The works of Shakespeare: the text carefully restored according to the first editions; with introductions, notes original and selected, and a life of the poet;

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INTRODUCTION

TO

V-?
THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD III.

TKK earliest notice we have of this play is an entry in the Sta-
tioners' Register by Andrew Wise, dated October 20, 1597. and
running thus : " THE TRAGEDY OF KING RICHARD THE THIRD
with the death of the Duke of Clarence." The same year was
published a quarto pamphlet of forty-seven leaves, the title-pags
reading as follows : " The Tragedy of King Richard the Third :
containing- his treacherous plots against his brother Clarence, the
pitiful murder of his innocent nephews, his tyrannical usurpation,
with the whole course of his detested life, and most deserved death :
As it hath been lately acted by the Right Honourable the Lord
Chamberlain his servants. At London : Printed by Valentine
Simms for Andrew Wise, dwelling in Paul's Church-yard, at the
sign of the Angel. 1597." In this edition the author's name was
not given. The play was issued again in 1598, the title-page being
ihe same, except the addition, — "By William Shakespeare," and
the substitution of Thomas Creede for Valentine Simms. There
was a third issue by the same publisher in 1G02 ; which, though
merely a reprint of the former, claimed in the title-page to be
" newly augmented." By another entry at the Stationers', bear-
ing date June 27, 1603, it appears thai Wise transferred his right
in the play to Matthew Law, who published a fourth edition in
1.605, and a fifth in 1613. Three other issues of the same texl
are also known to have been made in quarto, the several dates
being 1624, 1629, and 1634 ; and there is some reason to think that
an edition was put forth in 1622, though no copy of that date is
known to be exiant.

Of these eight editions, all except the first two purport to be
" newly augmented ;" which, as the text was the same in them
all, would seem to infer that the publishers understood the play to
have received certain additions, and wanted to have it though)
that their copies included them. Accordingly, in the folio of i623

0 KING RICHARD III.

we have the text not only augmented, hut in a multitude of cases
slightly altered, thus showing that the play had been carofully
revised by the author. The additions, amounting in all to more
than a hundred and eighty lines, and in one place to fifty-five, w ill
be pointed out in our notes, as they occur. — In the folio the head-
ing of the play is, — "The Tragedy of Richard the Third ; with
the Landing of Earl Richmond, and the Battle at Bosworil;
Field;" and its running title is, — "The Life and Death of Ri.-h-
ard the Third." And the text is there set forth with reasonable
care and accuracy, the divisions of acts and sceres being dnlv
rcarked

The evidences of revisal presented in the folio will dountlesi
l>e hold a sufficient reason for adhering mainly to the text as there
printed : in doing which we shall in many cases depart, as Knight,
Collier, and Verplanck have done, from the text commonly re-
ceived ; this having been made up from the two copies, appar
ently on no steadier or better principle than editorial caprice.
Malone. indeed, assigns, as the reason of his proceeding herein,
that " the alterations were made, not by Shakespeare, but by the
players ; '* but as he still keeps flying off every little while from
the line to which this reason would bind him, we are apt to doubt
whether he fully believed it himself. Steevens, on the other hand,
thought the folio gave the better lext ; wherein he was certainly
right, though his motive probably was, as usual, to contradict Ma-
lone. To point out all the variations of the folio from the quartos,
would encumber our pages overmuch with notes ; for which cause
we shall be content to specify in most cases such of those varia-
tions as have been excluded from the common text. In a few in-
stances single lilies, omitted apparently by accident in the folio,
are retained, as being needful, or at least helpful, to the sense
And in Act iv. sc. 2, a most spirited and characteristic piece of
dialogue is wanting in the folio : why it should have been omitted
is inconceivable ; and the matter is such that no modern editor
would think of leaving it out. All these passages taken from the
quartos will also be remarked in our notes. As going to prove
that the changes of the folio were made by Shakespeare himself,
besides that the additions bear the stamp of no mind but his, it
may be observed that those changes often consist but in the sub
stitution of an epithet, of purpose, manifestly, to avoid a too fre
quent recurrence of the same word ; which is just what one would
naturally do in a cool review of what he had struck out in the full
glow of inspiration. So that there need be no question about
taking the folio as the standard text, and using the quartos to as-
certain and rectify this, instead of using this as an occasional re-
tort, to clear up what is dark, or fill out what is wanting in those.

The great popularity of King Richard III. is amply shown in
the number of editions called for, wherein it surpasses any other
of the Poet's dramas. And the three later issues in quarto prove

INTRODUCTION. 7

it to have been iu good demand in a separate form some time
after the folio collection had appeared. It was also honoured
above any of its fellows by the notice of contemporary writers :
it is mentioned by Meres in his Palladis Tamia ; Fuller, in his
Church History, and Milton, in one of his political eruptions, refer
to it as being already well known : and in Bishop Corbet's Iter
Boreale, 1617, we have a quaint description of the author's host
at Bosworth, which is exceedingly curious as witnessing both
what an impression the play had made in the popular mind, and
how thoroughly the character of Richard had become identified
wilh Burbage, the great original performer of it :

" Mine host was full of ale and history ;
And in the morning, when he brought us nigh
Where the two Roses join'd, you would suppose
Chaucer ne'er made tho Romaunt of. ihe Rose.
Hear him : ' See you yon wood 1 there Richard lay
Wilh his whole army. Look the other way,
And, lo ! where Richmond in a bed of gorse
Encamp'd himself all night, and all his force :
Upon this hill they met.' — Why, he could tell
The inch where Richmond stood, where Richard fell.
Besides what of his knowledge he could say,
He bad authentic notice from the play ;
Which I might guess by marking up the. ghosts,
And policies not incident to hosts ;
But chiefly by that one perspicuous thing,
Where he mistook a player for a king :
For when he would have said, ' King Richard died,
And call'd, ' A horse ! a horse ! ' he Burbage cried"

As to when the play was written, we have no certain external
notice of an earlier date than the first entry in the Stationers'
Register. Touching this point, however, an inference of some
probability has been gathered from a passage in Weever's Epi-
grams, which, it would seem, must have been written in 1595,
though not published till 1599. The writer is professedly euu-
meiating the " issue" of " honey-tongued Shakespeare : "

" Rose-cheek'd Adonis, with his amber tresses,
Fair fire-hot Venus charming him to love her;
Chaste Lucrelia, virgin-like her dresses,
Proud lust-stung Tarquin seeking still to prove her;
Romeo, Richard, more wtiose names I know not ;
Their sugar'd tongues and power-attraclive beauty
Say they are saints, although that saints they show not"

In this stupid euphuism we cannot he certain whether the authoi

8 RING RICHARD III.

is referring to the Richard III. or the Richard II. of Shakespeare )
for, though the epithet siig-ar'd would seem to point out the latter,
nothing- can be argued thence here, the writer is so litile used to
keep any sort of terms between the phrase and the mailer. To
the best of our judgment, the internal evidence of the play makes
strongly for as early a date as 1593 or 1594: ihe general style,
though rising somewhat above that of the Second and Third Parts
<>f Henry VI., is strictly continuous with it ; while the history and
Ihc characterization show it to have been written with the scenes
of those dramas fresh in the author's mind. In Clarence's ac-
couut of his dream, and in Tyrrel's description of the murder of
the young princes, Shakespeare is out in his plenitude of pceticid
wealth ; and the character of the hero is indeed a marvel of sus-
tained vigour and concentrated activity : nevertheless, as a whole,
the play evinces considerably less maturity of power, than King
Richard II. : in several cases there is great insubordination of
the details to the general plan ; as, for instance, in Richard's woo-
ing of lady Anne and of Queen Elizabeth, which have an excess
of dialogical epigram, showing indeed a prodigious fertility of
resource, but betraying withal a sort of mental incontinence ; and
where we quite miss that watchful judgment which, in the Poet's
later dramas, tempers all the parts and elements into artistic sym-
metry and proportion.

It is certain that the history of Richard III. had been made the
subject of stage performance several years before it fell into
Shakespeare's hands. A Latin drama, written by one Dr. Legge
was acted at St. John's College, Cambridge, some time before
1583. Sir John Harrington, in his Apology for Poetry, 1591, re-
fers to this play, as one which would " have moved Phalaris the
tyrant, and terrified all tyrannous-minded men." Besides, there-
was an English play on the same subject, entered at the Station-
ers', June 19, 1594, and published the same year, with a title-page
running thus : " The True Tragedy of Richard the Third ; where
in is shown the death of Edward the Fourth, with the smoiher'ng
of the two young Princes in the Tower : With a lamentable end
of Shore's wife, an example to all wicked women ; and, lastly,
the conjunction and joining of the two noble Houses, Lancaster
and York." Mr. Collier says " it was evidently written several
years before it came from the press." As it is unlike any othei
relic of the k.'nd, some account of it probably will not be dremea
out of place. The following is an abridgement of the ane given
by Mr. Collier :

The opening consists of a singular dialogue between Truth
and Poetry ; after which, the ghost of Clarence having passed
over the stage, and made a short speech iu its passage, Truth
proceeds to deliver the argument of the play. Thus much by
way of introduction ; whereupon the drama itself begins with a
•cene representing the death of Edward IV. Thenceforth the

INTRODUCTION. 9

siorv is most clumsily conducted, with characters ill-sustained, and
with a total disregard of dates, facts, and places, Shore's wife
playing a conspicuous part, and (he representation being drawn
out long after the battle of Bosworth Field. Richard having been
killed, Report enters, and holds a dialogue with a Page, to give
information of divers things not exhibited. Then follows a long
scene between Richmond, his mother, and the Princess Elizabeth;
after which two Messengers come in, and reel off what is to be
done and who is to reign, all the way from Richard to Queen
Elizabeth, the whole winding up with an elaborate pancgyiic on
the latter. As to the composition of this unique performance, it
is written partly in prose and partly in heavy blank-verse, duly
interspersed with ten-syllable rhyming couplets and stanzas, and
with specimens of the long fourteen-syllable metre.

There are but two instances wherein Shakespeare has with any
likelihood been traced to the True Tragedy ; and in those the re-
semblance is not such as to infer any more knowledge of the old
play than might well enough have been caught in the hearing. The
passages will be found at the proper places in our notes on the
last scene but one of the drama. Other resemblances there are
indeed, but only such as would naturally result from using a com-
mon authority; as where Richard opens his breast so freely to the
Page concerning the fittest person to be employed about the mur-
dering of the princes. The cause of the resemblance in that case
will at once appear from our note on the passage. In all other
points, whether of conception or of execution, the two plays will
bear no comparison ; and. save in the way of historical account,
one almost had need to ask pardon for naming them together.

The closeness of connection between this play and The Third
Part of Henry VI. is so evident as to leave no occasion for tra-
cing it out. At the very opening of the one we have Richard
flouting and snarling in soliloquy at the " stately triumphs " and
" mirthful comic shows," with which, at the close of the other,
King Edward had proposed to celebrate the final Lnd full estab-
lishment of his cause. And it was fitting, no doubt, that on Rich-
ard's first appearance as a dramatic hero, we should overhear him
at his old practice of ruminating aloud, and thus familiarizing his
thoughts in solitude with the villuinv which he has in purpose to
act. Of course everybody knows that Colley Gibber, being seized
with a fit of progress, took upon him to reform Shakespeare's King
Richard III. into fitness for the uses of the stage ; and that, as the
play in its original shape was too long for representation, his mode
of retrenching it within the proper compass was, in part, by trans-
porting into it a scene or two from the foregoing play. From
which we may conclude that Gibber saw there was such a con-
tinuity of matter and style in the two plays as might well enough
admit of their being drawn into one ; though, as would seem, ha
did not perceive the absurdity of setting the catastrophe of oaa

10 KING RICHARD III.

play at the beginning- of another How his mind should hava
been so taken up with that continuity as to overlook this absurd-
ity, is a question for those to meet, who maintain, with Malone,
that the two plays were not originally by the same hand. Foi
the scene where Richard murders Henry in the Tower is among
those parts of the preceding play, which, as was shown near the
close of the sixth volume, were least altered from their original
state.

Historically considered, the play in hand embraces a period of
more than fourteen years, from the death of Henry, May, 1471,
till the fall of Richard, August, 1485. Half of this period, how-
ever, is despatched in the first act ; the funeral of Henry, the
marriage of Richard with lady Anne, and the death of Clarence
being represented as occurring all about the same time, whereas
in fact they were separated by considerable intervals, and ihe lat-
ter did not take place till February, 1478. And there is a similar
abridgement, or rather overleaping of time between the first act
and the second, as the latter opens with the sickness of Edward,
his seeming reconciliation of the peers, and his death, all which
took place in April, 1483, thus leaving but Iwo years and four
months for the rest of the play. This drawing together of the
scattered events seems eminently judicious : for the plan uf the
drama required no use to be made of them but as subsidiary to
the hero's character ; and it does not appear how the Poet could
have ordered them better, so as to develope in the most forcible
manner his idea of that extraordinary man. So that the selection
and grouping of the secondary incidents are strictly regulated bv
the paramount law of the work ; and, certainly, they are made to
tell with masterly effect in furtherance of the author's purpose.

After the death of Edward IV. the events of the drama are
disposed for the most part in the order of their actual occurrence.
Thenceforward the representation in all its main points is founded
directly on the narrative of Sir Thomas More, as it had been
given at full length in the Chronicles of Hall and Holinshed ; the
drama being perhaps as true to the history as were practicable or
desirable in a work so different in its nature and use. Tbis will
be shown so fully in our notes as to render any abstract of the
history needless here. Perhaps it should be observed, however,
that More's narrative only comes down to the revolt of Bucking-
ham ; after which the account given by Hall, and copied by Hol-
inshed, was made up from other sources. So that More's History
furnished the basis of the most characteristic passages of .ne play.
What esteem his narrative was held in at that time is testified by
Sir John Harrington, in his Metamorphosis of Ajax, 1596, thusi
" The best part of our Chronicles, in all men's opinion, is that of
Richard the Third, written, as 1 have heard, by Morton, but as
most suppose, by Sir Thomas More."

Since Shakespeare's time, much has been written to explode

INTRODUCTION. 11

(he current history of Richard, and to lessen, if not remove, tha
abhorrence in which his memory had come to be held. The I'oet
has not been led without his share of criticism and censure for
the alleged blackening of his dramatic hero. This attempt at
reforming public opinion was led off by Sir George Buck, whose
History of Richard III. was published in 16k>. The general drift
of his book is thus indicated by Fuller in his Church History, who
is himself high authority on the matters in question : " He <;veii-
eth Richard's shoulders, smoolheth his back, planeth his teeth,
makeih him in all points a comely and beautiful person. NCI
stoppeth he here, but, proceeding from his naturals to his morals,
makeih him as virtuous as handsome ; concealing most, denying
some, defending others of his foulest facts, wherewith in all ages
since he standeth charged on record. For mine own part, I con-
fess it no heresy to maintain a paradox in history ; nor am I such
an enemy to wit as not to allow it leave harmlessly to d'sport
itself for its own content, and the delight of others. But when
men do it cordially, in sober sadness, to pervert people's judg-
ments, and therein go against all received records, I say that sin-
gularity is the least fault that can be laid to such men's charges.
Besides, there are some birds, sea-pies by name, who cannot rise
except it be by Hying against the wind ; as some hope to achieve
their advancement by being contrary and paradoxical to all before
them."

Something more than a century later, the same work was re-
sumed and carried on with great acuteness and ingenuity by Hor-
ace VValpole in his Historic Doubts, which, however, in the opinion
of Campbell, " are themselves subject to doubts." Also. Carte,
Laiug, and, in our own da}*, Caroline A. Halsted have put their
bauds to the same work. Still the old judgment seems likely to
stand, the main substance thereof not having been much shaken
yet. Dr. Lingard has carried to the subject his usual candour
and research, and, after despatching the .strong points urged on
the other side, winds up his account of liichard thus: '• Writers
have indeed in modern times attempted to prove his innocence ;
but their arguments are rather ingenious than conclusive, and
dwindle into groundless conjectures when confronted with the evi-
dence which may be arrayed against them." Of course the kill-
ing of the two princes formed the backbone of the guilt laid at
his door. That they did actually disappear, is tolerably certain;
that upon him fell whatsoever advantage could grow from their
death, is equally so ; and it is for those, who deny the cause uni-
formly assigned at the time and long after for their disappear-
ance, to tell us how and by whom they were put out of the way.
And Sharon Turner, who is perhaps the severest of all sifters of
historical fictions and fables, is constrained to admit the murder
of his nephews, however he may seem to succeed in washing off
bis other blood-stains ; aud so long as this remains, the sro iring

12 KING RICHARD III.

of others, if it diminish his crimes, will hardly lighten his crimi-
nality.

But even if Shakespeare's lepresentation were proved to b«
essentially untrue to Richard as he was in himself and in his life,
still this would nowise touch the standing1 of the work as a dra-
matic reproduction of historical matter. For the Poet's vindica-
tion on this score, it sutficeth that his Richard, so far at least as
regards tne moral complexion of the man, is substantially the
Richard of the chroniclers, and of all the historical authorities that
were received and studied in his time. Besides, to satisfy the
aice scruples and queries of historic doubters and dialecticians, is
no part of a poet's business : his concern is not with truth in her
abstract essence, but with truth in her operative form ; and to pur-
sue the former were to anatomize history, not to represent it. For
instance, in the case in hand, whether Richard were in fact guilty
of such and such crimes, matters little or none; it being enough
that he was generally believed to be so, and that this belief was
the mother-principle of those national events whereon the drama
turns. That Richard was a prince of abundant head ; that his
government was in the main wise and just ; that he was sober in
counsel, brave in the field, and far-sighted in both ; all this only
renders it the harder to account for that general desertion which
left him almost naked to his foes, but by such a wide-spread im-
pression of his criminality as no puttings-forth of intellect could
surmount. Thus his fall, so sudden and so complete, was inainl}'
in virtue of what he was thought to be. And forasmuch as th«
character generally set upon him at the time, if not the essential
truth regarding him, was the stuff out of which were spun his
overthrow, and the consequent opening of a new social and polit-
ical era, thus being the truth that was operative ; such, therefore,
was the only character that would cohere or consist with the cir-
cumstances, and hence the only one that was capable of dramatic
development.

Touching the moral complexion of Shakespeare's Richard, as
ihus explained, enough, we trust, will be found in our notes to bear
out the delineation. The incidents whereby his character in this
respect transpires are nearly all taken from the historians, with
only such quickening and heightening as it is the prerogative of
poetry to lend, even when most tied to the conditions of actual
events. Intellectually, however, his proportions, as they had need
ta be, are drawn much beyond the conferring* of history, or per-
haps of nature. For to have set forth such a moral physiognomy
in dramatic form, with only his actual endowment of mind, would
scarce consist with so much of pleasure in his skill, as was re-
quired to countervail the horror of his crimes. Such a measure
of depravity, stripped of the disguise which it necessarily keeps
up in real life, might indeed be valuable as truth, but would not
do at all as poetry. And this may apC.y suggest the differenl

INTRODUCTION. 13

laws of history and art. which we know not how to state better
than that the method of the one is to please because it instructs,
of the other to instruct because it pleases. The forms of poetry,
it scarce need be said, are properly relished, not as being; fitted
to facts, which is the case with science, but as they fit the mind.
Nor does this infer any delect of real instructiveness in art ; foi
whatsoever pleasure spring's in virtue of such fitness and conge-
niality with our better nature must needs carry refreshment and
itnigoration in it? touch.

Practically no man ever understood this matter better thar
Shakespeare ; nor, perhaps, has his understanding' thereof been
better shown anywhere than in the case of Richard. The lines
of his guilt, as traced in history, are considerably deepened in the
play, and its features charged with boisterous life, making, all to.
getl>er, a fearful picture, and such as, without counterpoising at-
tractions, would be apt to shock and revolt the beholder. But his
intellectuality is idealized so far and in such sort from the Poet's
own stock, as to season the impression of his moral deformity with
the largest and most various mental entertainment. If he he al
villain, he is an all-accomplished one ; and any painful sense of his
villainy is spirited away by his thronging diversions of thought,
his unflagging gayety of spirits, his prompt, piercing, versatile
wit. Nay, his very crimes do but beget occasion for these en-
chantments, while every demand seems in effect to replenish his
stock ; and thus in his character the hateful is so compensated by
the admirable, that we are more than reconciled to his company.

The point in review is well illustrated in Richard's wooing and
winning of lady Anne, where the rays of his character are all
gathered, as it were, into a focus. Now, whatever may have
been the real facts in the case, it is certain that Richard was at
the time generally believed by the Lancastrians to have had a
hand in killing both Henry VI. and Edward his son. It is also
certain that within two years after their death Richard was mar-
ried to Edward's widow, who must in all reason be supposed to
have shared in the common belief of her party, flow they felt
on the subject may well appear in that the late king was revered
by them as a martyr, and his tomb hallowed as the abode of mi-
raculous efficacies ; for which cause Richard afterwards had his
bones removed to a more secluded place. On Richard's part the
chief motive to the marriage was, no doubt, to come at a share
in the immense estates of the lady's father. For as Clarence,
having married the elder daughter, grasped at the whole ; and as
Richard proposed by taking the younger to succeed to a part :
nence arose that fierce strife between them, whence grew the gen-
eral persuasion that Richard was somehow the cause of his broth-
er's death. Perhaps, as indicating the manner and spirit of theii
contest, it should be ment'ioned that Clarence, to thwart the aim
of Richard, at first had the lady concealed from his pursuit several

14 KINO RICHARD III.

months in the disguise of a cook-maid ; and thni. when at last th«
former saw he could not prevent the marriage, he swore that the
latter i% siiould not part the livelihood with him."

So that the Poet is nowise answerable for this difficulty : it was
in the history ; and the best he could do was to furnish snch a
solution of it as would stand with the conditions of dramatic ef-
fect; to produce which effect it must perforce be brought within
the terms of historical reason and probability. Before solving the
difficulty, however, Shakespeare greatly augments it by the sup-
pression, of lime ; heightening the exigency, as if on purpose that
he may proportionally heighten the intellectuality that is to meet
it. Richard begins and finishes his courtship of the ladv over the
very coiim of the royal saint whose death site is mourning, *nd
whom he is supposed to have murdered. Yet his triumph, such
is the Poet's management, seems owing not to any special vice Of
defect in her, but simply to his persuasive art and fascinations of
wit, so put in play as to disconcert all her powers, and steal from
her the very will and spirit, of resistance. His towering audcieity,
which, springing from entire confidence that his genius will back
him up and bear him out, succeeds in part by the very effrontery
of its attempts ; his flexibility and suppleness of thought, turning
himself indifferently to all occasions, forms, and modes of address ;
his perfect self-possession and presence of mind, never at loss for
a shift, iior betrayed into a misstep, nor surprised into a pause ; his
wily dissimulation, and more wily frankness, silencing her charges
by pleading guilty to them, parrying her blows by inviting them,
and disarming her hatred by owning its justice; — such are the
parts of the sly, subtle, unfearing, remorseless Richard, that are
wrought out in his courtship of lady Anne.

This scene indeed is far from being the best, or even among thn
best, in the play, and is thus pitched upon, as combining a remark-
able variety of characteristic points, and as happily exemplifying
the Poet's method of diverting off the offensiveness of Richard's
acts by the entertainment of his gifts. In these respects we have
a repetition of the scene afterwards, when he in like manner tri-
umphs over the fears and scruples of Elizabeth; where the same
difficulty recurring draws on a similar procedure, history being
again responsible for the one, and Shakespeare for the other. And
surely the Poet was not without a purpose in so ordering the drama,
that in our first impression of the full-grown Richard his thought-
swarming head should have the start of his bloody hand : which
order, by the way, is quite reversed in Gibber's patchwork prep-
aration of the play, where, the murder of the sainted Henry com-
ing first, admiration of Richard's intellect is of course forestalled
Sy abhorrence of his cruelty. By the opening soliloquy, so star-
tling in its abruptness, and so crammed to the utmost with poetry
and thought, our minds are duly preengaged to the man's active
fertile, scheming brain : onr first impression is of one, unrelenting

IPsTUOnUCTION. 15

indeed, and incapable of fear, but who looks long and well before
be strikes, ami never does ihe latter, till he is sure of working1 his
will thereby. And the organic law of the drama plainly requires
that this or some such initiative be given to the penetrating and
imperturbable sagacity which presides over all other elements in
the hero's character, and every where pioneers to his purpose, and
in the strength of which he still gains his real ends by feigning
others, and conquers by seeming to yield. And thus, in Ihe origi-
nal arrangement of the play, our feelings are from the first prop-
erly toned and set to the scope aud measure of the terrible as
distinguished from the horrible ; the reverse of which takes place
in the Cibberian improvement.

One of the authors of that singularly thoughtful and suggestive
book, Guesses at Truth, has a piece of criticism on Richard, which,
whether altogether just or not, the reader will doubtless thank us
for producing here. " Slow and reluctant as I am." says he, " to
think that anv thing can be erroneous in Shakespeare, whom Na-
ture had wedded, so to say, for better, for worse, and whom she
admitted into all the hidden recesses of her heart, still I cannot
Help thinking that even he, notwithstanding the firm grasp with
which he is wont to hold the reins of his soiar chariot, as it circles
the world, beholding and bringing out cveiy form of life in it, has
somewhat exaggerated the diabolical element in the soliloquies of
Richard the Third." Then, after quoting parts of the two solilo
quies near the close of the foregoing play and at the opening of
this, he adds, — «• If we compare the way in which lago's plot is
first sown, and springs up and gradually grows and ripens in his
brain, with Richard's downright enunciation of his projected series
of crimes from the first, we may discern the contrast between the
youth and the mature manhood of the mightiest intellect that ever
lived upon earth, — a contrast almost equally observable in the
difference between the diction and metre of the two plays. There
are several things in Richard's position, which justify a great dif-
ference in the representation of his inward being. His rank and
station pampered a more audacious will. The civil wars had
familiarized him with crimes of lawless violence, and the wildest
revolutions of fortune. Above all, his deformity, — which Shake-
ipeare received from a tradition he did not think of questioning,
and which he purposely brings forward so prominently in both the
speeches quoted, — seemed to separate and cut him off from sym-
pathy and communion with his kind, and to be a plea for thinking
that, as he was a monster in body, be might also be a monster in
heart and conduct. In fact, it is a common result of a natural
malformation to awaken and irritate a morbid self-consciousness,
by making a person continually and painfully sensible of his infe-
riority to his fellows. Still I cannot but think that Shakespeare
would have mad* a somewhat different use even of this motive, if
ne had rewritten *te play in the maturity of his intellect Would

M5 KING RICHARD III.

not Rii-hard then, like Edmund and lago. have palliated and ex.
cused his crimes to himself, and sophisticated and played trick
with his conscience 1 Would lie not have denied and avowed his
wickedness, almost in the same breath, and made the ever-waxing
darkness of his purposes, like that of night, at once conceal and
betray their hideous enformitv ? "

These queries certainly go right to the spot, and the most we
should venture in answer to them, is to start a lew cross-queries ;
premising that when, in reference to the same point, this acute
and ingenious writer says, — "It is as contrary to nature for -i
man to anatomize his heart and soul thus, as it would be to
make him dissect his own body," — his speech surely is stronger
than the subject may well bear. May it not, then, be a natural
result of Richard's inordinate, dare-devil intellectuality, that he
should inspect and scrutinize himself with the same cold, passion-
less impartiality as he would another person, or as another would
him ? And might he not, in the strength of his God-defying pride
of intellect, grow and harden into a habit of facing his blackest
purposes as unflinchingly as he does his unsightly person, and
even take pleasure in exaggerating and overpainting their wick-
edness to himself, as serving to set oft' and magnify in his own
view the art and spirit which, he feels assured, will carry him sate
and victorious through them ? And does not his most distinc'ivo
and individual feature, as compared with Edmund and lago stand
mainly in this, that intellectual pride is in a more exclusive and
operative manner the constituent of his character, and the princi-
ple of his action ? It should be observed that the question here
is not, whether the portrait as a whole be not one of superhuman
audacity, and running to a height of guilt where no man could
sustain himself in being ; but whether the speeches under consid-
eration be not in perfect keeping with the idea of his character as
transpiring in his action throughout the play. For in whatsoever
ne does, no less than in what he there says, it is manifest that his
hypocrisy is without the least shade of self-delusion. The most
constant, the most versatile, the most perfect of actors, he is never
a whit deceived or taken in by his own acting : he has, in consum-
mation, the art to conceal his art from others ; and because this is
the very thing he chiefly glories in, therefore he takes care that it
may never become in any degree a secret unto himself. Moral
obliquity so played as to pass for moral rectitude is to him the tost
and measure of intellectual strength and dexterity ; for the which
cause he delights to practise it, and, what is more, to contemplate
himself while practising it, and even while designing it. And
nerein Richard is distinguished from and far above all real-life
actors, where it is scarce possible but that hypocrisy and seif-
deceit should slide into each other ; whence it is that hypocrite*
•till end by turning fanatics, and vice versa, as every day's obser-
vation amply testifies.

INTRODUCTION. 17

lJut this is making Richard out an improbable character? Per-
naps it is so ; and our purpose was not so much to vindicate the
soliloquies, as to suggest whether the charge so pertinently started
touching them will >iot hold equally against the whole delineation.
If we be right in thinking thai the speeches in question strictly
Cohere with his general action, it follows that both are in fault, or
neither : so that if the Poet be here in error, he is at the least
consistently so ; though in this case consistency be no jewel. In-
stead, therefore, of rejecting the fine criticism quoted above, we
should taiher incline to extend it in some sort over the substance
and body of the. play ; in the very conception of which we seem
to have somewhat of the mistake, so incident to youthful genius,
of seeking for excellence rather by transcending nature, or for-
cing her into a better path, than by falling heartily in, and going
smoothly along, with her. — That we have not spoken altogether
without book, may be seen by the choice observations of Cole-
ridge. " Pride of intellect," says he, " is the characteristic of
Richard, carried to the extent of even boasting to his own mind
of his villainy, whilst others are present to feed his pride of supe-
riority. Shakespeare here developes, in a tone of sublime moral-
ity, the dreadful consequences of placing the moral in subordina-
tion to the mere intellectual being. In Richard there is a predom-
inance of irony, accompanied with apparently blunt manners to
those immediately about him, but formalized into a more set hy-
pocrisy towards the people as represented by their magistrates."

It is plain that such a man as Richard must either cease to be
himself, or else must be " himself alone." Isolation, virtual or
actual, is his vital air, the breath, the necessary condition, of his
life. One of his character without his position would have lojind
solitude ; Richard, by his position, has the alternative of creating
it : the former must needs be where none others are ; the latter,
where all others are, in effect, as though they were not. For so-
ciety is in its nature a complection of mutualities and reciprocal
influences, and every rule pertaining to it works both ways : it is
a partnership of individualities, some of them subordinate, indeed,
and some superior, yet not in such sort but as to presuppose a
net-work of ties running and recurring from each to each, so that
no one can urge a right without inferring a duly, or claim a bond
without owning himself bound. But Richard's individuality can
abide no partner, either as equal, or as second, or in any other de-
gree For partnership is of members the same in kind, differing
only n degree ; but whoever would move where Richard moves,
must do so as of another kind. There is no sharing any thing with
him, in however unequal portions ; no acting with him, as original
and self-moving agents, but only from him, as the objects and
passive recipients of his activity : such is the form and scope of
bis individuality, that other men's cannot stand in mere subordina-
tion to it, but must either crush it, or fly from it, or be absorbed

18 KING RICHARD III.

into it ; and the moment any one goes to act otherwise than as o
limb of his person or organ of his will, there is a virtual declara-
tion of war between them, and the issue must hang on a trial of
strength or of stratagem.

Hence comes it that there is, properly speaking, no interaction
between Richard and the other persons of the drama. He is the
all-iu-all of the play, the soul of every thing that is done the
theme of every thing that is said : there is scarce a thought, or
feeling, or purpose expressed, but what is either from him, or in
some way concerning him, he being the author, the subject, or the
occasion of it. And herein is this play chiefly distinguished from
all the others, and, certainly, as a work of art, not distinguished
for the better, that the entire action, in all its parts and stages, so
far at least as it has any human origin or purpose, both springs
from the hero as its source, and determines in him as its end. So
that the drama is not properly a composition of cooperative char-
acters, mutually developing and developed ; but the prolonged yet
hurried outcome of a single character, to which all the other per-
sons serve but as exponents and conductors ; as if he were a vol-
ume of electrical activity, disclosing himself by means of others,
and quenching their active powers at the very moment of doing
so. Observe, we say the other persons, not characters ; for how-
ever much their forms meet the eye. their inward being is for the
most part held in abeyance and kept from transpiring by the vir-
tual ubiquity of the hero.

All which may go far to account for the great and lasting pop-
ularity of this play on the stage. There being no one to share
with the hero the action and interest of the piece, this of course
renders it all the better for theatrical starring ; for which reason
most of the great actors have naturally been fond of appearing
in it, and play-goers of seeing them in it. Besides, the hero is
himself essentially an actor, though an actor of many parts, some-
times one after another, and sometimes all of them together ; and
the fact that his character is much of it assumed, and carried
through as a matter of art, probably makes it somewhat easier
for another to assume it. At all events, the difficulty, one would
suppose, must be much less in proportion to the stage-effect, than
in reproducing the deep tragic passions of Lear and Othello, as
they burst from the original founts of nature.

This want of dramatic balance and equipoise resulted naturally,
no doubt, from the subject, and, however detracting from the play
as a work of art, may be considered one of its excellences as a
representation of history. For by reason of this unartistic dis-
proportion the play sets forth with the more awful emphasis the
malignant working of that tyranny, where a single person arro-
gates to himself the life of a whole people, and makes all theii
thoughts, feelings, aims, interests, rights, and affections, serve but
as the sporting-ground of his overmastering and remorseless will;

INTRODUCTION. 19

— a state of thing's wnich is sure to prodx.^e, if indeed it do not
rather presuppose, a thorough disorganization of society.

Richard's all-controlling energy of purpose, his thorough mas-
tery of himself and every thing about him, has its strongest exhi-
bition in the catastrophe. He cannot indeed prolong his life, but
he makes his death serve in the highest degree the end for which
he has lived ; dying in a perfect transport and ecstasy of heroism,
insomuch that we may truly say, " nothing in his life became him
like the leaving it." Nay, he may even he said to compel his own
death, when a higher Power than man's has cut off all other means
of honour and triumph. Herein, too, the Poet followed history ;
but in the prerogatives of his art he found a way. which history
knew not of, to satisfy the moral feelings, representing him as in
Hands that can afford to let him defy all the powers of human
avengenient. Inaccessible to earthly strokes, or accessible to them
only in a way that adds to his earthly honour, yet this dreadful
impunity is recompensed in the agonies of an embosomed hell ;
and our moral nature reaps a stern satisfaction in the retributions
which are rendered vocal and articulate by the ghosts that arc
made to haunt his sleeping moments. For even so God some-
times apparently chooses to vindicate His law by taking the pun-
ishment directly and exclusively into His own hands. And, surely,
His vengeance is never so terrible, as when subordinate ministries
are thus dispensed with.

The only considerable exception to what we have been saying
is Queen Margaret, whose individuality shoulders itself in face to
face with Richard's, her passionate impulse wrestling evenly with
his deliberate purpose, and her ferocious temper being provoked
into larger and hotter eruptions by all attempts at restraint or in-
timidation. This, to be sure, is partly because she can do noth
ing; while at the same time her tongue is all the more able aud
eager to blast, forasmuch as she has no hand to strike. Long
suffering has deepened her fierceness into sublimity : at once vin-
dictive and broken-hearted, her part runs into a most impressive
blending of the terrible and the pathetic. Walpole, in his Historic
Doubts, remarks, that in this play the Poet " seems to deduce the
woes of the house of Vork from the curses which Queen Marga-
ret had vented against them." Might it not as well be said that
hf;r woes are deduced from the curse formerly laid upon her by
the duke of York 7 We can perceive no deduction in either
ease : each seems but to have a foresight of future woe to the
other as the proper consequence of past or present crimes. The
truth is, Margaret's curses do but proclaim those moral retributions
of which God is the author, and nature His minister; and perhaps
the only way her former character could .>e carried on into these
scenes was by making her seek indemnity for her woes in r ngfug
changes upon theirs

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

KINO EDWARD THE FOURTH.

EDWARD, Prince of Wales, > . . „

RICHARD, Duke of York, $ °ls

GEORGE. Duke of Clarence, ),.,>.

RICHARD, Duke of Gloster, $ his Brothers-

A young Son of Clarence.

HENRY TUDOR, Earl of Richmond.

THOMAS BOURCHIER, Primate of England, and Cardinal.

THOMAS ROTHERHAM, Archbishop of York.

JOHN MORTON, Bishop of Ely.

HENRY STAFFORD, Duke of Buckingham.

JOHN HOWARD, Duke of Norfolk.

THOMAS, his Son, Earl of Surrey.

ANTHONY WOODVILLE, Earl Rivers, Brother to Elizabeth

THOMAS GREY, Marquess of Dorset, ) ,,

RICHARD LORD GREY, his Brother, \ Sons of Ellzabeth

JOHN DE VERE, Earl of Oxford.

WILLIAM LORD HASTINGS. THOMAS LORD STANLEY

FRANCIS LORD LOVEL. SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN.

SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF. SIR WILLIAM CATESBY.

SIR JAKES TYRREL. SIR WILLIAM BRANDON.

SIR JAMFS BLUNT. SIR WALTER HERBERT.

SIR ROBKRT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower.

CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a Priest. Another Priest.

Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire

ELIZABETH, Queen of Edward IV.

MARGARET, Widow of Henry VI.

CECILY, Duchess of York, Mother of toward IV.

LADY ANNE, Widow of Edward, late Prince of Wales.

A young Daughter of Clarence.

Lords, and other Attendants ; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant,
Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Sol-
diers, &.C.

SCENE, England.

KING RICHARD III.

ACT I.

SCENE I. London. A Street.

Enter RICHARD.

Kick. Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun ' of York ;
And all the clouds, that lower'd upon our house,
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.8
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed 3 steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.4

1 The cognizance of Edward IV. was a sun, in memory of the
three suns which are said to have appeared at the battle he gained
over the Lancastrians at Mortimer's Cross. See 3 Henry VI.
Act ii. sc. 1, note 5.

* Dances.

* That is, steeds caparisoned or clothed in the trappings of
war. The word is properly boarded, from equus bardatus.

4 " Is the warlike sound of drum and trump turned to the soft
noise of lyre ar.d lute 1 the neighing of barbed steeds, whose loud-
ness filled the air with terror, and whose breaths dimmed the SUB
with smoke, converted to delicate tunes and amorous glances T "
— Lyly's Alexander atui Campaspe, 1584.

22 KING RICHARD III. ACT 1

But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,

Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass ;

I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph ;

I, that am curtail 'd of this fair proportion,

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,*

Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time

Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,

And that so lamely and unfashionable,

That dogs bark at me, as 1 halt by them; —

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

Have no delight to pass away the time,

Unless to see 6 my shadow in the sun,

And descant on mine own deformity :

And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,

To entertain these fair well-spoken days,

I am determined to prove a villain,

And hate the idle pleasures of these days.

Plots have I laid, inductions7 dangerous,

By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,

To set my brother Clarence and the king

In deadly hate the one against the other :

And, if King Edward be as true and just,

* Feature is here used rather in the sense of proportion. .So
in More's description of Richard : " Little of stature, ill-featured
of limmes, crooke-backed.'' See, also, The Two Gentlemen of
Verona, Act ii. sc. 4, note 5. — Dissembling, the commentators
jay, is not used here in the sense of deceiving, but of putting to-
gether things unlike, or assembling things that are not semhlable,
as a brave mind in a misshapen body. It may be so ; out we
rather think the meaning to be, that nature has cheated him out
of beauty in much the same way as clieating is commonly done

H.

• So in the folio ; in the quartos spy, which is generally re-
tained in modern editions. To our thinking, see yields the fitter
lense, and savours less of phrase-making. H.

7 Inductions are beginnings, preparations; things that draw ou
or induce c veins. H.

SO. U KING RICHARD III. 23

As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up4
About a prophecy, which says — that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ! here Clarence
comes.

V

Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURT.

Brother, good day: What means this armed guard,
That waits upon your grace I

Clar. His majesty,

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

Rich. Upon what cause 1

Clar. Because my name is George.

Rich. Alack, my lord ! that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers :
O ! belike, his majesty hath some intent,
That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower.
But what's the matter, Clarence 1 may I know ?

Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know ; but I protest,
As yet I do not : But, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams ;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says a wizard told him, that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought, that I am he.8

• This is founded on the following passage in Holinshed : ' Some
have reported, that (he cause of this nobleman's death rose of a
foolish prophesie, which was, that after K. Edwaiti one should
reigne, whose first letter of his name bhould be a G. Wherewith
the king and queene were sore troubled, and began to conceive a
greevous grudge against this duke, and could uot be in quiet till
they had brought him to his end. And as the divell is wo ml to
iacuaiber the minds of men which delite in «uch divehsn latr.asias,

24 KING RICHARD III. ACT I.

These, as 1 (earn, and such like toys9 as these,
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.

Rich. Why, this it is, when men are rul'd by

women !

'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower ;
My lady Grey, his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
That tempts him to this harsh extremity.10
Was it not she, and that good man of worship,
Anthony Woodville, her brother there,
That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower,
From whence this present day he is deliver'd ?
We are not safe, Clarence ; we are not safe.

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

Rich. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what ; I think it is our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men, and wear her livery :
The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,"
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.18

they said afterward, that that prophesie lost none of his effect,
when, after king Edward, Gloster usurped his kingdome." H.

' That is, fancies, freaks of imagination. Thus in Hamlet,
A ?t i. sc. 4 :

« The very place put toys of desperation,
Without more motive, into every brain."

10 So in the folio . the quartos have, — " That tempers him to
this extremity ; " where tempers means frames, disposes, which
certainly makes excellent sense. Of course the insertion of harsh
approves the change to have been authorized. H.

11 The queen and Shore.

" In the quartos, ' thig monarchy " The folio changed thit
to <mr. II.

SC. I. KING RICHARD III. 25

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

Rich. Even so ? an please your worship, Braken

bury,

You may partake of any thing we say.
We speak no treason, man : We say the king
Is wise and virtuous ; and his noble queen
Well struck in years, fair, arid not jealous : —
We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue ;
And that the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks
How say you, sir? can you deny all this?

Brak. With this, my lord, myself have nought

to do.
Rich. Naught to do with mistress Shore? I tell

thee, fellow,

He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
Were best to do it secretly, alone.
Brak. What one, my lord?

Rich. Her husband, knave ! Would'st thou be-
tray me?
Brak. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ;

and, withal,

Forbear your conference with the noble duke.
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will

obey.
Rich. We are the queen's abjects,13 and must

obey.

Brother, farewell : I will unto the king ;
Arid whatsoe'er you will employ me in,

11 That is, the lowest of her subjects. This substantive 11
found in Psalm xxxv. 15 : " Yea, the very ahjects came together
against me unawares, making mouths at me, and ceased not "

26 KING RICHARD III. ACT 1

Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,
[ will perform it to enfranchise you.
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

Rich. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long ;
I will deliver you, or else lie for you : M
Meantime, have patience.

Clar. I must perforce : farewell.

[Exeunt CLAR., BRAK., and Guard.

Rich. Go, tread the path that thou shall ne'er

return,

Simple, plain Clarence ! — I do love thee so,
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
If heaven will take the present at our hands.
But who comes here ? the nevv-deliver'd Hastings !

Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord !

Rich. As much unto my good lord chamberlain !
Well are you welcome to this open air.
How hath your lordship brook 'd imprisonment?

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

Rich. No doubt, no doubt ; and so shall Clarence

too ;

For they that were your enemies are his,
And have prevail'd as much on him as you.

Hast. More pity, that the eagles should be mew'd,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

Rich. What news abroad?

Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home :

14 That is, lie in prison in your stead.

SC. I. KING RICHARD III. 27

The king is sicklv, weak, and melancholy,
And his physicians fear him mightily.

Rich. Now, by St. Paul, that news is bad in-
deed.

O ! he hath kept an evil diet long,
And overmuch consutn'd his royal person :
'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
Where is he? in his bed? "

Hast. He is.

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

[Exit HASTINGS.

He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die,
Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to heaver.
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments ;
And, if I fail not in my deep intent,
Clarence hath not another day to live :
Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
And leave the world for me to bustle in !
For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.1"
What though I kill'd her husband, and her father?
The readiest way to make the wench amends,
Is to become her husband, and her father :
The which will I ; not all so much for love,
As for another secret close intent,"
By marrying her which I must reach unto.
Hut yet I run before my horse to market :

14 So the folio; the quartos, — " What ' is he in his bed!"

H.

16 Lady Anne, the widow of Edward, prince of Wales, in the
preceding play.

17 This " secret close intent " probably was to gel into hi«
hands the son and daughter of Clarence, who had been left in tha
care of lady Anne their aunt, their mother, Isabella, having died
before her husband ; and who had succeeded to the htrger por-
tion of the vast estates of their grandfather, the great earl of
Warwick. H

28 KING RICHARD III. ACT I.

Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives, and reigns ;
When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

[Exit.

SCENE II. The same. Another Street.

Enter the Corpse of King HENRY THE SIXTH, borne
in an open Coffin, Gentlemen bearing Halberds, to
guard it ; and Lady ANNE as Mourner.

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
Whilst I a while obsequiously lament1
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. —
Poor key-cold * figure of a holy king !
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster !
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood '
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne,
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds 1
Lo ! in these windows, that let forth thy life,

1 To lament obsequiously is to make the lamentation proper to
nhsequies,or rites of burial. Shakespeare elsewhere uses the cog
nate words in a like sense. Thus in Hamlet, Act i. sc. 2 : " The
survivor bound, in filial obligation, for some term to do obsequious
sorrow." And in his 31st sonnet:

" How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye,
As interest of the dead ! " H.

* Stcevens says this epithet is derived from the application of
a cold key to stop any slight bleeding. But surely the more likely
meaning is, as cold as a key ; though why a key should be taker
for at image of coldness is not so clear. The usage is not un-
common in the old writers. Shakespeare has it again in the Rap*
of Lncrece : " And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream he
falls." Thus, also, in Holland's Pliny : " In this habile, disguised
as hee sat. hee was starko dead and key-cold before any man per-
ceived it." H.

SC. II. KING RICHARD III. 29

I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes : —
O, cursed be the hand that made these holes !
Cursed the heart, that had the heart to do it !
Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence
More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
Or any creeping venom 'd thing that lives!
If ever he have child, abortive be it,
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
May fright the hopeful mother at the view ;
And that be heir to his unhappiness !3
If ever he have wife, let her be made ,
More miserable by the death of him,
Than I am made by my young lord, and thee ! —
Come, now toward Chertsey with your holy load.
Taken from Paul's to be interred there ;
And still, as you are weary of the weight,
Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.

[ The Bearers take up the Corpse, and advance*

Enter RICHARD.

Rich. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set it

down.

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

Rich. Villains, set down the corse ' or, by St.

Paul,
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

* That is, aud may that child inherit his propensity to mitchief,
For a similar use of unhappiness see Much Ado about Nothing,
Act ii. sc. 1, note 21. — The line is wanting in the quartos. Also,
the line above, — " Cursed the blood, that let this blood from

hence ! " m

30 KING RICHARD III. ACT 1.

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

Rich. Unmanner'd dog ! stand thou when I com

mand:

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

[The Bearers set down the Coffin

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

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

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

trouble us not !

For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims.
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. —
O, gentlemen ! see, see ! dead Henry's wounds
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh !4 —

4 This is founded on Holinshed's account of Henry's funeral •.
" The dead corps was conveied from the Tower to the church of
saint Paule, and there laid on a beire or coffen bare-faced : the
same in presence of the beholders did bleed. From thense he was
caried to the Blackfriers, and bled there likewise." — It used to be
thought that the body of a murdered person would bleed afresh,
if touched or approached by the murderer. Sir Kenelm Digby
had so much faith in this, that he undertook to account for it. The
matter is thus referred to by Drayton :

" If the vile actors of the heinous deed
Near the dead body happily be brought,
Oft 't hath been prov'd the breathless corpse will bleed."

And a» ate a» 1688 the belief was so strong in Scotland, that at
the trial of Philip Standsfield, the crown counsel, Sir George

SC. IL KING RICHARD III. 31

Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ;

For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood

From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells :

Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,

Provokes this deluge most unnatural. —

O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death

O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death !

Either, heaven, with lightning strike the murderer

dead,

Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick ;
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood,
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered !

Rich. Lady, you know no rules of charity,
Which renders good for had, blessings for curses.

Anne. Villain, thou know'st nor law of God nor

man :
No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity.

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

Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth !

Rich. More wonderful, when angels are so an-
gry-—

Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
Of these supposed crimes to give me leave
By circumstance but to acquit myself.

Mackenzie, used the following argument: "God Almighty him-
iielf was pleased to bear a share in the testimonies which we pro-
duce. That Divine Power, which makes the blood circulate dur-
ing life, has ofttimes, in all nations, opened a passage to it after
death upon such occasions ; but most in this case. For after all
the wounds had been sewed up, and the body designedly shaken
np and down ; and. which is most wonderful, after the Dody had
been buried for several days, which naturally occasions the blood
to congeal ; upon Philip's touching it, the blood darted and sprung
out, to the great astonishment of the chirurgeons themselves, who
were desir'd to watch this event." The lovers of romance wil
not be apt to forget the means used for detecting the murderer of
Oliver Proudfute. in Scott's Fair Maid of Perth. H.

32 KING RICHARD III. ACT »

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd 5 infection of a man,
For these known evils hut to give me leave
By circumstance to curse thy cursed self.

Rich. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me

have
Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst

make
No excuse current, hut to hang thyself.

Rich. By such despair, I should accuse myself.

Anne. Arid, by despairing, shalt thou stand excus'd
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

Rich. Say, that I slew them not.

Anne. Then say they were not slain .

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

Rich. I did not kill your husband.

Anne. Why, then he is alive.

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

Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest : Queen Mar

garet saw

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

Rich. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
That laid their guilt7 upon my guiltless shoulders.

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

Rich. I grant ye.

• Diffused anciently signified dark, obscure, strange, uncouth.
or confused. See King Henry V. Act v. sc. 2, note 6.

' So iu the folio ; in the quartos, — " Why, then they are noi
dead." H.

* The guilt of his brothers who slew the prince.

SC. II. KING RICHARD III. 33

Anne, Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grunt

me too,

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

Rich. The fitter for the Ring of heaven that hath

him.
Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shall never

come.
Rich. Let him thank me, that holp to send him

thither ;

For he was fitter for that place than earth.
Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell.
Rich. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me

name it.

Anne. Some dungeon.
Rich. Your bed-chamber.
Anne.. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou

liest !

Rich. So will it, madam, till I lie with you.
Anne. 1 hope so.

Rich. I know so. — But, gentle lady Anne, —
To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
And fall something8 into a slower method; —
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
As blameful as the executioner?

Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd

effect.9

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

• So the folio 5 the quartos, somewhat. H.

' That is, and most accursed it the effect of which thou wasi
the cause ; effect referring not to thou, but to their death. H

34 KTNG RICHARD 111. ACT J

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

Rich. These eyes could not endure that beauty's

wreck ;

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

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

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

Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on the«

Rich. It is a quarrel most unnatural,
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband

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

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

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

Anne. Name him.

Rich. Plantagenet.

Anne. Why, that was he.

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

Anne. Where is he 1

Rich. Here : [She spits at him.] Why dost thou
spit at me?

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

Rich, Never came poison from so sweet a place.

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

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

Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike thee
dead ! 10

10 For the matter of this allusion, see 2 Henry VI. Act iii. tc 2
note 2.

BC II. KING RICHARD III. 35

Riih. I would they were, that I might die at once;
For now they kill me with a living death.
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
Sliam'd their aspects with store of childish drops :
These eyes, which never shed remorseful" tear; —
No, when my father York and Edward wept,
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made,
When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him ;
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
Told the sad story of my father's death,
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks,
Like trees bedash'd with rain; — in that sad time,
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ;
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping
I never sued to friend, nor enemy ;
My tongue could never learn sweet smootliing word ;
But, now thy beauty is propos'd rny fee,
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.
[She looks scornfully at him,
Teach not thy lip such scorn ; for it was made
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
Lo ! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ;
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast,
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
1 lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

[He lays his Breast open ; she offers at it

with his Sword.
Nay, do not pause ; for I did kill King Henry ; —

11 Remorse was continually used for pity, remorseful for pitiful
— This and the eleven following lines are found only in the folio

it.

00 KING RICHARD III. ACT I

But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.

Nay, now despatch ; 'twas I that stabb'd young

Edward ; —
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.

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

Anne. Arise, dissembler : though I wish thy death,

1 wil. not be thy executioner.

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

Anne. I have already.

Rich. That was in thy rage:

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

Anne. I would I knew thy heart.

Rich. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue.

Anne. I fear me, both are false.

Rich. Then never man was true.

Anne. Well, well, put up your sword.

Rich. Say, then, my peace is made.

Anne. That shalt thou know hereafter.

Rich. But shall I live in hope?

Anne. All men, I hope, live so.

Rich. Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

Anne. To take is not to give.1*

[She puts on the Ring

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

11 This line is wanting in the folio. And in the nezt line the
quartos have " tliis ring " instead of " my ring." H

SC. U. KING RICHARD III 3"<

Annr. What is it?

Rich. That it may please you leave these sad

designs

To him that hath most13 cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby-place ; '*
Where — after I havr solemnly interr'd,
At Chertsey monastery, tliis noble king,
And wet his grave with my repentant tears, —
I will with all expedient15 duty see you :
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you,
Grant me this boon.

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

Rich. Bid me farewell.

Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve ;

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

[Exeunt Lady ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKLEY.

Rich. Sirs, take up the corse.18

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

Rich. No, to White-Friars ; there attend my com
ing. [Exeunt the Rest, with the Corpse.

Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?
I'll have her, — but I will not keep her long.

13 So (he folio ; (he quartos more. H.

14 In the folio this is here called Crosby-house, but in the r<rxt
scene, near the close, Crosby-place. The quartos have Craslni-
plare in l>olh instances. — Crosby-place is situate in Crosby-square,
Bishopsgate-street. This magnificent house was built in 1466, !>y
Sir John Crosby, grocer and woolman. The hall, after having
been put to divers ignoble uses, has been lately restored, and is
said to be among the most interesting specimens of old domesi.it
architecture now to be seen in England. H.

" That is, expeditious.

'• This line is not in the folio. H

38 KIM; RICHARD m. ACT i

What ! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father,
To take her in her heart's extremes! hate ;
Witli curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of my hatred by ; l7
Having God, her conscience, and these bars against

me,

And I no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks;
And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing ! H;i
Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury 1 ls
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, —
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature,
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal, —
The spacious world cannot again afford :
And will she yet abase her eyes on me,
That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
And made her widow to a woful bed?
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus?
My dukedom to a beggarly denier,19
I do mistake my person all this while :
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
Myself to be a marvellous proper man.*0

17 So in the folio ; in the quartos, " her hatred.'' Doubtless the
folio is right, for the corpse of Henry could not well be " the bleed-
mg witness of htr hatred," but was emphatically so of his. H.

18 This fixes the tune of the scene to August, 1471. King EH-
ward, however, is introduced in the second act dying. That king
died in April, 1483 ; consequently there is an interval between this
and the next act of almost twelve years. Clarence, who is repre-
sented in the preceding scene as committed to the Tower before
the burial of King Henry VI., was in fact not confined till Fet>
ruary, 14-78, nearly seven years afterwards.

19 A small coin, ihe twelfth part of a French sous.

rj Marrel/ous is here used adverbially. A proper man, in old
language, was a welt-proportioned one

«C. III. KING RICHARD 111. 3B

I'll lie at charges for a lookinfiMjlasP ;

O O o

And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions to adorn my body :
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
But, first, I'll turn yon fellow in his grave ;
And then return lamenting to my love. —
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit.

SCENE III. The same. A Room in the Palace

Enter Queen ELIZABETH, RIVERS, and GREY.

Riv. Have patience, madam : there's no doubt,

his majesty
Will soon recover his accustom'd health.

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

EKz. If he were dead, what would betide on me1

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

EKz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms.

Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly

son,
To be your comforter when he is gone.

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

Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector?

Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet • '
But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

1 A thing was said to be determined, when it was rttolred. upon
concluded, when it was formally pasted, so as to be a ground oi
action. B

40 KINO RICHARD III. ACT 1.

Enter BUCKINGHAM and STANLEY.*

Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and

Stanley.

Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace !
Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have

been !
Eliz. The countess Richmond,3 good my lord of

Stanley,

To your good prayer will scarcely say amen.
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife,
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd,
1 hate not you for her proud arrogance.

Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers ;
Or, if she be accus'd on true report,

* Henry Stafford, the present duke of Buckingham, was grand-
son to the Buckingham who figures in The Second Part of Henry
VI. On his father's side he was descended from Thomas of Wood
slock, the sixth son of Edward III. His mother was Margaret,
daughter to Edmund Beaufort, the duke of Somerset who fell in
the first battle of St. Albans. See 2 Henry VI., Act v. sc. 2, note
6. So that on his mother's side Buckingham was descended from
John of Ghent, fourth son of the same great Edward. He was
as accomplished and as unprincipled, as he was nobly descended.
— Thomas Lord Stanley was lord steward of the king's household
to Edward IV. In the old copies he is here erroneously called
Derby ; but as in the fourth and fifth acts he is everywhere called
Stanley, and as he was not created earl of Derby till the reign of
Henry VII., most editors concur in calling him Stanley here. H.

3 The countess of Richmond was Margaret, the only child of
John Beaufort, the first duke of Somerset. See 1 Henr}' VI.,
Act ii. sc. 4, note 3. Margaret's first husband was Edmund, earl
of Richmond, son of Owen Tudor and Katharine, widow of Henry
V. ; by whom she became the mother of Henry VII. Afterwards
she was married successively to Sir Henry Stafford, uncle of
Buckingham, and to the Lord Stanley of this play, but had no
more children. Shn lived to a great age, and was so highly re-
puted for prudence and virtue, that her grandson, Henry VIII,
was mainly guided by her advice in forming his first council. H.

SI1.. III. KING RICHARD III. 41

B«>.ar with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.
Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of Stan

ley?

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

Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment, lords !
Buck. Madam, good hope : his grace speaks

cheerfully.
Eliz. God grant him health ! Did you confer

with him ?

Buck. Ay, madam : he desires to make atone-
ment 4

Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers,
And between them and my lord chamberlain ;
And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

Eliz. 'Would all were well J But that will never

be:
I fear, our happiness is at the height.

Enter RICHARD, HASTINGS, and DORSET.

Rich. They do me wrong, and I will not endure

it. —

Who are they, that complain unto the king,
That I, forsooth, am stern, arid love them not?
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly,
That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
Because I cannot fl -liter, and speak fair,
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog,
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
I must be held a rancorous enemy.
Canno* a plain man live, and think no harm,

4 That is, at-one-meni . See As You Like It, Act v se. 4, note
10 ; ami King Richard 11., Act i. sc. 1. uoit 29. •

*2 KING RICHARD Til. ACT t

But thus his simple truth must he abus'd
By silken, sly, insinuating .lacks?

Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks youf

grace

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

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

nd not provok'd by any suitor else ;
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
That in your outward action shows itself
Against my children, brothers, and myself,
Makes h;m to send ; that thereby he may gather
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.6

Rich. I cannot tell : 7 The world is grown so bad,
That wrens make prey 8 where eagles dare not perch :
Since every Jack became a gentleman,
There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning, broth-
er Gloster :

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

Rich. Meantime, God grants that I have need of
you :

• Lewd here signifies knavish, wicked.

• The reading of this line and the preceding is from the quartos.
The folio has only, — "Makes him to send, that he may learn the
Ifround." H.

7 That is, I cannot tell what to say or think of it. See 2 Henry
IV., Act i. sc. 2, note 18.

8 So the first two quartos and the folio ; the other quarto^
• may prey." H.

fiC. Til. KING RICHARD III. 43

Our brother is imprisoned by your means;

Myself disgruc'd, and the nobility

Held in contempt; while many fair promotions*

Are daily given, to ennoble those

That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.

Eliz. By Him that rais'd me to this careful height
From that contented hap which I enjoy 'd,
I never did incense his majesty
Against the duke of Clarence ; but have been
An earnest advocate to plead for him.
My lord, you do me shameful injury,
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects,

Rich. You may deny that you were not the cause
Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment.10

Riv. She may, my lord ; for —

Rich. She may, lord Rivers? — why, who kpowa

not so?

She may do more, sir, than denying that :
She may help you to many fair preferments ;
And then deny her aiding hand therein,
And lay those honours on your high desert.
What may she not? She may, — ay, marry, may
she, —

Riv. What, marry, may she?

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

Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long borne

' This is the reading of the quartos; the folio has, — " While
great promotions." Mr. Collier jumbles the two together into a
third reading, taking many from the quartos, and great from the
folio. Of two or more readings put forth by the Poet, we may
feel at liberty to prefer any one ; but. not to make up a reading
which he never authorized. — In the first line of this speech tin
quartos have we instead of 1. H.

10 So the quartos ; the folio has mran instead of cause. a

44 KING RICHARD III. ACT i

Your blunt upbroidings, and your bitter scoffs :
By Heaven, I will acquaint bis majesty
Of those gross taunts tbat oft I bave endur'ti.
1 bad rather be a country serving-maid,
Than a great queen, with this condition, —
To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at : '
Small joy have I in being England's queen.

Enter Queen MARGARET, behind.

Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech

Him!
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me.

Rich. What ! threat you me with telling of the

king?

Tell him, and spare not : look, what I have said,11
I will avouch in presence of the king :
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
'Tis time to speak ; my pains are quite forgot.

Mar. Out, devil ! I do remember them too well :
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower,
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

Rich. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband

king,

1 was a pack-horse in his great affairs ;
A vveeder-out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends :
To royalize his blood, I spent mine own.

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

thine.

Rich. In all which time, you and your husband
Grey

11 So in all the quartos ; in the folio, — " To be so baited, scorn'd,
and ttorm-ed. at." H.

11 This line is wanting in the folio, but is plainly needful to UM
sense. The second line after is not in the quartos. u.

SC 111. KING RICHARD III. 45

Were factious for the house of Lancaster; —

And, Rivers, so were you: — Was not your husband

In Margaret's battle at St. Albans slain?

Let me put in your minds, if you forget,

What you have been ere this, and what you are ;

Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

Mar. A murderous villain, and so still thou art

Rich. Poor Clarence did forsake his father War-
wick,
Ay, and forswore himself, — which Jesu pardon! —

Mar. Which God revenge !

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

Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this

world,
Thou cacodaemon! there thy kingdom is.

Riv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days,
Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
We follow'd then our lord, our sovereign king ; 1S
So should we you, if you should be our king.

Rich. If I should be 1 — I had rather be a pedlar:
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof!

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

Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
For I am she, and altogether joyless.

13 So the folio ; (he quartos, " lawful king." The change seemi
need fill ; for, ns Knight remarks, " Rivers would scarcely hava
ventured to n>o the epithet lawful in the presence of Gloster.*
However, modern editions generally retain lawfrl u

40 KING RICHARD HI. ACT I

I c;in no longer hold me patient.— [Advancing

Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
In sharing that which you have pill'd H from me!
Which of you trembles not, that looks on me ?
If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects,
Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels? —
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away!

Ric.h. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st 16 thou
in my sight 1

Mar. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd :
That will I make, before I let thee go.

Rich. Wert thou not banished on pain of death ? '*

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

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

Rich. The curse my noble father laid on thee,
When t'-.Mtj didst crown his warlike brows with paper,
And witn tuy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes ;
And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout,

14 To pill is to pillage. It is often used with to poll or strip.
" Kildare did use to pill and poll bis friendes, tenants, and reteyn
ers." — Holinshed.

14 That is, what dost thou T See As You Like It, Act i. sc. 1.
note 3.

18 This and the two following lines are not in the quartos. —
Margaret fled into France after the battle of Hexham, in 1464,
and Edward issued a proclamation prohibiting any of his subjects
from aiding her return, or harbouring her, should she attempt to
revisit England. She remained abroad till April, 1471, when sha
landed at Wevmouth. After the battle of Tewksburv. in May,
1471. she was confined in the Tower, where she continued a pris-
oner till 1475, when she was ransomed by her father Reignier, an«
'emosed to France, where she died in 1482. So th?t her intro
Jocticn in the present scene is a dramatic fiction.

SC. III. KING RICHARD 111. 47

Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland; —
His curses, then from hitterness of soul
Denouric'd against thee, are all fall'n upon tliee ;
And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed.

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

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

Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was re-
ported.

Dors. No man but prophesied revenge for it.

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

Mar. What ! were you snarling all, before I came,
Ready to catch each other by the throat,
And turn you all your hatred now on me?
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with Heaven,
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death.
Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment,
Could all but answer for that peevish brat?
Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven?
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses !
Though not by war, by surfeit die your king,
As ours by murder, to make him a king!
Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales,
For Edward, our son, that was prince of Wales,
Die in his youth by like untimely violence !
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's death ; "
And see another, as I see thee now,
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine !
Long die thy happy days before thy death ;
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,

17 So the folio ; the quartos, loss instead of death. In lh« fifll
line atove the quartos have " my sou " for " our son." H.

48 KING RICHARD III. ACT I

Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen! —
Rivers and Dorset, you were standers-by, —
And so wast thou, lord Hastings, — when my son
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers : God, I pray Him,
That none of you may live his natural age,
But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

Rich. Have done thy charm, thou hateful with-
er'd hag.

Mar. And leave out thee 1 stay, dog, for thou

shall hear me.

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

18 It was an old prejudice which is not yet quite extinct, thai
those who are defective or deformed are marked by nature as
prone to mischief. She calls him hog, in allusion to his cogni-
zance, which was a boar. " The expression," says Warburton,
" is fine : remembering her youngest son, she alludes to the rav-
age which hogs make with the finest (lowers in gardens; and inti-
mating that Elizabeth was to expect no other treatment for hei
sons." The rhyme for which Collingborne was executed, as gu'en
by Heywood in his Metrical History of King Edward IV.. wil!
illustrate this :

" The cat, the rat, and Lovell our dog,
Doe rule all England under a hog.
The crooke backt Soore the way hath found
To root our roses from our ground,
Both flower and hud will he confound,
Till king of beasts the swine be crowu'd i

SO. lit. KING RICHAU1) in. 49

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

Rich. Margaret.

Mar. Richard !

Rich. Ha !

Mar. I call thee ru»t.

Rich. I cry thee mercy then ; for I did think
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.

Mar. Why, so I did ; but look'd for no reply.
O ! let me make the period to my curse.

Rich. 'Tis done by me, and ends in — Margaret.

Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse against
yourself.

Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my

fortune !

Why strevv'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,19
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
Fool, fool ! thou whett'st a knife to kill thyself.
The day will come, that thou shall wish for me
To help thee curse this poisonous bunch-back'd toad.

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

Mar. Foul shame upon you ! you have all mov'd
mine.

Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught
your duty.

And then the dog, the rat, and rat
Shall in his trough feed and be fat"

The persons aimed at in this rhyme were the king. Catesby Rat-
cliff', siiii Loveli

'• Alluding to Richard's form and venom. A bott.ed spider is
a large, lito'tttd, g/ossv spider : supposed to contain venom in pro
portion to its size.

50 KING RICHARD 111. ACT 1.

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

duty,

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

Dors. Dispute not with her ; she is lunatic.

Mar. Peace, master marquess ! you are mala-
pert :

Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.
O ! that your young nobility could judge,
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable !
They that stand high have many blasts to shake

them ;
And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

Rich. Good counsel, marry : learn it, learn it.,
marquess.

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

Rich. Ay, and much more ; but I was born so

high :

Our aiery20 buildeth in the cedar's top,
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

Mar. And turns the sun to shade ! — alas ! alas ! —
Witness my son, now in the shade of death ;
Whose bright outshining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest : —
O God ! that seest it, do riot suffer it ;
As it was won with blood, lost be it so !

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

Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me :
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd.

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

gC. III. KING KICHARD III. 61

My charity is outrage, life my shame,

And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage !

Buck. Have done, have done.

Mar. O, princely Buckingham ! I'll kiss thy hand,
In sign of league and amity with thee :
Now, fair befall thee, and thy noble house !
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.

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

Mar. I will not think21 but they ascend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham ! take heed of yonder dog :
Look, when he fawns, he bites ; and, when he bites,
His venom tooth will rankle to the death :
Have not to do with him, beware of him ;
Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him ,
And all their ministers attend on him.

Rich. What doth she say, my lord of Bucking
ham?

Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

Mar. What ! dost thou scorn me for my gentle

counsel,

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

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

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

11 Thus in the folio; in the quartos, 'I'll not believe." H

52 KING RICHARD III. ACT I.

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

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

Rich. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong
I was too hot to do somebody good,
That is too cold in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid :
He is frank'd 28 up to fatting for his pains ; —
God pardon them that are the cause thereof!

Riv. A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scath to us.

Rich. So do I ever, being well advis'd ; —
[.Aside.] For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself

Enter CATESBY.

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

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

Riv. We wait upon your grace.83

[Exeunt all but RICHARD.

Rich. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach,
I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
Clarence, whom I, indeed, have cast in darkness,
I do beweep to many simple gulls ;
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham ;
And tell them 'tis the queen and her allies,
That stir the king against the duke my brother.

** A frank is a pen or coop in which hogs and other animals
were confined while falling. To be franked up was lo be closely
tonftned. To f ranch, or frank, was lo sluff, lo cram, lo fallen.

83 So in the folio; in ihe quartos, — " Madam, we will altend
your grace." «•

SC. III. KING RICHARD III. 53

N< \v they believe it, and, withal, whet me
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:
But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil •
And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ,
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

Enter two Murderers.

But soft ! here come my executioners. —
How now, my hardy, stout-resolved mates !
Are you now going to despatch this thing?

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

the warrant,
That we may be admitted where he is.

Rick. Well thought upon ; I have it here about
me. [Gives tlie Warrant

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

prate ;

Talkers are no good doers : be assur'd,
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.
Rich. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools'

eyes fall tears : 24

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

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

" This appears to have been a proverbial saying. It occurs
apain in the tragedy of Caesar and Pompey, 1607 : " Men's eyes
must mill-stones drop, when fools shed tears." The quartos have
" drop tears ; " the folio changed drop to fall.

KING RICHARD III. ACT I

SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Tower.

Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY.
Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day 1
Clear. O ! 1 have pass'd a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as 1 am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ;
So full of dismal terror was the time.

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

you, tell me.
Clar. Methought, that I had, broken from the

Tower,

And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ; '
And, in rny company, my brother Gloster,
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches : thence we look'd toward Eng-
land,

And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling,

1 Clarence was desirous to aid his sister Margaret against
the French king, who invaded her jointure lands after the death
of her husband, Charles duke of Burgundy, who was killed at
Nanci, in Januarv. 1477. Isabel, the wife of Clarence, being
then dead, (poisoned by the duke of Gloster. as it has been con-
jectured,) he wished to marry Mary, the daughter and heir of the
duke of Burgundy ; but the match was opposed by Edward, who
hoped to obtain her for his brother-in-law, Lord Rivers ; and this
circumstance has been suggested as the principal cause of the
breach between Edward and Clarence. Mary of Burgundy, how-
ever, chose a husband for herself, having married, in 1477, Maxi
miiian, son of the Emperor Frederic.

.*C IV. KFNG RICHARD HI. 55

Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

0 Lord ! methougfat, what pain it was to drown !
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears !
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes !
Meth ought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks ;

A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ;

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,

Inestimable stones, unvalued 2 jewels,

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea :

Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and, in the holes

Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept

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

That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,

And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.

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

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

Brak. Awak'd you not in this sore agony?4

Clar. No, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life
O ! then began the tempest to my soul !

1 pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that sour6 ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

* Unvalued for invaluable, not to he valued, inestimable.

3 So the folio ; the quartos, — "Kept in my soul." And in the
next line the first two quartos have seek instead of Jind ; other
quartos, teerp. H.

4 The folio thus ; the quartos " with this sore agony." H

6 Here the quartos have grim, instead of soitr. And in tbir
lil'tli line below, the folio has. — " Who spake aloud.'' H

5f> KING RICHARD III. ACT L

The first that there did greet my stn,nger sou),
Was my gre'U father-in-law, renowned Warwick ;
Who cried aloud, — "What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?"
And so he vanish'd. Then came wandering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shriek'd out aloud, —
"Clarence is come, — false, fleeting,6 perjur'd Clar-
ence,

That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury : —
Seize on him, furies ! take him unto torment ! " T
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling wak'd, and for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell ;
Such terrible impression made my dream.

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

Clar. Ah, keeper, keeper !8 I have done these

things,

That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward's sake ; and, see, how he requites

me ! —

O God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease Thee,
But Thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds,
Yet execute Thy wrath on me alone :

8 Fleeting or flitting, in old language, was used for uncertain,
inconstant. fluctuating. Clarence broke his oath with the earl of
Warwick, and joined (he army of his brother Edward. See 3
Harry VI.. Act v. sc. 1.

' So the folio ; the quartos, " to your torments." H.

8 The quartos read. — " O, Brakenbury ! " which, though com-
nionlv retained, is surely much less pathetic. In the preceding
line, also, they have, — '• 1 promise you I am afraid;" and in th«
next line, " hear evidence." The fourth and three following line*
of Clarence' speech are not in any of the quartos. H

9C. IV. KING RICHARD 111. 57

O, spare my guiltless wife,9 and my poor children ! —
Keeper, I pr'ythee, sit by me a while : 10
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

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

[CLARENCE reposes himself on a Chair
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours,
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil ;
And, for unfelt imaginations,
They often feel a world of restless cares : ' "
So that, between their titles and low name,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.11

Enter the two Murderers.

1 Murd. Ho ! who's here 1

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

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

Brak. What! so brief?

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

[A Paper is delivered to BRAKENBURY, who
reads it.

* The wife of Clarence died before he was apprehended and
confined in the Tower. See note 1.

10 Such is the reading of the folio; the quartos give the line
thus : " I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me." H.

11 They often sufl'er real miseries for imaginary and uiirea
gratifications.

lz As the preceding part of this scene appears to have been al-
tered and finished with great care in the folio, we have adhered to
the reading there given, except in one instance. Four choice lines
were mentioned in note 8 as having been added in the folio Tw«

58 KING RICHARD III. ACT L

Brnk. I am, in this, commanded to deliver
The noble duke of Clarence to your hands: —
I will not reason what is meant hereby,
Because I will be guiltless from the meaning.
There lies the duke asleep, — and there the keys.1*
I'll to the king ; and signify to him,
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge.

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

2 Murd. What ! shall we stab him as he sleeps 1

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

2 Murd. Why, he shall never wake until the great
judgment-day.

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

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

1 Murd. What ! art thou afraid ?

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

1 Murd. I thought thou hadst been resolute.

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

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

2 Murd. Nay, I pr'ytnee, stay a little : I hope
tliis passionate humour of mine H will change ; it

other additions ought, perhaps, to he noted : " All sratter'd in the
bottom of the sea ;" and this, — " and often did I strive to yield
the ghost." Which show very aptly the carefulness of the re-
visal. H.

13 So the folio; the quartos read, — " Here are the keys ; tbera
jits the duke asleep." H.

14 The folio thus; the quartos, — " my holy humour.'' H

SC. IV. KING RICHARD III. 59

was wont to hold me but while one would tell
twenty.

1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now 7

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

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

2 Murd. 'Zounds ! he dies : I had forgot the re-
ward.

1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now 7

2 Murd. O ! in the duke of Gloster's purse.

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

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

1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again?

2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it ; it is a danger-
ous thing ; it makes a man a coward : a man can-
not steal, but it accuseth him ; a man cannot swear,
but it checks him ; a man cannot lie with his neigh-
bour's wife, but it detects him : 'Tis a blushing
i&hamefac'd spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom ;
it fills a man full of obstacles : it made me once
restore a purse of gold, that by chance I found : it
beggars any man that keeps it : it is turn'd out of
all towns and cities for a dangerous thing ; and ev-
ery man that means to live well endeavours to trust
to himself, and live without it.

1 Murd. 'Zounds ! 'tis even now at my elbow,
persuading me not to kill the duke.

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

1 Murd. I am strong-fram'd ; he cannot prevail
with me.

60 KING RICHARD III. ACT I.

2 Murd. Spoke like a tall man,15 that respects
his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work 1

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

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

1 Murd. Soft ! he wakes.

2 Murd. Strike.

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

Clar. [ Waking.] Where art thou, keeper 1 give

me a cup of wine.
1 Murd. You shall have wine enough, my lord,

anon.

Clar. In God's name, what art thou?
1 Murd. A man, as you are.
Clar. But not, as I am, royal.
1 Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal.
Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are

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

mine own.
Clar. How darkly and how deadly dost thou

speak !

Your eyes do menace me : Why look you pale ?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
Both Murd. To, to, to —
Clar. To murder me ?
Both Murd. Ay, ay.

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

1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king.

15 That is, a hold, courageous man. See The Merry Wives
of Windsor, Act i. sc. 4, note b.

»C. IV. KING RICHARD 111. 61

Clar. I shall be reconcil'd to him again.

2 Murd. Never, my lord ; therefore prepare ic
die.

Clar. Are you drawn forth among a world of

men,16

To slay the innocent ? What is my offence ?
Where is the evidence thai doth accuse me?
What lawful quest" have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge ? or who pronounc'd
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
Before I be convict by course of law,
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope to have redemption18
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
That you depart, and lay no hands on me :
The deed yon undertake is damnable.

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

2 Murd. And he that hath commanded is our

king.

Clar. Erroneous vassals ! the great King of kings
I lath in the table of His Law commanded,
That thou shalt do no murder : Will you, then,
Spurn at His edict, and fulfil a man's?
Take heed ; for He holds vengeance in His hand,
To hurl upon their heads that break His Law.

2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth He hurl

on thee,
Tor false forswearing, and for murder too

** So the folio; the quartos, — "Are you call'd forth from cul
a world of men 1 " Johnson thought call'd might be a misprint
frr cull'd. — The twelfth line before, — "Your eyes do menace
oie : Why look you pale 7 " — is wanting in all the quartos. H.

17 Quest was the term for a jury. " A quest of twelve men,
Huodcnm viralus." — Ilitret.

19 This line was altered, and the next line omitted, in the folio,
u> avoid the penalty of the statute, 3 Jac. I. c. 21.

62 KING RICHARD III. ACT L

Thou didst receive the sacrament, to fight
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God
Didst break that vow ; and with thy treacherous

blade
Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and

defend.
I Murd, How canst thou urge God's dreadful Law

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

Clar. Alas ! for whose sake did I that ill deed 1
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake :
He sends you not to murder me for this;
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed,

0 ! know you yet, He doth it publicly : I9
Take not the quarrel from His powerful arm .
He needs no indirect nor lawless course,

To cut off' those that have offended Him.

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

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

1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy

faults,
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not me :

1 am his brother, and I love him well.

If you are hir'd for rneed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster ;
Who shall reward you better for my life,
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

'• This line is wanting in all the quartos.

<»C. IV. KING RICHARD 111. 63

2 Murd. You are deceiv'd ; your brother Glostei
hates you.

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

Both Murd. Ay, so we will.

Clar. Tell liim, when that our princely father York
Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,*0
He little thought of this divided friendship :
Bid Gloster tliink on this, and he will weep.

1 Murd. Ay, mill-stones ; as he lesson'd us to weep

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

I Murd. Right ; as snow in harvest. — Come, you

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

Clar. It cannot be ; for he be wept my fortune,
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
That he would labour rny delivery.

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

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

my lord.

Clar. Have you that holy feeling in your souls,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And are you yet to your own souls so blind,
That you will war with God, by murdering me ? —
O, sirs ! consider, they that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.

2 Murd. What shall we do 1

Clar. Relent, and save your soula

Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,

10 This line, too good to be lost, is not in the folio B

O4 KING RICHARD III. ACT L

Would not entreat for life ? As you would beg,
Were you in my distress,51 —

\ Murd. Relent ! no : 'tis cowardly, and woman
ish.

Clar. Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish.—
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks:
O ! if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thon on my side, and entreat for me.
A begging prince what beggar pities not?

2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord.

1 Murd. [Stabbing him.'] Take that, and that : if

all this will not do,
I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.

[Exit, urith the Body,

2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately de-

spatch'd !

How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done !

Re-enter first Murderer.

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

help'st me not 1

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

11 This and the four preceding lines are wanting in all the quar
tos. We concur entirely with Mr. Collier in keeping to the order
of the dialogue as it stands in the folio, where the additions first
appeared. All modern editions before his run the added lines
in with Clarence' next speech. Surely they ought either to leave
them out altogether, or else put them in as they originally stood
Prob ibly the change was made in order to bring in the Murderer's
reply closer to the duke's exhortation ; but it seems to us that by
this means a valuable part of the sense is lost ; which is, that while
Clarence is speaking the other is casting about for arguments tc
brace and nerve his faltering purpose. Of course the Murderer
interrupts Clarence at the word distress ; which finely expresses)
bis growing impatience of the speech that is shaking his resolution

II.

SO IV. KING RICHARD III. 65

2 Murd. I would he knew that 1 had sav'd hia

brother !

Take them the fee, and tell him what I say ;
For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exit

1 MurcL So do not I : go, coward, as thou art. —
Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,
Till that the duke give order for his burial:
And when I have my meed, I will away ;
For this will out, and then I must not stay.38 [Exit,

M The duke of Clarence was arraigned for treason before the
parliament, convicted, and sentence of death passed upon him.
This was in February, 1478, and a few days later it was an-
nounced that he had died in the Tower. So that this first act of
the play embraces a period of nearly seven years, the death of
King Henry having occurred in May, 1471. The manner of
Clarence' death has never been ascertained. It was generally
attributed to the machinations of Richard. Holinshed says,—
" About this season, the sparke of privie malice was newlie kindled
betwixt the king and his brother the duke of Clarence, insomuch
that fmallie the duke was cast into the Tower, and therewith ad-
judged for a traitor, and privilie drowned in a butt of malmsie."
And Sir Thomas More has the following touching Richard : " Some
wise men weene that his drift, covertlie conveied, lacked not in
helping foorth his brother of Clarence to his death. And they
thinke that he long time in king Edwards life forethought to be
king ; in case that the king his brother, whose life he looked that
evill diet should shorten, should happen to deceasse while his chil-
dren were yoong. And they deeme that for this intent he was
glad of Clarence' death, whose life must needs have hindered
him so intending, whether the duke had kept him true to his neph-
ue the yoong king, or enterprised to be king himselfe. But cf all
this point there is no certaintie, and whoso divineth upon conjec-
tures, maie as well shoot too Carre as too short." There was a
fierce grudge between the dukes, growing out of their rapacity
towards the Warwick estates. »

WJ KING R1CHAKP III. ACT 11.

ACT II.

SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter King EDWARD, ledin sick ; Queen ELIZABETH

DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM, GREY

and Others.

King. Why, so: — now have I done a good day's

work. —

You peers, continue this united league :
I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem me hence ;
And now in peace ' my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand ;
Dissemble not your hatred,2 swear your love.

Riv. By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudg

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

Host. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like .

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

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

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

King. Madam, yourself are not exempt from

this, —
Nor your son Dorset, — Buckingham, nor you; —

1 So the quartos ; the folio, « And more to peace." Doubt-
less a misprint. H.

* That is, do not merely cloak and conceal your ill-will, but
eradicate it altogether, and swear to love each other.

SC. I. KING RICHARD III. 67

You have been factious one against the other.
Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand ;
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

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

King. Dorset, embrace him, — Hastings, love Lord
marquess.

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

Hast. And so swear I.

King. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this

league

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

Buck. [To the Queen.] Whenever Buckingham

doth turn his hate

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

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

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

Enter RICHARD.
Rich. Good-morrow to my sovereign king, and

queen ;
Arid, princely peers, a happy time of day I

68 KING RICHARD III. ACT II

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

Rich. A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord. —
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe ; if I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence, 1 desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace :
'Tis death to me, to be at enmity ;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love. —
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service ;
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ;
Of you, and you, lord Rivers, and of Dorset,
That all without desert have frown'd on me ;
Of you, lord Woodville, and, lord Scales, of you;1
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen ; indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive,
With whom my soul is any jot at odds,
More than the infant that is born to-night:
[ thank my God for my humility.

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

Rich. Why, madam, have I ofter'd love for this,

* This line is not in any of the quartos ; and the second line be
fore reads, — ' Of you, lord Rivers, and, lord Grey, of you." In
both particulars, modern editions, until Knight's, follow the quar-
tos. Rivers had married the heir of Lord Scales, so that that title
would properly Muni; to hi-; oldest son. Edward Lord Woodvillo
was brother to River:* and the queeu U

SC. I. KING RICHARD III. 69

To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead 1

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

King. Who knows not he is dead ! who knows
he is 1

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

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

Dor. Ay, my good lord ; and no man in the

presence,
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

King. Is Clarence dead ? the order was revers'd,

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

Enter STANLEY.

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

King. I pr'ythee, peace ! my soul is full of sor-
row.

Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me.

King. Then say at once, what is it thou request's! 1

Stan. The forfeit,4 sovereign, of my servant's life;
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman,
Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk.

King. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's
death,*

* He means the remission of the forfeit.

' " This lamentation," says Johnson, " is very tender and pa-
thetic. The recollection of%ihe good qualities of the dead ia very

70 KING RICHARD III. ACT II

And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?

My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought,

And yet his punishment was bitter death.

Who sued to me for him ? who, in my wrath,

Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd?

Who spoke of brotherhood 1 who spoke of love ?

Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake

The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me 1

Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury

When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,

And said, "Dear brother, live, and be a king?"

Who told me, when we both lay in the field,

Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me

Even in his garments ; and did give himself,

All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night?

All this from my remembrance brutish wrath

Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you

Had so much grace to put it in my mind.

But when your carters, or your waiting-vassals,

Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd

The precious image of our dear Redeemer,

You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon ;

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

But for my brother, not a man would speak.

Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself

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

Have been beholding to him in his life ;

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

natural, and no less naturally does the king endeavour to com
muuicate the crime to others." — For this speech the Poet had the
following hint in Holinshed : " Sure it is, that although king Ed-
ward were consenting to his death, yet he much did both lament
his infortunate chance, and repent his sudden execution ; insomuch
that, when auie person sued to him for the pardon of malefactor!
condemned to death, he would accustomablie saie, — < Oh, infor-
tiuiate brother ! for whose life not one you Id make sute ! '" H.

SC. II. KING RICHARD 111. 71

O God ! I fear, Thy justice will take hold

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

Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.

Ah ! poor Clarence !

[Exeunt the KING, QUEEN, HASTINGS, RIVERS,

DORSET, and GREY.

Rich. This is the fruit of rashness ! — Mark'd you
, not,

How that the guilty kindred of the queen
Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death 1
O ! they did urge it still unto the king :
God will revenge it. Come, lords ; will you go,
To comfort Edward with our company?

Ruck. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. The same.

Enter the Duchess of YORK,' with a Son and
Daughter of CLARENCE.

Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead1!

Duch. No, boy.

Dau. Why do you weep so oft, and beat your

breast ?
And cry, — "O Clarence, my unhappy son !"

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

Duch. My pretty cousins,* you mistake me both :

1 Cecily, daughter of Ralph Neville, first earl of Westmoreland,
and widow of Richard duke of York, who was killed at the battle
of \Vakefield, 1 W>0. She survived her husband thirty-live years,
living till the year 1495.

1 The duchess is here addressing her grandchildren ; but co isin
seems to have been used instead of our kinsman and kinswoman,
and to have supplied the place of both.

*72 KING RICHARD III. ACT II

I do lament the sickness of the king,

As loth to lose him, not your father's death.

It were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost.

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

Dau. And so will I.

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

you well :

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

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

Duck. All ! that deceit should steal such gentle

shape,

And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice !
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame,
Yet from my dugs3 he drew not this deceit.

Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble,4 gran-
dam 1

Duch. Ay, boy

Son. I cannot think it. Hark ! what noise is this 1

1 This word gave no offence to our ancestors : one instance
•will show that it was used even in the most refined poetry I
u And on thy dugs the queen of love doth tell
Her godhead's power in scrowles of my desire."

Constable's Sonnitt, 1594.

