed,  and  pluck  away. 

York,  It  may  be,  I  will  go  with  you  i — bat  jH 
V\\  panse ; 

(5)  Possession  of  my  land,  &c. 

(6)  It  is  your  interest 


378 


KING  RICHARD  U. 


JietW 


For  I  un  loath  to  break  our  countiy's  laws. 
Nor  friends,  nur  foee,  to  me  welconoe  you  are : 
Things  past  redress,  are  now  with  ine  past  care. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  IF.— A  camp  in  Wales.    Enter  Salis- 
bury, arid  a  Captain. 

Capt.  My  lord  of  Salisbury,  we  have  staid  ten  days. 
And  hardly  kept  our  count^roen  together, 
And  yet  we  hear  no  tidings  from  the  king ; 
Therefore  we  will  disperse  ourselves :  farewell. 

SaL  Stay  yet  another  day,  thou  trusty  Welshman ; 
The  king  reposeth  all  his  confidence 
In  thee. 

Capt.  *Tis  thought,  the  king  is  dead ;  we  will  not 
stay. 
The  bay-trees  in  our  countir  are  all  wither*d. 
And  meteors  fright  the  fixea  stars  of  heaven  ; 
The  pale-facM  moon  looks  bloody  on  the  earth. 
And  lean-lookM  prophets  whisper  fearful  change ; 
Rich  men  look  sad,  and  ruffians  dance  and  leap, — 
The  one,  in  fear  to  lose  what  they  enjoy, 
The  other,  to  enjoy  by  rage  and  war : 
These  signs  forerun  the  death  or  fall  of  kings.— 
Farewell ;  our  countrymen  are  eone  and  fl«l. 
As  well  assurM,  Richard  their  kmg  is  dead.  [Exit 

SaL  Ah,  Richard !  with  the  eyes  of  heavy  mind, 
I  see  thy  glor}',  like  a  shooting  star. 
Fall  to  the  base  earth  from  the  firmament ! 
Th^  sun  sets  weeping  in  the  lowly  west, 
Witnessing  storms  to  come,  wo,  ahd  unrest : 
Thy  friendB  are  fled,  to  wait  upon  thy  foes ; 
And  crossly  to  thy  good  all  fortune  goes.      [£xtf. 


ACT  III. 

SCEJ^E  /.— Rolingbroke*s  camp  at  Bristol.  En- 
ter Bolinf  broke,  York,  Northumberland,  Percy, 
Willougboy,  Ross :  ojfficers  behind  with  Bushy 
and  Green,  prisoners. 

Baling.  Bring  forth  these  men.^ 
Bushy,  and  Green,  I  will  not  vex  your  souls 
(Since  presently  your  souls  must  part  your  bodies,) 
With  too  much  urging  your  pernicious  lives. 
For  *twere  no  charity  :  yet,  to  wash  your  blood 
From  off  my  hands,  here,  in  the  view  of  men, 
I  will  unfold  some  causes  of  your  death. 
You  have  misled  a  prince,  a  royal  king, 
A  happy  gentleman  in  blood  and  lineaments, 
By  you  unhappied  and  disfigur'd  clean,  i 
You  have,  in  manner,  with  your  sinful  hours, 
Made  a  divorce  betwixt  his  queen  and  him ; 
Broke  the  possession  of  a  royal  bed. 
And  stain*d  the  beauty  of  a  fair  queen*s  cheeks 
With  tears  drawn  from  her  eyes  by  your  foul 

wrcwigs. 
Myself— a  prince,  bv  fortune  of  my  birth ; 
Near  to  the  kiaz  in  blood ;  and  near  in  love. 

Till  you  did  make  him  misinterpret  me, 

Have  stoopM  my  neck  under  your  injuries, 
And  sighM  my  English  breath  in  foreign  clouds, 
Eating  the  bitter  bread  of  banishment : 
Whilst  you  have  fed  upon  my  signories, 
DisparkM^  my  parks,  and  felPd  my  forest  woods ; 
From  my  own  windows  torn  my  household  coat,* 
RazM  out  my  impress,^  leaving  me  no  sign,— 
Save  men*s  opinions,  and  my  living  blood, — 
To  show  the  world  I  am  a  gentleman. 
This,  and  much  more,  much  more  than  twice  all  this, 

(1)  Completely.    (2)  Thrown  down  the  liedges. 


Condemns  you  to  the  death : — See  them  deUvei'tt 


over 


To  execution  and  the  hand  of  death. 

Bushy.  More  welcome  is  the  stroke  of  death  tona^ 
Than  Bolinebroke  to  England. — Lords,  fiuvwelL 
Green.  My  comfort  is, — that  heaven  will  take 
our  souls. 
And  plague  injustice  with  the  pains  of  helL 
BoUng.  My  lord  Northumoerland,  see  them 
despatched. 

[Exe.  North,  and  others  with  prisoners, 
Uncle,  you  say,  the  queen  is  at  your  house ; 
For  heaven's  sake,  fairly  let  her  be  entreated : 
Tell  her,  I  send  to  her  my  kind  commends  ;* 
Take  special  care  my  greetings  be  deliver'd. 

York.  A  gentleman  of  mine  I  have  de^iatdiHi 
With  letters  of  your  love  to  her  at  large. 
Boling.  Thanks,  gentle  uncle. — Come,  loidii 
away; 
To  fi^ht  with  Glendower  and  his  complices ; 
Awhile  to  work,  and,  after,  holiday.         [E^xemi. 

SCEJSTE  ir.^The  coast  of  Wales.  A  castle  m 
view.  Flourish:  drums  and  trumpets.  Enter 
King  Richard,  Bishop  ^Carlisle,  Aomerle, 
and  soldiers. 

K.  Rich.   Barkloughly  castle  call  joa  dus  tt 

hand.^ 
Aum,  Yea,  my  lord :  How  brooks  yoar  grace 
the  air. 
After  late  tossing  on  the  breakii^  seas.' 
K.  Ricfi.  fieeda  must  I  like  it  well ;  I  weep  fat 

To  stand  upon  my  kingdom  once  again. 

Dear  earth,  I  do  salute  thee  with  my  hand. 
Though  rebeb  wound  thee  with  their  horses*  hoo6: 
As  a  long  parted  mother  with  her  child 
Plays  fondly  with  her  tears,  and  smiles  in  meeting; 
So,  weeping,  smiling,  greet  I  thee,  my  earth. 
And  do  thee  favour  with  my  royal  hands. 
Feed  not  thy  sovereign's  foe,  my  gentle  earth. 
Nor  with  thy  sweets  comfort  his  rav'nous  sense : 
But  let  thy  spiders,  that  suck  up  thy  venom. 
And  heavy -gaitcd  toads,  lie  in  their  way  ; 
Doing  annoyance  to  the  treacherous  feet. 
Which  with  usurping  steps  do  trample  thee. 
Yield  stinging  nettles  to  mine  enemies : 
And  when  they  from  thy  bosom  pluck  a  flower. 
Guard  it,  I  pray  thee,  with  a  lurxing  adder. 
Whose  douole  tongue  may  with  a  mortal  tooch 
Throw  death  upon  thy'sovereign's  enemies. — 
Mock  not  my  senseless  conjuration,  lords ; 
This  earth  shall  have  a  feeling,  and  these  stones 
Prove  armed  soldiers,  ere  her  native  king 
Shall  falter  under  foul  rebellious  arms. 

Bishop.   Fear  not,  my  lord;  that  P6wer,  diat 
made  vou  king. 
Hath  power  to  keep  you  kmr,  in  spite  of  all. 
The  means  that  heaven  yields  must  be  embraced. 
And  not  neglected ;  else,  if  heaven  would. 
And  we  will  not,  heaven's  oflfer  we  refuse; 
The  proffer'd  means  of  succour  and  redress. 

Awn.  He  means,mvlord,  that  we  are  too  reniM; 
Whilst  Bolingbroke,  through  our  security. 
Grows  strong  and  great,  in  tubttance,  and  in 
friends. 

K.  Rich.  Discorafortable  cousin !  know'st  tiKM 
not. 
That  when  the  searching  eye  of  heaven  is  hid 
Behind  the  globe,  and  lights  the  lower  world. 
Then  thieves  and  robbers  range  abroad  onseeo. 
In  murders  and  in  outrage,  bloody  here ; 

(3)  Of  arms.    (4)  Motto.    (5)  Commendatkni 


r. 


KINO  RICHABDOL 


379 


n,  from  under  fbk  temttrial  ball, 
the  proud  tops  of  the  eastem  pineti 
rts  his  light  tbroagfa  eveiy  guiltj  hole, 
nrden,  treMons,  and  detested  sint, 
dk  of  n^t  being  plack*d  from  off  their  baclu, 
ire  and  naked,  tremblins'  at  themtelres? 
I  fhit  thief,  this  traitor,  K>Ungbroke, — 
:  this  while  hath  reveird  in  the  night, 
ire  were  wanderine  with  the  antipodes,— 
B  us  rising  in  oar  throne  the  east, 
sons  will  sit  bludiing  in  his  &ce, 
I  to  Midure  the  sight  of  day ; 
^«ffii^ted,  tremble  at  his  sin. 
he  water  in  the  rough  rude  sea 
ih  the  balm  irom  an  anointed  king : 
atb  of  worldly  men  cannot  depose 
mty  elected  b^  the  Lord : 
T  man  that  &>lingbr(Jce  hath  press*d, 
u«wd  steel  against  our  golden  crown, 
his  Richard  hath  in  heavenly  pay 
at  ai^el :  then,  if  angels  fi^t, 
MO  must  &11 ;  for  heaven  still  guards  die 
i%ht 

EnUr  Salisbuiy. 

A,  my  lord ;  How  &r  off  lies  your  power  ?i 
lor  near,  nor  further  ofi^  m^  gracioos  lord, 
s  weak  arm :  Discomfort  guides  mv  tongue, 
I  me  speak  of  nothing  but  despair. 

too  late,  I  fear,  my  noble  loro, 
aded  all  thv  happy  days  on  earth : 
lack  yesterday,  Bia  time  return, 
u  shalt  have  twelve  thousand  fighting  men ! 
to-day,  unhappy  day,  too  late, 
ws  thv  ioys,  friends,  fortune,  and  thv  state ; 
he  Welshmen,  bearing  thou  wert  oead, 
B  to  Bolingbroke,  dispersed,  and  fled. 

Comfort,  my  li^;e :  why  looks  your  grace 

80  pale? 
:h.  Butnow,  the  blood  of  twenty  thousand 

iumph  in  mv  hce,  and  they  are  fled ; 
•o  much  blood  thither  come  arain, 
I  not  reason  to  look  pale  and  aead  ? 
that  will  be  safe,  fly  from  my  side ; 
hath  set  a  blot  upon  my  prioe. 
Comfort,  mjr  \ie^ ;  remember  who  you  are. 
cA.  I  had  foigot  myself:  Am  I  not  king? 
thou sluggaramajesty  !  thou  sleep'st 
B  king's  name  forty  thousand  names  ? 
n,  my  name !  a  puny  subject  strikes 
reat  glory. — Look  not  to  the  ground, 
rites  of  a  king ;  Are  we  not  mgh  ? 
our  thoughts :  I  know,  my  uncle  York 
irer  «iough  to  serve  our  turn.    But  who 
? 


Enter  Scroop. 

i.  More  health  and  happiness  betide  my 
Hege, 

I  my  care-tun*d  tongue  deliver  him. 
cA.  Mine  ear  is  open,  and  my  heart  pre- 
par'd; 

Bt  is  worldly  loss,  thou  canst  unfold, 
ly  kingdom  lost  ?  why,  *twas  my  care ; 
it  loss  is  it,  to  be  rid  of  care  ? 
tolingbroke  to  be  as  great  as  we  ? 
le  shall  not  be ;  if  he  serve  God, 
rve  him  too,  and  be  his  fellow  so : 
ir  subjects  ?  that  we  cannot  mend ; 
sak  tlieir  faith  to  Godf  as  well  as  us : 
destruction,  ruin,  loss,  decay ; 

(I)  Force. 


The  worst  is— death,  and  death  will  hare  his  day. 
Scroop.  Glad  am  I,  that  your  highness  Is  soarm'd, 
To  bear  the  tidings  of  calami^. 
Like  an  unseasonable  stormy^fuy. 
Which  makes  the  silver  rivers  cuown  theirjriiores, 
As  if  the  wcn^d  were  all  dissolvM  to  tears; 
So  high  above  his  limitB  swells  the  rase 
Of  BolingbrcJce,  covering  your  fearful  land 
With  hard  br^t  steel,  and  hearts  harder  than 

steel 
White-beards  have  aim'd  their  diin  and  hairless 

scalps 
Against  thy  majesty ;  boys,  with  women's  voices. 
Strive  to  speak  big,  and  clap  their  female  joints 
In  stiff  unwieldy  aims  against  thy  crown : 
Thy  very  beadnnen  learn  to  bend  their  bowi 
Of  double-&tal  yew  against  thy  state ; 
Yea,  distaff-women  manage  rusty  bills 
Against  thy  seat :  both  young  and  old  rebel. 
And  all  goes  worse  than  I  have  power  to  telL 
JC  Ridi.  Too  well,  too  well,  thou  tell'st  a  tak 
soilL 
Where  is  the  eari  of  WilUhire  ?  where  is  Bagot? 
What  is  become  of  Bushy  ?  where  is  Green  ? 
That  they  have  let  the  dangerous  enemy 
Measure  our  confines  with  such  peaceful  steps? 
If  we  prevail,  their  heads  shall  pay  for  it 
I  warrant,  they  have  made  peace  with  Bolinsbroke. 
Scroop.  Peace  have  they  made  with  him,  mdeed, 

my  lord. 
JC  Ridi.  O  villains,  vipers,  danm*d  without  re- 
demption! 
Dogs,  easily  won  to  fawn  on  any  man ! 
Snakes,  In  my  heart-blood  wannM,  that  stuig  my 

heart! 
Three  Judases,  each  one  thrice  worse  than  Judas ! 
Would  they  make  peace  ?  terrible  hell  make  war 
Upon  their  spotted  souls  for  this  offence ! 

Scroop.  Sweet  love,  I  see,  changing  his  property. 
Turns  to  the  sourest  and  most  deadly  hate : — 
Aeain  uncurse  their  souls ;  their  peace  is  made 
With  heads,  and  not  with  hands :  those  whom  you 

curse. 
Have  felt  the  worst  of  death's  destroying  wound, 
And  lie  full  low,  grav*d  in  the  hollow  ground. 
Aum.  Is  Bushy,  Green,  and  the  earl  of  Wilt- 
shire, dead  ? 
Scroop.  Yea,  all  of  them  at  Bristol  kist  their 

heads. 
Aum.  Where  is  the  duke,  my  &ther,  with  his 

power? 
K.  Rim.  No  matter  where ;  of  comfort  no  man 
speak: 
Let*s  talk  of  graves,  of  worms,  and  epitaphs ; 
Make  dust  our  paper,  and  with  rainy  eyes 
Write  sorrow  on  tne  bosom  of  the  earth. 
Let's  choose  executors,  and  talk  of  wills : 
And  yet  not  so, — ^for  what  can  we  beoueath. 
Save  our  deposed  bodies  to  the  SToona  ? 
Our  lands,  our  lives,  and  all  are  Bolingbroke*!, 
And  nothing  can  we  call  our  own,  but  death  ; 
And  that  small  model  of  the  barren  earth. 
Which  serves  as  paste  and  cover  to  our  bones. 
For  heaven's  sake,  let  us  sit  upon  the  ground. 
And  tell  sad  stories  of  the  death  of  kings : — 
How  some  have  been  deposed,  some  slain  in  war . 
Some  haunted  by  the  ghosts  they  have  depos'd ; 
Some  poison'd  by  their  wives,  some  sleeping  kilPd  *, 
All  murderM : — For  within  the  hollow  crown. 
That  rounds  the  mortal  temples  of  a  king. 
Keeps  death  his  court :  and  there  the  antic  sits, 
Sconhig  his  state,  and  grinning  at  his  pomp ; 
Allowing  him  a  breath,  a  little  scene 
To  monarchiie,  be  fear*d,  and  kill  with  looks; 


330 


KING  RICHARD  II. 


AetW. 


Infusing  him  witn  self  and  vain  conceit,-— 

As  if  this  flesh,  which  walls  about  our  life. 

Were  brass  impr^nable ;  and,  humoor'd  thus, 

Comes  at  the  last,  and  with  a  little  pin 

Bores  through  his  castle  wall,  and — farewell  king ! 

Cover  your  neads,  and  nrKx:k  not  flesh  and  blooo 

With  solemn  reverence ;  throw  away  respect, 

Tradition,  form,  and  ceremonious  duty. 

For  you  have  but  mistook  me  all  this  while  : 

I  live  with  bread  like  you,  feel  want,  taste  grief, 

Need  friends  >— Subjected  thus. 

How  can  you  say  to  me — I  am  a  king  ? 

Car.  My  lord,  wise  men  ne*er  wail  their  present 
woes, 
But  presently  prevent  the  ways  to  wail. 
To  fear  the  foe.  since  fear  oppresseth  strength, 
Gives,  in  your  weakness,  strength  unto  your  foe, 
And  so  your  follies  fight  against  yourself. 
Fear,  and  be  slain ;  no  worse  can  come,  to  fig^t : 
And  fight  and  die,  is  death  destroying  death ; 
Where  fearing  dyine,  pays  death  servile  breath. 

Awn.  My  father  nath  a  power,  inquire  of  him; 
And  Jeam  to  make  a  body  of  a  limb. 

K.  Rich,  Thou  chid'st  me  well :— Proud  Bo 
lingbroke,  I  come 
To  change  blows  with  thee  for  our  day  of  doom. 
This  ague-fit  of  fear  is  over-blown ; 

An  easy  task  it  is,  to  win  our  own. 

Say,  Scroop,  where  lies  our  uncle  with  his  power? 
Speak  sweetly,  man,  although  thy  looks  be  sour. 

Scroop.  Men  j  ud^e  b^  the  complexion  of  the  sky 
The  state  and  inclmation  of  the  day : 

So  may  you  by  my  dull  and  heavy  eye, 
My  tongue  hath  but  a  heavier  tale  to  say. 
[  play  the  torturer,  by  small  and  small. 
To  lengthen  out  the  worst  that  must  be  spoken: — 
Vour  uncle  York  hath  joined  with  Bolingbroke ; 
And  all  your  northern  castles  yielded  up, 
And  all  your  southern  gentlemen  in  arms 
Upon  his  party.* 

K.  Rim.  Thou  hast  said  enouerh. 

Beshrew3  thee,  cousin,  which  didst  \ea^  me  forth 

[7\)  Aumerle. 
Of  that  sweet  way  I  was  in  to  despair ! 
What  say  you  now  ?  What  comfort  have  we  now  f 
Bv  heaven,  IMI  hate  him  everlastingly. 
That  bids  me  be  of  comfort  any  more. 
Go,  to  Flint  castle ;  there  Pll  pine  away ; 
A  king,  wo's  slave,  shall  kingly  wo  obey. 
That  power*  I  have,  discharge ;  and  let  them  go 
To  ear*  the  land  that  hath  some  hope  to  grow, 
For  I  have  none : — Let  no  man  speak  again 
To  alter  this,  for  counsel  is  but  vain. 

Aum.  My  liege,  one  word. 

K.  Rich.  He  does  me  double  wrong, 

That  wounds  me  with  the  flatteries  of  his  tongue. 
Discharge  my  followers,  let  them  hence  : — Away, 
From  Richard's  night,  to  Bolingbroke's  fair  day. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  ///.—Wales.  Before  Flint  Castle.  En- 
ter^ with  drum  and  colours^  Bolingbroke  and 
Jhrces  /  York,  Northumberland,  ana  others. 

Baling.  So  that  by  this  intelligence  we  leam, 
The  Welshmen  are  clispers'd ;  and  Salisbury 
Is  ^ne  to  meet  the  king,  who  lately  landed, 
With  some  few  private  friends,  upon  this  coast. 

JVbr(A.  The  news  is  very  fair  and  good,  my  lord ; 
Richard,  not  far  from  hence,  hath  hid  his  head. 

York.  It  would  beseem  the  lord  Northumberland, 
To  say — king  Richard : — Alack  the  heavy  day. 
When  such  a  sacred  king  should  bide  bis  beaid ! 

(l)Pitft    (2)  ni  betide.     (3)  Force.     (4)  Plow. 


]     JVoHA.  Yourgrace  mistakes  me;  only  to  be  bcie^* 
Left  I  his  title  out 

York.  The  time  hath  been. 
Would  you  have  been  so  brief  with  him,  be  wookl 
Have  been  so  brief  with  yoa,  to  shorten  yoo. 
For  taking  so  the  head,^  your  wbde  bead's  lenglk 
Boling.  Mistake  not,  uncle,  further  than  yoa 

should 
York.  Take  not,  good  cousin,  further  d»n  yoa 
should. 
Lest  you  mis-take :  The  heavens  are  o*er  yoor  bead. 

BoUng.  I  know  it,  uncle ;  and  oppose  not 
Myself  against  their  will. — But  who  cooks  here? 

Enier  Percy. 

Well,  Harry ;  what,  will  not  this  castle  yield .' 

Percy.  The  castle  royallj  is  mann'd,  my  lord. 
Against  thy  entrance. 

BoUng.  Roprally .' 
Why,  it  contams  no  king? 

Percy.  Yes,  my  niod  kud. 

It  doth  contain  a  king;  king  Richard  Ties 
Within  the  limits  of  yon  lime  and  stone : 
And  with  him  are  the  lord  Aumerle,  lord  Salisbny, 
Sir  Stephen  Scroop ;  besides  a  clergyman 
Of  holy  reverence,  who,  I  cannot  leani. 

J^orth.   Belike,  it  is  the  bishop  of  Carlisle. 

BoUng.  Noble  lord,  \To  North. 

Go  to  the  rude  ribs  of  that  ancient  castle ; 
Through  brazen  trumpet  send  the  breath  of  pads' 
Into  his  ruin'd  ears,  and  thus  deliver. 
Harry  Bolingbroke 

On  both  his  knees  doth  kiss  king  Ricbard*s  band ; 
And  sends  allegiance,  and  true  faitb  of  heart, 
To  his  most  royal  person :  hither  coma 
Even  at  his  feet  to  lay  my  aims  and  power; 
Provided  that,  my  banislunent  repeiird. 
And  lands  restorM  again,.be  freely  granted: 
If  not,  I'll  use  the  advantage  of  my  power. 
And  lay  the  summer's  dust  with  showers  of  blood, 
Rain'd  from  the  wounds  of  slaughtered  Endishroau 
The  which,  how  far  offfrom  the  mind  of  Boungbroks 
It  is,  such  crimson  tempest  should  bedrencfa 
The  fresh  green  lap  of  fair  king  Richard's  land, 
My  stooping  duty  tenderly  shall  show. 
Go,  signify  as  much ;  while  here  we  march 
Upon  the  grassy  carpet  of  this  plain. — 

[Northumberland  adoances  to  the  cmttltp 
with  a  trumpet. 
Let's  march  without  the  noise  of  threatening* 
That  frcnn  the  castle's  totter'd  battlements 
Our  fair  appointments  may  be  well  perus'd. 
Methinks,  king  Richard  and  myself  should  meet 
With  no  less  terror  than  the  elements 
Of  fire  and  water,  when  their  thundering  shock 
At  meeting  tears  the  cloudy  cheeks  of  heaven. 
Be  he  the  fire,  I'll  be  the  yielding  water : 
The  rage  be  his,  while  on  the  earth  I  rain 
My  waters ;  on  the  earth,  and  not  on  him. 
March  on,  and  mark  king  Richard  bow  be  Ic 

A  park  sounded^  and  answered  by  another 
pet  within.   Flourish.   Enter  on  the  walls 
Richard,  the  bishop  qfC&rhsie,  Aumerle, 
and  Salisbuiy. 

York.  See,  see,  king  Richard  doth  bimsdf  ^] 
As  doth  the  blushing  discontented  sun 
From  out  the  fiery  portal  of  the  east ; 
When  he  perceives  the  envious  clouds  are  bent 
To  d^m  his  glory,  and  to  stain  the  track 
Of  his  bright  passage  to  tbe  Occident 
Yet  looks  be  like  a  king ;  behold,  bis  eye, 

(5)  Short.      (6)  Sucb  liberty.      (7)  Pfcri^^- 


i 


Scene  11  L 


KING  RICHARD  U. 


381 


A«  brieht  as  is  the  eagle's,  lightens  forth 
Ckmtrollin^  majesty ;  Alack,  alack,  for  wo. 
That  an^  narrn  should  stain  so  &ir  a  show  i 

K.  Rich,  We  are  amazM ;  and  thus  long  have 
we  stood 
To  watch  the  fearful  bending  of  thj  knee, 

^o  Northumberland. 
Because  we  thought  ourself  thy  lawful  king : 
And  if  we  be,  how  dare  thy  joints  forget 
To  pay  their  awful  duty  to  our  presence? 
If  we  be  not,  show  us  the  hand  of  God 
That  hath  dismissM  us  from  our  stewardship ; 
For  well  we  know,  no  hand  of  blood  and  bone 
Can  gripe  the  sacred  handle  of  our  sceptre. 
Unless  he  do  profane,  steal,  or  usurp. 
And  though  you  think,  that  all,  as  you  have  done. 
Have  torn  their  souls,  by  turning  them  from  us, 

And  we  are  barren,  and  bereft  of  friends ; 

Yet  know, — my  master,  God  omnipotent. 
Is  mustering  in  his  clouds,  on  our  behalf. 
Armies  of  pestilence ;  and  they  shall  strike 
Your  children  yet  unborn,  and  unbegot. 
That  lift  your  vassal  handis  against  my  head, 
And  threat  the  glory  of  my  precious  crown. 
Tell  Bolingbroke  (for  yona\  methinks,  he  is,) 
That  every  stride  he  makes  upon  my  land. 
Is  dangerous  treason :  He  is  come  to  ope 
The  purple  testament  of  bleeding  war ; 
But  ere  the  crown  he  looks  for  live  in  peace, 
Ten  thousand  bloody  crowns  of  mothers*  sons 
Shall  ill  become  the  flower  of  England's  face  ;i 
Change  the  complexion  of  her  maid-pale  peace 
To  scarlet  indignation,  and  bedew 
Her  pastures*  grass  with  faithful  English  blood. 

JSlorth.  The  King  of  heaven  forbid,  our  lord  the 
king 
Should  so  with  civil  and  uncivil  arms 
Be  ru^M  upon  i    Thy  thrice-noble  cousin, 
Harry  Bolir{gbroke,'  doth  humbly  kiss  thy  hand ; 
And  by  the  honourable  tomb  he  swears. 
That  stands  upon  thy  royal  grandsire*s  bones ; 
And  by  the  royalties  of  both  your  bloods. 
Currents  that   spring    from   (me  most   gracious 

head; 
And  by  the  buried  hand  of  warlike  Gaunt ; 
And  by  the  worth  and  honour  of  himself. 
Comprising  all  that  may  be  sworn,  or  said,^ 
His  coming  hither  hath  no  further  scope. 
Than  for  his  lineal  royalties,  and  to  beg 
Enfranchisement  immediate  on  his  knees : 
Which  on  thy  royal  party  granted  once. 
His  glittering  arms  he  will  commend^  to  rust, 
His  barbed  steeds  to  stables,  and  his  heart 
To  faithful  service  of  your  majesty. 
This  swears  he,  as  he  is  a  prince,  is  just ; 
And,  as  I  am  a  gentleman,  I  credit  hinL 

K,  Rich.  NorUiumberland,  say, — thus  the  king 

returns ; 

His  noble  cousin  is  right  welcome  hither ; 
And  all  the  number  of  his  fair  demands 
Shall  be  accomplished  without  contradiction : 
With  all  the  gracious  utterance  thou  hast. 
Speak  to  his  gentle  hearing  kind  conunends. — 
We  do  deba^  ourself,  cousin,  do  we  not, 

[7*0  Auroerle. 
To  look  so  pxx)rly,  and  to  speak  so  fair  ? 
Shall  we  call  back  Northumberland,  and  send 
Defiance  to  the  traitor,  and  so  die  f 

AunL  No,  Kood  my  lord ;  let*s  fight  with  gentle 
words. 
Till  time  lend  friends,  and  friends  their  helpful 
swords. 

(1)  Soil.        (2)  Commit        (3)  Softn< 


JL  Rich,  O  God !  O  God!  that  e*er thii  tonguo 

of  mine. 
That  laid  the  sentence  of  dread  banishment 
On  yon  proud  man,  should  take  it  off  again 
With  words  of  sooth  !>    O,  that  I  were  as  great 
As  is  my  grief,  or  lesser  than  my  name ! 
Or  that  I  could  forget  what  I  have  been ! 
Or  not  remember  what  I  must  be  now  ! 
Sweirst  thou,  proud  heart?  1*11  give  thee  scope  to 

beat. 
Since  foes  have  scope  to  beat  both  thee  and  roe. 
Aum.  Northumberland  comes  back  from  Boling- 
broke. 
K.  Rich.  What  must  the  king  do  now?  Must  h* 

submit  ? 
The  king  shall  do  it    Must  he  be  depos*d  ? 
The  king  ^11  be  contented :  Must  he  lose 
The  name  of  king  ?  o*God*s  name,  let  it  go : 
1*11  give  my  jewels,  for  a  set  of  beads ; 
My  goi^eous  palace,  for  a  hermitage ; 
My  ^y  apparel,  for  an  alms-man*s  gown ; 
My  figiir*a  goblets,  for  a  dish  of  wood  ; 
Nly  sceptre,  for  a  palmer*s  walking-staff; 
My  subjects,  for  a  pair  of  carved  saints ; 
And  my  large  kingdom  for  a  little  grave, 
A  little  little  ^ve,  an  obscure  grave : — 
Or  1*11  be  buned  in  the  king's  highway. 
Some  way  of  c(xnmon  trade,  where  subjects'  feet 
May  hourly  trample  on  their  8overeign*8  head : 
For  on  my  heart  they  tread,  now  whilst  I  live ; 

And,  buned  once,  why  not  upon  my  head  ? 

Aumerle,  thou  weep*st;  My  tender-hearted  cou 

sin ! — 
We*ll  make  foul  weather  with  despised  tears ; 
Our  sighs,  and  they,  shall  lodge  the  summer  com. 
And  make  a  dearth  in  this  revolting  land. 
Or  shall  we  play  the  wantons  with  our  woes, 
And  make  some  pretty  match  with  shedding  tears ; 
As  thus  : — To  drop  them  still  upon  one  place. 
Till  they  have  fretted  us  a  pair  of  eraves 
Within  the  earth ;  and,  therein  laid, — There  lie$ 
Two  kinsmerif  digged  their  graves  with  weeping 

eyes? 
Would  not  this  ill  do  well  .^— Well,  well,  I  see 
I  talk  but  idly,  and  you  mock  at  me. — 
Most  mighty  prince,  my  lord  Northumberland, 
What  says  king  Bolingbroke  ?  will  his  maiestyr 
Give  Richard  leave  to  live  till  Richard  die  r 
You  make  a  leg,^  and  Bolingbroke  says — ay. 

Jforth.  My  lord,  in  the  base^  court  he  doth  attend 
To  speak  with  you;  may*t  please  you  to  como 
down  ? 
K.  Rich.  Down,  down,  I  come ;  like  glistering 

Phaeton, 
Wanting  the  manage  of  unruly  jades. 

[Nortn.  retires  to  Boling. 
In  the  base  court  ?   Base  court,  where  kings  grow 

base. 
To  come  at  traitors'  calls,  and  do  them  grace. 
In  the  base  court  ?    Come  down  ?    Down,  court ! 

down,  king ! 
For  night-owls  shriek,  where  mounting  larks  should 

sine.  [Exeunt  Jrom  above, 

Boling.  What  says  his  majesty  ? 
J^orth.  Sorrow  and  grief  of  heart 

Makes  him  speak  fondly ,6  like  a  frantic  man : 
Yet  he  is  come. 

Enter  King  Richard,  and  Ais  attendants,  below. 

Boling,  Stand  all  apart. 

And  show  fair  duty  to  oia  majesty. 

My  gracious  lord,—  [Kneeling, 

(4)  A  bow.        (5)  Lofwer.       (6)  Fooliihly. 


382 


KING  RICHARD  H. 


Actm 


K.  Rich.  Fair  cousin,  you  debase  your  princely 
knee. 
To  make  the  base  earth  proud  with  kissing  it : 
Me  rather  had,  mv  heart  might  feel  your  love, 
Than  my  unpleasxl  eye  see  your  courtesy. 
Up,  cousin,  up ;  your  heart  is  up,  I  know, 
Tnus  high  at  least,  [T\ntching  his  own  head.]  al- 
though your  knee  be  low. 
Soling.  My  gracious  lord,  I  come  but  for  mine 

own. 
K.  Rich.  Your  own  is  yours,  and  I  am  yours, 

and  all. 
Baling.  So  far  be  mine,  my  most  redoubted  lord, 
As  my  true  service  shall  deserve  your  love. 
K.  Rich.  Well  you  deserve : — They  well  deserve 
to  have, 
That  know  the  strone'st  and  surest  way  to  get — 
Uncle,  give  me  your  nand :  nay,  dry  your  eyes ; 
Tears  show  their  love,  but  want  their  remedies. — 
Cousin,  I  am  too  youi^  to  be  your  father. 
Though  you  are  old  enough  to  be  my  heir. 
What  you  will  have,  PU  give,  and  willing  too ; 
For  do  we  must,  what  force  will  have  us  da — 
Set  on  towards  London : — Cousin,  is  it  so? 
Baling.  Yea,  my  good  lord. 
K.  Rich,  Then  I  must  not  say,  no. 

[FUmrith,    EjMtnt. 

SCEJ^E  /r.— Lanriey.     The  Duke  qf  York's 
Ckirden.    Enter  the  Queen,  and  itoo  Ladies. 

Queen.  What  sport  shall  we  devise  here  in  this 
garden. 
To  drive  away  the  heavy  thought  of  care  ? 

1  Lady.  Nladam,  we*ll  play  at  bowls. 

Queen,  'Twill  make  me  think 

The  world  is  full  of  rubs,  and  that  my  fortune 
Runs  'gainst  the  bias.^ 

1  Lady.  Madam,  we  will  dance. 

Queen.  My  1^  can  keep  no  measure  in  delight. 
When  my  poor  heart  no  measure  keep  in  grief: 
Therefore,  no  dancing,  girl ;  some  other  sport 

1  Lady.  Madam,  we'll  tell  tales. 

Queen.  Of  sorrow,  or  of  joy  f 

1  Leuly.  Of  either,  madam. 

Queen.  Of  neither,  girl : 

For  if  of  joy,  being  altogether  wanting. 
It  doth  remember  me  the  more  of  sorrow ; 
Or  if  of  grief,  being  altogether  had, 
[t  adds  more  sorrow  to  my  want  of  joy : 
For  what  I  have,  I  need  not  to  repeat ; 
And  what  I  want,  it  boots?  not  to  complain. 

1  Lady.  Madam,  I'll  sing. 

Qu^n,  'Tis  well,  that  thou  hast  cause ; 

But  thou  should'st  please  me  better,  would'st  thou 
weep. 

1  Lady.  I  could  weep,  madam,  would  it  do  you 
good. 

Queen.  And  I  could  weep,  would  weeping  do 
me  good. 
And  never  borrow  any  tear  of  thee. 
But  stay,  here  come  the  gardeners  : 
Let's  step  into  the  shadow  of  these  trees. — 

Enter  a  Gardener,  and  two  Servants. 

My  wretchedness  unto  a  row  of  pins. 
They'll  talk  of  state ;  for  every  one  doth  so 
Against  a  change  :     Wo  is  forerun  with  wo. 

[Queen  and  Ladies  retire. 
Gard,  Go,  bind  thou  up  yon  dangling  apricocks, 
Which,  like  unruly  children,  make  their  sire 
Stoop  with  oppresdon  of  their  prodigal  weight : 

(1)  A  weight  fixed  on  one  side  of  the  bowl, 
which  turns  it  from  the  straight  line. 


Give  some  supportance  to  the  bending  tw%s.^ 
Go  thou,  and,  like  an  executioner. 
Cut  ofl'  the  heads  of  too-fast-growing  van,y%^ 
That  look  too  loAy  in  our  commonwealth : 

All  must  be  even  in  our  e|ovemment 

You  thus  em  ploy 'd,  I  wiU  ^  root  away 
The  noisome  weeds,  that  without  profit  tack 
The  soil's  fertility  from  wholesome  flowers. 

1  Serv.  Why  mould  we,  in  the  compass  of  a  pale,' 
Keep  law,  and  form,  and  due  proportion. 
Showing,  as  in  a  model,  our  firm  estate  } 
When  our  sea- walled  nrden,  the  whole  land, 
Is  full  of  weeds ;  her  rairest  flowers  chok'd  op, 
Her  fruit-trees  all  unprun'd,  her  hedges  ruin'd. 
Her  knots^  d'sorder'd,  and  her  wholesome  herbs 
Swarming  with  caterpillars  ? 

Gard.  Hold  thy  peace:— 

He  that  hath  sufler'd  this  disorder'd  spring. 
Hath  now  himself  met  with  the  fall  of  lea?: 
The  weeds,  that  his  broad-spreading  leaves  did 

shelter. 
That  seem'd  in  eating  him  to  hold  him  up. 
Are  pluck'd  up,  root  and  all,  by  Bolingbrdce, 
I  mean,  the  earl  of  Wiltshire,  Bushy,  Green. 

1  Serv.  What,  are  they  dead  ? 

Gard  They  are ;  and  Bolingbroke 

Hath  seiz'd  the  wasteful  king.^Oh !  Wliat  pity 

is  it, 
That  he  had  not  so  trimroM  and  dreas'd  his  land, 
As  we  this  earden !  We,  at  time  of  year, 
Ek)  wound  ue  bark,  the  skin  of  our  fruit-trees ; 
Lest,  being  over-proud  with  sap  and'  blood. 
With  too  much  nches  it  confound  itself : 
Had  he  done  so  to  great  and  growing  men. 
They  might  have  liv'd  to  bear,  and  he  to  taste. 
Their  fruits  of  duty.     All  superfluous  brancbc* 
We  lop  away,  that  bearing  boughs  may  live : 
Had  he  done  so,  himself  had  borne  the  crown. 
Which  waste  of  idle  hours  hath  quite  thrown  doMfO. 

1  Serv.  What,  think  you  then,  the  king  shall  be 
depos'd  ^ 

Gard.  Depress'd  he  is  already ;  and  deposed, 
'Tis  doubt,<  he  will  be :  Letters  caroe  last  night 
To  a  dear  friend  of  the  good  duke  of  York's, 
That  tell  black  tidings. 

Queen.  O,  I  am  preasM  to  death, 

Through  want  of  speaking ! — Thou,  old  Adbunli 
likeness,  [Omung  from  her  oaneeabnad. 
5^t  to  dress  the  garden,  how  dares 
Thy  harsh-rude  tongue  sound  this  unpleasing  news  ? 
What  Eve,  what  serpent  hath  suggested  thee 
To  make  a  second  fall  of  cursed  man  ? 
Why  dost  thou  say,  king  Richard  is  deposed  } 
Dar^st  thou,  thou  little  better  thing  than  earth. 
Divine  his  downfall  }  Say,  where,  when,  and  bcinr, 
Cam'st  thou  by  these  ill  tidings.'  speak,  thou  wretch. 

Gard.  Pardon  me,  madam  :  little  joy  have  J, 
To  breathe  this  news ;  yet,  what  I  say,  is  true. 
King  Richard,  he  is  in  tne  mighty  hold 
Of  Bolingbroke ;  their  fortunes  both  are  we^b'd : 
In  your  lord's  scale  is  nothing  but  himself. 
And  some  few  vanities  that  make  him  light ; 
But  in  the  balance  of  great  Bolingblbke, 
Besides  himself,  are  all  the  Engli^  peers. 
And  with  that  odds  he  weighs  king  Richard  dowa 
Post  you  to  London,  and  you'll  find  it  so; 
I  speak  no  more  than  every  one  doth  know. 

Qiieen.   Nimble  mischance,  that  art  so  light  of 
foot. 
Doth  not  thy  embassage  belong  to  roe. 
And  am  I  last  that  knows  it }  O,  thou  think'st 

(2)  Profits.  (3)  Inclosurc. 

(4)  Figures  planted  in  box.  (5)  No  doabt 


Scene  L 


KLNG  RICHARD  IL 


3&3 


To  wrre  me  last,  diat  I  may  longest  keep 
Thj  sorrow  in  my  breast — Come,  ladies,  go, 
To  meet  at  London  London's  king  in  wa^ 
What,  was  I  bora  to  this !  that  my  sad  lode 
Should  grace  the  triumph  of  great  Bolingbroke  ? — 
Gardener,  for  telling  me  this  news  of  wo, 
I  would,  d>e  plants  thou  grafl*st,  may  lierer  grow. 

[Exeunt  Queen  and  Ladies. 
Oard,  Poor  qoeen  I  so  that  ixy  state  might  be 
no  worse, 
I  would,  my  skill  were  subject  to  thy  curse. — 
Here  did  she  drop  a  tear ;  iiere,  in  tnis  place, 
V\\  set  a  bank  of  rue,  sour  herb  of  grace ; 
Rue,  even  for  ruth,i  here  shortly  shdl  be  seen. 
In  the  remembrance  of  a  weepmg  queen.     [Exe. 


ACT  IV. 

8CEJVE  /.—London.  Wutminsier  HoiL  The 
lords  epiritual  on  the  right  side  t^  the  throne ; 
the  lords  temporal  on  the  ^fl ;  the  commont  be- 
low. Enter  B(^ngbroke,  Aumerle,  Surrey, 
Northumberland,  Percy,  Fitzwater,  anothir 
lordj  Bishop  ({/*  Carl  isle,  ^660/  o/*  Westminster, 
and  attendants.    Officers  behuM,  with  Bagot 

Baling.  Call  forth  Bagot: 

Now,  Bi^ot,  freely  speak  thy  mind ; 
What  thou  dost  know  of  noble  Gloster's  death ; 
Who  wrought  it  with  the  kins,  and  who  perform'd 
The  bloody  ofiice  of  his  timeMMS^  end. 
Bagot.  Then  set  before  my  fiice  the  lord  Aumerle. 
Bmng.  Counn,  stand  forth,  and  look  upon  that 

man. 
BagoL  Myjord  Aumerle,  I  know  your  daring 
tongue 
Scorns  to  unsay  what  once  it  hath  deUver*d. 
In  that  dead  time  when  Gloster's  death  was  plotted, 
I  heard  you  say, — Is  not  my  arm  of  lengthy 
Thai  reaehethjrom  the  restful  English  court 
As  far  as  Calais^  to  my  uncle^s  head  ? 
Amongst  much  other  talk,  that  very  time, 
I  heara  you  say,  that  yoo  had  rather  refiuw 
The  offer  of  a  hundred  thousand  crowns. 
Than  Bolinebroke*s  return  to  England ; 
Adding  withal,  how  blest  this  land  would  be. 
In  this  your  cousin's  death. 

Aum.  Princes,  and  noble  lords, 

What  answer  shall  I  make  to  this  base  man  ? 
Shall  I  so  much  dishonour  mv  fair  stars. 
On  equal  terms  to  give  him  chastisement.^ 
Either  I  must,  or  have  mine  honour  soil'd 

With  the  attainder  of  his  slanderous  lips. 

There  is  my  gage,  the  manual  seal  of  death. 
That  marks  thee  out  for  hell :  I  say,  thou  liest. 
And  will  maintain,  what  thou  hast  Mid,  is  false. 
In  thy  heart-blood,  though  beine  all  too  base 
To  stain  the  temper  of  my  kni^tly  sword. 

Boling.  Bagot,  forbear,  thou  shalt  not  take  it  up. 
Aum.  Elxcepting  one,  I  would  he  were  the  be»t 
In  all  this  presence,  that  hath  mov'd  me  so. 

Fitx.  If  that  thy  valour  stand  on  sympathies. 
There  is  my  gage,  Aumerle,  in  gage  to  thine  : 
Hy  that  fair  sun  that  shows  me  where  thou  tttand'st, 
I  heard  thee  say,  and  vauntingly  thou  spak'st  it, 
ThnX  thou  wert  cause  of  noble  Gloster's  death. 
If  thou  deny'st  it,  twenty  times  thou  liest ; 
And  I  will  turn  thy  falsehood  to  th^  hear^ 
Where  it  was  forged,  with  my  rapier's  point 
Aum.  Thou  dar'st  not,  coward,  live  to  see  that 
day. 


(1)  Pi(y. 


(2;  Untimely. 


Fitx.  Now,  by  my  soul,  I  would  it  were  this  hour. 

Aum.  Fitzwater,  thou  art  damn'd  to  hell  for 
this. 

Percy.  Aumerle,  thou  liest ;  his  honour  is  as  trae, 
In  this  appeal,  as  thou  art  a)l  unjust : 
And,  that  thou  art  so,  there  I  throw  my  ^jage. 
To  prove  it  on  thee,  to  the  extremest  pomt 
Of  mortal  breathing ;  sdze  it,  if  thou  dar'st 

Aum.  And  if  I  ao  not,  may  my  hands  rot  ofi| 
And  never  brandish  more  revengeful  steel 
Over  the  glittering  hehnet  of  my  foe ! 

Lord.   I  take  the  earth  to  the  like,  forsworn 
Aumerle ; 
And  spur  thee  on  with  full  as  many  lies 
As  may  be  hoUa'd  in  thy  treacherous  ear 
From  sun  to  sun :  there  is  my  honour's  pawn ; 
Engage  it  to  the  trial,  if  thou  dar'st 

Aum.  Who  sets  me  else?  by  heaven,  Pll  throw 
at  all: 
I  have  a  thousand  spirits  in  one  breast. 
To  answer  twenty  tnousand  such  as  yoo. 

Surrey.  My  lord  Fitzwater,  I  do  remember  well 
The  very  time  Aumerle  and  you  did  talk. 

Fitx.  My  lord,  'tis  true :  you  were  in  presence 
then; 
And  you  can  witness  with  me,  this  is  true. 

Surrey.  As  false,  by  heaven,  as  heaven  itself  it 
true. 

Fitx.  Surrey,  thou  liest 

Stirrey.  Dishonourable  boy ! 

That  lie  shall  lie  so  heavy  on  my  sword. 
That  it  shall  render  vengeance  and  revenge,  * 

Till  thou  the  lie-giver,  and  that  lie,  do  lie 
In  earth  as  quiet  as  thy  father's  scull. 
In  proof  whereof,  there  is  my  honour's  pawn ; 
Engage  it  to  the  trial,  if  thou  dar'st 

Fitx.  How  fondly  dost  thou  spur  a  forward  hone  * 
If  I  dare  eat,  or  drink,  or  breathe,  or  live, 
I  dare  meet  Surrey  in  a  wilderness. 
And  spit  upon  him,  whilst  I  say,  he  lies, 
And  lies,  and  lies :  there  n  my  bond  of  &ith. 
To  tie  thee  lo  my  strone  correction. — 
As  I  intend  to  thrive  in  mis  new  world, 
Aumerle  is  guilty  of  my  true  appeal : 
Besides,  I  heard  the  banish'd  Norfolk  say. 
That  thou,  Aumerle,  didst  send  two  of  thy  men 
To  execute  the  not^le  duke  at  Calais. 

Aum.  Some  honest  Christian  trust  me  with  a 

gage. 
That  Norfolk  lies :  here  do  I  throw  down  this, 

If  he  may  be  repeal'd  to  try  his  honour. 

Boling.  These  differences  shall  all  rest  under 

Till  Norfolk  oe  repeal'd  :  repealed  he  shall  be, 
And,  though  mine  enemy,  restor'd  again 
To  all  his  land  and  signories ;  when  he's  retum'd,. 
Against  Aumerle  we  will  enforce  his  trial. 

Car.  That  honourable  day  shall  ne'er  be  seen. — 
Many  a  time  hath  oanitih'd  Norfolk  foueht 
For  Jesu  Christ ;  in  glorious  Christian  ^Id 
Streaming  the  ensign  of  the  Christian  cross. 
Against  black  Pagans,  Turks,  and  Saracens: 
And,  toird  with  works  of  war,  retir'd  hinutelf 
To  Italy ;  and  there,  at  Venice,  gave 
His  bodfy  to  that  pleasant  country's  earth. 
And  his  pure  soul  unto  his  captam,  Christ ; 
Under  whose  colours  he  had  fought  so  long. 

Boling.  Why,  bishop,  is  Norfolk  dead  1 

Car.  As  sure  as  I  live,  my  lord. 

Boling.  Sweet  peace  conduct  his  sweet  soul  to 
the  bosom 
Of  e^ood  old  Abraham ! — Lords  appellants. 
Your  ditTerences  fthall  all  re!>t  under  gage. 
Till  we  a^isign  you  to  your  days  of  trial. 


OA 


384 


KING  RICHARD  II. 


Adir. 


Enter  York,  aiiended. 


York.  Great  duke  o(  Lancaster,  I  come  to  thee 
From  plume-pluck'd  Richard;  who  with  willing 

80Ul 

Adopts  thee  heir,  and  his  high  sceptre  yields 
To  the  pcKsession  of  thy  roval  hand : 
Ascend  his  throne,  descending  now  from  him, — 
And  long  live  Henrj-,  of  that  name  the  fourth .' 
Boling.  In  God's  name,  Til  ascend  the  ri^l 

throne. 
Car.  Marr>',  God  forbid  !— 
Worst  in  this  royal  presence  may  I  speak, 
Yet  best  beseeming  me  to  speak  the  truth. 
Would  God,  that  any  in  this  noble  presence 
Were  enough  noble  to  be  upright  judge 
Of  noble  Richard ;  then  true  nobless'  would 
Learn  him  forbearance  from  so  foul  a  wrong. 
What  subject  can  give  sentence  on  his  king  ? 
And  who  sits  here,  that  is  not  Richard^s  subject  ? 
Thieves  are  not  judg'd,  but  they  are  by  to  hear, 
Although  apparent  guilt  be  seen  in  them  : 
And  shall  the  figure  of  God's  majesty, 
His  captain,  steward,  deputy  elect, 
Anointed,  crown'd,  planted  many  years. 
Be  I'udg'd  by  subject  and  inferior  breath. 
And  he  himself  not  present  ?    O,  forbid  it,  God, 
That,  in  a  Christian  climate,  souls  refin'd 
Should  show  so  lieinous,  black,  obscene  a  deed .' 
I  speak  to  subjects,  and  a  subject  speaks, 
Slirr'd  up  by  heaven  thus  boldly  for  his  king. 
My  lord  of  Hereford  here,  whom  you  call  king. 
Is  a  foul  traitor  to  proud  Hereford's  king : 
And  if  you  crown  him,  let  me  prophesy,— 
The  blood  of  English  shall  manure  the  ground. 
And  future  ages  groan  for  this  foul  act ; 
Peace  shall  go  sleep  with  Turks  and  infidels. 
And,  in  this  seat  or  p^ce,  tumultuous  wars 
Shall  kin  with  kin,  and  kind  with  kind  confound ; 
Disorder,  horror,  fear,  and  mutiny. 
Shall  here  inhabit,  and  this  land  be  calPd 
The  field  of  Gol^tha,  and  dead  men's  sculls. 
O,  if  vou  rear  this  house  against  this  house. 
It  will  the  wofullest  division  prove. 
That  ever  fell  upon  this  cursed  earth : 
Prevent,  resist  it,  let  it  not  be  so. 
Lest  child,  child's  children,  cry  against  you — wo ! 
JVorth.  Well  have  you  argu'd,  sir ;  and,  for  your 

Pains, 
treason  we  arrest  you  here : — 
My  lord  of  Westminister,  be  it  your  charge 
To  keep  him  safely  till  his  day  of  trial. — 
May't  please  you,  lords,  to  grant  the  commons'  suit. 
BoUng.  Fetch  hither  Richard,  that  in  common 
view 
He  may  surrender :  so  we  shall  proceed 
Without  suspicion. 

York,  I  will  be  his  conduct.2  [Exit 

BoUng.  Lords,  you  that  are  here  under  our  ar- 
rest. 
Procure  your  sureties  for  your  days  of  answer : — 
Little  are  we  beholden  to  your  love,   [To  Carlisle. 
And  little  look'd  for  at  your  helping  hands. 

Re-enttr  York,  with  King  Richaiil,  and  officers 
bearing  the  erown^  SfC, 

K.  Rich.  Alack,  why  am  I  sent  for  to  a  king, 
Before  I  have  shook  off  the  regal  thoughts 
Wherewith  I  reign'd  ?  I  hardly  yet  have  leam'd 
To  insinuate,  flatter,  bow,  and  bend  my  knee  :— 
Give  sorrow  leave  a  while  to  tutor  me 
To  this  submission.    Yet  I  well  remember 


(1)  Nobleness. 
(3)  Countenances. 


(2)  Conductor. 
(4)  Owns. 


The  favours'  of  these  men  :  Were  they  not  mine? 
Did  they  not  sometime  cry,  alt  hail !   to  me  ? 
So  Judas  did  lo  Christ :  but  he,  in  twelve 
Found  trutli  in  all  but  one ;  I,  in  twelve  tbouniid^ 

none. 
God  save  the  king  .'—Will  no  man  say,  amen.^ 
Am  I  both  priest  and  clerk  ?  well  then,  amen. 
God  save  the  king  I  although  I  be  not  he ; 
And  yet,  amen,  if  heaven  do  think  him  me. — 
To  do  what  ser\'ice  am  I  sent  for  hither  ? 

York.  To  do  that  office,  of  thine  own  good  will, 

Which  tired  majesty  did  make  thee  offer, 

The  resignaUon  of  thy  state  and  crown 
To  Henry  Bolingbroice. 
K.  Rich.  Give  me  the  crown : — Here,  cooiiii, 
seize  the  crown ; 
Here,  on  this  side,  my  hand ;  on  that  side,  thine. 
Now  is  this  golden  crown  like  a  deep  well. 
That  owes^  two  buckets  filling  one  another ; 
The  emptier  ever  dancing  in  the  air. 
The  other  down,  unseen,  and  full  of  water : 
That  bucket  down,  and  full  of  tears,  am  I, 
Drinking  my  griefs,  whilst  you  mount  up  on  high. 
Boling.  I  thought  you  had  been  willing  to  res^n. 
K.Rich.  My  crown,  I  am;  but  still  my  gmfr 
are  mine : 
You  may  my  glories  and  my  state  depose. 
But  not  my  Vnefs ;  still  am  I  king  of  those, 
Boling.  Part  of  your  cares  you  give  roe  with 

your  crown. 
K,  Rich.  Your  cares  set  up,  do  not  pluck  wf 
cares  down. 
My  care  is— loss  of  care,  by  old  care  done ; 
Your  care  is— gain  of  care,  by  new  care  won :    • 
The  cares  I  give,  I  have,  thoiu^h  given  away ; 
They  tend*  the  crown,  yet  still  with  me  they  stay 
Boling.  Are  you  contented  to  resign  the  crowo  ? 
K.  Rich.  Ay,  no;  no,  ay ; — for  I  must  nothing  be; 
Therefore,  no  no,  for  I  resign  to  thee. 
Now  mark  me  how  I  will  undo  myself: — 
I  give  this  heavy  weight  from  off  my  head, 
And  this  unwieldy  sceptre  from  my  hand. 
The  pride  of  kingly  sway  from  out  my  heart; 
With  mine  own  tears  I  wash  away  my  balm,(» 
With  mine  own  hands  I  give  away  my  crown. 
With  mine  own  tongue  ^ny  my  sacred  state. 
With  mine  own  breath  release  all  duteous  oaths : 
All  pomp  and  majesty  I  do  forswear ; 
My  manors,  rents,  revenues,  I  forego ; 
My  acts,  decrees,  and  statutes,  I  deny  : 
God  iMirdon  all  oaths,  that  are  broke  to  me ! 
God  keep  all  vows  unbroke,  are  made  to  thee ! 
Make  me,  that  nothing  have,  with  nothing  griev'd; 
And  thou  with  all  pleas'd,  that  hast  all  achicv'd! 
Long  may'st  thou  five  in  Richard's  seat  to  sit, 
And  soon  lie  Richard  in  an  earthly  pit  J 
God  save  king  Henry,  unking'd  Richard  sa^-s. 
And  send  him  many  years  of  sunshine  days  !— 
What  more  remains  ? 

•^orth.  No  more,  but  that  you  re«l 

rp.  ,  [Offering  a  poftr. 

these  accusations,  and  these  grievous  crimes. 
Committed  by  your  person,  and  your  followers, 
Against  the  state  and  profit  of  this  land ; 
That,  by  confessing  them,  the  souls  of  men 
May  deem  that  you  are  worthily  depos'd. 

A.  Rich.  Must  I  do  so. ^  and  must  I  ravel  oat  • 
My  weav'd-up  follies.^  Gentle  Northumberiand, 
If  thy  offences  were  upon  record. 
Would  it  not  shame  thee  in  so  fair  a  troop. 
To  read  a  lecture  of  them  >  If  tboa  wottld*st. 
There  should'st  tboa  find  one  heinous  articleil. 

(5)  Attend.  (6)  Oil  of 


Scene  I. 


KING  RICHARD  IL 


385 


Containing  the  deposing  of  a  king, 
And  cracking  the  strong  warrant  of  an  oath, — 
MarkM  with  a  blot,  damned  in  the  book  of  hearen: — 
Nay,  all  of  you,  that  stand  and  look  upon  me. 
Whilst  that  my  wretchedness  doth  bait  myself, — 
Though  some  of  you,  with  Pilate,  wash  your  hands. 
Showing  an  outward  pity ;  yet  you  Pilates 
Have  here  delivered  me  to  my  sour  cross, 
And  water  cannot  wash  away  your  sin. 

JVbrtA.   My  lord,  despatch;  read  o*er  these 
articles. 

K.  Rich.  Mine  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  I  cannot  see: 
And  yet  salt  water  blinds  them  not  so  much, 
But  they  can  see  a  sort^  of  traitors  here. 
Nay,  if  I  turn  mine  eyes  upon  myself, 
I  find  myself  a  traitor  with  the  rest : 
For  I  have  given  here  my  soul's  consent. 
To  undeck  the  pompous  body  of  a  king ; 
Make  glory  l»se ;  and  sovereignty,  a  ^ave ; 
Proud  majesty,  a  subject ;  state,  a  peasant 

J^orih.  My  lord, 

K.  Rich,  No  lord  of  thine,  thou  haught,3  insult- 
ins;  man. 
Nor  no  man*s  lord ;  I  have  no  name,  no  title, — 
No,  not  that  name  was  given  me  at  the  font, — 
But  'tis  usurp'd : — Alack  the  heavy  day. 
That  I  have  worn  so  many  winters  out. 
And  know  not  now  what  name  to  call  myself! 
O,  that  I  were  a  mockery  king  of  snow, 
Standing  before  the  sun  of  Bolingbroke, 
To  melt  myself  away  in  water-drops  !— 
Good   king, — ^great  king — (and  yet  not  greatly 

good,) 
An  if  my  word  be  sterling  yet  in  England, 
Let  it  command  a  mirror  nither  straight ; 
That  it  may  show  me  what  a  face  I  have, 
Since  it  is  bankrupt  of  his  majesty. 

BoUng.  Go  some  of  you,  and  fetch  a  looking- 
glass.  [Exit  an  attendant. 

^orth.  Read  o'er  this  paper,  while  the  glass 
doth  come. 

JC  Rich.  Fiend  !  thou  torment'st  me  ere  I  come 
to  hell. 

BoUng.  Urge  it  no  more,  my  lord  Northumber- 
land. 

^orih.  The  ccnnmons  will  not  then  be  satisfied. 

ICRich.    They  shall  be  saUsfied:    I'll  read 
enough. 
When  I  do  see  the  very  book,  indeed. 
Where  all  my  sins  are  writ,  and  that's — myself. 

Re-enter  attendant^  with  a  gloat. 

Give  me  that  ^lass,  and  therein  will  I  read. — 

No  deeper  wnnkles  yet  ?  Hath  sorrow  struck 

So  many  blows  upon  this  face  of  mine. 

And  made  i^o  deeper  wounds  ? — O,  flattering  glass. 

Like  to  my  followers  in  prosperity. 

Thou  dost  beguile  me  !  Was  this  face  the  face, 

That  every  day  under  his  household  roof 

Did  keep  ten  thousand  men  ?  Was  this  the  face, 

That,  like  the  sun,  did  make  beholders  wink  } 

Was  this  the  face,  that  facM  so  many  follies, 

And  was  at  last  out-fac'd  by  Bolingbroke  ^ 

A  brittle  glory  shincth  in  this  face: 

As  brittle  as  the  fflory  is  the  face ; 

[Dames  the  glass  against  the  ground. 
Tor  there  it  is,  crack'd  in  a  hundred  shivers. — 
Mark,  silent  king,  the  moral  of  this  sport, — 
How  soon  mysorrow  hath  destroy'd  my  face. 
JSoling.    The  shadow  of  your  sorrow  hath 
destroy'd 

(1)  Pack.  (2)  Haughty. 

(3)  Jugglers,  also  rooben. 


The  shadow  of  your  &ce. 

K.  Rich.  Say  that  again. 

The  shadow  of  my  sorrow  ?  Ha !  let's  see  :— 
'Tis  very  true,  my  grief  lies  all  within ; 
And  these  external  manners  of  lament 
Arc  merely  shadows  to  the  unseen  g^rief. 
That  swells  with  silence  in  the  tortur'd  soul ; 
There  lies  the    substance:    and  I  thank    thee, 

king. 
For  thy  great  bounty,  that  not  only  giv'st 
Me  cause  to  wail,  but  teachest  me  the  way 
How  to  lament  the  cause.     I'll  beg  one  boon, 
And  then  be  gone,  and  trouble  you  no  more. 
Shall  I  obtain  it .' 

Baling.  Name  it,  fair  cousin. 

K.  Rxch.  Fair  cousin  ?  Why,  I  am  greater  than 
a  king : 
For,  when  I  was  a  king,  my  flatterers 
Were  then  but  subjects ;  being  now  a  subject, 
I  have  a  king  here  to  my  flatterer. 
Being  so  great,  1  have  no  need  to  beg. 

Baling.  Yet  ask. 

K.  Rich.  And  shall  I  have  } 

Baling.  Vou  shall. 

K.  Rich.  Then  give  me  leave  to  go. 

Baling.  Whither? 

K.  Rich.  Whither  you  will,  so  I  were  from  yoar 
sights. 

Baling.  Go,  some  of  you,  convey  him  to  the 
Tower. 

K.  Rich.  O,  good!  Convey.^ — Conveyers*  tarn 
you  all. 
That  rise  thus  nimbly  by  a  true  king's  fall. 

{^Exeunt  K.  Rich,  some  lordsy  and  a  guard. 

Baling.  On  Wednesday  next,  we  solemnly  set 
down 
Our  coronation  :  lords,  prepare  yourselves. 

[Exeunt  all  but  the  Abbot,  J^ishop  qf  Carlisle, 
and  Aumerle. 

Abbot.  A  woful  pageant  have  we  here  beheld. 

Car.  The  wo's  to  come ;  the  children  yet  un- 
born 
Shall  feel  this  day  as  sharp  to  them  as  thorn. 

A^tm.  You  holy  clerg}-men,  is  there  no  plot 
To  rid  the  realm  of  this  pernicious  blot  ^ 

Abbot.  Before  I  freely  speak  my  mind  herein. 
You  shall  not  only  take  the  sacrament 
To  bury^  mine  intents,  but  to  eflfect 
Whatever  I  shall  happen  to  devise  : — 
I  see  your  brows  are  full  of  discontent. 
Your  hearts  of  sorrow,  and  your  eyes  of  tears ; 
Come  home  with  me  to  supper;  I  will  lay 
A  plot,  shall  show  us  all  a  merry  day.     [JE^eufit 


ACT  V. 

SCEJ^E  /.—London.    A  street  leading  to  tht 
Tawer.    Enter  Queen,  and  Ladies. 

Queen.  This  way  the  king  will  come ;  this  is  the 
way 
To  Julius  Caesar's  ill-erected  tower,* 
To  whose  flint  bosom  my  condemned  lord 
Is  doom'd  a  prisoner  by  proud  Bolingbroke : 
Here  let  us  rest,  if  this  rebellious  earth 
Have  any  resting  for  her  true  king's  queen. 

Enter  King  Richard,  and  gttards. 

But  soA,  but  see,  or  rather  do  not  see. 
My  fair  rose  wither :  Yet  look  up ;  behold ; 
That  you  in  pity  may  dissolve  to  dew, 

(4)  Conceal         (5)  Tower  of  London. 


KING  RICHARD  0 


Aar. 


And  wadi  him  fresh  again  with  trae^ore  tears. — 
Ah,  thou,  the  model  where  old  Troy  did  stand ; 
Thoa  mapi  of  honour ;  thou  king  Richard's  tomb, 
And  not  king  Richard ;  thou  most  beauteous  inn, 
Why  should  hard-favour*d  grief  be  lodgM  in  thee, 
When  triumph  is  become  an  ale-house  guest? 
K,  Rich.  Join  not  with  grief,  fair  woman,  do 

not  so, 
To  make  my  end  too  sudden :  learn,  good  soul, 
To  think  our  former  state  a  happ^  dream ; 
From  which  awak*d,  the  truth  of  what  we  are 
Shows  us  but  this :  I  am  sworn  brother,  sweet. 
To  grim  necessity ;  and  he  and  I 
Will  keep  a  league  till  death.  Hie  diee  to  France, 
And  cloister  thee  in  some  religious  house : 
Our  holy  lives  must  win  a  new  world's  crown. 
Which  our  profane  hours  here  have  stricken  down. 
^leen.  What,  is  my  Richard  both  in  shape  and 

mind 
TransforraM  and  weakened  ?  Hath  Bolingbroke 
DeposM  thine  intellect .'  hath  he  been  in  thy  heart  ? 
The  lion,  dying,  thrusteth  forth  his  paw, 
And  woun(u  the  earth,  if  nothing  else,  with  rage 
To  be  o'erpowerM  ;  and  wilt  thou,  pupil-like. 
Take  thy  correction  mildly  ?  kiss  the  rod ; 
And  fawn  on  rage  with  base  humility, 
Which  art  a  lion,  and  a  king  of  beasto  ? 
K,  Rich.  A  king  of  beasts,  indeed ;  if  aught 

but  beasts, 
I  had  been  still  a  happy  king  of  men. 
Good  sometime  queen,  prepare  thee  hence  for 

France : 
Think,  I  am  dead ;  and  that  even  here  thou  tak*st. 
As  from  my  death-bed,  my  last  livii^  leave. 
In  winter's  tedious  nights,  sit  by  the  fire 
With  good  old  folks ;  and  let  them  tell  thee  tales 
Of  woful  ages,  long  ago  betid  :3 
And,  ere  thou  bid  good  mght,  to  quit'  their  grief. 
Tell  thou  the  lamentable  fall  of  me. 
And  send  the  hearers  weeping  to  their  beds. 
For  why,  the  senseless  brands  will  sympathize 
The  heavy  accent  of  thy  moving  tongue. 
And,  in  compassion,  weep  the  fire  out : 
And  some  will  mourn  in  ashes,  some  coal-black. 
For  the  deposing  of  a  rightful  king. 

Enter  Northumberiand,  attended. 

^orth.  My  lord,  the  mind  of  Bolingbroke  is 
chang'd ; 

Tou  must  to  Pomfret,  not  unto  the  Tower. 

And,  madam,  there  is  order  ta'en  for  you ; 
With  all  swifi  speed  you  must  away  to  France. 
K>  Rich.  Northumberland,  thou  ladder  where- 
withal 
The  mounting  Bolingbroke  ascends  my  throne, — 
The  time  shall  not  be  many  hours  of  age 
More  than  it  is,  ere  foul  sin,  gathering  nead. 
Shall  break  into  corruption :  thou  shalt  think, 
Though  he  divide  the  realm,  and  give  thee  half. 
It  is  too  little,  helping  him  to  all ; 
And  he  shall  think,  that  thou,  which  know'stthe  way 
To  plant  unrightful  kings,  wilt  know  again, 
Being  ne'er  so  little  urg'd,  another  way 
To  pluck  him  headlong  (rom  the  usurped  throne. 
,  The  love  of  wicked  friends  converts  to  fear  ; 

That  fear,  to  hate  ;  and  hate  turns  one,  or  both, 
•  To  worthy  danger,  and  deserved  death. 

JVorih.  My  guilt  be  on  my  head,  and  there  an  end. 

Take  leave,  and  part ;  for  you  must  part  forthwith. 

K,  Rich.  Doubly  divorc'd  ? — Bad  men,  ye  violate 

(1)  Picture  of  greatness.        (2)  Passed- 

(3)  Be  even  with  them. 

(4)  A\l-hallows,  i.  e.  All-saints,  Nov.  1. 


A  twofold  marriage ;  'twixt  my  crown  and  me 
And  then,  Detwixt  me  and  my  married  wife. — 
Let  me  unkiss  the  oath  'twixt  thee  and  me ; 
And  yet  not  so,  for  with  a  kiss  'twas  made. — 
Part  us,  Northumberland ;  I  towards  the  north, 
VV^here  shivering  cold  and  sickness  pines  the  clime 
My  wife  to  France ;  from  whence,  set  forth  in  pomp 
She  came  adorned  hither  like  sweet  May, 
Sent  back  like  Halk>wmas,^  or  sbort'st  of  day. 

Queen,  And  must  we  be  divided  ?  must  we  part .' 

K.  Rich.  Ay,  hand  from  hand,  my  kne,  and 
heart  from  heart 

Queen.  Banish  us  both,  and  send  the  king  with  me. 

JsTorth.  That  were  some  love,  but  littM  polkry. 

Queen.  Then  whither  he  goes,  thither  let  me  go. 

K.  Rich.  So  two,  together  weeping,  make  one  wa 
Weep  thou  for  me  in  France,  I  for  thee  here ; 
Better  far  off,  than — near,  be  ne'er  the  near*.* 
Go,  count  thy  way  with  sighs ;  I,  mine  with  nnans. 

Queen.  So  longest  way  shall  have  the  loagevt 
moans. 

K.  Rich.  Twice  lor  one  step  I'll  groans  the  way 
being  short. 
And  piece  the  way  out  with  a  heavy  heart 
Come,  come,  in  wooing  scmtow  let's  be  brief. 
Since,  wedding  it,  there  is  such  lei^th  in  grief. 
One  kiss  shall  stop  our  mouths,  and  dumuy  part ; 
Thus  give  I  mine,  and  thus  I  take  thy  heart 

[T^iUst. 

Queen.  Give  me  mine  own  again ;  'twere  nogood 
part. 
To  take  on  me  to  keep,  and  kill  thy  heart 

[Kiss  again. 
So,  now  I  have  mine  own  again,  bq;oiief 
That  I  may  strive  to  kill  it  with  a  groan. 

K.  Rich.  We  make  wo  wanUn  with  this  food 
delay : 
Once  more,  adieu ;  the  rest  let  sorrow  say.   [Exe. 

SCEJ^E  TL—Thesame.  A  room  tn  the  Duke  qf 
York's  palace.    Enter  York,  and  his  Duchess. 

Duch.  My  lord,  you  told  me,3rou  would  tell  the 
rest. 
When  weeping  made  you  break  the  story  off. 
Of  our  two  cousins  coming  into  London. 

York.  WTiere  did  I  leave  f 

Duch.  At  that  sad  stop,  my  lord, 

Wherti  rude  misgovem'd  hands,  from  windows*  tops. 
Threw  dust  and  rubbish  on  king  Richard's  head. 

York.  Then,  as  I  said,  the  duke,  great  Bering- 
broke, — 
Mounted  upon  a  hot  and  fiery  steed. 
Which  his  aspiring  rider  seem'd  to  know, — 
With  slow,  but  stately  pace,  kept  on  his  course. 
While  all  tongues  cried — God  save  thee,  Boliog- 

broke ! 
You  would  have  thought  the  veiy  windows  spake. 
So  many  greedy  looks  of  youn|^  and  old 
Through  casements  darted  their  desiring  eyes 
Upon  his  visage  ;  and  that  all  the  walls, 
U  ilh  painted  imagery ,8  had  said  at  once, — 
Jem  presen'e  thee  !  welcome,  Bolingbroke  ! 
Whil^t  hp,  from  one  side  to  the  other  turning. 
Bare-headed,  lower  than  his  proud  steed's  neck, 
Bespake  them  thus,  I  thank  you,  countrynoen : 
Ana  thus  still  doing,  thus  he  pass'd  along. 

Duch,  Alas,  poor  Richard!  where  rides  he  th« 
while  .* 

York.  As,  in  a  theatre,  the  eyes  of  men, 
AAer  a  well-grac'd  actor  leaves  the  stage, 

(5)  Never  the  nigher. 

(6)  Tapestry  hung  from  the  windows. 


UL 


KING  RICHARD  U. 


387 


Are  idly  benti  on  him  that  enters  next 
Thinking  his  prattle  to  be  tedioui : 
Eren  so,  or  with  mach  more  contempt,  men's  e^es 
Did  acovrl  on  Richard ;  no  man  cried,  Uod  sare  hua; 
No  joy  fol  tongue  gave  him  his  welcome  home : 
Bat  dust  was  thrown  upon  his  sacred  head ; 
Which,  with  such  gentle  sorrow,  he  shook  off,— 
His  &ce  still  combating  with  tears  and  smiles, 
The  badges  of  his  grief  and  patience, — 
Tlkst  had  not  God,  for  some  strong  purpose,  steel'd 
The  hearts  of  men,  they  must  perforce  have  melted, 
And  barbarism  itself  have  pitied  him. 
But  heaven  hath  a  hand  in  these  events ; 
To  whose  high  will  we  bound  our  calm  contents. 
To  Bolingbroke  are  we  sworn  subiects  now, 
Whoae  state  and  honour  I  for  aye^  allow. 

Enter  Auroerle. 

Dueh,  Here  comes  my  son  Aumerle. 

York.  Aumerle  that  was ; 

But  that  is  lost,  for  being  Richard^s  friend. 
And,  madam,  you  must  call  him  Rutland  now : 
I  am  in  parliament  pledge  for  his  truth. 
And  Usting  fealty  to  the  new-made  king. 

Duck.  Welcontie,  my  ^on :  Who  are  the  violets 
now. 
That  strew  the  green  lap  q(  the  new-come  spring  ? 

Aunt.  Madam,  I  know  not,  nor  I  greatly  care  not : 
God  knows,  I  had  as  lief  be  none,  as  one. 

York,  Well,  bear  you  well  in  this  new  spring  of 
time. 
Lest  you  be  cropped  before  you  come  to  prime. 
What  news  from  Oxford }  hold  those  justs'  and 
triumphs? 

Aum.  For  aught  I  know,  my  lord,  they  da 

York.  You  wUl  be  there,  1  know. 

Atmi.  If  Grod  prevent  it  not ;  I  purpose  so. 

York.  What  seal  is  that,  that  hangs  without  thy 
bosom? 
Yea,  look*st  thou  pale  ?  let  roe  see  the  writing. 

Aum.  My  lord,  *tis  nothing. 

York.  No  matter  then  who  sees  it : 

I  will  be  satisfied,  let  me  see  the  writing. 

Aum.  I  do  beseech  your  grace  to  pardon  me  ; 
It  is  a  matter  of  small  consequence, 
"Which  for  some  reasons  I  would  not  have  seen. 

Yorib.  Which  for  some  reasons,  sir,  I  mean  to  see. 
I  fear,  I  fear^ 

Dueh.  What  should  you  fear  ? 

^is  notlung  but  some  bond  that  he  is  enterM  into 
For  gay  apparel,  *^inst  the  triumph  day. 

For4r.  Bound  to  himself?  what  doth  he  with  a  bond 
That  be  is  bound  to  ?  Wife,  thou  art  a  fool. — 
Boy,  let  me  see  the  writii^. 

Avm.  I  do  beseech  you,  pardon  me ;  I  may  not 
show  it 

York.  I  will  be  satisfied ;  let  me  see  it,  I  say. 

[Snatches  it,  and  reads. 
Treason!  foul  treason  ! — villain!  traitor!  slave! 

Dueh.  What  is  the  matter,  my  lord  ? 

York.  Ho !  who  is  within  there  ?  [Enter  a  ser- 
vant.] Saddle  my  horse. 
God  for  his  mercy !  what  treachery  is  here ! 

Dueh.  Why,  what  is  it,  my  lord  ? 

York.  Give  me  my  boots,  I  say;  saddle  my 
horse  :^ 
Now  by  mine  honour,  by  my  life,  my  troth, 
I  will  appeach  the  villam.  [Exit  servant. 

Dueh.  What^s  the  matter  ? 

York.  Peace,  foolish  woman. 

Dueh.  I  will  not  peace :— What  is  the  matter,  son? 

(1)  Carelessly  turned.  (2)  Ever. 

^3)  Tilts  ana  tournaments. 


Aum.  Good  mother,  be  content ;  it  it  no  miora 
Than  nay  poor  life  must  answer. 
Dueh,  Thy  life  answer ! 

Rs-enler  KTvanif  VfHh  booti.  ' 

York.  Bring  me  my  boots,  I  will  unto  the  kin|^ 

Dueh.  Strike  him,  Aumuie. — Poor  boy,  thou 
art  amaz*d  .'^ 
Hence,  villain ;  never  more  come  in  my  sight — 

[7b  the  servant 

York.  Give  roe  my  boots,  I  say. 

Dueh.  Why,  York,  what  wilt  thou  do? 
Wilt  thou  not  hide  the  trespass  of  thine  own  ? 
Have  we  roore  sons  ?  or  are  we  like  to  have  ? 
Is  not  my  teeming*  date  drunk  up  with  time  ? 
And  wilt  thou  pluck  my  fair  son  from  mine  age. 
And  rob  me  ot  a  happy  mother's  name  ? 
Is  he  not  like  thee  ?  Is  he  not  thine  own  ? 

York.  Thou  fond  mad  woman. 
Wilt  thou  conceal  this  dark  conspiracy  ? 
A  dozen  of  them  here  have  ta*en  the  sacrament. 
And  interchangeably  set  down  their  hands, 
To  kill  the  king  at  Oxford. 

Dueh.  He  shall  be  none; 

We'll  keep  him  here:  Then  what  is  that  to  hjn^ 

York.  Away, 
Fond  woman .'  were  he  twenty  timet  my  too, 
I  would  appeach  him. 

Dueh.  Hadst  thou  groan'd  for  bin 

As  I  have  done,  thou'dst  be  more  pitifuU 
But  now  I  know  thy  mind ;  thou  oost  suspect. 
That  1  have  been  aisloyal  to  thy  bed. 
And  that  he  is  a  bastara,  not  thy  son ; 
Sweet  York,  sweet  husband,  be  not  of  that  mind 
He  is  as  like  thee  as  a  man  may  be, 
Not  like  to  me,  or  any  of  my  kin. 
And  yet  I  love  him. 

York.  Make  way,  unruly  woman.  [ExiL 

Dueh.  After,  Aumerle;  mount  thee  upon  hit 
horse; 
Spur,  post ;  and  get  before  him  to  the  king, 
And  beg  his  pardon  ere  he  do  accuse  thee. 
I'll  not  be  long  behind ;  though  I  be  old, 
I  doubt  not  but  to  ride  as  fast  as  York : 
And  never  will  I  rise  up  from  the  groond. 
Till  Bolingbroke  have  pardoo'd  tMe :  Away ; 
Begone.  [Exeunt 

SCEJ^TE  ///.—Windsor.  A  room  m  the  easOe. 
Enter  Bolingbroke  as  king;  Percy,  and  other 
lords. 

Baling.  Can  no  man  tell  of  my  unthriAv  son  ? 
'Tis  full  three  months,  since  I  did  see  him  ia»t: — 
If  any  plague  hang  over  us,  'tis  he. 
I  woula  to  God,  my  lords,  he  might  be  found : 
Inquire  at  London,  'mongst  the  taverns  there. 
For  there,  they  say,  he  daily  doth  frequent. 
With  unrestrained  loose  companions ; 
Even  such,  they  say,  as  stand  in  narrow  lanes. 
And  beat  our  watch,  and  rob  our  p>assenger» ; 
While  he,  young,  wanton,  and  effeminate  bcv 
Takes  on  the  point  of  honour,  to  support 
So  dissolute  a  crew. 

Percy.  My  lord,  some  two  days  since  I  saw  the 

Krince ; 
im  of  these  triumphs  held  at  Oxford. 
Baling.  And  what  said  the  gallant  ? 
Percy.  His  answer  was, — ae  would  unto  the 
stews ; 
And  from  the  common'st  creature  pluck  a  gIove« 
And  wear  it  as  a  fiivour ;  and  with  that 

(4)  Perplexed,  confounded.       (5)  Breeding. 


4-  ii^**   p-^U*"'     ^Kfl***" 


(    fcjui'W 


)o  *"";«>'«"'■! 


prtV 


'''^^^^'^^^^ 


".5^' 


oar." 


.I)!*" 


sdim /r,  r. 


KING  RICHARD  IL 


389 


Dueh.  I  do  not  sue  to  stand, 

Pardon  is  all  the  suit  I  have  in  hand. 

Baling.  I  pardon  him,  as  God  shall  pardon  roe. 

Duch,  O  happy  vantage  of  a  kneeling  knee ! 
Tet  am  I  sick  for  fear :  speak  it  again ; 
Twice  saying  pardon,  doth  not  pardon  twain, 
But  makes  one  pardon  strong. 

BoUng.  With  all  my  heart 

I  pardon  him. 

Duck,  A  god  on  earth  thou  art. 

BoUng.  But  for  our  trusty  brother-in-law, — and 
the  abbot, 
l^th  all  the  rest  of  that  consorted  crew, — 
Destruction  straight  shall  dog  them  at  the  heels. 
Good  uncle,  help  to  order  several  powers^ 
To  Oxford,  or  where'er  these  traitors  are : 
They  shall  not  live  within  this  world,  I  swear. 
But  I  will  have  them,  if  I  once  know  where. 
Uncle,  farewell, — and  cousin  too,  adieu : 
Your  mother  well  hath  prayed,  and  prove  you  true. 

DwJl  Come,  my  old  son ; — I  pray  God  make 
thee  new.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  IF.— Enter  Exton,  and  a  Servant 

Exion.  Didst  thou  not  mark  the  king,  what  word:) 
he  spake  ? 
Have  Ino/rtend  tnil  rid  me  of  this  living /ear? 
Was  it  not  so  f 

Serv.  Those  were  his  very  words. 

Extoo.  Hone  I  no  friend?  qaoth  he :  he  spake 
it  twice, 
And  urgM  it  twice  together ;  did  he  not  .^ 

Strv.  He  did. 

Exton,  And,  speaking  it,  he  wistfully  lookM 
on  me; 
As  who  should  say, — I  would,  thou  wert  the  man 
That  would  divorce  this  terror  from  my  heart ; 
Meaning,  the  kin^  at  Pomfret    Come,  let's  eo ; 
I  am  the  king's  fnend,  and  will  rid  his  foe.    [Exe. 

SCEJSTE  F.— Pomfret      The  dungeon  qf  the 
cattle.    Enter  King  Richs^. 

K.  Rich.  I  have  been  studying  how  I  may  com- 
pare 
This  prison,  where  I  live,  unto  the  world : 
And,  for  because  the  world  is  populous. 
And  here  is  not  a  creature  but  myself, 
I  cannot  do  it ; — Yet  IMl  hammer  it  out 
My  brain  I'll  prove  the  female  to  my  soul ; 
My  soul,  the  uither :  and  these  two  beget 
A  generation  of  still-breeding  thou|^hts, 
And  these  same  thoughts  people  this  little  world  ;3 
In  humours,  like  the  people  oi  this  world. 
For  no  thoi^^t  is  contented.     The  better  sort, — 
As  thoughts  of  things  divine, — are  intermix'd 
With  scruples,  and  do  set  the  word  itself 
Against  the  word  :* 

As  thus, — Comej  Utile  onee ;  and  then  again, — 
It  i»  as  hard  to  come,  as  for  a  camel 
To  thread  the  postern^  o/^  a  needless  eye. 
Thoughts  tending  to  ambition,  they  do  plot 
Unlikely  wonders  :  how  these  vain  weak  nails 
May  tear  a  passage  through  the  flinty  ribs 
Of  this  hard  world,  my  ragged  prison  walls ; 
And,  for  they  cannot,  die  in  their  own  pride. 
Thoughts  tending  to  content,  flatter  themselves, — 
That  thev  are  not  the  first  of  fortune's  slaves. 
Nor  shall  not  be  the  last ;  like  silly  b^^gars. 
Who,  sitting  in  the  stocks,  refuge  their  shame, — 

(1)  Forces.  (2)  His  own  bodv. 

(3)  Holv  scripture.     (4)  Little  gate.    (5)  Tick. 
(6)  Strike  for  him,  like  the  figure  of  a  man  on 
a  bell. 


That  many  have,  and  others  must  sit  there : 
And  in  this  thought  they  find  a  kind  of  ease. 
Bearing  their  own  misfortune  on  the  back 
Of  such  as  have  before  endur'd  the  like. 
Thus  play  I,  in  one  person,  many  people. 
And  none  contented  :  Sometimes  am  i  king; 
Then  treason  makes  me  wish  myself  a  b^gar, 
And  so  I  am  :  Then  crushing  penury 
Persuades  me  1  was  better  when  a  king ; 
Then  am  I  king'd  again  :  and,  by-ancf  t>y, 
Think  that  I  am  unking'd  by  Bolingbroke, 
And  straight  am  nothing : — But,  wnate'er  I  am, 
Nor  I,  nor  any  man,  that  but  man  is. 
With  nothing  shall  be  pleas'd,  till  he  be  eas'd. 
With  being  nothing. — Music  do  I  hear  ?    [Music, 
Ha,  ha !  keep  time  : — How  sour  sweet  music  is, 
When  time  is  broke,  and  no  proportion  kept  I 
So  is  it  in  the  music  of  men's  lives. 
And  here  have  I  the  daintiness  c^  ear. 
To  check  time  broke  in  a  disorder'd  string ; 
But,  for  the  concord  of  my  state  and  time. 
Had  not  an  ear  to  hear  my  true  time  broke. 
I  wasted  time,  and  now  doth  time  waste  me. 
For  now  hath  time  made  me  his  numb'rine  clock : 
My  thoughts  are  minutes ;  and,  with  sighs,  Uiey  jar* 
Their  watches  on  to  mine  eyes,  the  outward  watch. 
Whereto  my  finder,  like  a  dial's  point. 
Is  pointing  still,  m  cleansing  them  from  tears. 
Now,  sir,  the  sound,  that  tells  what  hcnir  it  is. 
Are  clamorous  groans,  that  strike  upon  my  heart. 
Which  is  the  bell :  So  sighs,  and  tears,  ana  groaot, 
Show  minutes,  times,  and  hours  : — but  my  time 
Runs  posting  on  in  Bolingbroke's  proud  joy. 
While  I  stand  fooling  here,  his  Jack  o'the  clock.* 
This  music  mads  me,  let  it  sound  no  more  ; 
For,  though  it  have  holp  madmen  to  their  wita. 
In  me,  it  seems  it  will  make  wise  men  mad. 
Yet  blessing  on  his  heart  that  gives  it  me  ! 
For  'tis  a  sign  of  love ;  and  love  to  Richard 
Is  a  strange  brooch^  in  this  all-hating  world. 

Enter  Groom. 

Groom.  Hail,  royal  prince ! 

K.  Rich.  Thanks,  noble  peer ; 

The  cheapest  of  us  is  ten  groats  too  dear. 
What  art  thou  f  and  how  comest  thou  hither. 
Where  no  man  never  comes,  but  that  sad  dog 
That  brings  me  food,  to  make  misfortune  live? 

Groom.  I  was  a  [xx>r  groom  of  thy  stable,  king. 
When  thou  wert  king;  who,  travelling  towards 

Yoric, 
With  much  ado,  at  length  have  gotten  leave 
To  look  upon  mv  sometimes^  master's  face. 
O,  how  it  yem'd  my  heart,  when  I  beheld, 
III  London  streets,  that  coronation  dav. 
When  Bolingbroke  rode  on  roan  Barbary  f 
That  horse,  that  thou  so  oAen  hast  bestrid ; 
That  horse,  that  I  so  carefully  have  dress'd ! 

