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V  4,' 


THE    WORKS 


SHAKESPEARE 


THE    TEXT 

REGULATED  BY  THE  RECENTLY  DISCOVERED  FOLIO   OF   1632,  CON- 
TAIXING  EARLY  MANUSCRIPT  EME3!DATI0NS 


HISTORY  OF  THK  STAGE,  A  LIFE  OF  THE  POET,  AND 
AN  INTRODUCTION  TO  EACH  TLAY 


BY  J.  PAYNE  COLLIER,  ESQ.  F.S.A. 


TO   ■WHICH   AKK   ADDKD 

GLOSSARIAL    AND    OTHER    NOTES    AND    THE 
READINGS    OF   FORMER   EDITIONS. 


IN    EIGHT    VOLUMES. 

VOL.    VII. 


REDFIELD: 

110  AND  112  NASSAU  ST.,  NEW  YOEK. 
1853. 


V.l 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  One  Thousand 
Eight  Hundred  and  Fifty-three,  hy  J.  S.  REDFIELD,  in  the 
Clerk's  OfKce  of  thg^^ft^lriCt^^JWMag^.th e  United  States  for  the 
Southern  D istaSl^FSfS^Y VJSM 7 jT*" 


\- 


A.   CUNNINGHAM, 

STKREOrVPEK, 

No.  183  William-street,  New-York. 


CONTENTS    0¥    VOL.    VII. 


JULIUS  C^SAR 5 

MACBETH 11 

HAMLET 145 

KING  LEAR 259 

OTHELLO 359 


JULIUS    C^SAR. 


1* 


''  The  Tragedie  of  Julius  Cffisar"  was  first  printed  in  the 
folio  of  1G23,  where  it  occupies  twenty-two  pages;  viz.  from 
p.  109  to  p.  130  inclusive,  in  the  division  of  "  Tragedies." 
The  Acts,  but  not  the  Scenes,  are  distinguished ;  and  it 
appeared  in  the  same  manner  in  the  three  later  folios. 


INTRODUCTION. 


No  early  quarto  editioQ  of  "  Julius  Csesar"  is  known,  and 
there  irt  reason  to  believe  that  it  never  appeared  in  that  form. 
The  manuscript  originally  used  for  the  folio  of  1623  must 
have  been  extremely  perfect,  and  free  from  corruptions,  for 
there  is,  perhaps,  no  drama  in  the  volume  more  accurately 
printed. 

Malone  and  others  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that 
"Julius  CaBsar  "  could  not  have  been  written  before  1607. 
We  think  there  is  good  ground  for  believing  that  it  was  acted 
before  1603. 

We  foiind  this  opinion  upon  some  circumstances  connected 
with  the  publication  of  Drayton's  "  Barons'  Wars,"  and  the 
resemblance  between  a  stanza  there  found,  and  a  passage  in 
"  Julius  Csesar,"  both  of  which  it  will  be  necessary  to  quote. 
In  Act  V.  sc.  5,  Antony  gives  the  following  character  of 
Brutus : — 

"  His  life  was  gentle  ;  and  the  elements 
So  niix'd  in  him,  that  Na'ure  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world.  This  was  a  man." 

In  Drayton's  "  Barons'  Wars,"  book  iii.  edit.  8vo.,  1603,  we 
meet  with  the  subsequent  stanza.  The  author  is  speaking  of 
Mortimer : — 

"  Such  one  he  was,  of  him  we  boldly  say. 
In  whose  rich  soul  all  sovereign  powers  did  suit. 
In  whom  in  peace  th^  ehments  all  lay 
So  mix'd,  as  none  could  sovereignty  impute; 
As  all  did  govern,  yet  all  did  obey  : 
His  lively  temper  was  so  absolute. 

That  "t  seem'd,  when  heaven  his  model  first  began, 

In  him  it  shew'd  perfection  in  a  man" 

Italic  type  is  hardly  necessary  to  establish  that  onjB  poet 
must  have  availed  himself,  not  only  of  the  thouglit,  but  of  the 
very  words  of  the  other.  The  question  is,  was  Shakespeare 
indebted  to  Drayton,  or  Drayton  to  Shakespeare  ?  We  shall 
not  enter  into  general  probabilities,  founded  upon  the  original 
and  exhaustless  stores  of  the  mind  of  our  great  dramatist,  but 
advert  to  a  fevv  dates,  which,  we  think,  warrant  the  conclu- 
sion that  Drayton,  having  heard  "Julius  Cassar "  at  the 
theatre,  or  seen  it  in  manuscript  before  1603,  applied  to  his 
own  purpose,  perhaps  unconsciously,  what,  in  fact,  belonged 
to  another  poet. 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

Drayton's  "  Barons'  Wars  "  first  appeared  in  1596,  qnarto, 
under  the  title  of  "  Mortimeriados.''  Malone  had  a  copy 
■without  date,  and  he  and  Steevens  imagined  that  the  poem 
liad  originally  been  printed  in  1598.  In  the  quarto  of  1596, 
and  in  the  undated  edition,  it  is  not  divided  into  boolts,  and 
is  in  seven-line  stanzas  :  and  what  is  there  said  of  Mortimer 
bears  no  likeness  whatever  to  Shakespeare's  expressions  in. 
"  Julius  Caesar."  Drayton  afterwards  changed  the  title  from 
"Mortimeriados"  to  "The  Barons'  Wars,"  and  re-modelled 
the  whole  historical  poem,  altering  the  stanza  from  the 
English  ballad  form  to  the  Italian  otiava  rima.  This  course 
lie  took  before  1603,  when  it  came  out  in  octavo,  with  the 
stanza  first  quoted,  which  contains  so  marked  a  similarity  to 
the  lines  from  "  Julius  Ceesar."  We  apprehend  that  he  did 
so  because  he  had  heard  or  seen  Shakespeare's  tragedy  before 
1603  ;  and  we  think  that  strong  presumptive  proof  that  he 
was  the  borrower,  and  not  Sliakespeare,  is  derived  from  the 
fact,  that,  in  the  subsequent  impressions  of  "  The  Barons' 
Wars,"  in  1605,  1608,  1610,  and  1613,  the  stanza  remained 
precisely  as  in  the  edition  of  1603;  but  that  in  1619,  after 
Shakespeare's  death  and  before  "  Julius  Caesar"  tvas  printed, 
Drayton  made  even  a  nearer  approach  to  the  words  of  his 
original,  thus : — 

"  He  was  a  man,  then  boldly  dare  to  say, 

In  whose  rich  soul  the  virtues  well  did  suit; 

In  whom  so  inix''d  the  elements  did  lay. 

That  none  to  one  could  sovereignty  impute  j 

As  all  did  govern,  so  did  all  obey  : 
He  of  a  temper  was  so  absolute. 

As  that  it  seem'd,  when  Nature  him  began, 

She  meant  to  show  all  that  might  be  in  man." 

We  have  been  thus  particular,  because  the  point  is  obvi- 
ously of  importance,  as  regards  the  date  when  "  Julius  Caesar  " 
Was  brought  upon  the  stage.  Malone  seems  to  have  thought 
that  "  The  Barons'  Wars  "  continued  under  its  original  name 
and  in  its  first  shape  until  the  edition  of  1608,  and  concluded 
that  the  resemblance  to  Shakespeare  was  first  to  be  traced  in 
that  impression.  He  had  not  consulted  the  copies  of  1603,  or 
1605  (which  were  not  in  his  possession),  for  if  he  had  looked 
at  them  he  must  have  seen  that  Drayton  had  copied  "  Julius 
Cffisar  "  as  early  as  1603,  and,  consequently,  unless  Shake- 
speare imitated  Drayton,  that  that  tragedy  must  then  have 
been  in  existence.  That  Drayton  had  not  remodelled  his 
"  Mortimeriados  "  as  late  as  1602,  we  gather  from  the  circum- 
stance, that  he  reprinted  his  poems  in  that  year  without  "  The 
Barons'  Wars  "  in  any  form  or  under  any  title. 

Another  slight  circumstance  might  be  adduced  to  show  that 
"Julius  Caesar"  was  even  an  older  tragedy  than  "  Hamlet." 
In  the  latter  (Act  iii.  sc.  2)  it  is  said  that  Julius  Caesar  was 
"  killed  in  the  Capitol :"  in  Shakespeare's  drama  such  is  the 
representation,  although  contrary  to  the  truth  of  history. 
This  seems  to  have  been  the  popular  notion,  and  we  find  it 
confirmed  in  Sir  Edward  Dyer's  "  Prayse  of  Nothing,"  1585, 
quarto,  a  tract  unknown  to  every  bibliographer,  where  these 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

words  occur :  "  Thy  stately  Capitol  (proud  Eome)  had  not 
beheld  the  bloody  fall  of  pacified  CsBsar,  if  uothin.sr  had  accom- 
panied him."  Kobert  Greene,  a  graduate  of  both  Universities, 
makes  the  same  statement,  and  Shakespeare  may  have  fol- 
lowed some  older  play,  where  the  assassination  scene  was  laid 
in  the  Capitol :  Chaucer  had  so  spoken  of  it  in  his  "  Monk's 
Tale."  It  is  not,  however,  likely  that  Dr.  Eedes,  who  wrote 
a  Latin  academical  play  on  the  story,  acted  at  Oxford  in  1582, 
should  have  committed  the  error. 

Shakespeare  appears  to  have  derived  nearly  all  his  materials 
from  Plutarch,  as  translated  by  Sir  Thomas  North,  and  iirst 
published  in  1579^  At  the  same  time,  it  is  not  unlikely  that 
there  was  a  preceding  play,  and  our  reason  for  thinking  so 
is  assigned  in  a  note  in  Act  iii.  sc  i.  It  is  a  new  fact,  ascer- 
tained from  an  entry  in  Henslowe's  Diary  dated  22nd  May, 
1602,  that  Anthony  Munday,  Michael  Drayton,  John  Webster, 
Thomas  Middleton,  and  o'tlier  poets,  were  engaged  upon  a 
tragedy  entitled  "  Caesar's  Fall."  The  probability  is,  that 
these  dramatists  united  their  exertions,  in  order  without 
delay  to  bring  out  a  tragedy  on  the  same  subject  as  that  of 
Shaiespeare,"which,  perhaps,  was  then  performing  at  the 
Globe  Theatre  with  success.  Malone  states,  that  there  is  no 
proof  that  any  contemporary  writer  "  luid  presumed  to  new- 
model  a  story  that  had  already  employed  the  pen  of  Shake- 
speare." He  forgot  that  Ben  Jonson  was  engaged  upon  a 
"  Kichard  Crookback"  in  1602  ;  and  he  omitted,  when  exam- 
ining Henslowe's  Diary,  to  observe,  that  in  the  same  year 
four"  distinguished  dramatists,  ana  "  other  poets,"  were 
employed  upon  "  Cajsar's  Fall." 

From  Vertue's  manuscripts  we  learn  that  a  play,  called 
"  Caesar's  Tracredy,"  was  acted  at  Court  in  1613,  which  might 
be  the  production  of  Lord  Stirling,  Shakespeare's  drama,  that 
written  by  Munday,  Drayton,  Webster,  Middleton,  and  others, 
or  a  play  printed  in  1607,  under  the  title  of  "  The  Tragedy  of 
Cfesar  and  Pompey,  or  Csesar's  Revenge."  Mr.  Peter  Cun- 
ningham, in  his  "Revels'  Accounts,"  (Introd.  p.  xxv.)  has 
shown  that  a  dramatic  piece,  with  the  title  of  "  The  Tragedy 
of  Csesar,"  was  exhibited  at  Court  on  Jan.  81,  1636-7. 

1  Lord  Stirling  published  a  tragedy  under  the  title  of  "Julius 
Caesar,"  in  1G04  :  the  resemblances  are  by  no  means  numerous  or 
obvious,  and  probably  not  more  than  may  be  accounted  for  by  the 
fact,  that  two  writers  were  treating  the  same  subject.  The  popularity 
of  Shakespeare's  tragedy  about  16U3  may  have  led  to  the  printing  of 
that  by  Lord  Sterling  in  16U4,  and  on  this  account  the  date  is  of  con- 
sequence. Malone  appears  to  have  known  of  no  edition  of  Lord 
Stirling's  '-Julius  Ca;sar"  until  1607. 


Conspirators  against  Julius 
Cajsar. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE. 
Julius  C^sar. 

OCTAVIUS    C^SAR,  )  rr   ■  ■  i-i      iv,     -n      ii, 

-.;,  .  '  (  Triumvirs,  after  tne  Death 

Marcus  Axtoxius,  >       r  t  t      n 

■»,     TT.  T  '  I      01  Julius  Caesar. 

M.  tEmil.  Lepidus,  ) 

Cicero,  Publius,  Popilius  Lena;  Senators. 

Marcus  Brutus, 

Cassius, 

Casca, 

Trebonius, 

LiGARIUS, 

Decius  Brutus, 
Metellus  Cimber, 

CiNNA, 

Flavius  and  Marullus,  Tribunes. 

Artemidorus.  a  Sophist  of  Cnidos. 

A  Soothsayer. 

CiNNA,  a  Poet.     Another  Poet. 

LuciLius,     TiTiNius.     Messala.     young     Cato, 

VoLUMNius ;  Friends  to  Brutus  and  Cassius. 
Varro,  Clitus,  Claudius.  Strato,  Lucius,  Dak- 

DANius ;  Servants  to  Brutus. 
PiNDARUs,  Servant  to  Cassius. 

Calphurnia,  Wife  to  Caesar, 
Portia,  Wife  to  Brutus. 

Senators,  Citizens,  Guards,  Attendants,  &c. 

SCENE,  during  a  gi-eat  part  of  the  Play,  at  Rome ; 
afterwards  at  Sardis ;  and  near  Philippi. 


JULIUS    C^SAK. 


ACT  I. 

SCExNE  I.— Rome.     A  Street. 

Enter  Flavius,  Marullus,  and  a  body  of  Citizens. 

Flav.  Hence !    home,   you   idle   creatures,    get   you 
home. 
Is  this  a  holiday  ?     What  !  know  you  not, 
Being  mechanical,  you  ought  not  walk 
Upon  a  labouring  day  without  the  sign 
Of  your  profession  ? — Speak,  what  trade  art  thou  ? 

1  Cit.  Why.  sir,  a  carpenter. 

Mar.  Where  is  thy  leather  apron,  and  thy  rule  ? 
What  dost  thou  with  thy  best  apparel  on  ? — 
You,  sir ;  what  trade  are  you  ? 

2  Cit.  Truly,  sir,  in  respect  of  a  fine  workman,  I  am 
but,  as  you  would  say,  a  cobbler. 

Mar.  But  what  trade  art  thou  ?    Answer  me  directly. 

2  Cit.  A  trade,  sir,  that,  I  hope,  I  may  use  with  a 
safe  conscience ;  which  is,  indeed,  sir,  a  mender  of  bad 
soles. 

Flav.  What  trade,  thou  knave?  thou  naughty  knave, 
what  trade  ? 

2  Cit.  Nay,  I  beseech'  you,  sir,  be  not  out  with  me  : 
yet,  if  you  be  out,  sir.  I  can  mend  you. 

Mar.  What  mean'st  thou  by  that?  Mend  me,  thou 
saucy  fellow  ? 

2  Cit.  Why,  sir,  cobble  you. 

Flav.  Thou  art  a  cobbler,  art  thou? 

2  Cit.  Truly,  sir,  all  that  I  live  by  is,  with  the  awl ; 
I  meddle  with  no  tradesman's  matters,  nor  women's 
matters,  but  with  all.  I  am,  indeed,  sir,  a  surgeon  to 
old  shoes ;  when  they  are  in  great  danger,  I  re-cover 
them.  As  proper  men  as  ever  trod  upon  neats-leather 
have  gone  upon  my  handy  work. 


12  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT.  I. 

Flav.  But  wherefore  art  not  in  thy  shop  to-day  ? 
Why  dost  thou  lead  these  men  about  the  streets  ? 

2  Cit.  Trrily.  sir,  to  wear  out  their  shoes,  to  get  my- 
self into  more  work.  But,  indeed,  sir,  we  make  holi- 
day, to  see  Csesar.  and  to  rejoice  in  his  triumph. 

3Iar.  Wherefore  rejoice  ?     What  conquest  brings  he 
home  ? 
What  tributaries  follow  him  to  Rome, 
To  grace  in  captive  bonds  his  chariot  wheels  ? 
You  blocks,  you  stones,  you  worse  than  senseless  things  ! 
O  !  you  hard  hearts,  you  cruel  men  of  Rome, 
Knew  you  not  Pompey  ?     Many  a  time  and  oft 
Have  you  climb"d  up  to  walls  and  battlements, 
To  towers  and  windows,  yea,  to  chimney-tops, 
Your  infants  in  your  arms,  and  there  have  sat 
The  live-long  day,  with  patient  expectation, 
To  see  gi-eat  Pompey  pass  the  streets  of  Rome : 
And  when  you  saw  his  chariot  but  appear, 
Have  you  not  made  an  universal  shout. 
That  Tyber  trembled  underneath  her  banks, 
To  hear  the  replication  of  your  soimds 
Made  in  her  concave  shores  ? 
And  do  you  now  put  on  your  best  attire  ? 
And  do  you  now  cull  out  a  holiday  ? 
And  do  you  now  strew  flowers  in  his  way. 
That  comes  in  triumph  over  Pompey's  blood  ? 
Be  gone  ! 

Run  to  your  houses,  fall  upon  your  knees. 
Pray  to  the  gods  to  intermit  the  plague 
That  needs  must  light  on  this  ingratitude. 

Flav.  Go.  go,  good  countrymen  ;  and  for  this  fault 
Assemble  all  the  poor  men  of  your  sort : 
Draw  them  to  Tyber  banks,  and  weep  your  tears 
Into  the  channel,  till  the  lowest  stream 
Do  kis.s  the  most  exalted  shores  of  all.   [Exeunt  Citizens. 
See,  whe'r  their  basest  metal  be  not  mov'd; 
They  vanish  tongue-tied  in  their  guiltiness. 
Go  you  down  that  way  towards  the  Capitol . 
This  way  will  I.     Disrobe  the  images, 
If  you  do  find  them  deck"d  with  ceremonies. 

31ar.  May  we  do  so? 
You  know,  it  is  the  feast  of  Lupercal. 

Flav.  It  is  no  matter;  let  no  images 
Be  hung  with  Csesar's  trophies.    I  "11  about, 


8C.  Iirs-  JULIUS    C^SAR.  13 

And  drive  away  the  vulgar  from  the  streets : 

So  do  you  too,  where  you  perceive  them  thick. 

These  growing  feathers  pluck'd  from  Caesars  wing, 

Will  make  him  fly  an  ordinary  pitch. 

Who  else  would  soar  above  the  view  of  men, 

And  keep  us  all  in  servile  fearfulness.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.— The  Same.     A  Public  Place. 
Enter,  in  Procession,  tnth  Trumpets  and  other  Music^ 

C^sar:  Antony. /or  the  course;  Calphurnia,  Por- 
tia, Uecius,  Cicero.  Brutus,  Cassius,  and  Casca  ; 

a  Soothsayer,  and  a  crowd  following  them. 

Cms.  Calphurnia, — 

Casca.         Peace,  ho  !   Caesar  speaks.    [Music  ceases. 

Cces.  Calphurnia,— 

Cat.  Here,  my  lord. 

CcES.  Stand  you  directly  in  Antonius'  way, 
When  he  doth  run  his  course. — Antonius. 

Ant.  Caesar,  my  lord. 

Cos.  Forget  not,  in  your  speed,  Antonius. 
To  touch  Calphurnia;  for  our  elders  say, 
The  barren,  touched  in  this  holy  chase, 
Shake  off  their  steril  curse. 

Ant.  I  shall  remember  r 

When  Caesar  says,  "  Do  this,"  it  is  performed. 

Cms.  Set  on :  and  leave  no  ceremony  out.      [Blusic. 

Sooth.  Caesar! 

Cms.  Ha  !  who  calls  ? 

Casca.  Bid  every  noise  be  still. — Peace  yet  again  ! 

[Music  ceases. 

Cms.  Who  is  it  in  the  press  that  calls  on  me  ? 
I  hear  a  tongue,  shriller  than  all  the  music, 
Cry,  Caesar  !     Speak  :   Caesar  is  turn'd  to  hear. 

Sooth.  Beware  the  ides  of  March. 

C<es.  What  man  is  that? 

Bru.  A  soothsayer  bids  you  beware  the  ides  of  March. 

Cms.  Set  him  before  me ;  let  me  see  his  face. 

Cas.    Fellow,   come    from    the    throng:    look  upon 
Caesar. 

Cas.  What    say'st  thou  to  me  now?     Speak  once 
again. 

Sooth.  Beware  the  ides  of  March. 

CcEs.  He  is  a  dreamer;  let  us  leave  him. — Pass. 

[Sennet.     Exeunt  all  but  Bru.  and  Cas.  • 

Vol.  VII.— 2 


14  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  I. 

Cas.  Will  you  go  to  see  the  order  of  the  course  ? 

Bru.  Not  I. 

Cas.  I  pray  you,  do. 

Bru.  I  am  not  gamesome :  I  do  lack  some  part 
Of  that  quick  spirit  that  is  in  Antony. 
Let  me  not  hinder,  Cassius,  your  desires ; 
I  '11  leave  you. 

Cas.  Brutus,  I  do  observe  you  now  of  late  ; 
I  have  not  from  your  eyes  that  gentleness, 
And  show  of  love,  as  I  was  wont  to  have  : 
You  bear  too  stubborn  and  too  strange  a  hand 
Over  your  friend  that  loves  you. 

Bru.  Cassius. 

Be  not  deceiv'd  :  if  I  have  veil'd  my  look, 
I  turn  the  trouble  of  my  countenance 
Merely  upon  myself.     Vexed  I  am 
Of  late  with  passions  of  some  difference, 
Conceptions  only  proper  to  myself, 
Which  give  some  soil,  perhaps,  to  my  behaviours  ; 
But  let  not  therefore  my  good  friends  be  griev'd, 
(Among  which  number,  Cassius,  be  you  one) 
Nor  construe  any  farther  my  neglect, 
Than  that  poor  Brutus,  with  himself  at  war, 
Forgets  the  shows  of  love  to  other  men. 

Cas.  Then  Brutus,  I  have  much  mistook  your  passion, 
By  means  whereof,  this  breast  of  mine  hath  buried 
Thoughts  of  great  value,  worthy  cogitations. 
Tell  me.  good  Brutus,  can  you  see  your  face  ? 

Bru.  No,  Cassius  ;  for  the  eye  sees  not  itself^ 
But  by  reflection,  by  some  other  things. 

Cas.  'T  is  ju.st : 
And  it  is  very  much  lamented,  Brutus, 
That  you  have  no  svxch  mirrors,  as  will  turn 
Your  liidden  worthiness  into  your  eye. 
That  you  might  see  your  shadow.     I  have  heard, 
Where  many  of  the  best  respect  in  Rome. 
(Except  immortal  Csesar)  speaking  of  Brutus, 
And  groaning  underneath  this  age's  yoke. 
Have  wish'd  that  noble  Brutus  had  his  eyes. 

Bru.  Into  what  dangers  would  you  lead  me,  Cassius, 
That  you  would  have  me  seek  into  myself 
For  that  which  is  not  in  me  ? 

Cas.  Therefore,  good  Brutus,  be  prepar'd  to  hear  : 
And,  since  you  know  you  cannot  see  yourself 


SC.  II.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  15 

So  well  as  by  reflection,  I  your  glass. 

Will  modestly  discover  to  yourself 

That  of  yourself,  which  you  yet  know  not  of. 

And  be  not  jealous  on  mc.  gentle  Brutus : 

Were  I  a  common  laugher.'  or  did  use 

To  stale  with  ordinary  oaths  my  love 

To  every  new  protester ;  if  you  know 

That  I  do  fawn  on  men.  and  hug  them  hard. 

And  after  scandal  them  :  or  if  you  know 

That  I  profess  myself  in  banqueting, 

To  all  the  rout,  then  hold  me  dangerovis. 

[Flourish,  and  Shout. 

Bru.  What  means  this  shouting?      I  do  fear,  the 
people 
Choose  Csesar  for  their  king. 

Cas.  Ay,  do  you  fear  it  ? 

Then,  must  I  think  you  would  not  have  it  so. 

Bru.  I  would  not,  Cassius;  yet  I  love  him  well. 
But  \^  herefore  do  you  hold  me  here  so  long  ? 
What  is  it  that  you  would  impart  to  me  ? 
If  it  be  aught  toward  the  general  good, 
Set  honour  in  one  eye,  and  death  i'  the  other, 
And  I  will  look  on  both  indifferently ; 
For,  let  the  gods  so  speed  me,  as  I  love 
The  name  of  honour  more  than  I  fear  death. 

Cas.  I  know  that  virtue  to  be  in  you,  Brutus, 
As  well  as  I  do  know  your  outward  favour. 
Well,  honour  is  the  subject  of  my  story. — 
I  cannot  tell  what  you  and  other  men 
Think  of  this  life  ;  but  for  my  single  self 
I  had  as  lief  not  be,  as  live  to  be 
In  awe  of  such  a  thing  as  I  myself. 
I  was  born  free  as  Caesar,  so  were  you ; 
We  both  have  fed  as  well,  and  we  can  both 
Endure  the  winter's  cold  as  well  as  he : 
For  once,  upon  a  raw  and  gusty  day, 
The  troubled  Tyber  chafing  with  her  shores, 
Csesar  said  to  me,  '•  Darst  thou,  Cassius,  now 
Leap  in  with  me  into  this  angry  flood, 
And  swim  to  yonder  point  ?"' — Upon  the  word, 
Accoutred  as  [  was,  I  plunged  in. 
And  bade  him  follow:  so,  indeed,  he  did. 
The  torrent  roar'd,  and  we  did  buffet  it 

I  laughter  :  in  folio.     Pope  made  the  change. 


1^  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  I. 

With  lusty  sinews,  throwing  it  aside, 

And  stemming  it,  with  hearts  of  controversy ; 

But  ere  we  could  arrive  the  point  propos'd, 

Csesar  cried,  ■'  Help  me,  Cassius,  or  I  sink!" 

I,  as  ^neas,  our  great  ancestor. 

Did  from  the  flames  of  Troy  upon  his  shoulder 

The  old  Anchises  bear,  so  from  the  waves  of  Tyber 

Did  I  the  tired  Csesar.     And  this  man 

Is  now  become  a  god  ;  and  Cassius  is 

A  wretched  creature,  and  must  bend  his  body 

If  Csesar  carelessly  but  nod  on  liim.  ' 

He  had  a  fever  when  he  was  in  Spain, 

And,  when  the  fit  was  on  him,  I  did  rnark 

How  he  did  shake  :  't  is  true,  tliis  god  did  shake  : 

His  coM-ard  lips  did  from  their  colour  fly ; 

And  that  same  eye,  whose  bend  doth  awe  the  world, 

Did  lose  his  lustre.     I  did  hear  him  groan ; 

Ay,  and  that  tongue  of  his,  that  bade  the  Romans 

Mark  him,  and  write  his  speeches  in  their  books, 

Alas  !  It  cried,  "  Give  me  some  drink,  Titinius," 

As  a  sick  girl.     Ye  gods,  it  doth  amaze  me, 

A  man  ot  such  a  feeble  temper  should 

So  get  the  start  of  the  majestic  world, 

And  bear  the  palm  alone.  [Shout.     Flourish. 

,  J   ''"•,.  Another  general  shout ! 

1  do  believe  that  these  applauses  are 

For  some  new  honours  that  are  heap'd  on  Csesar 

Cas.  Why,  man,  he  doth  bestride  the  narrow  world, 
Liike  a  Colossus ;  and  we  petty  men 
Walk  under  his  huge  legs,  and  peep  about 
To  find  ourselves  dishonourable  graves. 
Men  at  some  time  are  masters  of  their  fates: 
The  fault,  dear  Brutus,  is  not  in  our  stars. 
But  in  ourselves,  that  we  are  underlin<T.s  ' 
Brutus   and  Cssar:  what  should  be  in  that  C^sar? 
VVhy  should  that  name  be  sounded  more  than  yours? 
Write  them  together,  yours  is  as  fair  a  name : 
bound  them,  it  doth  become  the  mouth  as  well  • 
Weigh  them,  it  is  as  heavy:  conjure  with  them' 
brutus  will  start  a  spirit  as  soon  as  Ccesar 
Now,  in  the  names  of  all  the  gods  at  once, 
Upon  what  meat  doth  this  our  Csesar  feed 
That  he  is  grown  so  great  ?     Age,  thou  art  sham'd : 
liome,  thou  hast  lost  the  breed  of  noble  bloods 


SC.  I.  JULIUS    CESAR.  17 

When  went  there  by  an  age,  since  the  great  flood, 
But  it  was  fam'd  with  more  than  with  one  man  ? 
When  could  they  say.  till  now,  that  talk'd  of  Rome, 
That  her  wide  walls^  encompass'd  but  one  man  ? 
Now  is  it  Rome  indeed,  and  room  enough, 
When  there  is  in  it  but  one  only  man. 

0  !  you  and  I  have  heard  our  fathers  say, 

There  was  a  Brutus  once,  that  would  have  brook'd 
Th'  eternal  devil  to  keep  his  state  in  Rome, 
As  easily  as  a  king. 

Bru.  That  you  do  love  me,  I  am  nothing  jealous ; 
What  you  would  work  me  to,  I  have  some  aim; 
How  I  have  thought  of  this,  and  of  these  times, 

1  shall  recount  hereafter :  for  this  present, 

I  would  not,  so  with  love  I  might  entreat  you, 

Be  any  farther  mov'd.     What  you  have  said, 

I  will  consider ;  what  you  have  to  say, 

I  will  with  patience  hear,  and  find  a  time 

Both  meet  to  hear,  and  answer,  such  high  things. 

Till  then,  my  noble  friend,  chew  upon  this : 

Brutus  had  rather  be  a  villager. 

Than  to  repute  himself  a  son  of  Rome 

Under  such^  hard  conditions,  as  this  time 

Is  like  to  lay  upon  us. 

Cas.  I  am  glad,  that  my  weak  words 

Have  struck  but  thus  much  show  of  fire  from  Brutus. 

Bru.  The  games  are  done,  and  Csesar  is  returning. 
Re-enter  C^sar,  and  his  Train. 

Cas.  As  they  pass  by  pluck  Casca  by  the  sleeve; 
And  he  will,  after  his  sour  fashion,  tell  you 
What  hath  proceeded  woi^thy  note  to-day. 

Bru.  I  will  do  so. — But,  look  you,  Cassius; 
The  angry  spot  doth  glow  on  Caesar's  brow. 
And  all  the  rest  look  like  a  chidden  train. 
Calphurnia's  cheek  is  pale;  and  Cicero 
Looks  with  such  ferret  and  such  fiery  eyes, 
As  we  have  seen  him  in  the  Capitol, 
Being  cross'd  in  conference  by  some  senators. 

Cas.  Casca  will  tell  us  what  the  matter  is. 

Cms.  Antonius  ! 

Ant.  Ca?sar. 

C(£s.  Let  me  have  men  about  me  that  are  fat ;  . 
Sleek-headed  men,  and  such  as  sleep  o'  nights. 
1  walks  :  in  f.  e.    2  these  :  in  f.  e. 

2* 


18  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  1. 

Yond'  Cassius  has  a  lean  and  hungry  look ; 
He  thinks  too  much  :  such  men  are  dangerous. 

Ant.  Fear  him  not,  Csesar,  he  's  not  dangerous  : 
He  is  a  noble  Roman,  and  well  given. 

Cces.  'Would  he  were  fatter;  but  I  fear  him  not: 
Yet  if  my  name  were  liable  to  fear, 
I  do  not  know  the  man  I  should  avoid 
So  soon  as  that  spare  Cassius.     He  reads  much  ; 
He  is  a  great  observer,  and  he  looks 
Quite  through  the  deeds  of  men  :  he  loves  no  plays, 
As  thou  dost,  Antony ;  lie  hears  no  music  : 
Seldom  he  smiles,  and  smiles  in  such  a  sort, 
As  if  he  mock'd  himself,  and  scorn'd  liis  spirit 
That  could  be  mov'd  to  smile  at  any  thing. 
Such  men  as  he  be  never  at  heart's  ease. 
Whiles  they  behold  a  greater  than  themselves, 
And  therefore  are  they  very  dangerous. 
I  rather  tell  thee  what  is  to  be  fear'd. 
Than  what  I  fear,  for  always  I  am  Csesar. 
Come  on  my  right  hand,  for  this  ear  is  deaf. 
And  tell  me  truly  what  thou  think' st  of  him. 

[Exeunt  Cjesar  and  his  Train.     Casca  stays  behind. 

Casca.  You  pull'd  me  by  the  cloak  :  would  you 
speak  with  me  ? 

Bru.  Ay,  Casca ;  tell  us  what  hath  chanc'd  to-day, 
That  Caesar  looks  so  sad. 

Casca.  Why  you  were  with  hira,  were  you  not? 

Bru.  I  should  not,  then,  ask  Casca  what  hath  chanc'd. 

Casca.  Why.  there  was  a  crown  offered  him :  and, 
being  offered  him,  he  put  it  by  with  the  back  of  his 
hand,  thus  ;  and  then  the  people  fell  a  shouting. 

Bru.  What  was  the  second  noise  for  ? 

Casca.  Why,  for  that  too. 

Cas.  They  shouted  thrice :  what  was  the  last  cry  for  ? 

Casca.  Why,  for  that  too. 

Bru.  Was  the  crown  offer'd  him  thrice  ? 

Casca.  Ay,  marry,  was  't.  and  he  put  it  by  thrice, 
every  time  gentler  than  other ;  and  at  every  putting 
by  mine  honest  neighbours  shouted. 

Cas.  Who  offer'd  him  the  cro\^Ti  ? 

Casca.  Why,  Antony. 

Bru.  Tell  us  the  manner  of  it,  gentle  Casca. 

Casca.  I  can  as  well  be  hanged,  as  tell  the  manner 
of  it :  it  was  mere  foolery,  I  did  not  mark  it.     I  saw 


8C.  II.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  19 

Mark  Antony  offer  him  a  crown : — yet  't  was  not  a 
crown  neither,  't  was  one  of  these  coronets ; — and,  as  I 
told  you,  he  put  it  hy  once ;  but,  for  all  that,  to  my 
thinking,  he  would  fain  have  had  it.  Then  he  offered 
it  to  him  again ;  then  he  put  it  by  again,  but,  to  my 
thinking,  he  was  very  loath  to  lay  his  fingers  off  it. 
And  then  he  offered  it  the  third  time :  he  put  it  the 
third  time  by;  and  still  as  he  refused  it,  the  rabble- 
men  shouted,  and  clapped  their  chapped  hands,  and 
threw  up  their  sweaty  night-caps,  and  uttered  such  a 
deal  of  stinking  breath,  because  Caesar  refused  the 
crown,  that  it  had  almost  choked  Csesar ;  for  he 
swooned,  and  fell  down  at  it.  And  for  mine  own  part 
I  durst  not  laugh,  for  fear  of  opening  my  lips,  and  re- 
ceiving the  bad  air. 

Cas.  But,  soft,  I  pray  you.  What !  did  Csesar  swoon? 

Casca.  He  fell  down  in  Ihe  market-place,  and  foamed 
at  mouth,  and  was  speechless. 

Bru.  Tis  very  like  he  hath  the  falling-sickness 

Cas.  No,  Ctesar  hath  it  not ;  but  you,  and  I, 
And  honest  Casca,  we  have  the  falling-sickness. 

Casca.  1  know  not  what  you  mean  by  that  :  but,  I 
am  sure,  Csesar  fell  down.  If  the  tag-rag  people  did 
not  clap  him,  and  hiss  him,  according  as  he  pleased, 
and  displeased  them,  as  they  use  to  do  the  players  in 
the  theatre,  I  am  no  true  man. 

BriL  What  said  he,  when  he  came  unto  himself? 

Casca.  Marry,  before  he  fell  down,  when  he  per- 
ceiv'd  the  common  herd  was  glad  he  refused  the  crown. 
he  plucked  me  ope  his  doublet,  and  offered  them  his 
throat  to  cut. — An  I  had  been  a  man  of  any  occupa- 
tion, if  I  would  not  have  taken  him  at  a  word,  I  would 
I  might  go  to  hell  among  the  rogues  : — and  so  he  fell. 
When  he  came  to  himself  again,  he  said,  if  he  had 
done  or  said  any  thing  amiss,  he  desired  their  worships 
to  think  it  was  his  infirmity.  Three  or  four  wenches, 
where  I  stood,  cried,  "  Alas,  good  soul  !" — and  forgave 
him  with  all  their  hearts.  But  there  's  no  heed  to  be 
taken  of  them:  if  Caesar  had  stabbed  their  mothers, 
they  would  have  done  no  less. 

Bru.  And  after  that  he  came  thus  sad  away  ? 

Casca.  Ay. 

Cas.  Did  Cicero  say  any  thing  ? 

Casca.  Ay,  he  spoke  Greek. 


20  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  I. 

Cas.  To  what  effect  ? 

Casca.  Nay,  an  I  tell  you  that,  I'll  ne'er  look  you  i' 
the  face  again :  but  those  that  understood  him  smiled 
at  one  another,  and  shook  their  heads  ;  but,  for  mine 
own  part,  it  was  Greek  to  me.  I  could  tell  you  more 
news,  too  :  MaruUus  and  Flavins,  for  pulling  scarfs  off 
Caesar's  images,  are  put  to  silence.  Fare  you  well :  there 
was  more  foolery  yet,  if  I  could  remember  it. 

Cas.  Will  you  sup  with,  me  to-night,  Casca? 

Casca.  No,  I  am  promised  forth. 

Cas.  Will  you  dine  with  me  to-morrow  ? 

Casca.  Ay,  if  I  be  alive,  and  your  mind  hold,  and 
your  dinner  worth  the  eating. 

Cas.  Good;  I  will  expect  you. 

Casca.  Do  so.     Farewell,  both.  [Exit  Casca. 

Bru.  What  a  blunt  fellow  is  this  grown  to  be. 
He  was  quick  mettled  when  he  went  to  school. 

Cas.  So  is  he  now,  in  execution 
Of  any  bold  or  noble  enterprise. 
However  he  puts  on  this  tardy  form. 
This  rudeness  is  a  sauce  to  his  good  wit, 
Which  gives  men  stomach  to  digest  his  words 
With  better  appetite. 

Bru.  And  so  it  is.     For  this  time  1  will  leave  you : 
To-morrow,  if  you  please  to  speak  with  me, 
I  will  come  home  to  you  ;  or,  if  you  will, 
Come  home  to  me,  and  I  will  vrait  for  you. 

Cas.  I  will  do  so  : — till  then,  think  of  the  world. 

[Exit  Brutus. 
Well,  Brutus,  thou  art  noble :  yet,  I  see, 
Thy  honourable  mettle  may  be  \NTought 
From  that  it  is  dispos"d:  therefore,  "tis  meet 
That  noble  minds  keep  ever  with  their  likes  : 
For  wlio  so  firm  that  cannot  be  seduc'd  ? 
Caesar  dotli  bear  me  hard,  but  he  loves  Brutus: 
If  I  were  Brutus  now,  and  he  were  Cassius. 
He  should  not  humour  me.     I  will  this  night. 
In  several  hands,  in  at  his  windows  throw, 
As  if  they  came  from  several  citizens. 
Writings,  all  tending  to  the  great  opinion 
That  Rome  liolds  of  his  name  ;  wherein  obscurely 
Caesar's  ambition  shall  be  glanced  at  : 
And,  after  this,  let  Caesar  seat  him  sure, 
For  we  will  shake  him,  or  worse  days  endure.      [Exit. 


SC.  III.  JULIUS   C^SAR.  ^1 

SCENE  III.— The  Same.     A  Street. 

Thunder  and  Lightning.     Enter.,  from  opposite  sides, 
Casca,  with  his  Sword  drawn,  and  Cicero. 

Cic.  Good  even,  Casca.    Brought  you  Cae.sar  home? 
Why  are  you  breathless,  and  why  stare  you  so  ? 

Casca.  Are  not  you  mov'd.  when  all  the  sway  of  earth 
Shakes  like  a  thing  unfirm  ?     0,  Cicero  ! 
I  have  seen  tempests,  when  the  scolding  winds 
Have  riv'd  the  knotty  oaks  ;  and  I  have  seen 
The  ambitious  ocean  swell,  and  rage,  and  foam, 
To  be  exalted  with  the  threatening  clouds; 
But  never  till  to-night,  never  till  now. 
Did  I  go  through  a  tempest  dropping  fire. 
Either  there  is  a  civil  strife  in  heaven. 
Or  else  the  world,  too  saucy  with  the  gods, 
Incenses  them  to  send  destruction. 

Cic.  Why,  saw  you  any  thing  more  wonderful  ? 

Casca.  A  common  slave  (you  know  him  well  by  sight) 
Held  up  his  left  hand,  which  did  flame,  and  burn 
Like  twenty  torches  join'd  ;  and  yet  his  hand, 
Not  sensible  of  fire,  remain'd  unscorch'd. 
Besides,  (I  have  not  since  put  ixp  my  sword) 
Against  the  Capitol  I  met  a  lion, 
Who  glar'd^  upon  me,  and  went  surly  by, 
Without  annoying  me  :  and  there  were  drawn  ^ 

Upon  a  heap  a  hundred  ghastly  women,  ^ 

Transformed  with  their  fear,  who  swore  they  saw 
Men,  all  in  fire,  walk  up  and  down  the  streets. 
And  yesterday  the  bird  of  night  did  sit. 
Even  at  noon-day,  upon  the  market-place. 
Hooting,  and  shrieknig.     When  these  prodigies 
Do  so  conjointly  meet,  let  not  men  say. 
"  These  are  their  seasons, — they  are  natural ;" 
For,  I  believe,  they  are  portentous  things 
Unto  the  climate  that  they  point  upon. 

Cic.  Indeed,  it  is  a  strange-disposed  time : 
But  men  may  construe  things  after  their  fashion, 
Clean  from  the  purpose  of  the  things  themselves. 
Comes  Cffisar  to  the  Capitol  to-morrow? 

Casca.  He  doth ;  for  he  did  bid  Antonius 
Send  word  to  you,  he  would  be  there  to-morrow. 

Cic.  Good  night  then,  Casca  :  this  disturbed  sky 
Is  not  to  walk  in. 

1  glaz'd  :  in  folio.      Steevens  made  the  change. 


22  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  I. 

Casca.  Farewell,  Cicero.        [Exit  Cicero. 

Enter  Cassius. 

Cas.  Who's  there  ? 

Casca.  A  Roman. 

Cas.  Casca,  by  your  voice. 

Casca.  Your  ear  is  good.  Cassius,  what  night  is  this? 

Cas.  A  very  pleasing  night  to  honest  men. 

Casca.  Who  ever  knew  the  heavens  menace  so  ? 

Cas.  Those  that  have  known  the  earth  so  full  of  faults. 
For  my  part,  I  have  walk'd  about  the  streets, 
Submitting  me  unto  the  perilous  night ; 
And,  thus  unbraced,  Casca,  as  you  see. 
Have  bar'd  my  bosom  to  the  thunder-stone  : 
And,  when  the  cross  blue  lightning  seem'd  to  open 
The  breast  of  heaven.  I  did  present  myself 
Even  in  the  aim  and  very  flash  of  it. 

Casca.  But  wherefore  did  you  so  much  tempt  the 
heavens  ? 
It  is  the  part  of  men  to  fear  and  tremble, 
When  the  most  mighty  gods  by  tokens  send 
Such  dreadful  heralds  to  astonish  us. 

Cas.  You  are  dull,  Casca ;  and  those  sparks  of  life, 
That  should  be  in  a  Roman,  you  do  want, 
Or  else  you  use  not.     You  look  pale,  and  gaze. 
And  put  on  fear,  and  cast  yourself  in  wonder, 
To  see  the  strange  impatience  of  the  heavens  ; 
But  if  you  would  consider  the  true  cause. 
Why  all  these  fires,  why  all  these  gliding  ghosts, 
Why  birds,  and  beasts,  from  quality  and  kind ; 
Why  old  men,  fools,  and  children  calculate  ; 
Why  all  these  things  change  from  their  ordinance, 
Their  natures,  and  pre-formed  faculties, 
To  monstrous  quality  ;  why,  you  shall  find, 
That  heaven  hath  infus'd  them  with  these  spirits, 
To  make  them  instruments  of  fear,  and  warning. 
Unto  some  monstrous  state. 
Now  could  I,  Casca,  name  to  thee  a  man 
Most  like  this  dreadful  night ; 
That  thunders,  lightens,  opens  graves,  and  roars 
As  doth  the  lion  in  the  Capitol  : 
A  man  no  mightier  than  thyself,  or  me. 
In  personal  action ;  yet  prodigious  grown, 
And  fearful,  as  these  strange  irruptions  are. 

Casca.  'T  is  Caesar  that  you  mean ;  is  it  not,  Cassius? 


SC.  III.  JULIUS   C^SAR.  23 

Cas.  Let  it  be  who  it  is  :  for  Romans  now 
Have  thewes  and  limbs  like  to  their  ancestors, 
But,  woe  the  while  !  our  fathers'  minds  are  dead, 
And  we  are  govern'd  with  our  mothers'  spirits; 
Our  yoke  and  sufferance  show  us  womanish. 

Casca.  Indeed,  they  say,  the  senators  to-morrow 
Mean  to  establish  Caesar  as  a  king  : 
And  he  shall  wear  his  crown  by  sea,  and  land, 
In  every  place,  save  here  in  Italy. 

Cas.  I  know  where  I  will  wear  this  dasser,  then  : 
Cassius  from  bondage  will  deliver  Cassius. 
Therein,  ye  gods,  you  make  the  weak  most  strong ; 
Therein,  ye  gods,  you  tyrants  do  defeat : 
Nor  stony  tower,  nor  walls  of  beaten  brass, 
Nor  airless  dungeon,  nor  strong  links  of  iron. 
Can  be  retentive  to  the  strength  of  spirit ; 
But  life,  being  weary  of  these  worldly  bars, 
Never  lacks  power  to  dismiss  itself. 
If  I  know  this,  know  all  the  world  besides, 
That  part  of  tyranny,  that  I  do  bear, 
I  can  shake  off  at  pleasure.  [Thunder  still. 

Casca.  So  can  I  : 

So  every  bondmin  in  his  own  hand  bears 
The  power  to  cancel  his  captivity. 

Cas.  And  why  should  Csesar  be  a  tyrant,  then? 
Poor  man  !  I  know,  he  would  not  be  a  -wolf. 
But  that  he  sees  the  Romans  are  but  sheep  : 
He  were  no  lion,  were  not  Romans  hinds. 
Those  that  with  haste  will  make  a  mighty  fire. 
Begin  it  with  weak  straws  :  what  trash  is  Rome, 
What  rubbish,  and  what  offal,  when  it  serves 
For  the  base  matter  to  illuminate 
So  vile  a  thing  as  Caesar  ? — But,  0  grief! 
Where  hast  thou  led  me  ?     I,  perhaps,  speak  this 
Before  a  willing  bondman  :  then  I  know 
My  answer  must  be  made ;  but  I  am  arra'd, 
And  dangers  are  to  me  indifferent. 

Casca.  You  speak  to  Casca ;  and  to  such  a  man, 
That  is  no  fleering  tell-tale.     Hold,  my  hand  : 
Be  factious  for  redress  of  all  these  griefs, 
And  I  will  set  this  foot  of  mine  as  far. 
As  who  goes  farthest. 

Cas.  There  's  a  bargain  made. 

Now  know  you,  Casca.  I  have  mov'd  already 


JOtlUS    C^SAR.  ACT  I. 

Some  certain  of  the  noblest-minded  Romans, 
To  undergo  with  nie  an  enterprise 
Of  honourable,  dangerous  consequence ; 
And  I  do  know,  by  this,  they  stay  for  me 
In  Pompey's  porch  :  for  now,  this  fearful  night, 
There  is  no  stir,  or  walking  in  the  streets, 
And  the  complexion  of  the  element 
In  favour  "s'  like  the  work  we  have  in  hand, 
Most  bloody,  fiery,  and  most  terrible. 
Enter  Cinna. 

Casca.  Stand  close  awhile,  for  here  comes  one  in  haste. 

Cas.  "Tis  Cinna,  I  do  know  him  by  his  gait: 
He  is  a  friend. — Cinna,  where  haste  you  so? 

Cin.  To  find  out  you.  Who 's  that  ?  Metellus  Cimber  ? 

Cas.  No,  it  is  Casca ;  one  incorporate 
To  our  attempts.     Am  I  not  stay'd  for,  Cinna? 

Cin.  I  am  glad  on't.     What  a  fearful  night  is  this  ! 
There  's  two  or  three  of  us  have  seen  strange  sights. 

Cas.  Am  I  not  stay'd  for?     Tell  me. 

Cin.  Yes,  you  are. 