4 In the anguage of our elder writers, to dissemble signified to
feign or simulate, as well as to cloak or conceal feelings or dis-
positions.

SC. II. KING RICHARD III. T3

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

Eliz. Ah ! who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I'll join with bliick despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.

Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience t

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

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

6 So the folio; the quartos, — " kingdom of perpitual rest.'

H

• The children by whom he was represented

74 KING RICHARD III. ACT IL

Son. Ah, aunt ! you wept not for our father's

death :
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?

Dau. Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd;
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept !

Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation ;
I am not barren to bring forth complaints :
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world !
Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord, Edward !

ChiL Ah, for our father, for our dear lord, Clar-
ence !

Duch. Alas, for both ! both mine, Edward and
Clarence.

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

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

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

Eliz. Was never widow had so dear a loss.

Chil. Were never orphans had so dear a loss.

Duch. Was never mother had so dear a loss.1
Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs :
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do 1 ;
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she :
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I ;
I for an Edward weep, so do not they : —
Alas ! you three on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears ; I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentation.

Dor. Comfort, dear mother : God is much dis*
pleas'd,

SC. II. KING KICI1AK1) III. 76

That you tnke with uutliankfuluess His doing.
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt,
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ;
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
Of the young prince your son ; send straight for him,
Let him be crown'd ; in him your comfort lives :
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.7

Enter RICHARD, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS.
RATCLIFF, and Others.

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

Duch. God bless thee ; and put meekness in thy

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

Rich. Amen ; [Aside.] and make me die a good

old man ! —

That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing:
I marvel, that her grace did leave it out.

Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing

peers,

That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,
Now cheer each other in each other's love:
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.

7 Thi» speech and the preceding are not in the quartos.

75' KIN(, RICHARD III. ACT. II

The broken rancour ol' your high-swolu hates,8
But lately splintefl, knit, and join'd together.
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept.
Me seerneth good, that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fet8
Hither to London, to be crown 'd our king.

Riv. Why with some little train, my ?ord of
Buckingham 1

Buck. Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out ;
Which would be so much the more dangerous,
By how much the estate is green, and yet ungov-

ern'd :

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

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

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

Hast. And so say I.10

8 So the folio; the quartos, — " high-swoln hearts." There is
a sort of grammatical paralysis in the passage, but the sense is
clear enough. H.

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

10 This and the seventeen lines preceding are foucd only in the
folio. 11

SC. 1M. KING RICHARD 111. 77

Rich. Then be it so ; and go \ve to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow
Madam, — arid you my sister, — will you go
To give your censures" in this weighty business?
[Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and RICHAHD

Buck My lord, whoever journeys to the prince
Tor God's sake, let not us two stay at home ;
For by the way I'll sort occasion,
As index 12 to the story we late talk'd of,
To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince

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

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same. A Street.

Enter two Citizens, meeting.

1 Cit. Good morrow, neighbour : Whither away

so fast?

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

1 Cit. Yes; that the king is dead.

2 Cit. Ill news, by'r lady ; seldom comes the

better : '
I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world.

11 That is, your judgments, your opinions. — In the line before
the <j'jartos have mother instead of sister. H.

'* The index of a book was formerly set at the beginning j
hence, probably, the word came to be used in the sense of opening
or introduction. So in Act iv. sc. 4 of this play : " The flatter-
Ing index of a direful pageant." And in Othello, Act ii. sc. 1 ;
" An index and obscure prologue to the history of lust and foui
thoughts." — Sort, in the line before, is used for select or pick. H.

1 An ancient proverbial saying, noticed in The English OMU

78 KING RICHARD 111. ACT It

Enter another Citizen.
3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed !

1 Cit. Give you geod morrow, sir
3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good King Ed-
ward's death?

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

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

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

reign.
3 Cit. Woe to that land that's govern'd by a child !

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

And, in his full and ripen'd years, himself,

No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well."

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

3 Cit. Stood the state sol no, no, good friends,

God wot ;

For then this land was famously enrich'd
With politic grave counsel : then the king
Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.

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

3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his father,
Or by his father there were none at all ;
For emulation now, who shall be nearest,
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O ! full of danger is the duke of Gloster ;

tier and Country Gentlemen : " As the proverbe sayth, seHemt
come the better. VAL. That proverb indeed is aunchient, and foi
the most part true."

* So in Ecclesiastes, x. 16 : " Woe to thee, O land ! when thj
king1 is a child."

3 We may hope well of his government under all circum
stances ; we may hope (his of his council while he is in his tion
age and of himself in his riuer years.

SC. III. KING RICHARD III. 79

And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace as before.

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

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

their cloaks ;

When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand :
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night 1
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth :
All may be well ; but, if God sort it so,
'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear
You cannot reason 4 almost with a man

That looks not heavily, and full of dread.

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

The water swell before a boisterous storm.5
But leave it all to God. Whither away ?

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

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

[Exeunt,

4 Reason, verb, was often used for to talk or converse. H.

* The following hints towards this scene are in More's His
tory : " Yet began there here and there abouts some mauer of
muttering among the people, as though all should not long be well,
though they neither wist what they feared, nor wherefore : were
it, that before such great things mens hearts of a secret instinct of
nature misgive them, as the sea without wind swelleth of himselfe
sometime before a tempest ; or were it, that some one man, hap-
pilie somewhat perceiving, filled manie men with suspicion, though
he shewed few men what he knew." B.

80 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

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

Enter the Archbishop, the young Duke of YORK,
Queen ELIZABETH, and the Duchess of YORK.

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony-
Stratford,

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

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

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

York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.
Duch. Why, my young cousin ? it is good to grow.
York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at sup-
per,

My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my brother : " Ay," quoth my uncle

Gloster,
" Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow

apace : "
And since, methinks I would not grow so fast,

1 So the folio : the quartos reverse the order of the places, thug

" Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton :
At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night ! "

Malone and Steevenshad a sharp controversy, which reading ought
to be kept. The matter is stated thus in More's History : " Now
came there one not long after midnight from (he lord chamberlaine
lo doctor Rotheram the archbishop of Yorke, then chancellor of
England ; and for that he showed his servants that he had tidings
of so great importance, they letted not to wake him, nor he to ad-
mit this messenger in to his bed side. Of whom he heard that
'liete dukes were gone backe with the kings grace from Stonii
Stratford unto Northampton." H

SC. IV. KING RICHARD III. 81

Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make

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

hold

In him that did object the same to thee :
He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young;
So long a-growing, and so leisurely,
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious.
Arch, And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious

inadam.

Duch. I hope he is ; but yet let mothers doubt.
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remein

ber'd,

I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine.
Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let

me hear it.

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

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

this?

York. Grandam, his nurse.
Duch. His nurse ! why, she was dead ere thou

wast born.

York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.
Eliz. A parlous 2 boy ! Go to, you are too shrewd.
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child.
Eliz. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Messenger.
Arch. Here comes a messenger : What news *

1 Parlous is a popular corruption of perilous ; jocularly userf
for ttartting, uma:in^.

82 KINO RICHARD IH. ACT II

Mess. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to re-
port.

Eliz. How doth the prince ?

Mess. Well, madam, and in health.

Duch. What is. thy news?

Mess. Lord Rivers and lord Grey are sent to

Pomfret,
And with them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

Duch. Who hath committed them 1

Mess. The mighty dukes,

Gloster and Buckingham.

Arch. For what offence?

Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd :
Why, or for what, the nohles were committed,
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord.

Eliz. Ah me ! I see the ruin of my house :
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind ;
Insulting tyranny begins to jet 3
Upon the innocent and awless throne : —
Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre !
I see, as in a map, the end of all.

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

* So in the quartos ; the folio has jut, which, says Mr. Dyce,
u is certainly wrong." And he adds that " to jet upon means
here boldly to encroach upon." Thus in Titus Andronicus, Act ii.
sc. 1 : " And think you not how dangerous it is to jet upon a
prince's right ?" And in an old manuscript play of Sir Thomas
More, quoted by Mr. Dyce : " It is hard when Englishmens pa-
tience must be thus jetted on by straungers." — Awless is unrev-
erenced, not looked UDOU wilh awe. H.

SC. IV. KING RICHARD III. S3

Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother,
Blouu to blood, self against self: — O, preposterous
And frantic outrage*4 end thy damned spleen !
Or let me die, to look on death no more !

Eliz. Come, come, my boy ; we will to sanctu-
ary.—
Madam, farewell.

Duch. Stay, I will go with you.

Eliz. You have no cause.

Arch. [ To the Queen.] My gracious lady, go,

And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I'll resign unto your grace
The seal I keep : 6 and so betide to me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours !
Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt.

4 So in all the old copies, quarto and folio. Modern editions
generally read courage, following Malone. — In the next line all
the quarlos have " look on death," the folio " on earth." Of
course the duchess refers to the slaughters that have so long filled
the land. n.

6 More's account of this is highly pathetic : " The queene hir
lelfe sate alone alow on the rushes, all desolate and dismaid »
whoine the archbishop comforted in the best manner he could,
shewing hir that he trusted the matter was nothing so sore as she
tooke it for. ' Madam,' quoth he, ' be yee of good cheere ; for I
assure you, if they crowne anie other king than your soiine, whome
Ibey now have with them, we shall on the mo'row crowne his
brother, whome you have here with ycu. And here is the great
seale, which in like wise as that noble prince your husband deliv-
ered it unto me, so here I deliver it unto you, to the use and be-
hoof'e of your sonne.' And therewith he belooke hir the great
seale, and departed home againe, yet in the dawning of the daie."

B

84 KING RICHARD III. ACT III

ACT III.

SCENE I. London. A Street.

The Trumpets sound. Enter Prince EDWARD, RICH-
ARD, BUCKINGHAM, Cardinal BOURCHIER,' and
Others.

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

Rich. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sov-
ereign :
The weary way hath made you melancholy.

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

Rich. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your

years

Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :
No more can you distinguish of a man,
Than of his outward show ; which, God he knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth3 with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous ;

1 Thomas Bourchier was made a cardinal, and elected arch-
bishop of Canterbury in 1464. He died in 1486.

1 London was anciently called camera regis, that is, the king's
chamber. Thus in Buckingham's speech to the citizens as given
by More : " And yet be ye the people, whome he had as singular
cause well and kindlie to intreat, as anie part of his realme ; for
that the prince, by this noble citie as his special! chamber, and the
special! well renowned citie of this realme, much honourable fame
receiveih among all other nations." H.

1 To jump with is to agree with, to suit, or correspond with.
Thus in 1 Henry IV.: "Well. Hal, well; and in some sort il
jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court. I can
tell you."

»C I. KING RICHARD III. 85

Ycur grace attended to their stigar'd words,

But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :

God keep you from them, and from such false

friends !
Prince. God keep me from false friends ! but

they were none.

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

Enter the Lord Mayor, and his Train.
May. God bless your grace with health and happy

days !

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

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

Enter HASTINGS.

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

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

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

Buck. Fie ! what an indirect and peevish course
Is this of hers ! — Lord cardinal, will your grace
Persuadi the queen to send the duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?
If she deny, — lord Hastings, go with him,
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce*

86 KING RICHARD III. ACT HI

Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak oiatory
Can from his mother win the duke of York,
Anon expect him here : but if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land,
Would I be guilty of so great a sin.4

Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord.
Too ceremonious, and traditional : 6
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place :
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:
Then, taking him from thence that is not there.
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men ;
But sanctuary children, ne'er till now.'

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

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

Hast. I go, my lord.

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

4 So the folio, and all the quartos but the first two, which have
•- " so deep a sin." H.

' Ceremonious for superstitions ; traditional for adherent to old
ctatjms. — Grossness here means plainness, simplicity.

6 This argument is from More's History : " Verilie 7 have often
hiird of sanctuarie men, but I never heard erste of sanctuarie
children. But he can he no sanctuarie manne. that neither hath
wisedome to desire it, nor malice to deserve it, whose life or liber-
tie can by no lawfull processe stand in jeopardie. And he that
taketh one out of sanctuarie to doo him good. I saye plainlie that
b«- breaketh no sanciuarie."

bC. 1. KING RICblAKD 111. 8?

Say, uucle Gloster, if our brother coine,
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

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

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

Buck. lie did, my gracious lord, begin that place,
Which, since, succeeding ages have reedified.7

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

Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord.

Prince. But say, my lord, it were not register'd,
Methinks the truth should live from age to age,
As 'twere retail'd8 to all posterity,
Even to the general all-ending day.

Rich. [Aside.] So wise so young, they say, do
ne'er live long.9

Prince. What say you, uncle?

Rtch. I say, without characters '° fame lives long.

* We restore this speech to Buckingham, as in all the old cop-
ies. Modern editions, generally, give it to Richard, and say noth-
ing of the change. H.

8 That is, recounted. Minsheu, in his Dictionary, 1017, besides
the verb retail, in the mercantile sense, has the verb to retaite or
retell; and in that sense it appears to be employed here. Rich-
ard uses the word again in the fourth act, when speaking to the
queen of her daughter : " To whom I will retail my conquests
won."

9 "I have knownc children languishing of the splene, obstructed
and altered in temper, talke with gravity and wisdome surpassing
those tender years, and their judgments carrying a marvellous im-
itation of the wisdome of the ancient, having after a sorte attained
that by disease which other have by course of yeares ; whereon I
take it the proverbe ariseth. that they be of shorte life who are of
wit MO pregnant." — Bright'* Treatise of Melancholy, 1586

15 That is, without the hel|. of letters, or inscriptions! 11,

HS KING RICHARD III. ACT 111

[Asw/r.j Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one word.1'

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

Buck. What, my gracious lord?

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

11 Of course, /ires long is the " one word " wherein Richard
here moralizes "two meanings." — Of that distinguished person-
age, the Vice or Jester of the old Moralities, some account was
given in Twelfth Night, Act iv. sc. 2, note 13. His part appears
to have been on all occasions much the same, consisting in a given
round or set form of action ; for which cause, probably, the epi
thet formal is here applied to him. The following is Gilford's
description of him : " He appears to have been a perfect counter
part of the harlequin of the modern stage, and had a twofold
office, — to instigate the hero of the piece to wickedness, and at
the same time to protect him from the devil, whom he was per
milted to buffet and baffle with his wooden sword, till the rrocess
of the story required that both the protector and the protected
ihould be carried off" by the fiend ; or the latter driven roaring
from the stage, by some miraculous interposition in favour of the
repentant offender." In Ben Jonson's play, The Devil is an Ass,
we have, among the Dramatis Personse, " Satan, the great Devil,
Pug. the less Devil, Iniquity, the Vice ; " and the latter comes
npon the stage speaking thus :

' What is he calls upon me, and would seem to lack a vice 1
Ere his words be half spoken, I am with him in a trice;
Here, there, and every where, as the cat is with the mice ;
True Vetus hiiquitas. Lack'st thou cards, friend, or dice 1
I will teach ihee to cheat, child ; to cog, lie, and swagger}
And ever and anon to be drawing forth thy dagger :
To swear by Gogs-nowns. like a lusty Juventus,
In a cloak to thy heel, and a hat like a pent-house;
Thy breeches of three fingers, and thy doublet all belly,
With a wench tbal shall feed thee with cock stones and jelly

H

bC. 1. KING RICHAR1J III. 89

Rick [Aside.] Short summers lightly12 have a
forward spring.

Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and tlie Cardinal.

Buck. NOAV, in good time, here comes the duke
of York.

Prince. Richard of York ! how fares our loving
brother 1

York. Well, my dread lord ; so must I call you
no\v.

Prince. Ay, brother ; to our grief, as it is yours :
Too late l3 he died, that might have kept that title,
Which by his death hath .lost much majesty.

Rich. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York!

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

Rich. He hath, my lord.

York. And therefore is he idlel

Rich. O ! my fair cousin, I must not say so.

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

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

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

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

Prince. A beggar, brother 1

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

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

York. A greater gift ! O ! that's the SAvord to it

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

'* That is, commonly or utitally. So in an old proverb pre-
itrved by Ray : " There's lightning lightly before thunder."

13 Too late for too lately ; meaning, it is loo short a time sine*
hit death, not to be " to our grief, as it is yours " H

90 KING RICHARD III. *CT III

Ytrk. O ! then, I see, you'll part but with light

gifts :
In weightier things you'll say a beggar, nay.

Rich. It is too weighty for your grace to wear.
York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.14
Rich. What ! would you have my weapon, little

lord?
York. I would, that I might thank you as you

call me.
Rich. How?
York. Little.
Prince. My lord of York will still be cross in

talk: —

Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.
York. You mean, to bear me, not to bear with

me. —

Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me :
Because that I am little, like an ape,
He thinks that you should bear me on your shoul-
ders.16

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

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

14 This taunting answer of the prince has hefn misinterpreted
ne means, " I hold it cheap, or care but little for it, even were it
heavier than it is." Thus in Love's Labour's Lost, Act v. sc. 2;
' You weigh me not ! — O, that's you care not for me."

16 York alludes to the protuberance on Gloster's back, which
was commodious for carrying burdens. Thus in Ulpian Fulwell's
Ars Adulandi, 1576 : — " Thou hast an excellent back to carry mji
ford's ape."

9C. I. KING RICHARD III. Ul

York. What ! will you go unto the Tower, my
lord 1

Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so.

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

Rich. Why, what should you fear?

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

Prince. I fear no uncles dead.

Rich. Nor none that live, I hope.

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

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

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

Rich. No doubt, no doubt : O ! 'tis a perilous boy ,
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable :
He's all the mother's, from the top to toe.

Buck. Well, let them rest. — Come hither, Catesby :
Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend,
As closely to conceal what we impart.
Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way : —
What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter
To make William lord Hastings of our mind,
For the instalment of this noble duke
In the seat royal of this famous isle?

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

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

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

Buck. Well, then no more but this , Go, gentle
Catesby,

92 KING RICHARD III. ACT Ul

And, as it were far off', sound thou lord Hastings*
How he doth stand affected to our purpose ;
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower-
To sit about the coronation.1"
If thou dost find him tractable to us,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons :
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,
Be thou so too, and so break off the talk,
And give us notice of his inclination ;
For we to-morrow hold divided councils,17
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd.

Rich. Commend me to lord William : tell him,

Catesby,

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

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

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

Rich. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we
sleep 7

16 This line and the preceding are found only in the folio. H

17 More has the following account of this matter : " But the
protector and the duke, after that they had sent the lord cardinal),
the archbishop of Yorke, the bishop of Elie, the lord Stanlie, and
ihe lord Hastings, with manie other noblemen, to common and de-
vise about the coronation in one place, as fast were ihey in an-
other place, contriving the coutrarie. and to make the protectoi

king Thus manie things comming togilher, partlie by

chance, partlie of purpose, caused at length not common peop.c
onelie, that woond with the wind, but wise men also, and some
lords eke, to marke the matter, and muse thereon ; so farre foorth
that the lord Stanlie, that was after earle of Derbie, wiselie mis-
trusted it, and said unto the lord Hastings, that he much misliked
these two sererall councels. For while we, quoth he, talke of one
matte' in the tone place, little wot we whereof they talke in the
jothei place." H.

*C II. KING RICHAKI) 111. 98

date.. You shall, my lord.

Rich, At Crosby-place, there shall you find us

both. [Exit CATESBY.

Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we

perceive

Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots ?
Rich. Chop off his head, man ; — somewhat we

will do : —

And look, when I am king, claim thou of me
The earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables
Whereof the king my brother was possess'd.

Buck. I'll claim that promise at your grace's hand.
Rich. And look to have it yielded with all kind-
ness.

Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards
We may digest our complots in some form. [Exeunt

SCENE II. Before Lord HASTINGS' House.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. [Knocking.] My lord ! rny lord ! —
Hast. [Within.] Who knocks?
Mess. One from lord Stanley.
Hast. [Within.] What is't o'clock?
Mess Upon the stroke of four

Enter HASTINGS.

Hast. Cannot my lord Stanley ' sleep these te-
dious nights?

Mess. So it appears by that I have to say.
First, he commends him to your noble self.

1 So the folio ; the quartos, — "Cannot thy master." And in
the next line the quartos read, — " So it should seem." In the
iccond after, lordship iiisti-ad of self. H

IM KING RICHARD III. ACT III

Hoot. What then?

Mess. Then certifies your lordship, that this night
He dreamt the hoar had rased2 oft" his helm:
Besides, he says there are two councils kept ;
And that may be determined at the one,
Which may make you and him to rue at the other.
Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleas-
ure,—

If you will presently take horse with him,
And with all speed post with him toward the north,
To shun the danger that his soul divines.

Hast. Go, fellow, go ; return unto thy lord
Bid him not fear the separated council :
His honour and myself are at the one,
And at the other is my good friend Catesby ;
Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us,
Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
Tell him his fears are shallow, without instance : '
And for his dreams — I wonder, he's so simple
To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers.

* Rased or rashed was a term commonly used to describe the
violence inflicted by a boar. Nott derives it from Arracher, French,
to root up, to draw, tear, or pull up. Thus in The Faerie Qucene,
Rook v. can. 3, stan. 8 :

"There Marinell great deeds of armes did shew;
And through the thickest like a lyon flew,
Hashing off helmes, and ryving plates asonder." —

This and the preceding lines read thus in the quartos :

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

And in the next line the quartos have field instead of kept. H

3 That is, without example, or without any matier-of-fact, tf
instinre, or allege in proof. So in The Merry Wives of Windsor.
Act ii. sc. 2. Ford says of his wife, — " Now, could 1 come to her
with any detection in my hand, my desires had instance and argu-
ment to commend themselves." — The quartos have wanting in-
stead di without; and, three lines before, servant instead of good
friend ; the line after, fond for simple. u

SC II. KING RICHARD IIT. 95

To fly the boar, before the boar pursues,
Were to incense the boar to follow us,
And make pursuit, where he did mean no chase.
Go. bid thy master rise and come to me ;
And we will both together to the Tower,
Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly.*
Mess. I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say

[Exit.
Enter CATESBT.

Cote. Many good morrows to my noble lord !
Hast. Good morrow, Catesby ; you are early

stirring.
What news, what news, in this our tottering state?

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

Hast. How ! wear the garland ? dost thou mean

the crown?

Gate. Ay, my good lord.
Hast. I'll have this crown of mine cut from my

shoulders,

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

4 Sir Thomas More gives the matter of this dialogue thus ;
" The lord Stanlie sent a trustie messenger unto him at midnight
in all hast, requiring him to rise and ride awaie with him ; for he
was disposed utterlie no longer to hide, he had so fearful) a dreame,
in which him thought that a boare with his tuskes so rased them
ftoth by the heads, that the bloud ran about both their shoulders.
Ha ! quoth the lord Hastings to this messenger, leaneth my lord
Ihy maister so much to trifles, and hath such faith in dreams 7
Tell him it is plaine witchcraft to beleeve in such dreames, which
if they were tokens of things to come, why thinktih he not that
we might be as likelie to make them Irue by our going ? for then
had the boare a cause likelie to rase us with his tusks, as folke
that fled for some falsehood." — Of course the boar menus Rich-
ard, whose crest was adorned with the figure of that amiable
Beast. H.

96 KING RICHARD III. ACT III.

Cote. Ay, on my life ; and hopes to find you for

ward

Upon his party, for the gain thereof:
And thereupon he sends you this good news,—
That this same very day your enemies,
The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret.

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

Gate. God keep your lordship in that gracious
mind !

Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelvemonth

hence,

That they which brought me in my master's hate,
I live to look upon their tragedy. —
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,
I'll send some packing that yet think not on't.

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

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

Gate. The princes both make high account of you ;
[Aside.] For they account his head upon the bridge.

Hast. I know they do, and I have well deserv'd it. —

Enter STANLEY.

Come on, come on ; where is your boar-spear, man 1
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?

Stan. My lord, good morrow : — good morrow
Catesby. —

St.. ..- ING RICHARI> III. 07

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

Host. My lord, I hold my life as dear as yours,1
And never, in my days, I do protest,
Was it so precious to me as 'tis now.6
Think you, but that I know our state secure,
I would be so triumphant as I am?

Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode front

London,

Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were sure,
And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust ;
But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast.
This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt :
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward !
What ! shall we toward the Tower ? the day is spent.

Hast. Come, come, have with you. — Wot you

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

Stan. They for their truth might better wear theif

heads,

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

Enter a Pursuivant.

Hast. Go on before ; I'll talk with this good fel-
low. [Exeunt STANLEY and CATESBY.
How now, sirrah ! how goes the world with thee?

Purs. The better, that your lordship please to &sk.

Hast. I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now, j
Than when thou mett'st me last, where now we meet ,

* So in the folio, meaning1, of course, " as clear as you do yours,"
which is in fact the reading of the quartos. In the next line the
quartos have life instead of days. H.

* So the folio ; the quartos, — " Was it more precious to me
than 'tis now." H.

98 KING RICHARD III. ACT III,

Then was I going prisoner to the Tower,
By the suggestion of the queen's allies ;
But now I tell thee (keep it to thyself)
This day those enemies are put to death,
And I in better state than ere I was.

Purs. God hold it,7 to your honour's good con
tent!

Hast. Gramercy, fellow : There, drink that for
me. [Throwing him his Purse.

Purs. I thank your honour. [Exit.

Enter a Priest.

Priest. Well met, my lord ; I am glad to see

your honour.
Hast. I thank thee, good Sir John,8 with all my

heart.

I am in your debt for your last exercise ; *
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.
Priest. I'll wait upon your lordship.

1 That is, God continue it. — The incident of this passage is
told with great spirit by the historian : " Upon the verie Tower
wharfe, so neare the place where his head was off soone after,
there met he with one Hastings, a pnrsevant of his owne name
And at their meeting he was put in remembrance of another time,
in which it had happened them before to meet in the same place.
And therefore he said, — Ha! Hastings, art thou remembred
when I met thee here once with an heavie heart ? Yea, my good
lord, quoth he, that I remember well, and thanked he God, they
gat no good, nor you no harme thereby. Thou wouldest say
so, quoth he, if thou knewest as much as I know, which few
know else as yet, and mo shall shortlie. That meant he by the
lords of the queenes kinred, that should that daie be beheaded
at Pomfret. In faith, man, quoth he, I was never so sorie, nor
never stood in so great dread in my life, as I did when thou and I
met here. And lo, how the world is turned ! now stand mine eni-
mies in the danger, and I never in my life so merrie, nor never in
•o great suertie." H

* See The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act i. sc. I, note I.

• Exercise probably meaus religious instruction.

gC. II KING RICHARD III. 99

Enter BUCKINGHAM.

Buck. What ! talking with a priest, lord cham-
berlain ?

Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest :
Your honour hath no shriving work in hand.

Hast. 'Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
The men you talk of came into my mind.
What ! go you toward the Tower 1

Buck. I do, my lord ; but long I cannot stay

there :
I shall return before your lordship thence.

Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there.
Buck. [Aside.] And supper too, although thou

know'st it not.
Come, will you go?

Hast. I'll wait upon your lordship.10

[Exeunt.

10 More relates this interview as occurring1 between Hastings
and a knight whose name is not given, describing him as " a meane
man at that time, and now of great auihoritie :" "This knight,
when it happened the lord chamberlaine by the waie to staie his
horsse and common a while with a priest whome he met in the
Tower street, brake his tale, and said merilie to him, — What, my
lord ! I pray you, come on ; whereto talke you so long with
that priest ? you have no need of a priest yet ; and therewith he
laughed upon him, as though he would say, — Ye shall have soone.
But so little wist the tother what he ment, and so little mistrusted,
that he was never merier, nor never so full of good hope in hia
life, which self thing is oft scene a sigiie of change." It appears
from other authority, that the knight, whose part is here assigned
to Buckingham, was Sir Thomas Howard, afterwards earl of
Surrey, u

1UO KING RICHARD III. ACT 111

SCENE III. Pomfret. Before the Castle.

•

Enter RATCLIFF, vnth a Guard, conducting RIVERS
GREY, and VAUGHAN, to Execution.

Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this,—
To-day slialt thou behold a subject die
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.

Grey. God bless1 the prince from all the pack

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

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

after.

Rat. Despatch: the limit2 of your lives is out.
Riv. O Pomfret, Pomfret ! O, thou bloody prison,
Fatal and ominous to noble peers !
Within the guilty closure of thy walls,
Richard the Second here was hack'd to death :
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink.

Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon our

heads,

When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.
Riv. Then curs'd she Richard, then curs'd she

Buckingham,

Then curs'd she Hastings: — O, remember, God,
To hear her prayer for them, as now for us !

1 So the folio ; the quartos, " God keep the prince." — In th«
quartos this scene opens with Ratcliff saying, — " Come/ bring
forth the prisoners." In the folio the stage-direction is such as to
dispense with the line, and it is omitted accordingly. H.

* Limit for limited time. — This line and the preceding are noi
in the quartos The same of the second line in Grey's next

•JC. IV KING RICHARD III. 101

And for my sister, and her princely sons,
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,
Which, as Thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt !

Rat. Make haste, the hour of death is expirate.

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

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

SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Towei.

BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, the Bis/top of
ELY,' RATCLIFF, LOVEL, and Others, sitting at a
Table : Officers of the Council attending.

Hast. Now, noble peers, the cause why w are met
Is to determine of the coronation :
[n God's name, speak, when is the royal day?
Buck. Are all things ready for the royal time 1
Stan. They are ; and wants but nomination.*
Ely. To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day.
Buck. Who knows the lord protector's mind

herein ?
Who is most inward * with the noble duke?

8 We have this word in the same sense again in Shakespeare- 1
twenty-second Sonnet : " Then look I death my days should ex-
piate." Steevens and Singer think it is an error of the press for
txpirat.r.

1 Or. John Morton, who was elected to the see of Ely in 1478.
He was advanced lo the see of Canterbury in i486, and appoint-
ed lord chancellor in 1487. He died in the year 1500. This
prelate first devised the scheme of putting an end to the long
sontests between the houses of York and Lancaster, by a mar-
riage between Henry earl of Richmond, and Elizabeth, the eldest
daughter of Edward IV. ; and was a principal agent in procuring
Henry, when abroad, to enter into a covenant for the purpose.

* The only thing wanting is appointment of a particular day fol
the ceremony.

' Intimate, confidential.

102 KINO RICHARD 111. ACT III.

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

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

Hast. I thank his grace, I know he loves me weli
But, for his purpose in the coronation,
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd
His gracious pleasure any way therein :
But you, my honourable lords,4 may name the time ;
And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice,
Wliich, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.

Enter RICHARD.

Ely. In happy time here comes the duke himself.

Rich. My noble lords and cousins, all, good inor

row :

have been long a sleeper ; but I trust
My absence doth neglect no great design,
Which by my presence might have been concluded.

Buck. Had you not come upon your cue,8 my lord,
William lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part, — .
I mean your voice, — for crowning of the king.

Rich. Than my lord Hastings, no man might be

bolder :

His lordship knows me well, and loves me well.-—
My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn,
I saw good strawberries in your garden there ;
I do beseech you, send for some of them.8

4 So in the folio ; in the quartos, " my noble lords." H.

6 An expression borrowed from the stage ; the cue, queue, or
tail of a speech being the last words, and so indicating to lha
next speaker when lo take his turn. H.

8 This easy affability and smoothness of humour when going

SC. IV. KING RICHARD III. 103

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

[Exit ELY.

Rich. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.

[Takes him aside*

Cateshy hath sounded Hastings in our business,
And finds the testy gentleman so hot,
Tim1 he will lose his head, ere give consent
His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it,
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.

Buck. Withdraw yourself a while ; I'll go with
you. [Exeunt RICH, and BUCK.

Stan. We have not yet set down this day ;f tri-
umph.

To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden
For I myself am not so well provided,
As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.

Re-enter the Bishop of ELY.

Ely. Where is my lord, the duke of Gloster?
I have sent for these strawberries.

Hast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this

morning :

There's some conceit or other likes him well,
When that he bids good morrow with such spirit.
I think there's never a man in Christendom

about the blackest and bloodiest crimes is one of the most dec!
give strokes in this terrible portrait. The incident is thus related
in the History: -'These lords so sitting' logither communing of
this matter, the protector came in amongst them first about nind
of the clocke, saluting them courleouslie. and excusing himselfe
tint had been from them so long, saierig rnerilie that he had heciie
a sleeper that dale. After a little talking with them he said unto
the bishop of Elie, — My lord, you have verie good strawbcries
at your garden in Holborne ; I require you. let us have a messe
of thorn. Gladlie. my lord, quoth he ; would God I had some
bcitci thing as readie to your pleasure as that ! And iherewiihall
ill all hast IIP sent his servant for a messe of strawberios." u

104 KING RICHAHD III. ACT US.

Can lesser hide his love, or hate, than he ;

For hy his face straight shall you know his heart.

Stan. What of his heart perceive you in his face,
By any livelihood 7 he show'd to-day ?

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

Re-enter RICHARD and BUCKINGHAM.

Rich. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve
That do conspire my death with devilish ploto
Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd
Upon my hody with their hellish charms?

Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,
Makes me most forward in this princely presence*
To doorr1 the offenders : Whosoe'er they be,
[ say, ray lord, they have deserved death.

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

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

Rich. If! thou protector of this damned strum-
pet,

So in the folio ; the quartos have likelihood, which modern
editions commonly prefer, explaining it by semblance, or ap-itai-
tmce. To sltow an appearance is not a very shrewd form of speech
Liveliliood, taken in the sense of liveliness or riracity of expres-
sion, seems better. The same use of the word occurs in All's
Well th-5t Ends Well, Act i. sc. 1 : "The remembrance of her
father never approaches her heart, but the tyranny of her sorrows
riikrfs all lirelihond from her cheek." H.

8 oo the (olio ; the quartos, " noble presence." Such changes
•ft sometimes made to avoid a too frequeul use of the samfl
vorfi. Hastings Las "noble lord," below. H.

SC. IV. KING RICHARD III. 105

Talk's! thou to me »f ifs ? — Thou art a traitor: —
Oft' with his head ! now, by St. Paul I swear,
1 will not dine until 1 see the same. —
Lovel, and RatclifT, look that it be done :
The rest that love me, rise, and follow me.9

[Exeunt Cv.ncil, with RICH, and BITCBL.

* More gives a most spirited account of this proceeding1 : '' Be-
tweeue ten and eleven he returned into the chamber, with a w »on-
derfull soure angrie countenance, knitting the browes, frowning
and fretting, and gnawing on his lips ; and so sat him downe in
his place. All the lords were much dismaid and sore marvelled
at this sudden change. Then, when he had sitten still awhile,
thus he began : What were they worthie to have, that compasse
and imagine the destruction of me, being so ncere of bloud unto
the king, and protector of his roiall person and his realine ? At
this question all the lords sat sore astonied, musing much whome ihis
question meant, of which everie man wist himselfe cleere. Then
the lord chambcrlaine answered and said, that they were worthie
to be punished as traitors, whatsoever they were. And all af-
firmed the same. That is. quoth he, yonder sorceresse, my broth-
ers wife, and olher with hir. Ye shall all see in what wise that
sorceresse, and that other witch of hir councell, Shores wife, have
by their sorcerie and witchcraft wasted my bodie. And therewith
he plucked up his dublet sleeve to his elbow upon his left arme,
where he shewed a weerish withered arme, and small ; as it was
never other. Hereupon everie mans mind sore misgave them,
well perceiving that this matter was but a quarrel!. For they
well wist that the queene was loo wise to go about anie such follie.
And, also, no man was there present, but well knew that his arme
was ever such since his birth. Naithelesse the lord chamberlaine
answered, — Certainlie, my lord, if they have so heinouslie doone,
they be worthie heinous punishment. What ! quoth the protector,
thou servest me. I weene, with ifs and ands : I tell thee they have
so doone, and that I will make good on thy bodie, traitor. And
therewith, as in a great anger, he clapped his fist upon the boord
a great rap ; at which token one cried. Treason ! without the
chamber. Therewith a doore clapped, and in come there rushing
men in harnesse.as manic as the chamber might hold. And anon
the protector saiJ to the lord Hastings, — 1 arrest thee, traitor!
What, me ! my lord ? quoth he. Yea, thee, traitor, quoth the
protector. Then were they all qnicklie bestowed in diverse
chambers, except the lord chamberlaine. whome the protector bad
•peed and shrive him apace ; for, by saint 1'aule, quoth he, I will
Dot to dinner till 1 see thy head off." H.

106 KING RICHARD III. ACT III,

Hast. Woe, woe, for England ! not a wlat for me ;
For I, too fond, might have prevented this :
Stanley did dream the boar did rase his helm ;
But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly.
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,1*
And started when he look'd upon the Tower,
As loth to bear me to the slaughter-house.
O ! now I want the priest that spake to me
I now repent I told the pursuivant,
As too triumphing, how mine enemies,
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd.
And I myself secure in grace and favour.
O, Margaret, Margaret ! now thy heavy curse
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head.

Rat. Come, come, despatch ; the duke would IMS

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

Hast. O, momentary grace of mortal men !
Wliich we more hunt for than the grace of God
Who builds his hope in air of your good looks,11

10 A fool-cloth was a kind of housing that covered the body
of the horse, and reached nearly to the ground. A foot-cloth
horse was a palfrey covered with such housings, used for slate ,
and was the usual mode of conveyance for the rich, at a period
when carriages were unknown. — This is from Sir Thomas More :
" In riding toward the Tower the same morning in which he was
beheaded, his horse twice or thrice stumbled with him, almost to
the falling; which thing, albeit each man wot well daily happeneth
to them to whome no such mischance is toward ; yet hath it beene
of an old rite and custome observed as a token oftentimes nolablia
foregoing some great misfortune."

11 So the folio; the quartos. — "fair looks." — William lord
Hastings was beheaded on the 13th of June, 1483. His eldest
•on by Catharine Neville, daughter of Richard Neville, earl of
Salisbury, and widow of William lord Ronville, was restored to
his honours and estate by King Henry VII. in the first year of
his reign. The daughter of lady Hastings, by her first husband
was married to the marquis of Dorset, who appears in (lie present
play

So. V KING R1CV ARD III. 107

Lives like fl drunken sailor on a mast ;
Read/ with every nod to tumble down
Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

Lov. Come, come, despatch ; 'tis bootless to ex-
claim

Hast. O, bloody Richard! — miserable England!
I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee,
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.12 —
Come, lead me to the block ; bear him my head :
They smile at me, who13 shortly shall be dead.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. The same. The Tower Walls.

Enter RICHARD and BUCKINGHAM, in rusty Armour,
and marvellous ill-favoured.

Rich. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change

thy colour,

Murder thy breath in middle of a word,
And then again begin, and stop again,
As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror ?

Buck. Tut ! I can counterfeit the deep tragedian
Speak, and look back, and pry on every side,
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,
Intending ' deep suspicion : ghastly looks

* This line and the three preceding are found only in the tbho

H.

•* Who refers to they, not to me. H.

1 Intend was often used for pretend. Thus in sc. 7 of this Act,
Buckingham says to Richard, — "Intend some fear." See, also,
The Taming of the Shrew, Act iv. sc, l,note 20. — The line he-
fore is found in none of the quartos. — The matter of this passage
is thus given hy More : " Now flew the fame of this lords death
»wiftlie through the cilie. and so foorth further about, like a wind
in everie mans eare. But tue protector, immediatehe after dinner,
intending to set some colour upon the mailer, sent in all hast foi
tnauie substaiiliall men out of the citie into the Tower. At thei'

I OH KING RICHARD III. ACT III

Are at my service, like enforced smiles ;
And both are ready in their offices,
At any time to grace my stratagems.
But what ! is Cateshy gone 1

Rich, He is ; and, see, he brings the mayor along

Enter the Lord Mayor and CATESBY.
Buck. Lord mayor ! —
Rich. Look to the drawbridge there !
Buck. Hark ! a drum.
Rich. Catesby, o'erlook the walls.
Buck. Lord mayor, the reason we have sent —
Rich. Look back, defend thee ! here are enemies.
Buck. God and our inriocency defend and guard

us !

Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, with HASTINGS' Head.

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

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

Rich. So dear I lov'd the man, that I must weep,
I took him for the plainest harmless creature,
That breath'd upon the earth a Christian ;
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded
The history of all her secret thoughts :
So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue,

comming, himselfe with the duke of Buckingham stood ha-nesied
in old ill-raring1 briganders, such as no man should weene that they
would vouchsafe to have put upon their backs, except that some
sudden necessitie had constrained them. And then the protector
shewed them, that the lord chamberlaine and other of his ccnspir-
acie had contrived to have suddenlie destroied him and the duke
there the same day in the councell. Of which their treason he
never had knowledge before ten of the clocke the same forenoone
which sudden feare drave them to put on for their defense suck
harnesse as came next to hand." u

fcC. V. KING RICHARD III. J09

That, his apparent open guilt omitted, —

I mean his conversation 8 with Shore's wife, —

He liv'd from all attainder of suspects.

Buck. Well, well, he was the covert 'st-shelter'd

traitor

That ever liv'd.3 —

Would you imagine, or almost believe,
Were't not that by great preservation
We live to tell it, that the subtle traitor
This day had plotted, in the council-house,
To murder me, and my good lord of Gloster 1

May. Had he done so?

Rich. What ! think you we are Turks, or infidels 1
Or that we would, against the form of law,
Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death,
But that the extreme peril of the case,
The peace of England, and our persons' safety,
Enforc'd us to this execution?

May. Now, fair befall you ! he deserv'd his death ;
And your good graces both have well proceeded,
To warn false traitors from the like attempts.

Buck. I never look'd for better at his hands,
After he once fell in with mistress Shore:
Yet had we not determin'd he should die,
Until your lordship came to see his end ;
Whicli now the loving haste of these our friends
Something against our meanings, hath prevented
Because, my lord, we would have had you heard
The traitor speak, and timorously confess
The manner and the purpose of his treasons ;
That you might well have signified the same

* That is, familiar intercourse ; what is now called criminal
conrersation.

3 This line is commonly filled out thus : " Look you, ray lord
mayor." These words are thrust in here from another part of
the quartos. We rive the text as it is in the folio. u

I 10 KINO KICHARD III. ACT Ilk

Unto the citizens, who, haply, may
Miscouster us in him, and wail his death.

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

serve,

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

Hick. And to that end we wish'd your lordship

here,
To avoid the censures of the carping world.

Hack. But since you come too late of our intent,
Yet witness what you hear we did intend:
And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell.

[Exit the Lord Mayor

Rich. Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham.
The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post :
There, at your meetest vantage of the time,
Infer the bastardy of Edward's children :
Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen.
Only for saying — he would make his son
Heir to the crown ; meaning, indeed, his house.
Which by the sign thereof was termed so.*
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury,
And bestial appetite in change of lust ;
Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters, wives,
Even where his raging eye, or savage heart,
Without control lusted to make a prey.6

4 In common speech a similar phrase is sometimes used, viz.,
u to come short of a thing."

* This person was one Walker, a substantial citizen and grocer
at the Crown in Cheapside. These topics of Edward's cruelty
lust, unlawful marriage. <fcc., are enlarged upon in that most ex
traordinary invective, the petition presented to Richard before his
accession, which was afterwards turned into an act of parliament.

• So the folio ; the quartos, — • listed to make his prey." And

SC. V. KING RICHARD III. Ill

Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person :
Tell them, when that my mother went with child
Of that insatiate Edward, noble York,
My princely father, then had wars in France ;
And, by true computation of the time,
Found that the issue was not his begot ;
Which well appeared in his lineaments,
Being nothing like the noble duke my father:
Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off;
Because, my lord, you know my mother lives.

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

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

castle ; 7

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

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

[Exit BUCKINGHAM.

Rich. Go, Lovel, with all speed to doctor Shaw, —
[To CATE.] Go thou to friar Penker:8 — bid them

both
Meet me, within this hour, at Baynard's castle.

[Exeunt LOVEL, and CATESBY.

in the line before, the quartos have "lustful eye," which was
changed to " raging eye" in the folio. H.

7 This castle was built by Baynard, a nobleman who is said to
hnve come in with William the Conqueror. Knight speaks of it
thus : « Baynard's Castle, which stood on the bank of the river
in Thames-street, has been swept away by the commercial neces-
sities of London. The dingy barge is moored in the place of the
splendid gallery ; and porters and carmen squabble on the spot
wliere princes held their state." H.

* Dr. Shaw was brother to the lord mayor; Penker, according
to Speed, was provincial of the Augustine friars; and both wer«
popular preachers of the time. Of course Richard wanted them
to prench politics H

112 KING RICHARD III. ACT III,

Now will I go, to take some privy order
To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight ;
And to give order, that no manner person9
Have any time recourse unto the princes. [Exit.

8CENE VI. A Street.

Enter a Scrivener.

Scriv. Here is the indictment of the good lord

Hastings ;

Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd,
That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's.
And mark how well the sequel hangs together
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over ;
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me :
The precedent ' was full as long a-doing :
And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd,
Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty.
Here's a good world the while ! — Who is so gross,
That cannot see this palpable device?
Yet who so bold, but says he sees it not?
Bad is the world ; and all will come to nought,
When such ill dealing must be seen in thought.*

[Exit.

• So in the folio ; in the quartos thus : " And to give notice,
that no manner of person." The folio is according to the idiom
of the time. — "The brats of Clarence" were Edward and Mar
garet, known afterwards as carl of Warwick and countess of
Salisbury. H.

1 That is, the original draft from which the copy was made.

f That is, seen in silence. — The Poet here writes very close to
the History " Now was this proclamation made within two houres
after that he was beheaded ; and it was so curiouslie indited, and
so faire written in parchment in so well set a hand, and therewiih
of itselfe so long a processe, that everie child might well perceive
thai it was prepared before. For all the lime betweene his death
and the proclaiming eou'd scant have sufficed unto the bare

8C. VII. KING RICHARD IH. 113

SCENE VII.

The same. The Court of Baynard's Castle.

Enter RICHARD and BUCKINGHAM, meeting.

Rich. How now, how now ! what say the citizens 1

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

Rich. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's
children 1

Buck. I did ; with his contract with lady Lucy.1
And his contract by deputy in France ;
The insatiate greediness of his desires,
And his enforcement of the city wives ;
His tyranny for trifles ; his own bastardy,
As being got, your father then in France ; *
And his resemblance, being not like the duke.
Withal, I did infer your lineaments,
Being the right idea of your father,
Both in your form and nobleness of mind ;

writing alone, all had it beene but in paper, and scribbled foorth In
hast. So that one that was a schoolmaister of Powles, of chance
standing by, and comparing the shortnesse of the time with the
length of the matter, said unto them that stood about him, — Here
is a gaie goodlie foule cast awaie for hast. And a merchant an-
swered him, that it was written by prophesie." H.

1 The king had been familiar with this lady before his marriage,
to obstruct which his mother alleged a precontract between them.
Dut Elizabeth Lucy, being sworn to speak the truth, declared tluit
the king had not been affianced to her, though she owned she had
been his concubine. — The first, second, fourth, and seventh lilies
of this speech are wanting in all the quartos.

* This tale is supposed to have been first propagated by the
duke of Clarence when he obtained a settlement of the crown on
himself and his issue after the death of Henry VI. .Sir Thomas
More says that the duke of Gloster, soon after Edward's death
•evivtd this scandal.

114 KINO RICHARD III. ACT III.

Laid open nil your victories in Scotland,

Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,

Your bounty, virtue, fair humility ;

Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose,

Untouch'd, or slightly handled in discourse.

And, when my oratory grew toward end,

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

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

Rich. And did they so?

Buck. No, so God help me, they spake not a word ;
But, like dumb statuas, or breathing stones,
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale.
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,
And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful silence 1
His answer was, — the people were not us'd
To be spoke to, but by the recorder.
Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again :
•' Tims saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd ;"
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
When he had done, some followers of mine own,
At lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps,
And some ten voices cried, " God save King Rich-
ard ! "

And thus I took the vantage of those few,4 —
" Thanks, gentle citizens, and friends," quoth I ;
"This general applause, and cheerful shout,
Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard : "
And even here brake off and came away.

Rich. What tongueless blocks were they ! Would

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

8 It would not be difficult, says Mr. Reed, to fill whole pages
with instances to prove that statue was formerly a word of three
syllables ; and there are several passages in Shakespeare where
it is necessary so to pronounce it.

4 This line is not in the quartos. B.

£C. VII. KING RICHARD III. 115

Buck. The mayor is here at hand : intend ' some

fear;

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

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

Buck. Go, go, up to the leads! the lord mayor
knocks. [Exit RICHARD.

Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens.

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

Enter CATESBY, from the Castle.

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

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

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

• That is, pretend. See sc. 5, note 1, of this Act. H.

* Ground and descant were technical terms in music ; the for-
mer meaning- the original air, the latter the variations. Se«s The
Two Gentlemen of Veroua. Act i. sc 2. rote ^ H.

110 KING RICHARD III. ACT III

Gate. I'll signify so much unto him straight.

[Exit
Buck. Ah, ha ! my lord, this prince is not an

Edward :

He is not lulling on a lewd love-bed,7
But on his knees at meditation ;
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,
But meditating with two deep divines ;
Not sleeping, to engross8 his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul.
Happy were England, would this virtuous prince
Take on his grace the sovereignty thereof;
But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.
May. Marry, God defend his grace should say

us nay !

Buck. I fear he will : Here Catesby cornea
again : —

Re-enter CATESBY.
Now, Catesby, what says his grace 1

Cate. He wonders to what end you have assem-
bled

Such troops of citizens to come to him :
His grace not being warn'd thereof before,
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.
Buck. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him :
By Heaven, we come to him in perfect love ;
And so once more return, and tell his grace.

[Exit CATESBY
When holy and devout religious men

7 So the folio ; the quartos have day-bed. Instead of lulling,
modern editions, generally, print lolling, which has no authority

H.

8 That is, to pamper, fatten, or make gross. — In the fourth lio«
below, the quartos have, " on hinuelf." H.

SC. VII. KING RICHARD III 117

Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence ;
So sweet is zealous contemplation.

Knter RICHARD, in a Gallery above, between two
Bishops. CATESBY returns.

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

Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian priuee,
1 o stay him from the fall of vanity :
And, see ! a book of prayer in his hand ;
True ornaments to know a holy man. —
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,
Lend favourable ear to our requests,
And pardon us the interruption
Of thy devotion, and right-Christian zeal.

Rich. My lord, there needs no such apology ;
I do beseech your grace to pardon me,
Who, earnest in the service of my God,
Deferr'd the visitation of my friends.9
But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure?

Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God

above,
And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.

Rich. I do suspect I have done some offence,
That seems disgracious in the city's eye ;
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

Buck. You have, my lord : Would it might please

your grace,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault !

Rich. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land 1

Buck. Know, then, it is your fault that you resign
The supreme seat, the throne majestical,

8 So in the folio; in the quartos, — "Neglect the visitation of
my friends." — The third and fourth lines of the preceding speeck
are not in the quartos. H.

118 KING RICHARD III. ACT 1TI.

The sceptred office of your ancestors,
Your state of fortune, and your due of birth.
The lineal glory of your royal house,
To the corruption of a blemish 'd stock ;
Whiles, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,
Which here we waken to our country's good,
The noble isle doth want her proper limbs ;
Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
And almost shoulder'd in10 the swallowing gulf
Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion.
Which to recure,11 we heartily solicit
Your gracious self to take on you the charge
And kingly government of this your land :
Not as protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain ;
But as successively from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your empery, your own,
For this, consorted with the citizens,
Your very worshipful and loving friends,
And by their vehement instigation,
In this just cause come I to move your grace.
Rich. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition :
If, not to answer, — you might haply think
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,

10 Shoulder'd in has the same meaning as rudely thrust into.
Thus in a curious paper quoted by Mr. Lysons in his Environs
of London : " Lyke tyrannies and lyke madde men helpynge to
$hulderyng>: other of (he sayd haiinermen ynto the dyche."

11 Recover The word is frequently used by Spenser ; and
"K>th as a verb ind a substantive by Lyly.

SC. VII. KING RICHARD III. 119

So seasoned with your faithful love to me,
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends.
Therefore, — to speak, and to avoid the first,
And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, —
Definitively thus I answer you : I2
Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert,
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
First, if all obstacles were cut away,
And that my path were even to the crown,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth ;
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
So mighty, and so many, my defects,
That I would rather hide me from my greatness, —
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, —
Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
But, God be thank'd ! there is no need of me ;
And much I need to help you, were there need;1'
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reigu.
On him I lay what you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars ; —
Which God defend that I should wring from him !
Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your

grace ;

But the respects thereof are nice 14 and trivial,
All circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your brother's son ;

lf This and the nine preceding lines 'are not in the quartos
Also the fourth line in the preceding speech. H.

13 And I want much of the ability requisite to give you help
if help were needed.

14 Weak, sillv. See The Taming of the Shrew, Ac iii. sc. 1
note 6.

lift) KING RICHARD III. ACT til

So say we too, but not by Edward's wife :

For first he was contract to lady Lucy ;

Your mother lives a witness to his vow .-

And afterwards by substitute betroth'd

To Bona, sister to the king of France.

These both put off, a poor petitioner,

A care-craz'd mother to a many sons,

A beauty-waning and distressed widow,

Even in the afternoon of her best days,

Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,

Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree

To base declension and loath'd bigamy.16

By her, in his unlawful bed, he got

This Edward, whom our manners call the prince.

More bitterly could I expostulate,

Save that, for reverence to some alive,18

I give a sparing limit to my tongue.

Then, good my lord, take to your royal self

This proffer'd benefit of dignity ;

If not to bless us and the land withal,

Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry

From the corruption of abusing time,

Unto a lineal true-derived course.

May. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you.

Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.

Cate. O! make them joyful; grant their lawful suit.

Rich. Alas ! why would you heap this care on me 1
I am unfit for state and majesty: —

18 Bigamy, by a canon of the council of Lyons. A I). 127k
(adopted hy a statute in 4 Edw. I.,) was made unlawful and infa-
mous. It differed from polygamy, or having two wives at once ;
as it consisted in either marrying two virgins successively, or once
marrying a widow.

16 The duke here hints at the pretended bastardy of Edward
Rod Clarence. By " some, alive " is meant the duchess of York
be mother of Edward and Richard.

«r. VII. KING RICHARD III. 121

I do beseech you, take it not amiss;
1 cannot, nor I will not, yield to you.

Buck. If you refuse it, — as in love and zeal;
Loth to depose the child, your brother's son ;
As well we know your tenderness of heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
Which we have noted in you to your kindred,
And equally, indeed, to all estates, —
Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no,
Your brother's son shall never reign our king ;
But we will plant some other in your throne,
To the disgrace and downfall of your house.
And, in this resolution, here we leave you. —
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more.

[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and Citizens.

Cote. Call them again, sweet prince ; accept their

suit :
If you deny them, all the land will rue it.

Rich. Will you enforce me to a world of cares 1
Call them again : I am not made of stone,
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,

[Exit CATESBT
Albeit against my conscience and my soul. —

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the Rest.

Cousin of Buckingham, — and sage, grave men, —

Since you will buckle fortune on my back,

To bear her burden, whe'r I will or no,

J must have patience to endure the load :

But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach.

Attend the sequel of your imposition,

Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me

From all the impure blots and stains thereof;

For God doth know, and you may partly see,

How far I am from the desire of this.

12iJ KING RICHARD III. ACT Iv

May. God bless ydur grace ! we see n, and will

say it.

Rich. In saying so, you shall but say the truth.
Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title, —
Long live King Richard, England's worthy king !
All. Amen !

Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd 1
Rich. Even when you please, for you will have

it so.

Buck. To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace :
And so, most joyfully, we take our leave.

Rich. [ To the Bishops.] Come, let us to our holy

work again. —

Farewell, good cousin; — farewell, gentle friends.

[Exeunt

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Before the Tower.

Enter, on one Side, Queen ELIZABETH, Duchess of
YORK, and Marquess of DORSET ; on the other,
ANNE, Duchess of GLOSTER,' leading Lady MAR
CARET PLANTAGENET, CLARENCE' young Daughter

Duch. Who meets us here? — my niece* Plan

tagenet
Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster !

1 We have not seen this lady since the second scene of the first
Act, in which she promised to meet Richard at Crosby-place. She
was married to him about the year 1472.

1 That is, granddaughter. See 1 Henry VI., Act ii. sc. 5, note
7. We may here add that in Junius' Nomenclator, by Higgins,
1685, Nepos has no other explanation than " a nephew ; that is

SC. I. KING RICHARD IlL 123

Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower,
On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince. —
Daughter, well met.

Anne. God give your graces both

A happy and a joyful time of day !

Eliz. As much to you, good sister ! Whither
away 1

Anne. No further than the Tower ; and, as I guess,
Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
To gratulate the gentle princes there.

Eliz. Kind sister, thanks ; we'll enter all together :

Enter BRAKENBURT.

And in good time here the lieutenant comes. —

Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,

How doth the prince and my young son of York?

Brak. Right well, dear madam: By your patience
I may not suffer you to visit them :
The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.

Eliz. The king ! who's that 7

Brak. I mean, the lord protector.

Eliz. The Lord protect him from that kingly

title !

Hath he set bounds between their love and me 7
I am their mother ; who shall bar me from them 7

Duch. I am their father's mother ; I will see them.

Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother :
Then, bring me to their sights ; I'll bear thy blame,
And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

Brak. No, madam, no ; I may not leave it so : *
I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.

[Exit BRAKENBURY

one'* son's or daughter's child." The words grandson or grand
daughter never occur in Shakespeare.

J That is, " I may not so resign my office."

124 RINO RICHARD 111. ACT If

Enter STANLEY.

Stan Let me but meet you, ladies, one houi

hence,

And I'll salute your grace of York as mother,
And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. —
[To ANNE.] Come, madam, you must straight to

Westminster.
There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

Eliz. Ah, cut my lace asunder !
That my pent heart may have some scope to beat,
Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news.

Anne. Despiteful tidings ! O, unpleasing news ! 4

Dor. Be of good cheer : — Mother, how fares your
grace?

Eliz. O Dorset ! speak not to me, get thee gone ;
Death and destruction dog thee at the heels ;
Thy mother's name is ominous to children :
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,
And live with Richmond from the reach of hell
Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
Lest thou increase the number of the dead ;
And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, -
Nor mother, wife, nor England's 'counted queen.

Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel, mad-
am.—

Take all the swift advantage of the hours ;
You shall have letters from me to my son
In your behalf, to meet you on the way :
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

Duck. O, ill-dispersing wind of misery ! —
O, my accursed womb, the bed of death !

4 Tnis line is found only in the folio, which, throughout this
scene, varies from the quartos in diver* little points, too numerous
to mention. H.

SC. I. KING RICHARO III. T25

A (.ockatrice 6 hast thou liatch'd to the world,
Whose unavoided eye is murderous.

Stan. Come, madam, come ; I in all haste was
sent.

Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go. —
O ! would to God, that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal, that must round my brow,
Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain ! 8
Anointed let me be with deadly venom ;
And die, ere men can say — God save the queen !

Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory ;
To feed rny humour, wish thyself no harm.

Anne. No ! why ? — When he, that is my husband

now,

Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse ;
When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his

hands,

Which issued from my other angel husband,
And that dear saint which then I weeping follow'd
O ! when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
This was my wish, — "Be thou," quoth I, " ac-
curs'd,

* The cockatrice was so called from its fabled generation from
the egg of a cock ; the term being' derived from cock and alter,
Anglo-Saxon for adder. Cockatrice, it seems, was but another
name for the basilisk. Thus in Browne's Vulgar Errors, Book
iii. chap. 7 : " Many opinions are passant concerning the hasilisk,
or little king of serpents, commonly called the cockatrice." And
again : " As for the generation of the basilisk, that it proceedeth
from a cock's egg, hatched under a toad or serpent, it is a conceit
as monstrous as the brood itself." For the supposed virtues of
the beast, see 2 Henry VI., Act iii. sc. 2, note 2. H.

* She seems to allude to the ancient mode of punishing a regi-
cide, or other criminals, by placing a crown of iron heated red
hot upon his head. In some of the monkish accounts of a place
of future torments, a burning crown is likewise appropriated to
those who deprived any lawful monarch of his kingdom. Tin
earl of Athol. who was executed for the mvider of James I., king
of Scots, was previous to death crowned with a hot iron.

126 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

For making me, so young, so old a wid'.w!

And, when thou wedd'st, let sorrow haunt thy hed ;

And be thy wife (if any he so mad)

More miserable by the life of thee,

Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death ! "

Lo ! ere I can repeat this curse again,

Within so small a time, my woman's heart

Grossly grew captive to his honey words,

And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse :

Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest ;

For never yet one hour in his bed

Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep,

But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd.7

Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick ;

And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

Eliz. Poor heart, adieu ; I pity thy complaining
Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for

yours.

Dor. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory !
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it i
Ouch. [To DORSET.] Go thou to Richmond, and

good fortune guide thee ! —
[To ANNE.] Go thou to Richard, and good angels

tend thee ! —
[To ELIZABETH.] Go thou to sanctuary, and good

thoughts possess thee !
I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me !

7 This is taken from the History : " He never thought himsclfe
sure : where he went abroad, his eies whirled about, his bodie priv-
ilie fensed, his hand ever upon his dagger, his countenance and
manor like one alwaies readie to strike againe ; he tooke ill rest a
nights, laie long waking and musing, sore wearied with care and
watch, rallier slumbered than slept, troubled with fearful! dreames,
suddenlie sometime start up,lept out of his bed, and ran about the
chamber ; so was his resiless heart continuallie tossed and linn-
Died with the tedious 'oppression ami stormie remembrance of his
•bnoniinaiile deed." H.

SO. II. KING RICHARD III. 121

Eighty odd years8 of sorrow have I seen,
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.
Eliz. Stay yet ; look back, with me, unto the

Tower. —

Pity, you ancient stones, those tender habes,
Whom envy hath immnr'd within your walls;
Rough cradle for such little pretty ones !
Rude ragged nurse, old sullen play-fellow
For tender princes, use my babies well !
Su, foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.10

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Room of State in the Palace.

Flourish of Trumpets. RICHARD, as King upon his
Throne ; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page, and
Others.

Rich. Stand all apart. — Cousin of Buckingham !

Buck. My gracious sovereign.

Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy

advice

And thy assistance, is King Richard seated : —
But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them ?

8 Shakespeare seems here to have spoken at random. The
present scene is in 1483. Richard duke of York, the husband of
this lady, had he been then living, would have been but seventy*
three years old, and we may reasonably suppose she was not old-
er : nor did she go speedily to her grave; she lived till 1495.

* Teen seems to have been rather a favourite word with thu
Poet for grief or sorrow. n.

10 This speech is not in the quartos. Knight makes the follow-
ing just comment upon it : « It bears the mark of Shakespeare's
later years, in its bold imagery. ' Rude ragged nurse, old sullen
play-fellow,' possesses the highest attribute of poetry, — that of
suggesting a long train of thought by some short and powerful aJ
liuiou, fur more effective than the most skilful elaboration." U.

128 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

Buck. Still live they, and forever let them last !
Rich. Ah, Buckingham ! now do I play the touch,'
To try if thou be current gold, indeed. —
Young Edward lives: — Think now what I would

speak.

Buck. Say on, my loving lord.
Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king.
Buck. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned lord.
Rich. Ha ! am I king ? 'Tis so ; but Edward

lives.

Buck. True, noble prince.

Rich. O, bitter consequence !

That Edward still should live, — true, noble prince ! —
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull : —
Shall I be plain ? — I wish the bastards dead ;
And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief.
Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.
Rich. Tut, tut ! thou art all ice, thy kindness

freezes :
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

Buck. Give me some little breath, some pause,

dear lord,

Before I positively speak in this:
I will resolve you herein presently.*

[Exit BUCKINGHAM.
Gate. [Aside.] The king is angry : see, he gnaws

his lip.
Ricli. I will converse with iron-witted fools,

[Descends from his Throne.

i To " play the touch " is to resemble the touchstone. Thus in
Drayton's Heroical Epistles : " Before mine eyes, like touch, thy
lhape did prove."

* So the folio ; the quartos, — "I will resolve your grace imme-
l&Uety." H.

SC. II. KING KIC HARD III. 129

And unrespective boys :3 none are for me,
That look into me with considerate eyes. —
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. —
Boy! —

Page. My lord.
. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting

gold
Will tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman,
Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit:
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

Rich. What is his name?

Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.

Rich. I partly know the man : Go, call him hither,
boy. — [Exit Page.

The deep-revolving witty4 Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath? — well, be it so.—

Enter STANLEY.

How now, lord Stanley ! what's the news *

Stan. Know, my loving lord,
The marquess Dorset, as I hear, is fled
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.

Rir.h. Come hither, Catesby : rumour it abroad,
That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick ;

* 1'hat is, void of cautious and prudential consideration, incon j
rider ate, unregardful. Thus in Daniel's Cleopatra, 1599 I

" When dissolute impiety possess'd
The unrpspective minds of prince and people."

4 \Vitty was not at this time employed to signify a man of
fancy, lull was used for sagacity, wisdom, or judgment: or, as
Baret defines it, •• liaviitg llie senses skarp, peireiving or foreseeing
juiciclie."

130 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

I will tJike order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean poor gentleman,
Whom I will many straight to Clarence' daugh

ter : —

The boy is foolish,6 and I fear not him. —
Look, how thou dream'st ! — I say again, give out,
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die :
About it ; for it stands me much upon,6
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me. —

[Exit CATESBY

[ must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass. —
Murder her brothers, and then marry her !
Uncertain way of gain ! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. —

* Shakespeare has here perhaps anticipated the folly of this
youth. He was at this time but about ten years old, and we are
not told by any historian that he had then exhibited any symp-
toms of folly. Being confined by King Henry VII. immediately
after the battle of Bosworth, and his education being entirely
neglected, he is described by Polydore Virgil, at the time of his
death in 1499, as an idiot ; and his account, which is copied by
Holinshed, was certainly a sufficient authority for Shakespeare's
•epresentation.

8 This is an old idiomatic phrase for it behooves me, or, as we
should now say, it stands me in liand. See King Richard II.,
Act ii. sc. 3, note 10. — The matter of the passage is thus given
in Holinshed : " After this he procured a rumor to be spred
abroad among the people, that the queene was dead ; to the in-
lent that she, taking some conceit of this strange lame, should fall
into some sudden sicknesse or greevous maladie. When the
queene heard that so horrible a rumor was sprung amongst the
coinmunaltie, she sore suspected the world to be almost at an end
with hir. And in that sorrowful! agonie she *rent to the king hir
husband, demanding of him what it should meane, that he had
judged hir worthie to die. The king answered hir with faire
words, and with smiling and flattering leasings comforted hir, and
bid hir be of good cheere. Howsoever it fortuned, cither by pen.
siveiii'sse of hart, or by infection of poison, within a few daies
after the queene departed out of this transitoric life." H

AC. -I. KING RICHARD III. 131

Re-enter Page, with TYRRKU

Is thy name Tyrrel ?

Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient sub-
ject.

Rich. Art thou, indeed?

Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord.

Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine ?

Tyr. Please you ; but I had rather kill two ene-
mies.

Rick. Why, then thou hast it : two deep enemies,
Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers,
Are they that I would have thee deal upon :
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.

Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come

hither, Tyrrel :
Go, by this token. — Rise, and lend thine ear.

[ Whispers

There is no more but so : — Say, it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.

Tyr. I will despatch it straight.7 [Exit.

7 This intimacy of Richard and Tyrrel has the following basis
in More's History : " Forasmuch as his mind gave him, that, his
nephues living, men would not reckon that he could have right
to the realme, he thought therefore without delaie to rid them.
Whereupon he sent one John Greene unto sir Robert Brakenbnrie.
constable of the Tower, with a letter, that sir Robert should in
anie wise put the two children to death. This John Greene did
his errand unto Brakeuburic, who plainlie answered, that he would
never put them to death, to die therefore. With which answer
John Greene returning, recounted the same to king Richard.
Wherewith he tooke such displeasure, that the same night he said
unto a secret page of his, — Ah! whom shall a man trust ? Those
that I had weent would most surelie serve me, even those faile
me. Sir, quoth his page, there lieth one on your pallet without,
that I dare well saie, to do your grace pleasure, the thing were
right hard that he would refuse. Meaning sir James Tirrell, which

132 KING RICHARD III. ACT I1»

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind
The late demand that you did sound me in.

Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Rich-
mond.

Buck. I hear the news, my lord.

Rich. Stanley, he's your wife's son : — Well, look
unto it.

Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by prom

ise,

For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd ;
The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables,
Which you have promised I shall possess.

Rich. Stanley, look to your wife : if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buck. What says your highness to my just re
quest 7

Rich. I do remember me, — Henry the Sixth
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king ! — perhaps !

was a man of right goodlie personage, and for natures gifts woi
thie to have served a much better prince, if he had well served
God. The man had an high heart, and sore longed upward, not
rising yet so fast as he had hoped, being hindered and kept under
by sir Richard Ratcliffe and sir William Catesbie. Upon this pages
words, king Richard arose (for this communication had he sitting
at the draught, a convenient carpet for such a councell) and came
out into the pallet chamber, on which he found in bed sir James
and sir Thomas Tirrell. Then said the king merilie to them,—
What, sirs, be ye in bed so soone ? And calling up sir James
brake to him secretlie his mind in this misoheevous matter. In
which he found him nothing strange. Wherefore on the morrow
he sent him to Brakenburie with a letter, by which he was com-
manded to deliver sir James all the keies of the Tower for one
night, to the end he might there accomplish the kings pl«asure.'

H.

*C. H. KING KICHARD in. 133

Buck. My lord,8 —

Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at that

time
Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

Buck. My lord, your promise for the earldom, — •

Rich. Richmond ! — When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And call'd it Rouge-mont : 9 at which name, I started ;
Because a bard of Ireland told me once,
[ should not live long after I saw Richmond

Buck. My lord, —

Rich. Ay, what's o'clock?

Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
Of what you promis'd me.

Rich. Well, but what's o'clock?

Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.

8 All, from this line down to Richard's last speech before his
exit, is wanting in the folio. All the quartos, however, contain it.
Why a passage so characteristic of Richard, and so fine in itself,
should have been left out of the folio, is not easy to conceive.

H.

• Hooker, a writer of Elizabeth's time, mentions this as " a
very ancieut castle, named Rugemont, that is, Red Hill, taking
ihe name of the red soil or earth whereupon it is situated." Shake-
speare, doubtless, worked upon the following passage in Holinshed :
" During his abode here he went about the citie and at length he
came to the castell ; and when he understood that it was called
Rugemont, suddenlie he fell into a dumpe, and said, — Well, I sec
my daies be not long. He spake this of a prophesie told him,
that when he came once to Richmond, he should not long live
after." How much the fact, or rather, perhaps, the fanc-ij, wag
thought of, may be inferred from what Fuller says of it in his ac-
count of Exeter : •' There is in this city a castle, whilherto King
Richard ihe usurper repaired. He demanded of the inhabitants
how they called their castle ; who returned the name thereof was
Rugemont. Hereat the usurper was much abashed, having been
informed by wizards that he should never prosper after he had
met a thing called Rugemont. It seems Satan either spoke this
oracle low or lisping, desirous to palliate his fallacy and ignorance ;
or that King Richard mistook the word, seeing not Rugemort buJ
Richmond proved so formidable to tb'S usurper." H.

KING RICHAKD III. ACT TV

Rich. Well, let it strike.

Buck. Why, let it strike 1

Rich. Because that, like a Jack,10 thou keep'st

the stroke

Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Buck. Why, then resolve me whether you mil,

or no.

Rich. Thou troubles! me : I am not in the vein.
[Exeunt King RICHARD and Train.
Buck. And is it thus ? repays he my deep service
With such contempt? made I him king for this?
O ! let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecknock," while my fearful head is on. [Exit

10 This .alludes to the Jack of tlie clock, which was a figure
made in old clocks to strike the bell on the outside. Richard
compares Buckingham to one of the automatons, and bids him
not to suspend the stroke on the clock bell, but strike, that the
noise may be past, and himself at liberty to pursue his medita-
tions. The following passage from Colgrave will further eluci
date its meaning : " A jacke of the clocks-house ; a little busie-
bodie, medler, jack-stickler ; one that has an oare in every man's
boat, or his hand in every man's dish." See, also, King Richard
II., Act v. sc. 5, note 5.

11 Brecknock was the name of Buckingham's castle in Wales.
-There has been much question as to the cause of the breach

between Richard and his unscrupulous factor. Lingard says, —
" What, in the course of a few weeks, could have changed Buck-
ingham from a zealous friend into a determined enemy to the new
king, it is in vain to conjecture." The Poet, however, followed
the Chronicles, which recount at much length certain conversations
as held between the duke and Bishop Morton, wherein the former
assigns the cause of his change in this wise : " When he was once
crowned king, he cast awais his old conditions, as the adder dotn
hir skin, verifieng the old proverb, — Honours change manners.
For when I myself sued unto him for my part of the earle of
Herefords lands, which his brother king Edward wrongfullie with-
held from me; in this my first sute showing his good mind toward
me, he did not onelie first delaie me, and afterward denaie me, but
gave me such unkind words, with such tawnts and retawnts, yea,
in manner cbecke and checkemate to the uttern.ost proofe of my
patience, as though I bad never furthered him, but hindered hi. a-

SO 111. KING RICHARD III. 135

SCENE III. The same.

Enter TYRREL.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done ;
The most arch deed of piteous massacre,
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this ruthless piece of butchery,1
Albeit they were flesh 'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like to children, in their death's sad story
" O ! thus," quoth Dighton, " lay the gentle babes," —
" Thus, thus," quoth Forrest, " girdling one another
Within their alabaster innocent arms :
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each othei.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay ;
Which once," quoth Forrest, " almost chang'd my

mind :

But, O ! the devil" — there the villain stopp'd ;
When Dighton thus told on, — " we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd." —
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse :

Yet all these ingratitudes I bare closelie and suffered patientlie,
outwardlie dissembling what I inwardlie thought. But when I
was crediblie informed of the death of the two yoong innocents,
to the which, God be my judge, I never agreed ; O Lord ! how
my veines panted, how my bodie trembled, and how my heart in-
wardlie grudged ! insomuch that I so abhorred the sight of him,
that I could no longer abide in his court, except I should be open-
lie revenged. And so I feined a cause to depart, and with a mer-
rie couriienance and a despiteful! heart I tooke my leave humblie
of him, and so returned to Brecknocke." H.

1 So the quartos ; the folio, — " this piece of ruthful butchery "
Til* Poet sometimes uses ruthful for ruthle»s. H

136 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

They could not speak ; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter King RICHARD.

And here he comes. — All health, my sovereign lord'1

Rich. Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news ?

Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.

Rich. But didst thou see them dead?

Tyr. I did, my lord.

Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried

them ;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.

Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, and after sup-
per,

When thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good.
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell, till then.*

* Here, again, the Poet runs close along More's narrative as
he found it in Hall or Holinshed : " Sir James Tirrell devised that
they should be murthered in their beds. To the execution whereof
he appointed Miles Forrest, one of the foure (hat kept them, a
fellow fleshed in murther heforetime. To him he joined one John
Pighton. his owne horssekeeper, a big, broad, square, and strong
knave. Then all the other being removed, this Miles Fo/rest E.nd
John Dighton about midnight, the seelie children lieng in their
beds, came into the chamber, and, suddenlie lapping them up
among the clothes, so to-bewrapped them an intangled them, that
within a while, smoothered and stifled, they gave up to God their
innocent soules, leaving to the tormentors their bodies dead in the
bed. Which after that the wretches perceived, they laid their
bodies naked out upon the bed, and fetched sir James to see
them ; which, upon the sight of them, caused those muriherers to
burie them at the staire foot, meellie deepe in the ground, under
a great heape of sioiies. Then rode sir James in hast to king
Uicbnrd. and showed him all the manor of the murther, who gav»

SC. III. KING RICHARD III. 137

Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [Exit.

Rich. Tne son of Clarence have I pent up close ;
His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage ;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
Now, for I know the Bretagne 3 Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And by that knot looks proudly on the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.

Enter RATCLIFF.*

Rat. My lord! —

Rich. Good or bad news, that thou com'st in so
bluntly 1

Rat. Bad news, my lord : Morton is fled to Rich-
mond;

And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welchmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near,
Than Buckingham, and his rash-levied strength
Come ; I have learn'd that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay ;

him great thanks, and, as some saie, there made him knight. But
he allowed not, as I have hoard, the burieng in so vile a corner,
because they were a kings sonnes. Whereupon, they say, that a
priest of sir Robert Brakenburies tooke up the bodies againe, and
secreilie interred them in such place as, by the occasion of his
death which onelie knew it. could never since come to light.
Verie truth it is, and well knowne, that at such time as sir James
Tirrell was in the Tower, for treason against king Hen.-ie the
seventh, both Dighton and he were examined, and confessed the
muriher in maner above written." This is the last we have from
More. H.

3 lie thus denominates Richmond, because after the battle of
T«"wksbiiry he had taken refuge in the court of Francis II., duka
of I5retague, where by the procurement of Edward IV. he wis
kept a long time in honourable custody.

4 So the folio , the quartos have CATESBY. if

138 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary :
Then, fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king !
Go, muster men : My counsel is my shield ;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.

[Exeunt

SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace.

Enter Queen MARGARET.

Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction ' am I witness to,
And will to France ; hoping the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret : who comes
here? [She retires.

Enter Queen ELIZABETH and the Duchess of YORK.

Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets !
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation !

Mar. Hover about her ; say, that right for right
Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.*

1 That is, beginning, prologue, or preparation. See Act i. sc. 1
note 7. H.

* Meaning, apparently, tha* the Divine Justice, which was a!
leged in Act i. sc. 3, as having1 righted others against her is now
•ettlinj on her side, and righting her against sthers. H

BC. IV. RING RICHARD III. 139

Duck. So many miseries have craz'd my voice,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. —
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet ;
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.3

Eliz. Wilt Thou, O God ! fly from such gentl*

lambs,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf1?
When didst Thou sleep, when such a deed wa«

done?

Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.
Duck. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living

ghost,
Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life

usurp'd,

Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,

[Sitting down.
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood !

Eliz. Ah ! that thou would'st as soon afford a

grave,

As thou canst yield a melancholy seat ;
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Ah ! who hath any cause to mourn, but we ?

[Sitting down by her.
Mar. [Coming forward.] If ancient sorrow be most

reverent,

Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with then*
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine : 4 —

' This line and the four preceding are not in the quartos
A. so. the third line in the Duchess' next speech. H.

4 This line is wanting in the folio. H-

140 KING RICHARD III. ACT 17

I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him :
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him ;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.

Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill

him:
I had a Rutland too ; thou holp'st to kill him.

Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard

kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death :
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
That foul defacer of God's handy-work,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls ;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,6

Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves

O, upright, just, and true-disposing God !
How do I thank Thee, that this carnal cur6
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!

Duch. O, Harry's wife ! triumph not in my woes:
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Mar. Bear with me ; I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward ;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward ;
Young York he is but boot,7 because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward

6 This line and the preceding are wanting in the quartos. H.

6 Carnal is evidently used here in the sense of sanguinary, oi
bloodthirsty • as in Hamlet, Act v. sc. 2 : "So shall you hear of
carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts." — Pew-fellow, second lino
below, was often used for companion. H.

" That is, thrown into the bargain.

SC. IV. KING RICHARD III. 141

And the beholders of this frantic play,

The adulterate5 Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey

Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.

Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,

Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls,

And send them thither : But at hand, at hand,

Ensues his piteous and unpitied end ;

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray.

To have him suddenly convey'd from hence. —

Cancel liis bond of life, dear God, I pray,

That I may live to say, the dog is dead !

Eliz. O ! thou didst prophesy, the time would

come,

That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.
Mar. I call'd thee then vain flourish of my for

tune ;

I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen ;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index9 of a direful pageant,
One heav'd o'hi^h, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou wast ; a garish flag,10
To be the aim of every dangerous shot ;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

8 Adulterate is stained with adultery ; referring, probably, to
his mixture with Jane Shore. — In the preceding line the quarto*
have tragic instead of frantic, the reading of the folio. H.

9 Nares suggests that the index of a pageant was probably a
painted cloth hung up before a booth where a pageant was to be
exhibited. See Act ii. sc. 2, note 12.

10 Alluding to the dangerous situation of those persons to who»a
care the standards of armies were entrusted. — The quartos giv?
(be passage thus :

•' A dream of which ihou wert a breath, a bubble
\ sign of dignit) , a garish flag," &c.

142 KING RICHARD III. ACT £V

Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says — God save the

queen ?

Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee ?
Decline all this," and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow ;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name ;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues ;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care ;
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me ;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ;'*
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time ;
Having no more but thought of what thou wast,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place ; and dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke,
From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance:
These English woes shall make me smile in France.

Eliz. O, thou well skill'd in curses ! stay a while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the

day;

Compare dead happiness with living woe ;
Think that thy babes were fairer than they weret
And he that slew them fouler than he is:

11 That is, run it through all the iroods and tenses.
'* This line is not in the quartos. Second line below, the quar
tog have " wheel'd about." H.

SC. IV KING RICHARD III. 143

Bettering13 thy loss makes the bad-causer worse :
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Eliz. My words are dull ; O, quicken them with
thine !

Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce
like mine. [Exit

Duck. Why should calamity he full of words ?

Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes,14
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,16
Poor breathing orators of miseries !
Let them have scope : though what they do impart
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.16

Duch. If so, then be not tongue-tied : go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd.

[A Trumpet heard.
The trumpet sounds:17 be copious in exclaims.

Enter King RICHARD and his Train, marching.

Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition?

Duch. O ! she, that might have intercepted theet
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done

18 Bettering is amplifying, magnifying thy loss
M Thus in Venus and Adonis :

" Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage ;
But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as desperate of his suit."

u The meaning of this metaphor is, — The joys, being all con-
fumed and passed away, have died intestate ; that is, have made
no will, having nothing to bequeath ; and mere verbal complaints
»re their successors, but inherit nothing but misery.

10 " Give sorrow words ; the grief that does not speak
Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it break."

Macbeth.
17 So the folio; the quartos, — " I hear his drum.'' a

144 KING RICHARD III. ACT I?

Eliz. Hid'st thou tliat forehead witli a golden

crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right,
The slaughter of the prince that ovv'd that crown,
And the dire death of my poor sons, and brothers 1
Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children?

Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thv brother

Clarence ?
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

Eliz, Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey 1

Duch. Where is kind Hastings?

Rich. A flourish, trumpets ! — strike alarum,

drums !

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed : Strike, I say ! —

[Flourish. Alarums.
Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.

Duch. Art thou my son ?

Rich. Ay ; I thank God, my father, and yourself.

Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience.

Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition,18
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.

Duch. O ! let me speak.

Rich. Do, then ; but I'll not hear.

Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words.

Rich. And brief, good mother ; for I am in haste.

Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.

Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you?

Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.

18 That is, a spice or smack of your disposition. — The two
"ollowiug speeches are not in the quartos. a

SC. IV. KING RICHARD 111. 146

A grievous burden was thy birth to me ;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ;
Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild and furious;
Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous;
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody ;
More mild, but yet more harmful ; kind in hatred :
What comfortable hour canst thou name,
That ever grac'd me with thy company ?

Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, * that

call'd your grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your eye,
Let me march on, and not offend you, madam. —
Strike up the drum !

Duch. I pr'ythee, hear me speak.

Rich. You speak too bitterly.

Duch. Hear me a word;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordi-
nance,

Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror;
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,
And never look upon thy face again.
Therefore, take with thee my most grievous curse ,
Winch, in the day of battle, tire thee more,
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st !
My prayers on the adverse party fight ;
And there the little souls of Edward's children
\V hisper the spirits of thine enemies,

19 Malone conjectures that Humphrey Hour is merely used as
a ludicrous periphrasis for hmir, like Tom Troth, for truth, in Ga-
briel Harvey's Letter to Wpenser. There can hardly he any allu-
sion to the phrase of " dining with Duke Humphre" " used to ex-
press those who dined upon air, or passed their dinner hour in
adinu ng hrs supposed monument in old Si l'<-d s Cathedral.

146 B.INO RICHARD III. ACT IT.

And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end ;
Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend.

[Exit.

Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit

to curse
Abides in me : I say amen to her [Going

Rich. Stay, madam, I must talk a word with you,

Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood
For thee to slaughter : for my daughters, Richard,
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens ;
And therefore level not to hit their lives.

Rich. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Eliz. And must she die for this? O ! let her live,
And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;
Slander myself, .as false to Edward's bed ;
Throw over her the veil of infamy :
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

Rich. Wrong not her birth ; she is a royal prin-
cess.

Eliz. To save her life, I'll say she is not so.

Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.

Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers.

Rich. Lo ! at their birth good stars were opposite.

Eliz. No, to their lives ill friends were contrary

Rich. All unavoided20 is the doom of destiny.

Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny.
My babes were destin'd to a fairer death.
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my cousins.

Eliz. Cousins, indeed ; and by their uncle cozen 'd

10 That is, unavoidable. The Poet often uses the active and
passive forms interchangeably. H.

sC. IV. KING RICHARD III. 14"

Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.

W.hose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts,

Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction :

No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt,

Ti'l it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,

To revel in the entrails of my lambs.

But that still 21 use of grief makes wild grief tame,

My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys,

Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes ;

And I, in such a desperate bay of death,

Like a poor bark of sails and tackling reft,

Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise,
And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you and yours,
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd!

Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of heaven
To be discover'd, that can do me good 1

Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle
lady.

Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their
heads 1

Rich. Unto the dignity and height of honour,
The high imperial type of this earth's glory.**

Eliz. Flatter my sorrow with report of it :
Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour,
Canst thou demise 23 to any child of mine 1

Rich. Even all I have ; ay, and myself and all
Will I withal endow a child of thine ;

tl That is, constant use. — This speech, and the last of Richzid
preceding, appeared first in the folio. H.

** That is, the crown, the emblem of royalty. — In the line 3C-
fore the quartos have " dignity and height of fortune." H.

23 To demise is to grant, from demittere, Latin. But as no ex
ample of the use of the word, except in legal instruments, offers
itself, perhaps we should read devise, with the second fol o.

148 KING RICHARb III. ACT TV

So in the Lethe of thy angry soul

Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs,

Which thou supposes! I have done to thee.

Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy kind'

ness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.

Rich. Then know, that from my soul I love thy
daughter.

Eliz. My daughter's mother tliinks it with her
soul.

Rich. What do you think?

Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter from thy

soul:

So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers ;
And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.

Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
And do intend to make her queen of England.

Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be
her king?

Rich. Even he that makes her queen : Who e\M
should be?

Eliz. What! thou?

Rich. Even so : How think you of it ?

Eliz. How canst thou woo her?

Rich. That I would learn of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humoui

Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?

Rich. Madam, with all my heart.

Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew hei

brothers,

A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engrave
Edward and York ; then, haply, will she weep :
Therefore present to her, — as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,—

BC. IV KING RICHARD III 149

A handkerchief ; which, say to her, did drain

The purple sap from her sweet brothers' bodies,

And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.

If this inducement move her not to love,

Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ;

Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,

Her uncle Rivers; ay, and, for her sake,

Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

Rich. You mock me, madam : this is not the way
To win your daughter.

Eliz. There is no other way,

Unless thou could'st put on some other shape,
And not be Richard that hath done all this.

Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of her ?

Eliz. Nay, then, indeed, she cannot choose but

love thee,
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now amended
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter*
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,
To quicken your increase, I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter
A gran dam's name is little less in love,
Than is the doting title of a mother :
They are as children, but one step below,
Evgn of your mettle, of your very blood ;
Of all one pain, — save for a night of groans
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow."
Your children were vexation to your youth ;

** This line and the preceding, after handkerchief, are Dot 11
(he quartos. H.

** Of is used for by ; bid is ihe past tense from bide.

150 KING RICHARD III. A.CT IV.

But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
The loss you have is but a son, being king,
And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
Dorset, your son, that with a fearful soul
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
This fair alliance quickly shall call home
To high promotions and great dignity :
The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother ;
Again shall you be mother to a king,
And all the ruins of distressful times
Repair'd with double riches of content.
What ! we have many goodly days to see :
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl ;
Advantaging their loan with interest
Of ten-times-double gain of happiness.
Go, then, my mother, to thy daughter go :
Make bold her bashful years with your experience
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ;
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
Of golden sovereignty ; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys :
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ;
To whom I will retail 28 my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victress, Cffisar's Caesar.

16 That is, tell over, recount. See Act iii. sc. 1, note 8. The
Chronicles yielded the following' basis for this speech and the
matter thereabout : " There came into his ungracious mind a thing
not onelie detestable to be spoken of, but much more abhomiDa-
ble to be put in execution, vor when he revolved in I is mind how

SC. IV. KING RICHARD III. L>1

Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's

brother

Would be her lord ? Or shall I say, her uncle 1
Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
Under what title shall I woo for thee,
That God, the law, my honour, and her love,
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years ? "

Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.

Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still lasting
war.

Rich. Tell her, the king that may command en-
treats.

Eliz. That at her hands, which the king's King
forbids.

Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen

Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth.

Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly.

Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever, last?

Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.

Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life last 1

gieat a founteine of mischeefe toward him should spring, if the
earle of Richmond should be advanced to the marriage of his
neece ; he determined to reconcile to his favour queene Elizabeth.
either by faire words or liberal! promises ; firmlie beleeving, her
favour once obteined, that the earle of Richmond of the affinitie
of his neece should be utterlie defrauded. And if no remedie
could be otherwise invented, then he himselfe would rather take
to wife his neece the ladie Elizabeth, than for lacke of that affini-
tie the whole realme should run to ruin ; as who said, that if he
once fell from his dignilie the ruin of the realme must needs short-
lie follow. Wherefore he sent to the queene, being in sanctuario.
diverse and often messengers, which first should excuse and purge
him of all things before against hir attempted or procured, and
after should so largelie promise promotions and benefits not onelie
to hir, but also to hir sonne lord Thomas, marquesse Dorset, that
they should oring hir, if it were possible, into some wanhope, or,
as men saie, into a fooles paradise." H.

47 The fifty-five lines ending here are wanting in all the quar-
tos the addition in the folio beginning with ilie line, — " Say, that
I die al. this for love of her'' " 11.

152 KING RICHARD III ACT IV

Ricn. As long as Heaven and nature lengthens it.

Eliz. As long as hell and Richard likes of it.

Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject low.

Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such sover-
eignty.

Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly
told.

Rich. Then, plainly to her tell my loving tale."

Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style.

Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick

Eliz. O, no ! my reasons are too deep and dead ; —
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.

Rich. Harp not on that string, madam ; that is
past.

Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heartstrings break

Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and my
crown, —

Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd

Rich. I swear, —

Eliz. By nothing , for this is no oath

Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his lordly honour ;
Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd liis knightly virtue :
Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory.
If something thou would 'st swear to be believ'd,
Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd

Rich. Now by the world, —

Eliz. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs

Rich. My father's death, —

Eliz. Thy life hath it dishonour'd

Rich. <Then, by myself, —

Eliz. Thyself is self-misus'd

Rich. Why, then by God, —

18 So the folio ; the quartos — " Then, in plain terms tell ha
my loviug tale ' H.

SC. IV. KING RICHARD III. 153

EKz. God's wrong is most of all."

If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
The unity the king my husband made
Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died.
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him.
The imperial metal, circling now thy head,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my child ;
And both the princes had been breathing here,
Which now, two tender bed-fellows for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
What canst thou swear by nowl

Rich. The time to come.

Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast
For I myself have many tears to wash
Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee.
The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter'd,
Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age :
The parents live whose children thou hast butcher'd«
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
Swear not by time to come ; for that thou hast
Misus'd ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'erpast.

Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent,
So thrive I in my dangerous affairs
Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound !
Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours ! M
Day, yield me not thy light ; nor, night, thy rest !

19 In these eight short speeches we follow the order of th«
quartos. The folio makes Richard swear first by himself; next
by the world, then by bis father's death ; which is clearly wrong.
— The third and fourth lines of the queen's next speech ate given
in the quarto thus :

" The unity the king thy brother made
Had not been broken, nor my brother slain." H.

*° This line is found only in the folio. — Two lines above, th«
quartos have " dangerous attempt." Affairs seems to suit bettef
with the idea of hostile arms used defensively. H

154 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

Be opposite all planets of good luck

To my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love,

Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,

I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter '

In her consists my happiness, and thine ;

Without her, follows to myself, and thee,

Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul,

Death, desolation, ruin, and decay :

It cannot be avoided, but by this,

It will not be avoided, but by this.

Therefore, dear mother, (I must call you so,)

Be the attorney of my love to her.

Plead what I will be, not what I have been ;

Not my deserts, but what I will deserve:

Urge the necessity and state of times,

And be not peevish 3I found in great designs.

Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus 1

Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.

Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself 1

Rich. Ay, if yourself 's remembrance wrong your
self.

Eliz. Yet thou didst kill my children.

Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury them ;
Where, in that nest of spicery,32 they shall breed
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed.

Ettz. I go. — Write to me very shortly,
And you shall understand from me her mind.33

31 Peevish was constantly used for silly, foolish.

s* Alluding to the phoanix.

83 This line is not in the quartos. — The issue of the negotia-
tions with Elizabeth is thus stated iu Holinshed : " The messen-
gers, being men of wit and gravitie, s%> persuaded the queene with
great and pregnant reasons, and what with faire and large prom-
ises, that she began somewhat to relent, and to give to them n«»

SC. IV. KING H1CHARU III. 155

Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so fare-
well. [Kissing her. Exit ELIZABETH.
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman !
How now ! what news?

Enter RATCLIFF ; CATESBY following.

Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western const
Rideth a puissant navy : to our shores
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
Unarm 'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back.
'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral ;
And there they hull,34 expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.

Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke of

Norfolk; —
Ratcliff, thyself, — or Catesby ; where is he ?

Cote. Here, my good lord.

Rich. Catesby, fly to the duke.

deafe ear ; insomuch that she faithfullie promised to yeeld hirselfe
fullie to the kings will and pleasure. And so she, putting- in obliv
ion the murther of hir innocent children, the living in adulterielaid
to hir charge, the bastarding of hir daughters ; forgetting also the
promise and oath made to the countesse of Richmond, mother tc
the earle Henrie, delivered into king Richards hands hir fiv«
daughters, as lambs committed to the custodie of the ravenous
woolfe. After, she sent letters to the marquesse hir sonue, being
then at Paris with the earle of Richmond, willing him in anie wise
to leave the earle, and without delaie to repair into England, where
for him were provided great honours and promotions ; ascerteining
him further, that all offenses on both parts were forgotten and for-
given, and both he and she highlie incorporated in the kings heart.
Suerlie the inconstancie of this woman were much to be marvelled
at, if all women had beene found constant ; but let men speake,
yet women of the vnne bond of nature will follow their owne
•ex." H.

34 According to Steevens, " a ship is said to hull, when sue is
dismasted, and only her hull or hulk is left, at the direction and
mere? of the waves.'1 See Twelfth Night, Act i. sc. 5, note 13

156 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

Cote. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.11
Rich. Ratoliff, come hither : Post to Salisbury ;
When thou com'st thither, — [To CATESBY.] Dull,

unmindful villain,

Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke 7
Cote. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness1

pleasure,
What from your grace I shall deliver to him.

Rich. O ! true, good Catesby : — Bid him levy

straight

The greatest strength and power he can make,
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

Cate. I go. [Exit

Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at

Salisbury 1
Rich. Why, what would'st thou do there, before

I go?
Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before,

Enter STANLEY.

Rich. My mind is chang'd. — Stanley, what new*
with you?

Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with

the hearing;
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.

Rich. Heyday, a riddle ! neither good nor bad !
What need'st thou run so many miles about,
When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way ?
Once more, what news ?

Stan. Richmond is on the seas.

Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him
White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?

Stan. } know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

36 This line is lacking in the quartos. n.

SO. IV. KING RICHARD III. 15V

Rich. Well, as you guess?

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and

Morton,
He makes for England, here to claim the crown.

Rich. Is the chair empty 1 is the sword unsway'd 1
Is the king dead, the empire unpossess'd 1
What heir of York is there alive, but we ?
And who is England's king, but great York's heir 1
Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas?

Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your liege,
You cannot guess wherefore the Welchman comes*
Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear.

Stan. No, my good lord ; therefore mistrust me
not.

Rich. Where is thy power, then, to beat him back 1
Where be thy tenants, and thy followers ?
Are they not now upon the western shore,
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?

Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the
north.

Rich. Cold friends to me ! What do they in the

north,
When they should serve their sovereign in the west ?

Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty

king:

Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave,
I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace,
Where, and what time, your majesty shall please.

Rich. Ay, thou would'st be gone to join with

Richmond :
But I'll not trust thee.

Stan. Most mighty sovereign,

You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful :
I never was, nor never will be false.

158 KING RICHARD III. ACT IV

Rich. Go, then, arid muster men : but leave he-
hind 36
Your son, George Stanley. Look your heart h«

firm,
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you.

[Exit STANLEY

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
As I by friends am well advertised,
Sir Edward Courtenay, arid the haughty prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many more confederates, are in arms.

Enter another Messenger.

*2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in

arms ;

And every hour more competitors37
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.

Enter a third Messenger.

3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham, —
Rich. Out on ye, owls ! nothing but songs of
death 1 [He strikes him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.

38 So tlie folio; the quartos, — " Well, go, muster men: Bin
hear you, leave behind." — Here is the chronicler's statement of
the matter : "When the said lord Stanlie would have departed
into his countrie, to visit his familie. and to recreate and refresh
his spirits, (as he openlie said, but the truth was, to the intent to
DC in a perfect readinesse to receive the earle of Richmond at his
first arrival) in England,) the king in no wise would stiller him to
depart, before he had left as an hostage in the court George Stan-
lie lord Strange, his first-begotten sonne and heire." n.

37 Competitors here means confederates. See The Two -Jen
tleinen of Verona, Act ii. sc. 6, note 2

SC. IV KING RICHARD III. 159

3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty
Is, that by sudden floods arid fall of waters
Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd ;
And he himself wander'd away alone,
No man knows whither.

Rich. I cry thee mercy :

There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim 'd
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

3 MPSS. Such proclamation hath been made, my

lord.

Enter a fourth Messenger.

4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquess

Dorset,

'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
But this good comfort bring I to your highness, —
The Bretagne navy is dispers'd by tempest :
Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat
Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks,
If they were his assistants, yea, or no ;
Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham
Upon his party : he, mistrusting them,38
Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne.

38 On the 12th of October, 1483, Richmond set sail from St.
Malo in Brittany with forty ships and five thousand men. In the
course of that very day his fleet was seized by a storm, shattered,
and utterly dispersed. The rest we give in the words of Holin-
shed : " In the morning after, when the rage of the tempest was
asswaged, about the houre of noone the earle approched to the
mouth of the haven of Pole in the countie of Dorset, where he
might plainlie perceive all the bankes and shores garmVhed aad
furnished with men of warre and souldiers, appointed there to de-
feud his arrival! and landing. Wherefore he gave streict charge
that no person should presume to take land,uutill such time as the
whole navie were come togither. And while he taried he sent
out a shipboate toward the land side, to know whether they which
stood there were enimios or else (recalls. They that were sent

160 KING RICHARD HI. ACT IV

Rich. March on, march on, since we are up in

arms;

If not to fight with foreign enemies,
Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

Enter CATESBT.

Cate. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken;
That is the best news : That the earl of Richmond
la with a mighty power landed at Milford,
Is colder news, but yet they must be told.39

Rich. Away towards Salisbury ! while we reason

here,

A royal battle might be won and lost. —
Some one take order, Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury : the rest march on with me. [Exeunt

SCENE V. A Room in Lord STANLEY'S House,

Enter STANLEY and Sir CHRISTOPHER UnswiCK.1
Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from

were instantlie desired of the men of warre keeping the coast to
take land, affirming that they were appointed by the duke of Buck-
ingham there to await for the arrival! of the earle of Richmond,
and to conduct him safelie into the campe, where the duke not far
off laie^with a mightie armie. The earle, suspecting their request
t,i be but a fraud, as it was indeed, after he perceived none of his
ships to appeare in sight, weied up his anchors, halsed up his
sailes, and, having a fresh gale sent by God to deliver him from
that perill, arrived safe in the duchie of Normandie." H.

39 The earl of Richmond embarked with about two thousand
men at Harfleur, in Normandy, August 1, 1485, and landed at
Milford Ha\en on the 7th. He directed his course to Wales,
hoping the Welch would receive him cordially as their country
man, he having been born at Pembroke, and his grandfather bejng
Owen Tudor, who married Katharine of France, the widow of
King Henry V.

' Sir Christopher Urswick, a priest, chaplain to the countess

SO. T. > KING RICHARD III. 161

That, in the sty of this most bloody boar,
My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold'
ff I revolt, off goes young George's head :
The fear of that holds off my present aid.
So, get thee gone : commend me to thy lord :
Withal, say that the queen hath heartily consented,
He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?

Urs. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in Wales.

Stan. What men of name resort to him ?

Urs. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier ;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley;
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew ;
And many other of great name and worth :
And towards London do they bend their power,
[f by the way they be not fought withal.

Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord ; I kiss his hand :
My letter will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell.* [Giving Papers to URSWICK.

[Exeunt.

of Richmond, who was married to the lord Stanley. This priest,
the Chronicles tell us, frequently went backwards and forwards,
unsuspected, on messages between the countess of Richmond and
her husband and the young earl of Richmond, whilst he was pre-
paring to make his descent on England. He was afterwards al-
moner to King Henry VII., and refused the bishopric of Norwich.
He retired to Hackney, where he died in 1527.

* Such is the exact reading of the folio. The quartos thus I

" Return unto my lord ; commend me to him :
Tell him the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
These letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell."

It may be fairly questioned which reading should be kept. Mod*
ern editions, generally, give a third reading made up of the other
two, about which there should /»• no question. B-

KING RICHARD III. ACT V.

ACT V.

SCENE I. Salisbury. An open Place.

Enter the SJieriff and Guard, with BUCKINGHAM, led
to Execution.

Buck. Will not King Richard let me speak with
him I1

Shcr. No, my good lord ; therefore be patient.

Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers,

Grey,

Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward.
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice ;
If that your moody discontented souls
Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction ! —
This is all All-souls' day, fellow, is it not 7

Sher. It is.

Buck. Why, then All-souls' day is my body's

doomsday.
This is the day, which, in King Edward's time,

1 Buckingham was executed on All-saints' day, November 1,
1483. The story is told thus by the chroniclers : " The duke, be-
ing by certeine of the kings councell diligentlie examined, what
things he knew prejudicial! unto the kings person, declared frank-
lie al the conjuration, without glosing ; trusting, because he had
plainlie revealed all things, that he should have licence to speake
to the king ; which, whether it were to sue for pardon, or whether
he, being brought to his presence, would have slicked him with a
dagger, as men thought, he sore desired. But when he had con-
fessed the whole conspiracie, upon All-soules date, without ar-
reigment or judgement, he was at Salisburie, in the open market-
place, on a new scaffold, beheaded and put to death." See, ak«
King Henry VIII., Act i. sc. 2. H

SC. II. KING RICHARD III. 163

I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children, or his wife's allies :
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted ;
This, this All-souls' day to my fearful soul
Is the detertnin'd respite of my wrongs.*
That high All-Seer which I dallied with
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth He force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points in their masters' bosoms:
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck :
" When he," quoth she, " shall split thy heart with

sorrow,

Remember Margaret was a prophetess." —
Come, lead me, officers, to the block of shame ; 3
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, fyc.

SCENE II. Plain near Tamworth.

Enter, with Drum and Colours, RICHMOND, OXFORD
Sir JAMES BLUNT, Sir WALTER HERBERT, and
Others, with Forces, marching.

Kichm.1 Fellows in arms, and my most loving
friends,

1 The time to which the punishment of his injurious practices
or the wrongs done by him was respited.

3 So the folio ; the quartos, — " Come, sirs, convey me to th«
block." — Johnson thinks this scene should be added to the fourth
act, which would give it a more full and striking conclusion. In
the original quarto copy, 1597, this play is not divided into acts
and scenes. Malone suggests that the short scene between Stan-
iey and Sir Christopher may have been the opening of the fifth act.

1 We have already seen, Act iv. sc. 4, note 39, that on hit
father's »idc the earl of Richmond was grandson to Owen Tudor

164 KING UICHARD III. ACT V

Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny,

Thus far into the bowels of the land

Have we march'd on without impediment ;

And here receive we from our father Stanley

Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.

The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,

That spoil'd your summer fields, and fruitful vines,

Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes hit

trough

In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine
Is now even in the centre of this isle,
Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn :
From Tamworth thither is but one day's march.
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace
By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand men,
To fight against this guilty homicide.

Herb. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to us.

Blunt. He hath no friends, but what are friends

for fear ;
Which in his dearest need will fly from him.

and Katharine of France, widow of Henry V. His mother was
Margaret, daughter and heir to John Beaufort, the first duke of
Somerset, and of course great-granddaughter to John of Ghent by
Catharine Swynford ; on which account, after the death of Henry
VI. and his son, Richmond was looked to by both friends and foes
as the next male representative of the Lancastrian line. The first
Beauforts, as the reader may be aware, were born out of wedlock,
though their parents were afterwards married. The children were
legitimated indeed, but the act of legitimation expressly barred
them and their posterity from the throne. So that in bin-. self
Richmond had no legal claim to the kingdom. Nevertheless the
Lancastrians all regarded him as their natural chief} and many
of the Yorkists accepted him because of his having bound him-
self by solemn oath to marry the Princess Elizabeth, whom they
of course considered the rightful heir to the crown after the death
of her brothers. H.

1 So the folio ; the quartos, — "a thousand swordt." H

«C. III. KING RICHARD III. 165

Richm. All for our vantage. Then, in God's

name, march !

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings,
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

[Exeu-it

SCENE III. Bosworth Field.

Enter King RICHARD, and Forces ; the Dukt of

NORFOLK, Earl of SURREY, and Otliers.
Rich. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth

field.—
My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad'.'

Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.
Rich. My lord of Norfolk,—
Norf. Here, most gracious liege.

Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks : Ha ! must

we not1?

Nor. We must both give arid take, my loving lord.
Rich. Up with my tent ! here will I lie to-night ;
[Soldiers begin to set up the King's Tent,
But where to-morrow? — Well, all's one for that. —
Who hath descried the number of the traitors?
Nor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power
Rich. Why, our battalia trebles that account : '
Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
Which they upon the adverse faction want.
Up with the tent ! — Come, noble gentlemen,
Let us survey the vantage of the ground: —
Call for some men of sound direction:* —

1 Richmond's forces are said to have been only five thousand ;
and Richard's army consisted of about twelve thousand. Bui
'ord Stanley lay at a small distance with three thousand men. and
Richard may be supposed to have reckoned on them a? his friends
tnough the event proved otherwise.

* That is, tried judgment, military skill.

166 KING RICHARD III. ACT Y

Let's lack no discipline, make no delay

For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt.

Enter, on tlie other Side of the Field, RICHMOND, Sir

WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, and other Officers.

Some of the Soldiers pitch RICHMOND'S Tent.

Richm. The weary sun hath made a golden get,
And, by the bright track of»his fiery car,
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. —
Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. —
Give me some ink and paper in my tent:
I'll draw the form and model of our battle,
Limit each leader to his several charge,
And part in just proportion our small power.
My lord of Oxford, — you, Sir William Brandon, —
And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me:3
The earl of Pembroke keeps 4 his regiment ; —
Good captain Blunt, bear my good night to him.
And by the second hour in the morning
Dosire the earl to see me in my tent :
Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me ;
Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know?

Blunt. Unless I have mista'en his colours much,
(Which, well I am assur'd, I have not done,)
His regiment lies half a mile at least
South, from the mighty power of the king.

Richm. If without peril it be possible,
Sweet Blunt, make some good means 8 to speak with

him,
And give him from me this most needful note.

Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it :
And so, God give you quiet rest to-night ! 8

3 This line and the preceding are not in the quartos. H

4 Remains with.

5 That is, contrive, take some pains or earnest measures.

• This line is not ill the quartos. And in the second line ol

SC. III. KING RICHARD III. 161

Richm. Good night, good captain Blunt. — Come

gentlemen,

Let us consult upon to-morrow's business :
In to my tent, the dew is raw and cold.

[ They witlidraw into the Tent.

Enter, to his Tent, King RICHARD, NORFOLK,
RATCLIFF, and CATESBY.

Rich. What is't o'clock ?

Cote. It's supper-time, my lord ; it's nine o'clock.7

Rich. I will not sup to-night. —
Give me some ink and paper. —
What ! is my beaver easier than it was,
And all my armour laid into my tent?

Cote. It is, my liege ; and all things are in readi-
ness.

Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge :
Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

Nor. I go, my lord.

Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Nor-
folk.

Richmond's preceding speech the quartos have, — " Good captain
Blunt, bear my good night to him." H.

7 So the folio; the quartos, — ''It is six o'clock, full supper-
time." The carefulness of the revisal is well shown in this change
of the hour. Six o'clock grcatiy disorders the time of the scene;
for Richmond has before said, — " The weary sun hath made a
golden set," and at that season, August, the sun did not set till
aAer seven. We are not to suppose, though, that nine o'clock
was the usual supper-time at that period : on the contrary, Harri-
son tells us in the Preface to Holinshed, — " The nobilitie, gentrie,
and students ordinarilie go to dinner at eleren before noone, and
to supper at Jive, or belweene five and six, at afternoone." Mr.
Verplanck, with apparent good reason, remarks upon the matter
thus : '' It seems, then, that the Poet, perceiving that the conduct
of the scene required a later hour, and wishing to preserve the
incident of Richard's refusing to sup, altered the time to what,
though not the common supper hour, might well be that of ai
army, which had just encamped, after a march." H.

168 KING RICHARD III. ACT V

JVor. I warrant you, my lord. [Exit

Rich. Ratcliff!

Rat. My lord?

Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arm*

To Stanley's regiment: bid him bring his power
Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall
Into the blind cave of eternal night. —
Fill me a bowl of wine. — Give me a watch : * —
Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. —
Look that my staves 9 be sound, and not too heavy,
Ratcliff,—

Rat. My lord ?

Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Northum
berland ?

Rat. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself,
Much about cock-shut 10 time, from troop to troop
Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.

Rich. So ; I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine :

8 Modern editions, generally, make Richard speak these words
to Catesby, for which there is no authority, nor any need. — In
calling for a watch Richard evidently does not mean a sentinel ;
for that guard should he kept about his tent was a matter of
course. The watch called for is, no doubt, a watch-light, which
was a night candle so marked as to indicate how long it bad
burned, and thus serve the purpose of a modern watch. H.

* That is, the stares or poles of his lances. It was the custom
to carry more than one into the field.

10 That is, twilight. Thus Ben Jonson, in The Satyr :

" For you would not yesternight
Kiss him in the cock-shut light."

A cock-shut was a large net stretched across a glade, and so sus
pended upon poles as easily to be drawn together, and was em.
ployed to catch woodcocks. These nets were chiefly used in tha
twilight of the evening, when woodcocks '• take wing to go and
get water, flying generally low ; and when they find any thorough-
fare, through a wood or range of trees, they venture through.''
The artificial glades made for them to pass through were called
coci-roads. Hence cock-shut time and cock-shut light were used
to express the evening twilight.

SC. III. KING RICHARD III. 169

I have not that alacrity of spirit,
Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. —
Set it down. — Is ink and paper ready?
Rat. It is, my lord.

Rich. Bid my guard watch : leave me.

Ratcliff, about the mid of night, come to my tent,
And help to arm me. — Leave me, I say.

[King RICHARD retires into his Tent. Exeunt
RATCLIFF and CATESBT.

RICHMOND'S Tent opens, and discovers him, and his
Officers, Sfc.

Enter STANLEY.

Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm !

Richm. All comfort that the dark night can afford,
Be to thy person, nohle father-in-law !
Tell me, how fares our loving mother?

Stan. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother
Who prays continually for Richmond's good :
So much for that. — The silent hours steal on.
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
In brief, for so the season bids us be,
Prepare thy battle early in the morning;
And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war.
I, as I may, (that which I would, I cannot,)
With best advantage will deceive the time,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms:
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Lest, being seen, thy brother tender George
Be executed in his father's sight.
Farewell: The leisure" and the fearful time

11 We have still a phrase equivalent to this, however hlrsh it
may seem : " I would dr his if leisure would permit ; " where

170 KING RICHARD III. ACT r

Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love.
And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
Which so long-sunder'd friends should dwell upon.
God give us leisure for these rites of love !
Once more, adieu : — Be valiant, and speed well !

Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment
I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap,
Lest leaden slumber peise 12 me down to-morrow,
When I should mount with 'wings of victory.
Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.
[Exeunt Lords, fyc., with STANLEY
O Thou ! whose captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye ;
Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath,
That they may crush down with a heavy fall
The usurping helmets of our adversaries !
Make us Thy ministers of chastisement,
That we may praise Thee in Thy victory !
To Thee I do commend my watchful soul,
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes :
Sleeping, and waking, O, defend me still ! [Sleep*

The Ghost of Prince EDWARD, Son to HENRY the
Sixth, rises between the two Tents.13

Ghost. [To RICHARD.] Let me sit heavy on thy
soul to-morrow !

leisure stands for want of leisure. Thus in King Richard II.,
Act i. sc. 1 : " Which then our leisure icould not let us hear."

lt Peise is an old form of poise, weigh; much used in the Poet'i
time. See King John, Act ii. sc. 2, note 22. — In the preceding
line, the folio has noise instead of thoughts. H.

13 Jt seems quite probable that this introduction of the ghosts
may have been suggested by the following passage in the Trua
Tragedy of Richard the Third :

" The hell of life that hangs upon the crown,
The daily cares, the nightly dreams,
The wretched crews, the treason of the foe,

SC. III. KING RICFIARD III. 171

Think how them stabb'dst me in my piime of youth
At Tewksbury : despair, therefore, and die ! —
Be cheerful, Richmond ; for the wronged souls
Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf:
King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee.

The Ghost of King HENRY the Sixth rises.

Ghost. [To RICHARD.] When I was mortal, my

anointed body

By thee was punched full of deadly holes.
Think on the Tower, and me : despair, and die,
Harry the Sixth bids thee despair, and die. —
[To RICHMOND.] Virtuous and holy, be thou con-
queror !

Harry, that prophesied thou should'st be king,
D >th comfort thee in sleep : live, and flourish !

The Ghost of CLARENCE rises.

Ghost. [To RICHARD.] Let me sit heavy on thy

soul to-morrow !
I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine,14

And horror of my bloody practice past,

Strikes such a terror to my wounded conscience,

That, sleep I, wake I, or whatsoever I do,

Methinks their ghosts come gaping for revenge,

Whom I have slain in reaching for a crown.

Clarence complains, and crieth for revenge ;

My nephews' blood, Revenge ! revenge ! doth cry ;

The headless peers come pressing for revenge ;

And every one cries, Let the tyrant die ! " B .

14 Fulsome probably has reference to the qualities of Malmsey
wine, which was peculiarly sweet and luscious, so much so as to
cloy the appetite after a little drinking. — Singer remarks that
'•Shakespeare seems to have forgot that Clarence was killed he-
fore lie was thrown into the Malmsey-butt." Wherein Mr. Singer
" seems to have forgot," that elsewhere himself had from just such
discrepancies inferred diversity of authorship. See lutroductioi
to the fc'econd Part of Henry VI. H.

17^ KING HICHAKD 111. ACT *

Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death !
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword : Despair, and die ! —
[To RICHMOND.] Thou offspring of the house of

Lancaster,

The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee :
Good angels guard thy battle ! Live, and flourish

The Ghosts of RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN, rise,

Riv. [To RICHARD.] Let me sit heavy on thy

soul to-morrow,

Rivers, that died at Pomfret : Despair, and die !
Grey. [ To RICHARD.] Think upon Grey, and let

thy soul despair !
Vaugh. [To RICHARD.] Think upon Vaughan,

and with guilty fear
Let fall thy lance : Despair, and die ! —

AIL [To RICHMOND.] Awake! and think our

wrongs in Richard's bosom
Will conquer him : — Awake, and win the day !

The Glwst of HASTINGS rises.

Ghost. [ To RICHARD.] Bloody and guilty, guiltily

awake ;

And in a bloody battle end thy days !
Think on lord Hastings : Despair, and die ! —
[To RICHMOND.] Quiet untroubled soul, awake

awake !
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake !

The Ghosts of the two young Princes rise.

Glwsts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the

Tower :
Let us be lead witliin thy bosom, Richard,

SC. III. KING RICHARD III. 173

And weigh thee dmvn to ruin, shame, and death !
Tliy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die. —
Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy ;
Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy .'
Live, and beget a happy race of kings !
Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish.

The Ghost of Queen ANNE rises.

Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy

wife,

That never slept a quiet hour with thee,
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations :
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword : Despair, and die ! —
[To RICHMOND.] Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a

quiet sleep ;

Dream of success and happy victory :
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee.

Tlie Ghost of BUCKINGHAM rises.

Gliost. [To RICHARD.] The first was I that help'd

thee to the crown ;
The last was I that felt thy tyranny :
O ! in the battle think on Buckingham,
And die in terror of thy guiltiness !
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death :
Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath! —
[To RICHMOND.] I died for hope1* ere I could lend

thee aid ;
Hut cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd :

16 Buckingham's hope of aiding- Richmond induced him to take
up arms : he lost his life in consequence, and therefore may be
said to have died for hope ; hope being the cause whicb led tu
that event.

174 KING RICHARD III. ACT V

God and good angels fight on Richmond's side ;
And Richard fall in height of all his pride ' "'

[The Ghosts vanish. King RICHARD starts

out of his Dream.
Hick. Give me another horse! — bind up my

wounds ! —

Have mercy, Jesu ! — Soft! I did but dream. —
< >, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! —
The lights burn blue. — It is now dead midnight.
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What do I fear 1 myself 1 there's none else by •
Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am I."

18 In this series of speeches the Poet has with most happy ef-
fect given a •' local habitation and a name" to what is thus stated
in the Chronicles : " The fame went, that he had the same night a
terrible dreame ; for it seemed to him, being asleepe. that he did
see diverse images like terrible divels, which pulled and haled
him, not suffering him to take anie quiet or rest. The which
strange vision not so sudderilie slrake his heart with feare, but it
stuffed his head with many busie and dreadful! imaginations. For
incontinent after, his heart being almost damped, he prognosticated
the doubtful! chance of the battle, not using the alacritie and inirtn
of mind and countenance as he was accustomed to doo. And
least that it might be suspected that he was abashed for feare of
his enimies, and for that cause looked so piteouslie, he declared
to his familiar freencls in the morning his wonderfull vision and
fearfull dreame. But I thinke this was no dreame, but a punction
and pricke of conscience ; for the conscience is so much the more
charged, as the offense is more heinous. Which sting of con-
science, although it strike not alwaie. yet at the last daie of ex
treame life is woont to show and represent to us our faults and
offenses.1' Drayton's description of the same matter, in his Poly
O'bion, Song 2:2, was evidently patterned upon Shakespeare'
representation :

* Wnere to the guilty king, that black fore-running night,
Appear the dreadful ghosts of Henry and his son,
Of his own brother George, and his two nephews done
Most cruelly to death ; and of his wife, and friend,
Lord Hastings, with pale hands prepar'd as they would rend
Him piece-meal ; at which oft he roareth in his sleep." 11.

17 • There is in this, as in many of the Poet's speeches of pab-

SC. III. KING RICHARD III. 175

Is there a murderer here ? No ; — yes ; I am :
Then fly, — what ! from myself 1 Great reason :

why ?

Lest I revenge. What ! Myself upon myself?
Alack ! I love myself. Wherefore ? for any good
That I myself have done unto myself?

0 ! no : alas ! I rather hate myself,
For hateful deeds committed by myself.

1 am a villain : Yet I lie ; I am not.

Fool, of thyself speak well: — Fool, do not flatter
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree,
Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree ;
All several sins, all us'd in each degree,
Throng to the bar, crying all — Guilty ! guilty!

I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me;
And if I die, no soul shall pity me : —

Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself.
Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd
Came to my tent ; and every one did threat
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.

Enter RATCLIFF.
Rat. My lord, —
Rich. Who's there?

Rat. Ratcliff, my lord ; 'tis I. The early village
cock

I 1 ath twice done salutation to the morn :

Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.

sion, something very trifling, and something very striking. Rich-
ard's debate, whether he should quarrel with himself, is too long
continued; but the subsequent exaggeration of his crimes 'a truly
tragical." — Johiiswi.

176 KING RICHARD III. ACT V

Rich. O Ratcliff! I have dream'd a fearful dream. —
What thinkest thou ? will our friends prove all true 1

Rat. No doubt, my lord.18

Rich. O Ratcliff ! I fear, I fear,^

Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shud
ows.

Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers.
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me :
Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper,
To hear, if any mean to shrink from me.

[Exeunt King RICHARD and RAT/CLIFF

Enter OXFORD and Others.

Lords. Good morrow, Richmond.

Richm. [ Waking.] Cry mercy, lords, and watch-
ful gentlemen,
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.

Lords. How have you slept, my lord?

Richm. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding

dreams,

That ever enter'd in a drowsy head,
Have I since your departure had, my lords.
Methought, their souls, whose bodies Richard mur-

der'd,

Came to my tent, and cried — On ! victory!
I promise you, my heart is very jocund
In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
How far into the morning is it, lords?

Lords. Upon the stroke of four.

18 This answer of Ratcliff, and Richard's preceding speech, art
•ranting in the folio. There is no telling why the} were left out
what is said afterwards seemiuy to -equire them. H.

SC. IH. KING RICHARD III. 177

Richm. Why, then 'tis time to arm, and give? di-
rection.— [He advances to the Troops,
More than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure19 and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on : Yet remember this, —
God and our good cause fight upon our side ;
The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces :
Richard except, those whom we fight against
Had rather have us win, than him they follow.
For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide ;
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood established ;
One that made means 20 to come by what he hath,
And slaughter'd those that were the means to help

him ;

A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair,21 where he is falsely set ,
One that hath ever been God's enemy.
Then, if you fight against God's enemy,
God will in justice ward you as His soldiers:
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain;
If you do fight against your country's foes,
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire ;
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors ;
If you do free your children from the sword,

" That is, want of leisure, or shortness of time. See note 11
of this scene. H.

*° That is, took extreme measures, made his own way. Sea
note 5 of this scene. Also, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act v.
sc. 4, note 9. H.

** England's chair is the throne. The allusion is to the prac-
tice of selling gems of l;tlle wortJ , with a bright-clou red foil
under them.

178 KING RICHARD III. .ACT V

Your children's children quit22 it in your age.
TJien, in the name of God, and all these rights,
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face ;
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt,
The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully !
God, and St. George ! Richmond, and victory ! "

[Exeunt

Re-enter King RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants,
and Forces.

Rich. What said Northumberland, as touching

Richmond 1
Rat. That he was never trained up in arms.

** A word often used for requite.

13 In this speech the Poet drew but little from the one put into
Richmond's mouth by the Chronicles. The only resemblances
worth noting1 are these : " For what can be a more honest or god-
lie quarrell, than to fight against a capteine, being an homicide
and murtherer of his owiie blnud, an extreame destroier of his no-
oilitie, and tp his and our countrie, and the poore subjects of the
same, a deadlie mallet, a fine brand, and a burthen intollerable ? "
— < I assure you that there be yonder men brought thither for feare,
and not for love ; souldiers by force compelled, and not with good
will assembled ; persons which desire rather the destruction than
salvation of their maister and capteine" — "And this one thing 1
assure you, that in so just and good a cause, you shall find me
this daie rather a dead carrion upon the cold ground, than a free
prisoner on a carpet in a ladies chamber." — On the whole, the
Poet hardly makes him speak with so much spirit as the historian.
And the latter adds, — " These cheerful words he set foorth with
such gesture of his bodie, and smiling countenance, as though al-
readie he had vanquished his enimies. He had scantlie finished,
but the one armic spied the other. Lord, how hastilie the soul-
diers buckled their hclmes ! how quicklie the archers bent their
bowes and frushed their feathers! how readilie the bilmcn shooke
their billes and proved their staves ; readie to approach and joine,
when the terrible trumpet should sound.''' B

SO. III. KING RICHARD III. 179

Rich. He said the truth : And what said Surrey
then 1

Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our pur
pose.

Rich. He was i'the right ; and so, indeed, it is.

[C/ock strikes.

Ttll the clock there. — Give me a calendar. —
Who saw the sun to-day?

Rat. Not I, my lord.

Rich. Then he disdains to shine ; for, by the book,
He should have brav'd 24 the east an hour ago :
A black day will it be to somebody. —
Ratcliff,—

Rat. My lord ?

Rich. The sun will not be seen to-day :

The sky doth frown and lower upon our army.
I would these dewy tears were from the ground.
Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me,
More than to Richmond ? for the self-same heaven,
That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him.

Enter NORFOLK.

Nor. Arm, arm, my lord ! the foe vaunts in the
field.

RicJu Come, bustle, bustle. — Caparison my horse :
Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his power.
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
And thus my battle shall be ordered:
My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,
Consisting equally of horse and foot ;
Our archers shall be placed in the midst :
John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of the foot and horse.

84 The more probable meaning of brav'd here seems to be, — •
made it look brave, that is, splendid, or gloriou*. H

180 K1AG RICHARD III. ACT V

They thus directed, we ourself will follow
In the main battle ; whose puissance on either side
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.
This, and St. George to boot!25 — What think'st

thou, Norfolk?

Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign. —
This found I on my tent this morning.

[Giving a Scroll
Rick. [Reads.] Jocky of Norfolk, be not too bold.

For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.**
A thing devised by the enemy. —
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge.
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls :
For conscience is a word that cowards use,27

** That is, " this, and St. George to help us, into the bargain."
The historian makes him say, — " Now, saint George to borrow ; "
which means. — St. George be our pledge or securi/y. — This or-
dering of the battle is from the Chronicles : " King Richard, bring-
ing all his men out of their campe into the plaine, ordered his fore-
ward in a marvellous length, in which he appointed both horsmen
and footmen, to the intent to imprint in the hearts of them that
looked afarre off a sudden terror and deadlie feare ; and in the
fore-front he placed the archers like a strong fortified trench or
bulworke. Over this battell was capteine, John duke of Norfl'olke,
with whom was Thomas earl of Surie, his sonne. After this long
vaut-gard followed king Richard himselfe with a strong companie
of chosen and approoved men of warre, having horssemen for
wings on both sides of his battell." H.

5(8 So in the Chronicles : •' John duke of Norffolke was warned
by diverse to refrain from the field, insomuch that the night before
he should set forward toward the king, one wrote this rime upon
his gate :

'•' Jocke of Norffolke, be not too bold,
For Dickon thy maister is bought and sold."

Of course Jocky and Dickon are but familiar forms of Join and
Richird. — Bought and sold was a sort of proverbial phrase foi
hopelessly ruined by treacherous practices. H.

n So the folio; the quartos, — "Conscience is but a word.'

H

RC. III. K1MG K1CHARD III. IS1

Devis'd ;.t first to keep the strong1 in awe :

Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.

March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell ;

If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.—

What shall I say more than I have inferr'd?

Remember whom you are to cope withal ; —

A sort 28 of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,

A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants,

Whom their o'ercloyed country vomits forth

To desperate adventures and assur'd destruction.

You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest ;

You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives,

They would distrain the one, distain the other.

And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow,

Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost?30

A milk-sop, one that never in his life

Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow.

Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again;

Lash hence these overweening rags of France,

These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives ;

Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,

For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves.

If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us,

28 That is, company, set, or pack.

29 To restrain is to abridge, to diminish, to withhold from.

30 Thus Holinshed : " You see further, how a company of trai-
tors, thieves, outlaws, and runagates, he aiders and partakers of
this feate and enterprise. And to begin with the earl of Richmond,
captaine of this rebellion, he is a Welsh milksop, brought up by
my moother's means and mine, like a captive in a close cage in
the court of Francis duke of Britaine." Holinshed ccpied this
from Hall ; but his printer has given us by accident the word
moother instead of brother ; as it is in the original, and ought to
be in Shakespeare. In the first edition of Holinshed the word is
rightly printed brother. So that this circumstance not only shows
that the I'oet follows Holinshed, but points out the ed/lioii used
by b'm.

182 KINT; Kirn.xiin in. ACT v.

And not these bastard Bretagnes; whom our fathers
Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd.
And, on record, left them the heirs of shame.
Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives?
Ravish our daughters? — Hark ! I hear their drum.

[Drum afar ojf.

Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight, bold yeomen !
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head !
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood :
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves !31 —

Enter a Messenger.

What says lord Stanley? will he bring his power?

Mess. My lord, he doth deny to come.

Rich. Off instantly with his son George's head.

Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh : 3i
After the battle let George Stanley die.33

31 Fright the skies with the shivers of your lances.

3Z The following is Holinshed's account of the matter : " Be-
tweene both armies there was a great marish. which the earle of
Richmond left on his right hand ; for this intent, that it should be
on that side a defense for his part, and in so dooing he had the
sunne at his backe, and in the faces of his enimies. When king
Richard saw the carles companie was passed the marish. he did
command with all hast to set upon them. Then the trumpets
sounded, and the souldiers shouted, and the kings archers cour-
ageouslie let flic their arrowes. The carles bowmen stood not
stili. but paied them home againe. The terrible shot once passed,
the armies joined, and came to hand-strokes, where neither sword
nor bill was spared. At which incounter the lord Stanlie joined
with the earle." H.

33 So in Holinshed : " When king Richard was come to Bos-
worth, be sent a pursevant to the lord Stanlie, commanding him
to advance with his companie ; which if he refused to doo, he
sware by Christes passion, that he would strike off his sonnes head
before he dined. The lord Stanlie answered, that if the king did
to, he had more sonnes alive ; and as to come to him, he was no
then so determined. When king Richard heard this, he commanded

SC. IV. KING K1CHARD III. 183

Rich. A thousand hearts are great within my bo-
som.

Advance our standards ! set upon our foes !
Our ancient word of courage, fair St. George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons !
Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field.

Alarum: Excursions. Enter NORFOLK and Forces ;
to him CATESBT.

Cote. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk ! rescue, res-
cue !

The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger : '
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost !

Alarum. Enter King RICHARD.

Rich. A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a

horse !
Cote. Withdraw, my lord ; I'll help you to a

horse.

Rich. Slave ! I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die.
I think there be six Richmonds in the field;

the lord Strange incontinent to be beheaded ; which was at that
verie same season when both the armies had sight of ech other.
But the councellors persuaded the king that it was now time to
fight, and no time to execute." H.

1 That is, daringly opposing himself, or offering himself as an
opponent to every danger. Shakespeare uses opposite '.or opvo
ment in Twelfth Night, and several other places.

IS4 KING RICHARD III. ACT V

Five have I slain to-day, instead of him.1 —
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 3

[Exeunt-

A larums. Enter King RICHARD and RICHMOND ;
and exeunt fighting. Retreat, and Flourish. Then
enter RICHMOND, STANLEY bearing the Crown, icith
divers otJiers Lords, and Forces.

Richm. God, and your arms, be prais'd, victorious

friends ;
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.

Stan. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou ac-
quit thee !

Lo ! here, this long-usurped royalty,
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal ;
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.4

* Shakespeare had employed this incident with historical pro
priety in The First Part of King Henry IV. He had here also
good ground for his poetical exaggeration. Richard, according
to the Chronicles, was determined if possible to engage with Rich-
mond in single combat. For this purpose he rode furiously to that
quarter of the field where the earl was ; attacked his standard
bearer, Sir William Brandon, and killed him; then assaulted Sir
John Cheney, whom he overthrew. Having thus at length cleared
nis way to his antagonist, he engaged in single combat with him,
mid probablv would have been victorious, but that at that instant
Sir William Stanle}' with three thousand men joined Richmond's
army, and the royal forces fled with great precipitation. Richard
was soon afterwards overpowered by numbers, and fell, fighting
bravely to the last moment.

3 Here again we have a slight trace of the old play quoted in
•ote 3 of the preceding scene :

"Enter RICHARD, wounded, with his Page.
King. A horse ! a horse ! a fresh horse !
Pare. Ah ! fly, my lord, and save your life.
King. Fly, villain ! Look I as though
I would fly ? — No ! first shall," &c. H.

4 80 in the Chronicles : ' When the earle had obteined the rio

SC. IV. KINfi RICHARD 111. 185

Richm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all! —
But, tell me, is young George Stanley living?

Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town ;
Whither, if you please, we may withdraw us.

Richm. What men of name are slain on either
side?

Stan. John duke of Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrers,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.

Richm. Inter their bodies as becomes their births
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled,
That in submission will return to us ;
And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,
We will unite the white rose with the red: —
Smile Heaven upon this fair conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity! —
What traitor hears me, and says not, amen ?
England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
The father rashly slaughter'd his own son,
The son, compelPd, been butcher to the sire ;
All this divided York and Lancaster,
Divided, in their dire division. —
O ! now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together !

torie. he kneeled downe and rendered to almightie God his heartio
thanks, with devout and godlie orisons. Which praier finished, he
ascended up to the top of a little mounteine, where he not onelie
praised his valiant souldiers, but also gave them his heartie thanks,
\vitli promise of condigne recompense for their fidelitie and valiant
feats. Then the people rejoised and clapped their hands, crying,
— King- Henrie, king Henrie ! When the lord Stanlie saw the
good will and gladnesse of the people, he tooke the crowne of
king Richard, which was found amongst the spoile in the field, and
set it on the carles head ; as though Le had beene elected by the
voice of the people, as in times past in diverse realmes it liatb
beene accustomed." H.

186 KING RICHARD 111. ACT V

And let their heirs (God, if Thy will be so)
Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace,
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days !
Rehate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,5
That would reduce 6 these bloody days again,
And make poor England weep in streams of blood!
Let them not live to taste this land's increase,
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace !
Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again :
That she may long live here, God say amen.

[Exeunt

* The old copies read, "Abate the edge of traitors." The
change is derived from Mr. Collier's second folio. Abate is hard-
ly capable of any sense that will apply to edge ; while rebatf. is
just the word wanted, its meaning being to beat back or blunt.
Thus in Baret's Alvearie, 1580 : " To rebate or make dull, Aciem
ferri hebetare." Likewise iu Measure for Measure, Act i. sc. 5 i

" But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge

With profits of the mind, study and fast." H.

* To reduce is to bring back ; an obsolete sense of the word
derived from its Latin original, reduce. " Tiie mornynge forsak
yng the golden bed of Titau, reduced the desyred day." —
Wtu and Lucre/ia. 1560.

INTRODUCTION

THE LIFE OF HENRY VIII.

THE FAMOUS HISTORY OF THE LIFE OF KINO
THE EIGHTH was first published in the folio of 1623 , with a
text unusually correct for the time, with the acts and scenes regf
nlarly marked throughout, and with the stage-directions more full
and particular than in any of the previous dramas. That it
should have been printed so accurately is the more remarkable,
inasmuch as the construction of the sentences is often greatly in-
volved, the meaning in many places very obscure, and the versi-
fication irregular to the last degree of dramatic freedom through-
out.

The date of the composition has been more various!}' argued
and concluded than can well be accounted for, considering the
clearness and coherence of the premises. The Globe Theatre
was burned down the 29th of June, 1613. Howes, in his contin-
uation of Stowe's Chronicle, recording this event some time after
it took place, speaks of " the house being filled with people to be-
hold the play of Henry the Eighth." And in the Harleian Man-
uscripts is a letter from Thomas Lorkin to Sir Thomas Puckering,
dated " London, this last of June," aud containing the following:
" No longer since than yesterday, while Burbage his company
were acting at the Globe the play of Henry VIII., and there
•hooting of certain chambers in triumph, the fire catched, and
fastened upon the thatch of the house, and there burned so fu-
riously, as it consumed the whole house, and in less than two
hours, the people having enough to do to save themselves." But
the most particular account of the event is in a letter written by
Sir Henry VVotton to his nephew, and dated July 6, 1613 : " Now
lo let matters of state sleep, 1 will entertain you at the present
witn what happened this week at the Hankside. The king's play-
ers had a. new play, called All is True, representing some princi-
pal pieces of the reigu \ f Henry the Eighth, -vhich was set Ibrth

190 KING HENRY VIII.

with many extraordinary circumstances of pomp and majesty
even to the matting of the stage ; the knights of the order will
their Georges and Garter, the guards with their embroidered coats
and the like ; sufficient, in truth, within a while to make greatness
very familiar, if not ridiculous. Now, King Henr}' making a
mask at the Cardinal Wolsey's house, and certain cannons being
shot off at his entry, some of the paper, or other stuff wherewith
one of them was stopped, did light on the thatch, where, being
thought at first but an idle smoke, and their eyes being more atten-
tive to the show, it kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train,
consuming within less than an hour the whole house to the very
ground This was the fatal period of that virtuous fabric, where-
in yet nothing did perish but wood and straw, and a few forsaken
cloaks : only one man bad his breeches set on fire, that would
perhaps have broiled him, if he had not, by the benefit of a prov-
ident wit, put it out with bottle ale."

From all which it would seem that the play originally had a
double title, one referring to the plan, the other to the material,
of the composition. At all events, Sir Henry's description clear-
ly identifies the play to have been the one now in hand ; and it
will hardly be questioned that he knew what he was about when
he called it a new play. And the title whereby he distinguishes
it is in some sort bespoken in the Prologue ; while, in the kind of
interest sought to be awakened, the whole play is strictly corre-
sponding therewith ; the Poet being here more than in any other
case studious of truth in the historical sense, and adhering, not
always indeed to the actual order of events, but with singular
closeness throughout to their actual import and form. In short, a
kind of historical conscience, a scrupulous fidelity to fact, is man-
ifestly the regulating and informing thought of the piece ; as if
the Poet had here undertaken to set forth a drama made up em-
phatically of " chosen truth," insomuch that it should in all fair-
ness deserve the significant title, All is True.

This of course infers the play to have been written as late as
1612, and perhaps not before the beginning of 1613. And here-
with agrees that part of Cranmer's prophecy in the last scene,
declaring that

" Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations ; "

wlrich can scarce be understood otherwise than as referring to the
new nation founded by King James in America, the first charter
of Virginia being issued in 1606, the colony planted and Jamet-
Town settled in 1G07. and a second charter granted, and a lottery
opened in aid of the colonists, in 1612. It will not he out of place
to adduce here the well-kiiown passage from the Diiiry of the Rev

INTRODUCTION. 191

J. Ward, who became vicar of the church at Stratford in 1662,
forty-six years after the Poet's death. " I have heard," says he,
" that Mr. Shakespeare was a natural wit, without any art at all ;
he frequented the plays all his younger time, but in his elder days
lived at Stratford, and supplied the stage with two plays every
year.'' That this statement is in all points strictly true, is not
pretended ; nor does the writer give any part of it as a fact, but
merely as what " I have heard : " as to that about the " two plays
ever}' year," the most that can be said is, that it probably had
some basis of truth ; which basis may have been merely that
Shakespeare continued to write for the stage after he retired to
Stratford. And that the reverend author took no small interest
in the person he was writing about, may be safely presumed from
the rule he lays down for himself just after: "Remember to pe-
ruse Shakespeare's plays, and be versed in them, that I may not
be ignorant in that matter." The precise date of Shakespeare's
retirement from the;stage has not been ascertained : most prob-
ably it was sometime in the course of 1610 or the following year 5
and there are none of his plays which, whether by internal or ex-
ternal marks, appear more likely to have been written after that
time, than King Henry VIII. In style and diction it has much
the same peculiarities, only in a still higher degree, as The Tem-
pest, The Winter's Tale, and Cymbeline, which there is every
reason to believe were written during or near the period in ques-
tion.

Notwithstanding all this evidence, the notion more commonlj
held is, that the play was written before the death of Elizabeth,
which took place in March, 1603. The only reason worth naming
alleged for this is, that the Poet would not have been likely to
glorify her reign so amply after her death. And because there is
still less likelihood that during her life he would have glorified in
so large a measure the reign of her successor, therefore resort is
had to the theory, that ill June, 1613, the play was revived under
a new title, which caused Sir Henry Wotton to think it a new
play, and that the Prologue was then written and the passage
concerning James interpolated by Ben Jonson. Which position
needs no other answer, than that it is unsupported by any rea.
evidence : it is a sheer conjecture, devised of purpose to meet
the exigency of a foregone conclusion. And, surely, the evidence
must be preit}1 strong, to warrant the belief that Jonson would
hnve exercised such a liberal patronage over any of Shakespeare1!
plays while the author was yet living. And as for the passage
touching James, we can perceive no such signs as have been al-
leged of its being an after insertion : the awkwardness of connec-
tion, which has been so confidently affirmed as betraying a second
hand or a second time, seems altogether imaginary : the passage
knits in as smoothly as need be with what precedes and followgj
is of the same cast, colour, and complexion, and, in brief, is per

192 KING HENRY VIII.

fectly in course and keeping wilh the whole drift and upshot of
Cranmer's magnificent prediction. We speak the more strongly
on this subject, for that the interpolation has been assumed as be-
yond controversy, and the lines printed in brackets, as having 110
right to be considered a part of the original play. And it is
worthy of special note, that the words, — "She shall be an agta
princess," — have not been included in the brackets ; which, not-
withstanding, are precisely what any man would have least dared
to write, unless he meant that writing should be his last, while the
great queen was living.

Nor is it easy to discover in the play itself any very strong
indications of its having been %vritlen with a special view to please
Elizabeth. The design, so far as she was anywise concerned
therein, seems much rather to have been, to please the people by
whom she was all-beloved during her life, and, if possible, still
more so when, after the lapse of a few years, her prudence, her
courage, and her magnanimity, save where her female jealousies
were touched, had been set off to greater advantage by the blun
ders and infirmities of her speech-wise, act-fool successor. For
it is well known that for a long while the popular feeling run back
so strongly to her government, that James had no way but to fal
in with and swell the current, notwithstanding the strong causes
which he had, both public and personal, to execrate her memory
The play has an evident making in with this feeling, unsolicitous,
generally, of what would have been likely to make in, and some
times boldly adventurous of what would have been sure to make
out. with the object of it. Such an appreciative representation
of the meek and honourable sorrows of Katharine, so nobly-proud,
yet in that pride so gentle and true-hearted ; her dignified sub-
mission, wherein her rights as a woman and a wife are firmly
watched and sweetly maintained, yet the sharpest eye cannot de-
tect the least swerving from duty ; her brave and eloquent sym-
pathy with the plundered people, pleading their cause in the face
of royal and reverend rapacity, and that with an energetic sim-
plicity which even the witchcraft of Wolsey's tongue cannot
sophisticate ; and all this set in open contrast with the worldly-
minded levity and the equivocal, or at least the qualified, virtue
of her rival and with the sensual, hard-hearted, hypocritical tyr-
anny of the king; — surely the Poet must have known a great
deal less, or else a great deal more, than anybody else, t.f the
naughty daughter of that rival and that king, to have thought of
pleasing her by such a representation.

Mr. Collier, who holds much the same view as here expressed,
so far as regards the prophecies touching Elizabeth and James,
has however a third view as to the dale of the composition. He
thinks that the play was probably Drought out at the Globe Thea-
tre in the summer of 1604, and that what Sir Honry Wotton de-
ncribed in Kil3 as " a iiew play, called All is True," was the work

INTRODUCTION. 193

of ai.rther person. His only ground for this opinion is the fol.
loving entry in the Stationers' Register, made to Nathaniel Butter,
February 12, 1605: "If he get good allowance for the Interlude
of King Henry VIII. before he begins to print it, and then pro-
cure the wardens' hands to it for the entrance of it, he is to have
the same for his copy." Had there been at that time no other
dramatic performance on .the subject of Henry the Eighth, this
would indeed go far to prove, not that the play described by Sir
Henry was not Shakespeare's, but that he was mistaken in calling
it new. But it seems quite probable that the above-quoted entry
relates to another play by Samuel Rowley, published in 1605, and
entitled " When you see me you know me, or The Famous
Chronicle History of King Henry the Eighth."

The historical matter of this play, so far as relates to the fall
of Wolsey and the divorcement of Katharine, was originally de-
rived from George Cavendish, who was gentleman-usher to the
great cardinal, and himself an eye-witness of much that he de-
scribes. His Life of Master Wolsey is among the best specimens
extant of the older English literature ; the narrative being- set
forth in a clear, simple, manly eloquence, which in some of his
finest passages the Poet has almost literally transcribed. Whether
his book had been published in Shakespeare's time, is uncertain ;
but so much of it as fell within the plot of the drama had been
embodied in the Chronicles of Holinshed and Stowe. That the
Poet may have read it either in manuscript or in some unknown
edition, is indeed possible : howbeit, the play yields no evidence
of his having gone beyond the pages of the chronicler. We sub-
join a pretty full statement of the matter as it stands in Holin-
shed ; where the reader will be apt to feel a certain first-hand
directness and spirit, as though the words had been caught and
kept in all their racy freshness, as they fell from the original
speakers.

In the summer of 1527, something over six years after the death
of Buckingham, it began to be whispered in London, how the
king had been told by Dr. Longland, bisnop of Lincoln, and oth-
ers, that his marriage with Katharine was not lawful ; and how
for that cause he was thinking to put her away, and marry the
duchess of Alencon, sister to the king of France. Hearing that
this rumour was going, the king sent for the mayor, and charged
him to see that the people ceased from such talk. The next year,
however, the trouble, which, it seems, had long been secretly
brewing in the king's conscience touching that matter, broke out
sure enough. Whether this doubt were first moved by the car-
dinal or by Longland, the king's confessor, at all events, in doubt
he was ; and therefore he resolved to have the case examined and
cleared by sufficient authority. And, in truth, the blame of hav-
ing cast this scruple into his mind was commonly laid upon Wol-
sey, because of his known hatred to the emperor, Chirlos V., who

194 KING HENRY VIII.

was nephew lo Katharine, urn! who hart refused him the arm-
bishopric of Toledo, for which he was a suitor. Therefore ha
sought to procure a divorce, that Henry might he Iree to knit a
fast friendship with the French king by marrying his sister. In
pursuance of his resolution Henry wrote to Rome, desiring thtt
a legate might be sent over to hear and determine the cause ; and
the consistory sent Cardinal Campeius, a man of great judgment
and experience, with whom was joined the cardinal of York.
Upon his coming, which was in October, 1528, the king, knowing
that the queen was somewhat wedded to her opinion, and wishing
her to do nothing without counsel, bade her choose the best clerks
in his realm, and licensed them to do the best they could for her.
She having made her selection, the great hall at Black-Friars was
fixed upon and fitted up for the trial.

The court began its work on the 21st of June, 1529. All things
being ready, at the command of the scribe the crier called, " Hen-
ry, king of England, come into the court. With that the king
answered, Here. Then called he, Katharine, queen of England,
come into the court. Who made no answer, but rose out of her
chair ; and, because she could not come to the king directly for
ihe distance between them, she went about by the court, and came
to the king, kneeling down at his feet. Sir, quoth she, I desire
you to do me justice and right, and take some pity upon me ; for
1 am a poor woman, and a stranger, born out of your dominion,
having here no indifferent counsel, and less assurance of friend-
ship. Alas, sir, in what have I offended you, or what occasion of
displeasure have I showed you, intending thus to put me from
you ? I take God to my judge, I have been to you a true and
humble wife, ever conformable lo your will and pleasure, and be
ing always contented with all things wherein you had anydeligb*
whether little or much : without grudge or displeasure, I loved for
your sake all them whom you loved, whether they were my friendg
or enemies. I have been your wife these twenty years and more,
and you have had by me divers children. If there be any just
cause that you can allege against me, either of dishonesty, or
of matter lawful to put me from you, I am content to depart to
my shame and rebuke : and if there be none, then I pray you to
.et me have justice at your hand. The king your father was in
his time of excellent wit ; and the king of Spain my father, Fer-
dinand, was reckoned one of the wisest princes that reigned in
Spain many years before. It is not to be doubted, that they had
gathered as wise counsellors unto them of every realm, who
deemed the marriage between you and me good and lawful.
Wherefore I humbly desire you to spare me, until I may know
what counsel my friends in Spain will advise me to take ; and if
you will not, then your pleasure be fulfilled.

" Here is to be noted, that the queen in presence of the whola
court most grievously accused the cardinal of untruth, deceit, and

INTRODUCTION. 05

malice, which haJ sown dissension betwixt her and the king1; and
therefore openlv protested that she did utterly abhor, refuse, and
forsake such a judge, who was not only a malicious enemy to her,
but also a manifest adversary to all right and justice : and there-
with did she appeal unto (he pope, committing her whole cause to
be judged of him. With that she arose up, making a low cour-
tesy to the king, and departed. The king, being advertised that
she was ready to go out of the house, commanded the crier to ea''
her again ; who called, Katharine, queen of England, come into
the court. With that quoth master Griffith, Madam, you be called
again. On, on, quoth she ; it maketh no matter : I will not tarry \
go on your ways. And thus she departed, without any furthe
answer at that time, or any other ; and never would appear afte
in any court. The king, perceiving she was departed, said thes«
words in effect : Forasmuch as the queen is gone, I will in her
absence declare to you all, that she has been to me as true, as
obedient, and as conformable a wife, as I would wish or desire
She hath all the virtuous qualities that ought to be in a woman t
she is also surely noble born ; her conditions well declare th«
same.

" With that quoth the cardinal, Sir, I most humbly require your
highness to declare before all this audience, whether I have been
the chief and first mover of this matter unto your majesty, or no;
for I am greatly suspected herein. My lord cardinal, quoth the
king, I can well excuse you in this matter ; marry, you have been
rather against me. than a setter-forward or mover of the same.
The special cause that moved me was a scrupulosity that pricked
my conscience, upon certain words spoken by the bishop of Bay-
onne, the French ambassador, who had been hither sent upon the
debating of a marriage between our daughter the lady Mary and
the duke of Orleans. Upon the resolution and determination
whereof, he desired respite to advertise the king his master,
whether our daughter Mary should be legitimate, in respect of my
marriage with this woman, being sometime my brother's wife.
Which words within the secret bottom of my conscience engen-
dered such a scrupulous doubt, whereby I thought myself to be
greatly in danger of God's indignation ; which appeared the rather,
for that He sent us no issue male, and all such issue male as my
wife had by me died incontinent after they came into the world

" Thus my conscience being tossed in the waves of a scrupu-
lous mind, it behooved me further to consider the state of thif
realm, and the danger it stood in for lack of a prince to suc-
ceed me. I thought it good in release of the weighty burden of
my conscience to attempt the law therein, whether I may take an-
other wife more lawfully, by whom God may send me more issue,
and not for any misliking of the queen's person and age, with
whom I would be as well contented, if our marriage may stand
with the. laws of God, as with any woman alive. In this point

196 KING HENRY VIII.

eonsisteth all that we now go about (o try, by the wisdom of yon
our prelates and pastors, to whose conscience »nd learning I have
committed the charge and judgment. After that I perceived my
conscience so doubtful, I moved it in confession to you, my lord
of Lincoln, then ghostly father. And forasmuch as you were in
some doubt, you moved me to ask the counsel of all these lords :
whereupon I moved you, my lord of Canterbury, first to have
your license to put this matter in question ; and so I did of all
you. my lords, which you granted under your seals. After that,
the king rose up, and the court was adjourned till another day.
The legates sat weekly, and every day were arguments brought
in on both parts, and still they assayed if they could procure the
queen to call back her appeal, which she utterly refused to do.
The king would gladly have had an end in the matter ; but when
the legates drove time, and determined no point, he conceived a
suspicion, that this was of purpose that their doings might draw
to no conclusion.

" Thus the court passed from session to session, till the king sent
the two cardinals to 'he queen, who was then in Bridewell, to ad
vise her to surrender the whole matter into the king's hands, which
should be much better to her honour, than to stand to the trial of
law. The cardinals being in the queen's chamber of presence,
the gentleman-usher advertised the queen that they were come to
speak with her. With that she rose up, and, with a skein of white
thread about her neck, came into her chamber where they were
attending. Quoth she. What is your pleasure with me ? If it
please your grace, quoth Cardinal Wolsey, to go into your privy
chamber, we will show you the cause of our coming. My lord,
quoth she, if ye have any thing to say, speak it openly before all
these folk ; for I fear nothing that ye can say against me, but I
would all the world should hear and see it. Then began the car-
dinal to speak to her in Latin. Nay, good my lord, quoth she,
speak to me in English. Forsooth, good madam, quoth the car-
dinal, We come to know your mind in this matter between the king
and yon, and to declare secretly our opinions and counsel unto
you ; which we do only for very zeal and obedience we bear unto
your grace. My lord, quoth she, I thank you for your good will •
but to make answer in your request I cannot so suddenly ; for 1
was set among my maids at work, thinking full little of any such
matter ; wherein there needeth a longer deliberation, and a better
head than mine : I need counsel in this case which toucheth me
go near ; and for any counsel or friendship that I can find in Eng-
land, they are not for my profit. What think you, my lords, will
any Englishman counsel me, or be friend to me against the king's
pleasure ? Nay, forsooth ; as for my counsel, in whom I will put
my trust, they be not here, they be in Spain, in my own country.
— My lords, I am a poor woman, lacking wit to answer to auy
iucii noble persons of wisdom as you be, in so weighty a matter!

INTRODUCTION 197

therefore, 1 pray you, be good to me, destitute of friei ds here in
a foreign region ; and your counsel also I will be glad to hear-
And therewith she took the cardinal by the hand, and led him into
her privy chamber with the other cardinal ; where they tarried a
season, talking with the queen : which communication ended, they
departed to the king, making to him relation of her talk."

All men now looked for a conclusion of the case the next day ;
but, -when the time came, Campeius, instead of giving judgment,
dissolved the court, saying that, as the defendant had appealed
I'-jr cause to Rome, he could take no further action, but would
lay all their proceedings before the pope, and abide by his de-
cision ; which delay was highly offensive to the king. Meanwhile
Woisey had been apprised that the king had set his heart upon
Anne Boleyn, the queen's maid of honour. Foreseeing that if
the divorce were granted the king would marry her, he set him-
srlf to defeat that match, which he thought was most of all to be
avoided. The queen's appeal to Rome still pending, he sent let-
ters and secret messengers, requesting the pope to defer judgment
in the case till he could mould the king to his purpose. But his
doings were not so secret but that the king got knowledge of
them, and thereupon took so great displeasure that he resolved to
abase the cardinal ; which when the nobles perceived, they began
to accuse him of such offences as they knew could be proved,
and, having drawn up certain articles, got divers of the king's
council to set their hands to them. The king was now informed
that what the cardinal had done in virtue of his legantine power
fell under the statute of prcemunire, and, a parliament being called,
be caused his attorney to make out a writ to that effect. On the
17th of November, 1529, he sent the dukes of Norfolk and Suf-
folk, requiring him to surrender the great seal, and retire to Asher,
a house near Hampton-court, belonging to the bishopric of Win-
chester. Woisey refused to give up the seal without further proof
of their authority, saying that the king had entrusted it to him foi
the term of his life, and confirmed the gift with letters-patent.
After a great many words between them, the dukes went off with-
out it, and returned the next day with a written order from tho
king; whereupon the cardinal yielded, made over his whole
personal estate to the king, and threw himself entirely 011 hit
mercy.

So big was this great man's grief, that about Christmas he was
taken down with a threatening fever. On hearing of his danger,

the king exclaimed, ' God forbid that he should die ! I would

not lose him for twenty thousand pounds." He then forthwith
lent three physicians to Asher, assured the sick man of his un-
abated attachment, and persuaded Anne Boleyn to send him a
tablet of gold as a token of reconciliation. In the course of tha
winter Wol.sey retired to his office as archbishop of YorK, the king
having arrested the prce.iiuinire so far as to reserve him the lev-

198 KING HENRY Vlll.

enues of that see and of Winchester. At this time many of his
servants, the chief of whom was Thomas Qromwell, left his ser-
vice, and entered the king's. It is said thkt he kept Easter al
Peterborough, with a train of a hundred and sixty persons ; ana
that " upon Maundy-Thursday he there had nine-and-fifty poor
men, whose feet he washed, and gave every one twelve pence in
money, three eils of good canvas, a pair of shoes, a cast of red
herrings and three white herrings, and one of them had two shil-
lings." By his great thoughts, gentle acts, and liberal and gra-
cious deportment, he was winning the hearts of all about him ; on
which account his enemies, fearing he might yet reinstate himself,
spared no efforts to complete his undoing. Accordingly, the fol-
lowing November, at his manor of Cawood, he was arrested for
high treason by the earl of Northumberland. On his way to Lon-
don he spent several days at Sheffield park with the earl of
Shrewsbury, where he was taken very ill with a fever and a flux
which greatly reduced his strength. There he was met by King-
ston, constable of the Tower, to whom it had been given in charge
to conduct him to London. On first coming into his presence
Kingston kneeled down ; but he said, — " I pray you, stand up ;
kneel not to me ; I am but a wretch replete with misery, utterly
cast away." From thence he rode onward three days, by shoi<
and easy journeys, the flux continuing with great violence, till at
length on the third day " he waxed so sick that he was almost
fallen from his mule." After night-fall he came to Leicester ab-
bey, where, at his coming, the abbot and all the convent went out
to meet him with lighted torches, and received him with great
honour; and he said, — "Father abbot, I am come hither to lay
my bones among you." Having alighted, he immediately took
his chamber and went to bed, where his sickness still increased.
Three days after, " on Tuesday even, master Kingston came to
him, and bade him good-morrow, for it was about six of the clock,
and asked him how he did. Sir, quoth he, I tarry but the pleas-
ure of God, to render up my poor soul into His hands. Not so,
§ir, quoth master Kingston ; with the grace of God, ye shall I've
and do very well, if ye will be of good cheer. Nay, in gooo
sooth, master Kingston; my disease is such that I cannot live. Sir,
quoth master Kingston, you be in much pensiveness, doubling that
thing that in good faith ye need not. Well, well, master King-
•ton. quoth the cardinal ; I see the matter how it is framed : hut if
1 had served God as diligently' as I have done the king, He would
not have given me over in my grey hairs. But it is the just re-
ward that I must receive for the pains and study I have had, to
do him service, not regarding my service to God. When the
clock struck eight he gave up the ghost, and departed this lifej
which caused some to call to remembrance how he said the day
oefore, that at eight of the clock they should lose their master."
This was on the 29th of November, Ib'W. The Poet, with fine

INTRODUCTION. 199

rframatic effect, and without any prejudice to the essential trult
of history, represents the death of Katharine as occurring shortly
after, though in fact it did not occur till the 8th of January, 1536.
In July, 1531, Katharine withdrew from the court, and took up her
abode at Amptbill. Upon receiving from Henry an order to do
thus, she replied that to whatever place she removed, nothing could
remove her from being the king's wife. Long before this time the
king had been trying to persuade Anne Boleyn to be a sort of left-
handed wife to him ; but mi older sister of hers having already
neld such a place and had enough of it, she stood out, being re
solved to be his right-handed wife, or none at all ; and, as the
queen still persisted in her appeal, she still held off till she should
see more prospect of the divorce being carried through. In Sep-
tember, 1532, she was created marchioness of Pembroke, with a
thousand pounds a year, to which as much more was added soon
after ; and at length the king was privately married to her the 25th
of January following. Cranmer became archbishop of Canterbury
the next March, and went directly about the business of the divorce;
an act of parliament having been lately passed, forbidding appeals
to Rome under the penalty of prcemunire. The archbishop, as-
sisted by four bishops and divers other learned men, held his court
in May at Dunstable, about six miles from Ampthill. where Kath-
arine was still residing. " There she was cited to appear before
the archbishop in cause of matrimony, and at the day of ap-
pearance she appeared not, but made default ; and so she was
called peremptorily every day fifteen days together ; and at the
last, for lack of appearance, by the assent of all the learned men
there present she was divorced from the king, and the marriage
declared to be void and of none effect."

This was followed, in June, by the coronation of the new queen,
and, in September, by the birth and christening of the Princess
Elizabeth. Soon after the divorce, Katharine removed to Kim-
bolton, where, in the course of the next year, she had to digest the
hard intelligence, how the cold-hearted ruffianism of Henry, no
longer tempered by the eloquence of the great cardinal, nor awed
by the virtue of the good queen, had broken forth upon her friends,
and sucked the righteous blood of Fisher and More. Well might
the poor woman die of a broken heart ! And so, in truth, she
did : yet no threats or promises could induce her to forego the
title of queen ; neither would she allow herself to be addressed
in any other style, though the king had put forth an order making
ft treason to give her any title buf that of Princess Dowager.
The story of her death is thus told by Holinshed : "The Princess
Dowager, lying at Kimbolton, fell into her last sickness, whereof
the king being advertised appointed the emperor's ambassador,
named Eustachius Capucius, to. visit her. and will her to be of good
comfort. The ambassador with all diligence did his duty therein :
but she within six days after, perceiving herself to wax very weal

200 KING HENRY VIII.

and feeble, and to feel death approaching', caused one of her RHP
tlewoinen to write a letter to the kin"-, commending to him h»i
daughter and his, beseeching him to stand good fatner unto her.
Further, she desired him to have some consideration tor her gen-
tlewomen (hat had served her, and to see them bestowed in mar
riage ; and that it would please him to appoint that her servants
might have their due and a year's wages besides. This in effect
was all she requested ; and so immediately she departed this life
and was buried at Peterborough."

The fifth act of this play is remarkable in that it yields a further
disclosure as to Shakespeare's reading. Some of the incidents
and, in many cases, the very words are taken, as our notes will
show, from Fox the Martyrologist, whose Acts and Monuments of
the Church, first published in 1563, had grown to be a very popular
book ill the Poet's time. The main passages are copied literally
in our notes from Fox's Life of Craumer as reprinted in Words-
worth's Ecclesiastical Biography, 1839, which is probably, in its
way, the best collection of the older English literature that has
been made.

And it is to he noted that the Poet has here again judiciously
departed from the actual order of events. For the passage be-
tween Cranmer and the Privy Council took place in 15-44, more
than eleven years after the event with which the play closes. Of
course the inherent adaptedness of the matter to a sound and le-
gitimate stage-effect did not escape the Poet's eye ; and he has
certainly used it to that end with sufficient skill and judgment :
but as the design of the piece required that it should wind up with
the birth and christening of Elizabeth, he had no way to avail
himself of that matter, but by anticipating and drawing it back to
an earlier period. Thus far we have only a principle of dramatic
convenience for the transposition. But there is really a much
deeper reason for it. For the passage in question yields the most
forcible and pertinent instance of that steady support of Cranmet
by the king, which was necessary to prepare the way for the final
establishing of the Reformation on Elizabeth's coming to the crown.
So that the matter is substantially connected with the ushering in
of that new era in the national life, which was to form the chief
strength and glory of her reign, and with the prevision of which
the drama was to conclude. For it is manifest that the main in-
terest of the drama, taken as a whole, culminates in that national
renovation of mind and soul which was to take its beginnings from
or along with the establishing of the Reformed Faith : a sort of
prophetic forecast to this eti'ect runs through the play as an under-
current, now and then working up to the surface in hopeful and
joyous anticipation ; while the whole ends by projecting the thoughts
forward into the far-oft' glories thence resulting. Thus we may
see that the king's treatment of Cranmer, so aptly instanced in the
passage with the Privy Council, stands in some sort as the original

INTRODUCTION. 201

and cause ol those mighty interests which are gathered up and
concentrated in the closing scene : though later in time than the
birth of Elizabeth, it was in true logical and historical antecedence
to the manifold great events which were bound up with her life,
and which are appropriately made the theme of exultation at her
christening.

It is a question of no little interest how far, and in what sort,
the Poet has in this play committed himself to the Reformation
if at all, whether more as a religious or as a national movement
He certainly shows a good mind towards Cranmer, but nothing
can be justly inferred from this, for he shows the same quite aj
much towards Katharine ; and the king's real motives for putting
her away are made plain enough : all which bespeaks a judicial
calmness and evenness of mind, such as could not easily be won to
any thing savouring of advocacy or special-pleading. There are,
however, several expressions in the play, especially that in Cran-
mer's prophecy respecting Elizabeth, — "In her days God shall
be truly known," — that Indicate pretty clearly on which side the
Poet stood in the great ecclesiastical question of the time : though
it may be plausibly, if not fairly, urged that in all these cases bt
does but make the persons speak in proper keeping with the',
characters and circumstances, without projecting any thing of his
individuality into them, or practising any ventriloquism about
them ; thus maintaining the usual aloofness of himself, his opinions,
tastes, preferences, from his representations. Not by any means
that we should make or admit any question of the Poet's being what
would now be called a Protestant. That he was most truly and
most wisely such, is shown unmistakably, we think, by the genenu
complexion and toning of the piece, which, by the way, is the only
one of his plavs wherein this issue enters into the very structure and
life of the work. It can scarce be thought that any man other-
wise minded would have selected and ordered the materials of a
drama so manifestly with a view to celebrate the glories of Eliza-
beth's reign, all the main features thereof being identified with that
interest by foes as well as friends. But whether he were made
such more by religious or by national sympathies, is another ques-
tion, and one not to be decided so easily. For the honour and the
liberties of England were then so held to be bound up with that
cause, that the Poet's sound, sterling, honest English heart and the
strong current of patriotic sentiment that flowed through his veins
were enough of themselves to pledge him to it, and to secure it his
enthusiastic and unreserved allegiance. That there was, practi-
cally, no breath for the stout, lusty nationality of old England but
in iiie atmosphere of the Reformation, left no choice to such a
downright, thorough paced Englishman as Shakespeare everywhere
approves himself. So that all does but set oft' the Poet's equa-
nimity in giving to each of the characters their due, and in letting
them spent without fear or favour for themselves. That, in bis

2tr2 KING HENRY VIII.

VIPW. they could best serve his ends by freely pursuing their
own. is of course the best possible proof that his ends were right.
The main idea of this play, that whereon the grouping of the
persons and the casting1 of the parts are made to proceed, is an
nnunced in the Prologue, thus :

" You see them great,

And follow'd with the general throng', and sweat
Of thousand friends ; then in a moment see
How soon this mightiness meets misery."

I Fere we have the key-note of the whole, that which draws and
tempers the several particulars into consistency and harmony of
effect. Accordingly the interest turns on a series of sudden and
most affecting reverses. One after another the mighty are humbled
and the lofty laid low, their prosperity being strained to a high
pitch, as if on purpose to deepen their plunge, just when they have
reached the summit with their hearts built up and settled to the
height of their rising, and when the wheel of Fortune seems fast
locked, with themselves at the top. First, we have the princely
Buckingham in the full-blown pride of talents and station ; made
insolent and presumptuous by success; losing his self-control by
the very elevation that renders it most needful ; putting forth those
leaves of hope which, as they express the worst parts of himself,
of course provoke the worst parts of others, and so invite danger
while blinding him to its approach : so that all things within and
around him are thus made ripe for his final upsetting and ruin.
Next, we have the patient and saintly Katharine silting in state
with the king, all that she can ask being given ere she asks it,
sharing half his power, and appearing most worthy of it when
most free to use it : she sees blessings flowing from her hand to
the people, and the honour and happiness of the nation reviving as
she pleads for them ; and her state seems secure, because it stands
on nothing but virtue, and aims at nothing but the good of all
within her reach, and because of her simple modesty and upright-
ness which no flatteries can surprise or beguile : yet even now the
hypocritical king is cherishing- in secret the passion that has al-
ready supplanted her from his heart, and his base crafty mind is
plotting the means of divorcing her from his side ; while at the
same time he is weaving about her such a net of intrigue and con-
spiracy as may render her virtues, her very strength and beauty
of character, powerless in her behalf, so that before she feels the
meditated wrong all chance of redress is foreclosed. Then we
have the overgreat cardinal who, from his plenitude of inward
forces, cuts his way and carries himself upward over whatsoever
offers to stop him ; who walks most securely when dangers are
thickest, and is sure to make his purpose so long as there is any
thing to hinder him, because he has the gift of 'urning all that
wonki thwart him into the ministry of a new strength : whose

INTRODUCTION, 203

cunning ..and quietly steals and gathers in from others the elements
of power, liecause he best knows how to use it and wherein the
secret of it lies ; who at length has the king for his pupil and de-
pendent, because his strange witchcraft of tongue is never at loss
for just the right word at just the right time ; and gets the keeping
and control of his will, because he alone has the wit to make a way
for it : yet his very power of rising against all opposers serves,
apparently, but to aggravate and assure his fall, when there is no
further height for him to climb ; and he at last, by his own mere
oversight and oblivion, loses all he has gained, because he has
nothing more to gain.

Yet in all these cases, because the persons have their greatness
inherent, and not adventitious, therefore they carry it with them in
their reverses ; or rather, in seeming to lose it, they augment it
For it is then seen, as it could not be before, that the greatness
which was in their circumstances only served to cripple or obscure
that which was in themselves ; their nobler and better qualities
shining out afresh when they are brought low, so that from their
fall we learn the real causes of their rising. Buckingham is some
thing more and better than the gifted and accomplished nobleman,
when he stands before us unpropped and simply as " poor Edward
Bohun ; " his innate nobility being set free by the hard discipline
of adversity, and his mind falling back on its naked self for the
making good his title to respect. And Wolsey towers far above
the all-powerful cardinal and chancellor who " bore his blushing
honours thick upon him," when, stripped of every thing that for-
tune and favour can give or take away, he bestows his great mind
in parting counsel upon Cromwell ; when he comes, " an old man
broken with the storms of state," to beg " a little earth for charity;"
and when

" His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little."

Nor is the change in our feelings towards them, after their fall,
mere!)' an effect passing within ourselves : it proceeds in part upon
a real disclosure and outcoming of somewhat in them that was he-
fore hidden or stifled beneath the superinducings of place and cir-
cumstance ; it is the seeing what they really are, and not merely
the considering what they have lost, that now moves us to do them
reverence. For those elements which, stimulated into an usurped
predominance by the subtly-working drugs of flattery and pride,
before made ii em hateful and repulsive, are now overmastered by
the stronger elements of good that have their dwelling in them.
And because this real and true exaltation springs up as the nat-
ural consequence of their overthrow, therefore it is that from the
ruins of their fallen state the Poet builds • sucl. i.oble scenes as
draw the eye to flow."

'.£04 KING HF.NRY VIT1.

Katharine, it is true, so nobly meek, so prout»:v sjhmissive,
maintains the same simple, austere, and solid sweetness of mind
and manners through all the changes of fortune. Yet she, too
rises by her humiliation and is made perfect by suffering, if not in
herself, at least to us ; for it gives her full swav over ihosc deeprr
sympathies which are necessary to a just appreciation of the pro-
found and venerable beauty of her character. She has neither
great nor brilliant parts ; and of this she is herself aware, for she
knows herself most thoroughly; yet she is truly great, — and this
is the only truth about her which she does not know, and that, be-
cause she will not, — from the wonderfnl symmetry and composure
wherein all the elements of her being stand and move together •
go that she presents a very remarkable instance of greatness in the
whole, with the absence of it in the parts. How clear and piei
eing and exact her judgment and discrimination ! yet we scarce
know whence it comes, or how. She exemplifies, more than anv
other of Shakespeare's historical portraits, the working

" Of that fine sense, which to the pure in heart,
By mere oppugnancy of their own goodness.
Reveals the approach of evil."

Not a little of the awe with which we justly regard her seems
owing to the fact, or rather, perhaps, the impression we take, that
she sees through her husband perfectly, yet never in the least be-
trays to him, and hardly owns to herself, what mean and wicked
qualities she knows or feels to be in him. It is not possible to
overstate her simple artlessness of mind, yet her simplicity is of
such a texture and make as to be an overmatch for all the resources
of unscrupulous cunning by which she is beset. Her betrayers,
with all their dark craft, can neither keep from her the secret
of their thoughts, nor turn her knowledge of it into any blemish
of her innocence ; and she is as brave to face and even to outface
their purpose, as she is penetrating to discover it. And when hei
resolution is fixed, that "nothing but death shall e'er divorce her
dignities," it is not, and we feel it is not, that she anywise over
values the accidents of her position, or holds them for one iota
more than they are worth ; the reverse of this is rather true : but
to her they are the necessary symbols of her honour as a wife, and
the inseparable garments of her delicacy as a woman ; and as sucn,
(to say nothing how her thoughts of duty, of ancestral reverence,
and of self-respect, are associated with them,) they have so growu
in with her life, that she cannot part with them and live. More-
over, many hard, hard trials have made her conscious of her ster
ling virtue; stie has borne too much, and borne it too well, to b«
ignorant what she is, and h jw much better things she has deserved
she knows, as she alone can know, that patience has had its perfect
work with her . and this knowledge of her most solic and irue

13S7TROIJUCTJON. 205

n-ortli, so sorely tried, so fully proved, enhances to her sense the
iiisuli and wrong that are put upon her, and make them eat like
rust into her soul ; in short, her one absorbing sentiment is that of
the profoundest grief at meeting with such hardhearted injustice
and indignity, where she had done and suffered so much to make
good her claims as a woman and a wife.

One instance deserves to be specially noted, where by the pe-
culiar use of a single word the Poet illustrates very pregnantly,
how Katharine "guides her words with discretion," and at the same
time makes her suggest the long and hard ordeal of temper and
judgment which she has nohx!T' stood through. It is in the conver-
sation that passes between her and the two cardinals, when they
come to visit her at Bridewell :

" Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure.
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour, — a great patience."

How much more is here understood to be meant than is allowed
to meet the ear ! By the cautious and well-guarded, but prolific
hint conveyed in the words italicised, the mind is thrown back and
set at work upon the long course of trials she has suffered, yet
still kept her suffering secret, lest the knowledge thereof should
defeat the hope that has possession of her heart ; with what con-
siderate forbearance and reserve she has borne with and struggled
against the worst parts of her husband's character; how she has
wisely and thoughtfully ignored his base and cruel sins against
ner, that so she might still keep in action with him the proper mo-
tives to amendment; thus endeavouring by conscientious art and
policy to make the best that could be out of his strong, but hard,
selfish, grovelling nature. And yet all this is so intimated as not
to compromise the quick and apprehensive delicacy which befits
her relation to him, and belongs to her character.

The scope of the suggestion in hand is well shown by a passage
in the Life of Wolsey, referring to things that took place some time
before the question of divorce was openly broached. The writer,
having just spoken of Anne Boleyn's "privy grudge" against
the cardinal for breaking the contract between Lord Percy and
her, goes on thus : " But after she knew the king's pleasure and
ihe bottom of his secret stomach, then she began to look very
naughty and stout, lacking no manner of jewels or rich apparel
tnat might be gotten for money. It was therefore judged bye-and-
bye through the court of every man, that she being iu such favour
might work masteries with the king, and obtain any suit of him
for her friend. All this while, it is no doubt but good Queen Kath-
arine, having (his gentlewoman daily attending upon her, both heard
by report and saw with her eyes how it framed against her good

206 KING HENRY VIII.

ladyship : although she showed neither unto Mistress Ann* Moieyn
nor unto the king any kind or spark of grudge or displeasure ; but
accepted all things in good part, and with wisdom and great pa-
lienre dissembled the same, having Mistress Anne in more estima-
tion for the king's sake, than she was before ; declaring herself io
oe a very perfect Grissel, as her patient acts shall hereafter more
evidently he declared."

As regards the characterisation of this play, perhaps there need
nothing further be said ; though there is much more that would well
bear dwelling upon. Taken altogether, its most note-worthy fea-
.ure seems to lie in combining a very strict adherence to history
with the Poet's peculiar mode of conceiving and working out
character ; thus showing that his creative powers could have all the
'reedoin they desired under the severest laws of actual truth
The portrait of Henry, considering all the circumstances in which
it was drawn, is a remarkable piece of work, being no less true to
the original than politic as regards the author; for the cause which
Henry had been made to serve, though against his will and from
the very rampancy of his vices, had rendered it a long and hard
process for the nation to see him as he was. His ferocious, low-
minded ruffianism is set forth without palliation or disguise, yet
with such simplicity of dealing as if the Poet himself were scarce
aware of it : yet when one of the speakers is made to say of the
king, — " His conscience has crept too near another lady," — it is
manifest that Shakespeare understood his character perfectly. His
little traditional peculiarities of manner, which would be ridiculous,
but that his boisterous savageness of temper renders them dread-
ful, so that they move disgust and terror at the same time ; and
the mixture of hypocrisy and fanaticism which endeavours to
misderive his bad passions, his cruelty and lust, from divine sources,
thus making Heaven responsible for the devil that is in him, and
in the strength of which he is enabled to believe a lie, even while
he knows it is a lie, and because he wishes it true ; — all these
things are shown up without malignity indeed, but without mercy
too ; the Poet nowhere betraying anv the least judgment or lean-
ing either for or against him, insomuch as almost to leave it doubt-
ful whether himself disapproved of what he was showing. The
occret of all which is, that Shakespeare does not expressly and as
from himself draw and mould the king's character, but, in his
usual way, allows him freely to characterise himself by his own
words and deeds.