K.  Rich.  Rode  he  on  Barbary  f  Tell  me,  gen- 
tle friend. 
How  went  he  under  him  ? 

Groom.    So  proudly,  as  if  he  disdain'd  the 

rund. 
So  proud  that  Bolingbroke  was  on  hit 
back! 
That  jade  hath  eat  bread  from  my  royal  hand ; 
This  fiand  hath  made  himproud  with  clappine  him. 
Would  he  not  stumble  ?  Would  he  not  rail  down 
(Since  pride  must  have  a  fall,)  and  break  the  neck 
Of  that  proud  man  that  did  usurp  his  back  ? 

(7)  An  ornamented  buckle,  and  also  a  jewel  in 
general. 

(8)  Former. 


31M) 


KING  RICHARD  IL 


jfdT. 


Forgireness,  bone !  why  do  I  rail  on  thee, 
Shice  thou,  created  to  be  aw*d  by  man. 
Wast  bom  to  bear  ?  1  was  not  made  a  horse ; 
And  yet  I  bear  a  burden  like  an  ass, 
Spur-gaird,  and  tir'd,  by  jauncic^^  Bolingbroke. 

Enter  Keeper,  loith  a  dish. 

Keep.  Fellow,  give  place  *,  here  is  no  longer  stay. 

[To  the  Groom. 
K.  Rich.  If  thoa  love  me,  *tis  time  thou  wert 

away. 
Qroom.  What  my  tongue  dares  not,  that  my 
heart  shall  say.  [SlxU. 

Keep.  My  lord,  wilPt  please  rou  to  fill  I  to  ? 
K.  lUch.  Taste  of  it  first,  as  thou  art  wont  to  do. 
Keep.  My  lord,  I  dare  not ;  sir  Pierce  of  Exton,  who 
Lately  came  from  the  king,  commands  the  contraiy . 
K  Rich,  The  devil  take  Henry  of  Lancaster 
and  thee ! 
Pitieiice  is  stale,  and  I  am  weary  of  it 

[Beais  the  Keeper. 
Keqt.  Help,  help,  help ! 

Enter  Exton,  and  servants^  armed. 

K  Rich.  How  now  ?  what  means  death  in  this 
rude  assault  ? 
Villain,  thy  own  hand  yields  thy  death^s  instrument 
[Snatching  a  weaporiy  and  killing  one. 
Go  thou,  and  fill  another  room  in  hell. 

[He  killa  another,  then  Exton  strikes  him  doum. 
That  hand  shall  bum  in  never-quenching  fire, 
That  staggers  thus  my  person. — Elxton,  thy  fierce 

hand 
Hadi  with  the  king's  blood  stainM  the  king's  own 

land. 
Mount,  mount,  my  soul !  thy  seat  is  up  on  high ; 
Whilst  my  gross  flesh  sinks  downward,  here  to  die. 

[Dies. 
Exton.  As  full  of  valour,  as  of  royal  blood  : 
Both  have  I  spilt ;  O,  would  the  deed  were  good ! 
For  now  the  devil,  that  told  me — I  did  well. 
Says,  that  this  deed  is  chronicled  in  hell. 
This  dead  king  to  the  living  king  lUl  bear ; — 
Take  hence  me  rest,  and  give  them  burial  here. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJ^TE  r/.— Windsor.    A  room  in  the  Castle. 
.    Flourish.     Enter  Bolingbroke,  and  York,  with 
lords  and  attendants. 

Boling.  Kind  uncle  Toric,  the  latest  news  we  hear 
Is — that  the  rebels  have  consumed  with  fire 
Our  town  of  Cicester  in  Glostershire  ; 
But  whether  they  be  ta'en,  or  slain,  we  hear  not 

Enter  Northumberland. 

Welcome,  my  lord :  What  is  the  news  ? 
^orth.  First,  to  thy  sacred  state  wish  I  all  hap- 
piness. 
The  next  news  is, — ^I  have  to  London  9ent 
The  heads  of  Salisbury,  Spencer,  Blunt,  and  Kent  : 
The  manner  of  their  taking  may  appear 
At  large  discoursed  in  this  paper  here. 

[Presenting  a  paper. 

(1)  Jaunting.         (2)  Immediately. 


Boling.  We  thank  thee,  gentle  Percy,  hr  thy 
pains; 
And  to  thy  worth  will  add  right  worthy  gmioa. 

Enter  Fitzwater. 

FitM.  My  lord,  I  have  firom  Ozlbrd  acot   to 
Liundoo 
The  heads  of  Brocas,  and  sir  Bennet  Seely ; 
Two  of  the  daneerous  consorted  traitors. 
That  sought  at  Oxford  thy  dire  overthrow. 

Bolinr.  Thy  pains,  Fitzwater,  shall  not  be  Ibvgot 
Right  noble  is  thy  merit,  well  I  wot 

Enter  Percy,  Vfith  the  Bu&op  q/*  Carlisle. 

Percy.  The  grand  conspirator,  abbot  of  Weat 
minster. 
With  cloff  of  conscience,  and  soar  melandwly. 
Hath  yielded  up  his  body  to  the  grave ; 
But  here  is  Caniale  living,  to  abioe 
Thy  kingly  doom,  and  sentence  of  his  pride. 

Boling.  Carlisle,  this  is  your  doom : — 
Choose  out  some  secret  place,  some  reverend  room. 
More  than  thou  hast,  and  with  it  joy  thy  life ; 
So,  as  thou  liv*st  in  peace,  die  free  from  strife : 
For  though  mine  enemy  thou  hast  ever  been. 
High  sparks  of  honour  in  thee  have  I 


Enter  Exton,  with  attendants  hearing  a  coffin. 

Exton.  Great  king,  within  diis  coffin  I  present 
Thy  buried  fear :  herein  all  Iveathlesa  Uea 
The  mightiest  of  thy  greatest  enemies, 
Richard  of  Bordeaux,  by  me  hither  broifiiM. 

Boling.  Exton,  I  thank  thee  not ;  ior  thou  bast 
wrought 
A  deed  <^  slander,  with  thy  fatal  hand. 
Upon  my  head,  and  all  this  fiunoos  land. 

ExUm.  From  your  own  mouth,  my  lord,  ^  I 
this  deed. 

Boling.  They  love  not  poison  that  do  poison  need. 
Nor  do  I  thee ;  though  I  did  wi^  him  dead, 
I  hate  the  murderer,  love  him  mnrdered. 
The  guilt  of  conscience  take  thou  fer  thy  labour. 
But  neither  my  good  word,  nor  princely  fiivour : 
With  Cain  go  wander  through  the  shade  of  n^t. 

And  never  uiow  thy  head  by  day  nor  night 

Lords,  I  protest,  my  soul  is  full  of  wo. 

That  blood  should  sprinkle  roe,  to  make  me  grow : 

Come,  mourn  with  me  for  what  I  do  lament, 

And  put  on  sullen  black  incontinent  ^ 

I'll  make  a  voyage  to  the  Holy  Lend, 

To  wash  this  bl«>d  off  firom  my  guil^  hand : — 

March  sadly  after ;  grace  my  mournings  here. 

In  weeping  after  this  untimely  bier.         [MlxnaU. 


This  play  is  one  of  those  which  Shakspeare  has 
apparently  revised ;  but  as  success  in  wofks  of  in- 
vention is  not  always  proportionate  to  labour,  it  is 
not  finished  at  last  with  the  happy  force  of  some 
other  of  his  tragedies,  nor  can  be  said  much  to  aA 
feet  the  passions,  or  enlarge  the  understanding. 

JOHNSON. 


FIRST  PART  OF 


KING  HENRY  IV. 


PERSONS 
Kin^  Heni^  the  Foarth. 

Thomas  Percy,  earl  of  fVorcesier, 
Heniy  Percy,  earl  of  IforihvmberUmd. 
Heory  Percy,  turnanud  Hotspur,  hit  ton, 
Edmund  Mortimer,  earl  qf  Jnardi, 
Scroop,  archbishop  of  York. 
Archibald,  earl  of  JDougUu, 
Owen  Glendoiver. 
Sir  Richard  Vernon. 
Sir  John  Falstafil 


REPRESENTED. 

Point. 

GadshilL 

Peto.        Bardolph. 

Lady  Percy,  w{fe  to  Hottpur^  and  auter  to  Jlfor- 

iimer. 
Lady  Mortimer,  daughter  to  GlendcwerfOndwyk 

to  Mortimer. 
Mrs.  Quickly,  hostess  qf  a  tavern  in  Eastcheap, 

Lords,  Officers,  Sheriff,  Vintner,  C9uunberlain, 
Drawers,  two  Carriers,  Travellers,  and  At- 
tendants. 

Sceae,  England. 


ACT  I. 

SCELATE  1. — London.  A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  King  Henry,  Westmoreland,  Sir  Walter 
Blont,  and  others. 

King  Henry. 

oO  diaken  as  we  are,  so  wan  with  care. 
Find  we  a  time  for  frighted  peace  to  pant. 
And  breathe  short-winded  accents  of  new  brmls 
To  be  commencM  in  stronds*  afar  remote. 
No  more  the  thirsty  Erinnys^  of  this  soil 
Shall  daub  her  lips  with  her  own  children's  blood ; 
No  more  shall  trenching  war  channel  her  fields, 
Nor  bruise  her  flowrets  with  the  amied  hoofii 
Of  hostile  paces :  those  opposed  eyes. 
Which, — like  the  meteors  of  a  troubled  heaven. 
All  of  one  nature,  of  one  substance  bred. 
Did  lately  meet  in  the  intestine  shock 
And  furious  close  of  civil  butchery. 
Shall  now,  in  mutual,  well-beseeming  ranks, 
March  all  one  way ;  and  be  no  nnore  oppos'd 
Against  acquaintance,  kindred,  and  allies : 
The  edge  of  war,  like  an  ill-sheathed  knife. 
No  more  shall  cut  his  master.     Therefore,  friends. 
As  far  as  to  the  sepulchre  of  Christ 
(Whose  soldier  now,  under  whose  blessed  cross 
We  are  impressed  and  engagM  to  fight,) 
Forthwith  a  power*  of  English  shall  we  levy ; 
Whose  arms  were  moulded  in  their  mothers*  womb 
To  chase  these  pagans,  in  those  holy  fields. 
Over  whose  acres  walked  those  blessed  feet. 
Which,  fourteen  hundred  years  ago,  were  nail*d 
For  oar  advantage,  on  the  bitter  cross. 
But  this  our  purpose  is  a  twelve-month  old. 
And  bootless^  *tis  to  tell  you — we  will  go  ; 
Therefore  we  meet  not  now  : — Then  let  me  hear 
Of  you,  my  gentle  cousin  Westmoreland, 
What  yesternight  our  council  did  decree, 
In  forwarding  this  dear  expedience.* 

(1)  Strands,  banks  of  the  sea. 

(2)  The  Fury  of  discord. 

(3)  Force,  army.    (4)  Needless.    (5)  Expedition. 


West  My  liege,  this  haste  was  hot  in  qoettiaQ, 
And  many  limit^  of  the  charge  set  down 
But  yesternight :  when,  all  auiwart,  there  came 
A  post  from  Wales,  loaden  with  heavy  news; 
Whose  worst  was, — ^that  the  noble  Mortimer, 
Leading  the  men  of  Herefordshire  to  fight 
Against  the  irregular  and  wild  Glendower, 
Was  by  the  rude  hands  of  that  Welshman  taken, 
And  a  thousand  of  his  people  butchered : 
Upon  whose  dead  corps  there  was  such  misuse, 
Such  beastly,  shameless  transformation. 
By  those  Welshwomen  done,  as  may  not  b^ 
Without  much  shame,  re-told  or  spok«i  of. 

K  Hen.  It  seems  then,  that  the  tidings  of  this 
broil 
Brake  off  our  business  for  the  Holy  Land. 

JVest.  This,  match*d  with  odier,  did,  my  gra- 
cious lord ; 
For  more  uneven  and  unwelcome  news 
Came  from  the  north,  and  thus  it  did  import 
On  Holy-rood  day ,7  die  gallant  Hotspur  there, 
Young  Harry  Percy,  and  brave  Archibald, 
That  ever-valiant  and  approved  Scot, 
At  Holmedon  met, 

Where  thev  did  spend  a  sad  and  bloody  boor ; 
As  by  discharge  of  their  artillery. 
And  shape  of  likelihood,  the  news  was  told; 
For  he  that  brought  them,  in  the  very  heat 
And  pride  of  their  contention  did  take  horse. 
Uncertain  of  the  issue  any  way. 

K  Hen.   Here  is  a  dear  and  true-industrious 
friend, 
Sir  Walter  Blunt,  new  lighted  from  his  horse, 
Stain'd^  with  the  variation  of  each  soil 
Betwixt  that  Holmedcm  and  this  seat  of  ours ; 
And  he  hath  brought  us  smooth  and  welcome  newt. 
The  earl  of  Douzlas  is  discomfited ; 
Ten  thousand  bold  Scots,  two-and-twenty  knights, 
Balk*d9  in  their  own  blood,  did  sir  Walter  see 
On  Holmedon*s  plains :  Of  prisoners.  Hotspur  took 
Mordake  the  earl  of  Fife,  and  eldest  son 

(6)  Estimates.        (7)  Sentember  14. 

(8)  Covered  with  dirt  of  aiflerent  coloon. 

(9)  Piled  up  in  a  heap. 


vsr--<  "■ 


rST':* 


of  k^^ 


lE*""- 


soEJ'^V'*^      ,..,.-,..y: 


Semen. 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HEXRY  IV. 


393 


P.  Hen.  Thou  didst  well ;  for  wisdom  cries  out 
in  the  streets,  and  no  man  regards  it 

FaL  O  thou  hast  damnable  iteration  :i  and  art, 
indeed,  able  to  corrupt  a  saint  Thou  bast  done 
much  harm  upon  me,  Hal, — God  forgive  thee  for 
it !  Before  I  knew  thee,  Hal,  I  knew  nothing;  and 
now  am  I,  if  a  man  should  speak  truly,  little  better 
than  one  of  the  wicked.  I  must  give  over  this  life, 
and  I  will  give  it  over ;  by  the  Lord,  an  I  do  not, 
I  am  a  villain ;  IMl  be  damned  for  never  a  king's 
ion  in  Christendom. 

P.  Hen,  Where  shall  we  take  a  purse  to-mor- 
pow.  Jack? 

FaL  Where  thou  wilt,  lad,  I'll  make  one ;  an  I 
do  not,  call  me  villain,  and  baffle^  me. 

P.  Hen.  I  see  a  good  amendment  of  life  in  thee ; 
from  praying,  to  purse-taking. 

EiUer  Poms,  at  a  distance, 

FaL  Why,  Hal,  'tis  my  vocation,  Hal ;  'tis  no 
iin  for  a  man  to  labour  in  his  vocation.  Poins ! — 
Now  shall  we  know  if  Gadshill  have  set  a  match.' 
O,  if  men  were  to  be  saved  by  merit,  what  hole  in 
hell  were  hot  enough  tor  him  f  This  is  the  most 
omnipotent  villain,  that  ever  cried,  Stand,  to  a  true^ 
man. 

P.  Hen,  Good  morrow,  Ned. 

Poms.  Good  morrow,  sweet  Hal. — What  savs 
monsieur  Remorse.'  What  says  sir  John  Saclc- 
and-Sugar  f  Jack,  how  agrees  the  devil  and  thee 
about  thy  soul,  that  thou  soidest  him  on  Good-friday 
last,  for  a  cup  of  Madeira,  and  a  cold  capon's  1^  f 

P.  Hen.  Sir  John  stands  to  his  word,  the  devil 
shall  have  his  bargain;  for  he  was  never  yet  a 
breaker  of  proverbs,  he  will  g^vc  the  devil  his  due. 

Poins.  Then  art  thou  damn'd  for  keeping  thy 
word  with  the  devil. 

P.  Hen.  Else  he  had  been  damned  for  cozening 
the  devil. 

Poins.  But,  my  lads,  my  lads,  to-morrow  mom- 
ii^,  by  four  o'clock,  early  at  Gadshill :  There  are 
pilgrims  going  to  Canterbury  with  rich  offerings, 
and  traders  riding  to  London  with  fat  purses :  I 
have  visors*  for  you  all,  you  have  horses  for  your- 
selves ;  Gadshill  lies  to-night  in  Rochester ;  I  have 
bespoke. supper  to-morrow  night  in  Eastcheap ; 
we  may  do  it  as  secure  as  sleep :  If  you  will  go,  I 
will  stuflf  your  purses  full  of  crowns ;  if  you  will 
not,  tarn'  at  home,  and  be  handed. 

Fal.  Hear  me,  Yedward ;  if  I  tany  at  home,  and 
go  not,  I'll  hang  vou  for  going. 

Poins.  You  will,  chof».' 

Fal.  Hal,  wilt  thou  make  one  ? 

P.  Hen.  Who,  I  rob .'  la  thief.'  not  I,  by  my 
feith. 

FeU.  There's  neither  hwiesty,  manhood,  nor  good 
fellowship  in  thee,  nor  thou  earnest  not  of  the  blood 
royal,  if  thou  darest  not  stand  for  ten  shillings.^ 

P.  Hen.  Well,  then,  once  in  my  days  I'll  be  a 
mad-cap. 

Fit.  Why,  that's  well  said. 

P.  Hen.  Well,  come  what  will,  I'll  tarnr  at  home. 

Fal.  By  the  Lord,  I'll  be  a  traitor  then,  when 
thou  art  king. 

P.  Hen.  1  care  not 

Poins.  Sir  John,  I  pr^ythee,  leave  the  prince  and 
me  alone ;  I  will  lay  him  down  such  reasons  for 
this  adventure,  that  he  shall  go. 


(1)  Citation  of  holy  texts. 

(2)  Treat  me  with  ignominy. 

(3)  Made  an  appointment. 

(5)  Masks. 

(6)  The  value  of  a  coin  called  real  or  royaL 


(4)  Honest 


FaL  Well,  may'st  thou  have  the  spirit  of  per- 
suasion, and  he  the  ears  of  profiting,  that  what  Uiou 
speakest  may  move,  and  what  he  hears  may  be  be- 
lieved, that  the  true  prince  may  (for  recreation 
sake)  prove  a  false  thief;  for  the  poor  abuses  of 
the  time  want  countenance.  Farewell :  You  shall 
find  me  in  Eastcheap. 

P.  Hen.  Farewell,  thou  latter  spring !  Farewell, 
All-hallown  summer  1^  [Exit  Falstaff. 

Poins.  Now,  my  good  sweet  honey  lord,  ride 
with  us  to-morrow;  I  have  a  jest  to  execute,  that  I 
cannot  manage  alone.  Falstaff,  Bardolph,  Peto, 
and  Gadshill,  shall  rob  those  men  that  we  have  al- 
ready way-laid;  yourself,  and  I,  will  not  be  there : 
and  when  they  have  the  booty,  if  you  and  I  do  not 
rob  them,  cut  this  head  from  my  shoulders. 

P.  Hen.  But  how  shall  we  part  with  them  in 
setting  forth  ? 

Poins.  Why,  we  will  set  forth  before  or  after 
them,  and  appoint  them  a  place  of  meeting,  where- 
in it  is  at  our  pleasure  to  fail ;  and  then  will  they 
adventure  upon  the  exploit  themselves :  which  they 
shall  have  no  sooner  achieved,  but  we'll  set  upon 
them. 

P.  Hen.  Ay,  but,  'tis  like,  that  they  will  know 
us,  by  our  horses,  by  our  habits,  and  by  every  other 
appointment,  to  be  ourselves. 

roins.  Tut !  our  horses  they  shall  not  see,  I'll 
tie  them  in  the  wood ;  our  visors  we  will  chang^ 
after  we  leave  them ;  and,  sirrah,  I  have  cases  oi 
buckram  for  the  nonce,^  to  immask  our  noted  out- 
ward garments. 

P.  Hen.  But,  I  doubt,  they  will  be  too  hard  for  us. 

Poins.  Well,  for  two  of  them,  I  know  them  to 
be  as  true-bred  cowards  as  ever  turned  back ;  and 
for  the  third,  if  he  fight  longer  than  he  sees  reason, 
I'll  forswear  arms.  The  virtue  of  this  jest  will  be, 
the  incomprehensible  lies  that  this  same  fat  rogue 
will  tell  us,  when  we  meet  at  supper :  how  thirty, 
at  least,  he  fought  with ;  what  wards,  what  blows, 
what  extremities  he  endured ;  and,  in  the  reproof^ 
of  this,  lies  the  iest 

P.  Hen.  Well,  I'll  go  with  thee :  provide  us  all 
things  necessary,  and  meet  me  to-morrow  night  in 
Eastcheap,  there  I'll  sup.     Farewell. 

Poins.  Farewell,  my  lord.  [Exit  Poins. 

P.  Hen.  I  know  you  all,  and  will  a  while  uphold 
The  unyok'd  humour  of  your  idleness  : 
Yet  herein  will  I  imitate  the  sun ; 
Who  doth  permit  the  base  contagious  clouds 
To  smother  up  his  beauty  from  the  world. 
That,  when  he  please  again  to  be  himself, 
Being  wanted,  he  may  be  more  wonder'd  at. 
By  breaking  through  the  foul  and  ugly  mists 
Of  vapours,  that  did  seem  to  strangle  him. 
If  all  the  year  were  playing  holidays. 
To  sport  would  be  as  tedious  as  to  woric ; 
But,  when  they  seldom  come,  they  wish'd-for  come, 
And  nothing  pleaseth  but  rare  accidents. 
So,  when  this  loose  behaviour  I  throw  off, 
And  pay  the  debt  I  never  promised. 
By  how  much  better  than  my  word  I  am, 
By  so  much  shall  I  falsify  men's  hopes  ;io 
And,  like  bright  metal  on  a  sullen'' ground, 
My  reformation,  glittering  o'er  my  fault. 
Shall  show  more  goodly,  and  attract  more  eyes. 
Than  that  which  hath  no  foil  to  set  it  c^. 
I'll  so  offend,  to  make  offence  a  skill : 
Redeeming  time,  when  men  think  least  I  will.  [£«. 

(7)  Fine  weather  at  All-hallown-tide  (t.  e.  All 
Saints,  Nov.  1st)  is  called  an  All-hallown  summer 

(8)  Occasion. 

(9)  Conlutation.    (10)  Expectations.  (11)  Dull. 


394 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


wfd 


SCELVE  III— TH*  same,  Afwtherroominihe 
palace.  Enter  King  Hennr,  Northumberbiid, 
Worcester,  Hotspur,  Sir  Walter  Blont,  and 
others. 

K.  Hen.  My  blood  hath  been  too  cold  and  tem- 
perate. 
Unapt  to  stir  at  these  indignities, 
And  you  have  found  me ;  for,  accordinglj. 
You  tread  upon  my  patience :  but,  be  sure, 
I  will  from  hencefortn  rather  be  n^self. 
Mighty,  and  to  be  fear'd,  than  ror  condition  ;i 
W^hich  hath  been  smooth  as  oil,  son  as  young  down. 
And  therefore  lost  that  title  of  respect. 
Which  the  proud  soul  ne*er  pays,  out  to  the  prood. 
IVor,  Our  house,  my  sovereign  liege,  httle  de- 
serves 
The  scourge  of  greatness  to  be  used  on  it ; 
And  that  sante  greatness  too  which  our  own  hands 
Have  holp  to  make  so  portly. 

JS'orth,  IVIy  lord, 

K.  Hen.  Worcester,  get  thee  gone,  for  I  see 
danger 
And  disobedience  in  thine  eye  :  O,  sir, 
Vour  presence  is  too  bold  and  perempt(»y, 
And  majesty  might  neter  yet  endure 
The  moody  frontiei^  of  a  servant  brow. 
You  have  good  leave*  to  leave  us ;  when  we  need 
Your  use  and  counsel,  we  shall  send  for  you. — 

[Exit  Wortrester. 
You  were  about  to  speak.  [7\>  North. 

vVorf A.  Yea,  ray  good  lord. 

Those  prisoners  m  your  highness*  name  demanded. 
Which  Harry  Percy  here  at  Hobnedon  took. 
Were,  as  he  says,  not  with  such  stren^gth  denied 
As  is  delivered  lo  your  majesty  : 
Either  envv,  therefore,  or  misprision 
Is  euilty  of  this  foult,  and  not  my  son. 

Hot.  My  liege,  I  did  deny  no  prisoners. 
But,  I  remember,  when  tfie  fight  was  done. 
When  I  was  dry  with  la^,  and  extreme  toil. 
Breathless  and  nint,  leanmg  upon  my  sword. 
Came  there  a  certain  lord,  neat,  trimly  dressed. 
Fresh  as  a  bridegroom ;  and  his  chin,  new  reaped, 
ShowM  like  a  stubble-land  at  harvest-home ; 
He  was  perfumed  like  a  milliner ; 
And  *twixt  hi<$  finger  and  his  thumb  he  held 
A  pouncet-box,4  which  ever  and  anon 
He  gave  his  nose,  and  took*t  away  again ; — 
Who,  therewith  angry,  when  it  next  came  there. 
Took  it  in  mutf : — and  still  he  smiPd,  and  talked; 
And,  as  the  soldiers  bore  dead  bodies  by. 
He  calPd  them — untaught  knaves,  unnuxmerly. 
To  bring  a  slovenly  unhandsome  corse 
B«^twixt  the  wind  and  his  nobility. 
With  many  holiday  and  ladv  terms 
He  question*d  me ;  amoi^  tiie  rest  demanded 
Mv  prisoners,  in  your  majesty's  behalf. 
I  tnen,  all  smarting,  with  my  wounds  being  cold. 
To  be  so  pesterM  with  a  popinjay,* 
Oit  of  mv  grief*  and  mr  impatience, 
AnswerM  neglectingly,  \  knotv  not  whai ; 
He  should,  or  he  should  not ; — for  he  made  me  mad. 
To  «ee  him  shine  so  brisk,  and  smell  so  sweet. 
And  talk  so  like  a  waitinsr-gentlewoman, 
Ot'  guns,  and  drums,  and  wounds,  (God  save  the 

mark!) 
And  telling  me,  the  sovereign'st  thii^  on  earth 
Was  narmaceti,  for  an  inward  braise ; 
And  mat  it  wa<  great  pity,  so  it  was. 
That  viUanous  salt-petre  should  be  digged 


8 


0)  Disposition.         (J) 

>  Ready  a»ent. 
[4)  A  small  box  for  musk  or  other 


Out  of  the  bowels  of  Unt  hamdeas  earth. 
Which  many  a  good  talU  follow  had  deatiojM 
So  cowardly ;  and,  but  for  these  rile  guns. 
He  would  himself  have  been  a  soldier. 
This  bald  unjointed  chat  of  his,  any  lord, 
I  answerM  indirectly,  as  I  said ; 
And,  I  beseech  you,  let  not  his  report 
Come  current  for  an  accusation. 
Betwixt  my  love  and  your  high  majeshr. 

Blunt,  The  circumstance  considcord,  good  nay 
lord, 

Whatever  Harry  Perc^  th^  had  said. 
To  such  a  person  and  in  such  a  place. 
At  such  a  time,  with  all  tiie  rest  re-tokL 
May  reasonably  die,  and  never  rise 
To  do  him  wron^,  or  any  way  impeach 
What  then  he  said,  so  he  unsay  it  now. 

K.  Hen,  Wliy,  yet  he  doth  deny  his  prisooen  i 
But  with  proviso,  and  exceptibn, — 
That  we,  at  our  own  charee,  shall  ranson  sliaigfat 
His  brother-in-law,  the  fodish  Mortimer ; 
Who,  on  mv  soul,  hath  wilfully  betray'd 
The  lives  of  those  that  he  did  lead  to  %tiC 
Aeainst  the  ereat  magician,  damn*d  Glcndawer; 
W  hose  daughter,  as  we  hear,  the  ^ri  of  March 
Hath  lately  married.     Shall  our  coffers  then 
Be  emptied,  to  redeem  a  traitor  home  ? 
Shall  we  buv  treason  ?  and  indent*  with  fears. 
When  they  have  lost  and  forfeited  themsehea^ 
No,  on  the  barren  mountains  let  him  starve ; 
For  I  shall  never  hold  that  man  iny  friend. 
Whose  tongue  shall  ask  me  for  one  penny  oott 
To  ransom  home  revolted  Mortimer. 

HoL  Revolted  Mortimer ! 
He  never  did  fell  off,  my  sovere^  ^^^^ 
But  k>y  the  chance  of  war ; — ^To  pro«-e  that  tnie. 
Needs  no  more  but  one  tongue  for  all  those  woondi^ 
Those  mouthed  wounds,  which  valiantly  he  took. 
When  on  the  gentle  Severn's  sed^  bank. 
In  single  opposition,  hand  to  hand. 
He  did  confound^  d^  best  part  of  an  hour 
In  changing  hardiment^)  witfi  great  Gleodower. 
Three  times  they  breath'd,  and  three  times  did  ihcj 

drink. 
Upon  agreement,  of  swift  Several  flood ; 
W  Jm>  then  affrighted  with  their  bloody  looks. 
Ran  fearfully  amoru:  the  trembling  reeds. 
And  hid  his  crispO  head  m  the  hollow  bank 
Blood-»tained  with  these  valiant  combatants^ 
.V'ever  did  bare  and  rotten  policy 
Colour  her  working  with  such  ffeadly  wounds ; 
Nor  never  could  the  noble  Mortimer 
Receive  so  many,  and  all  willingly : 
Then  let  him  not  be  dander'd  with  revolt 
JC  Hen.  Thou  dost  belie  him,  Percy,  thon  dosi 
belie  him. 
He  never  did  encounter  with  Gleodowcr ; 
I  tell  thee, 

He  durst  as  well  have  met  the  devil  aloae. 
As  Owen  Glendower  for  an  enemy. 
Art  not  ashamed  ?  But,  sirrah,  hencf^brdi 
Let  me  not  hear  you  speak  of  Mortimer : 
Send  roe  your  prisoners  with  the  speediest  m— »f 
Or  you  shall  hear  in  such  a  kind  frora  me 
As  will  dii^please  vou.— Mv  lord  Nortbnmberiand, 
We  license  your  ^partur^with  vour  son  : 
Send  us  your  prisoners,  or  yoa'H'War  of  it 

^Erntnt  King  Henry,  Blunt,  and  tram 
Hot.  And  if  the  devil  come  and  roar  for  them, 
I  will  not  send  them : — 1  will  after  stn^ht. 


(5>  Parrot        (6)  Pain.        (7)  Bnve. 
(8^  Sten  an  indenture.  (9)  Elxpend. 

(10)  Haidinesa.         (1 1)  Coifed.     ^^ 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HORY  IV. 


395 


lim  to ;  for  I  will  ease  ray  heart, 
it  be  with  hazard  of  mv  head. 

What,  drunk  with  cnoler  f  stay,  and 
pause  a  while ; 
et  your  uncle. 

Re-enter  Worcester. 

Speak  of  Mortimer  ? 
will  speak  of  him ;  and  let  my  soul 
rcy,  if  I  do  not  join  with  him : 
is  part,  I'll  empty  all  these  veins, 
mv  dear  blood  arop  by  drop  i^tfae  dost, 
lijt  the  down-trod  Mortimer 
the  air  as  this  unthankful  king. 

Sate*  and  cankerM  Bolinsbroke. 
rother,  the  king  hath  macuB  your  nephew 
nad.  [To  Worcester. 

VYio  struck  this  heat  up,  alter  I  was  gone  ? 
je  will,  forsooth,  have  all  my  prisoners; 
i  I  urg'd  the  ransom  once  again 
fe^s  brother,  then  his  cheek  ux>kM  pale ; 
y  face  he  turnM  an  eye  of  death, 
1^  even  at  the  name  of  Mortimer. 
mimoi  blame  him :  was  he  not  proclaim*d, 
■d  that  dead  is,  the  next  of  blood  ? 
He  was ;  I  heard  the  proclamation : 
h  was,  when  the  unhappy  king 
'rongsi  in  us  God  pardon  f)  did  set  forth 
[ri«h  expedition ; 
nee  he,  intercepted,  did  return 
)OS*d,  and  shortly,  murdered. 
ind  for  whose  death,  we  in  the  world's 
vide  mouth 

Uliz'd,  and  foully  spdcen  of. 
at,  soft,  [  pray  you :  Did  king  Richard 
hen 

oy  brother  Edmund  Mortimer 
J  crown  f 

He  did ;  myself  did  hear  it 
ly,  then  I  cannot  blame  his  cousin  kin^, 
*d  him  on  the  barren  mountains  starvM. 
t  be,  that  you, — that  set  the  crown 
bead  of  this  forgetful  man ; 
is  sake,  wear  tl^  detested  blot 
oas  subornation, — dball  it  be, 
I  world  of  curses  undergo ; 
agents,  or  base  second  means, 
,  ue  ladder,  or  the  hangman  rather?— 
me,  that  I  descend  so  low, 
be  line,  and  the  predicament, 
XMi  range  under  this  subtle  king. — 
r  shame,  be  spoken  in  these  days, 
:hronicles  in  time  to  come, 
of  your  nobility  and  power 
them  both  in  an  unjust  behalf, — 
'  you,  God  pardon  it !  have  done, — 
wn  Richard,  that  sweet  lovely  rose, 
this  thorn,  this  canker,^  Bolingbroke  f 
it,  in  more  shame,  be  further  spoken, 
&re  fooPd,  discarded,  and  shook  off 
r  whom  these  shames  ye  underwent  ? 
mo  serves,  wherein  you  may  redeem 
ih*d  honours,  and  restore  youwelves 
X)d  thoughts  of  the  world  again : 
tie  jeering,  and  disdain'd'  contempt, 
>ua  king ;  who  studies,  day  and  night, 
•  all  the  debt  he  owes  to  you, 
the  bloody  payment  of  your  deaths. 

,  I  say, 

Peace,  cousin,  say  no  more : 

rateful.  (2)  The  d(^-rose. 

lainfuJL      (4)  A  rival.      (5)  Friendship. 
[yes  created  by  his  imagination. 


And  now  I  will  unclasp  a  secret  book, 
And  to  your  quick-conceiving  discontents 
V\\  read  you  matter  deep  and  dangerous ; 
As  full  of  peril,  and  adventurous  spirit. 
As  to  o*er-walk  a  current,  roaring  loud. 
On  the  unsteadfast  footing  of  a  spear. 

Hot  If  he  fall  in,  goodnight :— or  sink  or  swim 
Send  danger  from  the  east  unto  the  west. 
So  honour  cross  it  from  the  north  to  south. 
And  let  them  grapple ; — O !  the  blood  more  stirs. 
To  rouse  a  lion,  tnan  to  start  a  hare. 

JVorth,  Iraaginatkxi  of  some  great  exploit 
Drives  him  beyond  the  bounds  of  patience. 

/fot  By  heaven,  methinks,  it  were  an  easy  leap, 
To  plock  bright  honour  from  the  pale-fiaic'd  moon : 
Or  dive  into  ute  bottom  of  the  deep, 
Where  fiitbom-line  could  never  touch  the  ground. 
And  pluck  up  drowned  honour  by  the  locks; 
So  he,  that  doth  redeem  her  thence,  might  wear, 
Without  corrival,^  all  her  dignities : 
But  out  upon  this  half-fac*d  fellowship  I^ 

If^or.  He  apprehends  a  world  of  figures^  here. 
But  not  the  form  of  what  he  should  attend. — 
Good  cousin,  give  me  audience  for  a  while. 

Hot.  I  cry  you  mercy. 

IVor,                          Those  same  noble  Scots, 
That  are  your  prisooers, 

Hot.  rU  keep  them  all ; 

By  heaven,  he  shall  not  have  a  Scot  of  them .        ^ 
No,  if  a  Scot  would  save  his  soul,  be  shall  not : 
ni  keep  them,  by  this  hand. 

fVor.  You  start  away, 

And  lend  no  ear  unto  my  purposes. — 
Those  prisooers  you  shall  keep. 

HoL  Nay,  I  will ;  that's  flat  :- 

He  said,  he  would  not  ransom  Mortimer ; 
Forbad  my  tongue  to  speak  of  Mortimer ; 
But  I  will  find  him  when  he  lies  asleep, 
And  in  his  ear  I'll  holla — ^Mortimer  I 
Nay, 

V\\  have  a  starling  shall  be  taught  to  speak 
Nothing  but  Mortimer,  and  give  it  him. 
To  keep  his  ai^r  still  in  motion. 

JVor.  Hear  yoo, 

Cousin,  a  word. 

Hot.  All  studies  here  I  solenuily  defy ,7 
Save  how  to  gall  and  pinch  this  Ek)lin8;broke : 
And    that   same    sword-and-bucklei^  prince  o^ 

Wales,— 
But  that  I  think  his  father  lov»  him  not. 
And  would  be  glad  he  met  with  some  mischance, 
Pd  have  him  poiscmM  with  a  pot  of  ale. 

IVor,  Farewell,  kinsman !  I  will  talk  to  you. 
When  you  are  better  tempered  to  attend. 

J^ofih.  Why,  what  a  wasp-stung  and  impatient 
fool 
Art  thou,  to  break  into  this  woman's  mood  ;& 
Tying  thine  ear  to  no  tongue  but  thine  own .' 

Hot.  Why,  look  you,  I  am  whipp'd  and  sconrg'd 
with  rods. 
Nettled,  and  stung  with  pismires,  when  I  hear 
Of  this  vile  politician,  Bolingbroke. 
In  Richard's  time, — What  do  you  call  the  place  .^— 
A  plague  upon't  I — it  is  in  Gloucestershire  ; — 
*Twas  where  the  mad-cap  duke  his  uncle  kept ; 
Hi?  uncle  York ; — where  I  first  bowM  my  knee 
Unto  this  king  of  smiles,  this  Bolingbroke, 
When  you  and  be  came  back  from  Ravenspurg. 
A''orth.  At  Berkley  castle. 

Hot.  You  say  true  : 

(7)  Refuse. 

(B)  The  term  for  a  blustering  quarrelsome  fellow 

(9)  Mind,  humour. 


396 


FIBST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IT. 


^aiL 


Whj,  what  a  candy  >  deal  of  courtny 
This  fawning  ereyhound  then  did  proffer  me ! 
Look, — token  his  infcmt  fortune  came  to  age. 
And, — renile  Harry  Percy  ^ — and,  land  cousin, — 
O,  the  devil  take  such  cozeners ! God  forgive 


me 


Good  uncle,  tell  your  tale,  for  I  have  done. 

War.  Nay,  if  you  have  not,  toU  again ; 
WeMI  stay  your  leisure. 

Hot.  I  have  done,  i*faith. 

Wor.  Then  once  more  to  your  Scottish  prisoners. 
Deliver  them  up  without  their  ransom  straight, 
And  make  the  Douglas*  son  your  only  mean 
For  powers  in  Scotland ;  which, — for  divers  reasons, 
Which  I  shall  send  you  written, — be  assured. 
Will  easily  be  granted. — You,  my  lord, — 

[To  Northumberland. 
Yoar  son  in  Scotland  being  thus  employM, — 
Shall  secretly  into  the  bos^  creep 
0(  that  same  noble  prelate,  well  belov*d, 
The  archbishop. 

Hot.  Of  York,  is't  not? 

Wor.  True  ;  who  bears  hard 
His  brother's  death  at  Bristol,  the  lord  Scroop. 
I  speak  not  this  in  estimation,^ 
At  what  I  think  might  be,  but  what  I  know 
Is  ruminated,  plotted,  and  set  down ; 
And  only  stays  but  to  behold  the  face 
Of  that  occasion  that  shall  bring  it  on. 

Hot.  I  smell  it ;  upon  my  life,  it  will  do  welL 

J^Torih.  Before  the  game's  a-foot,  thou  still  let'st 
slip. 

Hot.  Why,  it  cannot  choose  but  be  a  noble 
plot : — 
And  then  the  power  of  Scotland,  and  of  York, — 
To  join  with  Mortimer,  ha? 

ivor.  And  so  they  shall. 

Hot.  In  faith,  it  is  exceedingly  well  amiM. 

Wor.  And  'tis  no  little  reason  bids  us  speed, 
To  save  our  heads  by  raising  of  a  head :' 
For,  bear  ourselves  as  even  as  we  can. 
The  king  will  always  think  him  in  our  debt ; 
And  think  we  think  ourselves  unsatisfied. 
Till  he  hath  found  a  time  to  pay  us  home. 
And  see  already,  how  he  dotb  begin 
To  make  us  strangers  to  his  looks  of  love. 

Hot.   He  does,  he  does;  we'll  be  reveng'd  on 
him. 

Wor.  Cousin,  farewell : — No  further  go  in  this. 
Than  I  by  letters  shall  direct  your  course. 
When  time  is  ripe  (which  will  be  suddenly,) 
I'll  steal  to  Glendower,  and  lord  Mortimer ; 
Where  you  and  Douglas,  and  our  powers  at  once 
(As  I  will  fashion  it,)  shall  happily  meet. 
To  bear  our  fortunes  in  our  own  strong  arms. 
Which  now  we  hold  at  much  uncertainty. 

JYorth.  Farewell,  good  brother :  we  shall  thrive, 
I  trust. 

Hot.  Uncle,  adieu : — O,  let  the  hours  be  short. 
Till  fields,  and  blows,  and  groans,  applaud  our 
sport !  [Exeunt. 

ACT  II. 

SCRXE  /.—Rochester.    An  inn-yard.    Enter 
a  Carrier,  with  a  lantern  in  hu  hand. 

1  Car.  Heigh  ho !  An't  be  not  four  by  (he  day. 


1)  Supred.  (2)  Conjecture. 

3)  A  body  of  forces. 
(4)  The  constellation  ursa  major. 
'5)  Name  of  his  horse.        (6)  Measure. 
Wet  (8)  Wonns. 


ni  be  banged:  Charles*  wain^  is  over  the  new 
chimney,  and  yet  our  hont  not  pecked.    What, 
ostler ! 
Ost.  [  Within.^  Anon,  anon. 

1  Car.  1  pr'y  thee,  Tom,  beat  CutV  saddle,  pnt 
a  few  flocks  in  the  point;  the  poor  jade  n  wrong 
in  the  withers  out  oTall  cess.^ 

Enter  another  Carrier. 

2  Cbr.  Pease  and  beans  are  as  dank^  here  as  a 
dog,  and  that  is  the  next  way  to  pve  poor  jades 
the  bots  :>  this  house  is  tumedr  upside  down,  since 
Robin  ostler  died. 

1  Car.  Poor  fellow!  never  joyed  since  the  price 
of  oats  rose ;  it  was  the  death  of  him. 

2  Car.  I  think,  this  be  the  most  villanous  home 
in  all  London  road  for  fleas :  I  am  stung  like  a 
tench.fl 

1  Car.  Like  a  tench  ?  by  the  mass,  there  is  ne^a* 
a  king  in  Christendom  could  be  better  bit  than  I 
have  been  since  the  first  cock. 

2  Car.  Why,  they  will  allow  as  ne'er  a  joiden, 
and  then  we  leak  in  your  chimney ;  and  your  cham* 
ber-lie  breeds  fleas  like  a  loach.  >o 

1  Car.  What,  ostler!  come  away  and  be  hanged, 
come  away. 

2  Car.  1  have  a  gammon  of  bacon,  and  two  razes 
of  ginger,  to  be  delivered  as  far  as  Charing-cross. 

1  Car.  'Odsbody !  the  turkeys  in  my  pannier 
are  Quite  starred. — What,  ostler! — A  plague  on 
thee  .'  hast  thou  never  an  eye  in  thy  bead  F  canst 
not  hear  ?  An  'twere  not  as  good  a  deed  as  drink, 
to  break  the  pate  of  thee,  I  am  a  very  villain. — 
Come,  and  be  hanged : — Hast  no  &ith  in  tbee  ? 

Enter  GadshilL 

Gads.  Good  morrow,  carriers.  What's  o'ckxrk  ? 
1  Car.  1  think  it  be  two  o'clock. 
Chtds.  I  pr'ythee,  lend  roe  thy  lantern,  to  tee 
my  gelding  m  the  stable. 

1  Car.  Nay,  soA,  I  pray  ye ;  I  know  a  trick 
worth  two  of  that,  i'faith. 

Gads.  I  pr'ythee,  lend  me  thine. 

2  Car.  Ay,  when  ?  canst  tell  f — Lend  me  thy 
lantern,  quoth-a.^ — many,  I'll  see  tbee  banged 
first. 

Gads.  Sirrah  carrier,  what  time  do  you  mean  to 
come  to  London  ? 

2  Car.  Time  enough  to  go  to  bed  with  a  candle, 
I  warrant  thee. — Come,  neighbour  Murs,  we'll 
call  up  the  gentlemen ;  they  will  along  with  com- 
pany, for  they  have  great  charge.  [Elxe.  Carriers. 

Uads.  What,  ho  !  chamberlain ! 

Cham.  J  JFiYAin.]  At  hand,  qooth  pick-purse. ^^ 

Gads.  That's  even  as  fair  as — at  hand,  quoth  the 
chamberlain :  for  thou  variest  no  more  from  picking 
of  purses,  than  g^'ving  direction  doth  from  laboor* 
ing ;  thou  lay'st  the  plot  how. 

Enter  Chamberlain. 

Cham.  Good  morrow,  master  Gadshill.  It  hdds 
current,  that  I  told  you  yesternight :  Hiere's  a 
franklin'^  in  the  wild  of  Kent,  hath  brous^ht  thrae 
hundred  marks  with  him  in  gold :  I  heara  htm  tell 
it  (o  one  of  his  company,  last  night  at  supper ;  a 
kind  of  auditor ;  one  that  hath  abundance  of  charge 
too,  God  knows  what  They  are  up  already,  and 
call  for  eggs  and  butter :  They  will  away  presently 

(9)  Spotted  like  a  tench. 

(10)  A  small  fish  supposed  to  breed  fleas. 

(11)  A  proverb,  from  the  pick-pune  beiqg  always 
ready. 

(12)  Freeholder. 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IT. 


391 


■ah,  if  they  meet  not  with  Saint  Nicho- 
[*ii  fiive  thee  this  necli. 
I,  VU  none  of  it :  I  pr'ythee  keep  that 
Ban ;  for,  I  know,  thou  worahip*6t  Saint 
trolj  aa  a  man  of  falsehood  may. 
trnt  talkest  thou  to  me  of  the  haneman  ? 
1  make  a  fat  pair  of  gallows :  for,  if  I 
ir  John  hangs  with  me;  and,  thou 
s  no  stanreling.     Tut !  there  are  other 

thou  dreamest  not  of,  the  which,  for 
ire  content  to  do  the  profession  some 
would,  if  matters  should  be  looked 
r  own  credit  siake,  make  all  whole.  I 
'ith  no  foot  land-rakers,3  no  long-staff, 
ikers ;  none  of  these  mad,  mustachio 

malt-worms :  but  with  nobility,  and 
burgomasters,  and  great  oneyers;^  such 
I :  such  as  will  strike  sooner  than  speak, 
oner  than  drink,  and  drink  sooner  than 
yet  I  lie ;  for  they  pray  continually  to 
le  commonwealth ;  or,  rather,  not  pray 
rey  on  her;  for  they  ride  up  and  down 
nake  her  their  boots.^ 
liat,  the  commonwealth  their  boots? 
I  out  water  in  foul  way  ? 
B  will,  she  will ;  justice  hath  liquored 
teal  as  in  a  castle,  cock-sure ;  we  have 
f  fem-seed,  we  walk  invisible, 
ly,  by  my  faith ;  I  think  you  are  more 
the  night,  than  to  fem-seed,  for  your 
sible. 

e  me  thy  hand :  thou  shalt  have  a  share 
ase,8  as  I  am  a  true'  man. 
ly,  rather  let  me  have  it,  as  yoo  are  a 

» to ;  Homo  is  a  common  name  to  all 
he  ostler  bring  my  gelding  out  of  the 
«well,  you  muddy  Imave.      [Exeunt. 

L—The  road  by  GadshUL  Enter 
enry  (tnd  Poins ;  Bardolph  and  Peto, 
uttance. 

me,  shelter,  shelter ;  I  have  reuKn-ed 
rse,  and  he  frets  like  a  gummed  velvet. 
Stand  close. 

Enter  Falstaff. 

s !  Poins,  and  be  hgnged !    Poins ! 
Peace,  ye  fat-kidneyed  rascal ;  What 
kMt  thou  keep ! 
ire*s  Poins,  Hal  ? 
le  is  walked  up  to  the  top  of  the  hill ; 
him.  [Pretends  to  teek  Poins. 

accursed  to  rob  in  that  thief's  com- 
sscal  hath  removed  ray  horse,  and  tied 
not  where.  If  I  travel  but  four  foot 
E^  further  afoot,  I  shall  break  my  wind, 
bt  not  but  to  die  a  fair  death  for  all 
ipe  hanging  for  killing  that  rc^e.  I 
m  hb  company  hourlV  any  time  thiii 
inty  years,  and  yet  I  am  bewitched 
ue's  company.  If  the  rascal  have  not 
Miicinei^  to  make  me  love  him,  PU  be 
:ould  not  be  else ;  I  have  drunk  medi- 
s  I— Hal  I — a  plague  upon  you  both ! — 
-Peto!— ril  starve,  ere  rif  rob  a  foot 
1  *twere  not  as  good  a  deed  as  drink  to 
nan,  and  leave  these  rogues,  I  am  the 
t  that  ever  chewed  with  a  tooth.  Eight 
leven  ground,  is  threescore  and  ten 

term  for  highwaymen, 
ads.        (3^  Public  accountants. 
(5)  Oiled,  smoothed  her  over. 


miles  afoot  with  me ;  and  the  stony -hearted  villains 
know  it  well  enough:  A  plague  iiixiti't,  when 
thieves  cannot  be  true  to  one  another !  [Theywhis' 
Ue.]  Whew  ! — A  plague  upon  you  all !  Give  me 
my  hone,  you  rogues ;  give  me  my  horse,  and  be 
hanged. 

P.  Hen.  Peace,  ye  fat-guts !  lie  down  ;  lay  thine 
ear  close  to  the  ground,  and  list  if  thou  canst  hear 
the  tread  of  travellers. 

Fal.  Have  you  any  levers  to  lift  me  up  again, 
being  down  ?  'Sblooa,  IMl  not  bear  mine  own  flesh 
80  far  afoot  affain,  for  all  the  coin  in  thy  father's 
exchequer.  What  a  plague  mean  ye  to  coital  me 
thus.' 

P.  Hen.  Thou  liest,  thou  art  not  colted,  thou  art 
uncolted. 

FaL  I  pr*ythee,  good  prince  Hal,  help  me  to  my 
horse ;  good  king's  son. 

P.  Hen.  Out,  you  rogue !  shall  I  be  your  ostler  ? 

Fal.  Go,  har^  thyself  in  thy  own  heir-apparent 
garters !  If  I  be  ta'en,  I'll  peach  for  this.  An  1 
have  not  ballads  made  on  you  all,  and  sung  to  fil- 
thy tunes,  let  a  cup  of  sack  be  my  poison :  When 
a  jest  is  so  forwara,  and  afoot  too, — I  hate  it 

Enter  Gadshill. 

GadM.  Stand. 

FaL  So  I  do,  against  my  will. 

Point.  0,  'tis  our  setter :  I  know  his  vdce. 

Enter  Bardolph. 

Bard.  What  news  * 

Gadt.  Case  ye,  case  ye;  on  with  your  visors; 
there's  nxxiey  of  the  king's  coming  down  the  hill ; 
'tis  goine  to  the  king's  exchequer. 

J^  You  lie,  you  rogue ;  'tis  going  to  the  king's 
tavern. 

Gadt.  There's  enough  to  make  us  all. 
•    Fad.  To  be  hanged. 

P.  Hen.  Sirs,  you  four  shall  front  them  m  the 
narrow  lane ;  Ned  Poins,  and  I,  will  walk  lower : 
if  they  'scape  from  your  encounter,  then  they  light 
on  us. 

Peto.  How  many  be  there  of  them  } 

Crods.  Some  eig^it,  or  ten. 

FaL  Zounds !  will  they  not  rob  us  f 

P.  Hen.  What,  a  coward,  sir  John  Paunch  ? 

FbL  Indeed,  I  am  not  John  of  Gaunt,  your  grand- 
father ;  bat  yet  no  coward,  Hal. 

P.  Hen.  Well,  we  leave  that  to  the  proof. 

Point.  Sirrah  Jack,  thy  horse  stands  behind  the 
hedge ;  when  thou  needest  him,  there  thou  shalt 
find  him.     Farewell,  and  stand  fast. 

Fal.  Now  cannot  I  strike  him,  if  I  should  be 
hanged. 

P.  Hen.  Ned,  where  are  our  disguises  ? 

Poins.  Here,  hard  by ;  stand  close. 

[Exeunt  P.  Henry  and  Poins. 

Fal.  Now,  my  masters,  happy  man  be  his  dole,^ 
say  I ;  every  man  to  his  business. 

Enter  Travellers. 

1  Trav.  Come,  neighbour ;  the  boy  shall  lead  our 
horses  down  the  hill :  we'll  walk  afoot  a  while,  and 
ease  our  legs. 

Thieves.  Stand. 

Trav.  Jesu  bless  us ! 

FaL  Strike,  down  with  them ;  cut  the  villains' 
throats:  Ah!  whoreson  caterpillars!  bacon-fed 
knaves !  they  hate  us  youth :  ^wn  with  them ; 
fleece  them. 


(6)  In  what  we  acquire. 

(8)  Square.       (9)  Love-pow 

(11)  Make  a  youngster  of  me.     (12)  Fortion. 


(7)  Honest. 

der.     (10)  Honest. 


398 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


Attn. 


1  Trmv.  O,  we  are  andooe,  bodi  we  wid  oon 
fcr  erer. 

FmL  Hang  je,  gorbelIied>  bwres;  Are  ye  un- 
done? No,  ye  £ftt  cfaafis;3  I  would,  joor  More 
were  here !  On,  baooos,  on !  What,  re  kneves  ? 
jomv  men  roust  live :  Yon  are  graiM-jaron,  are 
je?  We'll  jure  re,  r£utfa. 

[Exami  FaL  ^  driving  the  Travellen  OKt 


Re-enter  Prince  Hemy  onJ  Poina. 

P.  Hen.  The  thierea  have  boond  the  troe  men : 
Now  could  thou  and  I  rob  the  thierea,  and  go  mer- 
rily to  London,  it  would  be  argument'  for  a  week, 
langfater  for  a  month,  and  a  good  jest  for  ever. 

Point.  Stand  close,  I  hear  them  coming. 

iZe-en/er  Thierea. 

FiU.  Coroe,  my  masters,  let  ua  riiare,  and  then 
to  horae  belbre  day.  An  the  prince  and  Pbins  be 
not  two  arrwit  cowards,  there's  no  equity  stirring : 
there's  nomore  ralour  in  that  Poins,  man  in  a  wud 
dock. 
P.  f/lsn.  Your  money.  [Rudiingcuivpcn^ewL 
Poins.  Villains. 

[At  they  are  Jtmrtng,  the  Prince  and  Poins 
ad  upon  than.     Falstafi^  after  a  blow  or 
tteOf  and  the  rest,  rtm  awayf  leaving  their 
booty  behind  them.] 
P.  Hen.  Got  with  much  ease.    Now  merrily  to 
hone: 
Tlie  thieves  are  scatter'd,  and  poaaeas'd  with  fear 
So  strongly,  that  they  dare  not  meet  each  other  \ 
Each  takes  his  fellow  tar  an  officer. 
Away,  good  Ned.    Falstaff  sweats  to  death. 
And  lards^  the  lean  earth  as  he  walks  along : 
Wer^t  not  for  laughing,  I  should  pity  him. 

Point.  How  tl^  rogue  roar'd  I  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^TE  Ul.—Warkworth,  A  room  in  the  cat- 
tie.    Enter  Hotspur,  reading  a  letter. 

But,  for  mine  own  part,  my  lord,  I  could 

be  well  contented  to  be  there,  in  respect  of  the  love 
I  bear  your  house. — He  could  be  contented, — 
Why  is  he  not  then.'  In  respect  of  the  lo\'e  he 
bears  our  house  : — he  shows  m  this,  he  loves  his 
own  bam  better  than  he  loves  our  house.  Let  me 
tee  some  more.  The  purpose  you  undertakefis  dan- 
gerous ; — Why,  that's  certain ;  'tis  dangerous  to 
take  a  cold,  to  sleep,  to  drink :  but  I  tell  vou,  my 
lord  fool,  out  of  this  nettle,  danger,  we  nfuck  thif 
6ower,  safety.  The  purpose  you  undertaxe,  is  dan- 
gerous; thefriends  you  have  named,uneertain;  the 
time  itself  unsorted  ;  and  your  whole  plot  too  light, 
for  the  counterpoise  of  so  great  an  opposition. — 
day  you  so,  say  you  so .'  I  say  unto  you  again,  vou 
are  a  shallow,  cowardly  bind,  and  you  lie.  What 
a  lackbrain  is  this  ?  By  the  Lord,  our  plot  is  a  good 
plot  as  ever  was  laid ;  our  friends  true  and  cocii^tant : 
a  good  plot,  good  friends,  and  full  of  expeclatioo  : 
an  excellent  piqt,  very  good  friends.  \N'hat  a  frwty- 
spirited  rogue  is  this  1  Why,  my  lord  of  York  com- 
mends the  plot,  and  the  general  course  of  the 
action.  Zound«,  an  I  were  now  by  this  ra<cal,  I 
could  brain  him  with  his  lady's  fan.  Is  there  not 
my  father,  my  uncle,  and  myself?  lord  Fdmuiid 
Mortimer,  my  lord  of  York,  and  Owen  Glendower' 
I !•  there  not,  besides,  the  Douglas.'  Have  I  not  rI> 
their  letters,  to  meet  me  in  arms  by  the  ninth  of  the 
next  month  ?  and  are  they  not,  some  of  them,  set 
ibrward  already .'  What  a  pagan  rascal  is  this  !  an 


infidel!  Ha!yo«riHn 


(1)  Fat,  corpulent 
(3)  A  subject 
(5)  Orcurrences. 


(2)  Clowns, 
(4)  Drop*  hi-4  fat 


■I  veiy  awceniy 
of  fear  and  cold  heart,  will  he  to  the  kii^p;,  and  lay 
open  all  our  proceedii^a.  O,  I  could  divide  my 
•eU^  and  goto  bufleta,  fcr  moHngsocfa  a  disb  of 
skinvned  milk  with  so  honourable  an  action !  Hant 
him !  let  him  tell  the  king :  We  aire  prepared :  I 
will  set  forward  to^iight 

filler  Lady  Ftocy. 

How  DOW,  Rate  ?  I  motl  lenve  yon  widiin  these 
two  hours. 

Lady.  O,  iny  good  lord,  wliy  are  yon  dina  akoe  f 
For  what  ofkace  have  I,  thb  fortnight,  been 
A  bannh'd  woman  from  my  Harry's  bed  ? 
Tell  me,  sweet  lord,  what  is't  that  takes  firom  thee 
Thy  stomach,  pleasure,  and  thy  golden  sleep? 
Why  dost  thou  bend  tUne  eyes  upon  the  earth; 
And  start  so  oAen  when  thou  nt'st  alone  * 
Uliv  hast  thou  kat  the  &eah  Uood  in  thy  cheeks; 
And  ^ven  my  treasures,  and  imr  rights  of  thee. 
To  thick-ey'd  musing,  and  curs'd  melancholy  ? 
In  thv  feint  slumbers,  I  by  thee  have  watch'a. 
And  beard  thee  murmur  tales  of  iron  wars : 
Speak  terms  of  manage  to  thy  bounifing  steed ; 
Cr^ ,  Cburtigv  !—to  the  field  !  And  thon  hast  talk'd 
Of  sallies,  and  retires ;  of  trenches,  tents, 
Of  paliaadoes,  Atntiers,  parapets; 
Of  Ijasilisks,  of  cannon,  culverin ; 
Of  prisoners'  ransom,  and  of  solcBeis  slain. 
Ana  all  the  'currents'  of  a  heady  6ghL 
Thy  spirit  within  thee  hath  been  so  at  war. 
Aim]  thus  hath  so  besdrr'd  thee  in  thy  deep, 
That  beadj^  of  sweat  have  stood  upon  thy  bcow, 
Like  bubbles  in  a  late-disturbed  Aream : 
And  in  thy  face  strange  motions  have  appcarM, 
Such  as  we  see  when  men  restrain  thetr  orea^ 
On  some  great  sudden  haste.    O,  what  portents  are 

these  ?  ' 
Some  heavy  business  hath  my  lord  in  band. 
And  I  mu^'t  know  it,  else  he  loves  me  not 

Hot.  What,  ho !  b  Gilliams  with  the packetgone? 

fn/er  Servant 

Sero.  He  is,  niy  lord,  an  hour  aga 

Hot.  Hath  Butler  brought  those  horses  from  the 
sheriff? 

Serv.  One  horse,  my  lord,  he  broi^t,  even  now. 

HoL  What  \)on»f  a  roan,  a  crop^ar,  is  it  not  ? 

Sero.  It  is,  my  lewd. 

Hot.  Tliat  roan  shall  be  my  throne. 

Well,  I  will  back  him  straight :  O  espttanceP — 
Bid  Butler  lead  him  forth  into  the  park.  [Ex.  Serv. 

Lady.  But  hear  you,  my  lord. 

Hot.  What  say'st,  my  ladv  ? 

Lady.  What  is  it  carries  you  away  ? 

Hot.  Mj  horse. 

My  love,  my  horse. 

Lady.  Out,  you  mad-headed  ape ! 

.\  weasel  hath  not  such  a  deal  of  spleen. 
As  you  are  toss'd  with.     In  faith, 
Pll  know  your  business,  Harry,  that  I  wilL 
I  fear,  my  brother  Mortimer  doth  stir 
A  bout  his  title ;  and  hath  sent  for  you. 
To  lim-*  his  enterpriie :  But  if  you  go 

Hot.  So  far  afoot,  I  shall  be  weary,  love. 

Ijady.  Come,  come,  you  paraquito,*  axiswer  me 
Directly  to  this  question  that  I  ask. 
In  faith,  I'll  break  thy  little  finger,  Harry, 
An  if  thou  wilt  not  tell  me  all  things  true. 

Hot.  Away, 
Away,  you  trifler ! — Love  ?•  -I  love  dkee  i>ot, 

(7)  Motto  of  the  Percy  familv. 
(8,   Strengthen.  (9)  Parrot, 


lean  nol  foe 

To  pl«y  wiih 

Wc  miu(  hftTC  bloody  nofs,  uia  cnci 

And  put  them  curreal  wo.— Cods  me, 

What  ay'tt  Ibou,  Kils  >  >!»(  would- 


FIRST  PART  OF 


KING  HENRir  IT.  3S9 

EnttrTrmdi. 

Fran.  Aocn,  uun,  lu.— Look  domi  mU  llw 

'oini'Lrruule,  Ralpb. 
P.  Hm.  Cone  bitber,  Francii. 
MvIdhL 


Hj  sp«ak  in  jenlr  or 


Nw,  icll  ™.  ifj 
terf.  Come. " 
Au]  whai  I  am  o-horfleback,  I  will  tPvcar 
I  Icne  th«  infinitel}'.  Bui  huk  you,  Kulr; 
I  mtut  iKX  have  you  heocdbrth  qualbti  ine 
Whiihf  r  1  go,  nnr  reuoa  wberoboul : 
Whilber  Imiul.  I  Diuili  and,  to  conclude, 
Thit  erening  mugt  I  \etit  j-ou,  gcntk  KbI<^. 
I  kmnr  jou  wiK  ;  but  jiel  DO  further  wise, 

Bui  jret  a  wonHO  :  and  for  Kcmc/, 
noladj  clowr;  for  1  well  beliere. 
Thou  will  not  uller  what  Ibou  doat  ihi  know 
And  ao  br  nill  I  truil  Ibee,  genlle  Kaie  ! 

Lady.  How  •.  »  far .' 

HaL    Not  an  iocb  further.      Bui    hnrl: 
Kale; 


SCELffE  /F.— Eancheap.  A  mmin  !hi  B-m. 
HadToBtrH.   Enier  Prvat  Htarj  anJ  Fom 

P.  Hm.   Ned,  pr-y  Ihee,  rome  owl  of  (hni 
room,  and  lend  me  thy  hand  to  laucb  a  lillle. 

P«nt.  Where  ham  been,  Hat? 

P.Nen.  Withlhr«orfourlosi!Erbeads,amon^ 
Ihrec  or  four  Kore  hogabradi.  I  hare  4oundi-d  ibe 
•erj  hue  Mring  of  humiliij.  Sirrah,  1  ain 
bnxher  fa>  a  leaab^  of  drawen ;  and  can  call 

■II  by  their  Chriitian  names,  as— Tom,  Dii^l 

Fnncig.   They  lake  il  already  upon  (hfir  snlvalion, 
that  though  I  be  but  prince  of  Wales,  nl  I  am  Ihr 
king  of  courten  ;  ind  lell  me  ftatlv  1  urn  riDpni    ' 
Jack,  like  ral^tlalTj  but  ■  CoHnlhian,'  a  l.d 
metlle,  a  cood  bOT, — bv  (he  Lord,  so  lite  v  cull  n] 
and  when  [  am  king  oi  England,  I  >haH\-ominn 
JlthegoodludjiiiEaslcbeBp.    Thejrcall— diii. 


bif  deqi,  d)iii( 


,  rhey  CTT — hejn !  and  btd  rou  pla^ 

oi]e  quarler  of  an  hour,  dial  1  can  drink  rtjrh  ani 
linker  in  his  own  language  during  n>)  life.  I  lel 
Ihec,  Ned,  (bou  has!  lost  much  honour,  thai  rhok 

to  aweeten  which  name  of  Ned,  I  give  ihee  Ihi 
pennyworth  of  sugar,  clapped  even  now  in  mj 
band  by  en  iinde r-sk inker  ;<  one  that  npver  spakr 
olhrr&igli^inhiilife.than— Sig^nAF/fing-jim 

tddiliun.— .4iuin,anon,iir.'  Sort  a  pint  of  biu- 
lard  in  Ihi  Hnlf-moon,  or  so.    But,  N.  d,  In  " 

■■--  ■■ "Falstaffeome.Ipi'jllice,  di 

room,  while  1  question  oiy 
end  he  ga»e  me  ihe  mgnr 


dower 


F.  Hen.  Thou  ai 
Pmiu.  Francis: 


edent 


.    Stepai 


Fra< 


«n.  Mv  I 

Hai.  How  looK  hut  111 
Fonoolb,  oVe  year, 
[Wittw-j  Fraoci.] 


andai 


F.ffm.  Five  yean! 
le  c)inl:iag  of  pewler. 


'Wr,a 


aid  with  ihv  in- 
if  beel>,an(iruii 

Fraa.  O  lord,  air!  I'll  be  awom  upon  all  the 
lokt  in  England,  I  could  find  in  my  heart— 
Fdn«.[lf'>[Un.]Fnnd.l 


Point.  [IFt-(Atn.]FTanciaI 
Fran.  Anon,  sir. — Pray  yon,  staya  littl»,my  lord. 
P.  Nrn.  Nay,  but  hark  you,  Francii :   For  d» 
sn^nr  (liou  gavealme,— 'iwai  a  pennyworth,  wai'l 

Fran.  O  brd,  lir  I  I  would  it  had  been  Iwo. 

F.  Hm.  I  will  give  Ibee  for  it  a  thousand  pound ; 
ii^  nie  when  ibou  will,  and  ibou  abalt  hate  it 
Pninh.  [iri'lUn.}  Francii! 

P.  Hm.  Anon,  Francia.'  No,  Francis:  but  fc>- 
morrow,  Francia;  or,  Francia,  on  Thunday;  or, 
indeed,  Francia,  when  Ihoo  wilL    But,  Francia,— 

Fran.  Mv  Ion!  ? 

P.  Hm.  WUt  tbou  lob  Ihia  lea|]le^JerkiD,  cry*- 
lal-buKon,  notl-paled,  agate-ring,  puke-alocking, 
^addis-gsrter,  amooth-longue,  Spanish-pouch, — 

F.  Hat.  Why  ihea,  your  brown  baaUrd*  a  your 
ally  drink  :  Ibr,  UxA  you,  Francis,  your  while  can- 
laaa  doublet  will  sully  ;  in  fiarbuy,  dr,  it  cannol 

'  /-ran.  What,  air? 
Poina.  [IVilhm]  Fnncig ! 
F.  Hat.  Away,  you  rogue ;  Dott  Ibou  nol  bear 

[Htrt  Ihiji  both  a<a  him;  llu  drawer  HimJi 

amiuid,  not  knoaring  uhich  my  to  gn. 

Enlrr  Vintner. 

I7n(.  Whall  atand'itthouBtill.Bndhear'iliniFh 

a  calling?  Look  10  tbeguesLa  wilhin,  [Ejt.  Fran.) 

My  lord,  old  sir  John,  wirh  half  a  doaen  more,  ate 

P.  Hm.  Lei  Ihcm  alone  a  while,  and  then  open 
the  door.  [Eifi  Vinlner.]  PoUu  ■ 
Ai-enJcr  Ftiint. 
Poi'ni.  Anon.  anon.  air. 
P.  Hm.   i 


ih,  FalstalT  and  ibe  rest  of 
e  ai  me  door ;  Shalt  we  be  merrv  .' 
As  mrny  aa  crickela.  my  lad.    6ui  hi 
VP !  What  conninc  match  have  you  made  with  t 
"        ■         r?  come,  what'a  the  iHue,' 
P.  Hrn.  I  am  now  of  all  humoura,  (hal  hi 


neolddi 


lock,  Francii? 
er  this  follow  ah 


400 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


AetlL 


words  than  a  parrot,  and  yet  the  son  of  a  woman ! — 
His  industr)^  is — up-stairs,  and  down-stairs;  bis  elo- 
quence, the  parcel  of  a  reckoning.  I  am  not  yet  of 
Perc^^'s  mind,  the  Hotspur  of  the  north ;  he  that 
kills  me  some  six  or  seven  dozen  of  Scots  at  a 
breakfast;  washes  his  hands,  and  says  to  his  wife, — 
Pie  vpon  this  quiet  life  !  1  toant  work. — O  my 
twut  Harry,  says  she,  how  many  hast  thou  killed 
Uhday  ? — (xivt  my  roan  horse  a  drench^  says  he ; 
and  answers.  Some  Jour  leen^  an  hour  after;  a  triJUt 
a  trijlc.  I  pr'ythee,  call  in  Falstaff;  1*11  plav  Percy, 
and  that  damned  brawn  shall  play  dame  IVfortimer, 
nis  wife.  /2tvo,  says  the  drunkard.  Call  in  ribs, 
call  in  tallow. 

Enter  Falstaff,  Gadshill,  Bardolph,  and  Peto. 

Poins.  Welcome,  Jack.  Where  hast  thou  been? 

FaL  A  plague  of  all  cowards,  I  say,  and  a  ven- 
geance too !  marry,  and  amen  .'—Give  me  a  cup  of 
ttck,  boy. — Ere  I  lead  this  life  long^,  Pll  sew 
nether-stocks,  1  and  mend  them,  and  foot  them  too. 
A  plague  of  all  cowards ! — Give  me  a  cup  of  sack, 
roeue. — Is  there  no  virtue  extant  f      [He  drinks. 

F.  Hen.  Didst  thou  never  see  Titan  kiss  a  dish 
of  butter  f  pitiful-hearted  Titan,  that  melted  at  the 
sweet  tale  of  the  son !  if  thou  didst,  then  behold 
that  compound. 

FdL  You  n^e,  here's  lime  in  this  sack  too: 
There  is  nothing  but  roguery  to  be  found  in  villa- 
nous  man  :  Yet  a  coward  is  worse  than  a  cup  of 
sack  with  lime  in  it;  a  villanous  coward. — Go  thv 
ways,  old  Jack ;  die  wheh  thou  wilt,  if  manhood, 
good  manhood,  be  not  forgot  upon  the  face  of  the 
earth,  then  am  I  a  shotten  nerring.  There  live  not 
three  good  men  unhanged  in  England ;  and  one  of 
them  18  fat,  and  grows  old :  God  help  the  while ! 
a  bad  world,  I  say  !  I  would  I  were  a  weaver ;  I 
could  sing  psalms,  or  any  thing :  A  plague  of  all 
cowards,  I  say  still. 

P.  Hen,  How  now,  wool-sack.^  what  mutter  you? 

FaL  A  king's  son  !  If  I  do  not  beat  thee  out  of 
thy  kingdom  with  a  dagger  of  lath,  and  drive  all 
thv  subjects  afore  thee,  liKe  a  flock  of  wild  geese, 
I'll  never  wear  hair  on  my  face  more.  You  prince 
of  Wales ! 

P.  Hen.  Why,  you  whoreson  round  man  I  what's 
the  matter  ? 

Fal.  Are  you  not  a  coward  ?  answer  me  to  that ; 
and  Poins  there  ?  ' 

Poins.  Zounds,  ye  fat  paunch,  an  ye  call  me 
coward,  I'll  stab  thee. 

Fal.  I  call  thee  coward  !  I'll  see  thee  damned  ere 
I  call  thee  coward :  but  I  would  give  a  thousand 
pound,  I  could  run  as  fast  as  thou  canst  You  are 
iftraight  enough  in  the  shoulders,  you  care  not  who 
sees  your  back  :  Call  you  that  backing  of  your 
frienos  ?  A  plague  upon  such  backing !  give  me 
them  that  will  face  me. — Give  me  a  cup  of  ^ck. — 
I  am  a  rogue,  if  I  drunk  to-day. 

P.  Hen.  O,  villain !  thy  lips  are  scarce  wiped 
«ince  thou  drunk'st  last. 

Fal.  All's  one  for  that  A  plague  of  all  cow- 
ards, still  say  I.  [He  drinks. 

P.  Hen.  What's  the  matter? 

FaL  What's  the  matter  ?  there  be  four  of  US' 
"here  have  ta'en  a  thousand  pound  this  morning. 

P.  Hen.  Where  is  it.  Jack  ?  where  is  it  ? 

Fal.  Where  is  it  ?  taken  from  us  it  is :  a  hun- 
dred upon  poor  four  of  us. 

P.  Hen.  What,  a  hundred,  man  f 

(1)  Stockings. 

(3)  A  town  in  Westmoreland,  famous  for  ma- 


Fal.  I  am  a  rogue,  if  I  were  not  at  half-eword 
with  a  dozen  of  them  two  hours  together.  I  have 
'scap'd  by  miracle.  I  am  eight  times  thrust  through 
the  doublet ;  four,  through  the  hose ;  my  buckler 
cut  through  and  through ;  my  sword  hacked  like  a 
hand-saw,  ecce  signum.  I  never  dealt  better  snnce 
[  was  a  man ;  all  would  not  do.  A  plague  of  all 
cowards ! — Let  them  speak :  if  they  speak  more  or 
less  than  truth,  they  are  villains,  and  the  %ons  of 
darkness. 

P.  Hen.  Speak,  sirs ;  how  was  it  ? 

Gads.  We  four  set  upon  some  dozen, 

Fal.  Sixteen,  at  least,  my  lord. 

Gads.  And  bound  them. 

Peto.  No,  no,  they  were  not  bound. 

Fal.  You  rogue,  they  were  bound,  every  man 
of  them  :  or  I  am  a  Jew  else,  an  Ebrew  Jew. 

Crods.  As  we  were  sharing,  some  six  or  seven 
fresh  men  set  upon  us, 

FaL  And  unbound  the  rest,  and  then  come  in 
the  other. 

P.  Hen.  What,  fought  ye  with  them  all  ? 

Fal.  All  ?  I  know  not  what  ye  call,  all ;  but  if 
I  fought  not  with  fiAy  of  them,  I  am  a  bunch  of  rad- 
ish :  if  there  were  not  two  or  three  and  fifty  upon 
poor  old  Jack,  then  I  am  no  two-legged  creature. 

Poins.  Pray  God,  you  have  not  murdered  some 
of  them. 

FaL  Nay,  that's  past  praying  for:  for  I  have 
peppered  two  of  them :  two,  I  am  sure,  I  have 
paid;  two  rogues  in  buckram  suits.  I  tell  tbee 
what,  Hal, — if  I  tell  thee  a  lie,  spit  in  my  &ce,  call 
me  horse.     Thou  knowest  my  old  ward ; — here 


I 


rogues  m 


lay,  and  thus  I  bore  my  pomt     Four 
buckram  let  drive  at  me, 

P.  Hen.  What,  four  ?  thou  said'st  but  two,  even 
now. 

FaL  Four,  Hal ;  I  told  thee  four. 

Poins.  Ay,  ay,  be  said  four. 

Fal.  These  four  came  all  a-front,  and^mainlT 
thrust  at  me.  I  made  me  no  more  ado,  but  took  aU 
their  seven  points  in  my  taiget,  thus. 

P.  Hen.  Seven  ?  why,  there  were  but  four,  ever 
now. 

FaL  In  buckram. 

Poins.  Ay,  four,  in  buckram  suits. 

Fal.  Seven,  by  these  hilts,  or  I  am  a  villain  else. 

P.  Hen.  Pr'y thee,  let  him  alone ;  we  shall  have 
more  anon. 

Fal.  Dost  thou  hear  me,  Hal  f 

P.  Hen.  Ay,  and  mark  thee  too,  Jack. 

FaL  Do  so,  for  it  is  worth  the  listening  ta  These 
nine  men  in  buckram,  that  I  told  thee  of, 

P.  Hen.  So,  two  more  already. 

Fal.  Their  points  being  broken, 

Poins.  Down  fell  their  hose. 

FaL  Beg^  to  give  me  gpxnmd :  But  I  followed 
me  close,  came  in  foot  and  band ;  and,  with  s 
thought,  seven  of  the  eleven  I  paid. 

P.  Hen.  O,  monstrous!  eleven  buckram  meo 
g^wn  out  of  two ! 

Fal.  But,  as  the  devil  would  have  it,  three  mhh 
begotten  knaves,  in  Kendal  ^  green,  came  at  my 
back,  and  let  drive  at  me ; — for  it  was  so  dark, 
Hal,  that  thou  could'st  not  see  thy  hand. 

P.  Hen.  These  lies  are  like  the  father  that  be- 
gets them ;  gross  as  a  mountain,  open,  palpable. 
Why,  thou  clay -brained  guts ;  thou  knotty-pated 
fool ;  thou  whoreson,  obscene,  greasy,  tallow- 
keech.* 

Fal.  What,  art  thou  mad  f  art  thoa  mad.'  isuo'. 
the  truth,  the  truth  ? 

(3)  A  nmnd  lump  of  fat 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HESRT  IV. 


401 


•on;  What  njesl  [hou  Co'tbu.' 

Poim.  Coiiie,  jour  reaK 

«.  J«ck,  Tou 

fte«rappado,Dralllh^™<: 

•  intheworl 

ereu^iTj 

berries,  1  would  pve  no  nw 

p«l««.  1. 

F.Hm.  I'll  be  no  lonite 

goillj  ^(hii 

unguine  coward,  thij  bed-ji 

reuer.lhuho 

breaker,  thii  buge  bill  of  llesh; 

fW.   AwBj,  jou  Marve 

ng.  JOB  elf* 

dried  neil't-Loninte,  bull's 

0,  forbrfalhloutlerwhs. 

s"k4  thes*!- 

lor'.  r.rd,  JOU  .heaA,  jo. 

nuidlngtueV; 

P.  Hm  Well,  breathe 

bow-caw. 

while,  and 

Bnain:  ■nd  wlien  thou  hai 

tired  th)K 

buiihii. 

Point.  M.rk,  Jach. 

P.  Mm.  We  two  Hw  JO 

ufoiirKtan 

bound  lliein,  and  werr  mnsten  of  their  wesllh, 

Mart  no«,how  plain  a  tale  ahall  put  jou  down. — 
Then  did  we  two  set  on  j-ou  lour:  and,  «ilh  a 
word,  out-laced  JOU  fmrn  your  priie,  aud  hare  it; 
je»,aod  can  show  it  jou  here  uithebouw; — and, 

with  u  quick  deiterilj,  and  nwred  lormci-cy,  aiid 
Hill  nn  and  toared,  ai  ever  1  heard  bufl-colC 
Whal  a  .lave  art  thou,  to  hack  ihj  aword  m  lliou 
hsit  done ;  Biid  then  wj,  it  wu  in  fight :  Wha( 
Iricli,  what  device,  whal  alarting-hole,  naan  Ihou 
DOW  £nd  out,  lo  hide  ihee  friiiD  lhi>  open  oiid  ap- 

/■nix.  Come,;et's bear.  Jack;  Wbaliriikhasi 

Fid.  Bv  Ihe  Lord,  I  knew  ye,  u  m^ll  a«  he  that 
made  je.     Whj,  bear  yt,  mr  muiera  .  \Vu  ii  t6t 

the  IHK  Dnnce  f  Whj,  (hou  knoweal,  I  um  u  val- 

beiieroF  mjielf  and  Ihee,  during  mj  lire;  l,S6ra 
VBlianI  lion,  and  thou  for  a  true  prinCE.     ttut,  by 

the  Lord,  ladi,  I  am  gladjou  have  the  jnonej.- 

HoateH,  clap  to  Ihe  doon :  italch  lo-nighl,  prat 
to-morrow.— Gallanu,  lads,  boyi,  heart,  of  gold, 
all  the  lillei  of  good  fellowihip  coma  to  jou  ! 
What,  >hall  we  be  meny  >  .hall  we  have  a  play 


thy, 


Hm.  Content  ;- 
inning  away. 
LAhTnomoreof 


Hoil.  My  lord  the  prince, 

P.  Hm.  How  now,  my  lady  U 

MoH.  Marry,  mj  lord,  there  a 
die  court  at  door,  would  speak  w 
be  comes  rram  your  lather. 

P.  Hm.  Give  him  a.  much  Bi 


Hoil.  An  old  man, 

FaL  What  doth  ei»rily  m 
njghl?— Shall  I  give  him  hii 


V.  Ihn.  Pr'jihee,  do.  Jack. 

Fal.  'Kuilh,  and  I'll  tend  him  packing.  [Exit. 
P.Hrn.  Now,ii™;bv'rladj,you  fought  fair;— 
.  did  ynu,  Peto ;— «  did  jou,  Bardolph !  you  an 


leil.  How  c 


Pela.  Wliv,bebacke< 
ud,  he  Boiild  swear  tni 


miaded  us  lo  do  Ihe  tike. 

Hard.  Vea,and  Id  lickle  our  noaei 

grais,  lo  nuke  them  bleed  i  and  Ihen 


Thou  hailil  fire  and  sword  on 
ou  ran'.l  away  i  Whal  instinct 
Bari.  My  lord,  do  vou  see  tl 


P.  Hen.  No,  if  nghllj 

Rt-tnltr  FalstaC 

ere  como)  lean  Jack,  here  cone,  bai 
now,  my  sweet  creature  of  homba.! 
iii'l  ago.  Jack,  nnce  Ihou  nweit  thin 

Fai.  My  I 
Hr'    '  --- 


di  his  dagger;  and 
of  En);laiid,  but  h« 
I  done  in  6^i ;  aud 


knee?  whcnl  waiaboul.thjyean, 

[  an  eagle',  ulon  in  the  waist!  I 

■ualA  have  crept  into  any  alderman',  thumb-ring ; 

\  plapiit  nf  wghing  ami  grief!  il  blow,  a  man  up 

ike  a  bladder.     There',  villanous  new.  abroad  ; 

e  WB.  iir  Jc^n  Bracy  from  your  father;  jon 

3W  of  the  north,  Ferc^  ;  and  he  of  Wale.,  that 
e  Amaimai*  Ihe  baalinado,  and  made  Lucifer 


Fal.  Owen,  Owen  ;  the  nme ;— and  his  Hn-in- 
iw,  Morliinert  and  old  Norlbumbertand  ;  and 
Hal  fprighcly  Scot  of  Scots,  Douglas,  thai  runa 
^honeback  up  a  hill  perpeudicular- 

P.  Hen.  He  thai  ndea  at  high  speed,  and  wilh 
lis  pitlol  kill,  a  sparrow  dying. 


P. 

//(n.  Whj,  wha 

a  lucil 

art  Ihou  Ihen,  (0 

.O'hor*eback,ye 

bul,  afoot,  he  wil. 

101  b 

P- 

daeafoot 
l/m.  Yes  Jack, 

uponinil 
inslincL 

F« 

,  1  gianl  ye.  upoi 

Well,  he  ii  then 

and.  th 

Hisand  blue-capit 
ay  to-nighl;  t\f 

'.  b<'ard  IB  lumed 

hthe  news;  joi- 

ui  land  now  a. 

heap  MS 

nking  mackarel. 

P.  lien.  Why  then. 

liiUlie,if 

there'come.ha 

40S 


FIRST  PART  OF  KI.NG  HENRY  IV. 


Ad  //. 


Jane,  and  diu  civil  buAetin^  bold,  we  ihmll  bar 
mBidcnbMids  as  they  buT  hob-iiaiU,  by  the  hundred. 
fkL  Br  the  mass,  fad,  thou  savest  true ;  it  i» 
Ifte,  we  iImII  have  gpod  trading  t}iat  way. — But, 
tell  me,  Hal,  art  th^  not  horriGly  afearil .'  thou 
bemg  bar  apparent,  could  the  worid  pick  thee  out 
three  inch  enemies  a|;;ain,  as  that  fitmd  Douglas 
that  spirit  Perrv,  and  that  d<>vil  (ilendower.'  Art 
thou  noC  horribly  afraid  ?  doth  not  thv  blood  thrill 

ata? 

P.  Hen.  Not  a  whit,  iYaith ;  I  lack  some  of  thy 
mstinrt. 

FkL  Well,  thou  wilt  be  horribly  chid  to-morrow, 
when  thou  coment  to  thy  £sther :  if  thou  lo\-e  me, 
pTBCtise  an  answer. 

P.  Hen.  Do  thou  stand  for  mj  fether,  and  ex- 
amine me  upon  the  particulars  of  mv  life. 

FaL  ShaA  I  ?  content :— This  chair  shall  be  my 
gtate,!  this  dagigcr  my  sceptre,  and  this  cushion  my 


these 


P,  Hen.  Thy  utate  is  taken  for  a  joint-stool,  thy 
golden  sceptre  (w  a  Iraden  da^cfrer,  and  thy  pre- 
cious rich  crown,  for  a  pitiful  bald  crown  ! 

FaL  Well,  an  the  fire  of  grace  be  not  quite  out 
ot  thee,  now  shah  thou  U;  moved. — (iive  me  a  cup 
of  sack,  to  make  mine  eyes  lode  red,  that  it  may 
be  thoiKht  I  have  wept ;  for  I  must  speak  in  pas- 
■on,  and  I  will  do  it  in  king  Camb)  ses*^  Teio. 

P.  Hen.  Well,  Iktc  is  niy  leg.* 

f\U.  And  here  is  mv  spcci'h : — Stand  aside,  no- 
bihtv. 

itoat  Thi^  is  excellent  sport,  i*faith. 

FaL  Weep  not,  sweet  queen,  for  trickling  tears 
arc  vain. 

Host.  O,  the  father,  how  he  holds  his  counte- 
nance ! 

FaL  For  God*s  sake,  lords,  convey  my  tristfuH 
queen. 
For  tears  do  stop  the  fkxxl-^tes  of  her  eyes. 

HosL  O  rare !  he  doth  it  as  like  one  of 
hariotr}'  players,  aj*  I  ever  »ee. 

FaL  Peace,  gtiod  pint-pot ;  peace,  good  tickle- 
brain.^ — Hany,  I  do  not  only  marvel  where  thou 
spendent  thy  time,  but  also  dow  thou  art  accom- 
panied :  fur  though  the  camomile,  the  more  it  is 
trodden  on,  the  faster  it  grows,  jet  youth,  the  more 
it  ib  waited,  the  sooner  it  wears.  That  thou  art 
my  son,  I  have  partly  thy  mother's  word,  partly 
mv  own  opinion  :  but  chiefly,  a  villanous  tnck  oS* 
thine  eye,  and  a  foolish  hanpng  of  thy  nether  lip, 
that  doth  warrant  mo.  If  then  thou  he  son  to  m«>, 
here  lies  the  point ; — Why,  being  son  to  me,  art 
thou  so  pointed  at .'  Shall  ihc  blessed  sun  of  hea%'en 
prove  a  micher,^  and  eat  black bcrrieii .'  a  question 
not  to  be  a«tked.  Shall  the  son  of  England  prove  a 
thief,  and  take  puptes.'  a  question  to  be  asked. 
There  is  a  thin«r,  Harn*,  which  thou  hast  often 
hf^ard  of,  and  it  is  knovvn  to  many  in  our  land  In 
the  name  of  pitch  :  this  pitch,  as  ancient  writer^  do 
report,  ddth  defile;  so  doth  the  company  thou 
keepest :  for,  Harr}',  now  I  do  not  speak  to  thee  in 
drink,  but  in  tears;  not  in  pleasure,  out  in  pa<!»ion : 
not  in  words  onlv,  but  in  woes  also : — And  vet 
there  is  a  virtuoiH  man,  whom  I  have  often  noted 
in  thy  companv,  but  I  know  not  his  name. 