0,  Cassius  !  if  you  could  but  win  the  noble  Brutus 
To  our  party — 

Cas.  Be  you  content.     Good  Cinna,  take  this  paper. 
And  look  you  lay  it  in  the  preetor's  chair, 
Where  Brutus  may  but  find  it ;  and  throw  this 
In  at  his  window ;  set  this  up  with  wax 
Upon  old  Brutus'  statue  :  all  this  done, 
Repair  to  Pompey's  porch,  where  you  shall  find  us. 
Is  Decius  Brutus,  and  Trebonius,  there  ? 

Cin.  All  but  Metellus  Cimber,  and  he  's  gone 
To  seek  you  at  your  house.     Well,  I  will  hie, 
And  so  bestow  these  papers  as  you  bade  me. 

Cas.  That  done,  repair  to  Pompey's  theatre. 

[Exit  Cinna. 
Come,  Casca,  you  and  I  will  yet,  ere  day, 
See  Brutus  at  his  house  :  three  parts  of  him 
Is  ours  already  :  and  the  man  entire, 
Upon  the  next  encounter,  yields  him  ours. 

Casca.  Q  !  he  sits  high  in  all  the  people's  hearts ; 
And  that  which  would  appear  offence  in  us, 
His  countenance,  like  richest  alchymy, 
Will  change  to  ^^rtue,  and  to  worthiness. 

Cas.  Him,  and  his  worth,  and  our  great  need  of  him, 
1  Is  favour's  :  in  folio. 


8C.  I.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  25 

You  have  right  "well  conceited.     Let  us  go, 

For  it  is  after  midnight;  and,  ere  day, 

We  will  awake  him,  and  be  sure  of  him.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I.— The  Same.     Brutcs's  Orchard. 
Enter  Brutus. 

Bru.  What,  Lucius  !  ho  ! — 
I  cannot,  by  the  progress  of  the  stars, 
Give  guess  how  near  to  day. — Lucius,  I  say  ! — 
I  would  it  were  my  fault  to  sleep  so  soundly. — 
When,  Lucius,  when  ?    Awake,  I  say  :  what.  Lucius  ! 
Enter  Lucius. 

Luc.  Call'd  you,  my  lord  ? 

Bru.  Get  me  a  taper  in  my  study,  Lucius  : 
When  it  is  lighted,  come  and  call  me  here. 

Luc.  I  will,  my  lord.  [Exit. 

Bru.  It  must  be  by  his  death :  and.  for  my  part. 
I  know  no  personal  cause  to  spurn  at  him. 
But  for  the  general.     He  would  be  crown'd  : 
How  that  might  change  his  nature,  there 's  the  question. 
It  is  the  bright  day  that  brings  forth  the  adder. 
And  tliat  craves  wary  walking.     Crown  him  ? — that  j 
And  then.  I  grant,  we  put  a  sting  in  him, 
That  at  his  \\-ill  he  may  do  danger  with. 
Th"  abuse  of  greatness  is,  when  it  disjoins 
Remorse  from  power  ;  and,  to  speak  truth  of  Csesar, 
I  have  not  known  when  his  affections  sway'd 
More  than  his  reason.     But  'tis  a  common  proof, 
That  lowliness  is  young  ambition's  ladder. 
Whereto  the  climber-upward  turns  his  face  ; 
But  when  he  once  attains  the  upmost  round. 
He  then  unto  the  ladder  turns  his  back. 
Looks  in  the  clouds,  scorning  the  base  degrees 
By  which  he  did  ascend.     So  Csesar  may  : 
Then,  lest  he  may,  prevent :  and,  since  the  quarrel 
Will  bear  no  colour  for  the  thing  he  is, 
Fashion  it  thus  ;  that  what  he  is,  augmented, 
Would  run  to  these,  and  these  extremities  ; 

Vol.  VII.— 3 


26  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT.  11. 

And  therefore  think  him  as  a  serpent's  egg, 

Which,  hatch'd,  would,  as  his  kind,  grow  mischievous, 

And  kill  him  in  the  shell. 

Re-enter  Lucius. 

Ltic.  The  taper  burneth  in  your  closet,  sir. 
Searching  the  window  for  a  flint,  I  found 
This  paper,  thus  seal'd  up ;  and,  I  am  sure, 
It  did  not  lie  there  when  I  went  to  bed. 

[Giviiig  him  the  paper. 

Bru.  Get  you  to  bed  again  ;  it  is  not  day. 
Is  not  to-morrow,  boy,  the  ides'  of  March  ? 

Luc.  I  know  not,  sir. 

Bru.  Look  in  the  calendar,  and  bring  me  word. 

Lvc.  I  will,  sir.  [Exit. 

Bru.  The  exhalations,  whizzing  in  the  air, 
Give  so  much  light  that  I  may  read  by  them. 

[Opens  the  paper,  and  reads. 
"  Brutu-s,  thou  sleep'st :  awake,  and  see  thyself. 
Shall  Rome,  &c.     Speak,  strike,  redress  ! 
Brutus,  thou  sleep'st :   awake  !" — 
Such  instigations  have  been  often  dropp'd 
Where  I  have  took  them  up. 
"  Shall  Rome,  &c."     Thus  must  I  piece  it  out ; 
Shall  Rome  stand  under  one  man's  awe  ?  What !  Rome? 
My  ancestors  did  from  the  streets  of  Rome 
The  Tarquin  drive,  when  he  was  call'd  a  king. 
"  Speak,  strike,  redress  !" — Am  I  entreated 
To  speak,  and  strike  ?  0  Rome  !  I  malce  thee  promise, 
If  the  redress  will  follow,  thou  receiv'st 
Thy  full  petition  at  the  hand  of  Brutus  ! 
Re-enter  Lucius. 

Luc.  Sir,  March  is  wasted  fourteen^  days. 

[Knocking  within. 

Bru.  'T  is  good.     Go  to  the  gate  :  somebody  knocks. 

[Exit  Lucius, 
Since  Cassius  first  did  whet  me  against  Caesar, 
I  have  not  slept. 

Between  the  acting  of  a  dreadful  thing, 
And  the  first  motion,  all  the  interim  is 
Like  a  phantasma,  or  a  hideous  dream  : 
The  Genius,  and  the  mortal  instruments, 
Are  then  in  council ;  and  the  state  of  a^  man, 

1  first  :   in  folio.  Theobald   made   the   change.      =  fifteen  :  in  old 
copies.  Theobald  made  the  change.     ^  gome  mod  eds.  omit :  a. 


SC.  I.  JULIUS   C^SAR.  27 

Like  to  a  little  kingdom,  suffers  then 
The  nature  of  an  insurrection. 

Re-enter  Lucius. 

Ltic.  Sir,  't  is  your  brother  Cassius  at  the  door, 
Who  doth  desire  to  see  you. 

Bru.  Is  he  alone  ? 

Luc.  No,  sir,  there  are  more  with  him. 

Bru.  Do  you  know  them  ? 

Luc.  No,  sir  ;  their  hats  are  pluck'd  about  their  ears, 
And  half  their  faces  buried  in  their  cloaks, 
That  by  no  means  I  may  di.?cover  them 
By  any  mark  of  favour. 

Bru.  Let  them  enter.     [Exit  Lucius. 

They  are  the  faction.     0  conspiracy  ! 
Sham'st  thou  to  show  thy  dangerous  brow  by  night, 
When  evils  are  most  free  ?     0  !  then,  by  day 
Where  wilt  thou  find  a  cavern  dark  enough 
To  mask  thy  monstrous  visage  ?  Seek  none,  conspiracy ; 
Hide  it  in  smiles,  and  affability  : 
For  if  thou  path'  thy  native  semblance  on. 
Not  Erebus  itself  were  dim  enough 
To  hide  thee  from  prevention. 

Enter  Cassius,  Casca,  Decius,  Cinna,  Metellus 
CiMBER,  and  Trebonii's. 

Cas.  I  think  we  are  too  bold  upon  your  rest : 
Good  morrow.  Brutus  ;  do  we  trouble  you  ? 

Brit.  I  have  been  up  this  hour  ;  awake,  all  night. 
Know  I  these  men  that  come  along  with  you  ? 

Cas.  Yes,  every  man  of  them  :  and  no  man  here, 
But  honours  you  :  and  every  one  doth  wish, 
You  had  but  that  opinion  of  yourself. 
Which  every  noble  Roman  bears  of  you. 
This  is  Trebonius. 

Bru.  He  is  welcome  hither. 

Cas.  This  Decius  Brntus. 

Bru.  He  is  welcome  too. 

Cas.  This  Casca;  this  Cinna; 
And  this  Metellus  Cimber. 

Bru.  They  are  all  welcome. 

What  watchful  cares  do  interpose  themselves 
Betwixt  your  eyes  and  night  ? 

Cas.  Shall  I  entreat  a  word  ?  [They  ichisper. 

Bee.  Here  lies  the  east :  doth  not  the  day  break  here  ? 

1  Walk  ;   so  used  by  Dryden. 


2S  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  II. 

Casca.  No. 

Cin.  0  !  pardon,  sir,  it  doth  ;  and  yond'  grey  lines, 
That  fret  the  clouds,  are  messengers  of  day. 

Casca.  You  shall  confess  that  you  are  both  deceiv'd 
Here,  as  I  point  my  sword,  the  sun  arises  ; 
Which  is  a  great  way  growing  on  the  south, 
Weighing  the  youthful  season  of  the  year. 
Some  two  months  hence,  up  higher  toward  the  north 
He  first  presents  his  fire  ;  and  the  high  east 
Stands,  as  the  Capitol,  directly  here. 

Bru.  Give  me  your  hands  all  over,  one  by  one. 

[He  takes  their  hands. ^ 

Cas.  And  let  us  swear  our  resolution. 

Bru,  No,  not  an  oath  :  if  not  the  face  of  men, 
The  sufferance  of  our  souls,  the  time's  abuse, 
If  these  be  motives  weak,  break  off  betimes, 
And  every  man  hence  to  his  idle  bed  : 
So  let  high-sighted  tyranny  range  on. 
Till  each  man  drop  by  lottery.     But  if  these, 
As  I  am  sure  they  do,  bear  fire  enough 
To  kindle  cowards,  and  to  steel  with  valour 
The  melting  spirits  of  women  ;  then,  countrymen. 
What  need  we  any  spur,  bat  our  own  cause, 
To  prick  us  to  redress  ?  what  other  bond, 
Than  secret  Romans,  that  have  spoke  the  word. 
And  will  not  palter  ?  and  what  other  oath, 
Than  honesty  to  honesty  engag'd, 
That  this  shall  be,  or  we  will  fall  for  it  ? 
Swear  priests,  and  cowards,  and  men  cautelous, 
Old  feeble  carrions,  and  such  suffering  souls 
That  welcome  wrongs  :  unto  bad  causes  swear 
Such  creatures  as  men  doubt ;  but  do  not  stain 
The  even  virtue  of  our  enterprise. 
Nor  th'  insuppressive  mettle  of  our  spirits. 
To  think  that,  or  our  cause,  or  our  performance, 
Did  need  an  oath,  when  every  drop  of  blood, 
That  every  Roman  bears,  and  nobly  bears, 
Is  guilty  of  a  several  bastardy. 
If  he  do  break  the  smallest  particle 
Of  any  promise  that  hath  pass'd  from  him. 

Cas.  But  w^hat  of  Cicero  ?     Shall  we  sound  him  ? 
I  think  he  will  stand  very  strong  with  us. 

Casca.  Let  us  not  leave  him  out. 

I  Not  in  f.  e. 


so.  I.  JULIUS   C^SAR.  29 

Cin.  No,  by  no  means. 

3Iet.  0  !  let  us  have  him  :  for  his  silver  hairs 
Will  purchase  us  a  good  opinion, 
And  buy  men's  voices  to  commend  our  deeds  : 
It  shall  be  said,  his  judgment  rul'd  our  hands  ; 
Our  youths,  and  'wildness,  shall  no  whit  appear, 
But  all  be  buried  in  his  gravity. 

Bni.  0  !  name  him  not :  let  us  not  break  with  him, 
For  he  AA'ill  never  follow  any  thing 
That  other  men  begin. 

Cas.  Then,  leave  him  out. 

Casca.  Indeed  he  is  not  fit. 

Dec.  Shall  no  man  else  be  touch'd,  but  only  Caesar  ? 

Cas.  Decius,  well  urg'd. — I  think  it  is  not  meet, 
Mark  Antony,  so  Well  belov'd  of  Caesar, 
Should  outlive  Cajsar  :  we  shall  find  of  him 
A  shrewd  contriver  ;  and,  you  know,  his  means, 
If  he  improve  them,  may  well  stretch  so  far 
As  to  annoy  us  all ;  which  to  prevent, 
Let  Antony  and  Caesar  fall  together. 

Bru.  Our  course  will  seem  too  bloody,  Caius  Cassius, 
To  cut  the  head  off",  and  then  hack  the  limbs. 
Like  wrath  in  death,  and  envy^  afterwards ; 
For  Antony  is  but  a  limb  of  Csesar. 
Let  us  be  sacrificers,  but  not  butchers,  Caius. 
We  all  stand  up  against  the  spirit  of  Csesar, 
And  in  the  spirit  of  men  there  is  no  blood  : 
O,  that  we  then  could  come  by  Caesar's  spirit, 
And  not  dismember  Caesar  !     But.  alas  I 
Caesar  must  bleed  for  it.     And.  gentle  friends. 
Let 's  kill  him  boldly,  but  not  wrathfully  : 
Let 's  crave  him  as  a  dish  fit  for  the  gods, 
Not  hew  him  as  a  carcass  fit  for  hounds  : 
And  let  our  hearts,  as  subtle  masters  do, 
Stir  up  their  servants  to  an  act  of  rage. 
And  after  seem  to  chide  'em.     This  shall  mark' 
Our  purpose  necessary,  and  not  envious  ; 
Which  so  appearing  to  the  common  eyes, 
We  shall  be  calFd  purgers,  not  murderers. 
And  for  Mark  Antony,  think  not  of  him. 
For  he  can  do  no  more  than  Caesar's  arm, 
When  Caesar's  head  is  off". 

Cas.  Yet  I  fear  him  : 

1  Used  as  often,  in  the  sense  of  hatred.      2  make  :  in  t.  e. 

3* 


«ro  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  11. 

For  in  the  ingrafted  love  he  bears  to  Csesar 

Bru.  Alas  !  good  Cassius,  do  not  think  of  him. 
If  he  love  Csesar,  all  that  he  can  do 
Is  to  himself;  take  thought,  and  die  for  Cajsar: 
And  that  were  much  he  shovild  :  for  he  is  given 
To  sports,  to  wildness,  and  much  company. 

Treb.  There  is  no  fear  in  him  :  let  him  not  die, 
For  he  will  live,  and  laugh  at  this  hereafter.  [C/ocA;  strikes. 

Bru.  Peace  !  count  the  clock. 

Cas.  The  clock  hath  stricken  three. 

Treh.  'T  is  time  to  part. 

Cas.  But  it  is  doubtful  yet, 

Whether  Csesar  will  come  forth  to-day,  or  no; 
For  he  is  superstitious  grown  of  late, 
Quite  from  the  main  opinion  he  held  once 
Of  fantasy,  of  dreams,  and  ceremonies. 
It  may  be,  these  apparent  prodigies, 
The  unaccustom'd  terror  of  this  night. 
And  the  persuasion  of  his  augurers, 
May  hold  him  from  the  Capifol  to-day. 

Dec.  Never  fear  that  :  if  he  be  so  resolv'd, 
I  can  o'ersway  him  ;  for  he  loves  to  hear. 
That  unicorns  may  be  betrayed  with  trees. 
And  bears  with  glasses,  elephants  with  holes, 
Lions  with  toils,  and  men  with  flatterers  ; 
But,  when  I  tell  him,  he  hates  flatterers, 
He  says,  he  does,  being  then  most  flattered. 
Let  me  work  ; 

For  I  can  give  his  humour  the  true  bent. 
And  I  will  bring  him  to  the  Capitol. 

Cos.  Nay,  we  will  all  of  us  be  there  to  fetch  him. 

Bru.  By  the  eighth  hour  :  is  that  the  uttermost  ? 

Cin.  Be  that  the  uttermost,  and  fail  not  then. 

Met.  Caius  Ligarius  doth  bear  Csesar  hard. 
Who  rated  him  for  speaking  well  of  Pompey  : 
I  wonder,  none  of  you  have  thought  of  him. 

Bru.  Now.  good  Metellus,  go  along  by  him  : 
He  loves  me  well,  and  I  have  given  him  reasons  ; 
Send  him  but  hither,  and  I  '11  fashion  him. 

Cas.  The  morning  comes  upon  's  :  we  'II  leave  you, 
Brutus. — 
And,  friends,  disperse  yourselves  ;  but  all  remember 
What  you  have  said,  and  show  yourselves  true  Romans. 

Bru.  Good  gentlemen,  look  fresh  and  merrily. 


SC.  I.  JULIUS    C-ESAR.  31 

Let  not  our  looks  put  on  our  purposes  ; 
But  bear  it  as  our  Roman  actoi-s  do, 
With  untir'd  spirits,  and  formal  constancy  : 
And  so,  good-morro\A-  to  you  every  one. 

[Exeunt  all  hut  Brutus. 
Boy  !  Lucius  ! — Fast  asleep.     It  is  no  matter  ; 
Enjoy  the  hea^■y'  honey-dew^  of  slumber  : 
Thou  hast  no  figures,  nor  no  fantasies, 
Which  busy  care  draws  in  the  brains  of  men  : 
Therefore,  thou  sleep'st  so  sound. 
Enter  Portia. 

Por.  Brutus,  my  lord  ! 

Bru.  Portia,  what  mean  you?  Wherefore  rise  you  now? 
It  is  not  for  your  health  thus  to  commit 
Your  weak  condition  to  the  raw  cold  morning. 

Por.  L\or  for  yours  neither. You  have  ungently,  Brutus, 
Stole  from  my  bed  :  and  yesternight,  at  supper, 
You  suddenly  arose,  and  wajkd  about. 
Musing  and  sighing,  with  your  arms  across : 
And  when  I  askd  you  what  the  matter  was, 
You  stard  upon  me  with  ungentle  looks. 
I  urg'd  you  farther  :  then,  you  scratclrd  your  head, 
And  too  impatiently  stamp'd  with  your  foot  : 
Yet  I  in.'^i.sted,  yet  you  answer'd  not ; 
But,  with  an  angry  wafture  of  your  hand. 
Gave  sign  for  me  to  leave  you.     So  I  did, 
Fearing  to  strengthen  that  impatience. 
Which  seem'd  too  much  enkindled  ;  and,  \A-ithal, 
Hoping  it  was  but  an  effect  of  humour, 
Which  sometime  hath  his  hour  vnX\\  every  man. 
It  will  not  let  you  eat,  nor  talk,  nor  sleep  ; 
And.  could  it  work  so  much  upon  your  shape, 
As  it  hath  much  prevail'd  on  your  condition, 
I  should  ifot  know  you,  Brutus.     Dear  my  lord, 
Make  me  acquainted  with  your  cause  of  grief. 

Bru.  I  am  not  well  in  health,  and  that  is  all. 

Por.  Brutus  is  wise,  and  \\ere  he  not  in  health, 
He  would  embrace  the  means  to  come  by  it. 

Bru.  Why.  so  I  do. — Good  Portia,  go  to  bed. 

Por.  Is  Brutus  sick,  and  is  it  physical 
To  walk  unbraced,  and  suck  up  the  humours 
Of  the  dank  morning?     Wliat  !   is  Brittus  sick, 
And  will  he  steal  out  of  his  wholesome  bed, 

I  honey-heavy  dew  :  in  f.  e. 


32  JULIUS    CESAR.  ACT  11. 

To  dare  the  vile  contagion  of  the  night, 

And  tempt  the  rheumy  and  iinparged  air 

To  add  nnto  his  sickness  ?     No,  my  Brutus  ; 

You  have  some  sick  offence  within  your  mind, 

Which,  by  the  right  and  virtue  of  my  place, 

I  ought  to  know  of :  and  upon  my  knees       [Kneeling} 

I  charm  you,  by  my  once  commended  beauty, 

By  all  your  vows  of  love,  and  that  great  a'ow 

Which  did  incorporate  and  make  us  one. 

That  you  unfold  to  me,  yourself,  your  half. 

Why  you  are  heavy,  and  what  men  to-night 

Have  had  resort  to  you ;  for  here  have  been 

Some  six  or  seven,  who  did  hide  their  faces 

Even  from  darkness. 

Bru.  Kneel  not,  gentle  Portia.  [Raising  her." 

For.  I  should  not  need,  if  you  were  gentle  Brutus. 
Within  the  bond  of  marriage,  tell  me,  Brutus, 
Is  it  excepted,  I  should  know  no  secrets 
That  appertain  to  you  ?     Am  I  yourself 
But,  as  it  were,  in  sort,  or  limitation  ; 
To  keep  with  you  at  meals,  comfort  your  bed, 
And  talk  to  50U  sometimes  ?  Dwell  I  but  in  the  suburbs 
Of  your  good  pleasure  ?     If  it  be  no  more, 
Portia  is  Brutus'  harlot,  not  his  wife. 

Bni.  You  are  my  true  and  honourable  wife ; 
As  dear  to  me,  as  are  the  niddy  drops 
That  visit  my  sad  heart. 

For.  If  this  were  true,  then  should  I  know  this  secret. 
I  grant.  I  am  a  woman  ;  but,  withal, 
A  woman  that  lord  Brutus  took  to  wife : 
I  grant,  I  am  a  woman  ;  but,  vv'ithal. 
A  woman  well-reputed.  Gate's  daughter. 
Think  you,  I  am  no  stronger  than  my  sex. 
Being  so  father'd,  and  so  husbanded  ? 
Tell  me  your  counsels,  I  will  not  disclose  them. 
I  have  made  strong  proof  of  my  constancy, 
Giving  myself  a  voluntary  wound 
Here,  in  the  thigh  :  can  I  bear  that  with  patience, 
And  not  my  husband's  secrets  ? 

Bru.  0  ye  gods  ! 

Render  me  worthy  of  this  noble  wife.  [Knocking  within. 
Hark,  hark  !  one  knocks.     Portia,  go  in  a  while  ; 
And  by  and  by  thy  bosom  shall  partake 
1  2  Not  in  f.  e. 


8C.  II,  JULIUS    CESAR.  3g 

The  secrets  of  my  heart. 
All  my  engagements  I  will  construe  to  thee, 
All  the  charactery  of  my  sad  brows. 
Leave  me  with  haste.  [Exit  Portia. 

Enter  Lucius  and  Ligarius. 

Lucius,  who  is  "t  that  knocks  ? 

Luc.  Here  is  a  sick  man.  that  would  speak  with  you. 

Bni.  Caius  Ligarius,  that  Metellus  spake  of. — 
Boy,  stand  aside. — Caius  Ligarius  !  how  ? 

Lig.  Vouchsafe  good  morrow  from  a  feeble  tongue. 

Bru.  0  !  what  a  time  have  you  chose  out,  brave  Caius, 
To  wear  a  kerchief.     Would  you  were  not  sick  ! 

Lig.  I  am  not  sick,  if  Brutus  have  in  hand 
Any  exploit  worthy  the  name  of  honour. 

Bru.  Such  an  exploit  have  I  in  hand,  Ligarius, 
Had  you  a  healthtul  ear  to  hear  of  it. 

Lig.  By  all  the  gods  that  Romans  bow  before, 
I  here  discard  my  sickness.     Soul  of  Rome  ! 

[Throwing  away  his  bandage.^ 
Brave  son,  deriv'd  from  honourable  loins, 
Thou,  like  an  exorcist,  hast  conjur-d  up 
My  mortified  spirit.     Now  bid  me  run. 
And  I  will  strive  with  things  impossible  ; 
Yea,  get  the  better  of  them"     What's  to  do? 

Bri(.  A  piece  of  work  that  will  make  sick  men  whole. 

Lig.  But  are  not  some  whole  that  we  must  make  sick  ? 

Bru.  That  must  we  also.     What  it  is,  my  Caius, 
I  shall  unfold  to  thee,  as  we  are  going, 
To  whom  it  must  be  done. 

Lig.  Set  on  your  foot, 

And  with  a  heart  new-fir'd  I  follow  you. 
To  do  I  know  net  what ;  but  it  sufficeth, 
That  Brutus  leads  me  on. 

-S»"w.  Follow  me,  then.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  n. — The  Same.    A  Room  in  Cesar's  Palace. 
Thunder  mid  Lightning.     Enter  CiESAR,  in  his  Night- 

gou'n. 

Cos.  Nor  heaven,  nor  earth,  have  been  at  peace  to- 
night : 
Thrice  hath  Calphurnia  in  her  sleep  cried  out. 
"  Help,  ho  !     They  murder  Csesar  !" — Who  's' within? 

1  Not  in  f.  e. 


34  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  11. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.  My  lord. 

Cos.  Go  bid  the  priests  do  present  sacrifice, 
And  bring  me  their  opinions  of  success. 

Serv.  I  will,  my  lord.  [Exit. 

Enter  Calphurnia. 

Cal.  What  mean  you,  Caesar?     Think  you  to  walk 
forth  ? 
You  shall  not  stir  out  of  your  house  to-day. 

Cas.  Csesar  shall  forth  :  the  things  that  threaten'd  me, 
Ne'er  look'd  but  on  my  back  ;  when  they  shall  see 
The  face  of  CEe.?ar.  they  are  vanished. 

Cal.  Caesar,  I  never  stood  on  ceremonies, 
Yet  now  they  fright  me.     There  is  one  within. 
Besides  the  things  that  we  have  heard  and  seen. 
Recounts  most  horrid  sights  seen  by  the  watch. 
A  lioness  hath  whelped  in  the  streets  ; 
And  graves  have  yawn'd,  and  yielded  up  their  dead; 
Fierce  fiery  warriors  fight  upon  the  clouds 
In  ranks,  and  squadrons,  and  right  form  of  war, 
Which  drizzled  blood  upon  the  Capitol : 
The  noise  of  battle  hurtled  in  the  air ; 
Horses  did  neigh,  and  dying  men  did  groan; 
And  ghosts  did  shriek,  and  squeal  about  the  streets. 
0  Csesar  !  these  things  are  beyond  all  use, 
And  I  do  fear  them. 

Cms.  What  can  be  avoided. 

Whose  end  is  purpos'd  by  the  mighty  gods  ? 
Yet  Csesar  shall  go  forth  ;  for  these  predictions 
Are  to  the  world  in  general,  as  to  Csesar. 

Cal.  When  beggars  die  there  are  no  comets  seen ; 
The  heavens  themselves  blaze  forth  the  death  of  princes. 

Cces.  Cowards  die  many  times  before  their  deaths, 
The  valiant  never  taste  of  death  but  once. 
Of  all  the  wonders  that  I  yet  have  heard, 
It  seems  to  me  most  strange  that  men  should  fear. 
Seeing  that  death,  a  necessary  end, 
Will  come,  when  it  will  come. 

Re-enter  a  Servant. 

What  say  the  augurers  ? 

Serv.  They  would  not  have  you  to  stir  forth  to-day. 
Plucking  the  entrails  of  an  offering  forth, 
They  could  not  find  a  heart  within  the  beast. 

Cces.  The  gods  do  this  in  shame  of  cowardice : 


8C.  11.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  35 

Caesar  should  be  a  beast  without  a  heart, 
If  he  should  stay  at  home  to-day  for  fear. 
No,  Caesar  shall  not :  danger  knows  full  -well, 
That  Caesar  is  more  dangerous  than  he. 
We  are'  two  lions  litterd  in  one  day. 
And  I  the  elder  and  more  terrible ; 
And  Caesar  shall  go  forth. 

Cal.  Alas  !  my  lord, 

Your  wisdom  is  consum'd  in  confidence. 
Do  not  go  forth  to-day :  call  it  my  fear 
That  keeps  you  in  the  house,  and  not  your  own. 
We  '11  send  Mark  Antony  to  the  senate-house, 
And  he  shall  say,  you  are  not  well  to-day: 
Let  me,  upon  my  knee,  prevail  in  this.         [Kneeling.^ 

Cms.  Mark  Antony  shall  say,  I  am  not  Avell  ; 
And,  for  thy  humour,  I  will  .stay  at  home.  [Raising  her. ^ 

Enter  Decius. 
Here  's  Decius  Brutus,  he  shall  tell  them  so. 

Dec.  Csesar,  all  hail !  Good  morrow,  worthy  Caesar: 
T  come  to  fetch  you  to  the  senate-house. 

Cas.  And  you  are  come  in  very  happy  time 
To  bear  my  greeting  to  the  senators, 
And  tell  them  that  I  will  not  come  to-day.  » 

Cannot  is  false  ;  and  that  I  dare  not.  falser  : 
I  will  not  come  to-day.     Tell  them  so,  Decius. 

Cal.  Say,  he  is  sick. 

Cas.  Shall  Caesar  send  a  lie  ? 

Have  I  in  conquest  stretch'd  mine  arm  so  far, 
To  be  afeard  to  tell  grey-beards  the  truth? 
Decius,  go  tell  them,  Csesar  will  not  come. 

Dec.  Most  mighty  Caesar,  let  me  know  some  cause. 
Lest  I  be  laugh'd  at  when  I  tell  them  so. 

Cas.  The  cause  is  in  my  will ;  I  will  not  come  : 
That  is  enough  to  satisfy  the  senate ; 
But,  for  your  private  satisfaction. 
Because  I  love  you,  I  will  let  you  know. 
Calphurnia  here,  my  wife,  stays  me  at  home  : 
She  dream'd  to-night  she  saw  my  statue. 
Which,  like  a  fountain  with  a  hundred  spouts. 
Did  run  pure  blood  ;  and  many  lusty  Romans 
Came  smiling,  and  did  bathe  their  hands  in  it. 
And  these  docs  she  apply  for  warnings,  and  portents 

1  were  :  in  f.  e.      Changed  by  Theobald  from   "  heare"  :   in  folio. 
»  s  1  Not  in  f.  e. 


SB  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  H. 

Of  e^qls  imminent ;  and  on  her  knee 

Hath  begg'd,  that  I  will  stay  at  home  to-day. 

Bee.  This  dream  is  all  amiss  interpreted: 
It  was  a  vision,  fair  and  fortunate. 
Your  statue  spouting  blood  in  many  pipes, 
In  which  so  many  smiling  Romans  bath'd, 
Signifies  that  from  you  great  Rome  shall  suck 
Relaying  blood ;  and  that  great  men  shall  press 
For  tinctures,  stains,  relics,  and  cognizance. 
This  by  Calphurnia's  dream  is  signified. 

Cces.  And  this  way  have  you  well  expounded  it. 

Dec.  I   have,  when  you   have   heard  what  I   can 
say : 
And  know  it  now.     The  senate  have  concluded 
To  give  this  day  a  crown  to  mighty  Csesar  : 
If  you  shall  send  them  word  you  will  not  come. 
Their  minds  may  change.     Besides,  it  were  a  mock 
Apt  to  be  render'd,  for  some  one  to  say, 
"  Break  up  the  senate  till  another  time. 
When  Csesar's  wife  shall  meet  with  better  dreams." 
If  Csesar  hide  himself,  shall  they  not  whisper, 
"Lo  !  Csesar  is  afraid?" 
Pardon  me,  Csesar  ;  for  my  dear,  dear  love 
To  your  proceeding  bids  me  tell  you  this. 
And  reason  to  my  love  is  liable. 

C<zs.  How  foolish   do   your   fears  seem  now,  Cal- 
phurnia  ! 
I  am  ashamed  I  did  yield  to  them. — 
Give  me  my  robe,  for  I  wll  go  : — 
Enter  Publius,  Brutus,  Ligarius,  Metellus,  Casca, 

Trebonius,  and  Cinna. 
And  look  where  Publius  is  come  to  fetch  me. 

Puh.  Good  morrow,  Csesar. 

Cces.  Welcome,  Publius. — 

What,  Brutus,  are  you  stirr'd  so  early  too  ? — 
Good-morrow,  Casca. — Caius  Ligarius, 
Csesar  was  ne'er  so  much  your  enemy, 
As  that  same  ague  which  hath  made  you  lean. — 
What  is  't  o'clock  ? 

Bru.  Csesar,  'tis  stricken  eight. 

Cas.  I  thank  you  for  your  pains  and  courtesy. 
Enter  Antony. 
See !  Antony,  that  revels  long  o'  nights, 
Is  notwithstanding  up. — Good  morrow,  Antony. 


SC.  IV.  JULIUS    CESAR.  37 

Ant.  So  to  most  noble  Caesar. 

C(Es.  Bid  them  prepare  wdthin : 

I  am  to  blame  to  be  thus  waited  for. — 
Now,  Cinna  : — Now,  Metellus  : — What,  Treboiiius  ! 
I  have  an  hour's  talk  in  store  for  you. 
Remember  that  you  call  on  me  to-day : 
Be  near  me.  that  I  may  remember  you. 

Treb.  Csesar.  I  will : — and  so  near  will  I  be,  [Aside. 
That  your  best  friends  shall  wish  I  had  been  farther. 

Cces.  Good  friends,  go  in,  and  taste  some  wine  with  me, 
And  we,  like  friends,  will  straightway  go  together. 

Sru.  That  every  like  is  not  the  same.  O  Csesar\[Aside.^ 
The  heart  of  Brutus  yearns  to  think  upon.        [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.— The  Same.  A  Street  near  the  Capitol. 
Enter  Artemidopus,  reading  a  Paper. 
Art.  '•  Caesar,  beware  of  Brutus  ;  take  heed  of 
Cassius  :  come  not  near  Casca  ;  have  an  eye  to  Cinna  • 
trust  not  Trebonius ;  mark  well  Metellus  Cimber  ; 
Decius  Brutus  loves  thee  not;  thou  hast  wronged 
Caius  Ligarius.  There  is  but  one  mind  in  all  these 
men,  and  it  is  bent  against  Caesar.  If  thou  be"st  not 
immortal,  look  about  you  :  security  gives  way  to  con- 
spiracy.    The  mighty  gods  defend  thee  !     Thy  lover, 

'■  Artemidorus.'"' 
Here  will  I  stand  till  Csesar  pass  along, 
And  as  a  suitor  will  I  give  him  this. 
My  heart  laments  that  virtue  cannot  live 
Out  of  the  teeth  of  emulation. 
If  thou  read  this,  0  Coesar  !  thou  may'st  live  ; 
If  not,  the  fates  with  traitors  do  contrive.  [Exit. 

SCENE  IV. — The  Same.     Another  Part  of  the  same 

Street,  before  the  House  of  Brutus. 

Enter  Portia  and  Lucius. 

For.  I  pr'ythee,  boy,  run  to  the  senate-house  : 
Stay  not  to  answer  me,  but  get  thee  gone. 
Why  dost  thou  stay  ? 

Luc.  To  know  my  errand,  madam. 

For.  I  would  have  had  thee  there,  and  here  again. 
Ere  I  can  tell  thee  what  tliou  shouldst  do  there. — 
O  constancy  !  be  strong  upon  my  side  : 
Set  a  huge  mountain  'tween  my  heart  and  tongue ! 

i  Not  in  f.  e. 

Vol.  YIL— 4 


38  JULIUS   C^SAR.  ACT  n. 

I  have  a  man's  mind,  but  a  woman's  might. 
How  hard  it  is  for  women  to  keep  counsel  ! 
Art  thou  here  yet? 

Luc.  Madam,  what  should  I  do  ? 

Run  to  the  Capitol,  and  nothing  else, 
And  so  return  to  you,  and  nothing  else  ? 

For.  Yes,  bring  me  word,  boy,  if  thy  lord  look  well, 
For  he  went  sickly  forth :   and  take  good  note, 
What  Caesar  doth,  what  suitors  press  to  him. 
Hark,  boy  !  what  noise  is  that  ? 

Luc.   I  hear  none,  madam. 

For.  Pr'ythee,  listen  well : 

I  heard  a  bustling  rumour,  like  a  fray, 
And  the  wind  brings  it  from  the  Capitol. 

Luc.  Sooth,  madam,  I  hear  nothing. 
Enter  the  Soothsayer. 

For.  Come  hither,  fellow. 

Which  way  hast  thou  been  ? 

Sooth.  At  mine  own  house,  good  lady. 

For.  What  is 't  o'clock  ? 

Sooth.  About  the  ninth  hour,  lady. 

For.  Is  Caesar  yet  gone  to  the  Capitol  ? 

Sooth.  Madam,  not  yet :   I  go  to  take  my  stand. 
To  see  him  pass  on  to  the  Capitol. 

For.  Thou  hast  some  suit  to  Caesar,  hast  thou  not? 

Sooth.  That  I  have,  lady  :  if  it  will  please  Caesar 
To  be  so  good  to  Caesar,  as  to  hear  me, 
I  shall  beseech  him  to  befriend  himself. 

For.  Why,  know'st  thou  any  harm  's  intended  towards 
him  ? 

Sooth.  None  that  I  know  will  be,  much  that  I  fear 
may  chance. 
Good  morrow  to  you.     Here  the  street  is  narrow  : 
The  throng  that  follows  Caesar  at  the  heels, 
Of  senators,  of  pra;tors.  common  suitors, 
Will'crowd  a  feeble  man  almost  to  death: 
I  '11  get  me  to  a  place  more  void,  and  there 
Speak  to  great  Cassar  as  he  comes  along.  [Eocit. 

For.  I  must  go  in. — Ah  me  !  how  weak  a  thing 
The  heart  of  woman  is.     0  Brutus  ! 
The  heavens  speed  tliee  in  thine  enterprise  ! 
Sure,  the  boy  heard  me : — Brutus  hath  a  suit, 
That  Caesar  will  not  grant. — 0  !  I  grow  faint. — 
Run,  Lucius,  and  commend  me  to  my  lord  : 


8C.  I.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  39 

Say,  I  am  merry :  come  to  me  again, 

And  bring  me  word  what  he  doth  say  to  thee.     [Exeunt. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I.— The  Same.     The  Capitol:  the  Senate 
sitting. 

A  crowd  of  People  in  the  Street  leading  to  the  Capi- 
tol :  among  them  Artemidorus,  and  the  Soothsayer. 

Flourish.     Enter  Cesar,  Brutus,  C.\ssius.   Casca. 

Decius,   Metei.lus.   Trebomus,    Cinna,   Antony, 

Lepidus,  Popilius,  Publius,  and.  others. 

CcEs.  The  ides  of  IMarch  are  come. 

Sooth.  Ay,  Csesar ;  but  not  gone. 

Art.  Hail.  Caesar  !     Read  this  schedule. 

Dec.  Trebonius  doth  desire  you  to  o'er-read, 
At  your  be.«t  leisure,  this  his  humble  suit. 

Art.  0,  Ca5sar  !  read  mine  first :  for  mine  's  a  suit 
That  touches  CsBsar  nearer.     Read  it.  great  Csesar. 

Cces.  That  touches  us  ?  ourself  shall  be  last  serv'd.' 

Art.  Delay  not,  Csesar :  read  it  instantly. 

C(Bs.  What  !  is  the  fellow  mad  ? 

Pub.  Sirrah,  give  place. 

Cas.  What !  urge  you  your  petitions  in  the  street? 
Come  to  the  Capitol. 

C5:sAR  enters  the  Capitol,  the  rest  following.     All  the 
Senators  rise. 

Pop.  I  wish,  your  enterprise  to-day  may  thrive. 

Cas.  What  enterprise,  Popilius  ? 

Pop.  Fare  you  well.     [Advances  to  C^sar. 

Bru.  What  said  Popilius  Lena  ? 

Cas.  He  wish'd.  to-day  our  enterprise  might  thrive. 
I  fear,  our  purpose  is  discovered. 

Bru.  "Look,  how  he  makes  to  Caisar :  mark  him. 

Cas.  Casca.  be  sudden,  for  we  fear  prevention. — 
Brutus,  what  shall  be  done?     If  this  be  known, 
Cassius  or  Ccesar  never  shall  turn  back, 
For  I  will  slay  myself. 

1  What  touches  us  ourself,  &c. :  in  f.  e. 


40  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  III. 

Bru.  Cassius,  be  constant : 

Popilins  Lena  speaks  not  of  our  purposes  : 
For,  look,  he  smiles,  and  Csesar  doth  not  change. 

Cas.    Trebonius   knows   his   time ;    for,    look   you, 
Brutus, 
He  draws  Mark  Antony  out  of  the  way. 

[Exeunt  Antony  and  Trebonius.     C^sar 
and  the  Senators  take  their  Seats. 

Dec.  Where  is  Metellus  Cimber?     Let  him  go, 
And  presently  prefer  his  suit  to  Csesar. 

Bru.  He  is  address'd';  press  near,  and  second  him. 

Cin.  Casca,  you  are  the  first  that  rears  your  hand. 

Casca."  Are  we  all  ready? 

Cms.  What  is  now  amiss, 

That  Cresar  and  his  senate  must  redress  ? 

31ct.    Most   high,  most   mighty,  and  most  puissant 
Ccesar, 
Metellus  Cimber  throws  before  thy  seat 
An  humble  heart. —  [Kneeling. 

Cces.  I  must  prevent  thee,  Cimber. 

These  crouchings,^  and  these  lowly  courtesies, 
Might  fire  the  blood  of  ordinary  men, 
And  turn  pre-ordinance,  and  first  decree, 
Into  the  law*  of  children.     Be  not  fond. 
To  think  that  Caesar  bears  such  rebel  blood, 
That  will  be  thaw'd  from  the  true  quality 
With  that  which  melteth  fools ;  I  mean,  sweet  words, 
Low-crouched°  curtesies,  and  base  spaniel  fawning. 
Thy  brother  by  decree  is  banished  : 
If  thou  dost  bend,  and  pray,  and  fawn  for  him, 
I  spurn  thee  like  a  cur  out  of  my  way. 
Know,  Csesar  doth  not  wrong;  nor  without  cause 
Will  he  be  satisfied. 

Met.  Is  there  no  voice,  more  worthy  than  my  own. 
To  sound  more  sweetly  in  great  Caesar's  ear, 
For  the  repealing  of  my  banish'd  brother  ? 

Bru.  I  kiss  thy  hand,  but  not  in  flattery,  Caesar  ; 
Desiring  thee,  that  Publius  Cimber  may 
Have  an  immediate  freedom  of  repeal. 

Cas.  What.  Brutus  ! 

Cas.  Pardon,  Caesar  ;  Caesar,  pardon  : 

As  low  as  to  thy  foot  doth  Cassius  fall, 

^  Eeady.      ^  Caiar :  in  f.  e.      ^  couchings  :  in  f.  e.      *  lane  :  in 
folio.     '  Low-crooked  :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  I.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  41 

To  beg  enfranchisement  for  Publius  Cimber. 

Cos.  I  could  be  well  mov'd,  if  I  were  as  you  ; 
If  I  could  pray  to  move,  prayers  would  move  me ; 
But  I  am  constant  as  the  northern  star, 
Of  whose  true,  tix'd,  and  resting  quality, 
There  is  no  fellow  in  the  firmament. 
The  skies  are  painted  with  unnumbered  sparks, 
They  are  all  fire,  and  every  one  doth  shine ; 
But  there  's  but  one  in  all  doth  hold  his  place. 
So,  in  the  world  :  't  is  furnish"d  well  with  men, 
And  men  are  flesh  and  blood,  and  apprehensive ; 
Yet  in  the  number  I  do  know  but  one 
That  unassailable  holds  on  his  rank, 
Unshak'd  of  motion  :  and,  tliat  I  am  he, 
Let  me  a  little  show  it,  even  in  this, 
That  I  was  constant  Cimber  should  be  banish'd, 
And  constant  do  remain  to  keep  him  so. 

Cin.  0  Cffisar  I — 

Cas.  Hence  !  Wilt  thou  lift  up  Olyinpus  ? 

Dec.  Great  Csesar. — 

Cces.  Doth  not  Brutus  bootless  kneel  ? 

Casca.  Speak,  hands,  for  me. 

[Casca  stabs  C^sar  in  the  Neck.  C^sar  catches 
hold  of  his  Arm.  He  is  then  stabbed  by  several 
other  Conspirators,  and  last  by  Marcus  Brutus. 

Cms.  Et  tu.  Brute  /— Tlicn  fall,  Ctesar. 

[Dies.     The  Senators  and  People  retire  in  confusion. 

Cin.  Liberty  !     Freedom  !     Tyranny  is  dead  ! — 
Run  hence,  proclaim,  cry  it  about  the  streets. 

Cas.  Some  to  the  common  pulpits,  and  cry  out, 
'■Liberty,  freedom,  and  enfranchisement !" 

Bru.  People,  and  senators  !  be  not  afi^i-ighted. 
Fly  not;  stand  still  : — ambition's  debt  is  paid. 

Casca.  Go  to  the  pulpit,  Brutus. 

Dec.  And  Cassius  too. 

Bru.  Where 's  Publius  ? 

Cin.  Here,  quite  confounded  with  this  mutiny. 

Met.  Stand  fast  together,  lest  some  friend  of  Caesar's 
Should  chance — 

Bru.  Talk  not  of  standing. — Publius,  good  cheer : 
There  is  no  harm  intended  to  your  person. 
Nor  to  no  Ptoman  else  ;  so  tell  them,  Publius. 

Cas.  And  leave  us,  Publius  :  lest  that  the  people, 
Rushing  on  us,  should  do  your  age  some  mischief. 

4* 


42  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  HI. 

Brv.  Do  so: — and  let  no  man  abide  this  deed, 
But  we,  the  doers. 

Re-enter  Trebonius. 

Cos.  Where  's  Antony  ? 

Tre.  Fled  to  his  house  amaz'd. 

Men,  wives,  and  children,  stare,  cry  out,  and  run, 
As  it  were  doomsday. 

Bru.  Fates,  we  "svill  know  your  pleasures. — 

That  we  shall  die,  we  know ;  't  is  but  the  time, 
And  drawing  days  out,  that  men  stand  upon. 

Casca.  Why,  he  that  cuts  off  twenty  years  of  life, 
Cuts  off  so  many  years  of  fearing  death. 

Bru.  Grant  that,  and  then  is  deaih  a  benefit : 
So  are  we  Caesar's  fricuds,  that  have  abridg'd 
His  time  of  fearing  death. — Stoop,  Romans,  stoop, 
And  let  vis  bathe  our  hands  in  Ca?sar's  blood 
Up  to  the  elbows,  and  besmear  our  swords ; 
Then  walk  we  forth,  even  to  the  market-place, 
And.  wa\'ing  our  red  weapons  o"er  our  heads. 
Let 's  all  cry.  Peace  !  Freedom  !  and  Liberty  ! 

Cas.  Stoop  then,  and  wash. — How  many  ages  hence, 
Shall  this  our  lofty  scene  be  acted  over, 
Li  states  unborn,  and  accents  yet  unknown? 

Bru.  How  many  times  shall  Caesar  bleed  in  sport, 
That  now  on  Pompeys  basis  lies  along, 
No  worthier  than  the  dust  ? 

Cas.  So  oft  as  that  shall  be, 

So  often  shall  the  knot  of  us  be  calPd 
The  men  that  gave  their  country  liberty. 

Bee.  What  !  shall  we  forth  ? 

Cas.  Ay,  ever^^man  away: 

Brutus  shall  lead  ;  and  we  wnll  grace  his  heels 
With  the  most  boldest  and  best  hearts  of  Rome, 
Enter  a  Servant. 

Bru.  Soft !  who  comes  here  ?    A  friend  of  Antony's. 

Serv.  Thus,  Brutus,  did  my  master  bid  me  kneel ; 

\Kneeling} 
Thus  did  ]Mark  Antony  bid  me  fall  dowm. 
And,  being  prostrate,  thus  he  bade  me  say. 
Brutus  is  noble,  wise,  valiant,  and  honest ; 
Caisar  was  mighty,  bold,  ro'jal,  and  loving  : 
Say,  I  love  Brutus,  and  I  honour  him ; 
Say,  I  fear'd  Csesar,  honour'd  him,  and  lov'd  him. 

1  Not  in  f.  e. 


8C.  I.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  43 

If  Brutus  will  vouchsafe,  that  Antony 

May  safely  come  to  him.  and  be  resolv'd 

How  Csesar  hath  def^erv'd  to  lie  in  death, 

Mark  Antony  shall  not  love  Ca;sar  dead 

So  well  as  Brutus  living  ;  but  will  follow 

The  fortunes  and  affairs  of  noble  Brutus, 

Thorough  the  hazards  of  this  untrod  state. 

With  all  true  faith.  So  says  my  master  Antony.  [Rising} 

Bni.  Thy  ma.^ter  is  a  wise  and  valiant  Roman: 
I  never  thought  him  worse. 
Tell  him.  so  please  him  come  unto  this  place, 
He  shall  be  satisfied  ;  and^  by  my  honour, 
Depart  untouch'd. 

Serv.  I  "11  fetch  him  presently.     [Exit  Servant. 

Bin.  I  know,  that  we  shall  have  him  well  to  friend. 

Cas.  I  wish,  we  may  ;  but  yet  have  I  a  mind, 
That  fears  him  much,  and  my  misgiving  still 
Falls  shrewdly  to  the  purpose. 