And in the brief but searching delineation of Anne Boleyn there
is drawn together the essence of a long history. With little or
nothing in hei of a substantive or positive nature one way or the
other ; with scarce any legitimate object-matter of respect or con-
fidence, she is notwithstanding rather an amiable person ; possessed
with a girlish fancy and hankering for the vain pomps and frip-
peries of state, but having no sense of its duties and dignities

INTRODUCTION. 207

She has a kindly and pitiful heart, but is so void of womanly prin-
ciple and delicacy as to be from the first evidently flattered and
elated by those royal benevolences, which to an}- just sensibility
of honour would minister nothing but humiliation and shame. She
has a real and true pity for the pood queen ; but her pity goes
altogether on false grounds ; and she shows by the very terms of
it her eager and uneasy longing after what she scarcely more fears
lhan hopes the queen is about to lose. She strikes infinitely below
the true grounds and source;) of Katharine's noble sorrow, and that
in such a way as to indicate her utter inability to reach or conceive
them ; and thus serves to set off and enhance the deep and solid
character of her of whose soul truth is not so much a quality, as
it is the very substance and essential form ; and who, from the
serene and steady light thence shining within her, much rather than
from any acuteness or strength of intellect, is enabled to detect
the crooked policy and duplicity which are playing their engines
about her. For, as Mrs. Jameson justly observes, this thorough
honesty and integrity of heart, this perfect truth in the inward parts,
is as hard to be deceived, as it is incapable of deceiving. Wo
can well imagine, that with those of the Poet's audience who had
any knowledge of English history, and many of them no doubt
had much, the delineation of Anne, broken off, as it is, at the
height of her fortune, must needs have sent their thoughts forwaiu
to reflect how the self-same levity of character, which lifted her
into Katharine's place, soon afterwards drew on herself a far more
sudden and terrible reverse than had overtaken those on whose
ruins she had risen. And indeed some such thing may be needful,
in order to excuse the Poet, on the score of art, for not carrying
out the truth of history from seed-time to harvest, or at least iu
dicating the consummation of that whereof he so faithfully unfolds
the beginnings. For, that the play is historically true so far a* it
goes, strengthens the reason for that completeness which enters
into the proper idea of historical truth.

Nevertheless, the moral effect of the play is very impressive
and very just. And the lesson evolved, so far as it can be gath-
ered into generalities, may be said to stand in showing how sor-
row makes sacred the wearer, and how, to our human feelings,
suffering, if borne with true dignity and strength of soul, covers a
multitude of sins ; or, to carry out this point with more special
reference to Katharine, the lesson is stated by Mrs. Jameson, with
ner usual felicity, to consist in illustrating how, by the union of
perfect truth with entire benevolence of character, a queen and
heroine of tragedy, though " stripped of all the pomp of place
and circumstance," and without any of " the usual sources of
poetical interest, AS youth, beauty, grace, fancy, commanding in-
tellect, could depend on the moral principle alone, to touch the
very springs of feeling in our bosoms, and melt and elevate our
hearts through the purest and holiest impulses."

PERSONS REPRESENTED

KIMO HENRY THE EIGHTH.
THOMAS WOLSEY, Cardinal of York.
CAMPEIUS, Cardinal, and Legate. *
CAPUCIUS, Ambassador from Charles V.
THOMAS CRANMER, Archbishop of Canterbury.
THOMAS HOWARD, Duke of Norfolk.
EDWARD STAFFORD, Duke of Buckingham.
CHARLES BRANDON, Duke of Suffolk.
THOMAS HOWARD, Earl of Surrey.
LORD CHAMBERLAIN. LORD CHANCELLOR.
STEPHEN GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester.
JOHN LONGLAND, Bishop of Lincoln.
GEORGE NEVILLE, Lord Abergavenny.
WILLIAM LORD SANDS.

SIR HENRY GUILFORD. SIR THOMAS LOVELL.
SIR ANTHONY DENNY. SIR NICHOLAS VACX.
THOMAS CROMWELL, Servant to Wolsey.
GRIFFITH, Gentleman-Usher to Queen Katharine.
DOCTOR BUTTS, Physician to the King.
Secretaries to Wolsey. Garter, King at Arms.
Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham.
BRANDON, and a Sergeant at Arms.
Door-Keeper of the Council-Chamber. A Crier.
Page to Gardiner. Porter, and his Man.

KATHARINE OF ARRAGON, Wife to King Henry.
ANNE BOLEYN, her Maid of Honour.
Aa old Lady, Friend to Anne Boleyn.
PATIENCE, Woman to Queen Katharine.

Several Lords and Ladies in the Dumb Shows ; Women at.
tending on the Queen ; Spirits, which appear to her; Gen-
tlemen, Scribes, Officers, Guards, and other Attendants.

SCENE, chiefly in London and Westminster ; once at Kim-
bolton.

KING HENRY YITI.

PROLOGUE.

I COME no more to make you laugh: things now.
That bear a weighty and a serious brow,
Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,
We now present. Those that can pity, here
May, if they think it well, let fall a tear ;
The subject will deserve it: Such, as give
Their money out of hope they may believe,
May here find truth too: Those that come to sec
Only a show or two, and so agree
The play may pass, if they be still and willing,
I'll undertake, may see away their shilling
Richly in two short hours. Only they,
That come to hear a merry bawdy play,
A noise of targets, or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat, guarded l with yellow,
Will be deceiv'd ; for, gentle hearers, know,
To rank our chosen truth with such a show
As Ibol and fight is,2 beside forfeiting

1 That is, faced or trimmed. This long motley coat was the
usual dress of a professional fool. The intention of the writer,
says Mr. Boswell, was to contrast the historical truth displayed in
the present play with The Famous Chronicle of King Henry the
Kighth, by Samuel Rowley ; in which Will Suirmers, the jester,
is a |>riiiripal character.

- •• Tliis is not the only passage," says Johnson, "in which
''•lukespeare has discovered his conviction of the impropriety of

*21l) KING HENRY VIII.

Our >\vn brains, and the opinion that wo bring/
(To make that only true we now intend,)
AVill leave us never an understanding friend-
battles represented on the stage. He knew that five or six men
with swords, gavo a very unsatisfactory idea of an army ; and
therefore, without much care to excuse his former practice, he
allows thai a theatrical fight would destroy all opinion of irulh
and leave him never an understanding friend." The Prologue,
partly on the strength of this passage, has been by some ascribed
to Ben Jonson. It certainly accords well with what he says in the
proloeue to Every Man in his Humour, though this nowise infer*
the conclusion some would draw from it :

" Though need make many poets, and sotre such
As art and nature have not better'd much ;
Yet ours for want hath not so lov'd the stage,
As he dare serve the ill customs of the age ;
To make a child, now swaddled, to proceed
Man, and then shoot up, in one heard and weed,
Past threescore years ; or. with three rusty swords,
And help of some few foot and half-foot words,
Fight over York and Lancaster's long jars,
And in the tyring-house bring wounds to scars.
He rather prays you will be pleas'd to see
One such, to-day, as other plays should be;
Where neither chorus wafts you o'er the seas,
Nor creaking throne comes down the boys to please ;
Nor nimble squib is seen to make afeard
The gentlewomen ; nor roll'd bullet heard
To say it thunders; nor tempestuous drum
Rumbles, to tell you when the storm doth come;
But deeds and language such as men do use,
And persons such as comedy would choose,
When she would show an image of the times,
And sport with human follies, not with crimes." H.

* Opinion, the commentators say, is here used in the sense of
character or reputation, as in 1 Henry IV., Act v. sc. 2 : " Thou
hast redeem'd thy lost opinion." To us it seems rather to imply
a reference to what, as shown in our Introduction, there is good
reason for thinking to have been originally the first title of the play.
For by advertising his play under the title All is True the Poet
would naturally beget an opinion or expectation, of truth in what
was to be shown ; which opinion or expectation would be forfeited
or destroyed by the course in question. And he adds, parenthet-
ically,— " We now intend only to make good that opinion or rx-
peclalion. H

KING HENRY Vlll. 21 I

Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known

The first and happiest 4 hearers of the town,

Be sad, as we would make ye : Think ye see

The very persons of our noble story,

As they were living ; think you see them great,

And follow'd with the general throng, and sweat

Of thousand friends ; then in a moment see

How soon this mightiness meets misery !

And, if you can be merry then, I'll say

A man may weep upon his wedding day.

ACT I.

SCENE I. London.
An Antechamber in the Palace.

Enter the Duke of NORFOLK, at one door ; at the
other, t/ic Duke of BUCKINGHAM, and the Lord
ABERGAVENNY.'

Buck. Good morrow, and well met. How have

you done,
Since last we saw in France 1

* Happy is here used for propitious, or favourable, which is one
of the senses of the corresponding Latin word felix. H.

- Thomas Howard, the present duke of Norfolk, is the same
person who figures as earl of Surrey in King Richard III His
father's rank and titles, having been lost by the part he took witii
Richard, were restored to him by Henry VIII. in 1514, soon after
his great victory over the Scots at Flodden. His wife was Anne,
third daughter of Edward IV., and so, of course, aunt to the King.
He died in 1525 and was succeeded by his son Thomas, pan of
Surrey. Tin Poet, however, continues (hem as duke ami earl to

2\'2 KING HENRY VIII. ACT L

J\or I thank your grace,

Healthful ; and ever since a fresh admirer
Of what I saw there.

Buck. An untimely ague

Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when
Those sons of glory, those two lights of men,
Met in the vale of Andren.

Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde:'

I was then present, saw them salute on horseback ;
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung
In their embracement, as 3 they grew together ;

the end of the play ; at least he does not distinguish between them
and their successors. — Edward Stafford, the Buckingham of this
play, was son to Heury, the Buckingham of King Richard III.
The father's titles and estates, having been declared forfeit and
confiscate by Richard, were restored to the son by Henry VII. in
the first year of his reign, 1485. In descent, in wealth, and in
personal gifts, the latter was the most illustrious nobleman in the
eoyrt of Henry VIII. In the record of his arraignment and trial
he is termed, says Holinshed, " the floure and mirror of all cour-
tesie." His oldest daughter, Elizabeth, was married to the earl
of Surrey ; Mary, bis youngest, to George Neville, Lord Aberga-
venny. e.

1 Guines and Arde are the names of two towns in Picardy,
where the English and French respectively set up their tents and
pavilions. Andren, commonly changed in modern editions to
Arde, is the name of a valley between them, where the two kings
met. Thus in Holinshed : " The daie of the meeting was ap-
pointed to be on the Thursdaie the seaventh of June, upon which
daie the two kings met in the vale of Andren, accompanied with
such a number of the nobililie of both realmes, so richlie appointed
in apparell and costlie jewels, that a woonder it was to behold and
view them in their order and rooines. The two kings meeting in
the field, either saluted other iu most loving wise, first ou horsse-
backe, and after alighting on foot eftsooiies imbraced with cour-
teous words, to the great rejoisiug of the beholders ; and after they
had thus saluted ech other, they went both togither into a rich tent
of cloath of gold, there set up for the purpose, in the which they
passed the time in pleasant talke, banketting, and loving devises,
till it drew towards evening, and then departed for that night, the
one to Guisiifs, the other to Ard." This was in 1520. H

3 As for as if.

SC. I KING HENRY VIII. 213

Whi<;h had they, what four thron'd ones cotilil have

weigh'd
Such a compounded one ?

Ruck. All the whole time

I was my chamber's prisoner.

Nor. Then you lost

The view of earthly glory: Men might say,
Till this time pomp was single, but now married
To one above itself. Each following day
Became the next day's master, till the last
Made former wonders its:4 To-day, the French,
All clinquant,5 all in gold, like heathen gods,
Shone down the English ; and to-morrow they
Made Britain, India : every man that stood
Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As cherubins, all gilt: the madams, too,
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that their very labour
Was to them as a painting : now this mask
Was cried incomparable ; and the ensuing night
Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them ; him in eye
Still him in praise ; and, being present both,
'Twas said they saw but one ; and no discerner

4 Its for its own. Every day learned something from the pre-
ceding, till the concluding day collected all the splendour of al]
the former shows.

* Clinquant is commonly explained here as meaning glittering,
shining, Richardson says it rs used " for the gingling noise of
the ornaments;" which is certainly the usual sense of the word.
Thus Owen Feltham, a contemporary of the Poet's : " If therefore
we did not believe truth and honour and justice were to be pre-
ferr'd before this present life, and all those clincant sparlings that
dance and dandle in the rayes and jubilations of it, sure we should
not be so sottish as to chuse the first, and let the latter slip away
ilitdaiued " u.

214 KING HENRY vm. ACT L

Durst wag his tongue in censure.8 When these suns
(For so they phrase them) by their heralds chal

leng'd

The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass ; that former fabulous

story,

Being now seen possible enough, got credit,
That Bevis7 was believ'd.

Buck. O ! you go far.

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect
In honour honesty, the tract of every thing
Would by a good discourser lose some life,
Which action's self was tongue to. All was rojal.
To the disposing of it nought rebell'd ;
Order gave each thing view ; the office did
Distinctly his full function.8

Buck. Who did guide,

1 mean, who set the body and the limbs
Of this great sport together, as you guess 1

Nor. One, certes, that promises no element*
In such a business.

Buck. I pray you, who, my lord 1

• That is, in judgment, which had the noblest appearance.

7 The old romantic legend of Bevis of Hampton. This Bevis,
a Saxon, was for his prowess created earl of Southampton by
William the Conqueror. See 2 Henry VI., Act ii. sc. 3, note 9.

8 In the original the latter part of this speech, beginning with
All was royal, is run in with the following speech of Buckingham
Theobald made the change ; and there can be little doubt of iti
being right, though Knight and Verplanck reject it. H.

' Element here is commonly explained to mean the jirsl prin-
ciples or rudiments of knowledge. Is it not rather used in the
game sense as when we say of any one, that he is out of his
element ? From VVolsey's calling, they would no more think he
could be at home in such matters, than a fish could swim in the
air, or a bird fly in the water. — In the original, the words, " as
vou guess," begin this speech, instead of closing the preceding'

SC. 1 KING HENRY VIII. 215

Nor All this was order'd by the good discretion
Of the right reverend cardinal of York

Buck. The devil speed him ! no man's pie is freed
From his ambitious finger. What had he
To do in these fierce vanities 1 I wonder,
That such a keech I0 can with his very bulk
Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun,
And keep it from the earth.

Nor. Surely, sir,

There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends .
For, being not propp'd by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way ; nor call'd upon
For high feats done to the crown ; neither allied
To eminent assistants ; but, spider-like,
Out of his self-drawing web, — O ! give us note,11 —
The force of his own merit makes his way ;
A gift that Heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.

Aber. I cannot tell

What Heaven hath given him ; let some graver eye
Pierce into that : but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him : Whence has he
that ?

10 A round lump of fat. It has been thought that there wa»
some allusion here to the cardinal's being reputed the son of a
butcher. We have " Goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife," men-
tioned by Dame Quickly, in 2 Henry IV., Act ii. sc. 1. See, also,
1 Henry IV., Act ii. sc. 4, note 18.

11 Here we concur with Knight and Verplanck in restoring the
original reading. The common text changes " O ! give us note "
to " he gives us note ; " which seems to be deserting authority for
a less appropriate sense. The meaning evidently is, that the force
of his own genius, not waiting for external aids or stimulants, but
self-prompted and self-evolving, like the spider's self-drawing web,
makes the way for him, or marks out his course. Knight justly
remarks that •'<€)! give us note,' the original reading, is one of
Shakespeare's happy parentheses to break a long sentence, a.id
meaning only, mark what I suv.'' 11.

216 KING HENRY VIII. ACT L

If not from hell, the devil is a niggard ;
Or has given all before, and he begins
A new hell in himself.

J3?ick. Why the devil,

Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,
Without the privity o' the king, to appoint
Who should attend on him ? He makes up the file lz
Of all the gentry ; for the most part such
To IS whom as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon ; and his own letter,
The honourable board of council out,
Must fetch him in he papers.14

Aber. I do know-

Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
By this so sicken'd their estates, that never
They shall abound as formerly.

Buck. O ! many

Have broke their backs with laying manors on 'em
For this great journey." What did this vanity,

11 List, roll, or schedule.

13 So in the original ; but commonly changed to too, with a view
no doubt, to avoid the doubling of the preposition in to and upon.
But this is a frequent practice with the Poet, as was shown in As
You Like It, Act ii. sc. 7, note 10. Perhaps, however, the pas-
•age is but an instance of the elliptical style wherein much of this
play is written; the ellipsis being to be supplied thus: "To
whom he gave as great a charge, as he meant to lay upon them
fittle honour." H.

14 That is, his own letter, by his own single authority, and with
out the concurrence of the council, must fetch him in whom ht
pipers down. Wolsey published a list of the several persons
whom he had appointed to attend on the king at this interview,
and addressed his letters to them.

18 "In the interview at Andren," says Dr. Lingard, "not only
the two kings, but also their attendants, sought to surpass each
other in the magnificence of their dress, and the display of their
riches. Of the French nobility it was said that many carried thei,
whole estates on their backs : among the English the duke of Buck-
ing-ham ventured to expiess his marked disapprobation cf a visit

SO. I KING HENRY VIII. 217

But minister communication of
A most poor issue 1 16

Nor. Grievingly I think,

The peace between the French and us not values
The cost that did conclude it.

Buck. Every man,

After the hideous storm that follow'd, was
A thing inspir'd ; and, not consulting, broke
Into a general prophecy, — that this tempest,
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded
The sudden breach on't.17

Nor. Which is budded out,

For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd
Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.

Aber. Is it therefore

The ambassador is silenc'd 1

Nor. Marry, is't.

Aber. A proper title of a peace, and purchas'd
At a superfluous rate !

Buck. Why, all this business

Our reverend cardinal carried.

which had led to so much useless expense." And in a note he
adds the following from Du Bellay's account of the matter : " Plu-
sieurs y porterent leurs moulins, leurs forests, et leurs prez sur
leurs epaules." Whence Shakespeare may have borrowed the
expression in the text, if indeed he borrowed it, does not appear.
The passage might be cited as going to show that his reading in
English history was not confined, as some would have us believe,
to Holinshed. n.

16 That is, serve for the reporting or proclaiming of a paltry,

worthless result ; somewhat like the homely phrase " Great cry,

and little wool." This note were scarce needful, bin that in Col-
lier's newly-discovered folio of 1632 the text is changed to, —
" Minister the consummation of a most poor issue." We are quite
unable to see how any thing is bettered by the change. H.

17 So in Holinshed : " On Mondaie the eighteenth of Juue was
«uch an hideous storme of winde and weather, that manie con-
jectured it did prognosticate trouble and hatred shortlie after to
follow betwceue princes."

5il8 KING HENRY VIII. ACT 1,

N(rr. Like it your grace,

The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you,
(And take it from a heart that wishes towards you
Honour and plenteous safety,) that you read
The cardinal's malice and his potency
Together ; to consider, further, that
What his high hatred would effect wants not
A minister in his power. You know his nature,
That he's revengeful ; and I know his sword
Hath a sharp edge : it's long, and 't may be said,
It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel ;
You'll find it wholesome. Lo ! where conies that

rock,
That I advise your shunning

Enter Cardinal WOLSEY, (the Purse borne before Mm,)
certain of the Guard, and two Secretaries urith
Papers. TJie Cardinal in his Passage Jixeth his
Eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him
both full of Disdain.

Wol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor, ha !
Where's his examination ? 18

18 " The cardinal!, boiling in hatred against the duke of Buck-
ingham, and thirsting for his blood, devised to make Charles Kne-
vet, that had beene the dukes surveior, an instrument to bring the
duke to destruction. This Knevet, being had in examination be-
fore the cardinal!, disclosed all the dukes life. And first he uttered,
that the duke was accustomed by waie of talke to sale how he
meant so to use the matter, that he would atteine to the rrowne, if
king Henrie chanced to die without issue. The cardinal!, having1
gotten lhat which he sought for, incouraged, comforted, and pro-
cured Knevet. with manie comfortable words and great promises
that he should with a bold spirit and countenance object and laie
these things to the dukes charge with more, if he knew it, whci
time reauired." — Holinshed H

SC. I. KING HENR/ VIII. 21&

1 Sect: Here, so please you.

Wol. Is he in person ready 1

1 Seer. Ay, please your grace.

Wol. Well, we shall then know more ; and Buck-
ingham
Shall lessen this big look.

[JExeunt WOLSEY and Train.

Buck. This butcher's cur19 is venom-mouth'd,

and I

Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore, best
Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
Out-worths a noble's blood.20

Nor. What ! are you chaf ' d ?

Ask God for temperance ; that's the appliance only,
Which your disease requires.

Buck. I read in 's looks

Matter against me ; and his eye revil'd
Me, as his abject object : at this instant
He bores me with some trick : SI He's gone t' the

king;
['II follow, and outstare him.

19 There was a tradition that Wolsey was the son of a butcher,
liut his father, as hath been ascertained from his will, was a bur-
ges' --"considerable wealth, having- "lands and tenements in Ips-
w't,o. aud free and bond lands in Stoke ;" which, at that time.
w-juld hardly consist with such a trade. Holinshed, however,
lays, — "This Thomas Wolsie was a poore man's sonne of Ipswich,
and there born, and, being but a child, verie apt to be learned : by
his parents he was conveied to the universitie of Oxenford, where
be shortlie prospered so in learning, as he was made bachellor of
art when he passed not fifteen years of age, and was called most
commonlie thorough the universitie the boie bachellor." H.

10 It was natural at that time, that Buckingham^hough himself
a man of large and liberal attainments, should speak with disdain
of learned poverty in comparison of noble blood. Nor was hij
pride of birth so bad in itself as Wolsey's pride of self-made great-
ness. H.

" That is, lie stabs or wouuds me by ?ome artifice.

2*20 KINO HENRY VIII. ACT 1.

Nor. Stay, my lord,

And let your reason with your choler question
What 'tis you go about. To climb steep hills,
Requires slow pace at first : anger is like
A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way,
Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
Can advise me like you : be to yourself
As you would to your friend.

Buck. t I'll to the king;

And from a mouth of honour quite cry down
This Ipswich fellow's insolence, or proclaim
There's difference in no persons.

Nor. Be advis'd ;

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
That it do singe yourself: We may outrun
By violent swiftness that which we run at,
And lose by overrunning. Know you not,
The fire, that mounts the liquor till 't run o'er,
In seeming to augment it wastes it ? Be advis'd
I say again, there is no English soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself,
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
Or but allay, the fire of passion.

Buck. Sir,

I am thankful to you, and I'll go along
By your prescription: — but this top-proud fellow
(Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but
From sincere motions,) by intelligence,
And proofs as clear as founts in July, when
We see each grain of gravel, I do know
To be corrupt and treasonous.

Nor. Say not, treasonous.

Buck. To the king I'll say't, and make my vouch

as strong
As shore of rock. Attend : This holy fox,

SC. I. KING HENRY VIII. 2~I

Or wolf, or both, — for he is equal ravenous

As he is subtle, and as prone to mischief

As able to perform 't ; his mind and place

Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally, —

Only to show his pomp as well in France

As here at home, suggests 22 the king our master

To this last costly treaty, the interview

That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass

Did break i' the rinsing.

Nor. 'Faith, and so it did.

Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning

cardinal

The articles o' the combination drew,
As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified,
As he cried " Thus let be," to as much end,
As give a crutch to th' dead : But our count-cardinal
Has done this, and 'tis well ; for worthy Wolsey,
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,
(Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
To the old dam, treason,) — Charles the emperor,
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,
(For 'twas indeed his colour, but he came
To whisper Wolsey,) here makes visitation :
His fears were, that the interview betwixt
England and France might, through their amity,
Breed him some prejudice ; for from this league
Peep'd harms that menac'd him. He privily
Deals with our cardinal ; and, as I trow, —
Which I. do well ; for I am sure the emperor
Paid ere he promis'd ; whereby his suit was granted
Ere it was ask'd; — but when the way was made,
And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd, —
That he would please to alter the king's course,

t2 That is, prompts, or move».

222" KING HENR* VIII. ACT L

And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know
(As soon he shall by me) that thus the cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
And for his own advantage.

Nor. I am sorry

To hear this of him, and could wish he were
Something mistaken in't.Z3

Buck. No, not a syllable:

I do pronounce him in that very shape,
He shall appear in proof.

Enter BRANDON ; a Sergeant at Arms before him, and
two or three of the Guard.

Bran. Your office, sergeant ; execute it.

Serg. Sir,

My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I
Arrest thee of high treason, in the name
Of our most sovereign king.

Buck. Lo you ! my lord,

The net has fall'n upon me : I shall perish
Under device and practice.

Bran. I am sorry

To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present.24 'Tis his highness' pleasure,
You shall to the Tower.

13 That is, not that he had made a mistake, but that others were
mistaken regarding him. H.

** That is. I am sorry that I am obliged to be present at this
proceeding, and to witness with my own eyes your loss of liberty.
— The arrest of Buckingham took place April 16, 1521. The
matter is thus related by Holinshed : " The cardinal!, having taken
the examination of Knevet, went unto the king, and declaied unto
him, lhat his person was in danger by such traitorous purpose as
the <lnke of Buckingham had conceived in his heart, and shewed
bow that now there were manifest tokens of his wicked pretense;
wherefore he exhorted the king to provide for his owue suertie with

SC. I. KING HENR7 VIII. 223

Buck. It will help me nothing,

To plead mine innocence ; for that dye is on me,
Which makes my whit'st part black. The will of

Heaven

Be done in this and all things ! — I obey. —
O, my Lord Aberga'ny! fare you well.

Bran. Nay, he must bear you company The

king [To ABERGAVENNT

Id pleas'd you shall to the Tower, till you know
How he determines farther.

Aber. As the duke said,

The will of Heaven be done, and the king's pleasure
By me obey'd.

Bran. Here is a warrant from

The king to attach Lord Montacute,25 and the bodies
Of the duke's confessor, John de la Car,
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor, —

Buck. So, so;

These are the limbs o' the plot : no more, I hope

Bran. A monk o' the Chartreux.

Buck. O! Nicholas Hopkins 1

Bran. He.

speed. The king hearing' the accusation, inferred to the uttermost
by the cardinal!, made this answer: If the duke have deserved to
be punished, Jet him have according- to his deserts. The duke
hereupon was sent for up to London, and at his comming thither
was streightwaies attached, and brought to the Tower. There
was also attached the foresaid Chartreux monke, maister John de
la Car. alias de la Court, the dukes confessor, and sir Gilbert
Ferke priest, the dukes chancellor. After the apprehension of the
duke, inquisitions were taken in divers shires of England, so that
he was indicted of high treason, for certeiue words spoken at
Blechinglie to the lord of Abergavennie ; and therewith was the
same lord attached for concelement, and so likewise was the lord
Montacute, and both led to the Tower." H.

** This was Henry Pole, grandson to George d jke of Clarence,
and eldest brother to Cardinal Pole. He had married Lord Aber-
gavenny's daughter. Though restored to favour at this juncture
lie was executed for another alleged treason in this re'gu.

224 KING HENRY VIII. ACT L

Buck. My surveyor is false ; the o er great car

clinal
Hath show'd him gold. My life is spann'd26 al

ready :

I am the shadow of poor Buckingham ;
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts out,*7
By darkening iny clear sun. — My lords, farewell,

[Excuni

SCENE II. The Council-Chamber.

Cornets. Enter King HENRY, Cardinal WOLSFY,
the Lords of the Council, Sir THOMAS LOVELL,
Officers, and Attendants : The King leaning m.\
the Cardinal's Shoulder.

King. My life itself, and the best heart of it,
Thanks you for this great care : I stood i'the level
Of a full charg'd confederacy, and give thanks
To you that chok'd it. — Let be call'd before us
That gentleman of Buckingham's : in person
I'll hear him his confessions justify ;
And point by point the treasons of his master
He shall again relate.

28 That is. measured, the end of it determined. Man's life Is
said in Scripture to be but a span long.

27 The old copies all read, — " Whose figure even this instant
cloud puts on;" out of which it seems impossible to make any
tolerable sense. The changing of on into out was proposed by
Dr. Johnson, and approved by Sir William Blackstone ; and. in
default of any thing better, some of the best editors, as Singer
and Verplanck, have adopted it. With this change, of course the
metaphor turns on the well-known propensity of the sun to cast
shadows, and of such shadows to vanish when his shining is cu
off. So that the meaning can be none other than this : Stripped
of my titles and possessions, I am but the shadow of what I was,
— no longer duke of Buckingham, but only Edward Staflbrd ; and
even this poor figure or shadow a cloud this very instant puts out,
reduces to nothing, by darkening my sun of life. 11.

SC. II. RING HENRY VII». 225

The Ki ig takes his State. The Lords of the Council
take their several Places. The Cardinal places
himself under the King's Feet, on his right Side.

A Noise within, crying, " Room for the Queen ! " En-
ter Queen KATHARINE, ushered by the Dukes of
NORFOLK and SUFFOLK : she kneels. T/te King
riseth from his State, takes her up, kisses, and
placeth her by him.

Kath. Nay, we must longer kneel : I am a suitor.

King. Arise, and take place by us. — Half your

suit

Never name to us ; you have half our power :
The other moiety ere you ask is given ;
Repeat your will, and take it.

Kath. Thank your majesty

That you would love yourself, and in that love
Not uncoiisider'd leave your honour, nor
The dignity of your office, is the point
Of my petition.

King. Lady mine, proceed.

Kath. I am solicited not by a few, '
And those of true condition, that your subjects
Are in great grievance. There have been commis-
sions

Sent down among them, which hath flaw'd the Leart
Of all their loyalties : wherein, although,
My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches
Most bitterly on you, as putter-on
Of these exactions, yet the king our master,
Whose honour Heaven shield from soil ! even he

escapes not

Language unmannerly ; yea, such which breaks
The sides of loyalty, and almost appears
In loud rebellion.

220 KING HENKY VIII. ACT 1

Nor. Not almost appears

It doth appear; for, upon these taxations.
The clothiers all, not able to maintain
The many to them 'longing, have put off
The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers ; who,
Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger
And lack of other means, in desperate manner
Daring th' event to th' teeth, are all in uproar,
And Danger serves among them.1

King. Taxation !

Wherein? and what taxation? — My lord cardinal,
5fou that are blam'd for it alike with us,
Know you of this taxation ?

WoL Please you, sir,

I know but of a single part, in aught
Pertains to th' state ; and front but in that file
Where others tell* steps with me.

Kath. No, my lord,

You know no more than others ; but you frame
Things that are known alike ; 3 which are not whole-
some

To those which would not know them, and yet must
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions
Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are
Most pestilent to th' hearing ; and, to bear 'em,
The back is sacrifice to th' load. They say,
They are devis'd by you ; or else you suffer
Too hard an exclamation.

1 Warburton is full of admiration at this sudden rising of the
poet " to a height truly sublime ! " where by the noblest stretch
of fancy Danger is personified as serving in the rebel army, and
shaking the government.

* To tell was used for to count ; as in the phrase, " keep tally,'
still in use. u.

3 That is, are known in crmmon. She means, that he origi
nates measures, and then gets he council to father them ; so thai
be has the advantage, and the,. ->ear the responsibility, of them

H.

SC. H. KING HENRY VIII. 227

King Still exaction !

The nature of it ? In what kind, let's know,
Is this exaction ?

Kath. I am much too venturous

In tempting of your patience ; but am bolden'd
Under your prornis'd pardon. The subject's grief
Comes through commissions, which compel from

each

The sixth part of his substance, to be levied
Without delay ; and the pretence for this
Is nam'd, your wars in France. This makes bold

mouths :

Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze
Allegiance in them : their curses now
Live where their prayers did ; and it's come to pass,
That tractable obedience is a slave
To each incensed will.4 I would, your highness
Would give it quick consideration, for
There is no primer business.5

King. By my life,

This is against our pleasure.

Wol. And for me,

I have no farther gone in this, than by
A single voice, and that not pass'd me but
By learned approbation of the judges. If I am
Traduc'd by ignorant tongues, which neither know
My faculties nor person, yet will be

4 That is, obedience is subdued, forced to succumb, by indiv'd-
ual will thus provoked. . A.

6 The original has "primer baseness;" which, though it may
yield some intelligible sense, does not fall smooth with the con-
text; for she entreats that the matter may have quick consider-
ation, not because there is nothing more base, but because there
is nothing more pressing, or craving more speedy despatch. Nev-
ertheless, Knight and Collier retain baseness. Warburton uiado
the change. The misprint was an easy one and the detect:nn of
it e'ju'-illy so. H

228 KING HENRY VIII. ACT I

The chronicles of my doing, — let me say,

'Tig but the fate of place, and the rough hrake

That virtue must go through. We must not stint

Our necessary actions, in the fear

To cope malicious censurers ; which ever,

As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow

That is new trimm'd, but benefit no further

Than vainly longing. What we oft do best,

By sick interpreters, once6 weak ones, is

Not ours, or not allow'd ; what worst, as oft,

Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up

For our best act. If we shall stand still,

In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at,

We should take root here where we sit, or sit

State statues only.

King. Things done well

And with a care, exempt themselves from fear;
Things done without example, in their issue
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent
Of this commission ? I believe, not any.
We must not rend our subjects from our laws,
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each?
A trembling contribution ! WThy, we take
From every tree lop, bark, and part o'the timber ;
And, though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd,
The air will drink the sap. To every county
Where this is question'd send our letters, with
Free pardon to each man that has denied
The force of this commission : Pray, look to't ;
I put it to your care.

WoL [To the Secretary.] A word with you.

• Once was not unfrequently used for sometime. Thus Draytou
in his Thirteenth Idea : " This diamond shall once consume to
dust." And in the Merry Wives of Windsor : " I pray thee onct
to-night give my sweet Nan this ring."

3C. Tl. KING HENRY VIII. 229

Let there be letters writ to every shire,

Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd com

mons

Hardly conceive of me : let it be nois'd,
That, through our intercession, this revokement
And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you
Further in the proceeding [Exit Secretary.

Enter Surveyor.

Rath. I am sorry, that the duke of Buckingham
Is run in your displeasure.

King. It grieves many :

The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker ;
To nature none more bound ; his training such,
That he may furnish and instruct great teachers,
And never seek for aid out of himself: Yet see,
When these so noble benefits shall prove
Not well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt,
They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly
Than ever they were fair. This man so complete,
Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we,
Almost with ravish'd listening, could not find
His hour of speech a minute ; he, my lady,
Hath into monstrous habits put the graces
That once were his, and is become as black
As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us ; you shall hear
(This was his gentleman in trust) of him
Things to strike honour sad. — Bid him recount
The fore-recited practices, whereof
We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

Wol. Stand forth ; and with bold spirit relate what

you,

Most like a careful subject, have collected
Out of the duke of Buckingham.

King. Speak freely.

!£*»» KING HF.NRY VIII. ACT 1

Surv. First, it was usual with him, every day
It would infect his speech, that if the king
Should without issue die, he'd carry it so
To make the sceptre his : These very words
I've heard him utter to his son-in-law,
Lord Aberga'ny, to whom by oath he menac'd
Revenge upon the cardinal.

WoL Please your highness, not*

This dangerous conception in this point.
Not friended by his wish, to your high person
His will is most malignant, and it stretches
Beyond you to your friends.

Kath. My learn'd lord cardinal,

Deliver all with charity.

King, Speak on.

How grounded he his title to the crown,
Upon our fail ? to this point hast thou heard him
At any time speak aught 7

Surv. He was brought to this

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.7

King. What was that Henton ?

Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar,

His confessor, who fed him every minute
With words of sovereignty.

7 Of course this is the Nicholas Hopkins mentioned before. He
was sometimes called Henton, from the convent where he belonged.
Thus in Holinshed's account of the matter : " Then Knevet, part-
lie provoked with desire to be revenged, and partlie moved with
hope of reward, openlie confessed that the duke had once fullie
determined to devise nieanes how to make the king away ; being
brought into a full hope that he should be king, by a vain proph-
etic, which one Nicholas Hopkins, a monke of an house of the
Cbartreux order beside Bristow, called Henton, sometime his con-
fessor, had opened unto him." Modern editors generally have
changed the name to Hopkins in the text : the passage quoted
shows them to have been wrong therein. And, indeed, as tho
name occurs twice in as many lines, they were hardly right ia
doing so, even if there were no authority for Henton but the origi-
nal texU H

62. n. KING HENRY VIII. 2'J1

King. How know'st thou this 1

Surv. Not long before your highness sped to

Franco,

The duke being at the Rose, within the parish
St. Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand
What was the speech among the Londoners
Concerning the French journey. I replied,
Men fear'd the French would prove perfidious,
To the king's danger. Presently the duke
Said 'twas the fear indeed ; and that he doubted,
'Twould prove the verity of certain words
Spoke by a holy monk ; " that oft," says he,
44 Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit
John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour
To hear from him a matter of some moment :
Whom after under the confession's seal
He solemnly had sworn, that what he spoke,
My chaplain to no creature living but
To me should utter, with demure confidence
This pausingly ensued, — Neither the king nor is

heirs,

Tell you the duke, shall prosper : bid him strive
To gain the love o'the commonalty : the duke
Shall gotern England." 8

8 The following from the Chronicles will serve as an instance
how minutely the Poet adheres to truth in this play : " The same
duke, the tenth of Maie, in the twelfe yeare of the kings reigne,
at London in a place called the Rose, within the parish of saint
Laurence Poultnie, in Canwike street ward, demanded of the said
Charles Knevet esquier what was the talke amongest the London-
ers concerning the kings journie beyond (he seas. And the said
Charles told him that manie stood in doubt of that journie, least
the Frenchmen meant some deceit towards the king. Whereto
the duke answered, that it was to be feared, least it would come
to passe according to the words of a certeine holie moonke. For
there is, saith he, a Chartreux moonke, that diverse times hath
sent to me willing me to send unto him my chancellor. And I
did send unto him John de la Court my chapleine, unto whome h«

232 KING HENRY VIII. ACT I

Rnth. If I know you well,

You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office
On the complaint o'the tenants : take good heed,
You charge not in your spleen a noble person,
And spoil your nobler soul. 1 say, take heed ;
Yes, heartily beseech you.9

King. Let him on. —

Go forward.

Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth.

I toll my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions
The monk might be deceiv'd ; and that 'twas dan-
gerous for him

To ruminate on this so far, until
It forg'd him some design, wluch, being believ'd,
It was much like to do : He answer'd, " Tush !
It can do me no damage ; " adding further,
That had the king in his last sickness fail'd

would not declare anie thing-, till de la Court had sworne to keep
all thing's secret, and to tell no creature livingwhat hee should heare
of him. except it were to me. And then the said moonke told de la
Court that neither the king nor his heires should prosper, and that
I should indeavour myselfe to purchase the good wils of the com-
munaltie ; for I the same duke and my bloud should prosper, and
nave the rule of the realme of England." H.

9 The honourable part which Katharine is made to, act in this
scene is unwarranted by history, save that, such was the reverence
inspired by her virtue and sagacity, she served generally as a check
both upon the despotic temper of her husband, and the all-grasp-
ing rapacity of his minister ; as appears by the king's becoming
such an inexpressible compound of cruelty, meanness, and lust,
when her influence was withdrawn. The matter to which she here
aliii 'es is thus narrated by Holinshed : " It chanced that the duke,
comming to London to attend the king into France, went before
into Kent unto a manor place which he had there. And whitest
he staid in that countrie till the king set forward, greevous com-
plaints were exhibited to him by his farmars and tenants against
Charles Knevet bis surveiour, for such bribing as he had used
there amongest them. Whereupon the duke tooke such displeasure
against him, that he deprived him of his office, not knowing how
that iu so dooing he procured his owne destruction, as after ap-
peared." H.

SC. II KING HENRY VIII. 233

Tl ie cardinal's and Sir Thomas Lovell's heads
Should have gone off.

King. Ha ! what, so rank 1 Ah, ha

There's mischief in this man. — Canst thou say
further ?

Surv I can, my liege.

King. Proceed.

Surv. Being at Greenwich,

After your highness had reprov'd the duke
About S'r William Blomer, —

King. I remember

Of such a time: — Being my servant sworn,
The duke retain 'd him his. — But on : what hence 1

Surv. " If," quoth he, " I for this had been com-
mitted,

As, to the Tower, I thought, — I would have play'd
The part my father meant to act upon
The usurper Richard ; who, being at Salisbury,
Made suit to come in 's presence ; which if granted.
As he made semblance of his duty, would
Have put his knife into him."10

10 It will have been observed that the business of this scene is
carried with somewhat the precision of legal proceedings. The
matter was derived originally from Hall who was himself a lawyer,
was of a manly age a! the time, and had access to the official
records of the trial. Here, as in many other places, Holinshed
copied Hall so closely as to leave it uncertain from which of them
the Poet drew. The following passage will further illustrate the
point of the preceding note : " The same duke, on the fourth of
November, in the eleventh yere of the kings reigne, at eas Green-
wich in the countie of Kent, said unto one Charles Knevet esquier,
after that the king had reprooved the duke for reteining IVilliara
Bulmer knight in his service, that if he had perceived that he
should have been committed to the Tower, hee would have so
wrought, that the principal! dooers therein should not have had
cause of great rejoising. For he would have plaied the part which
bis father intended to have put in practise against king Richard
the third at Salisburie, who made earenest sine to have come unto
the presence of the same king Richard ; which sute if he nvghl

234 KING HENRY VIII. ACT I

King. A giant traitor!

Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live hi

freedom,
And this man out of prison?

Rath. God mend all !

King. There's something more would out of
thee : what say'st ?

Surv. After "the duke his father," with "the

knife,"

He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his daggei
Another spread on 's breast, mounting his eyes,
He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose tenour
Was, — were he evil-us'd, he would outgo
His father by as much as a performance
Does an irresolute purpose.

King. There's his period,

To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd;
Call him to present trial : if he may
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none,
Let him not seek't of us. By day and night,"
He's traitor to the height. [Exeunt

have obteined, he, having a knife secretlie about him, would have
thrust it into the bodie of king Richard, as he had made semblance
to kneele downe before him. And in speaking these words he
maliciouslie laid his hand upon his dagger, and said that if he
were so evill used, he would doo his best to accomplish his pur-
pose, swearing, to confirme his word, by the bloud of our Lord."
— See King Richard III., Act v. sc. 1, note 1. H.

11 By day and night is simply an adjuration ; not meaning that
he w a traitor night and day ; which were a little too flat. B

'. in. KING HENR5T VI11. 235

SCENE III. A Room in the Palace.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain, and Lord SANDS.'
Cham. Is't possible, the spells of France should

Men into such strange mysteries ? *

Sands. New customs,

Though they be never so ridiculous,
Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd.

Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English
Have got by the late voyage is but merely
A fit or two o' the face ; 3 but they are shrewd ones ;
For when they hold 'em, you would swear directly,
Their very noses had been counsellors
To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so.

Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones :

one would take it,

That never saw 'em pace before, the spavin
Oi springhalt reign'd among them.4

1 Shakespeare has placed this scene in 1521. Charles Somer-
set, earl of Worcester, was then lord chamberlain, and continued
in the office until his death, in 1526. But Cavendish, from whom
this was originally taken, places this event at a later period, when
Lord Sands himself was chamberlain. Sir William Sands, of the
Vine, near Basingstoke, Hants, was created a peer in 1527. He
succeeded the earl of Worcester as chamberlain.

* Mysteries are arts, and here artificial fashions.

* A fit of the face seems to be a grimace, an artificial cast of
ho countenance.

4 The spavin, it scarce need be said, and the springhalt, or
rtringhalt, as it is sometimes called, are two diseases of horses,
iltogether different in their origin, nature, symptoms, and effects.
Which being the case, it would seem that no one, so well ac-
quainted with horse-flesh as Shakespeare elsewhere shows himself
lo be, could possibly confound them, either name or thing. Yei
(he original reads, " the spavin A springhalt reigu'd among them,"
»s if they were one and the same disease. So that there can be
'jttle doubt that A was a misprint for Or • unless it should be And

236 KING HF.NRY VIII. ACT L

Cham, Death ! my lord,

Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too,
That, sure, they've worn out Christendom. How

now

What news, Sir Thomas Lovell ?

Enter Sir THOMAS LOVELL.

Lon 'Faith, my lord,

I hear of none, but the new proclamation
That's clapp'd upon the court gate.

Cham. What is't for 1

Lov. The reformation of our travell'd gallants,
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors.

Cham. I am glad 'tis there : now, I would pray

our monsieurs

To think an English courtier may be wise,
And never see the Louvre.

Lov. They must either

(For so run the conditions) leave those remnants
Of fool and feather,5 that they got in France,
With all their honourable points of ignorance
Pertaining thereunto, as fights and fireworks ;
Abusing better men than they can be,

as Mr. Verplanck has it. Or is derived from Mr. Collier's newly,
discovered folio of 1632. H.

* The text may receive illustration from Nashe's Life of Jacke
Wilton, 1594 : " At that time I was no common squire, no under-
trodden torchbearer : I had my feather in my cap as big as a. flag
in the foretop ; my French doublet gelte in the belly ; a paire of
side-paned hose, that hung down like two scales filled with Holland
cneeses ; my long stock that sate close to my dock ; my rapier
pendant, like a round sticke ; my blacke cloake of cloth, over-
spreading my backe lyke a thornbacke or an elephant's eare ; and,
in consummation of my curiositie, my handes without gloves, all
a mode French." Mr. Douce justly observes that Sir Thomas
Lovell's is an allusion to the feathers which were formerly worn
by fools in their caps, as may he seen in a print of Jordan's after
Voert ; and which are allotted to in the Ballad of News and no
News i " And feathers wagging in a fool's cap."

SC. III. KINO HENRY VIII. 237

Out of a foreign wisdom ; renouncing clean

The faith they have in tennis and tall stockings,

Short blister'd breeches6 and those types of travel,

And understand again like honest men ;

Or pack to their old playfellows : there, I take it,

They may, cum privilcgio, wear away

The lag end of their lewdness, and be laugh'd at.

Sands. 'Tis time to give 'em physic, their dis-
eases
Are grown so catching.

Cham. What a loss our ladies

Will have of these trim vanities !

Lov. Ay, marry,

There will be woe indeed, lords : the sly whoresons
Have got a speeding trick to lay down ladies ;
A French song, and a fiddle, has no fellow.

Sands. The devil fiddle 'em ! I am glad they are

going,

For, sure, there's no converting of 'em : now,
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten
A long time out of play, may bring his plain song,
And have an hour of hearing ; and, by'r lady,
Held current music too.

Cham. Well said, Lord Sands:

Your colt's tooth is not cast yet.

Sands. No, my lord;

Nor shall not, while I have a stump.

Cham. Sir Thomas,

Whither were you a-going?

Lov. To the cardinal's:

Your lordship is a guest too.

C/iam. O ! 'tis true :

This night he makes a supper, and a great one,

* That is, breeches putted 01 swelled out like Hitter*

238 KING HENRY VIII. ACT L

To many lords and ladies ; there will be
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you.

Lov. That churchman bears a bounteous mind in-
deed,

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us :
His dews fall every where.

Cham No doubt, he's noble ;

He had a black mouth that said other of him.

Sands. He may, my lord ; he has wherewithal .

in him,

Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine
Men of his way should be most liberal ;
They are set here for examples.

Cham. True, they are so ;

But few now give so great ones. My barge stays ; *
Your lordship shall along : — Come, good Sir Thomas,
We shall be late else; which I would not be,
For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford,
This night to be comptrollers.

Sands. I am your lordship's,

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Presence-Chamber in York-Place.

Hautboys. A small Table under a State for the Car-
dinal, a longer Table for the Gfucsts. Enter at one
Door ANNE BOLEYN, and divers Lords, Ladies, ana
Gentlewomen, as Guests ; at another Door, enter &ir
HENRY GUILFORD.

Guil. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace
'Salutes ye all : this night he dedicates

7 The speaker is now in the king's palace at Bridewell from
*dence he is proceeding by water to York-Place.

SC. IV. KING HENRY VIII. 23

To fair content, and you. None heie, he hopes,
In all this noble bevy,1 has brought with her
One care abroad: he would have all as merry
As, first, good company, good wine, good welcome,
Can make good people. — O, my lord ! y' are
tardy :

Enter tlie Lord Cliamberlain, Lord SANDS, and SSr
THOMAS LOVELL.

The very thought of this fair company
Clapp'd wings to me.

Cham. You are young, Sir Harry Guilford

Sands. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal
But half my lay-thoughts in him, some of these
Should find a running banquet ere they rested
I think would better please 'em : By my life,
They are a sweet society of fair ones.

Lov. O, that your lordship were but now con

fessor
To one or two of these !

Sands. 1 would I were .

They should find easy penance.

Lov. 'Faith, how easyl

Sands. As easy as a down bed would afford it.

Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit] Sir

Harry,

Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this :
His grace is entering. — Nay, you must not free/o ;
Two women plac'd together makes cold weather. —

1 A bevy is a company. In the curious catalogue of " the
companyes of bestys and foules " in the Book of St. Albans, it is
said to be ihe proper term for a company of ladies, of roes, and
of qnailes. Its origin is yet to seek. Spenser has " a bevy of
Indies Sright " in his Shepherd'-! Calendar, " a lovely bevy of faira
l.-iriics" in his Faerie Qneene, and Milton has "a bevy of fair
'lames.'"

240 KING HENRY VI FT ACT I

My Lord Sands, you are one will keep 'em waking
Pray, sit between these ladies.

Sands. By my faith,

And thank your lordship. — By your leave, sweet
ladies : [Seats himself between ANNE Bo-
LEYN and another Lady.
If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me;
I had it from my father.

Anne. Was he mad, sir?

Sands. O ! very mad, exceeding mad ; in love too ,
But he would bite none : just as I do now,
He would kiss you twenty with a breath.

[Kisses her.

Cham. Well said, my lord. —

So, now you are fairly seated. — Gentlemen,
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies
Pass away frowning.

Sands. For my little cure,

Let me alone.

Hautboys. Enter Cardinal WOLSEY, attended; and
takes his State.

WoL Y' are welcome, my fair guests : that noble

lady,

Or gentleman, that is not freely merry,
Is not my friend. This, to confirm my welcome;
And to you all good health. [Drinks

Sands. Your grace is noble

Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks,
And save me so much talking.

Wol. My Lord Sands,

I am beholding to you: cheer your neighbours. —
Ladies, you are not merry: — Gentlemen,
Whose fault is this ?

Sands. The red wine rirst must rise

SO. IV. KING HENRY VIII. 241

In their fair cheeks, my lord ; then we shall have 'em
Talk us to silence.

Anne. You are a merry gamester,
My Lord Sands.

Sands. Yes, if I make my play.*
Here's to your ladyship ; and pledge it, madam,
For 'tis to such a thing, —

Anne. You cannot show me.

Sands. I told your grace they would talk anon.
[Drum and Trumpets within : Chambers l
discharged.

Wul What's that!

Cham. Look out there, some of you.

[Exit a Servant

Wol. What warlike voice,

And to what end is this? — Nay, ladies, fear not;
By all the laws of war you are privileg'd.

Re-enter Servant.

Cham. How now ! what is't ?

Serv. A noble troop of strangers,

For so they seem: they've left their barge, and

landed ;

And hither make, as great ambassadors
From foreign princes.

Wol. Good lord chamberlain,

Go, give 'em welcome ; you can speak the French

tongue :
And, pray, receive 'em nobly, ana conduct 'em

2 That is, if I may choose my game.

* Chambers are short pieces of ordnance, standing1 almost erect
upon their breechtrigs, chiefly used upon festive occasions, being
so contrived as to carry great charges, and make a loud report.
They aad their name from being little more than mere chambert
to lodge powder ; that being the technical name for that :avity id
a gun which coin-', ns the powder.

242 KING HENRY VIII. ACT I

Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty

Shall shine at full upon them. — Some attend him

[Exit the Chamberlain, attended. AH arise,

and Tables removed.

You have now a broken banquet ; but we'll mend it
A good digestion to you all ; and once more
F shower a welcome on ye: — Welcome all. —

Hautboys. Enter the King and Others, as Maskers,
habited like Shepherds, ushered by the Lord Cham-
berlain. They pass directly before the Cardina',
and gracefully salute him.

A noble company ! what are their pleasures '? 4

4 The account of this banquet at York-Place was copied by
Holinshed from The Life of Master Thomas Wolsey by Caven-
dish, his Gentleman-Usher. The following will instance how lit-
tle the Poet was here beholden to his invention : " The king came
suddenlie thither in a maske with a dozen other maskers, all in
garments like sheepheards, made of fine cloth of gold and crimson
sattin paned, and caps of the same, with visards of good phys-
nomie, their haires and beards either of fine gold-wire silke or
blacke silke. He came by water to the water-gate without anie
noise, where were laid diverse chambers charged, and at his land-
ing they were shot off, which made such a rumble in the aire. that
it was like thunder. It made all the noblemen, gentlemen, ladies,
and gentlewomen to muse what it should meane, comming so sud-
denlie, they sitting quiet at, a solemne banket. Then immediate-
.ie the chamberlaine and comptroller were sent to looke what it
should meane, as though they knew nothing of the matter; who
looking out of the windowes into the Thames, returned and shewed
him, that it seemed they were noblemen and strangers that arrived
at his bridge, comming as ambassadours from some forren prince
With that quoth the cardinal!, I desire you, because you can
speake French, to go into the hall, there to receive them accord-
ing to their estates, and to conduct them into this chamber, where
they shall see us and all these noble personages being merrie at oui
banket, desiring them to sit downe with us and take par. of out
fare. At their entering into the chamber two and two togither,
they went directlie before the cardinal!, and saluted him reverent
lie. To whome the lord chamberlaine for them said, — Sir, for-
asmuch as they be strangers, and cannot speake English, the}
have desired me to declare unto you, that they, having under-

SC. IV. KING HENRY VIII. 243

Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they

pray'd

To tell your grace : — That, having heard by Tame
Of this so noble and so fair assembly
This night to meet here, they could do no less,
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty,
But leave their flocks ; and, under your fair conduct,
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat
An hour of revels with them.

Wol. Say, lord chamberlain,

They have done my poor house grace ; for which I

pay 'em

A thousand thanks, and pray 'em take their pleas-
ures. [Ladies chosen for the Dance. The

King chooses ANNE BOLEYN.
King. The fairest hand I ever touch'd ! O.

beauty !
Till now I never knew thee.* [Music. Dance.

standing1 of this banket, where was assembled such a number of
excellent dai.ies, could do no lesse under support of your grace,
but to repaire hither, to view as well their incomparable beautie,
as to accompanie them at mum-chance, and then to danse with
them." H.

5 This incident of the king's dancing with Anne Boleyn did not
occur during the banquet at York-House, but is judiciously intro-
duced here from another occasion. Which occasion was a grand
entertainment given by the king at Greenwich, May 5, 1527, to
'he French ambassadors who had come to negotiate a marriage
Detween their king, Francis, I., or his son, the duke of Orleans,
and the Princess Mary. First a grand tournament was held, and
three hundred lances broken ; then came a course of songs and
dances. About midnight, the king, the ambassadors, and six oth-
ers withdrew, disguised themselves as Venetian noblemen, re-
turned, and took out ladies to dance, the king having Anne Bo-
leyn for his partner. As Holinshed says nothing about this matter,
the Poet probably derived it from Hall or Cavendish, who give
detailed accounts of it. The latter thus describes the impression
made by the queen and her ladies : " They seemed to all men to
be rather celestial angels descended from heaven than flesh and
hnne. Surely, to me, simple soul, it was inestimable." H

244 KING HF.NRY VIII. ACT 1,

Wol My lord, —

Cham. Your grace '

Wol. Pray, tell 'em thus much from me :

There should be one amongst 'em, by his person,
More worthy this place than myself; to whom,
If I but knew him, with my love and duty
I would surrender it.

Cliam. I will, my lord.

[fie goes to the Maskers, and returns

Wol What say they?

Cliam. Such a one, they all confess,

There is indeed ; which they would have your grace
Find out, and he will take it.

Wol. [Coming from his state.'] Let me see then. —
By all your good leaves, gentlemen, here I'll make
My royal choice.

King. [Unmasking.] You have found him, car-
dinal.

You hold a fair assembly ; you do well, lord :
You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal,
I should judge now unhappily."

8 Thai is, waggishly, or mischievously. Shakespeare often uses
unhappy and its derivatives in this sense. See Much Ado about
Nothing, Act ii. sc. 1, note 21. — From the account of this passage,
as given by Cavendish and copied by Holinshed, it will be seen
that the Poet took a little freedom here with fact : " Then quoth
the cardinall to the lord chamberlaine, I pray you, shew them that
meseemeth there should be a nobleman amongst them, who is more
meet to occupie this seat than I am ; to whome I would most glad-
lie surrender the same, if I knew him. Then spake the lord cham-
berlaine to them in French, and, they rounding him in the eare,
said, — Sir, they confesse that among them there is such a noble
personage, whom if your grace can appoint out from the rest, he
is content to disclose himselie, and to accept your place. Taking
good advisement among them, at the last quoth he, meseemeth the
gentleman with the blacke beard should be even he ; and with that
he arose out of his chaire, and offered the same to the gentleman
ID the blacke beard. The person was Sir Edward Nevill, a come

SC. IV. KING HENRY VIII. 245

Wul. I am glad

Your grace is grown so pleasant.

King. My lord chamberlain,

Pr'ythee, come hither : What fair lady's that 1

Cham. An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bo-

leyn's daughter, —

The Viscount Rochford, — one of her highness'
women.

King. By Heaven, she is a dainty one. — Sweet,

heart,

I were unmannerly to take you out,
And not to kiss you.7 — A health, gentlemen!
Let it go round.

Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready
I* the privy chamber ?

Lov. Yes, my lord.

Wol. Your grace,

I fear, with dancing is a little heated.

King. I fear, too much.

Wol. There's fresher air, my lord,

In the next chamber.8

lie knight, that much more resembled the kings person in that
inaske than auie other. The king, perceiving the cardinall so de
reived, could not forbeare laughing, but pulled downe his visar and
master Nevills also, and dashed out such a pleasant countenance
and cheere, that all the noble estates there assembled, perceiving
the king to be among them, rejoised verie much." H.

7 A kiss was anciently the established fee of a lady's partner.
Thus in A Dialogue between Custom and Veritie, concerning the
Use and Abuse of Dauncing and Minstrelsie :

" But some reply, what foole would daunce,

If that when daunce is doon
He may not have at ladyes lips
That which in daunce he woon."

* According to Cavendish, the king, on discovering himself, be-
ing desired by Wolsey to take his place under the state or seat
of honour, said <•' that ha would go first and shift his apparel and

246 KING HENRY VIII. ACT IL

King. Lead in your ladies, every one. — Svvtct

partner,

I must not yet forsake you. — Let's be merry,
Good my lord cardinal : I have half a dozen healths
To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure
To lead 'em once again ; and then let's dream
Who's best in favour. — Let the music knock it.'

[Exeunt, with Trumpets

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Street.

Enter two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. Whither away so fast 1

2 Gent. O ! — God save you
E'en to the hall, to hear what shall become

Of the great duke of Buckingham.

so departed, and went straight into my lord's bedchamber, whero
a great fire was made and prepared for him, and there new ap
parelled him with rich and princely garments. And in the time
of the king's absence the dishes of the banquet were cleane taken
Dp, and the tables spread with new and sweet perfumed cloths.—
Then the king took his seat under the cloth of estate, command-
ing no man to remove, but set still as they did before. Then in
came a new banquet before the king's majesty, and to all the rest
through the tables, wherein, I suppose were served two hundred
dishes or above. Thus passed they forth the whole night with
banquetting."

* The use of this phrase for " let the music play," probably
sprung from beating time, as beating the drum. Thus in Antonio
and Mellida :

" Fla. Faith, the song will seem to come off hardly,
Catz. Troth, not a whit, if you seem to come off quickly
Fla. Pert Catzo, knock it then."

30. 1. KING HENRY VIII. 247

1 Gent. I'll save you
That labour, sir. All's now done, but the cere-
mony

Of bringing back the prisoner.

2 Gent. Were you there 7

1 Gent. Yes indeed was I.

2 Gent. Pray, speak, what has happen'dl

1 Gent. You may guess quickly what.

2 Gent. Is he found guilty 1

1 Gent. Yes, truly is he, and condemn'd upon it.

2 Gent. I am sorry for't.

1 Gent. So are a number more.

2 Gent. But, pray, how pass'd it 1

1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke
Came to the bar; where to his accusations

He pleaded still not guilty, and alleg'd
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law.
The king's attorney, on the contrary,
Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions
Of divers witnesses, which the duke desir'd
To have brought, viva voce, to his face ;
At which appear'd against him his surveyor,
Sir Gilbert Peck his chancellor, and John Car,
Confessor to him ; with that devil-monk,
Hopkins, that made this mischief.

2 Gent. That was he
That fed him with his prophecies ?

1 Gent. The same.

All these accus'd him strongly ; which he fain .
Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could

not:

And so his peers, upon this evidence,
Have found him guilty of high treason. Much
He spoke, and learnedly, for life ; but all
Was either pitied in liim, or forgotten.

248 KING HENKY VIII. ACT It

2 Gent. After all this, how did he bear himself?

1 Gent. When he was brought again to the bar

to hear

His knell rung out, his judgment, he was stirr'd
With such an agony, he sweat extremely,
And something spoke in choler, ill, and hasty ;
But he fell to himself again, and sweetly
In all the rest show'd a most noble patience.

2 Gent. I do not think he fears death.

1 Gent. Sure, he does not
He never was so womanish : the cause

He may a little grieve at.

2 Gent. Certainly,
The cardinal is the end of this.

1 Gent. 'Tis likely,

By all conjectures : first, Kildare's attainder,
Then deputy of Ireland ; who remov'd,
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too,
Lest he should help his father.1

1 This was in April, 1520, and was immediately occasioned by
the duke's opposition to Wolsey's projected meeting of Henry
and Francis. Holinshed's account of it is so illustrative of Wol-
sey's character, that it may well be given : " The duke could not
abide the cardinal), and had of late conceived an inward malice
•gairst him for sir William Bulmer's cause. Now such greevous
words as the duke uttered came to the cardinals eare ; whereupon
he cast all waies possible to have him in a trip, that he might
cause him to leape headlesse. But bicause he doubted his freends,
kinnesmen, and allies, and cheeflie the earle of Surrie lord adme-
rall, which had married the dukes daughter, he thought good first
to send him some whither out of the waie. There was great en-
mitie betwixt the cardinal! and the earle, for that on a time, when
the cardinal! tooke upon him to cherke the earle, he bad like to
have thrust his dagger into the cardinal!. At length there was
occasion offered him to compasse his purpose, by the earle of Kil-
dare his commiog out of Ireland. For the cardinal!, knowing ha
was well provided with mouie, sought occasion to fleece him of
part thereof. The earle, being unmarried, was desirous to liavo
an English woman to wife ; and for that he was a suter to a widow
tomrarie to the cardinals mind, he accused him to the king, that

SC I. IUNG HENRY VIII. 249

2 Gent. That trick of state

Was a deep envious one.

1 Gent. At his return,
No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted,
And generally ; whomever the king favours,
The cardinal instantly will find employment,
And far enough from court too.

2 Gent. All the common*
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience,
Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much
They love and dote on; call him bounteous Buck*

ingham,
The mirror of all courtesy, —

1 Gent. Stay there, sir ,
And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of.

Enter BUCKINGHAM from his Arraignment : Tijt-
staves before him ; the Axe with the Edge towards
him ; Halberds on each side : with him, Sir THOM-
AS LOVELL, Sir NICHOLAS VAUX, Lord SANDS,
and common People.

2 Gent. Let's stand close, and behold him.
Kuck. All good people,

You that thus far have come to pity me,

Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me.

I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment,

And by that name must die : yet, Heaven bear

witness,

And if I have a conscience let it sink me,
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful.

he had not borne liimselfe uprightlie in his office in Ireland. Such
accusations were framed against him. that he was committed lo
prison, and then by the cardinals good preferment the earle of
8urrie was sent into Ireland a* the kiugs depulie, there to i«maina
rather as an exile (ban as lieutenant, as he himself well per-
ceived " H

250 KING HENRY VIII. ACT II.

Tne law F hear no malice for my death ;

It has done, upon the premises, but justice ;

But those that sought it I could wish morechristia&s :

Be what they will, I heartily forgive 'em.

Yet let 'em look they glory not in mischief,

Nor build their evils on the graves of great men •

For then my guiltless blood must cry against 'em.

For further life in this world I ne'er hope,

Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies

More than I dare make faults. You few that Wd

me,

And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham,
His noble friends and fellows, whom to leave
Is only bitter to him, only dying,
Go with me like good angels to my end ;
And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me,
Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice,
And lift my soul to heaven. — Lead on, o' God's

name.

Lov. I do beseech your grace, for charity,
It ever any malice in your heart
Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly.

Buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you
As I would be forgiven : I forgive all ;
There cannot be those numberless offences
Gains" me, that I cannot take peace with : no black

envy

Shall make my grave.2 — Commend me to his grace ;
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him
You met him half in heaven. My vows and prayers
Yet are the king's, and, till my soul forsake,

* That is, no action expressive of malice shall close my life.
Envy is elsewhere used by Shakespeare for -malice CT hatred.
"\Varburton would read " mark my grave , " a very plausible
emendation of au error easily made.

6C. I. KING HENRY VIII. 251

Shall cry for blessings on him : may he live
Longer than 1 have time to tell his years !
Ever belov'd and loving may his rule be !
And, when old Time shall lead him to his end,
Goodness and he fill up one monument!

Lov. To the water side I must conduct your grace;
Then give my charge up to Sir Nicholas Vaux,
Who undertakes you to your end.

Vaux. Prepare there I

The duke is coming : see the barge be ready ;
And fit it with such furniture as suits
The greatness of his person.

Buck. Nay, Sir Nicholas,

Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me.
When I came hither, I was lord high constable,
And duke of Buckingham ; now, poor Edward Bo-

hun:3

Yet I am richer than my base accusers,
That never knew what truth meant : I now seal it ;
And with that blood will make 'em one day groan

for't.

My noble father, Henry of Buckingham,
Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard,
Flying for succour to his servant Banister,
Being distress'd, was by that wretch betray'd,
And without trial fell : God's peace be with him !
Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying
My father's loss, like a most royal prince
Restor'd me to my honours, and out of ruins
Made my name once more noble. Now his son,
Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all

1 The name of the duke of Buckingham most generally know*
was Stafford ; it is said that he affected the surname of Bohun,
because he was lord high constable of England by inheritance of
tenure from the Bohuns.

252 KING HENRY VIII. ACT II

That made me happy, at one stroke '^as taken

For ever from the world. I had my trial,

And must needs say a noble one ; which makes me

A little happier than my wretched father :

Yet thus far we are one in fortunes, — both

Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd mosl :

A most unnatural and faithless service!

Heaven has an end in all : Yet, you that hear me,

This from a dying man receive as certain :

Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels,

Be sure you be not loose ; 4 for those you make

friends,

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away
Like water from ye, never found again
But where they mean to sink ye. All good people
Pray for me ! I must now forsake ye ; the last hour
Of my long weary life is come upon me.
Farewell : and when you would say something that

is sad,
Speak how I fell. — I have done, and God forgive

me ! * [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, Sfc.

* This expression occurs again in Othello :

" There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs."

» Buckingham was executed May 17, 1521. The dnkeof Nor
folk presided at his trial, and passed sentence upon him. After
relating which, Holinshed adds the following : " The duke of Buck-
ingham said, — 'My lord of Norffolke, you have said as a traitor
should be said unto, but I was never anie. But, my lords, 1
nothing maligne you for that you have doone to me ; but the eter-
nall God forgive you my death, as I doo ! I shall never sue to
the king for life ; howbeit, he is a gracious prince, and more grace
may come from him than 1 desire. I desire you, my lords, and
all mv fellowes to pray for me.' Then was the edge of the axe
turned towards him, and he led into a barge. Sir Thomas LovelJ
desired him to sit on the cushions and carpets ordeined for him
He said, — < Nav -. for when I went to Westminster I was duke

SC. 1. KING HENRY VIII. 253

1 Gent. O ! this is full of pity. — Sir, it calls,
I fear, too many curses on their heads

That were the authors.

2 Gent. If the duke be guiltless.
'Tis full of woe : yet I can give you inkling

Of an ensuing evil, if it fall,
Greater than this.

1 Gent. Good angels keep it from us !
What may it be? You do not doubt my faith, sir?

2 Gent. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require
A strong faith6 to conceal it.

1 Gent. Let me have it:
I do not talk much.

2 Gent. I am confident :

You shall, sir. Did you not of late days hear
A buzzing of a separation
Between the king and Katharine ?

1 Gent. Yes, but it held not
For, when the king once heard it, out of anger
He sent command to the lord mayor straight

To stop the rumour, and allay those tongues
That durst disperse it.

2 Gent. But that slander, sir,
Is found a truth now ; for it grows again
Fresher than e'er it was, and held for certain
The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal,
Or some about him near, have out of malice

To the good queen possess'd him with a scruple
That will undo her : To confirm this, too,
Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately ;
As all think, for this business.

of Buckingham ; now I am but Edward Bohunc, the most eai'tife
of the world.' Thus they landed at the Temple, and led him
through the citie, who desired ever the people to pray for him, o(
whom some went and lamented." n

* Great fidelity.

254 KING HENRY VIII. ACT IT.

1 Gent. 'Tis the cardinal :
And merely to revenge liim on the emperor,

For not hestovving on him, at his asking,
The archbishopric of Toledo, this is purpos'd.

2 Gent. I think you have hit the mark : But is'l

not cruel,

That she should feel the smart of this 1 The cardinal
Will have his will, and she must fall.

1 Gent. 'Tis wofiil.

We are too open here to argue this ;
Let's think in private more. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. An Antechamber in the Palace,

Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a Letter.

Cham. My lord, — The horses your lordship sent for,
with all the care I had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and fur
nish'd. They were young and handsome, and of the best
breed in the north. When they were ready to set out for
London, a man of my lord cardinal's, by commission and
main power, took 'em from me ; with this reason, — Hia
master would be serv'd before a subject, if not before the
king ; which stopp'd our mouths, sir.

I fear, he will indeed. Well, let him have them :
He will have all, I think.

Enter the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.'
Nor. Well met, my good lord chamberlain.

1 Charles Brandon, the present duke of Suffolk, was son of Sir
William Brandon, slain by Richard at the battle of Bosworth. He
was created duke of Suffolk in February, 1514, and in March,
1515, was married to Mary, youngest sister of the king', a /id wid-
ow of Louis the Twelfth of France. He had been her lover be-
fore her first marriage ; and when the king would have contracted
her a second time to a foreign prince, she told him plainly that sh«

SC. H. KING HENRY VIII. 255

C/iam. Good day to both your graces.

Suf. How is the king employ'd ?

Cham. I left him private,

Full of sad thoughts and troubles.

Nor. What's the cause]

Cham. It seems, the marriage with his brother's

wife
Has crept too near his conscience.

Suf. No; his conscience

Has crept too near another lady.

Nor. Tis so.

This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal :
That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune,
Turns what lie list. The king will know him one day.

Suf. Pray God, he do : he'll never know himself
else.

Nor. How holily he works in all his business !
And with what zeal ! For, now he has crack'd the

league
Between us and the emperor, the queen's great

nephew,

He dives into the king's soul, and there scatters
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience,
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his marriage ;
And, out of all these to restore the king,
He counsels a divorce ; a loss of her,
That like a jewel has hung twenty years
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre;
Ol' her, that loves him with that excellence
That angels love good men with ; even of her

had married once to please him, and wouid do it now to plaase
hersulf, or else take religious vows in a convent. Suffolk was
reckoned among the most able and accomplished noblemen of Ills
time, ho\h in the cabinet and the Geld H

256 KING HENRY VIII. ACT 11

That, when the greatest stroke of f-;rttne falls,
Will bless the king. And is not this course pious?

Cham. Heaven keep me from such counsel ! 'Tis

most true,
These news are every where ; every tongue sjeaks

'em,

And every true heart weeps for't. All that dare
Look into these affairs see this main end, —
The French king's sister.2 Heaven will one day

open

The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon
This bold bad man.

Suf. And free us from his slavery

Nor. We had need pray,
And heartily, for our deliverance ;
Or this imperious man will work us all
From princes into pages : all men's honours
Lie like one lump before him, to be fashion'd
Into what pitch he please.

Suf. For me, my lords,

I love him not, nor fear him ; there's my creed.
As I am made without him, so I'll stand,
If the king please : his curses and his blessings
Touch me alike ; they're breath L not believe in.
I knew him, and I know him ; so I leave him
To him that made liim proud, the pope.

Nor. Let's in,

And with some other business put the king
From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon

him. —
My lord, you'll bear us company]

Cham. Excuse me ;

* It was the main end or object of Wolsey to bring about a
marriage between Henry and the French king's sister, the ducbesi
of AleiiQon.

SO. II. KING HENRY VIII. 257

The king hath sent me other-where : besides,
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him.
Health to your lordships.

Nur. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain.

[Exit Lord Chamberlain.

NORFOLK opens a folding Door. The King is dis-
covered sitting, and reading pensively.3

Suf. How sad he looks ! sure, he is much afflicted

King. Who is there ? ha !

Nor. 'Pray God, he be not angry.

King. Who's there, I say 1 How dare you thrust

yourselves

Into my private meditations ?
Who am I? ha !

Nor. A gracious king, that pardons all offences
Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty tliis way
Is business of estate ; in which we come
To know your royal pleasure.

King. You are too bold :

Go to; I'll make ye know your times of business :
Is this an hour for temporal affairs 1 ha ! —

Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.

Who's there ? my good lord cardinal 1 — O ! my

Wolsey,
The quiet of my wounded conscience ;

1 The stage direction in the old copy is singular — " Exit Lord
Chamberlain, and the King draws the curtain and sits reading pen-
sively." — This was calculated for the state of the theatre in Shake-
speare's time. When a person was to be discovered in a different
apartment from that in which the original speakers in the scene are
exhibited, the artless mode of that time was, to place surh person
,n the back part of the stage, behind the curtains which were oc-
casionally suspended across it. These the person who was to ba
discovered drew back just at the proper time.

'258 KING HENRY VILI. ACT 1 .

Thou art a cure fit for a king. — [To CAMP ] You're

welcome,

Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom .
Use us and it. — [ To WOLS.] My good lord, bave

great care
I be not found a talker.4 ,

Wol. Sir, you cannot.

I would your grace would give us but an bour
Of private conference.

King. [ To NORF. and SUF.] We are busy : go.

Nor. [Aside to SUF.] This priest has no pride in
him.

Suf. [Aside to NORF.] Not to speak of;
I would not be so sick though s for his place
But this cannot continue.

Nor. [Aside to SUF.] If it do,
I'll venture one have at him.

Suf. [Aside to NORF.] I another.

[Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK.

Wol. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom
Above all princes, in committing freely
Your scruple to the voice of Christendom.
Who can be angry now ? what envy reach you ?
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her,
Must now confess, if they have any goodness,
The trial just and noble. All the clerks,
I mean the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms,
Gave their free voices : Rome, the nurse of judg-
ment,

Invited by your noble self, hath sent
One general tongue unto us, this good man,

4 The meaning appears to be, " Let care be taken that my
promise be performed, that my professions of welcome be no<
(bund empty talk."

* That is, so sick as he is proud.

hC. II. ivING HENRV VIII. 5^9

This just and learned priest, Cardinal Campeius ;
Whom once more I present unto your highness.

King. And once more in mine arms I bid him

welcome,

And thank the holy conclave for their loves :
They have sent me such a man 1 would have wish'd
for.

Cam. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers'

loves,

You are so noble. To your highness' hand
I tender my commission ; by whose virtue
(The court of Rome commanding) you, my lord
Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant,
In the un partial judging of this business.

King. Two equal men. The queen shall be

acquainted
Forthwith for what you come. — Where's Gardiner 1

Wol. I know your majesty has always lov'd her
So dear in heart, not to deny her that
A woman of less place might ask by law ;
Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her.

King. Ay, and the best she shall have, and my

favour

To him that does best : God forbid else. Cardinal,
Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary :
I find him a fit fellow. [Exit WOLSEY

Re-enter WOLSEY, with GARDINER.

Wol. Give me your hand ; much joy and favour

to you :
You are the king's now.

Gard. But to be commanded

For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me.
King Come hither, Gardiner.

[They converse apart

260 KING HENRY VIII. ACT II

Cam. My lord of York, was not one Doctor Pace

In this mail's place before him 1

Wol Yes, he was.

Cam. Was he not held a learned man 1
Wol. Yes, surely

Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread
then,

Even of yourself, lord cardinal.

Wol. How ! of me 1

Cam. They will not stick to say you envied him ;

And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous,

Kept him a foreign man still ; which so griev'd
him,

That he ran mad and died."

Wol. Heaven's peace be with him!

That's Christian care enough : for living murmurers

There's places of rebuke. He was a fool ;

For he would needs be virtuous: That good fel-
low,

If I command him, follows my appointment ;

I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother,

We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons.
King. Deliver this with modesty to the queen.

[Exit GARDINER.

The most convenient place that I can think of,

For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars ;

There ye shall meet about this weighty business : —

My Wolsey, see it furnish'd. — O, my lord !

Would it not grieve an able man to leave

8 " Aboute this time the king received into favour Doctor Ste-
phen Gardiner, whose service he used in matters of great secrecie
and weight, admitting him in the room of Doctor Pace, the which
being continually abrode iu ambassades, and the same oftenlymes
uot much necessarie, by the Cardinalles appointment, at length ho
toke such greefe therewith, that he fell out of his right wittes." —
Hvliiished.

BO. III. KING HENRY VIII. 261

So sweet a bedfellow 1 But, conscience, con-
science, —
O ! 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

•

An Antechamber in the Queen's Apartments.

Enter ANNE BOLETN, and an old Lady.

Anne. Not for that neither: — here's the pang

that pinches ;

His highness having liv'd so long with her, and she
So good a lady that no tongue could ever
Pronounce dishonour of her, — by my life,
She never knew harm-doing ; — O ! now, after
So many courses of the sun enthron'd,
Still growing in a majesty and pomp,
The which to leave 's a thousand-fold more bitter,
Than 'tis sweet at first t' acquire ; — after this pro-
cess,

To give her the avaunt ! it is a pity
Would move a monster.

Old L. Hearts of most hard temper

Melt and lament for her.

Anne. O, God's will ! much better

She ne'er had known pomp : though 't be temporal,
Yet, if that cruel fortune do divorce1

1 The old copies read quarrel here. Cruel is taken from Col-
lier's newly-discovered folio of 1632. As the old spelling of cruel
was erewell, it seems not altogether improbable that tne printer
may have misread it quarrel. The only tolerable explanation of
the common reading is, that quarrel is used for quarreller ; and
no other instance of such an usage has been produced. On th«
other band, the main objection to cruel lies in its lameness. A«
the emendation has very little authority, and as the original ha*

2f£i K1MG HENRY VIII. ACT II.

It from the hearer, 'tis a sufferance panging
As soul and body's severing.

Old L. Alas, poor lady !

She's a stranger now again.

Anne. So much the more

Must pity drop upon her. Verily,
I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow.

Old L. Our content

Is our best having.

Anne. By my troth and maidenhead,

I would not be a queen.

Old L. Beshrew me, I would,

And venture maidenhead for't ; and so would you,
For all this spice of your hypocrisy.
You, that have so fair parts of woman on you,
Have, too, a woman's heart, which ever yet
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty;
Which, to say sooth, are blessings; and which gifti
(Saving your mincing) the capacity
Of your soft cheveril conscience* would receive,
If you might please to stretch it.

Anne. Nay, good troth, —

Old L. Yes, troth, and troth. — You would not
be a queen ?

Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven.

Old L. 'Tis strange : a three-pence bow'd would

hire me,
Old as I am, to queen it. But, I pray you,

hardly any more fitness of sense, it is not easy to settle the pref-
erence. H.

* Meaning the same as the "india-rubber consciences" of our
time ; cheveril being leather made of kid-skin, which was pecu-
liarly yielding and stretchy. it.

SC. HI. KING HENRY VIII. 263

What think you of a duchess ? have you limbs
To bear that load of title 1

Anne. No, in truth.

Old L. Then you are weakly made. Pluck off

a little : 3

I would not be a young count in your way,
For more than blushing comes to. If your back
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak
Ever to get a boy.

Anne. How you do talk !

I swear again, I would not be a queen
For all the world.

Old L. In faith, for little England

You'd venture an emballing:4 I myself
Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd
No more to the crown but that. Lo ! who comes
here 1

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth

to know
The secret of your conference ?

Anne. My good lord,

Not your demand ; it values not your asking :
Our mistress' sorrows we were pitying.

Cham. It was a gentle business, and becoming
The action of good women : there is hope
All will be well.

Anne. Now, I pray God, amen !

1 Anne declining1 to be either a queen or a duchess, the old lady
says, " pluck off a little ; " let us descend a little lower, and so
diminish the glare of preferment by bringing it nearer your own
quality.

* That is, you would venture to be distinguished by the ball, thfl
ensign of royalty, used with the sceptre at coronations.

264 KING HENRY VIII. ACT II.

Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly

blessings

Fol.ow such creatures. That you may, fair lady,
Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's
Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty
Commends his good opinion of you to you, and
Does purpose honour to you no less flowing
Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title
A thousand pound a year, annual support,
Out of his grace he adds.

Anne. I do not know

What kind of my obedience I should tender ;
More than my all is nothing : nor my prayers
Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes
More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayers and

wishes

Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lordship,
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks and my obedience,
As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness ;
Whose health and royalty I pray for.

Cham. Lady,

1 shall not fail t' approve the fair conceit*
The king hath of you. — [Aside.] I have perus'd

her well :

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled,
That they have caught the king : And who knows

yet

But from this lady may proceed a gem,
To lighten all this isle ? 6 — [To her.] I'll to the king,
And say I spoke with you. [Exit.

' To approve is here to confirm, by the report he shall make, the
good opinion the king has formed.

6 The carbuncle was supposed by our ancestors to have hitrin-
sic light, and to shine in the dark : any other gem may reflect
light, but canmt give it. Thus in a Palace described in Amadis
de Gaule, 1619 : " In the roofe of a chamber hung two lampcs of

SC. III. KING HENRY VIII. 265

Anne. My lion our 'd lord.

Old L. Why, this it is ; see, see !
I have been begging sixteen years in court,
(Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could
Corne pat betwixt too early and too late,
For any suit of pounds : and you, O fate !
A very fresh-fish here, (fie, fie, fie upon
This compell'd fortune !) have your mouth fill'd up,
Before you open it.

Anne. This is strange to me.

Old L. How tastes it 1 is it bitter 1 forty pence,

no.7

There was a lady once ('tis an old story)
That would not be a queen, that would she not,
For all the mud in Egypt : — Have you heard it?

Anne. Come, you are pleasant.

Old L. With your theme, I could

O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke I
A thousand pounds a year, for pure respect!
No other obligation. By my life,
That promises more thousands : Honour's tram
Is longer than his foreskin. By this time,
I know your back will bear a duchess. — Say,
Are you not stronger than you were 7

Anne. Good lady.

Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy,
And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being,
If this salute my blood a jot : it faints me,
To think what follows.

gold, at the bottomes whereof were enchafed two carbuncles, which
gave so bright a splendour round about the roome, that there was
no neede of any other light."

7 Forty pencf was in those days the proverbial expression of a
small wager. Money was then reckoned by pounds, marks, and
noblei. Forty pence, or three and fourpence, is half a noble and
is still an established legal fee.

2(JG KING HENRY VIII ACT II.

The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful
In our long absence. Pray, do not deliver
What here you Ve heard, to her.

Old L. What do you think me 1

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. A Hall in Black-Friars.

Trumpets, Sennet, and Cornets. Enter two Vergers^
with short silver Wands ; next them, two Scribes,
in the Habit of Doctors ; after them, the Arch-
bishopof CANTERBURY alone; ' after him theBislwps
of LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and ST. ASAPH ;
next them, with some small Distance, follows a Gen-
tleman bearing the Purse, with the great Seal, and
a Cardinal's Hat ; then two Priests, bearing each
a silver Cross ; then a Gentleman-Usher bareheaded,
accompanied with a Sergeant at Arms, bearing a
silver Mace ; then two Gentlemen, bearing two great
silver Pillars; after them, side by side, the two
Cardinals, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS ; two Noble-
men with the Sword and Mace. The King takes
place under the Cloth of State ; the two Cardinals
sit under him as Judges. The Queen takes place
at some Distance from the King. The Bishops
place themselves on each side the Court, in manner
of a Consistory ; between them, the Scribes. The

1 At this time, June 21, 1529, the archbishop of Canterbury
was William Warham, who died in August, 1532, and was suc-
ceeded by Cranmer the following March. — The whole of this long
s-tage-direction is taken verbatim from the original copy, and in
most of its particulars was according to the actual event. — The
" two priests bearing each a silver cross," and the " two gentle-
men bearing two great silver pillars," were parts of Wolsey's
official pomp and circumstance ; the one being symbolic of bis
office as archbishop of York, the other of his authority as cardi jal
legate. 0

SC. IV. KING HENRY VIII. 267

Lords sit next the Bishops. The Crier and the
rest of the Attendants stand in convenient order
about the Stage.

Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is read,
Let silence be commanded.

King. What's the need 1

It hath already publicly been read,
And on all sides the authority allow'd :
You may. then, spare that time.

Wol. Be't so. — Proceed

Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come into
the court.

Crier. Henry king of England, &c.

King. Here.

Scribe. Say, Katharine queen of England, come
into court.

Crier. Katharine queen of England, &c.

The Queen makes no Answer, rises out of her CJiair,
goes about the Court, comes to the King, and kneels
at his Feet ; then speaks.9]

Kath. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice,
And to bestow your pity on me ; for
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger,
Born out of your dominions ; having here
No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir !
In what have I offended you? what cause
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure,
That thus you should proceed to put me off,
And take your good grace from me 1 Heaven wit-
ness,

* " Because she could not come directly to the king for the di»
tanre winch severed them, she took pain to go about unto the king
kneeling down at his feet." — Cavendish,

5ZG8 KING HENRY VIII. A.CT H

I have been to you a true and humble wife,

At all times to your will conformable ;

Ever in fear to kindle your dislike,

Yea, subject to your countenance ; glad, or sorry,

As 1 saw it inclin'd. When was the hour

I ever contradicted your desire,

Or made it not mine too 1 Or which of your friends

Have I not strove to love, although I knew

He were mine enemy? what friend of mine,

That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I

Continue in my liking 1 nay, gave notice

He was from thence discharg'd. Sir, call to mind

That I have been your wife, in this obedience,

Upward of twenty years, and have been blest

With many children by you : If in the course

And process of this time you can report,

And prove it too, against mine honour aught,

My bond of wedlock, or my love and duty,

Against your sacred person,3 in God's name

Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt

Shut door upon me, and so give me up

To the sharp'st kind of justice. Please you, sir,

The king your father was reputed for

A prince most prudent, of an excellent

And unmatch'd wit and judgment : Ferdinand,

My father, king of Spain, was reckon'd one

The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many

A year before : It is not to be question'd

That they had gather'd a wise council to them

Of every realm, that did debate this business,

Who deem'd our marriage lawful. Wherefore I

humbly
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may

1 Aught is understood before " Against your sacred person

SC. IV. KING HENRY VIII. 269

Be by my friends in Spain advis'd, whose counsel
I will implore : if not, i' the name of God
Your pleasure be ftilfill'd !

Wol You have here, lady,

(And of your choice,) these reverend fathers ; men
Of singular integrity and learning,
Yea, the elect o' the land, who are assembled
To plead your cause. It shall be therefore bootless,
That longer you desire the court ; 4 as well
For your own quiet, as to rectify
What is unsettled in the king.

Cam. His grace

Hath spoken well, and justly : therefore, madam,
It's fit this royal session do proceed,
And that, without delay, their arguments
Be now produc'd and heard.

Kath. Lord cardinal,

To you I speak.6

4 That you desire to protract the business of the court. To
pray for a longer day, that is, a more distant one, is yet the lan-
guage of the bar in criminal trials. Collier's newly-discovered
folio changes desire to defer, which may be worth considering1,
though there seems no adequate reason for admitting the change.

H.