P.  Hen.  VVhat  manner  of  man,  an  it  like  your 
majc«ty? 

Fal.  A  good  portly  man,  i'fiiith,  and  a  corpu- 

(1)  Chair  of  state. 

(2)  A  character  in  a  Tragedy  bv  T.  Preston,  1570. 

(3)  Obeisance.  (4)  Sorrowful. 

(5)  Name  of  a  strong  litjiior.       (6)  A  truant  boy. 
(7)  A  \0un5  rabbc!.' 


lent ;  of  a  cheerful   look,  a  pleasing  rye,  and  a 

most  noble  carria^;  and,  as  1  think,  his  age  aone 

fifty,  or,  byVlady,  mclining  to  tfareeacore ;  and  now 

!  I  remember  me,  his  name  is  Falstaff:  if  that  nan 

j  should  be  lewdly  given,  he  deceiveth  me ;  for,  Har- 

'  ry,  I  see  virtue  in  his  kwks.     If  then  the  tree  may 

I  Iw  known  by  the  fruit,  as  the  fruit  by  the  tree,  then, 

peremptorilr  I  speak  it,  there  u  virtue  in  that  Fal- 

stafif:  him  fceep  with,  the  rest  banish.     And  uW 

me  now,  thou  naughty  varlet,  tell  me,  where  last 

thou  been  this  month .' 

P.  Hen.  Dost  thou  speak  like  a  king .'  Do  tboa 
^tand  for  me,  and  Pll  play  mr  &ther. 

FaL  Depose  me .'  if  tlxM  owt  it  half  sograTeh-, 
so  majestically,  both  in  word  and  matter,  hanr  ine 
up  by  the  heels  for  a  rabbet-socker,'  or  a  pouTler's 
hare. 

P.  Hen.  Well,  here  I  am  set 

FaL  And  here  I  stand :— judge,  nj  maflteia. 

P.  Hen.  Now,  Harr)' .'  whei^  oone  jou? 

Fal.  My  noble  lord,' from  Easlcfaeap. 

P.  Hen.  The  complaints  I  hear  of  thee  are 
grievous. 

Fal.  'Sblood,  my  lord,  they  are  false :— nay,  I*U 
tickle  ve  for  a  young  prince,  i*iailh. 

P.  yien.  Swearcst  thou,  ungracious  bar  ?  hence- 
forth neVr  look  on  me.  Thou  art  violently  carried 
away  from  g^race :  there  is  a  deril  haunts  thee,  in 
th<>  fikeness  of  a  &t  old  man :  a  tun  of  man  is  thy 
comiHuiion.  Why  dost  thou  converw  with  that 
iruiiK  of  huRKMirs,  that  boltii^-hntch*  of  beastli- 
ness that  swoln  parcel  of  dropsies,  that  hi^  bom- 
t>ardd  of  sack,  tnat  stuffed  cloak-bag  of  nits,  thai 
roHoted  Manningtree'*'  ox  witfi  the  pudding  in  his 
lielly,  that  reverend  vice,  that  grey  iniquity,  that 
father  ruffian,  that  vani^  in  year«  ?  Wherein  is  he 
trorni,  but  to  taste  sack  and  drink  it  ?  wherein  neat 
Hnd  cleanly,  but  to  carve  a  capon  and  eat  it.* 
wherein  cunning,  but  in  craft  ?  wncrein  crafty,  hot 
ill  villany.'  wherein  villanous,  but  in  all  things.' 
wherein  worthy,  but  in  nothii^.' 

FaL  I  would,  your  grace  would  take  ma  with 
you  ;ii  Whom  means  your  grace  ? 

P.  Hen.  That  villanous  abominable  misleader 
of  vouth,  FalstafT,  that  old  white-bearded  Satan. 

/ W.  Mj  lord,  the  man  I  know. 

P.  Hen.  I  know,  thou  dost 

FaL  But  to  say,  I  know  more  harm  in  hiro  than 
in  nivself,  were  to  say  more  than  I  know.  That  lie 
is  old  (the  more  the  pity,)  his  white  hairs  do  wit- 
nes>n  it :  but  that  he  is  (saving  your  revereiM-e)  a 
H'lion'niaster,  that  I  utterly  deny.  If  sack  and  »n- 
g:ar  l)e  a  fault,  God  help  the  wicked  !  If  to  be  old 
and  nierrv-  be  a  sin,  then  many  an  old  host  that  I 
know,  i^  damned  :  if  to  be  fat  be  to  be  hated,  then 
FtmraohN  lean  kine  arc  to  be  lo\'ed.  No,  my  ^ood 
lord  ;  iKiniMi  Peto,  banish  Bardolph,  banish'Puins : 
l>ut  for  iiweet  Jack  FalstaflT,  kind  Jack  Fnl-tafl^ 
true  Jack  FalstaiT,  valiant  Jack  Falstalf,  and  ihtre- 
fon-  more  valiant,  being  as  he  is,  old  Jack  F'aUtiifl^ 
iNinish  not  him  thy  Harr\  *s  company ;  banish  plump 
w'.-irk,  and  bani>h  all  the  world. 

P.  J  fen.  I  do,  I  will.  [.4  knocking  heari. 

[EreufU  Hostess,  Francis,  and  Bardolph. 
Re-enter  Bardolph,  running. 

Bard.  O,  my  lord,  m^'  lord ;  the  sherilf,  with  ■ 
rnost  moiihtrous  watch,  is  at  the  door. 

FaL  Out,  you  rogue !  play  out  tlie  play :  I  hnvf 
much  to  sa,^  'in  the  bchalt  o{  that  FalstM£ 

(R)  T\w  machine  which  separates  flour  from  bran 
(9)  A  leather  black-jack  to  hold  beer. 

(1())  In  E^«4>x,w)iere  a  large  ox  was  roasted  who 
ni    ri«i  r.o  fiflei  :linn  I  ran  follow. 


Seme  I. 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


403 


Re-enter  Hostess,  hastily. 
Host  O  JesUf  my  lord,  my  lord  !- 


fhL  Heigh,  beigh !  the  devil  rides  upon  a  fid- 
dle-«tick  :  What's  the  matter  ? 

Host.  The  sheriff  and  all  the  watch  are  at  the 
door :  they  are  come  to  search  the  house :  Shall  I 
let  them  in  ? 

FaL  Dost  thoa  hear,  Hal?  never  call  a  true 
piece  of  gold,  a  counterfeit :  thou  art  essentially 
mad,  without  seeming  so. 

P.  Hen.  And  thou  a  nati}ral  coward,  without 
instinct 

fhL  I  deny  your  major :  if  you  will  deny  the 
dieriff,  so ;  if  not,  let  him  enter :  if  I  become  not 
a  cart  as  well  as  another  man,  a  plague  on  my 
bringing  up !  I  hope,  I  shall  as  soon  be  strangled 
with  a  halter,  as  another. 

P.  Hen.  Go,  hide  thee  behind  the  arras  ;< — the 
rest  walk  up  above.  Now,  my  masters,  for  a  true 
face,  and  good  conscience. 

FaL  Both  which  I  have  had :  but  their  date  is 
oat,  and  therefore  Pll  hide  me. 

[Exeunt  all  but  the  Prince  and  Pcnus. 

P.  Hen,  Call  in  the  sheriff. 

Enter  Sheriff  and  Carrier. 

Now,  master  sheriff;  what's  your  will  with  roe? 

Sher.  First,  pardon  me,  my  lord.  A  hue  and  cry 
Hath  fbllow'd  certain  men  unto  this  house. 

P.  Hen.  What  men  ? 

Sher.  One  of  tibem  is  well  known,  my  gracious 
lord, 
A  K^ou  fat  man. 

Uur.  As  fat  as  butter. 

P.  Hen,  The  man,  1  do  assure  you,  is  not  here ; 
For  I  ajnlf  at  dliis  tfane  have  emplqy'd  him. 
And,  sherifl^  I  will  engage  my  word  to  thee, 
That  I  will,  by  to-morrow  dinner-time, 
Send  him  to  answer  thee,  or  any  man. 
For  any  thing  he  shall  be  chai^'d  withal : 
And  so  let  me  entreat  you  leave  the  house. 

Sker.  I  will,  my  lord :  There  are  two  gentlemen 
Have  in  this  robbery  lost  three  hundred  marks. 

P.  Hen.  It  may  be  so :  if  he  have  robb'd  these 
men. 
He  shall  be  answerable ;  and  so,  farewell. 

Sher.  Good  night,  my  noble  lord. 

P.  Hen.  I  think  it  is  good  morrow ;  is  it  not  ? 

Sher.  Indeed,  my  lord,  I  think  it  be  two  o'clock. 

[Exeunt  Sheriff  and  Carrier. 

P.  Hen.  This  oily  rascal  is  known  as  well  as 
Plial's.3    Go,  call  him  forth. 

Poins.  Falstaff! — fast  asleep  behind  the  arras, 
and  snorting  like  a  horse. 

P.  Hen.  Hark,  how  hard  he  fetches  breath : 
Search  his  pockets.  [Poins  searches.]  What  hast 
thou  found  ? 

Poins.  Nothing  but  papers,  my  lord. 

P.  Hen.  Let's  see  what  they  be :  read  them. 

Poins.  Item,  A  capon,  2s.  2d. 
Item,  Sauce,  4d. 
Item,  Sack,  two  gallons,  5s.  8d. 
Item,  Anchovies,  and  sack  after  supper,  2s.  (d. 
Item,  Bread,  a  halfpenny. 

P.  Hen.  O  monstrous!  but  one  halfpenny  worth 
of  bread  to  this  intolerable  deal  of  sack  ! — What 
there  is  else,  keep  close ;  we'll  read  it  at  more  ad- 
vantage :  there  let  him  sleep  till  day.  I'll  to  the 
court  m  the  morning :  we  must  all  to  the  wars,  and 
Ay  place  shall  be  honourable.  I'll  procure  this  fat 
rogue  a  diarge  of  foot ;  and,  I  know,  his  death 


ri)  Tapestry. 
[3)  BeginaiBg. 


(2)  St  Paul's  cathedral. 


will  be  a  march  of  twelve-score.    The  mone? 
shall  be  paid  back  again  with  advantage.  Be  with 
me  betimes  in  the  rooming ;  and  so  good  morrow, 
Poins. 
PotNj.  Good  morrow,  good  my  lord.  [ExeimL 


ACT  III. 

SCEJ^E  /.—Bangor.  A  room  in  the  archdea- 
con's house.  Enter  Hotspur,  Worcester,  Mor> 
timer,  and  Glendower. 

Mort.  These  promises  are  fur,  the  parties  sure. 
And  our  induction*  full  of  prosperous  hope. 

Hoi.  Lord  Mortimer,  and  cousin  Glendower, — 

Will  you  sit  down  ? 

And,  uncle  Worcester : — A  plague  upon  it ! 
1  have  foigot  the  map. 

Glend.  No,  here  it  is. 

Sit,  cousin  Percy ;  ut,  good  cousin  Hotspur : 
For  by  that  name  as  oft  as  Lancaster 
Doth  speak  of  you,  his  cheek  \ock%  pale ;  and  with 
A  rising  sigh,  he  wisheth  you  in  heaven. 

Hot.  And  you  in  hell,  as  often  as  he  h^urs 
Owen  Glendower  spoke  of. 

Glend.  I  cannot  olame  him :  at  my  nativity. 
The  front  of  heaven  was  full  of  fiery  shapes. 
Of  burning  cressets  ;4  and,  at  my  birth, 
The  frame  and  huge  foundation  of  the  earth 
Shak'd  like  a  coward. 

HoL  y^y%  w>  it  would  have  done 

At  the  same  season,  if  your  mother's  cat  had 
But  kitten'd,  though  yoorrelf  had  ne'er  been  bom. 

Gknd.  Imj^nm  eaitfi-did  ri»lte wheal  was 
bom. 

Hot.  And  I  say,  the  earth  was  not  of  my  mind. 
If  you  suppose,  as  fearing  you  it  shook. 

UUnd.  The  heavens  were  all  on  fire,  the  earth 
did  tremble.  ' 

Hot.  O,  then  the  earth  shodc  to  see  the  heavens 
on  fire. 
And  not  in  fear  of  your  nativity. 
Diseased  nature  oftentimes  breaks  forth 
In  strange  eruptions :  oft  the  teeming  earth 
Is  with  a  kind  of  colic  pinch'd  and  vex'd 
By  the  Imprisoning  of  unruly  wind 
Within  her  womb ;  which,  forenlan;ement  striving. 
Shakes  the  old  beldame  earth,  and  topples*  down 
Steeples,  and  moss-grown  towers.     At  your  birth. 
Our  grandam  earth,  having  this  distemperature. 
In  passion  shodc. 

Glend.  Cousin,  of  many  men 

I  do  not  bear  these  crossings.    Give  me  leave 
To  tell  you  once  again, — that  at  my  birth. 
The  front  of  h^iven  was  full  of  fiery  shapes ; 
The  goats  ran  from  the  mountains,  and  the  herds 
Were  strangely  clamorous  to  the  frighted  fields. 
These  signs  have  mark'd  me  extraordinar}' ; 
And  all  tne  courses  of  my  life  do  show, 
I  am  not  in  the  roll  of  common  men. 
Where  is  he  living,— <;lipp'd  in  with  the  sea 
That  chides  the  banks  of  England,    Scotland, 

Wales,— 
Which  calls  me  pupil,  or  hath  read  to  me  ? 
And  bring  him  out,  that  is  but  woman's  son, 
Can  trace  me  in  the  tedious  ways  of  art. 
And  hold  me  pace  in  deep  experiments. 

Hot.  I  think,  there  is  no  man  speaks  better 
WeUh : 

(4)  Lights  set  crossways  upon  beacons,  and  who 
upon  poles,  which  were  usea  in  processionsi  iftc 

(5)  Tumbles. 


404 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HEMIY  IV. 


Ad  in. 


I  will  to  dinner. 

Mort.  Peace,  cousin  Percj ;  joa  will  make  him 
mad. 

Glend.  I  can  call  spiritB  from  the  vaaty  deep. 

Hoi.  Why,  80  can  I ;  or  so  can  any  man  : 
But  will  they  come,  when  you  do  call  for  them  ? 

GleruL  Why,  I  can  teach  you,  cousin,  to  command 
The  devil. 

Hot.  And  I  can  teach  thee,  coz,  to  shame  the  devil, 
Bv  telling  truth  ;  Tell  truth,  and  shame  the  devil. — 
Jf  thou  have  power  to  raise  him,  bring  him  hither. 
And  IMl  be  sworn,  I  have  power  to  shame  him  hence. 
O,  while  you  live,  tell  truth,  and  shame  the  devil. 

Mort.  Come,  come. 
No  more  of  this  unprofitable  chat 

Glend,  Three  times  hath  Henry  Bolingbroke 
made  head 
Against  my  power :  thrice  from  the  banks  of  Wye, 
And  sandv-bottomM  Severn,  have  I  sent  him. 
Bootless^  home,  and  weather-beaten  back. 

Hoi.  Home  without  boots,  and  in  foul  weather 
too! 
How  *scapes  he  agues,  in  the  deviPs  name  f 

Glend.  Come,  here's  the  map ;  Shall  we  divide 
our  right. 
According  to  our  three-fold  order  ta*en  f 

Mori.  The  archdeacon  hath  divided  it 
Into  three  limits,  very  equally : 
England,  from  Trent  and  Severn  hitherto, 
Bv  south  and  east,  is  to  my  part  a^ignM  : 
All  westward,  Wales  beyond  the  Severn  shore. 
And  all  the  fertile  land  within  that  bound. 
To  Owen Glendower : — and,  dear  coz,  toyou 
The  remnant  northward,  1^-ing  off  from  Trent 
And  our  indentures  tripartite^  are  drawn : 
Which  being  sealed  interchangeably 
(A  business  that  this  night  may  execute,) 
To-morrow,  cousin  Percy,  you,  and  I, 
^  And  my  good  lord  of  Worcester,  will  set  forth, 
'  To  meet  your  father,  and  the  Scottish  power,' 
As  is  appointed  i|^  at  Shrewsbury. 
My  father  Glendower  is  not  ready  yet. 
Nor  shall  we  need  his  help  these  fourteen  days  : — 
Within  that  space,  [To  Glend.]  you  may  have 

drawn  together 
Your  tenants,  friends,  and  neighbouring  gentlemen. 

Glend.  A  shorter  time  sh&ll  eend  mc  to  you,  lord:^, 
And  in  my  conduct  shall  your  ladies  come  : 
From  whom  you  now  must  steal,  and  take  no  leave ; 
For  there  will  be  a  world  of  water  shed. 
Upon  the  parting  of  your  wives  and  you. 

Hot.  Methinks,  my  moiety ,4  north  from  Burton 
here. 
In  quantity  equals  not  one  of  yours : 
See,  how  this  river  comes  me  cranking  in. 
And  cuts  me,  from  the  best  of  all  my  land, 
A  huge  half  moon,  a  monstrous  cantM  out 
IMI  have  the  current  in  this  place  damm*d  up ; 
And  here  the  smug  and  silver  Trent  shall  run. 
In  a  new  channel,  fair  and  evenly : 
It  shall  not  wind  with  such  a  deep  indent. 
To  rob  me  of  so  rich  a  bottom  here. 

Glend.  Not  wind  .'  it  shall,  it  must ;  you  see,  it 
doth. 

Mort.  Yea, 
But  mark,  how  be  bears  his  course,  and  nini< 

me  up 
With  like  advantage  on  the  other  side ; 
Gelding<{  the  opposed  continent  as  much. 
As  on  me  other  side  it  takes  from  you. 

fl)  Unsuccessful.     (2)  Three  copies.      (3)  Force. 
f4)  Part.  (5)  Comer.  (6)  Cutting. 

(7)  Candlestick.      (8;  The  writer  of  the  articles 


Wor.  Yea,  but  a  little  charge  will  trench  him 
here, 
And  on  this  north  side  win  this  cape  of  land; 
And  then  he  runs  straight  and  even. 

Hot.  ril  have  it  so ;  a  little  charge  will  doit 

Glend.  I  will  not  have  it  altered. 

Hoi.  Will  not  you? 

Glend.  No,  nor  you  shall  not 

Hoi.  Who  shall  say  roe  nay  ? 

Glend.  Why,  that  will  I. 

Hot.  Let  me  not  understand  yon  then, 

Speak  it  in  Welsh. 

Glend.  1  can  speak  English,  lord,  as  well  as  yoa ; 
For  I  was  trainM  up  in  the  English  court : 
Where,  being  but  vouns,  I  framed  to  the  harp 
Many  an  English  ditty,  lovely  well. 
And  gave  the  tongue  a  helptul  ornament ; 
A  virtue  that  was  never  seen  in  you. 

Hoi.  Marry,  and  Vm  glad  of  it  with  all  my  heart ; 
I  had  rather  be  a  kitten,  and  cry — ^mew. 
Than  one  of  these  same  metre  rallad-mongers : 
I  had  rather  hear  a  brazen  canstick^  tum*a, 
Or  a  dry  wheel  grate  on  an  axle-tree ; 
And  that  would  set  my  teeth  nothing  on  edge, 
Nothing  so  much  as  mincing  poetry ; 
^Tis  like  the  forcM  gait  of  a  snuffling  nag. 

Glend.  Come,  you  shall  have  Trent  tum*d. 

Hoi.  I  do  not  care :  IMI  give  thrice  so  much  land 
To  any  well-deserving  friend ; 
But,  in  the  way  of  bargain,  mark  ye  me, 
IMl  cavil  on  the  ninth  part  of  a  hair. 
Are  the  indentures  drawn  ?  shall  we  be  gone  f 

Glend.  The  moon  shines  fair,  you  may  away 
by  night : 
ril  haste  the  writer,^  and,  withal. 
Breaks  with  your  wives  of  your  dieparture  hence : 
I  am  afraid,  mv  daughter  will  run  road, 
So  much  she  aoteth  on  her  Mortimer.  [Emt 

Mori.  Fie,  cousin  Percy !  how  you  cross  my 
father ! 

Hot  I  cannot  choose :  sometimes  he  angers  n» 
With  telling  roe  of  the  moldwarpio  and  the  ant. 
Of  the  dreamer  Merlin  and  his  prophecies; 
And  of  a  dragon  and  a  finless  nsh, 
A  rUp-wing'dgriffin,  and  a  rodUlten  raven, 
A  V  ouching  lion,  and  a  ramping  cat, 
A  ltd  such  a  deal  of  skimble-skamble  stuff 
As  puts  me  from  my  faith.     I  tell  you  what, — 
He  held  me,  but  last  night,  at  least  nine  hours 
In  reckoning  up  the  several  devils*  names. 
That  were  his  lackeys:  I  cried,   humjJi, — and 

well, — go  to, — 
Rut  mark'd  him  not  a  word.    O,  be*8  as  tedious 
As  is  a  tired  horse,  a  railing  wife  ; 
Worse  than  a  smoky  house : — I  had  rather  lire 
With  cheese  and  garlic,  in  a  windroill,  tar. 
Than  feed  on  cates,^!  and  have  him  talk  to  me, 
In  any  summer-house  in  ChristendonrL 

Mori.  In  faith,  he  is  a  worthy  gentleman ; 
Exceedingly  well  read,  and  profited 
In  strange  concealments  ;13  valiant  as  a  lion, 
And  wond^rous  affable ;  and  as  bountiful 
As  mines  of  India.     Shall  I  tell  you,  cousin? 
He  holds  your  temper  in  a  high  respect. 
And  curfa«  himself  even  of  his  natural  scope. 
When  you  do  cross  his  humour ;  faith,  he  does : 
I  warrant  you,  that  man  is  not  alive. 
Might  so  have  tempted  him  as  you  have  done. 
Without  the  taste  of  danger  and  reproof; 
But  do  not  use  it  oft,  let  me  entreat  you. 

fVor.  In  faith,  my  lord,  you  are  too  wilful-blaoM 

(9)  Break  the  matter.  (10)  Mole. 

(11)  Dainties.  (12)  Secrets. 


//. 


FIRST  PART  OF  KIXG  HENRY  IV. 


405 


And  since  jour  coining  hither  have  done  enough 
To  put  him  quite  be«iae  his  patience. 
Too  roust  needs  learn,  lord,  to  amend  this  fault : 
Though  sometimes  it  show  greatness,  courage,  blood 
(And  that's  the  dearest  grace  it  renders  you,) 
Yet  oftentimes  it  doth  present  harsh  rage, 
Defect  of  manners,  want  of  government. 
Pride,  haughtiness,  opinion,  and  disdain  : 
The  least  of  which,  daunting  a  nobleman, 
Loseth  men's  hearts ;  and  leaves  behind  a  stain 
Upon  the  beauty  of  all  parts  besides. 
Beguiling  them  of  commendation. 
Hot,   Well,  I  am  school'd;  good  manners  be 
your  speed ! 
Here  come  our  wives,  and  let  us  take  our  leave. 

Re-enter  Glendower,  toith  the  Ladies. 
Mort.  This  is  the  deadly  spite  that  angers  roe, — 
My  wife  can  speak  no  Engl^,  I  no  Welsh. 
GUnd,  My  daughter  weeps ;  she  will  not  part 
with  you. 
She'll  oe  a  soldier  too,  she'll  to  the  wars. 
Mort.  Good  father,  tell  her, — that  she,  and  my 
aunt  Percy, 
Sh»ll  follow  in  your  conducti  spieedilv. 

[Glendower  tpeaJu  to  hU  daughter  in  WeUh^ 
and  $he  anstoers  him  in  the  same. 
Glend.  She's  desperate  here;  a  peevish  self- 
will'd  harlotry. 
One  no  persuasion  can  do  good  upon. 

I  Lady  M.  speaks  to  Mortimer  in  fVelsh. 

Mort.  I  understana  thy  looks :  that  pretty  Welsh 

Which  thou  pourest  down  from  these  swelling 

heavens, 
I  am  too  perfect  in ;  and,  but  for  shame, 
In  such  a  parley  would  I  answer  thee. 

[Lady  M.  speaks. 
I  understand  thy  kisses,  and  thou  mine, 
And  that's  a  feeling  disputation : 
But  I  will  never  be  a  truant,  love. 
Till  I  have  leam'd  thy  language ;  for  thy  tongue 
Makes  Welsh  as  sweet  as  ditties  highly  penn'd, 
Sung  by  a  fair  cnieen  in  a  summer's  bower, 
Wim  ravishing  division,  to  her  lute.3 
Glend.  Nay,  if  you  melt,  then  will  she  run  mad. 

[Lady  M.  speaks  again. 
Mort.  O,  I  am  ignorance  itself  in  this. 
GUnd.  She  bids  yoii 
Upon  the  wanton  rushes  lay  you  down. 
An  1  rest  your  ^tle  head  upon  her  lap. 
An  I  she  will  sing  the  song  that  pleaseth  vou. 
An  I  on  your  eye-lids  crown  the  god  of  sfeep, 
Charming  your  blood  with  pleasing  heaviness ; 
Making  such  difference  'twixt  wake  and  sleep. 
As  is  the  difference  betwixt  day  and  night. 
The  hour  before  the  heavenly-haroess'd  team 
Begins  his  golden  progress  in  the  east. 
Mort.  With  all  my  heart  I'll  sit,  and  hear  her 
sing: 
By  that  time  will  our  book,'  I  think,  be  drawn. 

GUnd.  Do  so ; 
And  those  musicians  that  shall  play  to  you, 
Hang  in  the  air  a  thousand  leagues  from  hence ; 
Yet  strait  thev  shall  be  here ;  sit,  and  attend. 

Hot.  Come,  Kate,  thou  art  perfect  in  lying  down : 
Come,  quick,  quick ;  that  I  may  lay  my  head  in  thy 
lap. 
Lady  P.  Go,  ye  giddy  goose. 

Glendower  speaks  some  WeUh  toordSf  and  then  the 
music  plays. 


(1)  Guard,  escort 

'2)  A  compliment  to  aueen  Elizabeth. 

|d)  Our  paper  of  conaitions. 


I 


Hot.  Now  I  perceive,  the  devil  understands 
WeUh; 
And  'tis  no  marvel,  he's  so  huroorout. 
By'r-lady,  he's  a  good  musician. 

Ladu  P.  Then  should  you  be  nothing  but  mu- 
sical ;  K>r  you  are  altoeetlier  governed  by  humours. 
Lie  still,  ye  thief,  and  hear  the  lady  sing  in  Wei^h. 

Hot.  I  had  rather  hear  Lady^  my  brach,^  howl 
in  Irish.  • 

Lady  P.  Would'st  thou  have  thy  bead  broken.' 

Hot.  No. 

Lady  P.  Then  be  still. 

Hot.  Neither ;  'tis  a  woman's  fault 

Lady  P.  Now  God  help  thee  ! 

Hot.  To  the  Welsh  lady's  bed. 

Lady  P.  What's  that .? 

Hot.  Peace !  she  sings. 

A  Welsh  SONG  «unf  6y  Lady  M. 

Hot.  Come,  Kate,  I'll  have  your  song  too. 

Lady  P.  Not  mine,  in  good  sooth. 

Hot.  Not  yours,  in  good  sooth !  'Heart,  you  swear 
like  a  comfit-maker's  wife  !  Not  you,  in  good  sooth ; 
and.  As  true  as  I  live ;  and.  As  God  shall  mend 
me  ;  and,  As  sure  as  day : 
And  giv'st  such  sarcenet  surety  for  thy  oaths. 
As  if  thou  never  walk'dst  further  than  Finsbury.* 
Swear  me,  Kate,  like  a  lady,  as  thou  art, 
A  good  mouth-filling  oath ;  and  leave  in  sooth« 
And  such  protest  of^pepper-gingerbread. 
To  velvet-guards,^  and  Sunday-citizens. 
Come,  sing. 

Lady  P.  I  will  not  sing. 

Hot.  'Tis  the  next  way  to  turn  tailor,  or  be  red- 
breast teacher.  An  the  indentures  be  drawn,  Pll 
away  within  these  two  hours ;  and  so  come  in  when 
ye  will.  [Exit. 

GUnd.  Come,  come,  lord  Mortimer ;  you  are  as 
slow. 
As  hot  lord  Percy  is  on  fire  to  ga 
By  this  our  book's  drawn :  we'll  but  seal,  and  then 
To  horse  immediately. 

MoH.  With  all  my  heart  [Exe. 

SCEJ^TE  //.— Lcodoo.  A  room  in  the  paiace. 
Enter  King  Henry,  Prince  qf  Wales,  and 
Lords. 

K.  Hen.  Lords,  eive  as  leave ;  the  prince  of 

Wales  and  I, 
Must  have  some  conference :  But  be  near  at  hand. 
For  we  shall  presently  have  need  of  you. — 

[Kxeut^  Lords. 
I  know  not  whether  God  will  have  it  so. 
For  some  displeasing  service  I  have  done, 
That  in  his  secret  doom  out  of  my  blood 
He'll  breed  revengement  and  a  scourge  for  me ; 
But  thou  doiit,  in  my  passages  of  life. 
Make  me  believe, — that  thou  art  only  mark'd 
For  the  hot  vengeance  and  the  rod  of  heaven. 
To  punish  my  mis-treadings.     Tell  me  else, 
Could  such  inordinate,  and  low  desires. 
Such  poor,  such  bare,  such  lewd,  such  mean  at* 

tempts,' 
Such  barren  pleasures,  rude  society. 
As  thou  art  match'd  withal,  and  grafted  to. 
Accompany  the  greamess  of  thy  blood. 
And  hold  their  level  with  thy  princely  heart  ? 

P.  Hen.  So  please  your  majesty,  I  would,  I  could 
Quit  all  offences  with  as  clear  excuse. 
As  well  as,  I  am  doubdess,  I  can  purge 

(4)  Hound.  (5)  In  Moorfields. 

(6)  Laced  velvet,  the  finery  of  cockneys. 

(7)  Unworthy  undertakings. 


406 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  HT. 


JIrt  m 


M.vself  of  manT  I  am  chargM  withal : 
Yet  such  exteDuatioQ  let  me  beg, 
As,  in  reproof  of  many  XaXea  devis'd, — 
Which  ott  the  ear  of  greatness  needs  must  hear, — 
By  smiling  pick>thanksi  and  base  newsmongers, 
I  may,  for  some  thing^s  true,  wherein viy  youth 
Hath  faulty  wanderM  and  irregular, 
Find  pardon  on  my  true  submission. 
K.  Hen.  God  pardon  thee  I — ^yet  let  me  wonder, 
Harry, 
At  thy  aflfections,  which  do  hold  a  wii^ 
Quite  from  the  flight  of  all  thy  ancestors. 
Thy  place  in  council  thou  hast  rudely  lost. 
Which  by  thy  younger  brother  is  supplied ; 
And  art  almost  an  alien  to  the  hearts 
Of  all  the  court  and  princes  of  my  blood  : 
The  hope  and  expectation  of  thy  time 
Is  ruinM ;  and  the  soul  of  every  man 
Prophetically  does  fore-think  thy  fall. 
Haa  I  so  lavish  of  my  presence  been. 
So  common-hackneyM  m  the  eyes  of  men. 
So  stale  and  cheap  to  vulgar  company ; 
(h)inion,  that  did  help  me  to  the  crown. 
Had  still  kept  loyal  to  possession  ;3 
And  left  me  in  reputeless  banishment, 
A  fellow  of  no  mark,  nor  likelihood. 
By  beii^  seldom  seen,  I  could  not  stir. 
But,  like  a  comet,  I  was  wonderM  at : 
That  men  would  tell  their  children.  This  is  he: 
Others  would  sav, — IVhere?  tdfuch  is  Bolingbroke? 
And  then  I  stole  all  courtesy  from  heaven. 
And  dressM  myself  in  such  hunulity. 
That  I  did  pluck  allegiance  from  men^s  hearts. 
Loud  shouts  and  salutations  from  their  mouths. 
Even  in  the  presence  of  the  crowned  king. 
Thus  did  I  keep  my  person  fresh,  and  new ; 
My  presence,  like  a  robe  pontifical, 
Ne*er  seen,  but  wonderM  at :  and  so  my  state. 
Seldom,  but  sumptuous,  showed  like  a  feast ; 
And  won,  by  rareness,  such  solemnity. 
Tlie  skipping  kii^,  he  ambled  up  and  down 
With  shallow  jesters,  and  rash  bavin'  wits, ' 
Soon  kindled,  and  soon  burnM :  carded  his  state ; 
Mingled  hb  royalty  with  caperin?  fools ; 
Had  his  great  name  profaned  with  their  scorns ; 
And  gave  his  countenance,  against  his  name. 
To  laugh  at  gibing  bm-s,  and  stand  the  push 
Of  every  beardless  vain  comparative  :^ 
Grew  a  companion  to  the  common  streets, 
Enfeoff*d^  himself  to  popularity : 
That  being  daily  swallowM  by  men^s  eyes. 
They  surfeited  with  honey ;  and  began 
To  loathe  the  taste  of  sweetness,  whereof  a  little 
More  than  a  little  is  by  much  too  much. 
So,  when  he  had  occasion  to  be  seen. 
He  was  but  as  the  cuckoo  is  in  June., 
Heard,  not  regarded ;  seen,  but  with  such  eyes. 
Aft,  sick  and  blunted  with  community, 
AftMrd  no  extraordinari'  gaxe. 
Such  as  L<  bent  on  sun-like  majesty 
When  it  shines  seldom  in  admiring  eyes : 
But  rather  drowx'd,  and  huns:  their  eye-lids  down. 
Slept  in  his  face,  and  render'd  such  aspect 
As  cloudy  men  use  to  their  adversaries ; 
Being  with  his  presence  glutted,  gorged,  and  fuIL 
And  in  diat  xery  line,  Harrr,  stand*st  thou : 
For  thou  hast  lo«t  thy  princely  privilege. 
With  vile  participation  ;  not  an  eye 
But  is  a-wearv  of  thy  common  sight. 
Save  mine,  wWh  hath  desired  to  see  thee  more ; 


(1)  OfficioQs  parasites. 

(2)  Tnie  to  him  that  had  then 
crowK 


of  the 


Which  now  doth  that  I  would  not  hare  it  do, 
Make  blind  itself  with  foolish  tendemest. 

P.  Hen.  I  shall  hereafter,  my  thrice-gracioufl  lord, 
Be  more  myself. 

K.  Hen.  For  all  the  world. 

As  thou  art  to  this  hour,  was  Richard  then 
Wlien  I  from  France  set  foot  at  Ravenspuig ; 
And  even  as  I  was  then,  is  Percy  now. 
Now  by  my  sceptre,  and  my  soul  to  boot. 
He  bath  more  worthy  interest  to  the  state. 
Than  thou,  the  shadow  of  succession ; 
For,  of  no  right,  nor  colour  like  to  right. 
He  doth  fill  &lds  with  harness^  in  the  realm ; 
Turns  head  against  the  lion*s  armed  jaws ; 
And,  being  no  more  in  debt  to  years  than  thou. 
Leads  ancient  lords  and  reverend  bishops  on, 
To  bloody  battles,  and  to  bruising  anna. 
What  never-dyins  honour  hath  he  got 
Aeainst  renowned  Douglas ;  whose  b%fa  deeds, 
W  hose  hot  incursions,  and  great  name  in  arais. 
Holds  from  all  soldiers  chief  majority, 
.Xnd  military  title  capital. 

Through  all  the  kingaomsdiatacknowlec%e  Christ? 
Thrice  hath  this  Hotspur  Mars  in  swathing  clothes, 
This  infant  warrior  in  his  enterprises 
Di:»comfited  great  Douglas :  ta^en  him  once, 
1-jiIarged  him,  and  nmde  a  friend  of  him. 
To  fill  the  mouth  of  deep  defiance  op. 
And  shake  the  peace  and  safoty  of  our  throne. 
And  what  say  you  to  this  ?  Percy,  Nortbomberland, 
The  archbiiAK>p*s  grace  of  Yoric,  Douglaa,  Mor 

timer. 
Capitulate'  against  as,  and  are  apL 
But  wherefore  do  I  tell  these  news  to  diee  } 
Why,  Harry,  do  I  tell  thee  of  my  foea, 
Whid)  art  my  near'st  and  dearest  enemy  ? 
Thou  that  art  like  enoi^h, — throogfa  vassal  fear. 

Base  inclination,  and  the  start  of  spleen, 

To  fight  against  me  under  Percy's  par. 

To  dog  his  heels,  and  courtly  at  his  frowns, 

To  Atom  how  much  degenerate  thou  art 

P.  Hen.  Do  not  think  so,  yon  shall  not  find  it  so; 
And  God  forgive  them,  that  hare  so  moch  sway*d 
Your  majesty's  good  thoughts  away  from  me  ! 
I  will  redeem  alt  this  on  Prey's  head. 
And,  in  the  closing  of  some  gtorioos  day. 
Be  bold  to  tell  you,  that  I  am  your  son ; 
When  I  will  wear  a  garment  all  of  blood. 
And  stain  my  favours  in  a  bloody  mask. 
Which,  wash'd  away,  shall  scour  my  shame  with  it 
And  that  shall  be  the  day,  whene'er  it  brhts, 
That  this  same  child  of  honour  and  renown. 
This  gallant  Hotspur,  thb  all-praised  knight 
And  your  unthought-of  Harry,  chance  to  meet : 
For  every  honour  sitting  on  Ins  helm, 
^  Would  they  were  multitudes ;  and  on  my  head 
My  shames  redouUed !  for  the  time  will  come. 
That  I  shall  make  this  northern  yonth  exchange 
His  glorious  deeds  for  my  indignities. 
Percy  is  but  my  factor,  «»d  my  lord. 
To  engross  up  sriorious  deeds  on  my  bdialf ; 
.And  I  will  callliim  to  so  strict  account. 
That  he  shall  render  ever}'  glory  up, 
Yea,  even  the  slightest  worshi])  of  his  time. 
Or  I  will  tear  the  reckoning  from  his  heart 
This  in  the  name  of  God,  I  promise  here : 
The  which  if  he  be  pleas'd  I  shall  perform, 
I  do  beseech  your  majesty,  mafMve 
The  long-grown  wounds  of  my  intemperance : 
If  not,  the  end  of  Ufo  cancels  all  ban^;9 


(3)  Broshwood.      (4)  RiraL 
(6)  Armour.      (7) 
(9)  Bonds. 


(5) 
(8)MaM&taL 


m. 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


407 


And  I  will  die  a  hundred  thousand  deaths, 
Ere  break  the  smallest  parceU  of  this  vow. 

K.  Hen,  A  hundred  thousand  rebels  die  in  this : — 
Thou  shalt  have  charge,  and  sovereign  trust,  herein. 

Enier  Blunt 

How  now,  good  Blunt  ?  thy  looks  are  full  of  speed. 

BhaU.  So  hath  the  buaness  that  I  come  to 
speak  oC 
Lord  Mortimer  of  Scotland  hath  sent  word,— 
That  Douglas,  and  the  English  rebels,  met. 
The  eleventh  of  this  month,  at  Shrewsbury : 
A  mighty  and  a  fearful  head  they  are. 
If  promises  be  kept  on  eveiy  hand. 
As  ever  offerM  foul  play  in  a  state. 

K,  Hen.  The  earl  of  Westmoreland  set  forth 
to-day; 
With  him  my  son,  lord  John  of  Lancaster ; 
For  this  advertisement^  is  five  days  old : — 
On  Wednesday  next,  Harry,  you  shall  set 
Forward ;  on  Thursday,  we  ourselves  will  march: 
Our  meeting  is  Bridgnorth :  and,  Harry,  you 
Sbail  march  throng  Glostershire ;  by  which  ac- 
count, 
Onr  business  valued,  some  twelve  davs  hence 
Oar  general  forces  at  Bridgnorth  shall  meet 
Our  bands  are  foil  of  business :  let*s  away  ; 
Advantage  feeds  him  fot,'  while  men  delay.  [£xe. 

SCEJ^E  ///.^Eastcheap.  A  room  in  the  Boar's 
Head  Tavern.    Enter  Falstaff  and  Bardolph. 

Fat.  Bardolph,  am  I  not  fallen  away  vilely  since 
this  last  action  r  do  I  not  bate  ?  do  I  not  dwindle  ? 
Why,  my  skin  hangs  about  me  like  an  old  lady*s 
kxMe  gown ;  I  am  withered  like  an  old  apple<John. 
Well,lMl  repait,  and  that  suddenly,  while  I  am  in 
■ome  liking  ;^  I  shall  be  out  of  heart  shortly,  and 
then  I  shall  have  no  strength  to  repent  An  I  have 
not  foigotten  what  the  inside  of  a  church  is  made 
o(^  I  am  a  pepper-com,  a  brewer*s  horse :  the  inside 
of  a  church !  Company,  villanous  company,  hath 
been  the  spoil  of  me. 

Bard.  Sir  John,  you  are  so  fretful,  you  cannot 
live  long. 

FaL  Why,  there  is  it  :^<ome,  ting  me  a  bawdy 
•oog ;  make  me  merry.  I  was  as  virtuously  given, 
as  a  gentleman  need  to  be ;  virtuous  enough :  swore 
little ;  diced,  not  above  seven  times  a  week  ;  went 
to  a  bawdy-house,  not  above  once  in  a  quarter — 
of  as  hour ;  paid  money  that  I  borrowed,  three  or 
four  times ;  lived  well,  and  in  good  compass :  and 
DOW  I  live  out  of  all  order,  out  of  all  compass. 

Bard,  Why,  you  are  so  fat,  sir  John,  tnat  you 
must  needs  be  out  of  all  compass ;  out  of  all  rea- 
sonable compass,  sir  John. 

Fal.  Do  thou  amend  thy  face,  and  Til  amend  my 
life :  Thou  art  our  admiral,^  thou  bearest  the  lan- 
tern in  the  poop, — but  *tis  in  the  nose  of  thee ;  thou 
art  the  kiiizht  of  the  burning  lamp. 

Bard  Why,  sir  J(^n,  my  face  does  you  no  harm. 

Fal.  No,  ril  be  sworn  ;  I  make  as  good  use  of 
it  as  many  a  man  doth  of  a  de^th^s  head,  or  a  me- 
mento mori :  I  never  see  thy  face,  but  I  think  upon 
bell-fire,  and  Dives  that  lived  in  purple  ;  for  there 
be  is  in  his  robes,  burning,  burning.  If  thou  wert 
any  way  given  to  virtue,  I  would  swear  by  thy 
foce ;  my  oath  should  be,  Bv  this  fire  :  but  thou  art 
altogether  given  over;  and  wert  indeed,  but  for 
the  light  in  thy  face,  the  son  of  utter  darkness. 
When  thou  ran^st  up  Gads-hill  in  the  night  to  catch 
my  hone,  if  I  did  not  think  thou  haost  been  an 

(1)  Part     (2)  Intelligence.     (3)  Feeds  himself. 
(4)  Have  some  fi&ih  (5)  Admiral's  ship. 


tents  faiuus,  or  a  ball  of  wildfire,  there's  no  pur- 
chase in  money.  O,  thou  art  a  perpetual  triumph^ 
on  everlasting  bonfire-Ii^t !  Tnou  hast  saved  me 
a  thousand  marks  in  Imks  and  torches,  walking 
with  thee  in  the  nieht,  betwixt  tavern  and  tavern: 
but  the  sack  that  thou  hast  drunk  me,  would  have 
bought  me  lights  as  good  cheap,  at  the  dearest 
chandler's  in  Europe.  I  have  maintained  that  sal* 
amander  of  yours  with  fire,  any  time  this  two  and 
thirty  years ;  Heaven  rewaird  me  for  it ! 

Bard.  'Sblood,  I  would  my  face  were  in  your 
belly ! 

FaL  God-a-mercy !  to  should  I  be  rare  to  be 
heart-burned. 

£nl0r  Hoetesa. 

How  now,  dame  Partlet  the  hen.^  have  yoa  in- 
quired yet,  who  pick'd  my  pocket  f 

Host  Why,  sir  John !  what  do  yoo  think,  sir 
John  f  Do  you  think  I  keep  thieves  in  my  house  f  I 
have  searched,  I  have  inquired,  so  has  my  husband, 
man  by  man,  boy  by  boy,  servant  bv  servant :  the 
tithe  of  a  hair  was  never  lost  in  my  house  before. 

FaL  You  lie,  hostess ;  Bardolph  was  shaved,  and 
lost  many  a  hair :  and  I'll  be  swom,  my  pocket  was 
picked  :  Go  to,  yoo  are  a  woman,  go. 

Host.  Who,  I  .^  I  defy  thee :  I  was  never  called 
so  in  mine  own  house  before. 

FaL  Go  to,  I  know  you  well  enough. 

Host.  No,  sir  John ;  you  do  not  know  me,  n\ 
John  :  I  know  you,  sir  John :  you  owe  me  noooey 
sir  John,  and  now  you  pick  a  quarrel  to  beguile  roe 
of  it :  I  bought  you  a  dozen  of^  shirts  to  your  back. 

FaL  Dowlas,  filthy  dowlas :  I  have  given  them 
away  to  bakers'  wives,  and  they  have  made  bolters 
of  them. 

HosL  Now,  as  I  am  a  true  woman,  holland  of 
eight  shillings  an  ell.  You  owe  money  here  besides, 
sir  J(^n,  for  your  diet,  and  by-arinkings,  and 
money  lent  you,  four  and  twenty  pound. 

Fal.  He  had  his  part  of  it ;  let  nim  pay. 

Host.  He  f  alas,  he  is  poor ;  he  hatn  nothing. 

Fal.  How  !  poor .'  look  upon  his  face ;  What  call 
you  rich  ?  let  them  coin  his  nose,  let  them  coin  his 
cheeks ;  I'll  not  pay  a  denier.  What,  will  you  make 
a  younker  of  me  ?  shall  I  not  take  mine  ease  in  mine 
inn,  but  I  shall  have  my  pocket  picked  ?  1  have 
lost  a  seal-ring  of  my  grandfather's,  worth  forty 
mark. 

Host.  O  Jesu !  I  have  heard  the  prince  tell  him, 
I  know  not  how  oft,  that  that  ring  was  copper. 

FaL  How !  the  prince  is  a  Jack, 7  a  sneak-cup ; 
and,  if  he  were  here,  I  would  cudgel  him  like  a 
d(^,  if  he  would  say  so. 

Enier  Prince  Henry  and  Poins,  marching.  Fal- 
staflf  meets  the  Prince,  playing  on  his  truncheon 
like  ajife. 

FaL  How  now,  lad  ?  is  the  wind  in  that  door, 
i'faith  f  must  we  all  march .' 

Bard.  Yea,  two  and  two,  Newgate- fashioo. 

Host.  My  lord,  I  pray  you,  hear  me. 

P.  Hen.  What  sayest  thou,  mistress  Quickly  f 
How  does  thy  husband  f  I  love  him  well,  he  is  an 
honest  man. 

Host.  Good  my  lord,  hear  me. 

FaL  Pr'ythcc,  let  her  alone,  and  list  to  me. 

P.  Hen.  What  savest  thou.  Jack .? 

Fal.  The  other  night  I  fell  asleep  here  behind 
the  arras,  and  had  my  pocket  picked  :  this  houso 

(6)  In  the  8tor}--book  of  Reynard  the  Fox. 

(7)  A  term  of  contempt  frequently  used  by 
Shak<peare. 


408 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


•  lu 


is  turned  bawdy-house,  thcj  pick  pockets. 

P.  Hen.  What  didst  thou  lose.  Jack  ? 

Fal.  Wilt  thou  believe  me,  Hal  ?  three  or  four 
bonds  of  forty  pound  a-piece,  and  a  seal-ring  of  my 
grandfathers. 

P.  Hen.  A  trifle,  some  eight-penny  matter. 

Host.  So  I  told  him,   my  lord ;  and  I  said,  I 
heard  your  grace  say  so :  And,  my  lord,  he  speaks 
most  vilely  of  you,  like  a  foul-mouthed  man  as  he 
8 ;  and  said,  he  would  cudgel  you. 

P.  Hen.  What !  he  did  not? 

Host.  There's  neither  faith,  truth,  nor  woman- 
hood in  me  else. 

FaL  There's  no  more  faith  in  thee  than  in  a 
stewed  prune  ;  nor  no  more  truth  in  thee,  than  in 
a  drawn  fox  ;  and  for  womanhood,  maid  Marian^ 
may  be  the  deputy's  wife  of  the  ward  to  thee.  Go, 
you  thing,  go. 

Host.  Say,  what  thing  ?  what  thing  ? 

fhL  What  thing  ?  why,  a  thing  to  thank  God  on. 

Host.  I  am  no  tning  to  thank  God  on,  I  would 
thou  should'st  know  it ;  I  am  an  honest  man's  wife : 
and,  setting  thy  knighthood  aside,  thou  art  a  knave 
to  call  me  so. 

FaL  Setting  thy  womanhood  aside,  thou  art  a 
beast  to  say  otherwise. 

Host.  Say,  what  beast,  thou  knave  thou .' 

Fal.  What  beast  ?  why,  an  otter. 

P.  Hen.  An  otter,  sir  John  ?  why  an  otter  ? 

Fal.  Why .'  she's  neither  fish,  nor  flesh ;  a  man 
knows  not  where  to  have  her. 

Host.  Thou  art  an  unjust  man  in  saying  so; 
thou  or  any  man  knowf  where  to  have  me,  thou 
knave  thou ! 

P.  Hen.  Thou  sayest  true,  hostess ;  and  he  slan- 
ders thee  most  grossly. 

Host.  So  he  doth  you,  my  lord ;  and  said  this 
other  day,  you  ought  him  a  thousand  pound. 

P.  Hen.  Sirrah,  do  I  owe  you  a  thousand  pound  P 

Fal.  A  thousand  pound,  Hal  ^  a  million  :  thy  love 
is  worth  a  million ;  thou  owest  me  thy  love. 

Host.  Nay,  my  lord,  he  called  you  Jack,  and 
said,  he  would  cudgel  you. 

Fal.  Did  1,  Bardolph  ? 

Bard.  Indeed,  sir  John,  you  said  sa 

Fal.  Yea ;  if  he  said,  my  ring  was  copper. 

P.  Hen.  I  say,  'tis  copper :  Darest  thou  be  as 
good  as  thy  word  now  ? 

Fal.  Wny,  Hal,  thou  knowest,  as  thou  art  but 
man,  I  dare  :  but,  as  thou  art  prince,  I  fear  thee, 
as  I  fear  the  roaring  of  the  lion's  whelp. 

P.  Hen.  And  why  not,  as  the  lion  f 

Fal.  The  king  himself  is  to  be  feared  as  the  lion  : 
Dost  thou  think,  I'll  fear  thee  as  I  fear  thy  father? 
nay,  an  I  do,  I  pray  God,  my  girdle  break  ! 

P.  Hen.  O,  if  it  should,  how  would  thy  guts  fall 
about  thy  knees !  But,  sirrah,  there's  no  room  for 
faith,  truth,  nor  honesty,  in  this  bosom  of  thine  :  it 
is  filled  up  with  guts,  and  midriff.  Charge  an 
honest  woman  with  picking  thy  pocket !  W^hy,  thou 
whoreson,  impudent,  embossed^  rascal,  if  there 
were  any  thing  in  thy  p)ocket  but  tavern-reckonings, 
memorandum:!  of  bawdy-houses,  and  one  poor  pen- 
ny-worth of  sugar-candy,  to  make  thee  long- 
winded  ;  if  thy  pocket  were  enriched  with  any 
other  injuries  but  these,  I  am  a  villain.  And  yet 
you  will  stand  to  it ;  you  will  not  pocket  up  wrong : 
Art  thou  not  ashamed  ? 

Fal.  Dost  thou  hear,  Hal  f  thou  knowest,  in  the 
state  of  innocency,  Adam  fell ;  and  what  should 

(!)  A  man  dressed  like  a  woman,  who  attends 
roorris-dancers. 
(2)  Swuin,  pufify. 


poor  Jack  Falstafif  do,  in  the  days  of  villany  f  Thon 
seest,  I  have  more  flesh  than  another  man ;  and 

therefore  more  frailty. You  confess  then,  }att 

picked  my  pocket  ^ 

P.  Hen.  It  appears  so  by  the  story. 

Fal.  Hostess,  1  forgive  thee :  Go,  make  ready 
breakfast ;  love  thy  hu!»band,  look  to  thy  servants, 
cherish  thy  guests :  thou  shalt  find  me  tractable  to 
any  honest  reason  :  thou  seest,  I  am  pacified. — Still  ? 
— Nay,  pr'ythee,  be  gone.  [Exit  Hostess.]  Now, 
Hal,  to  the  news  at  court :  for  the  robbery,  lad, — 
How  is  that  answered  ? 

P.  Hen.  O,  my  sweet  beef,  I  must  still  be  good 
angel  to  thee  : — The  money  is  paid  back  again. 

fhl.  O,  I  do  not  like  that  ]»ying  back,  'tis  t 
double  labour. 

P.  Hen.  I  am  good  friends  with  my  father,  and 
may  do  any  thing. 

FaL  Rob  me  the  exchequer  the  first  thing  tboQ 
doest,  and  do  it  with  unwashed  hands  too. 

Bard.  Do,  my  lord. 

P.  Hen,  I  have  procured  thee.  Jack,  a  chai|;e 
of  foot 

Fal.  I  would,  it  had  been  of  horse.  Where  shall 
I  find  one  that  can  steal  well  f  O  for  a  fine  thief,  of 
the  age  of  two-and-twenty,  or  thereabouts  I  I  am 
heinously  unprovided.  Well,  God  be  thanked  for 
these  rebels,  they  oflend  none  but  the  virtuous;  i 
laud  them,  I  praise  them. 

P.  Hen.  Bardolph 

Bard.  My  lord. 

P.  Hen.  Go  bear  this  letter  to  lord  Jckm  of 
Lancaster, 
My  brother  John ;  this  to  my  lord  of  Westraore* 

land. — 
Go,  Poins,  to  horse,  to  horse ;  for  thgu,  and  I, 

Have  thirty  miles  to  ride  yet  ere  dinner-time. 

Jack, 

Meet  me  to-morrow  i'the  Temple  hall. 
At  two  o'clock  i'the  aAemoon  : 
There  shalt  thou  know  thy  charge ;  and  there  re- 
ceive 
Money,  and  order  for  their  furniture. 
The  land  is  burning ;  Percy  stands  on  high ; 
And  either  they,  or  we,  must  lower  lie. 

[Exetmt  Prince,  Poins,  and  Bardolph. 

Fed,  Rare  words!    brave  world! Hostesii 

my  breakfast,  come  : — 
O,  I  could  wish,  this  tavern  were  my  drum.  [ElxiL 


ACT  IV. 

SCEA^E  I.—Uie  rebel  camp,  near  Shreivsfnny 
Enter  Hotspur,  W'orcester,  and  Douglas. 

Hot.  Well  said,  my  noble  Scot :  If  speaking  tralh 
In  this  fine  age,  were  not  thought  flattery. 
Such  attribution  should  the  Douglas^  have, 
As  not  a  soldier  of  this  season's  stamp 
Should  go  so  general  current  through  the  world. 
By  heaven,  I  cannot  flatter ;  I  defy^ 
The  tongues  of  soothers ;  but  a  braver  place 
In  my  heart's  love,  hath  no  man  than  yourself: 
Nav,  task  me  to  the  word  ;  apiirove  me,  lord. 

t)oug.  Thou  art  the  king  of  honour : 
No  man  so  potent  breathes  upon  the  ground. 
But  I  will  beard*  him. 

Hot.  Do  so,  and  *tts  well : — 

(3)  This  expression  is  applied  by  way  of  pr^ 
eminence  to  the  head  of  the  Douglas  family. 

(4)  Disdain.         (.'>}  Meet  him  face  to  face. 


ficmf /. 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


409 


Einter  a  Messenger,  tnih  Utters. 

What  letters  hast  thou  there? — I  can  but  thank  you. 

Meu.  These  letters  come  from  your  father, — 

Hot.  Letters  from  him !  why  comes  he  not  him- 
self? 

Meat.  He  cannot  come,  my  lord ;  he*s  grievous 
sick. 

Hot.  Zounds  !  how  has  he  the  leisure  to  be  sick, 
In  such  a  justling  time  ?  Who  leads  his  power  ?^ 
Under  whose 'government  come  they  along? 

Meu.  His  letters  bear  his  mind,  not  I,  m^  lord. 

Wor.  I  pr*ythee,  tell  me,  doth  he  keep  his  bed? 

Mess.  He  did,  my  lord,  four  days  ere  I  set  forth ; 
And  at  the  time  of  my  departure  the-nce, 
He  was  much  fearM  by  his  physicians. 

Wor.  I  would,  the  state  of  time  had  first  been 
whole, 
Ere  be  by  sickness  had  been  visited ; 
His  health  was  never  better  worth  than  now. 

Hot,  Sick  now !  droop  now !  this  sicknen  doth 
infect 
The  very  life-blood  of  our  enterprise ; 

•Tis  catching  hither,  even  to  our  camp. 

He  writes  me  here, — that  inward  sickness — 

And  that  his  friends  by  deputation  could  not 

So  soon  be  drawn ;  nor  did  he  think  it  meet, 

To  lay  so  dangerous  and  dear  a  trust 

On  any  soul  removM,  but  on  his  own. 

Yet  doth  he  give  us  bold  advertisement, — 

That  with  our  small  conjunction,  we  should  on, 

To  see  how  fortune  is  disposM  to  us : 

For,  as  he  writes,  there  is  no  qnailine^  now ; 

Because  the  king  is  certainly  possessed' 

Of  all  our  purposes.     What  say  you  to  it  ? 

Wor.  Your  father*s  sickness  is  a  maim  to  us. 

Hot.  A  perilous  gash,  a  very  limb  lopp*d  oft*: — 
And  yet,  in  faith,  Mis  not ;  his  present  want 
Seems  more  than  we  shall  find  it : — Were  it  good. 
To  set  the  exact  wealth  of  all  our  states 
All  at  one  cast?  to  set  so  rich  a  main 
On  the  nice  hazard  of  one  doubtful  hour  ? 
It  were  not  good :  for  therein  should  we  read 
The  very  bottom  and  the  soul  of  hope ; 
The  very  list,^  the  very  utmost  bound 
Of  all  our  fortunes. 

Doug.  *Faith,  and  so  we  should ; 

Where*  now  remains  a  sweet  reversion : 
We  may  boldly  spend  upon  the  hope  of  what 
Is  to  come  in  : 
A  comfort  of  retirement  lives  in  this. 

Hot.  A  rendezvous,  a  home  to  fly  unto, 
If  that  the  devil  and  mischance  look  big 
Upon  the  maidenhead  of  our  affairs. 

Wor.  But  yet,  I  would  your  &ther  had  been 
here. 
The  quality  and  haiH'  of  our  attempt 
Brooks  no  division  :  It  will  be  thought 
6v  some,  that  know  not  why  he  is  away. 
That  wisdom,  loyalty,  and  mere  dislike 
Of  our  proceedings,  kept  the  earl  from  hence ; 
And  think,  how  such  an  apprehension 
May  turn  the  tide  of  fearful  faction. 
And  breed  a  kind  of  question  in  our  cause : 
For,  well  you  know,  we  of  the  ofiiering  side 
Must  keep  aloof  from  strict  abitrement ; 
And  stop  alt  sight-holes,  every  loop,  from  whence 
The  eye  of  reason  mav  pry  in  upon  us : 
This  absence  of  your  fatner^s  draws  a  curtain, 
That  shows  the  ignorant  a  kind  of  fear 
Before  not  dreamt  of 

(1)  Forces.      (2)  Languishing.      (3)  Infonned 
(4)  Lirm.  (5)  Whereas. 

(G)  The  complexion,  the  character. 


Hot.  You  strain  too  far. 

I,  rather,  of  his  absence  make  tliis  use  ;— 
It  lends  a  lustre,  and  more  great  opinion, 
A  larger  dare  to  our  great  enterprise, 
Than  if  the  earl  were  here  :  for  men  must  think, 
If  we,  without  his  help,  can  make  a  head 
To  push  against  the  kuigdom ;  with  his  help. 
We  shall  overturn  it  topsy-turvy  down. — 
Yet  all  goes  well,  yet  all  our  joints  are  whole. 

Doug.  As  heart  can  think :  there  is  not  such  a 
word 
Spoke  of  in  Scotland,  as  this  term  of  fear. 

Enter  Sir  Richard  Vernon. 

Hot.  My  cousin  Vernon !  welcome,  by  my  soaL 

Ver.  Pray  God,  my  news  be  worth  a  welcome, 
lord. 
The  earl  of  Westmoreland,  seven  thousand  strong, 
Is  marching  hitherwards ;  with  him,  prince  John. 

Hot.  No  harm :  What  more  ? 

Ver.  And  further,  I  have  leam'd,— 

The  king  himself  in  person  is  set  forth, 
Or  hitherwards  intended  speedily. 
With  strong  and  mighty  preparation. 

Hot.  He  shall  be  welcome  too.  Where  is  his  soQ 
The  nimble-footed  mad-cap  prince  of  Wales, 
And  his  comrades,  that  daft*^a7  the  world  aside, 
And  bid  it  pass  ? 

Ver.  All  fumishM,  all  in  arms. 

All  plumM  like estridges''  that  wing  the  wind; 
Bated  like  eagles  having  lately  bathM  ^ 
Glittering  in  golden  coats,  like  images ; 
As  full  of  spirit  as  the  month  of  May, 
And  gorgeous  as  the  sun  at  midsummer ; 
Wanton  as  youthful  goats,  wild  as  young  built. 
I  saw  young  Harrj', — with  his  beaver  on. 
His  cuisses'O  on  his  thighs,  gallantly  arm*d, — 
Rise  from  the  ground  like  featherM  Mercury, 
And  vaulted  with  such  ease  into  his  seat. 
As  if  an  angel  dropped  down  from  the  clou4^ 
To  turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus, 
And  witch"  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship. 

Hot.  No  more,  no  more ;  worse  than  the  sun  in 
March, 
This  praise  doth  nourish  arues.    Let  them  come ; 
They  come  like  sacrifices  m  their  trim. 
And  to  the  fire-eyM  maid  of  smoky  war. 
All  hot,  and  bleeding,  will  we  offer  them : 
The  mailed  Mars  shall  on  his  altar  sit. 
Up  to  the  ears  in  blood.     I  am  on  fire. 
To  hear  this  rich  reprisal  is  so  nigh. 
And  yet  not  ours  :— -Come,  let  me  take  my  hone, 
Who  is  to  bear  me,  like  a  thunderbolt. 
Against  the  bosom  of  the  prince  of  Wales : 
Harry  to  Harry  shall,  hot  horse  to  horse. 
Meet,  and  ne'er  part,  till  one  drop  down  a  corse.— 
O,  that  Glendower  were  come .' 

Fer.  There  is  more  news : 

I  leamM  in  Worcester,  as  I  rode  along. 
He  cannot  draw  his  power  this  fourteen  days. 

Doug.  That's  the  worst  tidings  that  I  hear  of  yet 

Wor.  Ay,  by  my  faith,  that  bears  a  frosty  sound. 

Hot.  W  hat  may  the  king's  whole  battle  reach 
unto? 

Ver.  To  thirty  thousand. 

Hot.  Forty  let  it  be ; 

My  father  and  Glendower  being  both  away. 
The  powers  of  us  may  serve  so  great  a  day. 
Come,  let  us  make  a  muster  speedily  : 
Doomsday  is  near ;  die  all,  die  memly. 

(7)  Threw  off.     (8)  Dressed  with  ostrich  feathers. 
(9)  Fresh  as  birds  just  washed.       (10)  Annour 
(II)  Bewitch,  charm. 


410 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


AdUr, 


Doug.  Talk  not  of  djine ;  I  am  oat  of  fear 
Of  death,  or  deatb^s  hand,  for  this  one  half  year. 

[Extuni. 

SCEIKE  IT. — A  public   road  near  Coventry. 
Enter  Fafstaff  and  Bardolph. 

Fhl  Bardolph,  get  thee  before  to  Coventry ;  fill 
me  a  bottle  of  sack:  our  soldiers  tha\\  march 
through ;  weMl  to  Sutton-Colfield  to-night 

Bard  Will  you  g^ve  me  money,  captain  ? 
^Fal.  Lay  out,  lay  out. 

Bard.   This  bottle  makes  an  angeL 

Fal.  An  if  it  do,  take  it  for  thy  labour ;  and  if 
It  make  twenty,  take  them  all,  Pll  answer  the  coin- 
age. Bid  my  lieutenant  Peto  meet  me  at  the 
town*s  end. 

Bard,  I  will,  captain :  farewell.  [Exit. 

Ed.  If  I  be  not  ashamed  of  my  soldiers,  I  am 
a  souced  gurnet^  I  have  misused  the  kiiif  *8  press 
damnably.  I  have  got,  in  exchange  of  a  hundred 
and  fifty  soldiers,  three  hundred  and  odd  pounds. 
I  press  me  none  but  good  householders,  yeomen^s 
sons  :  inquire  me  out  contracted  bachelors,  such  as 
had  been  asked  twice  on  the  banns ;  such  a  com- 
modity of  warm  slaves,  as  had  as  lief  hear  the  devil 
as  a  drum ;  such  as  fear  the  report  of  a  caliver,^ 
worse  than  a  struck  fowl,  or  a  hurt  wild-duck.     I 

Eressed  me  none  but  such  toasts  and  butter,  with 
earts  in  their  bellies  no  big^r  than  pin^s  heads, 
and  they  have  bought  out  their  services ;  and  now 
my  whole  chai^  consists  of  ancients,  corporals, 
lieutenants,  gentlemen  of  companies,  slaves  as  rag- 
ged as  Lazarus  in  the  painted  cloth,  where  the 
elutton^s  dogs  licked  his  sores :  and  such  as,  in- 
deed, were  never  soldiers;  but  discarded  unjust 
serving-men,  younger  sons  to  younger  brothers,  re- 
volted tapsters,  ana  ostlers  trade-fallen ;  the  cankers 
of  a  calm  world,  and  a  long  peace ;  ten  times  more 
dishonourable  ragged  than  an  old  faced  ancient  :> 
and  such  have  I,  to  fill  up  the  rooms  of  them  that 
have  bought  out  their  services,  that  you  would  think, 
that  I  had  a  hundred  and  fifty  tattered  prodigals, 
lately  come  from  swine-keeping,  from  eating  drafif 
and  husks.  A  mad  fellow  met  me  on  the  way,  and 
told  me,  I  had  unloaded  all  the  gibbets,  and  pressed 
the  dead  bodies.  No  eye  hath  seen  such  scare- 
crows. V\\  not  march  through  Coventry  with  them, 
that^s  flat : — Nay,  and  the  villains  march  wide  be- 
twixt the  legs,  as  if  they  had  gy  ves^  on ;  for,  indeed, 
I  had  the  most  of  (hem  out  of  prison.  There*s  but  a 
shirt  and  a  half  in  all  my  company ;  and  the  half- 
shirt  is  two  napkins,  tacked  together,  and  thrown 
over  the  shoulders,  like  a  herald^s  coat  without 
sleeves ;  and  the  shirt,  to  say  the  truth,  stolen  from 
my  host  at  Saint  Alban^s,  or  the  red-nose  inn- 
keeper of  Daintry.*  But  lhat*s  all  one ;  they'll  find 
linen  enough  on  every  hedge. 

Enter  Prince  Henry  and  Westmoreland. 

P.  Hen.  How  now, blown  Jack  ?  how  now, quilt? 

FaL  What,  Hal  ?  How  now,  mad  wag  ?  what  a 
devil  dost  thou  m  Warwickshire? — My  good  lord 
of  Westmoreland,  I  cry  you  mercy ;  I  thought  your 
honour  had  already  been  at  Shrewbbury. 

ffest.  'Faith,  sir  John,  'tis  more  than  time  that 
I  were  there,  and  you  too;  but  my  powers  are 
there  already :  The  king,  I  can  tell  you,  looks  for 
OS  all ;  we  must  away  all  night 

FaL  Tut,  never  fear  me;  I  am  as  vigilant  as  a 
cat  to  steal  cream. 

P.  Han.  I  think,  to  steal  cream,  indeed ;  for  thy 

(1)  A  fish.        (2)  A  gun.        (3)  Standard. 
(0  Fetters.  (5)  Daveatry. 


theft  hath  already  made  thee  batter.  But  tell  mt^ 
Jack ;  whose  fellows  are  these  that  come  after  ? 

FaL  Mine,  Hal,  mine. 

P.  Hen.  I  did  never  see  such  pitiful  rascals. 

Fal.  Tut,  tut;  good  enough  to  toss;  food  for 
powder,  food  for  powder ;  they'll  fill  a  pit,  as  well 
as  better :  tush,  man,  mortal  men,  mental  tuta. 

JVeat  kyy  but,  sir  John,  methinks  they  are  ei- 
eeding  poor  and  bare ;  too  beggarly. 

Fal.  'Faith,  for  their  poverty,— I  know  not  where 
they  had  that:  and  for  their  bareness, — I  am  sore, 
they  never  learned  that  of  me. 

P.  Hen.  No,  I'll  be  sworn;  unless  yoa  call  three 
fingers  on  the  ribs,  bare.  But,  sirrah,  make  haste ; 
Percy  is  already  in  the  field. 

Fed.  What,  is  the  king  encamped  } 

West.  He  is,  sir  John ;  I  fear,  we  shall  stay  too 
long. 

FaL  Well, 
To  the  latter  end  of  a  fray,  and  the  beginning  of  a 

feast. 
Fits  a  dull  fighter,  and  a  keen  guest        [ExnmL 

SCEJSTE  HI.— The  rebel  camp  near  ShrewHntry, 
Enter  Hotspur,  Worcester,  Douglas,  and  Ver« 
non. 

Hot.  We'll  fight  with  him  to-night 

Jf^or.  It  may  not  be. 

Doug.  You  give  him  then  advantage. 

Ker.  Not  a  whit 

Hot.  Why  say  you  so?  looks  he  not  for  sapply  f 

Ver.  So  do  we. 

Hot.  His  is  certain,  ours  is  doabtfid. 

IVor.  Good  cousin,  be  advis'd;  stir  not  to-night 

Ver.  Do  not,  my  lord. 

Doug.  You  do  not  counsel  well ; 

You  speak  it  out  t>f  fear,  and  cold  heart 

Ver.  Do  me  no  slander,  Douglas  :  by  my  lifo 
(And  I  dare  well  maintain  it  with  my  life,) 
If  well-respected  honour  bid  me  on, 
I  hold  as  little  counsel  with  weak  fear. 
As  you  my  lord,  or  any  Scot  that  lives  : — 
Let  it  be  seen  to-morrow  in  the  battle. 
Which  of  us  fears. 

Doug.  Yea,  or  to-night 

Ver.  Cantent 

Hot.  To-night,  say  I. 

Ver.  Come,  come,  it  may  not  be^ 

I  wonder  much,  being  men  of  such  great  leading,' 
That  vou  foresee  not  what  impediments 
Drag  Uack  our  expedition  :  Certain  horse 
Of  my  cousin  Vernon's  are  not  yet  come  up: 
Your  uncle  Worcester's  horse  came  but  to-day; 
And  now  their  pride  and  mettle  is  asleep. 
Their  courage  with  hard  labour  tame  and  dull, 
That  not  a  horse  is  half  the  half  himself. 

Hot.  So  are  the  horses  of  the* enemy 
In  general,  journey-bated,  and  brought  low ; 
The  better  part  of  ours  is  full  of  rest 

IVor.  The  number  of  the  king  exceedeth  oun: 
For  God's  sake,  cousin,  stay  till  all  come  in. 

[The  trumpet  sounds  a  pearkff. 

Enter  Sir  Walter  Blunt 

'  Blunt.  I  come  with  gracious  offers  from  the  kii^ 
If  vou  vouchsafe  me  hearing,  and  respect 
hot.  Welcome,  sir  Walter  Blunt ;  And  Voaki 
to  God, 
You  were  of  our  determination  ! 
Some  of  us  1  Dve  you  well :  and  even  those  some 
Envy  your  great  deserving,  and  good  nanoe; 
Because  you  are  not  of  our  quality/ 

(6)  Conduct,  experience.         (7)  Fellowship. 


r. 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRT  IV. 


411 


ud  against  at  Uke  an  enemy. 

il    And  God  defind,  but  KUl  I  Aoold 

stand  80, 
:  as,  out  of  limit,  and  true  rale, 
ind  against  anointed  majesty ! 
mj  cnarge.— The  king  hath  sent  to  know 
ture  o£  your  griefs  ;i  and  whereupon 
niure  from  the  breast  of  dril  peace 
nd  hostility,  teaching  this  duteous  land 
OQS  craelty :  If  that  the  king 
ny  way  your  good  deserts  forgot* — 
he  confesseth  (o  be  manifold, — 
iTounameyourgrie&;  and,  with  all  speed, 
ul  have  your  desires,  with  interest ; 
j-don  absolute  for  yourself,  and  these, 
misled  by  your  suggestion. 
The  kii^  is  kind ;  and,  well  we  know,  the 

king 
at  what  time  to  promise,  when  to  pay. 
wr,  and  my  uncle,  and  myself, 
e  him  that  same  royalty  he  wears : 
when  he  was  not  six  and  twenty  strong, 
die  world's  regard,  wretched  tatd  low, 
onminded  outlaw  sneakii^  home,— 
ler  gave  him  welcome  to  tM  shore : 
when  he  heard  him  swear,  and  vow  to  God, 
M  bat  to  be  duke  of  Lancaster, 
hb  livery ,3  ^nd  beg  his  peace ; 
!ars  of  innocency,  and  terms  of  leal, — 
ler,  in  kind  heart  and  pity  movM, 
him  assistance,  and  performM  it  too. 
rhen  the  lords,  and  Barons  of  the  realm 
*d  Northumberland  did  lean  to  him, 
>re  and  les»>  came  in  with  cap  and  knee ; 
n  in  borourhs,  cities,  villages ; 
ed  him  on  oridges,  stood  in  lanes, 
As  before  him,  profferM  him  their  oaths, 
im  their  heirs ;  as  pages  followM  him, 
t  the  heels,  in  golden  multitudes, 
sently, — as  greatness  knows  itself^ — 
le  a  little  higher  than  his  vow 

0  my  father,  while  his  blood  was  poor, 
be  naked  shore  at  Ravenspurg ; 

w,  forsooth,  takes  on  him  to  reform 
ertain  edicts,  and  some  strait  decrees, 
e  too  heavy  on  the  commonwealth: 
ot  upon  abuses,  seems  to  weep 
is  country's  wrongs ;  and,  by  this  fncey 
eming  brow  of  justice,  did  he  win 
arts  M  all  that  be  did  angle  for. 
ded  further ;  cut  me  off  tne  heads 
iie  favourites,  that  the  absent  king 
jtation  \e(i  behind  him  here, 
be  was  personal  in  the  Irish  war. 
iL  Tut,  i  came  not  to  hear  this. 

Then,  to  tht  point 

t  time  aAer,  be  deposM  the  king ; 
Her  that,  deprived  him  of  his  tire ; 

1  the  neck  of  that,  task*d  the  whole  state : 
ke  that  worse,  sufferM  his  kinsman,  March, 
is,  if  every  owner  were  well  p!ac*d, 

his  king,)  to  be  incagM  in  Wales, 
without  ranKHn  to  lie  forfeited  : 
:'d  me  in  my  hnppy  victories; 

to  entrap  me  by  inteilig:ence  ; 
mv  uncle  from  the  council-board  ; 
i  oismiAsM  my  father  from  the  court ; 
oath  on  oath,  committed  wrong  on  wrong : 
1  concluMon,  drove  lu  to  seek  out 
sad  of  safety ;  and,  withal,  to  pry 
I  title,  the  which  we  find 

jrrievances.     (2)  Tlie  delivery  of  his  lands, 
rhe  greater  and  the  less.  (4)  Letter. 


Too  indirect  for  long  continnance. 

Bbmi.  Shall  I  return  this  answer  to  the  kin{|;  ? 

Hot.  Not  so,  sir  Walter ;  we*ll  withdraw  awhile. 
Go  to  the  king ;  and  let  there  be  impawned 
Some  surety  tor  a  safe  retura  again. 
And  in  the  morning  early  Aall  mine  uncle 
Brine  him  our  purposes :  and  so  farewell. 

BatnL  I  would  you  woiiftl  accept  of  gnoe  and 
love. 

HoL  And,  may  be,  so  we  shall 

BhmL  Tray  heaven,  you  do .' 

[Exeunt, 

SCEJfE  /T.— York.  Aroommthearehbuhop^t 
AouM.  Enter  the  ArchbitKof  qf  Yoric,  oim  a 
Gentleman. 

Arch.  Hie,  good  sir  Michael ;  bear  this  sealed 
brieA^ 
With  winged  haste,  to  the  lord  roaresbal ; 
This  to  my  cousin  Scroop ;  and  all  the  rnt 
To  whom  they  are  directed :  if  you  knew 
How  much  they  do  imjport,  you  would  make  hatta. 

OenJt.  My  good  lorct, 
I  guess  their  tenor. 

Arch,  Like  enough  you  do. 

To'morrow,  good  sir  Michael,  is  a  day, 
Wherein  the  fortune  of  ten  thousand  men 
Must  *bide  the  touch :  For,  sir,  at  Shrewsboij, 
As  I  am  traly  given  to  understand. 
The  kin^,  with  mighty  and  quick*raised  power. 
Meets  with  lord  Harry  :  and  I  fear,  sir  Michael,— 
What  with  the  sickness  of  Northumberland 
(Whose  power  was  in  the  fint  proportion,) 
And  what  with  Owen  Glendower*s  absence,  theoce, 
('Who  with  them  was  a  rated  sinew  too,& 
And  comes  not  in,  oVr^raPd  by  prophecies,)  — 
I  fear,  the  power  of  Percy  is  too  weak 
To  w^;e  an  instant  trial  with  the  king. 

GtnL  Why,  good  my  k>rd,  you  need  not  fear ; 
there's  Douglas, 
And  Mortimer. 

Arch,  No,  Mortimer's  not  there. 

Geni.  But  there  is  Mordake,  Veruon,  lord  Harry 
Percy, 
And  there's  my  lord  of  Worcester ;  and  a  head 
Of  gallant  warriors,  noble  gentlemen. 

Arch,  And  so  there  is :  but  yet  the  king  hath 
drawn 
The  special  head  of  all  the  land  together ; — 
The  prince  of  Wales,  lord  John  of  Lancaster, 
The  noble  Westmoreland,  and  warlike  Blunt ; 
And  many  more  cor-rivals,  and  dear  men 
Of  estimation  and  command  in  arms. 

Crtnt.  Doubt  not,  my  lord,  they  shall  be  well 
oppos'd. 

Arch,  I  nope  no  less,  yet  needful  'tis  to  fear ; 
And,  to  prevent  the  wont,  sir  Michael,  speeoi 
For,  if  lord  Percy  thrive  not,  ere  the  king 
Dismiss  his  power,  he  means  to  visit  us, — 
For  he  hath  heard  of  our  confederacy, — 
And  'tis  but  wisdom  to  make  strong  against  him ; 
Therefore,  make  haste  :  I  must  go  write  again 
To  other  friends;  and  so  farewell,  »>ir  Michael. 

[hZxt.  severally. 

ACT  V. 

SCKXE  l.^The  kin^s  camp  near  Shretoebury. 
Enter  King  Henry,  Frince  Henry,  Prince  John 
of  Lancaster,  Sir  Walter  Bluni^ and  Sir  Jo  n 
Falstaff. 

K,  Hen.  How  bloodily  the  sun  begins  to  peer 
(5)  A  strength  oa  which  we  reckoned 


412 


FIRST  PART  OF  KL\G  HENRY  IV 


AdV 


Above  ron  buakyl  hill !  the  day  looks  pale 
At  his  aistemperature. 

P.  Hen.  The  southern  wind 

Doth  play  the  trampet  to  his  purposes ; 
And,  bv  his  hollow  whistling  in  the  leaves, 
Foretells  a  tempest,  and  a  blustering  day. 

K.  Hen.  Then  wittf  the  losers  let  it  sympathize; 
For  nothing  can  seem  foul  to  those  that  win. — 

Trumpet.    Enter  Worcester  and  Verooo. 

How  now,  mv  lord  of  Worcester  ?  *tis  not  well, 
That  you  and  I  should  meet  upon  such  terms 
As  now  we  meet :  You  have  deceivM  our  trust ; 
And  made  us  doff'  our  easy  robes  of  peace, 
To  crush  our  old  limbs  in  ungentle  steel : 
This  is  not  well,  my  lord,  this  is  not  well. 
What  say  you  to^t  ?  will  you  again  unknit 
This  churlish  knot  of  all-abhorred  war.^ 
And  move  in  that  obedient  orb  again. 
Where  you  did  give  a  fair  and  natural  light; 
And  be  no  more  an  exhalM  meteor, 
A  prodigy  of  fear,  and  a  portent 
Of  broached  mischief  to  tne  unborn  times  ? 

Wor.  Hear  me,  my  liM^e  : 
For  mine  own  part,  1  could  be  well  conteot 
To  entertain  the  lag-end  of  my  life 
With  quiet  hours ;  for,  I  do  protest, 
I  have  not  sought  the  day  of  this  dislike. 

K.  Hen.  You  have  not  sought  for  it !  how  comes 
it  then  } 

Fal  Rebellion  lay  in  his  way,  and  he  found  it 

P.  Hen.  Peace,  chewct,'  peace. 

IVor.  It  pleased  your  majesty,  to  turn  your  looks 
Of  favour,  from  myself,  and  all  our  house ; 
And  yet  1  must  remember  you,  my  lord, 
We  were  the  first  and  dearest  of  your  friends. 
For  you,  my  staff  of  office  did  I  break 
In  Richard^s  time ;  and  posted  day  and  night 
To  meet  you  on  the  way,  and  kiss  your  hand, 
When  yet  you  were  in  place  and  in  account 
Nothing  so  strong  and  fortunate  as  I. 
It  was  myself,  my  brother,  and  his  son. 
That  brought  you  home,  and  boldly  did  outdare 
The  dangers  of  the  time :  You  swore  to  us, — 
And  you  did  swear  that  oath  at  Doncaster, — 
That  you  did  nothing  purpose  *gainst  the  state ; 
Nor  claim  no  further  than  your  new-falPn  right, 
The  seat  of  Gaunt,  dukedom  of  Lancaster : 
To  this  we  swore  our  aid.     But,  in  short  space. 
It  rain'd  down  fortune  showering  on  your  nead ; 
And  such  a  flood  of  greatness  fell  on  you, — 
What  with  our  help ;  what  with  the  absent  king ; 
What  with  the  injunes  of  a  wanton  time ; 
The  seeming  sufferances  that  you  had  borne ; 
And  the  contraripus  winds,  that  held  the  king 
So  long  in  his  unlucky  Irish  wars. 
That  all  in  England  did  repute  him  dead, — 
And,  from  this  swarm  of  fair  advantages, 
You  took  occasion  to  be  quickly  wooM 
To  gripe  the  general  sway  into  your  hand  : 
Forgot  your  oath  to  us  at  Doncaster ; 
And,  being  fed  by  us,  you  usM  us  so 
As  that  ungentle  gull,  the  cuckooes  bird, 
Useth  the  sparrow  :  did  oppress  our  nest ; 
Grew  by  our  feeding  to  so  great  a  bulk. 
That  even  our  love  durst  not  come  near  your  sight, 
For  fear  of  swallowing ;  but  with  nimble  wing 
We  were  enforc'd,  for  safety  sake,  to  fly 
Out  of  your  sight,  and  raise  this  present  head : 
Whereoy  we  stand  opposed  by  such  means 
As  you  yourself  have  lorgM  against  yourself; 

(1)  Woody.  (2)  Put  off: 

(3)  A  chattering  bird,  a  pie. 


By  unkind  usage,  dan^rous  countenance. 
And  violation  of  all  faith  and  troth 
Sworn  to  us  in  your  younger  enterprise. 

K.  Hen.  These  things,  indeed,  you  have  ait 
culated,^ 
Proclaimed  at  market-crosses,  read  in  chnrdbes ; 
To  face  the  garment  of  rebelli<Mi 
With  home  Ane  colour,  that  may  please  the  eye 
Of  fickle  changelings,  and  poor  discontents, 
Which  gape,  and  rub  the  elbow,  at  the  newi 
Of  hurly-burly  innovation : 
And  never  yet  did  insurrection  want 
Such  water-colours,  to  impaint  his  cause ; 
Nor  moody  beggars,  starving  for  a  time 
Of  pell-mell  havoc  and  contusion. 

P.  Hen.  In  both  our  armies,  there  is  many  a  ionl 
Shall  pay  full  dearly  for  this  encounter. 
If  once  they  join  in  trial.     Tell  your  nephew. 
The  prince  of  Wales  doth  join  with  all  the  world 
In  praise  of  Henry  Percy  ;  %  my  hopes, — 
This  present  enterprise  set  off  his  bead,— 
I  do  not  think,  a  braver  gentleman. 
More  active- valiant,  or  more  valiant-young. 
More  daring,  or  more  bold,  is  now  alive. 
To  grace  this  latter  age  with  noble  deeds. 
For  my  part,  I  may  speak  it  to  my  shame, 
I  have  a  truant  been  to  chivalry ; 
And  so,  I  hear,  he  doth  account  me  too : 
Yet  this  before  my  father^s  majesty, — 
I  am  content,  that  he  shall  take  the  odds 
Of  his  great  name  and  estimation ; 
And  wul,  to  save  the  blood  on  either  side. 
Try  fortune  with  him  in  a  single  fight. 

K.  Hen.   And,  prince  of  Wales,  so  dare  w« 
venture  thee. 
Albeit,  considerations  infinite 
Do  make  against  it : — No,  good  Worcester,  no, 
We  love  our  people  well ;  even  those  we  kwe, 
That  are  misled  upon  your  cousin^s  part : 
And,  will  they  take  the  offer  of  our  grace. 
Both  he,  and  they,  and  you,  yea,  every  man. 
Shall  be  my  friend  again,  and  Pll  be  his  : 
So  tell  your  cousin,  and  bring  me  word 
What  he  will  do : — But  if  he  will  not  jrield, 
Rebuke  and  dread  correction  wait  on  us. 
And  they  shall  do  their  office.     So,  be  gone ; 
We  will  not  now  be  troubled  with  reply : 
We  offer  fair,  take  it  advisedly. 

[Exeunt  Worcester  and  Vernon. 

P.  Hen.  It  will  not  be  accepted,  on  my  life : 
The  Douglas  and  the  Hotspur  both  tc^ther 
Are  confident  against  the  world  in  arms. 

K.  Hen.  Hence,  therefore,  every  leader  to  fail 
charge ; 
For,  on  their  answer,  will  we  set  on  them : 
And  God  befriend  us,  as  our  cause  is  just ! 

[Exeunt  King,  Blunt,  tmd  Prince  Jdtin. 

FaL  Hal,  if  thou  see  me  down  in  the  battle,  sod 
bestride  me,  so ;  'tis  a  point  of  friendship. 

P.  Hen.  Nothing  but  a  colossus  can  do  thee  that 
friendship.     Say  thy  prayers,  and  farewell. 

Fal.  I  would  it  were  bed-time,  Hal,  and  all  weU. 

P.  Hen.  Why,  thou  owest  God  a  death.  [ExiL 

FaL  'Tis  not  due  yet ;  I  would  be  loath  to  pay 
him  before  his  day.  What  need  I  be  so  forwaitl 
with  him  that  calls  not  on  me .'  Well,  *tis  no  mat- 
ter ;  Honour  pricks  me  on.  Yea,  but  bow  if  honour 
Erick  me  off  when  I  come  on.^  bow  then.^  Can 
onour  set  to  a  les:  P  Na  Or  an  arm  ^  No.  Or 
take  away  the  grief  of  a  wound  f  No.  Honow 
hath  no  skill  in  surgery  then  }  No.  What  is  honoar  ? 
A  word.    What  is  in  that  word,  honour?  What  is 

(4)  Exhibited  in  articles. 