Enter  Antony. 

Bru.    But   here    comes    Antony. — Welcome,    Mark 
Antony. 

Ant.  0  mighty  Coesar  !  dost  thou  lie  so  low  ? 

[Kneeling  over  the  Body.* 
Are  all  thy  conquests,  glories,  triumphs,  spoils, 
Shrunk  to  this  little  measure  ?     Fare  thee  well. — 
I  know  not,  gentlemen,  what  you  intend,  [Rising.* 

Who  else  must  be  let  blood,  who  else  is  rank  : 
If  I  myself,  there  is  no  hour  so  fit 
As  Caesar's  death  hour ;  nor  no  instrument 
Of  half  that  worth,  as  those  your  swords,  made  rich 
With  the  most  noble  blood  of  all  this  world. 
I  do  beseech  ye.  if  you  bear  me  hard, 
Now.  whilst  your  purpled  hands  do  reek  and  smoke, 
Fulfil  your  pleasure.     Live  a  thousand  years, 
I  shall  not  find  myself  so  apt  to  die  ; 
No  ])lace  will  please  me  so,  no  mean  of  death. 
As  here  by  Csesar,  and  by  you  cut  off,  i 

The  choice  and  master  spirits  of  this  age. 

Bru.  0  Antony  !  beg  not  your  death  of  us. 
Though  now  we  must  appear  bloody  and  cruel, 
As.  by  our  hands,  and  this  our  present  act, 
You  see  we  do ;  yet  see  you  but  our  hands. 
And  this  the  bleeding  business  they  have  done. 
»  2  3  Not  ifl.  f.  e. 


44  JULIUS  c.*:sAR.  act  rn. 

Our  hearts  you  see  not :  they  are  pitiful : 

And  pity  to  the  general  wrong  of  Rome 

(As  fire  drives  out  fire,  so  pity,  pity) 

Hath  done  this  deed  on  Cjesar.     For  your  part, 

To  you  our  swords  have  leaden  points,  Mark  Antony : 

Our  arms,  in  strength  of  welcome,  and  our  hearts, 

Of  brothers'  temper,  do  receive  you  in 

With  all  kind  love,  good  thoughts,  and  reverence. 

Cas.  Your  voice  shall  be  as  strong  as  any  man's, 
In  the  disposing  of  new  dignities. 

Brit.  Only  be  patient,  till  we  have  appeas'd 
The  multitude,  beside  themselves  with  fear, 
And  then  we  will  deliver  you  the  cause, 
Why  I.  that  did  love  Caesar  Avhen  I  struck  him, 
Have  thus  proceeded. 

Ant.  I  doubt  not  of  your  wisdom. 

Let  each  man  render  me  his  bloody  hand  : 

[One  after  the  other.'' 
First,  Marcus  Brutus,  will  I  shake  with  you  : — 
Next,  Caius  Cassius,  do  I  take  your  hand  : — 
Now,  Decius  Brutus,  yoiu-s  ; — now  yours,  Metellus  ; — 
Yours,  Cinna  ; — and,  my  valiant  Casca.  yours  : — 
Though  last,  not  least  in  love,  yours,  good  Trebonius. 
Gentlemen  all, — alas  !  what  shall  I  say  ? 
My  credit  now  stands  on  such  slippery  ground, 
That  one  of  tNvo  bad  Mays  you  must  conceit  me, 
Either  a  coward,  or  a  flatterer. — 
That  I  did  love  thee,  Cresar  !  0,  'tis  true  : 

[Turning  to  the  Body,  and  bending  over  it.^ 
If,  then,  thy  spirit  look  upon  us  now, 
Shall  it  not  grieve  tiiee.  dearer  than  thy  death, 
To  see  thy  Antony  making  his  peace. 
Shaking  the  bloody  fingers  of  thy  foes. 
Most  noble  !  in  the  presence  of  thy  corse  ? 
Had  I  as  many  eyes  as  tliou  hast  wounds. 
Weeping  as  fast  as  they  strcom  forth  thy  blood. 
It  would  become  me  better,  than  to  close 
In  terms  of  friendship  with  thine  enemies. 
Pardon   me,  Julius  !      Here  wast  thou  bay'd,    brave 

hart : 
Here  didst  thou  fall  :  and  here  thy  hunters  stand, 
Sign'd  in  thy  spoil,  and  crimson'd  in  thy  death. 
O  world  !  thou  wast  the  ibrest  to  this  hart; 

»  2  Not  in  f.  e. 


8C.  I.  JULIUS   C^SAR.  45 

And  this,  indeed,  0  world  !  the  heart  of  thee. 

How  like  a  deer,  stricken  by  many  princes, 
Dost  thou  here  lie  ? 

Cas.  Mark  Antony  ! 

-^nt.  Pardon  me,  Caius  Cassius: 

The  enemies  of  Caesar  shall  say  this ; 
Then,  in  a  friend  it  is  cold  modesty. 

Cas.  I  blame  you  not  for  praising  Cfesar  so, 
But  what  compact  mean  you  to  have  with  us  ? 
Will  you  be  prick"d  in  number  of  our  friends. 
Or  shall  we  on.  and  not  depend  on  you  ? 

Ant.  Therefore  I  took  your  hands  ;  but  was,  indeed, 
Sway'd  from  the  point  by  looking  down  on  Csesar. 
Friends  am  I  with  you  all.  and  love  you  all, 
Upon  this  hope,  that  you  shall  give  me  reasons, 
Why,  and  wherein,  Coesar  was  dangerous. 

Bru.  Or  else  were  this  a  savage  spectacle. 
Our  reasons  are  so  full  of  good  regard. 
That  were  you,  Antony,  the  son  of  Caesar, 
You  should  be  satisfied. 

Ant.  That  's  all  I  seek : 

And  am  moreover  suitor,  that  I  may 
Produce  his  body  to  f  e  market-place ; 
And  in  the  pulpit,  as  oecomes  a  friend. 
Speak  in  the  order  of  his  funeral. 

Bru.  You  shall,  Mark  Antony. 

Ca.'!.  Brutus,  a  word  with  you. — 

You  know  not  what  you  do  :  do  not  consent,       [Apart. 
That  Antony  speak  in  his  funeral. 
Know  you  how  much  the  people  may  be  mov'd 
By  that  which  he  will  utter  ? 

Bru.  By  your  pardon : 

I  will  myself  into  the  pulpit  first, 
And  show  the  reason  of  our  Ccesar's  death  : 
What  Antony  shall  speak,  I  will  protest 
He  speaks  by  leave  and  by  permission  ; 
And  that  we  are  contented,  Caesar  shall 
Have  all  due  rites,  and  lawful  ceremonies. 
It  shall  advantage  more,  than  do  us  wrong. 

Cas.  I  know  not  what  may  fall :  I  like  it  not. 

Bru.  Mark  Antony,  here,  take  you  Caesar's  body. 
You  shall  not  in  your  funeral  speech  blame  us, 
But  speak  all  good  you  can  devise  of  Caesar; 
And  say,  you  do 't  by  our  permission, 


46 


JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  HI. 


Else  shall  you  not  have  any  hand  at  all 
About  his  funeral  :  and  you  shall  speak 
In  the  same  pulpit  whereto  I  am  going, 
After  my  speech  is  ended. 

^nt.  Be  it  so; 

I  do  desire  no  more. 

Bru.  Prepare  the  body,  then,  and  follow  us. 

[Exeunt  all  bid  Antony. 
Ant.  0  !  pardon  me,  thou  bleeding  piece  of  earth, 
That  I  am  meek  and  gentle  with  these  butchers. 
Thou  art  the  ruins  of  the  noblest  man, 
That  ever  lived  in  the  tide  of  times. 
Woe  to  the  liand  that  shed  this  costly  blood  ! 
Over  thy  wounds  now  do  I  prophesy. 
(Which,  like  dumb  mouths,  do  ope  their  ruby  lips. 
To  beg  the  voice  and  utterance  of  my  tongue) 
A  curse  shall  light  upon  the  loins  of  men : 
Domestic  fury,  and  fierce  civil  strife. 
Shall  cumber  all  the  parts  of  Italy  : 
Blood  and  destruction  shall  be  so  in  use, 
And  dreadful  objects  so  familiar, 
That  mothers  shall  but  smile,  when  they  behold 
Their  infants  quartered  with  the  hands  of  war, 
All  pity  chok'd  with  cu.stom  of  fell  deeds  ; 
And  Caesar's  spirit,  ranging  for  revense. 
With  Ate  by  his  side,  come  hot  from  hell, 
Shall  in  these  confines,  with  a  monarch's  voice, 
Cry  "Havock  !"  and  let  slip  the  does  of  war, 
That  this  foul  deed  shall  smell  above  the  earth 
With  carrion  men,  groaning  for  burial. 

Enter  a  Sen'ant. 
You  serve  Octavius  Caesar,  do  you  not  ? 
Serv.  I  do,  Mark  Antony. 

Ant.  Ca?sar  did  write  for  him  to  come  to  Rome. 
Serv.  He  did  receive  his  letters,  and  is  coming 

And  bid  me  say  to  you  by  word  of  mouth. "' 

0  Caesar  !  [Seeing  the  Body. 

Ant.  Thy  heart  is  big,  get  thee  apart  and  weep. 
Passion,  I  see,  is  catching;  for  mine  eyes, 
Seeing  those  beads  of  sorrow  stand  in  thine, 
Began  to  water.     Is  thy  master  coming  ? 

Serv.  He  lies  to-night  within  seven  leagues  of  Rome. 
Ant.  Post  back  with  speed,  and  tell  him  what  hath 
chano'd. 


SC.  11.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ^ 

Here  is  a  mourning  R.ome,  a  dangerous  Rome, 

No  Rome  of  safety  for  Octavius  yet : 

Hie  hence,  and  tell  him  so.     Yet,  stay  a  while  ; 

Thou  shall  not  back,  till  I  have  borne  this  corse 

Into  the  market-place  :  there  shall  I  try. 

In  my  oration,  how  the  people  take 

The  cruel  issue  of  these  bloody  men ; 

According  to  the  which,  thou  shalt  discourse 

To  young  Octavius  of  the  state  of  things. 

Lend  me  your  hand.  [Exeimt,  u'ith  CjEsar's  Body. 

SCENE  II.— The  Same.     The  Forum. 
Enter  Brutus  and  Cassius.  and  a  throng  of  Citizens. 
Cit.  We  will  be  satisfied  :  let  us  be  satisfied. 
.Bnf  .Then  follow  me.  and  give  me  audience,  friends. — 
Cassius,  go  you  into  the  other  street, 
And  part  the  numbers. — 

Those  that  will  hear  me  speak,  let  them  stay  here ; 
Those  that  will  follow  Cas.sius.  go  with  him; 
And  public  reasons  shall  be  rendered 
Of  Csesar's  death. 

1  Cit.  I  will  hear  Brutus  speak. 

2  Cit.  I  will  hear  Cassius:  and  compare  their  reasons, 
When  severally  we  hear  them  rendered. 

[Exit  Cassius.  tcith  some  of  the  Citizens. 
Brutus  goes  into  the  Rostrum. 

.3  Cit.  The  noble  Brutus  is  ascended.     Silence  ! 

Bru.  Be  patient  till  the  last. 
Romans,  countrymen,  and  lovers  !  hear  me  for  my 
cause,  and  be  silent  that  you  may  hear  :  believe  me  for 
mine  honour,  and  have  respect  to  mine  honour,  that 
you  may  believe  :  censure  me  in  your  wisdom,  and 
awake  your  senses  that  you  may  the  better  judge.  If 
there  be  any  in  this  assembly,  any  dear  friend  of 
Caesar's,  to  him  I  say,  that  Brutus'  love  to  Caesar  was 
no  less  than  his.  If,  then,  that  friend  demand,  why 
Brutus  rose  against  Cfcsar?  this  is  my  answer. — not 
that  I  loved  Ccesar  less,  but  that  I  loved  Ptome  more. 
Had  you  rather  Cajsar  were  living,  and  die  all  slaves, 
than  that  Caesar  Avere  dead,  to  live  all  free  men  ?  As 
Ciesar  loved  me,  I  weep  for  him  ;  as  he  was  fortunate, 
I  rejoice  at  it ;  as  he  was  valiant,  I  honour  him ;  but, 
as  he  was  ambitious,  I  slew  him.  There  is  tears  for 
his  love ;  joy  for  his  fortune ;  honour  for  his  valour ; 


48  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  III. 

and  death  for  his  ambition.  Who  is  here  so  base,  that 
"would  be  a  bondman?  If  any.  speak  ;  for  him  have  I 
offended.  Who  is  here  so  rnde,  that  wovild  not  be  a 
Roman?  If  any,  speak;  for  him  have  I  offended. 
Who  is  here  so  vile,  that  will  not  love  his  country? 
If  any,  speak  ;  for  him  have  I  offended.  I  pause  for  a 
reply. 

All.  None,  Brutus,  none. 

Bru.  Then,  none  have  I  offended.  I  have  done  no 
more  to  Caesar,  than  you  shall  do  to  Brutus.  The 
question  of  his  death  is  enrolled  in  the  Capitol;  his 
glory  not  extenuated,  wherein  he  was  worthy,  nor  his 
offences  enforced,  for  which  he  suffered  death. 

Enter  Antoxt  and  others,  with  Caesar's  Body. 
Here  comes  his  body,  mourned  by  Mark  Antony  :  who, 
though  he  had  no  hand  in  his  death,  shall  receive  the 
benefit  of  his  dying,  a  place  in  the  commonwealth  ;  as 
which  of  you  shall  not?  With  tliis  I  depart:  that,  as 
I  slew  my  best  lover  for  the  good  of  Rome,  I  have  the 
same  dagger  for  myself,  when  it  shall  please  my  coun- 
try to  need  my  death. 

All.  Live,  Brutus  !  live  !  live  ! 

1  Cit.  Bring  him  with  triumph  home  unto  his  house. 

2  Cit.  Give  him  a  statue  with  his  ancestors.  ** 

3  Cit.  Let  him  be  Csesar. 

4  Cit.  Csesar's  better  parts 
Shall  now  be  crown'd  in  Brutus. 

1  Cit.  We  '11  bring  him  to  his  house  with  shouts  and 

clamours. 
Bru.  My  country^men, — 

2  Cit.  Peace  !  silence  !  Brutus  speaks. 
1  Cit.  Peace,  ho  ! 

Bru.  Good  countrymen,  let  me  depart  alone ; 
And,  for  my  sake,  stay  here  with  Antony : 
Do  gi-ace  to  Ca;sar's  corpse,  and  grace  his  speech 
Tending  to  Csesar's  glories,  which  Mark  Antony, 
By  our  permission,  is  allow'd  to  make. 
I  do  entreat  you,  not  a  man  depart, 
Save  I  alone,  till  Antony  have  spoke.  [Exit. 

1  Cit.  Stay,  ho  !  and  let  us  hear  Mark  Antony. 

3  Cit.  Let  him  go  up  into  the  public  chair : 
We  '11  hear  him. — Noble  Antony,  go  up. 

Ant.  For  Brutus'  sake.  I  am  beholding  to  you. 

4  Cit.  What  does  he  say  of  Brutus  ? 


SC.  II.  JULIUS    CAESAR.  49 

3  Cit.  He  says,  for  Brutus'  sake, 
He  finds  himself  beholding  to  us  all. 

4  Cit.  'T  Avere  best  he  speak  no  harm  of  Brutus  here. 

1  Cit.  This  Caesar  was  a  tyrant. 

3  Cit.  Nay,  that 's  certain  : 

We  are  bless'd,  that  Rome  is  rid  of  him. 

2  Cit.  Peace  !  let  us  hear  what  Antony  can  say. 
Ant.  You  gentle  Romans. — 

Cit.  Peace,  ho  !  let  us  hear  lam. 

Ant.  Friends,   Romans,   countrymen,   lend  me  your 
ears: 
I  come  to  bury  Ceesar,  not  to  praise  him. 
The  evil  that  men  do  lives  after  them. 
The  good  is  oft  interred  with  their  bones  : 
So  let  it  be  with  Ca>sar.     The  noble  Brutus 
Hath  told  you.  Ctssar  was  ambitious: 
If  it  were  so,  it  was  a  grievous  fault. 
And  grievously  hath  CVe-sar  answer'd  it. 
Here,  under  leave  of  Brutus  and  the  rest, 
(For  Brutus  is  an  honourable  man. 
So  are  they  all.  all  honourable  men) 
Come  I  to  speak  in  Ctesars  funeral. 
He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  just  to  me  : 
But  Brutus  says,  he  was  ambitious  : 
And  Brutus  is  an  honourable  man. 
He  hath  brought  many  captives  home  to  Rome, 
Whose  ransoms  did  the  general  coffers  fill : 
Did  this  in  Cessar  seem  ambitious? 
When  that  the  poor  have  cried.  Csesar  hath  wept; 
Ambition  .should  be  made  of  sterner  stuff: 
Yet  Brutus  says,  he  was  ambitious: 
And  Brutus  is  an  honourable  man. 
You  all  did  sec,  that  on  the  Lupercal 
T  thrice  presented  him  a  kingly  crown, 
Which  he  did  thrice  refuse.     Was  this  ambition? 
Yet  Brutus  says,  he  was  ambitious ; 
And,  sure,  he  is  an  honourable  man. 
1  speak  not  to  disprove  what  Brutus  spoke. 
But  here  I  am  to  speak  what  I  do  know. 
You  all  did  love  him  once,  not  without  cause : 
What  cause  withholds  you,  then,  to  mourn  for  him  ? 
0  judgment !  thou  art  fled  to  brutish  beasts, 
And  men  have  lost  their  reason. — Bear  with  me ; 
My  heart  is  in  the  cofiin  there  with  Csesar, 

Vol.  VII.— 5 


50  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  III. 

And  I  must  pause  till  it  come  back  to  me. 

1  Cit.  Metliinks,  there  is  much  reason  in  his  sayings. 

2  Cit.  If  thou  consider  rightly  of  the  matter, 
Csesar  lias  had  great  wrong. 

3  Cit.  Has  he.  masters? 
I  fear,  there  will  a  worse  come  in  his  place. 

4  Cit.  Mark'd  ye  his  words  ?     He  would  not  take  the 

crown  : 
Therefore,  't  is  certain,  he  was  not  ambitious. 

1  Cit.  If  it  be  found  so,  some  will  dear  abide  it. 

2  Cit.  Poor  soul  !  his   eyes    are    red    as    tire  with 

weeping. 

3  Cit.  There's  not    a   nobler   man  in  Plouic  than 

Antony. 

4  Cit.   Now  mark  him  ;  he  begins  again  to  speak. 
Ant.  But  yesterday,  the  word  of  Cffsar  might 

Have  stood  against  the  world  :  now,  lies  he  there, 
And  none  so  poor  to  do  him  reverence. 

0  masters  !  if  I  were  disposal  to  stir' 
Your  hearts  and  minds  to  mutiny  and  rage, 

1  should  do  Brutus  wrong,  and  Cassius  wrong, 
Who,  you  all  know,  arc  honourable  men. 

I  will  not  do  them  wrong;  I  rather  choose 

To  wrong  the  dead,  to  wrong  myself,  and  you, 

Than  I  will  wrong  such  honourable  men. 

But  here  's  a  parchment  with  the  seal  of  Caesar  ; 

I  found  it  in  his  clo.set,  't  is  his  will  : 

Let  but  the  commons  hear  this  testament. 

(Which,  pardon  me.  I  do  not  mean  to  read) 

And  they  would  go  and  kiss  dead  Caesar's  wounds, 

And  dip  their  napkins  in  his  sacred  blood ; 

Yea,  beg  a  hair  of  him  for  memory. 

And,  dying,  mention  it  within  their  wills, 

Bequeathing  it.  as  a  rich  legacy. 

Unto  their  issue. 

4  Cit.  We  'II  hear  the  will.     Read  it.  Mark  Antony. 

All.  The  will,  the  will !  we  will  hear  Ca5.sars  will. 

A77t.    Have   patience,    gentle    friends;    I   must   not 
read  it : 
It  is  not  meet  you  know  how  Csesar  lov'd  you. 
You  are  not  wood,  you  are  not  stones,  but  men, 
And,  being  men,  hearing  the  will  of  Cajsar, 
It  will  inflame  you,  it  will  make  you  mad. 
'T  is  good  you  know  not  that  you  are  his  heirs; 


8C.   II.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  51 

For  if  you  should.  0  !  what  would  come  of  it  ? 

4  Cit.  Read  the  will !  we'll  hear  it,  Antony; 
You  shall  read  us  the  will:   Cajsar's  will  ! 

Ant.  Will  you  be  patient?     Will  you  stay  a  while? 
I  have  o"ershot  myself  to  tell  you  of  it. 
I  fear,  I  wrong  the  honourable  men. 
Whose  dasgers  have  stabb'd  Caesar  :  I  do  fear  it. 

4  Cit.  They  were  traitors  :  honovu-able  men  ! 

All.  The  will  !  the  testament  ! 

2   Cit.  They  were  villains,  murderers.     The  will  ! 
read  the  will. 

Ant.  You  will  compel  me,  then,  to  read  the  will? 
Then,  make  a  ring  about  the  corpse  of  CsDsar, 
And  let  me  show  you  him  that  made  the  will. 
Shall  I  descend  ?  and  will  you  give  me  leave  ? 

All.  Come  down. 

2  Cit.  Descend.  [He  comes  down. 

3  Cit.  You  shall  have  leave. 

4  Cit.  A  ring  !  stand  round. 

1  Cit.  Stand    from    the    hearse ;    stand    from   the 

body. 

2  Cit.  Room  for  Antony ; — most  noble  Antony  ! 
Ant.  Nay.  press  not  so  upon  me ;  stand  far  otT. 
All.  Stand  back  !  room  !  bear  back  ! 

Ant.  If  you  have  tears,  prepare  to  shed  them  now. 
You  all  do  know  this  mantle  :  I  remember 
The  first  time  ever  Csesar  put  it  on ; 
'T  was  on  a  summer's  evening,  in  his  tent, 
That  day  he  overcame  the  Ner-vii. 
Look  !  in  this  place,  ran  Cassius'  dagger  through: 
See,  what  a  rent  the  envious  Casca  made : 
Through  this  the  well-beloved  Brutus  stabb'd ; 
And  as  he  pluck'd  his  cursed  steel  away, 
Mark  how  the  blood  of  Csesar  follow'd  it, 
As  rushing  out  of  doors,  to  be  resolv'd 
If  Brutus  so  unkindly  knoek'd,  or  no  ; 
For  Brutus,  as  you  know,  was  Ca3sar's  angel : 
Judge,  0  you  gods,  how  dearly  Ccesar  lov'd  him  ! 
This  was  the  most  unkindest  cut  of  all ; 
For  when  the  noble  Csesar  saw  him  stab, 
Ingratitude,  more  strong  than  traitors'  arms, 
Quite  vanquish'd  him  :  then  burst  his  mighty  heart; 
And  in  his  mantle  muffling  up  his  face. 
Even  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue, 


52  JULIUS    CJESAR.  ACT  HI. 

Which  all  the  while  ran  blood,  gi-eat  Csesar  fell. 

O,  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymeu ! 

Then  I.  and  you,  and  all  of  us  fell  do-«Ti, 

Whilst  bloody  treason  flourish'd  over  us. 

O  !  now  you  weep  :  and,  I  perceive,  you  feel 

The  dint  of  pity  :  these  are  gracious  drops. 

Kind  souls  !  what !  weep  you.  when  you  but  behold 

Our  Csesar"s  vesture  wounded?     Look  you  here, 

Here  is  himself,  niarr'd.  as  you  see,  with  traitors. 

1  Cit.  0  piteous  spectacle  ! 

2  Cit.  0  noble  Cffisar  ! 

3  Cit.  O  woful  day  ! 

4  Cit.  0  traitors  !  villains  ! 
1  Cit.  0  most  bloody  sight ! 

All.  We  will  be  revenged.     Revenge  !  about, — seek, 
— burn. — fire. — kill. — slay  !— 'let  not  a  traitor  live. 
^?if.  Stay,  countrymen.  [T^iey  are  rushing  out.^ 

1  Cit.  Peace  there  !  hear  the  noble  Antony. 

2  Cit.  We  '11  hear  him.  we  '11  follow  him,  we  "11  die 

with  him. 
Ant,  Good  friends,  sweet  friends,   let  me  not   stir 

you  up 
To  such  a  sudden  flood  of  mutiny. 
They  that  have  done  this  deed  are  honourable : 
What  private  griefs  they  have,  alas !  I  know  not, 
That  made  them  do  it :  they  are  wise  and  honourable, 
And  will,  no  doubt,  with  reasons  answer  you. 
I  come  not.  friends,  to  steal  away  your  hearts : 
I  am  no  orator,  as  Brutus  is. 
But,  as  you  know  me  all,  a  plain  blunt  man, 
That  love  my  friend  :  and  that  they  know  full  well 
That  gave  me  public  leave  to  speak  of  him. 
For  I  have  neither  %^"it.^  nor  words,  nor  worth, 
Action,  nor  utterance,  nor  the  power  of  speech. 
To  stir  men's  blood :  I  only  speak  right  on  ; 
I  tell  you  that,  which  you  yourselves  do  know, 
Show  you  sweet   Csesar's  wounds,  poor,   poor  dumb 

mouths, 
And  bid  them  speak  for  me  :  but  were  I  Brutus, 
And  Brutus  Antony,  there  were  an  Antony 
Would  ruffle  up  your  spirits,  and  put  a  tongue 
In  every  wound  of  Caesar,  that  should  move 
The  stones  of  Rome  to  rise  and  mutiny. 

1  Not  in  f.  e.      ^  So  second  folio  :  wiit :  in  first  folio. 


so.  II.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  53 

All.  We  '11  mutiny. 

1  Cit.  We  '11  burn  the  house  of  Brutus. 

3  Cit.  Away  then  !  come,  seek  the  conspirators. 

A)it.  Yet  hear  me.  countrymen ;  yet  hear  me  speak. 

All.  Peace,  ho  !     Hear  Antony:  most  noble  Antony. 

Ant.  Why,  friends,  you  go  to  do  you  know  not  what. 
Wherein  hath  Csesar  thus  deserv'd  your  loves? 
Alas  !  you  know  not : — I  must  tell  you,  then. 
You  have  forgot  the  wU  I  told  you  of.  [will. 

All.  Most  true  ; — the  will : — let 's  stay,  and  hear  the 

Ant.  Here  is  the  will,  and  under  Csesar's  seal. 
To  every  Roman  citizen  he  gives, 
To  every  several  man,  seventy-five  drachmas. 

2  Cit.  Most  noble  Csesar  ! — we  '11  revenge  his  death. 

3  Cit.  0  royal  Caesar  ! 

Ant.  Hear  me  with  patience. 

All.  Peace,  ho  ! 

Ant.  Moreover,  he  hath  left  you  all  his  walks, 
His  private  arbours,  and  new-planted  orchards, 
On  this  side  Tyber :  he  hath  left  them  you, 
And  to  your  heirs  for  ever  ;  common  pleasures, 
To  walk  abroad,  and  recreate  yourselves. 
Here  was  a  Caesar:  when  comes  such  another? 

1  Cit.  Never,  never  ! — Come,  away,  away ! 
We  '11  burn  his  body  in  the  holy  place. 

And  with  the  brands  fire  the  traitors'  houses. 
Take  up  the  body. 

2  Cit.  Go.  fetch  fire. 

3  Cit.  Pluck  down  benches. 

4  Cit.  Pluck  down  forms,  windows,  any  thing. 

[Exeunt  Citizens,  u-ith  the  Body. 

Ant.  Now  let  it  work.     Mischief,  thou  art  afoot, 

Take  thou  what  course  thou  wilt. — How  now,  fellow ! 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.  Sir.  Octavius  is  already  come  to  Rome. 

Ant.  Where  is  he  ? 

Serv.  He  and  Lepidus  are  at  Csesar's  house. 

Ant.  And  thither  will  I  straight  to  visit  him. 
He  comes  upon  a  wish  :  Fortune  is  merry, 
And  in  this  mood  will  give  us  any  thing. 

Serv.  I  heard  them  say,  Brutus  and  Cassius 
Are  rid  like  madmen  through  the  gates  of  Rome. 

Ant.  Belike,  they  had  some  notice  of  the  people, 
How  I  had  mov'd  them.  Bring  me  to  Octavius.  [Exeunt. 

5* 


54  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  III. 

SCENE  III.— The  Same.     A  Street. 
Enter  Cinna,  the  Poet. 
Cin.  I  dreamt  to-night,  that  I  did  feast  with  Csesar, 
And  things  unlikely"  charge  my  fantasy. 
I  have  no  will  to  wander  forth  of  doors, 
Yet  something  leads  me  forth. 

Enter  Citizens. 

1  Cit.  What  is  your  name  ? 

2  Cit.  Whither  are  you  going  ? 

3  Cit.  Where  do  you  dwell  ? 

4  Cit.  Are  you  a  married  man,  or  a  bachelor? 

2  Cit.  Answer  every  man  directly. 

1  Cit.  Ay,  and  briefly. 
4  Cit.  Ay,  and  wisely. 

3  Cit.  Ay,  and  truly;  you  were  best. 

Cin.  What  is  my  name?  Whither  am  I  going? 
Where  do  I  dwell  ?  Am  I  a  married  man,  or  a  bache- 
lor ?  Then,  to  answer  every  man  directly,  and  briefly, 
wisely,  and  truly,  wisely  I  say,  I  am  a  bachelor. 

2  Cit.  That 's  as  much  as  to  say,  they  are  fools  that 
marry : — you  '11  bear  me  a  bang  for  that,  I  fear.  Pro- 
ceed :  directly. 

Cin.  Directly,  I  am  going  to  Csesar's  funeral. 

1  Cit.  As  a  friend,  or  an  enemy? 
Cin.  As  a  friend. 

2  Cit.  That  matter  is  answered  directly. 

4  Cit.  For  your  dwelling. — briefly. 
Cin.  Briefly,  I  dwell  by  the  Capitol. 

3  Cit.  Your  name,  sir,  truly. 
Cin.  Truly,  my  name  is  Cinna. 

1  Cit.  Tear  him  to  pieces  :  he  's  a  conspirator. 
Cm.  I  am  Cinna,  the  poet ;  I  am  Cinna,  the  poet. 

4  Cit.  Tear  him  for  his  bad  verses  ;  tear  him  for  his 
bad  verses. 

Cin.  I  am  not  Cinna  the  conspirator. 

2  Cit.  It  is  no  matter:  his  name  's  Cinna:  pluck  but 
his  name  out  of  his  heart,  and  turn  him  going. 

3  Cit.  Tear  him,  tear  him  !  Come :  brands,  ho  !  fire- 
brands !  To  Brutus,  to  Cassius  ;  burn  all.  Some  to 
Decius'  house,  and  some  to  Casca's  ;  some  to  Ligarius. 
Away  !  go  !  [Exeimt.'^  forcing  out  Cinna. 

1  unluckily  :  in  f.  e.      2  The  rest  of  this  direction  is  not  in  f.  e. 


so.  I,  JULIUS   C^SAR.  55 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE  I. — The  Same.   A  Room  in  Antony's  House. 
Antony,  Octavius,  and  Lepidus,  seated  at  a  Table. 

Ant.  These  many,  then,  shall  die ;  their  names  are 
prick'd. 

Oct.  Your  brother,  too,  must  die :  consent  you,  Le- 
pidus ? 

Lep.  I  do  consent. 

Oct.  Prick  him  down,  Antony. 

Lep.  Upon  condition  Publius  shall  not  live, 
"Who  is  your  sister's  son,  Mark  Antony. 

A)U.  He  shall  not  live;  look,  with  a  spot  I  damn  him. 
But,  Lepidus,  go  you  to  Caesar's  house  ; 
Fetch  the  will  hither,  and  we  will  determine 
How  to  cut  off  some  charge  in  legacies. 

Lep.  What,  shall  I  find  you  here  ? 

Oct.  Or  here,  or  at  the  Capitol.  [Exit  Lepidus. 

Ant.  This  is  a  slight  unmeritable  man, 
Meet  to  be  sent  on  errands  :  is  it  fit. 
The  threefold  world  divided,  he  should  stand 
One  of  the  three  to  share  it  ? 

Oct.  So  you  thought  him; 

And  took  his  voice  who  should  be  prick'd  to  die 
In  our  black  sentence  and  proscription. 

Ant.  Octavius,  I  have  seen  more  days  than  you  : 
And  though  we  lay  these  honours  on  this  man. 
To  ease  ourselves  of  divers  slanderous  loads. 
He  shall  but  bear  them  as  the  ass  bears  gold, 
To  groan  and  sweat  under  the  business. 
Either  led  or  driven,  as  we  point  the  way ; 
And  having  brought  our  treasure  where  we  will. 
Then  take  we  down  his  load,  and  turn  him  ofi". 
Like  to  the  empty  ass,  to  shake  his  ears. 
And  graze  on  commons. 

Oct.  You  may  do  your  will ; 

But  he  's  a  tried  and  valiant  soldier. 

Ant.  So  is  my  horse,  Octavius  ;  and  for  that 
I  do  appoint  him  store  of  provender  ; 
It  is  a  creature  that  I  teach  to  fight, 
To  wind,  to  stop,  to  run  directly  on. 
His  corporal  motion  govern'd  by  my  spirit : 


56  JULIUS    CESAR.  ACT  IV. 

And,  in  some  taste,  is  Lepidus  but  so  . 

He  must  be  taught,  and  train'd,  and  bid  go  forth. 

A  barren-spirited  fellow  ;  one  that  feeds 

On  objects,  arts,  and  imitations, 

AVhich,  out  of  use  and  staled  by  other  men, 

Begin  his  fashion  ;  do  not  talk  of  him. 

But  as  a  property.     And  now,  Octavius, 

Listen  great  things.     Brutus  and  Cassius, 

Are  levying  powers  :  we  must  straight  make  head ; 

Therefore,  let  our  alliance  be  combin'd, 

Our  best  friends  made,  and  our  best  means   stretch'd 

out ;' 
And  let  us  presently  go  sit  in  council, 
How  covert  matters  may  be  best  disclos'd, 
And  open  perils  surest  answered. 

Oct.  Let  us  do  so,  for  we  are  at  the  stake, 
And  bayed  about  with  many  enemies ; 
And  some,  that  smile,  have  in  their  hearts,  I  fear. 
Millions  of  mischiefs.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  n. — Before  Brutus'  Tent,  in  the  Camp  near 

Sardis. 

Drum.    Enter  Brutus.  Lucilius,  Lucius,  and  Soldiers  : 
TiTixius  and  Pindarus  meet  them. 

Bru.  Stand,  ho  ! 

Luc.  Give  the  word,  ho  !  and  stand. 

Bru.  What  now,  Lucilius  ?  is  Cassius  near  ? 

Luc.  He  is  at  hand  ;  and  Pindarus  is  come 
To  do  you  salutation  from  his  master. 

[Pindarus  gives  a  Letter  to  Brutus. 

Bru.  He  greets  me  well. — Your  master.  Pindarus, 
In  his  own  change,  or  by  ill  officers. 
Hath  given  me  some  worthy  cause  to  wish 
Things  done,  undone  ;  but,  if  he  be  at  hand. 
I  shall  be  satisfied. 

Pin.  I  do  not  doubt. 

But  that  my  noble  master  will  appear 
Such  as  he  is,  full  of  regard  and  honour. 

Bru.  He  is  not  doubted. — A  word,  Lucilius  : 
How  he  receiv'd  you  let  me  be  resolv'd. 

Luc.  With  courtesy  and  M'ith  respect  enough ; 
But  not  with  such  familiar  instances,     - 

1  So  the  folio.  1632  ;  first  folio  gives  the  line  :  Ovir  best  {riends  made, 
our  means  stretch'd. 


sc.  ir.  JULIUS  c^sAR.  57 

Nor  with  such  free  and  friendly  conference, 
As  he  hath  used  of  old. 

Bru.  Thou  hast  descrih'd 

A  hot  friend  cooling.     Ever  note,  Lucilius, 
When  love  begins  to  sicken  and  decay, 
It  useth  an  enforced  ceremony. 
There  are  no  tricks  in  plain  and  simple  faith ; 
But  hollow  men,  like  liorses  hot  at  hand, 
Make  gallant  show  and  promise  of  their  mettle, 
But  Avhen  they  should  endure  the  bloody  spur, 
They  fall  their  crests,  and,  like  deceitful  jades. 
Sink  in  the  trial.     Comes  his  army  on  ? 

Lvc.   They  mean  this  night  in  Sardis  to  be  quar- 
ter'd : 
The  greater  part,  the  horse  in  general. 
Are  come  with  Cassias.  [March  within. 

Bru.  Hark  !  he  is  arriv'd. — 

March  gently  on  to  meet  him. 

Enter  Cassius  and  Soldiers. 

Cas.  Stand,  ho  ! 

Bru.  Stand,  ho  !     Speak  the  word  along. 

Within.  Stand. 

Within.  Stand. 

Within.  Stand.         [One  after  the  other,  and  fainter.^ 

Cas.  Most  noble  brother,  you  have  done  me  wrong. 

Bru.  Judge  me,  you  gods  !  Wrong  I  mine  enemies  ? 
And,  if  not  so,  how  should  I  wrong  a  brother  ? 

Cas.  Brutus,  this  sober  form  of  yours  hides  wrongs ; 
And  when  you  do  them 

Bru.  Cassius,  be  content ; 

Speak  your  griefs  softly:  I  do  know  you  well. 
Before  the  eyes  of  both  our  armies  here. 
Which  should  perceive  nothing  but  love  from  us. 
Let  us  not  wrangle  :  bid  them  move  away  ; 
Then  in  my  tent,  Cassius,  enlarge  your  griefs, 
And  I  will  give  you  audience. 

Cas.  Pindarus, 

Bid  our  commanders  lead  their  charges  off 
A  little  from  this  ground. 

Bru.  Lucilius,  do  you  the  like  :  and  let  no  man 
Come  to  our  tent,  till  we  have  done  our  conference. 
Let  Lucius  and  Titinius  guard  our  door.  [Exeunt. 

1  Not  in  f.  e. 


58  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  IV. 

SCENE  III.— Within  the  Tent  of  Brutus. 

Lucius  and  Titinius  at  some  distance  from  it. 

Enter  Brutus  and  Cassius. 

Cas.  That  you  haA^e  wrong'd  me  doth  appear  in  this  : 
You  have  condemn'd  and  noted  Lucius  Pella 
For  taking  bribes  here  of  the  Sardians  ; 
Wherein  my  letters,  praying  on  his  side, 
Because  I  knew  the  man,  were  slighted  off. 

Bru.  You  wrong'd  yourself  to  write  in  such  a  casei 

Cas.  In  such  a  time  as  this,  it  is  not  meet 
That  every  nice'  offence  should  bear  his  comment. 

Bru.  Let  me  tell  yovi,  Cassius,  you  yourself 
Are  much  condemn'd  to  have  an  itching  palm ; 
To  sell  and  mart  your  offices  for  goM 
To  undcscrvers. 

Cas.  1  an  itching  palm  ? 

You  know  that  you  are  Brutus  that  speak  this, 
Or  by  the  gods  this  speech  were  else  your  last. 

Bru.  The  name  of  Cassius  honours  this  corruption, 
And  chastisement  does  therefore  hide  his  head. 

Cas.   Chastisement  ! 

Brii.  Remember  March,  the  ides  of  March  remember. 
Did  not  great  Julius  bleed  for  justice'  sake  ? 
What  villain  touch'd  his  body,  that  did  stab. 
And  not  for  justice  ?     What  !  shall  one  of  us. 
That  struck  the  foremost  man  of  all  this  world, 
But  for  supporting  robbers,  shall  we  now 
Contaminate  our  fingers  with  base  bribes. 
And  sell  the  mighty  space  of  our  large  honours, 
For  so  much  trash  as  may  be  grasped  thus  ? 
I  had  rather  be  a  dog,  and  bay  the  moon, 
Than  such  a  Roman. 

Cas.  Brutus,  bay  not  me, 

I  '11  not  endure  it :  you  forget  yourself, 
To  hedge  me  in.     I  am  a  soldier,  I, 
Older  in  practice,  abler  than  yourself 
To  make  conditions. 

Bru.  Go  to  ;  you  are  not,  Cassius. 

Cas.  I  am. 

Bru.  I  say,  you  are  not. 
Cas.  Urge  me  no  more,  I  shall  forget  myself: 
Have  mind  upon  your  health ;  tempt  me  no  farther. 

1  Trifing. 


8C.  III.  JULIUS    C.^SAR.  59 

Bru.  Away,  slight  man  ! 

Cos.  Is  't  possible  ? 

Bnt.  Hear  me,  for  I  will  speak. 

Must  I  give  way  and  room  to  your  rash  choler  ? 
Shall  I  be  frighted,  when  a  madman  stares? 

Cas.  0  ye  gods  !  ye  gods  !     Must  I  endure  all  this? 

Bru.  All  this  ?    ay.  more.      Fret,  till   your    proud 
heart  break  ; 
Go  show  your  slaves  how  choleric  you  are. 
And  make  your  bondmen  tremble.     Must  I  budge  ? 
Must  I  observe  you  ?     Must  I  stand  and  crouch 
Under  your  testy  humour  ?     By  the  gods, 
You  shall  digest  the  venom  of  your  spleen, 
Though  it  do  split  you  ;  for  from  this  day  forth, 
I  "11  use  you  for  my  mirth,  yea.  for  my  laughter, 
When  you  are  waspish. 

Cas.  Is  it  come  to  this  ? 

Bnt.  You  say.  you  are  a  better  soldier  : 
Let  it  appear  so  :  make  your  vaunting  true. 
And  it  shall  please  me  well.     For  mine  own  part, 
I  sliall  be  glad  to  learn  of  abler'  men. 

Cas.  You  wrong  me  every  way  ;   you  wrong  me, 
Brutus ; 
I  said,  an  older  soldier,  not  a  better  : 
Did  I  say,  better  ? 

Bnt.  If  yo^^  did.  I  care  not. 

Cas.    When    Cajsar  liv'd,  he  durst  not  thus   have 
mov"d  me. 

Bnt,.  Peace,  peace  !  you  durst  not  so  have  tempted  him. 

Cas.  I  durst  not  ? 

Bni.  No. 

Cas.  What  !  durst  not  tempt  him  ? 

Bru.  For  your  life  you  durst  not. 

Cas.  Do  not  presume  too  much  upon  my  love ; 
I  may  do  that  I  shall  be  sorry  for. 

Bru.  You  have  done  that  you  should  be  sorry  for. 
There  is  no  terror.  Cassius,  in  your  threats, 
For  I  am  arm'd  so  strong  in  honesty. 
That  they  pass  by  me  as  the  idle  wind, 
Which  I  respect  not.     I  did  send  to  you 
For  certain  sums  of  gold,  which  you  denied  me  ] 
For  I  can  raise  no  money  by  vile  means  : 
By  heaven,  I  had  rather  coin  my  heart, 

1  noble  :  in  f.  9. 


60  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  FV. 

And  drop  my  blood  for  drachmas,  than  to  wring 

From  the  hard  hands  of  peasants  their  -sdle  trash, 

By  any  indirection.     I  did  send 

To  you  for  gold  to  pay  my  legions, 

Which  you  denied  me  :  was  that  done  like  Cassius? 

Should  I  have  answered  Caius  Cassius  so? 

When  Marcus  Brutus  grows  so  covetous, 

To  lock  such  rascal  counters  from  his  friends, 

Be  ready,  gods,  with  all  your  thunderbolts 

Dash  him  to  pieces  ! 

Cas.  I  denied  you  not. 

Bru.  You  did. 

Cas.  I  did  not :  he  was  but  a  fool. 

That  brought  my  answer  back. — Brutus  hath  riv'd  my 

heart : 
A  friend  should  bear  his  friend's  infirmities. 
But  Brutus  makes  mine  greater  than  they  are. 

Bru.  I  do  not,  till  you  practise  them  on  me. 

Cas.  You  love  me  not. 
.  Bni.  I  do  not  like  your  faults. 

Cas.  A  friendly  eye  could  never  see  such  faults. 

Bru.  A  flatterer's  would  not,  though  they  did  appear 
As  huge  as  high  Olympvis. 

Cas.  Come.  Antony,  and  young  Octavius,  come, 
Revenge  yourselves  alone  on  Cas.sius, 
For  Cassius  is  aweary  of  the  world  : 
Hated  by  one  he  loves  ;  brav'd  by  his  brother  ; 
Check'd  like  a  bondman  ;   all  his  faults  observ'd, 
Set  in  a  note-book,  Icarn'd,  and  conn'd  by  rote, 
To  cast  into  my  teeth.     0  !  I  could  weep 
My  spirit  from  mine  eyes. — There  is  my  dagger. 
And  here  my  naked  breast  ;  within,  a  heart 
Dearer  than  Plutus'  mine,  richer  than  gold  : 
If  that  thou  bc'st  a  Roman,  take  it  forth  ; 
I,  that  denied  thee  gold  will  give  my  heart. 
Strike,  as  thou  didst  at  Caesar  ;  for,  I  know, 
When  thou  didst  hate  him  worst,  thou  lov'dst  him 

better 
Than  ever  thou  lov'dst  Cassius. 

Bru.  Sheath  your  dagger. 

Be  angry  when  you  will,  it  shall  have  scope  : 
Do  what  you  will,  dishonour  shall  be  humour. 
0  Cassius  !  you  are  yoked  with  a  lamb. 
That  carries  anger  as  the  flint  bears  fire, 


SC.  III.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  61 

Who,  much  enforced,  shows  a  hasty  spark. 
And  straiglit  is  cold  again. 

Cas.  Hath  Cassius  liv'd 

To  be  but  mirth  and  laughter  to  his  Brutus, 
When  grief,  and  blood  ill-temper"d,  vexeth  him  ? 

Bru.  When  I  spoke  that,  I  was  ill-temper'd  too. 

Cas.  Do  you  confess  so  much  ?    Give  me  your  hand. 

Bru.  And  my  heart,  too. 

Cas.  0  Brutus  !— 

Bru.  What  "s  the  matter  ? 

Cas.  Have  you  not  love  enough  to  bear  with  me, 
When  that  rash  humour,  which  my  mother  gave  me, 
Makes  me  forgetful  ? 

Bru.  Yes,  Cassius  :  and,  from  henceforth. 

When  you  are  over-earnest  with  your  Brutus, 
He  "11  think  your  mother  chides,  and  leave  you  so. 

[Noise  u'ithin . 

Poet.  [If'ithin.]  Let  me  go  in  to  see  the  generals. 
There  is  some  grudge  between  them ;  "t  is  not  meet 
They  be  alone. 

Luc.  [JVithin.]   You  shall  not  come  to  them. 

Poet.   [Within.]  Nothing  but  death  shall  stay  me. 
Enter  Poet. 

Cas.  How  now  !     What 's  the  matter  ? 

Poet.  For  shame,  you  generals  !     What  do  you  mean  ? 
Love,  and  be  friends,  as  two  such  men  should  be. 
For  I  have  seen  more  years,  I  am  sure,  than  ye. 

Cas.  Ha,  ha  !  how  vilely  doth  this  cynic  rhyme. 

Bru.  Get  you  hence,  sirrah  :  saucy  fellow,  hence. 

Cas.  Bear  with  him,  Brutus  :  't  is  his  fashion. 

Bru.  I  '11  know  his  humour,  when  he  knows  his  time. 
What  should  the  wars  do  with  these  jigging  fools  ? 
Companion,'  hence. 

Cas.  Away,  away  !  be  gone.   [Exit  Poet. 

Enter  Lucilius  and  Titinius. 

Bru.  Lucilius  and  Titinius,  bid  the  commanders 
Prepare  to  lodge  their  companies  to-night. 

Cas.  And  come  yourselves,  and  bring  Messala  with 
you, 
Immediately  to  us.        [Exeunt  Lucilius  and  Titinius. 

Bru.  Lucius,  a  bowl  of  wine. 

Cas.  I  did  not  think  you  could  have  been  so  angry. 

Bru.  O  Cassius  !  I  am  sick  of  many  griefs. 

>  Fellow. 

Vol.  YIL— 6 


62  '  JULIUS    C^SAR. 


ACT  IV. 


Cas.  Of  your  philosophy  you  make  do  use, 
If  you  give  place  to  accidental  evils. 

Bru.  No  man  bears  sorrow  better. — Portia  is  dead. 

Cas.  Hal  Portia? 

Bru.  She  is  dead. 

Ca.s.  How  scap'd  I  killing,  when  I  cross'd  you  so  ? 

0,  insupportable  and  touching  loss  ! — 
Upon  wliat  sickness  ? 

Bru.  Impatient  of  my  absence, 

And  grief,  that  young  Octavius  with  Mark  Antony 
Have  made  themselves  so  strong ; — for  with  her  death 
That  tidings  came. — With  this  she  fell  distract, 
And,  her  attendants  absent,  swallow'd  fire. 

Cas.  And  died  so  ? 