8 The acting of Mrs. Siddons has been much celebrated as
yielding an apt and pregnant commentary on this passage. The
effect, it would seem, must have been fine ; but perhaps the thing
savours overmuch of forcing the Poet to express another's thoughts.
It is thus described by Mr. Terry : " Vexed to the uttermost by
the artifices with which her ruin is prosecuted, and touched with
indignation at the meanness and injustice of the proceeding, she
interrupts Campeius, with the intention of accusing Wolsey, and
of refusing him for her judge. Campeius, who had been urging
immediate trial, imagines it addressed to him, and comes forward
as if to answer. Here Mrs. Siddons exhibited oi.« of those un-
equalled pieces of acting, by which she assists the barrenness of
the text, and fills up Ihe meaning of the scene. Those who have
seen it will never forget it ; but to those who have not. we feel it
impossible to describe the majestic self-correction of the petulance
lino vexation which, in her perturbed state of mind, 'he fee's a'

270 KING HENRY VI11. ACT II

Wol. Your pleasure, madam ?

Kath. Sir,

I am about to weep ; hut, thinking that
We are a queen, or long have dream'd so, certain
The daughter of a king, my drops of tears
I'll turn to sparks of fire.

Wol. Be patient yet.

Kath. I will, when you are humble ; nay, before,
Or God will punish me. I do believe,
Induc'd by potent circumstances, that
You are mine enemy, and make my challenge : "
You shall not be my judge ; for it is you
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,
Which God's dew quench ! — Therefore, I say again,
I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul
Refuse you for my judge ; 7 whom, yet once more,
I hold my most malicious foe, and think not
At all a friend to truth.

Wol. I do profess,

You speak not like yourself; who ever fet
Have stood to charity, and display'd the effects
Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom
O'ertopping woman's power. Madam, you do me

wrong :
1 have no spleen against you, nor injustice

the misapprehension of Campeius, and the intelligent expression
ol countenance and gracious dignity of gesture, with which she
intimates to him his mistake. And no language can convey a
picture of her immediate reassumption of the fulness of majesty,
when she turns round to Wolsey, and exclaims, — 'To you I
•peak ! ' Her form seemed to expand, and her eyes to burn be-
yond human." H.

a Challenge here is a law term. The criminal, when he re-
fuses a juryman, says " I challenge him."

7 Abhor and refuse are nol the mere words of passion, but
technical terms of the canon law : deteslor and recitso. "The for-
mer, in the hinsyuage of canonists, signifies no more than I protest
uffaiusl. — Jitackslone.

SC. IV. KTNG HENRY VIII. 271

For you, or any ; how far I have proceeded,

Or how far further shall, is warranted

By a commission from the consistory,

Yea, thf whole consistory of Rome. You charge me,

That I ha\ e blown this coal : I do deny it.

The king is present : if it be known to him

That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound,

And worthily, my falsehood ! yea, as much

As you have done my truth. But if he know

That I am free of your report, he knows

1 am not of your wrong : therefore in him

It lies to cure me; and the cure is, to

Remove these thoughts from you ; the which before

His highness shall speak in, I do beseech

You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking.

And to say so no more.

Kath. My lord, my lord,

I am a simple woman, much too weak
To oppose your cunning. Y' are meek, and hum-

ble-mouth'd :

You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,8
With meekness and humility ; but your heart
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride.
You have, by fortune and his highness' favours,
Gone slightly o'er low steps, and now are mounted
Where powers are your retainers ; and your words,8

9 You have in appearance meekness and humility, as a token
or outward sign of your place and calling.

8 Tyrwhitt and Singer think we should read wards here in-
stead of words ; the sense in that case being, " that ihe great and
powerful were among his retainers, and that his wards, generally
young nobility, were placed in domestic offices about his person,
to sweil his state and retinue ; which was the fact, and was made
one of the principal charges against him.'' Possibly this may be
riglu. and, if so, must be owned to be a rather happy instance of
turning a fine poetic image into a sort of hard literality. But the
queen ilwells much upon VVolscy's recklessness of truth ; she doei

272 KING HKNRY VIII. ACT II

Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you^
You tender more your person's honour than
Your high profession spiritual ; 10 that again
I do refuse you for my judge, and here,
Before you all, appeal unto the pope,
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness,
And to be judg'd by him.

[She curtsies fo the King, and offers to depart.

Cam. The queen is obstinate

Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and
Disdainful to be tried by 't : 'tis not well.
She's going away.

King. Call her again.

Crier. Katharine queen of England, come into
the court.

Grif. Madam, you are call'd back.

Kath. What need you note it ? pray you, keep

your way :

When you are call'd, return. — Now the Lord help I
They vex me past my patience. — Pray you, pass on:
I will not tarry ; no, nor ever more,
Upon this business, my appearance make
In any of their courts. [Exeunt the Queen, GRIF-
FITH, and other Attendants.

not at all credit his disclaimer of being at the bottom of this move-
ment : and would it not accord better with her settled distrust of
his word, to understand her as intimating here, that in his high-
seated arrogance his thought and speech have outgrown the whole-
some restraints of fear ? So that the meaning seems rather to
be, — Now you have full pmoer to work your will, an(^ therefoie
use words, as men use domestics, merely as they will serve your
ends, without any rpo-arrl «o truth. H.

10 So in Holinshed : " He was the hautiest man in all his pro-
ceedings alive, having more respect to the honor of his person,
than he had to his spiritual! profession, wherein should be shewed
all meeknbi humilitie, and charitie " H

KC. IV. KING HENRY V1T7. 273

King. Go thy ways, Kate :

That man i' the world who shall report he has
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted,
For speaking false in that. Thou art, alone, —
If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness,
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,
Obeying in commanding, and thy parts
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,—
The queen of earthly queens. — She's noble born,
And like her true nobility she has
Carried herself towards me.

Wbl. Most gracious sir,

In humblest manner I require your highness,
That it shall please you to declare, in hearing
Of all these ears, (for where I am robb'd and bound
There must I be unloos'd, although not there
At once and fully satisfied,) whether ever I
Did broach this business to your highness, or
Laid any scruple in your way, which might
Induce you to the question on't? or ever
Have to you, but with thanks to God for such
A royal lady, spoke one the least word that might
Be to the prejudice of her present state,
Or touch of her good person ?

King. My lord cardinal,

I do excuse you ; yea, upon mine honour,
1 free you from't. You are not to be taught
That you have many enemies, that know not
Why they are so, but, like to village curs,
Bark when their fellows do : by some of these
The queen is put in anger. Y' are excus'd :
But will you be more justified 1 you ever
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business ; never
Desir'd it to be stirr'd : but oft have hinder'd, oft,
The passages made toward it. — On my honour.

274 KING HENRY VIII. ACT II.

I speak my good lord cardinal to this point,"
And thus far clear him. Now, what rnov'd me to't,
T will be bold with time, and your attention: —
Then, mark the inducement. Thus it came ; — give

heed to't :

My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness,
Scruple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd
By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador
Who had been hither sent on the debating
A marriage 'twixt the duke of Orleans and
Our daughter Mary. I' the progress of this business,
Ere a determinate resolution, he
(I mean the bishop) did require a respite,
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise
Whether our daughter were legitimate,
Respecting this our marriage with the dowager,
Sometime our brother's wife. This respite shook
The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me,
Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble
The region of my breast ; wliich forc'd such way,
That many maz'd considerings did throng,
And press'd in with this caution. First, methought,
I stood not in the smile of Heaven ; who had
Commanded nature, that my lady's womb,
If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should
Do no more offices of life to't, than
The grave does to the dead : for her male issue
Or died where they were made, or shortly after
This world had air'd them. Hence I took a thought,
This was a judgment on me ; that my kingdom,
Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not
Be gladded in't by me. Then follows, that

11 The king, having first addressed Wolsey, breaks off; and
ueclares upon his honour to the whole court, that he speaks Lh.e
cardinal's sentiments upon the point in question.

SC. IV KING HENRY VIII. 275

I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in
By this my issue's fail ; and that crave to me
Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling in
The wild sea of my conscience,12 I did steer
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are
Now present here together; that's to say,
I meant to rectify my conscience, — which
I then did feel full sick, and yet not well, —
By all the reverend fathers of the land,
And doctors learn'd. — First, I began in private
With you, my lord of Lincoln : you remember
How under my oppression I did reek,
When I first mov'd you.

Lin. Very well, my liege.

King. I have spoke long : be pleas'd yourself to

say
How far you satisfied me.

Lin. So please your highness,

The question did at first so stagger me, —
Bearing a state of mighty moment in't,
And consequence of dread, — that I committed
The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt,
And did entreat your highness to this course,
Which you are running here.

King. I then mov'd you,

My lord of Canterbury, and got your leave
To make this present summons. — Unsolicited
I left no reverend person in this court ;
But by particular consent proceeded,
Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on;
For no dislike i' the world against the person

!I The phrase belongs to navigation. A ship is said to kull
when she is dismasted, aud only her hull or hulk is left to be driven
to and fro by the waves. Thus in the Alarm for Loudon, 1602
•' And they lye hulling up and down the stream."

27fi KING HENHY VI FT. ACT III

Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points
Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward :
Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life
And kingly dignity, we are contented
To wear our mortal state to come with her,
Katharine our queen, before the primest creature
That's paragon 'd o' the world.

Cam. So please your highness,

The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness
That we adjourn this court till further day :
Meanwhile must be an earnest motion
Made to the queen, to call back her appeal
She intends unto his holiness.

King. [Aside.] I may perceive,

These cardinals trifle with me : 1 abhor
This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer,
Pr'ythee return : l3 with thy approach, I know
My comfort comes along. Break up the court :
I say, set on. [Exeunt, in manner as they entered.

ACT III.
SCENE I. Palace at Bridewell

A Room in the Queen's Apartment.

The Queen and her Women, as at work.

Kath. Take thy lute, wench : my soul grows sad
with troubles ;

IJ The kinsf, be it observed, is here .merely thinking aloud.
Cranmer was at that time absent on a foreign embassy. H.

8C. I. KING HENRY VIII. 277

Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst : leave work
ing.

JSong.

Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain-tops that freeze,

Bow themselves, when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung, as sun and showera

There had made a lasting spring1.1

Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,

Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart

Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.

Enter a Gentleman.

Kath. How now !

Gent. An't please your grace, the two great car-
dinals
Wait in the presence.*

Kath. Would they speak with me 1

Gent. They will'd me say so, madam.

Kath. Pray their graces

To come near. [Exit Gent.] What can be their

business

With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from favour 1
I do not like their coming, now I think on't.

1 80 in all the old copies. In modern editions generally, been
has strangely crept into the place of made, to the great marring,
well nigh to the utter spoiling, in fact, of both sense and poetry.
Doubtless the change occurred by mistake ; it is too bad to have
come otherwise. — In the preceding line, at is of course used for
at if, or at though. B

Presence-chamber

KING HENRY VIII. ACT III

They should be good men, their affairs as righteous;
But all hoods make not monks.3

Enter WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS.

WoL Peace to your highness

Kath. Your graces find me here part of a house*

wife ;

I would be all, against the worst may happen.
What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords ?

WoL May it please you, noble madam, to with-
draw

Into your private chamber, we shall give you
The mil cause of our coming.

Kath. Speak it here.

There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience,
Deserves a corner : 'would all other women
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do !
My lords, I care not (so much I am happy
Above a number) if my actions
Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them,
Envy and base opinion set against them,
I know my life so even. If your business
Seek me out, and that way I am wife in,4
Out with it boldly : truth loves open dealing.

WoL Tanta est erga te mentis integritas, regina
serenissima, —

Kath. O ! good my lord, no Latin :

' Being churchmen they should be virtuous, and every business
they undertake as righteous as their sacred office : but all hoods
•lake uot monks. In allusion to the Latin proverb — Cucultus
mm facit monachum, to which Chaucer also alludes :
" Habite ne maketh monke ne frere ;
But a clene life and devotion,
Makelh gode men of religion."

4 This fs obscurely expressed, but seems to mean, " If your
business is with me, anrl "-plates to the question of my marriage,
Mlt with it boldly.''

SC. I. KING HENRY VIII. 279

I am not such a truant since my coming,

As not to know the language I have liv'd in.

A strange tongue makes my cause more strange,

suspicious :
Pray, speak in English ; here are some will thank

you,

If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake :
Believe me, she has had much wrong. Lord car-
dinal,

The willing'st sin I ever yet committed
May be absolv'd in English.

Wol Noble lady,

I am sorry my integrity should breed,
And service to his majesty and you,5
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant.
We come not by the way of accusation,
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses,
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow ;
You have too much, good lady ; but to know
How you stand minded in the weighty difference
Between the king and you, and to deliver,
Like free and honest men, our just opinions,
And comforts to your cause.

Cam. Most honour'd madam,

My lord of York, — out of his noble nature,
Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace,
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censuro
Both of his truth and him, (which was too far,)^—
Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace,
His service and his counsel.

* The construction is, — "I am sorry my integrity, and service
to his majesty and you, should breed so deep suspicion." Mr.
Edwards aptly suggests a transposition of the lines, thus :

" I am sorry my integrity should breed
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant,
And service to his majesty and you." u

280 KING HENRY VIII. A.CT 111

Kath. [As-?V/e.] To betray me. —

My lords, I thank you both for your good will.*.
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove so !)
But how to make ye suddenly an answer,
In such a point of weight, so near mine honour,
(More near my life, I fenr,) with my weak wit,
And to such men of gravity and learning,
Cn truth I know not. I was set at work
Among my maids ; full little, God knows, looking
Either for such men, or such business.
For her sake that I have been, (for I feel
The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces,
Let me have time and counsel for my cause :
Alas ! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless.

WoL Madam, you wrong the king's love with

these fears :
Your hopes and friends are infinite.

Katji. In England,

But little for my profit : Can you think, lords,
That any Englishman dare give me counsel ?
Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure,
(Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,)
And live a subject? Nay, forsooth; my friends,
They that must weigh out my afflictions,6
They that my trust must grow to, live not here :
They are, as all my other comforts, far hence,
In mine own country, lords.

Cam. I would your grace

Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel.

Kath. How, sir!

Cam. Put your main cause into the king's pro

tection ;
He's loving, and most gracious: 'twill be much

" Weigh out for weigh ; that is, consider them, do justice t«
them, regard them without fear or favour. H

6C. I. KING HENRY VIII. 281

Both for your honour better, and your cause ;
For, if the trial of the law o'ertake you,
You'll part away disgrac'd.

Wol. He tells you rightly.

Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, — my

ruin.

Is this your Christian counsel ? out upon ye !
Heaven is above all yet : there sits a Judge
That no king can corrupt.

Cam. Your rage mistakes na.

Kath. The more shame for ye ! 7 holy men I

thought ye,

Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues ;
But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye :
Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your com-
fort?

The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady ?
A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd 1
I will not wish ye half my miseries ;
I have more charity : but say, I warn'd ye :
Take heed, for Heaven's sake take heed, lest at once
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye.

Wol. Madam, this is a mere distraction ;
You turn the good we offer into envy.

Kath. Ye turn me into nothing : Woe upon ye,
And all such false professors! Would ye have me
(If you have any justice, any pity, —
If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits)
Put my sick cause into his hands that hates jae !
Alas! he has banish'd me his bed already;
His love, too long ago : I am old, my lords,
And all the fellowship I hold now with him
Is only my obedience. What can happen

7 If I mistake you, it is by your fault, not mine ; for I thought
you

282 KINO HENRY VIII. ACT III.

To me above this wretchedness? all your studies
Make me a curse like this.

Cam. Your fears are worse.

Kath. Have I liv'd thus long (let me speak my

self,

Since virtue finds no friends) a wife, a true one 1
A woman (I dare say without vain-glory)
Never yet branded with suspicion?
Have I with all my full affections
Still met the king ? lov'd him next Heaven? obej'd

him?

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him ?
Almost forgot my prayers to content him ?
And am I thus rewarded ? 'tis not well, lords.
Bring me a constant woman to her husband,
One that ne'er dream 'd a joy beyond his pleasure ;
And to that woman, when she has done most,
Yet will I add an honour, — a great patience.

Wol. Madam, you wander from the good we
aim at.

Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty,
To give up willingly that noble title
Your master wed me to: nothing but death
Shall e'er divorce my dignities.

Wol. 'Pray? hear me.

Kath. 'Would I had never trod this English

earth,

Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it !
Ye have angels' faces, but Heaven knows your

hearts.

What will become of me now, wretched lady ?
I am the most unhappy woman living. —
[ To her Women.] Alas ! poor wenches, where are

now your fortunes?
Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,

SC. I. KING HENRY VIII. 283

No friends, no hope, no kindred weep for me.
Almost no grave allow'd me. — Like the lily,
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd,
I'll hang my head, and perish.

WbL If your grace

Could but be brought to know our ends are honest,
You'd feel more comfort. Why should we, good

lady,

Upon what cause, wrong you ? Alas ! our places,
The way of our profession is against it :
We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them.
For goodness' sake consider what you do ;
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage^
The hearts of princes kiss obedience,
So much they love it ; but to stubborn spirits
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms.8
I know you have a gentle, noble temper,
A soul as even as a calm : pray, think us
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and ser-
vants.
Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your

virtues

With these weak women's fears : a noble spirit,
As yours was put into you, ever casts
Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves

you;

Beware you lose it not: For us, if you please
To trust us in your business, we are ready
To use our utmost studies in your service.

8 It was one of the charges brought against Lord Essex, that
in a letter written during bis retirement in 1598 to the lord keeper,
be had said, "There is no tempest to the passionate indignation
of a prince."

284 KING HENRY VTTI. ACT III.

Kath. Do what ye will, my lords ; and. pray,

forgive me,

If I have us'd myself unmannerly :
You know, I am a woman, lacking wit
To make a seemly answer to such persona.
Pray, do my service to his majesty:
He has my heart yet, and shall have my prayers,
While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fatheis;
Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs,
That little thought, when she set footing here,
She should have bought her dignities so dear.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Antechamber to the King's Apartment.

Enter the Duke of NORFOLK, the Duke of SUFFOLK.,
the Earl of SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.

Nor. If you will now unite in your complaints,
And force ' them with a constancy, the cardinal
Cannot stand under them: if you omit
The offer of this time, I cannot promise,
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces,
With these you bear already.

Sur. I am joyful

To meet the least occasion, that may give me
Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke,
To be reveng'd on him.

Sitf. Which of the peers

Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least
Strangely neglected 1 * when did he regard

1 Force is enforce, urge.

* Of course, the force of not implied in uncontemn'd extend]
ever ttiangely neglected. a.

»C. II. KING HENKT VIII. -<J85

The stamp of nobleness in any person,
Out of himself?

Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures »

What he deserves of you and me, I know ;
What we can do to him, (though now the time
Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you cannot
Bar his access to the king, never attempt
Any thing on him ; for he hath a witchcraft
Over the king in 's tongue.

Nor. O ! fear him not ;

His spell in that is out : the king hath found
Matter against him, that for ever mars
The honey of his language. No, he's settled,
Not to come off, in his displeasure.

Sur. Sir,

I should be glad to hear such news as this
Once every hour.

Nor. Believe it, this is true.

In the divorce his contrary proceedings
Are all unfolded ; wherein he appears
As I could wish mine enemy.

Sur. How came

His practices to light 1

Suf. Most strangely.

Sur. O ! how, how 1

Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried,
And came to the eye o'the king; wherein was read
How that the cardinal did intreat his holiness
To stay the judgment o'the divorce: for if
It did take place, "I do," quoth he, "perceive
My king is tangled in affection to
A. creature of the queen's, lady Anne Boleyn.''

Sur. Has the king this 1

Suf. Believe it.

Sur Will this work?

KING HENRY VIII. ACT HI,

CJiam. The king in this perceives him, how he

coasts

And hedges his own way.3 But in this point
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic
After his patient's death : the king already
Hath married the fair lady.4

Stir. 'Would he had !

Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my lord !
For, I profess, you have it.

Sur. Now may all joy

Trace * the conjunction !

Suf. My amen to't.

Nor. All men's.

Suf. There's order given for her coronation :
Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left
To some ears unrecounted. — But, my lords,
She is a gallant creature, and complete
In mind and feature : I persuade me, from her
Will fall some blessing to tliis land, which shall
In it be memoriz'd.*

3 To coast is to hover about, to pursue a sidelong course about
a thing. To hedge is to creep along by the hedge, not to take
the direct and open path, but to steal covertly through circum-
volutions.

4 The date commonly assigned for the marriage of Henry and
Anne is November 14, 1532 ; at which time they set sail togethei
from Calais, the king having been on a visit to his royal brother of
France. Lingard, following Godwin, Stowe, and Cranmer, says
they were privately married the 25th of January, 1533, and that
the former date was assigned in order to afford the proper space
between their marriage and the birth of Elizabeth, which latter
event took place the 7th of September following. The marriage
was to have been kept secret till May; but the manifest making-
ready of Anne to become a mother forced on a public acknowl-
edgment of it early in April. H.

5 To trace is to follow. The original has, — " Now all my
joy." The happy emendation is from Collier's newly-discovered
folio of 1632. It seems to need no voucher but itself. H.

' To memorize is to make memorable.

SC. II. K.ING HENRY VIII. 287

Sur. But will the king

Digest this letter of the cardinal's ?
The Lord forbid !

Nor. Marry, amen !

Suf. No, no ;

There he more wasps that buzz about his nose,
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius
Is stolen away to Rome ; hath ta'eri no leave ;
Has left the cause o'the king unharidled ; and
Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal,
To second all this plot. I do assure you
The king cried ha ! at this.

Cham. Now, God incense him,

And let him cry ha ! louder.

Nor. But, my lord,

When returns Cranmer ?

Suf. He is return'd, in his opinions,7 which
Have satisfied the king for his divorce,
Together with all famous colleges
Almost in Christendom. Shortly, I believe,
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and
Her coronation. Katharine no more
Shall be call'd queen, but princess dowager,
And widow to Prince Arthur.

Nor. This same Cranmei'a

A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain
In the king's business.

Suf. He has ; and we shall see him

For it an archbishop.

Nor. So I hear.

7 Cranmer, then one of the king-'s chaplains, had been on a
special mission to advocate the divorce at Rome, and to collect
the opinions of learned canonists and divines in Ita-ly and else-
where. Doubtless these are the opinions meant in the text. The
using of in for with has occasioned some doufc as to what wai
meant by opinions. a.

288 KING HENRY VIII. ACT 1IT

Suf. 'Tis so.

The cardinal —

Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL.

Nor. Observe, observe ; he's moody.

Wol. The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the
king?

Orom. To his own hand, in his bedchamber.

Wol. Look'd he o'the inside of the paper ?

Crom. Presently

He did unseal them, and the first he view'd,
He did it with a serious mind ; a heed
Was in his countenance : You he bade
Attend him here this morning.

Wol. Is he ready

To come abroad 1

Crom. I think, by this he is.

Wol. Leave me a while. — [Exit CROMWELL.
It shall be to the duchess of Alen^on,
The French king's sister; he shall marry her. —
Anne Boleyn 1 No ; I'll no Anne Boleyns for him
There is more in it than fair visage. — Boleyn !
No, we'll no Boleyns. — Speedily I wish
To hear from Rome. — The marchioness of Pern
broke !

Nor. He's discontented.

Suf. May be, he hears the king

Does whet his anger to him.

Sur. Sharp enough,

Lord, for Thy justice !

Wol. The late queen's gentlewoman, a knight's

daughter,

To be her mistress' mistress ! the queen's queen !
This candle burns not clear : 'tis I must snuff it ;
Then out it goes. What though I know her vir-
tuous

SC. IT. KING HENRY VIII. J»

And well-deserving ? yet I know her for
A spleeny Lutheran ; and not wholesome to
Our cause, that she should lie i'the bosom of
Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up
An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer ; one,
Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king,
And is his oracle.

Nor. He is vex'd at something.

Suf. I would 'twere something that would fret

the string,
The master-cord on's heart !

Enter the King, reading a Schedule ; and LOVELL.

Suf. The king, the king !

King. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated
To his own portion ! and what expense by the hour
Seems to flow from him ! How, i'the name of thrift,
Does he rake this together 1 — Now, my lords '
Saw you the cardinal 1

Nor. My lord, we have

Stood here observing him. Some strange commo-
tion

Is in his brain : he bites his lip, and starts ;
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground,
Then lays his finger on his temple ; straight
Springs out into fast gait ; then stops again,
Strikes his breast hard ; and anon he casts
His eye against the moon. In most strange postures
We have seen him set himself.

King. It may well be ;

There is a mutiny in's mind. This morning
Papers of state he sent me to peruse,
As I requir'd; and wot you what I found
There, on my conscience, put unwittingly?
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing, —

W) KING HENRY V1I1. ACT III,

The several parcels of his plate, his treasure,
Rich stuffs, and ornaments of household, which
I find at such proud rate, that it outspeaks
Possession of a subject.8

Nor. It's Heaven's will :

Some spirit put this paper in the packet,
To bless your eye withal.

King. If we did think

His contemplation were abo^e the earth,
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still
Dwell in his musings ; but I am afraid
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth
His serious considering. [He takes his seat, and
whispers LOVELL, who goes to WOLSEY.

Wol. Heaven forgive me !

Ever God bless your highness !

8 This incident, in its application to Wolsey, is a fiction : he
made no such mistake ; but another person having once done so,
he took occasion thereby to ruin him. It is quite likely, however,
that his vast wealth had the effect of tempting the king's rapacity ;
his huge overgrowth thus helping on his overthrow. So that the
Poet was very judicious in making his fall turn upon a mistake
which in his hands had proved so fatal to another. The story is
told by Holinshed of Thomas Ruthall, bishop of Durham ; who was
accounted the richest subject in the realm ; and who, having by
the king's order written a book setting forth the whole estate of
tne kingdom, had it bound up in the same style as one before writ-
ten, setting forth his own private affairs. At the proper time the
king sent Wolsey to get the book, and the bishop gave him the
wrong one. " The cardiaa]l, having the booke, went foorlhwith
to '.he king, delivered it into his hands, and breefelie informed him
of the contents thereof; putting further into his head, that if at
anie time he were destitute of a masse of monie, he should not
need to seeke further than to the cofers of the bishop. Of all
which when the bishop had intelligence, he was stricken with such
greefe, that he shortlie ended his life in the yeare 1523. After
whose death the cardinal!, which had long gaped after the bishop-
rike, had now his wish in effect ; which he the more easilie com-
passed, for that he had his nets ahvaies readie cast, as assuring
himself to take a trout." H

SC. II. KING HENRY VIII. 291

King. Good my lord,

You are fuL of heaven.y stuff, and bear the inventory
Of your best graces in your mind ; the which
You were now running o'er : you have scarce time
To steal from spiritual leisure9 a brief span,
To keep your earthly audit. Sure, in that
I deem you an ill husband, and am glad
To have you therein my companion.

Wol Sir,

For holy offices I have a time ; a time
To think upon the part of business which
I bear i'the state ; and nature does require
Her times of preservation, which, perforce,
[ her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal,
Must give my tendance to.

King. You have said welL

Wol. And ever may your highness yoke together,
As I will lend you cause, my doing well
With my well-saying !

King. 'Tis well said again ;

And 'tis a kind of good deed to say well :
And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you ;
He said he did, and with his deed did crown
His word upon you : Since I had my office,
I have kept you next my heart ; have not alone
Employ'd you where high profits might come home,
But par'd my present havings, to bestow
My bounties upon you.

Wol. What should this mean?

Sur. [Aside.'] The Lord increase this business!

* That is, leisure for spiritual exercises. The king seems biting
him with irony; as if his leisure were so filled up with spiritual
concerns that he could not spare any of it for worldly anV..».
Collier's late discovery cranges leisure into labour. We see no
occasion for the change. H.

29ii KING HENRY VII ACT lit

King. Have I not. made you

The prime man of the state ? I pray you, tell me,
If what I now pronounce you have found true ;
And, if you may confess it, say withal,
If you are bound to us or no. What say you 1

Wol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces,
Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could
My studied purposes requite ; which went
Beyond all man's endeavours : my endeavours
Have ever come too short of my desires,
Yet fil'd with my abilities.10 Mine oAvn ends
Have been mLie so, that evermore ihey pointed
To the good of your most sacred person, and
The profit of the state. For your great graces
Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks ;
My prayers to Heaven for you ; my loyalty,
Which ever has, and ever shall be growing,
Till death, that winter, kill it.

King. Fairly answered!

A loyal and obedient subject is
Therein illustrated : The honour of it
Does pay the act of it ; as, i'the contrary,
The foulness is the punishment. I presume,
That as my hand has open'd bounty to you,
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour,

more

On you .han any; so your hand and heart.
Your brain, and every function of your power,
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty,

10 That is, kept pace, walked in the sameJiU, with my abilities.
Which, three lines above, refers, apparently, to royal grace*, not
to purpose*. H-

SC. II. KING HENRY VIII. 293

As 'twere in love's particular be more
To me, your friend, than any.11

Wul. I do profess,

That for your highness' good I ever labour'd
More than mine own ; that I am true, and will be,12
Though all the world should crack their duty to you,
And throw it from their soul : though perils did
Abound as thick as thought could make 'em, and
Appear in forms more horrid ; yet my duty,
As doth a rock against the chiding flood,
Should the approach of this wild river break,
And stand unshaken yours.

King. 'Tis nobly spoken :

Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast,
For you have seen him open't. — Read o'er this;

[Giving him Paper t,

11 Besides your bond of duty as a loyal and obedient servant,
you owe a particular devotion to me as your special benefactor.
w The original here presents a piece of obscurity that has hith-
erto baffled the ingenuity of all the commentators. The first folio
has the passage thus, literatim et punctuatim,

" I do professe,

That for your Highnesse good, I ever labour'd
More than mine owne : that am, have, and will be
(Though all the world should cracke their duty to you,
And throw it from their Soule, though perils did
Abound, as thicke as thought could make 'em, aiid
Appeare in formes more horrid) yet my Duty,
As doth a Rocke against the chiding Flood,
Should the approach of this wilde River breake
And stand unshaken yours.''

The critics have generally agreed that there must be some mis-
print here, and some have conjectured that a line had been lost.
Collier's new discovery throws no light on the passage. The hap-
py emendation which we adopt is proposed by Singer, in his "Text
of Shakespeare Vindicated." He remarks, with seeming reason,
— '* The printer or transcriber made the easy mistake of taking tho
word true for hare, which, as written of old, would readily occur}
Mid, having thus confused the passage, had recourse to the un-
conscionable long mark of a parenthesis." We cauuot doubt that
th« change will be generally received. u.

294 KING HENRY VIII. ACT III.

And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with
What appetite you have.

[Exit the King, frowning upon the Cardinal:
the Nobles throng after him, smiling, and whis-
pering. •

Wol. What should this mean ?

What sudden anger's this ? how have I reap'd it 1
He parted frowning from me, as if ruin
Leap'd from his eyes : So looks the chafed lion
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him,
Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper;
I fear, the story of his anger. — 'Tis so :
This paper has undone me ! — 'Tis the account
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together
For mine own ends ; indeed, to gain the popedom§
And fee my friends in Rome. O ! negligence,
Fit for a fool to fall by ! What cross devil
Made me put this main secret in the packet
I sent the king ? Is there no way to cure this 7
No new device to beat this from his brains 7
I know 'twill stir him strongly : yet I know
A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune
Will bring me off again. What's this? — "To the

Pope?"

The letter, as I live, with all the business
1 writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell !
I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness,
And from that full meridian of my glory
I haste now to my setting : I shall fall
Like a bright exhalation in the evening,
And no man see me more.

He-enter the Dukes of NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, the
Earl of SURREY, and the Lord Chamberlain.

Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal ; who
commands you

SC. 11. KING HENRY VIII. 295

To render up the great seal presently
Into our hands, and to confine yourself
To Asher-house,73 my lord of Winchester's,
Till you hear further from his highness.

Wol Stay ;

Where's your commission, lords 1 words cannot carry
Authority so weighty.

Suf. Who dare cross them,

Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly !

Wol. Till I find more than will or words to do it,
(I mean your malice,) know, officious lords,
I dare and must deny it. Now I feel
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, — envy.
How eagerly ye follow my disgraces,
As if it fed ye ! and how sleek and wanton
Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin !
Follow your envious courses, men of malice ;
You have Christian warrant for 'em, and, no doubt,
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal,
You ask with such a violence, the king
'Mine and your master) with his own hand gave me ;
Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours,
During my life ; and, to confirm his goodness,
Tied it by letters patents : Now, who'll take it ?

Sur. The king that gave it.

Wol. It must be himself then.

Sur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest.

Wol. Proud lord, thou liest:

Within these forty hours Surrey durst better
Have burnt that tongue, than said so.

13 Asher was the ancient name of Esher, in Surrey. Shake-
speare forgot that Wolsey was himself bishop of Winchester,
having succeeded Bishop Fox in 1528, holding the see in com'
mendam. Esher was one of the episcopal palaces belonging to
that see.

296 KING HENRY VIII. ACT III

&«r. Thy ambition,

Thou scnrlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land
Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law:
The heads of all thy brother cardinals,
With thee, and all thy best parts bound together,
Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy!
You sent me deputy for Ireland,
Far from his succour, from the king, from all
That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him ;
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity,
Absolv'd him with an axe.14

Wol This, and all else

This talking lord can lay upon my credit,
I answer, is most false. The duke by law
Found his deserts : how innocent I was
From any private malice in his end,
His noble jury and foul cause can witness.
If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you,
You have as little honesty as honour,
That in the way of loyalty and truth
Toward the king, my ever royal master,
Dare mate 1S a sounder man than Surrey can be,
And all that love his follies.

14 We have already seen that the Poet continues the same per-
sons duke of Norfolk and earl of Surrey through tbe play. Hera
the earl is the same who had married Buckingham's daughter, and
had been shifted off out of the way, when that great nobleman was
to t>e struck at. In fact, however, he who, at tbe beginning of th«
play. 1521, was earl, became duke in 1525. At the time of this
scene the earl of Surrey was the much-accomplished Henry How-
ard, son of the former, born in 1520 ; a man of fine genius and
heroic spirit, afterwards distinguished alike in poetry and in arms
and who, on the in':re strength of royal suspicion, was sent to the
block in 1547 by that brutal and merciless tyrant, from whose mean
and malignant jealousy there was no refuge for man or woman
but the grave. H.

16 That is, dare match yourself, or put yourself on an equality
with me, a sounder man, &c. The construction would be some

SC. II. KING HE1TRY VIII. 297

Sur. By my soul,

Your long coat, priest, protects you ; thou should'st

feel

My sword i'the life-blood of thee else. — My lords.
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance 1
And from this fellow ? If we live thus tamely,
To be thus jaded '" by a piece of scarlet,
Farewell nobility ; let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.17

Wol. All goodness

Is poison to thy stomach.

Sur. Yes, that goodness

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one,
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion ;
The goodness of your intercepted packets,
You writ to the pope, against the king ; your good-
ness,

Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious. — •
My lord of Norfolk, — as you are truly noble,
As you respect the common good, the state
Of our despis'd nobility, our issues,
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, —
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles

what freer, if we understand I as the subject of dare ; in which
ease the reflexive pronoun will be myself, and there will need a (;)
after honour. H.

18 That is, overcrowed, overmastered. The force of this term
may be best understood from a proverb given by Cotgrave, in
v. Rosse, a jade. " II n'est si bon cheval qui n'en deviendroit
rott": It would anger a saint, or crest/all the best mau living to
be so used."

17 A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larks
is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth, which engages the attention
of the birds while the fowler draws his nets over them. The same
thought occurs in Skelton's "Why come ye not to Com?" ft
tatire on Wolsey :

" The red hat with his lore
Bringelh all things under cure."

29H KING HENRY VIII. ACT III

Collected from his life. — I'll startle you

Worse than the sacring hell,18 when the brown wench

Lay kissing in your arms, lord cardinal.

Wol. How much, methinks, I could despise this

man,
But that I am bound in charity against it !

Nor. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's

hand :
But, thus much, they are foul ones.

Wol. So much fairer

And spotless19 shall mine innocence arise,
When the king knows my truth.

Sur. This cannot save you

I thank my memory, I yet remember
Some of these articles ; and out they shall.
Now, if you can blush and cry guilty, cardinal,
You'll show a little honesty.

Wol. Speak on, sir ;

1 dare your worst objections: if I blush,
It is to see a nobleman want manners.

Sur. I had rather want those than my head. Have

at you.

First, that without the king's assent or knowledge
You wrought to be a legate ; by which power
You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops.

Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome, or else
To foreign princes, Ego et Rex meus
Was still inscrib'd : in which you brought the king
To be your servant.*0

18 The little bell which is rung to give notice of the elevation
of the Host, and other offices of the Romish Church, is called the
taering or consecration bell. Thus in .Reginald Scot's Discovery
of Witchcraft, 1584 : " He heard a little sacring bell ring to the
elevation of a to-morrow mass."

19 The more, virtually implied in fairer, extends its force over
tpotlex.t , "so much mori> fair and spolless.'' M.

*° These several charges arc taken almost literaliv from Hoi-

SC. II. KING HENRY VIII. 299

Sitf. Then, that without the knowledge

Either of king or council, when you went
Ainhassador to the emperor, you made bold
To carry into Flanders the great seal.

Sur. Item, you sent a large commission
To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude,
Without the king's will or the state's allowance,
A league between his highness and Ferrara.

Suf. That out of mere ambition you have caus'd
Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin.21

Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable sub-
stance
(By what means got, I leave to your own con

science)

To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways
You have for dignities ; to the mere undoing
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are;
Which, since they are of you, and odious,
I will not taint my mouth with.

CJtam. O, my lord !

Press not a falling man too far ; 'tis virtue :

inshed, where the second item reads thus : " In all writing's which
he wrote to Rome, or anie other forren prince, he wrote Ego el
rex nit'its. I and my king ; as who would saie that the king were
his servant." In the Latin idiom, however, such was the order
prescribed by modesty itself. And, in fact, the charge against
Wolsey, as given from the records by Lord Herbert, and lately
icprinted in the State-Trials, was not that he set himself above or
before the king, but that he spoke of himself along with him:
" Also, the said lord cardinal, in divers and many of his letters
and instructions sent out of this realm, had joined himself with
your grace, as in saying and writing, — The king and I would ye
thould do thus ; — The king and I give you our hearty thanks :
whereby it is apparent that he used himself more like a fellow to
your highness, than like a subject." H.

*' This was one of the articles exhibited against Wolsey, but
rather with a view to swell the catalogue than from auy serious
ea'ise of accusation ; inasmuch as the Archbishops Cranmer,
Uainbriclge, and VVarham were indulged with the same privilege

300 KING HENRY VIII. ACT III

His faults lie open to the laws ; let them,

Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him

So little of his great self.

Stir. I forgive him.

Suf. Lord cardinal, the king's further pleasure

is,—

Because all those things, you have done of late
By your power legatine within this kingdom,
Fall into the compass of a pr&munire, — 22
That therefore such a writ be sued against you ;
To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements,
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be
Out of the king's protection. — This is my charge.

Nor. And so we'll leave you to your meditations
How to live better. For your stubborn answer,
About the giving back the great seal to us,
The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall thank

you.
So, fare you well, my little good lord cardinal.

[Exeunt all but WOLSEY

Wol. So, farewell to the little good you bear me.
Farewell ! a long farewell to all my greatness !
This is the state of man: To-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ;
And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening — nips his root,
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,

** The judgment in a writ of prcemunire (a barbarous word
used instead of prce.monere) is, that the defendant shall be out of
the king's protection / and his lands and tenements, goods and
chattels forfeited to the king ; and that his body shall remain in
prison at the king's pleasure. The old copy reads, erroneously,
castles, instead of catlels, the old word for chattels, as it is found
in Holinshed.

SC. II. KING HEN11Y VIII. Ul

Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory ;
Bat far beyond my depth i my high-blown pride
At length broke under me ; and now has left me
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye !
I feel my heart new-open'd : O ! how wretched
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours !
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again. —

Enter CROMWELL, amazedly.

Why, how now, Cromwell

Crom. I have no power to speak, sir.

Wol What! amaz'd

At my misfortunes ? can thy spirit wonder
A great man should decline ? Nay, an you weep,
I am fallen indeed.

Crom. How does your grace ?

Wol Why well;

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell.
I know myself now ; and I feel within me
A peace above all earthly dignities,
A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me,
I humbly thank his grace ; and from these shoulders,
These ruin'd pillars, out of pity taken
A load would sink a navy, — too much honour.
O! 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden,
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven.

Crom, \ am glad your grace has made that rig'i'
uso of t

302 KING HENRY VIII. ACT in

Wol. I hope I have : I am able now, methinks,
(Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,)
To endure more miseries, and greater far,
Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer.
What news abroad?

Crom. The heaviest and the worst

Is your displeasure with the king.

Wol. God bless him

Crom. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is

chosen
Lord chancellor in your place.

Wol. That's somewhat sudden:

But he's a learned man. May he continue
Long in his highness' favour, and do justice
For truth's sake, and his conscience ; that his bones,
When he has run his course and sleeps in blessings,
May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on him ' "
What more ?

Crom. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome,
Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury.

Wol. That's news indeed !

Crom. Last, that the lady Anne,

Whom the king hath in secrecy long married,
This day was vievv'd in open,24 as his queen,
Going to chapel ; and the voice is now
Only about her coronation.

Wol. There was the weight that pull'd me down.
O Cromwell!

M The chancellor is the. general guardian of orphans. " A tomb
of tears," says Johnson, " is very harsh." Steevens has adduced
tin Epigram of Martial, in which the Heliades are said to "weep
a tomb of tears " over a viper. Drummond, in his Teares for tb<
Death of Moeliades, has the same conceit :

" The Muses, Phoebus, Love, have raised of their teares

A crystal tomb to him, through which his worth appears."
** In open is a Lalinism. " Et castris in aperto positis, ' Liv
.33 ; that is, in a place exposed on all sides to view.

«C. II. KING HENRY VI 11. 303

The king has gone beyond me ; all my glories

In that one woman I have lost for ever.

No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours,

Or gild again the noble troops that waited

Upon my smiles.24 Go, get thee from me, Cromwell;

( am a poor fallen man, unworthy now

To be thy lord and master. Seek the king;

(That sun, I pray, may never set!) I have told him

What and how true thou art : he will advance thee

Some little memory of me will stir him

(I know his noble nature) not to let

Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,

Neglect him not ; make use Z6 now, and provide

For thine own future safety.

Crom. O, my lord !

Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego
So good, so noble, and so true a master ?
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron,
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. —
The king shall have my service ; but my prayers
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours.

Wol. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.

** Tbe number of persons who composed Cardinal Wolsey'i
household, according to the authentic copy of Cavendish, was Jhsr.
hundred. Cavendish's work, though written soon after the death
of Wolsey, was not printed till 1641, and then in a most unfaith-
ful and garbled manner, the object of the publication having been
to render Laud odious, by showing how far church power had
been extended by Wolsey, and how dangerous that prelate was,
who, in the opinion of many, followed his example. In that spu-
rious copy we read that the number of his household was eight
hundred persons. In other MSS. and in Dr. Wordsworth's edition,
we find it stated at one hundred and eighty persons.

28 Use and usance were common terms for interest. See The
Merchant of Venice, Act i. sc. 3, note 4. n.

IJ04 KING HENRY VIII. ACT III

Lei's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Croru

well ;

And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee;
Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, —
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in ;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition :
By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't ?
Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate

thee:

Corruption wins not more than honesty.
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues : be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
Thy God's, arid truth's : then, if thou fall'st, O

Cromwell !

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king ;
And, — Pr'ythee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny ; 'tis the king's : my robe,
And my integrity to Heaven, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell
Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, He would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
Crom. Good sir, have patience.
Wol So I have. Farewell

The hopes of court ! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

[ Exeuni

KING HENRY VIIl.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. A Street in Westminster.

Enter Two Gentlemen, meeting.

1 Gent. You are well met once again.

2 Gent. So are you.

1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, and

behold
The lady Anne pass from her coronation ?

2 Gent. 'Tis all my business. At our last en-

counter,
The duke of Buckingham came from his trial.

1 Gent. 'Tis very true ; but that time offer'd sor-

row,
This, general joy.

2 Gent. 'Tis well : The citizens,

I am sure, have shown at full their royal ' minds,
(As, let 'em have their rights, they are ever forward,)
In celebration of this day with shows,
Pageants, and sights of honour.

1 Gent. Never greater;
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir.

2 ( it nt. May I be bold to ask what that contains,
That paper in your hand?

1 Gent. Yes ; 'tis the list

Of those that claim their offices this day,
By custom of the coronation.
The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims
To be high steward ; next, the duke of Norfolk,
He to be earl marshal : you may read the rest.

1 Royal for generout ; as we still sny, princely dispositions.

u

306 KING HENRY Vlll. ACT IV

2 Gtnt. I tlmnk you, sir; had I not known those

customs,

I should have been beholding to your papei.
But, I beseech you, what's become of Katharine,
The princess dowager '? how goes her business 1

1 Gent. That I can tell you too. The archbishop
Of Canterbury, accompanied with other
Learned and reverend fathers of his order,

Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off
From Ampthill, where the princess lay ; to which
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not •
And, to be short, for not-appearance and
The king's late scruple, by the main assent
Of all these learned men she was divorc'd,
And the late marriage * made of none effect :
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton,
Where she remains now, sick.

2 Gent. Alas, good lady!-

[ Trumpets.

The trumpets sound : stand close, the queen is coin-
ing.

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

A lively Flourish of Trumpets.

1. Then, two Judges.

2. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before

him.

3. Choristers singing. [Music.

4. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Gar-

ter, in his coat of arms,3 and on his head a
gilt copper crown.

5. Marquess Dorset, bearing a sceptre of gold; on

' That is, the marriage lately considered as valid.

s That is. in his coat of office, emblazoned with the royal arms

SC. I KING HENRY VIII. 307

ftis head a dcmi-coronal of gold. With him,
the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver
with the dove, crowned with an earVs ccrunct.
Collars of SS.

6. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet

on his head, bearing a long white wand, as
high-steward. With him, the Duke of Nor-
folk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on
his head. Collars of SS.

7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports ;

under it, the Queen in her robe ; in her hair
richly adorned with pearl, crowned. On
each side of her, the Bishops of London and
Winchester.

8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold,

wrought with Jlowers, bearing the Queen's
train.

9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circlets

of gold without jlowers.

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me. — These 1

know:
Who's that, that bears the sceptre 1

1 Gent. Marquess Dorset:
And that the earl of Surrey with the rod.

2 Gent. A bold brave gentleman : That should b«
The duke of Suffolk.

1 Gent. 'Tis the same ; high-steward.

2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk ?

1 Gent. Yes.

2 Gent. [Looking on the Queen.] Heaven blesi

thee!

Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. —
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel :
Our king has all the Indies in his arms,

3(W KING HENRY VIII. ACT IV

And more, and richer, when he strains thai lady :
I cannot blame his conscience.

1 Gent. They, that bear
The cloth of honor over her, are four barons
Of the Cinque-ports.

2 Gent. Those men are happy ; and so are all, are

near her.

I take it, she that carries up the train
Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk.

1 Gent. It is ; and all the rest are countesses.

2 Gent. Their coronets say so. These are stars

indeed,
And sometimes falling ones.

1 Gent. No more of that.

[Exit Procession, with a great flourish qf
Trumpets.

Enter a third Gentleman.

God save you, sir ! Where have you been broiling !

3 Gent. Among the crowd i'the abbey, where a

finger

Could not be wedg'd in more : I am stifled
With the mere rankness of their joy.

2 Gent. You saw the ceremony 1

3 Gent. That I did.

1 Gent. How was it?

3 Gent. Well worth the seeing.

2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us.

3 Gent. As well as I am able. The rich stream
Of lords and ladies, having brought the queen

To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off
A distance from her ; while her grace sat down
To rest a while, some half an hour or so,
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely
The beauty of her person to the people.

SC. I. KING HENRY V11I. 309

Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman
That ever lay by man : which when the people
Had the full view of, such a noise arose
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest,
As loud, and to as many tunes : hats, cloaks
(Doublets, I think) flew up ; and had their faces
Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such joy
I never saw before. Great bellied women,
That had not half a week to go, like rams4
In the old time of war, would shake the press,
And make them reel before them. No man living
Could say, " This is my wife," there ; all were woven
So strangely in one piece.

2 Gent. But what follow'd ?

3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with mod-

est paces

Came to the altar ; where she kneel'd, and saint-like
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly ;
Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people :
When by the archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen ;
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Laid nobly on her : which perform 'd, the choir,
With all the choicest music of the kingdom,
Together sung Te Deum.* So she parted,

4 That is, haltering rams.

' Thus in Holinshed's description of the event: "When she
was brought to the high place made in the middest of the church,
the was set in a rich chaire. And after she had rested a while,
•he descended downe to the high altar, and there prostrate hirselfe,
while the archbishop said certeine collects : then she rose, and the
bishop anointed hir on the head and on the brest ; and then she
was led up again, where, after diverse orisons said, the archbishop
set the crowne of saint Edward on hir head, and then delivered
hir the scepter of gold in hir right band, and the rod of ivorie
with the dove in hir left hand, and then all the queere so >ng T»

310 KINO HENRY VIII. ACT IV

And with the same full state pac'd back again
To York-Place, where the feast is held.

1 Gent. Sir,
You must no more call it York-Place ; that's pag» :
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost ;

'Tis now the king's, and call'd Whitehall.

3 Gent. I know it;

But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name
Is fresh ahout me.

2 Gent. What two reverend bishops
Were those that went on each side of the queen ?

3 Gent. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one of Win-

chester, t

Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary ;
The other, London.

2 Gent. He of Winchester

Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's,
The virtuous Cranmer.

3 Gent. All the land knows that :
However, yet there's no great breach ; when it comes,
Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him.

2 Gent. Who may that be, I pray you 1

3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell ;
A man in much esteem with the king, and truly

A worthy friend. — The king

Flas made him master o'the jewel-house,

And one, already, of the privy council.

2 Gent. He will deserve more.

3 Gent. Yes, without all doubt.
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which

Ts to the court, and there ye shall be my guests :

Deum." The coronation of Anne took place June 1, 1553 ; the
divorcement of Katharine having been formally pronounced the
17th of May. H.

SC. 11. KING HENRY VIII. 311

Something I can command. As I walk thither,
I'll tell ye more.

Both. You may command us, sir.

[Exeunt

SCENE II. Kimbolton.

Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick ; led between
GRIFFITH and PATIENCE.

Grif. How does your grace?

Kath. O, Griffith ! sick to death ;

My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth,
Willing to leave their burden. Reach a chair : —
So, — now, metliinks, I feel a little ease.
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me,
That the great child of honour, cardinal VVolsev,
Was dead ? '

Grif. Yes, madam ; but I think your grace,'
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't.

Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he died:
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,2
For my example.

Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam .

For after the stout earl Northumberland
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward,

1 Wolsey died November 29, 1530 ; and the events of this scene
did not occur till January, 1536, which was more than two years
after the event that closes the play. This transposition is amp y
justified, in that the design of the play required it to end with the
birth and christening of Elizabeth ; while the solemn pathos lin-
gering about the injured Katharine equally required that the last
geene of her life should be set forth in all the beauty that belongs
to that model of a woman and a queen. The present scene is,
in strictness, episodical ; but what an episode ! Even so what wa
chance upon in the race of life, is often worth more than the ob-
ject for which we are running. H.

* Ila/tpily is sometimes used by Shakespeare for haply, perad-
vtrUvre ; but it here I tore probably means opportunely.

312 KING HENRY VIII. ACT It

As a man sorely tainted, to his answer.
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill,
He could not sit his mule.3

Kath~ Alas, poor man !

Gfrif. At last, with easy roads,4 he came to

Leicester ;

Lodg'd in the abbey, where the reverend abbot,
With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ;
To whom he gave these words, — " O, father abbot
An old man, broken with the storms of state,
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ;
Give him a little earth for charity ! "
So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness
Pursued him still ; and three nights after this,
About the hour of eight, which he himself
Foretold should be his last, full of repentance,
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows,
He gave his honours to the world again,
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace.

Kath. So may he rest ; his faults lie gently on him 1
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him.
And yet with charity : He was a man
Of an unbounded stomach,6 ever ranking

* Cardinals generally rode on mules, as a mark perhaps of hu-
mility. Cavendish says that Wolsey " rode like a cardinal sump-
tuously upon his mule, trapped altogether in crimson velvet and
gilt stirrups."

4 Roads, or rodes, here, is the same as courses, stages, OTJOUT
neys.

6 Stomach was often used for pride or haughtiness. The Chron-
icles abound in passages showing up this trait in Wolsey's char-
acter. Thus : " It fortuned that the archbishop of Canterbury
wrote to the cardinal! anon after that he had received his power
legantine, the which letter after his old familiar maner he sub
scribed, — Your brother William of Canterburie. With which
subscription he was so much offended, that he could not temper
his mood, but in high displeasure seid that he would so worke
wiinin a while, that he should well understand how he was his

80. H. KIXG HENRY VITI. 3J3

Himself with princes ; one, that by suggestion
Tith'd all the kingdom : 6 simony was fair play ;
His own opinion was his law : I 'the presence
He would say untruths, and be ever double,
Both in his words and meaning. He was never
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful :
His promises were, as he then was, mighty;
But his performance, as he is now, nothing.
Of his own body he was ill, and gave
The clergy ill example.7

superiour, and not his brother." Again, describing the visit of
Charles V. with Henry in 1523 : " On Whitsundaie the emperour
and the king rode to the cathedral! church of saint Paule, and
there heard masse, which was soong by the cardinal!. Before
masse, two barons gave him water, and after the gospel!, two
earles. and at the last lavatorie, two dukes ; which pride the
Spaniards sore disdained." H.

9 The original has ty'de, which Farmer and Singer think should
be tyth'd ; thus meaning the same as the words of Hall, — " And
by craftie suggestion gat into his hands innumerable treasure."
Others think the meaning to be, that he had suggested the nation
into bondage ; had hinted away the liberties of England. His
general course and history make rather in behalf of the former
meaning ; for he was not specially tyrannical, save as tyranny
would purvey to his rapacity ; and Hall relates that he once
claimed from the citizens of London a tythe of their substance.
It may not be amiss to add the following from Holinshed : " His
power leganline was verie profitable and gainful). For he set up
a court, and called it the court of the legate ; in the which he
prooved testaments, and heard causes, to the great hinderance of
all the bishops of this reahne. He visited bishops, and all the
cleargie, exempt and not exempt, and under colour of reformation
he got much treasure. For thorough bribes and rewards notorious
otfendors were dispensed with, so that nothing was reformed, but
came to more mischeefe. The example of his pride caused priests
and spiritual! persons to wax so proud, that they ruffled it out in
velvet and silks, which they ware in gounes, jackets, doublets and
shooes. They used open lecherie, and bare themselves so stout by
reason of his authorise and faculties, that no man durst reproove
any thing in them." H.

7 This speech was evidently founded upon the following, copied
by Holinshed from Hall : " This cardinal! was of a great stomach
for iio comptcd himselfe equal! with princes, and bv craflie tug

314 KING HENRY VIII. ACT IV

(rrif. Noble madam.

Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues
We write in water. May it please your highness
To hear me speak his good now 1

Kath. Yes, good Griffith ;

I were malicious else.

Grif' This cardinal,

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour from his cradle.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ;
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading :
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not ;
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer
And though he were unsatisfied in getting,
(Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam,
He was most princely : Ever witness for him
Those twins of learning, that lie rais'd in you,
Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him,
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ;
The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous,
So excellent in art, and still so rising,
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue.
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ;
For then, and not till then, he felt himself,
And found the blessedness of being little :
And, to add greater honours to his age
Than man could give him, he died fearing God.*

gettion got into his hands innumerable treasure : he forced little
on simonie, and was not pittifull, and stood affectionate in his own
opinion : in open presence he would lie and seie untruth, and was
double both in speech and meaning: he would promise much and
perform little : he was vicious of his bodie, and gave the clergie
evill example." H.

8 This speech is formed on the following passage in Holinshedi
" This cardinal! (as Edmund Compian in his Historic of Ireland
described him) was a man undoubtedly born to honour ; exceed-

>C. II. KING HENRY V1H. 315

Kath. After my death I wish no other herald,
No other speaker of my living actions,
To keep mine honour from corruption,
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith.
Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me,
With thy religious truth and modesty,
Now in his ashes honour. Peace be with him ! —
Patience, be near me still ; and set me lower :
I have not long to trouble thee. — Good Griffith,
Cause the musicians play me that sad note
F nam'd my knell, whilst I sit meditating
On that celestial harmony I go to.

[Sad and solemn music.]

Grif. She is asleep : Good wench, let's sit down

quiet,
For fear we wake her. — Softly, gentle Patience.

The Vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after an-
other, six Personages dad in white robes, wearing
on tJieir heads garlands of bays, and golden vizards
on their faces ; branches of bays or palm in their

ing wise, faire-spokcn, high-minded, full of revenge, vitious of hisf
bodie ; loftie to his enemies, were they never so big, to those that
accepted and sought his friendship wonderful courteous ; a ripe
schooleman ; thrall to affections, brought a-bed with flatterie ; in-
satiable to get, and more princelie in bestowing ; as appeareth by
his two colleges at Ipswich and Oxentbrd, the one overthrown with
his fall, the other unfinished, and yet as it lyeth, for an house of
studentes incomparable throughout Christendome. — He held and
injoied at once the bishoprickes of Yorke, Uuresme, and Win-
chester, the dignities of lord cardinal), legal, and chancellor, the
abbaie of St. Albans, diverse priories, sundrie fat nenefices in com-
tnrndam. A great preferrer of his servants, an advauucer of
learning, stoute in every quarrel, never happy till this his over-
throw ; wherein he shewed such moderation, and ended so pel
fiTtlic. that the hourc of his death did him mere honour than a!
the pomp of his Ufa passed."

116 KING HENRI VIII. ACT IV

hands. They first congee unto het , then dance
and at certain changes the first two hold a spare
garland over her head; at which the other four
make reverend courtesies : then the two that held the
garland deliver the same to the other next two, who
observe the same order in their changes, and holding
the garland over her head. Which done, they de-
liver the same garland to the last two, who likewise
observe the same order : at which (as it were by in-
spiration) she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing,
and Iwldeth up her hands to heaven. And so in
their dancing they vanish, carrying the garland
with them. The music continues.

Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye ? Are ye all

gone,
And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye ?

Grif. Madam, we are here.

Kath. It is not you I call for :

SaAV ye none enter, since I slept 1

Grif. None, madam.

Kath. No ? Saw you not, even now, a blessed

troop

Invite me to a banquet ; whose bright faces
Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun ?
They promis'd me eternal happiness,
And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel
I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall,
Assuredly.

Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams
Possess your fancy.

Kath. Bid the music leave ;

They are harsh and heavy to me. [Music ceaset

Pat. Do you note

How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden 1

BO. II. KING HENRY VIII. 31"

How long her face is drawn ! How pale she looks,
And of an earthy cold ! Mark her eyes !

Grif. She is going, wench : pray, pray.

Pat. Heaven comfort her 1

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. An't like your grace, —

Kath. You are a saucy fellow ;

Deserve we no more reverence?

Grif. You are to blame,

Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behaviour : go to ; kneel.9

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon ;
My haste made me unmannerly : There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king to see you.

Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith ; but this fel-
low
Let me ne'er see again. [Exeunt GRIF. and Mess.

Re-enter GRIFFITH, with CAPUCIUS.

If my sight fail not,

You should be lord ambassador from the emperor,
My i oyal nephew ; and your name Capucius.

Cap. Madam, the same, your servant.

Kath. O, my lord !

The times and titles now are alter'd strangely
With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you,
What is your pleasure with me 7

Cap. Noble lady,

Queen Katharine's servants, after the divorce at D'lnstable,
were directed to be sworn to serve her not as queen but as prin-
cess dowager. Some refused to lake the oalh, and so were forced
to leave her service; and as for those who took it and stayed, she
would not be served by them, by which means she was almost des
titute of attendants

318 KING HENRY VITt. ACT IV.

First, mine own service to your grace ; the next,
The king's request that I would visit you ,
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me
Sends you his princely commendations,
And heartily entreats you take good comfort.

Kath. O, my good lord ! that comfort comes too

late :

'Tis like a pardon after execution.
That gentle physic, given in time, had cur'd me ;
But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers.
How does his highness?

Cap. Madam, in good health.

Kath. So may he ever do! and ever flourish,
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name
Banish'd the kingdom ! — Patience, is that letter,
I caus'd you write, yet sent away?

Pat. [Giving it to Aer.] No, madam.

Kath. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver
This to my lord the king.

Cap. Most willing, madam.

Kath. In which I have commended to his good-
ness

The model 10 of our chaste loves, his young daugh-
ter,—

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her ! —
Beseeching him to give her virtuous breeding ;
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature ;
I hope she will deserve well ;) and a little
To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him,
Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition
Is that his noble grace would have some pity
Upon my wretched women, that so long

10 Model signified, in the language of our ancestors, a rtpre-
\tnl.ation or image.

SC. 11. KINO HRNKY VIII. 319

Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully :

Of which there is not one, 1 dare avow,

(And now I should not lie,) hut will deserve,

For virtue and tr«ie beauty of the soul,

For honesty and decent carriage,

A right good husband, let him be" a noble ;

And, sure, those men are happy that shall have them.

The last is for my men, — they are the poorest,

But poverty could never draw them from me, —

That they may have their wages duly paid them,

And something over to remember me by :

If Heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life,

Arid able means, we had not parted thus.

These are the whole contents : and, good my lord,

By that you love the dearest in this world,

As you wish Christian peace to souls departed,

Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king

To do me this last right.

Cap. By Heaven, I will ;

Or let me lose the fasliion of a man !

Katli. I thank you, honest lord. Remember me
In all humility unto his highness :
Say, his long trouble now is passing
Out of this world : tell him, in death I bless'd him,
For so I will. — Mine eyes grow dim. — Farewell,
My lord. — Griffith, farewell. — Nay, Patience,
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed ;
Call in more women. — When I am dead, good

wench,

Let me be us'd with honour : strew me over
With maiden flowers, that all the world may know
I was ii chaste wife to my grave. Embalm me,
Then lay me forth : although unqueen'd, yet like

11 Even if he should be.

320 KING HENRY VIII. ACT »

A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me.

I can no more. [Exeunt, leading KATHARINE

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace

Enter GARDINER, Bishop of IVinchcster, a Pag*,
with a Torch before him.

Gar. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not ?

Boy. It hath struck.

Gar. These should he hours for necessities,
Not for delights ; l times to repair our nature
With comforting repose, and not for us
To waste these times.

Enter Sir THOMAS LOVELL.

Good hour of night, Sir Thomas !
Whither so late ?

Lov. Came you from the king, my lord !

Gar. I did, Sir Thomas ; and left him at primero *
With the duke of Suffolk.

Lov. I must to him too,

Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave.

Gar. Not yet, Sir Thomas Lovell. What's the
matter ?

1 Gardiner himself is not much delighted. The delights at
which he hints seem to be the king's diversions, which keep him
in attendance.

* Primtro. prime, or primavista. A game at cards, said bj
some writers to be one of the oldest known in England.

SC I. KING HENRY VIII. 321

II seems you are in haste : and if there be
No great offence belongs to't, give your friend
Some touch of your late business. Affairs that walk
(As they say spirits do) at midnight have
In them a wilder nature, than the business
That seeks despatch by day.

Lav. My lord, I love you,

And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work. The queen's in

labour,

They say, in great extremity ; and fear'd,
She'll with the labour end.

Gar. The fruit sh«» goes with

I pray for heartily, that it may find
Good time, and live ; but for the stock, Sir Thomas,
I wish it grubb'd up now.

Lov. Methinks, I could

Cry the amen ; and yet my conscience says
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does
Deserve our better wishes.

Gar. But, sir, sir, —

Hear me, Sir Thomas : Y' are a gentleman
Of mine own way ; 3 I know you wise, religious ;
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well, —
'Twill not, Sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me, —
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she,
Sleep in their graves.

Lov. Now, sir, you speak of two

The most remark'd i'the kingdom. As for Crom-
well,

Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master
O'the rolls, and the king's secretary ; further, sir,
Stands in the gap and trade* of more preferments,

1 Of mine own opinion in religion.

4 That is, course or way. " Iter pro iuccpto et institute,

822 KING HENRY VIII. AOT V

With which the time will load him : The archbishop
Is the king's hand and tongue ; and who dare speak
One syllable against him 1

(far. Yes, yes, Sir Thomas,

There are that dare ; and I myself have ventur'd
To speak my mind of him : and, indeed, this day,
Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think I have
Incens'd 5 the lords o'the council, that he is
(For so I know he is, they know he is)
A most arch heretic, a pestilence
That does infect the land : with which they mov'd
Have broken with the king ; 6 who hath so far
Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace
And princely care, foreseeing those fell mischiefs
Our reasons laid before him,) hath commanded
To-morrow morning to the council board
He be convented.7 He's a rank weed, Sir Thomas,
And we must root him out. From your affairs
I hinder you too long : good night, Sir Thomas.

Lov. Many good nights, my lord : I rest your ser-
vant. [Exeunt GARDINER and Page*

As LOVELL is going out, enter the King, and the
Duke of SUFFOLK.

King. Charles, I will play no more to-night:
My mind's not on't ; you are too hard for me.
Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before.

trade, or course." COOPER. Again, in Udnl's Apothegms : "al
thoug-he it repent them of the trade or way that they have chosen.''

' Incens'd or insensed in this instance, and in some others, only
means instructed, informed : still in use in Staffordshire. It prop
erly signifies to infuse into the mind, to prompt or instigate. " In-
vidise stimulo mentes Patrum fodit Saturnia : Juno incenselh the
senators' minds with secret envy against." COOPER.

6 That is, have broken or opened the subject with him. Se«
The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act i. sc. 3, note 4. u.

' That is, summoned, convened.

SC. I. KING HENRf VIII. 3£J

King. But little, Charles;
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play. —
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news 1

Lov. I could not personally deliver to her
What you commanded me, but by her woman
I sent your message ; who return'd her thanks
In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your high-
ness
Most heartily to pray for her.

King. What say'st thou ? ha !

To pray for her? what! is she crying out?

Lov. So said her woman ; and that her sufferance

made
Almost each pang a death.

King. \ Alas, good lady !

Suf. God safely quit her of her burden, and
With gentle travail, to the gladding of
Your highness with an heir !

King. 'Tis midnight, Charles:

Pr'ythee, to bed ; and in thy prayers remember
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone ;
For I must think of that which company
Would not be friendly to,

Suf. I wisn your highness

A quiet night ; and my good mistress will
Remember in my prayers.

King. Charles, good night. —

[Exit SUFFOLK

Enter Sir ANTHONY DENNY.

Wei., sir, what follows ?

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the archbi shop
As you commanded me.

King. Ha ! Canterbury 1

Den. Ay, my good lord.

824 KING HENRY VIII. ACT V

King. 'Tis true : where is h«, Denny t

Den. He attends your highness' pleasure.
King. Bring him to us. [Exit DENNY.

Lov. [Aside.] This is about that which the bishop

spake :
I am happily come hither.

Re-enter DENNY, with CRANMER.

King. Avoid the gallery. [LovELL seems to stay.
Ha! — I have said. — Be gone.
What ! — [Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY.

Cran. I am fearful : — Wherefore frowns he thus?
'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well.

King. How now, my lord ! You do desire to

know
Wherefore I sent for you.

Cran. It is my duty

T" attend your highness' pleasure.

King. 'Pray you, arise,

My good and gracious lord of Canterbury.
Come, you and I must walk a turn together ;
[ have news to tell you : Come, come, give me your

hand.

Ah, my good lord ! I grieve at what I speak,
And am right sorry to repeat what follows.
I have, and most unwillingly, of late
Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord,
Grievous complaints of you ; which, being con-

sider'd,

Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall
This morning come before us ; where I know
You cannot with such freedom purge yourself,
But that, till further trial in those charges
Which will require your answer, you must take
Your patience to you, and be well contented

SO I. KING HENRY VIII. 325

To make your house our Tower : You a brother of

us,8

ft fits we thus proceed, or else no witness
Would come against you.

Cran. I humbly thank your highness,

And am right glad to catch this good occasion
Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff
And corn shall fly asunder ; for I know
There's none stands under more calumnious tongues,
Than I myself, poor man.

King. Stand up, good Canterbury;

Thy truth and thy integrity is rooted
In us, thy friend : Give me thy hand, stand up ;
Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame,
What manner of man are you 1 My lord, I look'd
You would have given me your petition, that
I should have ta'en some pains to bring together
Yourself and your accusers ; and to have heard you,
Without indurance,9 further.

8 You being one of the council, it is necessary to imprison you,
that the witnesses against you may not be deterred.

9 Indurance is here used for imprisonment, or being put or held
in durance. The word is often used thus in the book whence the
materials of this scene are drawn. So, likewise, in Montagu's
Appeal to Caesar : " If they are not beneficed, their indurance. is
th«: longer ; the punishment allotted is one whole yeares imprison-
ment."— We here trace the Poet's reading into a new path, and
one that entirely refutes the old notion that his knowledge of Eng-
lish history was confined to the pages of Holinshed. The matter
of the scene and in many cases the precise language are taken
from the book commonly known as Fox's Book of Martyrs, which
was first printed in 1563, and very soon grew into the popularity
which it has ever since retained. The main passages are giver
in this and the following notes, from Fox's Life of Cranmer
" When night came, the king sent sir Anthony Denie, about mid
night, to Lambeth to the archbishop, willing him forthwith to re-
sort unto him at court. The message done, the archbishop spedily
addressed himselfe to the court, and comming into the gallerie
where the king taried for him, his highnesse said, • Ah, my lord
of C»nUirbur;e. I can tell you newes. For divers waight) con

820 KING HENRY VIII. ACT V

Cran. Most dread liege,

The good I stand on is my truth and honesty ;
If they shall fail, 1, with mine enemies,
Will triumph o'er my person, which I weigh not.
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing
What can be said against me.

King. Know you not how

Your state stands i'the world, with the whole world 1
Your enemies are many, and not small ; their prac •

tices

Must bear the same proportion : and not ever ;o
The justice and the truth o'the question carries
The due o'the verdict with it. At what ease
Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt
To swear against you ! such things have been done
You are potently oppos'd, and with a malice
Of as great size. Ween you of better luck,
I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master,

sklerations it is determined by me and the couucell, that you to
morrowe at nine of the clocke shall be committed to the Tower ;
for that you and your chaplains have taught and preached, and
thereby sowen within the realm, such a number of execrable her-
esies, that it is feared no small commotions will rise thereby among
my subjects : and therefore the councell have requested me, for
the triall of the matter, to suffer them to commit you to the Tower,
or else no man dare come forth as witness in these matters, you
being a counsellor.' When the king had said his mind, the arch-
bishop kneeled downe and said, < I am content, if it please your
grace, with all my hart to go thither at your highnesse cormnande-
itient ; and I most humbly thank your majesty that I may come
to my trial, for there be that have many waies slandered mee ; and
now this way 1 hope to trie myself not worthy of such report.'
The king, perceiving the mans uprightuesse, joined with such sim-
plicitie, said, ' Oh Lord, what maner a man bee you ? What
simplicitie is in you ? I had thought that you would rather have
sued to us to have taken the paines to have heard you and your
accusers together for your triall, without any such indurance.' "

n.

10 Not cvet is an uncommon expression, and here means nt*
(die ay*.

Si.,, i. KING HENRY VI11. 327

Whose minister you are, whiles here He liv'd
Upon this naughty earth? Go to, go to:
You take a precipice for no leap of danger,
And woo your own destruction.

Cran. God and your majesty

Protect mine innocence, or I fall into
The trap is laid for me !

King. Be of good cheer ;

They shall no more prevail, than we give way to.
Keep comfort to you ; and this morning see
You do appear before them : If they shall chance.
In charging you with matters, to commit you,
The best persuasions to the contrary
Fail not to use, and with what vehemency
The occasion shall instruct you: if intreaties
Will render you HO remedy, this ring
Deliver them, and your appeal to us
There make before them. — Look, the good man

weeps

He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest mother ! •
I swear, he is true-hearted ; and a soul
None better in my kingdom. — Get you gone,
And do as I have bid you. — [Exit CRANMER.]

He has strangled
His language in his tears.11

11 This is taken almost literally from Fox, who makes the king
speak to the archbishop as follows : " « Doe not you know what
state you he in with the whole world, and how manic great en-
emies you have 7 Do you not consider what an easie thing it is
to procure three or foure false knaves to witnesse against you ?
Think you to have better lucke that wai than your master Christ
had 1 I see by it you will run headlong to your undoing, if I
would suffer you. Your enemies shall not so prevaile against you ,
for I have otherwise devised wilh myselfe to keepe you out of their
hands. Yet notwithstanding, to morrow, when the councell shall
sit and send for you, resort unto them, and if in charging you with
this matter they do commit you to the Tower, requ'ire of them, be

3% KINO HENRY VIII. ACT ?

Enter an old Lady, in haste.

Gent, [ Within.] Come back : what mean you 1

Lady. I'll not come back ; the tidings that I brinj;
Will make my boldness manners. — Now, good

angels

Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person
Under their blessed wings !

King. Now, by thy looks

I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd 1
Say, ay ; and of a boy.

Lady. Ay, ay, my liege ;

And of a lovely boy : The God of heaven
Both now and ever bless her ! — 'tis a girl,
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen
Desires your visitation, and to be
Acquainted with this stranger : 'tis as like you,
As cherry is to cherry.

King. Lovell ! —

Re-enter LOVELL.

Lov. Sir.

King. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the

queen. [Exit King.

Lady. An hundred marks ! By this light I'll ha'

more.

cause you are one of them, a councellor, that you may have jour
accusers brought before them without any further indurance, and
use for yourselfe as good perswasions that way as you may devise
and if no intreatie will serve, then deliver unto them this my ring
and say unto them, if there be no remedie, my lords, but thai /
must needs go to the Power, then I revoke my cause from you
and appeale to the kings owne person, by this his token unto yo*
all : for, so soon as they shall see this my ring, they shall under
stand that 1 have resumed the whole cause into mine owne hands.
The archbishop, perceiving the kings benigtiilie so much to him
wards, had much ado tn forbeare teares. « Well,' said the king
1 go your waies, my lord, and do as 1 have bidden you ' H

SC. II. KING HENRY VIII. 329

Ait ordinary groom is for such payment:

I will have more, or scold it out of him.

Said I for this, the girl is like to him ?

I will have more, or else unsay't ; and now

While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue. [Exeunt

SCENE II. Lobby before the Council-Chamler.

Enter CRANMER ; Servants, Doorkeeper, fyc.,
attending.

Cran. I hope I am not too late ; and yet the gen-
tleman,

That was sent to me from the council, pray'd me
To make great haste. All fast ! what means this 1 — •

Hoa!
Who waits there ? — Sure you know me ?

Doork. Yes, my lord;

But yet I cannot help you.

Cran. Why ?

Doork. Your grace must wait till you be call'd for.

Enter Doctor BUTTS.

Cran. So.

Butts. This is a piece of malice. I am glad,
I carne this way so happily. The king
Shall understand it presently. [Exit BUTTS.

Cran. [Aside.] 'Tis Butts,

The king's physician. As he past along,
How earnestly he cast his eyes upon me!
l*ra» Heaven, he sound not my disgrace ! For cor

tain,

This s of purpose lay'd by some that hate me ,
(God turn their hearts ! 1 never sought their inal
ice,)

330 KING HENRY VIII. ACT V

To quench mine honour : they would shame to make
me

Wait else at door, a fellow counsellor,

'Mong boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their pleas-
ures

Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience.

Enter the King and BUTTS, at a Window above.1

Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight, —
King. What's that, Butts 1

Butts. I think, your highness saw this many a day
King. Body o'me, where is it 1
Butts. There, my lord !

The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury ;
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants.
Pages, and footboys.

King. Ha ! 'Tis he, indeed.

Is this the honour they do one another1?
'Tis well, there's one above 'em yet. I had thought
They had parted 2 so much honesty among 'em
(At least, good manners) as not thus to suffer
A man of his place, and so near our favour,
To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures,
And at the door too, like a post with packets.
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery :
Let 'em alone, and draw the curtain close ; *
We shall hear more anon. — [Exeunt.

1 The suspicious vigilance of our ancestors contrived window*
which overlooked the insides of chapels, halls, kitchens, passages,
&c. Some of these convenient peepholes may still be seen in
colleges, and such ancient houses as have not suffered from the
reformations of modern architecture. In a letter from Matthew
Parker, archbishop of Canterbury, 1573, printed in Seward's An-
ecdotes : " And if it please her majestic, she may come in througfc
my gallerie, and see the disposition of the hall in dynner time, a.
r window opening thereinto."

* That is, thared.

1 Thai is, <be curtain of the balcony or upuer stage, where tb«

SC. II. KING HENRY VIII. 331

THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.

Enter the Lord Chancellor, the Duke of SUFFOLK,
Earl of SURREY, Lord Chamberlain, GARDINER,
and CROMWELL. The Chancellor places himself
at the upper end of the table on the left hand; a
seat being left void above him, as for the Archbish-
op of Canterbury. The rest seat themselves in or-
der on each side. CROMWELL at the lower end, as
Secretary.

Chan. Speak to the business, master secretary :
Why are we met in council 1

Crom. Please your honours,

The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury.

Gar. Has he had knowledge of it 1

Crom. Yes.

Nor. Who waits there ?

Doork. Without, my noble lords!

Gar. Yes.

Doork. My lord archbishop ;
And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures.

Chan. Let him come in.

king now is. The matter of this passage is thus given by Fox I
" On the morrow, about nine of the clock before noone, the conn-
cell sent a gentleman usher for the archbishop, who, when hee
came to the councell chamber doore, could not be let in, hut of
purpose, as it seemed, was compelled there to wait among the
pages, lackies, and serving men al alone. Doctor Huts, the kings
physician, resorting that way, and espying how my lord of Can-
^'erbur3 was handled, went to the kings highnesse and said, ' My
lord of Canterbury, if it please your grace, is well promoted : foi
now he is become a lackey or a serving man ; for yonder he stand
etli this half hower at the councell chamber doore amongst them.'
' It is not so,' quoth the king, ' I trowe ; nor the councell hath not
so little discretion as to use the metropolitan of the realm in that
sort, specially being one of their own number. But let then
dlone,' sayd the kin{ ' and we shall heare more soone.' '' H.

332 KING HENRY VIII. ACT T

DoorTc. Your grace may enter now.

[CRANMER approaches the Council- table

Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry
To sit here at this present, and behold
That chair stand empty : but we all are men,
In our own natures frail, arid culpable*
Of our flesh; few are angels: out of which frailty
And want of wisdom, you that best should teacli us
Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little,
Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chap-
lains,

(For so we are inform'd,) with new opinions,
Divers, and dangerous ; which are heresies,
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious.

Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too,
My noble lords ; for those that tame wild horses
Pace 'em not in their hands to make 'em gentle,
But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spui

'em,

Till they obey the manage. If we suffer,
Out of our easiness and childish pity
To one man's honour, this contagious sickness,
Farewell all physic: And what follows then ]
Commotions, uproars, with a general taint

4 The old stage direction at the commencement of this scene if
"Acouncell table brought in with chayres and stooles and placed
under the state." Our ancestors were contented to be told thai
ihe same spot, without an}' change of its appearance, except per
haps the drawing back of a curtain, was at once the outside and
the inside of the council chamber.

6 The original here reads, — "And capable of our flesh ;" oul
of which it is not easy to extract any certain meaning. Malone
changed "and capable" to " /weapable ;" which change betters
the sense indeed, but takes a very questionable liberty with the
text. Monck Mason proposed culpable, and the same word is sub-
stituted in the copy of the second folio lately discovered by Mr
(•oilier. H.

»C. II. KING HENRI VIII &KJ

Of the whole state ; as of late days our neighbours,
The upper Germany, can dearly witness,
Yet freshly pitied in our memories.

Cran. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress
Both of my life and office, I have labour'd,
And with no little study, that my teaching
And the strong course of my authority
Might go one way, and safely ; and the end
Was ever, to do well : nor is there living
(I speak it with a single heart, my lords)
A man that more detests, more stirs against,
Both in his private conscience and his place,
Defacers of a public peace, than I do.
'Pray Heaven, the king may never find a heart
With less allegiance in it ! Men, that make
Envy and crooked malice nourishment,
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships,
That in this case of justice my accusers,
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face,
And freely urge against me.

Suf. Nay, my lord,

That cannot be : you are a counsellor,
And by that virtue no man dare accuse you.

Gar. My lord, because we have business of more

moment,

We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleas-
ure,

And our consent, for better trial of you,
From hence you be committed to the Tower ;
Where, being but a private man again,
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly,
More than, I fear, you are provided for.

Cran. Ah ! my good lord of Winchester, I thank

you;
You are always my good friend : if vour will pass,

<fcJ4 KING HENRY VIII. ACT V

I shall both find your lordship judge and juror.

You arc so merciful. 1 see your end ;

'Tis my undoing. Love and meekness, lord,

Become a churchman better than ambition :

Win straying souls with modesty again,

Cast none away. That I shall clear myself,

Lay all the weight you can upon my patience,

[ make as little doubt, as you do conscience

In doing daily wrongs. I could say more,

But reverence to your calling makes me modest.

Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary;
That's the plain truth : your painted gloss discovers,
To men that understand you, words and weakness.*

Crom. My lord of Winchester, you are a little,
By your good favour, too sharp : men so noble,
However faulty, yet should find respect
For what they have been : 'tis a cruelty,
To load a falling man.

Gar. Good master secretary,

I cry your honour mercy : you may, worst
Of all this table, say so.

Crom. Why, my lord 1

Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer
Of this new sect? ye are not sound.

Crom Not sound 1

Gar. Not sound, I say.

Crom. 'Would you were half so honest

Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears

Gar. I shall remember this bold language.

Crom. Do

Remember your bold life too.

Chan. This is too much ;

Forbear, for shame, my lords.

8 Those that understand you, under this painted gloss, this fail
outside, discover your empty talk and your false reasoning.

SC. II. KING HENRY VIII. 335

Gar. I have done.

Crom. And I.

Chan. Then thus for you, my lord. — It stands

agreed,

I take it, by all voices, that forthwith
You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner ;
There to remain, till the king's further pleasure
Be known unto us. Are you all agreed, lords 1

All. We are.

Gran. Is there no other way of mercy,

But I must needs to the Tower, my lords ?

Gar. What other

Would you expect ? You are strangely troublesome !
Let some o'the guard be ready there.

Enter Guard.

Gran. For me T

Must I go like a traitor thither 1

Gar. Receive him,

And see him safe i'the Tower.

Gran. Stay, good my lords;

I have a little yet to say. — Look there, my lords
By virtue of that ring, I take my cause
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it
To a most noble judge, the king my master

Cham. This is the king's ring.7

7 It seems to have been a custom, begun probably before tne
regal power experienced the restraints of law, for every monarch
to have a ring, the temporary possession of which invested the
holder with the same authority as the owner himself could exer-
cise. The production of it was sufficient 10 suspend the execution
of the law; it procured indemnity for offences committed, and im-
posed acquiescence and submission to whatever was done under
its authority. The traditional story of the earl of Essex. Queen
Elizabeth, and the countess of Nottingham, long considered as an
incident of a romance, is generally known, aud now as generally
eicdited

336 KTNO HENRY VIII. ACT V

flitr. 'Tis no counterfeit

Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by Heavei. ! I told you

all,

When we first put this dangerous stone a-i oiling,
'Twould fall upon ourselves.

Nor. Do you think, my lorda,

The king will suffer but the little finger
Of this man to be vex'd 1

Cham. 'Tis now too certain,

How much more is his life in value with him.
'Would I were fairly out on't.

Crom. My mind gave me,

In seeking tales and informations
Against this man, (whose honesty the devil
And his disciples only envy at,)
Ye blew the fire that burns ye: Now have at ye.*

Enter the King, frowning on them; takes his seat.

Gar. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound

to Heaven

In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince !
Not only good and wise, but most religious ;

8 So in Fox : " Anone the archbishop was called into the couh
saille chamber, to whome was alledged as before is rehearsed.
The archbishop answered in like sort as the king had advised
him; and in the end, when he perceived that no maner of perswa-
sion or intreatie could serve, he delivered them the kings ring, re-
voking his cause into the kings hands. The whole conncell being
thereat somewhat amazed, the earle of Bedford with a loud voice,
confirming his wordes with a solemn othe, said, ' When you first
began the matter, mv lords, I lolde you what would come of it.
Do vou thinke that the king will suffer this mans finger to ake 1
Much more, I warrant you, will hee defend his life against brab-
ling varlets. You doe but cumber yourselves to heare tales and
fables against him.' And so, incontinently upon the receipt of tho
kings token, they all rose, and caryed the king his ring, surrender-
ing that matter, as the order and use wp.s, iu'" his own hands."

SC. II. KING HENRY VIII. 337

One that in all obedience makes the Church
The chief aim of his honour, and, to strengthen
That holy duty, out of dear respect
His royal self in judgment comes to hear
The cause betwixt her and this great offender.
King. You were ever good at sudden commen

dations,

Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not
To hear such flattery now ; and in my presence
They are too thin and bare to hide offences.9
To me you cannot reach : you play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me;
But, whatsoe'er them tak'st me for, I am sure
Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. —
[ To CRANMER.] Good man, sit down. Now let me

see the proudest,

He that dares most, but wag his finger at thee :
By all that's holy, he had better starve,
Than but once think this place becomes thee not.1*

9 Referring1 to commendations. — The old copy reads " thin and
base;" the emendation was suggested by Malone. In modem
editions the sentence is pointed so as to connect " and in my pres-
ence " with what goes before. Our pointing is that of the original,
which is evidently right. H.

10 The original here reads, — " Think his place becomes thee
not," which is commonly retained in modern editions. Congruity
of sense carries the mind at once to the seat Cranmer has just
taken, as the place meant. And Mr. Dyce has shown, what
is familiar enough to experienced proof-readers, that the misprint
of his for this is one of the commonest. — We must quote again
from Fox's narrative : " When they were all come to the kings
presence, his highnes with a severe countenance said unto them,
'Ah, my lords, 1 thought I had wiser men of my councell than
iiow 1 find you. What discretion was this in you, thus to make
the primate of the realm, and one of you in office, to waite at the
councell chamber doore amongst serving men ? You might havo
considered that he was a counsellor as wel as you, and you had
no such commission of me so to handle him. i was content thai
you should trie him as a councellor and not as a mean subject

338 KING HENRY VIII. ACT *

Sur. May it please your grace, —

King. No, sir, it does not please me

I had thought, I had had men of some understanding
And wisdom of my council ; but I find none.
Was it discretion, lords, to let this man,
This good man, (few of you deserve that tille,)
This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy
At chamber door? and one as great as you are1?
Why, what a shame was this ! Did my commission
Bid ye so far forget yourselves 1 I gave ye
Power as he was a counsellor to try him,
Not as a groom. There's some of ye, I see,
More out of malice than integrity
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean ;
Which ye shall never have, while I live.

Chan. Thus far,

My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace
To let my tongue excuse all. What was purpos'd
Concerning his imprisonment, was rather
(If there be faith in men) meant for his trial,
And fair purgation to the world, than malice ;
I'm sure, in me.

King. Well, well, my lords, respect him

But now I well perceive that things be done against him malicious
ly, and if some of you might have had your minds, you would
have tried him to the uttermost. But I doe you all to wit, thai
if a prince may bee beholding unto his subject, by the faith I owe
to (iod, I lake this man here, my lord of Canterbury, to be above
all other a most faithful) subject unto us, and one to whoine wee
are much beholding;' giving him great commendations otherwise.
4 ud with that one or two of the chiefest, making their excuse, de-
elared that in requesting his indurance, it was rather meant for his
liiall and purgation against the common fame and slander of the
world, than for any malice conceived against him. • Well, well,
my lords,' quoth the king, ' take him and use him well, as he is
worthy to be, and make no more adoe.' And with that every man
••.aught him by the hand, and made faire weather altogether* •
which inighl easily be done with that man." u.

SC. II. KING HENRY VIII. 3JJ9

Take him and use him well ; he's worthy of it.

I will say thus much for him ; if a prince

May be beholding to a subject, I

Am, for his love and service, so to him.

Make me no more ado, but all embrace him :

Be friends, for shame, my lords ! — My lord of Cao

terbury,

I have a suit which you must not deny me;
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism,
You must be godfather, and answer for her.

Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may

glory

In such an honour: how may I deserve it,
That am a poor and humble subject to you ?

King. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your
spoons." You shall have two noble partners with

11 It was an ancient custom for the sponsors at christenings to
offer silver or silver-gilt spoons as a present to the child. The
ancient offerings upon such occasions were called Apostle-spoons,
because the extremity of the handle was formed into the figure of
one or other of the apostles. Such as were opulent and generous
gave the whole twelve ; those who were more moderately rich or
liberal, escaped at the expense of the four evangelists ; or even
sometimes contented themselves with presenting one spoon only
which exhibited the figure of any saint, in honour of whom the
child received jts name. Thus in The Noble Gentleman of Beau-
mont and Fletcher : " I'll be a gossip, Bewford ; I have an odd
apostle-spoon." And in Middleton's Chaste Maid of Cheapside :

" "2 Goss. What has he given her? — what is it, gossip 1

" 3 Goss. A fair high standing cup, and two great 'postle spoons,
one of them gilt."

The following story is related of Shakespeare and Ben Jonsoo
in a collection of anecdotes, entitled Merry Passages and Jests i
" Shakespeare was godiathor to one of Ben Jonson's children ;
and after the christening, being in deepe study, Jonson came to
cheer him up, and ask'd him why he was so melancholy? No,
faith, Ben, says he, not I ; but I have been considering a great
while what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my
godchild, and 1 have resolved at last. 1 prythee what ? says he.
I'faith, Ben, I'll give him a douzen good latten [Latin] spotns, and
thou shall translate them."

#40 KING HENRY VIII. ACT V

you ; the old duchess of Norfolk, and lady marquesa
Dorset : will these please you ? 12
Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you,
Embrace, and love this man.

Gar. With a true heart ,

And brother-love, I do it.

Cran. And let Heaven

Witness how dear I hold this confirmation.

King. Good man, those joyful tears sho'v thy

true heart.

The common voice, I see, is verified
Of thee, which says thus, " Do my lord of Cantei bury
A shrewd turn, and he is your friend for ever." —
Come, lords, we trifle time away ; I long
To have this young one made a Christian.
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain ;
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain.

[Exeunt

SCENE III. The Palace Yard.

Noise and Tumult within. Enter Porter and his
Man.

Port. You'll leave your noise anon, ye rascals :
Do ye take the court for Paris-garden 1 ' ye rude
slaves, leave your gaping.*

lz We print this speech just as it stands in the original. Mod-
ern editions generally try to make the foregoing part of it read
like verse ; but none of them succeeds, and therefore they cannot
agree among themselves. H.

1 This celebrated bear garden, on the Bankside, was so called
from Robert de Paris, who had a house and garden there in the
time of King Richard II. In Shakespeare's time it was noted for
tumult and disorder, and was after alluded to by the writers of that
day, as a place where bears, bulls, and horses were baited. H.

* That is, shouting or roaring; a sense the word has now lost
Littleton, in his Dictionary, has " To gape or bawt: vociferor."

SC. III. KING HENRY VIII. 341

[Within.'] Good master porter, I belong to the
larder.

Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hang'd, you
rogue ! Is this a place to roar in ? — Fetch me a
doxen crab-tree staves, and strong ones : these are
but switches to them. — I'll scratch your heads. You
must be seeing christenings ? Do you look for ale
and cakes here, you rude rascals?

Man. Pray, sir, be patient: 'tis as much impos-
sible

(Unless we sweep 'em from the door with cannons)
To scatter 'em, as 'tis to make 'em sleep
On May-day morning; which will never be:3
We may as well push against Paul's, as stir 'em.

Port. How got they in, and be hang'd ?

Man. Alas, I know not : How gets the tide in ?
As much as one sound cudgel of four foot
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute,
I made no spare, sir.

Port. You did nothing, sir.

Man. I am not Samson, nor Sir Guy, nor Col-
brand,4 to mow 'em down before me ; but, if I
spar'd any that had a head to hit, either young or

' Anciently the first of May was observed by all classes of
Englishmen as a holiday, tiee A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Acl
i. sc. 1, note 9. The old custom is touched divinely by Words-
worth in his " Ode composed on May morning," thus :

"Time was, blest Power! when youths and maids

At peep of dawn would rise.
And wander forth in forest glades

Thy birth to solemnize.
Though mute the song, — to grace the rite

Untouched the hawthorn bough,
Thy spirit triumphs o'er the slight;

Man changes, but not Thou !" H.

4 t-fwif of Warwick, rior Colbrand the Danish giant, whom Guy
subdu«"l at Winchester, tiee King Jrhn, Act i. sc. 1, note ?6

342 KING HENRY VIII. ACT V

old, he or she, cuckold or cuckold-maker, let me
ne'er hope to see a queen again ; and that I would
not for P crown, God save her."

[ Within.] Do you hear, master Porter ?

Port. I shall be with you presently, good master
puppy. — Keep the door close, sirrah.

Man. What would you have me do ?

Port. What should you do, but knock 'em down
by the dozens 1 Is this Moorfields to muster in ? *
or have we some strange Indian with the great tool
come to court, the women so besiege us ? Bless
me, what a fry of fornication is at door ! On my
Christian conscience, this one christening will begel
a thousand : here will be father, godfather, and all
together.

Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. There
is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a
brazier7 by his face, for, o' ray conscience, twenty
of the dog-days now reign in's nose : all that stand
about him are under the line, they need no other
penance. That fire-drake 8 did I hit three times on

6 The original reads, — "Let me ne'er hope to see a Chine
againe, and that I would not for a Cow, God save her." What
reason there should be for using chine and cow, has been a puzzle
to commentators, and it seems impossible to explain such an usage.
The changes are adopted from Collier's newly-discovered manu-
script corrections. We apprehend there will be little if any ques-
tion made about letting them pass into the text. Even Mr. Singer,
who is certainly sharp enough, not to say, bitter, against the afore-
said corrections, admits the changes to be " ingenious ; " adding,
somewhat facetiously. — "I must confess I should part with the
chine unwillingly, although I have no objection to the crown."
The meaning of the last clause, as now given, evidently is, " J
would not miss seeing a queen again for a crown." H.

6 The trained bands of the city were exercised in Moorfields.

7 A brazier signifies a man that manufactures brass, and a res-
ervoir for charcoal occasionally heated to convey warmth. Both
these senses are understood.

• " Firt-dfdke. ; a Jire sometimes seen flying in the night lika

SC. III. RING HENRY VIII. 5343

the head, and three times was his nose discharged
against me : he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to
blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small
wit near him, that rail'd upon me till her pink'd
porringer 9 fell off her head, for kindling such a
combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor I0 once,
and hit that woman, who cried out "clubs ! " " wher.
I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw
to her succour, which were the hope o'the Strand
where she was quartered. They fell on ; I made
good my place ; at length they came to the broom-
staff with me : I defied 'em still ; when suddenly a
file of boys behind 'em, loose shot,12 deliver'd such
a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine
honour in, and let 'em win the work.13 The devil
was amongst 'em, I think, surely.

Port. These are the youths that thunder at a
play-house, and fight for bitten apples ; that no au-
dience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the
limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to

a dragon. Common people think it a spirit that keepeth some
treasure hid ; but philosophers affirme it to be a great unequal
exhalation inflamed betweene two clouds, the one hot, the other
cold, which is the reason that it also smoketh ; the middle part
whereof, according to the proportion of the hot cloud, being great-
er than the rest, maketh it seeme like a bellie, and both ends like
unto a head and taile." — Hu/lokar's Expositor, 1616. A Ji re-
drake appears to have been also an artificial firework.

9 Her pink'd cap, which looked as if it had been moulded on »
fiwringer. So in The Taming of the Shrew:

" Hab. Here is the cap your worship did bespeak.
Pet. Why, this was moulded on a porringer."

10 The brazier.

11 Among the London apprentices, "clubs! clubs!" was a
common cry to the rescue. See As You Like It, Act v. sc. 2, not*
5; also, 1 Henry VI., Act i. sc. 3, note 11. H.

11 That is, loose or random thooters. See 2 Henry IV , Act
til sc. 2, note 16.

" Thai i«, the fortret*

344 KINR HENRY VIII. ACT V

endure.14 I have some of 'em in Limbo Patrum,11
and there they are like to dance these three days ;
besides the running banquet of two beadles,18 that
is to come.

Enter the Lord Chamberlain.

Cham. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here !
They grow still too; from all parts they are coming,
As if we kept a fair here ! Where are these porters,
These lazy knaves? — Ye have made a fine hand,

fellows :

There's a trim rabble let in. Are all these
Your faithful friends o'the suburbs 1 We shall have
Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies,
When they pass back from the christening.

Port. An't please your honour

We are but men; and what so many may do,
Not being torn a-pieces, we have done :
An army cannot rule 'em.

Cham. As I live,

14 The object-mailer of these allusions has been variously dis-
puted, and much learned rubbish has been gathered about them.
The best explanation, it seems to us, is that of Mr. Dyce, who re-
gards it as a " fling at the affected meekness of the Puritans.'1
He adds, — " 'The Tribulation of Tower-hill' evidently means
some particular set or meeting of Puritans, and the ' Limbs of
Limehouse, their dear brothers,' another set." Limbs of course
means members. In Ben Jonson's Alchemist, one of the charac-
ters is " Tribulation Wholesome, a Pastor of Amsterdam." It
is well known how cordially the Puritans hated plays and theatres.
Knight asks very shrewdly, — " Is it not that the Puritans, haling
playhouses, approved of the uproar of those who ' fight for bitten
apples,' because il disturbed those lhat came to hear?" H.

15 That is, in confinement. In limbo continues to be a cant
phrrise in (he same sense to this day. The Limbus Patrum is,
properly, the place where the old fathers and patriarchs are sup-
posed lo be waiting for the resurrection.

18 A public whipping. A banquet here is used for a dessert.
To the confinement of these rioters a whippirg was to be the
dessert.

SC. TV KING HENRY VIII. , 345

)f the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all

By the heels, and suddenly; arid on your heads

Clap round fines for neglect : Y'are lazy knaves ;

And here ye he baiting of bombards,17 when

Ye should do service. Hark ! the trumpets sound1,

They're come already from the christening :

Go, break among the press, and find a way out

To let the troop pass fairly ; or I'll find

A Marshalsea, shall hold ye play these two mouth*

Port. Make way there for the princess.

Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'D
make your head ache.

Port. You i'the camblet, get up o'the rail ; I'D
peck 18 you o'er the pales else. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The Palace at Greenwich.

Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two Aldermen, Lord
Mayor, Garter, CRANMER, Duke of NORFOLK,
with his Marshal's Staff, Duke of SUFFOLK, two
Noblemen bearing great standmg-b(nols ' for the
christening gifts ; then four Noblemen bearing a
canopy, under which the Duchess of NORFOLK,

" A bombard or bumbard was a large leathern jack for hold-
•ng liquor. See 1 Henry IV., Act ii. sc. 4, note 39. H.

18 So in the original, hut commonly changed in modern editions
to pule. Peck and pick appear to have been both of them old
forms of pitch. Thus Baret : " To picke or cast." And Stubbes
in his Anatomy of Abuses : "To catch him on the hip, and picki
hit) on his necke." And in Da vies' Microcosmos, 1611, quoted
bj Mr. Dyce :

" Can such finde patrones, such course to protect 1
They can and doe ; but would they might be barr'd
From Barres, or that ore Barres they miglit be peckt,
Els at Barres with as hard a doome be checkt." B

1 Standing-bowl* were bowls elevated on feet or pedestali.

JUG KING HENRY VIII. ACT V.

godmother, bearing the Child richly habited in a
mantle, fyc. Train borne by a Lady; t/ien fol-
lows the Marchioness of DORSET, the other God-
mother, and Ladies. The troop pass once about
the stage, and Garter speaks.

Gart. Heaven, from Thy endless goodness, send
prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high
and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth!

Flourish. Enter King and Train.

Cran. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and

the good queen,

My noble partners and myself thus pray :
All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady,
Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy,
May hourly fall upon ye !

King. Thank you, good lord archbishop:

What is her name?

Cran. Elizabeth.

King. Stand up, lord. —

[The King kisses the Child,

With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee !
Into whose hand 1 give thy life.

Cran. Amen.

King. My noble gossips, ye have been too prod-
igal:

I thank ye heartily ; so shall this lady,
When she has so much English.

Cran. Let me speak, sir

For Heaven now bids me ; and the words I utter
Let none think flattery, for they'll find 'em truth.
This royal infant, — Heaven still move about her ! —
Though in her cradle, yet now promises
Upoi. this land a thousand thousand blessings,
Which time shall bring to ripeness. She shall be

SC. IV. KING HENRY VIII. 347

(But few now living can behold that goodness)

A pattern to all princes living with her,

And all that shall succeed : Saba was never

More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue,

Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces.

That mould up such a mighty piece as this is,

With all the virtues that attend the good,

Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her;

Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her :

She shall be lov'd and i'ear'd : her own shall blesa

her :

Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn,
And hang their heads with sorrow : good grows with

her :

In her days, every man shall eat in safety
Under his own vine what he plants, and sing
The merry songs of peace, to all his neighbours
God shall be truly known ; and those about her
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour,
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood.
Nor shall this peace sleep with her ; but, as when
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix,
Her ashes new create another heir,
As great in admiration as herself;
So shall she leave her blessedness to one,
(When Heaven shall call her from this cloud of

darkness,)

Who from the sacred ashes of her honour
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was,
And so stand fix'd : Peace, plenty, love, truth, ter-
ror,

That were the servants to this chosen infant,
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him :
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name

348 KING HENRY VIII. ACT f

Shall be, and make new nations : 8 he shall flourish
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches
To all the plains abo'U him: — Our children's chil

dren
Shall see this, and bless Heaven.

King. Thou speakest wonders,

Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of England
An aged princess ; many days shall see her,
And yet no day without a deed to crown it.
'Would I had known no more ! but she must die
(She must, the saints must have her) yet a virgin;1
A most unspotted lily shall she pass
To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her.

King. O, lord archbishop !
Thou hast made me now a man : never, before
This happy child, did I get any thing.
This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me,
That when 1 am in heaven I shall desire
To see what this child does, and praise my Maker. —
I thank ye all. — To you, my good lord mayor,
And your good brethren, I am much beholding :
I have receiv'd much honour by your presence,
And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way,

lords :
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye ;

* On a picture of King James, which formerly belonged to
Bacon, and is now in the possession of Lord Grimston, he is styled
imperil Atlantici conditor. In 1612 there was a Jottery for tb«
plantation of Virginia. The Hues probably allude to the sett e-
ment of that colony.

* We here follow a suggestion of Mr. Dyce, in so pointing the
passage as to make Cranmer express regret at his foreknowledge
that Elizabeth was to die childless, not that she was to die ; which
atter u tnc meaning giveu by the usual pointing, thus :

" 'Would I had known no more ! but she must die,
She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin,
A most unspotted lily shall she pass," &c.

SC. IV. KING HENRY VIII. 349

She will be sick else. This day, no man think
He has business at his house, for all shall stay;
This little one shall make it holiday. \Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

Tis ten to one, this play can never please

All that are here. Some come to take their ease,

And sleep an act or two ; but those, we fear,

We have frighted with our trumpets ; so, 'tis clear

They'll say 'tis naught : others, to hear the city

Abus'd extremely, and to cry, — " that's witty ! n

W,hich we have not done neither : that, I fear,

All the expected good we 're like to hear

For this play at this time, is only in

The merciful construction of good women;

For such a one we show'd 'em : If they smile.

And say 'twill do, I know, within a while

All the best men are ours ; for 'tis ill hap,

If they hold, when their ladies bid 'em clap.

INTRODUCTION

TRAGEDY OF TROILUS AND CKESS1DA.

THE first edition of this play was a quarto pamphlet of forty-
•be leaves, issued in 1609, with a title-page reading1 as follows i
" The Famous History of Troilus and Cressid : Excellently ex-
pressing the beginning of their loves, with the conceited wooing
of Pandarus, Prince of Licia. Written by William Shakespeare
London : Imprinted by G. Eld for R. Bonian and H. Walley,
«nd are to be sold at the Spread Eagle in Paul's Churchyard,
over against the great north door, 1609." There is also an entry
in the Stationers' Register, dated January 28, 1609, and reading
thus : " Richard Bonian and Henry Walley : Entered for their
copy, under the hands of Mr. Segar, Deputy to Sir George Buck
and Mr. Warden Lownes, a book called The History of Troilus
and Cressida." Of course the first issue was made in pursuance
of this entry. And that issue is specially remarkable in being
accompanied with a sort of prefatory address to the reader by
the editor or publisher ; which address may be seen at the end of
this Introduction. In that address are two points of information
which should be noticed here. The first is. that the play was then
new, and had never been publicly acted ; the words being, — " You
have here a new play, never stal'd with the stage, never clapper-
claw'd with the palms of the vulgar." And again : " Not being
sullied with the smoky breath of the multitude." The other poitt
is, that the publishing of the play was unauthorized and surrep-
titious. The writer bids his readers, — "Thank fortune for the
scape it hath made amongst you ; since by the grand possessors'
•wills I believe you should have pray'd for it, rather than oeeu
pray'd." The "grand possessors" were doubtless the propri
etors of the Globe Theatre, in whom the rights of ownership were
vested ; and how strong their interest was in withholding Shake-
•peare's plays from the press, appears in that only this play and
King Lear were published between 1604 and the Poet's death
and probably both of these without the owners' consent.

-> TROILUS AND CHESS1DA.

The edition of 1(>09 it seems, went to a second issue in th«
course of the same year; the prefatory address being- withdrawn,
and the title-page changed so as to read thus : " The History of
Troilus and Cressida : As it was acted by the King's Majesty's
servants at the Globe." We speak of these as two issues of one
and the same edition, because the text of both copies is in all re-
spects the same, with the exception of two or three typographical
corrections. It will be observed, no doubt, that the play must
have been acted on the public stage soon after the first issue, and
that this was a good reason for suppressing the editor's preface
and changing the title-page in the second.

How Bonian and Walley should have obtained their copy for the
press, is a question more likely to he raised than satisfactorily an-
swered. From the title-page to the quarto edition of King Lear,
which was issued in 1G08, we learn that that play was acted •• before
the King's Majesty at Whitehall upon St. Stephen's night in Christ-
mas holidays, by his Majesty's servants playing usually at the
Globe." It is not unlikely that, before the first issue, Troilus and
Cressida had been acted at the same place and by the same per-
sons ; as this would nowise conflict with the statement, in the
preface, of its being " a new play, never stal'd with the stage,"
nor " sullied with the smoky breath of the multitude." Hut
whether the play had been so acted or not, we can easily con-
ceive how it might have got into the publishers' hands without
the owners' consent. For copies of it must of course have been
given out to the players some time before the day of performance.
And so the most likely account of " the scape it hath made amongst
you" seems to be, that the copy leaked somehow through the
players' hands, and was put through the press before it could be
got ready for the stage.

In both issues of the quarto edition, Troilus and Cressida is
caljed a " history ; " while in the prefatory address it is reckoned
amongst the Poet's " comedies." In the folio of 1623, where it
was next published, it was called a "tragedy." The circum-
stances of its appearance in the latter edition are in some respects
quite peculiar. It is not included in the list of plays prefixed to
tho volume, and is printed without any numbering of the pages,
save that the pages of the second leaf are numbered 79 and SO
In that edition, as we have several times remarked, the plays are
distributed under the three heads of Comedies, Histories, and
Tragedies. Each of these divisions is paged by itself, and in
that of Tragedies the paging begins with Coriolanu* Troilus
and Cressida is placed between the Histories and Tragedies, with
nothing to mark which of the two divisions it falls under, excepf,
that in the general title it is called a " tragedy," as at the head
of this Introduction. From its not being included in the list of
plays nor in the paging, some have inferred that its insertion in
the folio was aii after-thought j and that either the existence of it

INTRODUCTION. 355

was unknown or unregarded by the editors, or else the right of
printing it was withheld from them, till all the rest of the volurn«
had heen made up and struck ofF. We do not believe any thing
of this ; the most probable explanation of the whole matter being1.
in our judgment, that the editors of the folio simply did not know
where to class the play. Nor has any headway since been made
towardi clearing up the puzzle that seems to have proved too
much for them. The play is a perfect non-descript, and defies
the arts of classification : it mav with equal propriety be included
in either of the three divisions, or excluded from them all.

The okl copies of the play, both quarto and folio, are witnout
any marking of the acts and scenes, save that at the opening: we
have " Actus Primus. Scena Prima." That a copy of the
quarto was used in printing the folio, is probable, as several mis-
prints of the former are repeated in the latter ; while, again, »aeh
copy has several passages that are wanting in the other ; w ich
shows that in making up the folio recourse was had to some i»u-
thoritv besides the quarto. There are also divers other variations
in the two copies ; which puts us occasionally upon a choice of
readings. The printing, too, of both copies abounds to an un
usual extent in errors, though most of them are of a kind easily
• corrected.

Nearly all the critics have remarked upon the great inequalities
of style and execution met with in this play. In fact, scarce any
of the Poet's plays show more of ripeness or more of greenness
in his art, than we find in different parts of this : it nas some of
his best work, and some of his worst ; insomuch that Coleridge
in attempting a chronological classification of his plays from the
internal evidence, at one time set this down to the third epoch of
the Poet's authorship, when with "all the world of thought "
there were still joined " some of the growing pains, and the
awkwardness of growth ; " and at another time, to the fifth and
last epoch, when his genius was moving in its highest cycle.

Nearly connected with this point is the fact that the play is sin
gnlarly defective in unity of interest and impression : there is little
constancy or "outinuity of purpose or design apparent in it ; where
the real centre of it lies, what may be the leading and controllhig
idea, nobody can tell. The characterization, individually regard-
ed, is of a high order; but there is almost no composition among
the characters ; and, as tney do not draw together towards any
perceptible conclusion, we cannot gather why they should be con
sorted as they are. And the play abounds most richly, withal, in
the far-sighted eloquence of moral and civil wisdom and discourse,
such us carries our thoughts into the highest regions of Ilooket
and Burke ; moreover, it is liberally endowed with noble and im-
pressive strains of poetry ; yet one is at loss to conceive why such
thing's should be here, forasmuch as the use of them does not seem
to be regulated by any final cause, or any uniform law. So that

356 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

though ranking among the Poet's greatest and rest efforts in re«
sped of parts, still as a work of art the piece is exceedingly lame,
because the parts do not duly converge in any central purpose
and so round up into an artistic whole. In other words, the whole
does not, as in an organic structure, give form and law to the
parts, so as to yield an adequate reason why they are so and not
otherwise.

All which naturally starts the question whether the p'ay were
originally written as we have received it ; or whether, in its pres-
ent shape, it were an improvement on some older dran.a , and. if
so, whether the older drama were by Shakespeare or some other
band. We have seen that in the prefatory address of the first
issue it was said to be a " new play." We see no cause to ques-
tion the accuracy of this statement, as it probably need not be
held to infer any thing more than that the play was new in the
form it then bore. In several instances, the Poet's earlier pieces
are known to have been afterwards rewritten, enlarged, and re-
plenished with the strengths and graces of his riper years. This
was the case with Love's Labour's Lost, Romeo and Juliet, and
Hamlet, among those published during the author's life ; and it is
all but morally certain that of those first published in 1623 All's
Well that Ends Well, Cymbeline, and perhaps some others, un-
derwent a similar process.

The inequalities of workmanship in Troilus and Cressida are
so like those in the plays thus rewritten, as to suggest a common
cause. And the argument growing from thence is not a little
strengthened by an entry in the Stationers' Register, dated Feb-
ruary 7, 1603 : <• Mr. Roberts : The book of Troilus and Cressi-
da, as it is acted by my Lord Chamberlain's men." The " Lord
Chamberlain's men" were the company to which Shakespeare be-
longed, and which, being specially licensed by King James soon
after his accession, in the spring of 1603, became known as " His
Majesty's servants." " Mr. Roberts," no doubt, is the James
Roberts whom we have already met with as the publisher of
the set and quarto editions of A Midsummer Night's Dream and
The. Merchant of Venice. In both of those cases there is good
reason to think that his issues were unauthorized. For The Mer-
chant of Venice was entered by him in the Stationeis' Books in
July, 1598, with the proviso, " that it be not printed by the said
James Roberts, without licence first had from the right honour-
able the Lord Chamberlain." Something over two years later
the same play was entered again by Thomas Heyes, and pub-
lished soon after the entry. In the course of the same year an
edition was put forth by Roberts. In like manner, A Midsummer
Night's Dream was entered by Thomas Fisher, and was published
in 1600 ; ana an edition was published by Roberts the same year,
without any entry at the Stationers'. Which may sufficiently
account for the fact, if it be a fact, that there was no edition _>'

INTRODUCTION. 357

Troilus and Crcssida consequent upon the entry by Roberts in
1603.

Still there is some question whether the play entered in 1603
were Shakespeare's ; the only ground of such question being, that
in Henslowe's Diary, under date of April and May, 1599. are
found several entries of money paid to Dekkcr and Chettle in
earnest of a play which they were then writing, entitled "Troiljs
and Cressida," for the rival company known as " the Earl of Not-
tingham's players." It appears, however, that in the title of this
play " Agamemnon" was afterwards substituted for " Troilus and
Cressida." But even if such had not been the case, there is very
little likelihood that the " Loid Chamberlain's men" would have
used on their boards the play of a rival company. The prob-
ability seems to be, that each company had a play on the same
subject ; one of them, perhaps, being written in a spirit of com-
petition with the other : for it often happened that, in case of a
play succeeding on either stage, the other sought to turn such
uccess to its own account by getting up something adapted to
catch hold of and engage the popular interest thus awakened.

The conclusion, then, which we would draw from this whole
statement is obvious enough ; namely, that Shakespeare's Troilus
and Cressida was originally written and acted before the spring
of 1603; that some years later, probably in 1603, it was rewrit-
ten, enlarged, and in parts transfigured with the efficacy of the
Poet's riper mind and more philosophical cast of thought ; and
that this revision was with a view to the play's being brought out
anew on the stage, and so was the cause of its being set forth as
a "new play" in the edition of 1609.

Four authorities are principally named as having been drawn
upon by Shakespeare for the materials of this play. These are
Chaucer's Troilus and Creseide ; The History of the Destruction
of Troy, translated from the French by Caxton ; The Troy Book of
Lydgate ; and Chapman's translation of Homer. The first seven
books of Chapman's version were published in 1596, and the next
twelve books not far from two years afterwards : the whole twenty-
four books, entitled " The Iliads of Homer, Prince of Poets, — Done
according to the Greek, by George Chapman," were not pul'lished
before 1603, probably not much before 1611. the first edition being
undated. Shakespeare and Chapman were well known loeach other,
and probably stood on terms of personal friendship and intimacy,
being members of the same great senate of genius. It was from
Chapman most likely that the Poet derived in the main his ideas
of the Greek and Trojan heroes, as their several characters are
developed in the council and in the field. And it is quite remark-
able that the influence from this quarter is most clearly traceable
in precisely those parts of the play which convey the strongest
relish and impress of the Poet's riper mind and larger thought;
insomuch as to favour the notion of their being the results of a'"'er-

S5M TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

bought grnfted upon the stock of an earlier production, ft is
equally probable, not to say certain, that Chapman furnished the
hints for the delineation of Thersites, there being nothing of him
to he found in the other authorities mentioned. We say hints ;
for such are the most that could have been furnished by the Tis-
sues of Homer towards the Thersites of Shakespeare, the charac-
ter of the latter having all the freshness and spirit of an original
conception ; so that it seems as though the Poet had transfused
his whole intellectual make-up into the person of a snarling, scur-
rilous, profane railer, with a body just fitted to the essential ugli-
ness enshrined within it. There was, indeed, before the writing
of this play, an old Interlude on the stage, wherein Thersites figured
as one of the persons ; but there is no likelihood of any thing hav-
ing been borrowed from it by the Poet.

In all that regards the action of the hero and heroine, the main
staple and ground-work of the play were unquestionably taken
from Chaucer's poem, though most of the Poet's editors have ig-
nored the fact, if indeed they were not ignorant of it. It is well
known that of the particular story of Troilns and Cressida no
traces are found in any of the classic writers. Caxton and Lyd
pate indeed have something of it, but not in a form to have served
the design of the play ; while the part of Pandarus, whose char-
acter and doings are interwoven with the whole course of the story
as represented by the Poet, is wholly wanting in them, except a
single mention of him by Lydgate, who refers to Chaucer as his
authority. So that Chaucer's poem was the only work accessible
to Shakespeare, that could have supplied the material for this part
of the drama. Moreover, we have elsewhere divers clear and un-
mistakable notices of Shakespeare's having drunk largely from
this "well of English undefiled:" many tokens of a close ac-
quaintance with •• the father of English poetry " occur in his plays ;
some of which maybe seen in our notes to A Midsummer Night's
Dream. Before leaving this point, it should be observed that in
Chaucer's poem Cressida is represented with a purity and lofti-
ness of character not consistent with the actions there ascribed to
her. Shakespeare borrowed the main points of her action, and
made her character conformable thereto. The character of Tro-
ilus, with its heroic ardour and constancy of soul, is substantially
the same in the play as in the poem.

There remain but certain accessories of the play to be set
down to the credit of Lydgate and Caxton. Most of these will
be found in the extracts given in our notes. It will be seen, also
that the marks of paternity are in them so strong as to preclude
all question toiching the sources of them. The History of the
Destruction of Troy, translated by Caxton from the Rectieil det
Histoires de Troye of Raoul le Fevre, appeared in 1471. lu
Shakespeare's time it had been modernized, and was very pop
ular. as is shown by the fact of its passing through six editions bj

INTRODUCTION. 359

the year 1619. The " History, Siege, and Destruction of Troy,"
commonly distinguished as the " Troy Book of Lydgate," came
from the press in 1513. In Shakespeare's time, however, it wa*
fast sinking out of use, being written in verse, so that it could not
pass for prose, while at the same time the verse was so rude and
stumbling that it could not go as poetry. For our part, we can
discover no sure signs of the Poet's having drawn from this source
at all ; there being, we believe, nothing common to him and Lyd-
gate, but what is also common to Lydgate and Caxton. Perhaps
we ought to add that the material of these works was nowise
original with the writers named ; most if not all of it being trace-
able to sources still more remote. But, inasmuch as there is no
likelihood of the Poet's having grfne beyond them, it would be be-
side our purpose to do so. We therefore dismiss this part of the
subject by mentioning, that " A proper Ballad, dialogue-wise, be-
tween Troilus audCressida" was entered on the Stationers' Books
in 1581, by Edward While ; which may possibly have furnished
the Poet a hint for working the story into a drama.

For reasons partly stated already, the play of Troilus and Cres
sida has been a standing poser to criticism. It is indeed a won-
derful production, — wonderful alike for the profusion of wit, of
poetry, and of wisdom crowded into it, and for the depth, the sub-
tlety, and lifelikeness of the individual characterization. And so
far nearly all the later and better critics are substantially agreed.
On the other side, one cannot discover what the Poet is driving
at : marvellous as are the details in spirit and variety of life, they
do not seem to grow from any common principle or purpose; and
it is only in the light of such principle or purpose that they can
receive a logical statement and interpretation. Hence there has
grown a remarkable diversity, not to say oppugnancy, of criticism
respecting it ; and some of the higher critics have employed what
seems to us a great over-refinement of speculation, in order to
make out some one idea under which the details might all be ar-
tisticaliy reduced.

Schlegel led off in this super-subtlety of critical speculation.
His idea of the work is so ingenious that one cannot but wish it
might hold true, and is stated thus : " It seems as if the Poet her*
for once wished, without caring for theatrical effect, to satisfy il-e
nicety of his peculiar wit, and the inclination to a certain guile, 'f
I may say so, in the characterization. The whole is one continued
irony on that crown of all heroic tales, the tale of Troy. The
contemptible nature of the origin of the Trojan war, the laziness
and discord with which it was carried on, so that the siege was
made to last ten years, are only placed in clearer light by the no-
ble descriptions, the sage and ingenious maxims with which the
work overflows, and the high ideas which the heroes entertain of
themselves and each other."

The same notion is worked up by Ulrici to a pitch bordering,

360 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

as it seems to us. upon the ludicrous. " The ground-idea," sayi
he, " which, in our opinion, it is the aim of Troilus and Cressida
to bring under the comic view, is the opposition, especially in the
moral aspect, between the character and habits of Grecian an-
tiquity, and the principles of modern Christendom. To exhibit
this opposition he takes the very basis of the former, — the Trojan
war, — but throws its ideal import into the back-ground, and
(ketches it merely in its matter-of-fact details, though not without
some slight modifications. The Homeric hero is stripped i>are c-"
his poetic ideality ; while, on the other hand, his moral weakness-
es, which Homer, in the true spirit of a Greek, represents for the
nr"»«t part as virtues, are brought forward in the strongest lighl.
The far-sighted Shakespeare certainly did not mistake as to the
beneficial effects which an acquaintance with the high culture of
antiquity had produced and would produce on the mind of Chris
tian Europe. But he saw the danger that would grow from an
excessive admiration of it ; that it would generate the lowest type
of moral and religious corruption ; which result may indeed be
actually discerned in the eighteenth century. It was in this pro-
phetic spirit that he wrote this deeply-significant satire on the Ho-
meric herodom. He did not wish to bring down the high, or to
make the great little ; still less, to attack the poetical worth of
Homer, or of heroic poetry in general : his aim was to warn against
that idolatry of them which men are so apt to fall into ; and at the
same time to press home upon them the universal truth, that every
thing merely human, however glorified with the halo of a poetic
ideality and a mythical past, is yet very small, when viewed in the
Jight of a pure moral ideality."

But this view probably has its best expounder in the genial aud
excellent critic of Knight's edition of Shakespeare. " The play,"
says this writer, " cannot be understood upon a superficial read-
ing : it is full of the most subtle art. We may set aside particular
passages, and admire their surpassing eloquence, their profound
wisdom ; but it is long before the play, as a whole, obtains its
proper mastery over the understanding. It is very difficult to de-
fine what is the great charm and wonder of its entirely. To us it
appears as if the Poet, without the slightest particle of presump-
tion, had proposed to look down upon the Homeric heroes from
an Olympus of his own. He opens the Iliad, and there he reads
of ' Achilles' baneful wrath.' A little onward he is told of ' th«
high threatening' of 'the cloud-gatherer.' The gods of Homer
are made up of human passions. But he appears throned upon
an eminence, from which he can not only command a perfect view
of the game which men play, but, seeing all, become a partisan
of none, — perfectly cognizant of all motives, but himself motive-
less. And yet the whole representation is true, and it is therefore
genial. It is not a travesty of Homer, or of Nature. The heroes
of the Iliad show us very little of the vulgar side of human life -

INTRODUCTION. 3 G 1

«o» much even of the familiar ; hut the result is, they cease <o be
heroic. How this is attained, is the wonder. The who)* leu
dency of the play, — its incidents, its characterization, — is to
lower what the Germans call herodom."

Wishing well to this view, we have therefore given it w'latso
ever advantage may be derived from the ingenuity and eloquence
of its best advocates ; but have to confess, notwithstanding, our
inability to find any sure foothold in it. There is to our mind a
seriousness and reality in Ihe characterization of the Greek ai.d
Trojan chiefs, and a depth and breadth of philosophic discourse
and of practical wisdom attributed to some of them, which will
hardly consist with the idea of their having been conceived and
wrought out in a spirit of mock-heroic or burlesque. So that our
conclusion agrees substantially wilh that reached by the more
sober and not less penetrating judgment of Mr. Verplanck, that
" the high philosophy and the practical ethics of a large portion
of the dialogue are quite incompatible with any such design."

The very perplexity in which the scope and design of this play
are wrapped seems to have made it an uncommonly fertile theme
to the critics. It was partly for this reason, perhaps, that the sub-
ject drew from Coleridge one of the finest specimens of philo-
sophic criticism to be met with in the language, or in any language.
To omit any thing of it in this edition, would not be doing right :
we therefore subjoin it entire :

"The Troilus and Cressida of Shakespeare can scarcely be
classed with his dramas of Greek and Roman history ; but it
forms an intermediate link between the fictitious Greek and Ro-
man histories, which we may call legendary dramas, and the prop-
er ancient histories ; that is, between the Pericles or Titus An-
dronicus, and the Coriolanus or Julius Caesar. There is no one
of Shakespeare's plays harder to characterize. The name and
the remembrances connected wilh it prepare us for the represen
tation of attachment no less faithful than fervent on the side of the
youth, and of sudden and shameless inconstancy on the part of the
lady. And this is indeed as the gold thread on which the scenes
are slrung, ihough often kept out of sight and out of mind by gems
of greater value than itself. But, as Shakespeare calls forth
nothing from the mausoleum of history, or the catacombs of tra-
dition, withoul giving or eliciting some permanent and general in-
terest, and brings forward no subject which be does not moralize
or intclleclualize ; so here he has drawn in Oressicta the portrait
of a vehement passion, that, having its true origin and propel
cause in warmth of temperament, fastens on, rather than fixes to
iome one object by liking and temporary preference.

" ' There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look oat
At every joint and motive of her bodv.'

'302 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA

"This Shakespeare has contrasted with the profound affection
represented in Troilus, and alone worthy the name of love; —
affection, passionate indeed, — swollen with the confluenceof youth-
ful instincts and youthful fancy, and growing in the radiance of
hope newly risen, in short, enlarged by the collective sympathies
of nature ; — but st'll having a depth of calmer element in a will
Wronger than desire, more entire than choice, and which gives per
manence to its own act by converting it into faith and duty. Hence,
with excellent judgment, and with an excellence higher than iner..
judgment can give, at the close of the play, when Cressida ha*
sunk into infamy below retrieval and beneath hope, the same will,
which had been the substance and basis of his love, while the rest-
less pleasures and passionate longings, like sea-waves, had tossed
but on its surface, — this same moral energy is represented as
snatching him aloof from all neighbourhood with her dishonour,
from all lingering fondness and languishing regrets ; whilst it
rushes with him into other "and nobler duties, and deepens the
channel which his heroic brother's death had left empty for its col-
lected flood. Yet another secondary and subordinate purpose
Shakespeare has inwoven with his delineation of these two char-
acters,— that of opposing the inferior civilization, but purer morals,
of the Trojans to the refinements, deep policy, but duplicity and
•ensiud corruptions of the Greeks.

"To all this, however, so little comparative projection is given,
•—nay, the masterly group of Agamemnon, Nestor, and Ulysses,
and, still more in advance, that of Achilles, Ajax, and Thersites,
jo manifestly occupy the fore-ground, — that the subservience and
vassalage of strength and animal courage to intellect and poUcy
seems to be the lesson most often in our Poet's view, and which
he has taken little pains to connect with the former more interest-
ing moral impersonated in the titular hero and heroine of the
drama. But I am half inclined to believe that Shakespeare's
main object, or shall I rather say, his ruling impulse, was to trans-
late the poetic heroes of paganism into the not less rude, but more
intellectually vigorous and more featurely warriors of Christian
chival-y ; and to substantiate the distinct and graceful profiles or
outlines of the Homeric epic into the flesh and blood of the ro-
mantic drama ; in short, to give a grand history-piece in the
robust style of Albert Durer.

" The character of Thersites, in particular, well deserves a more
careful examination, as the Caliban of demagogic lite; — the ad-
mirable portrait of intellectual power deserted by all grace, a)'
moral principle, all not momentary impulse, — just wise enough to
detect the weak head, and fool enough to provoke the armed fist
of his betters : one whom malcontent Achilles can inveigle from
malcontent Ajax, under the one condition that he shall be called on
to do nothing but abuse and slander, and that he shall be allowed
to abuse as much and as purulently as he likes, that is, as ho can;

INTRODUCTION. 363

— in short, a mule, — quarrelsome by the original discord of his
nature, — a slave by tenure of his own baseness, — made to bray
and be brayed at, to despise and be despicable. ' Aye, Sir, but,
gay what you will, he is a very clever fellow, though the best friends
will fall out. There was, a time when Ajax thought he deserved
to have a statue of gold erected to him ; and handsome Achilles,
at the head of the Myrmidons, gave no little credit to his friend
Thersiles.' "

We will close up the subject with some remarks by William
Godwin, in his " Life of Chaucer," where he discusses, with much
judgment and discrimination, the comparative treatment of the
same story by the two great masters of English poetry :

" Since two of the greatest writers this island has produced
have treated the same story, each in his own peculiar manner, it
maybe neither unentertaining nor uninstructi veto consider the merit
of their respective modes of composition as illustrated in the pres
ent example. Chaucer's poem includes many beauties, many
genuine touches of nature, and many strokes of an exquisite pa-
thos. It is on the whole, however, written in that style which has
unfortunately been so long imposed upon the world as dignified,
classical, and chaste. It is naked of incidents, of ornament, of
whatever should most awaken the imagination, astound the fancy,
or hurry away the soul. It has the stately march of a Dutch
burgomaster as he appears in a procession, or a French poet as
he shows himself in his works. It reminds one too forcibly of a
tragedy of Racine. Every thing partakes of the author, as if he
thought he should be everlastingly disgraced by becoming natural,
inartificial, and alive. We travel through a work of this sort as
we travel over some of the immense downs with which our island
is interspersed. All is smooth, or undulates with so gentle and
glow a variation as scarcely to be. ad verted to by the sense. But
all is homogeneous and tiresome ; the mind sinks into a state of
aching torpidity ; and we feel as if we should never get to the
end of our eternal journey. What a contrast to a journey among
mountains and valleys, spotted with herds of various kinds of cat-
tle, interspersed with villages, opening ever and anon to a view
of the distant ocean, and refreshed with rivulets and streams ;
where if the eye is ever fatigued, it is with the boundless flood of
beauty which is incessantly pouring upon it ! Such is the tragedy
of Shakespeare.

" The great beauty of this play, as of all the genuine writings
of Shakespeare, beyond all didactic morality, beyond all mere
flights of fancy, and beyond all sublime, — a beauty entirely his
own, and in which no writer ancient or modern can enter into corn-
petition with him, — is that his men are men ; his sentiments aro
living, and his characters marked with those delicate, evanescent,
undetiuable touches, which identify them with the great delineation
01 uaiure. The speech of Ulysses in Act iii., scene 3, when taken

W4 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

oy itself is puiely an exquisite specimen of didactic morality 5
Sut when combined with the explanation given by Ulysses, before
llie entrance of Achilles, of the nature of his design, it becomes
an attribute of a real man, and starts into lifr

" When we compare the plausible and seemingly affectionate
manner in which Ulysses addresses himself to Achilles, with the
*ey which he here furnishes to his meaning, and especially with
the epithet ' derision,' we have a perfect elucidation of his charac-
trr, anil must allow that it is impossible to exhibit the crafty and
smooth tongued politician in a more exact or animated style. The
advice given by Ulysses is in its nature sound and excellent, and
in its form inoffensive and kind; the name therefore of 'derision,'
which he gives to it, marks to a wonderful degree the cold and
self-centred subtlety of his character.

" The whole catalogue of the Dramatis Personce in the play of
Troilus and Cressida,so far as they depend upon a rich and origi-
nal vein of humour in the author, are drawn with a felicity which
never was surpassed. The genius of Homer has been a topic of
admiration to almost every generation of men since the period in
which he wrote. But his characters will not bear the slightest
comparison with the delineation of the same characters as they
stand in Shakespeare. This is a species of honour which ought
by no means to be forgotten when we are making the eulogium
of our immortal bard, a sort of illustration of his greatness which
cannot fail to place it in a very conspicuous light. The dispo-
sitions of men perhaps had not been sufficiently unfolded in the
very early period of intellectual refinement when Homer wrote ;
the rays of humour had not been dissected by the glass, or ren-
dered perdurable by the rays of the Poet. Homer's characters
are drawn with a laudable portion of variety and consistency ;
but his Achilles, his Ajax, and his Nestor are, each of them, rather
a species than an individual, and can boast more of the propriety
of abstraction, than of the vivacity of the moving scene of abso-
lute life. The Achilles, the Ajax, and the various Grecian heroes
of Shakespeare, on the other hand, are absolute men, deficient in
nothing which can tend to individualize them, and already touched
with the Promethean fire that might infuse a soul into what, with-
out it, were lifeless form. From the rest perhaps the character of
Thersites deserves to be selected, (how cold and school boy a
sketch in Homer !) as exhibiting an appropriate vein of sarcastic
humour amidst his cowardice, and a profoundness of truth in his
mode of laying open the foibles of those about him, impossible to
be excelled.

" One of the most formidable adversaries of true poetry, is an
attribute which is generally miscalled dignity. Shakespeare pos-
sessed, no man in higher perfection, the true dignity and loftiness
of the poetical afflatus, which be has displayed in many of the
finest passages of his works with miraculous success. But he knaw

INTRODUCTION. 365

that no man ever was, or ever can be, always dignified. He knew
that those subtler traits of character, which identify a man, are
familiar and relaxed, pervaded with passion, and not played off
with an eye to external decorum. In this respect the peculiarities
of Shakespeare's genius arc nowhere more forcibly illustrated
than in the play we are here considering. The champions of
Greece and Troy, from the hour in which their names were first
recorded, had always worn a certain formality of attire, and
marchpd with a slow and measured step. No poet, till this time,
uad ever ventured to force them out of the manner whicn tueir
epic creator had given them. Shakespeare first suppled their
limbs, took from them the classic stiffness of their gait, and en-
riched them with an entire set of those attributes which might rea-
der them completely beings of the same species with ourselves."

at*

ADDRESS
PREFIXED TO THE QUARTO EDITION, 1609.

A iriTKR WRITER, TO AIT EVER READER i NEWS.

ETERNAL reader, you have bere a new play, never stal'd
with the stage, never clapper-claw'd with the palms of the
vulgar, and yet passing full of the palm comical ; for it ia
a birth of your brain, that never undertook any thing com-
ical vainly: and were but the vain names of comedies
chang'd for the titles of commodities, or of plays for pleas,
you should see all those grand censors, that now style
them such vanities, flock to them for the main grace of
their gravities ; especially this author's comedies, that are
BO fram'd to the life, that they serve for the most common
commentaries of all the actions of our lives, showing such
a dexterity and power of wit, that the most displeased with
plays are pleas'd with his comedies. And all such dull
and heavy-witted worldlings as were never capable of the
wit of a comedy, coming by report of them to his repre-
sentations, have found that wit there that they never found
in themselves, and have parted better-witted than they
came; feeling an edge of wit set upon them, more than
ever they dream'd they had brain to grind it on. So
much and such savored salt of wit is in his comedies, that
they seem, for their height of pleasure, to be born in that
sea that brought forth Venus. Amongst all there is
none more witty than this ; and had I time I would com-
ment upon it, though I know it needs not, for so much as
will make you think your testern well bestow'd, but for so

ADDRESS TO THE READER. 3t)7

much worth as even poor I know to be stuff'd in it. It
deserves such a labour as well as the best comedy in
Terence or Plaulus. And believe this, that when he is
gone, and his comedies out of sale, you will scramble fo.
them, and set up a new English inquisition.1 Take this
for a warning, and at the peril of your pleasure's loss, ami
judgment's, refuse not, nor like this the less, for not being
sullied with the smoky breath of the multitude ; but thank
fortune for the scape it hath made amongst you ; since by
the grand possessors' wills I believe you should have pray'd
for them, rather than been pray'd.* And so I leave all
such to be pray'd for (for the states of their wits' healths)
that will not praise it Vale.

1 This Address, with all its conceit and affectation, has some
very just and intelligent praise, and in a higher strain than any
other we have that was written during the Poet's life ; unless we
should except a passage in Spenser's Tears of the Muses, quoted
in our Introduction to The Two Gentlemen of Verona. The wri-
ter, Whoever he might be, gives out in this place a pretty shrewd
anticipation. Many things occurring in our time might be aptly
quoted as answering to his forecast of " a new English inqui-
sition ; " as, for example, £130 was given a few years since for a
copy of " The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York," which
was the original form of The Third Part of King Henry VI.

H.

* There is some obscurity here. The " grand possessors," we
have no doubt, were the proprietors of the Globe Theatre, and the
passage refers to the means they used to keep Shakespeare's
plays out of print. Probably we should understand them as re-
ferring not to possessor*, but to the comedies for which " a new
English inquisition " was to be " set up ; " the ?ense thus being,
" you should nave prayed to get them, rather than have beei
prayed to to bun them." II.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

PRIAM, King of Troy.

HECTOR, ^

TROILOS,

PARIS, > his Sons.

DEIPHOBCS,

HELENOS, J

^NEAS, ? Trojan Commanders.

ANTENOR, )

CAI.CHAS, a Trojan Priest, taking part with the Gre«fcft

PANDARUS, Uucle to Cressicla.

MARGARELON, a bastard Son of Priam.

AGAMEMNON, the Grecian General.
MENELAUS, his Brother.
ACHILLES,
AJAX,

ULYSSES, [ Grecian Commanders.

NESTOR,

DIOMEDES,

PATROCLUS,

THERSITES, a deformed and scurrilous Grecian.

ALEXANDER, Servant to Cressida.

Servants to Troilus, to Paris, and to Diomedei.

HELEN, Wife to Menelaus.
ANDROMACHE, Wife to Hector.
CASSANDRA, Daughter to Priam ; a Prophetess.
CRESSIDA, Daughter to Calchas.

Trojan and Greek Soldiers, and Attendants.
SCENE, Troy, and the Grecian Camp before it

TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.

PROLOGUE.1

TN Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of Greeca

The princes orgulous,2 their high blood chaf 'd,

Have to the port of Athens sent their ships,

Fraught with the ministers and instruments

Of cruel war : Sixty and nine, that wore

Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay

Put forth toward Phrygia ; and their vow is made,

To ransack Troy, within whose strong immures

The ravish 'd Helen, Menelaus' queen,

With wanton Paris sleeps ; and that's the quarrel.

To Tenedos they come ;

And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge

Their warlike fraughtage : Now on Dardan plains

The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch

Their brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city,

Dardan, and Tymbria, Ilias, Chetas, Trojan,

And Antenorides, with massy staples,

And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts,'

1 This Prologue first appeared in the folio of 1623. Steevent (
took upon him, probably for this reason, to conjecture that the
Prologue was not written by Shakespeare, and that perhaps the
play itself was not entirely his work ! Surely he was great at
inferences. H.

* Orgulous, proud, disdainful ; orgueilleux, Fr.

* "Corresponsive and fulfilling bolts" are bolts answering to
and filling full their sockets. Fulfilling was often used in that
tense, as appears from our translation of the Bible. — In C ax-
ton's History of the Destruction of Troy, the gates of the city are

370 TRO1LUS AND CRESSIDA.

Sperr up the sons of Troy.4

Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits,

On one and other side, Trojan and Greek,

Sets all on hazard. — And hither am I come

A prologue arm'd, — but not in confidence

Of author's pen or actor's voice, but suited

In like conditions as our argument, —

To tell you, fair beholders, that our play

Leaps o'er the vaunt 6 and firstlings of those broils,

'Ginning in the middle ; starting thence away

To what may be digested in a play.

Like, or find fault ; do as your pleasures are ;

Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of war.

enumerated thus : " In this cittie were sixe principall gates ; of
which the one was named Darrlane, the second Tymbria, the thyrd
Helias, the fourth Chetas, the fifth Troyan, the sixt Autenorides."
The folio gives the latter name Anlfnonidus. H.

4 The original has " Stirre up the sonnes of Troy." Stir can
not be the right word, as its meaning will not cohere with the rest
of the passage. Theobald made the change, which has been al-
most universally received. To sper, or spar, is to close, fasten,
or bar up ; from the Saxon Sparran. Thus in Spenser's Faerie
Queene : " The other that was entred labour'd fast to sper re the
fate." Also, in Chaucer's Troilus and Creseide i
" For when he saw her doores sparred all,
Well nigh for sorow adout he gan to fall :
Therewith when he was ware, and gan behold
How shet was every window of the place,
As frost him thought his herte gan to cold." H.

• That is, the avant, what went before. Thus in Lear : •' Vaunt
couriers to oak -cleaving thunderbolts." What is now called the
M* of an arm\r was formerly called the vaunt-gu&rd.

TROILUS AND CUESSLDA. 371

ACT I.

SCENE I. Troy. Before PRIAM'S Palace

Enter TROILUS armed, and PANDARCS.

Tro. CALL here my varlet,1 I'll unarm again :
Why should I war without the Avails of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within ?
Each Trojan that is master of his heart,
Let him to field ; Troilus, alas ! hath none.

Pan. Will this gear ne'er be mended 1 *

Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to theil

strength,3

Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant ;
But I am weaker than a woman's tear,
Tamer than sleep, fonder than ignorance ;
Less vafiant than the virgin in the night,
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy.

Pan. Well, I have told you enough of this : for
my part, I'll not meddle nor make no further. He
that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry
the grinding.

Tro. Have I not tarried ?

' This word, from the old French varlet or vadlet, anciently sig-
nified a groom, a servant of the meaner sort. Holinshed, speak
ing of the battle of Agincourt, says, " Diverse were releeved by
their varlets and conveied out of the field." Cotgrave says, " In
old time it was a more honourable title ; for all young gentlemen
untill they came to be eighteen yeres of age were so tearmed."

* We have repeatedly met with gear in the sense of matter,
business, affair. See The Merchant of Venice, Act i. sc. 2, note 5

H.

* To is here used for ir. addition to ; a common phraseology ID
ibe Poet's time II.

TROILUS AND CRESS IDA. ACT L

Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tarry the
bolting.

Tro. Have I not tarried?

Pan. Ay, the bolting ; but you must tarry tlit
leavening.

Tro. Still have I tarried.

Pan. Ay, to the leavening: but here's yet, in the
word hereafter, the kneading, the making of the
cake, the heating the oven,4 and the baking ; nay,
you must stay the cooling too, or you may chance
to burn your lips.

Tro. Patience herself, what goddess e'er she be,
Doth lesser blench5 at sufferance than I do.
At Priam's royal table do I sit ;
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, -
So, traitor ! — when she comes ! — When is she
thence 7

Pan. Well, she look'd yesternight fairer than
ever I saw her look, or any woman else.

Tro. I was about to tell thee, — when my heart,
As wedged with a sigh, would rive in twain,
Lest Hector or my father should perceive me,
I have (as when the sun doth light a storm)
Bury'd this sigh in wrinkle of a smile :
But sorrow, that is couch'd in seeming gladness,
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness.

Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker
than Helen's, (well, go to,) there were no more
comparison between the women, — But, for my

4 We here give the reading1 of the quarto. The folio has " the
heating of the oven." And a few lines before, the folio has '• must
nttils tarry the grinding." H.

* To blench is to start or fly off. — The third line below readi
thus in the original t "So (Traitor) then she comes, when the it
Ibence.' The happy emendation was made by Rowe. H.

*C. I TROILUS ANI> CRESSIDA. 373

part, she is my kinswoman ; I would not, as they
term it, praise her, — but I would somebody had
heard her talk yesterday, as I did. I will not dis-
praise your sister Cassandra's wit ; but —

Tro. O Pandarus ! I tell thee, Pandarus, —
When I do tell thee there my hopes lie drown'd,
Reply not in how many fathoms deep
They lie indrench'd. I tell thee I am mad
In Cressid's love : Thou answer's!, she is fair ;
Pours't in the open ulcer of my heart
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her voice ,
Handiest in thy discourse, O ! that her hand,6
In whose comparison all whites are ink,
Writing their own reproach ; to whose soft seizure
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense
Hard as the palm of ploughman ! This thou tell'st

ms,

As true thou tell'st me, when I say I love her ;
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm,
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me
The knife that made it.

Pan, I speak no more than truth.

Tro. Thou dost not speak so much.

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in't. Let her be as
she is : if she be fair, 'tis the better for her ; an she
be not, she has the 'mends in her own hands.7

* Handiest is here used metaphorically, with an allusion, at the
game time, to its literal meaning. The same play on the word*
is in Titus Andronicus :

" O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands,
Lest we remember still that we have none ! "

7 A proverbial phrase common in the old writers, wnich sig-
nifies, " It is her own fault; or the remedy lies with herself." So
in Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy : "And if men will Lie jealous
in such cases, the 'mends is in their owne hands, they must thank
themselves.'

374 TROTLUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT I.

Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Panda rus !

Pan. I have had my labour for my travel ; ill-
thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you ; gone
between and between, but small thanks for my la-
bour.

Tro. What! art thou angry, Pandarus? what!
with me ?

Pan. Because she's kin to me, therefore she's
not so fair as Helen : an she were not kin to me,
she would be as fair on Friday as Helen is on Sun-
day. But what care 1 1 I care not, an she were a
black-a-moor ; 'tis all on" to me.

Tro. Say I, she is not fair1?

Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. She's
a fool to stay behind her father : 8 let her to the
Greeks ; and so I'll tell her the next time J see
her. For my part, I'll meddle nor make no more
i' the matter.

Tro. Pandarus, —

Pan. Not I.

Tro. Sweet Pandarus, —

8 Calchas, according to the Destruction of Troy, was " a great
learned bishop of Troy," who was sent by Priam to consult the
oracle of Delphi concerning the event of the war which threatened
Agamemnon. As soon as he had made " his oblations and de-
mands for them of Troy, Apollo answered unto him saying, Cai-
cas, Calcas, beware thou returne not back againe to Troy, but
goe thou with Achylles unto the Greekes, and depart never from
them, for the Greekes shall have victorie of the Trojans, by the
agreement of the gods." Likewise in Chaucer's Troilus and Cres-
eide, Book i. :

" Now fell it so, that in the toune there was
Dwelling a lord of great authentic,
A great divine that cleped was Calcas,
That in science so expert was, that he
Knew well that Troie should destroyed be,
Bv aLswere of hts god." H.

SC I. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 375

Pan. Pray you, speak no more to me : I will
leave all as I found it, and there an end.

[Exit PANDARUS. An Alarum.

Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours ! peace,

rude sounds !

Fools on both sides ! Helen must needs be fair,
When with your blood you daily paint her thus.
( cannot fight upon this argument ;
It is too starv'd a subject for my sword.
But, Pandarus — O gods, how do you plague me !
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar ;
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo,
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit.
Tell me, Apollo, for thy Daphne's love,
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we.
Her bed is India ; there she lies, a pearl :
Between our Iliurn 9 and where she resides,
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood ;
Ourself the merchant, and this sailing Pandar
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark.

Alarum. Enter JSNEAS.

y£ne. How now, Prince Troilus ! wherefore not

a-field 1
Tro. Because not there : this woman's answer

sorts,10

For womanish it is to be from thence.
What news, ^Eneas, from the field to-day?
jEne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt.

• Ilium was properly the name of the city ; but in Caxton's
Histoiy it is thus descri'oed : " In the most open place of the cittie
upon a rock, the king Priamus did build his rich pallace, which
was named Ilion : that was one of the richest pallaces and the
strongest that ever was in all the world." H.

10 That is, fits, suits, is congruous

376 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT I

Tro. By whom, jEneas ?

jEne. Troilus, by Menelaus.

Tro. Let Paris bleed: 'tis but a scar to scorn:
Paris is gor'd with Menelaus' horn. [Alarum,

JEne. Hark ! what good sport is out of town

to-day !
Tro. Better at home, if " would I might " were

"may." —

But to the sport abroad : — Are you bound thither T
jEne. In all swift haste.

Tro. Come ; go we, then, together.

[Exeunt

SCENE II. The same. A Street.

Enter CRESSIDA and ALEXANDER.

Ores. Who were those went by ?

Alex. Queen Hecuba and Helen.

Cres. And whither go they?

Alex. Up to the eastern tower,

Whose height commands as subject all the vale,
To see the battle. Hector, whose patience
Is as a virtue fix'd, to-day was mov'd :
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer ;
And, like as there were husbandry in war,
Before the sun rose he was harness'd light,1
And to the field goes he ; where every flower
Did, as a prophet, weep what it foresaw
In Hector's wrath.

1 The commentators have taken light here as referring to ar
mour. Light, however, here has no reference to the mode in which
Hector was armed, hut to the legerity or alacrity with which hfl
armed himself before sunrise. Light and lightly are often used
for nimbly, quietly, readily, by our old writers. No expression it
more common than " liglU of foot." And Shakespeare has even
•««ed " light of ear."

8C. II. TROILUS AND CRESS1DA. 377

Ores. What was his cause of anger 1

Alex. The noise goes, this : There is among the

Greeks

A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector ;
They call him Ajax.

Ores. Good ; and what of him T

Alex. They say he is a very man per se,*
And stands alone.

Ores. So do all men, unless they are drunk, sick,
or have no legs.

A lex. This man, lady, hath robb'd many beasts
of their particular additions : he is as valiant as the
lion, churlish as the bear, slow as the elephant ; a
man into whom nature hath so crowded humours,
that his valour is crush'd 3 into folly, his folly
sauced with discretion : there is no man hath a vir-
tue that he hath not a glimpse of, nor any man an
attaint but he carries some stain of it : he is mel-
ancholy without cause, and merry against the hair : *
he hath the joints of every thing ; but every thing
so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briareus, many
hands and no use ; or purblind Argus, all eyes and
no sight.

Cres. But how should this man that makes me
smile make Hector angry 1

Alex. They say, he yesterday cop'd Hector in
the battle, and struck him down ; the disdain and

* That is, an extraordinary or incomparable person, like the let-
ter A by itself. The usual mode of this old expression is A perse.
Thus in Henrysoun's Testament of Cresseid : " Of faire Cresseide,
the floure and a per se of Troy and Greece." And in BJurt M;is
ter Constable, 1602 : " That is the a per se and creame of all."

J That is, confused and mingled with folly. So in Cymbelme;
« Crush him together, rather than unfold his measure duly."

4 Equivalent to a phrase still in use — Againtt the grain. The
French say, a centre poii.

378 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT L

shame whereof hath ever since kept Hector fasting
and waking.

Enter PANDARUS.

Ores. Who comes here 1

Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus.

Ores. Hector's a gallant man.

Alex. As may he in the world, lady.

Pan. What's that ? what's that 1

Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus.

Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid : What do
you talk of? — Good morrow, Alexander. — How
do you, cousin ? When were you at Ilium 1

Cres. This morning, uncle.

Pan. What were you talking of, when I came 1
Was Hector arm'd and gone, ere ye came to Ilium 1
Helen was not up, was she ?

Cres. Hector was gone, hut Helen was not up.

Pan. E'en so ; Hector was stirring early.

Cres. That were we talking of, and of his anger.

Pan. Was he angry 1

Cres. So he says, here.

Pan. True, he was so ; I know the cause too :
he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them that :
and there's Troilus will not come far behind him ;
let them take heed of Troilus, 1 can tell them that
too.

Cres. What, is he angry too?

Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better man
ol the two.

Cres. O, Jupiter ! there's no comparison.

Pan. What ! not between Troilus and Hector !
Do you know a man if you see him ?

Cres. Ay ; if ever I saw him before, and knew him

Pan. Well, I say Troilus is Troilus.

«C. II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 379

Cre.s. Then yon say as I say ; for I am sure he
is not Hector.

Pan. No, nor Hector is not Troilus, in some
degrees.

Cres. 'Tis just to each of them ; he is himself.

Pan. Himself ? Alas, poor Troilus ! 1 would
he were, —

Cres. So he is.

Pan. — Condition, I had gone barefoot to
India.

Cres. He is not Hector.

Pan. Himself? no, he's not himself : 'Would 'a
were himself ! — Well, the gods are above : time
must friend, or end. — Well, Troilus, well. I would
my heart were in her body ! — - No, Hector is not a
better man than Troilus.

Cres. Excuse me.

Pan. He is elder.

Cres. Pardon me, pardon me.

Pan. The other's not come to't ; you shall tell me
another tale when the other's come to't. Hectoi
shall not have his wit this year.

Cres. He shall not need it, if he have his own.

Pan. Nor his qualities.

Cres. No matter.

Pan. Nor his beauty.

Cres. 'Twould not become him ; his own's better

Pan. You have no judgment, niece: Helen her
self swore the other day, that Troilus, for a brown
favour, (for so 'tis, I must confess,) — not brown
neither, —

Cres. No, but brown.

Pan. 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not brown

Cres. To say the truth, true and not true.

Pan. She prais'd his complexion above 1'ana.

380 TROILUS AND CRESStDA. ACT I

Ores. Why, Paris hath colour enough.

fan. So he has.

Ores. Then, Troilus should have too much ; if
she prais'd him above, his complexion is higher
than his : he having colour enough, and the other
higher, is too flaming a praise for a good com-
plexion. I had as lief Helen's goJden tongue had
commended Troilus for a copper nose.

Pan. I swear to you, I think Helen loves him
better than Paris.

Ores. Then she's a merry Greek indeed.

Pan. Nay, I am sure she does. She came to
liim the other day into a compass'd * window ; —
and, you know, he has not past three or four hairs
on his chin.

Ores. Indeed, a tapster's arithmetic may soon
bring his particulars therein to a total.

Pan. Why, he is very young ; and yet will he,
within three pound, lift as much as his brother
Hector.

Ores. Is he so young a man, and so old a lifter 7 *

Pan. But, to prove to you that Helen loves him,
she came, and puts me her white hand to his cloven
chin, —

Ores. Juno have mercy! — How came it cloven ?

Pan. Why, you know, 'tis dimpled : I think his
smiling becomes him better than any man in all
Phrygia.

' A compass'd window is a circular bow window. The same
epithet is appned to the cape of a woman's gown in The Taming
of the Shrew: — "A small compassed cape." A coved ceiling
is yet in some places called a compassed ceiling.

* A term for a thief; from the Gothic hliflns. Thus in Hol-
land's Leaguer, 1638 : " Broker or pander, cheater or lifter,"
Dryden uses the verb to lift for to rob. Shop-lifter is still used
<V>r one who robs a shop.

SO II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 381

Ores. O ! he smiles valiantly.

Pan. Does he not 1

Ores. O yes ! an 'twere a cloud in autumn.

Pan. Why, go to, then. — But, to prove to you
that Helen loves Troilus, —

Ores. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll
prove it so.

Pan. Troilus ? why, he esteems her no more
than I esteem an addle egg.

Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as you
love an idle head, you would eat chickens i'the
shell.

Pan. I cannot choose but laugh to think how
she tickled his chin : — Indeed, she has a marvellous
white hand, I must needs confess.

Ores. Without the rack.

Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white hair
on his chin.

Ores. Alas, poor chin ! many a wart is richer.

Pan. But there was such laughing : Queen Heo-
uba laugh'd, that her eyes ran o'er.

Cres. With mill-stones.

Pan. And Cassandra laugh'd.

Cres. But there was a more temperate fire under
the pot of her eyes: — Did her eyes run o'er too'

Pan. And Hector laugh'd.

Cres. At what was all this laughing ?

Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen spied
01. Troilus' chin.

Cres. An't had been a green hair, I should have
laugh'd too.

Pan. They laugh'd not so much at the hair at
at his pretty answer.

Cres. What was his answer *

382 TRO1LUS AND CRESSIDA. ACf t

Pan. Quoth she, " Here's but two and fifty '
hairs on your chin, and one of them is white.'"

Ores. This is her question.

Pan. That's true ; make no question of that
•' Two and fifty hairs," quoth he, "and one white:
That white hair is my father, and all the rest are
his sons." " Jupiter ! " quoth she, " which of these
hairs is Paris my husband ? " " The forked one,"
quoth he ; " pluck 't out, and give it him." But
there was such laughing ! and Helen so blush'd,
and Paris so chaf 'd, and all the rest so laugh'd,
that it pass'd.8

Ores. So let it now ; for it has been a great while
going by.

Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yesterday ;
think on't.

Cres. So I do.

Pan. I'll be sworn, 'tis true: he will weep you,
an 'twere a man born in April.

Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 'twere a
nettle against May. [A Retreat sounded.

Pan. Hark ! they are coming from the field :
Shall we stand up here, and see them as they pass
toward Ilium ? good niece, do ; sweet niece Cres-
sida.

Cres. At your pleasure.

Pan. Here, here ; here's an excellent place ; here

7 So in all the old copies ; and the same in the next speech hut
one Modern editions generally change it in both places to " one
and filly >" so as to make it answer to the classical number of
Priam's sons, which was fifty. Knight explains the seeming dis-
crepancy by remarking that Margarelon, who makes his appear-
ance in Act v.. was added to Priam's family by the romance-
writers whom Shakespeare followed. H.

* That is, passed all expression. Cressida plays on the word
as used by Pandarus, by using it in its ordinary sense.

8C. II. TROILUS AND CRES5IDA. 383

we may see most bravely : I'll tell you them all by
their names as they pass by ; but mark Troilus
above the rest.

passes over the stage.

Cres. Speak not so loud.

Pan. That's ^Eneas : Is not that a brave man ?
he's one of the flowers of Troy, I can tell you : But
mark Troilus; you shall see anon.

Cres. Who's that 1

ANTENOR passes over.

Pan. That's Antenor : he has a shrewd wit,* I
can tell you ; and he's a man good enough : he's
one o'the soundest judgments in Troy, whosoever,
and a proper man of person. — When comes Troi-
lus ? — I'll show you Troilus anon ; if he see met
you shall see him nod at me.

Ores. Will he give you the nod 1

Pan. You shall see.

Cres. If he do, the rich shall have more.10

• In the Troy Book of Lydgate, Antenor is thus described :

"Copious in words, and one that much time spent
To jest, when as he was in companie,
So driely, that no man could it espie ;
And therewith held his countenance so well,

That every man received great content
To heare him speake, and pretty jests to tell,
When he was pleasant and in merriment :
For tho' that he most commonly was sad,
Yet in his speech some jest he always had."

** To five the nod was a term in the game at cards called
Noddy. The word also signifies a silly fellow. Cressida meani
to call Pandarus a noddy, and says he shall by more nods ba
made more significantly a fool.

384 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT L

HECTOR passes over.

Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, that;
there's a fellow ! — Go thy way, Hector: — There's
a brave man, niece. O, brave Hector ! — Look,
now he looks ! there's a countenance. Is't not a
brave mail ?

Ores. O, a brave man !

Pan. Is 'a not 1 It does a man's heart good —
Look you, what hacks are on his helmet ! look you
yonder, do you see ? look you there ! There's no
jesting : there's laying on ; take't off who will, as
they say : there be hacks !

Ores. Be those with swords ?

Pan. Swords 1 any thing, he cares not ; an the
devil come to him, it's all one : by god's lid, it does
one's heart good. — Yonder comes Paris, yonder
comes Paris : look ye yonder, niece : is't not a gal-
lant man too, is't not 1

PARIS passes over.

Why, this is brave now. — Who said he came hurt
home to-day 1 he's not hurt : why this will do
Helen's heart good now. Ha ! would I could see
Troilus now ! — you shall see Troilus anon.
Ores. Who's that 7

HELENUS passes over.

Pan. That's Helenus : — I marvel where Troilus
is : — That's Helenus : — I think he went not forth
to-day : — That's Helenus.

Ores. Can Helenus fight, uncle 1

Pan. Helenus 1 no ; — yes, he'll fight indifferent
well : — I marvel where Troilus is. — Hark! do you
not hear the people cry, Troilus ? — Helenus is a priest
What sneaking fellow comes yonder 1

SC tl. TROILUS AND CRESS ID A. 385

TROILUS passes over.

Pan. Where ? yonder 1 that's Deiphobus : 'Tig
Troilus! there's a man, niece! — Hem! — Brave
Troilus ! the prince of chivalry !

Ores. Peace ! for shame ; peace !

Pan. Mark him ; note him : — O, brave Troilus !
— look well upon him, niece ; look you how hia
eword is bloodied, and his helm more hack'd than
Hector's ; and how he looks, and how he goes. —
O, admirable youth ! he ne'er saw three and twenty.
Go thy way, Troilus, go thy way: had I a sister
were a grace, or a daughter a goddess, he should
take his choice. O, admirable man ! Paris ? — Paris
is dirt to him ; and I warrant Helen, to change,
would give an eye to boot.11

11 So in the quarto : the folio has "give money to boot." Mr
Verplanck, to our surprise, thinks " there is little to choose be-
tween the two readings." — This description of the Trojan leaders
was probably suggested by a similar scene in Chaucer's Troilus
and Creseide, Book ii., part of which we extract. The first
stanza is put into the mouth of Pandarus:

" ' Of Hector needeth it no more for to tell :
In all this world there n'is a better knight
Than he, that is of worthiness the well,
And he well more vertue hath than might ;
This knoweth many a wise and worthy knight i
And the same prise of Troilus I sey;
God i elpe me so, I know not suche twey.'

" ' By God, (quoth she,) of Hector that is sooth,
And of Troilus the same thing trow I ;
For, dredelesse, men telleth that be dooth
In armes day by day so worthely,
And beareth him here at home so gently
To every wight, that all prise hath ho
Of hem that me were levest praised be.'

« '.Ye say right sooth, ywis,' (quod Pandarus,)
' For yesterday whoso had with him been,
Mighten have wondred upon Troilus ;

886 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. AfT I.

Forces pass over the Stage.

Ores. Here come more.

Pan. Asses, fools, dolts ! chaft' and bran, chaft
and bran ! porridge after meat ! I could live and
die i'the eyes of Troilus. Ne'er look, ne'er look :
the eagles are gone ; crows and daws, crows and
daws ! I had rather be such a man as Troilus than
Agamemnon and all Greece.

Cres. There is among the Greeks Achilles, a bet
ter man than Troilus.

Pan. Achilles 1 a drayman, a porter, a very
camel.

Cres. Well, well.

Pan. Well, well ? — Why, have you any discre
tion 1 have you any eyes 1 Do you know what a
man is ? Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse,
manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, lib-
erality, and such like, the spice and salt that season
a man 1

Cres. Ay, a minc'd man ; and then to be bak'd
with no date 12 in the pie, — for then the man's date's
out

For never yet so thicke a swartne of been
Ne flew, as Greekes from nim gan fleen ;
An'd through the field in every wightes eare
There was no crie, but Troilus is there.'

« ' Now here, now there he hunted hem so fast,
There was but Greekes blood and Troilus ;
Now him he hurt, and him all doun he cast ;
Aye where he went it was arraied thus :
He was hir death, and shield and life for us,
That as the day ther durst him none withstond,
While that he held his bloody swerd in bond.' " •

11 Da'.es were an ingredient in ancient pastry of almost everj
kind See All's Well that Ends Well, Act i. sc. 1. note 16

UC. II. TROILUS AND CItESSIDA. 387

Pan. You are such a woman ! one knows not at
what ward you lie.13

Cres. Upon my back to defend my belly ; upon
my wit, to defend my wiles ; upon my secrecy, to
defend mine honesty ; my mask, to defend my beau-
ty ; and you, to defend all these : and at all these
wards I lie, at a thousand watches. |

Pan. Say one of your watches.

Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that ; and that's one
of the chiefest of them too : if I cannot ward what
I would not have hit, I can watch you for telling
how I took the blow ; unless it swell past hiding,
and then it's past watching.

Pan. You are such another!

Enter TROILUS' Boy.

Boy. Sir, my lord would instantly speak with you.
Pan. Where?

Boy. At your own house ; there he unarms him.
Pan. Good boy, tell him I come : [Exit Boy.]
I doubt he be hurt. — Fare ye well, good niece.
Cres. Adieu, uncle.

Pan. I'll be with you, niece, by-and-by
Cres. To bring, uncle ? M

13 A metaphor from the art of defence. See 1 King Henry
IV., Act ii. sc. 4, " Thou know'st my old ward ; here I lay."

14 Mr. Dyce produces some curious matter in elucidation of this
passage, which has commonly been printed with a dash after unclet
as if Cressida were interrupted in the midst of her speech, the
editors probably not understanding what is really meant by to
tring. Mr. Dyce says, — « The expression, to be with a person
to bring, is one of which I can more easily adduce examples than
explain the exact meaning." As an instance in point, lie quotes
the following from Kyd's Spanish Tragedy : " And here I'll hav«
a fling at him, that's flat ; and, Balthazar, I'll be with thee to bring,
and thee. Lorenzo." Also this from Beaumont and Fletcher's
Hcornful Lady :

1388 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT I

Pan. Ay, a token from Troilut,.

Ores. By the same token, you are a bawd. —

[Exit PANDARUS.

Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice,
He offere in another's enterprise ;
But more in Troilus thousand fold I see
Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be ;
Yet hold I off. Women are angels, wooing ;
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing :
That she 1& belov'd knows nought, that knows not

this, —

Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is :
That she was never yet, that ever knew
Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue :
Therefore this maxim out of love I teach, —
Achiev'd, men us command ; ungain'd, beseech : '*
Then, though my heart's content firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear.

[Exit.

" E. Love. I would have watch'd you, sir, by your good pa-
tience, for ferreting in my ground.

" Lady. You have been with my sister?

" Wei. Yes, to bring.

" E. Love. An heir into the world, he means."
Of course Pandarus catches at the word bring, and construes 1
in the sense which Cressida is commonly misunderstood to in
tend by it. H.

18 That she means that woman.

16 The old copies read, " Achievement is command ; " from
which the same meaning may indeed be extracted, but the sense
ii obscure, and the language awkward arid unsymmetrical. The
misprint, supposing it to he such, was a natural and easy one. The
correction was first proposed by the Rev. Mr. Harness. In Mr
Collier's second folio we have, " Achiev'd men still command ;"
which, besides not being so good in itself, infers a much less likelj
miiprint u.

«C. III. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 389

SCENE III.

The Grecian Camp. Before AGAMEMNON'S Tent.

Trumpets. Enter AGAMEMNON, NESTOR,
ULYSSES, MENELAUS, and Others.

Ago. Princes,

What grief hath set the jaundice on your cheeks ?
The ample proposition, that hope makes
In all designs begun on earth below,
Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and disas-
ters

Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ;
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap,
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain
Tortive and errant from his course of growth.
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us,
That we come short of our suppose so far,
That after seven years' siege yet Troy walls stand ;
Sith every action that hath gone before,
Whereof we have record, trial did draw,
Bins and thwart, not answering the aim,
And that unbodied figure of the thought
That gav't surmised shape. Why, then, you princes,
Do you with cheeks abash'd behold our wrecks,1

1 The old copies read works nere. The change of works to
wrecks is found in Mr. Collier's second folio. The misprint, if it
be one, was likely enough to occur ; and the sense of the whole
passage seems to require a word meaning something suffered,
rather than done. Even Mr. Singer, who has much ado to re-
strain his wrath at Mr. Collier's discoveries, is forced to confess
that wrecks " has some appearance of probability, and would be
• good conjectural correction of a misprint very likely to occur."
All which considerations have brought us to a reluctant admission
of the change. ft

390 TROILUS AND CRESSLDA. ACT L

And think them shames ; which are indeed nought

else

But the protractive trials of great Jove,
To find persistive constancy in men ?
The fineness of which metal is not found
In fortune's love ; for then the bold and coward,
The wise and fool, the artist and unread,
The hard and soft, seem all affin'd * and kin :
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown,
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan,
Puffing at all, winnows the light away ;
And what hath mass or matter, by itself
Lies rich in virtue, and umningled.

Nest. With due observance of thy godlike seat,
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply3
Thy latest words. In the reproof of chance
Lies the true proof of men : the sea being smooth!
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail
(Jpon her patient breast,4 making their way
With those of nobler bulk !
But let the ruffian Boreas once enrage
The gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,
Bounding between the two moist elements,
Like Perseus' horse : 5 where's then the saucy boat,

* Joined by affinity. The same occurs in Othello : " If par-
tially affin'd, or leagued in office."

3 To apply here is used for to bend the mind, or attrnd partic
vlarlyio Agamemnon's words. As in the following passage from
Baret : " To attende or applie his witte to something, and to give
his minde unto it."

4 So in the folio ; in the quarto, "ancient breast."

6 Pegasus was, strictly speaking, Bellerophon's horse, but Shase-
gpeare followed the old Troy Book : " Of the blood that issued
out [from Medusa's head] there engendered Pegasus, or the Jly-
ing norse. By the flying horse that was engendered of the Wood
issued from her head, is understood thai of her riches issuing of

SC. III. TROIL.US AND CKESS1UA. 391

Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now

Co-rivalPd greatness 7 either to harbour fled,

Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so

Doth valour's show and valour's worth divide

In storms of fortune : for, in her ray and brightness,

The herd hath more annoyance by the brize8

Than by the tiger ; but when the splitting wind

Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,

And flies fled under shade, why, then the thing of

courage,

As rous'd with rage, with rage doth sympathize,7
And with an accent tun'd in self-same key
Retorts to chiding fortune.8

Ulys. Agamemnon, —

Thou great commander, nerve and bone of Greece,
Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit,
In whom the tempers and the minds of all
Should be shut up, — hear what Ulysses speaks.
Besides the applause and approbation
The which, — [ To AGAMEM.] most mighty for thy

place and sway, —
[To NESTOR.] And thou most reverend for thy

stretch'd-out life, —
I give to both your speeches, which were such,

that realme he [Perseus] founded, and made a ship named Pegase,
— and this ship was Likened unto an horse flying." In another
place we are told that this ship, which the writer always calls
Perseus' flying1 horse, " flew on the sea like unto a bird."

6 The gadfly that stings cattle.

7 It is said of the tiger that in stormy and high winds he rages
and roars most furiously.

8 The old copies have " Retires to chiding fortune." Pope
changed it to returns, and the change has been commonly fol-
lowed. Hanmer substituted replies, and the same is done in Mr.
Collier's second folio. Replies is certainly better than returns
Mr. Dyce proposes retorts, which is much the best of the three.

H.

•MS TKOILUS AND CHESS IDA. ACT I

As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece
Should hold up high in brass ; and sucJi again,
As venerable Nt-stor, hatch'd in silver,
Should with a bond of air (strong as the axletree
On which heaven rides) knit all the Greekish ears
To his experienc'd tongue,9 — yet let it pleasu

both, —

Thou great, — and wise, — to hear Ulysses speak.
Aga. Speak, prince of Ithaca ; and be't of less

expect 10

That matter needless, of importless burden,
Divide thy lips, than we are confident,
When rank Thersites opes his mastiff jaws,
We shall hear music, wit, and oracle.

Ulys. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,
And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a master,
But for these instances :
The speciality of rule hath been neglected ;
And look, how many Grecian tents do stand
Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions.
When that the general is not like the hive,

' Ulysses evidently means that Agamemnon's speech should be
writ in brass ; and that venerable Nestor, with his silver hairs, by
his speech should rivet the attention of all Greece. The phrase
hitch'd in silver is a simile borrowed from the art of design ; to
hatch being to fill a design with a number of consecutive fine lines ;
and to hatch in silver was a design inlaid with lines of silver, a
process often used for the hilts of swords, handles of daggers, and
stocks of pistols. The lines of the graver on a plate of metal are
•till called hatchings. Hence hatch'd in silver, for sillier hair'd or
gray hair'd. Thus in Love in a Maze, 1632 : " Thy hair is fine
as gold, thy chin is hatch'd with silver."

10 Expect is used for expectation. The passage is rather ob-
sc.ue. The meaning may be given something thus : " And be
there less expectation of needless or importless matter when you
speak, than there is of music, wit, or wisdom, when Thersites barks."
The original has " masticke jaws:" the judicious r.haoge wai
made by Malone. The speech is nut iu the quarto. u.

fcC. 111. TROILUS AND CRESS1DA. 39'J

To whom the foragers shall all repair,
What honey is expected? Degree being vizarded,
The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask.
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this cen-
tre "

Observe degree, priority, and place,
Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,
Office, and custom, in all line of order :
And therefore is the glorious planet, Sol,
In noble eminence enthron'd and spher'd
Amidst the other ; '* whose med'cinable eye
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil,
And posts, like the commandment of a king,
Sans check, to good and bad. But when the planets,
In evil mixture, to disorder wander,13
What plagues, and what portents ! what mutiny !
What raging of the sea, shaking of earth,

11 That is, this globe. According to the system of Ptolemy,
the earth is the centre round which the planets move.

19 We are much tempted to adopt here a slight but very sig-
nificant change proposed by Mr. Singer, namely, ether instead of
other ; as the sense of other seems hardly to cohere with " in noblt
eminence enthron'd." Ethereal is a well-known classic epithet of
the sun, crtherius Sol. Thus in the lines of Lucretius on Epicurus I

Qui genus humannm superavit et omneis
Rfstinxit, Stellas exortus vti .STHERIUS SOL.

Drayton, also, distinguishes the sun as •'< ihe ethereal fire :" thus
in Poly-Olbion, Song 7, where " manly Malvern, king of hills," ad-
dresses proud Olympus :

" I envy not thy state, nor less myself do make ;
Nor, to possess ihy name, mine own would I forsake .
Nor would I, as thou dost, ambitiously aspire
To thrust my forked top into the ethereal Jire." H.

3 The apparent irregular motions of the planets were supposed
to portend some disasters to mankind ; indeed the planets them-
selves were no: thought formerly to be confined iu any fixed or-
bits of their own, but to wander about ad libitum as the etymology
of their name demonstrates.

!ft)4 THOILUS AND CUESSLDA. ACT I,

Commotion in the winds ! frights, changes, horrors,

Divert and crack, rend and deracinate

The unity and married calm of states

Quite from their fixure?14 O! when degiee is

shak'd,

Which is the ladder of all high designs,
The enterprise is sick ! How could communities,
Degrees in schools, and brotherhoods in cities,
Peaceful commerce from dividable shores,14
The primogenitive and due of birth,
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels,

14 Fixure is the Poet's word farjixture. — This piece of " large
discourse" naturally reminds one of a very magnificent strain of
eloquence in the first hook of Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, which
was published in 1594 : " Since (he time that God did first proclaim
the edicts of His law, heaven and earth have hearkened unto His
voice, and their labour hath been to do His will. Now, if nature
should intermit her course, and leave altogether, tnough it were but
for a while, the observation of her own laws ; if those principal and
mother elements, whereof all things in this lower world are made,
should lose the qualities which now they have ; if the frame of that
heavenly arch erected over our heads should loosen and dissolve
itself; if celestial spheres should forget their wonted motions, and
by irregular volubility turn themselves any way as it might happen 5
i' the prince of the lights of heaven, which now as a giant doth
run his unwearied course, should as it were through a languishing
faintness begin to stand and rest himself; if the moon should wan-
der from her beaten way, the times and seasons of the year blend
themselves by disordered and confused mixtures, the winds breathe
out their last gasp, the clouds yield no rain, the earth be defeated
of heavenly influence, the fruits of the earth pine e.way as children
at the withered breasts of their mother no longer able to yield
them relief ; — what would become of man himself, whom these
things do all now serve 1 See we not plainly that obedience of
creatures unto the law of nature is the stay of the whole world ? "
There are other passages in Hooker, which the Poet shows signs
of having fed upon, in this play ; though the resemblance is purely
in the thought, and nowhere reaches to the diction, so as to make
the one traceable in the other. H.

14 Dividable for divided, as corrigible for corrected, in Antony
and Cleopatra. We have repeatedly seen Shakespeare using, ir.
such cases, the active and passive forms interchangeably. u.

SO. III. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 395

But by decree stand In authentic place ?

Take but degree away, untune that string,

And hark, what discord follows ! each thing meets

In mere oppugnancy : the bounded waters

Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores,

And make a sop of all this solid globe :

Strength should be lord of imbecility,

And the rude son should strike his father dead .

Force should be right ; or rather, right and wrong

(Between whose endless jar justice resides)

Should lose their names, and so should justice too

Then every thing includes itself in power,

Power into will, will into appetite ;

And appetite, an universal wolf,

So doubly seconded with will and power,

Must make perforce an universal prey,

And last eat up himself. Great Agamemnon,

This chaos, when degree is suffocate,

Follows the choking :

And this neglection of degree it is,

That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose

It hath to climb.18 The general's disdain'd

By him one step below; he, by the next;

That next, by him beneath: so every step,

Exampled by the first pace that is sick

Of his superior, grows to an envious fever

Of pale and bloodless emulation :

And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot,

Not her own sinews. To end a tale of ength,

Troy in our weakness stands, not in her strengtn.

18 Of course, where each man strives to overtop or kick back
his superiors, others will be moved to do the same by him, so thai
bis way of climbing- will result in a progress downwards ; as men,
by despising the law of their fathers, teach their children if despise
them. H

31H> TROILUS ANn CRF.SSIDV ACT I

JVrst. Most wisely hath Ulvsst-s here discover'd
The fever whereof all our power is sick.

Ago. The nature of the sickness found, Ulysses,
What is the remedy ?