UL 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


413 


ir?  Air.  A  trim  reckoning ! — ^Whohath 
tat  died  o^Wednetday.  Doth  he  feel  it  ? 
b  he  hear  it  ?  No.  Is  it  imensible  then  ? 
le  dead.  But  will  it  not  live  with  the 
X  Wliy  ?  Detraction  will  not  mifier  it : — 
1*11  none  of  it:  Honour  is  a  meve  scutch- 
to  ends  my  catechism.  [Exit. 

II, — The  rdtel  camp.   £nler  Worcester 
and  Vernon. 

!),  no,  my  nephew  must  not  know,  sir 

Richard, 

il  kind  offer  of  the  king;. 

Vere  best  he  did. 

Then  are  we  all  undone, 
oiaible,  it  cannot  be, 
should  keep  his  word  in  loving  us ; 
ispect  us  still,  and  find  a  time 
tnis  offence  in  other  faults : 
shall  be  all  stuck  full  of  eyes : 
a  is  but  trusted  like  the  fox ; 
tr  so  tame,  so  cherishM,  and  lock*d  up, 
a  wild  trick  of  his  ancestors. 
we  can,  or  sad,  or  merrily, 
tioo  will  misquote  our  looks ; 
lall  feed  like  oxen  at  a  stall, 

*  cherishM,  still  the  nearer  death. 
w*s  trespass  may  be  well  forget, 

!  excuse  of  youth,  and  heat  of  blood ; 
kmted  name  of  privilege, — 
in^d  Hotspur,  g;ovemM  by  a  spleen : 
nces  live  upon  my  head, 
I  father^s ; — we  did  train  him  oa ; 
orruption  being  ta*en  from  us, 
!  spnng  of  all,  shall  pay  for  all. 
good  cousin,  let  not  ttarry  know, 
e,  the  oflfcr  of  the  king, 
liver  what  you  will,  1*11  say,  'tis  so. 

•  your  cousin. 

ttpar  and  Douflas;    and  offictn  and 
soldiers^  behind. 

J  ancle  is  returned : — Deliver  up 

Westmoreland. — Uncle,  what  news  f 
lie  king  will  bid  you  battle  presently. 
Defy  him  by  the  lord  of  Westmoreland, 
ird  Douglas,  go  you  aad  tell  him  so. 
Vlarry,  and  shall,  and  very  willingly. 

[Exit. 
liere  is  no  seeming  mercy  in  the  king, 
d  you  beg  any  f  God  forbid  ! 
lold  him  gently  of  our  grievances, 
i-brcaking ;  which  he  mended  thus, — 
"swearing  that  he  is  forsworn : 
I  rebels,  traitors ;  and  will  scourge 
hty  arms  this  hateful  name  in  us. 

Re-enter  Douglas. 

inn,  gentlemen;  to  arms!  for  I  have 
irown 

ifiance  in  king  Henry's  teeth, 
iMreland,  that  was  cngagM,  did  bear  it; 
inot  choose  but  bring  him  quickly  on. 
*he  prince  of  Wales  stepp'd  forth  before 
le  king, 

ew,  challeng'd  you  to  single  fight 
*would  the  quarrel  lay  upon  our  heads ; 
o  man  might  draw  short  breath  to-day, 
Hany  Monmouth !  Tell  me,  tell  me, 
'd  his  tasking  ?  seem'd  it  in  contempt  f 
,  by  my  soul ;  I  never  in  my  life 

Fainted  heraldry  in  funerals. 
Recital.  (3)  Own. 


Did  hear  a  challenge  urg'd  more  modetUj, 

Unless  a  brother  should  a  brother  dare 

To  gentle  exercise  and  proof  of  arms. 

He  gave  you  all  the  duties  of  a  man ; 

Trimm'd  up  your  praises  with  a  princely  foogae ; 

Spoke  your  deservings  like  a  chronicle ; 

Making  you  ever  better  than  his  praise. 

By  still  dispraising  praise,  valueo  with  vou : 

And,  which  became  him  like  a  prince  mdeed, 

He  made  a  blushing  citaP  of  himself; 

And  chid  his  truant  youth  with  such  a  grace, 

As  if  be  master*d  there  a  double  spirit. 

Of  teaching,  and  of  learning,  instantly. 

There  did  ne  pause :  But  let  me  tell  the  world, — 

If  he  outlive  tne  envy  of  this  day, 

England  did  never  owe*  so  sweet  a  hope. 

So  much  miscoostnied  in  his  wantonness. 

Hot  Cousin,  I  think,  thou  art  enamoar*d 
Upon  his  follies ;  never  did  I  hear 
Of  any  prince,  so  wild,  at  liberty  : — 
But,  be  he  as  he  will,  yet  once  ere  night 
I  will  embrace  him  with  a  soldier*s  ann. 

That  he  shall  shrink  under  my  courtesy. 

Arm,  arm,  with  speed : And,  fellows,  soldiers, 

/riends. 
Better  consider  what  you  have  to  cb, 
Than  I,  that  have  not  well  the  gift  of  tongue. 
Can  lift  your  blodd  up  with  persuasion. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mua.  My  lord,  here  are  letters  for  yoo. 

H<^.  1  cannot  read  them  now. — 
O  gentlemen,  the  time  of  life  is  short ; 
To  spend  that  shortness  basely,  were  too  long, 
If  life  did  ride  upon  a  dial's  point. 
Still  ending  at  the  arrival  of  an  hour. 
An  if  we  live,  we  live  to  tread  on  kings ; 
If  die,  brave  death,  when  princes  die  with  as .' 
Now  for  our  conscience, — the  arms  are  fair, 
When  the  intent  of  bearing  them  is  just 

Enter  another  Messenger. 

Mas.  My  lord,  prepare ;  the  king  comes  on  apace. 

Hot.  I  thank  him,  that  he  cuts  me  from  my  tale. 
For  I  profess  not  talking ;  Only  thia— 
Let  each  man  do  hb  best :  ana  here  draw  I 
A  sword,  whose  temper  I  intend  to  stain 
With  the  best  blood  that  I  can  meet  withal 
In  the  adventure  of  this  perilous  day. 
Now, — Elsperance  !"* — Percy  ! — and  set  oo. 
Sound  all  the  lofty  instruments  of  war. 
And  by  that  music  let  us  all  embrace : 
For,  heaven  to  earth,  some  of  us  never  shall 
A  second  time  do  such  a  courtesy. 

[The  trumpets  sound.    TViey  emhraee, 
and  exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  III.— Plain  near  Shrewsbury.  Ex- 
cursions, and  parties  Jighting.  Alarum  to  the 
battle.  Then  enter  Douglas  emd  Blunt,  meeting. 

Bhtnt.  What  is  thy  name,  that  in  the  battle  thus 
Thou  croflsest  me  ?  what  honour  dost  thou  seek 
Upon  my  head  f 

Dour.  Know  then,  my  name  is  Douglas, 

And  I  do  haunt  thee  in  the  battle  thus. 
Because  some  tell  me  that  thou  art  a  king. 

Blunt.  They  tell  thee  true. 

Doug.  The  lord  of  Stafford  dear  to-day  hath 
bought 
Thy  likeness ;  for,  instead  of  thee,  king  Harry, 
This  sword  hath  ended  him :  so  shall  it  thee. 
Unless  thou  yield  thee  as  my  prisoner. 

(4)  The  motto  of  the  F^rqr  iamily. 


414 


FIRST  FnKV  OF  KING  HORY  IV. 


Jlctr. 


Blunt,  I  was  not  bom  a  3ne1der,  thou  proud  Scot ; 
And  thou  shah  find  a  king  that  will  revenge 
Lord  Stafford's  death. 

[Theyjightf  and  Blunt  it  tkun. 

Enter  Hotspur. 

Hot.  O  Douglas,  hadst  thou  fought  at  Holme- 

doQ  thus, 
I  never  bad  triumphed  udod  a  Scot 
Doug.  AlPs  don^  all^s  woo;  here  breathless 

lies  the  king. 
Hot  Where  ? 
Dcrug.  Here. 
Hot.  This,  Douglas  ?  no,  I  know  this  face  ftill 

well: 


A  borrowM  title  hast  thou  bought  too  dear 
Why  didst  thou  tell  me  that  thou  wert  a  king  ? 

Hot.  The  king  hath  many  marching  in  his  coats. 

Doug.  Now,  b^  my  sworcf,  I  will  kill  all  his  coats ; 
ril  murder  all  his  wardrobe,  piece  by  piece, 
Until  I  meet  the  king. 

Hot.  Up,  and  away ; 

Our  soldiers  stand  full  fairly  for  the  oay.  [Extwni. 

Other  alarums.    Enter  Falstaff. 

Fai.  Though  I  could  *scape  shot-free  at  London, 
I  fear  the  shot  here ;  here's  no  scoring,  but  upon  the 
pate. — Soft !  who  art  thou  ?  Sir  Walter  Blunt : — 
there's  honour  for  you :  Here's  no  vanity ! — I  am 
as  hot  as  molten  lead,  and  as  heavy  too :  God  keep 
lead  out  of  me :  1  need  no  more  weight  than  mine 
own  bowels. — I  have  led  my  raggamuffins  where 
they  arc  peppered :  there's  but  three  of  my  hundred 
and  fi(iy  left  alive  ;  and  they  are  for  the  town's  end, 
to  beg  during  life.     But  who  comes  here  f 

Enter  Prince  Henry. 

P.  Hen.  What,  stand'st  thou  idle  here .'  lend  roe 
thy  sword : 
Many  a  nobleman  lies  stark  and  stiff. 
Under  the  hoofH  of  vaunting  enemies. 
Whose  deaths  are  unreveng'd  :  Pr'ytiiee,  lend  thy 
sword. 

FaL  O  Hal,  I  pr'ythee,  give  me  leave  to  breathe 
a  while. — Turk  Gregory  never  did  such  deeds  in 
arms,  as  I  have  done  this  day.  I  have  paid  Percy, 
I  have  made  him  sure. 

P.  Hen.  He  is,  indeed ;  and  living  to  kill  thee. 
Lend  me  thy  sword,  I  pr'ythee. 

Phi.  Nay,  before  God,  Hal,  if  Percy  be  alive, 
thou  get'st  not  my  sword ;  but  take  my  pistol,  if 
thou  wilt. 

P.  Hen.  Give  it  me  :  What,  is  it  in  the  case  ? 

Fal.  Ay,  Hal;  'tis  hot, 'tis  hot;  there's  that  will 
tack  a  city. 

[The  Vrince  dratos  out  a  bottle  nf  sack 

P.  Hen.  What,  is't  a  time  to  jest  and  dally  now  r 

[Throtos  it  at  Aim,  and  exit. 

Fal.  Well,  if  Percy  be  alive,  I'll  pierce  liim.  If 
he  do  come  in  mv  way,  so  :  if  he  do  not,  if  I  rom«- 
in  his,  willingly, let  him  make  a  carbonadcP  of  me 
I  like  not  ^ucn  grinning  honour  as  sir  Walter  hath  ; 
Give  me  life  :  which  if  1  can  save,  so ;  if  not, 
honour  comes  unlooked  for,  and  there's  an  end. 

[Exit. 

SCEJ^E  rV.— Another  pari  qf  the  field.  Alar- 
ums. Exmrsions.  Enter  the  King,  Prince 
Henry,  Prince  John,  and  Westmoreland. 

K.  Hen.  I  pr'ythee, 

(I)  In  rc^mblance. 

(S)  A  piece  of  meat  cut  crosswise  for  the  gridiron. 


Harry,  withdraw  thyself;  thou  bleed'st  too  much: — 
Lord  John  of  Lancaster,  ero  you  with  him. 

P.  John.  Not  I,  my  lora,  unless  I  did  bleed  toa 

P.  Hen.  I  do  beseech  your  majesty,  make  up, 
Lest  your  retirement  do  amaze  your  friends. 

K.  Hen.  I  will  do  so : — 
My  lord  of  Westmoreland,  lead  him  to  hil  teat 

fVest.  Come,  my  lord,  I  will  lead  you  to  your  tent 

P.  Hen.  Lead  me, my  lord?  I  donotneedjoar 
help: 
And  heaven  forbid,  a  shallow  scratch  should  drivt 
The  prince  of  Wales  from  such  a  field  at  this; 
Where  stain'd  nobility  lies  trodden  on, 
And  rebels'  arms  triumph  in  massacres  ! 

P.  John  We*  breathe  too  long : — Come,  cousin 
Westmoreland, 
Our  duty  this  way  lies ;  tor  God's  sake,  come. 

[Exeunt  Prince  John  and  We-stmoreland. 

P.  Hen.  By  heaven,  thou  bast  decetv'd  me, 
Lancaster, 
I  di^  not  think  thee  lord  of  such  a  spirit : 
Before,  I  lov'd  thee  as  a  brother,  Jonn ; 
But  now,  I  do  respect  thee  as  my  soul. 

K.  Hen  I  saw  him  hold  lord  Percy  at  the  point. 
With  lustier  maintenance  than  I  did  look  for 
Of  such  an  ungrown  warrior. 

P.  Hen.  O,  this  boy 

Lends  mettle  to  us  all !  [Exit 

Alarums,    Enter  Douglat. 

Doug.  Another  king !  they  grow  like  Hydra's 
heads : 
I  am  the  Douglas,  fatal  to  all  thoae 
That  wear  those  colours  on  them. — What  art  thou. 
That  counterfeit'st  the  person  of  a  king  f 

K.  Hen.  The  king  himself ;  who,  Douglas, grieves 
at  heart, 
So  many  of  his  shadows  thou  hast  met, 
And  not  the  very  king.     I  have  two  boyt, 
Seek  Percy,  and  thyself,  about  the  field : 
But,  seeing  thou  fall'st  on  me  so  luckily, 
I  will  assay  thee;  so  defend  thyself 

Dmig.  1  fear,  thou  art  another  counterfeit ; 
And  yet,  in  faith,  thou  bear'st  thee  like  a  king: 
But  mine,  I  am  sure  thou  art,  whoe'er  thou  be, 
And  thus  I  win  thee. 

[Thcyjighii  the  King  being  in  dangtr^ 
enter  Prince  Henry. 

P.  Hen.  Hold  up  thy  head,  vile  Scot,  or  thoa 
art  like 
Never  to  hold  it  up  apiin  !  the  spirits 
Of  Shirly,  Stafford,  Blunt,  are  in  my  arms: 
It  iii  the  prince  of  Wales,  that  threatens  thee; 
Who  never  promiseth,  but  he  means  to  pay. — 

[Theyjight;  Doa^^^a  Jiies. 
Cheerly,  my  lord ;  How  fares  your  grace  ? — 
Sir  Nicholas  Gawsey  hath  for  succour  sent. 
And  so  hnth  Clifton  ;  I'll  to  Clifton  straight 

K.  Hen.  Sta}',  and  breathe  awhile  : — 
Thou  hast  redeem'd  thy  lost  opinion  ;' 
And  show'd,  thou  mak'st  some  tender  of  my  life. 
In  this  fair  rescue  thou  hast  brought  to  me. 

P.  Hen.  O  heaven  !  they  did  me  too  much  in- 
jury, 
That  ever  said,  I  hearken'd  for  your  death. 
If  it  were  so,  I  might  have  let  alone 
The  insulting  hand  of  Douglas  over  you ; 
Which  ivould  have  been  as  speedy  in  your  end, 
>Ks  all  the  ]>oisonous  potions  in  the  world. 
And  sav*d  the  treacherous  labour  of  your  son. 

K.  Hen.  Make  up  to  Clifton,  I'll  to  sir  Nicbobi 
Gnwsey.  [JBxi*  King  Hemy. 

(3)  Reputation. 


SeauV, 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  FV. 


415 


Enter  Hotspur. 

Hot  If  I  mistake  not,  thou  art  Harry  Monmouth. 

P.  Hen.  Thou  speak'st  as  if  I  would  deny  my 
name. 

Hot  My  name  is  Harry  Percy. 

P.  Hen.  Why,  then  I  sec 

A  Tery  valiant  rebel  of  the  name. 
I  am  the  prince  of  Wales ;  and  think  not,  Percy, 
To  share  with  roe  in  glory  an^  more : 
Two  stars  ke«p  not  their  motion  in  one  sphere ; 
Nor  can  one  England  brook  a  double  reig;n. 
Of  Harry  Percy,  and  the  prince  of  Wales. 

Hot  UoT  shall  it,  Harry,  for  the  hour  is  come 
To  end  the  one  of  us ;  And  *  would  to  God, 
Thy  name  in  anns  were  now  as  great  as  mine ! 

P.  Hen.  I'll  make  itg^ater,  ere  I  part  from  thee ; 
And  all  the  budding  honours  on  thy  crest 
I'll  crop,  to  make  a  garland  fur  my  head. 

Hot  I  can  no  longer  brook  thy  vanities. 

[Theyjight 

Enter  Falstaffl 

Fal  Well  said,  Hal !  to  it,  Hal  .'—Nay, you  shall 
find  no  boy's  play  here,  I  can  tell  you. 

Enter  Douglas ;  he  Jights  toith  Falstaff,  who  falls 
down  astfhe  were  deadj  and  exit  Douglas.  Hot- 
spur is  toounded,  and  Jails. 

Hot  O,  Harry,  thou  hast  robb'd  mc  of  my  youth : 
I  better  brook  the  loss  of  brittle  life. 
Than  those  proud  titles  thou  hast  won  of  me ; 
liicy  wouna  my  thoughts,  worse  than  thy  sword 

my  flesh : 

But  thot^ht's  the  slave  of  life,  and  life  time's  fool; 
And  time,  that  takes  survey  of  all  the  world. 
Must  have  a  stop.    O,  I  could  prophesy, 
But  that  the  earthy  and  cold  hand  of  death 
Lies  on  my  tongue : — No,  Percy,  thou  art  dust. 
And  food  for [Dies. 

P.  Hen.  For  worms,  brave  Percy :  Fare  thee 
well,  great  heart ! — 
Ill-weav'd  ambition,  how  much  art  thou  shrunk  I 
When  that  this  body  did  contain  a  spirit, 
A  kingdom  for  it  was  too  smalt  a  bound  ; 
But  now,  two  paces  of  the  vilest  earth 
Is  room  enough : — This  earth,  that  bears  thee  dead. 
Bears  not  alive  so  stout  a  gentleman. 
If  thou  wert  sensible  of  courtesy, 
I  should  not  make  so  dear  a  show  of  zeal : — 
But  let  my  favours*  hide  thy  mangled  face ; 
And,  even  in  thy  behalf,  ril  thank  mysell 
For  doing  these  fair  rites  of  tenderness. 
Adieu,  and  take  thy  praise  with  thee  to  heaven ! 
Thy  ignominy  sleep  with  thee  in  the  grave. 
But  not  remembered  in  thy  epitaph  ! — 

[He  sees  Falstaff  on  the  ground. 
What!  old  acqunintance  !  could  not  all  this  flesh 
Keep  in  a  little  life  f  Poor  Jack,  farewell ! 
I  could  have  better  spar'd  a  better  man. 
O,  I  should  have  a  heavy  miss  of  thee. 
If  I  were  much  in  love  with  vanity. 
Death  hath  not  struck  so  fat  a  deer  to-day. 
Though  many  dearer,  in  this  bloody  fray : — 
Embowell'd  will  I  see  thee  by  and  by ; 
Till  then,  in  blood  by  noble  Percy  lie.  [Exit 

Fal.  [Rising  slowly.]  Embowell'd !  If  thou 
embowel  me  to-day,  I'll  give  you  leave  to  powder^ 
roe,  and  eat  me  too,  to-morrow.  'Sblood,  'twa? 
time  to  counterfeit,  or  that  hot  termagant  Scot  had 
paid  me  scot  and  lot  too.  Counterfeit  ?  I  lie,  I  am 
no  counterfeit:  To  die,  is  to  be  a  counterfeit;  for  he 
is  but  the  counterfeit  of  a  man,  who  hath  not  the 

(1)  Scarf,  with  which  he  covers  Percy's  face. 

28 


life  of  a  man :  but  to  counterfeit  dying,  when  a 
man  thereby  livelh,  is  to  be  no  counterfeit,  but  the 
true  and  perfect  image  of  life  indeed.  The  better 
part  of  valour  is — discretion ;  in  the  which  better 
part,  I  have  saved  my  life.  Zounds,  I  am  afraid 
of  this  gunpowder  Percy,  though  he  be  dead: 
How,  if  he  should  counterfeit  too,  and  rise.'  I  am 
afraid  he  would  prove  the  better  counterfeit.  There- 
fore ril  make  him  sure  :  yea,  and  I'll  swear  I  kill- 
ed him.  Why  may  not  he  rise,  as  well  as  I .' 
Nothing  confutes  me  but  eyes,  and  nobody  sees 
roe.  Therefore, sirrah,  [Stabbing him.]  witli  anew 
wound  in  your  thigh,  come  you  along  with  me. 

[Takes  Hotspur  on  Am  back. 

Re-enter  Prince  Henry  and  Prince  John. 

P.  Hen.  Come,  brother  John,  full  bravely  hast 
thou  flesh'd 
Thy  maiden  sword. 

P.  John.  But  soft !  whom  have  we  here.? 

Did  you  not  tell  me,  this  fat  man  was  dead  f 

P.  Hen.  I  did ;  I  saw  him  dead,  breathless  and 
bleeding 

Upon  the  ground. 

Art  thcw  alive .'  or  is  it  phantasy 
That  plays  upon  our  eye-sight.?  I  pr'y thee,  speak ; 
W^e  will  not  trust  our  eyes,  without  our  ears : — 
Thou  art  not  what  thou  seem'st. 

Fal.  No,  that's  certain ;  I  am  not  a  double  man  : 
but  if  I  be  not  Jack  Falstaff,  then  am  I  a  Jack. 
There  is  Percy:  [Throwing  the  body  down.]  if 
your  father  will  do  me  any  honour,  so;  if  not,  let 
him  kill  the  next  Percy  himself.  I  look  to  be  either 
earl  or  duke,  I  can  assure  you. 

P.  Hen.  Why,  Percy  I  killed  myself,  and  saw 
thee  dead. 

Fal.  Didst  thou  ? — Lord,  lord,  how  this  world  is 
given  to  lying  ! — I  grant  you,  I  was  down,  and  out 
of  breath ;  and  so  was  he  :  but  we  rose  both  at  an 
instant,  and  fought  a  long  hour  by  Shrewsbuty 
clock.  If  I  may  be  believed,  so ;  if  not,  let  them, 
that  should  reward  valour,  bear  the  sin  upon  their 
own  heads.  I'll  taKe  it  upon  my  death,  I  gave 
him  this  wound  in  the  thigh :  if  the  man  were 
alive,  and  would  deny  it,  I  would  make  him  eat  a 
piece  of  my  sword. 

P.  John.  This  is  the  strangest  tale  tliat  e'er  I 
heard. 

P.  Hen.  This  is  the  strangest  fellow,  brother 

John. 

Come,  bring  your  luggage  nobly  on  your  back : 
For  my  part,  if  a  lie  may  do  thee  grace, 
I'll  gild  It  with  the  happiest  terms  I  have. 

[A  ittreat  is  sounded. 
The  trumpet  sounds  retreat,  the  day  is  ours. 
Come,  brother,  let's  to  the  highest  of  the  field. 
To  see  what  friends  are  living,  who  are  dead. 

[Exeunt  Prince  Henry  and  Prince  John. 

Fal.  I'll  follow,  as  they  say,  for  reward.  He 
that  rewards  me,  God  reivard  him !  If  I  do  grow 
great,  I'll  grow  less ;  for  I'll  purge,  and  leave  sack, 
and  live  c^nly,  as  a  nobleman  should  do. 

[Exit.,  bearing  off  the  body. 

SCEJ^E  r.— Another  paH  of  the  Jield.  The 
trumpets  sound.  Enter  King  Henry,  Prince 
Henry,  Prince  John,  Waatmoreland,  and  othersi 
with  Worcester,  and  Vernon,  prisoners. 

K.  Hen.  Thus  ever  did  rebellion  find  rebuke.— 
Ill-spirited  Worcester ! — did  we  not  send  grace, 
Paraon,  and  terms  of  love  to  all  of  you  ? 
And  would'st  thou  turn  our  offers  contrary  ? 

(2)  Salt. 


416 


FIRST  PART  OF  KING  HERRT  lY. 


jfdr. 


IfiMfle  file  ieuorot  tbj  lniMiiHi*t  tilHt? 
Three  knigfati  npoa  oar  puij  tiaia  to-da^, 
A  noble  earl,  and  vamnj  a  creatine  eke. 
Had  been  altre  this  how, 
U;  like  a  Chfiflitn,  dioa  hadft  tnil jT  bone 
Bedriitoor  amnee  tnie  inleUq;enoe. 

IVor.  WhatIhaTedone,m7«ifet7iii|^dDeto; 
And  I  embnoe  this  fortune  patientl  j, 
Snoe  not  to  be  aroided  it  fiub  on  me. 

K.Hen.  Bear  Worceiter  to  the  death,  and  Ter- 
non  loo: 
Odier  oflenden  we  will  panae  npoB.'^ 

[Elxeuni  Woiceeler  fliaVenoo,  guardti. 
How  soes  the  6eld  ? 

F,  Hbk  The  noble  Soot,  lord  Dooglai,  when 
he  «w 
Hie  ibrtane  of  die  day  quite  tan*d  fitxn  him. 
The  noble  Percr  slain,  and  all  his  men 
Upon  the  foot  of  fear,— fled  with  the  rest; 
And,  foiling  from  a  hill,  he  was  so  bniis'd. 
That  the  panneit  took  him.    At  mj  tent 
TheDoo^asis;  and  I  beseech  joor  grace, 
I  maj  di^wse  of  him. 

MLHm.  Widi  all  iDj  heart 


P,  JBcn.  TImb,  bradm  John  of 

J«i 
honourable  bount?  shaD  hewng : 

Go  to  the  Dooglas,  ana  delirer  him 

Up  to  hb  pleainre,  ransomless,  and  free : 

His  Taloor  shown  upon  oar  crests  to-dar. 

Hath  taught  us  how  lo  dmtsh  such  hipi  deedi^ 

Even  in  me  bosom  of  our  adversaries. 

K.  Hen.  Then  this  icmains^— d»t  we  dwids 


our  power.— 
Yon,  son  John,  and  way  cooan  Westmovdand, 
Towards  York  shall  bend  jou,  with  jonr  doral 

speed. 
To  meet  Northumberland,  and  the  preble  Saoap^ 
Who,  as  we  hear,  are  bunlj  in  arms: 
M jseU^— and   you,   son    Hany, — will    lowaidi 

Wales, 

To  ficfat  widi  Glendower,  and  die  earl  of  March. 
Rebellion  in  tins  land  shall  lose  his  swa j. 
Meeting  the  check  of  such  another  day : 
And  since  diis  bnsineas  so  foir  is  done. 
Let  us  not  leave  till  all  our  own  be  won. 

[ 


'  v\- 


/  • 


;0  ^^  -^ 

■.'It 


-J 


KING  HENRir  IV.    PART  II.    Att  V—  Sctnt  i5. 

Td.L  — P.41T. 


EINQ  H£NBV  V.    AciUI.  —  StxM 


SECOND  PART  OF 


KING  HENRY  IV. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


the  Fourth : 
Pftnee  qf  fVaies^  a/Urwarda 
ig  Henry  V. ; 

>t  Duke  of  Clarfnce  ,* 
ohn  of  Lanctaier,  afUrwardt  ^Aif  son*. 
Henry  V.)  Duke  of  Bedford  f 
iMBporey  ofGloster^  afterwards 
Henry  V.)  Duke  of  GUaterf 
Warwick ;  i 

Wegtmoreland ;  ^qf  the  king's  party, 
Hucoort;  ^ 

kiqf  Justice  of  the  Kin^s  Bench, 
Inupt  attending  on  the  Chitf  Justice, 
Northumberland ;  \ 

Archbidiop  qf  York  ;  f  enemies  to 

Joirbray ;  Lord  Hastings ;      /   the  king. 
irdolpb ;  Sir  John  Colevile ;  } 


Travers  and  Morton,  domestics  qf  Jiorthumber 

land, 
FaUtaff,  Bardolph,  Pistol,  and  Pa^ 
Poins  and  Peto,  attendants  on  Prmce  Henry, 
Shallow  and  Silence,  country  Justices, 
Davy,  servant  to  Shallow. 
Mouldy,  Shadow,  Wart,  Feeble,  and  BuUcalf,  w- 

cruits. 
Fang  and  Snare,  sheriff's  officers. 
Rumour.   A  Porter. 
A  Dancer,  speaker  qf  the  EpiU^ue. 

Lady  Northumberland.    Lady  Percy. 
Hostess  Quickljr.    Doll  Tear-sheet 

Lords  and  other  attendants;  officers,  soldiers^ 

messenger,  drawers,  beadles,  grooms,  4^. 

Scene,  England. 


INDUCTION. 


vorth.    Before  Northumberland's  castle. 
ter  Rumour,  painted  full  qf  tongues. 

.  Open  yoar  ears ;  For  which  of  you  will 

•top 
It  of  nearing,  when  loud  Rumour  speaks.^ 
die  orient  to  the  drooping  west, 
file  wind  my  post-horse,  still  unfold 
I  commenced  on  this  ball  of  earth : 
V  tongues  continual  slanders  nde ; 
icfa  in  every  language  I  pronounce, 
Ibe  ears  o^  men  witu  false  repdHs. 
of  peace,  while  covert  enmity, 
be  mile  of  safety,  wounds  the  world : 

0  but  Rumour,  who  but  only  I, 
larful  musters,  and  prepared  defence ; 

Iw  big  year,  swollen  with  some  other  gncf, 

;bC  with  child  by  the  stem  tyrant  war, 

aucfa  matter?    Rumour  is  a  pipe 

ty  surmises,  jealousies,  conjectures ; 

•o  easy  and  so  plain  a  stop, 

B  blunt  monster  with  uncounted  heads, 

1-diacordant  wavering  multitude, 

r  upon  it.     But  what  need  I  thus 

Mtnown  body  to  anatomize 

my  household  ?  Why  is  Rumour  here  ? 

lore  king  Harrj'^s  victory  ; 

1  a  bloody  field  by  Shrewsbury, 

laten  down  youn^  Hotspur,  and  his  troops, 

ing  the  flame  of  bold  rebellion 

th  the  rebePs  blood.     But  what  mean  I 

k  so  true  at  first  ?  my  office  is 

)  abroad, — that  Harry  Monmouth  fell 

be  wrath  of  noble  Hotspur's  sword ; 

t  the  king  before  the  Douglas'  rage 

his  anointed  head  as  low  as  death. 

(1)  Northumberland's  castle. 


II 


This  have  I  rumour'd  through  the  peasant  towns 
Between  that  royal  field  of  Shrewsbuiy 
And  this  worm-eaten  hold  of  ragged  stone,* 
Where  Hotspur's  father,  old  Northumberland, 
Lies  crafty-sick  :  the  posts  come  tiring  on. 
And  not  a  man  of  them  brings  other  news 
Than  they  have  leam'd  of  me;  From  Rumour's 

tongues 
They  bring  anfxx)th  comforts  false,  worse  than  true 

wrongs.  [Exit. 


ACT  I. 

SCEJfE  I.—The  same.     The  Porter  btfore  the 
gate;  Enter  Lord  Bardolph. 

Bard,  Who  keeps  the  gate  here,  ho  ^ — Where 

is  the  earl .' 
Port.  What  shall  I  say  you  are  ? 
Bard.  Tell  thou  the  earl. 

That  the  lord  Bardolph  doth  attend  him  here. 
Port  His  lordship  is  walk'd  forth  into  the  or* 
chard; 
Please  it  your  honour,  knock  but  at  the  gate, 
And  be  mmself  will  antwer. 

Enter  NorUiumberland. 

Bard,  Here  comes  the  earl. 

Jiorlh.  What  news,  lord  Bardolph.^  every  minute 
now 
Should  be  the  fiitherof  some  stratagem  :> 
The  times  are  wild ;  contention,  like  a  horse 
Full  of  high  feeding,  madly  hath  broke  loose, 
And  bears  down  all  before  him. 

Bard.  Noble  earl, 

I  bring  you  certain  news  from  Shrewsbury. 

JVbrfA.  Good,  an  heaven  will .' 

Bard.  As  good  as  heart  can  with :— 

The  king  if  almost  wounded  to  the  death ; 

(3)  Important  or  dreadful  eyent 


i 


418 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HEXRY  IV. 


Ad  I 


And,  in  the  fortune  of  my  lord  your  son, 
Prince  Harry  slain  outright ;  and  both  the  Blunts 
KiiPd  by  the  hand  of  Douelas:  young  prince  John, 
And  Westmoreland,  and  Stafford,  flea  the  field; 
And  Harry  Monmouth^s  brawn,  the  hulk  sir  John, 
Is  prisoner  to  your  son :  O,  such  a  day, 
So  fought,  so  followed,  and  so  fairly  woo. 
Came  not,  till  now,  to  dignify  the  times, 
Since  C«esar*s  fortunes ! 

JVortfu  How  is  this  deriv'd  ? 

Saw  you  the  field  ?  came  you  from  Shrewsbury  ? 

Bard.  I  spake  with  one,  my  lord,  that  came 
from  thence ; 
A  gentleman  well  bred,  and  of  good  name, 
That  freely  renderM  me  these  news  for  true. 

JVorth.  Here  comes  my  serrant,  Travers,  whom 
I  sent 
On  Tuesday  last  to  listen  after  news. 

Bard.  My  lord,  I  over-rode  him  on  the  way ; 
And  he  is  fumishM  with  no  certainties, 
More  than  he  haply  may  retain  from  me. 

Enter  Travers. 

^orih.  Now,  Trarers,  what  good  tidings  come 
with  you  f 

Tra,  My  lord,  sir  John  Umfrevile  tuniM  me  back 
With  joyful  tidings ;  and,  being  better  horsM, 
Out-rode  me.     AAer  him,  came,  spurrine;  hard,  * 
A  gentleman  alnoost  forspent^  with  speed, 
Tlmt  stoppM  by  me  to  breathe  his  bloodied  horse : 
He  askM  (he  way  to  Chester ;  and  of  him 
I  did  demand,  what  news  from  Shrewsbury. 
He  told  me,  that  rebellion  had  bad  luck. 
And  that  young  Harry  Percv*s  spur  was  cold : 
With  that,  he  gave  his  able  horse  the  head, 
And,  bending  forward,  struck  his  armed  heels 
Against  the  panting  sides  of  his  poor  jade 
Up  to  the  rowel-head ;  and,  starting  so. 
He  seemM  in  running  to  devour  the  way. 
Staying  no  longer  question. 

^orth.  Ha ! Again. 

Said  he,  young  Harry  Percy's  spur  was  cold  ? 
Of  Hotspur,  coldspur?  that  rebellion 
Had  met  ill  luck  .' 

Bard.  My  lord,  I'll  tell  you  what ; — 

If  my  youne  lord  your  son  has  not  the  day. 
Upon  mine  honour,  for  a  silken  point^ 
I'll  give  my  barony ;  never  talk  of  it. 

J^orth.  Why  should  the  gentleman,  that  rode 
by  Travers, 
Give  then  such  instances  of  loss  f 

Bard.  Who,  he? 

He  was  scnne  hildingS  fellow,  that  had  stol'n 
The  horse  he  rode  on ;  and,  upon  my  life. 
Spoke  at  a  venture.  Look,  here  comes  more  news. 

£n/er  Morton. 

JVorih.  Yea,  this  man's  brow,  like  to  a  title-leaf, 
Foretells  the  nature  of  a  tragic  volume  : 
So  looks  the  strond,  whereon  the  imperious  flood 

Hath  left  a  witness'd  usurpation.^ 

Say,  Morion,  didst  thou  come  from  Shrewsburj'  ? 

Mor.  I  ran  from  Shrewsbury,  my  noble  lord ; 
Where  hateful  death  put  on  his  ugliest  mask, 
To  fright  our  party. 

J^orth.  How  doth  my  son,  and  brother .'' 

Thou  Iremblest ;   and  the  whiteness  in  thy  cheek 
Is  apter  than  thy  tongue  to  tell  thy  errand. 
Even  such  a  man,  so  faint,  so  spiritless. 
So  dull,  so  dead  in  look,  so  wo-begone, 

(\)  Exhausted.  (2)  Lace  tagged. 

(3)  Hilderling,  base,  cowardly. 

(4)  An  attestation  of  its  ravage. 


Drew  Priam's  curtain  in  the  dead  of  night. 
And  would  have  told  him,  half  his  Troy  was  buin'd : 
But  Priam  found  the  fire,  ere  he  his  tongue. 
And  I  my  Percy's  death,  ere  thou  report'st  it 
This  thou  wouldst  say, — Your  son  did  thus,  and 

thus; 
Your  brother,  thus ;  so  fou^t  the  noble  Dourlas ; 
Stopping  my  ereedy  ear  with  their  bold  deeds : 
But  m  the  end,  to  stop  mine  ear  indeed. 
Thou  hast  a  sigh  to  blow  away  this  praiae, 
Ending  with— brother,  son,  and  all  are  dead. 

Mor.  Douglas  is  living,  and  your  brodier,  yel : 
But,  for  my  lord  your  son, 

J^Torth.  Why,  he  ia  dead 

See,  what  a  ready  tongue  suspicion  bath! 
He,  that  but  fears  the  thing  he  would  not  know, 
Hath,  by  instinct,  knowledge  from  other's  eyes, 
That  what  he  fear'd  is  chanced.  Yet  speak,  MoHoo 
Tell  thou  thy  earl,  his  divination  lies ; 
And  I  will  take  it  as  a  sweet  di^^race. 
And  make  thee  rich  for  doing  me  such  wrong. 

Mor,  You  are  too  great  to  be  by  me  gainsaid: 
Your  spirit  is  too  true,  ^our  fears  too  certain. 

JVorth,  Yet,  for  all  this,  say  not  that  Percy's  dead. 
I  see  a  strange  confession  in  thine  eye : 
Thou  shak'st  thy  head,  and  hold'st  it  fear,  ot  sin ; 
To  speak  a  truth.     If  he  be  slain,  say  so : 
The  tongue  offends  not,  that  reports  nis  death : 
And  he  doth  sin,  that  doth  belie  the  dead; 
Not  he,  which  says  the  dead  is  not  alive. 
Yet  the  first  bringer  o(  unwelcome  news 
Hath  but  a  losing  office ;  and  his  tongue 
Sounds  ever  after  as  a  sullen  bell, 
Remember'd  knollin^  a  departing  friend. 

Bard.  I  cannot  think,  my  lord,  your  son  is  dead 

Mor.  I  am  sorry,  I  should  force  you  to  believe 
That,  which  I  ivould  to  heaven  I  had  not  seen: 
But  these  mine  eyes  saw  him  in  bloody  state. 
Rend  Ving  faint  quittance,^  wearied  and  outbreath'd, 
To  Hairy  Monmouth :  whose  swift  wrath  beat  down 
The  never-daunted  Percy  to  the  earth. 
From  whence  with  life  he  never  more  sprung  up. 
In  few,<i  his  death  (whose  spirit  lent  a  fire 
Even  to  the  dullest  peasant  in  his  camp,) 
Being  bruited^  once,  took  fire  and  heat  away 
From  the  best  temper'd  courage  in  his  troops : 
For  from  his  metal  was  his  party  steel'd  ; 
Which  one/ in  him  abated,  all  the  rest 
Tum'd  on  themselves,  like  dull  and  heavy  lead. 
And  as  the  thing  that's  heavy  in  itself. 
Upon  enforcement,  flies  with  greatest  speed ; 
So  did  our  men,  heavy  in  Hotspur's  loss. 
Lend  to  this  weight  such  lightne«»s  with  their  fear. 
That  arrows  fled  not  swiAer  toward  their  aim. 
Than  did  our  soldiers,  aiming  at  their  safety. 
Fly  from  the  field  :  Then  was  that  noble  Worcester 
Too  soon  ta'en  prisoner :  and  that  furious  Scot, 
The  bloody  Douglas,  whose  well-labouring  sword 
Had  three  times  slain  the  appearance  of  £e  king, 
'Gan  vail^  his  stomach,  and  aid  grace  the  shame 
Of  those  that  tum'd  their  backs ;  and,  in  his  fi^t, 
Stumbling  in  fear,  was  took.     The  sum  of  all 
Is, — that  the  king  hath  won ;  and  hath  sent  out 
A  {ipeedy  power  to  encounter  you,  my  lord, 
Unaer  the  conduct  of  young  Lancaster, 
And  Westmoreland  :  this  is  the  news  at  full. 

JVorth.  For  this  1  shall  have  time  enough  to moom. 
In  poison  there  is  physic ;  and  these  news. 
Having  been  well,  that  would  have  made  me  ack, 
Bcitisc  sick,  have  in  some  measure  made  me  well: 
And  as  the.  wretch,  whose  fcver-weaken'd  joints, 

(5)  Return  of  blows.  (6)  In  few  words. 

(7)  Reported.  (8)  Let  fall. 


SECOSfD  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


419 


'er 


engthless  hii^^es,  bacUe  nnder  life 

ot  of  his  fit,  breaks  like  a  fire 

bis  keeper*8  anns ;  even  so  my  limbe, 

i*d  witn  ^ef,  being  now  eoragM  with  grief, 

ice  themselves ;  hence  therefore,  thoa  nicei 

crutch ; 

gauntlet  now,  with  joints  of  steel, 
vre  this  hand :  and  hence,  thou  sickly  qooif  ;3 
rt  a  guard  too  wanton  for  the  head, 
princes,  fleshed  with  conquest,  aim  to  hit 
id  my  brows  with  iron ;  and  approach 
ged*st  hour  that  time  and  spite  dare  bring, 
u  lupon  the  enrairM  Northumberland ! 
ren  kiss  earth !  Now  let  not  nature's  hand 
e  wild  flood  confinM  I  let  order  die ! 
this  world  no  longer  be  a  stage, 
contention  in  a  lingering  act ; 
one  spirit  of  the  first-bom  Cain 
1  all  bosoms,  that,  each  heart  being  set 
dy  courses,  the  rude  scene  may  end, 
4meM  be  the  burier  of  the  dead ! 
Hiis  strained  passion  doth  you  wrong,  my 

lord. 
.  Sweet  earl,  divorce  not  wisdom  from  your 

honour.  i 

The  lives  of  all  your  loving  complices 
I  your  health ;  the  which,  if  yon  give  o*( 
ny  passion,  must  perforce  decay. 
I  the  event  of  war,  mv  noble  lord, 
sim*d  the  account  of  chance,  beifore  you 

said, 
nake  head.    It  was  your  presuitnise, 
the  dole'  of  blows  your  son  might  drop : 
tw,  he  walked  o'er  perils,  on  an  edge, 
Lely  to  fall  in,  than  to  get  o*er : 
re  advis'd,  his  flesh  was  capable 
ids,  and  scars;  and  that  his  forward  spirits 
ift  him  where  most  trade  of  danger  rangM ; 
you  say, — Go  forth ;  and  none  of  this, 
strongly  apprehended,  could  restrain 
f-bome  action :  What  hath  then  befallen, 
hath  this  bold  enterprise  brought  forth, 
an  that  being  whic^  was  like  to  be? 
.  We  all,  that  are  engaged  to  this  loss, 
lat  we  ventured  on  such  dangerous  seas, 
we  wrought  out  life,  'twas  ten  to  one  : 
we  ventured,  for  the  gain  propos'd 
the  respect  of  likely  peril  tearM ; 
ice  we  are  o'ersel,  venture  again, 
re  will  ail  put  forth ;  body,  and  goods. 
'Tis  more  than  time :  And,  my  most  noble 

lord, 

NT  certain,  and  do  speak  the  truth, 

itle  archbishop  of  York  is  up, 
ill-appointed  powers;^  he  is  a  man, 
th  a  double  surety  binds  his  followers, 
your  son  had  only  but  the  corps, 
lows,  and  the  shows  of  men,  to  fight : 
same  word,  rebellion,  did  divide 
ion  of  their  bodies  from  their  souls ; 
Y  did  fight  with  queasiness,^  constrained, 
drink  potions ;  that  their  weap(H)ii  only 
Dn  our  side,  but,  for  their  spirits  and  souls, 
rd,  rebellion,  it  had  froze  them  up, 
re  in  a  pond :  But  now  the  bishop 
isurrection  to  religion : 
1  sincere  and  holy  in  his  thoughts, 
ow'd  both  with  body  and  with  mind ; 
h  enlarge  his  rising  with  the  blood 
.ing  Richard,  scrap*d  from  Porafret  sioaea ; 

ifling.        (2)  Cap.        (3)  Distribution, 
trees.         (5)  Against  their  stomachs, 
eater.        (7)  Owned.         (8)  Gibe. 


Derives  from  heaven  his  (;|uarrel,  and  his  cause  -, 
Tells  them,  he  doth  bestride  a  bleeding  land, 
Gan)in|^  for  life  under  gneat  BoUc^broke ; 
And  more,^  and  less,  m  flock  to  follow  him. 

JVorth.  I  knew  of  this  before ;  but,  to  speak  truth, 
This  present  grief  had  wipM  it  from  my  mind. 
Go  in  with  me ;  and  counsel  every  man 
The  aptest  way  for  safetv,  and  revenge : 
Get  posts,  and  fetters,  ana  make  friends  with  speed ; 
Never  so  few,  and  never  yet  more  need.  [EMtnL 

SCEJV^  //.—London.  A  street  Enter  Sir 
John  Falstafi^  wUh  his  Page  bearing  his  sword 
and  buckler. 

Fal.  Sirrah,  you  giant,  what  lays  the  doctcv  to 
my  water  ? 

Page,  He  said,  sir,  the  water  itself  was  a  good 
healthy  water :  but,  for  the  par^  that  owed^  it,  he 
mi^t  nave  more  diseases  than  he  knew  for. 

FaL  Men  of  all  sorts  take  a  pride  to  eird^  at  me ; 
The  brain  of  this  foolish-compounded  clay,  man,  is 
not  able  to  vent  any  tlun^  that  tends  to  laughter, 
more  than  I  invent,  or  is  mventedon  me :  I  am  not 
only  witty  in  myself,  but  the  cause  that  wit  is  in 
other  men.  I  do  here  walk  before  thee,  like  asow, 
that  hath  o*erwhelmed  all  her  litter  but  one.  If  the 
prince  put  thee  into  my  service  for  any  other  reason 
than  to  set  me  off,  why  then  I  have  no  judgment 
Thou  whoreson  manarake,^  thou  art  fitter  to  be 
worn  in  my  cap,  than  to  wait  at  my  heels.  I  was 
never  manned  with  an  agate^o  till  now :  but  I  will 
set  vou  neither  in  gold  nor  silver,  but  in  vile  apparel, 
and  send  you  back  again  to  your  master,  for  a 
jewel;  the  juvenal,  the  prince  yoar  master,  whose 
chin  is  not  yet  fledged.  I  will  sooner  have  a  beard 
grow  in  the  palm  of  my  hand,  than  he  shall  get 
one  on  his  cheek ;  and  yet  he  will  not  stick  to  say, 
his  face  is  a  face  royal :  God  may  finish  it  when  he 
will,  it  is  not  a  hair  amiss  yet :  Ke  may  keep  it  still 
as  a  face-royal,  for  a  barber  shall  never  earn  six- 

Eence  out  of  it ;  and  yet  he  will  be  crowing,  as  if 
e  had  writ  man  ever  since  his  father  was  a  bache- 
lor.   He  may  keep  his  own  g^ace,  but  he  is  almost 

out  of  mine,  I  can  assure  him. ^What  said 

master  Dumbleton  about  the  satin,  f(n>  my  short 
cloak,  and  slops. 

Page.  He  said,  sir,  you  should  procure  him  bet- 
ter assurance  than  Bardolph  :  he  would  not  take 
his  bond  and  ^'ours  ;  he  liked  not  the  security. 

Fal.  Let  him  be  damned  like  a  button !  may 
his  tongue  be  hotter ! — A  whoreson  Achitophel !  a 
rascally  yea-forsooth  knave !  to  bear  a  gentleman 
in  hand,  and  then  stand  upon  security ! — The  whore- 
son smooth-pates  do  now  wear  nothing  but  high 
shoes,  and  bunches  of  keys  at  their  girdles ;  and  if 
a  man  is  thorough'!  with  them  in  honest  taking  up, 

then  they  must  stand  upon security.     I  had  as 

lief  they  would  put  ratsbane  in  my  mouth,  as  ofler 
to  stop  it  with  security.  I  lookea  he  should  have 
sent  me  two  and  twenty  yards  of  satin,  as  I  am  a 
true  knight,  and  he  sends  me  security.  Well,  he 
may  sleep  in  security ;  for  he  hath  the  horn  of 
abundance,  and  the  lightness  of  his  wife  shinef 
through  it :  and  yet  cannot  he  see,  though  he 

have  nis  own  lantern  to  light  him. Where's 

Bardolph  ? 

Page.  He's  gone  into  Smithfield,  to  buy  your 
wortthip  a  horse. 

FaL  I  bought  him  in  Paul's,  and  he'll  buy  me  a 
horse  in  Smithfield :  an  I  could  get  me  but  a  wife 

(9)  A  root  supposed  to  have  the  shape  of  a  man. 

(10)  A  little  neure  cut  in  an  agate. 

(11)  In  tluir  debt. 


420 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


Jlctl 


n  the  stews,  I  were  manned,  honed,  and  wived,  i 

Enier  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  and  an  attendant. 

Pag^.  Sir,  here  comes  the  nobleman  that  com- 
mitted the  prince  for  striking  him  about  Bardolph. 

FaL  Wait  close ;  I  will  not  see  him. 

Ch.  Just.  What's  he  that  goes  there  ? 

Atten.  Falittaff,  an*t  please  your  lordship. 

Ch.  Just.  He  that  was  in  question  for  the  robbery  ? 

Jitien.  He,  my  lord :  but  he  hath  since  done 
good  service  at  Shrewsbury  ;  and,  as  1  bear,  is 
DOW  going  with  some  chai^  to  the  lord  John  of 
Lancaster. 

Oi.  Just.  What,  to  York  ?  Call  him  back  again. 

Jlitm.  Sir  John  FalstafT! 

Fal.  Boy,  tell  him,  I  am  deaf. 

Page.  You  must  speak  louder,  my  master  is  deaf. 

Ch.  Just.  I  am  sure,  he  is,  to  the  hearing  of  any 
thing  good. — Go,  pluck  him  by  the  elbow ;  I  must 
speak  with  him. 

Atten.  Sir  John, 

Fal.  What !  a  young  knave,  and  beg !  Is  there 
not  wars .'  is  there  not  employment .'  Doth  not  the 
king  lack  subjects.'  do  not  the  rebels  need  soldiers.' 
Though  it  be  a  shame  to  be  on  any  side  but  one,  it 
is  worse  shame  to  beg  than  to  be  on  the  worst  side, 
were  it  worse  than  the  name  of  rebellion  can  tell 
how  to  make  it 

Atten.  You  mistake  me,  sir. 

Fal.  Why,  sir,  did  I  say  you  were  an  honest 
man.'  setting  my  knighthood  and  my  soldiership 
aside,  I  had  lied  in  my  throat  if  I  had  said  so. 

Atten.  I  pray  you,  sir,  then  set  your  knighthood 
and  your  soldiership  aside ;  and  give  me  leave  to 
tell  you,  you  lie  in  your  throat,  if  you  say  I  am  any 
other  than  an  honest  man. 

FaL  I  give  thee  leave  to  tell  me  so !  I  lay  aside 
that  which  grows  to  me !  If  thou  gettV  any  leave 
of  roe,  hang  me ;  if  thou  takest  leave,  thou  wert 
better  be  hanged:  You  hunt-counter,^  hence! 
avaunt .' 

Atten.  Sir,  my  lord  woufd  speak  with  you. 

Ch.  Just.  Sir  John  Falstaff,  a  word  with  you. 

FaL  My  good  lord ! — God  give  your  lordship 
good  time  of  day.  I  am  glad  to  see  your  lordship 
abroad :  I  heard  say,  your  lordship  was  sick :  i 
hope  ywir  lordship  goes  abroad  by  advice.  Your 
lordship,  though  not  clean  past  your  youth,  hath 
yet  some  smack  of  age  in  you,  some  relish  of  the 
saltness  of  time  ;  and  I  most  humbly  beseech  your 
lordship,  to  have  a  reverend  care  of  your  health. 

Ch.  Jvist.  Sir  John,  I  sent  for  you  before  your 
expedition  to  Shrewsbury. 

Fal.  AnU  please  your  lordship,  I  hear,  his  ma- 
jesty is  returned  with  some  discomfort  from  Wales. 

Ch.  Just.  I  talk  not  of  his  majesty  : — You  would 
not  come  when  I  sent  for  you. 

Fal.  And  I  hear  moreover,  his  highness  is  fallen 
into  this  same  whoreson  apoplexv. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  heaven  mena  him!  I  pray,  let 
me  speak  with  you. 

Fal.  This  apoplexy  is,  as  I  take  it,  a  kind  of 
lethargv,  anU  please  your  lordship ;  a  kind  of  sleep- 
ing in  the  blood,  a  wnoresofi  tingling. 

Ch.  Just.  What  tell  you  me  of  it .'  be  it  as  it  is. 

Fal.  It  hath  its  original  from  much  grief;  from 
study,  and  perturbation  of  the  brain  :  I  have  read 
(he  cause  of  his  effects  in  Galen ;  it  is  a  kind  of 
deafness. 

(1)  Alluding  to  an  old  proverb:  Who  goes  to 
Westminster  for  a  wife,  to  St.  Paul's  for  a  man, 
^and  to  Smithfield  for  a  horse,  may  meet  with  a 
whore,  a  knave,  and  a  jade. 


Ch..  Just.  I  think,  you  are  fallen  into  the  disease; 
for  you  hear  not  whiat  I  say  to  you. 

Fal.  Very  well,  my  lord,  very  well :  rather,  an*t 
please  you,  it  is  the  disease  of  not  listening,  Om 
malady  of  not  mariiing^hat  I  am  troubled  withaL 

Ch.  Just.  To  punish  you  by  the  heels,  would 
amend  the  attention  of  your  ears ;  and  I  care  doC^ 
if  I  become  your  physician. 

Fal.  I  am  as  poor  as  Job,  my  lord ;  but  not  m 
patient :  your  lordship  may  minister  the  potion  of 
imprisonment  to  me,  in  respect  of  poverty;  bat 
how  I  should  be  your  patient  to  follow  your  pre- 
scriptions, the  wise  may  make  some  dram  of  a 
scruple,  or,  indeed,  a  scruple  itself. 

Ch.  Just.  I  sent  for  you,  when  there  wers 
matters  against  you  for  your  life,  to  come  tpedE 
with  me. 

Fal.  As  I  was  then  advised  b^  my  learned  cooD- 
sel  in  the  laws  of  this  land-service,  I  did  not  come. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  the  truth  is,  sir  John,  yoa  lire 
in  great  infamy. 

Fal.  He  that  buckles  him  in  my  belt,  caimol 
live  in  less. 

Ch.  Just.  Your  means  are  very  slender,  and 
your  waste  is  great 

Fal.  I  would  it  were  otherwise;  I  would  aj 
means  were  greater,  and  my  waist  slenderer. 

Ch.  Just.    You  have  misled  the  youthful  prince. 

FaL  The  young  prince  hath  misled  me  :  I  am 
the  fellow  with  the  great  belly,  and  he  my  dog. 

Ch.  Just,  Well,  1  am  loath  to  gall  a  new-healed 
wound  ;  your  day's  service  at  Shrewsbury  hath  a 
little  gilded  over  your  night's  exploit  on  Gads-hill: 
you  may  thank  the  unquiet  time  for  your  quiet  o'er- 
posting  that  action. 

FaL  My  lord,' 

Oi.  Just.  But  since  all  is  well,  keep  it  so :  wake 
not  a  sleeping  wolf. 

FaL  To  walce  a  wolf,  is  as  bad  as  to  smell  a  (cOL 

Ch.  Just.  What !  you  are  as  a  candle,  the  bet 
ter  part  burnt  out. 

JrhL  A  waaneP  candle,  my  lord ;  all  tallow:  if 
I  did  say  of  wax,  my  growth  would  approve  die 
truth. 

Ch.  Just.  There  is  not  a  white  hair  on  your  fiioe, 
but  should  have  his  effect  of  gravity. 

FaL  His  effect  of  gravy,  gravy,  gravy. 

C%.  Just  You  follow  the  young  prince  up  and 
down,  like  his  ill  angel. 

Fal.  Not  so,  my  lord ;  your  ill  angeH  is  light ; 
but,  I  ho|)e,  he  that  looks  upon  me,  will  take  me 
without  weighing :  and  yet,  in  some  respects,  I 
grant,  I  cannot  go,  I  cannot  tell  :*  Virtue  is  of  so 
little  repird  in  these  coster-monger  times,  that  true 
valour  IS  turned  bear-herd :  Pregnane)  ^  is  made  a 
tapster,  and  hath  his  quick  wit  wastr^d  in  givii^ 
reckonings :  all  the  other  gifts  appertinent  to  man, 
as  the  malice  of  this  age  shapes  them,  arc  not 
worth  a  gooseberry.  You,  that  are  old,  consider 
not  the  capacities  of  us  that  are  young:  yoa 
measure  the  heat  of  our  livers  with  the  bitterness 
of  your  galls  :  and  we  that  are  in  the  vaward'  of 
our  youth,  I  must  confess,  are  wags  too. 

Ch.  Just.  Do  you  set  down  your  name  in  Ae 
scroll  of  youth,  that  are  written  down  old  with  all 
the  characters  of  age .'  Have  you  not  a  moist  eye.' 
a  dry  hand .'  a  yellow  cheek .'  a  white  beard *f  a 
decreasing  leg  ?  an  increasing  belly  .'  Is  not  your 
voice  broken .'  your  wind  short.'  your  chin  double.' 

(2)  A  catch-pole  or  bum-bailiff. 

(.'))  A  large  candle  for  a  feast 

(4)  The  coin  called  an  angel.    (5)  Past  carreot 

(6)  Readiness.  (7)  Forepart 


Setntia 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


421 


your  wit  sin|;1e  ?i  and  every  l;art  aboat  you  blasted 
with  antiquity.^  and  will  you  yet  call  youneli* 
young  ?  Fie,  fie,  fie,  sir  John ! 

Fm.  My  lord,  I  was  bom  about  three  of  the 
dock  in  the  afternoon,  with  a  white  head,  and 
•omething  a  round  belly.  For  my  voice, — I  have 
lost  it  wim  hollaing,  and  singins  of  anthems.  To 
ap[»ove  my  youth  further,  I  will  not :  the  truth  is, 
]  am  oolv  old  in  judgment  and  understanding ; 
and  he  that  will  caper  with  me  for  a  thousand 
marks,  let  him  lend  me  the  money,  and  have  at 
him.  For  the  box  o*the  ear  that  the  prince  gave 
you, — be  gave  it  like  a  rude  prince,  and  you  took 
tt  like  a  sensible  lord.  I  have  checked  him  for  it ; 
and  the  young  lion  repents :  marry,  not  in  ashes, 
and  sackcloth ;  but  in  new  silk,  and  old  sack. 

Ch.  Just  Well,  heaven  send  the  prince  a  better 
companion ! 

FaL  Heaven  send  the  companion  a  better  prince ! 
I  cannot  rid  my  hands  of  him. 

Ch.  Just.  Well,  the  king  hath  severed  you  and 
prince  Hany:  I  hear,  ^ou  are  goine  with  lord 
John  of  Lancaster,  agamst  the  archbishop,  and 
the  earl  of  Northumberland. 

FaL  Yea ;  1  thank  your  pretty  sweet  wit  for  it 
But  look  you  pray,  all  you  tnat  kiss  my  lady  peace 
at  home,  that  our  armiej  join  not  in  a  hot  day ! 
for,  by  the  Lord,  I  take  but  two  shirts  out  with  me, 
acd  I  mean  not  to  sweat  extraordinarily  :  if  it  be 
a  hot  day,  an  I  brandbh  any  thing  but  my  bottle, 
I  would  I  might  never  spit  white  again.  There  is 
not  a  dangerous  action  can  peep  out  his  bead,  but 
I  am  thrust  upon  it :  Well,  I  cannot  last  ever : 
But  it  was  always  yet  the  tnck  of  our  English  na- 
tion, if  they  have  a  good  thin?,  to  make  it  too  com- 
mon. If  you  will  needs  say,  I  am  an  old  man,  you 
riiould  give  me  rest.  I  would  to  God,  my  name 
were  not  so  terrible  to  the  enemy  as  it  is.  I  were 
better  to  be  eaten  to  death  with  rust,  than  to  be 
■conred  to  nothing  with  perpetual  motbn. 

Ch,  JtLst.  Well,  be  honest,  be  honest ;  And  God 
bless  your  expedition ! 

FaL  Will  your  lordship  lend  me  a  thousand 
pound,  to  furnish  me  forth  r 

Oi,  Just.  Not  a  penny,  not  a  penny ;  you  are 
too  impatient  to  bear  crosses.  Fare  you  well : 
Ckxnmend  me  to  my  cousin  Westmoreland. 

[Exeunt  Chief  Justice  cuid  AtieruJani. 

Fal.  If  I  do,  fillip  me  with  a  three-man  beetle.' — 
A  man  can  no  more  separate  age  and  covetous- 
ness,  than  he  can  part  young  limbs  and  lechery : 
but  the  gout  galls  the  one,  and  the  pox  pinches  the 
other;  and  so  both  the  degrees  prevent^  my 
curses. — Boy  ! 

Pa^e.  Sir.? 

Ftu.  What  money  is  in  my  purse  ? 

Page.  Seven  g^rtMits  and  two-pence. 

Fed.  I  can  get  no  remedy  against  this  consump- 
tion of  the  purse :  borrowing  only  lingers  and 
lingers  it  out,  but  the  disease  is  incurable. — Go 
bear  this  letter  to  my  lord  of  Lancaster;  (his  to 
the  prince ;  this  to  the  earl  of  Westmoreland ;  and 
this  to  old  mistress  Ursula,  whom  I  have  weekly 
twom  to  marry  since  I  perceived  the  first  white 
hair  on  mv  chin :  About  it ;  you  know  where  (o 
find  me.  [Exit  Page.]  A  pox  of  this  gout !  or,  a 
gout  of  tnis  pox .'  for  the  one,  or  the  other,  plays 
the  rogue  with  mv  great  toe.  It  is  no  matter,  \(  I 
do  halt ;  I  have  the  wars  for  my  colour,  and  my 
pension  shall  seem  the  more  reasonable :  A  good 

(1)  Small.  (2)  Old  age. 

(3)  A  large  wooden  hammer  so  heavy  as  to  re- 
quire three  men  to  wield  it 


wit  will  make  use  of  anj  thii^ ;  I  will  turn  dis- 
eases to  ccxnmodity.  [Exit, 

SCEU^E  ///.—York.  A  room  in  the  arehbishop^t 
palace.  Enter  the  archbishop  qf  York,  the 
lords  Hastings,  Mowbray,  and  Bardolph. 

Arch.  Thus  have  you  heard  our  cause,  and 
known  our  means ; 
And,  my  most  noble  friends,  I  pray  you  all. 
Speak  plainly  your  opinions  of  our  hopes : — 
And  first,  lora  marshal,  what  say  you  to  it  f 

Mowb.  I  well  allow  the  occasion  of  our  arms; 
But  gladly  would  be  better  satisfied. 
How,  in  our  means,  we  should  advance  ourselves 
To  look  with  forehead  bold  and  big  enough 
Upon  the  power  and  puissance  of  the  king. 

Hast.  Our  present  musters  grow  upon  the  file 
To  five  and  twenty  thousand  men  c^  choice ; 
And  our  supplies  live  largely  in  the  hope 
Of  great  Northumberland,  whose  bosom  bums 
With  an  incensed  fire  of  injuries. 

Bard.  The  question  then,  lord  Hastings,  stand- 
eth  thus ; — 
Whether  our  present  five  and  twenty  thousand 
May  hold  up  bead  without  Northumberland. 

Hast.  With  him,  we  may. 

Bard.  Ay^  marry,  there^s  the  point : 

But,  if  without  him  we  be  thought  too  feeble. 
My  judgment  is,  we  should  not  step  too  far 
Till  we  had  his  assistance  by  the  hand  : 
For,  in  a  theme  so  bloody-facM  as  this. 
Conjecture,  expectation,  and  surmise 
Of  aids  uncertain,  should  not  be  admitted. 

Arch.  *Tis  very  true,  lord  Bardolph ;  for,  indeed. 
It  was  young  Hotspur's  case  at  Shrewsbury. 

Bard.  It  was,  my  lord ;  who  lin'd  himself  with 
hope. 
Eating  the  air  on  promise  of  supply. 
Flattering  himself  with  project  of  a  power 
Much  smaller  than  the  smallest  of  his  thoughts : 
And  so,  with  great  imagination. 
Proper  to  madmen,  led  his  powers  to  death. 
Ana,  winking,  leapM  into  destruction. 

Hast.  But,  by  your  leave,  it  never  yet  did  hurt. 
To  lay  down  likelihoods,  and  forms  of  hc^ 

Bard.  Yes,  in  this  present  quality  of  war ; — 
Indeed  the  instant  action  (a  cause  on  foot,) 
Lives  so  in  hope,  as  in  an  early  spring 
We  see  the  appearing  buds ;  which,  to  prove  fruit, 
Hope  gives  not  so  much  warrant,  as  despair. 
That  frosts  will  bite  them.  When  we  mean  to  build. 
We  first  survey  the  plot,  then  draw  the  model ; 
And  when  we  see  the  figure  of  the  house. 
Then  must  we  rate  the  cost  of  the  erection  : 
Which  if  we  find  outweighs  ability. 
What  do  we  then,  but  draw  anew  the  model 
In  fewer  offices ;  or,  at  least,  desist 
To  build  at  all  ?  Much  more,  in  this  great  work 
(Which  is,  almost,  to  pluck  a  kingdom  down. 
And  set  another  up,)  ^ould  we  survey 
The  plot  of  situation,  and  the  model ; 
Consent^  upon  a  sure  foundation ; 
Question  surveyors ;  know  our  own  estate. 
How  able  such  a  work  to  undergo, 
To  weigh  against  his  opposite ;  or  else. 
We  fortify  in  paper,  ana  in  figures. 
Using  the  names  of  men,  instead  of  men : 
Like  one,  that  draws  the  model  of  a  house 
Beyond  his  power  to  build  it ;  who,  half  through. 
Gives  o'er,  and  leaves  his  part-created  cost 
A  naked  subject  to  the  weeping  clouds, 
And  waste  for  churlish  winter's  tyranny. 


(4)  Anticipate. 


(5)  AgreOi 


422 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


Ad  a 


HuL  Grant,  that  our  hopes  (yet  likely  for  &ir 
birth,) 
Should  be  still-bom,  and  that  we  wm  potsett'd 
The  ntmost  roan  of  expectation ; 
I  think,  we  are  a  body  strong  enoi^h, 
£7en  as  we  are,  to  equal  with  the  king. 

Bard.  What .'  is  the  king  but  five  and  twenty 
thousand  ? 

Hast.  To  us,  no  more ;  nay,  not  to  much,  lord 
Bardolph. 
For  his  divisions,  as  the  times  do  brawl. 
Are  in  three  heads :  one  power  against  the  French, 
And  one  against  Glendower ;  perforce,  a  third 
Must  take  up  us :  So  is  the  unnrm  king 
In  three  divided ;  and  his  coffers  sound 
With  hollow  poverty  and  emptiness. 

Arch.  That  he  should  draw  his  several  strengths 
together. 
And  come  against  us  in  full  puissance, 
Need  not  be  dreaded. 

Heut.  If  he  should  do  so, 

He  leaves  his  back  unann*d,  the  French  and  Welsh 
Baying  him  at  the  heels :  never  fear  that 

Bard.  Who,  is  it  like,  should  lead  his  forces 
hither? 

Hast.  The  duke  of  Lancaster,  and  Westmore- 
land: 
Against  the  Welsh,  himself^  and  Harry  Monmouth : 
But  who  is  substituted  Against  the  French, 
I  have  no  certain  notice. 

Arch.  Let  us  on ; 

And  publish  the  occasion  of  our  arms. 
The  commonwealth  is  sick  of  their  own  choice. 
Their  over-greedv  love  hath  surfeited : — 
A  habitation  gid(hr  and  unsure 
Hath  he,  that  buildeth  on  the  vulgar  heart 
O  thou  fond  many  !^  with  what  loud  applause 
Didst  thou  beat  heaven  with  blessing  Bolingbroke, 
Before  be  was  what  thou  would'st  have  him  be  f 
And  being  now  trimm^d^  in  thine  own  desires. 
Thou,  beastly  feeder,  art  so  full  of  him. 
That  thou  provok^st  Uiyself  to  cast  him  up. 
So,  so,  thou  common  dog,  didst  thou  diworge 
Thy  glutton  bosom  of  tl^  royal  Richard; 
And  now  thou  would^st  eat  thy  dead  vonpt  up, 
And  howPst  to  find  it  What  trust  is  in  flieSe  times  ? 
They  that,  when  Richard  liv*d,  would  have  him  die. 
Are  now  become  enamourM  oa  his  grave : 
Thou,  that  threw^st  dust  upon  his  goodly  head. 
When  through  proud  Lonaon  he  came  sighing  on 
After  the  admired  heels  of  Bolingbroke, 
Cry*st  now,  O  earth,  yield  us  thai  kin§^  again. 
And  take  thou  this  !  O  thoughts  of  men  accun<t ! 
Past,  and  to  come,  seem  best ;  things  present,  worst 

Mowb.  Shall  we  go  draw  our  numbers,  and  set  on? 

Hast.  We  are  time*8  subjects,  and  time  bids  be 


gone. 


[Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 


SCEJ^E  /.—London.  A  street  Enter  Hostess  ; 
Fang,  and  his  boy^  with  her;  and  Snare  yb/- 
lowing. 

Host.  Master  Fang,  have  you  entered  the  acti<Hi? 
Fang.  It  is  entered. 

Host.  Where  is  your  yeoman  ?'  Is  it  a  lusty  yeo- 
man ?  will  a*  stana  toU  ? 
Fang.  Sirrah,  where's  Snare  ? 
Host.  O  lord,  t^ :  good  master  Snare. 

(1)  Multitude.  (2)  Dress'd. 

(3)  A  bailiflPs  follower.    (4)  Thra-t.     (5)  Grasp 


Snare.  Here,  here. 

Fang.  Snare,  we  must  arrest  sir  John  Falstafi 

Host.  Yea,  good  master  Snare ;  I  have  entered 
him  and  all. 

Snare.  It  maychanoe  cost  some  of  us  our  lives, 
for  he  will  stab. 

Host.  Alas  the  day!  take  heed  of  him;  be 
stabbed  me  in  mine  own  house,  and  that  most 
beastly :  in  good  faith,  a*  cares  not  what  mischief 
he  doth,  if  his  weapon  be  out :  he  will  foin^  like 
an^  devil ;  he  will  spare  neither  man,  woman,  nor 
child. 

fhng.  If  I  can  close  with  him,  I  care  not  for 
his  thrust 

Host.  No,  nor  I  neither :  Pll  be  at  your  elbow. 

Fang.  An  I  but  fist  him  once ;  an  a*  come  but 
within  my  vice  ;* — 

Host.  I  am  undone  by  his  going ;  I  warrant  you. 
he*s  an  infinitive  thing  upon  my  score: — Good 
master  Fang,  hold  him  sure ; — good  master  Snare, 
let  him  not  *scape.  He  comes  continuantly  to  Pie- 
comer,  (saving  your  manhoods,)  to  buy  a  saddle ; 
and  he*s  indit^  to  dinner  to  the  lubbar's  head  m 
Lumbert-street,  to  master  Smoothes  the  silkmao :  I 
pray  ye,  since  my  exion  is  entered,  and  my  case 
so  openly  known  to  the  world,  let  him  be  brought 
in  to  his  answer.  A  hundred  mark  is  a  long  kian 
for  a  poor  lone  woman  to  bear :  and  I  have  bone, 
and  lx>me,  and  borne ;  and  have  been  fubbed  aS, 
and  fubbed  off,  and  fubbed  off,  from  this  day  to 
that  day,  that  it  is  a  shame  to  be  thought  on.  There 
is  no  honesty  in  such  dealing;  unless  a  woman 
should  be  made  an  ass,  and  a  beast,  to  bear  eveiy 
knave^s  wrong. 

Enter  Sir  John  Falstaff,  Page,  and  Bardolpb 

Y(xider  he  comes ;  and  that  arrant  malmsey-nose 
knave,  Bardolph,  with  him.  Do  your  offices,  do 
your  ofikes,  master  Fang,  and  master  Snare ;  do 
mo,  do  me,  do  me  your  offices. 

FaL  How  now?  whose  mare*s  dead?  what's 
the  matter? 

Fang.  Sir  John,  I  arrest  you  at  the  suit  of  mis 
tress  Quickly. 

FaL  Away,  varlets ! — Draw,  Bardolph ;  cut  me 
off  the  villain^s  head;  throw  the  quean  in  the 
channel. 

Host.  Throw  me  in  the  channel  ?  IMl  throw  thee 
in  the  channel.  Wilt  thou  ?  wilt  thou  ?  thou  bas- 
tardly roe:ue  I — Murder,  murder !  O  thou  honey- 
suckles villain !  wilt  thou  kill  God^s  officers,  and 
the  king^s  ?  O  thou  honey-seed'  rogue  !  thou  art  s 
honey-seed ;  a  man-queller,  and  a  woman-<]ueller. 

Fal.  Keep  them  off,  Bardolph. 

Fang.  A  rescue  !  a  rescue  .' 

Host.  Good  people,  bring  a  rescue  or  twa— 
Thou  wo*t,  wo*t  thou  ?  thou  wo't,  wo*t  thou  ?  do, 
do,  thou  rogue  !  do,  thou  hemp-seed  ! 

Fal.  Away,  you  scullicHi !  you  rampallian!  you 
fustilarian  !  Jrll  tickle  your  catastrophe. 

Enttr  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  attended, 

Ch.  Just.  What's  the  matter  ?  keep  the  peace 
here,  ho  I 

Host.  Good  my  lord,  be  good  to  me !  I  beseech 
you,  stand  to  me .' 

Ch.  Just.  How  now,  sir  John  ?  what,  are  yon 
brawling  here  ? 
Doth  this  become  your  place,  your  time,  and  busi- 
ness ? 
You  should  have  been  well  on  your  way  to  York. — 
Stand  from  him,  fellow ;  Wherefore  bang*8t  thou 
on  him  ? 


(6)  Homicidal. 


(7)  Homicide. 


//. 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRT  IV. 


429 


HoH.  O  ray  most  worshipful  lord,  ftn*t  pleasp 
▼oar  grace,  I  am  a  poor  widow  of  Eastcheap,  and 
be  is  arrested  at  my  suit 

Ch.  Jtui.  For  what  sum  ? 

HmL  It  is  more  than  for  some;  my  lord ;  it  is  for 
sJl,  all  I  have :  he  hath  eaten  me  out  of  house  and 
home ;  he  hath  put  all  my  substance  into  that  fat 
belly  of  his : — but  I  will  Mve  some  of  it  out  again, 
or  1 11  ride  thee  o^nights,  like  the  mare. 

FhL  I  think,  I  am  as  like  to  ride  the  mare,  if 
I  have  any  vantage  of  ground  to  get  up. 

Ch,  JvLsL  How  comes  this,  sir  John  ?  Fie !  what 
man  of  good  temper  would  endure  this  tempest  of 
exclamation  ?  Are  you  not  ashamed,  to  enforce  a 
poor  widow  to  so  rough  a  course  to  come  by  her 
own.' 

Fhl.  What  is  the  gross  sum  that  I  owe  thee  f 

Host.  Marry,  if  thou  wert  an  honest  man,  thy- 
self, and  the  money  toa  Thou  didst  swear  to  me 
upon  a  parcel-g^lt*  goblet,  sitting  in  my  Dolphin 
chamber,  at  tl^  round  table,  by  a  sea-coal  £re, 
upon  Wednesday  in  Whitsun  week,  when  the 
prince  broke  thy  head  for  liking  his  father  to  a  sing- 
uig-man  of  Windsor ;  thou  di&t  swear  to  me  then, 
as  I  was  washing  thy  wound,  to  many  me,  and 
make  me  my  lady  thy  wife.  Canst  thou  deny  it  ? 
Did  not  g^ood  wife  Keech,  the  butcher's  wife,  come 
in  then,  and  call  me  goesip  Quickly  ?  coming  in  to 
borrow  a  mess  of  vin^;ar ;  telling  us,  she  bad  a 
good  dish  of  prawns ;  whereby  thou  didst  desire  to 
eat  some ;  whereby  I  told  thee,  they  were  ill  for  a 
green  wound  ?  And  didst  thou  not,  when  she  was 
gone  down  stairs,  desire  me  to  be  no  more  so  fa- 
miliarity with  such  poor  people ;  saying,  that  ere 
long  they  should  call  me  maaam  ?  And  didst  thou 
not  kiss  me,  and  bid  me  fetch  thee  thirty  shillings? 
I  put  thee  now  to  thy  book-oath ;  deny  it,  if  thou 
canst 

Fed.  My  lord,  this  is  a  poor  mad  soul ;  and  she 
says,  up  and  down  the  town,  that  her  eldest  son  is 
like  you :  she  hath  been  in  good  case,  and,  the 
truth  is,  poverty  hath  distracted  her.  But  for  these 
foolish  omcers,  I  beseech  you,  I  may  have  redress 
against  them. 

Ch.  Just.  Sir  John,  sir  John,  I  am  well  ac- 
quainted with  your  manner  of  wrenching  the  true 
cause  the  false  way.  It  is  not  a  confioent  brow, 
nor  the  throng  of  words  that  come  with  such  more 
than  impudent  sauciness  from  you,  can  thrust  me 
from  a  level  consideration ;  you  have,  as  it  appears 
to  me,  practised  upon  the  easy-yielding  spirit  of 
this  woman,  and  made  her  serve  your  uses  both  in 
purse  and  person. 

Host.  Yea,  in  troth,  my  lord. 

Ch.  Just.  PrVlhee,  peace : — Pay  her  the  debt 
you  owe  her,  ana  unpay  the  villany  you  have  done 
with  her ;  the  one  you  may  do  with  titerling  money, 
and  the  other  with  current  repentance. 

Fal.  My  lord,  I  will  not  undergo  this  sneapS  with- 
out reply.  You  call  honourable  boldness,  impudent 
sauciness :  if  a  man  will  make  courtesy,  and  say 
nothing,  he  is  virtuous :  No,  my  lord,  my  humble 
duty  remembered,  I  will  not  be  your  suitor ;  I  say 
to  vou,  I  do  desire  deliverance  from  these  officers, 
being  upon  hasty  employment  in  the  king's  aiTairs. 

Ch.  Just.  You  speak  as  having  power  to  do 
wrong  :  but  answer  in  the  effect  of  your  reputation,' 
and  satisfy  the  poor  woman. 

Fal.  Come  hither,  hostess.     [Taking  her  aside. 

Enter  Gower. 
Ch.  Jvst  Now,  master  Gower ;  What  news  ? 


(1)  Partly  gih. 


(2)  Snub,  check. 


Gcw.  The  king,  my  lord,  and  Harry  prince  of 
Wales 
Are  near  at  hand :  the  rest  the  paper  tella. 

FaL  As  I  am  a  gentleman ; 

Host.  Nay,  you  said  so  before. 

FaL  As  I  am  a  gentleman ; Come,  no  more 

words  of  it 

Host.  By  this  heavenly  ground  I  tread  on,  I  mqtt 
be  fein  to  pawn  both  my  ^te,  and  the  tapestry  of 
my  dining-chambers. 

Fal.  Glassea,  glasses,  is  the  only  drinking :  and 
for  thy  walls, — a  pretty  slight  drollery,  or  t^  stoiy 
of  the  prodigal,  or  the  German  huntuog  in  water- 
work,  18  worth  a  thousand  of  these  bed-hangings, 
and  these  fly-bitten  tapestries.  Let  it  be  ten  pounds 
if  thou  canst  Come,  an  it  were  not  for  tny  hu- 
mours, there  is  not  a  better  wench  in  England.  Go, 
wash  thy  face,  and  draw^  thy  action :  Come,  thoa 
must  not  be  in  this  humour  with  me ;  dost  not  know 
me  f  Come,  come,  I  know  thou  wast  set  on  to  this. 

Host.  Prav  thee,  sir  Jdm,  let  it  be  but  twen^ 
nobles ;  i'faith,  I  atn  loath  to  pawn  my  plate,  in 
good  earnest,  la. 

Fed.  Let  it  alone ;  PU  make  other  shift :  youMl 
be  a  fool  still. 

Host.  Well,  you  shall  have  it,  though  I  pawn 
my  gown.  I  hope,  you'll  come  to  supper:  You'll 
pay  me  all  together  r 

Fdl.  Will  I  hve  f--Go,  with  her,  with  her;  [7b 
Bardolph^  hook  on,  hook  on. 

Host.  Will  you  l»ve  Doll  Tear-sheet  meet  you 
at  supper  ? 

FaL  No  more  words ;  let's  have  her. 

[Elxeunt  Host  Bard,  officers^  and  page, 

Ch.  Just.  1  have  heard  better  news. 

Fal.  What's  the  news,  my  good  lord  ? 

Ch.  Just  Where  lay  the  king  last  night  ? 

Gow.  At  Basingstoke,  my  lord. 

FaL  I  hope,  my  lord,  all's  well :  What's  the 
news,  my  lord  ? 

Ch.  Just.  Come  all  his  forces  beck  f 

Gow.    No;  fifteen  hundred  foot,  five  hundred 
horse. 
Are  march'd  up  to  my  lord  of  Lancaster, 
Against  Northumberland,  and  the  archbishop. 

Fal.  Comes  the  king  back  from  Wales,  my  noble 
lord  ? 

Ch.  Just.  You  shall  have  letters  of  me  presently : 
Come,  go  along  with  me,  good  master  Gower. 

FaL  My  loi3 ! 

Ch.  Just.  What's  the  matter  ? 

FaL  Master  Gower,  shall  I  entreat  you  with  me 
to  dinner  f 

Gow.  I  must  wait  upon  my  good  lord  here :  I 
thank  you,  good  sir  John. 

Ch.  Just.  Sir  John,  you  loiter  here  too  long, 
being  you  are  to  take  soldiers  up  in  counties  as 
you  go. 

FaL  Will  you  sup  with  me,  master  Gower  ? 

Ch.  Just.  What  tooli^  master  taught  you  these 
manners,  sir  John  ? 

Fal.  Master  Gower,  if  they  become  me  not,  he 
was  a  fool  that  taught  them  me. — This  is  the  right 
fencing  grace,  my  lord ;  tap  for  tap,  and  so  part  fair. 

Oi.  Just.  Now  the  Lord  lighten  thee !  thou  art  a 
great  fool.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  n.— The  same.  ^Another  street   Enter 
Prince  Henry  and  Poins. 

P.  Hen.  Trust  me,  I  am  exceeding  weaty. 
Poins.  Is  it  come  to  that  ?  1  had  thought  weari- 
ness duntt  not  hffi-e  attached  one  of  so  high  blood. 

(3;  Suitable  to  your  character.     (4)  Withdraw. 


434 


P.Hen.  •F■la^i(d«•lne;  Ihougfa il Lii-o.U^jr- 

DMh  n  ml  ihcm  rilJy  ilT^^  d^Vc'^mil'lii'i.r'^ 
Fmiu.  Whj,  a  pHnce  ihould  nol  be  «  lodvlj 

•tndied,  u  la  mnembcr  »  oak  ■  conniiHiiiixi. 
P.  Hei.  Belike  ibeo  mr  appellK wu  not  priiicrl t 

^1  for,  bymyinilh,  i  do  no»  remember  the  poor 


SECOND  PART  OP  KINO  HENRT  IV.    ' 

EHUr  Budolph  and  Vt^ 


I  my  iroih,  i  do  now 
nil  beer.     Bui,  idi 


idp«l,  thu^  h 

taike  no(e  how  n»ny  pair  of  lilk  HockingB  thuu 
bMI ;  til.  these,  and  Uuae  thai  weic  the  pmch- 

■hiiU ;  aa,  one  tin  (uperiluil/,  utd  gne  iilbcr  liir 

<rb«  ibou  kecpeal  not  racket  Ibere ;  u  Ihou  lutl 

eoinlHefl  have  made  h  ihiTt  to  eat  up  (hj'  Lulluid : 
•ad  tiod  knows,  whether  tbow  thai  haw!  out  ihc 
miiu  oT  thy  linen,!  ihall  inberjl  hii  kingdom :  but 

wberrupoa  the  vofld  lucreaAea,  and  kiodredt  arc 
■lighlitj  »lrenslb«i«L 

Fam.  Ho*  ill  it  fcllowj,  ailer  »oa  have  t«- 
boared  »  bud,  you  ihould  laJk  ao  idiv  !  Tell  me, 
bow  many  ^t»d  young  prince*  would  do  to,  their 
&Ihen  beine  to  lick  at  youri  at  this  time  a  ! 

P.  Hen.  Shall  I  u]\  iLee  one  thing,  Poin>> 

Poim.  Vee ;  and  let  it  be  an  eicellenl  grjod  thIriE. 

P.  Htn.  It  .hall  aerve  amoag  wiu  of  no  higher 
biveding  than  thine. 

Paiiu.  Ceo  loj   I  aland  (be  puih  of 


friend,)  t  could  bri  gad, 


Paiai.  Very  hardly,  upon  tuch  i 
P.  Hen.  By  Ihii  hand,  thou  thii 
in  the  devil',  book,  at  thou,  and  I 

n  bleed!' 


ncv  :  Lei  tbe  end  try  Ihe  mnii. 
—jny  heart  ble«di  InvrBTEllv,  iTrnt 


P.  Hm.  Whit  wouldal  Ibou  tlank  of  n 
should  weep  ^ 

Poim.  I  wouk)  think  lh«e  •  mon  pri„c. 
pocriie. 

P.  Hen.  It  would  be  ereiT  man'i  (haucl, 
(hou  arl  a  bleaied  fellow,  10  Ihink  u  e.Hi. 
(hinki ;  never  a  nian>  thought  in  the  world  keep* 


aod  K>  much  engraffed  to  Falilafl; 
P.  Hen.  And  to  thee. 
Poins.  By  (hi.  light,  I  am  well  (poken  of,  I  ci 

■ay  of  me  ia,  that  J  am  a  aecond  brolher,  hexI  tli 
1  am  a  proper  fellow  of  my  handa ;  and  ih»c  lu 
4hlnzt,  I  confcn,  1  cannot  help.  By  the  aiiaf,  in: 
cornea  Bardolph. 