Bru.  Even  so. 

Cas.  0,  ye  immortal  gods  ! 

Enter  Lucius,  with  Wine  and  Tapers. 

Bru.  Sjieak  no  more  of  her. — Give  me  a  bowl  of  wine  : 
In  this  I  bury  all  unkindness,  Cassius.  [Drinks. 

Cas.  My  heart  is  thirsty  for  that  noble  pledge. — 
Fill,  Lucius,  till  the  wine  o'erswell  the  cup  ; 
I  cannot  drink  too  much  of  Brutus'  love.  [Drinks. 

Re-enter  Titinius,  icith  Messala. 

Bru.  Come  in,  Titinius. — Welcome,  good  Messala. — 
Now  sit  we  close  about  this  taper  here, 
And  call  in  question  our  necessities. 

Cas.  Portia,  art  thou  gone  ? 

Bru.  No  more,  I  pray  you. — 

Messala,  I  have  here  received  letters. 
That  young  Octavius,  and  Mark  Antony, 
Come  down  upon  us  with  a  mighty  power, 
Bending  their  expedition  toward  Philippi. 

Mes.  Myself  have  letters  of  the  self-same  tenour. 

Bru.  With  what  addition  ? 

Mes.  That  by  proscription,  and  bills  of  outlawry, 
Octavius,  Antony,  and  Lepidus, 
Have  put  to  death  an  hundred  senators. 

Bru.  Therein  our  letters  do  not  well  agree  : 
Mine  speak  of  seventy  senators,  that  died 
By  their  proscriptions,  Cicero  being  one. 

Cas.  Cicero  one  ? 

Mes.  Cicero  is  dead, 
And  by  that  order  of  proscription. — 
Had  you  your  letters  from  your  wife,  my  lord  ? 


6C.  lU. 


JULIUS    C^SAR.  63 


Bni.  No,  Me?sala. 

Mes.  Nor  nothing  in  your  letters  writ  of  her  ? 

Bnt.  Nothing,  Messala. 

3fes.  That,  methinks,  is  strange. 

Bru.  Why  ask  you?    Hear  you  aught  of  her  in  yours? 

Mes.  No,  my  lord. 

Bru.  Now.  as  you  are  a  Roman,  tell  me  true. 

Mes.  Then  like  a  Roman  bear  the  truth  I  tell : 
For  certain  she  is  dead,  and  by  strange  manner. 

Bru.  Why.  farewell,  Portia.— We  must  die.  Messala  : 
With  meditating  that  she  must  die  once. 
I  have  the  patience  to  endure  it  now. 

Mes.  Even  so  great  men  great  losses  should  endure. 

Cas.  I  have  as  much  of  this  in  art  as  you. 
But  yet  my  nature  could  not  bear  it  so. 

Bru.  Well,  to  our  work  alive. — What  do  you  think 
Of  marching  to  Philippi  presently  ? 

Cas.  I  do  not  think  it  good. 

Bru  Your  reason  ? 

Cas.  This  it  is. 

'T  is  better,  that  the  enemy  seek  us  : 
So  shall  he  waste  his  means,  weary  his  soldiers, 
Doing  himself  offence  ;  whilst  we,  lying  still, 
Are  full  of  rest,  defence,  and  nimbleness. 

Bru.  Good  reasons  must,  of  force,  give  place  to  better. 
The  people,  'twixt  Philippi  and  this  ground, 
Do  stand  but  in  a  forc'd  affection, 
For  they  have  grudg'd  us  contribution  : 
The  enemy,  marching  along  by  them, 
By  them  shall  make  a  fuller  number  up, 
Come  on  refresh'd.  new-hearted',  and  encourag'd: 
From  which  advantage  shall  we  cut  him  off, 
If  at  Philippi  we  do  face  him  there. 
These  people  at  our  back. 

(7q5  Hear  me,  good  brother. 

Bru.  Under  your  pardon. — You  must  note  beside, 
That  we  have  tried  the  utmost  of  our  friends. 
Our  lesions  are  brim-full,  our  cause  is  ripe  : 
The  enemy  increaseth  every  day  : 
We,  at  the  height,  are  ready  to  decline. 
There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
Which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune  ; 
Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 

1  new-added  :  ic  f-  e.     Dyce  reads  :  nc-w-aided. 


64  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  IV. 

Is  bound  in  shallows,  and  in  miseries. 
On  such  a  full  sea  are  we  now  afloat, 
And  we  must  take  the  current  when  it  serves. 
Or  lose  our  ventures. 

Cas.  Then,  with  your  will,  go  en  : 

We  will  along  ourselves,  and  meet  them  at  Phiiippi. 

Bru.  The  deep  of  night  has  crept  upon  our  talk, 
And  nature  must  obey  necessity, 
Which  we  will  niggard  with  a  little  rest. 
There  is  no  more  to  say  ? 

Cas.  No  more. — Good  night : 

Early  to-morrow  will  we  rise,  and  hence. 

Bni.  Lucius,  my  gown.  [Exit  Lucius.] — Farewell, 
good  Messala  : — 
Good  night,  Titinius. — Noble,  noble  Cassius, 
Good  night,  and  good  repose. 

Cas.  0  !  my  dear  biother. 

This  was  an  ill  beginning  of  the  night. 
Never  come  such  division  'tween  our  souls  ! 
Let  it  not,  Brutus. 

Bru.  Every  thing  is  well. 

Cas.  Good  night,  my  lord. 

Bru.  Good  night,  good  brother. 

Tit.  Mes.  Good  night,  lord  Brutus. 

Bru.  Farewell,  every  one. 

\Exeunt  Cas.  Tit.  and  Mes. 
Re-enter  Lucius,  with  the  Gown. 
Give  me  the  gown.     Where  is  thy  instrument  ? 

Luc.  Here  in  the  tent. 

Bru.  What  !  thou  speak'st  drowsily  ? 

Poor  knave,  I  blame  thee  not  ;  thou  art  o'er-watch'd. 
Call  Claudius,  and  some  other  of  my  men ; 
I  '11  have  them  sleep  on  cushions  in  my  tent. 

Luc.  Varro,  and  Claudius  ! 

Enter  Varro  and  Claudius. 

Var.  Calls  my  lord  ? 

Bru.  I  pray  you,  sirs,  lie  in  my  tent,  and  sleep  : 
It  may  be.  I  shall  raise  you  by  and  by 
On  business  to  my  brother  Cassius. 

Var.  So  please  you,  we  will  stand,  and  watch  your 
pleasure. 

Bru.  I  will  not  have  it  so ;  lie  down,  good  sirs  : 
It  may  be,  I  shall  otherwise  bethink  me. 
Look,  Lucius,  here 's  the  book  I  sought  for  so ; 


sc.  in. 


JULIUS   C^SAR.  65 


I  put  it  in  the  pocket  of  my  gown.    [Servants  lie  down. 

Luc.  I  was  sure,  your  lordsliip  did  not  give  it  me. 

Brv.  Bear  with  me.  good  boy.  I  am  much  forgetful. 
Canst  thou  hold  up  thy  heavy  eyes  awhile, 
And  touch  thy  instrument  a  strain  or  two  ? 

Luc.  Ay,  my  lord,  an  't  please  you. 

Bru.      ' '      '  It  does,  my  hoy. 

I  trouble  thee  too  much,  but  thou  art  willing. 

Luc.  It  is  my  duty,  sir. 

Bru.  I  should  not  urge  thy  duty  past  thy  might: 
I  know,  young  bloods  look  for  a  time  of  rest. 

Luc.  I  have  slept,  my  lord,  already. 

Bru.  It  was  well  done,  and  thou  shalt  sleep  again; 
I  will  not  hold  thee  long  ;  if  I  do  live, 
I  \A-ill  be  good  to  thee.  [Music^  and  a  Song. 

This  is  a  sleepy  tune. — 0  murderous  slumber  ! 

[Lucius  falls  asleep.^ 
Lav'st  thou  thy  leaden  mace  upon  my  boy, 
That  plays  thee  music  ?— Gentle  knave,  good  night ; 
I  \N-ill  not  do  thee  so  much  wrong  to  wake  thee. 
If  thou  dost  nod.  thou  break'st  thy  instrument : 
I  '11  take  it  from  thee  ;  and,  good  boy,  good  night. — 
Let  me  see.  let  me  see  :  is  not  the  leaf  turn'd  down. 
Where  I  left  reading  ?     Here  it  is,  I  think. 

[He  sits  down  to  read. 
Enter  the  Ghost  of  Cjesar. 
How  ill  this  taper  burns. — Ha  !  who  comes  here? 
I  think,  it  is  the  weakness  of  mine  eyes 
That  shapes  this  monstrous  apparition. 
It  comes  upon  me. — Art  thou  any  thing  ? 
Art  thou  some  god,  some  angel,  or  some  de\-il, 
That  mak"st  my  blood  cold,  and  my  hair  to  stare  ? 
Speak  to  me,  what  thou  art. 

Ghost.  Thy  evil  spirit.  Brutus. 

^,.„  Why  com'st  thou? 

Ghost.  To  tell  thee,  thou  shalt  see  me  at  PhilippL 

Bru    Well ;  then  I  shall  see  thee  again  ? 

Ghost.  Ay,  at  Philippi. 

[Ghost  vanishes. 

Bru.  Why,  I  will  see  thee  at  Philippi  then.— 
Now  I  have  taken  heart,  thou  vanishest : 
111  spirit,  I  would  hold  more  talk  with  thee. — 
1  Not  in  f.  e. 

6* 


66  JULIUS    C^SAR.  ACT  V. 

Boy  !  Lucius  ! — Varro  !  Claudius  !  Sirs,  awake  !— 
Claudius  ! 

Luc.  The  strings,  my  lord,  are  false. 

Bru.  He  thinks,  he  still  is  at  his  instrument. — 
Lucius,  awake  ! 

Luc.  My  lord. 

Bru.  Didst  thou  dream,  Lucius,  that  thou  so  criedst 
out? 

Luc.  My  lord,  I  do  not  know  that  I  did  cry. 

Bru.    Yes,  that   thou   didst.      Didst   thou   see   any 
thing  ? 

Luc.  Nothing,  my  lord. 

Bru.  Sleep  again,  Lucius. — Sirrah,  Claudius  ! 
Fellow  thou  :  awake  ! 

Var.  My  lord. 

Clau.  My  lord. 

Bru.  Why  did  you  so  cry  out,  sirs,  in  your  sleep  ? 

Var.  Clau.  Did  we,  my  lord  ? 

Bru.  Ay  :  saw  you  any  thing  ? 

Var.  No,  my  lord,  I  saw  nothing. 

Clau.  Nor  L  my  lord. 

Bru.  Go,  and  commend  me  to  my  brother  Cassius  : 
Bid  him  set  on  his  powers  betimes  before, 
And  we  will  follow. 

Var.  Clau.  It  shall  be  done,  my  lord.  \Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  L— The  Plains  of  Philippi. 
Enter  Octavius,  Antony,  and  their  Army. 

Oct.  Now,  Antony,  our  hopes  are  answered. 
You  said,  the  enemy  would  not  come  down, 
But  keep  the  hills  and  upper  regions ; 
It  proves  not  so  :  their  battles  are  at  hand  ] 
They  mean  to  warn'  us  at  Philippi  here. 
Answering  before  we  do  demand  of  them. 

Ant.  Tut  !  I  am  in  their  bosoms,  and  I  know 
Wherefore  they  do  it :  they  could  be  content 
To  visit  other  places  ■  and  come  down 
1  Suinmon. 


SC.  I, 


JOLIDS    C^SAR.  67 


With  fearful  bravery,  thinking  by  this  face 

To  fasten  in  our  thoughts  that  they  have  courage ; 

But  "t  is  not  so. 

Filter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Prepare  you,  generals  ; 

The  enemy  comes  on  in  gallant  show  : 
Their  bloody  sign  of  battle  is  hung  out. 
And  something  to  be  done  immediately. 

Ant.  Octa^'ius,  lead  your  battle  softly  on, 
Upon  the  left  hand  of  the  even  field. 

Oct.  Upon  the  right  hand  I  :  keep  thou  the  left. 

Ant.  Why  do  yovi  cross  me  in  this  exigent  ? 

Oct.  I  do  not  cross  you  ;  but  I  AA'ill  do  so.       [March. 

Drum.     Enter  Brutus,  Cassius,  and  their  Army  ; 
LuciLius.  TiTiNius.  Messal.v,  and  others. 

Bru.  They  stand,  and  would  have  parley. 

Cos.  Stand  fast,  Titinius  :  we  must  out  and  talk. 

Oct.  ;Mark  Antony,  shall  we  give  sign  of  battle  ? 

Ant.  No,  Csesar,  we  will  answer  on  their  charge. 
Make  forth  :  the  generals  would  have  some  words. 

Oct.  Stir  not  until  the  signal. 

Bru.  Words  before  blows  ;  is  it  so,  countrj-men? 

Oct.  Not  that  we  love  words  better,  as  you  do. 

Bru.  Good  words  are  better  than  bad  strokes,  Oc- 
tavius. 

Ant.   In   your   bad  strokes,  Brutus,  you  give  good 
words : 
Witness  the  hole  you  made  in  Caesar's  heart, 
Crying.  "  Long  live  !  hail,  Caesar  !'"' 

Cas.'  Antony, 

The  posture  of  your  blows  is  yet  unknown  ; 
But  for  your  words,  they  rob  the  Hybla  bees. 
And  leave  them  honeyless. 

Ant.  Not  .stingless.  too. 

Bru.  0  !  yes,  and  soundless  too  ; 
For  3'ou  have  stol'n  their  buzzing,  Antony, 
And  very  wsely  threat  before  you  sting. 

Ant.  Villains  !  you  did  not  so  when  your  vile  daggers 
Hack-d  one  another  in  the  sides  of  Coesar  : 
You  show'd  yovir  teeth  like  apes,  and  fawnd  like  hounds, 
And  bow'd  like  bondmen,  kissing  Csesars  feet; 
While  damned  Casca,  like  a  cur,  behind 
Struck  Csesar  on  the  neck.     0,  you  flatterers  ! 

Cas.  Flatterers  ! — Now,  Brutus,  thank  yourself : 


6S  JULIUS    C.«SAR.  ACT  V. 

This  tongue  had  not  offended  so  to-day, 
If  Cassiiis  might  have  rul'd. 

Oct.    Come,  come,  the  cause  :   if  arguing  make  us 
sweat, 
The  proof  of  it  will  turn  to  redder  drops. 
Look  ;  I  draw  sword  against  conspirators  : — 
When  think  you  that  the  sword  goes  up  again  ? — 
Never,  till  Cicsar's  three  and  thirty  wounds' 
Be  well  aveng'd  ;  or  till  another  Csesar 
Have  added  slaughter  to  the  word  of  traitor." 

Bill.  Csesar,  thou  canst  not  die  by  traitors'  hands, 
Unless  thou  bring'st  them  \rith  thee. 

Oct.  So  I  hope  : 

I  was  not  born  to  die  on  Brutus'  sword. 

Brit.  0  !  if  thou  wert  the  noblest  of  thy  strain, 
Young  man,  thou  couldst  not  die  more  honoiirable. 

Cas.  A  peevish  schoolboy,  worthless  of  such  honour, 
Join'd  with  a  masker  and  a  reveller. 

Ant.  Old  Cassius  still. 

Oct.  Come,  Antony ;  away  ! — 

Defiance,  traitors,  hurl  we  in  your  teeth. 
If  you  dare  fight  to-day,  come  to  the  field  ; 
If  not,  when  you  have  stomaclis. 

[Exeu/it  OcTAVius,  Antony,  and  their  Army. 

Cas.  Why  now,  blow  -wdnd,  swell  billow,  and  swim 
bark  ! 
The  storm  is  up,  and  all  is  on  the  hazard. 

Bru.  Ho.  Lucilius  !  hark,  a  word  with  you. 

Luc.         My  lord.   [Brutus  and  Lucilius  talk  apart. 

Cas.  Messala  ! 

Mes.  What  says  the  general  ? 

Cas.  Messala, 

This  is  my  birth-day  ;  as  this  very  day 
Was  Cassius  born.     Give  me  thy  hand,  Messala  : 
Be  thou  my  witness,  that  against  my  will, 
As  Pompey  was.  am  I  compell'd  to  set 
Upon  one  battle  all  our  liberties. 
You  know,  that  I  held  Epicurus  strong, 
And  his  opinion  :  now.  I  cliange  my  mind, 
And  partly  credit  things  that  do  presage. 
Coming  from  Sardis,  on  our  forward'  ensign 

1  So  old  copies.  Theobald  changed,  to  three  and  twenty,  to  cor- 
respond -with  the  classic  historians.  2  sword  of  traitors  :  in  f.  e. 
3  former  :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  I.  JULIUS   C^SAR.  69 

Two  mighty  eagles  fell :  and  there  they  perch'd, 

Gorging  and  feeding  from  our  soldiers"  hands; 

Who  to  Philippi  here  consorted  us  : 

This  morning  are  they  fled  away,  and  gone, 

And  in  their  steads  do  ravens,  eroNvs,  and  kites, 

Fly  o'er  our  heads,  and  downward  look  on  us, 

As  we  were  sickly  prey :  their  shadows  seem 

A  canopy  most  fatal,  under  which 

Our  army  lies  ready  to  give  up  the.  ghost. 

3Ies.  Believe  not  so. 

Cas.  I  but  believe  it  partly, 

For  I  am  fresh  of  spirit,  and  resolv'd 
To  meet  all  perils  very  constantly. 

Bin.  Even  so,  Lucilius.  [Lucilius  stands  back} 

Cas.  Now,  most  noble  Brutus, 

The  gods  to-day  stand  friendly  !  that  we  may. 
Lovers  in  peace,  lead  on  our  days  to  age  : 
But  since  the  affairs  of  men  rest  still  incertain, 
Let  "s  reason  with  the  worst  that  may  befal. 
If  we  do  lose  this  battle,  then  is  this 
The  very  last  time  we  shall  speak  together  : 
What  are  you  then  determined  to  do  ? 

Bru.   Even  by  the  rule  of  that  philosophy, 
By  wliich  I  did  blame  Cato  for  the  death 
Which  he  did  give  himself.     I  know  not  how, 
But  I  do  find  it  cowardly  and  vile. 
For  fear  of  what  might  fall,  so  to  prevent 
The  term^  of  life, — arming  myself  with  patience, 
To  stay  the  providence  of  those^  high  powers, 
That  govern  us  below. 

Cas.  Then,  if  we  lose  this  battle, 

You  are  contented  to  be  led  in  triumph 
Thorougli  the  streets  of  Rome  ? 

Bru.  No.  Cassius.  no:  think  not.  thou  noble  Ptoman, 
That  ever  Brutus  will  go  bound  to  Rome  : 
He  bears  too  great  a  mind :  but  this  same  day 
Must  end  that  work  the  ides  of  March  began. 
And  whether  we  shall  meet  again,  I  know  not. 
Therefore,  our  everlasting  farewell  take  : — 
For  ever,  and  for  ever,  farewell.  Cassius. 
If  we  do  meet  again,  why  we  shall  smile  : 
If  not,  why  then,  this  parting  was  well  made. 

Cas.  For  ever,  and  for  ever,  farewell,  Brutus. 
'  Not  in  f.  e.     ^  time  :  in  f.  e.    ^  some  :  in  f.  e. 


70  JULIUS    C^SAR. 


ACT  V. 


If  we  do  meet  again,  we  '11  smile  indeed  ; 
If  not.  't  is  true,  this  parting  was  well  made. 

Bru.  Why  then,  lead  on. — 0,  that  a  man  might  know 
The  end  of  this  day's  business,  ere  it  come  ! 
But  it  sufficeth.  that  the  day  will  end, 
And  then  the  end  is  known. — Come,  ho  !  away ! 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.— The  Same.     The  Field  of  Battle. 
Alarum.     Enter  Brutus  and  Messala. 
Bru.  Ride,  ride,  Messala,  ride,  and  give  these  bills 
Unto  the  legions  on  the  other  side.  [Loud  Alarum. 

Let  them  set  on  at  once  ;  for  I  perceive 
But  cold  demeanour  in  Octavius'  wing, 
And  sudden  push  gives  them  the  overthrow. 
Ride,  ride,  Messala:  let  them  all  come  down.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.— The  Same.     Another  Part  of  the  Field. 
Alarum.     Enter  Cassius  and  Titinius. 

Cas.  0,  look,  Titinius,  look  !  the  villains  fly. 
Myself  have  to  mine  own  turn'd  enemy  : 
This  ensign  here  of  mine  was  turning  back  : 
I  slew  the  coward,  and  did  take  it  from  him. 

Tit.  O  Cassius  !  Brutus  gave  the  word  too  early; 
Who  having  some  advantage  on  Octavius, 
Took  it  too  eagerly  ;  his  soldiers  fell  to  spoil. 
Whilst  we  by  Antony  are  all  enclos'd". 
Enter  Pindarus. 

Pin.  Fly  farther  off,  my  lord,  fly  farther  off"; 
Mark  Antony  is  in  your  tents,  my  lord  : 
Fly,  therefore,  noble  Cassius,  fly  far  off". 

Cas.  This  hill  is  far  enough.     Look,  look.  Titinius ; 
Are  those  my  tents  where  I  perceive  the  fire  ? 

Tit.  They  are,  my  lord. 

Cas.  Titinius,  if  thou  lov'st  me, 

Mount  thou  my  horse,  and  hide  thy  spurs  in  him, 
Till  he  have  brought  thee  up  to  yonder  troops, 
And  here  again ;  that  I  may  rest  assur'd. 
Whether  yond"  troops  are  friend  or  enemy. 

Tit.  I  will  be  here  again,  even  with  a  thought.  [Exit. 

Cas.  Go,  Pindarus,  get  higher  on  that  hill : 
My  sight  was  ever  thick  :  regard  Titinius, 
And  tell  me  what  thou  not'st  about  the  field. — 

[Exit  Pindarus. 


SC.  III.  JULIUS    C^SAR.  71 

This  day  I  breathed  first  :  time  is  come  roviiid, 

And  where  I  did  begin,  there  shall  I  end : 

My  life  is  run  his  compass. — Sirrah,  what  news  ? 

Pin.  [Above.]  0  my  lord  ! 

Cns.  What  news  ? 

Pm.  Titinius  is  enclosed  round  about 
With  horsemen,  that  make  to  him  on  the  spur; — 
Vet  he  spurs  on  : — now  they  are  almost  on  him. 
Now.  Titinius  ! — now  some  "light : — 0  !  he  'lights  too : — 
He"s  ta"en:  and,  hark  !   [Shovt.]  they  shout  for  joy. 

Cas.  Come  downi ;  behold  no  more. — 

0,  coward  that  I  am,  to  live  so  long, 
To  see  my  best  friend  taen  before  my  face ! 

Enter  Pindarus. 
Come  hither,  sirrah. 
In  Parthia  did  I  take  thee  pri-soner ; 
And  then  I  swore  thee,  saving  of  thy  life, 
That  whatsoever  I  did  bid  thee  do, 
Thou  shouldst  attempt  it.  Come  now,  keep  thine  oath  : 
Now  be  a  freeman  ;  and  with  this  good  sword. 
That  ran  through  Caesar's  bowels,  search  this  bosom. 
Stand  not  to  answer :  here,  take  thou  the  hilts: 
And  when  my  face  is  cover'd,  as  'tis  now, 
Guide  thou  the  sword. — Caesar,  thou  art  reveng'd, 
Even  with  the  sword  that  kill'd  thee.  [Dies. 

Pin.  So,  I  am  free  ;  yet  would  not  so  have  been. 
Durst  I  have  done  my  wll.     0  Cassius  ! 
Far  from  this  country  Pindarus  shall  run, 
Where  never  Roman  shall  take  note  of  him.  [Exit. 

Re-enter  Titinius.  ivith  Messala. 

3Ics.  It  is  but  change.  Titinius  ;  for  Octavius 
Is  overthrown  by  noble  Brutus'  power. 
As  Cassius'  legions  are  by  Antony. 

Tit.  These  tidings  will  well  comfort  Cassius. 

Mes.  Where  did  you  leave  him  ? 

Tit.  All  disconsolate, 

With  Pindarus,  his  bondman,  on  this  hill. 

3Ies.  Is  not  that  he,  that  lies  upon  the  ground  ? 

Tit.  He  lies  not  like  the  living. — 0  my  heart ! 

Mes.  Is  not  that  he  ? 

Tit.  No,  this  was  he,  Messala, 

But  Cassius  is  no  more.— 0  setting  sun  ! 
As  in  thy  red  rays  thou  dost  sink  to-night, 
So  in  his  red  blood  Cassius'  day  is  set : 


72  JULIUS    C^SAR 


ACT  V. 


The  sun  of  Rome  is  set.     Our  day  is  gone  ; 

Clouds,  dews,  and  dangers  come  :  our  deeds  are  done. 

Mistrust  of  my  success  hath  done  this  deed. 

Mes.  Mistrust  of  good  success  hath  done  this  deed. 
O  hateful  error  !  melancholy's  child, 
Why  dost  thou  show  to  the  apt  thoughts  of  men 
The  thimrs  that  arc  not  ?     0  error  !  soon  conceiv'd, 
Thou  never  com'st  unto  a  happy  birth, 
But  Idll'st  the  mother  that  engenderd  thee. 

Tit.  What,  Pindarus  !     Where  art  thou,  Pindarus  ? 

Mes.  Seek  him.  Titinius,  whilst  I  go  to  meet 
The  noble  Bruti;s,  thrusting  this  report 
Into  his  ears  :  I  may  say,  thrusting  it ; 
For  piercins  steel,  and  darts  envenomed, 
Shall  be  as  welcome  to  the  ears  of  Brutus, 
As  tidings  of  this  sight. 

Tit.  Hie  you,  Messala, 

And  I  will  seek  for  Pindarus  the  while.  [Exit  Messala. 
Why  didst  thou  send  me  forth,  brave  Cassius  ? 
Did  I  not  meet  thy  friends?  and  did  not  they 
Put  on  my  brows  tliis  wreath  of  victory. 
And  bid  me  give  it  thee  ?     Didst  not  thou  hear  their 

shouts  ? 
Alas  !  thou  hast  misconstrued  every  thing. 
But  hold  thee;  take  this  garland  on  thy  brow  : 
Thy  Brutus  bid  me  give  it  thee,  and  I 
Will  do  his  bidding. — Brutus,  come  apace, 
And  see  how  I  regarded  Cains  Cassius. — 
By  your  leave,  gods  : — This  is  a  Roman's  part : 
Come,  Cassius'  sword,  and  find  Titinius'  heart.    [Die.';. 
Alarum.  Re-enter  INIessala,  it'z7A  Brutus,  young  Cato, 
Strato,  Volumnius,  and  Lucilius. 

Brv.  Where,  where.  Messala.  doth  his  body  lie? 

Mes.  Lo  !  yonder;  and  Titinius  mourning  it. 

Brii.  Titinius'  face  is  upward. 

Cato.  He  is  slain. 

Bru.  0  Julius  Csesar  !  thou  art  mighty  yet: 
Thy  spirit  walks  abroad,  and  turns  our  swords 
In  our  own  proper  entrails.  [Low  Alarums. 

Cato.  Brave  Titinius  ! 

Look,  whe'r  he  have  not  crown'd  dead  Cassius ! 

Bru.  Are  yet  two  Romans  living  such  as  these? — 
The  last  of  all  the  Romans,  fare  thee  well ! 
It  is  impossible  that  ever  Rome 


sc.  rv. 


JULIUS   C^SAR.  73 


Should  breed  tliy  fellow. — Friends,  I  owe  more  tears 

To  this  dead  man,  than  you  shall  see  me  pay. — 

I  shall  find  time,  Cassius.  I  shall  find  time. — 

Come,  therefore,  and  to  Thassos  send  his  body : 

His  funerals  shall  not  be  in  our  camp, 

Lest  it  discomfort  us. — Lucilius,  come; — 

And  come,  young  Cato  ;  let  us  to  the  field. — 

Labeo,  and  Flavius,  set  our  battles  on  ! — 

'T  is  three  o'clock  :  and,  Romans,  yet  ere  night 

We  shall  try  fortune  in  a  second  fight.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.— Another  Part  of  the  Field. 
Alarum.  Enter,  fighting.,  Soldiers  of  both  Armies  ;  then 
Brutus,  Cato,  Lucilius,  aiul  others. 
Bru.  Yet,  countrymen,  0  !  yet  hold  up  your  heads. 
Cato.  What  bastard  doth  not  ?  Who  will  go  with  me  ? 
I  will  proclaim  my  name  about  the  field. — 
I  am  the  son  of  Marcus  Cato,  ho  ! 
A  foe  to  tyrants,  and  my  counti-j^'s  friend. 
I  am  the  son  of  Marcus  Cato,  ho  !  [Charges  the  Enemy. 

Bru.  And  1  am  Brutus,  Marcus  Brutus,  1 ; 
Brutus,  my  country's  friend :  know  me  for  Brutus. 

[Exit^  charging  the  Enemy.     Cato  is  overpoivered, 
and  falls. 
Lric.  0,  young  and  noble  Cato  !  art  thou  do^\^l? 
Why,  now  thou  diest  as  bravely  as  Titinius, 
And  may'st  be  honour'd  being  Cato's  son. 
1  Sold.  Yield,  or  thou  diest. 
Luc.  Only  I  yield  to  die : 

There  is  so  much  that  thou  wilt  kill  me  straight. 

[Offering  money. 
Kill  Brutus,  and  be  honour'd  in  his  death. 

1  Sold.  We  must  not. — A  noble  prisoner  ! 

2  Sold.  Room,  ho  !     Tell  Antony,  Brutus  is  ta'en. 

1  Sold.  I  '11  tell  the  news : — Here  comes  the  gene- 
ral. — 

Enter  Antony. 
Brutus  is  ta'en,  Brutus  is  ta'en,  my  lord. 

Ant.  Where  is  he  ? 

Luc.  Safe,  Antony  ;  Brutus  is  safe  enough. 
I  dare  assure  thee,  that  no  enemy 
Shall  ever  take  alive  the  noble  Brutus : 
The  gods  defend  him  from  so  great  a  shame ! 
When  you  do  find  him,  or  alive,  or  dead, 

Vol.  VIL— 7 


74  JULIUS    C^SAR..  ACT  V. 

He  -nill  be  found  like  Brutus,  like  himself. 

Ant.  This  is  not  Brutus,  friend  ;  but,  I  assure  you, 
A  prize  no  less  in  \\-orth.     Keep  this  man  safe. 
Give  him  all  kindness  :  I  had  rather  have 
Such  men  my  friends,  than  enemies.     Go  on, 
And  see  whe'r  Brutus  be  alive,  or  dead ; 
And  bring  us  word  unto  Octavius'  tent, 
How  every  thing  is  chanc'd.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  v.— Another  Part  of  the  Field. 
Filter  Brutus,  Dardanius,  Clitus,  Strato,  and 

VOLUMNIUS. 

Brii.  Come,  poor  remains  of  friends,  rest  on  this  rock. 

Cli.  Statilius  show'd  the  torch-light ;  but,  my  lord, 
He  came  not  back :  he  is  or  ta'en.  or  slain. 

Bnt.  Sit  thee  down,  Clitus  ;  slaying  is  the  word; 
It  is  a  deed  in  fashion.     Hark  thee,  Clitus. — 

[  Whispering. 

Cli.  What !  I.  my  lord  ?     No,  not  for  all  the  world. 

Bru.  Peace  then:  no  words. 

Cli.  I  '11  rather  kill  myself. 

Bru.  Hark  thee,  Dardanius  !  [Whispers  him. 

Bar.  Shall  I  do  such  a  deed  ? 

Cli.  0,  Dardanius  ! 

Bar.  0,  Clitus  ! 

Cli.  What  ill  request  did  Brutus  make  to  thee  ? 

Bar.  To  kill  him.  Clitus.     Look,  he  meditates. 

Cli.  Now  is  that  noble  vessel  full  of  grief, 
That  it  runs  over  even  at  his  eyes. 

Bru.  Come  hither,  good  Volumnius :  list  a  word. 

Vol.  What  says  my  lord  ? 

Bru.  Why.  this.  Volunmius. 

The  ghost  of  Copsar  hath  appear"d  to  me 
Two  several  times  by  night :  at  Sardis  once  ; 
And,  this  last  night,  here  in  Philippi'  fields. 
I  know  my  hour  is  come. 

Vol.  Not  so,  my  lord. 

Bru.  Nay,  I  am  sure  it  is,  Volumnius. 
Thou  seest  the  world,  Volumnius,  how  it  goes ; 
Our  enemies  have  beat  us  to  the  pit :      [Low  Alarums. 
It  is  more  worthy  to  leap  in  ourselves. 
Than  tarry  till  they  push  us.     Good  Volumnius, 
Thou  Imow'st  that  we  two  went  to  school  together  : 
Even  for  that  our  love  of  old.  I  pray  thee. 


SC.  V.  JULIUS   CJESAR.  75 

Hold  thou  my  sword-hilts  whilst  I  run  on  it. 

Vol.  That's  not  an  office  for  a  friend,  my  lord. 

[Alarum  still. 

Cli.  Fly,  fly,  my  lord  !  there  is  no  tarrying  here. 

£ru.  Farewell  to  you  : — and  you  : — and  you,  Volum- 
nius. —  [Shaking  hands  severally.^ 

Strato,  thou  hast  been  all  this  while  asleep ; 
Farewell  to  thee  too,  Strato. — Countrymen, 
My  heart  doth  joy,  that  yet  in  all  my  life 
I  found  no  man,  but  he  was  true  to  me. 
I  shall  have  glorj'  by  this  losing  day, 
More  than  Octavius,  and  Mark  Antony, 
By  this  vile  conquest  shall  attain  inito. 
So.  fare  you  well  at  once  :  for  Brutus'  tongue 
Hath  almo.st  ended  his  life's  history. 
Night  hangs  upon  mine  eyes ;  my  bones  would  rest, 
That  have  but  laboured  to  attain  this  hour. 

[Alarum.     Cry  within;  Fly,  fly,  fly! 

Cli.  Fly,  my  lord,  fly  ! 

Bru.  Hence :  I  \\ill  follow. 

[Exeunt  Clitcs,  Dardaxius,  and  Volumnius. 
I  pr'ythee,  Strato,  stay  thou  by  thy  lord. 
Thou  art  a  fellow  of  a  good  respect ; 
Thy  life  hath  had  some  snatch  of  honour  in  it : 
Hold,  then,  my  sword,  and  turn  away  thy  face. 
While  I  do  run  upon  it.     Wilt  thou,  Strato  ? 

Stra.  Give  me  your  hand  first :  fare  you  well,  my  lord. 

Bru.  Farewell,  good  Strato. — Csesar,  now  be  still: 
I  kill'd  not  thee  \^'ith  half  so  good  a  will. 

[He  runs  on  his  Sword,  and  dies. 
Alarum.     Retreat.     Enter   Octavius.    Antony,    Mes- 
SALA.  LrciLius,  arid  their  Army. 

Oct.  What  man  is  that  ? 

Mes.  My  master's  man. — Strato,  where  is  thy  master  ? 

Stra.  Free  from  the  bondage  you  are  in,  Messala: 
The  conquerors  can  but  make  a  fire  of  him ; 
For  Brutus  only  overcame  himself, 
And  no  man  else  hath  honoiu  by  his  death. 

Luc.  So  Brutus  should   be  found. — I   thank  thee, 
Brutus, 
That  thou  hast  prov'd  Lucilius'  saying  true. 

Oct.  All  that  serA''d  Brutus  I  will  entertain  them. 
Fellow,  wilt  thou  bestow  thy  time  with  me  ? 
1  Not  in  f.  e. 


76  JULIUS    CiESAR.       '  ACT  V. 

Stra.  Ay,  if  Messala  will  prefer  me  to  you. 

Oct.  Do  so,  good  Messala. 

Mes.  How  died  my  master,  Strato  ? 

Stra.  I  held  the  sword,  and  he  did  run  on  it. 

3Ies.  Octavius,  then  take  him  to  follow  thee, 
That  did  the  latest  service  to  my  master. 

Ant.  This  was  the  noblest  Roman  of  them  all : 
All  the  conspirators,  save  only  he. 
Did  that  tliey  did  in  envy  of  great  Caesar; 
He,  only,  in  a  generous'  honest  thought 
Of"  common  good  to  all,  made  one  of  them. 
His  life  was  gentle  ;  and  the  elements 
So  mix'd  in  him,  that  Nature  might  stand  up. 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  "  This  was  a  man !" 

Oct.  According  to  his  virtue  let  us  use  him, 
With  all  respect,  and  rites  of  burial. 
Within  my  tent  his  bones  to-night  shall  lie, 
Most  like  a  soldier,  order'd  honourably. — 
So,  call  the  field  to  rest ;  and  let 's  away, 
To  part  the  glories  of  this  happy  day.  [Exeunt. 

1  general :  in  f.  e.     2  And  :  in  f.  e. 


MACBETH. 


7* 


"  The  Tr;igeJie  of  Macbeth  "  was  first  printed  in  tlie  folio  of 
1623,  wliere  it  occupies  twenty-one  pages  ;  viz.  from  p.  131 
to  p.  151  inclusive,  in  the  division  of  "  Tragedies."  The 
Acts  and  Scenes  are  regularly  marked  there,  as  well  as  in 
the  later  folios. 


INTRODUCTION 


The  only  ascertained  fact  respecting  the  performance  of 
"Macbeth,"  in  the  Hfetime  of  its  autlior,  is  that  it  was  repre- 
sented at  the  Globe  Theatre  on  the  20th  of  April,  1610. 
Whether  it  was  then  a  new  play,  it  is  impossible  to  decide ; 
but  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  it  was  not,  and  that  Malone 
was  right  in  his  conjecture,  that  it  was  tirst  acted  about  the 
year  1606.  The  subsequent  account  of  the  plot  is  derived 
from  Dr.  Simon  Forman's  manuscript  Diary,  preserved  in  the 
^.Ashmoleau  Museum,  from  which  it  appears,  that  he  saw 
•'  Macbeth  "  played  at  the  Globe  on  the  day  we  have  stated : — 

"In  Macbeth,  at  the  Globe,  1610,  the  20th  of  April,  Saturday,  there 
•was  to  be  ob.ser\'ed.  first,  how  Macbeth  and  Banquo,  two  noblemen  of 
Scotland,  riding  through  a  -n-ood,  there  stood  before  them  three  women 
Fairies,  or  Nymphs,  and  saluted  Macbeth,  saying  three  times  unto 
him.  Hail.  Macbeth,  King  of  Codor,  for  thou  shalt  be  a  King,  but 
shalt  beget  no  Kings,  &c.  Then,  said  Banquo,  What !  all  to  Macbeth, 
and  nothing  to  nie  ?  Yes,  said  the  Nymphs,  Hail  to  thee,  Banquo  : 
thou  shalt  beget  Kings,  yet  be  no  King.  And  so  they  departed,  and 
came  to  the  Court  of  Scotland,  to  Duncan,  King  of  Scots,  and  it  was 
in  the  days  of  Edward  the  Confessor.  And  Duncan  bad  them  both 
kindly  welcome,  and  made  Macbeth  forthwith  Prince  of  Northumber- 
land ;  and  sent  him  home  to  his  own  Castle,  and  appointed  Macbeth 
to  provide  for  him,  for  he  would  sup  with  him  the  next  day  at  night, 
and  did  so. 

"And  Macbeth  contrived  to  kill  Duncan,  and  through  the  persua- 
sion of  his  wife  did  that  night  murder  the  king  in  his  oivn  Castle, 
being  his  guest.  And  there  were  many  prodigies  seen  that  night  and 
the  day  before.  And  when  Macbeth  had  murdered  the  King,  the 
blood  on  his  hands  could  not  be  washed  off  by  any  means,  nor  from 
his  wife's  hands,  which  handled  the  bloody  daggers  in  hiding  them, 
by  which  means  they  became  both  much  amazed  and  affronted. 

"  The  murder  being  known,  Duncan's  two  sons  fled,  the  one  to 
England,  the  [other  to]  "Wales,  to  save  themselves  :  they,  being  fled, 
were  supposed  guilty  of  the  murder  of  their  father,  which  was 
nothing  so.  ,     .         .  _, 

"  Then  was  Macbeth  crowned  King,  and  then  he  for  fear  of  Banquo, 
kis  old  companion,  that  he  should  beget  kings  but  be  no  king  himself, 
he  contrived  the  death  of  Banquo,  and  caused  him  to  be  murdered  on 
the  way  that  he  rode.  "The  night,  being  at  supper  with  his  noble- 
men, whom  he  had  bid  to  a  feast,  (to  the  which  also  Banquo  should 
have  come,)  he  began  to  speak  of  noble  Banquo,  and  to  wish  that  he 
■were  there'.  And  as  he  thus  did,  standing  up  to  drink  a  carouse  to 
him,  the  ghost  of  Banquo  came,  and  sat  down  in  his  chair  behind 
him.  And  he,  turning  about  to  sit  down  again,  saw  the  ghost  of 
Banquo,  which  fronted  him,  so  that  he  fell  in  a  great  passion  of  fear 
and  fury,  uttering  many  words  about  his  murder,  by  which,  when 
they  heard  that  Banquo  was  murdered,  they  suspected  Macbeth. 


80  INTRODUCTION. 

"Then  Macduff  fled  to  England  to  the  King's  son,  and  so  they 
raised  an  army  and  came  to  Scotland,  and  at  Dunston  Anyse  over- 
threw Macbeth.  In  the  mean  time,  while  Macduff  was  in  England, 
Macbeth  slew  Macduff's  wife  and  children,  and  after,  in  the  battle, 
Macduff  slew  Macbeth. 

"  Observe,  also,  how  Macbeth's  Queen  did  rise  in  the  night  in  her 
sleep,  and  walk,  and  talked  and  confessed  all,  and  the  Doctor  noted 
her  words." 

Our  principal  reason  for  thinking'  that  "  Macbeth  "  had 
been  onsjinally  represented  at  least  four  years  before  1610,  is 
the  strikinsr  allu.<ion,  in  Act  iv.  sc.  1,  to  the  union  of  the  three 
kingdoms  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland,  in  the  hands  of 
James  1.  That  monarch  ascended  the  throne  iu  March, 
1602-3,  and  the  words, 

"  Some  I  see. 
That  two-fold  balls  and  treble  sceptres  carry," 

would  have  had  little  point,  if  we  suppose  them  to  have  been 
delivered  after  the  king  who  bore  the  balls  and  sceptres  had 
been  more  than  seven  years  on  the  throne.  James  was  pro- 
claimed kins  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  ou  the  24th  of 
October,  1604,  and  we  may  perhaps  conclude  that  Shakespeare 
wrote  "  Macbeth  "  in  the  year  1605,  and  that  it  was  first  acted 
at  the  Globe,  when  it  was  opened  for  the  summer  season,  in 
the  spring  of  1606. 

Malone  elaborately  supports  his  opinion,  that  "Macbeth" 
was  produced  in  1606,  by  two  allusions  in  the  speech  of  the 
Porter,  Act  ii.  sc.  3,  to  tlie  cheapness  of  corn,  and  to  the  doc- 
trine of  equivocation,  which  had  been  supported  by  Robert 
Garnet,  who  was  executed  on  the  8d  of  May,  1606.  We  are 
generally  disposed  to  place  little  confidence  in  such  passages, 
not  only  because  they  are  frequently  obscure  in  their  applica- 
tion, but  because  they  may  have  been  introduced  at  any 
subsequent  period,  either  by  the  author  or  actor,  with  the 
purpose  of  exciting  the  applause  of  the  audience,  by  reference 
to  some  circumstance  then  attracting  public  attention.  We 
know  that  dramatists  were  in  the  constant  habit  of  making 
additions  and  alterations,  and  that  comic  performers  had  the 
vice  of  delivering  "  more  than  was  set  down  for  them."  The 
speech  of  the  Porter,  in  which  the  two  supposed  temporary 
allu.*ions  are  contained,  is  exactly  of  the  kind  which  the  per- 
former of  the  part  might  be  incliiied  to  enlarge,  and  so 
strongly  was  Coleridge  convinced  that  it  was  an  interpolation 
by  the  player,  that  he  boldly  "  pledged  himself  to  demonstrate 
it."  (Lit.  Rem.  vol.  ii.  p.  235.)  This  notion  was  not  new  to 
him  in  1818  ;  for  three  years  earlier  he  had  publicly  declared 
it  in  a  lecture  devoted  to  "  Macbeth,"  althotigh  he"  admitted 
that  there  was  something  of  Shakespeare  in  "  the  primrose 
way  to  the  everlasting  bonfire."  It  mav  be  doubted  whether 
he  would  have  made  this  concession,  if  lie  had  not  recollected 
"the  primrose  path  of  dalliance  "  in  "Hamlet." 

Shakespeare,  doubtless,  derived  all  the  materials  he  required 
from  Holiushed,  without  resorting  to  Boethius,  or  to  any  other 
authority.  Steevens  continued  to  maintain,  that  Shakespeare 
was  indebted,  in  some  degree,  to  Middleton's  "  Witch  "  for 


INTRODUCTION.  81 

the  preternatural  portion  of  "  ^lacbeth  ;"  but  Malone,  who  at 
first  entertained  llie  same  view  of  tlie  subject,  ultimately 
abandoned  it,  and  became  convinced  that  "  The  Witcli  "  was 
a  play  written  subsequently  to  the  production  of"  Macbeth." 
Those  who  read  the  two  will,  perhaps,  wonder  how  a  doubt 
could  have  been  entertained.  "  The  Witch,"  in  all  proba- 
bility, was  not  written  until  about  1613 ;  and  what  must 
surprise  every  body  is,  that  a  poet  of  Middlcton's  raulc  could 
so  degrade  the  awful  beings  of  Shakespeare's  invention  ;  for 
although,  as  Lamb  observes,  "  the  power  of  Middleton's 
witches  is  in  some  measure  over  the  mind,"  (Specimens  of 
Engl.  Dram.  Poets,  p.  174,)  they  are  of  a  degenerate  race,  a3 
if,  Shakespeare  having  created  them,  no  other  mind  was 
Bufflcientiv  gifted  even  to  continue  their  existence. 

Whether  Shakespeare  obtained  his  knowledge  regarding 
these  agents,  and  of  the  locality  he  supposes  them  to  have 
frequented,  from  actual  observation,  is  a  point  we  have  con- 
sidered in  the  Biograpliy  of  the  poet.  The  existing  evidence 
on  the  question  is  there  collected,  and  we  have  shown,  that 
ten  years  before  the  date  hitherto  assigned  to  that  circum- 
stance, a  company  called  "  the  Queen's  Flayers  "  had  visited 
Edinburgh.  This  fact  is  quite  new  in  the  history  of  the 
introduction  of  English  theatrical  performances  into  Scotland. 
That  the  Queen's  comedians  were  north  of  the  Tweed  in  1599, 
on  the  invitation  of  James  VI.,  we  have  distinct  evidence  : 
we  know  also  that  they  were  in  Aberdeen  in  1601,  when  the 
freedom  of  the  city  was  presented  to  Laurence  Fletcher  (the 
first  name  in  the  patent  of  1603) ;  but  to  establish  that  they 
were  in  Edinburgh  in  1589  gives  much  more  latitude  for 
speculation  on  the  question,  whether  Shakespeare,  in  the 
interval  of  about  fourteen  years  before  James  L  ascended  the 
throne  of  England,  had  at  any  time  accompanied  his  fellow- 
actors  to  Scotland. 

At  whatever  date  we  suppose  Shakespeare  to  have  written 
«'  Macbeth,"  we  mav  perhaps  infer,  from  a  passage  in  Kemp's 
"  Nine  Days'  Wonder,"  1600,  that  there  existed  a  baUad  upon 
the  storv,  which  may  have  been  older  than  the  tragedy  :  such 
is  the  opinion  of  the"  Rev.  Mr.  Dyce,  in  his  notes  to  tlie  reprint 
of  this  tract  by  the  Camden  Society,  p.  34.  The  point,  how- 
ever, is  doubtful,  and  it  is  obvious  that  Kemp  did  not  mean 
to  be  very  intelligible  :  his  other  allusions  to  ballad-makers  of 
his  time  are  pui-posely  obscure. 

"  Macbeth  "  was  inserted  by  the  player-editors  in  the  folio 
of  lC-23  ;  and,  as  in  other  similar  cases,  we  may  presume  that 
it  had  not  come  from  the  press  at  an  earlier  date,  because  in 
the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company  it  is  registered  by 
Blount  and  Jaggard,  on  the  8th  of  November,  1623,  as  one  of 
the  plays  "  not  formerly  entered  to  other  men."  It  has  been 
handed  down  in  an  unusually  complete  state,  for  not  only  are 
the  divisions  of  the  acts  pointed  out,  but  the  subdivisions  of 
the  scenes  carefully  and  accurately  noted. 


■  Thanes  of  Scotland. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE. 

Duncan,  King  of  Scotland. 
Malcolm.       )  ,  .    _ 

DONALBAIN,      }  '"^  S«"«- 
j\^ACBETH  ) 

Baxquo,    '      }  Generals  of  his  Army. 