Ulys. The great Achilles, whom opinion crowns
The sinew and the forehand of our host,
Having his ear full of his airy fame,
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent
Lies mocking our designs. With him, Patroclua
Upon a lazy bed the livelong day
Breaks scurril jests ;
And with ridiculous and awkward action
(Which, slanderer, he imitation calls)
He pageants us. Sometime, great Agamemnon,
Thy topless deputation he puts on ; n
And, like a strutting player, — whose conceit
Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich
To hear the wooden dialogue and sound 19
'Twixt his stretch'd footing and the scatfbldage, —
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-wrested seeming19
He acts thy greatness in : and when he speaks,
'Tis like a chime a-mending ; with terms unsquar'd
Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd,
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff",
The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling,
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ;
Cries, " Excellent ! — 'tis Agamemnon just. —

17 Topless deputation is the sovereign or supreme power de-
puted to Agamemnon, as chief of the army, by the choice of hii
fellow-kings. Topless was often used in that sense by others as
well as Shakespeare. H.

18 The scaffoldage here is the floor of the stage, the wooden
dialogue is between the player's foot and the boards. A scaffold
more frequently meant the stage than the gallery. Thus Baret.
" A scaffold or stage where to behold plays." And Chaucf r, in
The Miller's Tale : " He playelli Herode on a skaffold hie."

' That is, overstrained, wrested beyond true semblance.

SO. I/I. TROILUS AND CRKSSIDA. 397

Now play me Nestor ; — hem, and stroke thy heard,

As he, being drest to some oration."

That's done ; — as near as the extremest ends

Of parallels, — as like as Vulcan and his wife :

Yet god Achilles zo still cries, " Excellent !

'Tis Nestor right ! Now play him me, Patroclus,

Arming to answer in a night alarm."

And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age

Must be the scene of mirth ; to cough, and spit

And with a palsy, fumbling on his gorget,

Shake in and out the rivet: — and at this sport

Sir Valour dies ; cries, " O ! — enough, Patroclus ; —

Or give me ribs of steel ! I shall split all

In pleasure of my spleen." And in this fashion,

All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes,

Severals and generals, all grace extract ; *'

Achievements, plots, orders, preventions,

Excitements to the field, or speech for truce,

Success, or loss, what is or is not, serves

As stuff for these two to make paradoxes.

Nest. And in the imitation of these twain
(Whom, as Ulysses says, opinion crowns
With an imperial voice) many are infect.
Ajax is grown self-vvill'd, and bears his head
In such a rein, in full as proud a pace22

80 So in all the old copies. Modern editions commonly emas-
culate and flatten this robust irony into "good Achilles." H.

111 That is, all the grace of them heing extracted or drawn out.
Here, again, we reluctantly admit a change of text from Mr. Col
lier's second folio. The old copies read, " severals and general*
of grace exact;" the meaning of which probably is, exact, that
is, perfect, in respect of grace : whereas the sense apparently re-
quired by the context is, that the mimicry takes all the grace out
of the things in question, and so turns them into caricature. Sing-
er, who spares no fault-finding with Collier's discoveries, pro
poses to read •• are of grace extract ; " which gives the same sense.

H.

** The old copies rea(" vla.ce. Th» change is Singer" i ; and

398 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. AC1 I

As broad Achilles ; keeps his tent like him ;

Makes factious feasts ; rails on our state of war,

Bold as an oracle ; and sets Thersites,

A slave whose gall coins slanders like a mint,

To match us in comparisons with dirt ;

To weaken and discredit our exposure,

How rank soever rounded in with danger.

Ulys. They tax our policy, and call it cowardice
Count wisdom as no member of the war ;
Forestall prescience, and esteem no act
But that of hand : the still and mental parts, —
That do contrive how many hands shall strike
When fitness calls them on, and know, by measure
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight, —
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity :
They call this bed-work, mappery, closet-war :
So that the ram that batters down the wall,
For the great swing and rudeness of his poize,
They place before his hand that made the engine ,
Or those that with the fineness of their souls
By reason guide his execution.

Nest. Let this be granted, and Achilles' horse
Makes many Thetis' sons. [Trumpet sounds

Ago. What trumpet? look, Menelaus

Enter

Men. From Troy.

Ago. What would you 'fore our tentl

jEne. Is this

Great Agamemnon's tent, I pray you?

Aga. Even this.

jEne. May one that is a herald and a prince
Do a fair message to his kingly ears 7

its aptness to tli- context makes us wonder al ils not having Dees
made before. a.

SC. 111. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 399

Aga. With surety stronger than Achilles' arm,
'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one voice
Call Agamemnon head and general.

jEne. Fair leave, and large security. How may
A stranger to those most imperial looks
Know them from eyes of other mortals ?

Aga. How ?

^Ene. Ay; I ask, that I might waken reverence,
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush,
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes
The youthful Phoebus :
Which is that god in office, guiding men ?
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon ?

Aga. This Trojan scorns us, or the men of Troy
Are ceremonious courtiers.

jEne. Courtiers as free, as debonair, unarm'd,
As bending angels ; that's their fame in peace :
But when they would seem soldiers, they have galls,
Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and, Jove's

accord,

Nothing so full of heart. But peace, ^3Sneas!
Peace, Trojan ! lay thy finger on thy lips.
The worthiness of praise distains his worth,
If that the prais'd himself bring the praise forth ;
But what the repining enemy commends,
That breath fame blows; that praise, sole pure,
transcends.

Ago. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself ^Eneas \

jEne. Ay, Greek, that is my name.

Aga. What's your affair, I pray you ?

jEne. Sir, pardon: 'tis for Agamemnon's ears.

Ago. He hears nought privately that comes from
Troy.

jEne. Nor I from Troy come not to whisper him
I bring a trumpet to awake his ear ;

400 TR011.CS ANT) CRESSIDA. ACT I

To set his sense on the attentive bent,
And then to speak.

Ago. Speak frankly as the wind :

It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour ;
That thou shall know, Trojan, he is awake,
He tells thee so himself.

jEne. Trumpet, blow loud,

Send thy brass voice through all these lazy tents;
And every Greek of mettle, let him know,
What Troy means fairly shall be spoke aloud.

[Trumpet sounds

We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy
A prince call'd Hector, (Priam is his father,)
Who in this dull and long-continued truce
Is rusty grown ; he bade me take a trumpet,
And to this purpose speak : Kings, princes, lords .
If there be one among the fair'st of Greece
That holds his honour higher than his ease ;
That seeks his praise more than he fears his peril ;
That knows his valour, and knows not his fear ;
That loves his mistress more than in confession
With truant vows to her own lips he loves,43

13 Confession is used for profession ; a profession of love false-
ly or idly made to the object. — Sieevens, with his usual sagacity
and pertinence, remarks upon the Poet's anachronism in putting
this challenge hi a style more suitable to Palmeriu or Amadis,
than to Hector or ^Eneas. Just as if the whole play were not a
binding1 up of the characters and incidents of classic times with
the manners and sentiments of Gothic chivalry. Shakespearn
learned this from the romance-writers, and from none more tl.an
from Chaucer, who, nevertheless, seems to have known that Greece
was neither a Gothic nor a Christian nation. — The irtrititnt of the
challenge was most likely taken from Chapman's Homer, where
U is represented thus :

'< Hear, Trojans, and ye well-arm'd Greeks, what my strong mind

diffus'd

Through all m\- spirits, commands me speak : Saturnius nath
not us'd

SC. III. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 401

And dare avow her beauty and her worth

In other arms than hers, — to him this challenge ;

Hector, in view of Trojans and of Greeks,

Shall make it good, or do his best to do it :

He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer,

Than ever Greek did compass in his arms ,

And will to-morrow with his trumpet call,

Mid-way between your tents and walls of Troy,

To rouse a Grecian that is true in love.

If any come, Hector shall honour him ;

If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires,

The Grecian dames are sun-burn'd, and not worth

The splinter of a lance. Even so much.

Aga. This shall be told our lovers, lord JEneas :
If none of them have soul in such a kind,
We left them all at home: But we aie soldiers;
And may that soldier a mere recreant prove,
That means not, hath not, or is not in love !
If, then, one is, or hath, or means to be,
That one meets Hector ; if none else, I am he.

His promis'd favour for our truce ; but, studying both our ills,
Will never cease till Mars, by you, his ravenous stomach fills
With ruin'd Troy ; or we consume your mighty sea-born fleet.
Since, then, the general peers of Greece in reach of one voice

meet,
Amongst you all whose breast includes the most impulsive

miiid,

Let him stand forth as combatant, by all the rest design'd ;
Before whom thus I call high Jove to witness of our strife :
If he with home-thrust iron can reach th' exposure of my life,
Spoiling my arms, let him at will convey them to his tent;
But let my body be return'd, that Troy's two-sex'd descent
May waste it in the funeral pile : if I can slaughter him,
Apollo honouring me so much, I'll spoil his conquer'd limb.
And bear his arms to Ilion, where in Apollo's shrine
I'll hang them as my trophies due ; his body I'll resign,
To be disposed by his friends in flamy funerals,
And honour'd with erected tomb where Hcllespontus fall*
Into EgiPum, and doth reach even to your naval road." B

402 TROIUJS AND CRESS FDA. ACT I.

Nrst. Tell liim of Nestor, one that was a m?;n
When Hector's grandsire suck'd : l.e is old now;
Hut if there be not in our Grecian host
One noble man, that hath one spark of fire
To answer for his love, tell him from me, —
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver,
And in my vantbrace S4 put this wither'd brawn ;
And, meeting him, will tell him that my lady
Was fairer than his grandam, and as chaste
As may be in the world. His youth in flood,
I'l prove this truth with my three drops of blood.

JEne. Now, heavens forbid such scarcity of youth .

Ulys. Amen.

Ago. Fair lord ^Eneas, let me touch your hand ;
To our pavilion shall I lead you, sir.
Achilles shall have word of this intent ;
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent :
Yourself shall feast with us before you go,
And find the welcome of a noble foe.

[Exeunt all but ULYSSES and NESTOR

Ulys. Nestor, —

Nest. What says Ulysses ?

Ulys. I have a young conception in my brain ;
Be you my time to bring it to some shape.

Nf<t. What is't ?

Ulys. This 'tis:

Blunt wedges rive hard knots : the seeded pride,
That hath to this maturity blown up
In rank Achilles, must or now be cropp'd,
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil,
To overbulk us all.

Nest. Well, and how ?

** An armour for the arm. ArarU brat. Milton uses the word
in Samson Agonistes.

SC. HI. TROILUS AND CRESS1DA. 403

Vlys. This challenge that the gallant Hector

sends,

However it is spread in general name,
Relates in purpose only to Achilles.

Nest. The purpose is perspicuous even as sub-
stance,

Whose grossness little characters sum up : *'
And in the publication make no strain,26
But that Achilles, were his brain as barren
As banks of Libya, (though, Apollo knows,
'Tis dry enough,) will with great speed of judgment,
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose
Pointing on him.

Ulys. And wake him to the answer, think you ?

Nest. Why, 'tis most meet : " whom may you

else oppose,

That, can from Hector bring those honours off,
If not Achilles ? Though't be a sportful combat,
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells ;
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute
With their fin'st palate : and, trust to me, Ulysses,
Our imputation shall be oddly pois'd
In this wild action ; for the success,
Although particular, shall give a scantling88

** " The intent is as plain and palpable as substance, and it is
to be collected from small circumstances, as a gross body is made-
up of many small parts." This is the scope of Warburton's ex-
planation. Steevens says that " substance is estate, the value of
which is ascertained by the use of small characters, that is, nu-
merals : grossness is the gross sum."

M Make no difficulty, no doubt, when this duel comes to be pro-
claimed, but that Achilles, dull as he is, will discover the drift of
it. Thus in a subsequent scene Ulysses says, — " I do not strain
at the position ; it is familiar."

*7 So in the quarto ; in the folio, " Yes, 'tis most meet." In
the next ine, also, the folio has his honour for those honours.

H.

* A scantling is a treasure, a proportion " When the lioii'i

404 TROILUS AND CHESS IDA. ACT I

Of good or bad unto the general ;

And in such indexes, although small pricks

To their subsequent volumes, there is seen

The baby figure of the giant mass

Of things to come at large. It is suppos'd,

He that meets Hector issues from our choice :

And choice, being mutual act of all our souls,

Makes merit her election, and doth boil,

As 'twere from forth us all, a man distill'd

Out of our virtues ; who miscarrying,

What heart receives from hence the conquering part.

To steel a strong opinion to themselves ?

Which entertain'd, limbs are his instruments,

In no less working, than are swords and bows

Directive by the limbs.

Ulys. Give pardon to my speech : —
Therefore 'tis meet Achilles meet not Hector.
Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares,
And think, perchance, they'll sell ; if not,
The lustre of the better shall exceed,
By showing the worst first.89 Do not consent
That ever Hector and Achilles meet ;
For both our honour and our shame, in this,
Are dogg'd with two strange followers.

Nest. I see them not with my old eyes: what aie
they?

Ulys. What glory our Acliilles shares from Hec-
tor,

skin will not suffice, we must add a. scantling of the fox's." — Man
taigne's Essays, by Fiona, 1603.

** Such is the reading of the quarto : the folio reads thus :

" The lustre of the better, yet to show,
Shall show the better."

Both readings are good, and it is not easy to choose between
(hem. H

SO. III. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 405

Wore he not proud, we all should wear with him:30

But he already is too insolent ;

And we were better parch in Afric sun,

Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes,

Should he 'scape Hoctor fair. If he were foil'd,

Why, then we did our main opinion crush31

In taint of our best man. No ; make a lottery,

And by device let blockish Ajax draw

The sort to fight with Hector : Among ourselves,

Give him allowance for the better man ; 3S

For that will physic the great Myrmidon,

Who broils in loud applause ; and make him fall

His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends.

If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off,

We'll dress him up in voices ; if he fail,

Yet go we under our opinion still,

That we have better men. But, hit or miss,

Our project's life this shape of sense assumes, —

Ajax employ'd plucks down Achilles' plumes.

Nest. Now, Ulysses, I begin to relish thy advice ;
And I will give a taste of it forthwith
To Agamemnon : go we to him straight.
Two curs shall tame each other: pride alone
Must tarre33 the mastiffs on, as 'twere their bone.

[Exeunt.

" So in the folio ; in the quarto, "share with him.'* H.

" Opinion for estimation or reputation. See 1 King Henry
IV., Act v. sc. 4, note 2. The word occurs before in this scene,
in the same sense : " Yet in the trial much opinion dwells."

M So in the quarto ; in the folio, " a* the worthier man." H.

* That is, urge, stimulate, or set the mastiffs on. Sco King
John, Act iv. sc. 1, note 6

TllOILUS AND CUKSSIDA. ACT II,

ACT II.

SCENE I. Another part of the Grecian Camp.

Enter AJAX and THERSITES.

Ajax. Thersites, —

Tlier. Agamemnon — how if he had boils ? full,
all over, generally ?

Ajax. Thersites, —

T/ter. And those boils did run? — Say so, — did
not the general run then 1 were not that a botchy
corps ?

Ajax. Dog, —

Ther. Then would come some matter from him :
I see none now.

Ajax. Thou bitch-wolf's son, canst thou not hear 1
Feel then. [Strikes him.

Ther. The plague of Greece ' upon thee, thou
mongrel beef-witted lord !

Ajax. Speak, then, thou vinewd'st leaven,8 speak !
I will beat thee into handsomeness.

Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and holi-
ness : but I think thy horse will sooner con an

1 Alluding to the plague sent by Apollo on the Grecian army.
He calls Ajax mongrel, on account of his father being- a Grecian
and his mother a Trojan. Sir Andrew Agiiecheek says, in Twelfth
Night, " I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm
to my wit."

* The folio has whinid'st, a misprint, no doubt, for vinewd'st,
which is the superlative of vinewed or tinny, an old word mean-
ing decayed, must}'. It is said to be still used, in Devonshire, of
bread or cheese when spoilt by mould. It is thus applied by Beau
mont, 1602 : •• Many of Chaucer's words are become, as it were
vinew'd and hoarie with over long lying." The quarto has un
salted. n.

C. I. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 407

oration, than thou learn a prayer without book.
Thou canst strike, canst thou ? a red murrain o'thy
jade's tricks !

Ajax. Toad-stool, learn me the proclamation.

Tfier. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou
strik'st me thus 1

Ajaz. The proclamation, —

Ther. Thou art proclaim'd a fool, I think.

Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not ; my fingers itch.

Ther. I would thou didst itch from head to foot,
and I had the scratching of thee ; I would make
thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. When thou
art forth in the incursions, thou strikest as slow a*
another.3

Ajax. I say, the proclamation, —

Ther. Thou grumblest and railest every hour on
Achilles ; and thou art as full of envy at his great-
ness, as Cerberus is at Proserpina's beauty, ay, that
thou barkest at him.

Ajax. Mistress Thersites !

Ther. Thou shouldst strike him.

Ajax. Cobloaf!4

Ther. He would pun 6 thee into shivers with his
fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit.

* All of this speech, after Greece, is wanting in the foliu. B.

4 Cobloaf is perhaps equivalent to ill-shapen lump. Minshen
rays, •• a cob-loaf is a little loaf made with a round head, such as
cob irons which support the fire." The misshapen head of Ther-
•ites should be remembered, which may be what is here alluded
to : " Homer, declaryng a very foolyshe and an haskarde fellow
under the person of Thersytes, sayth, that he was streyte in the
shulders, and cop-heeded lyke a gygge, and thyn heryd full of
•corfe and scalle." Horman's Vvigttria., 1519.

* That is, pound ; still in use provincially. The original word
in Saxon is punian. It is used in Holland's translation of Pliny
" Punned altogether, and reduced into a liniment." It is related
of a Staffordshire servant of Miss Seward, that, hearing his mis

409 TRO1LUS AND CHESSIDA. ACT 11

Ajax. You whoreson cur ! [Beating him.

Ther. Do, do.

Ajax. Thou stool for a witch !

Ther. Ay, do, do; thou sodden-wilted lord ! thou
hast no more brain than T have in mine elbows :
an assinego6 may tutor thee. Thou scurvy valiant
ass ! thou art here but to thrash Trojans ; and thou
art bought and sold among those of any wit, like a
Barbarian slave. If thou use to beat me, I will
begin at thy heel, and tell what thou art by inches,
thou thing of no bowels, thou !

Ajax. You dog !

Ther. You scurvy lord !

Ajax. You cur ! {Beating him.

Ther. Mars his idiot ! do, rudeness ; do, camel ;
do, do.

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

Arhil. Why, how now, Ajax ! wherefore do you

thus?
How now, Thersites ! what's the matter, man 1

Ther. You see him there, do you!

Achil. Ay ; what's the matter 1

Ther. Nay, look upon him.

AchiL So I do : what's the matter 1

Ther. Nay, but regard him well.

Achil. Well ! why, I do so.

Ther. But yet you look not well upon him ; for
whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax.

AchiL I know that, fool.

Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself.

tress knock with her foot to call up her attendant, he said, " Hark!
madam is punning."

• Assinego is the Portuguese diminutive for an ass ; and was
often used in that sense in the Poet's time. »•

SC. I. TROILUS AND CRESSLDA. 409

Ajax. Therefore I beat thee.
Ther. Lo, lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wit he
utters ! his evasions have ears thus long. 1 have
bobb'd his brain more than he has beat my bones :
I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia
mater is not worth the ninth part of a sparrow.
This lord, Achilles, Ajax, — who wears his wit in
his belly, and his guts in his head, — I'll tell you
what I say of him.

AMI What?

Ther. I say, this Ajax —

[AJAX offers to strike him.

Achil. Nay, good Ajax.

Ther. — has not so much wit —

Achil. Nay, I must hold you.

Ther. — as will stop the eye of Helen's needle,
for whom he comes to fight.

Achil. Peace, fool !

Ther. I would have peace and quietness, but the
fool will not : he there ; that he, look you, there.

Ajax. O, thou damn'd cur ! I shall —

Achil. Will you set your wit to a fool's ?

Ther. No, I warrant you ; for a fool's will shame it.

Pair. Good words, Thersites.

Achil. What's the quarrel 1

Ajax. I bade the vile owl go learn me the tenour
of the proclamation, and he rails upon me.

Ther. I serve thee not.

Ajax. Well, go to, go to.

Ther. I serve here voluntary.

Achil. Your last service was sufferance, 'twas not
voluntary ; no man is beaten voluntary : Ajax was
here the voluntary, and you as under an impress.

Ther. Even so 1 — a great deal of your wit too
lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. Hector

410 TRO1LUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT II.

shall have a great catch, if he knock out either of
your brains : he were as good crack a fusty nat with
no kernel.

Achil. What ! with me too, Thersites ?

Ther. There's Ulysses, and old Nestor, — whose
wit was mouldy ere your grandsires had nails on
their toes, — yoke you like draught oxen, and make
you plough up the war.

Achil What, what !

Ther. Yes, good sooth : to, Achilles ! to, Ajax 1
to!7

Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue.

Ther. 'Tis no matter ; I shall speak as much as
thou, afterwards.

Pair. No more words, Thersites ; peace !

Ther. I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach
bids me, shall I ?

Achil. There's for you, Patroclus.

Ther. I will see you hang'd, like clotpoles, ere I
come any more to your tents : I will keep where
there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.8

[Exit.

To is here used imperatively, as a verb. Thersites is urging
the " oxen " to their work. H.

8 For the character of Thersites Shakespeare probably took a
general hint from Chapman's Homer ; there being- nothing- of him
in Chaucer, or Caxton, or Lydgate. In Homer he is represented
merely as a deformed jester :

" Thersites only would speak ill. A most disorder'd store
Of words he foolishly pour'd out, of which his mind held more
Than it could manage : any thing with which he could procure
Laughter, he never could contain. He should have yet been

sure
To touch no kings : t'oppose their states becomes not jesters'

parts.

But he the filthiest fellow was of all that had deserts
In Troy's brave siege : he was squint-ey'd, and lame of eithel

foot;

SC. 11. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 41)

Patr. A good riddance.

Achil. Marry, tliis, sir, is proclaim'd through all

our host :

That Hector, by the fifth hour of the sun,9
Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy,
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms,
That hath a stomach ; and such a one that dare
Maintain — 1 know not what ; 'tis trash : FarewelL

Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him ?

Achil. I know not ; it is put to lottery: otherwise,
He knew his man.

A) at. O ! meaning you : — I'll go learn more of it

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Troy. A Room in PRIAM'S Palace.

Enter PRIAM, HECTOR, TROILUS, PARIS, and
HELENUS.

jPri. After so many hours, lives, speeches spent,

So crook-back'd that he had no breast ; sharp-headed, where

did shoot

(Here and there sperst) thin mossy hair. He most of all envied
Ulysses and ^Bacides, whom still his spleen would chide ;
Nor could the sacred king himself avoid his saucy vein,
Against whom, since he knew the Greeks did vehement hates

sustain,
(Being angry for Achilles' wrong,) he cried out, railing thug."

H.

9 The quarto has " \hejirst hour of the sun." In Act iii. sc. 3,
Thcrsites speaks of " eleven o'clock " as the hour for the duel ;
which shows that fifth is right. The .thing were of no conse-
quence, but for what is well stated by Knight, thus : " The knighia
of chivalry did not encounter at the first hour of the sun ; by ilia
fifth, on a summer's morning, the lists would be set, and the la-
die* in their seats. The usages of chivalry are i'iose of tl is play.'

412 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT 11

Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks:
"Deliver Helen, and all damage else —
As honour, loss of time, travel, expense,
Wounds, friends, and what else dear that is con

sum'd

In hot digestion of this cormorant war —
Shall be struck off:" — Hector, what say you to't!
ffect. Though no man lesser fears the Greek*

than I,

As far as toucheth my particular,
Yet, dread Priam,

There is no lady of more softer bowels,
More spungy to suck in the sense of fear,
More ready to cry out — "Who knows what fol-
lows?"

Than Hector is. The wound of peace is surety,
Surety secure ; but modest doubt is call'd
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches1
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go :
Since the first sword was drawn about this question,
Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand dismes,*
Hath been as dear as Helen ; I mean, of ours :
If we have lost so many tenths of ours,
To guard a thing not ours, nor worth to us,
Had it our name, the value of one ten ;
What merit's in that reason which denies
The yielding of her up 1

Tro. Fie, fie, my brother !

Weigh you the worth and honour of a king,
So great as our dread father, in a scale
Of common ounces 1 will you with counters sum

1 The language of surgery. To tent a wound is to rearch it.

H.

2 Disme is propel ly tenths or tytlies,but dismes is here used ft
tent

SO II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 413

The past-proportion of his infinite,3

And buckle in a waist most fathomless

With spans and inches so diminutive

As fears and masons 1 fie, for godly shame !

Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp at

reasons,

You are so empty of them. Should not our father
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons,
Because your speech hath none, that tells him so ?
Tro. You are for dreams and slumbers, brother

priest :
You fur your gloves with reason. Here are your

reasons :

You know an enemy intends you harm ;
You know a sword employ'd is perilous,
And reason flies the object of all harm:
Who marvels, then, when Helenus beholds
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set
The very wings of reason to his heels,
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove,
Or like a star disorb'd? — Nay, if we talk of reason,
Let's shut our gates, and sleep : Manhood and hon-
our
Should have hare hearts, would they but fat their

thoughts

With this cramm'd reason: reason and respect4
Make livers pale, and lustihood deject.

* That is, that greatness to which no measure bean any pro-
portion.

4 That is, regard to consequences. Thus in The Rape of
Lucrece :

" The childish fear avaunt ! debating die

Respect and reason wait on wrinkled age ! —

Sad pause and deep regard beseem the sage."

— Gallon's version of the History furnishes the following illustra

lion of this passage : " Then arose upon his feet Troylus, th»

414 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT II

Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she doth cost
The holding.

Tro. What is aught but as 'tis valued ?

Hect. But value dwells not in particular will ;
It holds his estimate and dignity
As well wherein 'tis precious of itself
As in the prizer : 'tis mad idolatry,
To make the service greater than the god ;
And the will dotes that is attributive
To what infectiously itself affects,*
Without some image of the affected merit.

Tro. I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will ;
My will enkindled by mine eyes and ears,
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment. How may I avoid,
Although my will distaste what it elected,
The wife I chose ? there can be no evasion
To blench from this, and to stand firm by honour
We turn not back the silks upon the merchant,
When we have soil'd them ; nor the remainder viands
We do not throw in unrespective sieve,*

youngest son of king Pryamus, and began to speake in this man-
ner : O noble men and bardie, how be ye abashed for the words

of this cowardiie priest here ! If Helenas be affraid,

let him goe into the Temple, and sing the divine service, and let
the other take revenge of their injurious wrongs by strength and

force of armes All they that heard Troylus thus

speake allowed him, saying that he had verie well spoken. And
thus they finished their parliament, and went to dinner." n.

* " The will dotes that attributes or gives the qualities which it
affects ; " that first imagines excellence, and ihen admires it The
folio reads inclinable, the quarto attributive. It seems pretty clear
that, if we take inclinable, we should change affects to effects ; else
we shall have it set down as dotage to be inclinable where one has
an inclination. u.

8 That is, unto a common voider. It is well known that sievti
and half sieves are baskets, to be met with in every quarter o/

C. II. TROTLUS AND CRESSTDA. 415

Because we now are full. It was thought meet,
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks :
Your hreath of full consent bellied his sails;7
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce,
And did him service : he touch'd the ports desir'd ;
And, for an old aunt,8 whom the Greeks held cap-
tive,

He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and fresh-
ness

Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes stale9 the morning.
Why keep we her 1 the Grecians keep our aunt.
Is she worth keeping ? why, she is a pearl,
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand ships,
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants.
If you'll avouch 'twas wisdom Paris went,
As you must needs, for you all cried — " Go, go ; "
If you'll confess he brought home noble prize,
As you must needs, for you ail clapp'd your hands
And cried — " Inestimable ! " why do you now
The issue of your proper wisdoms rate,
And do a deed that fortune never did,
Beggar the estimation which you priz'd
Richer than sea and land ? O, theft most base !
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep !
But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen,
That in their country did them that disgrace,
We fear to warrant in our native place !
Cos. [ Within.] Cry, Trojans, cry !

Covent Garden : and baskets lined with tin are still employed a*
voiders Dr. Farmer says, that in some counties the baskets used
for carrying out dirt, &c., are called sieves. The folio copy readi
by mistake " unrespective same."

7 The quarto reads, " with full consent." H.

* Pnatn's sister Hesione.

* So in the fono ; in the quarto, pale. Stale makes a better
antithesis to freshness. u

416 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT II.

Pri. Wlmt noise ? wliat shriek is this 1

Tro. 'Tis our mad sister ; I do know her voice.
Cos. [ Within.] Cry, Trojans !
He.ct. It is Cassandra.

Enter CASSANDRA, raving.

Cos, Cry, Trojans, cry ! lend me ten thousand

eyes,
Vnd I will fill them with prophetic tears.

Hect. Peace, sister, peace !

Cos. Virgins and boys, mid-age and wrinkled

old,10

Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry,
Add to my clamours ! let us pay betimes
A moiety of that mass of moan to come.
Cry, Trojans, cry ! practise your eyes with tears !
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand ;
Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all.11
Cry, Trojans, cry ! a Helen, and a woe !
Cry, cry ! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. [Exit.

Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these high

strains

Of divination in our sister work
Some touches of remorse 1 or is your blood
So madly hot, that no discourse of reason,
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause,
Can qualify the same?

Tro. Why, brother Hector,

We may not think the justness of each act
Such and no other than event doth form it ;

10 The folio thus. The quarto reads " wrinkled elders." Rit-
«on thinks it should be "wrinkled eld." Shakespeare has "idle-
headed eld " and "palsied eld" in other places.

11 Hecuba, when pregnant with Paris, dreamed she should be
delivered of a burniug torch.

SC II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 417

Nor once deject the courage of our minds
Because Cassandra's mad : her brainsick raptures
Cannot distaste the goodness of a quarrel,
Which hath our several honours all engag'd
To make it gracious.12 For my private part,
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons ;
And Jove forbid there should be done amongst us
Such things as might ofieud the weakest spleen
To fight for and maintain !

Par. Else might the world convince I3 of levity
As well my undertakings as your counsels :
But I attest the gods, your full consent
Gave wings to ray propension, and cut off
All fears attending on so dire a project.
For what, alas ! can these my single arms ?
What propugnation is in one man's valour,
To stand the push and enmity of those
This quarrel would excite ? Yet I protest,
Were I alone to pass the difficulties,
And had as ample power as I have will,
Paris should ne'er retract what he hath done
Nor faint in the pursuit.

Pri. Paris, you speak

Like one besotted on your sweet delights :
You have the honey still, but these the gall ;
So to be valiant, is no praise at all.

Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself
The pleasures such a beauty brings with it,
But I would have the soil of her fair rape u
Wip'd off in honourable keeping her.

11 That is, to grace it, to set it off.

'* To convince and to conrict were synonymous.

** Rape and ravishment anciently signified only seizing or car
rying away. Indeed the Rape of Helen is merely Raptus HeleuK
without any idea of personal violence.

418 TRO1LUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT II

What treason were it to the ransach'd queen,

Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to me,

Now to deliver her possession up

On terms of hase compulsion ! Can it be,

That so degenerate a strain as this

Should once set footing in your generous bosoms 7

There's not the meanest spirit on our party

Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw,

When Helen is defended ; nor none so noble,

Whose life were ill bestow'd, or death unfam'd,

Where Helen is the subject : then, I say,

Well may we fight for her, whom, we know well,

The world's large spaces cannot parallel.

fleet. Paris and Troilus, you have both said well ;
And on the cause and question now in hand
Have gloz'd, — but superficially ; not much
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought
Unfit to hear moral philosophy.1*
The reasons you allege do more conduce
To the hot passion of distemper'd blood,
Than to make up a free determination
'Twixt right and wrong ; for pleasure and revenge

16 We may be amused at Hector's mention of Aristotle, bu
let it be remembered that such anachronisms were very frequent
in those ancient romances which seem to have formed I he greatei
part of the Poet's library. Indeed one of the most fertile and gifted
writers of the present age, in his admirable historical novels, blends
circumstances of various periods, and exhibits persons on the stage
of action together who were not contemporaries ; yet his language,
manners, and costume are in admirable keeping. Steevens has
pointed out two absurd instances of anachronism which are very
amusing. In the Dialogue of Creatures Moralysed. we find God
Almighty quoting Cato. And in one of the Chester Mysteries,
during an altercation between Noah and his wife, the lady swears
by Christ and St. John. Statins is not entirely exempt from such
mistakes. In the fifth book of the Thebaid, Amphiarus talks of
the fates of Nestor and Priam, neither of whom died till long after
him

SC. II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 419

Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice

Of any true decision. Nature craves

All dues be render'd to their owners : now,

What nearer debt in all humanity,

Than wife is to the husband? If this la\r

Of nature be corrupted through affection,

And that great minds, of partial indulgence

To their benumbed wills, resist the same ;

There is a law in each well-order'd nation

To curb those raging appetites that are

Most disobedient and refractory.

If Helen, then, be wife to Sparta's king, —

As it is known she is, — these moral laws

Of nature and of nations speak aloud

To have her back return'd : Thus to persist

In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong,

But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opinion

Is this, in way of truth : yet, ne'ertheless,

My spritely brethren, I properid to you

In resolution to keep Helen still ;

For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance

Upon our joint and several dignities.

Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our de-
sign:

Were it not glory that we more affected
Than the performance of our heaving spleens,
I would not wish a drop of Trojan blood
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hector,
She is a theme of honour and renown ;
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds ;
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame, in time to come, canonize us:16

11 The expression must not be taken literally ; it merely meani
l>e inscribed amon<r the heroes or demigods. " Ascribi numinifnu'
u rendered by old translators " to be cauonized, or made a saint.'

4^0 TROILUS AND CHESSIDA. ACT U

For I presume brave Hector would not lose
So rich advantage of a promis'd glory,
As smiles upon the forehead of this action,
For the wide world's revenue.

Hect. I am yours,

You valiant offspring of great Priamus. —
I have a roisting challenge sent amongst
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks,
Will strike amazement to their drowsy spirits.
I was advertis'd their great general slept,
Whilst emulation17 in the army crept :
This, I presume, will wake him. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

The Grecian Camp. Before ACHILLES' Tent.

Enter THERSITES.

Ther. How now, Thersites ! what ! lost in the
labyrinth of thy fury 1 Shall the elephant Ajax carry
it thus? he beats me, and I rail at him : O, worthy
satisfaction ! 'would it were otherwise ; that I could
beat him, whilst he rail'd at me. 'Sfoot, I'll learn
to conjure and raise devils, but I'll see some issue
of my spiteful execrations. Then there's Achilles,
— a rare engineer. If Troy be not taken till these
two undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall
of themselves. O, thou great thunder-darter of

7 Emulation '.s here put for envious rivalry, factious contention.
It is generally used by Shakespeare in this sense : the reason wiB
appear from the following definition : " To have envie to some :ri3_
to be angry with another man which hath that which we covet ta
have, to envy at that which another man hath, to studie, indevour
and travaile to do e as well as another : nmu/atio is such kin leof
nmy."

SC. III. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 421

Olympus ! forget that thou art Jove the king of
gods ; and, Mercury, lose -all the serpentine craft
of thy Caduceus ; ' if ye take not that little little
less-than-little wit from them that they have ! which
short-aim'd ignorance 2 itself knows is so abundant
scarce, it will not in circumvention deliver a fly
from a spider, without drawing their massy irons and
cutting the web. After this, the vengeance on the
whole camp ! or, rather, the Neapolitan bone-ache ! 3
for that, methinks, is the curse dependant on those
that war for a placket. I have said my prayers ,
and devil, envy, say Amen. What, ho ! my lord
Achilles !

Enter PATROCLUS.

Pair. Who's there ? Thersites ? Good Thersites,
come in and rail.

Ther. If I could have remember'd a gilt coun-
terfeit,4 thou would'st not have slipp'd out of my
contemplation ; but it is no matter : thyself upon
thyself ! The common curse of mankind, folly and
ignorance, be thine in great revenue ! Heaven bless
thee from a tutor, and discipline come not near
thee ! Let thy blood be thy direction till thy death !
then, if she that lays thee out says thou art a fair

1 The wand of Mercury is wreathed with serpents
* The old copies have " short-arm'rf ignorance." Arm for aim
was a very common misprint, as Mr. Dyce has shown by many i
instances. It occurs afterwards in this play. See King Henry
VI., Act iv. sc. 9, note 2. H.

3 Neapolitan is wanting in the folio. H.

4 To understand this joke it should be ki»own that counterfeit
and slip were synonymous : "And therefore he went out and got
him certain slips, which are counterfeit pieces of money, being
brasse, and covered over with silver, which the common people
call slips." — Greene's Thieves falling out, true Men come by tf eit
Goodt

422 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT If

corse, I'll be sworn and sworn upon't, she never
shrouded any but lazars. Amen. — Where's
Achilles T

Pair. What ! art thou devout ? wast thou in
prayer 1

Ther. Ay ; the heavens hear me !

Enter ACHILLES.

AcltiL Who's there 1

Pair. Thersites, my lord.

Achil. Where, where ? — Art thou come ? Why,
my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou not serv'd
thyself in to my table so many meals 1 Come ; what's
Agamemnon ?

TIter. Thy commander, Achilles : Then tell me,
Patroclus, what's Achilles ?

Pair. Thy lord, Thersites: Then tell me, I pray
thee, what's thyself?

Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus : Then tell me,
Patroclus, what art thou 1

Pair. Thou must tell,5 that know'st.

Achil. O ! tell, tell.

TJier. I'll decline the whole question.8 Agamem-
non commands Achilles; Achilles is my lord; I am
Patroclus' knower ; and Patroclus is a fool.

Pair. You rascal ! T

Ther. Peace, fool ! I have not done.

Achil. He is a privileg'd man. — Proceed, Ther-
sites.

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool ; Achilles is a fool :
Thersites is a fool ; and, as aforesaid, Patroclus is
a fool.

* So in the quarto ; in the folio, " may'st tell." E.

• That is, run it through all the cases and numbers. H.

7 Thi* and the next three sueeches are wanting in the quarto.

a

BC. III. TU01LUS ANT» CRESSIDA. 423

Achil. Derive this ; come.

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to command
Achilles ; Achilles is a fool to be commanded of
Agamemnon ; Thersites is a fool to serve such a
fool ; and Patroclus is a fool positive.

Pair. Why am I a fool 1

Ther. Make that demand to the Creator.8 — It
suffices me thou art. Look you, who comes hero !

Enter AGAMEMNON, ULYSSES, NESTOR, DIOMEDES,
<in<l. AJAX.

Achil. Patroclus, I'll speak with nobody. — Come
in with me, Thersites. [Exit.

Ther. Here is such patchery,9 such juggling, and
such knavery ! all the argument is a cuckold and a
whore ; a good quarrel, to draw emulous factions,
and bleed to death upon ! Now the dry serpigo 10 on
ihe subject ! and war and lechery confound all !

[Exit

Aga. Where is Achilles ?

Pair. Within his tent ; but ill-dispos'd, my lord.

• The quarto reads, " Make that demand of the prover." The
folio reading makes the sense something clearer, aiid is more
characteristic of the speaker. Prover would seem to mean one
wbo has had experience of thy folly ; and one would think that
Thersites had such experience from the way he talks. H.

9 Palchery is cozenage, roguery ; making up something to
wheedle or deceive. So in Fox, the Martyrologist : "Blackston
being reproved for his false patching, fell in a quaking and shak
ing, his conscience belike remorsing him." And in Timon o.
A them, Act v. sc. 1. :

"Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble,
Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him,
Keep in your bosom ; yet remain assur'd,
That he's a made-up villain.'' H.

10 The terpigo is a kind of tetter. See Measure for Meajure,
Act iii. sc. 1, note 6. u.

424 THOILUS AND CHESS IDA. ACT II

Aga. Let it be known to him that we are here
He shent ' ' our messengers ; and we lay by
Our appertainments, visiting of hirn :
Let him be told so, lest, perchance, he think
We dare not move the question of our place,
Or know not what we are.

Pair. I shall say so to him. [Exit

Ulys. We saw him at the opening of his tent :
He is not sick.

Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart : you
may call it melancholy, if you will favour the man ;
but, by my head, 'tis pride : But why, why 1 let him
show us a cause. — A word, my lord.

[Takes AGAMEMNON aside.

Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him ?

Ulys. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him.

Nest. Who? Thersites?

Ulys. He.

Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he have lost
his argument.

Ulys. No; you see, he is his argument, that has
his argument, Achilles.

Nest. All the better ; their fraction is more our
wish, than their faction : But it was a strong com-
posure,18 a fool could disunite.

Ulys. The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may
easily untie. Here comes Patroclus.

11 Shent is rebuked, reviled, or abused. See The Merry Wives
of Windsor, Act i. sc. 4, note 7. The quarto has, " He sate ; "
the folio, " He sent;" neither of which will stand with the rest of
the passage. The emendation is Theobald's. Mr. Collier pro
poses, " We sent," and objects to " He shent," that " Achilles had
not rebuked any messengers." But how does he know this 7 If
because no mention has been made of it, the objection is equally
good against " We sent," for neither has this been mentioned
The context strongly favours shent. u

12 The folio reads counsel.

5C. 1I~ IROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 425

Re-enter PATROCLUS.

Nest. No Achilles with him.

Ulys. The elephant hath joints, but none for
courtesy : his legs are legs for necessity, not for
flexure.13

Pair. Achilles bids me say, he is much sorry,
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure
Did move your greatness and this noble state u
To call upon him : he hopes it is no other,
But, for your health and your digestion sake,
An after-dinner's breath.15

Aga. Hear you, Patroclus:

We are too well acquainted with these answers ;
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn,
Cannot outfly our apprehensions.
Much attribute he hath, and much the reason
Why we ascribe it to him ; yet all his virtues,
Not virtuously on his own part beheld,
Do in our eyes begin to lose their gloss ;
Yea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish,
Are like to rot untasted. Go and tell him,
We come to speak with him : and you shall not sin,
If you do say, we think him over-proud,
And under-honest ; in self-assumption greater

13 It was an old notion that the elephant, " being unable to lie
down, slept leaning against a tree, which the hunters observing, do
itaw it almost asunder ; whereon the beast relying, by the fall of
the tree, (alls also down itself, and is able to rise no more." Thus
in The Dialogues of Creatures Moralyscd : "The olefawnte thai
bowyth not the kneys." Thus also in All's Lost by Lust, 1633 ;
" Stubborn as an elephant's leg, no bending in her." The noti in
continued till the time of Sir Thomas Browne, and is refuted ii
his Vulgar Eirors.

14 This stately train of attending nobles.

16 Breath for breathing ; that is, exercise, relaxation.

420 TROlLtfS AND CRKSSIUA. ACT II

Than in the note of judgment ; and wortltier than

himself

Here tend the savage strangeness he puts on ;
Disguise the holy strength of their command,
Ami underwrite in an observing kind16
His humorous predominance ; yea, watch
His pettish Junes,17 his ebbs, his flows, as if
The passage and whole carriage of this action
llode on his tide. Go, tell him this ; and add,
That if he overhold his price so much
We'll none of him ; but let him, like an engine
Not portable, lie under this report :
" Bring action hither, this cannot go to war ;
A stirring dwarf we do allowance give
Before a sleeping giant : " — Tell him so.

Pair. I shall ; and bring his answer presently.

[Exit

Aga. In. second voice we'll not be satisfied;
We come to speak with him. — Ulysses, enter you.

[Exit ULYSSES

Ajaz. What is he more than another 1

Ago. No more than what he thinks he is.

Ajax. Is he so much 7 Do you not think he
thinks himself a better man than I am 1

Aga. No question.

Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and say
ho ia 7

Aga. No, noble Ajax ; you are as strong, as val
iant, as wise, no less noble, much more gentle, and
altogether more tractable.

18 To underwrite is synonymous with to subscribe, which it used
by Shakespeare in several places for to yield, to submit.
7 Fitful lunacies. The quarto reads thus:

" His course and time, his ebbs and flows, and if
The passage and whole stream of his commencement
Rode oil his tide."

«C. HI. TROILUS ANH CRKSSIDA. 42*

Ajax. Why should a man be proud? How iloth
pride grow ? I know not what pride is.

Aga. Your mind's the clearer, Ajax, and your
virtues the fairer. He that is proud eats up him-
self: pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his
own chronicle ; and whatever praises itself but in
the deed, devours the deed in the praise.

Ajax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the en-
gendering of toads.

Nest. [Aside.] And yet he loves himself: is't not
strange 1

Re-enter ULYSSES.

Ulys. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow.

Aga. What's his excuse 1

Ulys. He doth rely on none ;

But carries on the stream of his dispose
Without observance or respect of any,
In will peculiar and in self-admission.

Aga. Why will he not, upon our fair request,
Untent his person, and share the air with us ?

Ulys. Things small as nothing, for request's sake

only,

He makes important. Possess'd he is with great-
ness ;

And speaks not to himself but with a pride
That quarrels at self-breath : imagin'd worth
Holds in his blood such swoln and hot discourse,
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts,
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages,
And batters down himself: What should I say?
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens I8 of it
Cry — " No recovery."

18 Alluding to the spots appearing- on those infected with tfaj

428 TROILUS AND CRESS1UA. ACT It

Aga. Let Ajax go to him. —

Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent:
'Tis said he holds you well, and will he led
At jour request a little from himself.

Ulys. O, Agamemnon ! let it not he so.
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes
When they go from Achilles: Shall the proud loid
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam,19
And never suffers matter of the world
Enter his thoughts, — save such as do revolve
And ruminate himself; — shall he be worshipp'd
Of that we hold an idol more than he ?
No ; this thrice-worthy and right-valiant lord
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd ;
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit,
As amply titled as Achilles is,
By going to Achilles :

That were to erilard his fat-already pride ;
And add more coals to Cancer,20 when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.
This lord go to him ! Jupiter forbid,
And say in thunder — " Achilles, go to him."

Nest. [Aside.] O, this is well ! he rubs the vein
of him.

Dio. [Aside.] And how Ms silence drinks up this
applause !

plague. Thus Hodges on the Plague i " Spots of a dark com-
plexion, usualty called tokens, and looked on as the pledges 01
forewarning* of death." And in Beaumont and Fletchers Val-
eutinian :

« Now like the fearful tokens of the plague,

Are mere forerunners of their ends."

19 Seam is fat. The grease, fat, or tallow of any animal ; bu(
chiefly applied to that of a hog

80 Tl e sign in the zodiac, into which the sun enters June 21

SO. HI. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA 42ft

Ajat If I go to him, with my armed fist
I'll pash him21 o'er the face.

Ago. O, no ! you shall not go.

Ajax. An 'a be proud with me, I'll pheeze hii

pride .-
Let me go to him.

Ulys. Not for the worth that hangs upon our
quarrel.

Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow ! —

Nest. [Aside.] How he describes

Himself !

Ajax. Can he not be sociable ?

Ulys. [Aside.] The raven

Chides blackness.

Ajax. I'll let his humour's blood.**

Ago. [Aside.] He will be the physician, that
should be the patient.

Ajax. An all men were o'my mind, —

Ulys. [Aside.] Wit would be out of fashion.

Ajax. 'A should not bear it so ;
'A should eat swords first : shall pride carry it 1

Nest. [Aside.] An 'twould, you'd carry half.

Ulys. [Aside.] 'A would have ten shares.

Ajax. I will knead him ; I will make him supple.

*' To pash is to maul, to break, to smash ; a word not unfrc-
quently used by the old writers. Thus in Holinshed's account of
Becket's death : " They left him not till they had cut and pushed
out his braiiies, and dashed them about upon the church pavement."
Also \L Chapman's Homer : " That can be cut with any iron, or
pasht with mightie stones." And in North's Plutarch : "The poor
men half dead were beaten down with clubs, and their heads
pashed in pieces." — Pheeze, just below, is to beat down, to hum-
ble. See The Taming of the Slirew, Induction, note 1. H.

*a There is a curious collection of Epigrams, Sat'res, &c.,
prime) in IGO*" with this quaint title: " The Letting of llumour'l
Blood in the Head Vaine."

430 TROILUS AND CRESSITM. ACT II

Nest. [Aside.] He's not yet thorough warm ; force

him with praises : *3
Pour in, pour in ; his ambition is dry.

Ulys. [ To AGAMEM.] My lord, you feed too much
on this dislike.

Nest. Our noble general, do not do so.

Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles,

Ulys. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him harm
Here is a man — but 'tis before his face ;
[ will be silent.

Nest. Wherefore should you so ?

He is not emulous, as Achilles is.

Ulys. Know the whole world, he is as valiant.

Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter thus

with us !
'Would he were a Trojan !

Nest. What a vice were it in Ajax now, —

Ulys. If he were proud.

Dio. Or covetous of praise.

Ulys. Ay, or surly borne.

Dio. Or strange, or self-affected.

Ulys. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet

composure ;

Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck :
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature
Thrice-fam'd, beyond all erudition;
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight,
Let Mars divide eternity in twain,
And give him half: and, for thy vigour, let
Cull-hearing Milo his addition yield24
To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom,

93 Force him, that is, stuff him : farcir, FT. In another plaM
of this play we have " malice forced with wit."
14 That is, yield his titles, his celebrity for strength.

SC. III. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 431

Which, like a bourn,25 a pale, a shore, confines
Thy spacious and dilated parts : Here's Nestor ;
Instructed by the antiquary times,
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise ;
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days
As green as Ajax', and your brain so temper'd,
You should not have the eminence of him,
But be as Ajax.

Ajax. Shall I call you father 1

Ulys. Ay, my good son.*8

Dio. Be rul'd by him, lord Ajax.

Ulys. There is no tarrying here : the hart Achilles
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general
To call together all his state of war:
Fresh kings are come to Troy ; to-morrow,
W o must with all our main of power stand fast :
And here's a lord, — come knights from east to west,
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best.

Aga. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep :
Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw
deep. [Exeunt.

** A bourn is a boundary, and sometimes a rivulet, dividing1 one
place from another. A bourn, or burn, in the north, signifies a
brook, or rivulet. Hence the names of many villages, &c., ter-
minate in burn.

19 We concur with Knight and Verplanck in giving this speech
to Ulysses, as it is in the folio. All other modern editors follow
the quarto in giving it to Nestor, which seems to take away much
of its point, this being to show how Ulysses' praise works in Ajax.
Ben Jonson had many who called themselves his sons. Cotton
dedicates his book on Angling to his father Walton ; and Ash-
mole, in his Diary observes, " April 3, Mr. William Backhouse of
Swallowfield. Berks, caused me to call him father thenceforward-''
Such adoptions were quite customary in the Poet's time, and r*
garded as high compliments on both sides H.

432 TROiL,uS AND CRESSIDA. ACT 111

ACT III.

SCENE I. Troy. A Room in PRIAM'S Palace.

Enter PANDARUS and a Servant.

fan. Friend ! you ! pray you, a word : Do no*
you follow the young lord Paris 1

Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me

Pan. You depend upon him, I mean ?

Serv. Sir, I do depend upon the lord.

Pan. You do depend upon a noble gentleman
I must needs praise him.

Serv. The Lord be praised !

Pan. You know me, do you not 1

Serv. 'Faith, sir, superficially.

Pan. Friend, know me better : I am the lord
Pandarus.

Serv. I hope I shall know your honour better.1

Pan. I do desire it.

Serv. You are in the state of grace.

[Music within.

Pan. Grace ! not so, friend ; honour and lordship
are my titles. — What music is this 1

Serv. I do but partly know, sir : it is music in
parts.

Pan. Know you the musicians t

Serv. Wholly, sir.

Pan. Who play they to ?

1 The servant means to quibble. He hopes Pandarus will be
come a better man than he is at present. In his next speech he
cbooses to understand Pandarus as if he had said he wished to
grow better ; and hence the servant affirms that he is in the state
«»f grace.

SC. 1 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 433

Serv. To the hearers, sir.

Pan. At whose pleasure, friend?

Scrv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love music.

Pan. Command, I mean, friend.

Serv. Who shall I command, sir 1

Pan. Friend, we understand not one another ; 1
am too courtly, and thou art too cunning : At whose
request do these men play 7

Serv. That's to't, indeed, sir : Marry, sir, at the
request of Paris, my lord, who is there in person ;
with him, the mortal Venus, the heart-blood of beau-
ty, love's invisible soul.

Pan. Who, rny cousin Cressida ?

Serv. No, sir, Helen : could you not find out that
by her attributes 1

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast not
seen the lady Cressida. I come to speak with
Paris from the prince Troilus : I will make a com-
plimental assault upon him, for my business seeths.

Serv. Sodden business ! there's a stewed phrase,
indeed.

Enter PARIS and HELEN, attended.

Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all this fair
company ! fair desires, in all fair measure, fairly
guide them ! especially to you, fair queen ; fair
thoughts be your fair pillow !

Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words.

Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet queen. —
Fair prince, here is good broken music.

Par. You have broke it, cousin ; and, by my life,
you shall make it whole again : you shall piece it
out with a piece of your performance. — Nell, he U
fuli of harmony.

Pan. Truly, lady, no.

434 TROILUS AND CRESSIBA. ACT ID

JTrlcn. O, sir ! —

Pan. Rude, in sooth ; in good sooth, very rude

Par. Well said, my lord ! well, you say so in
fits.8

Pan. I have business to my lord, dear queen, —
My lord, will you vouchsafe me a word ?

Helen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out : we'll
hear you sing, certainly.

Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant with
me. — But, marry, thus, my lord : My dear lord and
most esteemed friend, your brother Troilus —

Helen. My lord Pandarus ; honey-sweet lord, —

Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to: — commends
himself most affectionately to you.

Helen. You shall not bob us out of our melody
if you do, our melancholy upon your head !

Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen ; that's a sweet
queen, i'faith, —

Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad is a sour
offence.

Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn ; that
shall it not, in truth, la ! Nay, I care not for such
words; no, no. — And, my lord, he desires you,
that if the king call for him at supper you will
make his excuse.

Helen. My lord Pandarus, —

Pan. What says my sweet queen, my very very
sweet queen 1

Par. What exploit's in hand 1 where sups he to-
night?

Helen. Nay, but my lord, —

Pan. What says my sweet queen? — My cousin

* A quibble is intended. Aft was a part or division of a song
or tune. The equivoque lies between Jits, starts, or sudden im
pulses, and Jits iu its musical acceptation.

bC. I. TROILUS AND CRESS1DA. 435

will fall out with you. You must not know where
he sups.

Helen. I'll lay my life, with my disposer Cres-
sida.3

Pan. No, no ; no such matter ; you are wide :
come, your disposer is sick.

Par. Well, I'll make excuse.

Pan. Ay, good my lord. — Why should you gay,
Cressida ? no, your poor disposer's sick.

Par. I spy.

Pan. You spy ! what do you spy ? — Come, give
me an instrument. — Now, sweet queen.

Helen. Why, this is kindly done.

Pan. My niece is horribly in love witn a thing
you have, sweet queen.

Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be not my
lord Paris.

3 We concur with Mr. Singer in giving1 this speech to Heien.
The old copies assign it to Paris, arid have been followed therein
oy all other modern editors. The old copies also assign to Helen
the words, — "You must not know where he sups;" which all
modern editors agree in making a part of Pandarus' speech. In
this confusion and misplacement of the prefixes, it was but natural
that, the wrong words having been given to Helen, those really
belonging to her should have got into the mouth of another. And
this seems the more probable, from the endless and still unsatisfac-
tory discussion the critics have had about disposer. No one could
conceive why Paris should speak of Cressida as his disposer, as
she bears no relation to him, which that term could be made to fit
or express. A lady's disposer is an attendant, a manager or setter-
ia-order of her affairs ; that is, a handmaid, and this is just what
Cressida is to Helen. So that the difficulty is all removed at cnce.
by assigning the speech to Helen. That disposer was used in this
sense, appears from a passage in the Epistle Dedicatory of Chap-
man's Homer, where Poetry is regarded as a " divinity in eartb ':
and Learning as her handmaid :

" Then let not this divinitie in earth,
Dear Prince, be slighted, as she were the birth
Of idle Fancie, since she workes so high;
Nor let her pcore disposer, Learning, lye
Still bed-rid." •

136 TR01LUS AND CUES SID A. ACT IU

Pan. He ! no, she'll none of him ; they two are
twain.

Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may make
them three.

Pan. Come, come, I'll hear no more of this : 1 11
hing you a song now.

Helen. Ay, ay, pr'ythee now. By my troth, sweet
lord, thou hast a fine forehead.

Pan. Ay, you may, you may.

Helen. Let thy song be love : this love will undo
u* all. O, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid !

Pan. Love ! ay, that it shall, i'faith.

Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing but love,

Pan. In good troth, it begins so :

Ix)ve, love, nothing but love, still more !

For, oh ! love's bow

Shoots buck and doe :

The shaft confounds

Not that it wounds,
But tickles still the sore.

These lovers cry — Oh ! oh ! they die !

Yet that which seems the wound to kill.
Doth turn oh, oh ! to ha, ha, he !

So dying love lives still :
Oh, oh ! a while, but ha, ha, ha !
Oh, oh ! groans out for ha, ha, ha !

I ley ho !

Helen. In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the nose
Par. He eats nothing but doves, love ; and that

breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot thoughts,

and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, and hot deeds is

love.

Pan. Is this the generation of love 1 hot blood

hot thoughts, and hot deeds 1 — Why, they are vi

SC. I. TKOILUS AND CHESS ID A. 437

pers : is love a generation of vipers ? Sweet lord,
who's a-field to-day?

Par. Hector, Deiphobus, Helenus, Antenor, and
all the gallantry of Troy : I would fain have ann'd
to-day, but my Nell would not have it so. How
chance my brother Troilus went not ?

Helen. He hangs the lip at something : — you
know all, lord Pandarus.

Pan. Not I, honey-sweet queen. — I long to hear
how they sped to-day. — You'll remember your
brother's excuse ?

Par. To a hair.

Pan. Farewell, sweet queen.

Helen. Commend me to your niece.

Pan. I will, sweet queen. [Exit

[A Retreat sounded.

Par. They're come from field : let us to Priam's

hall,
To greet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must woo

you

To help unarm our Hector : his stubborn buckles,
With these your white enchanting fingers touch'd,
Shall more obey, than to the edge of steel,
Or force of Greekish sinews : you shall do more
Than all the island kings, disarm great Hector.

Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his servant,

Paris :

Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty,
Gives us more palm in beauty than we have ;
Yea, overshines ourself.

Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee.

[Exeunt

438 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT III

SCENE II. The same. PANDARUS* Orchard.

Enter PANDARUS and a Servant, meeting.

Pan. How now ! where's thy master ? at my
cousin Cressida's ?

Serv. No, sir ; he stays for you to conduct him
tliither.

Enter TROILUS.

Pan. O ! here he comes. — How now, how now

Tro. Sirrah, walk off. [Exit Servant.

Pan. Have you seen my cousin ?

Tro. No, Pandarus : I stalk about her door.
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks
Staying for waftage. O ! be thou my Charon,
And give me swift transportance to those fields,
Where I may wallow in the lily beds
Propos'd for the deserver ! O, gentle Pandarus !
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings,
And fly with me to Cressid.

Pan. Walk here i'the orchard ; I'll bring hei
straight. [Exit PANDARUS.

Tro. I am giddy ; expectation whirls me round
The imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense : what will it be,
When that the watery palate tastes indeed
Love's thrice-repured nectar 1 ' death, I fear me ;
Swooning destruction ; or some joy too fine,
Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness,
For the capacity of my ruder powers :

1 The folio and most of the quarto copies nave, " thrice-rrpwtea
nectar." Mr. Collier, however, found it printed repured in a copj
of the quarto belonging to the duke of Devonshire. Of course,
repured means refined made pure. u

BO. II. TROILUS AND CKESSIDA. 439

I fear it much ; and I do fear besides,
That I shall lose distinction in my joys ;
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps
The enemy flying.

He-enter PANDARUS.

Pan, She's making her ready ; she'll come straight :
you must be witty now. She does so blush, and
fetches her wind so short, as if she were fray'd
with a sprite. I'll fetch her : it is the prettiest
villain ; she fetches her breath as short as a new-
ta'en sparrow. [Exit PANDARUS.

Tro. Even such a passion doth embrace my bo-
som :

My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse ;
And all my powers do their bestowing lose,
Like vassalage at unawares encountering
The eye of majesty.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.

Pan. Come, come, what need you blush 1 shame's
a baby. — Here she is now : swear the oaths now
to her, that you have sworn to me. — What ! are
you gone again ? you must be watch'd 2 ere you
be made tame, must you ? Come your ways, come
your ways ; an you draw backward, we'll put you
i'the fills.3 — Why do you not speak to her? —
Come, draw this curtain, and let's see your picture.
Alas the day ! how loth you are to offend day-
light ! an 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so ;

* Hawks were tamed by keeping them from tleep; and thus
Pandarus meant that Cressida should be tamed.

8 That is, the shafts. Phills or Jills is the term in the midland
Bounties for the shafts of a cart or wagon.

TROILUS AND CRESS1DA. ACT n>

rub on, and kiss the mistress.4 How now ! a kisa
in fee-farm ! 8 build there, carpenter ; the air is
sweet. Nay, you shall fight your hearts out, ere I
part you. The falcon as the tercel,6 for all the
ducks i'the river : go to, go to.

Tro. You have bereft me of all words, lady.

Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds : but
she'll bereave you o'the deeds too, if she call your
activity in question. What ! billing again ? Here's
— " In witness whereof the parties interchange
ably : " 7 — Come in, come in ; I'll go get a fire.

[Exit PANDARUS.

Ores. Will you walk in, my lord 1

Tro. O, Cressida ! how often have I wish'd m 3
thus!

Ores. Wish'd, my lord ? — The gods grant ! — O,
my lord!

Tro. What should they grant ? what makes this
pretty abruption 1 What too curious dreg espies
my sweet lady in the fountain of our love 1

* The allusion is to bowling ; what is now called the jack was
formerly termed the mistress. A bowl that kisses the jack or mis-
tress is in the most advantageous situation. Rub on is a term in
the game.

* A kiss in fee-farm is a kiss of duration, that has bounds, a
fee-farm being; a grant of lands in fee; that is, for ever reserving
a certain rent. The same idea is expressed much more poetically
in Coriolanus, when the jargon of law was absent from the Poet's
thoughts : " O, a kiss long as my exile, sweet as my revenge . "

6 The tercel is the male and the falcon the female hawk. Pan
d?rus appears to mean that he will back the falcon against the ter-
cel, or match his niece against her lover for any bet.

7 Shakespeare had here an idea in his thoughts that he has el e
where often expressed. Thus in Measure for Measure :

" But my kisses bring again,

Seals of love, but seal'd in vain."

4nd in Venus and Adonis :

" Pure lips sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,
W bat bargains may I make still >o be sealing ? "

SC. II. TROILUS AND CRES SID A. 44)

Cres. More dregs than water, if rny fears have
eyes.

Tro. Fears make devils of cherubins ; they never
dee truly.

O.es. Blind fear, that seeing reason leails, finds
safer footing than blind reason, stumbling without
fear : to fear the worst, oft cures the worst.

Tro. O ! let my lady apprehend no fear : in all
Cupid's pageant there is presented no monster.

Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither?

Tro. Nothing but our undertakings ; when we
vow to weep seas, live in fire, eat rocks, tame
tigers ; thinking it harder for our mistress to devise
imposition enough, than for us to undergo any diffi-
culty imposed. This is the monstrosity in love,
lady, that the will is infinite, and the execution
confin'd ; that the desire is boundless, and the act
a slave to limit.

Cres. They say all lovers swear more perform-
ance than they are able, arid yet reserve an ability
that they never perform ; vowing more than the
perfection of ten, and discharging less than the
tenth part of one. They that have the voice of
lions, and the act of hares, are they not monstf rs ?

Tro. Are there such ? such are not we. Praise
us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove ; our
head shall go bare, till merit crown it. No perfec-
tion in reversion shall have a praise in present : we
will not name desert, before his birth ; and, being
born, his addition shall be humble. Few words
to fair faith : Troilus shall be such to Cressid, as
what envy can say worst, shall be a mock for his
truth ; and what truth can speak truest, not truer
than Troilus.

Cres. Will you walk in, my lord 1

442 TROILUS AND CRE3SLDA. ACT III.

Re-enter PANDARUS.

Pan. What ! blushing still 1 have you not done
talking yet?

Ores Well, uncle, what folly I commit, I dedicate,
to you.

Pan. I thank you for that ; if my lord get a bov
of you, you'll give him me : Be true to my lord ;
if he flinch, chide me for it.

Tro. You know now your hostages ; your uncle's
word, and my firm faith.

Pan. Nay, I'll give my word for her too : Our
kindred, though they be long ere they are wooed,
they are constant, being won : they are burs, I can
tell you ; they'll stick where they are thrown.

Ores. Boldness comes to me now, and brings ma

heart. —

Prince Troilus, I have lov'd you night and day
For many weary months.

Tro. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win 1

Ores. Hard to seem won ; but I was won, my lord,
With the first glance that ever — Pardon me ; —
If I confess much, you will play the tyrant.
I love you now ; but not, till now, so much
But I might master it : — In faith, I lie ;
My thoughts were like unbridled children, grown
Too headstrong for their mother. See, we fools !
Why have I blabb'd ? who shall be true to us,
When we are so unsecret to ourselves ? —
But, though I lov'd you well, I woo'd you not ;
And yet, good faith, I wish'd myself a man ;
Or that we women had men's privilege
Of speaking first. Sweet, bid me hold my tongue
For in this rapture I shall surely speak
The thing I shall repent. See, see ! your silence,

SC. II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 443

Cunning in dumbness, from my weakness draws
My very soul of counsel : Stop my mouth.

Tro. And shall, albeit sweet music issues thence

Pan. Pretty, i'faith.

Ores. My lord, I do beseech you pardon me ;
'Twas not my purpose thus to beg a kiss :
1 am asham'd ; — O heavens ! what have I done ! —
Tor this time will I take my leave, my lord.

Tro. Your leave, sweet Cressid ?

Pan. Leave ! an you take leave till to-morrow
morning, —

Ores. Pray you, content you.

Tro. What offends you, lady 1

Ores. Sir, mine own company.

Tro. You cannot shun

Yourself.

Cres. Let me go and try :
I have a kind of self resides with you ;
But an unkind self, that itself will leave,
To be another's fool. I would be gone :
Where is my wit ? I know not what I speak.

Tro. Well know they what they speak, that speak
so wisely.

Cres. Perchance, my lord, I show more craft than

love;

And fell so roundly to a large confession,
To angle for your thoughts : but you are wise,
Or else you love not ; for to be wise and love,
Kxceeds man's might ; that dwells with gods above

Tro. O ! that I thought it could be in a woman
(As, if it can, I will presume in you)
To feed for aye her lamp and flames of love ;
To keep her constancy in plight and youth,
Outliving beauty's outward, with a mind
That doth renew swifter than blood decays I

444 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT III

Or that persuasion could but thus convince me,

That my integrity and truth to you

Might he affronted8 with the match and weight

Of such a winnow'd purity in love ;

How were I then uplifted ! but, alas !

I am as true as truth's simplicity,

And simpler than the infancy of truth.

Ores. In that I'll war with you.

Tro. O, virtuous fight

When right with right wars who shall be most right,
True swains in love shall, in the world to come,
Approve their truths by Troilus : when their rhymesj
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,
Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration, —
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon,9
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate,
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre ; —
Yet, after all comparisons of truth,
As truth's authentic author to be cited,
As true as Troilus shall crown up the verse,
And sanctify the numbers.

Cres. Prophet may you be !

If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth,
When time is old and hath forgot itself,
When waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy,
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up,
And mighty states characterless are grated
To dusty nothing ; yet let memory,

8 Affront was ofteu used in the sense of meet, or confront. See
Winter's Tale, Act v. sc. 1, note 5. H.

* Plantage is here put for any thing planted, which was thought
to depend for its success upon the influence of the moon. " The
poore husbandman perceiveth that the increase of the moone
maketh plants fruitful ; so as in the full moone they are in theii
h*st strength ; decaieing in the vane. ; and in the conjunction ik
nuerlie wilher and vade." — S< OT'S Discoverie of Witchcraft.

SC. III. 1ROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 445

From false to false, among false maids in love,

Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said, as false

As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth,

As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf,

Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son ;

Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehood,

As false as Cressid.

Pan. Go to, a bargain made : seal it, seal it :
I'll be the witness. — Here I hold your hand ; hero,
my cousin's. If ever you prove false one to an-
other, since I have taken such pains to bring you
together, let all pitiful goers-between be call'd tc
the world's end after my name ; call them all Pan-
dars : let all constant I0 men be Troiluses, all false
women Cressids, and all brokers-between Pandars !
say, amen.

Tro. Amen.

Cres. Amen.

Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you a
chamber ; which bed, because it shall not speak of
your pretty encounters, press it to death : away !
And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here,
Bed, chamber, Pandar, to provide this geer !

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The Grecian Camp.

Enter AGAMKMNON, ULYSSES, DIOMEDES, NESTOR,
AJAX, MENELAUS, and CALCHAS.

Col. Now, princes, for the service I have done you,
The advantage of the time prompts me aloud

" Hanmer altered this to " inconstant men ; " but the Poet
scercs to have been less attentive to make Pandarus talk conse-
quentially, than to account for the ideas actually annexed to th«
three names in his own time.

446 TRO1LUS AND CRESS TD A. ACT IU

To call for recompense. Appear it to your mind,

That, through the sight I bear in things to come '

I have abandon'd Troy, left my possession,

Incurr'd a traitor's name ; expos'd myself,

From certain and possess'd conveniences,

To doubtful fortunes ; sequestering from me all

That time, acquaintance, custom, and condition

Made tame and most familiar to my nature ;

And here, to do you service, am become

As new into * the world, strange, unacquainted :

1 That is, " let it appear to your mind, that through the sight I
bear in future events." The old copies read, " through the sight
I beare in things to love." To come was first proposed by Monck
Mason ; and Mr. Singer says, — " The corrector of my second
folio has made the obvious correction, by erasing love and writing
come in the margin." In the corrections lately discovered by Mr.
Collier, above is substituted for to love ; which change, besides
being less happy in itself, takes a greater liberty with ihe original
text. The whole context plainly requires the sense of to come ;
and we think there can be no question that that is the right word.
Several editors have put the comma after things, and changed
love to Jove, thus making it read, "to Jove I have abandon'd
Troy." Which is just about the worst change that could be
made : for it was Juno that hated Troy, while Jove was its friend
and protector ; so that the abandoning of Troy to him is just the
reverse of the sense required. H.

2 Into for unto ; a common expression in old writers. Thus in
Paston's Letters : " And they that have justed with him into this
day have been as richly beseen." — Here again we trace the Pool's
reading in Chaucer's Troilus and Creseide, Book i. :

" So when this Calcas knew by calculing,
And eke by the answere of this god Apollo,
That the Greekes shou'd such a people bring,
Thorow the which that Troy must be fordo,
He cast anone out of the toune to go ;
For well he wist by sort, that Troie shoulde
Destroyed be, ye would whoso or n'olde.

" Wherefore he to departen softely
Tooke purpose full, this foreknowing wise,
And to the Greekes host full prively
He stale anone ; and they in courteous wise
Did unto him both worship and servise

8C. III. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 447

I do beseech you, as in way of taste,
To give me now a little benefit,
Out of those many register'd in promise,
Which you say live to come in my behalf.

Aga. What wonld'st thou of us, Trojan f make
demand.

Cal. You have a Trojan prisoner, call'd Antenor,
Yesterday took : Troy holds him very dear.
Oft have you (often have you thanks therefor)
Desir'd my Cressid in right great exchange,
Whom Troy hath still denied : but this Antenor,
I know, is such a wrest 3 in their aftairs,
That their negotiations all must slack,
Wanting his manage ; and they will almost
Give us a prince of blood, a son of Priam,
In change of him : let him be sent, great princes,
And he shall buy my daughter ; and her presence
Shall quite strike off all service I have done,
In most accepted pain.4

In trust that he hath cunning hem to rede
In every perill, which that was to drede.

" Great rumour rose, whan it was first espied,
In all the toune, and openly was spoken,
That Calcas traitour fled was and alied
To hem of Greece ; and cast was to be wroken
On him that falsely hath his faith broken,
And saved, he and all his kinne atones
Were worthy to be brent, both fell and bones." e

* A. wrtit is an instrument for tuning harps, etc., by drxuing
up the strings when they get slack. Thus in North's Plulaich i
" This fellowship in feeding together is a bond that knitteth, 01
rather a wrest that strained) and stretcheth benevolence to the ut-
most." And in King James's Edict against Combats : " This smaii
instrument, the tongue, being kept in tune oy tne wrest of awe.'

H.

4 That is, strike off the debt of all the service I have rendered,
even when my pains taken in your behalf were most acceptable. ;
accepted being one among the many instances met with in thew
plays of the passive form usi-il for the active. "•

448 TRO1LUS AND CRESSID\. ACT III

Ago. Let Diomedes bear him,

And bring us Cressid hither : Calchas shall have
What he requests of us. — Good Diomed,
Furnish you fairly for this interchange :
Withal, bring word if Hector will to-morrow
Be answei'd in his challenge : Ajax is ready.
- Dio. This shall I undertake ; and 'tis a burden
Wliich I am proud to bear.

[Exeunt DIOMEDES and CALCHA&,

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS, before their Tent,

Ulys. Achilles stands i'the entrance of his tent :
Please it our general to pass strangely by him,
As if he were forgot ; and, princes all,
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him.
I will come last : 'tis like he'll question me
Why such unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd on

him :

If so, I have derision medicinable,
To use between our strangeness and his pride,
Which his own will shall have desire to drink.
It may do good : pride hath no other glass
To show itself, but pride ; for stipple knees
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees.

Aga. We'll execute your purpose, and put on
A form of strangeness as we pass along :
So do each lord ; and either greet him not,
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him more
Than if not look'd on. I will lead the way.

Acliil. What ! comes the general to speak with

me?
You know my mind; I'll fight no more 'gainst Troy

Aga. What says Achilles 1 would he aught with
us?

Nest. W^ould you, rny lord, aught with the general ?

SC. III. TROILUS AND ORESSIDA. 449

Achil. No.

Nest. Nothing, my lord.

Ago. The better.

[Exeunt AGAMEMNON and NESTOR

AchiL Good day, good day.

Men. How do you 1 how do you 1

[Exit MENELAUS.

AchiL What ! does the cuckold scorn me 1

Ajax. How now, Patroclus !

Achil. Good morrow, Ajax.

Ajax. Ha?

Achil. Good morrow.

Ajax. Ay, and good next day too. [Exit AJAX.

Achil. What mean these fellows 1 Know they not
Achilles 1

Pair. They pass by strangely : they were us'd to

bend,

To send their smiles before them to Achilles;
To come as humbly as they us'd to creep
To holy altars.

Achil. What ! am I poor of late ?

'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with fortune,
Must fall out with men too: what the declin'd is,
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, k

As feel in his own fall ; for men, like butterflies,
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer ;
And not a man, for being simply man,
Hath any honour; but honour for those honours
That are without him, as place, riches, favour,
Prizes of accident as oft as merit :
Which, when they fall, as being slippery slanders, —
The love that lean'd on them as slippery too, -—
Do one pluck down another, and together
Die in the fall. But 'tis not so with me :
Fortune and I are friends ; 1 do enjoy

4t>0 1ROILUS AND CUESSIDA. ACT. IIL

At ample point all that I did possess,

Save these men's looks ; who do, methinks, find out

Something not worth in me such rich beholding

As they have often given. Here is Ulysses :

I'll interrupt his reading. —

How now, Ulysses '

Ulys.. Now, great Thetis' son !

AchiL What are you reading ?

Ulys. A strange fellow here

Writes me, that man — how dearly ever parted,*
How much in having, or without, or in —
Cannot make boast to have that .which he hath,
Nor feels not what he owes, but by reflection ;
As when his virtues shining upon others
Heat them, and they retort that heat again
To the first giver.

AchiL Tliis is not strange, Ulysses.

The beauty that is borne here in the face
The bearer knows not, but commends itself
To others' eyes : nor doth the eye itself,6
That most pure spirit of sense, behold itself,
Not going from itself; but eye to eye oppos'd
Salutes each other with each other's form.
For speculation turns not to itself,
Till it hath travell'd, and is mirror'd there 7
Where it may see itself: This is not strange at all

6 H'noever excellently endowed, with however dear or precious
parts e inched. So in Alassiuger's Great Duke of Florence :

"And I, my lord, chose rather
To deliver her better parted than she is,
Than to lake from her."

* This line and the next are wanting in the folio. The sense is
manifestly altog-ot'jer incomplete without them. Query, — if Mr.
Collier's newly-discovered manuscript corrections were made on
such author:! v as he seems to suppose, how happens it that UM
missing lines were not supplied 1 H.

7 The old copies read, " and is m<irHed there ; '' out of whicfc

SO. 111. TROILUS AND CUKSSIDA. 451

Ulys. I do not strain at the position ;
It is familiar ; but at the author's drift :
Who in his circumstance 8 expressly proves,
That no man is the lord of any thing,
Though in and of him there be much consisting,
Till he communicate liis parts to others :
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught
Till he behold them form'd in the applause
Where they are extended ; which, like an arch, re-
verberates

The voice again ; or, like a gate of steel
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in this ;
And apprehended here immediately
The unknown Ajax.8

Heavens, what a man is there ! a very horse ,
That has he knows not what. Nature ! what things

there are,

Most abject in regard, and dear in use !
What things, again, most dear in the esteem,
And poor in worth ! Now shall we see to-morro\»
An act that very chance doth throw upon him, —
Ajax renown'd. O heavens ! what some men do,
While some men leave to do !
How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall,
Whiles others play the idiots in her eyes !

it is not easy to extract any sense. Mirror'd is found among th«
corrections lately brought to light by Mr. Collier, and is so ex-
ceedingly apt and makes the sense so perfect, as to preclude all
question of its being the right word. — Speculation, in the pre-
ceding line, is used for vision, as in Macbeth :

" Thou hast no speculation in those eyes
Which thou dost glare with." H.

• Detail of argument.

* That is Ajax, who has abilities wlii, lj were never brought
into view or use.

4.> TROILUS AND CHESS1DA. ACT III

How one man eats into another's pride,
While pride is fasting 10 in his wantonness !
To see these Grecian lords! — why, even already
They clap the lubber Ajax on the shoulder,
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast,
And great Troy shrieking."

Achil. 1 do believe it ; for they pass'd by me.
As misers do by beggars, neither gave to me
Good word nor look : What ! are my deeds forgot 1

Ulys. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back.
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes :
Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are do-

vour'd

As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done. Perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honour bright : to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
Tn monumental mockery. Take the instant way ;
For honour travels in a strait so narrow,
Where one but goes abreast : keep then the path ;
For emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue : If you give way,
Or edge aside from the direct forthright,
Like to an enter'd tide they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost ;
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank,

10 So in the quarto ; the folio has feasting. Johnson thought
either word would do well enough : but fasting is evidently bettei
for the designed antithesis between this and the preceding line.

H.

11 The folio reads shrinking. The following passage in th«
lubsequent scene seems to favour the reading of the quarto :

" Hark, how Troy roars! how Hecuba cries out '
How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth! —
And all cry — Hector, Hector's dead."

8C. III. TROILUS AND CRESSTDA. 45M

Lie there for pavement to the abject rear,
O'er-run and trampled on. Then, what they do in

present,

Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours;
For time is like a fashionable host,
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand,
And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly,
Gra?ps-in the comer • welcome ever smiles,
And farewell goes out sighing. O ! let not virtue seek
Remuneration for the thing it was ; for beauty, wit,
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all
To envious and calumniating time.
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin,
That all will) one consent praise new-born gawds,
Though they are made and moulded of things past;
And give to dust, that is a little gilt,
More laud than gold o'er-dusted.
The present eye praises the present object :
Then, marvel not, thou great and complete man,
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax ;
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye,
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on thee ;
And still it might, and yet it may again,
If thou would'st not entomb thyself alive,
And case thy reputation in thy tent ;
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of late,
Made emulous missions 'mongst the gods them-
selves,
And drave great Mars to faction.13

11 Gilt, in ihis line, is a substantive ; of course, meaning gold.

13 Alluding- to the coming-down of the gods and goddesses to
take part in the fight before Troy. Shakespeare probably fol-
lowed Chapman's Homer : in the fifth book of the Iliad Diomed
wounds Mars, who on his return to heaven is rated by Jupiter for

454 TROILUS AND CRESSJDA. ACT III.

AchiL Of tliis my privacy

I have strong reasons.

Ulys. But 'gainst your privacy

The reasons are more potent and heroical :
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love
With one of Priam's daughters.14

AchiL Ha ! known ?

Ulys. Is that a wonder. 1
The providence that's in a watchful state
Knows almost every grain of Plutus' gold ;
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps ;
Keeps pace with thought, and almost, like the gods,
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles.18
There is a mystery (with whom relation
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state ;
Which hath an operation more divine,
Than breath or pen can give expressure to.
AH the commerce that you have had with Troy
As perfectly is ours, as yours, my lord ;
And better would it fit Achilles much,
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena :
But it must grieve young Pyrrhus, now at home,

having1 interfered in the battle. This disobedience is the faction
alluded to.

14 Polyxena, in the act of marrying whom be was afterwards
killed by Paris.

15 That is, in their infancy, and before they can give themselves
utterance ; as we know men often act out their thoughts before
they express them, and even before they are fully conscious of
having them ; some pre-existing impulse being in fact the seed of
the thought. Mr. Collier found crudities substituted for cradles,
among his lato discoveries ; and he crows over it somewhat un-
wisely, as it seems to us. — In the preceding line, the old copies
have place for pace. Hanmer changed it to pace, and Warbur-
ton defended place with his usual wrong-headed ingenuity. It is
also changed to pace in Collier's second folio. We have had the
tame misprint once before in this play. Sue Act i. sc. 3, note 22.

SC. III. TROILUS AND CRESSJDA. 455

When fame shall in our islands sound her trump ;
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, —
" Great Hector's sister did Achilles win,
But our great Ajax bravely beat down him."
Farewell, my lord : I as' your lover speak ;
Tbe fool slides o'er the ice that you should break.16

[Exit.

Pair. To this effect, Achilles, have I mov'd you.
A woman impudent and mannish grown
Is not more loath'd than an effeminate man
In time of action. I stand condemn'd for this :
They think, my little stomach to the war,
And your great love to me, restrains you thus.
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dewdrop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.

AchiL Shall Ajax fight with Hector 1

Pair. Ay ; and, perhaps, receive much honour
by him.

AchiL I see my reputation is at stake ;
My fame is shrewdly gor'd.

Pair. O, then beware !

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give themselves.
Omission to do what is necessary
Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even tnen when we sit idly in the sun.

AchiL Go call Thersites hither, sweet Patroclua :
I'll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him
To invite the Trojan lords, after the combat,

10 Should for would : a fool, from his lightness, slides over ice
that mould break under 'he weight of such a man as you thovU
be. H.

460 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT 111

To see us here unarm'd. I have a woman's lonjf-

ing.

An appetite that I am sick withal,
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace ;
To talk with him, and to behold his visage,
Even to my full view.17 A labour sav'd 1

Enter THERSITES.

Ther. A wonder !

Achil. What?

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking
for himself.

Achil. How so ?

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hec-
tor ; and is so prophetically proud of an heroical
rudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing.

Achil. How can that be 1

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a pea-
cock, a stride, and a stand ; ruminates, like an
hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain to set
down her reckoning ; bites his lip with a politic
regard, as who should say, — there were wit in this
head, an 'twould out : and so there is ; but it liea
as coldly in him as fire in a flint, which will not
show without knocking. The man's undone for
ever ; for if Hector break not his neck i' the com-
bat, he'll break't himself in vain-glory. He knows
not me : I said, " Good-morrow, Ajax ; " and he re-
plies, " Thanks, Agamemnon." What think you of
this man, that takes me for the general 1 He is grown

17 So in Caxton's History : " The truce during, Hector went
on a day unto the tents of the Greekes, and Achilles beheld him
gladly, forasmuch as he had never seen him unarmed. And at
the request of Achilles, Hector went into his tent ; and as they
spake together of many things, Achilles said to Hector, I hava
great pleasure to see thee unarmed, forasmuch as I have nevei
seen thee before." H.

SC. III. TKOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 457

a very land-fish, languageless, a monster. A plague
of opinion ! a man may wear it on both sides, like
a leather jerkin.

Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him,
Thersites.

Ther. Who, I ? why, he'll answer nobody ; he
professes not answering : speaking is for beggars ;
he wears his tongue in his arms. I will put on his
presence : let Patroclus make his demands to me,
you shall see the pageant of Ajax.

Achil. To him, Patroclus: tell him, — I humbly
desire the valiant Ajax to invite the most valorous
Hector to come unarm'd to my tent ; and to pro-
cure safe conduct for his person of the magnani-
mous, and most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-hon
our'd captain-general of the Grecian army, Aga
memnon. Do this.

Pair. Jove bless great Ajax !

Ther. Humph !

Pair. I come from the worthy Achilles, —

Ther. Ha !

Patr. — who most humbly desires you to invita
Hector to his tent ; —

Ther. Humph!

Patr. — and to procure safe conduct from Aga
memnon.

Ther. Agamemnon ?

Patr. Ay, my lord.

Ther. Ha!

Patr. What say you to't ?

Ther God be wi' you, with all my heart.

Patr. Your answer, sir.

Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by ileven
o'clock it will go one way or other : howsoever, he
shall pay for me ere he has me.

458 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT IT

Patr. Your answer, sir.

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart.

AchiL Why, but he is not in this tune, is he ?

Thcr. No, but he's out o'tune thus. What mu-
aic will be in him when Hector has knock'd out his
brains, I know not ; but, I am sure, none, unless
the fiddler Apollo get his sinews to make catlings
on.18

AchiL Come, thou shall bear a letter to him
straight.

Ther. Let me bear another to his horse ; for
that's the more capable creature.

AchiL My mind is troubled, like a fountain stirr'd;
And I myself see not the bottom of it.

[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were
clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had
rather be a tick in a sheep, than such a valiant
ignorance. [Exit

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Troy. A Street

Enter, at one side, ./ENEAS, and Servant with a
Torch; at the other, PARIS, DEIPHOBUS, ANTE-
NOR, DIOMEDES, and Others, with Torches.

far. See, ho ! who is that there ?
Dei. It is the lord ./Eneas.
AZne. Is the prince there in person ? —
Had 1 so good occasion to lie long,

18 Lute-strings made of catgut. One of the musicians in Ro
meu aiuJ Juliet is named Simon Catling.

SC. I. TROILUS AND CRESS IDA. 459

As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly business
Should rob my bed-mate of my company.

Dio. That's my mind too. — Good morrow, lord
vEneas.

Par. A valiant Greek, yEneas ; take his hand :
Witness the process of your speech, wherein
You told how Diomed, a whole week by days,
Did haunt you in the field.

sEne. Health to you, valiant sir

During all question l of the gentle truce !
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance
As heart can think, or courage execute.

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces.
Our bloods are now in calm ; and, so long, health v
But when contention and occasion meet,
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life,
With all my force, pursuit, and policy.

jEne. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will fly
With his face backward. — In humane gentleness,
Welcome to Troy ! now, by Anchises' life,
Welcome, indeed ! By Venus' hand I swear,*
No man alive can love, in such a sort,
The thing he means to kill more excellently.

Dio. We sympathize. — Jove, let ^Eneas live,
If to my sword his fate be not the glory,
A thousand complete courses of the sun !
But, in mine emulous honour, let him die,
With every joint a wound, and that to-morrow !

yBnc. We know each other well.

Dio. We do ; and long to know each other worse.

Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greeting.
The noblest hateful love, that e'er I heard of. —
What business, lord, so early 1

1 That is, rnrtrersation while the truce lasts.
* Fie swears lirst by the life of his father, and then by the hand
of his mother.

4GO TROILUS AND CRLSSIDA. ACT IV

jEne. I was sent for to the king ; but why, .
know not.

Par. His purpose meets you : 3 'Twas to bring

this Greek

To Calchas' house ; and there to render him,
For the enfreed Ante nor, the fair Cressid :
Let's have your company ; or, if you please,
Haste there before us. I constantly do think
(Or rather, call my thought a certain knowledge)
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night :
Rouse him, and give him note of our approach,
With the whole quality wherefor : I fear
We shall be much unwelcome.

jEne. That I assure you

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece,
Than Cressid borne from Troy.