P.  Hen.  And  tbe  bor  thai  I  ga>s  FaUlafr:  I 
had  him  from  me  Chmtiiui;  and  W,  if  ibt  f 


F.  Hm.  Antf  youni.  molt  uoble  Bardolph '. 

Bard.  Come,  you  vinuoui  an,  [To  Iht  fan] 
Ml  baihful  fool,  mutt  you  be  bluthing.'  wberelw« 
luibyounow?  What  ■  maidenly  mu  al  smM 
re  you  become  i  |4  it  lucbamaLtej,  toeelaDDUio- 
of.  maidenhead.'  '^       "^^ 

,  my  lord,  thio^ 

d,  melhought,  he  bad  made  two  holes  in  Ibe  aJe- 


Page.  He  called  meereniH 
a  redlaltiee,'  and  I  could  di 


Bard.    Away,  you  whoruoo  nprig;ht  rabhil, 
iway! 
Pare.    Away,  you  raicallj  Allhea'a  drtui, 


P.  Hen.  A  crown'l  worth  of  zood  interpretation. 
-There  il  ia,  boy.  jGina  Aim  moniy. 

PoinM.  O,  (hat  thii  good  bloanm  could  be  kept 
on  canker* ! — Well,  then  ia  vipence  tu  pmerra 

Bard.  An  you  do  nol  make    him  be  hanged 
™inK™i,thegallowi  ahall  have  wrair. 
F.  Hen.  And  bow  doth  Ihr  matter,  Herdolph.' 
Bard.  Well,  my  lortL  He  heard  ofjouc  gnce'a 

Faint.  Delivered  with  good  reapecL — And  how 
duLh  Ilia  Martlemai,' your  maalerf 
Bard.  In  bodily  health,  dr. 
Potni.  Marry,  (be  immortal  part  needt  i  phnt- 
Hn  :  but  that  movea  not  him ;  though  that  be  Kk, 

P.  Hm.  I  do  allow  thii  wen*  to  be  m  fandliai 
ilh  me  umy  dog:  and  be  boldi  bit  places  lor, 
(A  rou,  h»*  he  write* 
I^iira.  [Iltadt.]  John  Ft\ftt,hughi, EttTj 

une  hmi--\(.  Even  'like  thc«  that  ar^  kin  to  the 
n^:  fur  ihey  never  prick  their  finger,  but  they 
1)-,  'nrrr  it  $pml  n/ae  king')  tlood mil:  Hoa 
■mts  thai  '  aayi  he,  (bat  taken  upon  him  not  tn 


,>ill  M.  !i  II  Irom  JapbeL     But  tl*  letter:— 

r...iL-    .s>JabnFalitBlT,bi^M,  (a  &t  un  i^ 
'hr  ktH^.  nearest  Au  JaUier,  Harry,  prince  o/ 
il''ilct,grrrling.—Vi'by,  (bit  is  a  certificate. 
F.  Hen.  Peace  •. 

PoiiB.  /  itnS  imifak  Oa  Aoaouni&Jc  Raman  u 
irm/y , — be  lure  means  bre>i(y  in  breath ;  abon- 
rrindcd. — I  commend  me  to  tfiit^  I  eofronend  VVt 
and  I  leave  Vite.  Be  nol  loojimiliar  trilh  PoiiH 
/or  III  mfruKi  Ikyfaumn  »  mvck,  Oiat  hi  taean 
Ihou  art  II.  marry  Ait  liKer  Nell.  K/j-enl  at  idti 
lana  u  lAou  may'il,  and  » .^irAiirU. 

Thine,  by  yea  and  no,  (aMch  u  u 


Ej  to  toy,  of  tnou  usegt 
■alsta£ftM(Amy/aiFii.._. 
John,  laith  my  brothert  oncf  aiala 
and  Sirjdm,  with  aU  Biin^ 


*«,) 


My  lord,  I  will  ileep  iS 
F.  Hm.  Tha('(  to  make  him  e*(  twenty  cf  hii 
S(.  Martin'i  day  ii  Nov.  11. 


Seem  III,  IF. 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


4S5 


words.     But  do  70a  ose  me  thus,  Ned?  must  I 
many  your  sister  ? 

Poins.  May  the  wench  have  no  worse  fortune ! 
but  I  never  said  sa 

P.  Hen.  Well,  thus  we  pla^  the  fools  with  the 
tune ;  and  the  spirits  of  the  wise  sit  in  the  clouds, 
tnd  mock  us. — Is  ^-our  master  here  in  London  f 

Bard.  Yes,  my  lord. 

P.  Hen.  Where  sups  he  ?  Doth  the  old  boar  feed 
in  the  old  frank  i^ 

Bard.  At  the  old  place,  my  lord  ;  in  Eastcheap. 

P.  Hen.  What  company  ^ 

Page.  Ephesians,  my  lord ;  of  the  old  church. 

P.  Hen.  Sup  any  women  with  him  ? 

Page.  None,  my  lord,  but  old  mistress  Quickly, 
and  mistress  Doll  Tear-sheet 

P.  Hen.  What  pagan  may  that  be  f 

Page.  A  proper  gentlewoman,  sir,  and  a  kins- 
woman of  mv  masterV 

P.  Hen,  Even  such  kin,  as  the  parish  heifers  are 
to  the  town  bull. — Shall  we  steal  upon  them,  Ned, 
at  supper  ? 

Poins.  I  am  your  shadow,  my  lord ;  Til  follow 
you. 

P.  Hen.  Sirrah,  you  boy, — and  Bardolph ; — no 
word  to  your  master,  that  I  am  yet  come  to  town  - 
There's  for  your  silence. 

Bard.  I  have  no  tongue,  sir. 

Page.  And  for  mine,  sir, — I  will  govern  it 

P.  Hen.  Fare  ye  well ;  go  [Exeimt  Bardolph 
and  Page.] — this  Doll  Tear-sheet  should  be  some 
road. 

Poins.  I  warrant  you,  as  common  as  the  way 
between  Saint  Alban*s  and  London. 

P.  Hen.  How  might  we  see  Falstaff  bestow 
himself  to-night  in  his  true  colours,  and  not  our- 
selves be  seen  ? 

Poins.  Put  on  two  leather  jerkins,  and  aprons, 
and  wait  upon  him  at  his  table,  as  drawers. 

P.  Hen.  From  a  god  to  a  bull  ?  a  heavy  descen- 
sion  !  it  was  Jove^s  case.  From  a  prince  to  a  *pren- 
tice  ?  a  low  transformation !  that  shall  be  mine : 
for,  in  eveiy  thing,  the  purpose  must  weigh  with 
the  folly.     Follow  me,  Ned.  [Exeunt 

SCBJ^E  ///.— Warkworth.  Before  the  castle. 
Enier  Northumberland,  Lady  Northumberland, 
etnd  Lady  Percy. 

J^orih.   I  pray  thee,  loving  wife,  and  gentle 
daughter. 
Give  even  way  unto  my  rough  affairs : 
Put  not  you  on  the  visage  of  the  times. 
And  be,  like  them,  to  Percy  troublesome. 

Lady  JV.  I  have  given  over,  I  will  speak  no  more: 
Do  what  you  will ;  your  wisdom  be  your  guide. 

J^Torth.  Alas,  sweet  wife,  my  honour  is  at  pawn ; 
And,  but  my  going,  nothing  can  redeem  it 

Lady  P.  O,  yet,  for  Goers  sake,  go  not  to  these 
wars! 
The  time  was,  father,  that  you  broke  vour  word, 
When  you  were  more  endearM  to  it  than  now ; 
When  your  own  Percy,  when  my  heart's  dear  Harry, 
Threw*  many  a  northward  look,  to  see  his  father 
Bring  up  his  powers ;  but  he  did  lonz  in  vain. 
Who  (hen  persuaded  you  to  stay  at  home .' 
There  were  two  honours  lost;  yours,  an^your  son's. 
For  Tours, — may  heavenly  glory  brighten  it  I 
For  nis, — it  stuck  upon  bim,  as  the  sun 
In  the  grey  vault  of  heaven  :  and,  by  his  light, 
Did  all  the  chivaliy  of  Ekigland  move 
To  do  brave  acts ;  he  was,  indeed,  the  glass 

(1)  Sty.  (2)  Ill-betide. 

(3)  An  apple  that  will  keep  two  years. 


Wherein  the  noble  youth  did  dress  themselves. 

He  had  no  legs,  that  practisM  not  his  gait : 

And  speaking  thick,  which  nature  made  his  blemish 

Became  the  accents  of  the  valiant ; 

For  those  that  could  speak  low,  and  tardily, 

Would  turn  their  own  perfection  to  abuse. 

To  seem  like  him :  So  that,  in  speech,  in  g^t, 

In  diet,  in  affections  of  delight, 

In  military  rules,  humours  of  blood. 

He  was  the  mark  and  glass,  copy  and  book, 

That  fashion*d  others.  And  him,--0  wondrous  him  1 

O  miracle  of  men  ! — him  did  you  leave 

(Second  to  none,  unseconded  by  you,) 

To  look  upon  the  hideous  god  of  war 

In  disadvantage ;  to  abide  a  field, 

Where  nothing  but  the  sound  of  Hotspur's  name 

Did  seem  defensible : — so  you  left  hfm : 

Never,  O  never,  do  his  ghost  the  wrong. 

To  hold  your  honour  more  precise  and  nice 

With  others,  than  with  him ;  let  them  alone ; 

The  marshal,  and  the  archbishop,  are  strong : 

Had  my  sweet  Harry  had  but  half  their  numbers, 

To-day  might  I,  hanging  on  Hotspur's  neck, 

Have  talkM  of  Monmouth's  grave. 

jyorih.  Beshrew^  your  heart. 

Fair  daughter !  you  do  draw  my  spirits  from  me. 
With  new  lamenting  ancient  oversights. 
But  I  must  go,  and  meet  with  danger  there ; 
Or  it  will  seek  me  in  another  place, 
And  find  me  worse  provided. 

Lady  JV.  O,  fly  to  Scotland, 

Till  that  the  nobles,  and  the  armed  commons. 
Have  of  their  puissance  made  a  little  taste. 

Lady  P.  If  they  get  ground  and  vantage  of  the 
king. 
Then  join  you  with  them,  like  a  rib  of  steel. 
To  make  strength  stronger ;  but,  for  all  our  lores. 
First  let  them  try  themselves :  So  did  your  son ; 
He  was  so  sufl^r'd ;  so  came  I  a  widow; 
And  never  shall  have  length  of  life  enough. 
To  rain  upon  remembrance  with  mine  eyes. 
That  it  may  groiv  and  sprout  as  high  as  heaven. 
For  recordation  to  my  noble  husband. 

JVbr(A.  Come,  come,  go  in  with  me :  'tis  with 
my  mind. 
As  with  the  tide  swell'd  up  into  its  height. 
That  makes  a  still-stand,  running  neither  way. 
Fain  would  I  go  to  meet  the  archbishop. 

But  many  thousand  reasons  hold  me  back : 

[  will  resolve  for  Scotland ;  there  am  I, 

Till  time  and  vantage  crave  my  company.     [Ext. 

SCE.N'E  /r.— London.  A  room  in  the  Boards 
Head  Tavern^  in  Eastcheap.  Enter  two  Draw- 
ers. 

1  Draw.  What  the  devil  hast  thou  brought  there? 
apple-Johns  ?  thou  know'st,  sir  John  cannot  endure 
an  apple-John.' 

2  Draw.  Mass,  thou  savest  true :  The  prince 
once  set  a  dish  of  apple-Johns  before  him,  and  told 
him,  there  were  five  more  sir  Johns :  and,  putting 
off  his  hat,  said,  /  wUl  now  take  my  leave  of  these 
six  dry^  rounds  old,  withered  knights.  It  angered  . 
him  to  the  heart ;  but  he  hath  forgot  that 

1  Draw.  Why  then,  cover,  and  set  them  down  : 
And  see  if  thou  canst  find  out  Sneak's  noise  ;4  mis- 
tress Tear-sheet  would  fain  hear  some  music.  Dp»- 
patch : — The  room  where  they  supped  is  too  hot ; 
they'll  come  in  straight 

2  Draw.  Sirrah,  here  will  be  the  prince,  and 
master  Poins  anon :  and  they  will  put  on  two  of  our 


(4)  Sneak  was  a  street  minstrel :  a  noise  of  mu- 
sicians anciently  signified  a  concert 


426 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


Acta 


jerkins,  and  aprons ;  and  sir  John  must  not  know 
of  it :  Bardolph  hath  brought  word. 

1  Draw.  By  the  mass,  here  will  be  old  utis  'A  It 
will  be  an  excellent  stratagem. 

2  Draw.  Pll  see,  if  I  can  find  out  Sneak.  [Exit. 

Enter  Hostess  and  Doll  Tear-sheet 

Host,  r&ith,  sweet  heart,  methinks  now  jou  are 
in  an  excellent  good  temperality :  your  pulsidge 
beats  as  extraorcUnarily  as  neart  would  desire ;  and 
your  colour,  I  warrant  you,  is  as  red  as  any  rose : 
But,  iYaith,  you  have  drunk  too  much  canaries ; 
and  that's  a  marvellous  searching  wine,  and  it  per- 
fumes the  blood  ere  one  can  say, — What's  tnis  f 
How  do  you  now .' 

DoU.  Better  than  I  was.    Hem. 

Host.  Why,  that's  well  said;  a  rood  heart's 
worth  gold.    Look,  here  comes  sir  Joaa. 

Enter  Falstaff,  singing. 

Fal.  When  Arthur Jirst  in  court — Empty  the 
Jordan. — And  uxu  a  worthy  king:  [ElxU  Drawer.] 
How  now,  mistress  Doll  f 

Host.  Sick  of  a  calm :  yea,  good  sooth. 

FaL  So  is  all  her  sect ;  an  they  be  once  in  a 
calm,  they  are  sick. 

Doll  You  muddy  rascal,  is  that  all  the  comfort 
you  g^ive  me  ? 

Fal.  You  make  &t  rascals,  mistress  Doll. 

DoU.  I  make  them !  gluttony  and  diseases  make 
them ;  1  make  them  not 

Fal.  If  the  cook  help  to  make  the  gluttony,  you 
holp  to  make  the  diseases,  Doll :  we  catch  c^  you, 
Doll,  we  catch  of  you ;  g^nt  that,  my  poor  virtue, 
grant  that 

DoU.  Ay,  marry ;  our  chains,  and  our  jewels. 

Fal .  Your  brooches^  pearlSy  and  owches  ,* — for  to 
serve  bravely,  is  to  come  halting  off,  you  know :  To 
come  off  the  breach  with  his  pike  bent  bravely,  and 
to  surgery  bravely ;  to  venture  upon  the  charged 
chambers'  bravely : 

DoU.  Hang  yourself,  you  muddy  conger,  hang 
yourself! 

Host.  By  my  troth,  this  is  the  old  fashion ;  you 
two  never  meet,  but  you  fall  to  some  discord :  you 
are  both,  in  good  troth,  as  rheumatic  as  two  dry 
toasts ;  you  cannot  one  bear  with  another's  confir- 
mities.  What  the  good-year !'  one  must  bear,  and 
that  must  be  you  :  [To  Doll.1  you  are  the  weaker 
vessel,  as  they  say,  the  emptier  vessel. 

Doll.  Can  a  weak  empty  vessel  bear  such  a  huge 
full  hogshead  f  there's  a  whole  merchant's  venture 
of  Bourdeaux  stuff  in  him ;  you  have  not  seen  a 
hulk  better  stuffed  in  the  hold.— Come,  I'll  be 
friends  with  thee.  Jack  :  thou  art  going  to  the  wars; 
and  whether  I  shall  ever  see  thee  again,  or  no, 
there  is  nobody  cares. 

Re-enter  Drawer. 

Draw.  Sir,  ancient^  Pistol's  below,  and  would 
speak  with  you. 

Dtdl.  Hang  him,  swagsrering  rascal !  let  him 
not  come  hither :  it  is  the  ^ul-mouth'dst  rogue  in 
England. 

Host.  If  he  swagger,  let  him  not  come  here:  no, 
by  my  (a\th ;  1  must  live  amongst  my  neighbours ; 
I'll  no  swaggerers :  I  am  in  good  name  and  (wme 
with  the  very  best : — Shut  the  door ; — there  comes 
no  swaggerers  here  :  I  have  not  lived  all  this  while, 
to  have  swaggering  now : — Shut  the  door,  I  pray 
you. 

1)  Merry  doins^s.     (2)  Small  pieces  of  ordnance. 
r3)  Mrs.  Quick ly's  blunder  for  gf»{iere,  i.  e.  pox. 
[4)  Ensign.         (5)  A  blustering,  fighting  fellow. 


Fad.  Dost  thou  hear,  hostess  ? — 

Host.  Pray  you,  pacify  yourself,  dr  John;  there 
comes  no  swaggerers'  here. 

Fed.  Dost  thou  hear.'  it  is  mine  ancient 

Host.  Tilly -fally,  sir  John,  never  tell  me ;  yoor 
ancient  swaggerer  comes  not  in  my  doors.  I  was 
before^  master  Tisick,  the  deputy,  the  other  day ; 
and,  as  he  said  to  me, — it  was  no  longer  ago  tlian 
Wednesday  last, — Neighbour  Quickfy^  says  he  ;— 
master  Dumb,  our  minister,  was  by  then  ;--JVeigA* 
hour  Quickly^  says  he,  receive  those  thai  are  dvil; 
for^  saith  he,  you  are  in  an  iU  name  f — now  he  said 
so,  I  can  tell  whereupon ;  Jor^  says  be,  you  are  on 
honest  woman,  and  weU  thought  on ;  therefore  take 
heed  what  ptests  you  receive :  Receive,  says  he, 

no  swaggering  companions. There  comes  none 

here;— vou  would  bless  you  to  bear  what  be  said : 
— no,  IMl  no  swaggerers. 

FaL  He's  no  swaggerer,  hostess ;  a  tame  cheater,* 
he ;  you  may  stroke  nim  as  gently  as  a  puppy  grey- 
hound :  he  will  not  swagger  with  a  Barbary  hen, 
if  her  feathers  turn  back  m  any  show  of  resistance. 
— Call  him  up,  drawer. 

Host.  Cheater,  call  you  him?  I  will  bar  no 
honest  man  my  house,  nor  no  cheater :  But  I  do 
not  love  swaggering ;  hj  my  troth,  I  am  the  worse, 
when  one  says — swagger:  feel,  masters,  how  I 
shake ;  look  you,  I  warrant  you. 

DolL  So  you  do,  hostess. 

Host.  Do  I .'  yea,  in  very  truth,  do  I,  an  *twere 
an  aspen  leaf:  I  cannot  abid^swaggerers. 

Enter  Pistol,  Bardolph,  and  Page. 

Pist.  'Save  you,  sir  John ! 

FaL  Welcome,  ancient  Pistol.  Here,  Pistol,  I 
charge  you  with  a  cup  of  sack :  do  you  discharge 
upon  mine  hostess. 

Pist.  I  will  discharge  upon  her,  sir  John,  with 
two  bullets. 

FaL  She  is  pistol-proof,  sir ;  you  shall  hardly 
offend  her. 

Host.  Come,  Pll  drink  no  proofs,  nor  no  bullets : 
I'll  drink  no  more  than  will  do  me  good,  for  no 
man's  pleasure,  I. 

Pist.  Then  to  you,  mistress  Dorothy;  I  will 
charge  you. 

DolL  Charge  me  }  I  scorn  you,  scurvy  compan- 
ion. What!  you  poor,  base,  rascally,  cheating, 
lack-linen  mate !  Away,  you  mouldy  rogue,  away ! 
1  am  meat  for  your  master. 

Pist.  I  know  you,  mistress  Dorothy. 

DoU.  Away,  you  cut-purse  rascal !  you  filthy 
bung,  away  !  by  this  wine,  I'll  thrust  my  knife  in 
your  mouldy  chaps,  an  you  play  the  saucy  cattle 
with  me.  Away,  you  bottle-ale  rascal !  you  basket- 
hilt  stale  juggler,  you ! — Since  when,  I  pray  tou, 
sir? — What,  with  two  points^  on  your  UMwl^rf 
much  ^ 

Pist.  I  will  murder  your  ruff  for  this. 

FaL  No  more.  Pistol ;  I  would  not  have  you  go 
off  here :  discharge  yourself  of  our  company.  Pistol 

Host  No,  good  captain  Pistol ;  not  here,  sweet 
captain. 

l)oU.  Captain !  thou  abominable  damned  cheater, 
art  thou  not  ashamed  to  be  called — captain  ?  If 
captains  were  of  my  mind,  they  would  truncheon 
you  out,  for  taking  their  names  upon  you  before 
you  have  earned  them.  You  a  captain,  you  slave ! 
for  what?  for  tearing  a  poor  whore's  ruff  in  a 
bawdy-house .' — He  a  captain !  Hang  him,  rogue 

(6)  Gamester. 

(7)  Laces,  marks  of  his  conunissioB. 

(8)  An  expression  of  disdain. 


Sum  IF. 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


ATI 


He  liTct  upoD  mould/  stewed  prunes,  and  dried 
cakes.  A  captain !  these  yillains  will  make  the 
word  captain  as  odious  as  th^  word  occupy ;  which 
was  an  excellent  good  word  before  it  was  ill-sorted : 
tfierelbre,  captains  had  need  look  to  it 

Bard.  Pray  thee,  go  down,  good  ancient 

Fal.  Hark  thee  hiUier,  mistress  DolL 

PiU,   Not  I:  tell  thee  what,  corporal  Bar- 
dolph ; — 
I  could  tear  her : — ^Tll  be  revenged  oo  her. 

Pagt,  Prej  thee,  go  down. 

Piri,  V\\  see  her  dunned  first ; — ^to  PIuto*s  damn- 
ed lake,  to  the  bfemal  deep,  with  Erebus  and  tor- 
tures vile  also.  Hold  hook  and  line,  sajr  I.  Down ! 
down,  dogs !  down,  (aitors  \^  Have  we  not  Hiren 
here. '3 

Host  Good  captain  Peesel,  be  quiet ;  it  is  reiy 
late,  i*&ith :  I  beseek  jou  now,  aggravate  your 
choler. 

PisL  These  be  good  humours,  indeed .'  Shall 
pack-horses, 
And  hollow  pamperM  jades  of  Asia, 
Which  cannot  go  but  thirty  miles  a  day. 
Compare  with  Ca&sars,  ana  with  Cannibals,' 
And  Trojan  Greeks?  naj,  rather  damn  th^  with 
Kine  Cerberus ;  and  let  the  welkin  roar. 
ShaU  we  fall  foul  for  toys  ? 

Host.  By  my  troth,  captain,  these  are  very  bit- 
ter words. 

Bard.  Be  gone,  good  ancient:  this  will  grow 
to  a  brawl  anon. 

Piat.  Die  men,  like  60^ ;  give  crowns  like  pins; 
Have  we  not  Hiren  here  f 

Host.  O*  myirord,  captain,  there's  none  such 
here.  What  the  good-year !  do  you  think  I  would 
deny  her?  for  God's  sake,  be  quiet. 

Pist.  Then  feed,  and  be  fat,  my  fair  Calipolis  H 
Gune,  give*s  some  sack. 

Si  forivna  me  tomunia^  tperaio  me  cori' 
tenia. — 
Fear  we  broadside  ?  no,  let  the  fiend  g^ve  fire : 
Give  me  some  sack; — and,  sweetheart,  lie  thou 
there.  [Laying  down  hie  stoord. 

Come  we  to  full  points  here ;  and  are  ei  ceterae 
nothing  ? 

Fal.  Pistol,  I  would  be  quiet 

PisL  Sweet  knight,  I  kiss  thyneif:'  What!  we 
have  seen  the  seven  stars. 

Doll.  Thrust  him  down  stairs ;  I  cannot  endure 
such  a  fustian  rascal. 

Pist.  Thrust  him  down  stairs!  know  we  not 
Galloway  nags  ?< 

FaL  Quoit^  him  down,  Bardolph,  like  a  shove- 
groat  shilling:  nay,  if  he  do  nothing  but  speak 
nothing,  he  uiall  1>b  nothing  here. 

Bard.  Come,  get  you  down  stairs. 

PisL  What !  shall  we  have  incision  ?  shall  we 

imbrue  ? [Snatching  vp  his  svsord. 

Then  death  rock  me  asleep,  abridge  my  doleful 

days  !B 
Why  then,  let  gprievous,  ghastly,  gaping  wounds 
Untwine  the  sisters  three !  Come,  Atropos,  I  say  ! 

Host.  Here*8  goodly  stuff  toward  ! 

F\d.  Give  me  my  rapier,  boy. 

DoU.  I  pray  thee,  Jack,  I  pray  thee,  do  not  draw. 

FaL  Get  you  down  stairs. 

[Drawijvr^  and  drimng  Pistol  out. 

Host.  Here*8  a  goodly  tumult!  rll  forswear 

(1)  Traitors,  rascals. 

(2)  A  quotation  from  a  play  of  G.  Peelers. 

(3)  Blunder  for  Hannibal. 

(4)  Parody  of  a  line  in  the  Battle  of  Alcasar, 
tn  old  play. 


keeping  house,  afore  PlI  be  in  these  tirrits  and 

frignts.    So;  murder,  I  warrant  now. Alas, 

alas  !  put  up  your  naked  weapons,  put  up  your  na- 
ked weapons.  [Exeunt  Pistol  and  Bardolph. 

DolL  I  pray  thee.  Jack,  be  quiet ;  the  rascal  is 
gone.  Ah,  you  whoreson  little  valiant  villain,  you. 

Host.  Are  yon  not  hurt  i*the  groin  ?  methought, 
he  made  a  shrewd  thrust  at  your  belly. 

12s-€n(er  Barddph. 

FaL  Have  you  turned  him  out  of  doors  f 

Bard.  Yes,  sir.  The  rascaPs  drunk :  you  have 
hurt  him,  sir,  in  the  shoulder. 

FaL  A  rascal !  to  brave  me ! 

DolL  Ah,  you  sweet  little  rogue,  you !  Alas, 
poor  ape,  how  thou  sweat'st !  Come,  let  me  wipe 
thy  face ; — come  on,  you  whoreson  chops : — An, 
rogue!  i'faith,  I  love  thee.  Thou  art  as  valorous  as 
Hector  of  Troy,  worth  fiye  of  Agamemnon,  and  tea 
times  better  than  the  nine  worthies.    Ah,  villain ! 

FaL  A  rascally  slaye !  I  will  toss  the  rogue  in 
a  blanket 

DolL  Do,  if  thou  darest  for  thy  heart :  if  thoa 
dost,  ril  canvass  thee  between  a  pair  of  sheets. 

Enter  music. 

Page,  The  music  is  come,  sir. 

Ftu.  Let  them  play; — Play,  sirs. — Sit  on  my 
knee,  DolL  A  rascal  bragging  slave !  the  rogue 
fled  from  me  like  quicksilver. 

DolL  Pfaith,  and  thou  followedst  him  like  a 
church.  Thou  whoreson  little  tidy  Bartholomew 
boar-pig,  when  wilt  thou  leave  fighting  o*da^s,  and 
foiningO  o'm'ghts,  and  begin  to  patch  up  thme  old 
body  for  heaven  ? 

Enter  behind.  Prince  Henry  and  Poina,  disgvistd 
like  drawers. 

Fal.  Peace, jg;ood  Doll!  Do  not  speak  Uke  a 
death's  head :  oo  not  bid  me  remember  mine  end. 

DolL  Sirrah,  what  humour  is  the  prince  of? 

Fdl.  A  good  shallow  young  fellow :  he  would 
have  made  a  good  pantler,  he  would  have  chipped 
bread  well. 

DolL  They  say,  Pcmus  has  a  good  wit 

Fd.  He  a  good  wit.^  hang  him,  baboon!  hit 
wit  is  as  thick  as  Tewksbury  mustaid :  there  is  no 
more  conceit  in  him,  than  is  in  a  mallet 

DolL  Why  does  the  prince  love  him  so  then  ^ 

Fal.  Because  their  l^^  are  both  of  a  bigness : 
and  he  plays  at  quoits  well ;  and  eats  conger  and  fen- 
nel ;  and  drinks  off  candles*  ends  for  flap-dragons ; 
and  rides  the  wild  mare  with  the  boys ;  and  jumpa 
upon  joint-stools  ;  and  swears  with  a  good  grace ; 
and  wears  his  boot  very  smooth,  like  unto  the  sign 
of  the  leg;  and  breeds  no  bete  with  telling  of 
discreet  stories,  and  such  other  gambol  faculties 
he  hath,  that  show  a  weak  mind  and  an  able  body, 
for  the  which  the  prince  admits  him :  for  the  prince 
himself  is  such  another ;  the  weight  of  a  hair  will 
turn  the  scales  between  their  avoirdupois. 

P.  Hen.  Would  not  this  nave  of  a  wheel  have 
his  ears  cut  off  .^ 

Poins.  Let*s  beat  him  before  his  whore. 

P.  Hen.  Look,  if  the  withered  elder  hath  not 
hisjpoU  clawed  like  a  parrot 

Poins.  Is  it  not  strange,  that  desire  should  so 
many  years  outlive  performance?        ' 

FaL  Kiss  me,  Doll. 

P.  Hen.  Saturn  and  Venus  this  year  in  conjunc- 
tion !  what  says  the  almanac  to  thiat  ? 

(5)  Fist  (6)  Common  backnies. 

(7)  Throw.  (8)  Part  of  an  ancient  soog. 

(9)  Thrusting. 


428 


SECOND  PART  OF  KLNG  HENRY  IV. 


Actm. 


Point.  And,  look,  whether  the  6enr  Tneon,i  his 
man,  be  not  lisping  to  his  master's  old  tables ;  his 
DOte-book,  his  counsel-keeper. 

Fal.  Thou  dost  give  rne  flattering  busses. 

DoU.  Nay,  truly ;  I  kiss  thee  wim  a  most  coo- 
■tant  heart 

Fal.  I  am  old,  I  am  old. 

Doll.  I  love  thee  better  than  I  love  e*er  a  scurvy 
youne  boy  of  them  all. 

Fai  What  stuff  wilt  have  a  kirtle^  of?  I  shall 
receive  money  on  Thursday :  thou  shalt  have  a  cap 
to-morrow.  A  merry  song,  come  :  it  grows  late, 
weMl  to  bed.    ThouMt  forget  me,  when  I  am  gone. 

Doll.  By  my  troth  thouMt  set  me  a  weeping,  an 
thou  sayest  so :  prove  that  ever  I  dress  myself  hand- 
some till  thy  return. Well,  hearken  the  end. 

Fal.  Some  sack,  Francis. 

P.  Hen.  Poins.  Anon,  anon,  sir.    [Advancing. 

Fal.  Ha !  a  bastard  son  of  the  king's — And  art 
not  thou  Poins  his  brother  ? 

P.  Hen.  Why,  thou  globe  of  sinful  continents, 
what  a  life  dost  thou  lead  ^ 

fhl.  A  better  than  thou  ;  I  am  a  gentleman,  thou 
art  a  drawer. 

P.  Hen.  Very  true,  sir;  and  I  come  to  draw 
you  out  by  the  ears. 

Host.  O,  the  Lord  preserve  thy  good  grace !  by 
my  troth,  welcome  to  London. — Now  the  Lord  bless 
that  sweet  face  of  thine  !  O  Jesu,  are  you  come 
from  Wales  f 

fhl.  Thou  whoreson  mad  compound  of  ma- 
jesty,— by  this  ligfht  flesh  and  corrupt  blood,  thou 
art  welcome.  [LiMning  his  hand  upon  Doll. 

DoU.  How  !  you  fat  fool,  I  scorn  you. 

Poins.  Mv  lord,  he  will  drive  you  out  of  your 
revenge,  ana  turn  all  to  a  merriment,  if  you  lake 
not  the  heat. 

P.  Hen.  You  whoreson  candle-mine,  you ;  how 
vilely  did  you  speak  of  me  even  now,  before  this 
honest,  virtuous,  civil  gentlewoman  ? 

Host.  'Blessing  o'your  good  heart !  and  so  she 
U,  by  my  troth. 

Fal.  Didst  thou  hear  me  ? 

P.  Hen.  Yes ;  and  you  knew  me,  as  you  did 
when  you  ran  away  bv  Gads-hill :  you  knew,  I 
was  at  your  back ;  and  spoke  it  on  purpose  to  try 
my  patience. 

Fal.  No,  no,  no ;  not  so ;  I  did  not  think  thou 
wast  within  hearing. 

P.  Hen.  I  shall  drive  you  then  to  confess  the 
wilful  abuse  ;  and  then  I  know  how  to  handle  you. 

FeU.  No  abuse,  Hal,  on  mine  honour ;  no  abuse. 

P.  Hen.  Not !  to  dispraise  me  ;  and  call  me — 
pantler,  and  bread-chipper,  and  I  know  not  what  f 

Fal.  No  abuse,  Hal. 

Poins.  No  abuse ! 

Fal.  No  abuse,  Ned,  in  the  world ;  honest  Ned, 
none.  I  dispraised  him  before  the  wicked,  that  the 
wicked  might  not  fall  in  \ove  with  him  : — in  which 
doing,  I  have  done  the  part  of  a  careful  friend,  and 
a  true  subject,  and  thy  father  is  to  give  me  thanks 
for  it.  No  abuse,  Hal ; — none,  Ned,  none ; — no, 
boys,  none. 

P.  Hen.  See,  now,  whether  pure  fear,  and  en- 
tire cowardice,  doth  not  make  thee  wrong  this  vir- 
tuous gentlewoman  to  close  with  us  ?  Is  »he  of  the 
wicked  .'  Is  thine  hostess  here  of  the  wicked  f  Or 
is  the  boy  of  the  wicked  ?  Or  honest  Bardolph, 
whose  zeal  bums  in  his  nose,  of  the  wicked  ? 

Poins.  Answer,  thou  dead  elm,  answer. 

Fal.  The  6end  hath  pricked  down  Bardolph  ir- 
recoverable :  and  his  face  is  Lucifer's  privy  kitchen, 

(1)  An  astronomical  term.      (2)  A  short  tloak. 


where  he  doth  nothing  but  roast  malt-worms.  For 
the  boy, — there  is  a  good  angel  about  him ,  but  the 
devil  outbids  him  too. 

P.  Hen.  For  the  women, 

Fal.  For  one  of  them, — she  is  in  hell  already, 
and  bums,  poor  soul !  For  the  other, — I  owe  her 
money ;  and  whether  she  be  damned  for  that,  I 
know  not. 

Host.  No,  I  warrant  you. 

FaL  No,  I  think  thou  art  not ;  I  think,  thou  art 
quit  for  that :  Marry,  there  is  another  indictment 
upon  thee,  for  suflering  flesh  to  be  eaten  in  thy 
house,  contrary  to  the  law ;  for  the  which,  I  think, 
thou  wilt  howl.  • 

Host.  All  victuallers  do  so :  What's  a  joint  of 
mutton  or  two  in  a  whole  Lent.' 

P.  Hen.  You,  gentlewoman, 

Doll.  What  says  your  grace  ? 

Fal.  His  grace  says  that  which  his  flesh  rebels 
against. 

Host.  Who  knocks  so  loud  at  door .'  lock  to  the 
door  there,  Francis. 

EnUr  Veto. 

P.  Hen.  Peto,  how  now  f  what  news  ? 

Peto.  The  king,  your  father,  is  at  W^estminster ; 
And  there  are  twenty  weak  and  wearied  posts, 
Come  from  the  north  :  and,  as  I  came  aloog, 
I  met,  and  overtook,  a  dozen  captains. 
Bare-headed,  sweating,  knocking  at  the  taverns, 
And  asking  every  one  for  sir  John  Falstafil 

P.  Hen.  By  heaven,  Poins,  I  feel  me  much  to 
blame. 
So  idly  to  profane  the  precious  time ; 
When  tempest  of  commotion,  like  the  south, 
Borne  with  black  vapour,  doth  begin  to  melt, 
And  drop  upon  our  bare  unarmed  Deads. 
Give  me  my  sword,  and  cloak : — FalstafT,  good 
night. 
[Exe.  P.  Henr^,  Poins,  Peto,  and  Bardolph. 

Fal.  Now  comes  in  the  sweetest  morsel  of  the 
nioht,  and  we  must  hence,  and  leave  it  unpicked. 
[Knocking  heard.]  More  knocking  at  the  ooor? 

Re-enter  Bardolph. 
How  now  ?  what's  the  matter.' 

Bard.  You  must  away  to  court,  sir,  presently ; 
A  dozen  captains  stay  at  door  for  you. 

Fal.  Pay  the  musicians,  sirrah.  (To  the  Page.} — 
Farewell,  hostess ; — Farewell,  Doll. — You  see,  ray 
prood  wenches,  how  men  of  merit  are  sought  after : 
ihe  undeserver  may  sleep,  when  the  man  of  action 
is  called  on.  Farewell,  good  wenches  :  If  I  be  not 
sent  away  post,  I  will  see  you  again  ere  I  ga 

DoU.  I  cannot  speak ; — ^If  my  heart  be  not  ready 
to  burst : — Well,  sweet  Jack,  have  a  care  of  thvscli*. 

Fal.  Farewell,  farewell.    [Exe.  Fal.  and  6ard. 

Host.  Well,  fare  thee  well :  I  have  known  thee 
these  twenty-nine  years,  come  peascod-time;  but 
an  honester,  and  tmer-hearted  man, — Well,  fare 
ihce  well. 

Bard.  [JVtthin.]  Mistress  Tear-sheet, 

Host.  What's  the  matter .' 

Bard.  [JVithin.]  Bid  mistress  Tear-sheet  conM 
to  my  master. 

Host.  O  run,  Doll,  run ;  run,  good  Doll.  [Ext 


ACT  III. 

SCEJVE  I— A  room  in  the  palace.  Enter  King 
Henry,  in  his  mghi-gown,  wtth  a  Page. 

K.  Hen.  Go,  call  the  earls  of  Surrey,  and  of 
Warwick ; 


IL 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HEfmY  iV. 


429 


But  ere  they  come,  bid  them  o'er-reed  these  letters. 

And  frell  consider  of  them :  Make  good  speed. 

[Exit  Page. 
How  manj  tboasands  oT  im  poorest  subjects 
Are  at  this  hour  asleep ! — Sleep,  gentle  sleep, 
Nature*s  soft  nurse,  how  have  I  frighted  thee. 
That  thou  no  more  wilt  weigh  my  eyelids  down. 
And  steep  my  senses  in  foi^etfulness? 
Why  rather,  sleep,  liest  thou  in  smoky  cribs. 
Upon  uneasy  pallets  stretching  thee. 
And  hush*d  with  bussing  nieht-flies  to  thy  slumber ; 
Than  in  the  perfumed  chambers  of  the  g^reat. 
Under  the  canopies  of  costly  state. 
And  luird  with  sounds  of  sweetest  melody  ? 
O  thou  dull  god,  why  liest  thou  with  the  vile. 
In  loathsome  beds :  and  leav'st  the  kindly  couch, 
A  watch-case,  or  a  common  Uarum  bellr 
Wilt  thou  upon  the  high  and  giddy  mast 
Seal  up  the  8hip-boy*s  eyes,  and  rock  his  brains 
Id  cradle  of  the  rude  imperious  surge ; 
And  in  the  visitation  of  tne  winds. 
Who  take  the  ruffian  billows  by  the  top, 
Curiing  their  monstrous  heads,  and  hanging  them 
With  aeaPning  clamours  in  the  slippenr  clouds, 
That,  with  the  huHy,i  death  itself  awakes  ? 
Canst  thou,  O  partial  sleep !  give  thy  repose 
To  the  wet  Sea-boy  in  an  nour  so  rude ; 
And,  in  the  calmest  and  most  stillest  night, 
With  all  appliances  and  means  to  boot. 
Deny  it  to  a  king  ?  Then,  happy  low,3  lie  down ! 
Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown. 

Enter  Warwick  and  Surrey. 

War.  Many  good  morrows  to  your  majesty  ! 

K.  Hen.  Is  i^good  morrow,  lords? 

War.  'Tis  one  oVlock,  and  past. 

K.  Hen.  Why  then,  good  morrow  to  you  all,  my 
lords. 
Have  you  read  o*er  the  letters  that  I  sent  you  ? 

War.  We  have,  my  liege. 

K.  Hen.  Then  you  perceive,  the  body  of  our 
kingdom 
How  foul  it  is ;  what  rank  diseases  grow, 
And  with  what  danger,  near  the  heart  of  it 

War.  It  is  but  as  a  body,  yet,  distemper'd ; 
Which  to  his  former  strength  may  be  restored. 

With  good  advice,  and  little  medicine : 

My  lord  Northumberland  will  soon  be  cooPd. 

K.  Hen.  O  heaven !  that  one  might  read  the  book 
^  of  fate ; 

A.^  see  the  revolution  of  the  times 
Make  mountains  level,  and  the  continent 
(Weary  of  solid  firmness)  melt  itself^v 
Into  the  flwH !  and,  other  times,  to  sle 
The  beactf  ^rdle  of  the  ocean 
Too  wide  for  Ncptune*s  hips;  how  chances  mock. 
And  changes  fill  tiv^  cup  of  alteration 
With  divers  liquors  f  C^  if  this  were  seen. 
The  happiest  youth, — viewing  his  progress  through, 
What  perils  past,  what  c^o88fe^  (o  eniue, — 
Would  shut  the  book,  and  sit  Yaxi:  4own  and  die. 
*Tis  not  ten  years  gone,  "  , 

Since  Richard,  and  Northumberiand,  gre^^C^iends, 
Did  feast  together,  and,  in  two  years  aAer,     "^  ^ 
Were  they  at  wars :  It  is  but  eight  year?,  since  ^  ^ 
This  Percy  was  the  man  nearest  my  soul ; 
Who  I'ke  a  brother  toiPd  in  ray  afilairs. 
And  laid  his  love  and  life  under  my  foot ; 
Yea,  for  mv  sake,  even  to  the  eyes  of  Richard, 
Gave  him  defiance.    But  which  of  you  was  hy, 
(You,  cousin  Nevil,  as  I  may  remember,) 

[To  Warwick. 

fl)  Noise.  (2)  Those  in  lowly  situatkxis. 

39 


When  Richard, — with  his  eye  brimfiill  of  tears. 
Then  checkM  and  rated  by  Northumberland, — 
Did  speak  these  words,  now  proved  a  prophecy  t 
J^ortkumberlandy  thou  ladder,  by  the  tohtch 
My  cousin  Bolingbroke  ascends  my  throne  f — 
Though  then,  heaven  knows,  I  had  no  such  intent 
But  thAt  necessity  so  bowM  the  state. 
That  I  and  greatness  were  compelled  to  kiss  : 
The  time  shall  come,  thus  did  he  follow  it, 
The  time  unll  come,  that  foul  sin,  gathering  head, 
Shall  break  into  corruption : — so  went  on. 
Foretelling  this  same  timers  condition, 
And  the  division  of  our  amity. 

War.  There  is  a  history  in  all  men'a  lives. 
Figuring  the  nature  of  the  times  deceasM : 
The  which  observM,  a  man  may  prophesy. 
With  a  near  aim,  of  the  main  chance  of  things 
Ail  vet  not  come  to  life ;  which  in  their  seeds. 
Ana  weak  beginnings,  lie  intreasured. 
Such  thinp  become  the  hatch  and  brood  of  time; 
And,  by  the  necessary  form  of  this, 
King  Richard  might  create  a  perfect  guess. 
That  |reat  Northumberland,  then  falw  to  him. 
Would,  of  that  seed,  ^w  to  a  greater  fiilseiiess ; 
Which  should  not  fincf  a  ground  to  root  upon. 
Unless  on  you. 

JC  Hen.         Are  these  things  then  necessities  ? 
Then  let  us  meet  them  like  necetnties : — 
And  that  same  word  even  now  cries  out  on  us ; 
They  say,  the  bishop  and  Northumberland 
Are  fifty  thousand  strong. 

War.  It  cannot  be,  my  lord ; 

Rumour  doth  double,  like  the  voice  and  echo. 
The  numbers  of  the  fearM : — Please  it  yoargrace^ 
To  go  to  bed  :  upon  my  life,  my  lord. 
The  powers  that  you  already  have  sent  forth^ 
Shall  bring  this  prize  in  very  easily. 
To  comfort  you  the  more,  I  have  recefv^i) 
A  certain  instance,  that  Glendowcr  is  dead. 
Your  majesty  hath  been  this  fortnight  ill ; 
And  these  unseasoned  hours,  perforce,  must  add 
Unto  your  sickness. 

K.  Hen,  I  will  take  your  counsel  : 

And,  were  these  inward  wars  once  out  of  hand. 
We  would,  dear  lords,  unto  the  Holy  Land  [Ext, 

SCEJ^E  H— Court  bifbre  Justice  ShalloH»8 
house,  in  Gloucestershire.  Enter  Shallow  (md 
Silence,  meeting ;  Mouldy,  Shadow,  Wart,  Fee- 
ble, Bull-calf,  and  servants,  behind. 

Shal.  Come  on,  come  on,  come  on ;  give  me  your 
hand,  sir,  give  roe  your  hand,  sir :  an  oariv  stirrer, 
by  the  rood.'  And  how  doth  my  good  cousin, 
Silence  ? 

Sil.  Good  morrow,  good  cousin  Shallow. 

Shal.  And  how  doth  my  cousin,  your  bed-fellow  ? 
and  vour  fairest  daughter,  and  mine,  my  god- 
daughter Ellen  f 

•St/.  Alas,  a  black  ouzel,  cousin  Shallow. 

Shal.  Bv  yea  and  nay,  sir,   I  dare  say,  my 
cousin  William  is  become  a  good  scholar :  He  is. 
at  Oxford,  still,  is  he  not.' 

Sil.  Indeed,  sir ;  to  my  cost. 

iS^.  He  must  then  to  the  inns  of  courts  shortly 
J  was  once  of  ClementVInn ;  where,  I  think,  they 
wlU^talk  of  mad  Shallow  yet 

si  You  were  called — lusty  Shallow,  thc«^ 
cousin. 

Shal.  hy  the  mass,  I  was  called  any  thing ;  and 
I  would  hat«t  done  anv  thing,  indeed,  and  roundly 
toa  There  wa?  I,  and  little  John  Doit  of  Staflorti- 
8hire,and  black  George  Bare,  and  Francis  Pickbuno^ 

(3)Croii. 


430 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  FV. 


Adin. 


and  Will  Sqaete,  «  Cotswold  maji,— -^rou  hi^  not 
Ibar  such  siring^'bucklen^  in  all  the  inns  of  court 
again :  and,  I  may  say  to  you,  we  knew  where  the 
bona-robas^  were ;  and  had  the  best  of  them  all  at 
commandment  Then  was  Jack  Falstaff,  now  sir 
John,  a  boy ;  and  page  to  Thomas  Mowbray,  duke 
of  Norfolk. 

SiL  This  sir  Jdin,  cousin,  that  comes  hither 
anon  about  soldiers? 

ShaL  The  same  sir  John,  the  very  same.  I  saw 
him  break  Sko^n's  head  at  the  court-gate,  when 
he  was  a  crack^  not  thus  high :  and  the  very  same 
day  did  I  fi^ht  with  one  Sampson  Stockfish,  a 
fruiterer,  behind  Gray  VInn.  O,  the  mad  days  that 
1  have  spent !  and  to  see  how  many  of  mine  old 
acquaintance  are  dead ! 

SiL  We  shall  all  follow,  cousin. 

ShaL  Certain,  *tis  certain ;  very  sure,  rery  sure : 
death,  as  the  Psalmist  saith,  is  certain  to  all ;  all 
■hall  die.  How  a  good  yoke  of  bullocks  at  Stam- 
ford fair  ? 

SiL  Truly,  cousin,  I  was  not  there. 

SKoL  Death  is  certain. — Is  old  Double  of  your 
town  living  yet. ^ 

Sil.  Dead,  sir. 

Shal.  Dead ! — See,  see ! — ^he  drew  a  good  bow ; — 
And  dead  ! — he  shot  a  fine  shoot : — J^ai  of  Gaunt 
loved  him  well,  and  betted  much  money  on  his 
bead.  Dead ! — he  would  have  clapped  i'the  clout 
at  twelve  score  t^  and  carried  you  a  forehand  shaA 
a  fourteen  and  fourteen  and  a  half,  that  it  would 
have  done  a  man's  heart  good  to  see. — How  a  score 
of  ewes  now  f 

SiL  Thereafter  as  they  be :  a  score  of  good  ewes 
may  be  worth  ten  pounds. 

ShaL  And  is  ola  Double  dead  ? 

Enter  Bardolph,  and  one  with  him. 

SiL  Here  come  two  of  sir  John  FalstaflPs  men, 
as  I  think. 

Bard.  Good  morrow,  honest  gentlemen :  I  be- 
seech you,  which  is  justice  Shallow  ? 

ShaL  I  am  Robert  Shallow,  sir ;  a  poor  esquire 
of  this  county,  and  one  of  the  king's  justices  oi  the 
peace  :  What  is  your  good  pleasure  with  me  f 

Bard,  My  captain,  sir,  commends  him  to  you  : 
my  captain,  sir  John  Falstaff:  a  tall<  gentleman, 
by  heaven,  and  a  most  gallant  leader. 

Shal.  He  greets  me  well,  sir;  I  knew  him  a 
good  backsword  man :  How  doth  the  good  knight? 
may  I  ask,  how  mv  lady  his  wife  doth  ? 

^rd.  Sir,  pardon;  a  soldier  is  better  accommo- 
dated, than  with  a  wife. 

&ial.  It  is  well  said,  in  faith,  sir ;  and  it  is  well 
said,  indeed,  too.  Better  accommodated  ! —  it  is 
good  ;  yea,  indeed,  it  is :  good  phrases  are  surely, 
and  ever  were,  very  commenaable.  Accommo- 
dated ! — it  comes  from  accommodo :  very  good ;  a 
good  phrase. 

Bard.  Pardon  me,  sir ;  I  have  heard  the  word. 
Phrase,  call  you  it  ?  By  this  good  day,  1  know  not 
the  phrase :  but  1  will  maintain  the  word  with  my 
sword,  to  be  a  soldier-like  word,  and  a  word  of  ex- 
ceeding good  command.  Accommodated  ;  that  is, 
when  a  man  is,  as  they  say,  acccwnroodated  :  or, 
when  a  man  is, — beine, — whereby, — he  may  be 
thought  to  be  accommo^ted ;  which  is  an  excellent 
thing. 

Enter  FalstafC 
ShaL  It  is  very  just : — Look,  here  comes  good 


(!)  Rakes,  or  rioters. 
(2)  Ladies  of  pleasure. 


(3)  Boy. 


sir  John. — Give  me  your  good  hand,  give  me  yoor 
worship's  good  hand:  By  my  troth,  you  look  well, 
and  bear  your  years  very  well :  welcome,  good  sir 
John. 

FhL  I  am  glad  to  see  you  well,  good  master 
Robert  Shallow  : — Master  Sure-card,  as  1  thinL 

ShaL  No,  sir  John ;  it  is  my  cousin  Silence,  in 
commission  with  me. 

FaL  Good  master  Silence,  it  well  befits  you 
should  be  of  the  peace. 

SiL  Your  good  worship  is  welcome. 

FaL  Fie!  this  is  hot  weather. Gentlemen, 

have  you  provided  me  here  half  a  dozen  sufficioit 
men  f 

ShaL  Marry,  have  we,  sir.    Will  you  sit  f 

FaL  Let  me  see  them,  I  beseech  you. 

Shal.  Where's  the  roll  ?  where's  the  roll  ?  where's 
the  roll  ^ — Let  me  see,  let  me  see.  So,  so,  so,  eo : 
Yea,  marry,  sir : — Ralph  Mouldy  .• — let  them  ap* 

pear  as  I  call ;  let  them  do  »,  let  them  dosa 

Let  me  see ;  Where  is  Mouldy  ? 

JifouL  Here,  an't  please  you. 

ShaL  What  think  you,  sir  John  ?  a  good-limbed 
fellow  :  young,  stron£^,  and  of  good  friends. 

FaL  Is  thy  name  Mouldy .' 

Moful.  Yea,  an't  please  you. 

FaL  'Tis  the  more  time  thou  wert  used. 

•S^.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  most  excellent,  i'iaith  !  things 
that  are  mouldy,  lack  use  :  Vety  singular  good ! — 
In  faith,  well  said,  sir  John ;  very  well  said. 

Fal.  Prick  him.  [7\>  Shalkyw. 

MouL  I  was  pricked  well  enough  before,  an  you 
could  have  let  me  alone :  my  old  dame  will  be  un- 
done now,  for  one  to  do  her  husbendnr,  and  her 
drudgeiy :  you  need  not  to  have  {mcked  me ;  there 
are  other  men  fitter  to  go  out  than  I. 

FaL  Go  to ;  peace.  Mouldy,  you  shall  ga  Moul- 
dy, it  is  time  you  were  spenL 

Moul.  Spent! 

ShaL  Peace,  fellow,  peace ;  stand  aside ;  Know 
you  where  you  are  ^ — Few  the  other,  sir  John : — let 
me  see  ;-^Simon  Shadow  ! 

Fal.  Ay  marry,  let  me  have  him  to  sit  under : 
he's  like  to  be  a  cold  soldier. 

.SAoi.  Where's  Shadow? 

Shad.  Here,  sir. 

FaL  Shadow,  whoae  son  art  thou  ? 

Shad.  My  mother's  son,  sir. 

FaL  Thy  mother's  son !  like  enough ;  and  thy 
father's  shadow :  so  the  son  of  the  female  is  the 
shadow  of  the  male :  It  is  often  so,  indeed ;  but 
not  much  of  the  father's  substance. 

Shal.  Do  you  like  him,  sir  John  ? 

Fal.  Shadow  will  serve  for  summer, — prick  him ; 
— for  we  have  a  number  of  shadows  to  fill  up  the 
muster-book. 

Shal.  Thomas  Wart! 

Fal  Where's  he? 

Wart  Here,  sir. 

FaL  Is  thy  name  Wart  ? 

Wari.  Yea,  sir. 

Fal.  Thou  art  a  very  ragged  wart. 

ShaL  Shall  I  prick  him,  sir  John  ? 

FaL  It  were  superfluous ;  for  his  apparel  is  bait 
upon  his  back,  and  the  whole  firame  stands  upoo 
pins :  prick  him  no  more. 

ShaL  Ha,  ha,  ha ! — ^you  can  do  it,  sir ;  too  cao 
do  it :  I  commend  you  welt. — Francis  Feeble ! 

Ft€.  Here,  sir. 

FaL  What  trade  art  thou.  Feeble  ? 

Fie^  A  woman's  tailor,  sir. 

(4)  Hit  the  white  roaxk  at  twelve-acore  jaids. 

(5)  Brave. 


Sttntll. 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  UENRT  IV. 


431 


ShaL  Shall  I  prick  him,  sir? 

Fal.  You  may :  but  if  he  had  been  a  man*9  tailor, 
he  would  hare  pricked  you. — Wilt  thou  make  as 
many  holes  in  an  enemy's  battle,  as  thou  hast  done 
m  a  woman's  petticoat  r 

Fee.  I  will  do  my  good  will,  sir ;  you  can  have 
no  more. 

FeU,  Well  said,  good  woman's  tailor !  well  said, 
courageous  Feeble!  Thou  wilt  be  as  valiant  as  the 
wrathful  dove,  or  most  magnanimous  mouse. — 
Prick  the  woman's  tailor  well,  master  Shallow; 
deep,  master  Shallow. 

Fee.  I  would.  Wart  might  have  gCNne,  sir. 

FaL  I  would,  thou  wert  a  man's  tailor ;  that  thou 
migfat'st  mend  him,  and  make  him  fit  to  go.  I  can- 
not put  him  to  a  private  soldier,  that  is  the  leader 
of  so  many  thousands :  Let  that  suffice,  most  for- 
cible Feeble. 

Fee.  It  shall  suffice,  sir. 

FaL  I  am  bound  to  thee,  reverend  Feeble. — 
Who  is  next  f 

ShaL  Peter  Bull-calf  of  the  green ! 

FaL  Yea,  marry,  let  us  see  Bull-calf. 

BulL  Here,  sir. 

FaL  'Fore  God,  a  likely  fellow ! — Ckune,  prick 
me  Bull-calf,  till  he  roar  a^in. 

BulL  O  lord  !  good  my  lord  captain. — 

Fed.  What,  dost  thou  roar  before  tliou  art  pricked? 

BuiL  O  lord,  sir !  I  am  a  diseased  man. 

FaL  What  disease  hast  thou  ? 

BulL  A  whoreson  cold,  sir;  a  cough,  sir ;  which 
I  caught  with  rin^ng  in  the  king's  afiairs,  upon  his 
coronation  day,  sir. 

FnL  Come,  thou  shalt  go  to  the  wars  in  a  gown; 
we  will  have  away  thy  cold  ;  and  I  will  take  such 
order,  that  thy  friends  shall  ring  for  thee. — Is  here 
all? 

ShaU.  Here  is  two  more  called  than  your  num- 
ber ;  you  must  have  but  four  here,  sir ; — and  so,  I 
pray  you,  go  in  with  me  to  dinner. 

Fal.  Come,  I  will  go  drink  with  you,  but  I  can- 
not tarry  dinner.  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  in  good 
troth,  master  Shallow. 

Shal.  O,  sir  John,  do  you  remember  since  we 
lay  all  nieht  in  the  windmill  in  St.  George's-fields? 

FhL  No  more  of  that,  good  master  Shallow,  no 
more  of  that. 

ShaL  Ha,  it  was  a  merry  night  And  is  Jane 
Night-work  alive  ? 

FaL  She  lives,  master  Shallow. 

ShaL  She  never  could  away  with  me. 

Fal.  Never,  never :  she  would  always  say,  she 
could  not  abide  master  Shallow. 

ShaL  By  the  mass,  I  could  anger  her  to  the 
heart  She  was  then  a  bona-roba.  Doth  she  hold 
her  o«m  well  ? 

FaL  Old,  old,  master  Shallow. 

ShaL  Nay,  she  must  be  old ;  she  cannot  choose 
but  be  old ;  certain,  she's  old ;  and  had  Robin 
Night-work  by  old  Night-work,  before  I  came  to 
Clemen  tVInn. 
SiL  That's  fiftjr-five  year  aea 
ShaL  Ha,  cousin  Silence,  tnat  thou  hadst  seen 
that  that  this  knight  and  I  have  seen! — Ha,  sir 
John,  said  I  well? 

Fd.  We  have  heard  the  chimes  at  midn/^t, 
master  Shallow. 

Shal.  That  we  have,  that  we  have,  that  we  have ; 
in  faith,  sir  John,  we  have ;  our  watch  word  was. 
Hem,  boys! — Come,  let's  to  6*jpb\\  cntna,  let's 
to  dinner : — O,  the  days  that  ^^e  hfjz  teen ! — 
Come,  come.  [£xe.  FaUtaff,  Sita'^r  « ,  iiA  Silence. 

(1)  Enemy.        (2)  Gen.        '/^  /iirch.        ' 


BuU.  Good  master  corporate  Barddnh,  «tand 
my  friend ;  and  here  is  four  Harry  ten  shillings  in 
French  crowns  for  you.  In  very  truth,  sir,  I  had 
as  lief  be  hanged,  sir,  as  go :  and  yet,  for  mine 
own  part,  sir,  I  do  not  care ;  but,  rather,  becauw 
I  am  unwilling,  and,  for  mine  own  part,  have  a  de- 
sire to  stay  with  my  friends ;  else,  «r,  I  did  not  care, 
for  mine  own  part,  so  much. 

Bard.  Go  to ;  stand  aside. 

Maul.  And  good  master  corporal  captain,  for 
my  old  dame's  sake,  stand  my  fnend :  she  has  no- 
body to  do  any  thing  about  her,  when  I  am  gone  : 
and  she  is  old,  and  cannot  help  herself:  you  shall 
have  forty,  sir. 

Bard.  Go  to ;  stand  aside. 

Fee.  By  my  troth  I  care  not ; — a  man  can  die 
but  once ; — we  owe  God  a  death ; — I'll  ne'er  bear 
a  base  mind : — an't  be  my  destiny,  so ; — an't  be 
not,  so :  No  man's  too  good  to  serve  his  prince ; 
and,  let  it  go  which  way  it  will,  be  that  dies  this 
year,  is  quit  for  the  next 

Bard.  Well  said  ;  thou'rt  a  good  fellow. 

Fee.  'Faith,  I'll  bear  no  base  mind. 

Re-enter  Falstaff,  and  JvaHcet. 

FaL  Come,  sir,  which  men  shall  I  have  ? 

ShaL  Four,  c^  which  you  please. 

Bard.  Sir,  a  word  with  you: — I  have  three 
pound  to  free  Mouldy  and  Bull-cal£ 

Fal.  Go  to ;  well. 

Shal.  Come,  sir  John,  which  four  will  you  have  ? 

Fal.  Do  you  choose  for  me. 

Shal.  Marry  then, — ^Mouldy,  Bull-calf,  Feeble, 
and  Shadow. 

FaL  Mouldy,  and  Bull-calf: — For  you.  Mouldy, 
stay  at  home  still ;  you  are  past  service :  and,  ft^r 
your  part,  Bull-cali^ — ^grow  till  you  come  unto  it ; 
I  will  none  of  you. 

Shal.  Sir  John,  sir  J<^n,  do  not  yourself  wrong: 
they  are  your  likeliest  men,  and  I  would  have  yoa 
served  with  the  best 

Fal.  Will  you  tell  me,  master  Shallow,  how  to 
choose  a  man  ?  Care  I  for  the  limb,  the  thewes,  the 
stature,  bulk,  and  big  assemblance  of  a  man !  Give 
me  the  spirit, master  Shallow. — Here's  Wart; — 
you  see  what  a  ragged  appearance  it  is :  he  shall 
charge  you,  and  discharge  you,  with  the  motion  of 
a  pewterer's  hammer ;  come  off,  and  on,  swifter 
than  he  that  gibbets-on  the  brewer's  bucket  And 
this  same  half-fac'd  fellow,  Shadow, — give  me  this 
man :  he  preserfts  no  mark  to  the  enemy  :  the  foe- 
mani  may  with  as  great  aim  level  at  the  edge  cf  a 
pen-knife :  And,  for  a  retreat, — how  swiftly  will 
this  Feeble,  the  woman's  tailor,  run  off!  O,  give 
me  the  spare  men,  and  spare  me  the  great  ones.— 
Put  me  a  caliver^  into  Wart's  hand,  Bardolph. 

Bard.   Hold,  Wart,  traverse ;'  thus,  thus,  thus. 

Fal.  Come,  manage  me  your  caliver.  So: — venr 
well : — go  to : — very  good  :— exceeding  good. — O, 
give  me  always  a  little,  lean,  old,  chapped,  bald 
ahot.4 — Well  said,  i'faith,  Wart ;  thou  art  a  good 
scab  :  hold,  there's  a  tester  for  thee. 

ShaL  He  is  not  his  craft's-master,  he  doth  not  do 
it  right.  I  remember  at  Mile-end  green  (when  I 
lay  at  Clement's-Inn, — I  was  then  sir  Dagonet,  in 
Arthur's  show,^  there  was  a  little  quiver  fellow, 
and  'a  would  manage  you  his  piece  thus:  and  'a 
would  about,  and  about,  and  come  you  in,  and ' 
come  you  in :  rah,  iah,  iah,  would  'a  say ;  bounce, 
would 'a  say ;  and  away  again  would  'a  go,  and 
again  would  'a  come : — I  wall  never  see  such  a 
follow. 

(4)  Sliooter.      (5)  An  exhibition  of  archoy 


432 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


Actrr 


Fal  These  fellovrt  will  do  well,  matter  Shal- 
low.— God  keep  you,  master  Silence ;  I  will  not 
use  many  words  with  you : — Fare  you  well,  ^tie- 
men  both  :  I  thank  ^ou  :  I  must  a  dozen  mile  to- 
night— Bardolph,  eive  the  soldiers  coats. 

!^uU.  Sir  Jonn,  neaven  bl^s  you,  and  prosper 
your  afiairs,  and  send  us  peace  !  As  you  return, 
visit  my  house ;  let  our  old  acouaintance  be  re- 
newed :  peradventure,  I  will  with  you  to  the  court 
FaL  I  would  you  would,  master  Shallow. 
ShaL  Go  to ;  I  have  spoke,  at  a  word.  Fare  you 
well.  [Exeunt  Shallow  and  Silence. 

FhL  Fare  jm  well,  gentle  gentlemen.  On,  Rar- 
dolph ;  lead  the  men  away.    [Exeunt  Bardolph, 
Recruits f  ifc]    As  I  return,  I  will  fetch  off  these 
justices :  I  do  see  the  bottom  oT  Justice  Shallow. 
Lord,  lord,  how  subject  we  old  men  are  to  this 
vice  of  lying !  This  same  starved  justice  hath  done 
ndthing  but  prate  to  me  of  the  wildness  of  his 
youth,  and  the  feats  he  hath  done  about  Tumbull- 
street;^  and  every  third  word  a  lie,  duer  paid  to 
the  hearer  than  the  Turk^s  tribute.    I  do  remem- 
ber him  at  ClementVlnn,  like  a  man  made  after 
supper  of  a  cheese-parine :  when  he  was  naked,  he 
was,  for  all  the  world,  lilce  a  forked  radish,  with  a 
bead  fantastically  carved  uyoa  it  with  a  knife :  he 
was  so  forlorn,  that  bis  dimensions  to  any  thick 
sight  were  invisible:  he  was  the  very  genius  of 
famine ;  yet  lecherous  as  a  monkey,  and  the  whores 
called  him — mandrake :  he  came  ever  in  the  rear- 
ward of  the  fashion ;  and  sung  those  tunes  to  the 
over-scutched  huswives  that  he  heard  the  carmen 
whistle,  and  sware — they  were  his  fancies,  or  his 
good-nights.3     And  now  is  this  Vice's  dageer*  be- 
come a  squire ;  and  talks  as  familiarly  of  Johnpf 
Gaunt,  as  if  he  had  been  sworn  brother  to  him  : 
and  1*11  be  sworn  he  never  saw  him  but  once  in  the 
Tilt-yard ;  and  then  he  burst^  his  head,  for  crowd- 
ing amoiv^  the  marshal's  men.    I  saw  it ;  and  told 
Jmm  of  Gaunt,  he  beat  his  own  name:^  for  you 
might  have  trussM  him,  and  all  his  appmrel,  into  an 
eel-skin ;  the  case  of  a  treble  hautboy  was  a  man- 
sion for  him,  a  court ;  and  now  has  he  land  and 
beeves.    Well ;  I  will  be  acouainted  with  him,  if 
1  return  :  and  it  shall  go  hard,  but  I  will  make  him 
a  philosopher's  two  stones  to  me :  If  the  yonn^  dace 
be  a  bait  for  the  old  pike,  I  see  no  reason,  m  the 
law  of  nature,  but  I  may  snap  at  him.    Let  time 
shape,  and  there  an  end.  [Exit. 


ACT  IV. 

SCEJ^E  I.—Ji  forest  in  Yorkshire.  Enter  the 
archbishop  of  York,  Mowbray,  Hastings,  and 
others. 

Arch.  What  is  this  forest  call'd  f 

Hast.  'Tis  Gualtree  forest,  an't  shall  please 

S>ur  grace, 
ere  stand,  my  lords ;  and  send  discov- 
erers forth. 
To  know  the  numbers  of  our  enemies. 
Hast.  We  have  sent  forth  already. 
Arch.  'Tis  well  done. 

My  friends,  and  brethren  in  these  great  affairs, 
I  must  acquaint  you  that  I  have  receiv'd 
New-datea  letters  from  Northumberland  ; 
Their  cold  intent,  tenour  and  substance,  thus : — 
Here  doth  he  wish  his  person,  with  such  powers 

(1)  In  Clerkcnwell.     (2)  Titles  of  little  poems. 
(3)   A  wooden  dagger  like  that  used  by  the 
modem  harlequin. 


As  might  hold  sortance^  with  his  quality. 
The  which  he  could  not  levy ;  whereupon 
He  is  retir'd,  to  ripe  his  growing  fortunes, 
To  Scotland :  and  concludes  in  hearty  prayers, 
That  your  attempts  may  overlive  the  haiard. 
And  tearful  meeting  of  their  opposite. 
J^owb.  Thus  do  the  hopes  we  have  in  him  too^ 
g^round. 
And  dash  themselves  to  pieces. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 
Hast.  Now,  what  news  ? 

Mess.  West  of  this  forest,  scarcely  off  a  mile. 
In  TOodly  form  comes  on  the  enemy  : 
And,  by  the  ground  they  hide,  I  judge  their  number. 
Upon,  or  near,  the  rate  of  thirty  thousand. 
Mowb.  The  just  proportion  that  we  gave  diein 
out 
Let  us  sway  on,  and  face  them  in  the  field. 

Enter  Westmoreland. 

Arch.  What  well-appointed  7  leader  fronts  n 
here.' 

Mowb.  I  think,  it  is  my  lord  of  Westmoreland. 

IVest.  Health  and  fair  greeting  fromour  general. 
The  prince,  lord  John  and  duke  of  Lancaster. 

Arch.  Say  on,  my  lord  of  Westmoreland,  in 
peace ;  * 

What  dotn  concern  your  coming  ? 

irest.  Then,  my  lord, 

Unto  your  grace  do  I  in  chief  address 
The  substance  of  my  speech.     If  that  rebellkn 
Came  like  itself,  in  base  and'abject  routs. 
Led  on  by  bloody  youth,  guarded  with  rage, 
And  countenanc'd  by  boys,  and  begganr ; 
1  say,  if  damn'd  commotion  so  appear'd, 
In  his  true,  native,  and  most  proper  shape. 
You,  reverend  father,  and  these  noble  lords. 
Had  not  been  here,  to  dress  the  ugly  form 
Of  base  and  bloody  insurrection 
With  your  fair  honours.     You,  lord  archbishop,— 
Whose  see  is  by  a  civil  peace  maintained ; 
Whose  beard  the  silver  hand  of  peace  hath  touch'd; 
Whose  learning  and  good  letters  peace  hath  tutor'd; 
Whose  white  investments  %ure  innocence. 
The  dove  and  veiy  blessed  spirit  of  peace, — 
Wherefore  do  you  so  ill  translate  yourself. 
Out  of  the  speech  of  peace,  that  Dears  such  grace, 
Into  the  harsh  and  boist'rous  tongue  of  war? 
Turning  your  books  to  graves,  your  ink  to  blood. 
Your  pens  to  lances ;  and  your  tongue  divine 
To  a  loud  trumpet,  and  a  point  of  war.' 

Ardi.  Wherefore  do  I  this?— so  the  questior 
stands. 
Briefly  to  this  end : — ^We  are  all  diseas'd ; 
And,  with  our  surfeiting,  and  wanton  hours, 
Have  brought  ourselves  into  a  burning  fevd^. 
And  we  must  bleed  for  it :  of  which  disease 
Our  late  king,  Richard,  beins  infected,  died. 
But,  my  most  noble  lord  of  Westmoreland, 
I  take  not  on  me  here  as  a  physician  ; 
]Vor  do  I,  as  an  enemy  to  jxiace. 
Troop  in  the  throngs  of  military  men  : 
But,  rather,  show  a  while  like  fearful  war. 
To  diet  rank  minds,  sick  of  happiness  : 
And  purge  the  obstructions,  which  begin  to  stop 
Our  very  veins  of  life.     Hear  me  nwre  plainly. 
I  have  in  equal  balance  justly  weigh'd 
What  wrongs  our  arms  may  do,  what  wroi^  iw 

suffer. 
And  find  our  griefs^  heavier  than  our  offences. 

(4)  Broke.  (5)  Gaunt  is  thin,  slender 

(6)  Be  suitable.         (7)  Completely  accoutred 
(8)  Grievances. 


SEXX)ND  PART  OF  KING  HEf9RY  IT. 


433 


t  which  way  the  stream  of  time  doth  mn, 
e  enforcM  from  our  most  quiet  sphere 
lOQcfa  torrent  of  occasion : 
ye  me  summaiy  of  all  our  gprieft, 
dme  shall  serve,  to  show  in  articles ; 
t^ooe  ere  this,  we  offerM  to  the  king, 
ight  by  no  suit  gain  our  audience : 
ve  are  wrong'd,  and  would  unfold  oar  grie&, 
}  denied  access  unto  his  person, 
y  those  men  that  most  have  done  us  wrong. 
iBgers  of  the  dajs  but  newly  gone 
B  memory  is  written  on  the  earth 
et-appearin^  blood,)  and  the  examples 
ly  minute*8  mstance  (present  now,) 
lut  us  in  these  ill-beseemine  arms : 
break  peace,  or  any  branch  of  it ; 
establish  here  a  peace  indeed, 
TUtf  both  in  name  and  quality. 
t  When  ever  yet  was  your  appeal  denied  ? 
in  have  vou  been  galled  by  tne  king  f 
leer  hath  been  sun>ra*d  to  grate  on  you  f 
ou  should  seal  this  lawless  bloody  book 
I'd  rebellion  with  a  seal  divine, 
naecrate  commotioo^s  bitter  edge .' 
L  Mv  brother  general,  the  commonwealth, 
tber  bom  a^  household  cruelty, 
myquarrel  in  particular. 
L  TMre  is  no  need  of  any  such  redress ; 
here  were,  it  not  belongs  to  you. 
i6.  Why  not  to  him,  in  part ;  and  to  us  all, 
iel  the  bruises  of  the  days  before ; 
Otr  the  condition  of  these  times 
a  heavy  and  unequal  hand 
Mir  honours  ?• 

t  O  my  good  lord  Mowbray, 

n  the  times  to  their  necessities, 
m  shall  say  indeed, — it  is  the  time. 
It  the  king,  that  doth  you  injuries, 
r  your  part,  it  not  appears  to  me, 
(ram  the  king,  or  in  the  present  time, 

00  should  have  an  inch  of  any  ground 
Id  a  grief  on :  Were  you  not  restored 
the  oTuke  of  Norfolk^s  signiories, 

oble  and  ri^ht-well-remember'd  father's  ? 
lb.  What  thing,  in  honour,  had  my  father  lost, 
eed  to  be  revived,  and  breathed  in  me  ? 
ig,  that  lov'd  him,  as  the  state  stood  then, 
brce  perforce,  compelPd  to  banish  him : 
en,  when  Harry  Bolingbroke,  and  he, — 
mounted,  and  both  roused  in  their  seats, 
leighing  coursers  daring  of  the  spur, 
jmed  staves^  in  charge,  their  beavers^  down, 
ry^  of  fire  sparkling  through  sights'  of  steel, 
e  loud  trumpet  blowing  them  U^ther ; 
then,  when  there  was  nothing  could  have  staid 
her  from  the  breast  of  Bolingbroke, 
n  the  king  did  throw  his  wardeH  down, 
u  life  hung  upon  the  staff  he  threw  : 
hrew  he  down  himself;  and  all  their  lives, 
by  indictment,  and  by  dint  of  sword, 
lince  miscarried  under  Bolingbroke. 
i.  You  speak,  lord  Mowbray,  now  you  know 

not  wnat : 
irl  of  Hereford  was  reputed  then 
;land  the  most  valiant  gentleman ; 
mows,  on  whom  fortune  would  then  have 

smilM? 
your  father  had  been  victor  there, 
er  had  borne  it  out  of  Coventry : 

1  the  country,  in  a  general  voice, 

'nances.        (2)  Helmets. 

Tlie  eye-holes  of  helmets.     (4)  Truncheon. 

rhink  too  highly.  (6)  Sight. 


Cried  hate  upoo  him;  and  all  their  prayers,  and 

love. 
Were  set  on  Hereford,  whom  they  doted  on. 
And  bless'd,  and  grac'd  indeed,  more  than  the  king 
But  this  is  mere  mgression  from  my  purpose. — 
Here  come  I  from  our  princely  general. 
To  know  your  jpriefii ;  to  tell  you  from  his  grace. 
That  he  will  give  you  audience :  and  wherein 
It  shall  appear  that  your  demands  are  just, 
You  shall  enjoy  them ;  every  thing  set  off. 
That  might  so  much  as  think  you  enemies. 

Mowb.  But  he  hath  forc'd  us  to  compel  this 
offer: 
And  it  proceeds  from  policy,  not  love. 

IVest.  Mowbray,  you  overween,^  to  take  it  so : 
This  offer  comes  from  mercy,  not  from  fear : 
For,  lo !  within  a  ken,>  our  army  lies ; 
Upon  mine  honour,  all  too  confioent 
To  give  admittance  to  a  thought  of  fear. 
Our  battle  is  more  full  of  names  than  yours, 
Our  men  more  perfect  in  the  use  of  arms. 
Our  armour  all  as  strong,  our  cause  the, best ; 
Then  reason  wills,  our  Marts  should  be  as  good : — 
Say  you  not  then,  our  ofier  is  compeird. 

Mowb.  Well,  by  my  will,  we  shall  admit  no 
parley. 

Wut.  That  ar^es  but  the  shame  of  youroffence : 
A  rotten  case  abides  no  handling. 

Hatt,  Hath  the  prince  John  a  full  commission. 
In  very  ample  virtue  of  his  father, 
To  hear,  and  absolutely  to  deteimine 
Of  what  conditions  we  shall  stand  upon  i 

West,  That  is  intended^  in  the  general's  namf. 
I  muse,>  you  make  so  slight  a  Question. 

ArcL  Then  take,  my  lord  of  Westmoreland,  this 
schedule  '^ 
For  this  contains  our  general  erievances : — 
Each  several  article  herein  rearess'd ; 
All  members  of  our  cause,  both  here  and  hence, 
That  are  insinew'd  to  this  action, 
AcQuitted  by  a  true  substantial  form; 
Ana  present  executk>n  of  our  wills 
To  us,  and  to  our  purposes,  consign'd ; 
We  come  within  our  awful  banks'^  again. 
And  knit  our  powers  to  the  arm  of  peace. 

Wett.  This  will  I  show  the  general.   Please  yn»\ 
lords, 
In  sight  of  bodi  our  battles  we  may  meet : 
And  either  end  in  peace,  which  heaven  so  frame ! 
Or  to  the  place  of  difference  call  the  swords 
Which  must  decide  it 

Arch,  My  lord,  we  will  do  to. 

[Exit  West 

Moveh.  There  is  a  thing  within  my  bosom,  telU  me. 
That  no  conditions  of  our  peace  can  stand. 

Hast,  Fear  you  not  that :  if  we  can  make  our 
peace 
Upon  sucn  large  terms,  and  so  absolute, 
As  our  conditions  shall  consist  upon. 
Our  peace  shall  stand  as  fimi  as  rocky  mountains. 

Jnowb.  Ay,  but  our  valuation  shall  be  such. 
That  every  slight  and  false-derived  cause. 
Yea,  every  idle,  hice,il  and  wanton  reason. 
Shall,  .to  me  king,  taste  of  this  action : 
That,  were  our  royal  faiths^  martyrs  in  love, 
We  shall  be  winnow'd  with  so  rou^h  a  wind. 
That  even  our  com  shall  seem  as  light  as  chaff. 
And  good  from  bad  find  no  partition. 

Arch.  No,  no,  my  Icurd ;  Note  this, — the  king  is 
weaiy 

(7)  Understood.     (8)  Wonder.      (9)  Inventory^ 

(10)  Proper  limits  of  reverence. 

(11)  Trivial.       (12)  The  fitith  due  to  a  king. 


434 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRT  IV. 


Aciir. 


Of  dainty  and  Rich  pickinri  grievances : 

For  be  hath  found, — to  end  one  doubt  by  death, 

Revives  two  greater  in  the  heirs  of  life. 

And  therefore  will  he  wipe  his  tables^  clean ; 

And  keep  no  tell-tale  to  his  memory, 

That  may  repeat  and  history  his  loss 

To  new  remembrance :  For  full  well  he  knows, 

He  cannot  so  precisely  weed  this  land, 

As  his  misdouDts  present  occasion  : 

His  foes  are  so  enrooted  with  his  friends, 

That,  plucking  to  unfix  an  enemy, 

He  doth  unfasten  so,  and  shake  a  friend. 

So  that  this  land,  like  an  offensive  wife. 

That  hath  enragM  him  on  to  offer  strokes ; 

As  he  is  striking,  holds  his  infant  up, 

And  hangs  resolvM  correction  in  the  arm 

That  was  uprear^d  to  execution. 

Hast  Besides,  the  king  hath  wasted  all  his  rods 
-On  late  offenders,  that  he  now  doth  lack 
The  very  instruments  of  chastisement : 
So  that  his  power,  like  to  a  fangless  lion, 
May  offer,  out  not  bold. 

Arch.  'Tis  very  true ; — 

And  therefore  be  assurM,  my  gooa  lord  marshal. 
If  we  do  now  make  our  atonement  well. 
Our  peace  will,  like  a  broken  limb  united, 
Grow  stronger  for  the  breaking. 

Mowb.  Be  it  so. 

Here  is  retumM  my  lord  of  Westmoreland. 

Rt-enUr  Westmoreland. 

Wut.  The  prince  is  here  at  hand :  Pleaseth  your 
lordship. 
To  meet  his  grace  just  distance  *tween  our  armies  ? 
Mowb.  Your  grace  6L  York,  in  God*s  name  then 

set  forward. 
Arch,  Before,  and  greet  bis  grace : — my  lord, 
•    we  come.  [Exeunt. 

SCEUVE  IT.-^nother part  of  the  forest  En- 
tery  from  one  nde^  Mowbray,  ihe  Archbishop, 
Hastings,  and  others:  from  ihe  other  side, 
Prince  John  of  Lancaster,  Westmoreland,  ^- 
eerSt  and  attendants. 

P.  John.  You  are  well  encoiunter*d  here,  my 
cousin  Mowbray : — 
Good  day  to  you,  gentle  lord  archbishop ; — 
And  so  to  vou,  lora  Hastings, — and  to  all. — 
My  lord  of  York,  it  better  showM  with  you. 
When  that  your  flock,  assembled  by  the  beU, 
Encircled  you,  to  hear  with  reverence 
Your  exposition  on  the  holy  text ; 
Than  now  to  see  you  here  an  iron  man,' 
Cheering  a  rout  of  rebels  with  your  drum. 
Turning  the  word  to  sword,  and  life  to  death. 
That  man,  that  sits  within  a  monarches  heart. 
And  ripens  in  the  sunshine  of  his  favour, 
Would  he  abuse  the  countenance  of  the  king. 
Alack,  what  mischiefs  might  he  set  abroach. 
In  shadow  of  such  greatness !  With  you,  lord  bishop. 
It  is  even  so : — Wno  hath  not  heard  it  spoken. 
How  deep  you  were  within  the  books  of  God  > 
To  us,  the  sfteaker  in  his  parliament ; 
To  us,  the  imaginM  voice  of  God  himself; 
The  very  opener,  and  intelligencer. 
Between  the  grace,  the  sanctities  of  heaven. 
And  our  dull  workings  :*  O,  who  shall  believe, 
But  you  misuse  the  reverence  of  your  place ; 
Employ  the  countenance  and  grace  of  heaven, 
As  a  false  favourite  doth  his  princess  name. 


^ 


1)  Piddling,  insignificant 

)  Book  for  memorandums. 
(3)  Clad  in  armour.       (4)  Labours  of  thought. 


In  deeds  dishonourable  f  You  have  taken  up,* 
Under  the  counterfeited  zeal  of  God, 
The  subjects  of  his  substitute,  my  father  ; 
And,  both  against  the  peace  o(  heaven  and  him. 
Have  here  up-swarmM  them. 

Arch.  Good  my  lord  of  Lancaster, 

I  am  not  here  against  your  fatber^s  peace  : 
But,  as  I  told  mv  lord  of  Westmoreland, 
The  time  misoraerM  doth,  in  common  sense. 
Crowd  us,  and  crush  us,  to  this  monstrous  form. 
To  hold  our  safety  up.     I  sent  your  grace 
The  parcels  and  particulars  of  our  grief; 
The  which  hath  oeen  with  scorn  sbovM  from  the 

court. 
Whereon  this  Hydra  son  of  war  is  bom : 
Whose  dangerous  eyes  may  well  be  charmM  asleep. 
With  grant  of  our  most  just  and  right  desires ; 
And  true  obedience  of  tnis  madness  cur^d. 
Stoop  tamely  to  the  foot  c^  majesty. 

Juotob.  If  not,  we  ready  are  to  try  our  fortunes 
To  the  last  man. 

Heut.  And  though  we  here  fall  down: 

We  have  supplies  to  second  our  attempt ; 
If  they  miscarry,  theirs  shall  second  them : 
And  so,  success^  of  mischief  shall  be  born ; 
And  heir  from  heir  shall  hold  this  quarrel  up, 
Whiles  England  shall  have  generation. 

P.  John.  You  are  too  shallow,  Hastings,  OMich 
too  shallow. 
To  sound  the  bottom  of  the  after-timea. 

IVest.  Pleaseth  your  grace,  to  answer  them  di- 
rectly. 
How  fisr  forth  you  do  like  their  articles  ? 

P.  John  I  like  them  all,  and  do  allow^  then 
well: 
And  swear  here  by  the  honour  of  my  blood, 
My  fiither*s  purposes  have  been  roi^ook ;     f 
And  tome  about  him  have  too  lavishly 
Wrested  his  meaning,  and  authority. — 
My  lord,  these  griefs  shall  be  with  speed  redressed ; 
Upon  my  soul,  they  shall.  If  this  may  please  vou, 
Discharge  your  power^  unto  their  several  coun- 
ties. 
As  we  will  ours  :  and  here,  between  the  armies, 
Let^s  drink  together  friendly,  and  embrace ; 
That  all  their  eyes  may  bear  those  tokens  home. 
Of  our  restored  love,  and  amity. 

Arch.  I  take  your  princely  word  for  these  re- 
dresses. 

P.  John.  I  give  it  you,  and  will  maintain  my 
word: 
And  thereupon  I  drink  unto  your  grace. 

Hast.  Go,  captain,  [Toon  officer.]  and  deliver 
to  the  army 
This  news  of  peace ;  let  them  have  pay,  and  part ; 
I  know,  it  will  well  please  them :  nie  thee,  cap- 
tain. [Esit  Officer. 

Arch.  To  you,  my  noble  lord  of  Westmoreland 

West.  1  pledge  your  grace :  And,  if  you  knew 
what  pains 
I  have  bestow^a,  to  breed  this  present  peace. 
You  would  drink  freely :  but  my  love  to  you 
Shall  show  itself  more  openly  hereafter. 

Arch.  I  do  not  doubt  you. 

West.  I  am  glad  of  it- 

Health  to  iny  lord,  and  ^ntle  cousin,  Mowbray. 

Mowb.  You  wieh  me  health  in  very  happy  sea- 
son ; 
For  I  am,  on  the  sudden,  something  ill. 

Arch.  Against  ill  chances,  men  are  ever  merry  • 
But  heaviness  foreruns  the  good  event 

(5)  Raised  in  arms.  (6)  Successioa. 

(7)  Approve.  (8)  Forces. 


IIL 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IT. 


435 


WeiL  Therefiire  be  meny,  cos ;  noce  sudden 
sorrow 
Serves  to  say  thus, — Some  good  thing  comes  to- 
morrow. 
Ardt.  Believe  me,  I  am  passing  light  in  spirit 
J(foio6.  So  much  the  worse,  if  your  own  rule  be 
true.  [Shouts  within. 

P.  John,  The  word  of  peace  is  render*d ;  Hark, 

how  they  shout .' 
Jtfowb.  This  had  been  cheerful,  after  victory. 
Arch.  A  peace  is  of  the  nature  of  a  coiujuest ; 
For  then  botn  parties  nobly  are  subdued. 
And  neither  party  loser. 

P.  John.  Go,  mv  lord. 

And,  let  our  army  be  dischaigea  toa — 

[Exit  Westmoreland. 
And,  good  my  lord,  so  please  you,  let  our  trains^ 
March  by  us ;  that  we  mav  peruse  the  men 
We  dionld  have  cop*d  withal. 

Arch,  Go,  good  lord  Hastings, 

And,  ere  they  be  dismissed,  let  them  march  b^. 

[Exit  Hastings. 
P.  John.  I  trust,  my  lords,  we  shall  lie  to-night 
together. — 

Re-enter  Westmoreland. 

Now,  coonn,  wherefore  stands  our  army  still  ? 

West.  The  leaders,  having  charge  from  you  to 
stand. 
Will  not  go  off  until  they  hear  vou  speak. 

P.  .TbAn.  They  know  their  duties. 

Re-enter  Hastings. 

Hasi.  My  lord,  our  amy  is  dispersed  already : 
Like  youthful  steers^  unyok'd,  they  take  their 

courses 

East,  west,  north,  south ;  or,  like  a  school  broke  up, 
Elach  hurries  toward  his  home,  and  sporting-place. 

IfetL  Good  tidings,  my  lord  Hastings ;  lor  the 

which 

I  do  arrest  thee,  traitor,  of  high  treason : — 

And  you,  k>rd  archbishop, — and  yon,lord  Mowbray, 

Of  capital  treason  I  attach  you  both. 

Mowb.  Is  this  proceeding  just  and  honourable  ? 

fVest  Isyour  assembly  so.' 

Arch.  Will  you  thus  break  vour  faith  ? 

P.  John.  1  pawn*d  thee  none 

I  promisM  you  redress  of  these  same  grievances. 
Whereof  ytMi  did  complain ;  which,  by  mine  honour, 
I  will  perform  with  a  most  Christian  care. 
But,  for  you,  rebels, — look  to  taste  the  due 
Meet  for  rebellion,  and  such  acts  as  yours. 
Most  shallow  ly  did  you  these  arms  commence. 
Fondly*  brought  here,  and  foolishly  sent  hence. — 
Strike  up  our  drums,  pursue  the  scattered  stray ; 
Heaven,  and  not  we,  hath  safely  fought  to-day. — 
Some  guard  these  traitors  to  the  block  of  death ; 
Treason^s  true  bed,  and  yielder  up  of  breath. 