Macduff, 

Lenox, 

RossE, 

Menteth, 

Angus, 

Cathness, 

Fleance,  Son  to  Banquo. 

SiWARD,  Earl  of  Northumberland,  General  of  the 

Engli.«h  Forces. 
Young  SiwARD,  his  Son. 
Seyton,  an  Officer  attending  Macbeth 
Son  to  Macduff. 

An  English  Doctor.     A  Scotch  Doctor. 
A  Soldier.     A  Porter.     An  Old  Man. 

Lady  Macbeth. 

Lady  Macduff. 

Gentlewoman  attending  Lady  Macbeth. 

Hecate,  and  Witches. 

Lords,   Gentlemen,   Officers,   Soldiers,   Murderers,  At- 
tendants, and  Messengers. 

The  Ghost  of  Banquo,  and  other  Apparitions. 

SCENE,  in  the  end  of  the  fourth   Act,  in  England  • 
through  the  rest  of  the  Play,  in  Scotland. 


MACBETH. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.— An  open  Place. 
Thunder  and  lightning.     Enter  three  Witches. 
1  Witch.  When  shall  we  three  meet  again, 


In  thunder,  lightning,  or  in  rain? 

2  Witch    When  the  hurlyburly  's*  done 


When  the  battle  's  lost  and  won. 

3  Witch.  That  will  be  ere  the  set  of  sun. 

1  Witch.  Where  the  place  ? 

2  Witch.  Upon  the  heath  : 

3  Witch.  There  to  meet  with  Macbeth. 
1  Witch.  I  come,  Grajnnalkin  ! 

AH.  Paddock''  calls  : — Anon. — 
Fair  is  foixl.  and  foul  is  fair  : 
Hover  through  the  fog  and  filthy  air.    [Witches  vanish. 

SCENE  II.— A  Camp  near  Fores. 
Sennet  within.     Enter  King  DrxcAN,  Malcolm,  Do- 

KALBAiN,  Lenox,  with  Attendants,  meeting  a  bleeding 

Soldier. 

Bun.  What  bloody  man  is  that  ?     He  can  report, 
As  seemeth  by  his  plight,  of  the  revolt 
The  newest  state. 

Mai.  This  is  the  sergeant, 

Who,  like  a  good  and  hardy  soldier,  fought 
'Gainst  my  captivity. — Hail,  brave  friend  ! 
Say  to  the  king  thy  knowledge  of  the  broil. 
As  thou  didst  leave  it. 

Sold.  Doubtful  it  stood  ; 

As  two  spent  swimmers,  that  do  cling  together 

1  A  name  intimating  the  sownd  of  that  it  signifieth,  as  hurly 
burly,  for  an  uprore  and  tumultuous  stirre. — Peacham's  Garden  of 
Eloquence,  1577.      ^  ^  toad. 


84  ^  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 

And  choke  their  art.     The  merciless  Macdonwald 

(Worthy  to  be  a  rebel,  for  to  that 

The  multiplying  \allainies  of  nature 

Do  s%A"arm  upon  him)  from  the  western  isles 

Of  Kernes  and  Gallowglasses'  is  supplied  ; 

And  fortune,  on  his  damned  quarreP  smiling, 

Show'd  like  a  rebel's  whore  :  but  all 's  too  weak  ; 

For  brave  Macbeth  (well  he  deserves  that  name) 

Disdaining  fortune,  with  his  brandish'd  steel, 

Which  smok'd  with  bloody  execution, 

Like  A'alour's  minion,  carv'd  out  his  passage, 

Till  he  fac'd  the  slave  ; 

Which  ne'er  shook  hands,  nor  bade  farewell  to  him, 

Till  he  unseam'd  him  from  the  nave  to  the  chaps. 

And  fi'xd  his  head  upon  ovu-  battlements. 

Dun.  0,  valiant  cousin  !  worthy  gentleman  ! 

Sold.  As  whence  the  sun  'gins  his  reflexion 
Ship\ATecking  storms  and  direful  thunders  break,^ 
So  from  that  spring,  whence  comfort  seem'd  to  come. 
Discomfort  swells.     Mark,  king  of  Scotland,  mark: 
No  sooner  justice  had,  with  valour  arm'd, 
Compell'd  these  skipping  Kernes  to  trust  their  heels, 
But  the  Norweyan  lord,  survejang  vantage. 
With  furbish'd  arms,  and  new  supplies  of  men. ' 
Began  a  fresh  assault. 

Dun.  Dismay'd  not  this 

Our  captains,  Macbeth  and  Banquo  ? 

Sold.  Yes : 

As  sparrows  eagles,  or  the  hare  the  lion. 
If  I  say  sooth,  I  must  report  they  were 
As  cannons  overcharg'd  with  double  cracks  ; 
So  they  doubly  redoubled  strokes  upon  the  foe  : 
Except  they  meant  to  bathe  in  reeking  wounds, 
Or  memorize  another  Golgotha, 
I  cannot  tell. — 
But  I  am  faint,  my  gashes  crj  for  help. 

Dun.    So    well    thy    words    become   thee,    as   thy 
wounds : 
They  smack  of  honour  both. — Go,  get  him  surgeons. 

[Exit  Soldier,  attended. 

I  Vide  Second  Part  of  Henry  VI.,  Act  iv.,  Sc.  ix.  -  quarry  :  in 
folio.  Johnson  made  the  change.  '  Not  in  first  folio.  Pope  changed 
"  breaking"  of  second,  to  "  break." 


BC.  III.  MACBETH.  85 

Enter  Rosse  and  Angus. 
Who  comes  here  ? 

Mai.  The  worthy  thane  of  Rosse. 

Len.  What  haste  looks  through  his  eyes  ! 
So  should  he  look,  that  comes^  to  speak  things  strange. 

Rosse.  God  save  the  king  ! 

Dun.  Whence  cam'st  thou,  worthy  thane? 

Rosse.  From  Fife,  great  king  : 
Where  the  Norweyan  banners  flout  the  sky 
And  fan  our  people  cold. 
Norway  himself,  with  terrible  numbers, 
Assisted  by  that  most  disloyal  traitor, 
The  thane  of  Cawdor,  began  a  dismal  conflict ; 
Till  that  Bellona's  bridegroom,  lapp'd  in  proof, 
Confronted  him  with  self-comparisons, 
Point  against  point,  rebellious  arm  'gainst  arm, 
Curbing  his  lavish  spirit:  and,  to  conclude, 
The  victory  fell  on  us  ; — 

Bun.  Great  happiness  ! 

Rosse.  That  now 
Swcno,  the  Norway's  king,  craves  composition  ; 
Nor  would  we  deign  him  burial  of  his  men. 
Till  he  disbursed  at  Saint  Colmes'  Inch 
Ten  thousand  dollars  to  our  general  use. 

Dun.  No  more  that  thane  of  Cawdor  shall  deceive 
Our  bosom  interest. — Go,  pronounce  his  present  death. 
And  with  his  former  title  greet  Macbeth. 

Rosse.  I  '11  see  it  done. 

Dun.  What  he  hath  lost  noble  Macbeth  hath  won. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  ni.— A  Heath. 

Thunder.     Enter  the  three  Witches. 

1  Witch.  Where  hast  thou  been,  sister  ? 

2  Witch.  Killing  swine. 

3  Witch.  Sister,  where  thou  ? 

1  Witch.  A  sailor's  wife  had  chesnuts  in  her  lap, 
And  mounch'd,  and  mounch'd,  and  mounch'd  :     "  Give 

me,"  quoth  I : — 
'■  Aroint'  thee,  witch  !"  the  rump-fed  ronyon'  cries. 
Her  husband 's  to  Aleppo  gone,  master  o'  the  Tiger : 
But  in  a  sieve  I  '11  thither  sail, 

1  seems  :  in  f.  e.  =  Still  used  in  the  sense  of  driving  away.,  or 
imprecation.,  in  parts  of  England  ;  "  rynt  thee,"  is  a  phrase  addressed 
to  cows,  by  milkmaids,  when  milking.     3  pj,  rogneux,  scurf. 

Vol.  VII.— 8 


86  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 

And,  like  a  rat  without  a  tail, 
I'll  do.  I'll  do,  and  rildo. 

2  Witch.  I  '11  give  thee  a  wind. 
1  Witch.  Thou  art  kind. 

3  Witclt,.   And  I  another. 

1  Witch.  I  myself  have  all  the  other; 
And  the  very  ports  they  blow, 

All  the  quarters  that  they  know 
I'  the  shipman's  card  to  show.* 
I  '11  drain  him  diy  as  hay  : 
Sleep  shall,  neither  night  nor  day, 
Hang  upon  his  pent-house  lid  ; 
He  shall  live  a  man  forbid. 
Weary  scv'n-nights,  nine  times  nine, 
Sliall  he  dwindle,  peak,  and  pine  : 
Though  his  bark  cannot  be  lost, 
Yet  it  shall  be  tempest-toss'd. — 
Look  what  I  have. 

2  Witch.  Show  me,  show  me. 

1  Witch.  Here  I  have  a  pilot's  thumb. 
Wreck'd  as  homeward  he  did  come.         [Drum  within. 

3  Witch.  A  drum  !  a  drum  ! 
Macbeth  doth  come. 

All.  The  weird^  sisters,  hand  in  hand, 
Posters  of  the  sea  and  land. 
Thus  do  go  about,  about : 
Thrice  to  thine,  and  thrice  to  mine, 
And  thrice  again,  to  make  up  nine. 
Peace  ! — the  charm  's  wound  up. 

Enter  Macbeth  and  B.\nquo. 

Macb.  So  foul  and  fair  a  day  I  have  not  seen. 

Ban.  How  far  is't  called  to  Fores? — What  arethe.se, 
So  wither'd,  and  so  wild  in  their  attire, 
That  look  not  like  th'  inhabitants  o'  the  earth. 
And  yet  are  on  "t  ?     hive  you  ?  or  are  you  aught 
That  man  may  question  ?  You  seem  to  understand  me, 
By  each  at  once  her  chappy  finger  laying 
Upon  her  skinny  lips.     You  should  be  women, 
And  yet  your  beards  forbid  me  to  interpret 
That  you  are  so. 

Macb.  Speak,  if  you  can. — ^What  are  you? 

1  Witch.  All  hail !  Macbeth  !  hail  to  thee,  thane  of 
Glamis  ! 

1  The  -words  "  to  sho-w,"  are  not  in  f.  e.     *  Saxon,  wyrd,  fatal. 


80.  III.  MACBETH.  87 

2  Witch.  All  hail.  Macbeth  !    hail  to  thee,  thane  of 

Cawdor  ! 

3  Witch.  All   hail,   Macbeth !    that   shalt   be   king 

hereafter. 
Ban.  Good  sir.  why  do  you  start,  and  seem  to  fear 
Things  that  do  sound  so  fair  ? — F  the  name  of  truth. 
Are  ye  fantastical,  or  that  indeed 
Which  outwardly  ye  show?     My  noble  partner 
You  greet  with  present  grace,  and  great  prediction 
Of  noble  having,  and  of  royal  hope, 
That  he  seems  rapt  withal  :  to  me  you  speak  not. 
If  you  can  look  into  the  seeds  of  time, 
And  say  which  grain  will  grow,  and  which  will  not. 
Speak  then  to  me,  who  neither  beg.  nor  fear, 
Your  favours,  nor  your  hate. 

1  Witch.  Hail  ! 

2  Witch.  Hail  ! 

3  Witch.  Hail  ! 

1  Witch.  Lesser  than  Macbeth,  and  greater. 

2  Witch.  Not  so  happy,  yet  much  happier. 

3  Witch.  Thou  shalt  get  kings,  though  thou  be  none. 
So,  all  hail,  Macbeth,  and  Banquo  ! 

1  Witch.  Banquo,  and  Macbeth,  all  hail  ! 

Macb.  Stay,  you  imperfect  speakers,  tell  me  more. 
By  SineUs  death,  I  know,  I  am  thane  of  Glainis  ; 
But  how  of  Cawdor?  the  thane  of  Cawdor  lives, 
A  prosperous  gentleman ;  and  to  be  king 
Stands  not  within  the  prospect  of  belief. 
No  more  than  to  be  Cawdor.     Say,  from  whence 
You  owe  this  strange  intelligence  ?  or  why 
Upon  this  blasted  heath  you  stop  our  way 
With  such  prophetic  greeting? — Speak,  I  charge  you. 

[  Witches  vanish. 

Ban.  The  earth  hath  bubbles,  as  the  water  has. 
And  these  are  of  them. — Whither  have  they  vanish'd  ? 

3Iacb.  Into  the  air  ;  and  what  seem'd  corporal,  melted 
As  breath  into  the  wind. — 'Would  they  had  stay'd  ! 

Ban.  Were  such  things  here,  as  we  do  speak  about. 
Or  have  we  eaten  on  the  insane  root^, 
That  takes  the  reason  prisoner  ? 

3Iach.  Your  children  shall  be  kings. 

Ban.  You  shall  be  king. 

Blach.  And  thane  of  Cawdor  too  :  went  it  not  so? 
1  Hemlock. 


88  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 

Ban.  To  the  self-same  tune,  and  words.  "Who 's  here  ? 
Enter  Rosse  and  Angus. 

Rosse.  The  king  hath  happily  receiv'd,  Macbeth, 
The  news  of  thy  success ;  and  when  he  reads 
Thy  personal  venture  in  the  rebel's  fight, 
His  wonders  and  his  praises  do  contend, 
Which  should  be  thine,  or  his.     Silenc'd  with  that, 
In  viewing  o'er  the  rest  o'  the  self-same  day, 
He  finds  thee  in  the  stout  Norweyan  ranks, 
Nothing  afeard  of  what  thyself  didst  make, 
Strange  images  of  death.     As  thick  as  tale,' 
Came^  post  with  post ;  and  every  one  did  bear 
Thy  praises  in  his  kingdom's  great  defence. 
And  pour"d  them  down  before  him. 

Ang.  We  are  sent, 

To  give  thee  from  our  royal  master  thanks ; 
Only  to  herald  thee  into  his  sight, 
Not  pay  thee. 

Rosse.  And.  for  an  earnest  of  a  greater  honour, 
He  bade  me  from  him  call  thee  thane  of  Cawdor  : 
In  which  addition,  hail,  most  worthy  thane, 
For  it  is  thine. 

Ban.  What!  can  the  devil  speak  true  ? 

Much.    The  thane   of  Cawdor  lives:  why  do  you 
In  borrow'd  robes  ?  [dress  me 

Ang.  Who  was  the  thane,  lives  yet ; 

But  under  heavy  judgment  bears  that  life 
Which  he  deserves  to  lose.    Whether  he  was  combin'd 
With  those  of  Norway,  or  did  line  the  rebel 
With  hidden  help  and  vantage,  or  that  with  both 
He  labour'd  in  his  country's  wTeck,  I  know  not ; 
But  treasons  capital,  confess'd  and  prov'd, 
Have  overtlirown  him. 

Macb.  Glamis,  and  thane  of  Cawdor  : 

The  greatest  is  behind.  {Aside.']  Thanks  for  your  pains. — 
Do  you  not  hope  your  children  shall  be  kings. 
When  those  that  gave  the  thane  of  Cawdor  to  me, 
Promis'd  no  less  to  them  ? 

Ban.  That,  thrusted'  home. 

Might  yet  enkindle  you  unto  the  cro^^^l, 
Besides  the  thane  of  Cawdor.     But  "t  is  strange  : 
And  oftentimes,  to  win  us  to  ov;r  harm. 
The  instruments  of  darkness  tell  us  truths  ; 

1  Rowe  reads  :  hail.      ^  Can  :  in  folio.      ^  trusted  :  in  f.  e. 


sc.  rn.  MACBETH.  89 

Win  us  -vN-ith  honest  trifles,  to  betray  us 
In  deepest  consequence. — 
Cousins,  a  word,  I  pray  yoti. 

Macb.  Two  truths  are  told, 

As  happy  prologues  to  the  swelling  act 
Of  the  imperial  theme.    [Aside.]    I  thank  you,  gentle- 
men.— 
This  supernatural  soliciting  [Aside. 

Cannot  be  ill ;  cannot  be  good  : — if  ill, 
Why  hath  it  given  me  earnest  of  success, 
Commencing  in  a  truth  ?     I  am  thane  of  Cawdor : 
If  good,  why  do  I  >ield  to  that  suggestion. 
Whose  horrid  image  doth  unfix  my  hair, 
And  make  my  seated  heart  knock  at  my  ribs, 
Asainst  the  use  of  nature  ?     Present  fears 
Are  less  than  horrible  imaginings. 
My  thought,  where  murder  yet  is  but  fantastical, 
Shakes  so  my  single  state  of  man,  that  function 
Is  smother"d  in  surmise,  and  nothing  is, 
But  what  is  not. 

Ban.  Look,  how  our  partner  's  rapt. 

3Iacb.  If  chance  will  have  me  king,  why,  chance 
may  crown  me, 
Withoiit  my  stir. 

Ban.  New  honours  come  upon  him, 

Like  our  strange  garments,  cleave  not  to  their  mould, 
But  AAith  the  aid  of  use. 

3facb.  Come  what  come  may. 

Time  and  the  hour  runs  through  the  roughest  day. 

Ban.  Worthy  Macbeth,  we  stay  upon  your  leisure. 

Macb.  Give  me  your  favour :   my  dull   brain  was 
wrought 
With  things  forgotten. — Kind  gentlemen,  your  pains 
Are  register'd  where  every  day  I  turn 
The  leaf  to  read  them. — Let  us  toward  the  king. — 
[To  Banquo.]    Think  upon  what  hath  chanc'd;  and, 

at  more  time. 
The  interim  having  weigh'd  it,  let  us  speak 
Our  free  hearts  each  to  other. 

Ban.  Very  gladly. 

3Iacb.  Till  then,  enough.— Come,  friends.    [Exeunt. 


90  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 


SCENE  IV.— Fores.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 

Flourish.     Enter  Duncan,  Malcolm,  Donalbain, 
Lenox,  and  Attendants. 

Dun.  Is  execution  done  on  Cawdor?     Are  not 
Those  in  commission  yet  return'd  ? 

Mai.  My  liege, 

They  are  not  yet  come  back ;  but  I  have  spoke 
With  one  that  saw  him  die,  who  did  report, 
That  very  frankly  he  confess'd  his  treasons, 
Implor'd  your  highness'  pardon,  and  set  forth 
A  deep  repentance.     Nothing  in  his  life 
Became  him  like  the  leaving  it :  he  died 
As  one  that  had  been  studied  in  his  death, 
To  throw  away  the  dearest  thing  he  -ow'd. 
As  't  were  a  careless  trifle. 

Dun.  There  's  no  art 

To  find  the  mind's  construction  in  the  face : 
He  was  a  gentleman  on  whom  I  built 
An  absolute  trust. — 

Enter  Macbeth,  Banquo,  Rosse,  and  Angus. 

0  worthiest  cousin  !  [Embrace.^ 
The  sin  of  my  ingratitude  even  now 

Was  heavy  on  me.     Thou  art  so  far  before, 
That  swiftest  wind'  of  recompense  is  slow 
To  overtake  thee :  would  thou  hadst  less  deserv'd, 
That  the  proportion  both  of  thanks  and  payment 
Might  have  been  more' !  only  I  have  left  to  say, 
More  is  thy  due  than  more  tlian  all  can  pay. 

Mach.  The  service  and  the  loyalty  I  owe. 
In  doing  it  pays  itself.     Your  highness'  part 
Is  to  receive  our  duties  :  and  our  duties 
Are  to  your  throne  and  state,  children,  and  servants  ; 
Which  do  but  what  they  should,  by  doing  every  thing 
Safe  toward  your  love  and  honour. 

Dun.  Welcome  hither : 

1  have  begun  to  plant  thee,  and  will  labour 
To  make  thee  full  of  growing. — Noble  Banquo, 
That  hast  no  less  deserv'd,  nor  must  be  known 
No  less  to  have  done  so  :  let  me  infold  thee, 

And  hold  thee  to  my  heart.  [Embrace.* 

Ban.  There  if  I  grow, 

The  harvest  is  your  own. 

1  Not  in  f.  e.     2  -viring  :  in  f.  e.     '  mine  :  in  f.  e.    ■*  Not  in  f.  e. 


8C.  V. 


MACBETH.  91 


Dun.  My  plenteous  joys, 

Wanton  in  fulness,  seek  to  hide  themselves 
In  drops  of  sorrow. — Sons,  kinsmen,  thanes, 
And  you  whose  places  are  the  nearest,  know, 
We  will  establish  our  estate  upon 
Our  eldest,  Malcolm  ;  whom  we  name  hereafter 
The  prince  of  Cumberland  :  which  honour  must 
Not,  unaccompanied,  invest  him  only, 
But  signs  of  nobleness,  like  stars,  shall  shine 
On  all  deservers. — From  hence  to  Inverness, 
And  bind  us  farther  to  you. 

Alacb.  The  rest  is  labour,  which  is  not  us'd  for  you : 
I  '11  be  myself  the  harbinger,  and  make  joyful   . 
The  hearing  of  my  wife  with  your  approach  ; 
So,  humbly  take  my  leave. 

Dun.  My  worthy  Cawdor  ! 

Macb.  The  prince  of  Cumberland  !— That  is  a  step 
On  which  I  must  fall  down,  or  else  o'er-leap,     [Aside. 
For  in  my  Avay  it  lies.     Stars,  hide  your  fires  : 
Let  not  light  see  my  black  and  deep  desires  ; 
The  eye  wink  at  the  hand ;  yet  let  that  be. 
Which  the  eye  fears,  when  it  is  done,  to  see.        [Exit. 

Dun.  True,  worthy  Banquo :  he  is  full  so  valiant. 
And  in  his  commendations  I  am  fed ; 
It  is  a  banquet  to  me.     Let  us  after  him. 
Whose  care  is  gone  before  to  bid  us  welcome  : 
It  is  a  peerless  kinsman.  [Flourish.     Exeunt. 

SCENE  V. — Inverness.  A  Room  in  Macbeth's  Castle. 
Enter  Lady  Macbeth,  with  a  letter. 
Lady  31.  [Reads.\  '•  They  met  me  in  the  day  of  suc- 
cess ;  and  I  have  learned  by  the  perfectest  report,  they 
have  more  in  them  than  mortal  knowledge.  When  I 
burned  in  desire  to  question  them  farther,  they  made 
themselves  air,  into  which  they  vanished.  Whiles  I 
stood  rapt  in  the  wonder  of  it,  came  missives  from  the 
king,  who  all-hailed  me,  '  Thane  of  Cawdor  ;'  by  which 
title,  before,  these  weird  sisters  saluted  me,  and  re- 
ferred me  to  the  coming  on  of  time,  with,  '  Hail,  king 
that  shalt  be  !'  This  have  I  thought  good  to  deliver 
thee,  my  dearest  partner  of  greatness,  that  thou  might- 
est  not  lose  the  dues  of  rejoicing,  by  being  ignorant  of 
what  greatness  is  promised  thee.  Lay  it  to  thy  heart, 
and  farewell." 


98  MACBETH. 


ACT  I. 


Glamis  thou  art,  and  Cawdor  :  and  shalt  be 

What  thou  art  promis'd. — Yet  do  I  fear  thy  nature  : 

It  is  too  full  o'  the  milk  of  human  kindness, 

To  catch  the  nearest  way.     Thou  wouldst  be  great ; 

Art  not  without  ambition  ;  but  without 

The  ilhiess  should  attend  it :  what  thou  wouldst  highly, 

That  wouldst  thou  liolily;  wouldst  not  play  false, 

And  yet  wouldst  wrongly  win :  thou  'dst  have,  great 

Glamis, 
That  which  cries,  "  Thus  thou  must  do,  if  thou  have  it; 
And  that  which  rather  thou  dost  fear  to  do, 
Than  wishest  should  be  undone."     Hie  thee  hither, 
That  I  jnay  pour  my  spirits  in  thine  ear, 
And  chastise  with  the  valour  of  my  tongue, 
All  that  impedes  thee  from  the  golden  round, 
Which  fate  and  metaphysical  aid  doth  seem 
To  have  thee  crown'd  withal. — 

Enter  an  Attendant 

What  is  your  tidings  ? 

Atten.  The  king  comes  here  to-night. 

Lady  M.  Thou  'rt  mad  to  say  it. 

Is  not  thy  master  with  him  ?  who,  w^ere  't  so, 
Would  have  inform'd  for  preparation. 

Attcn.  So  please  you,  it  is  true  :  our  thane  is  coming. 
One  of  my  fellows  had  the  speed  of  him  ; 
Who,  almost  dead  for  breath,  had  scarcely  more 
Than  would  make  up  his  message. 

Lady  M.  Give  him  tending  : 

He  brings  great  news.     {Exit  Attendant.}     The  raven 

himself  is  hoarse, 
That  croaks  the  fatal  entrance  of  Duncan 
Under  my  battlements.     Come,  you  spirits 
That  tend  on  mortal  thoughts,  unsex  me  here, 
And  fill  me,  from  the  crown  to  the  toe,  top-full 
Of  direst  cruelty  :  make  thick  my  blood, 
Stop  up  th'  access  and  passage  to  remorse ; 
That  no  compunctious  visitings  of  nature 
Shake  my  fell  purpose,  nor  keep  peace  between 
Th'  etfect  and  it.     Come  to  my  woman's  breasts, 
And  take  my  milk  for  gall,  you  murdering  ministers, 
Wherever  in  your  sightless  substances 
You  wait  on  nature's  mischief.     Come,  thick  night, 
And  pall  thee  in  the  dunnest  smoke  of  hell, 
That  my  keen  knife  see  not  the  wound  it  makes, 


SC,  VI.  MACBETH.  93 

Nor  heaven  peep  through  the  blankness*  of  the  dark, 
To  cry,  "  Hold,  hold  !"— 

Enter  Macbeth. 

Great  Glamis  !  worthy  Cawdor ! 
Greater  than  both,  by  the  all-hail  hereafter  ! 

[They  embrace.^ 
Thy  letters  have  transported  me  beyond 
This  ignorant  present,  and  I  feel  now 
The  future  in  the  instant. 

Macb.  My  dearest  love, 

Duncan  comes  here  to-night. 

Lady  M.  And  when  goes  hence  ? 

Macb.  To-morrow,  as  he  purposes. 

Lady  M.  0  !  never 

Shall  sun  that  morrow  see. 
Your  face,  my  thane,  is  as  a  book,  where  men 
May  read  strange  matters  :  to  beguile  the  time. 
Look  like  the  time  ;  bear  welcome  in  your  eye. 
Your  hand,  your  tongue  :  look  like  the  innocent  flower, 
But  be  the  serpent  under  it.     He  that 's  coming 
Must  be  provided  for ;  and  you  shall  put 
This  night's  great  business  into  my  despatch. 
Which  shall  to  all  our  nights  and  days  to  come 
Give  solely  sovereign  sway  and  masterdom. 

Macb.  We  will  speak  farther. 

Lady  M.  Only  look  up  clear : 

To  alter  favour  ever  is  to  fear. 
Leave  all  the  rest  to  me.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  VL— The  Same.    Before  the  Castle. 

Enter  Duncan,  Malcolm,  Donalbain,  Banquo,  Lenox, 

Macduff,  Rosse,  Angus,  and  Attendants. 

Dun.  This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat :  the  air 
Nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  gentle  senses. 

Ban.  This  guest  of  .summer, 

The  temple-haunting  martlet,  does  approve, 
By  his  lov'd  mansionry,  that  the  heaven's  breath 
Smells  wooingly  here  :  no  jutty,  frieze, 
Buttress,  nor  coigne  of  vantage,  but  this  bird 
Hath  made  his  pendent  bed,  and  procreant  cradle : 
Where  they  much^  breed  and  haunt,  I  have  observ'd, 
The  air  is  delicate. 

1  blanket  :  in  f.  e.      ^  Not   in  f.  e.      '  most :  in  f.  e.  ;  altered  by 
Ro-we,  from  "  must,"  of  folio. 


94  MACBETH.  ACT.  I. 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth. 

Dtin.  See,  see  !  our  honour'd  hostess. — 

The  love  that  follows  us  sometime  is  our  trouble, 
Which  still  we  thank  as  loA'e :  herein  I  teach  you. 
How  you  shall  bid  God  yield  us  for  your  pains, 
And  thank  us  for  your  trouble. 

Lady  31.  All  our  service. 

In  cA'ery  point  twice  done,  and  then  done  double, 
.Were  poor  and  single  business  to  contend 
Against  those  honours  deep  and  broad,  wherewith. 
Your  majesty  loads  our  house.     For  those  of  old, 
And  the  late  dignities  heap'd  up  to  them, 
We  rest  your  hermits.^ 

Dim.  Where  's  the  thane  of  Cawdor  ? 

We  cours'd  him  at  the  heels,  and  had  a  purpose 
To  be  his  purveyor ;  but  he  rides  well, 
And  his  great  love,  sharp  as  his  spur,  hath  holp  him 
To  his  home  before  us.     Fair  and  noble  hostess, 
We  are  your  guest  to-night. 

Lady  M.  Your  sers'anfs  ever 

Have  theirs,  themselves,  and  what  is  theirs,  in  compt, 
To  make  their  audit  at  your  highness'  pleasure. 
Still  to  return  your  own. 

Dun.  Give  me  your  hand  ; 

Conduct  me  to  mine  host :  we  love  him  highly. 
And  shall  continue  our  graces  towards  him. 
By  your  leave,  hostess.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  Vn.— The  Same.     A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Hautboys  and  torches.     Enter.,  and  pass  over  the  stage, 
a  Sewer.^  and  divers  Serva7its  with  dishes  and  service. 
Then.,  enter  Macbeth. 

Macb.  If  it  were  done,  when  't  is  done,  then  't  were 
well 
It  were  done  quickly :  if  the  assassination 
Could  trammel  up  the  consequence,  and  catch 
With  his  surcease  success ;  that  but  this  blow 
Might  be  the  be-all  and  the  end-all  here, 
But  here,  upon  this  bank  and  shoaP  of  time. 
We  "d  jump  the  life  to  come. — But  in  these  cases, 
We  still  have  judgment  here ;  that  we  but  teach 

1  Beadsmen — bound  to  pray  for  a  benefactor.  ^  j^^  officer  -n-ho 
placed  and  removed  dishes.  ^  gcjioole  :  in  folio.  Theoljald  made  the 
change. 


SC.  TI.  MACBETH.  95 

Bloody  instructions,  which,  being  taught,  return 
To  plague  th"  inventor :  thus'  even-handed  justice 
Commends  th'  ingredients  of  our  poisond  chalice 
To  our  own  lips.     He  's  here  in  double  trust : 
First,  as  I  am  his  kinsman  and  his  subject: 
Strong  both  against  the  deed :  then,  as  his  host, 
Who  should  against^his  murderer  shut  the  door, 
Not  bear  the  knife  myself.     Besides,  this  Dimcan 
Hath  borne  his  faculties  so  meek,  hath  been 
So  clear  in  his  great  office,  that  his  virtues 
Will  plead,  like  angels  trumpet-tongued,  against 
The  deep  damnation  of  his  taking-off; 
And  pity,  like  a  naked  new-born  babe. 
Striding  the  blast,  or  heaven's  cherubim,  hors'd 
Upon  the  sightless  couriers  of  the  air, 
Shall  blow  the  horrid  deed  in  every  eye, 
That  tears  shall  drown  the  wind. — I  have  no  spur 
To  prick  the  sides  of  my  intent,  but  only 
Vaulting  ambition,  which  o'er-leaps  itself, 
And  falls  on  the  other. — 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth. 

How  now  !  what  news  ? 

Lady  M.  He  has  almost  supp'd.    Why  have  you  left 
the  chamber  ? 

3Iacb.  Hath  he  ask'd  for  me  ? 

Lady  J\L  Know  you  not.  he  has  ? 

Macb.  We  will  proceed  no  farther  in  This  business: 
He  hath  honoured  me  of  late ;  and  I  have  bought 
Golden  opinions  from  all  sorts  of  people, 
Which  would  be  worn  now  in  their  newest  gloss, 
Not  cast  aside  so  soon. 

Lady  M.  Was  the  hope  drunk, 

Wherein  you  dress'd  yourself  ?  hath  it  slept  since. 
And  wakes  it  now.  to  look  so  green  and  pale 
At  what  it  did  so  freely  ?     From  this  time, 
Such  I  account  thy  love.     Art  thou  afeard 
To  be  the  same  in  thine  own  act  and  valour, 
As  thou  art  in  desire  ?     Wouldst  thou  have  that 
Which  thou  esteem'st  the  ornament  of  life, 
And  live  a  coward  in  thine  o-wn  esteem. 
Letting  I  dare  not  wait  upon  I  would. 
Like  the  poor  cat  i'  the  adage  ?'^ 

Macb.  Prythee,  peace. 

1  this  :  in  f.  e.     a  '<  The  cat  loves  fish,  but  dares  not  -wet  her  feet." 


96  MACBETH.  ACT  I. 

I  dare  do  all  tliat  may  become  a  man ; 
Who  dares  do^  more  is  none. 

Lady  31.  What  boast  was  't,  then, 

That  made  yon  break  this  enterprise  to  me  ? 
When  you  durst  do  it,  then  you  were  a  man ; 
And,  to  be  more  than  what  you  were,  you  would 
Be  so  much  more  the  man.     Nor  time,  nor  place. 
Did  then  adhere,  and  yet  you  would  make  both : 
They  have  made  themselves,  and  that  their  fitness  now 
Does  unmake  you.     I  have  given  suck,  and  know 
How  tender  't  is  to  love  the  babe  that  milks  me : 
I  would,  while  it  was  smiling  in  my  face. 
Have  pluck'd  my  nipple  from  his  boneless  gums, 
And  dash'd  the  brains  out,  had  I  so  sworn  as  you 
Have  done  to  this. 

Macb.  If  we  should  fail  ? 

LakyM.  We  fail  ?^ 

But  screw  your  courage  to  the  sticking-place. 
And  we  '11  not  fail.     When  Duncan  is  asleep, 
(Whereto  the  rather  shall  his  day's  hard  journey 
Soundly  invite  him)  his  two  chamberlains 
Will  I  with  wine  and  wassel  .so  convince,* 
That  memory,  the  warder  of  the  brain, 
Shall  be  a  fume,  and  the  receipt  of  reason 
A  limbeck  only :  when  in  .swinish  sleep 
Their  drenched  natures  lie,  as  in  a  death. 
What  cannot  you  and  I  perform  upon 
Th'  unguarded  Duncan  ?  what  not  put  upon 
His  spongy  officers,  who  shall  bear  the  guilt 
Of  our  great  quell  ?* 

Much.  Bring  forth  men-children  only  ! 

For  thy  undaunted  mettle  should  compose 
Nothing  but  males.     Will  it  not  be  receiv'd 
When  we  have  mark'd  with  blood  those  sleepy  two 
Of  his  own  chamber,  and  us'd  their  very  daggers, 
That  they  have  done 't? 

Lady  M.  Who  dares  receive  it  other, 

As  we  shall  make  our  griefs  and  clamour  roar 
Upon  his  death  ? 

Macb.  I  am  settled  ;  and  bend  up 

1  no  :  in  folio.  ^  beast :  in  f.  e.  ^  Some  eds.  place  an  exclamation, 
or  comma,  in  place  of  the  interrogation  point;  such,  Dj'ce  informs 
Tis,  was  ISIrs.  Siddons'  delivery  of  the  passage — as  if  ''-n-e  fail,"  was 
the  conclusion  of  Macbeth's  remark.    *  Overpower.    ^  Murder. 


8C.  I. 


MACBETH.  97 


Each  corporal  agent  to  this  terrible  feat. 
Away,  and  mock  the  time  with  fairest  show : 
False  face  must  hide  what  the  false  heart  doth  know. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I.— The  Same.     Court  within  the  Castle. 
Enter  Banquo,  and  Fleance,  with  a  torch  before  him. 

Ban.  How  goes  the  night,  boy  ? 

Fie.  The  moon  is  do^\ni ;  I  have  not  heard  the  clock. 

Ban.  And  she  goes  down  at  twelve. 

Pig  I  take  't.  't  is  later,  sir. 

Ban.  Hold,  take  my  sword. — There  "s  husbandry  in 
heaven ; 
Their  candles  are  all  out. — Take  thee  that  too. 
A  hea-v->'  summons  lies  like  lead  upon  me, 
And  yet  I  would  not  sleep  :  merciful  powers ! 
Restrain  in  me  the  cursed  thoughts,  that  nature 
Gives  way  to  in  repose  ! — Give  me  my  sword. — 
Enter  INIacbeth,  and  a  Servant  with  a  torch. 
Who 's  there  ? 

3Iacb.  A  friend. 

Ban.  What,  sir.  not  yet  at  rest?   The  king  's  a-bed 
He  hath  been  in  unusual  pleasure,  and 
Sent  forth  great  largess  to  your  offices. 
This  diamond  he  greets  your  wife  withal, 
By  the  name  of  most  kind  hostess,  and  shut  up 
In  measi^reless  content. 

Macb.  Being  unprepar'd, 

Our  will  became  the  sei-vaut  to  defect, 
Which  else  should  free  have  -wTought. 

Ban.  All 'swell. 

I  dreamt  last  night  of  the  three  weird  sisters : 
To  you  they  have  show'd  some  truth. 

]\Iacb.  I  think  not  of  them : 

Yet.  when  we  can  entreat  an  hour  to  serve, 
We  would  spend  it  in  some  words  upon  that  business, 
If  you  would  grant  the  time. 
Voi,.  YII.— 9 


yS  MACBETH.  ACT  H. 

Ban.  At  your  kind'st  leisure. 

Mach.  If  you  shall  cleave  to  my  consent,  when  't  is, 
It  shall  make  honour  for  you. 

Ban.  So  I  lose  none 

In  seeking  to  augment  it,  but  still  keep 
My  bosom  franchis'd,  and  allegiance  clear, 
I  shall  be  counsell'd. 

Mach.  Good  repose,  the  while. 

Ban.  Thanks,  sir  :  the  like  to  you. 

[Exeunt  Banquo  and  Fleance. 

Mach.  Go ;  bid  thy  mistress,  when  my  drink  is  ready, 
She  strike  upon  the  bell.     Get  thee  to  bed. — 

{Exit  Servant. 
Is  this  a  dagger,  which  I  see  before  me, 
The  handle  toward  my  hand  ?     Come,  let  me  clutch 

thee : — 
I  have  thee  not,  and  yet  I  see  thee  still. 
Art  thou  not,  fatal  vision,  sensible 
To  feeling,  as  to  sight  ?  or  art  thou  but 
A  dagger  of  the  mind,  a  false  creation, 
Proceeding  from  the  heat-oppressed  brain? 
I  see  thee  yet,  in  form  as  palpable 
As  this  which  now  I  draw. 
Thou  marshall'st  me  the  way  that  I  was  going ; 
And  such  an  instrument  I  was  to  use. — 
Mine  eyes  are  made  the  fools  o'  the  other  senses, 
Or  else  worth  all  the  rest :  I  see  thee  still ; 
And  on  thy  blade,  and  dudgeon',  gouts  of  blood. 
Which  was  not  so  before. — There  's  no  such  thing  : 
It  is  the  bloody  business,  which  informs 
Thus  to  mine  eyes. — Now  o'er  the  one  half  world 
Nature  seems  dead,  and  wicked  dreams  abuse 
The  curtain'd  sleeper  :^  witchcraft  celebrates 
Pale  Hecate's  offerings;  and  wither' d  murder, 
Alarum'd  by  his  sentinel  the  wolf. 
Whose  howl 's  his  watch,  thus  with  his  stealthy  pace, 
With  Tarquin's  ravishing  strides,^  towards  his  design 
Moves  like  a  ghost. — Thou  sure  and  firm-set  earth. 
Hear  not  my  steps,  which  way  they  walk,  for  fear 
The  very  stones  prate  of  my  where-about, 
And  take  the  present  horror  from  the  time. 
Which  now  suits  with  it. — Whiles  I  threat,  he  lives  : 

1  Root  of  box-wood,  of  -vrhich  dagger  handles  vrexe  made.     2  sleep  : 
in  f.  e.      3  sides  :  in  folio.     Pope  made  the  change. 


Se.  II.  MACBETH.  99 

Words  to  the  heat  of  deeds  too  cold  breath  gives. 

[A  bell  rings. 
I  go,  and  it  is  done  :  the  bell  invites  me. 
Hear  it  not,  Duncan-  for  it  is  a  knell, 
That  svunmons  thee  to  heaven  or  to  hell.  [Exit. 

SCENE  II.— The  Same. 
Enter  Lady  M.4CBETH. 

Lady  M.  That  which  hath   made  them  drank  hath 
made  me  bold  :     ^  [Peace  ! — 

What  hath  quench'd  them  hath  given  me  fire. — Hark  ! — 
It  was  the  owl  that  shriekM,  the  fatal  bellman, 
Which  gives  the  stern'st  good-night.     He  is  about  it. 
The  doors  are  open;  and  the  surfeited  grooms 
Do  mock  their  charge  with  snores  :  I  have  di'ugg'd  their 

possets. 
That  death  and  nature  do  contend  about  them, 
Whether  they  live,  or  die. 

3Iacb.  [Within]  Who 's  there ?— what,  ho  ! 

Lady  M.  Alack  !  I  am'  afraid  they  have  awak'd. 
And  "t  is  not  done  : — the  attempt,  and  not  the  deed, 
Confounds  us. — Hark  ! — I  laid  their  daggers  ready, 
He  could  not  miss  them. — Had  he  not  resembled 
My  father  as  he  slept,  I  had  done  't. — My  husband? 
Enter  M.\cbeth. 

Macb.  I  have  done  the  deed. — Didst  thou  not  hear  a 
noise  ? 

Lady  M.  I  heard  the  owl  scream,  and  the  crickets  cry; 
Did  not  you  speak  ? 

Macb.  When? 

Lady  M.  Now. 

Macb.  As  I  descended  ? 

Lady  M.  Ay. 

Macb.  Hark  !— 
"VVlio  lies  i'  the  second  chamber  ? 

Lady  M.  Donalbain. 

Macb.  This  is  a  sorry  sight.        [Shoiving  his  hands. 

Lady  M.  A  foolish  thought  to  say  a  sorry  sight. 

Macb.  There  's  one  did  laugh  in  's  sleep,  and  one 
cried,  "  murder  !" 
That  they  did  wake  each  other :  I  stood  and  heard  them ; 
But  they  did  say  their  prayers,  and  address'd  thenx 
Again  to  sleep. 

Lady  M.  There  are  two  lodg'd  together. 


100  MACBETH.  ACT  H. 

Mach.  One  cried  "God  bless  us  !"  and  "Amen,"  the 
other, 
As  they  had  seen  me  with  these  hangman's  hands. 
Listening  their  fear,  I  could  not  say  amen, 
"When  they  did  say  God  bless  us. 

Lady  M.  Consider  it  not  so  deeply. 

Macb.  But  "wherefore  could  not  I  pronounce  amen? 
I  had  most  need  of  blessing,  and  amen 
Stuck  in  my  throat. 

Lady  M.  These  deeds  must  not  be  thought 

After  these  ways:  so.  it  will  make  us  mad. 

Mach.  Methought,  I  heard   a  voice  cry.  "  Sleep  no 
more  ! 
Macbeth  does  murder  sleep," — the  innocent  sleep  ; 
Sleep,  that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleave'  of  care, 
The  death  of  each  day's  life,  sore  labour's  bath, 
Balm  of  hurt  minds,  great  nature's  second  course, 
Chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast. — 

Lady  M.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Macb.  Still   it  cried,  "  Sleep  no  more  !"  to  all  the 
house : 
"  Glamis  hath  murder'd  sleep,  and  therefore  Cawdor 
Shall  sleep  no  more  :  Macbeth  shall  sleep  no  more  !" 

Lady  M.  Who  was  it  that  thus  cried  ?  Why,  worthy 
thane, 
You  do  unbend  your  noble  strength,  to  think 
So  brainsickly  of  things.     Go,  get  some  water. 
And  wash  this  filthy  witness  from  your  hand. — 
"Why  did  you  bring  these  daggers  from  the  place  ? 
They  must  lie  there  :  go,  carry  them,  and  smear 
The  sleepy  grooms  with  blood. 

Macb.  I  '11  go  no  more : 

I  am  afraid  to  think  what  I  have  done  ; 
Look  on  't  again,  I  dare  not. 

Lady  M.  Infirm  of  purpose  ! 

Give  me  the  daggers.     The  sleeping,  and  the  dead, 
Are  but  as  pictures  :  't  is  the  eye  of  childhood 
That  fears  a  painted  devil.     If  he  do  bleed, 
I  '11  gild  the  faces  of  the  grooms  withal, 
For  it  must  seem  their  guilt.  ^Exit. — Knocking  within. 

Macb.  Whence  is  that  knocking  ? — 

How  is  't  with  me.  when  every  noise  appals  me  ? 
What  hands  are  here  !  Ha  !  they  pluck  out  mine  eyes. 
1  Umvrought  silk. 


SC.  lil.  MACBETH.  101 

Will  all  great  Neptune's  ocean  wash  this  blood 

Clean  from  my  hand  ?     No  ;  this  my  hand  will  rather 

The  multitudinous  seas  incarnardine. 

Making  the  green  one  red/ 

Re-enter  Lady  Macbeth. 
Lady  M.  My  hands  are  of  your  colour  :  but  I  shame 

To  wear  a  heart  so  white.  [K7iock.]  I  hear  a  knocking 

At  the  south  entry : — retire  we  to  our  chamber. 

A  little  water  clears  us  of  this  deed : 

How  easy  is  it,  then  ?     Your  constancy 

Hath   left   you   unattended. — [Knock.]    Hark  !    more 
knocking. 

Get  on  your  nightgown,  lest  occasion  call  us, 

And  show  us  to  be  watchers. — Be  not  lost 

So  poorly  in  your  thoughts. 

3Iacb.  To  know  my  deed,  'twere  best  not  know  my- 
self. '  [Knock. 

Wake   Duncan   with   thy   knocking  :     I   would   thou 
couldst  !  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  HI.— The  Same. 

Enter  a  Porter.  [Kiocking  tvithin. 
Porter.  Here  's  a  knocking,  indeed  !  If  a  man  were 
porter  of  hell-gate,  he  should  have  old'  turning  the  key. 
[Knocking.]  Knock,  knock,  knock.  Who 's  there, 
i'  the  name  of  Beelzebub  ? — Here  's  a  farmer,  that 
hanged  himself  on  the  expectation  of  plenty  :  come  in 
time  ;  have  napkins  enough  about  you :  here  you  '11 
sweat  for 't.  [Knocking.]  Knock,  knock.  Who's  there, 
in  the  other  devil's  name  ? — "Faith,  here  's  an  equivo- 
cator,  that  could  swear  in  both  the  scales  against  either 
scale  ;  who  committed  treason  enough  for  God's  sake, 
yet  could  not  equivocate  to  heaven  :  0  !  come  in.  equi- 
vocator.  [Knocking.]  Knock,  knock,  knock.  Who 's 
there  ? — 'Faith,  here  's  an  English  tailor  come  hither 
for  stealing  out  of  a  French  hose  :  come  in.  tailor ; 
here  you  may  roast  your  goose.  [Knocking.]  Knock, 
knock.  Never  at  quiet  !  What  are  you  ? — But  this 
place  is  too  cold  for  hell.  I  '11  devil-porter  it  no  far- 
ther :  I  had  thought  to  have  let  in  some  of  all  pro- 
fessions, that  go  the  primrose  way  to  the  everlasting 

1  So   the  old   copies;  some  mod.    eds.   read:  the  green — one  red- 
2  Used,  as  often,  as  an  augmentative. 

9* 


102  MACBETH. 


ACT  11. 


bonfire.     [Knocking.]     Anon,  anon  :  I  pray  you,  re- 
member the  porter.  [Opens  the  gate. 
Enter  Macduff  and  Lenox. 

Macd.  Was  it  so  late,  friend,  ere  you  went  to  bed, 
That  you  do  lie  .so  late  ? 

Fort.  'Faith,  sir,  we  were  carousing  till  the  second 
cock  ,•  and  drink,  sir,  is  a  great  provoker  of  three  things. 

Macd.  What  three  things  does  drink  especially  pro- 
voke? 

Port.  Marry,  sir,  nose-painting,  sleep,  and  urine. 
Lechery,  sir,  it  provokes,  and  unprovokes  :  it  provokes 
the  desire,  but  it  takes  away  the  performance.  There- 
fore, much  drink  may  be  said  to  be  an  equivocator 
with  lechery :  it  makes  him,  and  it  mars  him  ;  it  sets 
him  on,  and  it  takes  him  off;  it  persuades  him,  and 
disheartens  him ;  makes  him  stand  to,  and  not  stand 
to  :  in  conclusion,  equivocates  him  a-sleep,  and,  giving 
him  the  lie,  leaves  him. 

Macd.  I  believe,  drink  gave  thee  the  lie  last  night. 