Par. There is no help;

The bitter disposition of the time
Will have it so. On, lord ; we'll follow you.

jEne. Good morrow, all. [Exit

Par. And tell me, noble Diomed, 'faith, tell me

true,

Even in the soul of sound good-fellowship, —
Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best,
Myself, or Menelaus 1

Dio. Both alike :

He merits well to have her that doth seek her,
Not making any scruple of her soilure,
With such a hell of pain and world of charge;
And you as well to keep her that defend her,
Not palating the taste of her dishonour,
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends :
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up

* That is, I bring you his meaning and his ordert

SC. 11. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 461

The lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece ;

You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins

Are pleas'd to breed out your inheritors .

Both merits pois'd, each weighs nor less nor more ;

But he as he, the heavier for a whore.

Par. You are too bitter to your countrywoman.

Dio. She's bitter to her country. Hear me, Paris :
For every false drop in her bawdy veins
A Grecian's life hath sunk ; for every scruple
Of her contaminated carrion weight,
A Trojan hath been slain : Since she could speak,
She hath not given so many good words breath,
As for her Greeks and Trojans suffer'd death.

Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do.
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy ;
But we in silence hold this virtue well, —
We'll not commend what we intend not sell.4
Here lies our way. [Exeunt

SCENE II. The Same.

Court before the House of PANDARUS.

Enter TROILUS and CRESSIDA.

Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn is cold.
Ores. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine uncle

down;
He shall unbolt the gates.

Tro. Trouble him not ;

4 The old copies read, " what we intend to sell ; " which is just
the rev-se of the sense required. The change was first proposed
by VVarhurlon, and is made in Collier's second folio. So in
Shakespeare's 21st Sonnet : " I will not praise that purpose not
to sell." Not sell sounds harsh but such elliptical expression!
are not unf'requent in these p!;iys. H

462 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT It

To bed, to bed : sleep kill those pretty eyes,
And give as soft attachment to thy senses,
As infants' empty of all thought !

Ores. Good morrow, then.

Tro. 'Pr'ythee now, to bed.

Cres. Are you aweary of me!

Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day,
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald ' crows,
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer,
I would not from thee.

Cres. Night hath been too brief.

Tro. Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wights '

she stays,

As tediously as hell ; but flies the grasps of love,
With wings more momentary-swift than thought.
You will catch cold, and curse me.

Cres. Pr'ythee, tarry : —

You men will never tarry. —
O, foolish Cressid! — I might have still held off,
And then you would have tarried. Hark ! there'a
one up.

Pan. [ Within.] What ! are all the doors open
here?

Tro. It is your uncle.

Enter PANDARUS.

Cres. A pestilence on him ! now will he be mock-
ing : I shah* have such a life !

Pan. How now, how now ! how go maidenheads 7
Here, you maid, where's my cousin Cressid ?

1 That is, the roguish or thiensh crows. Ribaldry signified
roguery, naughtiness, or loose conduct of any kind, among our
ancestors. It may, however, be used in the sense of obscene.

* That is, venefici, those who use nocturnal sorcery. Thus Ba-
ret : " Veneficus-ca He or she that poystjeth, or venimeth ; one
that useth sorcery.'1'

SC. II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 4()fl

Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking
ancle ! you bring me to do, and then you flout me
too.

Pan. To do what ? to do what 1 — let her say
what : — what have I brought you to do ?

Cres. Come, come ; beshrew your heart ! you'll
ue'er be good, nor suffer others.

Pan. Ha, ha ! Alas, poor wretch ! a poor capoc-
chia3 — hast not slept to-night? would he not, a
naughty man, let it sleep ? a bugbear take him !

[Knocking.

Cres. Did I not tell you ? — 'would he were
knock'd o'the head ! — Who's that at door ? good
uncle, go and see. — My lord, come you again into
my chamber : you smile, and mock me, as if I meant
naughtily.

* Capocchia is an Italian word for fool. — Chaucer's poem
Book iii., evidently furnished the groundwork of this dialogue 1

" Pandare a morow, which that commen was,
Unto his nece gan her faire to grete,
And saied, ' All this night so rained it, alas,
That all my drede is, that ye, nece swete,
Have little leiser had to slepe and mete :
Al this night,' quod he, ' hath rain so do me wake
That some of us I trowc hir heddes ake.'

" And nere he came and said, ' How slant it now
This merie morow, nece, how can ye fare ? '
Creseide answerde, ' Never the bet for you,
Foxe that ye been ; God yeve your herte care ;
God helpe me so, ye caused all this fare,
Trowe I,' quod she, ' for all your wordes white 1
O, whoso seeth you, knoweth you full lite.'

" With that she gan her face for to wrie
With the shete, and woxe for shame all redde ;
And Pandarus gan under for lo prie,
And saied, < Nece, if that I shall been dedde,
Have here a sword, and smitcih of my hedde t
With that his arme all sodainly he thrist
Under her necke, and at the last her kist."

4(>4 TROIl-US AND CRESSIDA. ACT IV

Tro. Ha, ha !

Ores. Come, you are deceived, I think of n" such
thing. — [Knocking.

How earnestly they knock ! — pray you, come in;
[ would not for half Troy have you seen here.

[Exeunt TROILUS and CRESSIDA.
Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there 1 what's
the matter ? will you beat down the door 7 How
now ! what's the matter ?

Enter

jEne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow.

Pan. Who's there 1 my lord ./Eneas 1 By my
troth, I knew you not : what news with you 00
early ?

jEne. Is not prince Troilus here ?

Pan. Here ! what should he do here ?

jEne. Come, he is here, my lord ; do not deny

him :
It doth import him much to speak with me.

Pan. Is he here, say you ? 'tis more than I know,
I'll be sworn : — for my own part, I came in late.
What should he do here ?

jEne. Who ! — nay, then : — Come, come, you'll
do him wrong ere y' are 'ware : you'll be so true
to him, to be false to him. Do not you know of
him, but yet go fetch him hither ; go.

Enter TROILUS.

Tro. How now ! what's the matter ?

jEne. My lord, I scarce have leisure to solute you,
My matter is so rash. There is at hand
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus,
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor
Delfrer'd to us ; and for him forthwith,

SO. II. TROILITS AND CRESSIlJA. 465

Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour
We must give up to Diomedes' hand
The lady Cressida.4

Tro. Is it so concluded ?

jEne. By Priam and the general state of Troy (
They are at hand, and ready to effect it.

Tro. How my achievements mock me !
1 will go meet them : — and, my lord ^Eneas,
We met by chance ; you did not find me here.

jEne. Good, good, my lord ; the secrets of nature
Have not more gift in taciturnity.5

[Exeunt TROILUS and ^ENEAS.

Pan. Is't possible ? no sooner got, but lost ? The
devil take Antenor ! the young prince will go mad.
A plague upon Antenor ! I would they had broke'g
neckl

Enter CRESSIDA.

Ores. How now ! What is the matter ? Who was
here?

Pan. Ah, ah !

Ores. Why sigh you so profoundly? w here's my
lord ? gone ? Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the
matter ?

4 In Caxton's History this part of the story is told thus : " Cal-
cas, that by the commandment of Apollo had left the Trojans, had
a passing faire daughter and wise, named Briseyda, — Chaucer,
in his hook that he made of Troylus, named her Cresida ; — for
which daughter he prayed to king Agamemnon and to the other
princes, that they would require the king Priamus to send Brisey-
da unto him. They prayed enough to king Priamus at the instance
of Calcas ; but the Trojans blamed sore Calcas, and called him
evil and false traitor, and worthie to die, that had left his owna
and and natural! lord, for to goe into the companie of his mortal
enemies : yet, at the petition and earnest desire of the Greekes,
the king Priamus sent Briseyda to her father.'' H.

6 Steevens proposed to read secrecies for secrets ; which, il
seems to us, would better both the verse and the sense : neverthe-
less, \ve keep to the authorized text. u

•iGti TRO1LUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT IT

Pan. 'Would I were as deep under the earth as
I am above !

Ores. O, the gods ! — what's the mat* er ?

Pan. Pr'ythee get thee in : 'Would thou hadst
ne er been born ! I knew thou would'st be his
death : — O, poor gentleman ! — A plague upon An-
tenor !

Cres Good uncle, I beseech you, on my knees
I beseech you, what's the matter 1

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must be
gone : thou art chang'd for Antenor. Thou must
to thy father, and be gone from Troilus : 'twill be
his death ; 'twill be his bane : he cannot bear it.

Cres. O, you immortal gods ! — 1 will not go.

Pan. Thou must.

Cres. I will not, uncle : I have forgot my father ;
I know no touch of consanguinity ;
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me,
As the sweet Troilus. — O, you gods divine !
Make Cressid's name the very crown of falsehood,
If ever she leave Troilus ! Time, force, and death,
Do to this body what extremes you can ;
Uut the strong base and building of my love
Is as the very centre of the earth,
Drawing all things to it. — I'll go in and weep,—

Pan. Do, do.

Cres. — Tear my bright hair and scratch my

praised cheeks,

Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my heart
With sounding Troilus. I will not go from Troy.

[Exeunt

SC. IV TROILUS AND ORES SID*. 467

SCENE III.

The same. Before PANDARUS' House.

Enter PARIS, TROILUS, ^ENEAS, DEIPHOBUS, AN
TENOR, and DIOMEDES.

Par. It is great morning ; ' and the hour prefix'd
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek
Comes fast upon : — Good my brother Troilus,
Tell you the lady what she is to do,
And haste her to the purpose.

Tro. Walk into her house ;

I'll bring her to the Grecian presently :
And to his hand when I deliver her,
Think it an altar; and thy brother Troilus
A priest, there offering to it his own heart. [Exit.

Par. I know what 'tis to love ;
And 'would, as I shall pity, I could help ! —
Please you, walk in, my lords. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The same. A Room in PANDARUS' House.

Enter PANDARUS and CRESSIDA.

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate.

Ores. Why tell you me of moderation 1
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And violenteth ' in a sense as strong

1 That is, broad day. It is a familiar French idiom, — '< C'ert
grand matin."

1 This verb is used by Ben Jonson in The Devil is an AM
• Nor nature, tioienced in both these " And Fuller. ID his Wo»

408 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT W

As that which causeth it : how can I moderate it 1

If I could temporize with my affection,

Or brew it to a weak and colder palate,

The like allayment could 1 give my grief:

My love admits no qualifying dross ;

No more my grief, in such a precious loss.

Enter TROILUS.

Pan. Here, here, here he comes. — A sweet
duck !

Ores. O Troilus ! Troilus ! [Embracing him.

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here ! Let
me embrace too : " O heart," — as the goodly say-
ingf is, —

" O heart, O heavy heart !

Why sigh'st thou without breaking ? "

where he answers again,

" Because thou canst not ease thy smart,
By friendship nor by speaking." *

There never was a truer rhyme, Let us cast away

Ihies of England, Anglesea : " His former adversaries eiolented
any thing against him." The folio reads :

" The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste,
And no less in a sense as strong
As that which causeth it."

* So in all the old copies. Mr. Collier's second folio has silence
written in for friendship ; which certainly makes a much better
antithesis to speaking, and thus improves the sense ; insomuch
that one may well regret the want of sufficient authority to make
the change. As the lines read like a quotation from some popular
ballad, it is possible that the writer in Mr. Collier's folio corrected
fiom the print what the Poet quoted from memory. In the pre-
ceding half of the stanza quoted, the original lacks the O before
heavy heart. It was supplied by Pope, aud is plainly necessary
to the verse. H.

SC. IV. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 40iJ

nothing, for we may live to have need if such a
verse : we see it, we see it. — How now, Jambs !

Tro. Cressid, I love thee in so strain 'd a purity.
That the blest gods — as angry with my fancy,
More bright in zeal than the devotion which
Cold lips blow to their deities — take thee from me

Cres. Have the gods envy ?

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay ; 'tis too plain a case.

Cres. And is it true that I must go from Troy ?

Tro. A hateful truth.

Cres. What ! and from Troilus too !

Tro. From Troy and Troilus.

Cres. Is it possible t

Tro. And suddenly; where injury of chance
Puts back leave-taking, justles roughly by
All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents
Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows
Even in the birth of our own labouring breath :
We two, that with so many thousand sighs
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves
With the rude brevity and discharge of one.
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste,
Crams his rich thievery up, he knows not how :
A» many farewells as be stars in heaven,
With distinct breath and consign'd 3 kisses to them,
He fumbles up into a loose adieu ;
And scants us with a single famish'd kiss,
Distasting with the salt of broken tears.

;Ene. [Within.] My lord ! is the lady ready?

Tro. Hark! you are call'd : Some say the Gen-
ius so

1 Ctnuigned means sealed, from coiisigno. Thus in King Hen-
ry V. : "It were, mv lord, a hard condition for maid to consign
to"

470 TROILUS AND CRESS IDA. ACT IV

Cries, »« Come ! " to him that instantly must die. —
Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon.

Pan. Where are my tears 1 rain, to lay this wind,4
or my heart will be blown up by the root !

[Exit PANDARUS.

Cres. I must then to the Grecians 1

Tro. No remedy.

Cres. A woful Cressid 'mongst the merry Greeks .
When shall we see again 1

Tro. Hear me, my love : Be thou but true of
heart, —

Cres. I true ? how now ! what wicked deem * ia
this 1

Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly,
For it is parting from us :
I speak not, " be thou true," as fearing thee ;
For I will throw my glove to death himself,6
That there's no maculation in thy heart;
But, "be thou true," say I, to fashion ia
My sequent protestation : Be thou true,
And I will see thee.

Cres. O ! you shall be expos'd, my lord, to dangers
As infinite as imminent. But I'll be true.

Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. Wear
this sleeve.7

* So in Macbeth : " That tears will drown the wind." And in
th» Rape of Lucrece :

" This windy tempest, till it blow up rain,
Holds back his sorrow's tide, to make it more ;
At last it rains, ana busy winds give o'er."

* Deem (a word now obsolete) signifies opinion, surmise.

* That is, I will cliallenge death himself in defence of thy
fidelity.

7 In a comedy, entitled " Histriomastix, or the Player Whipt,"
published in 1G10, but written before the death of Elizabeth, there
is a mock iute-lude wherein Troilus and Cressida are the speak-

SC IV. TROILUS AND CRESS ID A. 471

Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see you t

Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels,
To give thee nightly visitation.
But yet, be true.

Cres. O heavens ! — "be true " again ?

7V0. Hear why I speak it, love :
The Grecian youths are full of quality ;8
They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature
Flowing, and swelling o'er with arts and exercise •
How novelty may move, and parts with person,
Alas ! a kind of godly jealousy
(Which, I beseech you, call a virtuous sin)
Makes me afraid.

Cres. O heavens ! you love me not.

Tro. Die I a villain then !
In this I do not call your faith in question
So mainly as my merit : I cannot sing,

ers. The point of the burlesque turns on much the same action as M
here represented. Some have thought, and apparently with good
reason, that the thing may have been designed as a sort of travesty
on this scene. Which, of course, is an argument, so far as it goes,
that this play was originally written before 1603. H.

8 Quality, like condition, was formerly applied to manners aa
well as dispositions : " full of quality " here means highly accom-
plished.— The later editors, Knight, Collier, and Verplanck, have
restored the reading of the old copies in this passage, thus :
"Their loving well compos'd with gift of nature,

Flowing and swelling o'er with arts and exercise."
We cannot in this instance quite see the wisdom of changing from
the t«zt as commonly received : it seems to us clearer in sense
richer in harmony, and in all respects more Shakespearian ; there
fore we retain it. That the likelihood of a slight misprint in the
lines quoted may be more apparent, we subjoin the passage, pohit
ing aud all, just precisely as it stands in the first folio:
"Their loving well compos'd, with guift of nature,
Flawing and swelling ore with Arts and exercise I
How novelties may move, and parts with person.
Alas, a kinde of godly jealousie ;
Which 1 beseech you call a vertuous sinne :
Makes me atlraid '' 0

472 TROILUS AND CUESSIDA. ACT IV

Nor heel the high lavolt,9 nor sweeten talk,

Nor play at subtle games ; fair virtues all,

To which the Grecians are most prompt and preg

nant :

But I can tell, that in each grace of these
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive devil,
That tempts most cunningly: But be not tempted.

Ores. Do you think I will ?

Tro. No;

But something may be done, that we will not :
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves,
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.10

.lEine. [Within.] Nay, good my lord, —

Tro. Come, kiss ; and let us pan

Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus !

Tro. Good brother, come you hither,

And bring yEneas and the Grecian with you.

Ores. My lord, will you be true 1

Tro. Who, I ? alas, it is my vice, my fault :
Whiles others fish with craft for great opinion,
I with great truth catch mere simplicity;
Whi st some with cunning gild their copper crowns,

9 The lavolta was a dance. Sec King Henry V., Act iii, sc.
6, note 3.

10 It would seem that this should read, " their changeless po-
tency," that is, their power of not changing1 ; as this sense will
best suit and cohere with the context. Presuming on, however,
may very well carry the sense of men acting as if they were what
they are not ; for the way to " tempt the frailty of our powers "
is by "presuming" that they are not frail; thus involving the
common idea that the feeling of security makes men most inse-
cure, or " best safety lies in fear." Mr. Collier's second folio
substitutes chainful for changeful ; which may indeed be very wise,
but it seems to us stark nonsense. Perhaps this instance will yield
something of an argument for the authority of Mr. Collier's cor-
rections, as it seems .scarce credible that any one should make
»uch a change on his own judgment 1 u

SC. IV. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 473

With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare.

Fear uot my truth : the moral of rny wit11

Is — plain and true, — there's all the reach of it.

Enter ^ENEAS, PARIS, ANTENOR, DEIPHOBUS, ana
DIOMEDES.

Welcome, sir Diomed ! here is the lady,
Which for Antenor we deliver you :
At the port,12 lord, I'll give her to thy hand,
And by the way possess13 thee what she is.
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek,
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword,
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe
As Priarn is in Ilion.

Dio. Fair lady Cressid,

So please you, save the thanks this prince expects'
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek,
Pleads your fair usage ; and to Diomed
You shall be mistress, and command him wholly.

Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courteously,
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee,
In praising her. I tell thee, lord of Greece,
She is as far high-soaring o'er thy praises,
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant.
I charge thee, use her well, even for my charge ;
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not,
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard,
I'll cut thy throat.

Dio. O ! be not mov'd, prince Troilug

Let me be privileg'd by my place and message,
To be a speaker free : when I am hence,

11 " The moral of my wit " is the mtanvng of h.
11 That is, the gate.
11 That is, inform

474 TROILUS AND v AESS1DA. ACT IV

I'll answer to my lust;14 and know you, lord,
I'll nothing do on charge : To her own worth
She shall be priz'd ; but that you say — be't so,
I'll speak it in rny spirit and honour, — no.

Tro. Come, to the port. — I tell thee, Diomed,
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy head. —
Lady, give me your hand ; and, as we walk,
To our own selves bend we our needful talk.

[Exeunt TROILUS, CRESSIDA, and DIOMED
[Trumpet heard.

Par. Hark ! Hector's trumpet.

AZne. How have we spent this morning!

The prince must think me tardy and remiss,
That swore to ride before him to the field.

Par. 'Tis Troilus' fault : Come, come, to field
with him.

Dei. Let us make ready straight.

jEne. Yea, with a bridegroom's fresh alacrity,
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels :
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie
On his fair worth and single chivalry. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The Grecian Camp. Lists set out.

Enter AJAX, armed; AGAMEMNON, ACHILLES, PA-
TROCLUS, MENELAUS, ULYSSES, NESTOR, and
Others.

Ago. Here art thou in appointment ' fresh and
fair,

14 That is, I'll answer to my will or pleasure ; as I list.
1 That is, preparation. So in Measure for Measure: "There
fore your best appointment make with speed."

8C. V. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 475

Anticipating time. With starting courage,
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy,
Thou dreadful Ajax ; that the appalled air
May pierce the head of the great combatant
And hale him hither.

Ajax. Thou, trumpet, there's my purs*

Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe :
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias-cheek2
Outswell the colic of puff'd Aquilon.
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood ;
Thou blow'st for Hector. [Tintmpet sounds.

Ulys. No trumpet answers.

Achil. 'Tis but early days.

Ago. Is not yond Diomed, with Calchas' daughter 1

Ulys. 'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait ;
He rises on the toe : that spirit of his
In aspiration lifts him from the earth.

Enter DIOMED, with CRESSIDA.
Ago. Is this the lady Cressid 1
Dio. Even she.

Ago. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, sweet

lady.

Nest. Our general doth salute you with a kiss.
Ulys. Yet is the kindness but particular :
Twere better she were kiss'd in general.

Nest. And very courtly counsel : I'll begin. -
So much for Nestor.

Achil. I'll take that winter from your lips, fail

lady:
Achilles bids you welcome.

Men. I had good argument for kissing once.

* That is, swelling out like the bias of a bowl. The Idea it
taken from the puffy cheeks of ihe winds as represented in eld
p;ints and maps. Trumpet was often used for trumpeter

47fi TROILUS AND CRESS1DA. ACT JV

Pair. But that's no argument for kissing now:
For thus popj»'d Paris in his hardiment,
And parted thus you and your argument.

Ulys. O, deadly gall, and theme of all our scorns!
Fur which we lose our heads, to gild his horns.

Pair. The first was Menelaus' kiss ; this, mine :
P«troclus kisses you.

Men. O, this is trim !

Pair. Paris and I kiss ever more for him.

Men. I'll have my kiss, sir : — Lady, by your
leave.

Ores. In kissing do you render or receive 1

Men. Both take and give.

Ores. I'll make my match to lire.1

'J ne kiss you take is better than you give ;
1 icrefore no kiss.

fttcn. I'll give you boot ; I'll give you three for
one.

<Jres. You're an odd man : give even, or give
none.

Am. An odd man, lady ? every man is odd.

\}rcs. No, Paris is not ; for, you know, 'tis true,
Tk»dt you are odd, and he is even with you.

Men. You fillip me o'the head.

£res. No, I'll be sworn.

Ulys. It were no match, your nail against hia

horn. —
W ly I, sweet lady, beg a kiss of you ?

O-cs. You may.

Ulys. I do desire it.

Ores. Why, beg, then.

Ulys. Why, then, for Venus' sake, give me a kiss,
V\ 'urn Helen is a maid again, and his.

8 I will make such bargains as I may live by, such as ma^
me profit ; therefore will not take a worse kiss than I giv*

SC. V. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 477

Cres. I am your debtor ; claim it when 'tis due.

Ulys. Never's my day, and then a kiss of you.

Dio. Lady, a word : — I'll bring you to your fa
ther. [DIOMED leads out CRESSIDA.

Nest. A woman of quick sense.

Ulys. Fie, fie upon her !

TLere's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip,
Nay, her foot speaks ; her wanton spirits look out
At every joint and motive of her body.4
O ! these encounterers, so glib of tongue,
That give accosting welcome ere it comes,5
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts
To every tickling reader ; set them down
For sluttish spoils of opportunity,
And daughters of the game. [Trumpet within

4 Mot-ire for that which causes motion.. One would almost
think that Shakespeare had, on this occasion, been reading St.
Chrysostom : " Non loquuta es lingua, sed loquuta es gressu ; non
loquuta es voce, sed oculis loquuta es clarius quam voce : " thai
is, " They say nothing with their mouthes, they speake in their
^aite, they speake with their eyes, they speake in the carriage of
their bodies." This invective against a wanton, as well as the
translation of it, is from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy.

6 The old copies read, « That give a coasting welcome ere it
comes ;" where it would seem that coasting must be an adjective,
thus leaving it without an antecedent. Nor is it easy to conceive
what " a coasting welcome" should mean ; and not a little violence
must be used, to put any sense into it, or to crush any out of it. The
common explanation is, " a welcome that makes silent advances,
before the tongue bath uttered a word." Accosting was first pro-
posed by Monck Mason, and has been approved by Coleridge
and 'Singer. Of course it is used as a substantive, and means a
lip salutation, which some one has aptly termed the penultimate
step of intercourse in such cases ; which is just the meaning re-
quired by the rest of the passage. For Shakespeare's sense of
the word, see Twelfth Night, Act i. sc. 3, note 6. So in Howell'f
Letters : " The French are a free, debonair, accostable people )
both men and women." Mr. Collier's second folio has occasion
written in ihe margin. — Two lines below, the quarto has ticklisk
for tickling. H

473 TROILUS AND CUESSIDA. ACT IV

AIL The Trojans' trumpet.

Ago. Yonder comes the troop.

Enter HECTOR, armed ; ^ENEAS, TROILUS, and other
Trojans, with Attendants.

JEne. Hail, all you state of Greece '. what shal

be done

To him that victory commands 1 Or do you purpose
A victor shall be known ? will you, the knights
Shall to the edge of all extremity
Pursue each other ; or shall be divided
By any voice or order of the field 1
Hector bade ask.

Aga. Which way would Hector have it !

JEne. He cares not ; he'll obey conditions.

Achil. 'Tis done like Hector ; but securely done,
A little proudly, and great deal disprizing
The knight oppos'd.

jEne. If not Achilles, sir,

What is your name ?

Achil. If not Achilles, nothing.

jEne. Therefore Achilles ; but, whate'er, know

this : —

In the extremity of great and little,
Valour and pride excel themselves in Hector ;
The one almost as infinite as all,
The other blank as nothing.7 Weigh him well,
And that which looks like pride is courtesy.
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood : 8

8 Secuiely done, in the sense of the Latin securns ; a negligent
security arising from a contempt of the object opposed. See note
10 of the preceding scene. — In the next line, the quarto has mis-
prizing, instead of disprizing. H.

7 Valour is in Hector greater than valour in other men, and
pride in Hec'or is less than pride in other men.

8 Ajax and Hector were cousins-german.

1C. V. 1ROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 47J1

In love whereof, half Hector stays at home ;
Half heart, half hand, half Hector comes to seek
This blended knight, half Trojan and half Greek.9
Achil. A maiden battle, then 1 — O ! I perceive you

Re-enter DIOMED.

Aga. Here is sir Diomed. — Go, gentle knight,
Stand by our Ajax : as you and lord ^Eneas
Consent upon the order of their fight,
So be it ; either to the uttermost,
Or else a breath : 10 the combatants being kin
Half stints their strife before their strokes begin.

[AJAX and HECTOR enter the Lists.

Ulys. They are oppos'd already.

Ago, What Trojan is that same that looks so
heavy ?

Ulys. The youngest son of Priam, a true knight;
Not yet mature, yet matchless ; firm of word,
Speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue ; "
Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd, soon

calm'd :

His heart and hand both open, and both free ;
For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shows ;
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty,
Nor dignifies an impure l2 thought with breath :
Manly as Hector, but more dangerous ;

* Hence Thersites, in a former scene, called Ajax a mcmgre

10 That is, a breathing, an exercise.

11 No boaster of his deeds.

la The quarto reads impure ; the first folio, impaire , which
Johnson thought should be impure. There can be no reasonable
doubt, that impure was a misprint for impure ; no instance having
been found of impair used in any sense that will make sense in
this place. Nevertheless, impair is retained in ali modern editions
till Verplanck?s. who adopted impure OP the arguments of Mr
Dyce, tog-ether with his own good judgment. n.

480 TROILUS AND CRESS1DA. ACT IV

For Hector, in liis blaze of wrath, subscribes1*
To tender objects ; but lie, in heat of action,
Is more vindicative than jealous love.
They call him Troilus ; and on him erect
A second hope, as fairly built as Hector.
Thus says ./Eneas ; one that knows the youth
Even to his inches, and with private soul
Did in great Ilion thus translate him to me.

[Alarum. HECTOR and AJAX fight

Aga. They are in action.

Nest. Now, Ajax, hold thine own !

Tro. Hector, thou sleep'st .

Awake thee !

Aga. His blows are well disposed : — there, Ajax !

Dio. You must no more. [Trumpets cease.

jEne. Princes, enough, so please you.

4/'«z. I am not warm yet ; let us fight again.

Dio. As Hector pleases.

Hect. Why, then will I no more. —

Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son,
A cousin-german to great Priam's seed ;
The obligation of our blood forbids
A gory emulation 'twixt us twain.
Were thy comniixtion Greek and Trojan so,
That thou could'st say, — " This hand is Grecian all,
And this is Trojan ; the sinews of this leg
All Greek, and this all Troy ; my mother's blood
Runs on the dexter cheek, and this sinister
Bounds-iri my father's ; " by Jove multipotent,
Thou should'st not bear from me a Greekish membei
Wherein my sword had not impressure made
Of our rank feud. But the just gods gainsay,
That any drop thou borrow'st from thy mother,

13 That is, submits, yields.

SO. V. TROILUS AND CRES^IDA. 481

My sacred aunt,14 should by my mortal sword
Be drain'd ! Let me embrace thee, Ajax : —
By him that thunders, tliou hast lusty arms ;
Hector would have them fall upon him thus :
Cousin, all honour to thee !

Ajax. I thank thee, Hector

Thou art too gentle, and too free a man :
I came to kill thee, cousin, and bear hence
A great addition earned in thy death.

Hect. Not Neoptolemus15 so mirable,
On whose bright crest Fame with her loud'st O yes
Cries, " This is he ! " could promise to himself
A thought of added honour torn from Hector.

jEnc. There is expectance here from both the

sides,
What further you will do.

14 It is remarkable that the Greeks give to the aunt, the father1 't
sister, the title of sacred. it nfjoc. TKXTOOI; Aiia, sometimes expressed
bydi'ta alone. — The fine incident of this passage is thus narrated
in Caxton's History : " As they were fighting, they spake and
talked together, and thereby Hector knew that he was his cousin-
german, son of his aunt ; and then Hector for courtesy embraced
him in his arms, and made great cheer, and offered to him to do
all his pleasure, if he desired any thing of him, and prayed him
that he would come to Troy with him for to see his lineage of his
mother's side. But the said Thelamon, that intended to nothing
but his best advantage, said that he would not go at this time.
But he prayed Hector, requesting that, if he loved him so much
as he said, he would for his sake, and at his instance, cease the
battle for that day, and that the Trojans should leave the Greeks
in peace. The unhappy Hector accorded unto him his request,
)nd blew a horn, and made all his people to withdraw into the
city." H.

15 By Neoptolemus Shakespeare seems to have meant Achilles :
finding that the son was Pyrrhus Neoptolemus, he considered
Nc^>lolemus as the no-men gentililium, and thought the father was
likewise Achilles Neoptolemus. Or he may have been led iiiio
the error by some book of the time. By a passage in Act iii. sc
3, it is evident that he knew Pyrrhus had not yet engaged in the
siege of Troy : " But it must grieve youug Pyrrhus, now itt home."

482 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT IV

Hcct We'll answer it;

The issue is embracemerit. — Ajax, farewell.

Ajaz. If I might in entreaties find success,
(As seld I have the chance,) I would desire
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents.

Dio. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish ; and great Achilles
Doth long to see unarm 'd the valiant Hector.

licet. ./Eneas, call my brother Troilus to me ;
And signify this loving interview
To the expecters of our Trojan part :
Desire them home. — Give me thy hand, my cousin ;
I will go eat with thee, and see your knights.18

Ajax. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us here.

Ifect. The worthiest of them tell me name by

name ;

But for Achilles, my own searching eyes
Shall find him by his large and portly size.

Aga. Worthy of arms ! as welcome as to one
That would be rid of such an enemy.
But that's no welcome : Understand more clear,
What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd with

husks

And formless ruin of oblivion ;
But in this extant moment, faith and troth,
Strain'd purely from all hollow bias-drawing.
Bids thee, with most divine integrity,
From heart of very heart, great Hector, welcome '

Hect. I thank thee, most imperious Agamemnon.1''

1 These knights, to the amount of about two hundred thcusana
Shakespeare found with all the appendages of chivalry in Th«
Old Troy Book. Eques and armiger, rendered knight and squire
excite ideas of chivalry. Pope, in his Homer, has been liberal
in his use of the latter.

17 Imperious was sometimes used in the sense of imperial, and
•ometimes otherwise ; as appears from Bullokar's Expositor
" Imperial, royal, or chief, or emperor-like ; imperious, that com

tC. V. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 483

Aga. [ To TROILUS.] My well-fam'd lord of Troy,
no less to you.

Men. Let me confirm my princely brother's greet-
ing:—
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hither

Jfect. Whom must we answer 1

jfEne. The noble Menelaus.

licet. O ! you, my lord 1 by Mars his gauntlet,

thanks !

Mock not, that I affect the untraded oath:18
Your quondam wife swears still by Venus' glove ;
She's well, but bade me not commend her to you.

Men. Name her not now, sir ; she's a deadly theme-

Hect. O ! pardon ; I offend.

Nest. I have, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oftj
Labouring for destiny,19 make cruel way
Through ranks of Greekish youth ; and I have seen

thee,

As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed,
And seen thee scorning forfeits and subduements,**
When thou hast hung thy advanc'd sword i'the air,
Not letting it decline on the declin'd ;21
That I have said unto my standers-by, —
" Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life ! "
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath,
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in,
Like an Olympian wrestling ; — this have I seen ;

mandeth with authority, lord-like, stately.1" — In the preceding
speech, the quarto has only the first two lines and the last. H.

18 Untraded is uncommon, unusual.

19 That is, labouring as the minister or vicegerent of destiny

H.

*° So in the folio ; the quarto gives the line thus : " Despising
many forfeits and subduements." It may be doubtful which is the
better reading ; but, on the whole, we think, or rather feel, that
many weakens the line. R.

*' That is, decline, or fall, 011 the fallen.

484 TROILUS AND CRKSSIDA. ACT It

But this thy countenance, still lork'd in stec!.

I never saw till now. I knew thy grandsire,

And once fought with him : he was a soldier good ;

But, by great Mars the captain of us all,

Never like thee. Let an old man embrace thee ;

4nd, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents.

jEne. 'Tis the old Nestor.

Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chronicle
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with time: — •
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee.

J\est. I would my arms could match thee in COD

tention,
As they contend with thee in courtesy.

Hect. I would they could.

Nest. Ha!

By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to-morrow.
Well, welcome, welcome ! I have seen the time —

Ulys. I wonder now how yonder city stands,
When we have here her base and pillar by us.

Hect. I know your favour, lord Ulysses, well.
Ah, sir! there's many a Greek and Trojan dead,
Since first I saw yourself and Diomed
In Ilion, on your Greekish embassy.

Ulys. Sir, I foretold you then what would ensue :
My prophecy is but half his journey yet ;
For yonder walls, that pertly front your town,
Yond' towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds,
Must kiss their own feet.22

Hect. I must not believe you :

There they stand yet ; and modestly I think,

** In Caxton's History, Ilion, which was the name of Priam 9
palace, is thus described : " And it was of height five hundred
paces, besides the height of the towers, whereof there was greal
plenty, and so high that it seemed to them that saw them from
farre, they raught up unto the heavens."

«•<:. V TROILUS AND CKESSIDA. 485

The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost
A drop of Grecian blood : The end crowns tJI *,
And that old common arbitrator, time,
Will one day end it.

Utys. So to him \ve leave it.

Most gentle and most valiant Hector, welcome:
After the general, I beseech you next
To feast with me, and see me at my tent.

Achil. I shall forestall thee, lord Ulysses,

then!23 —

Now, Hector, I have fed mine eyes on thee ;
I have with exact view perus'd thee, Hector,
And quoted joint by joint.84

Hect. Is this Achilles 't

Achil. I am Achilles.

Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee : let me look on thee.

Achil. Behold thy fill.

Hect. Nay, I have done already.

Achil. Thou art too brief : I will the second time,
As I would buy thee, view thee limb by limb.

93 The old copies have thou, which Mr. Tyrwhitt thought should
be though. Then is found in Mr. Collier's second folio. H.

94 Quoted is observed, noted. — The incident of Achilles' view-
ing Hector " limb by limb" is narrated in Homer's twenty-second
Book. We subjoin Chapman's version of the passage, though
Shakespeare probably had not seen it when he wrote this play, a»
only the first nineteen Books of that version were published be-
fore 1611 :

" His bright and sparkling eyes
Look'd through the body of his foe, and sought through all that

prize

The next way to his thirsted life. Of all ways, only one
Appear'd to him ; and this was, where th' unequal winding bone,
That joins the shoulders and the neck, had place, and where there

lay
The speeding way of death ; and there his quick eye could dis

play
The plane it sought, — even through the arms hi» friend Patroclus

wore
Wuen Hevtor slew him." H.

48fi TROILUS AND CRESSIOA. ACT FV

Hixt. O ! like a book of sport thou'lt read me

o'er ;

But there's more in me than thou understand'st.
, Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye 7

AcJiiL Tell me, you heavens, in which part of . is

body

Shall I destroy him, whether there, there, or there ?
That I may giv« the local wound a name,
And make distinct the very breach whereout
Hector's great spirit flew : Answer rne, heavens !

Hect. It would discredit the bless'd gods, proud

man,

To answer such a question. Stand again :
Think'st thou to catch my life so pleasantly,
As to prenominate in nice conjecture
Where thou wilt hit me dead 1

AchiL I tell thee, yea.

Hect. Wert thou an oracle to tell me so,
I'd not believe thee. Henceforth guard thee well,
For I'll not kill thee there, nor there, nor there ;
But, by the forge that stithied25 Mars his helm,
I'll kill thee every where, yea, o'er and o'er. —
You, wisest Grecians, -pardon me this brag :
His insolence draws folly from my lips ;
But I'll endeavour deeds to match these words,
Or may I never —

AJaz. Do not chafe thee, cousin : —

And you, Achilles, let these threats alone,
Till accident or purpose bring you to't :
ifou may have every day enough of Hector,
if you have stomach ; the general state, I fear,
dan scarce iutreat you to be odd with him.*'

** A stith is an anvil, a stithy a smith's shop, and hence the verb
stithifd is formed.

M Ajax treats Achilles with contempt, and meaus to insinuate

SC. V. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 487

Hcct. 1 pray you, let us see you in the field :
We have had pelting wars,27 since you refus'd
The Grecians' cause.

AcliiL Dost thou intreat me, Hectoi 1

To-morrow do I meet thee, fell as death ;
To-night, all friends.

Hect. Thy hand upon that match.

Ago. First, all you peers of Greece, go to my

tent ;

There in the full convive we : 28 afterwards,
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall
Concur together, severally intreat him. —
Beat loud the tabouriries, let the trumpets blow,
That this great soldier may his welcome know.

[Exeunt all but TROILUS and ULYSSES.

Tro. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech you,
In what place of the field doth Calchas keep ?

Ulys. At Menelaus' tent, most princely Troilus :
There Diomed doth feast with him to-night ;
Who neither looks upon the heaven nor earth,
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view
On the fair Cressid.

Tru. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so much,
After we part from Agamemnon's tent,
To bring me thither 1

Ulys. You shall command me, sir

As gentle tell me, of what honour was

that he was afraid of fighting with Hector. " You may every
«iay," says he, " have enough of Hector, if you have the incli
nation ; out I believe the whole state of Greece will scarcely pre-
vail on you to be at odds with him, to contend with him."

*7 That is, petty or paltry wars. See King Richard II., Act
ii. sc. 1, note 8.

K A combine is a feast. " The sitting of friends together at a
table, our anncestors have well called convirium, a banket, because
it is a living of men together." — Hutton.

488 THOILUS AND CRESS ID A. ACT V

This Cressida in Troy ? Had she no lover there
That wails her absence ?

Tro. O, sir ! to such as boasting show their scars,
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord?
She was belov'd, she lov'd ; she is, and doth :
But still sweet love is food for fortune's tooth.

[Exeunt,

ACT V.
SCENE I.

The Grecian Camp. Before ACHILLES' Tern.

Enter ACHILLES and PATROCLUS.

Achil. I'll heat his blood with Greekish wine to-
night,

Which with my scimitar I'll cool to-morrow. —
Patroclus, let us feast him to the height.

Patr. Here comes Thersites.

Enter THERSITES.

Achil. How now, thou core of envy ! '

Thou crusty batch 2 of nature, what's the news ?
Ther. Why, thou picture of what thou seemest,

1 So in the folio ; in the quarto, " cur of envy," which is a verj
suitable epithet of the snarling and biting Thersites, and is else-
where applied to him. It seems uncertain which is the better
reading here. Of course " core of envy " is •' heart of envy,"
and it has the advantage in variety, if in nothing else. H.

* A batch is all that is baked at one time, without heating the
oven afresh. So Hen Jonson in his Cataline : " Except he were
of the same meal mid batcli."

SC. I. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 489

and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a letter for
thee.

Acliil. From whence, fragment?

Ther. Why, thou full dish of fool, from Troy.

Pair. Who keeps the teat now ? 3

Thcr. The surgeon's box, or the putient's wound.

Pair. Well said, Adversity ! 4 and what need these
tricks 1

TJicr. Pr'ythee, be silent, boy ; I profit not by
thy talk : thou art thought to be Achilles' male
varlet.

Pair, Male varlet,5 you rogue ! what's that 1

Ther. Why, his masculine whore. Now the
rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, rup-
tures, catarrhs, loads o'gravel i'the back, lethargies,
cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing
lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, lime-
kilns i'the palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivell'd
fee-simple of the tetter take and take again such
preposterous disco verera!

Patr. Why, thou damnable box of envy, thou,
what meanest thou to curse thus 1

Ther. Do I curse thee 1

Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt ; you whoresou
indistinguishable cur,6 no.

Ther. No 1 why art thou then exasperate, thou

3 In his answer Thersites quibbles upon the word tent.

4 Adversity is here used for contrariety ; the reply of Thcr-
lites having been studiously adverse to the drift of the question
urged by Patroclus.

5 This expression is met with in Dekker's Honest Whore :
" 'Tis a male varlet, sure, my lord ! " The person spoken of is
Bellafronte, a harlot, who is introducsd in boy's clothes. Man-
mistress is a term of reproach thrown out by Doras, in Dryden'i
Don Sebastian.

6 Patroclus reproaches Thersites with deformity, with
oue part crowded into auuihur.

190 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT V

idle immaterial skein of sleave silk,7 them greec
sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel of a prod-
igal's purse, thou 1 Ah ! how the poor world is pes-
ter'd with such water-flies, diminutives of nature '

Pair. Out, gall !

Ther. Finch egg

Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted quita
From my great purpose in to-morrow's battle :
Here is a letter from queen Hecuba,
A token from her daughter, my fair love,
Both taxing me, and 'gaging me to keep
An oath that I have sworn. I will not break it:
Fftll Greeks, fail fame, honour or go or stay,
My major vow lies here ; this I'll obey. —
Come, come, Thersites, help to trim my tent ;
This night in banqueting must all be spent.
Away, Patroclus.

[Exeunt ACHILLES and PATROCLDS.

Ther. With too much blood and too little brain,
these two may run mad ; but if with too much
brain and too little blood they do, I'll be a curer
of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, — an honest fel-
low enough, and one that loves quails ; 9 but he has
not so much brain as ear-wax. And the goodly
transformation of Jupiter there, his brother, the bull,
— the primitive statue and oblique memorial of
cuckolds ; * a thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hang

7 Sleave silk is unwrought silk. See Macbeth, Act ii. sc. 2
note 2.

B By quails are meant women, and probably those of a looser
description. "Caille coeffee " is a sobriquet for a harlot. Chawt
comme un cattle is a French proverb ; the quail being remarkably
salacious.

9 He calls Menelaus the transformation of Jupiter, that is, the
bull, on account of his horn*, which are the oblique mfmnrial of
cuckolds

•C. I. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 491

ing at his brother's leg, — to what form, hut that
he is, should wit larded with malice and malice
forced with wit turn him to ? To an ass, were
nothing ; he is both ass and ox : to an ox were
nothing ; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog,
a mule, a cat, a fitchew, a toad, a lizard, an owl, a
puttock, or a herring without a roe, I would not care ;
but to be Menelaus, — I would conspire against des-
tiny. Ask me not what I would be, if I were not
Thersites ; for I care not to be the louse of a lazar,
so I were not Menelaus. — Hey-day ! spirits and
fires!10

Enter HECTOR, TROILUS, AJAX, AGAMEMNON,
ULYSSES, NESTOR, MENELAUS, and DIOMED,
with Lights.

Aga. We go wrong, we go wrong.

Ajax. No, yonder 'tis ; there, where we see the

lights.

fleet. I trouble you.
Ajax. No, not a whit.
Ulys. Here comes himself to guide you.

Enter ACHILLES.

Achil. Welcome, brave Hector : welcome, princes

all.
Aga. So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid good

night.
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you.

Heci. Thanks and good night to the Greeks

general.

Men. Good night, my lord.
Ifect. Good night, sweet lord Menelaus.

10 This is spoken by Thersites, upon the first sight of the dig
taut lights.

492 TROH,US AND CRESSLDA. ^CT v

Thrr. Sweet draught:11 sweet, quoth 'a . sweet
sink, sweet sewer.

Achil. Good night and welcome, both at once
to those that go, or tarry.

Aga. Good night. [Exeunt AGAM. and MEN.

AcML Old Nestor tarries ; and you too, Diomed,
Keep Hector company an hour or two.

Dio. I cannot, lord ; I have important business,
The tide whereof is now. — Good night, great Hoc
tor.

Ifect. Give me your hand.

Ulys. [Aside to TROIL.] Follow his torch ; he

goes
To Calchas' tent : I'll keep you company.

Tro. Sweet sir, you honour me.

Hect. And so good night. [Exit DIOMED ; TJ LOS-
SES and TROILUS following.

Achil. Come, come ; enter my tent.

[Exeunt ACHIL., HECT., AJAX, and NEST

Thar. That same Diorned's a false-hearted rogue,
a most unjust knave : I will no more trust him when
he leers, than I will a serpent when he hisses. He
will spend his mouth and promise, like Brabler
the hound ; 12 but when he performs, astronomers
foretell it ; it is prodigious, there will come some
change : the sun borrows of the moon, when Dio-
med keeps his word. I will rather leave to see
Hector, than not to dog him : they say he keeps a
Trojan drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent :
I'll after. — Nothing but lechery ! all incontinent
rarlets. [Exit

11 Draught is the old word for forica. It is used in the trans .
iation of the Bible, in Holinshed, and by all old writers.

12 If a hound gives mouth, and is not upon the scent of the game,
he is called a babler, or brabler. Th» proverb says, " Brabling
curs never want sore ears."

SO 71 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 493

SCENE II. The Same. Before C ALOHAS' Tent

Enter DIOMEDES.

Dio. What are you up here, ho 7 speak.
Cal [Within.] Who calls?

Dio. Diomed. — Calchas, I think : — Where's
your daughter ?

Cal. [Within.] She comes to you.

Enter TROILUS and ULYSSES, at a Distance ; after
them THERSITES.

Ulys. Stand where the torch may not discover us.

Enter CRESSIDA.

Tro. Cressid comes forth to him !

Dio. How now, my charge !

Ores. Now, my sweet guardian ! — Hark ! a word
with you. [ Whispers.

Tro. Yea, so familiar !

Ulys. She will sing any man at first sight.

TJier. And any man may sing her, if he can take
her cliff;1 she's noted.

Dio. Will you remember?

Ores. Remember? yes.

Dio. Nay, but do then ; and let your mind be
coupled with your words.

Tro. What should she remember ?

Ulys. List !

Ores. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no mure to
folly.

TJier. Roguery !

1 That is, her key. Clef, Fr. A mark in music at the begin-
ning of the lines of a song-, which indicates the pitch, aid wheiliet
it u suited for a base, treble, or tenor voice

494 TROILUS AND CRESSEDA- ACT. V

Dio. Nay, then, —

Ores. I'll tell you what —

Dio. Pho ! pho ! come, tell a pin: You are for-
sworn. —

Ores. In faith, I cannot : What would you hare
me do ?

Ther. A juggling trick, to be — secretly open.

Dio. What did you swear you would bestow on
me ?

Cres. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine oath ;
Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek.

Dio. Good night.

Tro. Hold, patience !

Ulys. How now, Trojan !

Cres. Diomed, —

Dio. No, no ; good night : I'll be your fool no
more.

Tro. Thy better must.

Cres. Hark! one word in your ear.

Tro. O, plague and madness !

Ulys. You are mov'd, prince : let us depart, I

pray you,

Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself
To wrathful terms. This place is dangerous,
The time right deadly; I beseech you, go.

Tro. Behold, I pray you !

Ulys. Now, good my lord, go off:

You flow to great distraction ; come, my lord.

Tro. I pr'ythee, stay.

Ulys. You have not patience ; come.

Tro. I pray you, stay: by hell, and all hell's

torments,
I will not speak a word.

Dio. And so, good night

Cres. Nav, but you part in anger.

SO. II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 41)5

Tro. Doth that grieve thce 1

O, wither'd truth !

Ulys. Why, how now, lord !

Tro. By Jove,

I will be patient.

Ores. Guardian ! — why, Greek !

Dio. Pho, pho ! adieu ; you palter.2

Ores. In faith, I do not : come hither once again.

Ulys. You shake, my lord, at something : will

you go 7
You will break out.

Tro. She strokes his cheek !

Ulys. Come, come.

Tro. Nay, stay; by Jove, I will not speak a word:
There is between my will and all offences
A guard of patience : — stay a little while.

Thrr. How the devil luxury, with his fat rump
and potato finger,3 tickles these together ! Fry,
lechery, fry !

Dio. But will you then ?

Ores. In faith, I will, la : never trust me else

Dio. Give me some token for the surety of it.

Ores. I'll fetch you one. [Exit

Ulys. You have sworn patience.

Tro. Fear me not, my lord ;

I will not be myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel : I arn all patience.

Re-enter CRESSIDA.
Ther. Now the pledge ! now, now, now !

* To palter is to equivocate, to shuffle.

Luxury, or lascivioiisness, is said to have a potato finger,
because that root was thought " to strengthen the bodie, and pro-
cure bodily lust." Mr. Steevens has brought together a very cu-
rious string of quotations to show the idea our ancestors enter-
tained of this root, and th'j mode in which it was used by them at
its first introduction.

496 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT V

Ores. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve/

Tro. O beauty ! where is thy faith ?

Ulys. My lord, —

Tro. 1 will be patient ; outwardly I will.

Ores. You look upon that sleeve; behold it well.—
He lov'd me — O, false wench ! — Give't me again

Dio. Whose was't ?

Ores. It is no matter, now I hav't again.
I will not meet with you to-morrow night :
I pr'ythee, Diomed, visit me no more.

Ther. Now she sharpens : — Well paid, whet-
stone.

Dio. I shall have it.

Ores. What, this ?

Dio. Ay, that.

Cres. O, all you gods ! — O pretty, pretty pledge
Thy master now lies thinking in his bed
Of thee and me ; and sighs, and takes my glove,
And gives memorial dainty kisses to it,
As I kiss thee. — Nay, do not snatch it from me ;
He that takes that doth take my heart withal.

Dio. I had your heart before; this follows it.

Tro. I did swear patience.

4 Of course this is the sleeve that Troilus gave (Jressida in the
fjurth scene of Act iv., when she gave him a glove in return.
Probably it was such a sleeve as was anciently worn at tourna-
ments ; thus described in Spenser's View of the State of Ireland :
" The deepe smocke sleive, which the Irish women use, they say,
was old Spanish, and is used yet in Barbarj' : and yet that should
seeme rather to be an old English fashion ; for in armory the fa>h-
ion of the Manche, which is given in armes by many, being in-
deede nothii.g else but a sleive, is fashioned much like to that
sleive. And that Knights in ancient times used to weare their
mistresses or loves sleive upon their armes, appeareth by thai
which is written of Sir Launceiot, that he wore the sleive of the
faire Maide of Asteloth in a tourney, whereat Queene Guenevet
was much displeased." u

SC. H. TROILUS AND CRESS1DA. 497

Ores. You shall not have it, Diomed ; 'faith you

shall not :
I'll give you something else.

Dio. I will have this : Whose was it ?

Ores. 'Tis no matter

Dio. Come, tell me whose it was.

Cres. 'Twas one's that lov'd me better than you

will.
But, now you have it, take it:

Dio. Whose was it ?

Cres. By all Diana's waiting-women yond',5
And by herself, I will not tell you whose.

Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm,
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it.

Tro. Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on thy

horn,
It should be challeng'd.

Cres. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past ; — and yet

it is not :
1 will not keep my word.

Dio. Why, then farewell :

Thou never shalt mock Diomed again.

Cres. You shall not go : — One cannot speak a

word,
But it straight starts you.

Dio. I do not like this fooling.

Ther. Nor I, by Pluto : but that that likes not
me pleases me best.8

* That is, the stars which she points to.

" The silver-shining queen he would disdain ;
Her twinkling hand-maids too, by him defil'd.
Through Night's black bosom should not peej» again."

* So in the folio ; in the quarto, " that that likes not you pleases
me best." To choose between the two, is not so easy as might
be , but the folio seems to give some ground of preference, in that
It indicates the snarling, spiteful humour of Thersites, which Is

498 TROFLUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT v

Dio. What ! shall I come 1 the hour *
Ores. Ay, come: — O Jove! —

Do come: — I shall he plagued.

Dio. Farewell till then.

Ores. Good night : I pr'ythee, come. —

[Exit DlOMEDE 9

Troilus, farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee,
But with my heart the other eye doth see.
Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind :
What error leads, must err : O ! then conclude,
Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude.7

[Exit CRESSEDA.

most pleased with what irks and riles him ; his peculiarity consist
ing partly in a peevish appetite that feeds on irritations, and it
never so restless as when at rest. H.

7 In the foregoing dialogue we trace very distinctly the Poet's
rending of Chaucer, who tells the story with great sweetness and
pathos in the fifth Book of his poem. Our quotation must stop
with these four stanzas :

« The morrow came, and, ghostly for to speke,
This Diomede is come unto Creseide ;
And shortly, least that ye my tale breke,
So well he for himselfe spake and seide,
That all her sighes sore doune he leide ;
And finally, the soothe for to saine,
He refte her the great of all her paine

" And after this, the story telleth us
That she him yave the faire bay stede,
The which she ones wan of Troilus,
And eke a brooch (and that was little nede)
That Troilus' was, she yave this Diomede ,
And eke, the bet from sorow him to releve,
She made him weare a pencell of her sieve.

* I find eke in stories elsewhere,
Whan through the body hurt was Diomede
Of Troilus, tho wept she many a tere,
When that she saw his wide wouudes b!ede,
And that she tooke to kepen him good hede,
And for to Inalen him of his smart :
Men saine, I n'ot, that she yave him her herte

8C. II. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 499

Ther. A proof of strength, she could not publish

more,8
Unless she said, "My mind is now turn'd whore."

Ulys. All's done, my lord.

Tro. It is.

Ulys. Why stay we, then ?

Tro. To make a recordation to my soul
Of every syllable that here was spoke.
But, if I tell how these two did co-act,
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth ]
Sith yet there is a credence in my heart,
An esperance so obstinately strong,
That doth invert the attest of eyes and ears ; *
As if those organs had deceptious functions,
Created only to calumniate.
Was Cressid here ?

Ulys. I cannot conjure, Trojan.10

Tro. She was not, sure.

Ulys. Most sure she was.

Tro. Why, my negation hath no taste of madness.

Ulys. Nor mine, my lord : Cressid was here but
now.

Tro. Let it not be believ'd for womanhood !
Think we had mothers : do not give advantage
To stubborn critics ' ' — apt, without a theme,

« But truely the storie telleth us,

There made never woman more wo

Thau she, whan that she falsed Troilus :

She said, 'Alas! for now is clene ago

My name in trouth of Jove forevermo;

For I have falsed one the gentillest

That ever was, and one the worthiest.' " H.

8 She could not publish a stronger proof.

* That is, turns the very testimony of seeing and hearing against
themselves.

10 And so the inference is, that it must have been she herself thai
»^as there, and not an illusion conjured up by Ulysses. H.

11 Critic is evidently used iu the same sense here as by lagoi

500 TROILJS AND CRESSIDA. ACT f

For depravation — to square the general sex
By Cressid's rule : rather think this not Cressid.

Ulys. What hath she done, prince, that can sod
our mothers?

Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were she;

Ther. Will he swagger himself out on's own eyes t

Tro. This she ? no, this is Diomed's Cressida
If beauty have a soul, this is not she ;
If souls guide vows, if vows be sanctimony,
If sanctimony be the gods' delight,
If there be rule in unity itself,12
This is not she. O, madness of discourse,
That cause sets up with and against itself !
Bi-fold authority ! 13 where reason can revolt
Without perdition, and loss assume all reason
Without revolt : this is, and is not, Cressid !
Within my soul there doth conduce a fight
Of this strange nature, that a thing inseparate
Divides more wider than the sky and earth ;
And yet the spacious breadth of this division
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle
As Ariachne's u broken woof, to enter.

'• I am nothing, it not critical ; " such a temper as, not to have
something to find fault with, or to pick flaws in, is to be out of its
element. H.

12 If it be true that one individual cannot be two distinct
persons.

13 The folio reads, " By foul authority." There is a madness
in that disquisition, in which a man reasons at once for and against
himself upon authority which he knows not to be valid. The words
loss and perdition, in the subsequent line, are used in their com-
mon sense ; but they mean the loss or perdition of reason.

14 The quarto copy reads Ariachna's ; the folio Ariachne's
It is evident Shakespeare intended to make Arachne a word of
four syllables. Our ancestors were not very exact either in writ-
ing or pronouncing proper names, even of classical origin. Stee-
Tens thinks it nti Improbable lha' the Poet mav have written
''Ariadne's broneE. woof," confounding the two stones iu his iin-

SO. II. TROILUS AND CHESSIDA. 501

Instance, O instance ! strong as Pluto's gates ;
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven :
Instance, O instance ! strong as heaven itself;
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolv'd, and loos'd ;
And with another knot, five-finger-tied,15
The fractions of her faith, orts of her love,
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy reliques
Of her o'er-eaten faith,18 are bound to Diomed.

Ulys. May worthy Troilus be half attach'd
With that which here his passion doth express ? ir

Tro. Ay, Greek ; and that shall be divulged well
In characters as red as Mars his heart
inflam'd with Venus : never did young man fancy
With so eternal and so fix'd a soul.
Hark, Greek : — As much as I do Cressid love,
So much by weight hate I her Diomed.
That sleeve is mine, that he'll bear on his helm ;
Were it a casque compos'd by Vulcan's skill,
My sword should bite it. Not the dreadful spout
Which shipmen do the hurricane call,
Constring'd in mass by the almighty sun,
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword
Falling on Diomed.

Ther. He'll tickle it for his concupy.1*

Tro. O, Cressid ! O, false Cressid ! false, false, false!

agination, or alluding to the clue of thread, by the assistance of
which Theseus escaped from the Cretan labyrinth.

15 A knot tied by giving her hand to Diomed.

16 The image is not of the most delicate kind. " Her o'er-eaten
faith" means her troth plighted to Troilus, which she had sur-
feited of, and, like one who has o'er-eaten himself, had thrown off.
In the latter half of the line the quarto reads "are given to Lo-
omed."

17 " Can Troilus really feel, on this occasion, half of i*b,at he
utters 1" A question .suitable to tin talm Ulysses

Jt> A cant word for concupiscence.

502 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT V

Let all untruths stand by thy stained name,
And they'll seem glorious.

Vlys. O ! contain yourself;

Your passion draws ears hither.

Enter AENEAS.

JEne. I have been seeking you this hour, my lord
Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy:
Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home.

Tro. Have with you, prince: — My courteous

lord, adieu : —

Farewell, revolted fair! — and, Diomed,
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head ! u

Ulys. I'll bring you to the gates.

Tro. Accept distracted thanks.

[Exeunt TROILUS, ^ENEAS, and Ui/rasES.

Thcr. [Coming forioard.] 'Would I could meet
that rogue Diomed ! I would croak like a raven ;
I would bode, I would bode. Patroclus will give
me any thing for the intelligence of this whore •
the parrot will not do more for an almond, than he
for a commodious drab. Lechery, lechery ; still,
wars and lechery : nothing else holds fashion. A
burning devil take them ! [Exit

SCENE III. Troy. Before PRIAM'S Palace.

Enter HECTOR and ANDROMACHE.

And. When was my lord so much ungently tem-
per'd,

19 That is, defend thy head with armour of more than common
security. So in the History of Prince Arthur, 1634 : " Do thou
iiiy uest. said Sir Gawaine ; therefore hie thee fast that thou wert
gone, and wit thou well we shall soon come after, and breake the
strongest castle that thou hast upon thy head." It appears that 9
kind of close helmet was called a castle.

SC. 111. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 503

To stop his ears against admonishment 7
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day.

Hect. You train me to offend you ; get you in :
By all the everlasting gods, I'll go.

And. My dreams will sure prove ominous to the
day.1

Hect No more, I say.

Enter CASSANDRA.

Cos Where is my brother Hector?

And. Here, sister ; arm'd, and bloody in intent :
Consort with me in loud and dear petition ;
Pursue we him on knees ; for I have dream'd
Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms of slaugh-
ter.

Cos. O ! it is true.

Hect. Ho ! bid my trumpet sound !

Cos. No notes of sally, for the heavens, sweet

brother.

Hect. Begone, I say : the gods have heard me
swear.

1 That is, my dreams of the night forebode, ill to the day. —
The incident is thus related in Caxton's History : " Andromeda
saw that night a marvellous vision, and her seemed, if Hector
vent that day to the battle, he should be slaine. And she, that
had great fear and dread of her husband, weeping said to him,
praying that he would not go to the battle that day : whereof Hec-
tor blamed his wife, saying that she should not believe nor give
faith to dreams, and would not abide nor tarry therefore." Shake-
speare was familiar, no doubt, with Chaucer's brief account in
The Nonnes Preestes Tale :

" Lo, hire Andromacha, Hectores wif,
That day that Hector shulde lese his lif,
She dremed on the same night beforne
How that the lif of Hector shuld be lorne,
If thilke day he went into bataille :
She warned him, but it might not availle
He went forth for to tighten nailieles,
And was yslain anon of Achilles "

504 TROILUS AND CRESS IDA. ACT V

Cos. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows:
They are polluted offerings, more abhorrM
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.

And. O ! be persuaded : Do not count it holy
To hurt by being just : it is as lawful,
For we would give much, to use violent thefts,*
And rob in the behalf of charity.

Cos. It is the purpose that makes strong the vow ;
But vows to every purpose must not hold.
Unarm, sweet Hector.

Hect. Hold you still, I say ;

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate : a

* That is, " to use violent thefts, because we would give much.
This use of for instead of because was common in the Poet's time.
We keep to the reading of the passage proposed by Tyrwhitl and
received ever since till the appearance of Knight's edition. In
the original the passage is very corrupt, standing thus, pointing
and all :

" O he perswaded, doe not count it holy,
To hurt by being just ; it is as lawful :
For we would count give much to as violent thefts,
And rob in the behalfe of charitie."

Of course the theory of the emendation is, that in the printing 01
transcribing count of the first line got repeated in the third, and
use turned into as ; both which misprints might easily occur. The
only oth* tolerable emendation that we have seen is Mr. Ver-
planck's : " It is as lawful, for we would give much, to so count
violent thefts ; " where count is merely transposed, and a* changed
to so ; the latter being of course a relative adverb, and referring
to holy. Other emendations have been lately proposed by Knight
Collier, and Singer, but all of them so wide of the mark, that we
can but regard them as betraying an inclination to difier from the
received lection for the sake of differing. As to the objection
made by Knight, and repeated by Verplanck, that " to use theft)
<s clearly not Shakespearian," we confess it has little weight with
us, as, in our judgment, it will not hold. If the text, after being
so long settled, must be disturbed, why not read, " to count as
virtues thefts?" Mr. Collier's second folio expunges all aftei
just ; which is an emendation with a witness ! — The speech is
entirely wanting in the quarto. H.

* To keep the weather is to keep the wind or advantage. Kstrt
am dessus du vent is the French proverbial phrase.

SC. III. TROJLUS AND CRESSIDA. 505

Life every man holds dear ; but the dear man4
Holds honour far more precious-dear than life. —

Enter TROILUS.

How now, young man ! mean'st thou to fight to
day?

And. Cassandra, call my father to persuade.

[Exit CASSANDRA

Hect. No, 'faith, young Troilus; doff thy harness,

youth ;

I am to-day i'the vein of chivalry :
Let grow thy sinews till their knots be strong,
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war.
Unarm thee, go ; and doubt thou not, brave boy,
I'll stand to-day for thee, and me, and Troy.

Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in you,
Which better fits a lion than a man.*

Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus? chide me
for it.

Tro. When many times the captive Grecians fall,
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword,
You bid them rise, and live.

Hect. O ! 'tis fair play.

Tro. Fool's play, by Heaven, Hector

Hect. How now ! how now !

Tro. For the love of all the gods,

Let's leave the hermit Pity with our mothers ;
And, when we have our armours buckled on,
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords ;
Spur them to ruthful work, rein them from ruth.

4 The dear man is the man of worth.

* The traditions and stories of the darker ages abounded with
examples of the lion's generosity. Upon the supposition that thesfl
acts of clemency were true, Troilus reasons not improperly, that
t» spare against reason, by mere instinct and pity, became rather
a generous beast than a wise man.

506 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. *CT *

Ifcct. Fie, savage, fie !

Tro. Hector, then 'tis wars.

Hf.ct. Troilus, I would not have you fight to-day

Tro. Who should withhold me 1
Not fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire ;
Not Priamus and Hecuba on knees,
Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears ;
Nor you, my brother, with your true sword drawn,
Oppos'd to hinder me, should stop my way,
But by my ruin.

Re-enter CASSANDRA, with PRIAM.

Cos. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him fast :
He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay,
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee,
Fall all together.

Pri. Come, Hector, come ; go back :

Thy wife hath dream 'd, thy mother hath had visions,
Cassandra doth foresee ; and I myself
Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt,
To tell thee that this day is ominous :
Therefore, come back.

fleet. ./Eneas is a-field ;

And I do stand engag'd to many Greeks,
Even in the faith of valour, to appear
This morning to them.

Pri. Ay, but thou shalt not go.

Hcct. I must not break my faith.
You know me dutiful ; therefore, dear sir,
Let me not shame respect, but give me leave
To take that course by your consent and voice,
Which you do here forbid me, royal Priam.

Cos. O Priam ! yield not to him.

And, Do not, dear father

so. in. TROLI.US AND CRESSJDA. 507

Hect. Andromache, I am offended with you •
Upon the love you bear me, get you in.6

[Exit ANDROMACHE,

Tro. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious girl
Makes all these bodements.

Cos. O farewell, dear Hector !

Look, how thou diest ! look, how thy eye turns pale !
Look, how thy wounds do bleed at many vents !
Hark, how Troy roars ! how Hecuba cries out !
How poor Andromache shrills her dolours forth !
Behold, distraction, frenzy, and amazement,
Like witless antics, one another meet,
And all cry — Hector! Hector's dead! O Hector !

Tro. Away ! — Away !

Cos. Farewell. — Yet, soft ! — Hector, I take my

leave :
Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. [Exit.

Hcct. You are amaz'd, my liege, at her exclaim.

8 The Destruction of Troy continues the story thus : " In the
morning Andromeda went to the king Priamus, and to the queenc,
and told them the verity of her vision, and prayed them with all
her heart, that they would do so much at her request as to dissuade
Hector, that he should not in any wise that day go to the battle.
It happened that the day was faire and clear, and the Trojans
armed them, and Troylus issued first into the battle ; after him
Eneas. And the king Priamus sent to Hector, that he should
keepe him well that day from going to battle. Wherefore Hector
was angry, and said to his wife many reproachful words, as that
he knew well that this commandment came by her request ; yet,
notwithstanding the forbidding, he armed him. At this instant
came the queene Hecuba, and the queene Helen, and the sisters
of Hector, and kneeled down presently before his feet, and prayed
him with weeping tears that he would do nil his harness, and come
with them into the hall : but never would he do it for their prayers,
but descended from the palace, and tooke his horse, and would
nave gone to battle. But at the request of Andromeda the king
Priamus came running anon, and tooke him by the bridle, and said
to him so many things of one and other, that he made him to le-
torn, but in no wise would he be made to unarm him." H.

508 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT V

Go in, and cheer the town : we'll forth, and fight ;
Do deeds worth praise, and tell you them at night.
Pri. Farewell : the gods with safety stand about
thee ! [Exeunt severally PRIAM and HEC-
TOR. Alarums.

Tro. They are at it ; hark ! Proud Diomed, be-
lieve,
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. [Going

Enter PANDARUS.

Pan. Do you hear, my lord ? do you hear 1

Tro. What now ?

Pan. Here's a letter from yond' poor girl.

Tro. Let me read.

Pan. A whoreson tisick, a whoreson rascally
tisick so troubles me, and the foolish fortune of
(his girl ; and what one thing, what another, that
I shall leave you one o'these days : and I have a
rheum in mine eyes too ; and such an ache in my
bones, that, unless a man were curs'd,7 I cannot tell
what to think on't. — What says she there ?

Tro. Words, words, mere words, no matter from
the heart ; [Tearing the Letter.

The effect doth operate another way. —
Go, wind to wind, there turn and change together. —
My love with words and errors still she feeds,
But edifies another with her deeds."

[Exeunt severally.

7 That is, under the influence of a malediction, such as mis-
chievous beings have been supposed to pronounce upon those who
offended them.

* The folio has the following additional here :
" Pan. Why, but heare you ?
" Troy. Hence, brother lackie ; ignomie and shame

Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name."
The folio repeal* the lines near the close of the play, save that

SC. IV. TRO1LUS AND CRESS ID A. 500

SCENE IV.

Between Troy and the Grecian Camp.

Alarums : Excursions. Enter THERSITES.

Tlier. Now they are clapper-clawing one another:
I'll go look on. That dissembling abominable var-
let, Diomed, has got that same scurvy doting fool-
ish young knave's sleeve, of Troy there, in his helm :
I would fain see them meet ; that that same young
Trojan ass, that loves the whore there, might send
that Greekish whoremasterly villain, with the sleeve,
back to the dissembling luxurious drab, of a sleeve-
less errand. O' th' other side, the policy of those
crafty swearing rascals, — that stale old mouse-
eaten dry cheese, Nestor, and that same dog-fox,
Ulysses, — is not prov'd worth a blackberry : —
they set me up, in policy, that mongrel cur, Ajax,
against that dog of as bad a kind, Achilles ; and
now is the cur Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles,
and will not arm to-day : whereupon the Grecians
begin to proclaim barbarism,1 and policy grows
into an ill opinion. Soft ! here comes sleeve, and
th'other.

Enter DIOMEDES, TROILDS follovnng.

Tro. Fly not ; for, shouldst thou take the river

Styx,
I would swim after.

In-other, doubtless a misprint, is there corrected to broker. There
geoms no reason why the lines should be retained in both place;,
and they are much more fitting in the latter place. Collier's second
folio has " brotl;<>l-\ackey." H.

1 To set up the authority of ignorance, and to declare that thej
will be governed by policy no longer.

510 TROIL.US AND CRESsSIDA. ACT ?

Dio. Thou dost miscall retire :

I Ho not fly, but advantageous care
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude.
Have at tliee !

Ther. Hold thy whore, Grecian ! — now for thj

whore, Trojan ! — now the sleeve, now the sleeve !

[Exeunt TROILUS and DIOMEDES, fighting

Enter HECTOR.

Hect. What art thou, Greek 1 art thou for Hec-
tor's match ?
Art thou of blood and honour ? *

Ther. No, no : — I am a rascal ; a scurvy railing
knave, a very filthy rogue.

Hcct. I do believe thee : — live. [Exit.

Ther. God-a-mercy, that thou wilt believe me
but a plague break thy neck, for frighting me !
What's become of the wenching rogues 1 I think
they have swallowed one another : I would laugh
at that miracle : Yet, in a sort, lechery eats itself.
I'll seek them. [Exit.

* This is an idea taken from the ancient books of romantic chiv-
alry, and even from the usage of the Poet's age. A person of
superior birth might not be challenged by an inferior ; or, if chal
Jenged, might refuse combat. Alluding to this circumstance, Cle-
opatra says, —

" These hands do lack nobility, that they strike

A meaner than myself."

And in Melvil's Memoirs : " The laird of Grange offered to fight
Bothwell, who answered that he was neither earl nor lord, but a
baron ; and so was not his equal. The like answer made he to
Trillibardine. Then my Lord Lindsay offered to fight him, which
he could not well refuse ; but his heart failed him, and he grew
cold on the business."

•C. V. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 511

SCENE V. The Same.

Enter DIOMEDES and a Servant.

Dio. Go, go, my servant, take them Troihis' horse ;
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid.
Fellow, commend my service to her beauty ;
Tell her, I have chastis'd the amorous Trojan,
And am her knight by proof.1

Serv. I go, my lord. [Exit Servant.

Enter AGAMEMNON.

Ago. Renew, renew! The fierce Polydamus
Hath beat down Menon ; bastard Margarelon
Hath Doreus prisoner,

And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam,*
Upon the pashed corses of the kings
Epistrophus and Cedius ; Polixenes is slain,
Amphimachus and Thoas deadly hurt,
Patroclus ta'en or slain, and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruis'd : the dreadful Sagittary*

1 Caxton'* History gives the matter thus : " And of the partie
of the Trojans came the king A demon that jousted against Men-
elaus, and smote him, and hurt him in the face : and he and Troy-
Ins tooke him, and had led him away, if Diomedes had not come
the sooner with a great companie of knights, and fought with Troy-
lus at his coming, and smote him dowiie, and tooke his horse, and
sent it to Briseyda, and did cause to say to her by his servant
that it was Troyluses horse, her love, and that he had conquered
him by his promise, and prayed her from thenceforth that she would
hold him for her love." H.

* That is, his lance. Of course the idea was borrowed from
the description of Goliath's spear, which was H like a weaver's
beam." — Pashed, in the next line, is bruised, crushed. See Act
ii. sc. 3, note 21. — " Bastard Margarelon" figures both in Lyd-
gate's Troy Book and in Caxton's History. H.

* Thus described in Caxton's History : "A mervayllous beast*
that was called Sagittayre, that behynde the myddes was an horse
•ad tofore a man. This 'jeste was heery like an horse, and ha

512 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT V

Appals our numbers ; haste we, Diomed,
To reinforcement, or we perish all.

Enter NESTOR.

Nest. Go, bear Patroclus' body to Achilles,
And bid the snail-pac'd Ajax arm for shame. —
There is a thousand Hectors in the field :
Now, here he fights on Galathe his horse,4
And there lacks work ; anon, he's there afoot,
And there they fly, or die, like scaled sculls *

his eyen red as a cole, and shotte well with a bowe : this besie
made the Grekes sore aferde, and slewe many of them with his
bowe." Likewise in Lydgate :

" A wonder archer of sight mervavlous,
Of form and shape in manner monstrous I
For like mine auctour as I rehearse can,
Fro the navel upward he was man,
And lower down like a horse yshaped ;
And thilke part that after man was maked
Of skin was black and rough as any bearc,
Covered with hair fro cold him for to weare.
Passing foul and horrible of sight,
Whose eyes twain were sparkling as bright
As is a furnace with his red leven,
Or the lightning that falleth fro the heven ,
Dredeful of looke, and red as fire of cheer,
And, as I rede, he was a good archer ;
And with his bow both at even and morow
Upon the Grekes he wrought much sorow." H.

4 So in Caxton's History : " Then, when Hector was richlj
arraied, and armed with good harnesse and sure, he mounted upon
fc.is horse named Galathe, that was one of the most great and
strongest horses of the world." H.

6 That is, shoals. " A scull of fishes " was also in more an-
cient times written "a scoole," which is nearer to its Saxon origi-
nal and its modern derivative shoal. The word was not confined
to a multitude of fishes ; for Drant, in the Epistle to the Reader,
prefixed to his translation of Horace, has " so greate a scull of
amarouse pamphlets." And in the Boke of St. Albaus we find
" a skull of monks." Lyly, in bis Midas, has made a humoroui
misapplication of it: " He hath, by this, started a covey of bucks

8C. V. TROILUS AND CRESSIltA. 513

Before the belching whale ; then is he yonder,
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge,
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath :
Here, there, and every where, he leaves and takes,
Dexterity so obeying appetite,
That what he will, he does ; and does so much,
That proof is called impossibility.

Enter ULYSSES.

Ulys. O, courage, courage, princes ! great Achilles
Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing vengeance :
Patroclus' wounds have rous'd his drowsy blood,
Together with his mangled myrmidons,
That noseless, handless, hack'd and chipp'd, come

to him,

Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend,
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it,
Roaring for Troilus ; who hath done to-day
Mad and fantastic execution,
Engaging and redeeming of himself,
With such a careless force and forceless care,
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning,
him win all.

Enter AJAX.

Ajax. Troilus ! thou coward Troilus ! [Exit
Dio. Ay, there, thera

or roused a scull of pheasants." Drayton uses it in his Polyol
bit,n, Song xxvi. :

" My silver-scaled sculs about my streams do sweep."
Ana Milton, in Paradise Lost :

" Of fish, that with their fins and shining scales
Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft
Bank the mid sea."

514 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT ^

West. So, so, we draw together.6

Enter ACHILLES,

ArML Where is this Hector "i

Come, come, thou boy-queiler,7 show thy face !
Know what it is to meet Achilles angry.
Hector ! where's Hector ? I will none but Hector

[Exeunt

SCENE VI. Another part of the Field.

Enter AJAX.

Ajax. Troilus ! thou coward Troilus, show thj
head!

Enter DIOMEDES.

Dio. Troilus, I say ! where's Troilus ?

Ajax. What would'st thou ?

Dio. I would correct him.

Ajax.. Were I the general, thou should'st hare

my office,
Ere that correction. — Troilus, I say ! what, Troilus

Enter TROILUS.

Tro. O, traitor Diomed ! — turn thy false face, thou

traitor,

And pay thy life thou ow'st me for my horse !
Dio. Ha ! art thou there 1

Ajax. I'll fight with him alone : stand, Diomed.
Dio. He is my prize, I will not look upon.1

* This remark seems to he made in consequence of the return
of Ajax to the field ; he having lately refused to cooperate or dratl
together with the Greeks.

7 That is, murderer of hoys.

1 That is. as we should now say, 1 will not be a looker on.

SC. VI. TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 515

Tro. Coma both, you cogging Greeks;* have at
you both. [Exeunt, Jigkting

Enter HECTOR.

He.it. Yea, Troilus ? O, well fought, my young-
est brother !

Enter ACHILLES.

Achil. Now do I see thee : Ha ! — Have at thee.,
Hector.

Hect. Pause, if thou wilt.

Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, proua Trojan.
Be happy, that my arms are out of use :
My rest and negligence befriend thee now,
But thou anon shalt hear of me again ;
Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exit.

Hect. Fare thee well :

I would have been much more a fresher man,
Had I expected thee. — How now, my brother!

Re-enter TROILUS.

Tro. Ajax hath ta'en ^Eneas : shall it be ?
No, by the flame of yonder glorious heaven,
He shall not carry him :3 I'll be taken too,
Or bring him off. — Fate, hear me what I say !
I reck not though I end my life to-day. [Eiit.

Enter One in sumptuous Armour.

Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek ! thou art a

goodly mark. —

No ? wilt thou not ? — I like thy armour well ;
I'll frush it,4 and unlock the rivets all,

* Cogging is false, cheating.

' Thai is, prevail over him.

4 To jrusii is to break or bruise. So in the Destruction of

51« TR01LUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT V

But I'll be master of it : — Wilt tliou not, beast

abide 1
Why, then, fly on, I'll hunt thee for thy hide.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII. The same.

Enter ACHILLES, with Myrmidons.

Achil. Come here about me, you my Myrmidons;
Mark what I say: — Attend me where I wheel ;
Strike not a stroke, but keep yourselves in breath 5
And when I have the bloody Hector found,
Empale him with your weapons round about ;
In fellest manner execute your aims.1
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye!
It is decreed — Hector the great must die.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII. The same.

Enter MENELAUS and PARIS, fighting ; then THER-
SITES.

Ther. The cuckold and the cuckold-maker are
at it : Now, bull ! now, dog ! 'Loo, Paris, 'loo !
now my double-henn'd sparrow ! 'loo, Paris, 'loo !
The bull has the game : — 'ware horns, ho !

[Exeunt PARIS and MENEL.AUS.

Enter MARGARELON.
Mar. Turn, slave, and fight.

Troy : " Saying these words, Hercules caught by the head poor
Lychas, and threw him against a rocke so fiercely that he to-frushed
and all to-burst his hones, and so slew him."

1 The folio and most copies of the quarto have arm instead of
aim. Mr. (.'oilier, however, found aims printed in a copy of tha
quarto belonging to the duke of Devonshire. Aims is unques
tionably right. See Act ii. sc. 3, note 2. H.

SC. IX, TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 517

T/ter. Who art thou ?

Mar. A bastard son of Priam's.

TlnT. I am a bastard too ; I love bastards : * 1
am a bastard begot, bastard instructed, bastard in
mind, bastard in valour, in every thing illegitimate
One bear will not bite another, and wherefore
should one bastard ? Take heed, the quarrel's most
ominous to us : if the son of a whore fight for a
whore, he tempts judgment. Farewell, bastard.

Mar. The devil take thee, coward ! [Exeunt

SCENE IX. Another Part of the Field.

Enter HECTOR.

Hect. Most putrified core, so fair without,
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life.1
Now is my day's work done ; I'll take good breath .
Rest, sword ; thou hast thy fill of blood and death !
[Puts off" his Helmet, and lays his Sword aside.

* Bastard, in ancient times, was not a disreputable appellation.
See 1 Henry VI., Act i. sc. 2, note 5.

1 Of course this " most putrified core " is the " one in sump-
tuous armour," at the close of scene 5. The incident was taken
from Caxton's History : " When Achilles saw that Hector slew
thus the nobles of Greece, and so many other that it was marvel
to behold , he thought that if Hector were not slain the Greek*
wou.d never have victory. And forasmuch as he had slain many
kings and princes, he ran upon him marvellously ; but Hector cast
to him a ilart fiercely, and made him a wound in his thigh ; ana
then Achilles issued out of the battle, and did bind up his wound
and took a great spear in purpose to slay Hector, if he might meet
him. Among all these things Hector had taken a very noble
baron of Greece, that was quaintly and richly armed, and, for to
lead him out of the nost at li.s ease, had cast his shield behind him
at his back, and had left his breast discovered ; and as he was in
this point, and took none heed of Achilles, he c ime privily unto
oim. and thrust his spear within his body, and Hector fell down
dead to the ground." H

6J8 TROILUS AND CRESSID>, ACT V

Enter ACHILLES and Myrmidons.

AchiL Look, Hector, how the sun begins to set ,
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels :
Even with the vail 2 and darkening of the sun
To close the day up, Hector's life is done.

Hect. I am unarm 'd : forego this vantage, Greek,

AchiL Strike, fellows, strike ! this is the man I
seek. [HECTOR falls.

So, 1 lion, fall thou next ! now, Troy, sink down :
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. —
On, Myrmidons ; and cry you all amain,
"Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain."

[.4 Retreat sounded,
Hark ! a retreat upon our Grecian part.

Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, my lord.

AchiL The dragon wing of night o'erspreads the

earth,

And, stickler-like,3 the armies separates.
My half-supp'd sword, that frankly would have fed,
Pleas'd with this dainty bit thus goes to bed. —

[Sheaths his Sword.

Come, tie his body to my horse's tail ;
Along the field I will the Trojan trail.4 [Exeunt.

* "The vail of the «un" is the sinking1, setting, or vailing of
the sun. See 2 Henry I\ ., Act i. sc. 1, note 9.

3 Sticklers were persons who attended upon combatants in trials
of skill, to part them when they had fought enough, and, doubt-
less, to see fair play. They were probably so called from the stick
or wand which they carried in their hands. The name is stil!
given to the arbitrators at wrestling matches in the west of Eng
land.

4 Note 1 of this scene shows that in the History Hector was not
slain in the manner here represented. The Poet applies to Hector
a part of what the History relates of Troilus, as appears by the
following : " Afore that Achilles entered into the battle, he assem-
bled his Myrmidons, and prayed them that they would intend to

. X. TROILDS AND CRESSTOA. 61W

SCENE X. The Same.

Enter AGAMEMNON, AJAX, MENELAUS, NESTOR,
DIOMEDES, and Others, marching. Shouts urithin.

Ago. Hark ! hark ! what shout is that ?

Nest. Peace, drums !

[Within.] Achilles !

Achilles ! Hector's slain ! Achilles !

Dio. The bruit is, Hector's slain, and by Achilles

Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be :
Great Hector was as good a man as he.

Ago. March patiently along : — Let one be sent
To pray Achilles see us at our tent. —
If in his death the gods have us befriended,
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are ended.

[Exeunt, marching.

none other thing1 but to inclose Troylus, and to hold him without
flying till he came. And they promised him that they so would.
And he thronged into the battle. And on the other side came
Troylus, that began to flee and beat down all them that he caught,
and did so much that about mid-day he put the Greeks to flight.
Then the Myrmidons, that were about two thousand fighting men,
thrust in among the Trojans, and recovered the field. And as
they held them together, and sought no man but Troylus, they
found him, that he fought strongly and was inclosed on all parts ;
but he slew and wounded many. And as he was all alone among
them, and had no man to help him, they slew his horse, and hurt
nim in many places, and plucked off his head helm, and his coif
of irou ; and he defended him in the best manner he could. Then
came on Achilles, when he saw Troylus all naked, and ran upon
him in a rage, and smote off his head, and took the body and
bound it to the tail of his horse, and so drew it after him through-
oat the host." •

620 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT f

SCENE XL Another Part of the Field.

Enter ./ENEAS and Trojan Forces.

jEne. Stand, ho ! yet are we masters of the field
Never go home ; here starve we out the night.

Enter TROILUS.

Tro. Hector is slain.

All Hector ! — The gods forbid !

Tro. He's dead ; and at the murderer's horse's tail,
In beastly sort dragg'd through the shameful field. —
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage with speed !
Sit, gods, upon your thrones, and smile l at Troy !
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy,
And linger not our* sure destructions on !

jEne. My lord, you do discomfort all the host

Tro. You understand me not, that tell me so :
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ;
But dare all imminence that gods and men
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone !
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba ?
Let him, that will a screech-owl aye be call'd,
Go in to Troy, and say there — Hector's dead :
There is a word will Priam turn to stone ;
Make wells and Niobes of the maids and wives
Cold statues of the youth ; and, in a word,
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away !
Hector is dead ; there is no more to say.
Stay yet : — You vile abominable tents,
Thus proudly pight 2 upon our Phrygian plains,

1 Of course, a smile of derision is meant. Some editor* read
tmitt. B

' Pitched, fixed

SC. XI. TROILUS AND CRESSLDA. 621

Let Titan rise as early as he dare,

I'll through and through you ! — And thou, great

siz'd coward,

No space of earth shall sunder our two hates :
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still,
That mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.—
Strike a free march to Troy ! — with comfort go :
Hope of revenge shall hide our inward woe.

[Exeunt J^NEAS and Trojans.

As TROILUS 1*5 going out, enter, from the other side,
PANDAKUS.

Pan. But hear you, hear you !

Tro. Hence, broker,8 lackey ! ignomy * and shame
Pursue thy life, and live aye with thy name !

[Exit TROILUS.

Pan. A goodly medicine for mine aching bones !
— O world ! world ! world ! thus is the poor agent
despis'd ! O, traitors and bawds, how earnestly are
you set a-work, and how ill requited ! Why should
our endeavour be so lov'd, and the performance so
loath'd 1 what verse for it 7 what instance for it ? -
Let me see : —

Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing,
Till he hath lost his honey and his sting ;
And being once subdued in armed tail,
Sweet honey and sweet notes together fail. —

Good traders in the flesh, set this in your painted
cloths.*

* Broker anciently signified a bawd of either sex. So in King
John s " This bawd, this broker, this all changing word."

4 Ignomy was not unfrequently used for ignominy. See 1 Hen-
ry IV., Act. v. sc. 4, note 7.

5 Canvass hangings for rooms, painted with emblems and mot-
toes. See As You Like It, Act. iii. sc. 2, note 28.

,122 TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. ACT V

As many as be here of Pander's HalJ,
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar's fall ;
Or, if you cannot weep, yet give some groans,
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones.
Brethren and sisters of the hold-door trade,
Some two months hence my will shall here be made :
It should be now, but that my fear is this, —
Some galled goose of Winchester8 would hiss:
Till then I'll sweat,7 and seek about for eases,
And at that time bequeath you my diseases. [Exit

See 1 Henry VI., Act i. se. 3, note H.
T See Measure for Measure, Act i. ic. J, note ft.