[Exeunt. 

SCEJVE  IIL^Another  part  of  the  Forest- 
Alarums:  Excursions.  Enter  Falstaff  and 
Colevile,  meeting. 

FaL  What*s  vour  name,  sir  }  of  what  condition 
areyou ;  and  of  what  place,  I  pray .' 

Qile.  I  am  a  knight,  sir;  and  my  name  is — 
Colevile  of  the  dale. 

FaL  Well  then,  Colevile  is  your  name;  a  knight 
b  your  degree  ;  and  your  place,  the  dale :  Cole- 
vile shall  still  be  your  name ; — a  traitor  your  de- 
gree ;  and  the  dungeon  vour  place, — a  place  deep 
enough ;  so  shall  you  still  be  Colevile  of  the  dale. 

(1)  Each  army.  (2)  Young  bullocks. 


QAe.  Are  not  you  sir  John  Falstaff.' 

FaL  As  good  a  man  as  he,  sir,  whoe'ef  I  am. 
Do  ye  yiel(^ sir.'  or  shall  I  sweat  for  you .'  If  1  do 
sweat,  they  are  drops  of  thy  lovers,  and  they  weep 
for  thy  death :  therefore  rouse  up  fear  ana  trem- 
bling, and  do  observance  to  my  mercy. 

Cbie.  I  think,  vou  are  sir  John  Falstaff;  and,  in 
that  thought,  yield  me. 

Fhl.  I  have  a  whole  school  of  tongues  in  this 
belly  of  mine ;  and  not  a  tongue  of  tl^m  all  speaks 
anv  other  vVord  but  my  name.  An  I  had  out  a 
belly  of  any  indifferency,  I  were  simply  the  nxMt 
active  fellow  in  Europe :  My  womb,  my  womb, 
my  womb,  undoes  me. — ^Here  comes  our  general. 

Enter  Prince  John  of  Lancaster^  Westmoreland, 

and  others. 

P.  John.  The  heat  is  past,  follow  no  further 
now ; — 
Call  in  the  powers,  good  cousin  Westmoreland. — 

[Exit  West 
Now,  Falstaff,  where  have  you  been  all  this  while .' 
When  every  thing  is  ended,  then  you  come : 
These  tardy  tricks  of  yours  will,  on  mv  life. 
One  time  or  other  break  some  gallows*  back. 

Fed.  I  would  be  sorry,  my  lord,  but  it  should  be 
thus ;  I  never  knew  yet,  but  rebuke  and  check  was 
the  reward  of  valour.  Do  you  think  me  a  swallow, 
an  arrow,  or  a  bullet .'  have  I,  in  my  poor  and  old 
motion,  the  expedition  of  thought.'  I  have  speeded 
hither  with  the  very  extreroest  inch  of  possibility ; 
I  have  foundered  nine-score  and  odd  posts :  and 
here,  travel-tainted  as  I  am,  have,  in  my  pure  and 
immaculate  valour,  taken  sir  John  Colevile  of  the 
dale,  a  most  furious  knight,  and  valorous  enemy : 
But  what  of  that .'  he  saw  me,  and  yielded ;  that 
I  may  justly  say  with  the  hook-nosed  fellow  of 
Rome,^ — I  came,  saw,  and  overcame. 

P.  John.  It  was  more  of  his  courtesy  than  your 
deserving. 

Fal,  I  know  not ;  here  he  is,  and  here  I  yield 
him :  and  I  beseech  vour  grace,  let  it  be  booked 
with  the  rest  of  this  aay*s  deeds;  or,  by  the  Lord, 
I  will  have  it  in  a  particular  ballad  else,  with  mine 
own  picture  on  the  top  of  it,  Colevile  kissiiu^  my 
foot :  To  the  which  course  if  I  be  enforced,  if  you 
do  not  all  show  like  gilt  two-pences  to  me ;  and  I, 
in  the  clear  sky  of  fJEune,  o'ershine  you  as  much  as 
the  full  moon  doth  the  cinders  of  the  element, 
which  show  like  pins*  heads  to  her ;  believe  not  the 
word  of  the  noble :  therefore  let  me  have  right, 
and  let  desert  mount 

P.  John.  Thine*s  too  heavy  to  mount 

FaL  Let  it  shine  then. 

P.  John.  Thine*s  too  thick  to  shine. 

FaL  Let  it  do  something,  my  good  lord,  that 
mav  do  me  good,  and  call  it  what  you  wilL 

P.  Jahn.  u  thy  name  Colevile  ? 

Cole.  It  is,  my  lord. 

P.  John.  A  fannous  rebel  art  thou,  Colevile. 

Fed.  And  a  famous  true  subject  took  hinL 

Cole.  I  am,  my  lord,  but  as  my  betters  are. 
That  led  me  hither :  had  thev  been  ruled  by  me. 
You  should  have  won  them  dearer  than  you  have. 

Fal.  I  know  not  how  they  sold  themselves :  but 
thou,  like  a  kind  fellow,  gavest  thyself  away;  and 
I  thank  thee  for  thee. 

Re-enter  Westmoreland. 

P.  John.  Now,  have  you  leA  pursuit  ? 
IVest  Retreat  is  made,  and  executiun  stay*d. 
P.  John.  Send  Colevile,  with  his  confederates, 


(3)  Foolishlr. 


(4)  (?sesar. 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRT  IV. 


ActTF. 


Blnnl,  lt«i  hini  hence;  and  see  lou  Euertl  bra --iin 

[Bxtuia nmt  mU,  Cil'-viii 

And  now  denxlcb  we  towanl  (be  court,  m 

loi^; 
I  bear,  the  king  laj  rather  ii  nre  >ick ; 
Our  newi  ihairgo  before  in  to  hii  majeslj-,— 
Which,  cou.in,  vou  .hall  bear,  to  comfo  rl  him  i 
And  we  with  toiwr  apeed  will  follow  jwi. 

Fid.  My  \ari,  I  b«eech  you,  riie  itir  leave  i 
go  through  Glo»ler»hi«  -.  and,  when  ytpu  i.uma 
court,  ilmd  my  good  loni,'  pnj,  in  juur  g" 

P,  John.  Fare  jou  i 


veil,  FsUlalTt  t 

SbII  belter  ipe'ali  of  Ton  than  too  deKr 

Fid.  I  would  jou  had  bm  the  wit ;  ' 

ler  Ifaui  your  dukedom.— Good  &ilh, 

young  aober-blooded  boy  doth  no4  love  i 


UHiKloany  proofs  forlhln  ((rinh 
heir  blootf.  and  makiiK  many 
fy  fall  inio  a  kind  of  mafe  i;[<  I'li. 


the  fooii>h,  and  dull 

fullof  nimble,  fiery, 
delivered  o'er  to  Ih 
Ihe  birth,  become! 

and  ctudj  vapoun  »hUh 

u'^dddccl.bl^.h.U^;" 
e  voice  (Ihe  (ongue.)  whu 

of  0»  blood;  which,  before  cold  and  wKlrd, 
(lie  liver  while  and  pale,  which  ii  iSe  badt-e  of 
•illanimil;  and  cowardice  t  bul  the  iherrii  wa 
It.  and  makei  it  coune  from  Ihe  inward,  lo 

Ihe 

■"^ 

ilreme.    I( 

llumiiielh  the  face;  <vhi.:h 

III. 

monen,  and  inland  petty  ipinl^  mu 
their  caplain,  (be  heart ;  who,  great, 
wilh  Ihii  retinue,  dolh  any  deed  of  ' 


ofiherria:    Solhal^^illi 
nothing,  wilhoul  nek;  Tor  (linl  : 


iivali 


„.    Hereof ^ 

for  Ihe  cold  hlood  he  did  na 

111  latber,  he  hath,  like  lean, 
re  land,  manured,  husbanded,  and  I 
»]]en(  endeavour  of  drinking  good, 
re  of  ferlik  aherrii,  Ihal  he  is  becoim 
d  valianL  If  1  had  a  thousand  sons,  Il 
in  principle  I  would  leach  Ihrm,  should  b.-, — 
iljrawear  thin  potalJoiUi  and  add 

Enfer  Bardolpb. 
iwnow.Banlolph.' 


(1)  Stand  my  good  fiitnd. 


rE.V£  n-.— Wertroinsler.      A  room  in  Ot 

pnliice.    Entir  King  Henry,  Clarence,  Proa 

Humphrey,  Warwick,  and  oUfl-j. 

A'. //rn- Now,kHrda,  if  b«VHi  ddlh  give  •«»■ 

Mend 
■o  Ihii  debate  Ibal  bleedeth  at  our  doon, 
Vc  nill  uur  youdi  lead  on  lo  higher  fieldf, 
iiid  dixw  no  iwoids  bul  whal  are  aaiictified. 
Jur  navy  ia  addrt«'d,>  our  power  usllected, 
hir  lubililula  in  absence  well  iDvesKd, 
md  every  thing  Ilea  level  to  our  with : 
hilv.  we  want  a  little  penooal  •trenglfa ; 
liiJ  pame  ui,  till  lhe«  rebels,  now  afoot, 
'oiik'  uiiJeroeaih  die  yoke  of  gmemroenl. 

n'ar.    Bolh  which,  we   douM  not   bul  jcaa 
majeaty 

Hufnchicy,  n^  aon  rf  Gloaier. 


K.  Hm. 


K,  Hn.  And 

r.  Hi'mpk. 
K.  H«i.  Is  n 


I  doDot  know,  my  lo 
is  bmher,  Thonisi  of  CI 


P.  Humph.  No,  my  good  lord ;  he  is  in  p 


How 


I    Whal  would  my  kird  and  lalberf 

Hit.  Nothing  bul  weU  lo  thee,  Thcfau  of 

Clarence, 
chance,  thou  art  not  wilh  the  pnnce  thy 


■es  Ihee,  and  ihoa  dort  negleii  him,  Tbonaai 
Thou  hMl  a  better  place  in  hit  aflwtioQ, 
'"■    nallthybrothert;  chcriahil,my  boy; 
noble  office)  thou  ray  "it  e&ct 
tiediilioi,  alter  1  am  dead, 

lesa  and  Ihy  other  brethren;— 


Then 


w;  Ihe  good  advantage  of  hii  grace. 


Ai  !!»*«  congealed  in  Ihe  spring  (rf  day. 
Km  Id.iiper,  liieiefore,  niusl  be  well  observ' 

Whi-n  )0U  perceive  lus  blood  inclin'd  lo  mil 
Hui,  htiag  moody,  give  him  line  and  acope : 


Confound 


f  itb  woriiiDg.     Learn  Ibis, 

•hell 
)u>u,  >u  ui,-l  ihy 


o)  An  allinioa  to  the  old  oi 


And  ihoj  shall  prove  a  iheller  to  ihyftiendj; 
A  hoop  of  gold,  lo  bind  thy  brothers  in ; 
Thai  Ihn  uniled  vessels  of  their  blood. 
Mingled  wilh  venom  of  suggestion 
As.  forre  perforce,  (be  age  will  pout  11  in,) 
:hall  nprer  leak,  though  il  do  woric  as  strong 
\.t  Bconitum,'  or  rnsh  gunpowder. 
eta.  I  shall  obw^rre  him  with  all  rate  and  love. 
K.  Urn.  Why  art  Ibou  not  at  Windsor  wilh  him. 

On,  He  i!  no!  there  to-day ;  he  dines  in  Loodo*. 
K.  Hen.    And  bow  accompanied?  onM  ib« 

lelldial? 
Oa,    Wilh  Poina,  and  olber  hia  coatinnal  ill- 

K-Hcn.  Moslaubjectislbe&Ilertioillowee^; 
(6)  Beady,  prepared. 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IT. 


4S7 


tfw  noble  image  of  mj  youth, 
iread  with  them :  Therefore  my  grief 
I  itself  beyond  the  hour  of  death ; 
id  weeps  from  my  heart,  when  I  do  shape, 
ifltaginary,  the  unguideid  days, 
en  times,  that  you  shall  look  upon 
am  sleeping  with  my  ancestors. 
Q  his  headstrong  riot  hath  no  curb, 
ig«  and  hot  blood  are  his  counsellors, 
cans  and  lavish  manners  meet  together, 
irhat  wings  shall  his  affections  fly 
I  fronting  peril  and  opposed  decay  ! 

My  gracious  lord,  you  look  beyond  him 

quite : 

iCe  but  studies  his  companions, 
itrange  tongue :  wherein,  to  g^in  the  Ian- 

P»ge, 

dful,  that  the  most  immodest  word 
1  upon,  and  leamM :  which  once  attained, 
hness  knows,  ccMnes  to  no  further  use, 
s  known,  and  hated.    So,  like  ^ross  terms, 
ce  will,  in  the  perfectness  of  time, 
his  followers :  and  their  memoiy 
a  pattern  or  a  measure,  live, 
1  his  grace  must  mete  the  lives  of  others ; 
past  evils  to  advantages. 
n.  *TLs  seldom,  when  the  bee  doth  leave 

her  comb 
id  carrion. — ^Who^sbere.'  Westmoreland.' 

Enter  Westmoreland. 

Health  to  my  sovereign !  and  new  happi- 
ness 

>  that  that  I  am  to  deliver ! 
)hn,  your  son,  doth  kiss  your  grace*8  hand^: 
fr,  the  bishop  Scroop,  Hastings,  and  all, 
ight  to  the  correction  of  your  law  ; 
not  now  a  rebers  sword  unsheathed, 
e  puts  forth  her  olive  every  where, 
tner  how  this  action  hath  been  borne, 
more  leisure  may  your  highness  read ; 
yrj  counie,  in  his  particular.  * 
m.  O  Westmoreland,  thou  art  a  summer 
bird, 

ver  in  the  haunch  of  winter  sings 
ig  up  of  day.     Look !  here's  more  news. 

Enter  Harcourt 

Prom  enemies  heaven  keep  your  majesty ; 
en  they  stand  against  you,  may  they  fall 
that  I  am  come  to  tell  you  of: 
Northumberland,  and  the  lord  Bardolph, 
rreat  power  of  English,  and  of  Scots, 
ne  sheriff  of  Yorkshire  overthrown : 
ner  and  true  order  of  the  fight, 
ket,  please  it  you,  contains  at  large. 
n.  And  wherefore  should  these  good  news 
make  me  sirk  ? 

lune  never  come  with  both  hands  full, 
i  her  fair  words  still  in  foulest  letters  f 
tr  gives  a  stomach,  and  no  food, — 
the  poor,  in  health  ;  or  else  a  feast, 
«  away  the  stomach, — such  are  the  rich, 
'e  abundance,  and  enjoy  it  not. 
rejoice  now  at  this  happy  news ; 
'  my  sight  fails,  and  my  brain  \»  giddy : — 
ome  near  me,  now  I  am  much  ill. 

[Swoons. 
tmpK  Comfort,  your  majesty ! 

O  my  royal  father ! 

le  detail  contained  in  prince  John*!  letter, 
orked  the  wall.  (3)  Make  me  afraid, 

xisterk  (5)  As  if  the  year. 


WesL  My  •overe%n  lord,  cheer  up  yoonelf, 

look  up ! 
War.  Be  patient,  princes ;  you  do  know,  these 
fits 
Are  with  his  higfaneM  rery  ordinary. 
Stand  from  him,  give  him  air;  he*ll  straight  be  well. 
Oa.  No,  no;  he  cannot  long  hold  out  these  pangs; 
The  incessant  care  and  labour  of  his  mind 
Hath  wrought  the  mnre,^  that  should  confine  it  in. 
So  thin,  that  life  looks  through,  and  will  break  out 
P.  Humph.  The  people  tear  me ;'  for  they  do 
observe 
Unfatber'd  heirs,^  and  loadily  birds  of  nature : 
The  seasons  change  their  manners,  as  the  year* 
Had  found  some  months  asleep,  and  leaped  them 
over. 
Oa.  The  river  hath  thrice  flow'd,  no  ebb  be- 
tween :8 
And  the  old  folk,  time's  doting  chronicles. 
Say,  it  did  so,  a  little  time  before 
That  ourgreat  erandsire,  Edward,  sick*d  and  died. 
War.  SpeakTower,  princes,  for  the  king  recovers. 
P.Hitmph.  This  apoplex  will,  certain,  be  his 

end. 
K.  Hen.  I  pray  you,  take  me  up,  and  bear  me 
hence, 
Into  some  other  chamber :  softly,  *pray. 

[They  convey  the  hhg  into  an  inner  part  qf 
the  room,and place  him  on  a  bed. 
Let  there  be  no  noise  made,  my  gentle  friends ; 
Unless  some  dull?  and  favourable  hand 
Will  whisper  music  to  my  weary  spirit. 

War.  Call  for  the  music  into  the  other  room. 
K.  Hen.  Set  me  the  crown  upon  my  pillow  here. 
Cla.  His  eye  is  hollow,  and  ne  changes  much. 
War.  Less  noise,  less  noise. 

Enter  Prince  Henry. 

P.  Hen.  Who  saw  the  duke  of  Clarence? 

Cla.  I  am  here,  brother,  full  of  heaviness. 

P.  Hen.    How  now !   rain  within  doors,  and 
none  abroad ! 
How  doth  the  king  f       , 

P.  Humph,  Exceeding  ill. 

P.  Hen.  Heara  he  the  good  news  yet  f 

Tell  it  him. 

P.  Humph.  He  altered  much  upon  the  hearing  it 

P.  Hen.  If  he  be  sick 
With  joy,  he  will  recover  without  physic. 

War.  Not  so  much  noise,  my  lords: — sweet 
prince,  speak  low ; 
The  kin^  your  father  is  disposed  to  sleep. 

Qa.  Lei  us  withdraw  into  the  other  room. 

War.  Wiirt  please  your  grace  to  go  along  with 
us.' 

P.  Hen.  No ;  I  will  sit  and  watch  here  by  the 
king.  [Exeitnt  all  but  P.  Henry 

Why  doth  the  crown  lie  there  upon  his  pillow, 
Being;  so  troublesome  a  bedfellow  ? 
O  poTishM  perturbation  !  golden  care ! 
That  keep'st  the  ports^  of  slumber  open  wide 
To  many  a  watchful  night ! — sleep  with  it  now  ! 
Vet  not  so  sound,  and  half  so  deeply  sweet. 
As  he,  whose  brow,  with  homely  biggin^  bound, 
Snores  out  the  watch  of  night.     O  majesty  ! 
When  thou  dost  pinch  thy  bearer,  thou  dost  sit 
Like  a  rich  armour  worn  in  heat  of  day. 
That  scalds  with  safety.     By  his  gates  of  breath 
There  lies  a  downy  feather,  which  stirs  not : 
Did  he  suspire,  that  light  and  weightless  down 

(6)  An  historical  fact,  on  October  12, 1411. 

(7)  Melancholy,  soothing. 

(8)  Gates.  (9)  Cap. 


438 


SECXKO)  PART  OF  KING  U£NRY  IT. 


Adin 


Perforce  must  rooro. — My  gracious  lord !  my  Ei- 
ther!— 
This  sleep  is  sound  indeed ;  this  is  a  sleep, 
That  from  this  ^iden  rigoU  hath  divorced 
So  many  English  kings.     Thy  due,  from  me, 
Is  tears,  and  heavy  sorrows  of  the  blood ; 
Which  nature,  love,  and  filial  tenderness, 
Shall,  O  dear  father,  pay  thee  plenteously  : 
Mv  due,  from  thee,  is  this  imperial  crown  ; 
Which,  as  immediate  from  thy  place  and  blood, 
Derives  itself  to  me.     Lo,  here  it  sits, — 

[Putting  it  on  his  head. 
Which  heaven  shall  guard :  And  put  the  world*s 

whole  strength 
Into  one  giant  arm,  it  shall  not  force 
This  lineal  honour  from  me :  This  from  thee 
Will  I  to  mine  leave,  as  'tis  left  to  rfte.  [Exit. 

K.  Hen.  Warwick!  Gloster!  Clarence! 

Re-enter  Warwick,  and  the  rest 

Cla,  Doth  the  king  call  ? 

JVar.  What  would  your  majesty  ?  How  fores 

your  grace  .^ 
K.  Hen.  Why  did  you  leave  me  here  alone,  my 

lords  ? 
Cla.  We  left  the  prince  my  brother  here,  my  li^e. 
Who  undertook  to  sit  and  watch  by  you. 
K.  Hen.  The  prince  of  Wales  f  Where  is  he  ? 
let  me  see  him  : 
He  is  not  here. 

fVar.  This  door  is  open ;  he  is  gone  this  way. 
P.  Humph.  He  came  not  through  the  chamber 

where  we  stayed. 
K.  Hen.  Where  is  the  crown  ^  who  txxk  it  from 

my  pillow.^ 
IVar.  When  we  withdrew,  my  li^e,  we  left  it 

here. 
K.  Hen.  The  prince  hath  ta*en  it  hence : — go, 
seek  him  out. 
Is  he  so  hasty,  that  he  doth  suppose 

My  sleep  my  death  ? 

Find  him,  my  lord  of  Warwick ;  chide  him  hither. 

[Exit  Warwick. 
This  part  of  his  conjoins  with  my  disease. 
And  helps  to  end  me. — See,  sons,  what  things  you 

are ! 
How  quickly  nature  falls  into  revolt. 
When  gold  becomes  her  object ! 
For  this  the  foolish  over-careful  fathers 
Have  broke  their  sleep  with  thoughts,  their  brains 

with  care. 
Their  bones  with  industry ; 
For  this  they  have  engrossed  and  pil'd  up. 
The  cankerM  heaps  of  strange-achieved  g^ld ; 
For  this  they  have  been  thoughtful  to  invest 
Their  sons  with  arts,  and  martial  exercises : 
When,  like  the  bee,  tolling^  from  every  flower 
The  virtuou««  sweets ; 

Our  thighs  pack*d  with  wax,  our  mouths  with  honey. 
We  brinif  it  to  the  hive ;  and,  like  the  bees. 
Are  murder'd  for  our  pains.     This  bitter  taste 
Yield  his  engrossments'  to  the  ending  father. — 

Re-enter  Warwick. 

Now,  where  is  he  that  will  not  stay  so  long 
Till  his  friend  sickness  hath  determin'd^  me  ^ 
War.  My  lord,  I  found  the  prince  in  the  next 
room. 
Washing  with  kindly  tears  his  gentle  cheeks ; 
With  such  a  deep  demeanour  in  great  sorrow. 
That  tyranny,  which  never  quafTM  but  blood. 
Would,  by  beholding  him,  have  washed  his  knife 

(I;  Circle.     (2)  Taking  toll.     (3)  Accumulations. 


With  gentle  eye-drops.    He  is  coming;  hither. 
J^.  lien.  But  wherefore  did  be  take  away  iht 
crown  } 

Re-enter  Prince  Heuiy. 

Lo,  where  he  comes. — Come  hither  to  me,  Hany  :— 
Depart  the  chamber,  leave  us  here  alone. 

;Exe.  Clarence,  Prince  Humphrey,  Lords,  ift, 
.  Hen.  I  never  thought  to  hear  you  speak  again. 
K.  Hen.  Thy  wish  was  father,  Harry,  to  that 
thought : 
I  stay  too  long  by  thee,  I  weary  thee. 
Dost  thou  so  hunger  for  my  empty  chair. 
That  thou  wilt  needs  invest  thee  with  mine  hoooan 
Before  thy  hour  be  ripe  f    O  foolish  youth  ! 
Thou  seek'st  the  greatness  that  will  overwhelm  thte. 
Stay  but  a  little ;  for  my  cloud  of  dignity 
Is  held  from  falling  with  so  weak  a  wino. 
That  it  will  Quickly  drop :  my  day  is  dim. 
Thou  hast  stolen  that,  which,  after  some  few  honn, 
Were  thine  without  offence;  and,  at  m^  death, 
Thou  hast  seaPd  up  my  expectation  :^ 
Thy  life  did  manifest,  thou  lovMst  me  not. 
And  thou  wilt  have  me  die  assured  of  it 
Thou  hid*st  a  thousand  daggers  in  thy  thoughts ; 
Which  thou  hast  whetted  on  thy  stony  heart. 
To  stab  at  half  an  hour  of  my  fife. 
What !  canst  thou  not  forbear  me  half  an  hour  ? 
Then  get  thee  gone ;  and  dig  my  cirave  thyself; 
And  bid  the  merry  bells  ring  to  thine  ear, 
That  thou  art  crowned,  not  that  I  am  dead. 
Let  all  the  tears  that  should  bedew  my  hearse, 
Be  drops  of  balm,  to  sanctify  thy  head : 
Only  compound  me  with  forgotten  dust ; 
Give  that,  which  glive  thee  life,  unto  the  womtt. 
Pluck  down  my  (^cers,  break  my  decrees; 
For  now  a  time  is  come  to  nKx:k  at  form, 
Harry  the  FifU»  is  crown'd  : — Up,  vanity ! 
Down,  royal  state !  all  you  sage  counsellors,  heoce! 
And  to  the  English  court  assemble  now. 
From  every  region,  apes  of  idleness ! 
Now,  neighbour  confines,  purge  you  of  your  scmn. 
Have  you  a  ruffian,  that  will  swear,  drink,  dance. 
Revel  the  night ;  rob,  murder,  and  commit 
The  oldest  sins  the  newest  kind  of  ways  f 
Be  happy,  he  will  trouble  you  no  more  : 
England  shall  double  gild  his  treble  guilt; 
England  shall  give  him  office,  honour,  might: 
For  the  fifth  Harry  fromcurbM  license  plucks 
The  muzzle  off  restraint,  and  the  wild  dog 
Shall  flesh  his  tooth  in  every  innocent. 

0  my  poor  kingdom,  sick  with  civil  blows ! 
When  that  my  care  could  not  withhold  thy  riots, 
What  wilt  thou  do,  when  riot  is  thy  care.^ 

O,  thou  wilt  be  a  wilderness  again. 
Peopled  with  wolves,  thy  old  inhabitants  ! 
P.  Hen.  O,  pardon  me,  my  liege !  but  for  my 
tears,  [KneeUng. 

The  moist  impediments  unto  my  speech, 

1  had  forestaird  this  dear  and  aeep  rebuke. 
Ere  you  with  grief  had  spoke,  and  I  had  heard 
The  course  of  it  so  far.     There  is  your  crown; 
And  He  that  wears  the  crown  immortally, 
Long  guard  it  yours !    If  I  affect  it  more. 
Than  as  your  honour,  and  as  your  renown. 
Let  me  no  nfK>re  from  this  obedience  rise 
(Which  my  most  true  and  inward-duteous  spirit 
Teacheth,)  this  prostrate  and  exterior  bending! 
Heaven  witness  with  me,  when  I  here  came  in. 
And  found  no  course  of  breath  within  your  majestVt 
How  cold  it  struck  my  heart !  if  I  do  feign, 

O,  let  me  in  my  present  wildoess  die ; 

(4)  Ended.  (5)  Coufirmed  my  opinioa. 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


439 


srer  live  to  show  the  incredulous  worid 
)ble  change  that  I  have  purposed ! 
r  to  look  oo  you,  thinking  you  dead 
lead  almost,  n^  liege,  to  think  you  were,) 

9  unto  the  crown,  as  having  sense, 

us  upbraided  it.  The  cart  on  thee  depending^ 

fed  upon  the  body  qf  my  father  ; 

^ore^  thcfUj  best  of  gold^  art  xoorst  qf  gold. 

leu  Jine  in  carat,^  is  more  precious, 

oing  life  in  metPcine  potable  .-3 

yu^mostftnty  most  honour' d^  most  renomCd, 

U  thy  bearer  up.  Thus,  niy  roost  royal  li^^e, 

Dg  it,  I  put  it  on  my  head ; 

with  it, — as  with  an  enemy, 

•d  before  my  face  murderM  my  father, — 

tarrel  of  a  true  inheritor. 

it  did  infect  my  blood  with  joy, 

11  my  thoughts  to  any  strain  oi  pride ; 

rebel  or  vain  spirit  of  mine 

ith  the  least  afitection  of  a  welcome, 

itertainment  to  the  might  of  it ; 

d  for  ever  keep  it  from  my  head ! 

ske  me  as  the  poorest  vassal  is, 

oth  with  awe  and  terror  kneel  to  it ! 

(en.  O  my  son ! 

I  put  it  in  thy  mind,  to  take  it  hence, 

lou  migliOst  win  the  more  thy  fathei^s  love, 

r  so  wisely  in  excuse  of  it 

iither,  Harry,  sit  thou  by  my  bed ; 

ftr,  I  think,  the  very  latest  counsel 

er  I  shall  breathe.   Heaven  knows,  my  son, 

it  bj-paths,  and  indirect  crook*d  ways, 

lit  crown ;  and  I  myself  know  well, 

CNiblesome  it  sat  upon  my  head : 

t  it  shall  descend  with  better  quiet, 

minion,  better  confirmation ; 

the  soil'  of  the  achievement  goes 

te  into  the  earth.     It  seem'd  in  me, 

10  honour  snatchM  with  boisterous  hand ; 
lad  many  living,  to  upbraid 

n  of  it  by  their  asnstances ; 
daily  grew  to  quarrel,  and  to  bloodshed, 
ing  supposed  peace  :  all  these  boAd  fear8,4 
ie^t,  with  peril  I  have  answered : 
my  reign  bath  been  but  as  a  scene 
tmit  argument ;  and  now  my  death 
s  the  nrade  :<  for  what  in  roe  was  purchas'd,^ 
XNi  thee  in  a  more  fairer  sort ; 
the  ^rland  wear*st  successively, 
ugh  thou  stand*st  more  sure  than  I  could  do, 
rt  not  firm  enough,  since  griefs  are  green  ; 
I  th^  friends,  which  thou  must  make  thy 

friends, 
at  their  stins^  and  teeth  newly  ta*en  out ; 
se  fell  working  I  was  first  advancM, 
whose  power  I  well  might  lodge  a  fear 
^min  displacM  :  which  to  avoid, 
em  off;  and  had  a  purpose  now 
i  out  many  to  the  Holy  Land ; 
t,  and  lying  still,  mignt  make  them  look 
ir  unto  my  state.     Therefore,  my  Harry, 
y  course,  to  busy  giddy  minds 
reign  quarrels;  (hat  action,  hence  borne  out, 
iste  the  memory  of  the  former  days, 
ould  I,  but  my  lungs  are  wasted  so, 
"ength  of  speech  is  utterly  denied  me. 
me  I  by  the  crown,  O  God,  forgive ! 
int  it  may  with  thee  in  true  peace  live ! 
en.  My  gracious  liege, 
n  it,  wore  it,  kept  it,  gave  it  me ; 
ain,  and  right,  must  my  possession  be : 

!uality.        (2)  To  be  taken. 

pot,  dirt     (4)  Frights.    (5)  State  of  things. 


Which  T,  with  more  than  with  a  common  pain, 
*Gainst  all  the  world  will  rightfully  maintain. 

En^  Prince  John  ^Zoncoifer,  Warwick,  Lords, 

and  others. 

K.  Hen.  Look,  look,  here  conoes  my  John  of 
Lancaster. 

P.  John.  Health,  peace,  and  happiness,  to  my 
royal  father ! 

K.  Hen.  Thou  bring'st  me  happiness,  and  peace, 
son  John; 
But  health,  alack,  with  youthful  wings  is  fk>wn 
From  this  bare  withered  trunk :  upon  thy  sight. 

My  worldly  business  makes  a  period. 

Where  is  my  lord  of  Warwick  ? 

P.  Hen.  My  lord  of  Warwick . 

K.  Hen.  Doth  any  name  particular  belong 
Unto  the  lodging  where  I  first  did  swoon  f 

Waar.  *Tis  called  Jerusalem,  my  noble  lord. 

K.  Hen,  Laud  be  to  God ! — even  there  my  life 
must  end. 
It  hath  been  prophesied  to  me  many  years, 
I  should  not  die  but  in  Jerusalem ; 
Which  vainly  I  supposed,  the  Holy  Land : — 
But,  bear  me  to  that  chamber ;  there  Til  lie ; 
In  that  Jerusalem  shall  Harry  die.  [Exeunt 


ACT  V. 

SCEJ^E  /.— Glostershire.  AhaUm  Shallow's 
houu.  Enter  Shallow,  Faktafi;  Bardolph,  and 
Page. 

ShaL  By  cock  and  pye,  sir,  you  shall  not  away 
to-night What,  Davy,  I  say  ! 

F^  You  must  excuse  me',  master  Robert  Shal 
low. 

Shal.  I  will  not  excuse  you ;  you  shall  not  be 
excused  ;  excuses  shall  not  be  admitted ;  there  is 
no  excuse  shall  serve ;  you  shall  not  be  excused. 
—Why,  Davy  • 

Enter  Davy. 

Davy.  Here,  sir. 

ShaL  Davy,  Davy,  Davy,— let  me  see,  Davy; 
let  me  see : — ^yea,  marry,  William  cook,  bid  him 
come  hither. — Sir  John,  you  shall  not  be  excused. 

Davy.  Marry,  sir,  thus ; — those  precepts?  cannot 
be  served :  and,  again,  sir, — Shall  we  sow  the  head- 
land with  wheat  t 

ShaL  With  red  wheat,  Davy.  But  for  William 
cook ; Are  there  no  young  pigeons  ? 

Davy.  Yes,  sir. rfere  is  now  the  smith*s  note, 

for  shoeing,  and  plough-irons. 

ShaL  Let  it  be  cast,^  and  paid : — Sir  John,  you 
shall  n^t  be  excused. 

Davy.  Now,  sir,  a  new  link  to  the  bucket  must 
needs  be  had  : — And,  sir,  do  you  mean  to  slop  any 
of  William*s  wages,  about  the  sack  he  lost  the  other 
day,  at  Hinckley  fair.^ 

Shal.  He  shall  answer  it: Some  pigeons, 

Davy;  a  couple  of  short-le^ed  hens;  a  joint  of 
mutton;  and  any  pretty  little  tiny  kickshaws,  tell 
William  rook. 

Davy.  Doth  the  man  of  war  stay  all  night,  sir? 

Shal.  Yes,  Davy.   I  will  use  him  well.;  A  friend 
i*the  court  is  better  than  a  penny  in  purse.    Use  his  , 
men  well,  Davy ;  for  they  are  arrant  knaves,  and 
will  backbite. 

(6)  Purchase,  in  Shakspeare,  frequently  means 
stolen  goods. 

(7)  Warrants.  (8)  Accounted  op. 


440 


SECOND  PART  OF  KIXG  HENRT  IV. 


AdV. 


Davy.  No  worse  th&n  they  are  beck-bitten,  ar; 
for  thev  have  marreUous  fioul  linen. 

ShaL  Well  conceited,  Davy.  Aboot  thy  ban- 
ne»,  Davy. 

Davy.  I  beieech  you,  sir,  to  countenance  Wil- 
liam Viaor  of  Wincot  against  Clement  Perkes  of 
thehilL 

ShaL  There  are  many  complaints,  Davy,  against 
that  Visor ;  that  Visor  is  an  arrant  knave,  on  my 
knowledge. 

Davy.  I  g^rant  your  worship,  that  he  is  a  knave, 
sir :  but  yet,  Goa  forbid,  sir,  but  a  knave  should 
have  some  countenance  at  his  friend*8  request  An 
honest  man,  sir,  is  able  to  speak  for  himself,  when 
a  knave  is  not  I  have  ser\-ed  your  worship  truly, 
sir,  this  eight  years ;  and  if  I  cannot  once  or  twice 
in  a  quarter  bear  out  a  knave  against  an  honest 
man,  I  have  but  a  very  little  credit  with  your  wor- 
ship. The  knave  is  mine  honest  friend,  sir;  there- 
fore, I  beseech  your  worship,  let  him  be  counte- 
nanced. 

SkaL  Go  to;  I  say,  he  shall  have  no  wrong. 
Look  about,  Davy.  [fe«'  Davy.]  Where  are  you, 
sir  John  ?  Come,  on  with  your  boots. — Give  me 
your  hand,  master  Bardolph. 

Bard.  I  am  glad  to  see  your  worship. 

SAo/.  I  thank  thee  with  all  my  heart,  kind  master 
Bardolph  : — and  welcome,  my  tall  fellow.  \  To  the 
Pare.]  Come,  sir  John.  [Exit  Snallow. 

Fal.  IMI  follow  you,  good  master  Robert  Shal- 
low. Bardolph,  look  to  our  hors^.  [Extant  Bar- 
dolph and  Page.]  If  I  were  sawed  into  quantities, 
I  should  make  four  dozen  of  such  bearded  hermitV 
staves  as  master  Shallow.  It  is  a  wonderful  thing, 
to  see  the  semblable  coherence  of  his  men's  spirits 
and  his :  They,  b)r  obser\'ing  him,  do  bear  them- 
selves like  foolish  justices ;  he,  by  conversing  with 
them,  is  turned  into  a  justice-like  serving-man ; 
their  spirits  are  so  married  in  conjunction  with  the 
participaticm  of  society,  that  they  flock  together  in 
consent,  like  so  many  wild  ^eese.  If  I  had  a  suit 
to  roaster  Shallow,  I  would  nunnour  his  men,  with 
the  iniputation  of  beine  near  their  master :  if  to  his 
men,  I  would  cuny  with  master  Shallow,  that  no 
man  could  better  command  his  servants.  It  is  cer- 
tain, that  either  wise  bearing,  or  ignorant  carriage, 
is  caught,  as  men  take  diseases,  one  of  another : 
therefore,  let  men  take  heed  of  Oieir  company.  I 
will  devise  matter  enough  out  of  this  Shallow,  to 
keep  prince  Harry  in  continual  laughter,  the  wear- 
ing-out of  six  fashions  (which  is  four  terms,  or  two 
actions,)  and  he  shall  laugh  without  intervcUlums. 
O,  it  is  much,  that  a  lie,  with  a  slight  oath,  and  a 
jest,  with  a  sad  brow,'  will  do  with  a  fellow  that 
never  had  the  ache  in  his  shoulders  !  O,  you  shall 
see  him  laugh,  till  his  face  be  like  a  wet  cloak  ill 
laid  up.3 

Shal.  [Within.]  Sir  John! 

Fal.  I  come,  master  Shallow ;  I  come,  master 
Shallow.  [£xi<  Falstaff. 

SCE^E  II. — Westminster.  A  room  inthe  palace. 
Enter  Warwick,  and  the  Lord  Chief  Justice. 

fVar.  How  now,  my  lord  chief  justice  f  whither 

away  f 
Ch.  Just,  flow  doth  the  king .' 
IVar.  Exceeding  well ;  his  cares  are  now  all 

ended. 
C7i.  Just.  I  hope,  not  dead. 
If^or.  He's  walk'd  the  way  of  nature ; 

And,  to  our  purposes,  he  lives  no  more. 


(1)  A  serious  face. 


(2)  Full  of  wrinkles. 


Ch,  Jutl.  I  woold,  bis  majesty  had  call'd  tat 
with  him: 
The  service  that  I  truly  did  his  life. 
Hath  leA  me  open  to  all  injuries. 

IVar.  Indeed,  I  think,  the  young  king  loresyoa 

not 
Ch.  Just  1  know,  he  doth  not :  and  do  aim  nr- 
self,  ' 

To  welcome  the  condition  of  the  time ; 
Which  cannot  look  more  hideously  upon  me 
Than  I  have  drawn  it  in  my  fentasy. 

Enter  Prince  John,  Prince  Humphrey,  Clarence, 
Westmoreland,  and  others. 

• 

War.  Here  come  the  heavy  issue  of  dead  Hany: 
O,  that  the  living  Harry  had  the  temper 
Of  him,  the  worst  of  these  three  gentlemen ! 
How  many  nobles  then  should  h(£]  their  places. 
That  must  strike  sail  to  spirits  of  vile  sort ! 

Ch.  Just  Alas !  I  fear,  all  will  be  overtura'd. 

P.  John.  Good  morrow,  cousin  Warwick. 

P.  Humph.  C?o.  Good  morrow;  cousin. 

P.  John.  W^e  meet  like  men  that  had  forgot  tc 
speak. 

War.  We  do  remember ;  but  our  aipmient 
Is  all  too  heav7  to  admit  much  talk. 

P.  John.  Well,  peace  be  with  him  that  hath  made 
us  heavy ! 

OL  Just  Peace  be  with  us,  lest  we  be  heavier .' 

P.  Humph.  O,  good  my  krd,  you  have  lost  a 
friend,  indeed : 
And  I  dare  swear,  you  borrow  not  that  hce 
Of  seeming  sorrow ;  it  is,  sure,  your  own. 

P.  John.  Though  no  man  be  assur'd  what  grace 
to  find. 
You  stand  in  coldest  expectation :  * 

I  am  the  sorrier;  'would,  'twere  otherwise. 

Cla.  Well,  you  must  now  speak  sir  John  Falstaff 
fair; 
Which  swims  against  your  stream  of  quality. 

Ch.  Just  Sweet  pnnces,  what  I  did,  1  did  in 
honour. 
Led  by  the  impartial  conduct  of  my  soul ; 
And  never  shall  you  see,  that  I  will  beg 
A  ragged  and  forestall'd  remission. — 
If  truth  and  upright  innocency  fail  me, 
I'll  to  the  king  my  master  that  is  dead, 
And  tell  him  who  hath  sent  me  after  him. 

War.  Here  comes  the  prince. 

Enter  King  Henry  V. 

Ch.  Just.  Good  morrow ;  and  hearoi  save  yoor 
majesty ! 

King.  This  new  and  gorgeous  garment,  majesty. 
Sits  not  so  easy  on  me  as  you  think. — 
Brothers,  you  mix  your  sadness  with  some  fear ; 
This  is  the  English,  not  the  Turkitii  court ; 
Not  Amurath  an  Amurath'  succeeds. 
But  Harry,  Harry :  Yet  be  sad,  good  brothers. 
For,  to  speak  truth,  it  very  well  becomes  you ; 
Sorrow  so  royally  in  you  appears. 
That  I  will  deeply  put  the  ^shion  on. 
And  wear  it  in  my  heart     Why  then,  be  sad : 
But  entertain  no  more  of  it,  good  brothers, 
Than  a  joint  burden  laid  upon  us  all. 
For  me,  by  heaven,  I  bid  you  be  assur'd, 
I'll  be  your  father  and  your  brother  too ; 
Let  me  but  bear  your  love,  I'll  bear  your  cares. 
Yet  weep,  that  Harry's  dead ;  and  so  will  I : 
But  Harry  lives,  that  shall  convert  those  tean. 
By  number,  into  hours  of  happiness. 

(3)  Emperor  of  the  Turks,  died  in  1596;  his  son, 
who  succeeded  him,  had  all  his  brothers  strangled. 


Scene  III 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRT  lY. 


441 


P.  John^  4^  We  hope  no  othfer  from  your  ma- 
jesty. 

King.  You  all  look  itran^Iy  on  me : — md  yoa 
most ;  [7b  the  Chief  Justice. 

You  are,  I  think,  assur'd  I  lore  jon  not. 

Ch,  Just  I  am  assur'd,  if  I  be  measur'd  rightly, 
Tour  majesty  hath  no  just  cause  to  hate  me. 

King.  No! 
How  might  a  prince  of  my  great  hopes  forget 
So  great  indignities  you  laid  upon  me? 
What !  rate,  rebuke,  and  rou^ly  send  to  prison. 
The  immediate  heir  of  England :  Was  this  easy  ? 
May  this  be  washed  in  Lethe,  and  forgottoi  ? 

Uh.  Just.  I  then  did  use  the  person  of  your 
father ; 
The  image  of  his  power  lay  then  in  me : 
And,  in  tne  administration  of  his  law. 
Whiles  I  was  busy  for  the  commonwealth, 
Your  hi^ness  pleased  to  forget  my  place. 
The  majesty  and  power  of  law  and  justice. 
The  image  of  the  king  whom  I  presented. 
And  struck  me  in  my  very  seat  of  judgment ; 
Whereon,  as  an  offender  to  your  father, 
I  gave  bold  wa^  to  my  authiority. 
And  did  commit  vou.    If  the  dieed  were  ill. 
Be  you  contentea,  wearing  now  the  garland,* 
To  have  a  son  set  your  decrees  at  nought ; 
To  pluck  down  justice  from  your  awful  bench ; 
To  trip  the  course  of  law,  and  blunt  the  sword 
That  guards  the  peace  and  safety  of  your  person : 
Nay,  more ;  to  spurn  at  your  most  royal  image, 
And  mock  your  workings  in  a  second  body .3 
Question  your  royal  thoughts,  make  the  case  yours ; 
Be  now  t^  father,  and  propose  a  son : 
Hear  your  own  dignity  so  much  profan*d. 
See  your  most  dreadful  laws  so  loosely  slighted. 
Behold  yourself  so  by  a  son  disdained; 
And  then  imagine  me  taking  your  part. 
And,  in  your  power,  soft  silencing  your  sen : 
After  this  cola  considerance,  sentence  me ; 
And,  as  you  are  a  king,  speak  in  your  state,* 
What  I  have  done,  that  misbecame  my  place, 
My  person,  or  my  liege's  sovereignty. 

King.  You  are  right,  justice,  and  you  weigh  this 
well ; 
Therefore  still  bear  the  balance,  and  the  sword : 
And  I  do  wish  your  honours  may  increase. 
Till  you  do  live  to  see  a  son  of  mine 
Offend  you,  and  obey  you,  as  I  did. 
So  shall  I  live  to  speak  my  father's  words; — 
Happy  am  /,  ilvat  ?iave  a  man  so  bold. 
That  dares  do  justice  on  my  proper  son: 
JInd  not  less  happy ^  having  such  a  son^ 
TTiai  would  deliver  up  his  greatness  sOj 
Into  the  hands  of  justice. — You  did  commit  me : 
For  which,  I  do  commit  into  your  hand 
The  unstained  sword  that  you  have  us'd  to  bear ; 
With  this  remembrance,— That  you  use  the  same 
With  the  like  bold,  just,  and  iinpartial  spirit. 
As  you  have  done  'gainst  me.   There  is  my  hand  : 
You  shall  be  as  a  father  to  my  youth  : 
My  voicp  shall  sound  as  you  do  prompt  mine  ear ; 
And  I  will  stoop  and  humble  my  intents 

To  vour  well-practis'd,  wise  directions. 

And.  princes  all,  believe  me,  I  beseech  you; — 
My  father  is  gone  wild  into  his  grave, 
For  in  his  tomb  lie  my  affections ; 
And  with  his  spirit  sadly*  I  survive. 
To  mock  the  expectation  of  the  world ; 

(1)  Crown. 

(2)  Treat  with  contempt  your  acts  executed  by 
a  representative. 

(3)  In  your  regal  character  and  office. 


To  frustrate  prophecies ;  and  to  mze  oat 
Rotten  opinion,  who  hath  writ  me  down 
After  my  seeming.    The  tide  of  blood  in  me 
Hath  proudly  flow*d  in  vanity,  till  now : 
Now  doth  it  turn,  and  ebb  back  to  the  sea ; 
Where  it  shall  minrle  with  the  state  of  floods, 
And  flow  henceform  in  formal  majesty. 
Now  call  we  our  high  court  of  parliament : 
And  let  us  choose  such  limbs  of  noble  coomel, 
That  the  great  body  of  our  state  may  gd 
In  equal  rank  with  the  best-govem*d  natioa ; 
That  war,  or  peace,  or  both  at  once,  may  be 

As  thines  acquaint^  and  familiar  to  us; 

In  which  you,  father,  shall  have  foremost  hand.— 

[To  the  Lord  Chief  Justice. 
Our  coronation  done,  we  will  accite,* 
As  I  before  remembered,  all  our  state : 
And  (God  consigning  to  my  good  intents,) 
No  prince,  nor  peer,  shall  have  just  cause  to  ny,—- 
Heaven  shorten  Harry's  happy  life  one  day.  [Exe, 

SCRXEIIl.—G\o6ieT9h\re.  The  garden  of  ShaU 
low's  house.  Enter  Falstaff,  Shallow,  Silence, 
Bardolph,  the  Page,  and  Davy. 

ShaL  Nay,  you  shall  see  mine  orchard :  where, 
in  an  arbour,  we  will  eat  a  last  year's  pippin  of  my 
own  graffing,  with  a  dish  of  caraways,  and  so  forth; 
^-come,  cousin  Silence ; — and  then  to  bed. 

Fhl.  'Fore  God,  you  have  here  a  goodly  dwelling, 
and  a  rich. 

Shal.  Barren,  barren,  barren ;  b^gars  all,  b^- 
gars  all,  sir  John: — marry,  »x>d  air. — Spread, 
Davy ;  spread,  Davy  ;  well  said,  Davy. 

Fal.  This  Davy  serves  you  for  good  uses ;  be  ii 
your  serving-man,  and  your  husbandman. 

ShaL  A  good  varlet,  a  good  varlet,  a  very  good 
varlet,  sir  John. — By  the  mass,  I  have  drunk  too 

much  sack  at  supper : A  good  varlet    Now  sit 

down,  now  sit  down  :^-come,  cousin. 

SiL  Ah,  sirrah !  quoth-a, — we  shall 

Do  nothing  but  eat,  and  make  good  cheery 

[Singing. 
Jind  pratse  heaven  for  the  merry  year  ; 
When  flesh  is  cheap  and  females  dear, 
And  lusty  lads  roam  here  and  there^ 
So  merrtlyt 
And  ever  among  so  merrily. 

Fal.  There's  a  merry  heart ! — Good  master  Si- 
lence, I'll  give  you  a  health  for  that  anon. 

Shal.  Give  master  Bardolph  some  wine,  Davy. 

Davy.  Sweet  sir,  sit ;  [Seating  Bardolph  and  the 
Page  at  another  table.]  I'll  be  with  you  anon  : — 

most  sweet  sir,  sit. Master  page,  good  master 

pas^e,  sit :  pro^ce  .'8  What  you  want  in  meat,  we'll 
nave  in  drink.  But  you  must  bear ;  The  heart's 
all.  [Exit. 

Shal.  Be  merry,  master  Bardolph ; — and  my  little 
soldier  there,  be  merry. 

Sil.  Be  merry,  be  merry ^  my  wife's  as  all  ;7 

[Singing. 
For  teomen  are  shrews,  both  short  and  tall: 
*Tis  merry  in  fiall,  when  beards  wag  all. 
And  welcome  merry  shrove-tide. 

Be  merry,  be  merry,  &c. 

Fal.  I  did  not  think,  master  Silence  had  been  a 
man  of  this  mettle. 

Sil.  Who,  I  .M  have  been  merry  twice  and  oncei 
ere  now. 

(4)  Gravely.  (5)  Summon. 

(6)  Italian,  much  good  may  it  do  yoa. 

(7)  As  all  women  are. 


442 


SBCOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRT  IV. 


AdF. 


Rt-enter  D^vj. 

Davy.  There  is  a  dish  of  leather-coatsi  for  you. 
[Setijling  them  h^ore  Bardolph. 
Shed.  Davy, — 

Davy.  Your  worship  ?— PU  be  with  you  straight. 
[To  Bard.] — A  cup  of  wine,  sir  ^ 

Sil.  A  cvp  of  trirUf  thaVt  brisk  andjine. 
And  drink  unio  the  Uman^  mine ; 

[Singing. 
And  a  merry  heart  lives  lang-a, 

FaL  Well  said,  master  Silence. 
Sil  And  we  shall  be  merry ; — now  comet  in  the 
iweet  of  the  night. 
FaL  Health  and  long  life  to  you,  master  Silence. 
Sil.  Fill  the  cup^  and  lei  it  come  ; 

PU  pledge  you  a  mile  to  the  bottom, 

ShaL  Honest  Bardolph,  welcome  :  If  thou  want- 
est  any  thing,  and  wilt  not  call,  beshrew  thy  heart. 
—Welcome,  m^  little  tiny  thief;  [To  the  Page.] 
and  welcome,  indeed,  too. — IMl  arink  to  master 
Bardolph,  and  to  all  the  cavalerocs*  about  London. 

Davy.  I  hope  to  see  London  once  ere  I  die. 

Para.  An  I  might  see  you  there,  Davy, — 
%ShaL  By  the  mass,  youMl  crack  a  quaft  togedier. 
Ha  !  will  you  not,  master  Bardolph  r 

Pard.  Yes,  sir,  in  a  pottle-pot 

Shal.  I  thank  thee : — The  knave  will  stick  bv 
thee,  I  can  assure  thee  that :  he  will  not  out ;  he  is 
true  bred. 

Pard.  And  Pll  stick  by  him,  sir. 

Shal.  Why,  there  spoke  a  king.  Lack  nothing : 
be  merry.  \ Knocking  heard.]  Look  who^s  at  door 
there :  Ho!  who  knocks  ?  [Exit  Davy. 

FaL  WTiy,  now  you  have  done  me  right 

[To  Silence,  who  drinks  a  bumper. 


SU.  [Singing.]  Do  m«  rtght^ 
And  dub  me  knight  .•* 
Samingo.i 

Is*t  not  so  ? 

FaL  »Tis  so. 

SiL  Wt  80.^  Why,  then  say,  an  old  man  can  do 
•omewhat 

Re-enter  Divy. 

Davy.  An  it  please  your  worship,  there*8  one 
Pistol  come  from  the  court  with  news. 
Fal.  From  the  court  ?  let  him  come  in. — 

Enter  Pistol. 

How  now.  Pistol  ? 

Pist.  God  save  you,  sir  John  ! 

Fal.  What  wind  blew  you  here,  Pistol  ? 

Pist.  Not  the  ill  wind  which  blows  no  man  to 
good.— Sweet  knight,  thou  art  now  one  of  the 
greatest  men  in  the  realm. 

SiL  By*r  lady,  I  think  *a  be ;  butgoodman  Puff 
of  Barson. 

Pist.  ?uff? 
Puff  in  thv  teeth,  most  recreant  coward  base ! — 
Sir  John,  1  am  thy  Pistol,  and  thy  friend, 
And  helter-skelter  have  I  rode  to  thee  ; 
And  tidings  do  I  bring,  and  lucky  joys. 
And  golden  times,  and  happy  news  of  price. 

Fal.  I  pr'ythee  now,  deliver  them  like  a  man  of 
this  world. 

Pist.  A  foutra  for  the  world,  and  worldlings  base ! 
I  speak  of  Africa,  and  golden  joys. 

(1)  Apples  commonly  called  russetines. 

(2)  Sweet-heart.  (3)  Gay  fellows. 

(4)  He  who  drank  a  bumper  on  his  knees  to  the 
health  of  his  mistress,  was  dubbed  a  knight  for  the 
evening. 


FaL  O  base  Aasjrian  knight,  what  is  thy  newt? 
Let  king  Cophetua  know  the  truth  thereof. 
Sil.  And  Robin  Hood,  Scarlet,  and  John. 


[Singi. 
Hdio     ~ 


Pist.  Shall  dunghill  curs  confront  the  Helicodtf 
And  shall  good  news  be  baffled  f 
Then,  Pistol,  lay  thy  head  in  Furies*  lap. 

ShaL  Honest  gentlemen,  1  know  not  yourbraed-  ^ 
ing. 

Pist.  Why  then,  lament  therefore. 

Shal.  Give  me  pardon,  sir ; — If,  sir,  yoa  come 
with  news  from  the  court,  I  take  if,  there  is  but 
two  wa^s ;  either  to  utter  them,  or  to  conceal  tbenL 
I  am,  sir,  under  the  king,  in  some  authority. 

Pist.  Under  which  king,  Bezonian  f  speak,  09  die. 

ShaL  Under  king  Harry. 

Pist.  Harry  the  Ibarth .'  or  fifth? 

ShaL  Harry  the  fourth. 

Pist.  A  foutra  for  thine  office  l^ 

Sir  John,  thy  tender  lambkin  now  is  king ; 
Harry  the  fifth*s  the  man.     I  speak  the  truth : 
When  Pistol  lies,  do  this ;  and  fig  me,  like 
The  bragging  Spaniard. 

Fal.  What !  is  the  old  king  dead  ? 

Pist.  As  nail  indoor :  The  things  I  speak  arejott 

Fed.    Away,  Bardolph;  saddle    my  horse.— 
Master  Robert  Shallow,  choose  what  office  thoo 
wilt  in  the  land,  *tis  thine.— Pistol,  I  will  doable 
charge  thee  with  dignities. 

Bard.  O  joyful  day !— I  would  not  take  a  knight 
hood  for  my  fortune. 

Ptst.  What.^  I  do  bring  good  newt ? 

FaL  Carrr  master  Silence  to  bed. — Master  ^lal- 
low,  my  lord  Shallow,  be  what  thoo  wilt,  I  am  fiBr*  ' 
tune*s  steward.  Get  on  thy  boots ;  we*II  ride  sJl 
night :— O,  tweet  Pistol : — Away,  Bardolph.  [£xtf 
Bardolph.] — Come, Pistol,  utter  more  to  roe;  and, 
withal,  devise  toroething,  to  do  thyself  good. — 
Boot,  boot,  master  Shallow ;  I  know,  the  young 
king  is  sick  forme.  Let  us  take  any  roan*s  horses ; 
the  laws  of  England  are  at  my  commandment 
Happy  are  they  which  have  been  my  friends;  and*^ 
wo  to  my  lord  chief  justice  ! 

PisL  Let  vultures  vile  seiie  on  his  longs  alto ! 
Where  is  the  life  thai  late  lied ?  say  they  : 
Why,  here  it  is ;  Welcome  these  pleasant  days. 

[EstMod. 
SCEJVTE  TF:— London.  A  street.  Enter  Beadles, 

dragging  in  Hostess  Quickly,  and  Doll  Tear 

sheet 

Host.  No,  thou  arrant  knave ;  I  would  I  might 
die,  that  I  might  have  thee  hanged :  thou  hast  drawn 
my  shoulder  out  of  joint 

1  Bead.  The  constables  have  delivered  her  over 
to  me ;  and  she  shall  have  whipping-cheer  enough, 
I  warrant  her :  There  hath  oeen  a  man  or  two 
lately  killed  about  her. 

Doll.  Nut-hook,  nut-hook,8  yoa  lie.  Come  oo ; 
Pll  tell  thee  what,  thou  damned  tripe-visaged 
rascal ;  an  the  child  I  now  go  with,  do  miscarry, 
thou  hadst  better  thou  hadst  struck  thy  mother, 
thou  paper-faced  villain. 

Host.  O  the  Lord,  that  sir  John  were  come !  ha 
would  make  this  a  bloody  day  to  somebody.  But  I 
pray  God  the  fruit  of  her  womb  miscarry  ! 

1  Bead.  If  it  do,  vou  shall  have  a  doien  of 
cushions^  again ;  you  have  but  eleven  now.  Come, 
I  charge  you  both  go  with  me ;  for  the  man  it  dead, 
that  you  and  Pistol  beat  amoi^  you. 

(5)  It  should  be  Domingo ;  it  it  part  oT  a  aong 
in  one  of  Nashe*8  plays. 

(6)  A  term  of  reproach  for  a  catchpolL 

(7)  To  staff  her  oat  to  coooterieit  pregnaacj. 


SemtV, 


SECOND  PART  OF  KING  HENRY  lY. 


443 


DM,  V\\  tell  thee  what,  thoa  thin  man  in  a  cen- 
ter !  I  will  have  jou  as  soandlj  swinged  for  this, 
yon.  biae-bottle  rogue  l^  you  filthy  famiihed  cor- 
rectioner !  if  you  be  not  swinged,  I'll  forswear  haU*- 
kirtles.2 

1  Bead.  Come,  come,  you  she  knight-errant, 
come. 

Host,  O,  that  right  should  thus  overcome  might ! 
Well ;  of  sufferance  comes  ease. 

DM,  Come,  you  rogue,  come ;  bring  me  to  a 
justice. 

Host,  Ay ;  come,  you  starved  blood-hound. 

DolL  Goodman  death  !  goodman  bones ! 

Hott,  Thou  atomy,  thou  ! 

DM,  Come,  you  thin  thing ;  come,  you  rascal ! 

1  Bead.  Very  welL  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  F.—A  pubUe  place  near  Wettminster 
Abbey,    Enter  tvoo  Grooms,  strewing  rtuhet. 

1  Groom.  More  rushes,  more  rushes. 

2  Groom.  The  trumpets  have  sounded  twice. 

1  Groom.  It  will  be  two  o'clock  ere  they  come 
from  the  coronation :  Despatch,  despatch. 

[Exeunt  Grooms. 

Enter  Falstaff,  Shallow,  Pistol,  Bai^lph,  and  the 

Page. 

FaL  Stand  here  by  me,  master  Robert  Shallow; 
I  will  make  the  king  do  you  grace :  I  will  leer  upon 
him,  as  'a  comes  by  ;  and  do  but  mark  the  counte- 
nance that  he  will  eive  me. 

Pist.  God  bless  my  lungs,  good  knight. 

FaL  Come  here.  Pistol ;  stand  behind  me. — O, 
if  I  had  had  time  to  have  made  new  liveries,  I 
would  have  bestowed  the  thousand  pound  I  bor- 
rowed of  you.  [To  Shallow.]  But  Mis  no  matter ; 
this  poor  show  doth  better :  this  doth  infer  Oie  zeal 
I  had  to  see  him. 

Shal.  It  doth  so. 

Fed.  It  shows  my  earnestness  of  affection. 

Shal.  It  doth  so. 

Fal  My  devotion. 

ShaL  It  doth,  it  doth,  it  doth. 

Fal.  As  it  were,  to  ride  day  and  night ;  and  not 
to  deliber&te,  not  to  remember,  not  to  have  pa- 
tience to  shift  me. 

Shal.  It  is  most  certain. 

Fal.  But  to  stand  stained  with  travel,  and  sweat- 
ing with  desire  to  see  him :  thinking  of  nothing 
else ;  putting  all  affairs  else  in  oblivion ;  as  if  there 
were  nothing  else  to  be  done,  but  to  see  him. 

Pist.  Tis  semper  idem,  for  absque  hoc  nihil  est:* 
'Tis  all  in  every  part. 

Shal.  'Tis  so,  indeed. 

Pist.  My  knight,  I  will  inflame  thy  noble  liver. 
And  make  thee  rage. 

Thy  Doll,  and  Helen  of  thy  noble  thoughts. 
Is  in  base  durance,  and  contagious  prison ; 
Haul'd  thither 

By  most  mechanical  and  dirty  hand : — 
Boaae  up  revenge  from  ebon  den  with  fell  Alecto's 

snake. 
For  Doll  is  in  ;  Pistol  speaks  nought  but  truth. 

FaL  I  will  deliver  her. 

[Shouts  within,  and  the  trumpets  sound, 

Pist.  There  roar'd  the  sea,  and  trumpet-clangor 
sounds. 

Enter  the  King  and  his  train,  the  Chief  Justice 
among  them. 

FaL  God  save  thy  grace,  king  Hal !  my  royal  Hal  I 

(1)  Beadles  usually  wore  a  blue  Hvenr. 

(2)  Short  cloaks. 


Pist.  The  heavens  thee  guard  and  keep,  moit 
roval  imp^  of  fiune .' 

FaL  Goa  save  thee,  m^  sweet  boy  ! 

King.  My  lord  chief  justice,  speak  to  that  vain 
man. 

Ch.  Just.  Have  you  your  wits  ?  know  you  what 
'tis  you  speak  ? 

Fal.  My  king !  my  Jove !  I  speak  to  thee,  my 
heart: 

King.  I  know  thee  not,  old  man :  Fall  to  thy 
prayers ; 
How  ill  white  hairs  become  a  fool,  and  jester ! 
I  have  long  dream'd  of  such  a  kind  of  man. 
So  surfeit-swell'd,  so  old,  and  so  profane ; 
But,  being  awake,  I  do  despise  my  dream. 
Make  less  thy  body,  hence,*  and  more  thy  grace ; 
Leave  gormandizing ;  know,  the  grave  doth  gape 
For  thee  thrice  wider  than  for  other  men : — 
Reply  not  to  me  with  a  fool-bom  iest ; 
Presume  not,  that  I  am  the  thing  I  was  : 
For  heaven  doth  know,  so  shall  the  world  perceire, 
That  I  have  tum'd  away  my  former  self; 
So  will  I  those  that  kept  me  company. 
When  thou  dost  hear  I  am  as  I  have  been. 
Approach  me ;  and  thou  shalt  be  as  thou  watt. 
The  tutor  and  the  feeder  of  m^  riots : 
Till  then,  I  banish  thee,  on  pain  of  death,— 
As  I  have  done  the  rest  of  my  misleaders,— 
Not  to  come  near  our  person  by  ten  mile. 
For  competence  of  life,  I  will  allow  you ; 
That  lack  of  means  enforce  you  not  to  evil : 
And,  as  we  hear  you  do  reform  yourselves. 
We  will, — according  to  your  strength,  and  quali- 
ties,— 
Give  you  advancement — ^Be  it  your  charge,  my 

lord. 
To  see  perform'd  the  tenor  erf"  our  word. — 
Set  on.  [Exeunt  King,  and  his  tram. 

FaL  Master  Shallow,  I  owe  you  a  thousand  pound. 

ShaL  Ay,  marry,  sir  John;  which  I  beseech 
you  to  let  me  have  home  with  me. 

Fal.  That  can  hardly  be,  master  Shallow.  Do 
not  you  grieve  at  this ;  I  shall  be  sen^for  in  private 
to  him  :  look  you,  he  must  seem  thus  to  the  world. 
Fear  not  your  advancement ;  I  will  be  the  man  yet, 
that  shall  make  you  great 

ShaL  I  cannot  perceive  how ;  unle»  you  give  me 
your  doublet,  ana  stuff  me  out  with  straw.     I  be- 
seech you,  good  sir  John,  let  me  have  five  hundred  - 
of  my  thousand. 

FaL  Sir,  I  will  be  as  good  as  my  word:  this  that 
you  heard,  was  but  a  colour. 

Shal.  A  colour,  I  fear,  that  you  will  die  in,  tir 
John. 

FaL  Fear  no  colours ;  go  with  me  to  dinner. 
Come,  lieutenant  Pistol  ;^<:ome,  Bardolph : — I  shall 
be  sent  for  soon  at  night 

Re-enter  P.  John,  the  Chief  Justice,  Officers,  4*^. 

Ch,  Just.  Go,  carry  sir  John  Falstaffto  the  Fleet; 
Take  all  his  company  along  with  him. 

Fal.  My  lord,  my  lord, 

Ch,  Just  I  cannot  now  speak :  I  will  hear  you 
soon. 
Take  them  away. 

Pist.  Sijbrtuna  me  tormenta,  spero  me  contenta, 
[Exe.  Fal.  Shal.  Pist  Bard.  Page^and officers. 

P.  John.  I  like  this  fair  proceeding  of  the  King's : 
He  hath  intent,  his  wontea  followers 
Shall  all  be  very  well  provided  for ; 
But  all  are  banish'd,  till  their  coovertatiooa 

^3)  *Tis  all  in  all,  and  all  in  erery  part 

(4)  Child,  odspring.  (5)  HeDceforward. 


SECOND  FART  OF  KING  HENRY  IV. 


AdK 


Am)ear  more  wise  and  modest  to  the  world. 

Ch.  Just.  And  so  tbey  are. 

P.  John.  The  king  hath  callM  his  parliament, 
my  lord. 

Ch.  Just.  He  hath. 

P.  John.  I  will  lay  odds, — that,  ere  this  jear 
expire, 
We  bear  our  civil  swords,  and  native  fire. 
As  far  as  France :  I  heard  a  bird  so  sin^, 
Whose  music,  to  my  thinking,  pleasM  the  king. 
Come,  will  you  hence  ?  [Exeunt. 

EPILOGUE, 

SPOKEN  BY  A   DANCER. 

FIRST,  my  fear ;  then,  mv  courtesy ;  last,  my 
speech.  My  fear  is,  your  displeasure ;  my  court'sy, 
my  duty ;  and  my  speech,  to  beg  your  pardons.  If 
you  look  for  a  good  speech  now,  you  undo  me  :  for 
what  I  have  to  say,  is  of  mine  own  making ;  and 
what,  indeed,  I  should  say,  will,  I  doubt,  prove 
mine  own  marring.  But  to  the  purpose,  and^so  to 
the  venture. — Be  it  known  to  you  (as  it  is  very  well,) 
[  was  lately  here  in  the  end  of  a  displeasing  play, 
to  pray  your  patience  for  it,  and  to  promise  you  a 
better.  I  dia  mean,  indeed,  to  pay  you  with  this ; 
which  if,  like  an  ill  venture,  it  come  unluckily 
home,  I  break,  and  you,  my  gentle  creditors,  lose. 
Here,  I  promised  you,  I  would  be,  and  here  I  com- 
mit my  body  to  your  mercies :  bate  me  some,  and 
I  will  pay  you  some,  and,  as  nx»t  debtors  do,  pro- 
mise you  infinitely. 

If  my  tongue  cannot  entreat  vou  to  acquit  me, 
will  you  command  me  to  use  my  legs  ?  and  yet  that 
were  bullie^ht  payment, — to  dance  outof  your  debt. 
But  a  good  conscience  will  make  any  possible  satis- 
faction, and  so  wilt  I.  All  the  gentlewomen  here 
have  forgiven  me ;  if  the  gentlemen  will  not,  then 
the  gentlemen  do  not  agree  with  the  gentlewomen, 
which  was  never  seen  before  in  such  an  assembly. 

One  word  more,  I  beseech  you.  If  you  be  not 
too  much  cloyed  with  fat  meat,  our  humble  author 
will  continue  the  story,  with  sir  John  in  it,  and 
make  you  merry  with  fair  Katharine  of  France  : 
where,  for  any  thine  I  know,  Falstatf  shall  die  of  a 
sweat,  unless  already  he  be  killed  with  your  hard 
opinions ;  for  Oldcastle  died  a  martyr,  and  this  it> 
not  the  man.  Mv  tongue  is  weary ;  when  my  legs 
are  too,  I  will  bid  you  good  ni^ht :  and  so  kneel 
down  before  you; — but,  indeed,  to  pray  tor  the 
queen. 


I  fancy  everj*  reader,  when  he  ends  this  play, 
cries  out  with  Desdemona,  *0  most  lame  and  im- 
potent conclusion !'  As  this  play  was  not,  to  our 
Knowledge,  divided  into  acts  oy  the  author,  I  could 
be  content  to  conclude  it  witli  the  death  of  Henry 
the  Fourth : 


*  In  that  Jerusalem  shall  Harry  die.* 
These  scenes,  which  now  make  the  fifth  act  of 
Henry  ihr  Fourth^  might  then  be  the  first  of  Hcn- 
ry  the  Fifth  ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  they  do  not 
unite  very  conimodiously  to  either  play.  When 
these  plays  were  repre-sented,  I  believe  they  ended 
as  they  are  now  ended  in  the  books;  but  Shak- 
speare  seems  to  have  designed  that  the  whole  serie:; 
of  action,  from  the  banning  of  Richard  the  Se- 
cond, to  the  end  of  Henry  the  Fifth,  should  be 
considered  by  the  reader  as  one  woHc  upon  one 
plan,  only  broken  into  parts  by  the  necessity  of 
exhibiticm. 

None  of  Shakspeare's  plays  are  more  read  than 


the  Firtt  and  Second  Paris  qf  Henry  the  Fourth. 
Perhaps  no  author  has  ever,  in  two  plays,  afibrdtd 
so  much  delieht.  The  great  events  are  interesting, 
for  the  fate  of  kingdoms  depends  upon  th^n ;  the 
slighter  occurrences  are  diverting,  and,  except  one 
or  two,  sufficiently  probable;  the  incidents  are 
multiplied  with  wcmderful  fertility  of  invention ; 
and  the  characters  diversified  with  the  utmost 
nicety  of  discernment,  and  the  profoundest  skill  in 
the  nature  of  man. 

The  prince,  who  is  the  hero  both  of  the  comic 
and  trafi;ic  part,  is  a  young  man  of  great  abilities, 
and  violent  passions,  whMe  sentiments  are  right, 
though  his  actions  are  wrong ;  whose  virtues  are 
obscured  by  negligence,  and  whose  understandii^ 
is  dissipated  by  levity.  In  his  idle  hours  he  is 
rather  loose  than  wicked ;  and  when  the  occasion 
forces  out  his  latent  qualities,  he  is  great  without 
effort,  and  brave  without  tumult  The  trifler  n 
roused  into  a  hero,  and  the  hero  again  repcees  in 
the  trifler.  The  character  is  great,  original,  and  just. 

Percy  is  a  rugeed  soldier,  choleric  and  quarrel- 
some, and  has  only  the  soldier*s  virtues,  generosity 
and  couraee. 

But  FaTstafif!  unimitated,  unimitable  Falstaff! 
how  shall  I  describe  thee  ^  ihoa  compound  of  sene 
and  vice ;  of  sense  which  may  be  amnired,  but  not 
esteemed ;   of  vice  which  may  be  despised,  but 
hardly  detested.     Falstaff  is  a  character  loaded 
with  faults,  and  with  those  faults  which  natunlly 
produce  contempt     He  is  a  thief  and  a  glutton,  a 
coward  and  a  boaster;  always  ready  to  cheat  the 
weak,  and  prey  upon  the  poor ;  to  terrify  the  tiroo* 
rous,  and  insult  the  defenceless.     At  once  obsequi- 
ous and  malignant,  he  satirizes  in  their  absence 
those  whom  he  lives  by  flattering.     He  is  ftjniliar 
wiih  the  prince  only  as  an  agent  of  vice;  but  of 
this  familiarity  he  is  so  proud,  as  not  only  to  be 
!>upercilious  and  haughty  with  conunon  men,  bat 
to  think  his  interest  of  importance  to  the  duke  of 
Lancaster.     Yet  the  man  thus  corrupt,  thus  despi- 
cable, makes  himself  necessary  to  the  priiice  that 
despises  him,  by  the  most  pleasing  of  all  qualities, 
j^rpetual  gaiety ;  by  an  unfailing  power  o<"excitii^ 
laughter,  which  is  ine  more  freely  indulged,  as  h» 
wit  in  not  of  the  splendid  or  ambitious  kind,  but 
consists  in  easy  scapes  and  sallies  of  levity,  which 
make  sport,  but  raise  no  envy.     It  must  be  ob- 
scned,  that  he  is  stained  with  no  enormous  or  san- 
guinary crimes,  so  that  his  licentiousness  is  not  so 
oflcnsive  but  that  it  may  be  borne  for  his  mirth. 

The  moral  to  be  drawn  from  this  representation 
is,  that  no  man  is  more  dangerous  than  he  that,  with 
a  will  to  corrupt,  hath  the  power  to  please  ;  and  that 
neither  wit  nor  honesty  ought  to  think  themselves 
safe  with  such  a  companion,  when  they  see  Heniy 
seduced  by  Falstaff.  JOHNSON. 


Mr.  Upton  thinks  these  two  plays  improperlj 
called  the  First  and  Second  Parts  qf  I/enry  the 
Fourth.  The  first  play  ends,  he  says,  with  the 
peaceful  settlement  of  Henry  in  the  kingdom  by 
(he  defeat  of  the  rebels.  This  is  hardly  true ;  for 
the  rebels  are  not  yet  finally  suppre^ed.  The 
ssecoiid,  he  tells  us,  shows  Henry  the  Fifth  in  the 
various  lights  of  a  good-naturedf  rake,  till,  on  his 
father^s  death,  he  assumes  a  mbre  manly  character. 
This  is  true ;  but  this  representation  gives  us  no 
idea  of  a  dramatic  action.  These  two  plays  will 
appear  to  every  reader,  who  shall  peruse  them 
ivithout  ambition  of  critical  disco^'enes,  to  be  so 
coiuiected,  that  the  second  is  merely  a  sequel  to 
the  first ;  to  be  two,  only  because  ibey  are  too  long 
tc  be  one.  JOHNSON. 


KING  HENRY  V. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


King  Henty  the  Fifth. 

Duke  of  Exeter,  uncle  to  the  King. 

Duke  of  York,  cousin  to  the  King, 

EmrU  ^Saliflbury,  WestmoreluK^oiul  Warwick. 

AnMnshop  of  Canterbuiy. 

Bishop  of  Ely. 

Sir  Thomas  Grey,      )         ^*^- 
Sir  Thomas  Erpingham,  Gower,  Fluellen,  Mac- 
morris,  J  amy,  ojfficers  in  Kin^  Henry* t  army. 
Bates,  Court,  Wilhams,  s<ddiers  m  the  same* 
Nym,  Bardolph,  Pistol,  formerly  seroanis  to  Fdl- 

staff f  now  soldiers  in  the  same, 
Bay^  servant  to  them,    A  Herald,    Chorus. 


Charles  the  Sixth,  Atfif  qf  France, 

Lewis,  the  Dauphin. 

Dukes  of  Barfpmdjy  Orleans,  and  Bourboo. 

The  Constable  qf  France.  » 

Rarobores,  and  Grandpre,  French  Lords, 

Governor  o/'Harfleur.  Monijoj,  a  French  HeraU. 

Ambassadors  to  the  King  of  England, 

Isabel,  queen  of  France. 
Katharine,  daughter  qf  Carles  and  IsaheL 
Alice,  a  lady  attending  on  the  Princess  Katharine, 
Quickly,  PtstoPs  w\fey  a  hostess. 

LordsyladteSfOfficerSfFVenchandEngUshsoUeerSt 
messengers  J  and  attendants. 

The  Scene^  at  the  beginning  qf  the  j>lay,  lies  tfi 
England ;  but  cftenoardSf  vhoUy  tn  France, 


Enter  ChonM, 

KJ,  for  a  muse  of  fire,  that  would  ascend 
Tlie  brightest  heaven  of  invention .' 
A  kingdom  for  a  staee,  princes  to  act, 
And  nKxiarchs  to  behold  the  swelling  scene  ! 
Then  should  the  warlike  Harry,  like  himself, 
Assume  the  port  of  Mars ;  and,  at  his  heels, 
LeaahM  in,  like  hounds,  should  famine,  sword,  and 

fire, 
Crouch  for  employment  But  pardon,  eentles  all, 
The  flat  unral.4ed  spirit,  that  hath  dai^d, 
On  this  unworthy  scaffold,  to  bring  forth 
So  great  an  object :  Can  this  cockpit  hold 
The  vasty  fields  of  France  ?  or  may  we  cram 
Within  this  wooden  0,1  the  very  casques,^ 
That  did  affright  the  air  at  Agi'ncourt  ? 
O,  pardon  !  since  a  crooked  figure  may 
Attest,  in  little  place,  a  million ; 
And  let  us,  ciphers  to  this  great  accompt, 
On  your  imaeinary  forces'  work  : 
Suppose,  within  the  girdle  of  these  walls 
Are  now  confinM  two  miehtv  monarchies, 
Whose  high-upreared  and  abutting  fronts 
The  perilous,  narrow  ocean  parts  asunder. 
Piece  out  our  imperfections  with  your  thoughts  : 
Into  a  thousand  parts  divide  one  man, 
And  make  imagmaiy  puissance : 
Think,  when  we  talk  of  horses,  that  you  see 

them 
Printing  their  proud  hoofs  i'the  receiving  earth : 
For  *tis  your  thoughts  that  now  must  deck  our 

kings. 
Carry  them  here  and  there ;  jumping  o'er  times ; 
Turning  the  accomplishments  of  many  years 
Into  an  hour-glass;  For  the  which  supply. 
Admit  me  C^rus  to  this  history ; 
Who,  prologue-like,  your  humble  patience  pray, 
Gently  to  hear,  kindly  to  judge,  our  play. 

(1)  An  allusion   to  the  circular  form  of  the 
theatre. 

30 


ACT  I. 

SCEIATE  I. — London.  An  anU-<Aamber  in  the 
King's  palace.  Enter  the  Archbishop  qfOuk- 
terbuiy,  and  Bishop  qf  Ely. 

CanUrbury, 

MY  lord,  ril  teU  you,— that  self  bill  is  urg*d. 
Which,  in  the  eleventh  year  o'the  last  king*s  reign 
Was  like,  and  had  indeed  against  us  passed. 
But  that  the  scambling  and  unquiet  time 
Did  push  it  out  of  further  question.^ 

Ely.   But  how,  my  lord,  shall  we  resist  it  now  } 

Omt.  It  must  be  thought  on.  If  it  pass  against  us. 
We  lose  the  better  half  of  our  possession : 
For  all  the  temporal  lands,  which  men  devout 
By  testament  bave  given  to  the  church, 
Would  they  strip  from  us ;  being  valued  thus, — 
As  much  as  would  maintain,  to  the  king's  honour,., 
Full  fifteen  earls,  and  fifteen  hundred  knights; 
Six  thousand  and  two  hundred  good  esquires ; 
And,  to  relief  of  lazars,  and  weak  age. 
Of  indigent  faint  souls,  past  corporal  toil, 
A  hundred  alms-houses,  ri^ht  well  supplied ; 
And  to  the  coffers  of  the  king  beside, 
A  thousand  pounds  by  the  year :  Thus  runs  the  bill. 

Ely.  This  would  drink  deep. 

CanL  *Twould  drink  the  cup  and  all. 

Ely.  But  what  prevention  ? 

Cant.  The  king  is  full  of  grace,  and  fair  regard. 

Ely.  And  a  true  lover  of  the  holy  church. 

Cant.  The  courses  of  his  youth  promised  it  not 
The  breath  no  sooner  left  his  fathers  body, 
But  that  his  wildness,  mortified  in  him, 
Scem'd  to  die  too :  yea,  at  that  very  moment. 
Consideration  like  an  angel  came. 
And  whipped  the  offending  Adam  out  of  him: 
Leaving  his  body  as  a  paradise. 
To  envelop  and  contain  celestial  spirits. 
Never  was  such  a  sudden  scholar  made : 

(2)  Helmets.     (3)  Powers  of  fancy.    (4)  Debata.. 


446 


KING  HENRY  V. 


Aal 


Never  came  refommtioa  in  a  6ood, 
With  such  a  beadjr  current,  icouring  &ulti ; 
Nor  never  Hydra-beaded  wilfulness 
So  toon  did  lose  his  seat,  and  all  at  once, 
As  in  this  kine^. 
Ehf.  We  are  blessed  in  the  change. 

Cant.  Hear  him  but  reason  in  divinity, 
And,  all-admiring,  with  an  inward  wish 
Tou  would  desire,  the  king  were  made  a  prelate : 
Hear  him  debate  of  commonwealth  affairs, 
You  would  say, — it  hath  been  all-in-all  his  study : 
List!  his  discourse  of  war,  and  you  shall  hear 
A  fearful  battle  renderM  vou  in  music : 
Turn  him  to  any  cause  of  policy. 
The  Gordian  knot  of  it  he  will  unlooae. 
Familiar  as  his  garter ;  that,  when  he  speaki, 
The  air,  a  chartered  libertine,  is  still, 
And  the  mute  wonder  lurketh  in  men^s  ears, 
To  steal  his  sweet  and  honeyed  sentences ; 
So  that  the  art  and  practic  part  of  life 
Must  be  the  mistress  to  this  theoric  :3 
Which  is  a  wonder,  how  his  grace  should  glean  it. 
Since  his  addiction  was  to  courses  vain : 
His  companies'  unletter*d,  rude,  and  shallow  ; 
His  hours  fillM  up  with  riots,  beinquets,  sports ; 
And  never  noted  in  him  any  study, 
Any  retirement,  any  sequestration 
From  open  haunts  and  popularity. 
Ely.   The  rtrawbeny  grows  underneath  the 
nettle ; 
And  wholesome  berries  thrive  and  ripen  best, 
NeicrhbourM  b^'  fruit  of  baser  quality ; 
And  so  the  pnnce  obscured  his  contemplation 
Under  the  veil  of  wildness ;  which,  no  doubt. 
Grew  like  the  summer  grass,  fastest  by  night. 
Unseen,  yet  crescive^  in  his  fiiculty. 

Cant.  It  must  be  so :  for  miracles  are  ceasM ; 
And  therefore  we  must  needs  admit  the  means. 
How  things  are  perfected. 

Ely.  But,  my  good  lord. 

How  now  for  mitigation  of  this  bill 
Ure'd  by  the  commons  ?  Doih  his  majesty 
Incline  to  it,  or  no? 

CanL  He  seems  indifferent ; 

Or,  rather,  swaying  more  upon  our  part. 
Than  cherishine  the  exhibiters  against  us : 
For  I  have  made  an  offer  to  his  majesty, — 
Upon  our  spiritual  convocation  ; 
And  in  regard  of  causes  now  in  hand. 
Which  I  have  opened  to  his  grace  at  largfe. 
As  touching  France, — to  give  a  greater  sum 
Than  ever  at  one  time  the  clergy  vet 
Did  to  his  predecessors  part  withal. 
Ely.  How  did  this  offer  seem  receiv'd,  my  lord? 
Cant.  With  good  acceptance  of  his  majesty ; 
Save,  that  there  was  not  time  enot^h  to  hear 
(As,  I  perceivM,  his  grace  would  (ain  have  done,) 
The  severals,  and  unhidden  passages. 
Of  his  true  titles  to  some  certain  dukedoms ; 
And,  generally,  to  the  crown  and  seat  of  France, 
Deriv'd  from  Edward,  his  great-grandfather. 
Ely.   What  was   the  impediment  that  broke 

this  off? 
Cant.  The  French  ambassador,  upon  that  instant, 
CravM  audience  :  and  the  hour,  I  think,  is  come, 
To  give  him  hearing :  Is  it  four  o^clock  ? 
Ely.  It  is. 

Cant.  Then  go  we  in,  to  know  his  embassy ; 
Which  I  could,  with  a  ready  guess,  declare, 
Before  the  Frenchman  speak  a  word  of  it 
Ely.  V\\  wait  upon  you ;  and  I  long  to  hear  it 

[Exeunt. 


SCEJVjE  If.— The  same.  A  room  of  state  m  the 
same.  Enter  King  Henry,  Gloster,  Bedford, 
Exeter,  Warwick,  Westmoreland  mtd  attaU- 
anis. 

K.  Hen.  Where  is  my  gracious  lord  of  Canter- 
bury ? 
Exe,  Not  here  in  presence. 
K.  Hen.  Send  for  him,  good  uncle. 
West.  Shall  we  call  in  the  ambassador,  my  liege.' 
K.  Hen.  Not  yet,  my  cousin ;   we  would  be 
resolved, 
Before  we  hear  him,  of  some  things  of  weicfat. 
That  task  our  thoughts,  concerning  us  and  France. 

EnUr  the  Archbisfutp  of  Canterbury,  and  BUksf 

qfEly. 

Cant.  God,  and  his  angels,  guard  your  sacred 

throne, 
And  make  you  long  become  it ! 

K.  Hen.  Sure,  we  thank  yo*. 

My  learned  lord,  we  pray  you  to  proceed ; 
And  justly  and  religiously  unfold, 
Why  the  law  Salioue,  that  they  have  in  France, 
Or  should,  or  should  not,  bar  us  in  our  claim. 
And  God  forbid,  my  dear  and  faithful  lord. 
That  you  should  fashion,  wrest,  or  bow  wur  reading, 
Or  nicely  charge  your  understanding  soul 
With  opening  titles  miscreate,*''whcMe  right 
Suits  not  in  native  colours  with  the  truth  ; 
For  God  doth  know,  how  many,  now  in  health, 
Shall  drop  their  blood  in  approbatkNi 
Of  what  your  reverence  sniall  incite  us  to : 
Therefore  take  heed  how  ^ou  impawn  our  penon, 
How  vou  awake  the  sleeping  sword  of  war; 
We  charge  you  in  the  name  of  God,  take  heed : 
For  never  two  such  kingdoms  did  contend. 
Without  much  fall  of  blood ;  whose  guiltless  drops 
Are  ever^  one  a  wo,  a  sore  complaint, 
*Gainst  hun,  whose  wron^  give  eclge  unto  the  swords 
That  make  such  waste  m  brief  mortality. 
Under  this  conjuration,  speak,  my  lord : 
And  we  will  hear,  note,  and  believe  in  heart. 
That  what  you  speak  is  in  your  conscience  washed 
As  pure  as  sin  with  baptism. 
Cant.  Then  hear  me,  gracious  sovereign, — and 

you  peers. 
That  owe  your  lives,  your  faith,  and  services. 
To  this  imperial  throne ; — There  is  no  bar 
To  make  against  your  highness^  claim  to  France, 
But  this,  which  they  produce  fixxn  Pharamond,— 
In  terram  Salicam  mulieres  nc  succe<^t, 
JVo  woman  shaU  succeed  in  Salique  land: 
Which  Salique  land  the  French  unjustly  gloae,^ 
To  be  the  realm  of  France,  and  Pbaramood 
The  founder  of  this  law  and  female  bar. 
Yet  their  own  authors  faithfully  affirm. 
That  the  land  Salique  lies  in  Germany, 
Between  the  floods  of  Sala  and  of  Elbe  : 
Where  Charles  the  great,  having  subdued  the 

Saxons, 
There  left  behind  and  settled  certain  French ; 
Who,  holdine  in  dii»dain  the  German  women. 
For  some  dishonest  manners  of  their  life, 
Establi«hM  there  this  law, — to  wit,  no  female 
Should  be  inheritrix  in  Salique  land ; 
Which  Salique,  as  I  said,  *twixt  Elbe  and  Sala, 
Is  at  this  day  in  Germany  calPd — Meisen. 
Thuif  doth  it  well  appear,  the  Salique  law 
Was  not  devised  for  the  realm  of  France : 
Nor  did  the  French  possess  the  Salique  land 
Until  four  hundred  one  and  twenty  y< 
After  defunction  of  king  Pharamond, 


(1)  Listen  to.     (2)  Theory.      (3)  Companions.       (4)  Increasing.      (5)  Sparioos.       (6)  ExphsB. 