Port.  That  it  did,  sir.  i'  the  very  throat  on  me  :  but 
I  requited  him  for  his  lie ;  and,  I  think,  being  too 
strong  for  him,  though  he  took  up  my  legs  sometime, 
yet  I  made  a  shift  to  cast  him. 

Macd.  Is  thy  master  stirring? — 

Enter  Macbeth,'  in  his  night-gown. 
Our  knocking  has  awak'd  him  ;  here  he  comes. 

Len.  Good-morrow,  noble  sir. 

Macb.  Good-morrow,  both. 

Macd.  Is  the  king  stirring,  worthy  thane  ? 

Macb.  Not  yet. 

Macd.  He  did  command  me  to  call  timely  on  him : 
I  have  almost  slipp'd  the  hour. 

Macb.  I  '11  bring  you  to  him. 

Macd.  I  know,  this  is  a  joyful  trouble  to  you ; 
But  yet,  't  is  one. 

Mach.  The  labour  we  delight  in  physics  pain. 
This  is  the  door. 

Macd.  I  '11  make  so  bold  to  call, 

For  't  is  my  limited  service.  [Exit  Macduff. 

Len.  Goes  the  king  hence  to-day  ? 

Macb.  He  does  : — he  did  appoint  so. 

Len.  The  night  has  been  unruly  :  where  we  lay. 
Our  chimneys  were  blown  down  ;  and,  as  they  say, 
*  The  rest  of  this  direction  is  not  in  f.  e. 


SC.  in.  MACBETH.  103 

Lamentings  heard  i'  the  air  ;  strange  screams  of  death, 

And  prophesying  with  accents  terrible 

Of  dire  combustion,  and  confus'd  events, 

New  hatch'd  to  the  woeful  time.     The  obscure  bird 

Clamour'd  the  livelong  night :  some  say,  the  earth 

Was  feverous,  and  did  shake. 

Macb.  'T  was  a  rough  night. 

Len.  My  young  remembrance  cannot  parallel 
A  fellow  to  it. 

Re-enter  Macduff. 

Macd.  0  horror  !  horror  !  horror  !  Tongue,  nor  heart, 
Cannot  conceive,  nor  name  thee. 

Macb.  Len.  What 's  the  matter  ? 

Macd.  Confusion  now  hath  made  his  master-piece. 
Most  sacrilegious  murder  hath  broke  ope 
The  Lord's  anointed  temple,  and  stole  thence 
The  life  o'  the  building. 

Macb.  What  is  't  you  say  ?  the  life  ? 

Len.  Mean  you  hi.s  majesty  ? 

Macd.  Approach  tlie  chamber,  and  destroy  your  sight 
With  a  new  Gorgon. — Do  not  bid  me  speak : 
See,  and  then  speak  yourselves. — Awake  !  awake  ! — 

{Exeunt  Macbeth  and  Lenox. 
Ring  the  alarum-bell  ! — Murder,  and  treason  ! 
Banquo,  and  Donalbain  !     Malcolm,  awake  ! 
Shake  oif  this  downy  sleep,  death's  counterfeit, 
And  look  on  death  itself :  up.  up,  and  see 
The  great  doom's  image  ! — ]iIalcolm  !  Banquo  ! 
As  from  your  graves  rise  up,  and  walk  like  sprites 
To  countenance  this  horror.  Ring  the  bell !  [Bell  rings. 
Enter  Lady  Macbeth. 

Lady  M.  What's  the  business, 
That  such  a  hideous  trumpet  calls  to  parley 
The  f-leepers  of  the  house?  speak,  speak  I 

Macd.  0,  gentle  lady  ! 

'T  is  not  for  you  to  hear  what  I  can  speak  : 
The  repetition,  in  a  woman's  ear. 

Enter  Ba.nqi'o  unready. '^ 
Would  murder  as  it  fell. — 0  Banquo  !  Banquo  ! 
Our  roval  master 's  murder'd  ! 

L'^dy  M.  Woe,  alas  ! 

What  !  in  our  house  ? 

Ban.  Too  cruel,  any  where. 

1  This  -word  is  not  in  f.  e. 


104  MACBETH,  ACT  II. 

Dear  DufF.  I  pr'ytliee,  contradict  thyself 
And  say,  it  is  not  so. 

Re-enter  Macbeth  and  Lenox. 

Macb.  Had  I  but  died  an  hour  before  this  chance, 
I  had  liv"d  a  blessed  time,  for  from  this  instant 
There  's  nothing  serious  in  mortality  ; 
All  is  but  toys  :  renown  and  grace  are  dead ; 
The  "wine  of  life  is  drawn,  and  the  mere  lees 
Is  left  this  vault  to  brag  of 

Enter  Malcolm  and  Donalbain. 

Don.  What  is  amiss  ? 

Mach.  You  are,  and  do  not  know  't : 

The  spring,  the  head,  the  fountain  of  your  blood 
Is  stopp'd  :  the  very  source  of  it  is  stopped. 

Macd.  Your  royal  father  's  murder'd. 

Mai.  0  !  by  whom  ? 

Len.  Those  of  his  chamber,  as  it  seem'd,  had  done 't. 
Their  hands  and  faces  were  all  badg'd  with  blood  ] 
So  were  their  daggers,  which,  unwip'd,  we  found 
Upon  their  pillows  :  they  star'd,  and  were  distracted. 
No  man's  life  was  to  be  trusted  with  them. 

Mach.  0  !  yet  [  do  repent  me  of  my  fury. 
That  I  did  kill  them. 

Macd.  Wherefore  did  you  so  ? 

Mach.  Who  can  be  wise,   amaz'd,  temperate    and 
furious. 
Loyal  and  neutral,  in  a  moment  ?     No  man  : 
The  expedition  of  my  violent  love 
Out-ran  the  pauser  reason. — Here  lay  Duncan. 
His  silver  skin  lac'd  with  his  golden  blood  ; 
And  his  gash'd  stabs  look'd  like  a  breach  in  nature 
For  ruin's  wasteful  entrance  :  there,  the  murderers, 
Steep'd  in  the  colours  of  their  trade,  their  daggers 
Unmannerly  breech'd  with  gore.     Who  could  refrain. 
That  had  a  heart  to  love,  and  in  that  heart 
Courage  to  make 's  love  known  ? 

Lady  M.  Help  me  hence,  ho  ! 

Macd.  Look  to  the  lady.       [J^ady  Macbeth  swoons.'^ 

Mai.  Why  do  we  hold  our  tongties, 

That  most  may  claim  this  argument  for  ours  ? 

Don.  What  should  be  spoken 
Here,  where  our  fate,  hid  in  an  auger-hole, 
May  rush,  and  seize  us?     Let's  away  :  our  tears 

1  Not  in  f.  e. 


SC.  IV.  MACBETH.  105 

Are  not  yet  brew'd. 

Mai.  Nor  onr  strong  sorrow 

Upon  the  foot  of  motion. 

Ban.  Look  to  the  lady. —  [Lady  M.iCB.  is  borne  out. 
And  when  we  have  our  naked  frailties  hid. 
That  suffer  in  exposure,  let  us  meet, 
And  question  this  most  bloody  piece  of  work, 
To  know  it  farther.     Fears  and  scruples  shake  us  : 
In  the  great  hand  of  God  I  stand  ;  and,  thence, 
Against  the  undivulg'd  pretence^  I  fight 
Of  treasonous  maliee. 

Macd.  And  so  do  I. 

AU.  So  all. 

3Iacb.  Let  "s  briefly  put  on  maniy  readiness, 

And  meet  i'  the  hall  together. 

All.  Well  contented. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Mal.  and  Don. 

Mai.  "What  will  you  do  ?  Let  "s  not  consort  with  them : 
To  show  an  unfelt  sorrow  is  an  office 
Which  the  false  man  does  easy.     I  '11  to  England. 

Don.  To  Ireland,  I  :  our  separated  fortune 
Shall  keep  us  both  the  safer  :  where  we  are, 
There  's  daggers  in  men's  smiles  :  the  near  in  blood. 
The  nearer  bloody. 

Mal.  This  murderous  shaft  that 's  shot 

Hath  not  yet  lighted,  and  our  safest  way 
Is  to  avoid  the  aim  :  therelbre,  to  horse ; 
And  let  us  not  be  dainty  of  leave-taking. 
But  shift  away.     There  "s  warrant  in  that  theft 
Which  steals  itself,  when  there 's  no  mercy  left. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.— Without  the  Castle. 
Enter  Rosse  and  an  Old  Man. 

Old  M.  Threescore  and  ten  I  can  remember  well ; 
Within  the  volume  of  which  time  I  have  seen 
Hours  dreadful,  and  things  strange,  but  this  sore  night 
Hath  trifled  former  knowings. 

Rosse.  Ah  !  good  father. 

Thou  seest,  the  heavens,  as  troubled  wath  man"s  act, 
Threaten  his  bloody  stage  :  by  the  clock  'tis  day, 
And  yet  dark  night  strangles  the  travailing''  lamp. 

I  Intention.     ^  So  old  copies:  most  mod  eds.  read  :  travelling. 


106  MACBETH.  ACT  11. 

Is  't  night's  predominance,  or  the  day's  shame, 
That  darkness  does  the  face  of  earth  entomb, 
When  living  light  should  kiss  it  ? 

Old  M.  'T  is  unnatural, 

Even  like  the  deed  that 's  done.     On  Tuesday  last, 
A  falcon,  towering  in  her  pride  of  place, 
Was  by  a  mousing  owl  hawk'd  at,  and  kill'd. 

Rosse.  And  Duncan's  horses  (a  thing  most  strange 
and  certain) 
Beauteous  and  swift,  the  minions  of  their  race, 
Turn'd  wild  in  nature,  broke  their  stalls,  flung  out, 
Contending  'gainst  obedience,  as  they  would 
Make  war  with  mankind. 

Old  M.  'T  is  said,  they  ate  each  other. 

Rosse.  They  did  so ;  to  th'  amazement  of  mine  eyes, 
That  look'd  upon  't.     Here  comes  the  good  Macduff. — 

Enter  Macduff. 
How  goes  the  world,  sir,  now  ? 

Macd.  Why,  see  you  not  ? 

Rosse.  Is  't  known  who  did  this  more  than  bloody  deed  ? 

Macd.  Those  that  Macbeth  hath  slain. 

Rosse.  Alas,  the  day  ! 

What  good  could  they  pretend  ? 

Macd.  They  were  suborn'd. 

Malcolm,  and  Donalbain,  the  king's  two  sons, 
Are  stol'n  away  and  fled  ;  which  puts  upon  them 
Suspicion  of  the  deed. 

Rosse.  'Gainst  nature  still  : 

Thriftless  ambition,  that  will  ravin  up 
Thine  own  life's  means  ! — Then,  't  is  most  like, 
The  sovereignty  will  fall  upon  Macbeth. 

Macd.  He  is  already  nam'd,  and  gone  to  Scone 
To  be  invested. 

Rosse.  Where  is  Duncan's  body  ? 

Macd.  Carried  to  Colme-kill  ; 
The  sacred  store-house  of  his  predecessors. 
And  guardian  of  their  bones. 

Rosse.  Will  you  to  Scone  ? 

Macd.  No,  cousin ;  1  '11  to  Fife. 

Rosse.  Well,  I  -will  thither. 

Macd.  Well,  may  you  see  things  well  done  there  : — 
adieu — 
Lest  our  old  robes  sit  easier  than  our  new  I 

Rosse.  Farewell,  father. 


SC.  I.  MACBETH.  107 

1  those, 
foes  ! 
[Exeunt. 


Old  M.  God's  benison  go  with  yoti :  and  w-ith  those, 
That  Avould  make  good  of  bad,  and  friends  of  foes  ! 


ACT  III. 

S(yENE  I. — Fores.      A  Room  in  the  Palace. 
Enter  Banquo. 

Ban.  Thou  hast  it  now.  kins,  Cawdor.  Glamis.  all, 
As  the  weird  women  promis'd :  and,  I  fear. 
Thou  play"dst  most  foully  for  't :  yet  it  was  said. 
It  should  not  stand  in  thy  posterity ; 
But  that  myself  should  be  the  root,  and  father 
Of  many  kings.     If  there  come  truth  from  them, 
(As  upon  thee,  Macbeth,  their  speeches  show) 
Why,  by  the  verities  on  thee  made  good. 
May  they  not  be  my  oracles  as  well. 
And  set  me  up  in  hope  ?     But.  hush  !  no  more. 
Sennet.     Enter  Macbeth,  as  King  :  Lady  Macbeth, 

as    Queen;     Lenox,    Rosse.    Lords,    Ladies,    and 

Attendants. 

Mach.  Here 's  our  chief  guest. 

Lady  M.  '  If  he  had  been  forgotten, 

It  had  been  as  a  gap  in  our  great  feast, 
And  all  thing  unbecoming. 

Mach.  To-night  we  hold  a  solentn  supper,  sir. 
And  I  "11  request  your  presence. 

Ban.  Lay  your  highness'' 

Command  upon  me,  to  the  which  my  duties 
Are  with  a  most  indissoluble  tie 
For  ever  knit. 

Macb.  Ride  you  this  afternoon  ? 

Ban.  Ay.  my  good  lord. 

Macb.  We  should  have  else  desir'd  your  good  adnce 
(Which  still  hath  been  both  grave  and  prosperous) 
In  this  day's  council :  but  we  '11  take  to-morrow. 
Is  't  far  you  ride  ? 

Ban.  As  far,  my  lord,  as  ^^-ill  fill  up  the  time 

'  Let  your  highness  :  in  f.  e. 


108  MACBETH.  ACT  III. 

'Twixt  this  and  supper :  go  not  my  horse  the  better, 
I  must  become  the  borrower  of  the  night 
For  a  dark  hour,  or  twain. 

Mad).  Fail  not  our  feast. 

Ban.  My  lord,  I  will  not. 

Alacb.  We  hear,  our  bloody  cousins  are  bestow'd 
In  England,  and  in  Ireland  ;  not  confessing 
Their  cruel  parricide,  filling  their  hearers 
With  strange  invention.     But  of  that  to-morrow ; 
When,  therewithal,  we  shall  have  cause  of  state 
Craving  us  jointly.     Hie  you  to  horse  :  adieu, 
Till  you  return  at  night.     Goes  Fleance  with  you  ? 

Ban.  Ay,  my  good  lord,  our  time  does  call  upon  us. 

Mach.  I  wish  your  horses  swift,  and  sure  of  foot; 
And  so  I  do  commend  you  to  their  backs. 
Farewell. —  [Exit  Banquo. 

Let  every  man  be  master  of  his  time 
Till  seven  at  night.     To  make  society 
The  sweeter  welcome,  we  will  keep  ourself 
Till  supper-time  alone  :   while  then.  God  be  -svith  you. 
\Exev.nt  Lady  ]\Iacbeth,  Lords.,  Ladies.,  Sfc. 
Sirrah;  a  word  with  you.     Attend  those  men 
Our  pleasure  ? 

Atten.  They  are,  my  lord,  without  the  palace  gate. 

3Iacb.  Bring  them  before  us. — [Exit  Atten.]    To  be 
thus  is  nothing. 
But  to  be  safely  thus. — Our  fears  in  Banquo 
Stick  deep,  and  in  his  royalty  of  nature 
Reigns  that  which  would  be  fear'd  :  't  is  much  he  dares ; 
And  to  that  dauntless  temper  of  his  mind, 
He  hath  a  wisdom  that  doth  guide  his  valour 
To  act  in  safety.     There  is  none  but  he 
Whose  being  I  do  fear,  and  under  him 
My  genius  is  rebuk'd,  as.  it  is  said. 
Mark  Antony's  was  by  Caesar.     He  chid  the  sisters, 
When  first  they  put  the  name  of  king  upon  me, 
And  bade  them  speak  to  him ;  then,  prophet-like, 
They  hail'd  him  father  to  a  line  of  kings. 
Upon  my  head  they  plac'd  a  fruitless  crown. 
And  put  a  barren  sceptre  in  my  gripe, 
Thence  to  be  wTench'd  with  an  unlineal  hand, 
No  son  of  mine  succeeding.     If 't  be  so, 
For  Banquo's  issue  have  I  'fil'd^  my  mind, 

I  Defiled. 


SC.  I.  MACBETH.  109 

For  them  the  gracious  Duncan  have  I  murder'd  ; 

Put  rancours  in  the  vessel  of  my  peace 

Only  for  them  ;  and  mine  eternal  jewel 

Given  to  the  common  enemy  of  man. 

To  make  tliem  kings,  the  seed  of  Banquo  kings  ! 

Rather  than  so.  come,  fate,  into  tlie  list. 

And  champion  me  to  the  utterance\ — Who's  there? 

Re-enter  Attendant^  with  two  Murderers. 
Now,  go  to  the  door,  and  stay  there  till  we  call. 

[Exit  Attendant. 
Was  it  not  yesterday  we  spoke  together  ? 
1  3Iur.  It  was,  so  please  your  highness. 


3Iacb.  Well  then 


now. 


Have  you  consider'd  of  my  speeches  ?     Know, 
That  it  was  he,  in  the  times  past,  which  held  you 
So  under  fortune ;  which,  you  thought,  had  been 
Our  innocent  self.     This  I  made  good  to  you 
In  our  last  conference  :  pass'd  in  probation  with  you. 
,How  you  were  borne  in  hand ;  how  cross'd  ;  the  instru- 
ments ; 
Who  ^^Tought  Avith  them  ;  and  all  things  else,  that  might, 
To  half  a  soul,  and  to  a  notion  crazd. 
Say,  "  Thus  did  Banquo." 

1  Mur.  You  made  it  kno^■^^l  to  us. 

Macb.  I  did  so;  and  went  farther,  which  is  now 
Our  point  of  second  meeting.     Do  you  find 
Your  patience  so  predominant  in  your  nature, 
That  you  can  let  this  go?     Are  you  so  gospell'd 
To  pray  for  this  good  man.  and  for  his  issue, 
Whose  heavy  hand  hath  bow'd  you  to  the  grave. 
And  beggar'd  yours  for  ever  ? 

1  Mur.  We  are  men,  my  liege. 

Macb.  Ay,  in  the  catalogue  ye  go  for  men, 
As  hounds,  and  greyhounds,  mongrels,  spaniels,  curs. 
Shoughs,  water-rugs,  and  demi-wolves.  are  cleped 
All  by  the  name  of  dogs  :  the  valued  file 
Distinguishes  the  swift,  the  slow,  the  subtle. 
The  house-keeper,  the  hunter,  every  one 
According  to  the  gift  which  bounteous  nature 
Hath  in  him  clos'd,  whereby  he  does  receive 
Particular  addition,  from  the  quill 
That  writes  them  all  alike  :  and  so  of  men. 
Now,  if  you  have  a  station  in  the  file 
1  Fr.  d  Voutrance,  extremity. 

Vol.  VII.— 10 


110  MACBETH.  ACT  III. 

Not  i'  the  worst  rank  of  manliood,  say  it, 
And  I  -will  put  that  business  in  your  bosoms, 
Whose  execution  takes  A'our  enemy  off, 
Grapples  you  to  the  heart  and  love  of  us, 
Who  wear  our  health  but  sickly  in  his  life, 
Which  in  his  death  were  perfect. 

2  Mur.  I  am  one,  my  liege. 

Whom  the  vile  blows  and  buffets  of  the  world 
Have  so  incens'd,  that  I  am  reckless  what 
I  do  to  spite  the  world. 

1  Mur.  And  I  another. 

So  wearied  with  disasters,  tugg"d  with  fortune, 
That  I  would  set  my  life  on  any  chance, 
To  mend  it,  or  be  rid  on  't. 

Mach.      '  Both  of  you 

Know  Banquo  was  your  enemy. 

2  Mur.  True,  my  lord. 
Mach.  So  is  he  mine  ;  and  in  such  bloody  distance, 

That  every  minute  of  his  being  thrusts 
Against  my  near'st  of  life.     And  though  I  could 
With  bare-fac'd  power  sweep  him  from  my  sight. 
And  bid  my  will  avouch  it,  yet  I  must  not, 
For  certain  friends  that  are  both  his  and  mine. 
Whose  loves  I  may  not  drop,  but  wail  his  fall 
Whom  I  myself  struck  down  :  and  thence  it  is, 
That  I  to  your  assistance  do  make  love. 
Masking  the  business  from  the  common  eye 
For  sundry  weighty  reasons. 

2  Alur.  We  shall,  my  lord. 

Perform  what  you  command  us. 

1  Mxir.  Though  our  lives — 

Macb.  Your  spirits  shine  through  you.     Within  this 
hour,  at  most, 
I  will  advise  you  where  to  plant  yourselves, 
Acquaint  you.  with  a  perfect  spy,  o'  the  time, 
The  moment  on  "t ;  for't  must  be  done  to-night, 
And  something  from  the  palace  ;  always  thought, 
That  I  require  a  clearness  :  and  with  him. 
(To  leave  no  rubs,  nor  botches,  in  the  work) 
Fleance  his  son,  that  keeps  him  company. 
Whose  absence  is  no  less  material  to  me 
Than  is  his  father's,  must  embrace  the  fate 
Of  that  dark  hour.     Resolve  yourselves  apart : 
I  '11  come  to  you  anon. 


SC.  II.  MACBETH.  Ill 

2  3Iur.  We  are  resolv'd,  my  lord, 

3Iacb.  I  '11  call  upon  you  straight :  abide  within, 

[Exeunt  Murderers. 
It  is  concluded  :  Banquo.  thy  soul's  flight, 
If  it  find  heaven,  must  find  it  out  to-night.  [Exit. 

SCENE  II.— The  Same.      Another  Room. 
Enter  Lady  Macbeth  and  a  Servant. 

Lady  M.   Is  Banquo  gone  from  court  ? 

Serv.  Ay.  madam,  but  returns  again  to-night. 

Lady  M.  Say  to  the  king,  I  would  attend  his  leisure 
For  a  few  words. 

Serv.  Madam,  I  will.  [Exit. 

Lady  M.  Nought 's  had,  all 's  spent, 

Where  our  desire  is  got  \^"ithout  content : 
'T  is  safer  to  be  that  which  we  destroy, 
Than  by  destruction  dwell  in  doubtful  joy. 

Enter  M.\cbeth. 
How  now,  my  lord  !  why  do  you  keep  alone, 
Of  sorriest  fancies  your  companions  making, 
Using  those  thoughts,  which  should  indeed  have  died 
With  them  they  think  on  ?     Things  without  remedy, 
Should  be  without  regard  .•  what 's  done,  is  done. 

Macb.  We  have  scotched  the  snake,  not  kill'd  it : 
She  '11  close,  and  be  herself,  whilst  our  poor  malice 
Remains  in  danger  of  her  former  tooth. 
But  let  the  eternal  frame  of  things  disjoint, 
Both  the  worlds  suffer. 
Ere  we  \\\\\  eat  our  meal  in  fear,  and  sleep 
In  the  affliction  of  these  terrible  dreams, 
That  .shake  us  nightly.     Better  be  with  the  dead, 
Whom  we  to  gain  our  peace  have  sent  to  peace. 
Than  on  the  torture  of  the  mind  to  lie 
In  restless  ecstasy.     Duncan  is  in  his  grave  ; 
After  life's  fitful  fever,  he  sleeps  well; 
Treason  has  done  his  worst :  nor  steel,  nor  poison. 
Malice  domestic,  foreign  levy,  nothing 
Can  toucli  him  farther  ! 

Lady  3L  Come  on : 

Gentle  my  lord,  sleek  o'er  your  rugged  looks  ; 
Be  bright  and  jovial  'mong  your  guests  to-night. 

Macb.  So  shall  I,  love  ;  and  so.  I  pray,  be  you. 
Let  your  remembrance  apply  to  Banquo  : 
Present  him  eminence,  both  with  eye  and  tongue : 


112  MACBETH.  ACT  UI. 

Unsafe  the  while,  that  we  must  lave  our  honours 
In  these  flattering  streams,  and  make  our  faces 
Vizards  to  our  hearts,  disguising  what  they  are. 

Lady  M.  You  must  leave  this. 

Macb.  O  !  full  of  .scorpions  is  my  mind,  dear  wife. 
Thou  know"st  that  Banquo  and  his  Fleance  live. 

Ladij  M.  But  in  them  nature's  copy  's  not  eterne. 

31ach.  There  "s  comfort  yet  ;  they  are  assailable  : 
Then,  be  thou  jocund.     Ere  the  bat  hath  flown 
His  cioister-d  flight ;  ere  to  black  Hecate's  summons 
The  shard-borne'  beetle,  with  his  drowsy  hums. 
Hath  runt;  nighfs  yawning  peal,  there  shall  be  done 
A  deed  of  dreadful  note. 

Lndii  31.  What 's  to  be  done  ? 

Macb.  Be  innocent  of  the  knowledge,  dearest  chuck, 
Till  thou  applaud  the  deed.     Come,  seeling"  night, 
Scarf  up  the  tender  eye  of  pitiful  day. 
And  with  thy  bloody  and  invisible  hand, 
Cancel,  and  tear  to  pieces,  that  great  bond 
AYhich  keeps  me  pale  ! — Light  thickens  ;  and  the  crow 
Makes  wing  to  the  rooky  wood  : 
Good  things  of  day  begin  to  droop  and  drowse, 
Whiles  night's  black  agents  to  their  preys  do  rouse. 
Thou  marvell'st  at  my  words :  but  hold  thee  still  : 
Thinss,  bad  begun,  make  strong  themselves  by  ill. 
So,  prythce.  go  with  me.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  HI. — The  Same.     A  Park,  with  a  road  lead- 
ing to  the  Palace. 
Enter  three  Murderers. 

1  3Iur.  But  who  did  bid  thee  join  with  us  ? 

3  Mur.  Macbeth. 

2  3Ii(r.  He  needs  not  our  mistrust;  since  he  delivers 
Our  offices,  and  what  we  have  to  do, 

To  thv  direction  just. 

1  Mur,  Then  stand  with  us. 

The  west  yet  glimmers  with  some  streaks  of  day : 
Now  spurs  the  lated  traveller  apace, 
To  gain  the  timely  inn :  and  here^  approaches 
The  subject  of  our  watch. 

3  Mur.  Hark  !  I  hear  liorses. 
Ban.   [Within.]  Give  us  a  light  there,  ho  ! 

2  Mur.  Then,  'tis  he:  the  rest, 

1  Scaly-winged.     '  Blinding.    ^  near  :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  IV.  MACBETH.  113 

That  are  within  the  note  of  expectation, 
Already  are  i'  the  court. 

1  Mur.  His  horses  go  about. 

3  Mur.  Almost  a  mile  :  biit  he  does  usually, 
So  all  men  do,  from  hence  to  the  palace  gate 
Make  it  their  walk. 

Enter  Banquo  and  Fleance.  u'ith  a  torch. 

2  Mitr.  A  light,  a  light ! 

3  Mur.  'Tishe. 
1  Mur.  Stand  to't. 

Ban.  It  will  be  rain  to-night. 

1  Mur.  Let  it  come  downi.     [Strikes  Baxquo. 

Ban.  0.  treachery  !    Fly.  good  Fleance.  fly,  fly.  fly  ! 
Thou  may'st  revenge. — 0  slave  !   [Dies.     Fle.  escapes. 
3  Mur.  Who  did  strike  out  the  light  ? 

1  Mur.  Was  "t  not  the  way? 
3  Mur.  There  's  but  one  do%^ni :  the  .^on  is  fled. 

2  Mur.  We  have  lost  best  half  of  our  aff"air. 

1  Mur.  Well,  let 's  away,  and  say  how  much  is  done. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.— A  Room  of  State  in  the  Palace. 
A  Banquet  prepared.  Enter  ^Macbeth.  Lady  INIacbeth, 
RossE,  Leno.x,  Lords^  and  Attendants. 
Macb.  You  know  your  ovai  degrees  ;  sit  dovra  :  at  first 
And  last  the  hearty  welcome. 

Lords.  Thanks  to  your  majesty. 

Mach.  Ourself  will  mingle  with  society, 
And  play  the  hvimble  host. 
Our  hostess  keeps  her  state  ;  but  in  best  time 
We  will  require  her  welcome. 

Lady  M.  Pronounce  it  for  me.  sir,  to  all  our  friends ; 
For  my  heart  speaks,  they  are  welcome. 

Macb.  See,  they  encounter  thee  with  their  hearts' 
thanks. 
Both  sides  are  even  :  here  I  "11  sit  i'  the  midst. 
Be  large  in  mirth ;  anon,  we  '11  drink  a  measure 

Enter  first  Murderer,  to  the  door. 
The  table  round. — There  's  blood  upon  thy  face. 
Mur.  "T  is  Banquo's  then. 

Macb.  "T  is  better  thee  A\-ithout,  than  him  within. 
Is  he  despatch"  d  ? 

Mur.  My  lord,  his  throat  is  cut ;  that  I  did  for  him. 
Macb.  Thou  art  the  best  o'  the  cut-throats; 

10* 


114  MACBETH.  ACT  m. 

Yet  he  is  good,  that  did  the  like  for  Flcance  : 
If  thou  didst  it,  thou  art  the  nonpareil. 

Mur.  Most  royal  sir,  Fleance  is  'scap'd. 

Macb.  Then  comes  my  fit  again  :  I  had  else  been 
Whole  as  the  marble,  founded  as  the  rock,       [perfect ; 
As  broad  and  general  as  the  casing  air  ; 
But  now,  I  am  cabin'd,  cribb'd,  confin'd,  bound  in 
To  saucy  doubts  and  fears. — But  Banquo's  safe  ? 

Mur.  Ay.  my  good  lord,  safe  in  a  ditch  he  bides, 
With  twenty  trench'd  gashes  on  his  head. 
The  least  a  death  to  nature. 

3Iacb.  Thanks  for  that.— 

There  the  gro'wni  serpent  lies  :  the  worm,  that 's  fled, 
Hath  nature  that  in  time  will  venom  breed, 
No  teeth  for  the  present. — Get  thee  gone  :  to-morrow 
We  "11  hear  ourselves  again.  \Exii  Murderer. 

Lady  M.  My  royal  lord, 

You  do  not  give  the  cheer  :  the  feast  is  sold, 
That  is  not  often  vouch'd  the  while  't  is  making' ; 
'T  is  given  with  welcome.     To  feed  were  best  at  home ; 
From  thence  the  sauce  to  meat  is  ceremony ; 
Meeting  were  bare  without  it. 

Mach.  Sweet  remembrancer  ! — 

Now,  good  digestion  wait  on  appetite, 
And  health  on  both  ! 

Len.  May  it  please  your  highness  sit  ? 

[The  Ghost  of  Banquo  enters,  and  sits  in 
Macbeth's  place. 

Macb.  Here  had  we  now  our  country's  honour  roof'd, 
Were  the  grac'd  person  of  our  Banquo  present ; 
Who  may  I  rather  challenge  for  unkindness. 
Than  pity  for  mischance  ! 

Rosse.  His  absence,  sir, 

Lays  blame  upon  his  promise.     Please  it  your  highness 
To  grace  us  with  your  royal  company  ? 

Macb.  The  table  's  full. 

Len.  Here  is  a  place  reserv'd,  sir. 

[Pointing  to  the  Ghost.' 

Macb.  Where  ? 

Len.    Here,  my  good  lord.     What  is.'t  that  moves 
your  highness  ? 

Macb.  Which  of  you  liave  done  this  ? 

Lords.  What,  my  good  lord  ? 

I  vouch'd  -while  't  is  a  making  :  in  f.  e.     '  These  directions  not  in  f.  e. 


8C.  IV.  MACBETH.  115 

Mach.  Thou  canst  not  say,  I  did  it :  never  shake 
Thy  gory  locks  at  me. 

Rosse.  Gentlemen,  rise  ;  his  highness  is  not  well. 

Lady  M.  Sit,  worthy  friends.     My  lord  is  often  thus. 
And  hath  been  from  his  youth  :  pray  you.  keep  seat. 
The  fit  is  momentary  ;  upon  a  thought 
He  will  again  be  well.     If  much  you  note  him 
You  shall  offend  him,  and  extend  his  passion  ; 
Feed,  and  regard  him  not. — Are  you  a  man  ? 

[Coming  to  Macbeth:  aside  to  him.'- 

Macb.  Ay,  and  a  bold  one,  that  dare  look  on  that 
Which  might  appal  the  devil. 

Laihj  M.  0,  proper  stuff ! 

This  is  the  very  painting  of  your  fear  ; 
This  is  the  air-drawn  dagger,  which,  you  said. 
Led  you  to  Duncan.     0  !  these  flaws,  and  starts, 
(Impostors  to  true  fear)  would  well  become 
A  woman's  storj^  at  a  winters  fire. 
Authoriz'd  by  her  grandam.     Shame  itself  ! 
Why  do  you  make  such  faces  ?     When  all  *s  done, 
You  look  but  on  a  stool. 

Mach.  Pr'ythee,  see  there  !  behold  !  look  I  lo  !  how 
say  you  ? — 
Why,  what  care  I  ?     If  thou  canst  nod,  speak  too. — 
If  charnel-houses,  and  our  graves,  must  send 
Those  that  we  bury  back,  our  monuments 
Shall  be  the  maws  of  kites.  \Exit  Ghost. 

Lady  M.  What  !  quite  unmann"d  in  folly  ? 

Macb.  If  I  stand  here,  I  saw  him. 

Lady  M.  Fie  !  for  shame  ! 

Macb.  Blood  hath  been  shed  ere  now,  i'  th'  olden 
time. 
Ere  human  statute  purg'd  the  gentle  weal  : 
Ay,  and  since  too,  murders  have  been  perform'd 
Too  terrible  for  the  ear  :  the  times  have  been. 
That  when  the  brains  were  out  the  man  would  die, 
And  there  an  end  ;  but  now,  they  rise  again 
With  twenty  mortal  nutrders  on  their  crowns. 
And  push  us  from  our  stools.     This  is  more  strange 
Than  such  a  murder  is. 

Lady  M.  My  worthy  lord,   \Going  back  to  her  state."^ 
Your  noble  friends  do  lack  you. 

Mach.  I  do  forget. — 

1  2  These  directions  not  in  f.  e. 


116 


MACBETH.  ACT  III. 


Do  not  muse  at  me,  my  most  worthy  friends  ; 

I  have  a  strange  infirmity,  which  is  nothing 

To  those  that  know  me.     Come,  love  and  health  to  all ; 

Then.  I  '11  sit  down. — Give  me  some  wine  :  fill  full. — 

I  drink  to  the  general  joy  of  the  whole  table, 

And  to  our  dear  friend  Banquo,  whom  we  miss  : 

Re-enter  Ghost. 
Would  he  were  here  !  to  all,  and  him,  we  thirst, 
And  all  to  all. 

Lords.  Our  duties,  and  the  pledge. 

Macb.  Avaunt !  and  quit  my  sight.     Let  the  earth 
hide  thee  ! 
Thy  bones  are  marrowless,  thy  blood  is  cold ; 
Thou  hast  no  speculation  in  those  eyes, 
Which  thou  dost  glare  with. 

Lady  M.  Think  of  this,  good  peers, 

But  as  a  thing  of  custom  :  't  is  no  other ; 
Only  it  .spoils  the  plea.sure  of  the  time. 

Macb.  What  man  dare,  I  dare  : 
Approach  thou  like  the  rugged  Russian  bear, 
The  arm'd  rhinoceros,  or  the  Hyrcan  tiger ; 
Take  any  shape  but  that,  and  )ny  firm  nerves 
Shall  never  tremble  :  or,  be  alive  again, 
And  dare  me  to  the  desert  with  thy  sword  ; 
If  trembling  I  exhibit,'  then  protest  me 
The  baby  of  a  girl.     Hence,  horrible  shadow! 

[Exit  Ghost. 
Unreal  mockery,  hence  ! — Why,  so  ; — being  gone, 
I  am  a  man  again. — Pray  you,  sit  still. 

Lady  M.  You  have   displac'd  the  mirth,  broke  the 
good  meeting, 
With  most  admir'd  disorder. 

Macb.  Can  such  things  be. 

And  overcome  us  like  a  summer's  cloud, 
Without  our  special  wonder  ?     You  make  me  strange, 
Even  to  the  disposition  that  I  owe, 
When  now  I  think  you  can  behold  such  sights, 
And  keep  the  natural  ruby  of  your  cheeks. 
When  mine  are  blanch'd  with  fear. 

Rosse.  What  sights,  my  lord? 

Lady  M.    I  pray  you,  speak  not :  he  grows  worse 
and  worse  ; 
Question  enrages  him.     At  once,  good  night : 

'  inhabit :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  V.  MACBETH.  117 

Stand  not  upon  the  order  of  your  going, 
But  go  at  once. 

Len.  Good  night ;  and  better  health 

Attend  his  majesty. 

Lady  31.  A  kind  good  night  to  all  ! 

[Exeunt  Lords  and  Attendajits. 

Macb.  It  -will  have  blood,  they  say  3  blood  will  have 
blood  : 
Stones  have  been  known  to  move,  and  trees  to  speak  : 
Augurs,  and  understood  relations,  have 
By  magot-pies,  and  choughs,  and  rooks,  brought  forth 
The  secret'st  man  of  blood. — What  is  the  night  ? 

Lady  31.  Almost   at  odds  with  morning,  which  is 
which. 

S-Iacb.    How  say'st    thou,  that    INIacduff  denies  his 
person, 
At  our  g)"eat  bidding  ? 

Lady  31.  Did  you  send  to  him,  sir  ? 

3Iacb.  I  hear  it  by  the  way:  but  I  will  send. 
There  's  not  a  one  of  them,  but  in  his  house 
I  '11  keep  a  servant  fee'd.     I  will  to-morrow, 
(And  betimes  I  will)  to  the  weird  sisters  : 
More  shall  they  speak  ;  for  now  I  am  bent  to  know, 
By  the  worst  means,  the  worst.     For  mine  own  goodj 
All  causes  shall  give  way:  I  am  in  blood 
Stept  in  so  far,  that,  should  I  wade  no  more, 
Returning  were  as  tedious  as  go  o'er. 
Strange  things  I  have  in  head,  that  will  to  hand, 
Which  must  be  acted  ere  they  may  be  scann'd. 

Lady  31.  You  lack  the  season  of  all  natures,  sleep. 

Macb.  Come,  we  '11  to  sleep.     My  strange  and  self- 
abuse 
Is  the  initiate  fear,  that  wants  hard  use  : 
We  are  yet  but  young  in  deed.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  v.— The  Heath. 
Thunder.     Enter  the  three  Witches,  meeting  Hecate. 
1  Witch.  Why.  how  now,  Hecate  !  you  look  angerly. 
Hcc.  Have  I  not  reason,  beldams  as  you  are. 
Saucy,  and  over-bold  ?     How  did  you  dare 
To  trade  and  traffic  with  Macbeth, 
In  riddles,  and  affairs  of  death  ; 
And  I,  the  mistress  of  your  charms, 
The  close  contriver  of  all  harms, 


118  MACBETH.  ACT  III. 

Was  never  call'd  to  bear  my  part, 

Or  show  the  glory  of  our  art  ? 

And,  which  is  worse,  all  you  have  done 

Hath  been  but  for  a  wayward  son. 

Spiteful,  and  wrathful ;  who,  as  others  do, 

Loves  for  his  own  ends,  not  for  you. 

But  make  amends  now:  get  you  gone. 

And  at  the  pit  of  Acheron 

Meet  me  i'  the  morning  :  thither  he 

Will  come  to  know  his  destiny. 

YoLir  vessels,  and  your  spells,  provide, 

Your  charms,  and  every  thing  beside. 

I  am  for  the  air  ;  this  night  I  '11  spend 

Unto  a  dismal  and  a  fatal  end  : 

Great  business  must  be  wrought  ere  noon. 

Upon  the  corner  of  the  moon 

There  hangs  a  vaporous  drop  profound'; 

I  'II  catch  it  ere  it  come  to  ground  : 

And  that,  distill'd  by  magic  sleights, 

Shall  raise  such  artificial  sprites. 

As  by  the  strength  of  their  illusion. 

Shall  draw  him  on  to  his  confusion. 

He  shall  spurn  fate,  scorn  death,  and  bear 

His  hopes  "bove  wisdom,  grace,  and  fear ; 

And,  you  all  know,  security 

Is  mortals'  chiefest  enemy. 

Song.  [Within.]   Come  away.,  come  away,  ^c. 
Hark  !  I  am  call'd :  my  little  spirit,  see, 
Sits  in  a  foggy  cloud,  and  stays  for  me.   [Exit  Hecate. 

1  Witch.    Come,  let 's  make  haste  :  she  '11  soon  be 
back  again.  [Exeunt  Witches. 

SCENE  VI.— Fores.     A  Room  in  the  Palace. 
Enter  Lenox  and  another  Lord. 
Len.  My  former  speeches  have  but  hit  your  thoughts, 
Which  can  interpret  farther :  only,  I  say, 
Things   have   been   strangely   borne.      The    gracious 

Duncan 
Was  pitied  of  Macbeth  : — marry,  he  was  dead ; 
And  the  right  valiant  Banquo  walk'd  too  late  ; 
Whom,  you  may  say,  if 't  please  you,  Fleance  kill'd, 
For  Fleance  fled.     Men  must  not  walk  too  late. 
Who  cannot  want  the  thought,  how  mon.strous 
It  was  for  Malcolm,  and  for  Donalbain, 


SC.  vr.  MACBETH.  119 

To  kill  their  gracious  father  ?  damned  fact ! 

How  it  did  grieve  Macbeth  !  did  he  not  straight, 

In  pious  rage  the  two  delinquents  tear, 

That  were  the  slaves  of  drink,  and  thralls  of  sleep  ? 

Was  not  that  nobly  done  ?     Ay,  and  wisely,  too  ; 

For  'twould  have  anger'd  any  heart  alive. 

To  hear  the  men  deny  't.     So  that.  I  say, 

He  has  borne  all  things  well  ;  and  I  do  think, 

That  had  he  Duncan's  sons  under  his  key, 

(As,  an  't  please  heaven,  he  shall  not)  they  should  find 

What  't  were  to  kill  a  father  :  so  should  Fleance. 

But,   peace  ! — for    from  broad  words,   and   'cause  he 

fail'd 
His  presence  at  the  tjTant's  feast,  1  hear, 
Macduff  Ua'cs  in  disgrace.     Sir,  can  you  tell 
Where  he  bestows  himself? 

Lord.  The  son  of  Duncan, 

From  whom  this  tyrant  holds  the  due  of  birth. 
Lives  in  the  English  court  ;  and  is  receiv'd 
Of  the  most  pious  Edward  with  such  grace, 
That  the  malevolence  of  fortune  nothing 
Takes  from  his  high  respect.     Thither  Macduff 
Is  gone,  to  pray  the  holy  king  upon  his  aid 
To  wake  Northumberland,  and  warlike  Siward; 
That  by  the  help  of  these,  (with  Him  above 
To  ratify  the  work)  we  may  again 
Give  to  our  tables  meat,  sleep  to  our  nights, 
Free  from  our  feasts  and  banquets  bloody  knives. 
Do  faithful  homage,  and  receive  free  honours, 
All  which  we  pine  for  now.     And  this  report 
Hath  so  exasperate  the  king,  that  he 
Prepares  for  some  attempt  of  war. 

Lcn.  Sent  he  to  Macduff? 

Lord.  He  did  :  and  with  an  absohxte,   ''  Sir,  not  I )" 
The  cloudy  messenger  turns  me  his  back, 
And  hums,  as  who  sliould  say,   "  You  'II  rue  the  time 
That  clogs  me  with  this  answer." 

Len.  And  that  well  might 

Advise  him  to  a  caution,  to  hold  what  distance 
His  wisdom  can  provide.     Some  holy  angel 
Fly  to  the  court  of  England,  and  unfold 
His  message  ere  he  come,  that  a  swift  blessing 
May  soon  return  to  this  our  suffering  country 
Under  a  hand  accurs'd  ! 

Lord.         I  '11  send  my  prayers  with  him  !    {Exeunt. 


120  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

ACT  IV. 

SCENE  I. — A  dark  Cave.     In  the  middle,  a  Cauldi-on. 

Thunder.     Enter  the  three  Witches. 

1  Witch.  Thrice  the  brinded  cat  hath  mew'd. 

2  Witch.  Thrice  :  and  once  the  hedge-pig  whin'd. 

3  Witch.  Harper^  cries, — "T  is  time,  't  is  time. 

1  Witch.  Round  about  the  cauldron  go  ; 
In  the  poison'd  entrails  throw. — 

Toad,  that  under  cold  stone, 
Days  and  nights  has  thirty-one 
Swelter'd  venom  sleeping  got, 
Boil  thou  first  i'  the  charmed  pot. 

All.  Double,  double  toil  and  trouble  ; 
Fire  burn,  and  cauldron  bubble. 

2  Witch.  Fillet  of  a  fenny  snake, 
In  the  cauldron  boil  and  bake : 
Eye  of  newi:,  and  toe  of  frog, 
Wool  of  bat.  and  tongue  of  dog. 
Adder's  fork,  and  blind-worm's  sting, 
Lizard's  leg,  and  owlet's  wing, 

For  a  charm  of  powerful  trouble. 
Like  a  hell-broth  boil  and  bubble. 

All.  Double,  double  toil  and  trouble, 
Fire  burn,  and  cauldron  bubble. 

3  Witch.  Scale  of  dragon,  tooth  of  wolf ; 
Witches'  mummy  :  maw,  and  gulf 

Of  the  ravin'd  salt-sea  shark; 
Root  of  hemlock,  digg'd  i'  the  dark  ; 
Liver  of  blaspheming  Jew  ; 
Gall  of  goat,  and  slips  of  yew 
Sliver'd  in  the  moon's  eclipse ; 
Nose  of  Turk,  and  Tartar's  lips  ; 
Finger  of  birth-strangled  babe, 
Ditch-dpliver"d  by  a  drab, 
Make  the  gruel  tliick  and  .slab  : 
Add  thereto  a  tiger's  chaudron^, 
For  the  ingredients  of  our  cauldron. 

All.  Double,  double  toil  and  trouble ; 
Fire  burn,  and  cauldron  bubble. 

■>  Harpier  :  in  f.  e.    *  Entrails. 


8C.  I.  MACBETH.  121 

2  Witch.  Cool  it  with  a  baboon's  blood  ; 
Then  the  charm  is  firm  and  good. 

Enter  Hecate,  ami  other  Witches. 
Hec.  0,  well  done  !  I  commend  your  pains, 
And  every  one  shall  share  i'  the  gains. 
And  now  about  the  cauldron  sing, 
Like  elves  and  fairies  in  a  ring. 
Enchanting  all  that  you  put  in. 
[Music,  ancl.  a  Song.  '■  Black  spirits^''  ^x.^  Exit  Hecxte. 

2  Hitch.  By  the  pricking  of  my  thumbs, 
Something  wicked  this  way  comes. —  [Kjiocking. 

Open,  locks,  whoever  knocks. 

Enter  M.\cbeth. 
Mach.  How  now,  you  secret,  black,  and  midnight 
hags  ! 
What  is  "t  you  do  ? 

All.  A  deed  without  a  name. 

Macb.  I  conjure  you,  by  that  which  you  profess, 
(Howe'er  you  come  to  know  it)  answer  me : 
Though  you  untie  the  winds,  and  let  them  fight 
Against  the  churches:  though  the  yesty  waves 
Confound  and  swallow  navigation  up  ; 
Though  bleaded'-'  corn  be  lodg'd.  and  trees  blo^^^l  down  ; 
Though  castles  topple  o'er^  their  warders'  heads ; 
Though  palaces  and  pyramids  do  stoop* 
Their  heads  to  their  foundations  :  though  the  treasure 
Of  nature's  germins'^  tumble  all  together. 
Even  till  destruction  sicken,  answer  me 
To  what  I  ask  you. 

1  Witch.  Speak. 

2  Witch.  Demand. 

3  Witch.  We  '11  answer. 
1  Witch.  Say,  if  thou'dst  rather  hear  it  from  our 

moitths. 
Or  from  our  masters'  ? 

Macb.  Call  'em  :  let  me  see  'em. 

1  Witch.  Pour  in  sow's  blood,  that  hath  eaten 
Her  nine  farrow  :  grease,  that 's  sweaten 

1  The  rest  of  this  direction  is  not  in  f.  e.   The  song  is  prohably  the 
same  as  that  in  Middleton's  Witch  : 

Black  spirits  and  ■white, 
Red  spirits  and  grey  ; 
Mingle,  mingle,  mingle, 
You  that  mingle  may. 
s  bladed  :  in  f.  e.      ^  on  :  in  f.  e.     *  slope  :  in  f.  e.     *  Germinating 
seeds.     Folio  reads  :  germains. 

Vol.  VII.— 1 1 


122  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

From  the  murderer's  gibbet,  throw 
Into  the  flame. 

All.  Come  high,  or  low ; 

Thyself,  and  office,  deftly  show. 

Thunder.     1  Apparition,  an  armed  Head. 
Macb.  Tell  me.  thou  uiiknov.n  power. — 
2  Witch.  '  He  knows  thy  thought : 

Hear  his  speech,  but  say  thou  nought. 

1    App.    Macbeth  !     Macbeth  !  ^  Macbeth  !    beware 
Macduff; 
Beware  the  thane  of  Fife. — Dismiss  me  : — enough. 

[Descends. 

Much.  Whate'er  thou  art,  for  thy  good  caution  thanks  : 

Thou   hast   harp'd   my  fear   aright. — But    one    word 

more. — 

1  Witch.  He  will  not  be  commanded.  Here's  another, 

More  potent  than  the  first. 

Thunder.     2  Apparition,  a  bloody  Child. 
App.  INIacbeth  !   Macbeth  !   jMacbeth  ! — 

Macb.  Had  I  three  ears,  I  'd  hear  thee. 
App.  Be  bloody,  bold,  and  resolute  :  laugh  to  scorn 
The  power  of  man,  for  none  of  woman  born 
Shall  harm  INIacbeth.  [Descends. 

Macb.  Then  live,  Macduff:  what  need  I  fear  of  thee? 
But  yet  I  '11  make  assurance  double  sure, 
And  take  a  bond  of  fate  :  thou  shalt  not  live  ] 
That  I  may  tell  pale-hearted  fear  it  lies. 
And  sleep  in  spite  of  thunder. — "What  is  this, 
Tliunder.     3  Apparition^  a  Child  crowned.^  with  a  Tree 

in  his  Hand. 
That  rises  like  the  issue  of  a  king ; 
And  wears  upon  his  baby  brow  the  round 
And  top  of  sovereignty  ? 

All.  Listen,  but  speak  not  to  't. 

App.  Be  lion-mettled,  proud,  and  take  no  care 
Who  chafes,  who  frets,  or  where  conspirers  are  : 
INIacbeth  shall  never  vanquish'd  be,  until 
Great  Birnam  wood  to  high  Dunsinane  hill 
Shall  come  against  him.  [Descends. 

Macb.  That  will  never  be  : 

Who  can  impress  the  forest ;  bid  the  tree 
Unfix  his  earth-bound  root  ?  SAA-eet  bodements  !  good  ! 
Rebellion's'  head,  rise  never,  till  the  wood 
1  Kebellious  :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  I.  MACBETH.  123 

Of  Biniam  rise  :  and  our  high-plac'd  Macbeth 
Shall  live  the  lease  of  nature,  pay  his  breath 
To  time,  and  mortal  custom. — Yet  my  heart 
Throbs  to  know  one  thing :  tell  me,  (if  your  art 
Can  tell  so  much)  shall  Banquo's  issue  ever 
Reign  in  this  kingdom  ? 

All.  Seek  to  know  no  more. 

31acb.  I  will  be  satisfied  :  deny  me  this, 
And  an  eternal  curse  fall  on  you  !     Let  me  know. — 
Why  sinks  that  cauldron  ?  and  what  noise  is  this  ? 

[The  cauldron  desceiids}     Hautboys  sound. 

1  Witch.  Show  !     2  Witch.  Show  !     3  Witch.  Show ! 

All.  Show  his  eyes,  and  grieve  his  heart ; 
Come  like  shadows,  so  depart. 

A  show  of  eight  Kings.,  aiul  Ba^qvo  first  and  last,"  with 
a  Gla.ss  in  his  Hand. 

Mach.  Thou  art  too  like  the  spirit  of  Banquo  :  down  ! 
Thy  crown  does  sear  mine  eye-balls  : — and  thy  hair. 
Thou  other  gold-bound  brow  art  like  the  first : — 
A  third  is  like  the  former  : — Filthy  hags  ! 
Why  do  you  show  me  this  ? — A  fourth  ? — Start,  eyes  ! 
What  !  will  the  line  stretch  out  to  the  crack  of  doom? 
Another  yet  ? — A  seventh  ?  I  '11  see  no  more  : 
And  yet  the  eighth  appears,  who  bears  a  glass, 
Which  shows  me  many  more ;  and  some  I  see, 
That  two-fold  balls  and  treble  sceptres  carry. 
Horrible  sight ! — Now.  I  see,  't  is  true  ; 
For  the  blood-bolter'd^  Banquo  smiles  upon  me. 
And  points  at  them  for  his. — What !  is  this  so  ? 

1  Witch.  Ay,  sir.  all  this  is  so  :  but  why 
Stands  Macbeth  thus  amazedly  ? — 
Come,  sisters,  cheer  we  up  his  sprites, 
And  show  the  best  of  our  delights. 
I  '11  charm  the  air  to  give  a  sound, 
While  you  perform  your  antic  round ; 
That  this  great  king  may  kindly  say, 
Our  duties  did  his  welcome  pay. 

[Music.     The  ivitches  dance.,  and  vanish. 

Mach.  Where  are  they?  Gone? — Let  this  pernicious 
hour 
Stand  aye  accursed  in  the  calendar  ! — 
Come  in  !  without  there  ! 

I  The  first  part  of  this  direction  j^  not  in  f.  e.     2  Baxqtto  last:  in 
f.  e.     3  Besmeared. 


124  MACBKTH.  ACT  IV. 

Enter  Lenox. 

Len.  What 's  your  grace's  -will  ? 

Macb.  Saw  you  the  weird  sisters  ? 

Len.  No,  my  lord. 

Macb.  Came  they  not  by  you  ? 

Len.  No,  indeed,  my  lord. 

Macb.  Infected  be  the  air  whereon  they  ride. 
And  danin'd  all  those  that  trust  them  ! — T  did  hear 
The  galloping  of  horse  :  who  was  't  came  by  ? 

Len.  'T  is  two  or  three,  my  lord,  that  bring  you  word, 
Macduff  is  fled  to  England. 

Macb.  Fled  to  England? 

Len.  Ay.  my  good  lord. 

Macb.  Time,  thou  anticipat'st  my  dread  exploits : 
The  flighty  purpose  never  is  o'ertook, 
Unless  the  deed  go  with  it.     From  this  moment, 
The  very  firstlings  of  my  heart  shall  be 
The  firstlings  of  my  hand.     And  even  now, 
To  crown  my  thoughts  with  acts,  be  it  thought  and  done  : 
The  castle  of  Macduff"  I  will  surprise  ; 
Seize  upon  Fife  :  give  to  the  edge  o'  the  sword 
His  wife,  his  babes,  and  all  vmfortunate  souls 
That  trace  him  in  his  line.     No  boasting  like  a  fool ; 
This  deed  I  '11  do,  before  this  purpose  cool : 
But  no  more  flights^ — Where  are  these  gentlemen? 
Come ;  bring  me  where  they  are.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.— Fife.     A  Room  in  Macduff's  Castle. 

Enter  Lady  Macduff,  her  Son,  and  Rosse. 
L.  Macd.  What  had  he  done  to  make  him  fly  the 

land  ? 
Ros.'te.  You  must  have  patience,  madam. 
L.  Macd.  He  had  none : 

His  flight  was  madness.     When  our  actions  do  not, 
Our  fears  do  make  us  traitors. 

Ro.sse.  You  know  not, 

Whether  it  was  his  wisdom,  or  his  fear. 

L.  Macd.  Wisdom  !  to  leave  his  wife,  to  leave  his 
His  mansion,  and  his  titles,  in  a  place  [babes, 

From  whence  himself  does  fly  ?     He  loves  us  not: 
He  wants  the  natural  touch  ;  for  the  poor  wren, 
The  most  diminutive  of  birds,  will  fight. 
Her  young  ones  in  her  nest,  against  the  owl. 
I  sights  :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  II.  MACBETH.  125 

All  is  the  fear,  and  nothing  is  the  love : 
As  little  is  the  wisdom,  where  the  flight 
So  runs  against  all  reason. 

Rosse.  My  dearest  coz', 

I  pray  you,  school  yourself:  but,  for  your  husband, 
He  is  noble,  wise,  judicious,  and  best  knows 
The  fits  o'  the  season.    I  dare  not  speak  much  farther : 
But  cruel  are  the  times,  when  we  are  traitors. 
And  do  not  know't'  ourselves  :  M'hen  we  liold  riunour 
From  what  we  fear,  yet  know  not  what  we  fear, 
But  float  upon  a  wild  and  violent  sea. 
Each  way  and  move. — I  take  my  leave  of  you  : 
'T  shali^  not  be  long  but  I  '11  be  here  again. 
Things  at  the  worst  will  cease,  or  else  climb  upward 
To  what  they  were  before. — My  pretty  cousin. 
Blessing  upon  you  ! 

L.  Macd.  Fatlier'd  he  is,  and  yet  he  's  fatherless. 

Rosse.  I  am  so  much  a  fool,  should  I  stay  longer. 
It  would  be  my  disgrace,  and  your  discomfort. 
I  take  my  leave  at  once.  [Exit  Rosse. 

L.  Macd.  Sirrah,  your  father  's  dead  : 

And  what  will  you  do  now  ?     How  will  you  live  ? 

Son.  As  birds  do,  mother. 

L.  Macd.  What,  with  worms  and  flies  ? 

Soil .  With  what  I  get,  I  mean ;  and  so  do  they. 

L.  Macd.  Poor  bird !   thou  'dst  never  fear  the  net, 
nor  lime. 
The  pit-fall,  nor  the  gin. 

Son.  Why  should  I,  mother  ?     Poor  birds  they  are 
not  set  for. 
My  father  is  not  dead,  for  all  your  saying. 

L.  Macd.  Yes,  he  is  dead :  how  wilt  thou  do  for  a 
father  ? 

Son.  Nay,  how  will  you  do  for  a  husband  ? 

L.  Macd.  Why,  I  can  buy  me  twenty  at  any  market. 

Son.  Then  you'll  buy  'em  to  sell  again. 

L.  Macd.  Thou  speak'st  with  all  thy  wit ; 
And  yet  i'  faith,  with  wit  enough  for  thee. 

Son.  Was  my  father  a  traitor,  mother  ? 

L.  Macd.  Ay,  that  he  was. 

Son.  What  is  a  traitor  ? 

L.  Macd.  Why,  one  that  swears  and  lies. 

Son.  And  be  all  traitors  that  do  so  ? 

1  know  :  in  f.  e.     ^  Shall :  in  f.  e. 
11* 


126  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

L.  Macd.  Every  one  that  does  so  is  a  traitor,  and 
must  be  hanged. 

Son.  And  must  they  all  be  hanged  that  swear  and  lie? 

L.  Macd.  Every  one. 

Son.  Who  must  hang  them  ? 

L.  Macd.  Why,  the  honest  men. 

So}}.  Then  the  liars  and  swearers  are  fools  ;  for  there 
are  liars  and  swearers  enow  to  beat  the  honest  men, 
and  hang  up  them. 

L.  Macd.  Now  God  help  thee,  poor  monkey  !  But 
how  wilt  tho\i  do  for  a  father? 

Son.  If  he  were  dead,  you  'd  weep  for  him  :  if  you 
■would  not.  it  were  a  good  sign  that  I  should  quickly 
have  a  new  father. 

L.  Macd.  Poor  prattler,  how  thou  talk'st ! 
Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Bless  you,  fair  dame.   I  am  not  to  you  known, 
Though  in  your  state  of  honour  I  am  perfect. 
I  doubt  some  danger  does  approach  you  nearly : 
If  you  will  take  a  homely  man"s  advice. 
Be  not  found  here ;  hence,  with  your  little  ones. 
To  fright  you  thus,  methinks.  I  am  too  savage. 
To  do  worse  to  you  were  fell  cruelty. 
"Which  is  too  nigh  your  person.  Heaven  preserve  you  I 
I  dare  abide  no  longer.  [Exit  Messenger. 

L.  Macd.  "  Whither  should  I  fly  ? 

I  have  done  no  harm ;  but  I  remember  now 
I  am  in  this  earthly  world,  where  to  do  harm 
Is  often  laudable:  to  do  good  sometime 
Accounted  dangerous  folly  I  why  then,  alas  ! 
Do  I  put  up  that  womanly  defence, 
To  say,  I  have  done  no  harm  ? — What  are  these  faces  ? 
Enter  Murderers. 

Mur.  Where  is  your  husband  ? 

L.  Macd.  I  hope,  in  no  place  so  unsanctified, 
Where  such  as  thou  may'st  find  him. 

Mur.  He  's  a  traitor. 

Son.   Thou  liest,  thou  shag-ear"d^  villain. 

Mur.  What,  you  egg  !   [Stabbing  him. 

Young  fry  of  treachery. 

Son.  He  has  kill'd  me,  mother  : 

Run  away,  I  pray  you.  [Dies. 

[Exit  Lady  Macduff,  crying  murder,  and 
pursued  by  the  Murderers. 
1  Probably  a  misprint  for  "  hair'd." 


SC.  m.  MACBETH.  127 

SCENE  III.— England.     A  Room  in  the  King's 

Palace. 

Enter  Malcolm  and  Macduff. 

Mai.  Let  ns  seek  out  some  desolate  shade,  and  there 
Weep  oiir  sad  bosom.s  empty. 

Macd.  Let  us  rather 

Hold  fast  the  mortal  sword,  and  like  good  men 
Bestride  our  down-fairn  birthdom.     Each  new  morn 
New  widows  howl,  new  orphans  cry ;  new  sorrows 
Strike  heaven  on  tlie  face,  tliat  it  resounds 
As  if  it  felt  with  Scotland,  and  yell'd  out 
Like  syllable  of  dolour. 

Mai.  What  I  believe,  I  "11  wail; 

What  know,  believe  ;  and  what  I  can  redress, 
As  I  shall  find  the  time  to  friend,  I  will : 
What  you  have  spoke,  it  may  be  so,  perchance. 
This  tyrant,  whose  sole  name  blisters  our  tongues. 
Was  once  thought  honest :  you  have  lov'd  him  well ; 
He  hath  not  touch'd  you  yet.     I  am  young;  but  some- 
thing 
You  may  deserve'  of  him  through  me,  and  wisdom 
To  offer  up  a  weak,  poor,  innocent  lamb 
To  appease  an  angry  god. 

Macd.  I  am  not  treacherous. 

Mai.  But  Macbeth  is. 

A  good  and  virtuous  nature  may  recoil 
In  an  imperial  charge.    But  I  shall  crave  your  pardon: 
That  which  you  are  my  thoughts  cannot  transpose ; 
Ansels  are  bright  still,  though  the  brightest  fell : 
Though  all  things  foul  would  wear  the  brows  of  grace, 
Yet  grace  must  still  look  so. 

Macd.  I  have  lost  my  hopes. 

Mai.  Perchance,  even  there,  where  I  did  find  my 
doubts. 
Why  in  that  rawness  left  you  wife,  and  child, 
Those  precious  motives,  those  strong  knots  of  love, 
Without  leave-taking? — I  pray  you. 
Let  not  my  jealousies  be  your  dishonours. 
But  mine  own  safeties  :  you  may  be  rightly  just, 
Whatever  I  shall  think. 

Macd.  Bleed,  bleed,  poor  country ! 

Great  tyranny,  lay  thou  thy  basis  sure, 

1  discern  :  in  folio.     Theobald  made  the  change. 


128  MACBETH.  ACT  IV 

For  goodness  dares    not  check   thee  !    Avear  thou  thy 

wrongs ; 
Thy  title  is  affeer'd'  ! — Fare  thee  -w-ell,  lord : 
I  would  not  be  the  villain  that  thou  think'st, 
For  the  whole  space  that 's  in  the  tyrant's  grasp, 
And  the  rich  East  to  boot. 

Mai.  Be  not  offended  : 

I  speak  not  as  in  absolute  fear  of  you. 
I  think  our  country  sinks  beneath  the  yoke ; 
It  weepsj  it  bleeds :  and  each  new  day  a  gash 
Is  added  to  her  wounds :  I  think,  withal, 
There  would  be  hands  uplifted  in  my  right : 
And  here,  from  gracious  England,  have  I  offer 

[Showing  a  Paper} 
Of  goodly  thousands ;  but,  for  all  this, 
When  I  shall  tread  upon  the  tyrant's  head. 
Or  wear  it  on  my  sword,  yet  my  poor  country 
Shall  have  more  vices  than  it  had  before, 
More  suffer,  and  more  sundry  ways  than  ever, 
By  him  that  shall  succeed. 

Mncd.  What  should  he  be  ? 

Mai.  It  is  myself  I  mean ;  in  whom  I  know 
All  the  particulars  of  vice  so  grafted, 
That,  when  they  shall  be  ripen'd^,  black  Macbeth 
Will  seem  as  pure  as  snow ;  and  the  poor  state 
Esteem  him  as  a  lamb,  being  compar'd 
With  my  confineless  harms. 

Macd.  Not  in  the  legions 

Of  horrid  hell  can  come  a  devil  more  damn'd 
In  evils  to  top  Macbeth. 

Mai.  I  grant  him  bloody, 

Luxurious,  avaricious,  false,  deceitful. 
Sudden,  malicious,  smacking  of  every  sin 
That  has  a  name ;  but  there  's  no  bottom,  none, 
In  my  voluptuousness  :  your  wives,  your  daughters, 
Your  matrons,  and  your  maids,  could  not  fill  up 
The  cistern  of  my  lust ;  and  my  desire 
All  continent  impediments  would  o'er-bear, 
That  did  oppose  my  will.     Better  Macbeth, 
Than  such  a  one  to  reign. 

Macd.  Boundless  intemperance 

In  nature  is  a  tyranny :  it  hath  been 

*  affear'd  :  in  folio.     To  q^eer,  is  a  law  phrase,  for  to  o^rm.     2  Jifot 
in  f.  e.      3  open'd  :  in  f.  e. 


8C.  ni.  MACBETH.  129 

Th'  untimely  emptying  of  the  happy  throne, 
And  fall  of  many  kings.     But  fear  not  yet 
To  take  upon  you  what  is  yours  :  you  may 
Enjoy^  your  pleasures  in  a  spacious  plenty, 
And  yet  seem  cold,  the  time  you  may  so  hoodwink. 
We  have  willing  dames  enough  :  there  cannot  be 
That  A-iUture  in  you  to  devour  so  many 
As  will  to  greatness  dedicate  themselves, 
Finding  it  so  inclin'd. 

Mai.  With  this,  there  grows 

In  my  most  ill-compos'd  affection  such 
A  stanchless  avarice,  that,  were  I  king, 
I  should  cut  off  the  nobles  for  their  lands ; 
Desire  his  jewels,  and  this  other  's  house : 
And  my  more-having  would  be  as  a  sauce 
To  make  me  hunger  more ;  that  I  should  forge 
Quarrels  unjust  against  the  good  and  loyal. 
Destroying  them  for  wealth. 

Macd.  This  avarice 

Sticks  deeper,  grows  with  more  pernicious  root, 

Than  sunmier-seeming  lust :  and  it  hath  been 

The  sword  of  our  slain  kings  :  yet  do  not  fear ; 

Scotland  hath  foison^  to  fill  up  your  will. 

Of  your  mere  own.     All  these  are  portable 

With  other  graces  weigh'd. 

Mai.  But  I  have  none.     The  king-becoming  graces, 

As  justice,  verity,  temperance,  stableness, 

Bounty,  perseverance,  mercy,  lowliness. 

Devotion,  patience,  courage,  fortitude, 

I  have  no  relish  of  them ;  but  abound 

In  the  division  of  each  several  crime, 

Acting  it  many  ways.     Nay,  had  I  power,  I  should 

Pour  the  sweet  milk  of  concord  into  hell. 

Uproar  the  vmiversal  peace,  confound 

All  unity  on  earth. 

3Iacd.  0  Scotland,  Scotland  ! 

Mai.  If  such  a  one  be  fit  to  govern,  speak  : 

I  am  as  I  have  spoken. 

3Iacd.  Fit  to  govern  ! 

No,  not  to  live. — 0.  nation  miserable  ! 

With  an  untitled  tyrant,  bloody-scepter'd. 

When  shalt  thou  see  thy  wholesome  days  again. 

Since  that  the  truest  issue  of  thy  throne 

1  Convey  :  in  f.  e.     =  foisons  :  in  f.  e.  ;  plenty. 


130  MACBETH. 


ACT  IV. 


By  his  own  interdiction  stands  accnrs'd, 

And  does  blaspheme  his  breed  ? — Thy  royal  father 

Was  a  most  sainted  king :  the  queen,  that  bore  thee, 

Oft'ner  upon  her  knees  than  on  her  feet, 

Died  every  day  she  lived.     Fare  thee  well. 

These  evils  thou  repeat'st  upon  thyself 

Have  banish'd  me  from  Scotland. — 0,  my  breast ! 

Thy  hope  ends  here. 

Mai.  Macduff,  this  noble  passion, 

Child  of  integrity,  hath  from  my  soul 
Wip'd  the  black  scruples,  reconcil'd  my  thoughts 
To  thy  good  truth  and  honour.     Devilish  Macbeth 
By  many  of  these  trains  hath  sought  to  win  me 
Into  his  power,  and  modest  wisdom  plucks  me 
From  over-credulous  haste  ;  but  God  above 
Deal  between  thee  and  me,  for  even  now 
I  put  myself  to  thy  direction,  and 
Unspeak  mine  own  detraction  ;  here  abjure 
The  taints  and  blames  I  laid  upon  myself, 
For  strangers  to  my  nature.     I  am  yet 
Unknown  to  woman ;  never  was  forsworn  : 
Scarcely  have  coveted  what  was  mine  own ; 
At  no  time  broke  my  faith  ;  would  not  betray 
The  devil  to  his  fellow,  and  delight 
No  less  in  truth,  than  life :  my  first  false  speaking 
Was  this  upon  myself.     What  I  am  truly 
Is  thine,  and  my  poor  country's,  to  command  : 
Whither,  indeed,  before  thy  here-approach. 
Old  Siward,  with  ten  thousand  warlike  men, 
Already  at  a  point,  was  setting  forth. 
Now,  we  '11  together  ;  and  the  chance  of  goodness 
Be  like  our  warranted  quarrel.     Why  are  you  silent? 

Macd.    Such  welcome    and    unwelcome   things   at 
once, 
'T  is  hard  to  reconcile. 

Enter  a  Doctor. 

Mai.  Well;   more   anon. — Comes  the  king  forth,  I 
pray  you  ? 

Bod.  Ay,  sir  :  there  are  a  crev/  of  wretched  souls, 
That  stay  his  cure  :  their  malady  convinces' 
The  great  assay  of  heart ;  but  at  his  touch, 
Such  sanctity  hath  heaven  given  his  hand. 
They  presently  amend. 

I  Overcomes. 


SC.  m.  MACBETH.  131 

3Ial.  I  thank  you,  doctor. 

[Exit  Doctor, 

Macd.  What 's  the  disease  he  means  ? 

Mai  'T  is  call'd  the  evil: 

A  most  miraculous  work  in  this  good  king, 
Which  often,  since  my  here  remain  in  England, 
I  have  seen  him  do.     How  he  solicits  heaven, 
Himself  best  knows ;  but  strangely-visited  people, 
All  swoln  and  ulcerous,  pitiful  to  the  eye. 
The  mere  despair  of  surgery,  he  cures  ; 
Hanging  a  golden  stamp  about  their  necks. 
Put  on  witli  holy  prayers :  and  't  is  spoken, 
To  the  succeeding  royalty  he  leaves 
The  healing  benediction.     With  this  strange  virtue, 
He  hath  a  heavenly  gift  of  prophecy, 
And  sundry  blessings  hang  about  his  throne. 
That  speak  him  full  of  grace. 

Enter  Rosse. 

Macd.  See,  who  comes  here  ? 

Mai.  My  countryman ;  but  yet  I  know  him  not. 

Macd.  My  ever-gentle  cousin,  welcome  hither. 

Mai.  I  know  him  now.     Good  God,  betimes  remove 
The  means  that  make  us  strangers  ! 

Rosse.  Sir,  amen. 

Macd.  Stands  Scotland  where  it  did  ? 

Rosse.  Alas,  poor  country ! 

Almost  afraid  to  know  itself.     It  cannot 
Be  call'd  our  mother,  but  our  grave  ;  where  nothing, 
But  who  knows  nothing,  is  once  seen  to  smile : 
Where  sighs,  and  groans,  and  shrieks  tliat  rend  the  air. 
Are  made,  not  mark'd  ;  where  violent  sorrow  seems 
A  modern  ecstasy :  the  dead  man's  knell 
Is  there  scarce  ask'd,  for  whom  ;  and  good  men's  lives 
Expire  before  the  flowers  in  their  caps. 
Dying  or  ere  they  sicken. 

Macd.  0,  relation, 

Too  nice,  and  yet  too  true  ! 

Mai.  What  is  the  newest  grief? 

Rosse.  That  of  an  hour's  age  doth  hiss  the  speaker. 
Each  minute  teems  a  new  one. 

Macd.  How  does  my  wife  ? 

Rosse.  Why.  well. 

Macd.  And  all  my  children  ? 

Rosse.  Well,  too. 


132  MACBETH.  ACT  IV. 

Macd.  The  tyrant  has  not  batter'd  at  their  peace  ? 

Rosse.  No ;  they  were  well,  at  peace,  when  I  did 
leave  them. 

Macd.  Be  not  a  niggard  of  your  speech :  how  goes  it? 

Rosse.  When  I  came  hither  to  transport  the  tidings, 
Which  I  have  heavily  borne,  there  ran  a  rumour 
Of  many  worthy  fellows  that  were  out ; 
Which  was  to  my  belief  witness' d  the  rather, 
For  that  I  saw  the  tyrant's  power  a-foot. 
Now  is  the  time  of  help.     Your  eye  in  Scotland 
Would  create  soldiers,  make  our  women  fight, 
To  doff  their  dire  distresses. 

Mai.  Be  it  their  comfort, 

We  are  coming  thither.     Gracious  England  hath 
Lent  us  good  Siward,  and  ten  thousand  men : 
An  older,  and  a  better  soldier,  none 
That  Christendom  gives  out. 

Rosse.  Would  I  could  answer 

This  comfort  with  the  like  !     But  I  have  words, 
That  would  be  howl'd  out  in  the  desert  air 
Where  hearing  should  not  latch^  them. 

3Iacd.  What  concern  they  ? 

The  general  cause,  or  is  it  a  fee-grief, 
Due  to  some  single  breast  ? 

Rosse.  No  mind  that 's  honest 

But  in  it  shares  some  woe,  though  the  main  part 
Pertains  to  you  alone. 

Macd.  If  it  be  mine, 

Keep  it  not  from  me ;  quickly  let  me  have  it. 

Rosse.  Let  not  your  ears  despise  my  tongue  for  ever, 
Which  shall  possess  them  with  the  heaviest  sound, 
That  ever  yet  they  heard. 

3Iacd.  Humph  !  I  guess  at  it. 

Rosse.  Your  castle  is  surpris'd  ;  your  wife,  and  babes. 
Savagely  slaughter'd  :  to  relate  the  manner 
Were,  on  the  quarry"  of  these  murder'd  deer, 
To  add  the  death  of  you. 

3Ial.  Merciful  heaven  ! — 

What,  man  !  ne'er  pull  your  hat  upon  your  brows : 
Give  sorrow  words  ;  the  grief,  that  does  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'er-fraught  heart,  and  bids  it  break. 

Macd.  My  children  too  ? 

Rosse.  Wife,  children,  servants,  all 

»  Catch.    2  Heap  of  dead  game. 


go.  111.  MACBETH.  133 

That  could  be  found. 

Macd.  And  I  must  be  from  thence  ! 

My  wife  kill'd  too? 

Rosse.  I  have  said, 

flfa/.  Be  comforted: 

Let 's  make  us  medicines  of  our  great  revengC; 
To  cure  this  deadly  grief. 

Macd.  He  has  no  children. — All  my  pretty  ones? 
Did  you  say,  all  ?— O,  hell-kite !— All  ? 
What,  all  my  pretty  chickens,  and  their  dam, 
At  one  fell  swoop  ? 

3Ial.  Dispute  it  like  a  man. 
Macd.  I  shall  do  so  ; 

But  I  must  also  feel  it  like  a  man : 
I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were, 
That  were  most  precious  to  me. — Did  heaven  look  on, 
And  would  not  take  their  part?     Sinful  Macduff! 
They  were  all  struck  for  thee.     Naught  that  I  am, 
Not  for  their  own  demerits,  but  for  mine, 
Fell  slaughter  on  their  souls.     Heaven  rest  them  now ! 
Mai.  Be  this  the  whetstone  of  your  sword  :  let  grief 
Convert  to  anger;  blunt  not  the  heart,  enrage  it. 

3Iacd.  0  !  i  could  play  the  woman  with  mine  eyes. 
And  braggart  with  my  tongue. — But,  gentle  Heavens, 
Cut  short  all  intermission  ;  front  to  front, 
Bring  thou  this  fiend  of  Scotland,  and  myself; 
Within  my  sword's  length  set  him  :  if  he  'scape, 
Heaven  forgive  him  too  ! 

Mai.  This  tune'  goes  manly. 

Come,  go  we  to  the  king :  our  power  is  ready ; 
Our  lack  is  nothing  but  our  leave.     Macbeth 
Is  ripe  for  shaking,  and  the  powers  above 
Put  on  their  insl:ruments.     Receive  what  cheer  you 

may; 
The  night  is  long  that  never  finds  the  day.       [Exeunt, 

I  time  :  in  folio.    Rowe  made  the  change. 


Vol.  VII.— 12 


134  MACBETH.  ACT  V. 


ACT     V. 

SCENE  I. — Dunsinane.     A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  a  Doctor  of  Physic,  and  a  waiting  Gentlewoman. 

Doct.  I  have  two  nights  watched  with  you,  but  can 
perceive  no  truth  in  your  report.  When  was  it  she 
last  walked  ? 

Gent.  Since  his  majesty  went  into  the  field,  I  have 
seen  her  rise  from  her  bed,  throw  her  night-gown  upon 
her,  unlock  her  closet,  take  forth  paper,  fold  it,  wi-ite 
upon  it,  read  it,  afterwards  seal  it,  and  again  return 
to  bed ;  yet  all  this  while  in  a  most  fast  sleep. 

Doct.  A  great  perturbation  in  nature,  to  receive  at 
once  the  benefit  of  sleep,  and  do  the  effects  of  watch- 
ing. In  this  slumbery  agitation,  besides  her  walking 
and  other  actual  performances,  what  at  any  time  have 
you  heard  her  say  ? 

Gent.  That,  sir,  which  I  will  not  report  after  her. 

Doct.  You  may.  tb  me;  and  "t  is  most  meet  you 
should. 

Gent.  Neither  to  you,  nor  any  one,  having  no  wit- 
ness to  confirm  my  speech. 

Enter  Lady  Macbeth,  icith  a  Taper. 
Lo  you  !  here  she  comes.     This  is  her  very  guise,  and 
upon  my  life  fast  asleep.     Observe  her  :  stand  close. 

Doct.  How  came  she  by  that  light  ? 

Gent.  ^Yhy,  it  stood  by  her :  she  has  light  by  her 
continually  ;  't  is  her  command. 

Doct.  You  see,  her  eyes  are  open. 

Ge7it.  Ay,  but  their  sense  is  shut. 

Doct.  What  is  it  she  does  now?  Look,  how  she 
rubs  her  hands. 

Gent.  It  is  an  accustomed  action  with  her  to  seem 
thus  washing  her  hands :  I  have  knowni  her  continue 
in  this  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

Lady  31.  Yet  here  's  a  spot. 

Doct.  Hark  !  she  speaks.  I  will  set  down  what 
comes  from  her,  to  satisfy  my  remembrance  the  more 
strongly.  [Taking  out  his  Tables.^ 

Lady  M.  Out,    damned   spot !    out,    I    say  ! — One ; 
two :  why.  then  't  is  time  to  do  't. — Hell  is   murky  ! — ■ 
1  Not  in  f.  e 


SC.  I.  MACBETH.  135 

Fie,  my  lord,  fie  !  a  soldier,  and  afeard  ?  "What  need 
we  fear  who  knows  it,  when  none  can  call  our  power 
to  account? — Yet  who  would  have  thought  the  old  man 
to  have  had  so  much  blood  in  him  ? 

Dod.  Do  you  mark  that  ?  [Writing} 

Lady  M.  The  thane  of  Fife  had  a  wife :  wliere  is 
she  now? — What,  will  these  hands  ne'er  be  clean? — 
No  more  o'  that,  my  lord  ;  no  more  o'  that ;  you  mar 
all  with  this  starting. 

Dod.  Go  to,  go  to :  you  have  kno\^^l  what  you 
should  not. 

Gent.  She  has  spoke  what  she  should  not,  I  am  sure 
of  that :  Heaven  knows  what  she  has  known. 

Lady  M.  Here  's  the  smell  of  the  blood  still :  all  the 
perfumes  of  Arabia  will  not  sweeten  this  little  hand. 
Oh!  oh!  oh! 

Dod.  What  a  sigh  is  there  !  The  heart  is  sorely 
charged. 

Gent.  I  would  not  have  such  a  heart  in  my  bosom, 
for  the  dignitv  of  the  whole  body. 

Dod.  Well,  well,  well.— 

Gent.  Pray  God,  it  be,  sir. 

Dod.  This  disease  is  beyond  my  practice :  yet  I  have 
kno\^•n  those  which  have  walked  in  their  sleep,  who 
have  died  holily  in  their  beds. 

Lady  M.  Wash  your  hands,  put  on  your  night-go-s\nr ; 
look  not  so  pale. — I  tell  you  yet  again,  Banquo  's 
buried  :  he  cannot  come  out  on  's  grave. 

Dod.  Even  so  ? 

Lady  31.  To  bed,  to  bed :  there  's  knocking  at  the 
gate.  Come,  come,  come,  come,  give  me  your  hand. 
What  "s  done,  cannot  be  vmdone :  to  bed,  to  bed.  to 
bed.  [Exit  Lady  Macbeth. 

Dod.  Will  she  go  now  to  bed  ? 

Ge7it.  Directly. 

Dod.  Foul  whi.sperings  are  abroad.  Unnatural  deeds 
Do  breed  unnatural  troubles :  infected  minds 
To  their  deaf  pillows  will  discharge  their  secrets. 
More  needs  she  the  divine,  than  the  physician. — 
God,  God,  forgive  us  all !     Look  after  her  ; 
Remove  from  her  the  means  of  all  annoyance, 
And  still  keep  eyes  upon  her. — So.  good  night : 
My  mind  she  has  mated^,  and  amaz'd  my  sight. 
1  Not  in  f.  e.     "  Astonished. 


136  MACBETH.  ACT  V. 

I  think,  but  dare  not  speak. 

Gent.  Good  night,  good  doctor.     [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. — The  Country  near  Dunsinaue. 

Enter,  with  Drum  and  Colours,  Menteth,  Cathness, 
Angus,  Lenox,  and  Soldiers. 

Ment.  The  English  power  is  near,  led  on  by  Malcolm, 
His  uncle  Siward,  and  the  good  Macduff. 
Revenges  burn  in  them  :  for  their  dear  causes 
Would,  to  the  bleeding  and  the  grim  alarm, 
Excite  the  mortified  man. 

Ang.  Near  Birnam  wood 

Shall  we  well  meet  them :  that  way  are  they  coming. 

Catli.  Who  knows,  if  Donalbain  be  with  his  brother? 

Lcn.  For  certain,  sir.  he  is  not.     I  have  a  file 
Of  all  the  gentry :  there  is  Siward's  son. 
And  many  untough  youths,  that  even  now 
Protest  their  first  of  manhood. 

3Ient.  What  does  the  t>Tant? 

Cath.  Great  Dunsinane  he  strongly  fortifies. 
Some  say,  he  's  mad  :  others,  that  les,ser  hate  him, 
Do  call  it  valiant  fury ;  but,  for  certain, 
He  cannot  buckle  his  distempered  course^ 
Within  the  belt  of  rule. 

Ang.  Now  does  he  feel 

His  secret  murders  sticking  on  his  hands  ; 
Now  minutely  revolts  upbraid  his  faith-breach : 
Those  he  commands  move  only  in  command. 
Nothing  in  love :  now  does  he  feel  his  title 
Hang  loose  about  him,  like  a  giant's  robe 
Upon  a  dwarfish  thief. 

Ment.  WHio,  then,  shall  blame 

His  pester'd  senses  to  recoil  and  start, 
When  all  that  is  within  him  does  condemn 
Itself,  for  being  there  ? 

Cath.  Well ;  march  we  on, 

To  give  obedience  where  't  is  truly  owd  : 
Meet  we  the  medicme  of  the  sickly  weal ; 
And  with  him  pour  we,  in  oiu-  countr\-'s  purge. 
Each  drop  of  us. 

Men.  Or  so  much  as  it  needs 

To  dew  the  sovereign  flower,  and  drown  the  weeds. 
1  cause  :  in  f.  e. 


8C.  ni.  MACBETH.  137 

Make  we  our  march  towards  Birnam. 

[Exeuntj  marching. 

SCENE  III. — Diinsinane.     A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  Macbeth.  Doctor,  and  Attendants. 

Macb.  Bring  me  no  more  reports  ;  Jet  them  fly  all : 
Till  Birnam  wood  remove  to  Dunsinane, 
I  cannot  taint  with  fear.     What 's  the  boy  Malcolm? 
Was  he  not  born  of  woman  ?     The  spirits  that  know 
All  mortal  consequences  have  pronounc'd  me  thus: — 
"  Fear  not,  Macbeth  ;  no  man  that 's  born  of  woman 
Shall  e'er  have  power  upon  thee." — Then   fly,  false 
And  mingle  with  the  English  epicures  :  [thanes, 

The  mind  I  sway  by.  and  the  heart  I  bear, 
Shall  never  sag  with  doubt,  nor  shake  with  fear. 

Enter  a  Servant. 
The  devil  damn  thee  black,  thou  cream-fac'd  loon  ! 
"Wliere  got'st  thou  that  goose  look? 

Serv.  There  is  ten  thousand — 

Macb.  Geese,  -villain  ? 

Serv.  Soldiers,  sir. 

Macb.  Go,  prick  thy  face,  and  over-red  thy  fear, 
Thou  lily-liver'd  boy.     What  soldiers,  patch?' 
Death  of  thy  soul  !  those  linen  cheeks  of  thine 
Are  counsellors  to  fear.     What  soldiers,  whey-face? 

Serv.  The  English  force,  so  please  you. 

Macb.  Take  thy  face  hence. — [Exit  Serv.'\  Seyton  ! — 
I  am  sick  at  heart. 
When  I  behold — Seyton,  I  say  ! — This  push 
Will  chair^  me  ever,  or  disseat  me  now. 
I  have  liv'd  long  enough :  my  May^  of  life 
Is  falPn  into  the  sear,  the  yellow  leaf; 
And  that  which  should  accompany  old  age, 
As  honour,  love,  obedience,  troops  of  friends. 
I  must  not  look  to  have ;  but,  in  their  stead, 
Curses,  not  loud,  but  deep,  mouth-honour,  breath, 
Which  the  poor  heart  would  fain  deny,  and  dare  not. 
Seyton  !— 

Enter  Seyton. 

Sey.  What  is  your  gracious  pleasure  ? 

Macb.  What  news  more  ? 

Sey.  All  is  confirm'd,  my  lord,  which  was  reported. 

1  Fool.    2  Xot  in  f.  e.     ^  cheer  :  in  f.  e.    *  way  :  in  f.  e.    Johnson 
also  suggested  the  change. 

12* 


138  MACBETH.  ACT  V. 

Macb.  I  '11  fight,  till  from  my  "bones  my  flesh  be  hack'd, 
Give  me  my  armour. 

Sey.  'T  is  not  needed  yet. 

Macb.  I  '11  put  it  on. 
Send  out  more  horses,  skirr'  the  country  round  ; 
Hang  those  that  talk  of  fear.    Give  me  mine  armour. — 
How  does  your  patient,  doctor  ? 

Doct.  Not  so  sick,  my  lord, 

As  she  is  troubled  with  thick-coming  fancies, 
That  keep  her  from  her  rest.  ' 

Macb.  Cure  her  of  that. 

Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a  mind  diseas'd. 
Pluck  from  the  memory  a  rooted  sorrow, 
Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain. 
And  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote 
Cleanse  the  stufT'd  bo.<om  of  that  perilous  grief,'' 
Which  weighs  upon  the  heart? 

Doct.  Therein  the  patient 

Must  minister  unto  himself. 

Macb.  Throw  physic  to  the  dogs  ;  I  '11  none  of  it. — 
Come,  put  mine  armour  on  :  give  me  my  staff. — 
Seyton,  send  out. — Doctor,  the  thanes  fly  from  me. — 
Come,  sir,  despatch. — If  thou  couldst,  doctor,  cast 
The  water  of  my  land,  find  her  disease, 
And  purge  it  to  a  sound  and  pristine  health. 
I  would  applaud  thee  to  the  very  echo, 
That  should  applaud  again. — Pull 't  off,  I  say. — 
What  rhubarb,  senna',  or  what  purgative  drug. 
Would  scour  these  English  hence  ? — Hear'st  thou  of 
them  ? 

Doct.  Ay,  my  good  lord  :  your  royal  preparation 
Makes  us  hear  something. 

Macb.  Bring  it  after  me. — 

I  will  not  be  afraid  of  death  and  bane, 
Till  Birnam  forest  come  to  Dunsinane.  \Exit. 

Doct.  Were  I  from  Dunsinane  away  and  clear. 
Profit  again  should  hardly  draw  me  here.  [Exit. 

1  Scour.      2  stuff:  in   f.   e       3  cyme  :  in   folio.     Rowe  made   the 
change. 


SG.  V. 


MACBETH.  13^^^ 


SCENE   IV. — Country  near  Dvmsinaue :    a  "Wood  in 

view. 
Enter,  with  Drum  and  Colours,  Malcolm,  old  Siward, 

and  his  Son,  Macduff,  Menteth,  Cathness,  Angus, 

Lenox,  Rosse,  and  Soldiers  marching. 

Mai.  Cousins,  I  hope,  the  days  are  near  at  hand, 
That  chambers  will  be  safe. 

Ment.  We  doubt  it  nothing. 

Siw.  What  wood  is  this  before  us  ? 

Ment.  ■  The  wood  of  Birnam. 

Mai.  Let  every  soldier  hew  him  down  a  bough, 
And  bear  't  before,  him  :  thereby  shall  we  shadow 
The  numbers  of  our  host,  and  make  discovery 
Err  in  report  of  us. 

Sold.  It  shall  be  done. 

Siw.  We  learn  no  other  but  the  confident  tyrant 
Keeps  still  in  Dunsinane,  and  will  endure 
Our  setting  down  before  't. 

Mai.  'T  is  his  main  hope; 

For  where  there  is  advantage  to  be  gotten,^ 
Both  more^  and  less  have  given  him  the  revolt. 
And  none  servo  with  him  but  constrained  things. 
Whose  hearts  are  absent  too. 

Macd.  Let  our  just  censures 

Attend  the  true  event,  and  put  we  on 
Industrious  soldiership. 

Siw.  The  time  approaches, 

That  will  with  due  decision  make  us  know 
What  we  shall  say  we  have,  and  what  we  owe. 
Thoughts  speculative  their  unsure  hopes  relate, 
But  certain  issue  strokes  must  arbitrate ; 
Towards  which,  advance  the  war.   [Ejceunt,  marching. 

SCENE  v.— Dunsinane.     Within  the  Castle. 

E7der,  icith  Drums  and  Colours,  Macbeth,  Seyton, 
and  Soldiers. 
Macb.  Hang  out  our  banners  on  the  outward  walls; 
The  cry  is  still,  "  They  come  !"     Our  castle's  strength 
Will  laugh  a  siege  to  scorn  :  here  let  them  lie, 
Till  famine  and  the  ague  eat  them  up. 
Were  they  not  farc'd^  with  those  that  should  be  ours, 


•  given 


in  f.  e.      2  Greater.      ^  forc'd  :  in  f.  e. 


140  MACBETH. 


ACT  V. 


We  might  have  met  them  dareful,  beard  to  beard, 

[A  cry  within,  of  Women. 
And  beat  them  baekAvard  home.     What  is  tliat  noise  ? 

Sey.  It  is  the  cry  of  women,  my  good  lord.      [Exit} 

Mach.  I  liave  almost  forgot  the  taste  of  fear. 
The  time  has  been,  my  senses  would  have  quail'd* 
To  hear  a  night-shriek;  and  my  felP  of  hair 
Would  at  a  dismal  treatise  rouse,  and  stir, 
As  life  were  in  "t.     I  have  supp'd  full  with  horrors  : 
Direness,  familiar  to  my  slaugliterous  thoughts, 
Cannot  once  start  me. — 

Re-enter  Seyton.* 

Wherefore  was  that  cry  ? 

Sey.  The  queen,  my  lord,  is  dead. 

Mach.  She  should  have  died  hereafter  : 
There  would  have  been  a  time  for  such  a  word. — 
To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 
Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day, 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time  : 
And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 
The  way  to  dusty  deatii.     Out,  out,  brief  candle ! 
Life  's  but  a  walking  shadow  ;  a  poor  player, 
That  struts  and  frets  his  hour  upon  the  stage, 
And  then  is  heard  no  more  :  it  is  a  tale 
Told  by  an  idiot,  full  of  sound  and  fury, 
Signifying  nothing. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 
Thou  com'st  to  use  thy  tongue ;  thy  stor}',  quickly. 

Mess.  Gracious  my  lord. 
I  should  report  that  which  I  say  I  saw, 
But  know  not  how  to  do"t. 

Mach.  Well,  say.  sir. 

Mess.  As  I  did  stand  my  watch  upon  the  hill, 
I  look'd  toward  Birnam,  and  anon,  methought, 
The  wood  began  to  move. 

Marh.  Liar,  and  slave  ! 

il/c.95.  Let  me  endure  your  wrath,  if  "t  be  not  so. 
Within  this  three  mile  may  you  see  it  coining ; 
I  say,  a  moving  grove. 

Mach.  If  thou  speak'st  false, 

Upon  the  next  tree  shalt  thou  hang  alive. 
Till  famine  cling  thee  :  if  thy  speech  be  sooth, 
I  care  not  if  thou  dost  for  me  as  much. — 

1  Not  in  f.  e.      =  cool'd  :  in  f.  e.    a  Skin.    *  Not  in  f.  e. 


SC,  VII.  MACBETH.  141 

I  pull  in  resolution  ;  and  begin 

To  doubt  th'  equivocation  of  the  tiend. 

That  lies  like  truth  :  "  Fear  not,  till  Birnam  Avood 

Do  come  to  Duiif^inane  :"" — and  now  a  wood 

Comes  toward  Dunsinane. — Arm,  arm,  and  out  ! — 

If  this,  which  he  avouches,  does  appear, 

There  is  nor  flying  hence,  nor  tarrying  here. 

I  'gin  to  be  a-weary  of  the  sun. 

And  A^ish  th"  estate  o'  the  world  were  now  undone. — 

Ring  the  alarum  bell ! — Blow,  -w-ind  I  come,  A\Tack  ! 

At  least  we  '11  die  with  harness  on  our  back.    [Exeunt. 

SCENE  VI.— The  Same.     A  Plain  before  the  Castle. 
Enter,  with  Drums  mid  Colours^  Malcolm,  old  Siward, 
Macduff,  tfc.  and  their  Army  with  Boughs. 
Mai.  Now  near  enough  :  your  leafy  screens  throw 
doA\ni, 
And  show  like  those  you  are. — You,  worthy  uncle, 
Shall,  with  my  cousin,  your  right-noble  son, 
Lead  our  first  battle :  worthy  Macduff,  and  we, 
Shall  take  upon's  what  else  remains  to  do, 
According  to  our  order. 

Siiv.  Fare  y'ou  well. — 

Do  we  but  find  the  tyrant's  power  to-night, 
Let  us  be  beaten,  if  we  cannot  fight. 

Macd.  Make  all  our  trumpets  speak  ;  give  them  all 
breath. 
Those  clamorous  harbingers  of  blood  and  death. 

[Exeunt.   Alarums  continued. 

SCENE  VII.— The  Same.     Another  Part  of  the  Plain. 
Enter  Macbeth. 
Macb.  They  have  tied  me  to  a  stake :  I  cannot  fly, 
But,  bear-like,  I  must  fight  the  course. — What 's  he, 
That  was  not  born  of  woman  ?     Such  a  one 
Am  I  to  fear,  or  none. 

Enter  young  Siward. 
Yo.  Siw.  What  is  thy  name  ? 

Macb.  Thou  'It  be  afraid  to  hear  it. 

Yo.  Siw.  No  :  though  thou  call'st  thyself  a  hotter 
name. 
Than  any  is  in  hell. 

Macb.  My  name's  Macbeth. 

Yo.  Siw.  The  devil  himself  could  not  pronounce  a  title 


142  MACBETH.  ACT  V. 

More  hateful  to  mine  ear. 

Macb.    .  No,  nor  more  fearful. 

Yo.  Sill).  Thou  liest.  abhorred  tyrant :  with  my  sword 
I  '11  prove  the  lie  thou  speak'st. 

[They  fight,  and  yonmg  Siward  is  slain. 