SamiL 


KING  HENRY  Y. 


44i 


Idly  sapposM  the  founder  of  this  law ; 
Who  died  within  the  year  of  our  redemption 
Four  hundred  twenty-six  ;  and  Charles  the  rreat 
Subdued  the  Saxons,  and  did  seat  the  French 
Beyond  the  river  Sala,  in  the  year 
Eight  hundred  five.    Besides,  their  writers  say, 
King  Pepin,  which  deposed  Childerick, 
Did,  as  heir  general,  being  descended 
Of  Blitliild,  which  was  daughter  to  king  Clothair, 
Make  claim  and  title  to  the  crown  of  France. 
Hugh  Capet  also, — that  usurped  the  crown 
Of  Charles  the  duke  of  Lorain,  sole  heir  male 
Of  the  true  line  and  stock  of  Charles  the  g^reat, — 
To  fine!  his  title  with  some  show  of  truth 
(Though,  in  pure  truth,  it  was  corrupt  and  nau^t,) 
CooveyM  himself^  as  heir  to  the  laay  Lingare, 
Dau^ter  to  Charlemain,  who  was  the  son 
To  Lewis  the  emperor,  and  Lewis  the  son 
Of  Charles  the  great    Also  king  Lewis  the  tendi. 
Who  was  sole  heir  to  the  usurper  Capet, 
Could  not  keep  quiet  in  his  conscience. 
Wearing  the  crown  of  France,  till  satisfied 
That  fair  queen  Isabel,  his  g^randmother, 
W^as  lineal  of  the  lady  Erroengare, 
Daughter  to  Charles  the  foresaid  duke  of  Lorain : 
By  the  which  marriage,  the  line  of  Charles  the  great 
Was  re-united  to  the  crown  of  France. 
So  that,  as  clear  as  is  the  summer^s  sun, 
King  Pepin*s  title,  and  Hugh  Cape(*s  claim, 
King  Lewis  his  satisfaction,  all  appear 
To  hold  in  right  and  title  of  the  female : 
So  do  the  kings  of  France  unto  this  day ; 
Howbeit  they  would  hold  up  this  Salique  law. 
To  bar  your  highness  claiming  from  the  female ; 
And  rather  choose  to  hide  them  in  a  net. 
Than  amply  to  imbare'  their  crooked  titles 
UstfrpM  from  vou  and  your  progenitors. 

K.  Hen.  May  I,  with   right  and  conscience, 
make  this  claim  f 

Cant.  The  sin  upon  my  head,  dread  sovereign ! 
For  in  the  book  of  Numbers  is  it  writ, — 
When  the  son  dies,  let  the  inheritance 
Descend  unto  the  daughter.     Gracious  lord, 
Stand  for  your  own ;  unwind  your  bloody  flag ; 
Look  back  unto  your  mighty  ancestors : 
Go,  my  dread  lord,  to  your  great  grandsire*8  tomb, 
From  whom  you  claim ;  invoke  his  warlike  spirit. 
And  your  great  uncle's,  Edward  the  black  prince; 
Who  on  the  French  ground  playM  a  trageay, 
Making  defeat  on  the  full  power  of  France  ; 
Whiles  his  most  mighty  father  on  a  hill 
Stood  smiling ;  to  behold  his  lion*s  whelp 
F'^rage  in  blood  of  French  nobility .^ 
O  noble  English,  that  could  entertain 
With  half  tneir  forces  the  full  pride  of  France ; 
And  let  another  half  stand  laughing  by, 
All  out  of  work,  and  cold  for  action ! 

Ely.  Awake  remembrance  of  these  valiant  dead. 
And  with  your  puissant  arm  renew  their  feats : 
You  are  tlieir  heir,  you  sit  upon  their  throne ; 
The  blood  and  courage,  that  renowned  them. 
Runs  in  your  veins ;  and  my  thrice-puissant  liege 
Is  in  the  very  May -mom  of  his  youth. 
Ripe  for  exploits  and  mighty  enterprises. 

Exe.  Your  brother  kings  and  monarchs  of  the 
earth 
Do  all  expect  that  you  should  rouse  yourself. 
As  did  the  former  lions  of  your  blood. 

PVesi.  They  know,  your  grace  hath  cause,  and 
means,  and  mig^t ; 

( 1 )  Make  showy  or  specious.     (2)  Derived  his  title. 
(3)  Lay  open.        (4)  At  the  battle  of  Cressy. 
(5)  The  borders  of  England  and  Scotland. 


So  hath  your  highness ;  never  king  of  England 
Had  nobles  ricl^r,  and  more  loyal  subjects ; 
Whose  hearts  have  left  their  bodies  here  in  England, 
And  lie  pavilionM  in  the  fields  of  France. 

Cant.  O,  let  their  bodies  follow,  my  dear  liege. 
With  blood,  and  sword,  and  fire,  to  wm  your  ri^t : 
In  aid  whereof,  we  of  the  spirituality 
Will  raise  your  highness  such  a  mighty  sum, 
As  never  cud  the  clergy  at  one  time 
Bring  in  to  any  of  your  ancestors. 

K.  Hen,  We  must  not  only  arm  to  invade  the 
French; 
But  lay  down  our  proportions  to  defend 
Against  the  Scot,  who  will  make  road  upon  n» 
With  all  advantages. 

Cant.  They  ^thoee  marches,^  gracious  sore- 
reign, 
Shall  be  a  wall  sufficient  to  defend 
Our  inland  from  the  pilfering  borderers. 

K.Hen.  We  do  not  mean  the  coursing  snatchers 
only. 
But  fear  the  main  intendment^  of  the  Scot, 
Who  hath  been  still  a  giddy  neighbour  to  us; 
For  you  shall  read,  that  my  great  grandfather 
Never  went  with  his  forces  into  France, 
But  that  the  Scot  on  his  unfurnished  kingdom 
Came  pouring,  like  the  tide  into  a  breach. 
With  ample  and  brim  fulness  of  his  force ; 
Galling  the  gleaned  land  with  hot  essays ; 
Girding  with  grievous  siege,  castles  and  towns ; 
That  uigland,  being  empty  of  defence. 
Hath  shook,  and  tremblea  at  the  ill  neighbourhood. 

Cant.  She  hath  been  then  more  fear'd^  than 
banned,  my  liege : 
For  hear  her  but  exampled  by  herself, — 
When  all  her  chivalry  nath  been  in  France, 
And  she  a  mourning  widow  of  her  nobles. 
She  hath  herself  not  only  well  defended, 
But  taken,  and  impounaed  as  a  stray. 
The  king  of  Scots ;  whom  she  did  send  to  France, 
To  fill  king  Eldward's  feme  with  prisoner  kings ; 
And  make  your  chronicle  as  rich  with  praise, 
As  is  the  ooze  and  bottom  of  the  sea 
With  sunken  wreck  and  sumless  treasuries. 

West.  But  there's  a  saving,  very  old  and  tnie,^ 
ZT  thai  ymi  toill  France  torn, 
iTun  tnth  Scotland  first  be^n : 
For  once  the  eagle  England  being  m  prey. 
To  her  unguarded  nest  the  weasel  Scot 
Comes  sneaking,  and  so  sucks  her  princely  eggs; 
Playing  the  mouse,  in  absence  of  tne  cat, 
To  spoil  and  havoc  more  than  she  can  eat. 

Exe.  It  follows  then,  the  cat  must  stay  at  home : 
Yet  that  is  but  a  curs'd  necessity ; 
Since  we  have  locks  to  safeguard  necessaries. 
And  pretty  traps  to  catch  the  petty  thieves. 
While  that  the  armed  hand  doth  fight  abroad, 
The  advised  head  defends  itself  at  home : 
For  government,  though  high,  and  low,  and  lower. 
Put  into  parts,  doth  keep  in  one  concent  ^ 
CongruingS  in  a  full  ana  natural  close. 
Like  music. 

Cant.  True :  therefore  doth  heaven  divide 

The  state  of  man  in  divers  functions. 
Setting  endeavour  in  continual  motion ; 
To  which  is  fixed,  as  an  aim  or  butt. 
Obedience :  for  so  work  the  honey-bees ; 
Creatures,  that,  by  a  rule  in  nature,  teach 
The  act  of  order  to  a  peopled  kingdom. 
They  have  a  king,  and  officers  of  sorts  :^ 

(6)  General  disposition.        (7)  Frigbtetwd 
(8)  Harmony.  (9)  Agreeing. 

(10)  Different  degrees. 


460 


KING  HENRT  T. 


AdU. 


.AirdL  Awwjj  yoo  rocoe.  | 

Qiodt  Bjr  roj  troch,  be^  jield  tbe  crom  a  pod-j 
iSmg  out  oC  tbMe  davs :  the  king  hu  killed  hi* 
beart — Good  bosbuid,  come  home  presentlj. 

[Exeuni  Mrs.  Quicklj  and  Bo^. 

JBardL  Come,  shall  I  make  Toa  two  friend*?  We 
mntt  to  France  together ;  Whir,  die  devil,  ihoald 
we  keep  knives  to  cut  one  another's  throats  ? 

Pist.   Let  floods  o'entrell,  and  Sends  lor  food 
bowl  on  ! 

A*ym.  You*!!  pajr  me  the  eight  shiUinga  I  woo 
of  TOO  at  beuing .' 

Pisi.  Base  b  the  slave  diat  pajrs. 

Avm.  That  now  I  will  have ;  that*!  the  bamoar 
of  it 

Pist  As  manhood  shall  compound ;  Push  home. 

Bard.  Bv  this  sword,  he  tnut  makes  the  first 
dirust,  V\\  kil!  him ;  by  this  sword,  I  %rilL 

Pist.   Sword  is  an  oath,  and  oaths  must  bare 
their  course. 

Bard.  Corporal  Njm,  an  thou  wilt  be  friends, 
be  friends :  an  thou  wilt  not,  whjr  then  be  enemies 
with  me  too.     PHythee,  put  up. 

Aym.  I  fthall  have  my  eight  shillings,  I  woo  of 
you  at  betting  ? 

Pisi.  A  nc»!ei  shalt  thou  hare,  and  present  pay ; 
And  liquor  likewise  will  I  give  to  thee. 
And  friendship  shall  combine,  and  brotherhood  : 
ni  live  by  Nym,  and  Nyra  shall  live  by  me ; — 
Is  not  this  just  ? — for  I  diall  sutler  be 
Unto  the  camp,  and  profits  will  accrue. 
Give  me  thy  hand. 

A^m.  I  shall  have  my  noble  ? 

Ptsi.  In  caah  most  justly  paid. 

JSTym.  Well  then,  that's  the  humour  of  it 

Re-enier  Mrs.  Quickly. 

Quick.  As  ever  yoo  came  of  women,  come  in 
ouicklv  to  sir  John:  Ah,  poor  heart!  he  is  so 
Miakea  of  a  burning  ouoddian  tertian,  that  it  is  most 
lamentable  to  behold.     Sweet  men,  come  to  him. 

JVym.  The  king  hath  run  bad  humours  oo  the 
kntghf,  that's  the  even  of  it 

Pisi.   Tiyvn,  thou  hast  spoke  the  right ; 
His  heart  is  fracted,  and  corroborate. 

Ayw.  The  king  is  a  good  king :  but  it  must  be 
M  it  may  ;  he  passes  some  humours,  and  careers. 

Pisi.  Let  us  condole  the  knight ;  for,  lambkins, 
we  will  live.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^E  /T— Southampton.  ^  cowieil-chttmber. 
Enter  Exeter,  Bedford,  and  Westmoreland.    » 

Bed.  'Fore  God,  his  grace  is  bold,  to  trust  these 

traitors. 
Exe.  They  shall  be  apprehended  by  and  by. 
H^esi.    How  smooth  and  even  they  do  bear 
themselves ! 
As  if  allegiance  in  their  bosom  sat, 
Crowned  with  faith,  and  constant  loyalty. 

Bed.  The  king  hath  note  of  all  that  they  intend. 
By  interception  which  they  dream  not  of. 

Exe.  Nay,  but  the  man  that  was  his  bedfellow, 
Whom  he  hath  cloy'd  and  grac'd  with  princely 

favours, — 
That  he  should,  for  a  foreign  purse,  so  sell 
His  sovereign's  life  to  death  and  treachery ! 

Trumpet  sounds.    Enter  King  Henry,  Scroop, 
Cambridge,  Grey,  Lords,  and  AiUndanis. 

K.  Hen.  Now  siu  tbe  wind  fair,  and  we  will 
aboard. 

(1)  A  coin,  value  nx  shillings  and  eight-pence. 

(2)  Force.    (3)  Compounded.    (4)  Recompense. 


My  kxd  of  Cambndge^— «iid  nj  kind  kj«*  «^ 
Masham, — 

.And  yoo,  ray  geotk  knight, give  ne  yov 

thoughts: 
Think  yoo  not,  that  the  power*  we  bear  with  nt. 
Will  cut  their  paange  through  the  force  of  France; 
Doing  the  execution,  and  the  act. 
For  which  we  have  in  head^  asaonbled  thesn? 

Scroop.  No  doubt,  mj  liege,  if  each  man  do  fail 
best 

K.  Hen.  I  doubt  not  that :  tince  we  are  well 
persuaded. 
We  carry  not  a  heart  with  as  from  hence. 
That  grows  not  in  a  fair  consent  with  oars ; 
Nor  lotve  not  one  behind,  that  doth  not  widi 
Success  and  conquest  to  attend  on  na. 

Cam.  Never  was  monarch  better  fesu^d,  and  kwM, 
Than  is  yoor  majest}* ;  there's  not,  I  think,a  Mibject, 
That  sits  in  beart-grief  and  uneaaineos 
Under  the  sweet  shade  of  yoor  go%'enunent 

Grey.  Even  tho«e,  that  were  yoor  fiuher'senenies, 
Have  steep'd  their  nlU  in  hooey  ;  and  do  serve  yoa 
With  hearts  create*  of  duty  and  of  xeal. 

K.  Hen.  We  therefore  have  great  cause  of 
thankfulness ; 
And  shall  forget  the  office  of  our  hand. 
Sooner  than  quittance^  of  desert  and  merit. 
According  to  the  weight  and  worthiness. 

Scroop.  So  service  shall  with  steeled  sinews  toil ; 
And  Uboor  shall  refresh  itself  with  hope,  * 

To  do  your  grace  incessant  services. 

K.  Men.  We  judge  no  less. — Uncle  of  Exeter, 
Enlarge  the  man  committed  yesterday. 
That  raii'd  against  our  person  :  we  consider. 
It  was  excess  of  wine  that  set  him  on  ; 
And,  on  his  more  advice,^  we  pardon  him. 

Scroop.  That's  mercy,  but  too  much  secunty : 
Let  biro  be  punish'd,  soverngn ;  lest  example 
Breed,  by  his  sufferance,  more  of  such  a  kind. 

K.  Hen.  O,  let  us  yet  be  merciful. 

Cam.  So  may  your  highness,  and  yet  ponidi  tea 

Grry.  Sir,  you  show  great  oiercy,  if  yoo  give  bki 
life, 
A<ler  the  taste  of  much  correction. 

K.  Hen.  Alas,  your  too  much  love  and  care  of  me 
Are  heavy  orisoos^  'gainst  this  poor  wre^h. 
If  little  faults,  proc^ing  on  distemper, 
Shall  not  be  wink'd  at,  bow  shall  we  stretch  oor^re. 
When  capital    crimes,  chew'd,  swallow'd,  and 

digested, 
Appear  before  us.' — Well  yet  enlarge  that  man. 
Though  Cambridge,  Scroop,  and  Grey, — in  their 

dear  care. 
And  tender  preservation  of  oor  person, — 
Would  have  him  punish'd.  And  now  to  oor  French 

causes; 
Who  are  the  late^  conrniisstooers? 

Cam.  I  one,  my  lord ; 
Your  highness  bade  roe  ask  for  it  to-day. 

Scroop.  So  did  you  me,  my  liege. 

Grey.  And  me,  my  royal  sovereign. 

K,  Hen.  Then,  Richard,  earl  oif  Cambridge, 
there  is  yours ; — 
There  yours,  lord  Scroop  of  Masham  ; — and,  sir 

knight. 
Grey  of  Northumberland,  this  same  is  youn : — 
Read  them ;  and  know,  I  know  your  worthiness.— 
My  lord  of  Westmoreland, — and  uncle  Exeter,^ 
VVe  will  aboard  to-night— Why,  how  now,  gentle 

men.' 
What  see  you  in  those  pape^^  that  yoo  Wmo 

(5)  Better  informatioo.        (6)  Prayers. 
(7)  Lately  appointed. 


m. 


KING  HENRT  V. 


451 


So  mach  oomplexkn  ? — look  re,  how  they  change ! 
Their  cheeks  are  paper. — why,  what  read  you 

there, 
That-hadi  so  cowarded  and  chasM  your  blood 
Oat  of  appearance  ? 

Cam.  I  do  confess  my  fault ; 

And  do  submit  roe  to  your  highness*  mercy. 

Grty.  Scro<^.  To  which  we  all  appeal. 

K.  Hen.  The  mctcy,  that  was  quick '  m  us  but  late. 
By  your  own  cpunsel  is  suppressed  and  killM : 
You  must  not  aare,  for  shame,  to  talk  of  mercy ; 
For  vour  own  reasons  turn  into  your  bosoms. 
As  dogs  upon  their  masters,  worning  them. — 
See  you,  my  princes,  and  my  noble  peers. 
These  Engiiso  monsters !  My  brd  of  Cambridge 

here, — 
Tou  know,  how  apt  our  k>ve  was,  to  accord 
To  furnish  him  with  all  appertinents 
Belonging  to  his  honour ;  and  this  man 
Hath,  for  a  few  light  crowns,  lishtly  conspirM, 
And  sworn  unto  me  practices  m  France, 
To  kill  us  here  in  Hampton  :  to  the  which. 
This  knight,  no  le«  for  bounty  bound  to  us 
Than  Cambridge  is, — hath  likewise  sworn. — ButO! 
'Whai  shall  I  say  to  thee,  lord  Scroop ;  thou  cruel, 
Ingrateful,  savage,  and  inhuman  creature ! 
Thou,  that  didst  bear  the  key  of  all  my  counsels. 
That  knew*st  the  very  bottom  of  my  soul. 
That  almost  might*st  have  coinM  me  into  gold, 
WouId*st  thou  Mve  practised  on  me  for  thy  use  ? 
May  it  be  possible,  tnat  foreign  hire 
Could  out  of  thee  extract  one  spark  of  evil. 
That  might  annoy  my  finj^er  f  ^tis  so  strange. 
That,  though  the  truth  oT  it  stands  off  as  gross 
As  black  from  white,  my  eye  will  scarcely  see  it 
Treason,  and  murder,  ever  kept  together. 
As  two  yoke-devils  sworn  to  either*8  purpose, 
Working  so  g^rossly  in  a  natural  cause. 
That  admiration  ^d  not  whoop  at  them  : 
But  thou,  *gainst  all  proportion,  didst  bring  in 
Wonder,  to  wait  on  treason,  and  cm  murder : 
And  whatsoever  cunning  fiend  it  was, 
That  wrought  upon  thee  so  preposterously, 
H*a(h  got  the  voice  in  hell  for  excellence : 
And  other  devils,  that  suggest  by  treasons. 
Do  botch  and  bungle  up  damnation 
With  patches,  colours,  and  with  forms  being  fetchM 
From  glistering  semblances  of  piety ; 
But  he,  that  temper*iP  thee,  bade  thee  stand  up. 
Gave  thee  no  instance  why  thou  should*8t  do  treason, 
Unless  to  dub  thee  with  the  name  of  traitor. 
If  that  same  daemon,  that  hath  gullM  thee  thus. 
Should  with  his  lion  gait*  walk  the  whole  world, 
He  might  return  to  vasty  Tartar*  back, 
And  tell  the  legions — I  can  never  win 
A  soul  so  easy  as  that  Englishman's. 
O,  how  hast  thou  with  jealousy  infected 
The  sweetness  of  affiance  !  Show  men  dutiful  f 
Why,  so  didst  thou  :  Seem  they  grave  and  learned  ? 
Why,  so  didst  thou  :  Come  they  of  noble  family  ? 
Why,  so  didst  thou :  Seem  they  religious  ? 
Why,  so  didst  thou  :  Or  are  they  spare  in  diet ; 
Free  from  gross  passion,  or  of  mirth,  or  anger ; 
Constant  in  spirit,  not  swerving  with  the  blood ; 
GamishM  and  decked  in  modest  complement  ;< 
Not  working  with  the  eye,  without  the  ear. 
And,  but  in  purged  judgment,  tnisiting  neither  f 
Such,  and  so  finely  boltM,^  didst  thou  seem : 
And  thus  thy  fall  hath  left  a  kind  of  blot. 
To  mark  the  full-fraught  roan,  and  best  indjied,^ 
With  some  suspicion.     I  will  weep  for  thee ; 

(1)  Living.       (2)  Rendered  thee  pliable. 
(3)  Pm^  step.      (4)  Tartarus. 


your 


For  this  revolt  of  thine,  methinks,  is  like 
Another  fall  of  man. — Their  faults  are  open. 
Arrest  them  to  the  answer  of  the  law  ; — 
And  God  acquit  them  of  their  practices ! 

Exe.  I  arrest  thee  of  high  tresLSon,  by  the  name  of 
Richard  earl  of  Cambric^. 

I  arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  by  the  naroe  of  Heniy 
lord  Scroop  of  Masham. 

I  arrest  thee  of  high  treason,  by  the  name  of 
Thomas  Grey,  knight  of  Northurowrland. 

Scroop.  Our  purposes  God  justly  hath  discover'd; 
And  I  repent  my  fault,  more  than  my  death ; 
Which  I  beseech  your  highness  to  forgive, 
Althousfa  my  body  pay  the  price  of  it 

Cbm.  For  me, — the  gold  of^F  ranee  did  not  seduct; 
Although  1  did  admit  it  as  a  motive. 
The  sooner  to  effect  what  I  intended : 
But  God  be  thanked  for  prevention ; 
Which  I  in  sufferance  hc»utily  will  rejoice, 
Beseeching  God,  and  you,  to  pardon  me. 

Grey.  Never  did  faithful  suoject  nnore  rejoitc 
At  the  discovery  of  roost  dangerous  treason, 
Than  I  do  at  this  hour  joy  o*er  myself, 
Prevented  from  a  damneo  enterprise : 
My  fiiult,  but  not  my  body,  paroon,  sovereign. 

K.  Hen.  God  quit  you  in  nis  mercy !  Hear  y< 
sentence. 
You  have  conspired  against  our  royal  person, 
Join*d  with  an  enemy  proclaimM,  and  from  h» 

coffers 
Received  the  golden  earnest  of  our  death ; 
Wherein  you  would  have  sold  your  king  to slaoghtei. 
His  princes  and  his  peers  to  servitude. 
His  subjects  to  oppression  and  contempt, 
And  his  whole  kingdom  unto  desolation 
Touching  our  person,  seek  we  no  revenge ; 
But  we  our  kingdom's  safety  must  so  tender. 
Whose  ruin  you  three  sought,  that  to  her  laws 
We  do  deliver  you.     Get  you  therefore  hence, 
Poor  miserable  wretches,  to  your  death : 
The  taste  whereof,  God,  of  his  mercy,  give  yoa 
Patience  to  endure,  and  true  repentance 
Of  all  your  dear  offences  I — Bear  them  hence. 

[Exeunt  eonspiratora,  guarded. 
Now,  lords,  for  France ;  the  enterprise  whereof 
Shall  be  to  you,  as  us,  like  gbrious. 
We  doubt  not  of  a  fair  and  lucky  war ; 
Since  God  so  graciously  hath  brought  to  light 
This  dangerous  treason,  lurkine  in  our  way, 
To  hinder  our  beginnings,  we  ooubt  not  now, 
But  every  rub  is  smootlwd  on  our  way. 
Then,  forth,  dear  countrymen ;  let  us  deliver 
Our  puissance  into  the  hand  of  Gcd, 
Putting  it  straight  in  expedition. 
Cheerly  to  sea  ;  the  signs  of  war  advance : 
No  king  of  England,  if  not  king  of  France.  [Ejm, 

SCEJ>rE  ///.—London.  Mrs.  Quickly's  houts 
in  Ekstcheap.  Enier  Pistol,  Mrs.  Quickly, 
Nym,  Bardolph,  and  Boy. 

Quick.  Pr*ythee,  honey-sweet  husband,  let  me 
bringfi  thee  to  Staines. 

Ptsi.  No ;  for  my  manly  heart  doth  yearn.* — 
Bardolph,  be  blithe; — Nym,  rouse  thy  vaunting 

veins ; 
Boy,  bristle  thy  courage  up ;  for  Falstaff  he  is  dead. 
And  we  must  yearn  uerefore. 

Bard.  'Would,  I  were  with  him,  wheresome'er 
he  is,  either  in  heaven,  or  in  hell ! 

Quick.  Nay,  sure,  he's  not  in  hell ;  he's  fn  Ar- 
thur's bosom,  if  ever  man  went  to  Arthur's  bosom. 

(5)  Accomplishment    (6)  Sifted.   (7)  Endowed. 
(8)  Attend.  (9)  Grieve. 


46t 


KING  HENRT  Y, 


Ada 


*A  made  t  finei  end,  And  went  tvray,  m  it  had 
been  any  christomi  child ;  *a  parted  even  iust  be- 
tween twelve  and  one,  e*en  at  turning  o'tne  tide : 
for  after  I  aaw  him  fomble  with  the  sheett,  and 
play  with  flowers,  and  amile  upon  his  fingers*  ends, 
1  knew  there  was  byt  one  war ;  for  his  nose  was 
as  sharp  as  a  pen,  and  *a  babbled  of  green  fields. 
How  now,  sir  Jotia  ?  qooth  I :  what,  roan  !  be  of 
rood  cheer.  So  'a  cried  out — God,  God,  God! 
mree  or  four  times :  now  I,  to  comfort  him,  bid 
him,  *a  should  not  think  of  God ;  I  hoped,  there 
was  no  need  to  trouble  himself  with  any  such 
thoughts  yet :  So,  *a  bade  ine  lay  more  clothes  on 
his  feet :  I  put  my  hand  into  the  bed,  and  felt  them, 
and  they  were  as  cold  as  any  stone ;  then  I  felt  to 
his  knees,  and  so  upward,  and  upward,  and  all 
was  as  cold  as  any  stone. 

JVym.  They  say,  be  cried  out  for  sack. 

Quick.  Ay,  that  *a  did. 

Bard.  And  of  women. 

Quick.  Nay,  that  *a  did  not 

Boy.  Yes,  that  *a  did;  and  said,  they  were 
devils  incarnate. 

Quick.  *A  could  never  abide  camatioa;  *twasa 
colour  he  never  liked. 

Boy.  *A  said  once,  the  devil  would  have  him 
about  women. 

Quick,  *A  did  in  some  sort,  indeed,  handle 
women :  but  then  he  was  rheumatic  ;3  and  talked 
of  the  whore  of  Babylon. 

Boy.  Do  you  not  remember,  *a  saw  a  flea  stick 
upon  Bardolph's  nose ;  and  'a  said,  it  was  a  black 
soul  burning  in  hell-fire  ? 

Bard.  Well,  the  fuel  is  gone,  that  maintained 
that  fire  :  that^s  all  the  riches  I  got  in  his  service. 

JVym.  Shall  we  sbog  off  .^  the  king  will  be  gone 
from  Southampton. 

Pist  Come,  let*s  away. — My  lore,  give  me  thy 
lips. 
Look  to  my  chattels,  and  my  moveables : 
Let  senses  rule ;  the  word  is,  Pitch  and  Pay  ; 
Trust  none ; 

For  oaths  are  straws,  men*8  faiths  are  wafer-cakes. 
And  hold-fast  is  the  only  dog,  my  duck ; 
Therefore,  caveio  be  thy  counsellor. 
Go,  clear  thy  crystals.* — Yoke-fellows  in  arms. 
Let  us  to  France  .'  like  horse-leeches,  my  boys ; 
To  suck,  to  suck,  the  very  blood  to  suck  ! 

Boy.  And  that  is  but  unwholesome  food,  they  say. 

Pigt.  Touch  her  soft  mouth,  and  march. 

Bard.  Farewell,  hostess.  [Kissing  her. 

J^ym,  I  cannot  kiss,  that  is  the  humour  of  it ; 
but  adieu. 

Pist.  Let  housewifery  appear;  keep  close,  I 
thee  command. 

Quick.  Farewell;  adieu.  [Exeunt. 

SCKN'E  /T.— France.  A  room  in  the  French 
King*8  palace.  Enter  the  French  King  attend- 
ed ;  the  Dauphin,  the  Duke  of  Burgundy,  the 
Ccostabie,  and  others. 

Fr.  King.  Thus  come  the  Elnglish  with  full 
power  upon  us ; 
And  more  than  careAilly  it  us  concerns. 
To  answer  royally  in  our  defences. 
Therefore  the'  dukes  of  Beery,  and  of  Bretagne, 
Of  Brabant,  and  of  Orleans,  shall  make  forth, — 
And  you,  prince  dauphin, — with  all  swift  despatch, 
To  line,  and  new  repair,  our  towns  of  war. 
With  men  of  courage,  and  with  means  defendant : 

n)  A  child  not  more  than  a  month  old. 
(%)  Mrs.  Quickly  means  lunatic. 
(3)  Dry  thy  eves. 


For  England  his  approaches  makes  as  fierce, 

As  waters  to  the  sacking  of  a  gul£ 

It  fits  us  then,  to  be  as  provident 

As  fear  may  teach  us,  out  of  late  examples  * 

Lef)  by  the  fatal  and  neglected  English 

Upon  our  fields. 

Dau.  My  most  redoubted  fotber, 

It  is  most  meet  we  arm  us  *gaii)gt  the  foe : 
For  peace  itself  should  not  so  dulH  a  kingdom 
(Though  war,  nor  no  known  quarrel,  were  in 

question,) 
But  that  defences,  musters,  preparations, 
Should  be  maintained,  assembled,  and  collected. 
As  were  a  war  in  expectation. 
Therefore,  I  say,  'tis  meet  we  all  go  forth. 
To  view  the  sick  and  feeble  parts  of  France : 
And  let  us  do  it  with  no  show  of  fear; 
No,  with  no  more,  than  if  we  heard  tfiat  Ei^Iand 
Were  busied  with  a  Whitsun  morris-dance : 
For,  my  good  liege,  die  is  so  idly  king*d. 
Her  sceptre  so  fantastically  borae  * 

Bv  a  vam,  giddv,  diallow,  humorous  yooth. 
That  fear  attends  her  not. 

Om.  O  peace,  prince  dauplun ! 

Yop  are  too  much  mistaken  in  this  king : 
Question  your  grace  the  late  ambassadors, — 
With  what  great  state  he  heard  their  embassy, 
How  well  supplied  with  noble  counsellors, 
How  modest  in  exception,^  and,  withal, 
How  terrible  in  constant  resolution, — 
And  you  shall  find^  his  vanities  fbre-spent> 
Were  but  the  outside  of  the  Roman  Brutus, 
Covering  discretion  with  a  coat  of  folly ; 
As  gardeners  do  with  ordure  hide  those  roots 
That  shall  first  spring,  and  be  most  delicate. 

Dau.  Well,  *tis  not  so,  my  lord  high  constable, 
But  though  we  think  it  so,  it  is  no  matter : 
In  cases  of  defence,  *tis  best  \o  weigh 
The  enemy  more  mighty  than  he  se^ns, 
So  the  proportions  of  defence  are  filled ; 
Which,  of  a  weak  and  niggardly  projection. 
Doth,  like  a  miser,  spoil  his  coat,  with  scantii^ 
A  little  cloth. 

Fr.  King.     Think  we  king  Harry  strong; 
And,  princes,  look,  you  strongly  arm  to  me^ 

him. 
The  kindred  of  him  hath  been  flesh'd  upon  us ; 
And  he  is  bred  out  of  that  bloody  strain,^ 
That  haunted  us  in  our  familiar  paths  : 
Witness  our  too  much  memorable  shame. 
When  Cressy  battle  fatally  was  struck. 
And  all  our  princes  captiv*d,  by  the  hand 
Of  that  black  name,  Edward  black  prince  of  Wales; 
Whiles   that   his   mountain    sire,— on    mountatn 

standing. 
Up  in  the  air,  crownM  with  the  golden  ran, — 
Saw  his  hercNcal  seed,  and  smiPd  to  see  him 
Mangle  the  work  of  nature,  and  deface 
The  patterns  that  by  God  and  by  French  fothen 
Had  twenty  years  been  made.     This  is  a  stem 
Of  that  victorious  stock ;  and  let  us  fear 
The  native  mightiness  and  fate  of  hino. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Ambassadors  from  Heni^  king  of  Ec^land 
Do  crave  admittance  to  your  majesty. 
Fr.  King.  WeMl  give  them  present  audience. 
Go,  and  bring  them. 

[Elxe.  Mess,  tmd  eertain  Lords, 
You  see,  this  chace  is  body  fiallow^d,  frienda. 


(4)  Render  it  callous,  insensible. 

(5)  In  making  objections. 

(6)  Wasted,  exhausted.        (7) 


/. 


KINQ  HENRY  V. 


45S 


Dmc  Tom  hnd,  tnd  itop  panoit :  hrcowud 

dogi 
Mutt  spend  their  moaths,  when  what  they  teem  to 

threaten. 
Runs  tu  before  them.    Good  my  torereign. 
Take  up  the  Elnglish  short ;  and  let  them  know 
Of  what  a  monarchy  yon  are  the  head : 
Self-love,  my  liege,  is  not  lo  rile  a  sin 
As  selfnoi^ecting. 

lU-tnUr  Lords f  with  Exeter  and  train. 

FV.  King.  From  our  brother  EIngland  ? 

Exe.  From  him ;  and  thus  he  greets  your  majesty. 
He  wills  you,  in  the  name  of  God  Almighty, 
That  you  divest  yourself,  and  lay  apart 
The  borrowed  glories,  that,  b^  giA  of  heaven, 
By  law  of  nature,  and  of  nations,  'long 
To  him,  and  to  his  heirs ;  namely,  the  crown. 
And  all  wide-stretched  honours  that  pertain. 
By  custom  and  the  ordinance  of  times, 
l/nto  the  crown  of  France.    That  vou  may  know, 
*Tis  no  sinister,  nor  no  awkward  claim, 
PickM  from  the  worm-holes  of  long-vanish*d  days. 
Nor  from  the  dust  of  old  oblivion  rak*d. 
He  sends  you  this  roost  memorable  line, 

[Gives  a  paper. 
In  eveiy  branch  truly  demonstrative ; 
Willing  you,  overlook  this  pedig^ree : 
And,  when  you  find  him  evenly  derived 
From  his  most  fam*d  of  famous  ancestors, 
Edward  the  third,  he  bids  you  then  resign 
Tour  crown  and  kingdom,  indirectly  held 
Frcmi  him  the  native  and  true'challenger. 

Fr.  King.  Or  else  what  follows  ? 

Eoce.  Bloody  constraint;  for  if  vou  hide  the  crown 
Even  in  your  hearts,  there  will  he  rake  for  it : 
And  therefore  in  fierce  tempest  is  he  coming. 
In  thunder,  and  in  earthquake,  like  a  Jove ; 
(That,  if  requiring  fail,  he  will  compel  0 
And  bids  you,  in  me  bowels  oC  the  Lord, 
DeUrer  up  the  crown ;  and  to  take  mercy 
On  the  poor  souls,  for  Whom  this  hungry  war 
Opens  his  vasty  jaws :  and  on  your  bead 
Turns  he  the  widows'  tears,  the  orphans'  cries. 
The  dead  men's  blood,  the  pining  maidens'  gproans, 
Fur  husbands,  fathers,  and  betrothed  lovers. 
That  shall  be  swallow'd  in  this  controversy. 
This  is  his  claim,  his  threat'ning,  and  my  message ; 
Unless  the  dauphin  be  in  presence  here, 
To  whom  expressly  I  bring  greeting  too. 

Fr.  King.  For  us,  we  will  consider  erf"  this  further  : 
To-morrow  shall  you  bear  our  full  intent 
Back  to  our  brother  England. 

Dau.  For  the  dauphin, 

I  stand  here  for  him ;  What  to  him  from  England  ? 

Exe.   Scorn,  and  defiance ;  slight  r^ara,  con- 
tempt. 
And  any  thing  that  may  not  misbecome 
The  mighty  sender,  doth  he  prire  vou  at 
Thus  sa^s  my  king  :  and,  if  your  father's  hi^mess 
Do  not^m  grant  of  all  demands  at  large. 
Sweeten  the  bitter  mock  you  sent  his  majesty. 
He'll  call  you  to  so  hot  an  answer  for  it. 
That  caves  and  womby  vaultages  of  France 
Shall  chidei  your  trespass,  and  return  your  mock 
In  second  accent  of  his  ordnance. 

JDau,  Say,  if  my  father  render  fair  reply, 
It  is  against  my  will :  for  I  desire 
Nothing  but  odds  with  England ;  to  that  end. 
As  matching  to  his  youth  and  vanity, 
I  did  present  him  with  those  Paris  bsJls. 


(1)  Resound,  echa 
(3)  Stems  of  the  shipt. 


(2)  Bankofibore. 


Exe.  Hell  make  your  Paris  Loavre  shake  (at  it. 
Were  it  the  mistreia  com^  of  migfaty  Europe : 
And,  be  assur'd,  you'll  find  a  diflereoce 
(As  we,  his  subjects,  have  in  wonder  found,) 
Between  the  promise  of  his  greener  days, 
And  these  he  masters  now ;  now  he  weighs  time, 
Even  to  the  utmost  ^rain ;  which  you  shall  read 
In  your  own  losses,  if  he  stay  in  Franca. 
Pr.  King.  To-morrow  shall  you  know  oar  mind 

at  full. 
Exe,  Despatch  as  with  all  8peed,lest  that  our 
king 
Come  here  himself  to  question  our  delay ; 
For  he  is  footed  in  this  land  already. 
Fr.  King.  You  shall  be  soon  despatch'd,  with 
fiur  conditions : 
A  night  is  but  small  breath,  and  little  pause, 
To  answer  matters  of  this  consequence. 

[ExnaU. 


ACT  III. 

£}Uer  Chorus. 

Cho.  Thus  with  imagin'd  wing  our  swifl  scene 
flies. 
In  motion  of  no  less  celerity 
Than  that  of  thought  Suppose,  that  you  have  seen 
The  well-appointed  king  at  Hampton  pier 
Embark  his  royalty ;  and  his  brave  fleet 
With  silken  streamers  the  young  Phcebus  fanning. 
Play  with  your  fancies ;  and  in  them  behold, 
Upon  the  hempen  tackle,  ship-boys  climbinj^ : 
Hear  the  shrill  whistle,  which  doth  order  give 
To  sounds  confus'd :  behold  the  threaden  sails. 
Borne  with  the  invisible  and  creeping  wind. 
Draw  the  huge  bottoms  through  the  furrow'd  sea. 
Breasting  the  lofly  surge :  O,  do  but  think. 
You  stand  upon  the  rivage^  and  behold 
A  city  on  the  inconstant  oillows  dancing ; 
For  so  appears  this  fleet  majestical, 
Holding  due  course  to  Harfleur.     Follow,  follow  I 
Grapple  your  minds  to  stemagcS  of  this  navy  ; 
Ana  leave  your  Elngland,  as  dead  midnight,  still. 
Guarded  with  grandsires,  babies,  and  old  women. 
Either  past,  or  not  arriv'd  to,  pith  and  puissance : 
For  who  is  he,  whose  chin  is  out  enricn'd 
With  one  appearing  hair,  that  will  not  follow 
These  cull'd  and  choice-drawn  cavaliers  to  France.' 
Work,  work,  your  thoughts,  and  therein  see  a  siege : 
Behold  the  ordnance  on  their  carriages. 
With  fatal  mouths  gaping  on  girded  Harfleur. 
Suppose,  the  ambanador  from  the  French  comes 

back; 
Tells  Harry — that  the  king  doth  oflfer  him 
Katharine  his  daughter ;  and  with  her,  to  dowry, 
Some  petty  and  unprofitable  dukedoms. 
The  offer  likes  not :  and  the  nimble  gunner 
With  linstock^  now  the  devilish  cannon  touches, 

[Alarum :  and  chamber^  go  off. 
And  down  goes  all  before  them.     Still  be  kind. 
And  eke  out  our  performance  with  your  mind. 

[Exit. 

SCEJVE  I.— The  same.  Before  Harfleur.— 
Alarums.  Enter  King  Henry,  Exeter,  Bed- 
ford, Gloster,  and  soldiers,  with  scaling-ladders, 

K  Hen.    Once  more   unto   the  breach,  dear 
friends,  once  more ; 
Or  close  the  wall  up  with  our  EInglish  dead ! 

(4)  The  staff  which  holds  the  match  med  io 
firing  cannon. 
(p)  Small  pieoet  of  ordoanoe.  * 


454 


KING  HENRY  V. 


ActUl. 


In  peace,  there^s  nothing  so  becomes  a  man, 

As  modest  stillness,  and  numility : 

But  when  the  blast  of  war  blows  in  our  ears, 

Then  imitate  the  action  of  the  tiger ; 

Stiffen  the  sinews,  summon  up  the  blood, 

Di^uise  fair  nature  with  hara-favourM  rage : 

Then  lend  the  eye  a  terrible  aspect ; 

Let  it  pry  through  the  portage  of  the  head, 

Like  the  brass  cannon ;  let  ue  brow  overwhelm  it, 

As  fearfully,  as  doth  a  galled  rock 

Overhang  and  jutty'  his  confounded^  base, 

Swiird  with  the  wild  and  wasteful  ocean. 

Now  set  the  teeth,  and  stretch  the  nostril  wide ; 

Hold  hard  the  breath,  and  bend  up  every  spirit 

To  his  full  height ! — On,  on,  you  noblest  English, 

Whose  blood  is  fet'  from  fathers  oi  war-proof! 

Fathers,  that,  like  so  many  Alexanders, 

Have,  in  these  parts,  from  mom  till  even  fought. 

And  sheathM  their  swords  for  lack  of  argument^ 

Dishonour  not  your  mothers ;  now  attest. 

That  those,  whom  you  calPd  fathers,  did  b^;et 

you! 
Be  copy  now  to  men  of  g^rosser  blood. 
And  teach   them  how  to  war! — And  you,  good 

veomen, 
Whose  limbs  were  made  in  England,  show  us 

here 
The  mettle  of  your  pasture ;  let  us  swear 
That  you  are  worth  your  breeding :  which  I  doubt 

not; 
For  there  is  none  of  rou  so  mean  and  base. 
That  hath  not  noble  lustre  in  your  eyes. 
I  see  you  stand  like  greyhounds  in  the  slips, 
Straining  upon  the  start     The  eame*s  afoot ; 
Follow  your  spirit :  and,  upon  this  charge. 
Cry— Giod  for  Harry !  England !  and  Saint  George! 
[Exeunt.    Alarum^  and  chambers  go  off. 

SCEjYE  II.— The  same.  Forces  pass  over  /  then 
enter  Nym,  Bardolph,  Pistol,  and  Boy. 

Bard.  Oi,  on,  on,  on,  on  !  to  the  breach,  to  the 
breach ! 

JVym.  *Pray  thee,  corporal,  stay;  the  knocks 
are  too  hot ;  and,  for  mine  own  part,  I  have  not  a 
case  of  lives :  the  humour  of  it  is  too  hot,  that  is 
the  ver)' plain-song  of  it. 
Pist.  The  plain-song  is  most  just ;  for  humours 
do  abound ; 
Knocks  go  and  come ;  God*s  vassals  drop  and  die ; 
And  sword  and  shield. 
In  bloody  field. 
Doth  win  immortal  fame. 
Boy.  *Would  I  were  in  an  ale-house  in  London ! 
I  would  give  all  my  fame  for  a  pot  of  ale,  and  safety. 
Pist.  And  I : 

If  wishes  would  prevail  with  me. 
My  purpose  should  not  fail  with  me. 
But  thither  would  I  hie. 
Boy.  As  duly,  but  not  as  unily,  as  bird  doth 
sing  on  bough. 

Enter  Fluellen. 

Flu.  Gol's  plood!— Up  to  the  preaches,  you 
rascals !  will  you  not  up  to  the  preaches.^ 

[Drivhig  them  forward. 
Pist.  Be  merciful,  great  duke,^  to  men  of  mould  \^ 
Abate  thy  rage,  abate  thy  manly  rage ! 
Abate  thy  rage,  g^reat  duke ! 
Good  bawcock,  bate  thy  rage !  use  lenity,  sweet 
chuck ! 

(1)  A  mole  to  withstand  the  encroachment  of 
ibe  tide. 

<2)  Wofti,  wasted.  (3)  Fetched. 


JVym.  These  be  good  humours ! — your  honour 
wins  bad  humours. 

[ElxeurU  Nvm,  Pistol,  and  Bardolph,  fol- 
laioea  by  Fluellen. 

Boy.  As  young  as  1  am,  I  have  observed  the>e 
three  swashers.  lam  boy  to  them  all  three:  but  all 
they  three,  though  they  would  serve  me,  could  not 
be  man  to  me ;  for,  indeed,  three  such  antics  do 
not  amount  to  a  man.  For  Bardolph, — he  is  white- 
livered,  and  red-faced ;  by  the  means  whereof,  *a 
faces  it  out,  but  fights  not  For  Pistol, — be  hath  a 
killing  tongue,  and  a  quiet  sword ;  by  the  means 
whereof  *a  oreaks  words,  and  keeps  wliole  weapons. 
For  Nym, — ^he  hath  beard,  that  men  of  few  words 
are  the  best^  men ;  and  therefore  he  scorns  to  say 
his  prayers,  lest  *a  should  be  thought  a  coward ;  but 
his  few  bad  words  are  matched  with  as  few  good 
deeds ;  for  *a  never  broke  any  man's  bead  but  his 
own ;  and  that  was  against  a  post,  when  he  was 
drunk.  Th^  will  steal  any  thing,  and  call  it, — 
purchase.  Bardolph  stole  a  lute-case ;  bore  it 
twelve  leagues,  and  sold  it  for  three  halfpence. 
Nym  and  Bardolph,  are  sworn  brothers  in  filching ; 
and  in  Calais  they  stole  a  fire-shovel :  I  knew,  by 
that  piece  of  service,  the  men  would  carry  coaM 
They  would  have  me  as  fiaimiliar  with  nrken*s  pockets 
as  their  gloves  or  their  handkerchiefs :  which  makes 
much  against  my  manhood,  if  I  should  take  from 
another's  pocket,  to  put  into  mine ;  for  it  is  plain 
pocketing  up  of  wrongs.  I  must  leave  themt  *od 
seek  some  better  service :  their  villany  g^oes  against 
my  weak  stomach,  and  therefore  1  must  cast  it  up. 

[EjU  Boy. 

Re-enter  Fluellen,  Gower  JoUowing. 

Gow.  Captain  Fluellen,  you  must  come  presentlv 
to  the  mines;  the  duke* of  Gloster  would  speak 
with  you. 

Flu.  To  the  mines !  tell  yon  the  duke,  it  is  not 
so  good  to  come  to  the  mines :  For,  look  yon,  the 
mines  is  not  according  to  the  disciplines  of  the  war; 
the  concavities  of  it  is  dot  sufficient;  for,  look 
you,  th*  athversary  (you  may  discuss  unto  the  duke, 
look  you,)  is  dight^  himself  four  yards  under  the 
countermines :  by  Cheshu,  I  think,  'a  will  p\ow^  up 
all,  if  there  is  not  better  directions. 

Gow.  The  duke  of  Gloster,  to  wh<»n  the  order 
of  the  si^e  is  g^ven,  is  altogether  directed  by  an 
Irishman ;  a  very  valiant  gentleman,  i'faith. 

Flu.  It  is  captain  Macmorris,  is  it  not? 

Gow.  I  think,  it  be. 

Flu.  By  Cheshu,  he  is  an  ass,  as  in  the  *orld :  1 
will  verify  as  much  in  his  peard  :  he  has  no  m(M« 
directions  in  the  true  disciplines  of  the  wars,  look 
you,  of  the  Roman  disciplines,  than  is  a  puppy-dog. 

Enter  Macmorris  and  Jamy,  eU  a  distance. 

Goto.  Here  'a  comes ;  and  the  Scots  captain, 
captain  Jamy,  with  him. 

Ftu.  Captain  Jamy  is  a  marvellous  falorous  gen- 
tleman, that  is  certain ;  and  of  great  expedition, 
and  knowledge,  in  the  ancient  wars,  upon  my  p•^ 
ticular  knowledge  of  his  directions :  by  Cheshu,  be 
will  maintain  his  argument  as  well  as  any  militsiy 
man  in  the  *orld,  in  the  disciplines  of  tkie  {wistine 
wars  of  the  Romans. 

Jamy.  I  say,  gud-day,  captain  Fluell^i. 

Flu.  God-den  to  your  worship,  goot  captain  Janiv. 

Goto.  How  now,  captain  Macmorris .'  have  }  ou 
quit  the  mines  ?  have  tne  pioneers  given  o'er  f    " 

(4)  Matter,  subject        (5)  Commander. 

(6)  Earth.      (7)  Bravest      (8)  Pbcketaffroots. 

(9)  Digged.         (10)  Blow. 


Seme  III,  IT. 


KING  HENRY  V. 


455 


Mac.  By  Chriah  la,  tish  ill  done :  the  work  iah 

ve  over,  the  trtunpet  sound  the  retreat  Bjr  my 
uid,  I  swear,  and  by  my  father's  soul,  the  work 
ish  ill  done ;  it  ish  give  over :  I  would  have  blowed 
up  the  town,  so  Cnrish  save  me,  la,  in  an  hour. 
O,  tish  ill  done,  tish  ill  done ;  by  my  hand,  tish  ill 
done! 

Fht.  Captain  Macroorris,  I  peseech  you  now,  will 
you  vouchuife  me,  look  you,  a  few  disputations  with 
you  ?  as  partly  touching  or  concemmg  the  disci- 
plines of  the  war,  the  Roman  wars,  in  the  way  of 
BLigument,  look  you,  and  friendly  communication ; 
partlv,  to  satisfy  my  opinion,  and  partly,  for  the 
•atisUiction,  look  ^ou,  of  my  mind,  as  touching  the 
direction  of  the  military  discipline ;  that  is  the  point 

Jamy.  It  sail  be  ver}'  gud,  gud  feith,  gud  cap- 
tains both  :  and  I  sail  quit'  you  with  gud  leave,  as  I 
may  pick  occasion  ;  that  sail  I,  marry. 

Mac.  It  is  no  time  to  discourse,  so  Chrish  save 
me,  the  day  is  hot,  and  the  weather,  and  the  wars, 
and  the  king,  and  the  dukes ;  it  is  no  time  to  dis- 
course. The  town  is  beseeched,  and  the  trumpet 
calb  us  to  the  breach ;  and  we  talk,  and,  by  Chnsh, 
do  nothing ;  'tis  shame  for  us  all :  so  God  sa'  me, 
*tis  shame  to  stand  still ;  it  is  shame,  by  my  hand  : 
and  there  is  throats  to  be  cut;  and  works  to  be  done ; 
and  there  ish  nothing  done,  so  Chrish  sa*  me,  la. 

Jamy.  By  the  mess,  ere  theise  eyes  of  mine  take 
tfiemseives  to  slumber,  aile  do  guae  service,  or  aile 
liKge  Pthe  grand  for  it ;  ay,  or  go  to  death ;  and 
aiie  pay  it  as  valorously  as  I  may,  that  sal  I  surely 
do,  that  is  the  brefT  and  the  long :  Mary,  I  wad  full 
fiun  heard  some  question  'tween  you  tway. 

Flu.  Captain  Macmorris,  I  think,  look  you, 
under  your  correction,  there  is  not  many  of  your 
nation 

Mac.  Of  my  nation  ?  What  ish  my  nation  f  ish 
a  villain,  and  a  bastard,  and  a  knave,  and  a  rascal  ? 
What  ish  my  nation  ?  Who  talks  of  my  nation  f 

Flu.  Look  you,  if  you  take  the  matter  otherwise 
dian  is  meant,  captain  Macmorris,  peradventure,  I 
•hall  think  you  do  not  use  me  with  uiat  affability  as 
in  discretion  you  ought  to  use  me,  look  vou ;  being 
as  goot  a  man  as  yourself,  both  in  the  disciplines  of 
wars,  and  in  the  derivation  of  my  birth,  and  in 
other  particularities. 

Mac.  I  do  not  know  you  so  good  a  man  as  my- 
•elf :  so  Chrish  save  me,  I  will  cut  off  your  heaa. 

Gow.  Gentlemen  both,  you  will  mistake  each 
other. 

Jcany.  Au !  that's  a  foul  fault  \  A  parity  aovtnded. 

Gow.  The  town  sounds- a  parley. 

Flu.  Captain  Macroorris,  when  there  is  more 
better  opportunity  to  be  required,  look  you,  I  will 
be  so  bold  as  to  tell  you,  I  know  the  disciplines  of 
war;  and  there  is  an  end.  [ExeurU. 

SCEJ^TE  III— The  same.  Before  the  gates  of 
Har/leur.  The  Governor  and  some  citizens  on 
the  walls;  the  English  forces  below.  Enter 
King  Henry  and  his  train. 

K.  Hen.  How  yet  resolves  the  governor  of  the 
town .' 
This  is  the  latest  parle  we  will  admit : 
Therefore,  to  our  oest  mercy  give  yourselves ; 
Or,  like  to  men  proud  of  destruction, 
Defy  us  to  our  worst :  for,  as  I  am  a  soldier 
(A  name,  that,  in  my  thoughts,  becomes  me  best,) 
If  1  begin  the  battery  once  again, 
I  will  not  leave  the  half-achieved  Harfleur, 
Till  in  her  ashes  she  lie  buried. 
The  gates  of  mercy  shall  be  all  shut  up ; 

(1)  Requite,  answer.     (2)  Soiled.    (3)  Cruel. 


And  the  6esh'd  soldier, — rough  and  hardof  heaTt,-^ 

In  liberty  of  bloody  hand,  shall  range 

With  conscience  wide  as  hell ;  mowing  like  grass 

Your  fresh-air  virgins,  and  your  flowering  infants. 

What  is  it  then  to  me,  if  impious  war, — 

Array'd  in  flames,  like  to  the  prince  c^  fiends, — 

Do,  with  his  smirch'd^  complexion,  all  fell'  feats 

Elnlink'd  to  waste  and  desolation  } 

What  is't  to  me,  when  you  yourselves  are  cause, 

If  your  pure  maidens  fall  into  the  hand 

Of  hot  and  forcing  violation  ^ 

What  rein  can  hold  licentious  wickedness, 

When  down  the  hill  he  holds  his  fierce  career? 

We  may  as  bootless^  spend  our  vain  command 

Upon  the  enraged  soldiers  in  their  spoil, 

As  send  precepts  to  the  Leviathan 

To  come  ashore.  Therefore,  you  men  of  Harfleur, 

Take  pity  of  your  town,  and  of  your  people, 

Whiles  yet  my  soldiers  are  in  my  command ; 

Whiles  yet  the  cool  and  temperate  wind  of  grflca 

O'erblows  the  filthy  and  contagious  clouds 

Of  deadly  murder,  spoil,  and  villany. 

If  not,  why,  in  a  moment,  look  to  see 

The  blind  and  bloody  soldier  with  foul  hand 

Defile  the  locks  of  your  shrill-shriekine  daughters; 

Your  fathers  taken  by  the  silver  bear^ 

And  their  most  reverend  heads  dash'd  to  the  walls ; 

Your  naked  infants  spitted  upon  pikes ; 

Whiles  the  mad  mothers  with  their  howls  confus'd 

Do  break  the  clouds,  as  did  the  wives  of  Jewry 

At  Herod's  bloody-hunting  slaughtermen. 

What  say  you  ^  will  you  yield,  and  this  avoid  ? 

Or,  guilty  in  defence,  be  thus  destroy 'd  ^ 

Gov.  Our  expectation  hath  this  day  an  end: 
The  dauphin,  whom  of  succour  we  entreated. 
Returns  us — that  his  powers  are  not  yet  ready 
To  raise  so  great  a  siege.     Therefore,  dread  king, 
We  yield  our  town,  and  lives,  to  thy  soft  mercy: 
Enter  our  gates ;  dispose  of  us,  ana  ours ; 
For  we  no  longer  are  defensible. 

K.  Hen.  Open  your  gates. — Come,  uncle  Elxeter, 
Go  you  and  enter  Haileur ;  there  remain, 
Ana  fortify  it  strongly  'gainst  the  French : 
Use  mercy  to  them  all.    For  us,  dear  uncle,— 
The  winter  coming  on,  and  sickness  growing 
Upon  our  soldiers, — we'll  retire  to  Calais. 
1  o-night  in  Harfleur  will  we  be  your  guest ; 
To-morrow  for  the  march  are  we  add  rest.* 

[Flourish.    The  King,  ifc.  enter  the  town, 

SCEJ^TE  IV. — Rouen.    A  roam,  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Katharine  and  Alice. 

Kath.  Alice,  iu  as  esti  en  Angleterre,  et  lu  par- 
Us  bien  le  language. 

Alice.  Un  peu,  madame. 

Kath.  Je  te  prie,  m^enseignex  ;  ilfaut  quefap- 
prenne  a  parltr.  Comment  appeUez  vous  la  mom, 
en  Anglois  ? 

Alice.  La  main  ?  die  est  appelUe,  de  hand. 

Kaih.  De  hand.  Et  les  doigts? 

Alice.  Les  doi^ts  ?  mafoy^je  oublie  les  doigts , 
mats  je  me  sauviendray.  Les  doigts  ?  je  pense, 
gu'ils  sont  appelU  de  fingres ;  owy,  de  fingres. 

Kath.  La  main,  de  hand  ;  les  doigts,  de  fingres. 
Je  pense,  queje  suis  le  ben  escolier.  J^ay  gagni 
deux  mots  d* Anglois  vistemeni.  Comment  appeUez 
vous  les  ongles  ? 

Alice.  Les  ongles?  Us  appeUons,  de  nails. 

Kath.  De  nails.  Escoutez;  dites  may,  si  J€ 
parle  bien;  de  hand,  de  fingres,  de  nails. 

Alice.  CPest  bien  dii,  madame,'  U  est  fort  bom 
Anglois. 

(4)  Without  success.    (5)  Prepared. 


45a 


KING  HENRY  V. 


Act  III 


too,  kneclini;  at  oor  feet,  but  a  weak  and  wortfa- 
le&i  satisfaction.  To  (his  add— <lefiance :  and  tell 
htm,  for  conclusion,  he  bath  betrayed  his  follovirers, 
whose  condemnation  is  pronounced.  So  fu  my 
king  and  master ;  so  much  my  cilice. 

K.  Hen.  What  is  thy  name  ?  I  know  thy  quality. 

Mont.  Montjoy. 

K.  Hen.  Thou  doet  thy  office  fairly.  Turn  thee 
back, 
And  tell  thy  kins, — I  do  not  seek  him  now ; 
But  could  he  willing  to  march  on  to  Calais, 
Without  impeachment  :>  for,  to  ray  the  sooth 

g Though  *tis  no  wisdom  to  confess  so  much 
nto  an  enemy  of  craft  and  vantage,) 
My  people  are  with  sickness  much  enfeebled ; 
My  numbers  lessened ;  and  those  few  I  have. 
Almost  no  better  than  so  many  French ; 
Who  when  they  were  in  health,  I  tell  thee,  herald, 
I  thought,  upon  one  pair  of  English  lep 
Did  march  three  Frenchmen.— Vet,  foigive  me,  God, 
That  I  do  brag  thus ! — this  your  air  of  France 
Hath  blown  that  vice  in  me ;  I  must  repent 
Go,  therefore,  tell  thy  master,  here  I  am ; 
My  ransom,  is  this  frail  and  worthless  tnmk ; 
My  army,  but  a  weak  and  sickly  guard ; 
Yet,  God  before,^  tell  him  we  will  come  on, 
Though  France  himself,  and  such  another  neigh- 
hour. 
Stand  in  our  way.  Thet>e*s  for  thr  labour,  Montjoy. 
Go,  bid  thy  master  well  advise  himself: 
If  we  may  pass,  we  will ;  if  we  be  hindered. 
We  shall  your  tawny  ground  with  your  red  blood 
Discolour :  and  so,  Montjoy,  fare  you  well. 
The  sum  of  all  our  answer  is  but  this : 
We  would  not  seek  a  battle,  as  we  are ; 
Nor,  as  we  are,  we  say,  we  will  not  shun  it ; 
So  tell  your  master. 

Mont.  I  shall  deliver  io.  Thanks  to  your  big- 
ness. [Exit  Montjoy. 

Qlo.  I  hope  they  will  not  come  uuon  us  now. 

K.  Hen.  We  are  in  God^s  band,  brother,  not  in 
theirs. 
March  to  the  bridge ;  it  now  draws  toward  night: — 
Beyond  the  river  we'll  encamp  ourselves ; 
And  on  to-morrow  bid  them  march  away.     [Exe. 

SCEJSTE  VIl.—The  French  camp,  near  Agin- 
court.  Enter  the  Constable  aT  France,  the 
Lord  Rambures,  the  Duke  q/*  Orleans,  Dauphin, 
and  others. 

Con.  Tut !  I  have  the  best  armour  of  ths  world. 

'Would,  it  were  day ! 

Ori  You  have  an  excellent  armour ;  but  let  my 
horse  have  his  due. 

Con.  It  is  the  best  horse  of  Europe. 

Orl.  Will  it  never  be  morning  ? 

Dau.  My  lord  of  Orleans,  and  my  lord  high 
constable,  you  talk  of  horse  and  armour, — 

OrL  You  are  as  well  provided  of  both,  as  any 
prince  in  the  world. 

Dau.  What  a  long  night  is  this !- — I  will  not 
change  my  horse  wim  any  that  treads  but  on  four 
pasterns.  Cx,  ha  !  He  bounds  from  the  earth,  as 
if  his  entrails  were  hairs ;'  le  chhjal  volant,  the 
Pegasus,  qui  a  les  narines  dejeu!  When  I  betitride 
him,  I  soar,  I  am  a  hawk :  he  trots  the  air ;  the 
earth  sings  when  he  touches  it ;  the  basest  horn  of 
his  hoof  is  more  musical  than  the  pipie  of  Hermes. 

Orl.  He's  of  the  colour  of  the  nutmeg. 

Dau.  And  of  the  heat  of  the  ginger.  It  is  a 
beast  for  Perseus :  he  is  pure  air  and  fire ;  and  the 

C\)  Hinderance. 

(2)  Then  used  for  God  being  my  guide. 


dull  elements  of  earth  and  wafer  never  appear  m 
him,  but  only  in  patient  stillness,  while  his  rider 
mounts  him :  he  is,  indeed,  a  horse ;  and  all  other 
jadefi  you  may  call — beasts. 

Con,  Indeed,  my  lord,  it  is  a  most  absolate  and 
excellent  horse. 

Dau.  It  is  the  prince  of  palfreys;  his  neigh  is 
like  the  bidding  oramooarcb,  and  his  countenance 
enforces  l}oroag«. 

Orl.  No  more,  coiKin. 

Dau.  Nay,  the  man  hath  no  wit,  that  cannot, 
from  the  rising  of  the  lark  to  the  lodging  oi  the 
lamb,  vai^-  deserved  praise  on  my  palfrey  :  it  is  a 
theme  as  fluent  as  the  sea ;  turn  the  sands  into  ek>> 
quent  tongues,  and  my  horse  is  argument  for  them 
all :  'tis  a  subject  for  a  sovereign  to  reason  on,  and 
for  a  sovereign's  sovereign  to  ride  on ;  and  for 
the  world  (familiar  to  us,  and  unknown,)  to  lay 
apart  their  particular  functions,  and  wonder  at  him. 
I  once  writ  a  sonnet  in  his  praise,  and  b^^  thus : 
Wonder  of  nature, — 

OrL  I  have  heard  a  sonnet  begin  so  to  one's 
mistress. 

Dau.  Then  did  they  imitate  that  which  I  com- 
posed to  my  courser ;  for  my  horse  is  my  mistress. 

Orl.  Your  mistress  bears  well. 

Dau.  Me  well;  which  is  the  prescript  praise 
and  perfection  of  a  good  and  particular  mistress. 

Con.  Ma  Joy  !  the  other  day,  methought,  your 
mistress  shrewdly  shook  your  Iraick. 

Dau.  So,  perhaps,  did  yours. 

Con.  Mine  was  not  briclled. 

Dau.  O !  then,  belike,  she  was  old  and  rentle ; 
and  you  rode,  like  a  kernel  of  Ireland,  your*French 
hose  off,  and  in  your  strait  txossers.^ 

Con.  You  have  eood  judgment  in  horsemanship. 

Dau.  Be  warned  by  me  then :  they  that  ride  w, 
and  ride  not  warily,  fall  into  foul  bc^;  I  had 
rather  have  my  horse  to  my  mistress. 

Con.  I  had  as  lief  have  my  mistress  a  jade. 

Dau.  I  tell  thee,  constable,  my  mistress  wean 
her  own  hair. 

Con.  I  could  make  as  true  a  boast  as  that,  if  I 
had  a  sow  to  my  mistress. 

Dau.  Le  chien  est  retoumi  a  sonpropre  vomisst' 
mint,  et  la  truie  lav4e  au  bourbier :  thou  makest 
use  of  any  thing. 

Con.  Vet  do  I  not  use  my  horse  for  my  mistress; 
or  any  such  proverb,  so  little  kin  to  the  purpose. 

Ram.  My  lord  constable,  the  armour,  that  I 
saw  in  your  tent  to-night,  are  those  stars,  or  suns, 
upon  it .' 

Con.  Stars,  my  lord. 

Dau.  Some  of  them  will  fall  to-morrow,  I  hope. 

Con.  And  yet  my  sky  shall  not  want. 

Dau.  That  may  be,  for  you  bear  a  many  supe^ 
fluously ;  and  'twere  more  honour,  some  were  away. 

Con.  Even  a»  your  horse  bears  your  praise; 
who  would  trot  as  well,  were  some  of  your  bragi 
dismounted. 

Dau.  'Would  I  were  able  to  load  him  with  his 
desert !  Will  it  never  be  day  ?  I  will  trot  to-roo^ 
row  a  mile,  and  my  way  shall  be  paved  with  En- 
glish faces. 

Con.  I  will  not  say  so,  for  fear  I  should  be 
faced  out  o(  my  way :  But  I  would  it  were  morn- 
ing, for  I  would  fain  be  about  the  ears  of  the 
English. 

Kam.  Who  will  go  to  hazard  with  roe  for  twenty 
English  prisoners  ? 

(3)  Alluding  to  the  bounding  of  tennis-btlls. 
which  were  stuffed  with  hair. 

(4)  Soldier.  (5)  Trowsera. 


Seoul, 


KING  HENRY  Y. 


460 


Cbn.  Yoa  mutt  tnH  go  yoanelf  to  huard,  ere 
jou  have  them. 

Don.  Tifl  midnight,  1*11  go  arm  myweU.  [Exit 

OrL  The  dauphin  longs  for  morning. 

JRam.  He  longs  to  eat  the  English. 

Con.   I  think,  he  will  eat  all  he  kills. 

OrL*  By  the  white  han4  of  my  lady,  he*8  a  gal- 
lant prince. 

Con.  Swear  by  her  foot,  that  she  may  tread  oat 
the  oath. 

OrL  He  is,  simply,  the  roost  active  gentleman 
of  France. 

Con.  Doing  is  activity  :  and  he  will  still  be  doing. 

OrL  He  never  did  harm,  that  I  heard  of. 

Con.  Nor  will  do  none  to-morrow ;  he  will  keep 
that  good  name  still. 

OrL  1  know  him  to  be  valiant 

Con.  I  was  told  that,  by  one  that  knows  him 
better  than  you. 

OrL  What's  he? 

Con.  Marry,  he  (old  me  so  himself;  and  he  said, 
he  cared  not  who  knew  it 

OrL  He  needs  not,  it  is  no  hidden  virtue  in  him. 

Con.  By  my  &ith,  sir,  but  it  is ;  never  any  bodv 
saw  it,  but  his  lackey :  *tis  a  hooded  valour;  and, 
when  it  appears,  it  will  bate.^ 

OrL  111  will  never  said  well. 

Con.  I  will  cap  Oiat  proverb  with — There  is 
flattery  m  friendship. 

OrL  And  I  will  take  up  that  with — Give  the 
devil  his  due. 

Con.  Well  placed;  there  stands  roar  friend  for 
the  devil :  have  at  the  very  eye  of  that  proverb, 
with — A  pox  of  the  devit 

OrL  You  are  the  better  at  proverbs,  by  how 
much — A  fooPs  bolt  is  soon  shot 

Con.  You  have  shot  over. 

OrL  *Tis  not  the  first  time  yoo  were  overshot. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord  hieh  constable,  the  English  lie 
within  fifteen  hundred  paces  of  your  tent. 

Con.  Who  hath  measured  the  gpround  f 

Jfess.  The  lord  Grandpre. 

Con.  A  valiant  and  most  expert  gentleman. — 
Would  it  were  day ! — Alas,  poor  Harry  of  England! 
— he  lonf^  not  for  the  dawning,  as  we  da 

OrL  VVhat  a  wretched  and  peevish^  iellow  is 
this  king  of  England,  to  mope  with  his  fat-brained 
followers  so  far  out  of  his  knowledge  ! 

Con.  If  the  English  had  any  apprehension,  they 
would  run  away. 

OrL  That  they  lack ;  for  if  their  heads  had  any 
intellectual  armour,  they  could  never  wear  s\ich 
heavy  head-pieces. 

Ram.  That  island  of  England  breeds  very  valiant 
creatures;  their  mastiffs  are  of  unmatchable  courage. 

OrL  Foolish  curs!  that  run  winkine  into  the 
mouth  of  a  Russian  bear,  and  have  their  heads 
crushed  like  rotten  apples :  You  may  as  well  say, — 
that*9  a  valiant  flea,  that  dare  eat  his  breakfast  on 
the  lip  of  a  lion. 

Con.  Just,  iust ;  and  the  men  do  sympathize  with 
the  mastifls,  in  robustious  and  rough  coming  on, 
leaving  their  wits  with  their  wives :  and  then  ^ve 
them  great  meals  of  beef,  and  iron,  and  steel,  they 
will  eat  like  wolves,  and  fight  like  devils. 

OrL  Ay,  but  these  English  are  shrewdly  out  of 
bfief 

Con.  Then  we  shall  find  to-morrow — they  have 

(1)  An  equivoque  in  terms  in  falconry:  he  means, 
nis  valour  is  hid  from  every  body  but  his  lackey, 
and  when  it  appears  il  will  fall  off.  H 


only  stomachs  to  eat,  and  oooe  to  fight    Now  is  it 
time  to  arm  :  Come,  shall  we  about  it? 
OrL  It  is  now  two  o*clock :  but,  let  me  tee^ — by 
ten, 
We  shall  have  each  a  hundred  Elnglishmeo.  [£m. 


ACT  IV. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Oior.  Now  entertain  conjecture  of  a  time, 
When  creeping  murmur,  and  the  poring  dark, 
Fills  the  wide  vessel  of  the  universe. 
From  camp  tocamp,  through  the  foul  womb  of  night, 
The  hum  of  either  army  stilly'  sounds, 
That  the  fix'd  sentinels  almost  receive 
The  secret  whispers  of  each  other's  watch : 
Fire  answers  fire ;  and  through  their  paly  flames 
Each  battle  sees  the  other's  umber'd^  face  : 
Steed  threatens  steed,  in  high  and  boastful  neighs 
Piercing  the  night's  dull  ear ;  and  from  the  tents. 
The  annourers,  accomplishing  the  knights, 
With  busy  hanimers  closing  nvets  up, 
Give  dreadful  note  of  preparation. 
The  country  cocks  do  crow,  the  clocks  do  toll. 
And  the  third  hour  of  drowsy  morning  name. 
Proud  of  their  numbers,  and  secure  in  soul. 
The  confident  and  over-lustv^  French 
Do  the  low-rated  E^iglish  play  at  dice ; 
And  chide  the  cripple  taray-gaited  night. 
Who,  like  a  foul  and  ugly  witch,  doth  limp 
So  tediouslv  away.    The  poor  condemned  English, 
Like  sacrifices,  bv  their  watchful  fires 
Sit  patiently,  ana  inly  ruminate 
The  morning's  danger ;  and  their  gesture  sad, 
investing  lank-lean  cheeks,  and  war-worn  coats, 
Pf  esenteth  them  unto  the  jpzing  moon 
So  many  horrid  ghosts.     O,  now,  who  will  behold 
The  royal  captain  of  this  ruin'd  band. 
Walking  from  watch  to  watch,  from  tent  to  tent. 
Let  him  cry — Praise  and  p^lorv  on  his  head  ! 
For  forth  he  goes,  and  visits  all  his  host ; 
Bids  them  g(X)d-morrow,  with  a  modest  smile ; 
A  nd  cal  Is  them — brothers,  friends,  and  countrymen. 
Upon  his  royal  face  there  is  no  note. 
How  dread  an  army  hath  enrounded  him ; 
iNor  doth  he  dedicate  one  jot  of  colour 
Unto  the  weary  and  all-watched  night : 
But  freshly  looks,  and  overbears  attaint. 
With  cheerful  semblance,  and  sweet  majesty ; 
That  every  wretch,  pining  and  pale  before. 
Beholding  him,  plucks  comfort  from  his  looks : 
A  larcess  universal,  like  the  sun, 
His  liberal  eye  doth  give  to  every  one, 
Thawing  cold  fear.     Then,  mean  and  gentle  all, 
Behold,  as  may  unworthiness  define, 
A  little  touch  of  Harry  in  the  night : 
And  so  our  scene  must  to  the  battle  fly ; 
Where  (O  for  pity  !)  we  shall  much  disgrace— 
With  four  or  m'e  most  vile  and  ragged  foils, 
Right  ill-dispos'd,  in  brawl  ridiculous, — 
T^  name  of  Agincourt :  Yet,  sit  and  see ; 
Minding^  true  things,  by  what  their  mockeries  be. 

[EMt. 

SCEJ^TE  I.— The  English  camp  at  Agincourt 
Enter  King  Henry,  Bedford,  and  Gloster. 

K.  Hen.  Gloster,  'tis  true,  that  we  are  in  great 
danger; 

(2)  Foolish.        (3)  Gently,  lowly. 

(4)  Discoloured  by  the  gleam  of  the  fires. 

(5)  Over-saucy.      (6)  Calling  to  remembranoa 


460 


KING  HENRT  V. 


Ad  IT, 


The  mater  therefera  ilKmld  oor  coomb  be.— • 
Good-morrow,  brother  Bedford. — God  Ahnvhtj ! 
There  is  some  tool  of  goodneti  in  things  evu, 
Would  men  observinglj  distil  it  out ; 
For  our  bed  neigfabocur  makes  us  earlj  stirrers, 
Which  is  both  healthful,  and  »)od  husbandly : 
Besides,  they  are  our  outward  consciences, 
And  preachers  to  us  all ;  admonishing. 
That  we  should  dress  us  fairly  for  our  end. 
Thus  may  we  gather  hooey  from  the  weed. 
And  make  a  moral  of  die  deril  himself. 

Enter  Erpingham. 

Good-morrow,  old  sir  Thomas  Erpingham : 
A  good  soft  pillow  for  that  cood  white  head 
Were  better  than  a  churlish  turf  of  France. 

Erp.  Not  so,  my  liege;  this  lodging  likes  me 
better, 
Since  I  may  say — now  lie  I  like  a  king. 

K.  Hen.  *Tis  good  for  men  to  fove  ueir  present 
pains. 
Upon  example ;  so  the  spirit  is  eased : 
And,  when  the  mind  is  quickened,  out  of  doubt. 
The  organs,  though  defunct  and  dead  before, 
Break  up  their  drowsy  grave,  and  newly  tnove 
With  casted  slouehl  and  fresh  legerity.3 
Lend  me  thy  clouc,  sir  Thomas. — Brothers  both, 
Commend  me  to  the  princes  in  our  camp ; 
Do  my  eood-morrow  to  them ;  and,  anon, 
Desire  mem  all  to  my  pavilion. 

Glo.  We  shall,  my  n^e.    [Exe.  Gkx  and  Bed. 

Erp.  Shall  I  attend  your  grace  f 

K.  Hen.  rfo, mygood knight ; 

Go  with  my  brothers  to  my  lords  of  En^and : 
X  and  my  bosom  must  debate  a  while. 
And  then  I  would  no  other  company. 

Erp.  The  Lord  in  heaven  bless  thee,  noble  Harry  * 

[Exit  Erpingham. 

K.  Hen.  God-a-roercy,  old  hrart!  thouspeakest 
cheerfully. 

JEnfer  Pistol. 

Pist.  Quivald? 

K.  Hen.  A  friend. 

Pist.  Discuss  unto  me ;  Art  thou  officer ; 
Or  art  thou  base,  common,  and  popular  ? 

K.  Hen.  I  am  a  gentleman  ot  a  company. 

Pist.  Traiiest  thou  the  puissant  pike  t 

K.  Hen.  Even  so :  What  are  you .' 

Pist.  As  good  a  gentleman  as  the  emperor. 

K.  Hen.  Then  you  are  better  than  the  king. 

Pist.  The  king^s  a  bawcock,  and  a  heart  of  gold, 
A  lad  of  life,  an  inip*  of  fame ; 
Of  parents  good,  ot  fist  most  valiant : 
I  kiss  his  dirty  yhoe,  and  from  my  heart-strings 
I  love  the  lovely  bully.     What*s  thy  name  ? 

K.  Hen.  Harry  U  Roy. 

PisL  Le  Roy!   a  Cornish  name:  art  thou  of 
Coniish  crew  } 

K.  Hen.  No,  I  am  a  Welshman. 

Pist.  Knowest  thou  Fluellen  ? 

K.  Hen.  Yes. 

Pist.  Tell  him,  IMl  knock  his  leek  about  his  pete, 
Upon  Saint  Davy's  day. 

K.  Hen.  Do  not  you  wear  your  dagger  in  your 
cap  that  day,  le&t  he  knock  thaat  about  yours. 

Pist.  Art  thou  his  friend  .? 

K.  Hen.  And  his  kinsman  too. 

Pist.  Thejigo  for  thee  then  ! 

K.  Hen.  I  thank  you  :  God  be  with  you  ! 

Pist.  My  name  is  Pistol  called.  [Exit. 

(1)  Slough  is  the  skin  which  serpents  annually 
fluvwofil 


K,  Hm,  It  Wfti  welH  wHk  yovr  fierceneia. 
Einier  Fluellen  and  Gower,  aeoeredi^, 

Qnw.  Captain  Fluellen ! 

Flu.  So !  in  the  name  of  Chedin  Christ,  ^wak 
lower.  It  is  the  greatest  admiratioo  in  the  nniver- 
sal  *orld,  when  ttM  true  and  auncient  prerogatifet 
and  laws  of  the  wars  is  not  kept :  if  you  wonki  take 
the  pains  but  to  examine  the  wars  of  POmp^  the 
Great,  you  shall  find,  I  warrant  you,  that  there  is 
no  tidale  taddle,  or  pibble  pabble,  in  Pompey't 
camp;  I  warrant  you,  you  shall  find  the  ceremonies 
of  the  wars,  and  the  cares  of  it,  and  the  forms  of 
it,  and  the  sobriety  of  it,  and  the  modesty  of  it,  to 
be  otherwise. 

Goto.  Why,  the  enemy  is  load ;  yoa  heard  him 
all  night. 

FhL  U  the  enemy  is  an  ass  and  a  fool,  and  a 
pratine  coxcomb,  is  it  meet,  think  you,  that  we 
shouldalso,  look  you,  be  an  ass,  and  a  fool,  and  a' 
prating  coxcomb ;  in  vour  own  conscience  now  ? 

Crino.  I  will  spieak  lower. 

Ftu.  I  pray  you,  and  beseech  yoa,  that  you  will 
[E^xeunt  Gower  and  Fluellen. 

K.  Hen.  Though  it  appear  a  little  out  of  foshion, 
There  is  much  care  ana  valour  in  this  Welshman. 

Enter  Bates,  Court,  and  Williams. 

Court.  Brother  Jdm  Bates,  is  not  that  the  mora* 
ing  which  breaks  yonder  ? 

Bates.  I  think  it  be :  but  we  have  no  great  cause 
to  desire  the  approach  of  day. 

WiU.  We  see  yonder  the  beginning  of  the  day, 
but,  I  think,  we  shall  nevw  see  the  end  of  it— 
Who  goes  there  ? 

K.  Hen.  A  friend. 

Will.  Under  what  captain  serve  you  } 

K.  Hen.  Under  sir  Tnomas  Erpingham. 

WiU.  A  eood  old  commander,  and  a  most  kind 
gentleman :  I  pray  you,  what  thinks  he  of  our  estate' 

K.  Hen.  Even  as  men  wrecked  upon  a  sand,  that 
look  to  be  washed  off  the  next  tide. 

Bates.  He  hath  not  told  his  thought  to  the 
kin^ .' 

K.  Hen.  No ;  nor  it  is  not  meet  he  should.  For, 
thou^  I  speak  it  to  you,  I  think  the  king  is  but  s 
man,  as  I  am  :  the  violet  smells  to  him,  as  it  doth 
to  me  ;  the  element  shows  to  him,  as  it  doth  to  me ; 
all  his  senses  have  but  human  coaditioos  :^  his  cere* 
monies  laid  by,  in  his  nakedness  he  appears  but  s 
man ;  and  though  his  affections  are  higher  mounted 
than  ours,  yet,  when  they  stoop,  they  stoop  with 
the  like  wing ;  therefore,  when  he  sees  reason  of 
fears,  as  we  do,  his  fears,  out  of  doubt,  be  of  the 
same  relish  as  ours  are :  Yet,  in  reason,  no  man 
should  possess  him  with  any  appearance  of  fear,  lest 
he,  by  showing  it,  should  disnearten  his  army. 

Bates.  He  may  show  what  outward  couraq^  be 
will :  but,  I  believe,  as  cold  a  night  as  'tis,  he  could 
wish  himself  in  the  Thames  up  to  the  neck  ;  and  so 
I  would  he  were,  and  I  by  him,  at  all  adventures, 
so  we  were  quit  here. 

K.  Hen.  Bv  my  troth,  I  will  speak  my  conscience 
of  tlic  king ;  I  think,  he  would  not  wish  himself  any 
where  but  where  he  is. 

Bates.  Then  'would  he  were  here  alone;  so 
ishould  he  be  sure  to  be  ransomed,  and  a  many  poor 
men's  lives  saved. 

K.  Hen.  I  dare  say,  you  love  him  not  so  ill,  to 
wi^  him  here  alone  ;  howsoever  you  speak  this,  to 
feel  other  men's  minds :  Methinks,  I  could  not  die 


(2)  Lightness,  nimbleness. 

(3)  Son.        (4)  Agrees. 


(5)  Qualities. 


KING  HENRT  Y. 


461 


■ay  wliere  io  contented,  as  in  the  kins;'*  oompan j ; 
his  caaae  being  jiut,  and  his  quarrel  honourable. 

WilL  That's  more  than  we  know. 

Bates.  Ajy  or  more  than  we  should  seek  aAer  ; 
for  we  know  enough,  if  w^  know  we  are  the  king's 
•objects ;  if  his  cause  be  wrong,  our  obedience  to 
the  king  wipes  the  crime  of  it  out  of  us. 

Will.  But,  if  the  cause  be  not  good,  the  kine 
himself  hath  a  heavj  reckoning  to  make ;  when  all 
those  legs,  and  arms,  and  heads,  chopped  off  in  a 
battle,  aball  join  tc^ether  at  the  latter  day,*  and 
cry  all — Wealed  at  such  a  place ;  some,  swearing ; 
tome,  crying  for  a  suigeon ;  some,  upon  their  wives 
left  poor  behind  them ;  some,  upon  the  debts  they 
owe ;  some,  upon  their  children  rawM  left.  I  am 
afeard  there  are  few  die  well,  that  die  in  battle  ; 
for  how  can  they  charitably  dispose  of  any  thing, 
when  blood  is  (heir  argument  ?  Now,  if  these  men 
do  not  die  well,  it  will  be  a  black  matter  for  the 
kin^  that  led  them  to  it ;  whom  to  disobey,  were 
against  all  proportion  of  subjection. 

K.  Hen.  So,  if  a  son,  that  is  by  his  father  sent 
about  merchandise,  do  sinfully  'niscarry  upon  the 
■ea,  the  imputation  of  his  wickedness,  by  your  rule, 
should  be  imposed  upon  his  father  that  sent  him :  or 
if  a  servant,  under  his  master's  command,  transport- 
ing a  sum  of  money,  be  assailed  by  robbers,  and  die 
in  many  irreconciied  iniquities,  you  may  call  the 
business  of  the  master  the  author  of  the  servant's 
danuiation: — But  this  is  not  so:  the  king  is  not 
bound  to  answer  the  particular  endings  of  his  sol- 
diers, the  father  of  his  son,  nor  the  master  of  his 
servant;  for  they  purpose  not  their  death,  when 
they  purpose  their  services.     Besides,  there  is  no 
king,  be  his  cause  never  so  spotless,  if  it  come  to 
the  arbitrement  of  iswords,  can  try  it  out  with  all 
unspotted  soldiers.     Some,  peradventure,  have  on 
them  the  guilt  of  premeditated  and  contrived  mur- 
der ;  some,  of  beguiling  virgins  with  the  broken 
seals  of  perjury  ;  some,  making  the  wars  their  bul- 
wark, that  nave  before  gored  the  gentle  bosom  of 
peace  with  pillage  and  robbery.  Now,  if  these  men 
have  defeated  the  law,  and  out-run  native  punish- 
ment,' though  they  can  outstrip  men,  they  have  no 
wings  to  fly  from  God  :  war  is  his  beadle,  war  is 
bis  vengeance ;  so  that  here  men  are  punished,  for 
before-breacb  of  the  king's  laws,  in  now  the  king's 
quarrel  :  where  they  feared  the  death,  they  have 
borne  life  away ;  and  where  they  would  be  safe, 
they  perish  :  Then  if  they  die  unprovided,  no  more 
is  the  king  guilty  of  their  damnation,  than  he  was 
before  guilty  of  those  impieties  for  the  which  they 
are  now  visited.  Every  subject's  duty  is  the  king's ; 
but  every  subject's  soul  is  his  own.     Therefore 
should  every  soldier  in  the  wars  do  as  eveiy  sick 
man  in  his  bed,  wash  every  mote  out  of  his  con- 
science :  and  dying  so,  death  is  to  him  advantage  ; 
or  not  dying,  the  time  was  blessedly  lost,  wherein 
such   preparation  was  gained :  and,  in   him  that 
escapes,  it  were  not  sin  to  think,  that  making  God 
so  free  an  oflfer,  he  let  him  outlive  that  day  to  see 
his  greatness,  and  to  teach  others  how  they  should 
prepare. 

Will.  'Tis  certain,  every  man  that  dies  ill,  the 
ill  is  upon  his  own  head,  the  king  is  not  to  answer 
for  it. 

Bates.  I  do  not  desire  he  should  answer  for  me ; 
•nd  yet  I  determine  to  fight  lustily  for  him. 

(1)  The  last  day,  the  day  of  judgment 

(2)  Suddenly. 

(3)  t.  e.  Punishment  in  their  native  country. 

(4)  To  pay  here  signifies  to  bring  to  account, 
to  punish. 

31 


K.  Hen,  I  myself  beud  the  king  say,  he  would 
not  be  ransomed. 

fVilL  Ay,  he  said  so,  to  make  us  fight  cheerfully 
but,  when  our  throats  are  cut,  he  may  be  ransomed, 
and  we  ne'er  the  wiser. 

K.  Hen.  If  I  live  to  see  it,  I  will  never  trust  his 
word  after. 

Will.  'Mass,  you'll  pay4  him  then!  That's  a  peril- 
ous shot  out  of  an  elder  gun,  that  a  poor  and  pri- 
vate displeasure  can  do  against  a  monarch !  you  may 
as  well  |o  about  to  turn  the  son  to  ice,  with  fan- 
ning in  his  face  with  a  peacock's  feather.  You'll  ne- 
ver trust  his  word  after !  come,  'tis  a  foolish  saying ! 

K.  Hen.  Your  reproof  is  something  too  round  ;* 
I  should  be  angry  with  yoo,  if  the  time  were  con- 
venient. 

WilL  Let  it  be  a  quarrel  between  us,  if  you  live. 

K.  Hen.  I  embrace  it 

Will.  How  shall  I  know  thee  again  f 

K.  Hen.  Give  me  any  gage  of  thine,  and  I  will 
wear  it  in  my  bonnet :  then,  if  ever  thou  darest 
acknowledge  it,  I  will  make  it  my  quarrel. 

Will.  Here's  my  glove ;  give  me  another  of  thine. 

K.  Hen.  There. 

Will.  This  will  I  also  wear  in  my  cap :  \(  ever 
thcNi  come  to  me  and  say,  after  to-morrow.  This  is 
my  glove^  by  this  hand,  I  will  take  thee  a  box  on 
the  ear. 

K.  Hen.  If  ever  I  live  to  see  it,  I  will  challenge  it 

WilL  Thcu  darest  as  well  be  hanged. 

K.  Hen.  Well,  I  will  do  it,  though  I  take  thee 
in  the  king's  company. 

WilL  Keep  thy  word :  Aire  thee  well. 

Boies.  Be  friends,  you  English  fools,  be  friendt; 
we  have  French  quarrels  enough,  if  you  could  tell 
how  to  reckon. 

K.  Hen.    Indeed,  the  French  may  lay  twenty 
French  crowns  to  one,  they  will  beat  us ;  for  they 
bear  them  on  their  shoulders :  But  it  is  no  EngiiJi 
treason,  to  cut  French  crowns ;  and,  to-morrow 
the  king  himself  will  be  a  clipper.  [Exe.  Soldiers. 
Upon  the  king !  let  us  our  lives,  our  souls. 
Our  debts,  our  careful  wives,  our  children,  and 
Our  sins,  lay  on  the  king ; — we  must  bear  all. 
O  hard  condition  !  twin-bom  with  greatness. 
Subjected  to  the  breath  of  every  fool. 
Whose  sense  no  more  can  feel  but  his  own  wringing  -. 
What  infinite  heart's  ease  must  kings  neglect. 
That  private  men  enjoy  ? 
And  what  have  kings,  that  privates  hare  not  too. 
Save  ceremony,  save  general  ceremony  .' 
And  what  art  thou,  thou  idol  ceremony  f 
What  kind  of  god  art  thou,  that  sufTer'st  more 
Of  mortal  griefs,  than  do  thy  worshippers  ? 
What  are  thy  rents  ?  what  are  thy  comings-ip 
O  ceremony,  show  me  but  thy  worth ! 
What  is  the  soul  of  adoration  .^ 
Art  thou  aught  else  but  place,  degree,  and  form 
Creating  awe  and  fear  in  other  men  ^ 
Wherein  thou  art  less  happy  l>eing  fear'd 
Than  they  in  fearing. 

What  drink'st  thou  oft,  instead  of  nomage  sweet. 
But  poison'd  flattery  ?  O,  be  sick,  great  greauie^ 
And  bid  thy  ceremony  give  thee  cure ! 
Think'st  thou,  the  fiery  fever  will  go  out 
With  titles  blown  from  adulation  ? 
Will  it  give  place  to  flexure  and  low  bending.' 
Canst  thou,  when  thou  command'st  the  beggar's 

knee. 
Command  the  health  of  it  f  No,  thou  proud  dream. 

(5)  Too  rough. 

(6)  *What  is  the  real  worth  and  intrinsic  valoa 
of  adoration?* 


4ef 


Kmo  HENSr  T. 


libit  pbnr'iC  10  wbdT  wHh  a  kkc^  mpqw ; 
I  Mi  a  Ung,  that  find  tlMe;  and  I  knofr, 
Tii  Mt  Ifae  bairn,  the  sceptre,  and  the  ball, 
Tha  aarord,  Iha  mace,  the  crovrn  imperial, 
Thafailirtiwued  robe  of  cold  and  pearl, 
Tha  iocadi  title  running  ^Ibre  the  king, 
Tha  dupona  he  lits  on,  nor  the  tide  of  pomp 
That  baali  upon  the  high  ahore  of  this  worid, 
HOf  Bot  all  meae,  thrice-gor|[eoat  ceremoojr, 
Not  all  tfaaie,  laid  in  bed  majettScal, 


Caa  rfaajp  to  wandlv  as  the  wretched  slave ; 
Who,  with  a  body  olPd,  and  vacant  mind, 
Oali  faim  to  rest,  crmmm*d  with  distressful  bread ; 
Navar  saaa  horrid  night,  the  child  of  bell ; 
Bat,  hkaa  lackejr,  from  the  rise  to  set, 
SwMli  ID  the  eye  of  Phoebus,  and  all  night 
Sla^  b  Eljsium ;  next  day,  afler  dawn. 
Doth  rise,  and  help  Hyperion^  to  his  horse ; 
And  fellows  so  the  ever-running  year, 
ninth  profitable  labour,  to  his  grave : 
And,  oat  fer  ceremonv,  such  a  wretch, 
WmoiBg  ap  days  with  toil,  and  nights  with  sleep. 
Had  tha  fore-hand  and  vantage  of  a  king. 
Tha  slave,  a  member  of  the  country's  peace, 
Eniqjt  it ;  but  in  ^ross  brain  little  wots. 
What  watch  the  kii^  keeps  to  maintain  the  peace, 
Wbon  hours  the  peasant  oest  advantages. 

£ni<r  Elrpingham. 

Eirp,  My  lord,  your  nobles,  jealous  of  your  ab* 
sence, 
Saek  Arough  your  camp  to  find  you. 

Jt  Hen,  Good  old  knight, 

CoUact  them  all  together  at  my  tent : 
rU  be  before  thee. 

Erp.  I  shall  do*t,  my  lord.     [Exit. 

ML  Hen.  O  God  of  battles !  steel  my  soldiers* 
hearts! 
Ponest  them  not  with  fear ;  take  from  them  now 
Tha  sense  of  reckoning,  if  the  opposed  numbers 
Pluck  their  hearts  from  them ! — ^Not  to-day,  O  Lord, 

0  not  to-day,  think  not  upon  the  fault 
My  folher  made  in  compassing  the  crown ! 

tl  Richard's  bodv  have  mterrM  new ; 
And  on  it  have  bestowed  more  contrite  tears. 
Than  from  it  issued  forced  drops  of  blood. 
Five  hundred  poor  I  have  in  yearly  pay. 
Who  twice  a  day  their  witherM  hands  hold  up 
Towards  heaven,  to  pardon  blood;  and  I  have  built 
Two  chantries,  where  the  sad  and  solemn  priests 
Sing  sUU  for  Richard's  soul.    More  will  I  do : 
Though  all  that  I  can  do,  is  nothing  worth ; 
Since  that  my  penitence  comes  after  all. 
Imploring  pardon. 

EnUr  Gloster. 

Glo.  My  liege ! 

K.  Hen.        Mr  brother  Gloster*s  voice  ? — ^Ay ; 

1  know  thy  errand,  I  will  go  with  thee  : —      • 
The  day,  my  friends,  and  all  things,  stay  for  me. 

[Exeunt 

SCEJfE  ll.—Tke  French  camp.    Enter  Dau- 
phin, Orleans,  Rambures,  tuid  ether*. 

Orl.  The  sun  doth  gild  our  armour;  up,  my  lordn. 
Dau.  Montex  d  cheval: — My  horse!   valet! 

lacquay!  ha ! 
OrL  O  brave  spirit ! 

(1)  Farced  is  stufied.  The  tumid  puffy  titles  with 
which  a  king's  name  is  introduced. 

(2)  Themn. 

(3)  An  old  encouraging  exclamation. 

(4)  Do  them  out,  extinguish  them. 


Dao.  Fia.'t— Jif  taws  if  b 
OrL  EknmtiM?  Pedrei 
Dan.  Cid!  ooosin  Orleansi- 

fMrr  QoDilabla. 

Now,  nrr  lord  constable ! 
Con,  Hark,  how  our  steeds  for  presaot  serrica 

neigh. 
Doti.  Mount  them,  and  make  incision  in  their 
hides; 
That  their  hot  blood  may  spin  in  English  eyes, 
And  dout*  them  with  superfluous  courage :  Ha! 
iZoai.  What,  will  you  have  them  weep  out 
horses*  blood  ? 
How  shall  we  then  behold  their  natural  tean  ? 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Me$a,  The  English  are  embattled,  you  French 

peers. 
Con,  To  horse,  you  gallant  princes!  straight  to 

horse! 
Do  but  behold  von  poor  and  starred  band. 
And  ^our  foir  snow  shall  suck  away  their  souls, 
Leavui|^  them  but  the  shales  and  husks  of  men. 
There  is  not  work  enough  for  all  our  hands ; 
Scarce  blood  enough  in  all  their  sickly  veins, 
To  give  each  nak^  curtle-axe  a  stain. 
That  our  French  gallants  shall  to-day  draw  out. 
And  sheath  for  Isuck  of  sport :  let  us  but  blow  on 

them, 
The  vapour  of  our  valour  will  o'ertum  them. 
'Tis  positive  'gainst  all  exceptions,  lords. 
That  our  superfluous  lackeys,  and  our  peasants,— 
Who,  in  unnecessary  action,  swaim 
About  our  sfjuares  of  battle, — ^were  enoi^ 
To  purge  this  field  of  such  a  htldii^  foe ; 
Though  we,  upon  this  mountain^  basb  by, 
Took  stand  for  idle  speculation : 
But  that  our  honours  must  not    What's  to  say  ? 
A  very  little  little  let  us  do. 
And  all  is  done.  Then  let  the  tmmpels  sound 
The  tucket-sonuance,<  and  the  note  to  mount : 
For  our  approach  shall  so  much  dare  the  field. 
That  England  shall  couch  down  in  fear,  and  yield. 

£nl«r  Grandpr^ 

GrondL  Why  do  you  stay  so  long,  my  fordi  of 
France? 
Yon  island  carrions,  desperate  of  their  bones, 
Ill-favour'dly  become  the  morning  field: 
Their  ragged  curtains^  V^J  ^<*  ^^  loose. 
And  our  air  shakes  them  passing  scornfully. 
Big  Mars  se^ns  bankrupt  in  their  beggar'd  host. 
And  faintly  through  a  rusty  beaver  peeps. 
Their  horsemen  set  like  fixed  candlesticks. 
With  torch-staves  in  their  hand :  and  their  poor  isdei 
[x)b  down  their  heads,  dropping  the  hides  and  hip ; 
The  ^um  down-roping  from  their  pale-dead  eyes; 
And  in  their  pale  aull  mouths  the  gimmaP  bit 
Lies  foul  with  chew'd  grass,  still  and  motionless; 
And  their  executors,  toe  knavish  crows. 
Fly  o'er  them  all,  impatient  for  their  hour. 
Description  cannot  suit  itself  in  wends. 
To  demonstrate  the  life  of  such  a  battle 
In  life  so  lifeless  as  it  shows  itselC 

Con.  They  have  said  their  prayers,  and  they  sliy 
for  death. 

Dau.  Shall  we  go  send  d>em  timers,  and  I 
suits. 


(5)  Mean,  despicable. 

(6)  The  name  of  an  introductory  flourish 
trumpet 

(7)  Colours.  (8)  Ring. 


cnlh 


a 


KING  HENRY  V. 


463 


*  And  give  their  fatting  hones  proirender, 
And  after  fight  vrith  them  ? 

Con,  I  stay  but  for  my  guard ;  On,  to  the  field : 
I  will  (he  banner  from  a  trumpet  take, 
And  use  it  for  my  haste.    Come,  come  away ! 
The  sun  is  high,  and  we  outwear  the  day.     [Exe 

SCEJSTE  Ul^The  English  camp.  Enter  the 
English  host{  Giotter,  Bedford,  E&eter,  Salis- 
bury, and  Westmoreland. 

Glo.  Where  is  the  kin|r.' 

Bed.  The  king  himself  it  rode  to  view  their  battle. 

West  Of  fighting  men  they  have  full  threescore 
thousand. 

Exe,  There*8  five  to  one ;  betides,  they  all  are 
fresh. 

SaL  God*s  arm  strike  with  us !  *tit  a  fearful  odds. 
God  be  wi*  you,  princes  all !  PU  to  my  charge : 
If  we  no  more  meet,  till  we  meet  in  heaven, 
Then,  joyfully, — my  noble  lord  of  Bedford, — 
My  dear  lord  Giotter, — and  my  good  lord  Exeter, — 
And  my  kind  kinsman, — warriors  all,  adieu ! 

Bed.  Farewell,  good  Salisbury ;  and  good  luck 
go  with  thee ! 

Exe.  Farewell,  kind  lord ;  fi^t  valiantly  to-day : 
And  vet  I  do  thee  wrone,  to  mind  thee  of  it. 
For  thou  art  framed  of  the  firm  truth  of  valour. 

[Exit  Salisbury. 

Bed.  He  is  at  full  of  valour,  at  of  kindnett : 
Princely  in  both. 

West.  O  that  we  now  had  here 

Enter  King  Henry. 

But  one  ten  thoutand  of  thote  men  in  England, 
T%at  do  no  work  to-day ! 

K.  Hen.  What*t  he,  that  wishet  to  f 

My  cousin  Westmoreland  ? — No,  my  fair  cousin : 
If  we  are  mark*d  to  die,  we  are  enough 
To  do  our  country  lots ;  and  if  to  live, 
The  fewer  men,  the  g^reater  share  of  honour. 
God's  will !  I  pray  tMe,  with  not  one  man  more. 
By  Jove,  I  am  not  covetout  for  gold ; 
Nor  care  I,  who  doth  feed  upon  my  cott; 
It  yeamsi  me  not,  if  men  my  garments  wear ; 
Such  outward  things  dwell  not  in  my  desires : 
But,  if  it  be  a  sin  to  covet  honour, 
I  am  the  most  offending  soul  alive. 
No,  *faith,  my  coz,  wish  not  a  man  from  England  : 
God's  peace !  I  would  not  lose  so  great  an  honour, 
As  one  man  nwre,  methinks,  would  share  from  me. 
For  the  best  hope  I  have.   O,  do  not  wish  one  more  : 
Rather  proclaim  it,  Westmoreland,  through  my  host, 
That  he,  which  hath  no  stomach  to  this  fight, 
Let  him  depart ;  hit  pattport  thall  be  made. 
And  crowns  for  convoy  put  into  his  purte : 
We  would  not  die  in  that  man's  company, 
That  fears  his  fellowship  to  die  with  us. 
This  day  is  call'd — the  feast  of  Crispian  : 
He,  that  outlives  this  day,  and  comes  safe  home. 
Will  stand  a  tip-toe  when  this  day  is  nam'd. 
And  rouse  him  at  the  name  of  Crispian. 
He,  that  shall  live  this  day,  and  see  old  age. 
Will  yearly  on  the  vi^l  featt  his  friends, 
And  say — to-morrow  it  Saint  Crispian  : 
Then  will  he  strip  his  sleeve,  and  show  his  scars. 
And  say,  these  wounds  I  had  on  Crispin's  day. 
Old  men  forget ;  yet  all  shall  be  forgot. 
But  he'll  remember,  with  advantages, 
What  feats  he  did  that  day  :  Then  shall  our  names. 
Familiar  in  their  mouths  at  household  words, — 

(1)  Grievet. 

(2)  t.  e.  This  day  thall  advance  him  to  the  rank 
of  a  gentleman. 


Harry  the  kine,  Bedford,  and  Exeter, 

Warwick  and  Talbot,  Salisbuiy  and  Gloster, — 

Be  in  their  flowing  cups  freshly  remember'd : 

This  story  shall  tlue  good  man  teach  his  son ; 

And  Crispin  Crispian  shall  ne'er  go  by. 

From  this  day  to  the  ending  of  tlw  world. 

But  we  in  it  shall  be  remembered  : 

We  few,  we  happy  few,  we  band  of  brothers ; 

For  he,  to-day  that  sheds  his  blood  with  me. 

Shall  be  my  brother ;  be  he  ne'er  so  vile. 

This  day  shall  gentle  his  condition  :> 

And  gentlemen  in  England,  now  a-bed. 

Shall  think  themselves accurs'd,  they  were  not  here ; 

And  hold  their  manhoods  cheap,  while  any  speaks, 

That  fought  with  ut  upon  Saint  Critpin't  day. 

Enter  Salisbury. 

Sal.  My  sovereign  lord,  bettow  yourself  with 
speed : 
The  French  are  bravely'  in  their  batUet  tet. 
And  will  with  all  expedience^  charge  on  ut. 
K.  Hen.  All  thingt  are  ready,  if  our  minds  be  sa 
West.  Perish  the  man,  whose  mind  is  backward 

now ! 
K.  Hen.  Thou  dost  not  with  more  help  from 

England,  cousin  f 
West.  Gen's  will,  my  liege,  *wouId  yoa  and  I 
alone. 
Without  more  help,  might  fight  this  battle  out  ? 
K.  Hen.   Why,  now  th«i  hast  unwish'd  five 
thousand  men ; 
Which  likes  me  better,  than  to  with  ut  one. — 
You  know  your  placet :  God  be  with  you  all ! 

Tucket.    Enter  Montjoy. 

Mont.  Once  more  I  come  to  know  of  thee,  king 

Hany, 
If  for  thv  rantom  thou  wilt  now  compound. 
Before  thy  most  assured  overthrow  : 
For,  certainly,  thou  art  so  near  the  ^ulf. 
Thou  needs  must  be  englutted. — Besides,  in  mercy. 
The  constable  desires  mee  thou  wilt  mindA 
Thy  followers  of  reoentance ;  that  their  souls 
May  make  a  peaceful  and  a  tweet  retire 
From  off  these  fields,  where  (wretchet)  their  poor 

bodiet 
Must  lie  and  fester. 
K.  Hen.  Who  hath  tent  thee  now  f 

Mont.  The  conttable  of  France. 
K.  Hen.  I  pray  thee,  bear  my  former  antwer  back ; 
Bid  them  achieve  me,  and  then  sell  my  bones. 
Good  God .'  why  should  they  mock  poor  fellows 

thus.' 
The  man,  that  once  did  sell  the  lion's  skin 
While  the  beast  liv'd,  was  kill'd  with  hunting  him. 
A  many  of  our  bodies  shall,  no  doubt. 
Find  native  graves ;  upon  the  which,  I  trust. 
Shall  witnest  live  in  braM^  of  thit  day't  work : 
And  thote  that  leave  their  valiant  bonet  in  Fiance, 
Dying  like  men,  though  buried  in  your  dunghillt. 
They  thall  be  fam'd ;  for  there  the  sun  shall  greet 

them, 
And  draw  their  honours  reeking  up  to  heaven ; 
Leaving  their  earthly  parts  to  choke  your  clime. 
The  smell  whereof  shall  breed  a  plague  in  France. 
Mark  then  a  bounding  valour  in  our  English ; 
That,  being  dead,  like  to  the  bullet's  grazing. 
Break  out  into  a  second  course  of  mischief. 
Killing  in  relapse  of  mortalitv. 
Let  me  speak  proudly ;— Tell  the  constable, 

(3)  Gallantly.      (4)  Expedition.      (5}  Remind. 
(6)  t.  e.  In  brazen  plates  anciently  let  mto  tomb- 
stones. 


464 


KING  HENRY  V. 


Ad  IF. 


We  ire  but  warrior*  for  the  working-day  A 
Our  gajoess,  and  our  ^lt,3  are  all  beamirch^d* 
With  rainy  marching  in  the  painful  field ; 
There*B  not  a  piece  of  feather  in  our  hoet 
(Good  argument,  1  hope,  we  shall  not  fly,) 
And  time  hath  worn  us  into  slovenry : 
But,  by  the  mass,  our  hearta  are  in  the  trim : 
And  mv  poor  soldiers  tell  me — ^yet  ere  night 
TheyMl  be  in  fresher  robes ;  or  they  will  pluck 
The  g^y  new  coats  o*er  the  French  soldiers*  heads, 
And  turn  them  out  of  service.     If  they  do  this 
(As,  if  God  please,  they  shall,)  my  ransom  then 
Will  soon  be  levied.   Herald,  save  thou  thy  labour ; 
Come  thou  no  more  for  ransom,  gentle  herald ; 
They  shall  have  none,  I  swear,  but  these  my  joints  : 
Which  if  they  have  as  I  will  leave  *em  to  them. 
Shall  yield  them  little,  tell  the  constable. 

Mont.  I  shall,  king  Harry.  And  so  fare  thee  well ; 
Thou  never  shalt  hear  herald  any  more.       [Elxit 

K.  Hen.  I  fear,  thouMt  once  more  come  again  for 
.  ransom. 

Enttr  the  Duke  qf  York. 

York.  My  lord,  most  humbly  on  my  knee  I  b^ 
The  leading  of  the  vaward.^ 
K.  Hen.  Take  it,  brave  York. — Now,  soldiers, 
march  away : — 
And  how  thou  pleasest,  God,  dispose  the  day ! 

[Exeunl. 

SCEJ^E  IV.— The  JUU  of  battle.  Alarums  : 
Excursions.  Enter  French  Soldier^  Pistol,  and 
Boy. 

Pist.  Yield,  cur. 

Fr.  Sol.  Je  penst^  que  vous  estes  U  gtntilhomme 
de  bonne  quality. 

Pist.  Quality,  call  vou  me  f — Construe  me,  art 
thou  a  gentleman  ?  What  is  thy  name  ?  discuss. 

Fr.  Sol.  O  seigneur  Dieu  ! 

Pist  O,  signieur  Dew  should  be  a  gentleman : — 
Peipend  my  words,  O  signieur  Etew,  and  mark ; — 
O  signieur  Dew,  thou  diest  on  point  of  fox,^ 
Except,  O  signieur,  thou  do  give  to  me 
Egregious  ransom. 

Fr.  Sol.  O,  prennes  misericorde !  ayez  pitii  de 
may! 

Pist.  Moy  shall  not  serve,  I  will  have  forty  moys; 
For  I  will  /etch  thy  rivofi  out  at  thy  throat. 
In  drops  of  crimson  blood. 

Fr.  sol.  Est  il  impossible  d*eschapper  la  force 
de  ton  bras? 

Pist.  Brass,  cur ! 
Thou  damned  and  luxurious^  mountain  goat, 
Offer^st  me  brass  ? 

Fr.  Sol.  O  pardonnez  moy  ! 

Pist.  Say*st  thou  me  so  ?  is  that  a  ton  of  moys  ^ — 
Come  hither,  boy ;  Ask  me  this  slave  in  French, 
What  is  his  name. 

Boy.  Elscoutex ;  Comment  estes  vous  appeUi  ? 

Fr.  Sol.  Monsieur  It  Fer. 

Boy.  He  says,  his  name  is — master  Fer. 

Pist.  Master  Fer !  Til  fer  him,  and  firk^  him,  and 
ferret  him  :^-discuss  the  same  in  French  unto  him. 

Boy.  I  do  not  know  the  French  for  fer,  and  fer- 
ret, and  firk. 

Pist.  Bid  him  prepare,  for  I  will  cut  his  throat 

Fr.  Sol.  Que  mt-il,  monsieur? 

Boy.  II  me  commande  de  vous  dire  que  vous 

(1)  We  are  soldiers  but  coarsely  dressed. 

(2)  Golden  show,  superficial  giloing. 

(3)  Soiled         (4)  Vanguard. 

(5)  An  old  cant  word  for  a  sword,  so  called  from 
t  femous  sword-cutler  of  the  name  of  Fox. 


faites  vous  prest ;  car  ce  soldat  icy  est  disposd  tamt 
a  cette  heure  de  cauper  vostre  gorge. 

Pist.  Ouy,  couper  gorge,  par  ma  foj,  peasant. 
Unless  thou  give  me  crowns,  brave  crowns ; 
Or  mangled  shalt  thou  be  by  this  my  sword. 

Fr.  ^1.  O,  Je  vous  suppHe  pour  Pamour  ds 
DieUj  mepardormer  I  Je  suis  gentilhomme  de  banm 
maison:  gardes  ma  me,  eije  vous  danneray  deux 
cents  escus. 

Pist.  What  are  his  words  ? 

Boy.  He  prays  vou  to  save  his  life :  he  is  a  gen- 
tleman of  a  good  house ;  and  for  his  ransom,  he 
will  jpve  you  two  hundred  crowns. 

Put.  Tell  him, — my  fury  shall  abate,  and  I 
The  crowns  will  take. 

Fr.  Sol.  Petit  monsieur,  que  dit-il? 

Bov.  Encore  qu'il  est  contre  son  jurement^  de 
paraonner  aucun  prisonnier  ;  nearUmoinSx  pour 
Its  escus  que  vous  Vavez  promis,  il  est  coniaU  de 
vous  donner  la  liberty,  le  franchisement. 

Fr.  Sol.  Sur  mes  genoux,  je  vous  donne  wuUe 
remerciemens :  et  je  m'estime  fuureux  que  je  suis 
tombs  entre  les  mains  d*un  chevalier^  je  penst,  le 
phis  bravCf  valiant,  et  tres  distingui  seigneur 
d^Angleterre. 

Pist.  Expound  unto  me,  boy. 

Boy.  He  gives  you,  upon  his  knees,  a  thousand 
(hanks  :  and  ne  esteems  himself  happy  that  he  hath 
fallen  into  the  hand^  of  (as  he  tninks)  the  roost 
brave,  valorous,  and  thrice-worthy  signieur  of 
England. 

Pist.  As  I  suck  blood,  I  will  some  mercy  show.-~ 
Follow  me,  cur.  [£xt<  Pistol. 

Boy.  Suivex  vofus  le  grand  capitaine. 

[Exit  French  Soldier. 
I  did  never  know  so  full  a  voice  issue  from  so  empty 
a  heart :  but  the  saying  is  true, — The  empty  v«e«l 
makes  the  greatest  sound.  Bardolph,  ana  Nvm, 
had  ten  times  more  valour  than  this  roaring  devil 
i*lhe  old  play,  that  every  one  may  pare  his  nails 
with  a  wooden  dagger ;  and  they  are  both  hanged; 
and  so  would  this  be,  if  he  durst  steal  any  thins 
adventurously.  I  must  stay  with  the  lackeys,  with 
the  baggage  of  our  camp :  the  French  might  have  a 
good  prey  of  U9,  if  he  knew  oC  it ;  for  there  is  none 
to  guard  it,  but  boys.  [Exit 

SCEJ^E  F.— Another  part  of  thefldd  of  battle. 
Alarums.  Enter  Dauphin,  Orleans,  Bourbon, 
Constable,  Rambures,  emd  others. 

Con.  OdiabU.' 

Orl.  O  seigneur.' — le  jour  est  perdu,  lout  est 
perdu! 

Dau.  Mort  de  vfM  vie!  all  is  confounded,  all ! 
Reproach  and  everlasting  shame 
Sits  mocking  in  our  plumes. — O  meschants  for- 
tune! , 
Do  not  run  away.  [A  short  alarum. 

Con.  Why,  all  our  ranks  are  broke. 

Dau.  O  perdurable")  shame !— let's  stab  ourselves. 
Be  these  the  wretches  that  we  play*d  at  dice  for  ? 

OrL  Is  this  the  kinr  we  sent  to  for  his  ransom  f 

Bour.  Shame,  and  eternal  shame,  nothii^  bat 
shame ! 
Let  us  die  instant :  Once  more  back  again ; 
And  he  that  will  not  follow  Bourbon  now. 
Let  him  go  hence,  and,  with  his  cap  in  hand. 
Like  a  bsje  pander,  hold  the  chamber-door. 
Whilst  by  a  slave,  no  gentler  than  iny  dog,it 

(6)  The  diaphragm.         (7)  Latcivioiit. 
(8)  Pieces  of  money.  (9)  Chastiae. 

(10)  Lasting. 

(11)  t.  e.  Who  has  no  more  gantititj. 


SemiFItFU. 


KING  HENRY  V. 


465 


W»  fairest  daughter  is  cootamioate. 

Oon.  Disorder,  that  hath  spoird  us,  friend  us  now! 
Let  us,  in  heaps,  eo  offer  up  our  lives 
Unto  these  Ei^^lisn,  or  else  die  with  fame. 

OrL  We  are  enough,  yet  living  in  the  field. 
To  smother  up  the  EIngluh  in  our  throngs, 
If  any  order  mic^ht  be  thought  upon. 

£<jur.  The  oevil  take  order  now !  PU  to  the 
throng; 
Let  life  be  short ;  tj^  shame  will  be  too  long. 

[Exeunt. 

SCRyE  Vl—Anoihtr  part  of  the  fidd.-- 
AlarwnM.  £»Uer  King  Henry  oiMfybrces  ;  Exe- 
ter, and  oihtra. 

K.  Hen,  Well  have  we  done,  thrice-valiant 
countrymen: 
But  all's  not  done,  yet  keep  the  French  the  field. 

Exe.  The  duke  of  York  commends  him  to  your 
majesty. 

K.  Hen.  Lives  he,  good  uncle?  thrice,  within 
this  hour, 
I  saw  him  down ;  thrice  up  again,  and  fighting ; 
From  helmet  to  the  spur,  all  blood  he  was. 

Ext.  In  which  array  (brave  soldier)  doth  he  lie, 
Larding  the  plain  :  and  by  his  bloody  side 
(Yoke-tellow  to  his  honour-owing  wounds,) 
The  noble  earl  of  Suffolk  also  lies. 
Suffolk  first  died ;  and  York,  all  haggled  over. 
Comes  to  him,  where  in  gore  he  lay  insteepM, 
And  takes  him  by  the  beard ;  kisses  the  gashes, 
That  bloodily  did  yawn  upon  his  face ; 
And  cries  aloud, — Tarry ^  dear  cousin  Stijffolk! 
My  soul  shall  thine  keep  company  to  heaven : 
Tarry,  sweet  soulf/br  mine,  then  fly  a-breast  / 
As,  in  this  glorious  and  u>ell'Jbugkten  fidd. 
We  kept  together  in  our  chivalry! 
Upon  these  words  I  came,  and  cneer*d  him  up : 
He  smil*d  me  in  the  face,  raught*  me  his  hand, 
And,  with  a  feeble  gripe,  says, — Dear  my  lord. 
Commend  my  service  to  my  sovereign. 
So  did  he  turn,  and  over  Suffolk*s  neck 
He  threw  his  wounded  arm,  and  kissM  his  lips ; 
And  so,  espousM  to  death,  with  blood  he  seal'd 
A  testament  of  noble-ending  love. 
The  pretty  and  sweet  manner  of  it  forcM 
Those  waters  from  me,  which  1  Wtmld  have  stopp*d; 
But  I  had  not  so  much  of  man  in  me. 
But  all  my  mother  came  into  mine  eyes. 
And  gave  me  up  to  tears. 

K.  Hen.  I  blame  you  not ; 

For,  hearing  this,  I  must  perforce  compound 
Wii  mistfuTeyeSjOr  thev  will  issue  too. — [Alarum. 
But  hark  !  what  new  alarum  is  this  same  ? — 
The  French  have  reinforcM  their  scattered  men : — 
Then  every  soldier  kill  his  prisoners ; 
Give  the  word  through.  [Exeunt. 

SCEJ^EFH.— Another  part  of  thejield.  Alar- 
tans.    Enter  Fluellen  and  Gower. 

Flu.  Kill  the  poys  and  the  luggage !  'tis  ex- 
pressly against  the  law  of  arms  :  'tis  as  arrant  a 
piece  of  knavery,  mark  you  now,  as  can  be  offered, 
m  the  'orld :  In  your  conscience  now,  is  it  not  ? 

Gow.  'Tis  certain,  there's  not  a  boy  left  alive ; 
and  the  cowardly  rascals,  that  ran  from  the  battle, 
have  done  this  slaughter:  besides,  they  have  burned 
and  carried  away  all  that  was  in  the  king's  tent ; 
wherefore  the  king,  most  worthily,  hath  caused 
every  soldier  to  cut  his  prisoner's  throat  O,  'tis  a 
g;allant  king ! 

Flu.  Ay,  he  was  pom  at  Monmouth,  captain 

(1)  Reached.  (2)  Scour. 


i 


Gower:  What  call  you  the  town's  name  when 
Alexander  the  pig  was  bora  f 

Gow.  Alexanoer  the  great 

Fhu  Why,  I  pray  you,  is  not  pig,  rreat  f  The 
pig,  or  the  great,  or  the  mighty,  or  the  nuge,  or  the 
magnanimous,  are  all  one  reckonings,  save  the 
phrase  is  a  little  variations. 

Gow.  I  think,  Alexander  the  great  was  bom  in 
Macedon;  his  &ther  was  called— Philip  of  Ma- 
cedon,  as  I  take  it 

Flu.  I  think,  it  is  in  Macedon,  where  Alexander 
is  pom.  I  tell  you,  captain, — If  you  look  in  the 
maps  of  the  'orld,  I  warrant,  you  shall  find,  in  the 
comparisons  between  Macedlon  and  MonnxMith, 
that  the  situations,  look  you,  is  both  alike.  There 
is  a  river  in  Macedon ;  and  there  is  also  moreover 
a  river  at  Monmouth ;  it  is  called  Wye,  at  Mon- 
mouth :  but  it  is  out  of  my  prains,  what  is  the  name 
of  the  other  river ;  but  'tis  all  one,  'tis  so  like  as 
my  fingers  is  to  my  fineers,  and  there  is  salmons  in 
both.  If  you  mark  Alexander's  life  well,  Harry 
of  Monmouth's  life  is  come  after  it  indifferent  well ; 
for  there  is  figures  in  all  things.  Alexander  (God 
knows,  and  you  know,)  in  his  rages,  and  his  furies, 
and  his  wraths,  and  his  cholers,  and  his  moods,  and 
his  displeasures,  and  his  indignations,  and  also  be- 
ing a  little  intoxicates  in  his  prains,  did,  in  his  ales 
and  his  angers,  look  you,  kill  nis  pest  friend,  Cly  tus. 

Gow.  Our  king  is  not  like  him  in  that :  be  never 
killed  any  of  his  friends. 

Flu.  It  is  not  well  done,  mark  you  now,  to  take 
tales  out  of  my  mouth,  ere  it  is  made  an  end  and 
finished.  I  speak  but  in  the  figures  and  compari- 
sons of  it :  As  Alexander  is  kill  his  friend  CIvtus, 
being:  in  his  ales  and  his  cups ;  so  also  Hany  Mon- 
mourn,  in  right  wits  and  nis  goot  judgments,  is 
turn  away  the  fat  knight  with  the  g^reat  pelly-doub- 
let :  he  was  full  of  iests,  and  gipes,  and  knaveries, 
and  mocks ;  I  am  toreet  his  name. 

Goto.  Sir  John  Falstaffl 

Flu.  That  is  he :  I  can  tell  you,  there  is  goot 
men  pom  at  Monmouth. 

Goto.  Here  comes  his  majes^. 

Alarum.  Enter  Kine  Henry,  with  a  part  qf  the 
English  forces ;  Warwick,  Gloster,  Exeter,  and 
others. 

K.  Hen.  I  was  not  angry  since  I  came  to  France 
Until  this  instant — Take  a  trumpet,  herald ; 
Ride  thou  unto  the  horsemen  on  yon  hill ; 
If  the^  will  fi^ht  with  us,  bid  them  come  down, 
Or  void  the  field  ;  they  do  offend  our  sight : 
If  they'll  do  neither,  we  will  come  to  them. 
And  make  them  skirr^  away,  as  swift  as  stoiies 
Elnforced  from  the  old  Assyrian  slings : 
Besides,  we'll  cut  the  throats  of  those  we  have ; 
And  not  a  man  of  them,  that  we  shall  take. 
Shall  taste  our  mercy  :--Go,  and  tell  them  so. 

Enter  Montjoy. 

Ext,  Here  comes  the  herald  of  the  French,  my 
li^e. 

Glo.  His  eyes  are  humbler  than  they  us'd  to  be. 

K.  Hen.  How  now,  what  means  this,  herald  ^ 
know'st  thou  not. 
That  I  have  fin'd  these  bones  of  mine  for  ransom? 
Com'st  thou  again  for  ransom  ? 

Mont.  No,  great  king : 

I  come  to  thee  for  charitable  license. 
That  we  may  wander  o'er  this  bloody  field, 
To  book  our  dead,  and  then  to  bury  them ; 
To  sort  our  nobles  from  our  common  men ; 
For  many  of  our  princfs  (wo  the  while !) 
Lie  drown'd  and  soak'd  in  mercenary  blood ; 


466 


KING  HENRT  Y. 


Atiir. 


^So  do  oar  rulg^ar  drench  their  peasant  lunbt 
in  blood  of  princes ;)  and  their  wounded  steeds 
Fiet  fetlock  deep  in  gore,  and,  with  wild  rage, 
Y«ic  out  their  armed  heels  at  their  dead  masters. 
Killing  them  twice.     O,  give  us  leave,  great  king, 
To  view  the  field  in  safety,  and  dispose 
Of  their  dead  bodies. 

K.  Hen.  I  tell  thee  irulj,  herald, 

I  know  not,  if  the  day  be  ours,  or  no ; 
For  yet  a  many  of  your  horsemen  peer. 
And  gallop  o^er  the  field. 

Mont.  The  day  is  yours. 

K.  Hen.  Praiied  be  God,  and  not  our  strength, 
for  it  !— 
What  is  this  castle  callM,  that  stands  hard  by  > 

Mont.  They  call  it — Agincourt 

K.  Hen.  Then  call  we  this— the  field  of  Agin- 
court, 
Fought  on  the  day  of  Crispin  Crispianus. 

Flu.  Your  grandfather  of  £ajnous  roennory,  an*t 
please  your  majesty,  and  your  great-uncle  Edward 
the  plack  prince  of  Wales,  as  I  have  read  in  the 
chronicles,  fought  a  roost  prave  pattle  here  in 
France. 

K.  Hen.  The^  did,  Fluellen. 

Flu.  Your  majesty  saj-s  very  true  :  if  your  ma- 
Yesties  is  remembered  of  it,  the  Welshman  did  goot 
service  in  a  garden  where  leeks  did  grow,  wearing 
leeks  in  their  Monmouth  caps;  which,  your  majesty 
knows,  to  this  hour  is  an  honourable  padge  df  the 
service ;  and,  I  do  believe,  your  majesty  takes  no 
icom  to  wear  the  leek  upon  Saint  TavY*s  day. 

K.  Hen.  I  wear  it  for  a  memorable  honour : 
For  I  am  Welsh,  you  know,  good  countryman. 

F7u^  All  the  water  in  Wye  cannot  wash  your 
majesty's  Welsh  plood  out  of  your  pody,  I  can  tell 
YOU  that :  Got  pless  it  and  preserve  it,  as  long  as 
4t  pleases  his  grace,  and  his  majesty  too  I 

K.  Hen.  Tnanks,  good  my  countryman. 

Flu.  By  Cheshu,  I  am  your  majesty's  country- 
man, I  care  not  who  know  it ;  I  will  confess  it  to 
all  the  'orld :  I  need  not  to  be  ashamed  of  vour 
majesty,  praised  be  Got,  so  long  as  your  majesty 
b  an  honest  man. 

K.  Hen.  God  keep  me  so ! — Our  heralds  go  with 
him; 
Bring  me  just  notice  of  the  numbers  dead 
On  lx>th  our  parts. — Call  yonder  fellow  hither. 
[Points  to  Williams.     Exe.  Mont  and  others. 

Kxe.  Soldier,  you  must  come  to  the  king. 

K.  Hen.  Soldier,  why  wear'st  thou  that  glove 
in  thy  cap  ^ 

Will  An'l  please  your  majesty,  'tis  the  gage  of 
one  that  I  should  fight  withal,  if  he  be  alive. 

K.  Hen.  An  Englishman  ^ 

WHL  An't  please  your  majesty,  a  rascal,  that 
swaggered  witn  me  last  night :  who,  if  'a  live,  and 
'ever  dare  to  challenge  this  glove,  I  have  sworn  to 
take  him  a  box  o'the  ear :  or,  if  I  can  see  mv 
glove  in  his  cap  (which  he  swore,  as  he  was  a  sol- 
dier, he  would  wear,  if  alive,)  I  will  strike  it  out 
soundly. 

K.  tien.  What  think  you,  captain  Fluellen  }  is 
it  fit  this  soldier  keep  bis  oath  } 

Flu.  He  is  a  craven'  and  a  villain  else,  an^t 
please  vour  majesty,  in  my  conscience. 

K.  tien.  It  may  be,  his  enemy  is  a  gentleman  of 
great  sort,'  quite  from  the  answer  of  his  degree. 

Flu.  Though  he  be  as  goot  a  gentleman  as  the 
tevil  is,  as  Lucifer  and  Belzebub  himself,  it  is  ne- 
cessary, look  your  grace,  that  he  keep  his  vow  and 
his  oath  :  if  he  be  perjured,  see  you  now,  his  repu- 


(1)  Coward. 


(2)  High  rank. 


tatioQ  'is  as  arrant  a  villain,  and  a  Jade  m%^c^  ai 
ever  his  plack  shoe  trod  upon  Got's  ground  and  hit 
earth,  in  my  conscience,  la. 

K.  Hen.  Then  keep  thy  vow,  sirrah,  when  tboa 
meet'st  the  fellow. 

Will  So  I  will,  my  lieee,  as  I  live. 

K.  Hen.  Who  servest  mou  under  ^ 

WilL  Under  captain  Gower,  my  liege. 

Flu.  Gower  is  a  goot  captain ;  and  is  goot  know- 
le<%e  and  literature  in  the  wars. 

A.  Hen.  Call  him  hither  to  me,  soldier. 

WiU.  I  will,  my  liege.  [Exit 

K.  Hen.  Here,  Fluellen ;  wear  thou  this  &voar 
iot  me,  and  stick  it  in  thy  cap :  When  Alen^on  and 
myself  were  down  together,  I  plucked  this  glove 
from  his  helm :  if  any  man  challenge  this,  he  is  a 
friend  to  Alen^on  and  an  enemy  to  our  person;  if 
thou  encounter  any  such,  apprehend  him,  an  tboa 
dost  love  me. 

Fhi.  Your  ^ce  does  me  as  great  honours,  ts 
can  be  desired  m  the  hearts  of  his  subjects :  I  would 
fain  see  the  man,  that  has  but  two  legs,  that  shall 
find  himself  aggriefM  at  this  glove,  that  is  all ;  but 
I  would  fain  see  it  once ;  an  please  Got  of  his  grace, 
that  I  might  see  it 

K.  Hen.  Knowest  thou  Gower  ^ 

Flu.  He  is  my  dear  friend,  an  please  tou. 

K.  Hen.  Prey  thee,  go  seek  him,  and  brii^  him 
to  my  tent 

Flu.  I  will  fetch  him.  [ExiL 

K.  Hen.  My  l<»d  of  Warwick, — and  my  brother 
Glosier, 
Follow  Fluellen  closely  at  the  heels : 
The  glove,  which  I  have  given  him  for  a  fitvoor, 
May,  hapiv,  purchase  him  a  box  o'the  ear ; 
It  is  the  soldier's ;  I,  by  bargain,  should 
Wear  it  myself.     Follow,  good  cousin  Warwick : 
If  that  the  soldier  strike  him  (as,  I  judge 
By  his  blunt  bearing,  he  will  keep  his  word,) 
Some  sudden  mischief  may  arise  of  it ; 
For  I  do  know  Fluellen  valiant. 
And,  touched  with  choler,  hot  as  gtmpowder, 
And  quickly  will  return  an  injury  : 
Follow,  and  see  there  be  no  harm  between  them. — 
Go  you  with  me,  uncle  of  Exeter.  [Exeunt 

SCEJVE  VUL— Before  King  Henry's  Paoilum. 
Enter  Gow^r  and  Williams. 

WilL  I  warrant,  it  is  to  knight  you,  captain. 

Enter  Fluellen. 

Fhu  Got's  will  and  his  pleasure,  captain,  I  pe- 
seech  you  now,  come  apace  to  the  king  :  there  is 
more  goot  toward  you,  peradventure,  than  is  in  your 
knowledge  to  dream  df. 

WilL  Sir,  know  you  this  glove  f 

Fhi.  Know  the  glove  .^  I  Jcnow,  the  glove  b  a 
glove. 

WilL  I  know  thu ;  and  thus  I  challenge  it 

[Stnkeskiin. 

Fhu  *Sblud,  an  arrant  traitor,  as  any's  in  the 
universal  'orld,  or  in  France,  or  in  England. 

Gow.  How  now,  sir  ?  you  villain .' 

WilL  Do  you  think  I'll  be  forsworn  ? 

Flu.  Stand  away,  captain  Gower;  I  will  give 
treason  his  payment  into  plows,  I  warrant  yoo. 

WilL  I  am  no  traitor. 

Flu.  That's  a  lie  in  thy  throat — I  charge  you  io 
his  majesty's  name,  apprehend  him ;  he's  a  friend 
of  the  duke  Alen^on's. 

Enter  Warwick  and  Gloater. 

War.  How  now,  how  now !  what's  the  matlsr. 

(3)  For  saucy  Jack. 


Scene  FIIL 


KING  HENRY  V. 


497 


Fhi,  My  lord  of  Warwick,  here  is  (praised  be  Got 
lor  it  f)  a  moat  cootasrious  treason  come  to  lieht, 
look  you,  as  you  shall  desire  in  a  summer^s  day. 
Here  is  his  majesty. 

Enter  King  Henry  and  Exeter. 

K.  Hen.  How  novr  !  what*s  the  matter  ? 

Flu.  My  liege,  here  is  a  villain  and  a  traitor,  that, 
look  your  grace,  has  struck  the  glove  which  your 
maiesty  is  take  out  of  the  helmet  of  Alenqon. 

IVilL  My  lieee,  this  was  my  glove ;  here  is  the 
fellow  of  it :  and  he,  that  I  gave  it  to  in  change, 
promised  to  wear  it  in  his  cap ;  I  promised  to 
strike  him,  if  he  did :  I  met  this  man  with  my  glove 
in  his  cap,  and  I  have  been  as  good  as  my  word. 

Flu.  Your  majesty  hear  now  (saving  your  ma- 
jesty's manhood,)  what  an  arrant,  rascally,  beg- 
garly, lowsy  knave  it  is:  I  hope,  your  majesty  is 
pear  me  testimony,  and  witness,  and  avouchments, 
that  this  is  the  glove  of  Alenqon,  that  your  majes- 
ty is  give  me,  in  your  conscience  now. 

K.  Hen.  Give  me  thy  glove,  soldier :  Look,  here 
is  the  fellow  of  it.  *Twas  I,  indeed,  thou  promised'st 
to  strike;  and  thou  hast  given  me  most  bitter  terms. 

Flu.  An  please  your  majesty,  let  his  neck  answer 
for  it,  if  there  is  any  martial  law  in  the  *orld. 

K.  Hen.  How  canst  thou  make  me  satisfaction  ? 

IVilL  All  offences,  my  liege,  c(Mne  from  the  heart : 
never  came  any  from  mine,  that  might  offend  your 
majestv. 

A.  nen.  It  was  ourself  thou  didst  abuse. 

Will.  Your  majesty  came  not  like  yourself:  you 
appeared  to  me  but  as  a  common  man ;  witness  the 
night,  your  garments,  your  lowliness;  and  what 
your  highness  suffered  under  that  shapie,  I  beseech 
vou,  take  it  for  your  own  fault,  and  not  mine  :  for 
had  you  been  as  I  took  you  for,  I  made  no  offence ; 
therefore,  I  beseech  your  highness,  pmrdon  me. 

K.  Hen.  Here,  uncle  Exeter,  fill  this  glove  with 
crowns. 
And  give  it  to  this  fellow. — Keep  it,  fellow  ; 
And  wear  it  for  an  honour  in  thy  cap, 
Till  I  do  challenge  it. — Give  him  the  crowns: — 
And,  captain,  you  must  needs  be  friends  with  him. 

f^u.  By  this  day  and  this  light,  the  fellow  has 
mettle  enough  in  his  pelly  : — Hold,  there  is  twelve 
pence  for  you,  and  I  pray  you  to  serve  Got,  and  keep 
you  out  of  prawls,  and  prabbles,  and  quarrels,  and 
dissensions,  and,  I  warrant  you,  it  is  the  petter  for 
you. 

Will.  I  will  none  of  your  money. 

FT.U.  It  is  with  a  goot  will ;  I  can  tell  you,  it  will 
serve  vou  to  mend  your  shoes  :  Come,  wherefore 
should 
goot 
change  it 

Enter  an  English  Herald. 

K.  Hen.  Now,  herald  ;  are  the  dead  number*d  ? 

Her.  Here  is  the  number  of  the  slaughtered 

French.  [Delivers  a  paper. 

K.  Hen.  What  prisoners  of  good  sort  are  taken, 

uncle  ? 
Exe.  Charles  duke  of  Orleans,  nephew  to  the  king; 
John  duke  of  Bourbon,  and  lord  Bouciqualt : 
Of  other  lords,  and  barons,  knights,  and  'squires. 
Full  fifteen  hundred,  besides  common  men. 
JC  Hen.  This  note  doth  tell  me  of  ten  thousand 
French, 
That  in  the  field  lie  slain:  of  princes,  in   this 

number. 
And  nobles  bearing  banners,  there  lie  dead 

(1)  An  officer  who  walks  first  in  processions. 


Id  you  be  so  pashful .'  your  shoes  is  not  so 
:  'tis  a  good  silling,  I  warrant  you,  or  I  will 


One  hundred  twenty-tix :  added  to  «heae. 
Of  knights,  esouires,  and  gallant  gentlemen. 
Eight  thousand  and  four  hundred ;  of  the  which, 
Five  hundred  were  but  yesterday  dubb'd  knights : 
.So  that,  in  these  ten  thousand  they  have  lost. 
There  are  but  sixteen  hundred  mercenaries ; 
The    rest    are — princes,  barons,   lords,   knights, 

'squires. 
And  gentlemen  of  blood  and  quality. 
The  names  of  those  their  nobles  that  lie  dead,— 
Charles  De-la-bret,  high  constable  of  France ; 
Jaques  of  Chatillon,  admiral  of  France ; 
The  master  of  the  cross-bows,  lord  Rambures ; 
Great-master  of  France,  the  brave  sir  Giiischard 

Dauphin ; 
John  duke  of  Alen^on ;  Antony  duke  of  Brabant, 
The  brother  to  the  duke  of  Burgundy ; 
And  Edward  duke  of  Bar :  of  lusty  earls, 
Grandpre,  and  Roussi,  Fauconberg,  and  Foix, 
Beaumont,  and  Marie,  Vaudemont,  and  Lestrale. 

Here  was  a  royal  fellowship  of  death  ! 

Where  is  the  number  of  our  English  dead  ? 

[Herald  presents  another  paper. 
Edward  the  duke  of  York,  the  earl  of  Suffolk, 
Sir  Richard  Ketley,  Davy  Gam,  esquire : 
None  else  of  name  ;  ana,  of  all  other  men. 
But  five  and  twenty.    O  God,  thy  arm  was  here. 
And  not  to  us,  but  to  thy  arm  alone. 
Ascribe  we  all. — When,  without  stratagem, 
But  in  plain  shock,  and  even  play  of  battle. 
Was  ever  known  so  great  ana  little  loss, 
On  one  part  and  on  we  other.' — Take  it,  God, 
For  it  is  only  thine ! 

Exe.  'Tis  wonderful  I 

K.  Hen.   Come,  go  we  in  procession   to  the 
village : 
And  be  it  death  proclaimed  through  our  host. 
To  boast  of  this,  or  take  that  praise  from  God, 
Which  is  his  only. 

Flu.  Is  it  not  lawful,  an  please  your  majesty,  to 
tell  how  many  is  killed  ? 

K.  Hen.  Yes,  captain ;  but  with  this  acknow- 
ledgement. 
That  God  fought  for  us. 

Flu.  Yes,  my  conscience,  he  did  us  great  goot. 

K.  Hen.  Do  we  all  holy  rites ; 
Let  there  be  sung  J^on  nobisy  and  Te  Deum, 
The  dead  with  charity  enclos'd  in  clay, 
We'll  then  to  Calais ;  and  to  England  then ; 
Where  ne'er  from  France  arriv'd  more  happy  men. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Cho.  Vouchsafe  to  those  that  have  not  read  tha 
story, 
That  I  may  prompt  them  :  and  of  such  as  have, 
I  humbly  pray  them  to  admit  the  excuse 
Of  time,  of  numbers,  and  due  course  of  thinga. 
Which  cannot  in  their  huge  and  proper  life 
Be  here  presented.     Now  we  bear  the  king 
Toward  Calais  :  grant  him  there ;  there  seen, 
Heave  him  away  upon  your  winged  thoughts, 
Athwart  the  sea :  Behold,  the  English  beach 
Pales  in  the  flood  with  men,  with  wives,  and  born, 
Whose  shouts  and  claps  out-voice  the  deep-moatb'd 

Which,  like  a  mighty  whiffler'  'fore  the  king. 
Seems  to  prepare  his  way  :  so  let  him  land ; 
And,  solemnly,  see  him  set  on  to  London. 
So  swift  a  pace  hath  thought,  that  even  novr 


KING  HENRY  T. 


Ydv  nuT  imulne  taim  upoi  BlicUxalb : 
Where  ihil  hit  lonli  ieiirt  him  to  hava  bom 
Hi<  bruived  helmet,  and  hii  bended  iword^ 
Before  him,  through  the  citj:  he  forbidi  ii, 
Bein^  free  (nxn  vftiiinen  and  Belf-glonou]  pri 
Giving  full  iroph)-,  ijgnal,  and  o«(™i, 
Quile  Cnm  bunttlf,  ta  God.!    But  now  brhnl 
In  Ihe  quick  for^  and  workinghouK  of  Lhou 
Huw  London  doth  pour  out  her  ciljwtu  I 
The  major,  and  all  taia  brethren,  in  beat  H)rl 
LiketoUWKnalDnoT  the  anliijue  Rome. 
With  the  plebeian!  nrgrniing  el  Iheir  heri;,- 


Wen 


wthep 


jrgracnK 


(Ai,  in  good  time,  he  maj,)  from  Ireland  am 

How  manjr  »™ld  the  peaceful  cilj-  quit,  ' 
To  Hekome  himf  much  more,  and  rmieh  n 

Did  Ihej  ihil  Hmrrr.    Ncnr  in  London  ptatre  hi 
(A.  yel  the  lamentalio,  of  the  French 
Invileg  (he  king  of  England'i  atay  at  home : 
Theemperor'a  coming  in  behalf  of  Fnncr, 
Tootder  peace  beotcen  Ihem;)  and  oniil 


i  mjBrir  h 


nembering  voo— 'tia  pail, 
^emenl;  andyoarejel  ndvanip 
iiicr^uaithoughUiMraigblbtckigaia  lo  t'n,r>i<' 

SCEJ^E  I— France.    Jn  Engliah  tm<f(  c/ 


Goto.  Na;,  thil'a  right ;  but  whr  we 

Wk  to-dav  >  Saint  Daiy'i  dav  ii  paal. 

Flu.  Thet*  ia  occasif—  — '  


Teforemalllhinga:  1  »i 
lain  Gowet;    The  ra* 


ISCTMtS, 


BKallv,  ■ 
Pi.Iol,-i 


Urn  a  little  piece  of  mj  iwnrei. 
Enttr  Piilol. 
Gou.  Whj,  hen  he  comei,  awelling  like 

fiu.  'Tia  DO  matier  for  hia  awellin(-i,  nt 
turkey-cockj.— Got  plen  jou,  ancient  Pi>tol] 
•curvj.  lowiv  knave.  Got  pleu  yoo ! 

Pist.  Hifart  Ihou  Bedlam?  doil  tbiiu  I 
baie  Trojan, 
To  hare  me  fold  up  Parca'a  faUl  neh  ^ 


[Slrikntg  him  again.]  Vou  called  me  jejleidaj, 
mountain-Fquire  ^  but  1  will  make  \ou  to-daj  a 
fquit«  of  Ion  df^ree.     J  praj  you.  wl  to  ;  if  jon 

Gaw.   Enough,  captain ;  jou  h 


Flu.   IBJ 

nyleek,orl 
Flu.  Ye.. 

I  will  make  him 
will  peat  hi.  pate 
B  gool  for  jour 
oicomh. 

eat  nme  part  {/ 
foutdaj.:-Pi|j 
gnen  wound,  and 

ofdo<.bt,.odo«l 

'  Queiiion)  too,  and  ambiguiiiei. 
Pill.  Bythialeek.lwillmaatbambljrerei^; 

Flu.  Eat. 
auce  lo  JOB 

p«.™:  Will, 
leek .'  (here  a 

io(  enough  ledin 

Fill.  Quiet  HiJ  cu^el  i  thou  doat  aee,  I  eat. 

>'Ju.  Much  goo(  do  jDu,  (cald  knave,  beatlilj. 
Nay,  'piaj  jou,  throw  none  away ;  the  akin  ii  gul 
for  jour  proken  coxcomb.  When  you  take  oca- 
iion.  lo  Ke  leekg  bercaner.  I  pnj  you,  mock  .1 
Ihrni ;  (hat  it  aU. 

Pia.  Good. 

Fhi.  Aj.  leekt  i*  pM ; — Hold  700,  Ibere  i*  a 
gmst  to  heal  your  pale. 

Fitl.  Me  a  groat! 

Flu,  Yes,  rerilj,  and  in  tnilb,  yon  Aall  take  ii ; 
I  hare  another  leek  in  mj  pocket,  which  j<n 


nolhuig  of  me  but  cudgeli.     God  bi 

krep  vou,  and  heal  jour  pate-  [£fTt. 

Piil  All  bell  .halUlir  for  Ihia. 

Omt.  Go,  go ;  jou  are  a  coonlerfejl  cowaidij 

begun  upon  an  houourBble  inpeel,  and  worn  ai  • 


11  g«- 


could  not  speak  Engliih  is 
could  not  iherofore  haiKlle  an  English  cud^l :  y« 
lind  it  olherwiH ;  and.  henceforth,  lei  a  WeUh  COI 
nation  leacb  you  a  good  Eogliih  coodiiioiL'  Fata 
ye  well.  [£n(. 

Pisl.  Dolh  fortune  play  the  hunnfei°  wilh  lut 

Newa  have  I,  ihat  my  Nell  i.  dead  i*tha  apilal" 


I  do  wen  ;  and  from  my  wearj  limb* 
iDur  it  cudgell'd.     Well,  bawl)  will  I  lum, 
I  WHnelhing  lean  lo  CDtpurK  of  <|uick  hand. 

1  pslch-.  will  I  gel  unto  IheK  Kan, 

I  .wear,  I  got  them  in  the  Gallia  war.. 

[Eiit 

'•)  Spitled,  tranifiiieii 
,  tl  ■  1)091  thou  d(«ite  lo  have  me  put  thee  ta 
death ." 

(T)  Slunned.  (S)  Scoffing,  tneering. 

(9)  Temper.     (10)  For  jilt     (II)  HoipilaL 


5O0M  II. 


KING  HENRY  V. 


469 


SCKyE  //.— Troyes  MCbampAgne.  An  apart- 
ment in  the  French  King's  palace,  Enier^  at 
one  door.  King  Henry,  Bedford,  Gloster,  Exeter, 
Warwick,  Westmoreland,  and  other  lords ;  at 
another^  the  French  kingf  queen  Isabel,  the 
princess  Katharine,  lords,  ladies^  ifc.  the  duke 
of  Burgundy,  and  his  train, 

K  Hen.  Peace  to  this  meeting,  wherefore  we 
are  met ! 
Unto  our  brother  France, — and  to  our  sister. 
Health  and  fair  time  of  day  :— joy  and  eood  wishes 
To  our  most  fair  and  princely  cousin  Katharine ; 
And  (as  a  branch  ana  member  of  this  royalty, 
By  whom  this  great  assembly  is  contriv'd,) 
We  do  salute  you,  duke  of  Burgundr ; — 
And,  princes  French,  and  peers,  health  to  you  all ! 

Fr.  King.  Right  joyous  are  we  to  behold  your 
face. 
Most  worthy  brother  England ;  fairly  met : — 
So  are  you  princes  English,  eveiy  one. 

Q.  Isa.  So  happy  be  the  issue,  brother  England, 
Of  this  good  day,  and  of  this  gracious  meeting, 
As  we  are  now  glad  to  behold  your  eyes ; 
Your  eyes,  whicn  hitherto  have  borne  in  them 
Against  the  French,  that  met  them  in  their  bent, 
The  fatal  balls  of  murdering  basilisks  : 
The  venom  of  such  looks,  we  fairly  hope. 
Have  lost  their  quality ;  and  that  this  day 
Shall  change  all  grie/s,  and  quarrels,  into  love. 

K.  Hen.  To  cry  amen  to  that,  thus  we  appear. 

Q.  Isa.  You  Ekiglish  princes  all,  I  do  salute  you. 

Bur.  My  duty  to  you  both,  on  equal  love. 
Great  kmzs  of  France  and  England !  That  I  have 

labourM 
With  all  my  wits,  my  pains,  and  stroi^  endeavours, 
To  bring  your  most  impierial  majesties 
Unto  this  bar^  and  royal  interview. 
Your  mightiness  on  both  parts  best  can  witness. 
Since  then  my  office  hath  so  far  prevailed. 
That,  fiace  to  face,  and  royal  eye  to  eye. 
You  have  congreeted;  let  it  not  disg^ce  me. 
If  I  demand,  before  this  royal  view. 
What  rub,  or  what  impediment,  there  is. 
Why  that  (he  naked,  poor,  and  mangled  peace. 
Dear  nurse  of  arts,  plenties,  and  joyml  births. 
Should  not,  in  this  best  garden  oi  the  world. 
Our  fertile  France,  put  up  her  lovely  visage  f 
Alas !  she  hath  from  France  too  long  been  chas*d ; 
And  all  her  husbandry  doth  He  on  heaps. 
Corrupting  in  its  own  fertility. 
Her  vme,  the  merry  cheerer  of  the  heart, 
Unpruned  dies  :  her  hedges  even-pleached, — 
Like  prisoners  wildly  over-grown  with  hair, 
Put  forth  disorderM  twigs :  her  fallow  leas 
The  darnel,  hemlock,  and  rank  fumitory. 
Doth  root  upon ;  while  that  the  coulter^  rusts, 
That  shoula  deracinate'  such  savagery  : 
The  even  mead,  that  erst  brought  sweetly  forth 
The  freckled  cowslip,  bumet,  and  p^reen  clover, 
Wanting  the  scv'the,  all  uncorrected,  rank. 
Conceives  by  idleness  :  and  nothing  teems. 
But  hateful  docks,  rough  thistles,  kecksies,  burs, 
Losing  both  beauty  and  utility. 
And  as  our  vineyards,  fallows,  meads,  and  hedges. 
Defective  in  their  natures,  grow  to  wildnes.*; 
Even  so  our  houses,  and  ourselves,  and  children,  • 
Have  lost,  or  do  not  learn,  for  want  of  time, 
The  sciences  that  should  become  our  country ; 
But  grow,  like  savages, — as  soldiers  will. 
That  nothing  do  but  meditate  on  blood, — 

(1)  Barrier.  (2)  Plowshare. 

(3)  To  deracinate  is  to  force  up  the  roots. 


To  swearing,  and  stem  looks,  diffus^d^  attire. 
And  every  ming  that  seems  unnatural. 
Which  to  reduce  into  our  former  ftivoar,* 
You  are  assembled :  and  my  speech  entreats, 
That  I  may  know  the  let,^  why  gentle  peace 
Should  not  expel  these  inconveniences. 
And  bless  us  with  her  former  qualities. 
K  Hen.  If,  duke  of  Burgundy,  yoa  would  Uie 
peace, 
Whose  want  gives  growth  to  the  imperfectioiM 
Which  you  have  cited,  you  mitft  buy  that  peace 
With  full  accord  to  all  our  just  demands ; 
Whose  tenors  and  particular  effects 
You  have,  enschedul*d  brieflv,  in  your  hands. 

Bur.  The  king  hath  heard  them ;  to  the  which, 
as  yet, 
There  is  no  answer  made. 

K.  Hen.  -  Well  then,  the  peace, 

Which  you  before  so  uig*d,  lies  in  his  answer. 

Fr.  King.  1  have  but  with  a  cursorary  eye 
0*er-glanc^  the  articles :  pleaseth  your  grace 
To  appoint  some  of  your  council  present^ 
To  sit  with  us  once  more,  with  better  heed 
To  re-survey  them,  we  will,  suddenly. 
Pass  our  accept,  and  peremptoir  answer. 

K.  Hen.  Brother,  we  shall. — Go,  uncle  Exeter, — 
And  brother  Clarence — and  you,  brother  Glot- 

ter, — 
Warwick — and  Huntingdon, — go  with  the  king : 
And  take  with  you  free  power,  to  ratify. 
Augment,  or  alter,  as  your  wisdoms  best 
Shall  see  advantageable  for  our  dignity. 
Any  thing  in,  or  out  of,  our  demands ; 
And  we*ll  consign  thereto. — Will  you,  fair  sister, 
Go  with  the  princes,  or  stay  here  with  us  } 

Q.  Isa.  Our  gracious  brother,  I  will  g^  with  them; 
Haply,  a  woman^s  voice  may  do  some  good. 
When  articles,  too  nicely  uigM,  be  stood  on. 

K  Hen.  Yet  leave  our  cousin  Katharine  here 
with  us ; 
She  is  our  capital  demand,  comprised 
Within  the  fore-rank  of  our  articles. 

Q.  /sa.  She  hath  good  leave.      [Exeunt  all  but 
Henry,  Katharine  and  her  gentlewoman. 

K.  Hen.  Fair  Katharine,  and  mo^t  fair, 

Will  you  vouchsafe  to  teach  a  soldier  tenns 
Such  as  will  enter  at  a  lady*s  ear. 
And  plead  his  love-suit  to  her  gentle  heart .' 

Kalh.  Your  majesty  shall  mock  at  me ;  I  cannot 
speak  your  England. 

K.  Hen.  O  fair  Katharine,  if  you  will  love  roe 
soundly  with  your  French  heart,  I  will  be  glad  to 
hear  you  coruess  it  brokenly  with  your  English 
ton^e.    Do  you  like  me,  Kate  ^ 

Kath.  Pardonnex  moy,  I  cannot  tell  vat  is — like 
me. 

K.  Hen.  An  angel  is  like  you,  Kate ;  and  you 
are  like  an  aagel. 

Kath.  Que  dit-il?  que  je  suis  semblable  a  les 
anges  ? 

Alice.  Ouy,  vraymeut,  (saufvostre  grace)  ainsi 
dii  il. 

K.  Hen.  I  said  so,  dear  Katharine ;  and  I  must 
not  blush  to  affirm  it. 

Kath.  0  bon  Dieu !  les  langues  des  hommes  sont 
pUines  des  iromperies. 

K.  Hen,  What  savs  she,  fair  one  ?  that  the 
tongas  of  men  are  fufi  of  deceits  ? 

Alice.  Ouy;  dat  de  tongues  of  de  mans  is  be 
full  of  deceits :  dat  is  de  princess. 

K.  Hen.  The  princess  is  the  better  English 


(4)  Extrayagant 
(6)  Hinderance. 


(5)  Appearance. 


470 


KING  HENRY  V. 


Aar. 


woman.  Pfaith,  Kate,  my  wooing  is  fit  for  thy  un- 
derstanding :  I  am  glad,  thou  canst  speak  no  bet- 
ter Ei^Iish  ;  for,  if  mou  couldst,  thou  wouldst  find 
roe  such  a  plain  king,  that  thou  wouldst  think,  I 
had  sold  my  farm  to  buy  mv  crown.  I  know  no 
ways  to  mince  it  in  love,  but  airectly  to  say — I  love 
Tou  :  then,  if  you  urge  me  further  than  to  say — 
Do  you  in  faith  ?  I  wear  out  my  suit  Give  me 
your  answer ;  iYailh,  do ;  and  so  clap  hands  and  a 
bai^in  :  How  say  you,  lady } 

Kath.  Saufvostre  honneur^  me  understand  well. 

K.  Hen.  Marry,  if  you  would  put  me  to  verses, 
or  to  dance  for  your  sake,  Kate,  why  you  undid  me : 
for  the  one,  I  have  neither  words  nor  measure ;  and 
for  the  other,  I  have  no  strength  in  measure,'  yet  a 
reasonable  measure  in  strength.  If  I  could  win  a 
lady  at  leap-frog,  or  by  vaulting  into  my  saddle 
with  my  armour  on  my  back,  under  the  correction 
of  bragging  be  it  spoken,  I  should  quickly  leap  into 
a  wife.  Or,  if  I  might  buffet  for  my  love,  or  bound 
my  horse  for  her  flavours,  I  could  lay  on  like  a 
butcher,  and  sit  like  a  jack-an-apes,  never  off:  but, 
before  God,  I  cannot  look  greenly,^  nor  gasp  out 
my  eloquence,  nor  I  have  no  cunning  in  protesta- 
tion ;  only  downright  oaths,  which  I  never  use  till 
urged,  nor  never  break  for  urging.  If  Aou  canst 
love  a  fellow  of  this  temper,  Kate,  whose  face  is  not 
worth  sun-burning,  that  never  looks  in  his  glass  for 
love  of  any  thing  he  sees  there,  let  thine  eye  be  thy 
cook.  I  speak  to  thee  plain  soldier :  If  thou  canst 
love  me  for  this,  take  me :  if  not,  to  say  to  thee— that 
I  shall  die,  is  true ;  but — for  thy  love,  by  the  Lord, 
no ;  yet  I  love  thee  too.  And  while  thou  livest,  dear 
Kate,  take  a  fellow  of  plain  and  uncoined'  con- 
stancy ;  for  he  perforce  must  do  thee  right,  because 
he  hath  not  the  gift  to  woo  in  other  places;  for  these 
fellows  of  infinite  tongue,  that  can  rnyme  themselves 
into  ladies*  favours, — they  do  always  reason  them- 
selves out  again.  What !  a  speaker  is  but  a  prater ; 
a  rhyme  is  but  a  ballad.  A  good  leg  will  fall  ;4  a 
straight  back  will  stoop ;  a  black  beard  will  turn 
white  ;  a  curled  pate  will  grow  bald ;  a  fair  face 
will  wither ;  a  full  eye  will  wax  hollow ;  but  a  good 
heart,  Kate,  is  the  sun  and  moon ;  or,  rather,  the 
sun,  and  not  the  moon ;  for  it  shines  bright,  and 
never  changes,  but  keeps  his  course  truly.  If  thou 
would  have  such  a  one,  take  me  :  And  take  me, 
take  a  soldier;  take  a  soldier,  take  a  king:  And 
what  say  est  thou  then  to  my  love.'  speak,  my  fair, 
and  fairly,  I  pray  thee. 

Kath.  Is  it  possible  dat  I  should  love  de  enemy 
of  France .' 

K.  Hen.  No ;  it  is  not  possible,  you  should  love 
the  enemy  of  France,  Kate  :  but,  in  loving  me,  you 
should  love  the  friend  of  France  ;  for  I  love  France 
so  well,  that  I  will  not  part  with  a  village  of  it ;  I 
will  have  it  all  mine :  and,  Kate,  when  France  is 
mine,  and  I  am  yours,  then  yours  is  France,  and 
you  are  mine, 

Kath.  I  cannot  tell  vat  is  dat. 

K.  Hen,  No,  Kate .'  I  will  tell  thee  in  French  ; 
which,  I  am  sure,  will  hang  upon  my  tongue  like 
a  new-married  wife  about  her  husband's  neck, 
hardly  to  be  shook  off.  ^tand  fay  la  possession 
de  France  J  el  quand  vous  avez  la  possession  de 
mot,  (let  me  see,  what  then  ?  Saint  Dennis  be  my 
speed  !) — done  vostre  est  France^  et  vous  estes 
mienne.  It  is  as  easy  for  me,  Kate,  to  conquer  the 
kingdom,  as  to  speak  so  much  more  French :    I 

(1)  In  dancing. 

(2)  t.  e.  Like  a  young  lover,  awkwardly. 

(3)  He  means,  resembling  a  plain  piece  of  metal, 
which  has  not  yet  received  any  impression. 


shall  never  move  thee  in  French,  tmless  it  be.  to 
lau^h  at  me. 

Kath.  Saufvostre  honneury  U  Frtm^ois  tpu  wm» 
parlexy  est  meiUeur^  que  PAnglois  Uguelje  park, 

K.  Hen.  No,  *faith,  *tis  not, Kate;  but  thy  speak- 
ing of  my  tongue,  and  I  thine,  most  truly  fiusely, 
must  needs  be  granted  to  be  much  at  one.  Bat, 
Kate,  dost  thou  understand  thus  much  Eoglidi.' 
Canst  them  love  me  ? 

Kath.  I  cannot  tell. 

K.  Hen.  Can  any  of  your  neighbours  tell,  Kate.' 
PlI  ask  them.  Come,  I  know,  thou  lovest  me :  and 
at  ni^ht  when  you  come  into  your  closet,  you'll 

Suestion  this  gentlewoman  about  me ;  and  I  know, 
[ate,  you  will,  to  her,  dispraise  those  parts  in  me, 
that  you  love  with  your  heart :  but,  good  Kate,  mock 
me  mercifully  ;  the  rather,  gentle  princess,  because 
I  love  thee  cruelly.  If  ever  thou be'st  mine,  Kate, 
(as  I  have  a  saving  faith  within  me,  tells  me, — thoa 
shalt,^  I  get  thee  with  scambling,  and  thou  must 
therefore  needs  prove  a  good  soldier-breeder :  Shall 
not  thou  and  I,  between  Saint  Dennis  and  Saint 
Geor^,  compound  a  boy,  half  French,  half  English, 
that  snail  go  to  Constantinople,  and  take  the  Tuik 
by  the  beard.'  shall  we  not?  what  sayest  thou, 
flower-de-luce .' 

Kath.  I  do  not  know  dat. 

K.  Hen.  No ;  'tis  hereafter  to  know,  but  now  to 
promise :  do  but  now  promise,  Kate,  you  will  endea- 
vour for  your  French  part  of  such  a  boy ;  and,  for 
my  English  moiety,  take  the  word  of  a  kii^,  and  a 
bachelor.  How  answer  you,  la  plus  belle  Katho' 
rine  du  nwnde^  mon  tres  chere  et  divine  deesse  ? 

Kath.  Your  majesU  ^Avejausse  French  enoc^ 
to  deceive  the  most  sogr  demoiselle  dat  is  en  Francs, 

K.  Hen.  Now,  fie  upon  my  false  French .'  By  mine 
honour,  in  true  English,  I  love  thee,  Kate :  by 
which  honour  I  dare  not  swear,  thou  lovest  me ;  yet 
my  blood  begins  to  flatter  me  that  thou  dost,  not- 
withstanding the  poor  and  untempering  effect  of  my 
visage.^  Now  beshrew  my  father's  ambiticn !  be 
was  thinking  of  civil  wars  when  he  got  me ;  there- 
fore was  I  created  with  a  stubborn  outside,  with  an 
aspect  of  iron,  that,  when  I  come  to  woo  ladies,  I 
fright  them.  But,  in  faith,  Kate,  the  elder  I  wax, 
the  better  I  shall  appear :  my  comfort  is,  that  old 
age,  that  ill-layer  up  of  beauty,  can  do  no  mora 
spoil  upon  my  face  :  thou  hast  me,  if  thou  hast  me, 
at  the  worst ;  and  thou  shalt  wear  me,  if  thou  wou* 
me,  better  and  better;  And  therefore  tell  me,  most 
fair  Katharine,  will  you  have  me .'  Put  off  your 
maiden  blushes ;  avouch  the  thoughts  of  your  heart 
with  the  looks  of  an  empress ;  take  me  by  the  hand, 
and  say — Harry  of  England,  I  am  thine:  which 
word  tnou  shalt  no  sooner  bless  mine  ear,  withal, 
but  I  will  tell  thee  aloud — England  is  thine,  Ire- 
land is  thine,  France  is  thine,  and  Henry  Plantage- 
net  is  thine ;  who,  though  I  speak  it  before  his  face, 
if  he  be  not  fellow  with  the  best  king,  thou  shalt 
find  the  best  king  of  good  fellows.  Come,  your 
answer  in  broken  music ;  for  thy  voice  is  music, 
and  thy  English  broken :  therefore,  queen  of  all, 
Katharine,  break  thy  mind  to  me  in  broken  English, 
Wilt  thou  have  me .' 

Kath.  Dat  is,  as  it  shall  please  de  rov  mon  pert. 

K  Hen.  Nay,  it  will  please  him  well,  Kate ;  it 
shall  please  him,  Kate. 

Kath.  Den  it  shall  also  content  me. 

K  Hen.  Upon  that  I  will  kiss  your  hand,  and  I 
call  you — my  queen. 


(4)  Fall  away. 

(5)  t.  e.  Though  my  face  hM  no  power 

)U. 


to  toAeo 


Sctmll. 


KING  HENRY  V. 


471 


Kath.  Laisseg,  mon  seigneur,  laduex,  laistez .-  ma 
Jbt/f  je  ne  veux  point  que  vouu  abbaissex  vosire 
gtwuteur,  en  baisarU  la  main  cTunevostre  indigne 
serviteure  ;  excusez  moyy  Je  vous  supplie,  mon  tree 
ftUssant  mrneur. 

K.  Hen.  Then  I  will  kiss  your  tips,  Kate. 

Kath.  Ijea  dames,  et  damoiselUs,  pour  estre 
baisies  devarU  leur  nopces,  xL  n*estpas  U  coiUume 
de  France. 

K.  Hen.  Madanif  my  interpreter,  what  says  she  .^ 

^lice.  Dat  it  is  not  be  de  fashion  pour  Us  ladies 
of  France, — I  cannot  tell  what  is  6a«5«r,  en  English. 

K.  Hen.  To  kiss. 

Alice.  Your  majesty  entendre  bettre  que  may. 

K.  Hen.  It  is  not  the  fashion  for  the  maids  in 
France  to  kiss  before  they  are  married,  would  she 
say  ? 

Alice.  OtcVt  vrayment. 

K.  Hen.  0,  Kate,  nice  customs  curt*8y  to  great 
kings.  Dear  Kale,  you  and  I  cannot  be  confined 
within  the  weak  list^  of  a  country^s  fashion:  we  are 
the  makers  of  manners,  Kate ;  and  the  liberty  that 
follows  our  places,  stops  the  noouths  of  all  find- 
faults  ;  as  I  will  do  ycnirs,  for  upholding  the  nice 
fashion  of  your  country,  in  denying  me  a  kiss : 
therefore,  patiently,  and  yielding,  yiissing  her.] 
You  have  witchcraft  in  your  lips,  Kate :  there  is 
more  eloquence  in  a  sugar  touch  of  them,  than  in 
the  tongues  of  the  Frencn  council ;  and  they  should 
sooner  persuade  Harr}'  of  England,  than  a  general 
petition  of  monarchs.     Here  comes  your  father. 

Enter  the  French  King  and  Queen,  Burgundy, 
Bedford,  Gloster,  Exeter,  AVestmorelana,  and 
other  French  and  English  Lords. 

Bvr.  God  save  your  majesty  !  my  royal  cousin, 
teach  you  our  princess  English  .' 

K.  Hen.  I  would  have  her  learn,  my  fair  cousin, 
how  perfectly  I  love  her ;  and  that  is  good  English. 

Bur.  Is  she  not  apt  ^ 

K.  Hen.  Our  tongue  is  rough,  coi ;  and  my  con- 
dition^  is  not  smooth :  so  that,  having  neither  the 
voice  nor  the  heart  of  flattery  about  me,  I  cannot 
so  conjure  up  the  spirit  of  love  in  her,  that  he  will 
appear  in  his  true  likeness. 

Jiur.  Pardon  the  frankness  of  my  mirth,  if  I  an- 
swer you  for  that  If  you  would  conjure  in  her, 
you  must  make  a  circle  :  if  conjure  up  love  in  her, 
m  his  true  likeness,  he  must  appear  naked,  and 
blind  :  Can  you  blame  her  then,  being  a  maid  yet 
rosed  over  with  the  virgin  crimson  of  modesty,  if 
she  deny  the  appearance  of  a  naked  blind  boy  in 
her  naked  seeing  self?  It  were,  my  lord,  a  hard 
condition  for  a  maid  to  consign  to. 

K.  Hen.  Yet  they  do  wink,  and  yield  ;  as  love 
is  blind,  and  enforces. 

Bur.  They  are  then  excused,  my  lord,  when  they 
see  not  what  they  do. 

K.  Hen.  Then,  good  my  lord,  teach  your  cousin 
to  con^nt  to  winking. 

Bur.  I  will  wink  on  her  to  consent,  mv  lord,  if 
you  will  teach  her  to  know  my  meaning :  for  maids, 
well  summered  and  warm  kept,  are  like  flies  at  Bar- 
tholomew-tide, blind,  though  they  have  their  eyes ; 
and  then  they  will  endure  handling,  which  before 
would  not  abide  looking  on. 

K.  Hen.  This  moral'  fies  me  over  to  time,  and  a 
hot  summer ;  and  so  I  will  catch  the  fly,  your 
cou«in,  in  the  latter  end,  and  she  must  be  blind  too. 

Bur.  As  love  is,  my  lord,  before  it  loves. 

K.  Hen.  It  is  so :  and  you  may,  some  of  you, 
thank  love  for  my  blindness ;  who  cannot  see  many 

(1)  Slight  barrier.  (2)  Temper. 


a  fair  French  city,  for  ooe  fair  i  rench  maid  that 
stands  in  my  way. 

Fr.  King.  Yes,  my  lord,  yoo  see  them  penpec- 
tively,  the  cities  turned  into  a  maid ;  for  they  are 
all  girdled  with  maiden  walls,  that  war  hath  never 
entered. 

K.  Hen.  Shall  Kate  be  my  wife  } 

Fr.  King.  So  please  you. 

K.  Hen.  I  am  content ;  so  the  maiden  cities  you 
talk  of,  may  wait  on  her :  so  the  maid,  that  stood 
in  the  way  of  my  wish,  shall  show  me  the  way  to 
my  will. 

Fr.  King.  We  have  consented  to  all  terms  of 
reason. 

K.  Hen.  I8*t  so,  my  lords  of  England  ? 

West.  The  king  hath  granted  every  article : 
His  daughter,  first ;  and  men,  in  sequel,  all, 
Accordii^  to  their  firm  proposed  natures. 

Exe.  Only,  he  hath  not  yet  subscribed  this : — 
Where  your  majesty  demands. — That  the  king  of 
France,  having  any  occasion  to  write  for  matter  of 
grant,  shall  name  your  highness  in  this  form,  and 
with  this  addition,  in  French, — J^otre  tres  cher 
JiU  Henry  roy  d^Angleterre  heretier  de  France  ; 
and  thus  in  Latin, — Prceclarissimus  JUius  noster 
HcnricvLSy  rex  Anglice  et  hceres  Francioi. 

Fr.  King.  Nor  this  I  have  not,  brother,  so  denied 
But  your  request  shall  make  me  let  it  pass. 

K.  Hen.   I  pray  you  then,  in  love  and  dear 
alliance. 
Let  that  one  article  rank  with  the  rest : 
And,  thereufKm,  give  me  your  daughter. 

Fr.  King.  Take  her,  fair  son ;  and  from  her 
blood  raise  up 
Issue  to  me  :  that  the  contending  kingdoms 
Of  France  and  England,  whose  very  shores  look 

pale 
With  envy  of  each  other^s  happiness. 
May  cease  their  hatred ;  and  this  dear  conjunction 
Plant  neighbourhood  and  christian-like  accord 
In  their  sweet  bosoms,  that  never  war  advance 
His  bleeding  sword  ^twixtEngland  and  fair  France. 

AU.  Amen ! 

K.  Hen.  Now  welcome,  Kate : — and  bear  me 
witness  all. 
That  here  I  kiss  her  as  my  sovereign  queen. 

[Flourish. 

Q.  Isa.  God,  the  best  maker  of  all  marriages. 
Combine  your  hearts  in  one,  your  realms  in  one ! 
As  man  and  wife,  being  two,  are  one  in  love. 
So  be  there  *twixt  your  kingdoms  such  a  spousal, 
That  never  may  ill  office,  or  fell  jealousy. 
Which  troubles  ofl  the  bed  of  blessed  marriage. 
Thrust  in  between  the  paction  of  these  kingtumis, 
To  make  divorce  of  their  incorporate  league ; 
That  English  may  as  French,  French  Englishmen, 
Receive  each  other ! — God  speak  this  Amen ! 

All.  Amen ! 

K.  Hen.    Prepare  we  for  our  marriage : — oo 
which  aay. 
My  lord  of  Burgundy,  we'll  take  yoor  oath. 
And  all  the  peers*,  for  surety  of  our  leagues.^^ 
Then  shall  I  swear  to  Kate,  and  you  to  me ; 
And  may  our  oaths  well  kept  ana  prosperous  be  ! 

[Exeunt. 

Enter  Chorus. 

Thus  far,  with  rough,  and  all  unable  pen. 
Our  bending^  author  hath  pursuM  tne  stoiy ; 

In  little  room  confining  mighty  men. 
Mangling  by  starts  me  full  course  of  their  gloiy. 

(3)  Application. 

(4)  t.  s.  Unequal  to  the  weight  of  the  subject 


472 


KING  HENRY  V. 


Aetr. 


Small  tiine,  but,  in  that  mudl,  moit  great^  li?*^ 

This  star  of  Enrland :  fortune  madehia  nroitl ; 
By  which  the  warid*t  beat  gardeni  he  achiev'd. 

And  of  it  left  hia  BOD  immrial  lord. 
Henrf  the  Sixth,  in  infant  oenda  crown*d  king 

OTFrance  and  England,  did  thia  kingaaocSad ; 
Whoae  atate  aomany  had  the  managing. 

That  they  loat  France,  and  made  hia  Vj^fAmnA 
bleed: 
Which  oft  our  attfe  hath  ahovm;  and,iarthfaraake. 
In  jonrfiirmincu  let  thia  acceptance  take.  [ExiL 


Thia  nlay  has  many  aoenea  of  high  d^ty,  and 
many  oreay  merriment.  ThechanctBroftnaking 

(1)  Fnnoe. 


ia  well  aupported,  except  in  hia  courtship,  where 
he  haa  neitner  the  vivaaty  of  Hal,  nor  the  grandeor 
of  Heniy.  The  homoor  of  Pistol  b  vety  happily 
cQDtinaed :  his  character  has  perhapa  been  the 
model  of  all  the  bolliea  that  hare  yet  appeared  on 
the  Enfflish  stage. 

The  lines  given  to  the  Choma  have  many  ad* 
mirers ;  bat  tne  truth  is,  that  in  them  a  little  may 
be  praiaed,  and  much  mnat  be  forgiven ;  nor  can 
it  be  easily  discovered,  why  the  intelligence  girca 
by  the  Clianis  is  more  necessary  in  this  play,  than 
in  many  others  where  it  ia  omitted.  Tlie  great 
defect  of  this  play  ia,  the  emptineaa  and  narroir* 
ness  of  the  last  act,  which  a  veiy  little  dil^encs 
might  have  easily  avoided. 

JOHNSON. 


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FFP  1  7  1953