Macb.  Thou  wast  born  of  woman  : — 

But  swords  I  smile  at,  "weapons  laugh  to  scorn, 
Brandish'd  by  man  that's  of  a  woman  born.        [Exit. 
Alarums.     Enter  Macduff. 

Macd.  That  way  the  noise  is. — Tyrant,  show  thy  face  ! 
If  thou  be  slain,  and  with  no  stroke  of  mine, 
My  wife  and  children's  ghosts  will  haunt  me  still. 
I  cannot  strike  at  •wTetched  kernes,  whose  arms 
Are  hir'd  to  bear  their  staves  :  either  thou,  Macbeth, 
Or  else  my  sword,  with  an  unbatter'd  edge, 
I  sheathe  again  undeeded.     There  thou  shouldst  be  : 
By  this  great  clatter,  one  of  greatest  note 
Seems  bruited.     Let  me  find  him,  fortune. 
And  more  I  beg  not.  [E.xit.     Alarum. 

Enter  Malcolm  and  old  Siward. 

Sm.This  way,  my  lord. — The  castle 's  gently  render'd: 
The  tyrant  "s  people  on  both  sides  do  fight ; 
The  noble  thanes  do  bravely  in  tlie  war. 
The  day  almost  itself  professes  yours, 
And  little  is  to  do. 

Mai.  We  have  met  with  foes 

That  strike  beside  us. 

Siw.  Enter,  sir,  the  castle.   [Exeunt.  Alarum. 

Re-enter  Macbeth. 

Macb.  Why  should  I  play  the  Roman  fool,  and  die 
On  mine  own  sword  ?  whiles  I  see  lives,  the  gashes 
Do  better  upon  them. 

Re-enter  Macduff. 

Macd.  Turn,  hell-hound,  turn. 

Macb.  Of  all  men  else  I  have  avoided  thee : 
But  get  thee  back  ;  my  soul  is  too  much  charg'd 
With  blood  of  thine  already. 

Macd.  I  have  no  words  ; 

My  voice  is  in  my  sword  :  thou  bloodier  villain 
Than  terms  can  give  thee  out  !  [They  fight. 

Macb.  Thou  losest  labour. 

As  easy  may'st  thou  the  intrenchant  air 
With  thy  keen  sword  impress,  as  make  me  bleed  : 
Let  fall  thy  blade  on  vulnerable  crests ; 


SC.  VII.  MACBETH.  143 

1  bear  a  charmed  life,  which  must  not  yield 
To  one  of  woman  born. 

Macd.  Despair  thy  charm  ; 

And  let  the  angel,  whom  thou  still  hast  scrv'd, 
Tell  thee.  Macduff  was  from  his  mother's  womb 
Untimely  ripp'd. 

Macb.  Accursed  be  that  tongue  that  tells  me  so, 
For  it  hath  cow'd  my  better  part  of  man  : 
And  be  these  juggling  fiends  no  more  believ'd, 
That  palter  with  us  in  a  double  sense  ; 
That  keep  the  word  of  promise  to  our  ear, 
And  break  it  to  our  hope. — T  "11  not  fight  with  thee 

Macd.  Then,  yield  thee,  coward, 
And  live  to  be  the  show  and  gaze  o'  the  time: 
We  '11  have  thee,  as  our  rarer  monsters  are, 
Painted  upon  a  pole,  and  underwrit, 
"  Here  may  you  see  the  tyrant." 

Mach.  1  will  not  yield, 

To  kiss  the  ground  before  young  Malcolm's  feet, 
And  to  be  baited  with  the  rabble's  curse. 
Though  Birnam  wood  be  come  to  Dunsinane, 
And  thou  oppos'd  be  of  no  woman  born, 
Yet  I  will  try  the  last.     Before  my  body 
I  throw  my  warlike  shield  :  lay  on,  Macdufl^, 
And  damn'd  be  he  that  first  cries,  "  Hold,  enough  !" 

[Exeunt.,  fighting. 
Retreat.     Flourish.     Re-enter,  with  Drum  and  Colours. 
Malcolm,  old  Siward.  Rosse.  Thanes^  and  Soldiers. 

Mai.  I  would,  the  friends  we  miss  were  safe  arriv'd. 

Siiv.  Some  must  go  off;  and  yet,  by  these  I  see, 
So  great  a  day  as  this  is  cheaply  bought. 

3Ial.  Macduff  is  missing,  and  your  noble  son. 

Rosse.  Your  son,  my  lord,  has  paid  a  soldier's  debt  : 
He  only  liv'd  but  till  he  was  a  man. 
The  which  no  sooner  had  his  prowess  confirm'd 
In  the  unshrinking  station  where  he  fought. 
But  like  a  man  he  died. 

Siiv.  Then  he  is  dead  ? 

Rosse.  Ay,  and  brought  off  the  field.     Your  cause  of 
sorrow 
Must  not  be  measur'd  by  his  worth,  for  then 
It  hath  no  end. 

Siw.  Had  he  his  hurts  before  ? 

Rosse.  Ay,  on  the  front. 


144  MACBETH,  ACT.  V. 

Siw.  Why  then,  God's  soldier  be  he. 

Had  I  as  many  sons  as  I  have  hairs, 
I  would  not  wish  them  to  a  fairer  death  : 
And  so,  his  knell  is  knoll' d. 

Mai.  He 's  worth  more  sorrow, 

And  that  I  '11  spend  for  him. 

Siw.  He  's  worth  no  more : 

They  say.  he  parted  well,  and  paid  his  score. 
And  God  be  with  him ! — Here  comes  newer  comfort. 
Re-enter  Macduff,  with  Macbeth's  Head,  on  a  Pike. 

Macd.  Hail,  king  !  for  so  thou  art.     Behold,  where 
stands  [Sticking  the  Pike  in  the  ground.^ 

The  usurper's  cursed  head  :  the  time  is  free. 
I  see  thee  compass'd  with  thy  kingdom's  pearl. 
That  speak  my  salutation  in  their  minds  j 
Whose  voices  I  desire  aloud  with  mine, — 
Hail,  king  of  Scotland  ! 

All.  Hail,  king  of  Scotland  !   [Flourish. 

Mai.  We  shall  not  spend  a  large  expense  of  time, 
Before  we  reckon  with  our  several  loves, 
And  make  us  even  with  you.     My  thanes  and  kinsmen, 
Henceforth  be  earls ;  the  first  that  ever  Scotland 
Tn  such  an  honour  nam'd.     What 's  more  to  do. 
Which  would  be  planted  newly  with  the  time, — 
As  calling  home  our  exil'd  friends  abroad, 
That  fled  the  snares  of  watchful  tyranny  ; 
Producing  forth  the  cruel  ministers 
Of  tliis  dead  butcher,  and  his  fiend-like  queen. 
Who,  as  't  is  thought,  by  self  and  violent  hands 
Took  off  her  life  ; — this,  and  what  needful  else 
That  calls  upon  us,  by  the  grace  of  Grace, 
We  will  perform  in  measure,  time,  and  place. 
So,  thanks  to  all  at  once,  and  to  each  one. 
Whom  we  invite  to  see  us  crown' d  at  Scone. 

[Flourish.     Exeunt. 

J  Not  in  f.  e. 


HAMLET. 


Vol.  VII —13 


The  Tragieall  Historie  of  Hamlet  Prince  of  Denmarke  By 
Williiim  Shake-speare.  As  it  hath  beeiie  diuerse  times 
acted  by  his  Highnesse  serunnts  iu  the  Cittie  of  London: 
as  also  in  the  \,vro  Vniuersities  of  Cambridge  and  Oxford, 
and  else-wheve.  At  London  printed  for  N.  L.  and  lohn 
Trundell.     1603.    4to.     3S  leaves. 

The  Tragical!  Historie  of  Hamlet,  Prince  of  Denmarke.  By 
"William  Shakespeare.  Newly  imprinted  and  enlarged  to 
almost  as  much  againe  as  it  was,  according  to  the  true  and 
perfect  Coppie.  At  London,  Printed  by  L  E.  for  N.  L.  and 
are  to  be  sold  at  his  shoppe  vuder  Saint  Dunstons  Church 
in  Fleetstreet.     1604.    4to.     51  leaves. 

The  title-page  of  the  edition  of  1605  does  not  differ  iu  the 
most  minute  pariicnlar  from  that  of  1604. 

The  Tragedy  of  Hamlet  Prince  of  Denmarke.  By  "William 
Shakespeare.  Newly  imprinted  and  enlarged  to  almost  ns 
much  againe  as  it  was,  according  to  the  true  and  perfect 
Coppy.  At  London,  Printed  for  lohn  Smethwicke  and  are 
to  be  sold  at  his  shoppe  in  Saint  Dunstons  Church  yeard  in 
Fleetstreet.     Vnder  the  Diall.     1611.    4to.     51  leaves. 

The  Tragedy  of  Hamlet  Prince  of  Denmarke.  Newly  Im- 
printed and  inlarged,  according  to  the  true  and  perfect 
Copy  lastly  Printed.  By  William  Shakespeare.  London, 
Printed  by  W.  S.  for  lohn  Smethwicke,  and  are  to  be  sold 
at  his  Shop  in  Saint  Dunstans  Church-yard  in  Fleetstreet : 
Vnder  the  Diall.    4to.    51  leaves. 

This  undated  edition  was  probably  printed  in  1607,  as  it  was 
entered  at  Stationers'  Hall  on  Nov.  19,  in  that  year.  An 
impression,  by  K.  Young,  in  4to,  1637,  has  also  John  Smeth- 
wicke at  the  bottom  of  the  title-page. 

In  the  folio  of  1623,  "  The  Tragedie  of  Hamlet,  Prince  of 
Denmarke,"  occupies  thirty-one  pages,  in  the  division  of 
"Tragedies;"  viz.  from  p.  152  to  p.  280,  inclusive,  there 
being  a  mistake  of  100  pages  between  p.  156  and  what 
ought  to  have  been  p.  157. 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  story  upon  whicli,  there  is  reason  to  believe,  Shalcespeara 
founded  his  tratredy  of  "  naiiilet,"  lias  recently  been  reprinted, 
from  the  only  kno'.vn  perfect  Copy^,  as  part  of  a  worK  called 
"Shakespeare's  Library;"  and  there  is,  perhaps,  n'lthing 
more  rem-irkable  than  the  manner  in  which  our  trreat  drama- 
tist wrought  these  barbarous,  uncouth,  and  scanty  materials 
into  the  magrniticent  structure  he  left  behind  him.  A  com- 
parison of  "  The  Ilistorie  of  Hamblet,"  as  it  was  translated  at 
an  early  date  from  the  French  of  Belleforest-,  with  "The 
Tragedy  of  Hamlet,"  is  calculated  to  give  us  the  most  exalted 
notion  of,  and  profound  reverence  for,  the  genius  of  Shake- 
Bpeare  :  his  vast  superioritv  to  Green  and  Lodge  was  obvious 
in  "The  Winter's  Tale,""and  "As  You  Like  It;"  but  the 
novels  of  "  Fandosto  "  and  "  Rosalynde,"  as  narratives,  were 
perhaps  as  far  above  "The  Historic  of  Hamblet,"  as  "The 
Winter's  Tale  "  and  "As  You  Like  It  "  were  above  the  origi- 
nals from  which  their  main  incidents  were  derived.  Nothing, 
in  point  of  fict,  can  be  much  more  worthless,  in  story  and 
Style,  than  the  production  to  wliich  it  is  supposed  Shakespeare 
was  indebted  for  the  foundation  of  his  "  Hamlet." 

There  is,  however,  some  ground  for  thinkinsr,  that  a  lost 
play  upon  similar  incidents  preceded  the  work  of  Shake- 
speare :  how  far  that  lost  play  might  be  an  improvement  upon 
the  old  translated  "  Historic  "  we  have  no  means  of  deciding, 
nor  to  what  extent  Shakespeare  availed  himself  of  such  im- 
provement. A  drama,  of  which  Hamlet  was  the  hero,  was 
certainly  in  being  prior  to  the  year  1587,  (in  all  probability 
too  early  a  date  for  Shakespeare  to  have  been  the  writer  of  it) 
for  we  iind  it  thus  alluded  to  by  Thomas  Nash,  in  his  pre- 
liminary  epistle  to  the  "  Meuaphon "  of  Eobert    Greene, 

1  Dr.  Farmer  had  an  imperfect  copy  of  it,  but  it  is  preserved  entire 
among  Capell's  books  in  the  library  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge, 
and  was  printed  in  IGOS,  by  Richard  Bradooke.  for  Thomas  Pavier. 
"  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  it  had  originally  come  from  the  press 
considerably  before  the  coinmencement  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
although  the  multiplicity  of  readers  of  productions  of  the  kind,  and 
the  carelessness  with  which  such  books  were  regarded  after  perusal, 
has  led  to  the  destruction,  as  far  as  can  now  be  ascertained,  of  every 
-earlier  copy.-' — Introduction  to  Part  IV.  of  "  Shakespeare's  Library.'' 

2  Belleforest  derived  his  knowledge  of  the  incidents  from  the  History 
of  Denmark,  by  Saxo  Graramaticus,  first  printed  in  loli. 


148  INTRODUCTION. 

publibhed  in  that  year^ : — "  Yet  Englisli  Seneca,  read  by 
candle-light,  yeelds  many  good  sentences,  as  blood  is  a  beggar, 
and  so  forth ;  and  if  you  entreat  him  fair  in  a  frosty  morning, 
he  will  afford  you  whole  Hamlets,  I  should  say  handfuls,  of 
tragical  speeches."  The  writer  is  referring  to  play-poets  and 
their  productions  at  that  period,  and  he  seems  to  have  gone 
out  of  his  way,  in  order  to  introduce  the  very  name  of  the 
performance  against  which  he  was  directing  ridicule.  Another 
piece  of  evidence,  to  the  same  effect,  but  of  a  more  question- 
able kind,  is  to  be  found  in  Henslowe's  Diary,  under  the  date 
of  June  9th,  1594,  when  a  "  Hamlet  "  was  represented  at  the 
theatre  at  Newington  Butts  :  that  it  was  then  an  old  play  is 
ascertained  from  the  absence  of  the  mark,  which  the  old 
manager  usually  prefixed  to  first  performances,  and  from  the 
fact  that  his  share  of  the  receipts  was  only  nine  shillings.  At 
that  date,  however,  the  company  to  which  Shakespeare  be- 
longed was  in  joint  occupation  of  the  same  theatre,  and  it  is 
certainly  possible,  though  improbable,  that  the  drama  repre- 
sented on  June  9th,  1594,  was  Shakespeare's  "  Hamlet." 

We  feel  confident,  however,  that  the  "  Hamlet  "  which  has 
come  down  to  us  in  at  least  six  quarto  impressions,  in  the 
folio  of  1623,  and  in  the  later  impressions  in  that  form,  was 
not  wi-itten  until  the  winter  of  1601,  or  the  spring  of  1602. 

Malone,  Steevens,  and  the  other  commentators,  were  ac- 
quainted with  no  edition  of  the  tragedy  anterior  to  the  quarto 
of  1604,  which  professes  to  be  "  enlarged  to  almost  as  much 
again  as  it  was  :"  they,  therefore,  reasonably  suspected  that 
it  had  been  printed  before  ;  and  within  the  last  twenty  years 
a  single  copy  of  an  edition  in  1603  has  been  discovered.  This, 
in  fact,  seems  to  have  been  the  abbreviated  and  imperfect 
edition,  consisting  of  only  about  half  as  much  as  the  impres- 
sion of  1604.  It  belongs  to  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and,  by 
the  favour  of  his  Grace,  is-now  before  us.  Frotn  whose  press 
it  came  we  have  no  information,  but  it  professed  to  be 
"  printed  for  N.  L.  and  lohn  Trundell."  The  edition  of  the 
following  year  was  printed  by  I.  R.  for  N.  L.  only ;  and  wliy 
Trundell  ceased  to  have  any  interest  in  the  publication  we 
know  not.  N.  L.  was  Nicholas  Ling  ;  and  I.  K.,  the  printer 
of  the  edition  of  1604,  was,  no  doubt,  James  Koberts,  who, 
two  years  before,  had  made  the  following  entry  in  the 
Registers  of  tlie  Stationers'  Company  : — 

"  26  July  1602. 
James  Eoberts]  A  booke.  The  Revenge  of  Hamlett  prince 

of  Denmarke,  as  yt  was  latelie  acted  by  the  Lord 

Chamborlayn  his  servantes." 
"  The  words,  "  as  it  was  lately  acted,"  are  important  upon 
the  question  of  date,  and  the  entry  fiirtljer  proves,  that  the 
tragedy  had  been  performed  by  the  company  to  which  Shake- 

3  We  give  the  date  of  1537  on  the  excellent  authority  of  the  Rev. 
A.  Dyce,  (Greene's  Works,  vol.  i.  pp.  xxxvii.  and  ciii.)  We  have 
never  been  able  to  meet  with  any  impression  earlier  than  that  of 
1589.  Sir  Egerton  Brydges  reprinted  the  tract  from  the  edition  of 
1616,  (when  its  name  had  been  changed  to  "  Green's  Arcadia")  in 
"  Axchaica,"'  vol.  i. 


INTRODUCTIOX.  149 

Bpeare  belonged.  In  the  sprin^of  1603  "  the  Lord  Chamber- 
lain's servants"  became  the  King's  players;  and  on  the 
title-page  of  the  quarto  of  1603  it  is  asserted  that  it  liad  beeu 
acted  "by  his  Highness'  servants."  On  the  title-page  of  the 
quarto  of  1604  we  are  not  informed  that  the  tragedy  had  been 
acted  by  any  company. 

Thus' we  see,  tliat  in  July,  1602,  there  was  an  intention  to 
print  and  publish  a  play  called  "The  Kevenge  of  Hamlet, 
Prince  of  Denmark;"  and  this  intention,  we  may  fairly  con- 
clude, arose  out  of  the  popularity  of  the  piece,  as  it  was  then 
acted  by  "  the  Lord  Char.iberlain's  servants,"  who,  in  May 
following,  obtained  the  title  of  "  the  King's  players."  The 
object  of  Roberts  in  making  the  entry  already  quoted,  was 
to  secure  it  to  himself,  being,  no  doubt,  aware  that  other 
printers  and  booksellers  would  endeavor  to  anticipate  him. 
It  seems  probable,  that  he  was  unable  to  obtain  such  a  copy 
of  "  Hamlet"  as  he  would  put  his  name  to  ;  but  some  inferior 
and  nameless  printer,  who  was  not  so  scrupulous,  liaving 
surreptitiously  secured  a  manuscript  of  the  play,  however 
imperfect,  which  would  answer  the  purpose,  ana  gratify  public 
curiosity,  the  edition  bearing  date  in  lt^03  was  published. 
Such,  we  have  little  doubt,  was  the  origin  of  the  impression 
of  which  only  a  single  copy  has  reached  our  day,  and  of  which, 
probably,  but  a  few  were  sold,  as  its  worthlessness  was  soon 
discovered,  and  it  was  quickly  entirely  superseded  by  the 
enlarged  impression  of  1604. 

As  an  accurate  reprint  was  made  in  1825  of  "  The  Tragicall 
Historie  of  Hamlet  Prince  of  Denmarke,"  1603,  it  will  be 
unnecessary  to  go  in  detail  into  proofs  to  establish,  as  -we 
could  do  without  much  difficulty,  the  following  points : — 
1.  That  great  part  of  the  play,  as  it  there  stands,  was  taken 
down  in  short-hand.  2.  That  wliere  mechanical  skill  failed 
the  short-hand  writer,  he  either  filled  up  the  blanks  from 
memory,  or  employed  an  inferior  writer  to  assist  him.  3.  That 
although  some  of  the  scenes  were  carelessly  transposed,  and 
others  entirely  omitted,  in  the  edition  of  1603,  the  drama,  as 
it  was  acted  while  the  short-hand  writer  was  employed  in 
taking  it  down,  was,  in  all  its  main  features,  the  same  as  the 
more  perfect  copy  of  the  tragedy  printed  with  the  date  of 
1604.  It  is  true,  t'hat  in  the  edition  of  1 603,  Polonius  is  called 
Corambis.  and  his  servant,  Montano,  and  we  may  not  he  able 
to  determine  why  tliese  changes  were  made  in  the  injniedi- 
ately  subsequent  impression  ;  but  we  may  perhaps  conjecture 
that  they  were  names  in  the  older  play  on  the  same  story, 
or  names  which  Shakespeare  at  first  introduced,  and  subse- 
quently thought  fit  to  reject.  We  know  that  Ben  Jonson 
changed  the  whole  dramatis  jiersonce  of  his  "  Every  Man  in 
bis  Humour." 

But  although  we  entirely  reject  the  quarto  of  1603,  as  an 
authentic  "  Hamlet,"  it  is  of  high  value  in  enabhng  us  to 
settle  the  text  of  various  important  passages.  It  proves, 
besides,  that  certain  portions  of  the  play,  as  it  appears  in  the 
folio  of  1623,  which  do  not  form  part  of  the  quarto  ot  1604, 
were  originally  acted,  and  were  not,  as  has  been  hitherto 

13* 


1 50  INTRODUCTION. 

imagined,  subsequent  introductions.  "We  have  pointed  out 
these  and  other  peculiarities  so  fully  in  our  notes,  that  we 
need  not  dwell  upon  them  here;  but  we  may  mention,  that 
in  Act  iii.  sc.  4,  the  quarto  of  1603  explains'a  curious  point 
of  stage-business,  which  puzzled  all  the  commentators.  Just 
as  the  Ghost  is  departing  from  the  Queen's  closet,  Hamlet 
exclaims, 

'•  Look,  how  it  steals  away  ! 
My  father,  in  his  habit  as  he  lived  !" 

Malone,  Steevens,  and  Monck  Mason  argue  the  question 
•whether  in  this  scene,  the  Ghost,  as  in  former  scenes,  ought 
to  wear  armour,  or  to  be  dressed  in  "  his  own  familiar  habit ;" 
and  they  conclude,  either  that  Shakespeare  had  "forgotten 
himself,"  or  had  meant  "to  vary  the  dress  of  the  Ghost  at 
this  his  last  appearance."  The  quarto  of  1603,  shows  exactly 
how  the  poet's  intention  was  carried  into  effect,  for  there  we 
meet  with  the  stage-direction,  "  Enter  the  Giiost  in  his  nijrht- 
gown  ;"  and  such  was  unquestionably  the  appearance  of  the 
performer  of  the  part  when  the  short-hantl  writer  saw  the 
tragedy,  with  a  view  to  the  speedy  publication  of  a  fraudulent 
impression.  "My  father,  in  i^shabit  as  he  lived,"  are  the 
words  he  recorded  from  the  mouth  of  the  actor  of  Hamlet. 

The  impression  of  1604  being  intendeil  to  supersede  that 
of  1603,  which  gave  a  most  mangled  and  imperfect  notion  of 
the  drama  in  its  true  state,  we  may  perhaps  presume  that  the 
quarto  of  1604  was,  at  least,  as  authentic  a  copy  of  "  Hamlet " 
as  the  editions  of  any  of  Shakespeare's  plays  that  came  from 
the  press  during  his  lifetime.  It  contains  various  passacjes, 
some  of  them  of  great  importance  to  the  conduct  and  character 
of  the  hero,  not  to  be  found  in  the  folio  of  1623;  while  the 
folio  includes  other  passages  which  are  left  out  in  the  quarto 
of  1604  ;  although,  as  before  remarked,  we  have  the  evidence 
of  the  quarto  of  1603,  that  they  were  originally  acted.  The 
different  quarto  impressions  were  printed  from  each  other ; 
and  even  that  of  1637,  though  it  makes  some  verbal  changes, 
contains  no  distinct  indication  that  the  printer  liad  resorted 
to  the  folios. 

The  three  later  folios,  in  this  instance  as  in  others,  were 
printed  from  the  immediately  preceding  edition  in  the  same 
form  ;  but  we  are  inclined  to' think,  that  if  "  Hamlet,"  in  the 
folio  of  1623,  were  not  composed  from  some  now  unknown 
quarto,  it  was  derived  from  a  manuscript  obtained  by  Hem- 
inge  and  Condell  from  the  theatre.  Tlie  Acts  and  Scenes 
are,  however,  marked  only  in  the  first  and  second  Acts,  after 
which  no  divisions  of  the  kind  are  noticed  ;  and  where  Act  iii. 
commences  is  merely  matter  of  modern  conjecture.  Some 
large  portions  of  the  play  appear  to  have  been  omitted  for 
the  sake  of  shortening  the  performance  ;  and  any  editor  who 
should  content  himself  with  reprinting  the  folio,  without  large 
additions  from  the  quartos,  wonld  present  but  an  imperfect 
notion  of  the  drama  as  it  came  from  the  hand  of  the  poet. 
The  text  of  "Hamlet"  is,  in  fact,  only  to  be  obtained  from 
a  comparison  of  the  editions  in  quarto  and  folio,  but  the  mis- 
prints in  the  latter  are  quite  as  numerous  and  glaring  as  in 


INTRODUCTION.  151 

the  former.  In  various  instances  we  have  been  ahle  to  correct 
the  one  by  the  other,  and  it  is  in  this  respect  chiefly  that  the 
quarto  of  1603  is  of  intrinsic  vahie. 

Coleridge,  after  vindicating  himself  from  the  accusation 
that  he  liad  derived  his  ideas  of  Hamlet  from  Schlegel,  (and 
we  heard  him  broach  them  some  years  before  the  Lectures, 
Ueber  Dramatische  Kunst  nni  Litteratiir,  were  publislied,) 
thus,  in  a  few  sentences,  sums  up  the  character  of  Hamlet: — 
"  In  Hamlet,  Shakespeare  seems  to  have  wished  to  exemplify 
the  moral  necessity  of  a  due  balance  between  our  attention 
to  the  objects  of  our  senses,  and  our  meditation  on  the  work- 
ings of  our  mind,  —  an  equiUhrium  between  the  real  and 
the  imaginary  worlds.  In  Hamlet  this  balance  is  disturbed  ; 
his  thoughts  and  the  images  of  his  fancy  are  far  more  vivid 
than  his  actual  perceptions ;  and  his  very  perceptions,  in- 
stantly passing  througn  the  medium  of  his  contemplations, 
acquire,  as  they  pass,  a  form  and  a  color  not  naturally  their 
own.  Hence  we  see  a  great,  an  almost  enormous,  intellectual 
activity,  and  a  proportionate  aversion  to  real  action  conse- 
quent upon  it,  witli  all  its  symptoms  and  accompanying 
qualities.  This  character  Shakespeare  places  in  circumstances 
under  which  it  is  obliged  to  act  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 
Hamlet  is  brave,  and  careless  of  death ;  but  he  vacillates 
from  sensibility,  and  procrastinates  from  thought,  and  loses 
the  power  of  action  in  the  energy  of  resolve."  (Lit.  Eem. 
vol.  ii.  p.  205.) 

It  has  generally  been  supposed  that  Joseph  Taylor  was 
the  original  actor  of  Hamlet — and  Wright,  iu  his  "Historia 
Histrionica,"  1699,  certainly  speaks  of  him  as  having  per- 
formed the  part.  This,  however,  must  have  been  after  the 
death  of  Richard  Burbage,  which  happened  precisely  eighty 
years  before  Wright  published  his  tract.  We  know,  from 
the  manuscript  Elegy  upon  Burbage,  sold  among  Heber's 
books,  that  he  was  the  earliest  representative  of  Hamlet ; 
and  there  the  circumstance  of  his  being  "  fit  and  scant  of 
breath,"  in  the  fencing  scene,  is  noticed  in  the  very  words 
of  Shakespeare.  Taylor  did  not  belong  to  the  company  for 
which  Shakspeare  wrote  at  the  date  when  "Hamlet"  was 
produced. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONS. 

Claudius,  King  of  Denmark. 

Hamlet,  Sou  to  the  former,  and  Nephew  to  the 

present  King. 
Horatio,  Friend  to  Hamlet. 
PoLONiis,  Lord  Chamberlain. 
Laertes,  his  Son. 
foltimand, 
Cornelius, 
rosencrantz, 


Courtiers. 


Guildenstern, 
OsRicK,  a  Courtier. 
Another  Courtier. 
A  Priest. 

MaRCELLUS,        )  ^a^ 

Bernardo,       \Offioers. 
Francisco,  a  Soldier. 
Reynaldo,  Servant  to  Polonius. 
A  Captain.     Ambassadors. 
Ghost  of  Hamlet's  Father. 
FoRTiNBRAS,  Priuce  of  Norway. 
Two  Clowns,  Grave-diggers. 

Gertrude,  Queen  of  Denmark,  and   Mother  to 

Hamlet. 
Ophelia,  Daughter  to  Polonius. 

Lords.    Ladies,    Officers,     Soldiers,     Players,     Sailors, 
Messengers,  and  Attendants. 

SCENE,  Elsinore. 


HAMLET, 

PRINCE    OF    DENMARK. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.— Elsinore.     A  Platform  before  the  Castle. 
Francisco  on  his  Post.     Enter  to  him  Bernardo. 

Ber.  Who  's  there  ? 

Fran.  Nay,  answer  me  :  stand,  and  unfold 

Yourself. 

Ber.  Long  live  the  king  ! 

Fran.  Bernardo  ? 

Ber.  He. 

Fran.  You  come  most  carefully  upon  your  hour. 

Ber.  'T  is  new'  struck  twelve  :  get  thee  to  bed,  Fran- 
cisco. 

Fran.  For  this  relief  much  thanks.     'T  is  bitter  cold, 
And  I  am  sick  at  heart. 

Ber.  Have  you  had  quiet  guard  ? 

Fran.  Not  a  mouse  stirring. 

Ber.  Well,  good  night. 
If  you  do  meet  Horatio  and  Marcellus, 
The  rivals^  of  my  watch,  bid  them  make  haste. 
Enter  Horatio  and  Marcellus. 

Fran.  I  think  I  hear  them. — Stand,  ho  !  Who  is  there? 

Hor.  Friends  to  this  ground. 

Mar.  And  liegemen  to  the  Dane. 

Fran.  Give  you  good  night. 

Mar.  0  !  farewell,  honest  soldier  : 

Who  hath  reliev'd  you  ? 

Fran.  Bernardo  has  my  place. 

Give  you  good  night.  [Exit  Francisco. 

Mar.  Holla  !  Bernardo  ! 

Ber.  Say. 

1  now :  in  f.  e.      2  Companions. 


154  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

What !  is  Horatio  there  ? 

Hor.  A  piece  of  him. 

Ber.  "Welcome.  Horatio  :  welcome,  good  Marcelius. 

Hor}  What,  has  tliis  thing  appeared  again  to-night  ? 

Ber.  I  have  seen  nothing. 

Mar.  Horatio  says,  "t  is  but  our  fantasy, 
And  will  not  let  belief  take  hold  of  him, 
Touching  this  dreaded  sight  twice  seen  of  us  : 
Therefore.  I  have  entreated  him  along 
With  us,  to  watch  the  minutes  of  this  night ; 
That,  if  again  this  apparition  come, 
He  may  approve  our  eyes,  and  speak  to  it. 

Hor.  Tush,  tush  !  't  will  not  appear. 

Ber.  Sit  down  awhile ; 

And  let  us  once  again  assail  your  ears, 
That  are  so  fortified  against  our  story, 
What  we  two  nights  have  seen. 

Hor.  Well,  sit  we  down, 

And  let  us  hear  Bernardo  speak  of  this. 

Ber.  Last  night  of  all, 
When  yond'  same  star,  that 's  westward  from  the  pole, 
Had  made  his  course  t"  illume  that  part  of  heaven 
Where  now  it  burns.  Marcelius,  and  myself, 
The  bell  then  beating  one. — 

Mar.  Peace  !  break  thee  off:  look,  where  it  comes 
again  ! 

Enter  Ghost,  armed.^ 

Ber.  In  the  same  figure,  like  the  king  that 's  dead. 

Mar.  Thou  art  a  scholar  ;  speak  to  it.  Horatio. 

Ber.  Looks  it  not  like  the  king  ?  mark  it,  Horatio. 

Hor.    Most   like : — it   harrows    me  with  fear,  and 
wonder. 

Ber.  It  would  be  spoke  to. 

Mar.  Question  it,  Horatio. 

Hor.  "\Miat  art  thou,  that  usurp"st  this  time  of  night, 
Together  with  that  fair  and  warlike  form. 
In  which  the  majesty  of  buried  Denmark 
Did  sometimes  march  ?  by  heaven  I  charge  thee,  speak ! 

Mar.  It  is  offended. 

Ber.  Se«  !  it  stalks  away. 

Hcyr.  Stay !  speak,  speak  !  I  charge  thee,  speak  ! 

{Exit  Ghost. 

1  Marcelius:  in  q^uarto,  1603,  and  folio.      =  This  -word  is  not  added 
in  f.  e. 


BG.  I.  PRINCE    OF   DENMARK.  155 

Mar.  'T  is  gone,  and  will  not  answer. 

Ber.  How  now,  Horatio  !  you  tremble,  and  look  pale. 
Is  not  this  something  more  than  fantasy  ? 
What  think  you  on  't  ? 

Hor.  Before  my  God,  I  might  not  this  believe, 
Without  the  sensible  and  true  avouch 
Of  mine  own  eyes. 

3Iar.  Is  it  not  like  the  king  ? 

Hor.  As  thou  art  to  thyself. 
Such  was  the  very  armour  he  had  on, 
When  he  th"  ambitious  Norway  combated  : 
So  frown"d  he  once,  when,  in  an  angry  parle, 
He  smote  the  sledded  Polacks*  on  the  ice. 
'T  is  strange. 

Mar.  Thus,  twice  before,  and  jump^  at  this  dead  hour, 
With  martial  stalk  hath  he  gone  by  our  watch. 

Hor.  In  what  particular  thought  to  work,  I  know  not ; 
But  in  the  gross  and  scope  of  mine  opinion, 
This  bodes  some  strange  eruption  to  our  state. 

Mar.   Good  now,  sit  dowTi ;    and  tell   me,  he  that 
knows. 
Why  this  same  strict  and  most  observant  watch 
So  nightly  toils  the  subject  of  the  land  ? 
And  why  such  daily  cast'  of  brazen  cannon, 
And  foreign  mart  for  implements  of  war  ? 
Why  such  impress  of  shipwrights,  whose  sore  task 
Does  not  divide  the  Sunday  from  the  week  ? 
What  might  be  toward,  that  this  sweaty  haste 
Doth  make  the  night  joint  labourer  with  the  day  ? 
Who  is  't,  that  can  inform  me  ? 

Hor.  That  can  I ; 

At  least,  the  whisper  goes  so.     Our  last  king, 
Whose  image  even  but  now  appeared  to  us, 
Was,  as  you  know,  by  Fortinbras  of  Norway, 
Thereto  pricked  on'  by  a  most  emulate  pride, 
Dar'd  to  the  combat ;  in  which  our  valiant  Hanilet 
(For  so  this  side  of  our  known  world  esteem'd  him) 
Did  slay  this  Fortinbras  ;  who,  by  a  seal'd  compact, 
Well  ratified  by  law  and  heraldry. 
Did  forfeit  with  his  life  all  those  his  lands. 
Which  he  stood  seiz'd  of,  to  the  conqueror  : 
Against  the  which,  a  moiety  competent 
Was  gaged  by  our  king  ;  which  had  return'd 

I  Poles.      2  just :  in  folio.      3  cost ;  in  quartos. 


156  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

To  the  inheritance  of  Fortinbras, 

Had  he  been  vanquisher  ;  as,  by  the  same  co-mart,' 

And  carriage  of  the  article  design'd, 

His  fell  to  Hamlet.     Now,  sir.  young  Fortinbras, 

Of  unimproved^  mettle  hot  and  full, 

Hath  in  the  skirts  of  Norway,  here  and  there, 

Shark'd  up  a  list  of  lawless'  resolutes, 

For  food  and  diet,  to  some  enterprise 

That  hath  a  stomach  in  in  't :  which  is  no  other 

(As  it  doth  well  appear  unto  our  state) 

But  to  recover  of  us,  by  strong  hand 

And  terms  compulsative,  those  "foresaid  lands 

So  by  his  father  lost.     And  this,  I  take  it. 

Is  the  main  motive  of  our  preparations, 

The  source  of  this  our  watch,  and  the  chief  head 

Of  this  post-haste  and  romage  in  the  land. 

Ber.  I  think,  it  be  no  other,  but  e'en  so  :* 
Well  may  it  sort,*  that  this  portentous  figure 
Comes  armed  through  our  watch  ;  so  like  the  king 
That  was.  and  is.  the  question  of  these  wars. 

Hor.  A  mote  it  is  to  trouble  the  mind's  eye. 
In  the  most  high  and  palmy  state  of  Rome, 
A  little  ere  the  mightiest  Julius  fell, 
The  graves  stood  tenantless,  and  the  sheeted  dead 
Did  squeak  and  gibber  in  the  Eoman  streets  : 
As,  stars  with  trains  of  fire  and  dews  of  blood, 
Disasters  in  the  sun ;  and  the  moist  star, 
Upon  whose  influence  Neptune's  empire  stands, 
Was  sick  almost  to  dooms-day  with  eclipse  : 
And  even  the  like  precurse  of  fierce  events — 
As  harbingers  preceding  still  the  fates, 
And  prologue  to  the  omen  coming  on — 
Have  heaven  and  earth,  together  demonstrated 
Unto  oui"  climatures  and  countrymen. — 

Re-enter  Ghost. 
But;  soft !  behold  !  lo,  where  it  comes  again  ! 
I  '11  cross  it.  though  it  blast  me. — Stay,  illusion  ! 
If  thou  hast  any  sound,  or  use  of  voice. 
Speak  to  me : 

If  there  be  any  good  thing  to  be  done. 
That  may  to  thee  do  ease,  and  grace  to  me, 

1  covenant :  in  folio.  ^  inapproved  :  in  quarto,  1603.  ^  landless  : 
in  folio.  *  This  and  the  seventeen  following  lines,  are  not  in  quarto, 
1603,  or  folio.    »  Agree. 


8C.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  157 

Speak  to  me  : 

If  thou  art  privy  to  thy  country's  fate, 

Which  liappily  forelaiowing  may  avoid, 

O,  speak  ! 

Or,  if  thou  hast  uphoarded  in  thy  life 

Extorted  treasure  in  the  womb  of  earth, 

For  which,  they  say.  you  spirits  oft  walk  in  death, 

[Cock  crows. 
Speak  of  it :  stay,  and  speak  ! — Stop  it,  ]\Iarcellus. 

3Iar.  Shall  I  strike  at^  it  with  my  partisan  ? 

Hor.  Do,  if  it  \\all  not  stand. 

Ber.  'T  is  here  ! 

Hor.  'T  is  here  ! 

3Iar.  'T  is  gone.  [Exit  Ghost. 

We  do  it  ■wTonsr.  being  so  majestical, 
To  offer  it  the  show  of  A'iolence  : 
For  it  is,  as  the  air,  invulnerable, 
And  our  vain  blows  malicious  mockery. 

Bcr.  It  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  cock  crew. 

Hor.  And  then  it  started,  like  a  giiilty  thing 
Upon  a  fearful  summons.     I  have  heard. 
The  cock,  that  is  the  trumpet  to  the  morn,^ 
Doth  with  his  lofty  and  shrill-sounding  throat 
Awake  the  god  of  day  ;  and  at  his  warning, 
Whether  in  sea  or  fire,  in  earth  or  air, 
Th'  extravagant  and  erring  spirit  hies 
To  his  confine  :  and  of  the  truth  herein 
This  present  object  made  probation. 

Mar.  It  faded  on  the  croA^nng  of  the  cock. 
Some  say,  that  ever  'gainst  that  season  comes 
Wherein  our  Saviour's  birth  is  celebrated. 
This  bird  of  da^^^ling  singeth  all  night  long : 
And  then,  they  say,  no  spirit  dares  stir'  abroad  : 
The  nights  are  wholesome  ;  then  no  planets  strike, 
No  fairy  takes,*  nor  witch  hath  power  to  charm, 
So  hallow'd  and  so  gracious  is  that  time. 

Hor.  So  have  I  heard,  and  do  in  part  believe  it. 
But.  look,  the  morn,  in  russet  mantle  clad, 
Walks  o'er  the  dew  of  yond'  high  eastern  hill. 
Break  we  our  watch  up  ;  and,  by  my  advice, 
Let  us  impart  what  we  have  seen  to-night 
Unto  young  Hamlet ;  for,  upon  my  life, 

1  Not  in  quartos.     ^  Jay  :  in  folio.     3  dare  -walk  :  in  quarto,  1603  j 
can  ■walk  :  in  folio.    *  talks  :  in  folio;  blasts. 

Vol.  VII.— 14 


158  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

This  spirit,  dumb  to  us,  will  speak  to  him. 
Do  you  consent  we  shall  acquaint  him  with  it, 
As  needful  in  our  loves,  fitting  our  duty  ? 

Mar.  Let 's  do  't,  I  pray  ;  and  I  this  morning  know 
Where  we  shall  find  him  most  conveniently.    [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.— The  Same.     A  Room  of  State. 
Sennet.     Enter  the  King,   Queen,  Hamlet,  Polonius, 
Laertes,  Voltimand,    Cornelius,   Lords,  and  At- 
tendants.^    The  King  takes  his  Seat. 
King.  Though  yet  of  Hamlet  our  dear  brother's  death 
The  memory  be  green,  and  that  it  us  befitted 
To  bathe  our  hearts  in  grief,  and  our  whole  kingdom 
To  be  contracted  in  one  brow  of  woe  ; 
Yet  so  far  hath  discretion  fought  with  nature, 
That  we  with  wisest  sorrow  think  on  him, 
Together  with  remembrance  of  ourselves. 
Therefore,  our  sometime  sister,  now  our  queen, 
Th'  imperial  jointress  of"  this  warlike  state, 
Have  we,  as  't  were  with  a  defeated  joy, — 
With  one  auspicious,  and  one  dropping  eye, 
With  mirth  in  funeral,  and  with  dirge  in  marriage. 
In  equal  scale  weighing  delight  and  dole, — 
Taken  to  wife  :  nor  have  we  herein  barr'd 
Your  better  wisdoms,  which  have  freely  gone 
With  this  affair  along  :  for  all,  our  thanks. 
Now  follows,  that  you  know,  young  Fortinbras, 
Holding  a  weak  supposal  of  our  worth. 
Or  thinking,  by  our  late  dear  brother's  death 
Our  state  to  be  disjoint  and  out  of  frame, 
Colleagued  with  the  dream  of  his  advantage. 
He  hath  not  fail'd  to  pester  us  with  message, 
Importing  the  surrender  of  those  lands 
Lost  by  his  father,  with  all  bands  of  law. 
To  our  most  valiant  brother. — So  much  for  him 
Now  for  ourself,  and  for  this  time  of  meeting. 
Thus  much  the  business  is  :^  we  have  here  writ 
To  Norway,  uncle  of  young  Fortinbras. — 
Who,  impotent  and  bed-rid,  scarcely  hears 
Of  this  his  nephew's  purpose, — to  suppress 
His  farther  gait  herein,  in  that  the  levies, 
The  lists,  and  full  proportions,  are  all  made 

1  The  rest  of  this  direction  is  not  in  f.  e.     =  to  :  in  quartos.     3  The 
preceding  part  of  this  speech  is  not  in  quarto,  1603. 


BC.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  159 

Out  of  his  subject :  and  "vre  here  despatch 

You,  good  Cornelius,  and  you,  Voltimand, 

For  bearers^  of  this  greeting  to  old  Norway ; 

Giving  to  you  no  farther  personal  power 

To  business  with  the  king,  more  than  the  scope 

Of  these  dilated  articles  allow.  [Giving  them.^ 

Farewell ;  and  let  your  haste  commend  your  duty. 

Cor.  Vol.  In  that,  and  all  things,  will  we  show  our  duty. 

King.  We  doubt  it  nothing  :  heartily  farewell. 

[Exeunt  Voltimanu  and  Cornelius. 
And  now,  Laertes,  what  "s  the  news  with  you  ? 
You  told  us  of  some  suit ;  what  is '  t.  Laertes  ? 
You  cannot  speak  of  reason  to  the  Dane, 
And  lose  your  voice  :  what  wouldst  thou  beg,  Laertes, 
That  shall  not  be  my  offer,  not  thy  asking  ? 
The  head  is  not  more  native  to  the  heart, 
The  hand  more  instrumental  to  the  mouth. 
Than  is  the  throne  of  Denmark  to  thy  father. 
What  wouldst  thou  have,  Laertes  ? 

Laer.  My  dread  lord, 

Your  leave  and  favour  to  return  to  France  : 
From  whence  though  willingly  I  came  to  Denmark, 
To  show  my  duty  to  your  coronation, 
Yet  now,  I  must  confess,  that  duty  done. 
My  thoughts  and  wishes  bend  again  toward  France, 
And  bow  them  to  your  gracious  leave  and  pardon. 

King.  Have  you  your  father's  leave  ?     What  says 
Polonius  ? 

Pol.  He  hath,  my  lord,  wrung  from  me  my  slow  leave,* 
By  laboursome  petition;  and,  at  last. 
Upon  his  will  I  seal'd  my  hard  consent : 
I  do  beseech  you,  give  him  leave  to  go. 

King.  Take  thy  fair  hour.  Laertes  ;  time  be  thine, 
And  thy  best  graces  :  spend  it  at  thy  will. — 
But  now,  my  cousin  Hamlet,  and  my  son, — 

Ha)n.  A  little  more  than  kin^  and  less  than  kind. 

[Aside. 

King.  How  is  it  that  the  clouds  still  hang  on  you  ? 

Ham.  Not  so,  my  lord  ;  I  am  too  much  i'  the  sun.    -^ 

Queen.  Good  Hamlet,  cast  thy  night-like*  colour  off, 
And  let  thine  eye  look  like  a  friend  on  Demnark. 
Do  not,  for  ever,  with  thy  Availed  lids 

'  bearing  :  in  folio.      "  Not  in  f.  e.      ^  This  and  the  t-vro  foUo-n'ing 
lines,  are  not  in  folios.     *  nighted  :  in  f.  e. 


160  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

Seek  for  thy  noble  father  in  the  dust : 

Thou  know'st,  't  is  common  ;  all  that  live  must  die. 

Passing  through  nature  to  eternity. 

Ham.  Ay,  madam,  it  is  common. 

Queen.  If  it  be, 

Why  seems  it  so  particular  with  thee  ? 

Ham.  Seems,  madam  !  nay,  it  is ;  I  know  not  seems. 
'T  is  not  alone  my  inky  cloak,  good  mother, 
Nor  customary  suits  of  solemn  black, 
Nor  -windy  suspiration  of  forc'd  breath, 
No,  nor  the  fruitful  river  in  the  eye, 
Nor  the  dejected  haviour  of  the  visage. 
Together  with  all  forms,  moods,  shows  of  grief. 
That  can  denote  me  truly  :  these,  indeed,  seem, 
For  they  are  actions  that  a  man  might  play  ; 
But  I  have  that  within,  which  passeth  show, 
These  but  the  trappings  and  the  suits  of  woe. 

King.  'T  is  sweet  and  commendable  in  your  nature, 
Hamlet, 
To  give  these  mourning  duties  to  your  father  : 
But,  you  must  know,  your  father  lost  a  father  ; 
That  father  lost,  lost  his  ;  and  the  sursdvor  bound 
In  filial  obligation,  for  some  term, 
To  do  obsequious^  sorrow  :  but  to  persevere 
In  obstinate  condolement  is  a  course 
Of  impious  stubbornness  ;  't  is  unmanly  grief : 
It  shows  a  will  most  incorrect  to  heaven ; 
A  heart  unfortified,  a  mind  impatient, 
An  understanding  simple  and  unschool'd : 
For  what,  we  know,  must  be,  and  is  as  common 
As  any  the  most  \Talgar  thing  to  sense, 
Why  should  we,  in  our  peevish  opposition. 
Take  it  to  heart?     Fie  !  'tis  a  fault  to  heaven, 
A  fault  against  the  dead,  a  fault  to  nature. 
To  reason  most  absurd,  whose  common  theme 
Is  death  of  fathers,  and  who  still  hath  cried, 
From  the  first  corse  till  he  that  died  to-day, 
'•  This  must  be  so."     We  pray  you,  throw  to  earth 
This  unprevailing  woe,  and  think  of  us 
As  of  a  father  ;  for,  let  the  world  take  note, 
You  are  the  most  immediate  to  our  throne ; 
And.  with  no  less  nobility  of  love 
Thau  that  which  dearest  father  bears  his  son, 
I  As  at  obsequies. 


80.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  161 

Do  I  impart  toward  you.     For  your  intent 
In  going  back  to  school  in  Wittenberg 
It  is  most  retrograde  to  our  desire  ; 
And,  we  beseech  you,  bend  you  to  remain 
Here,  in  the  cheer  and  comfort  of  our  eye, 
Our  chiefest  courtier,  cousin,  and  our  son. 

Queen.  Let  not  thy  mother  lose  her  prayers,  Hamlet : 
I  pray  thee,  stay  -with  us  ;  go  not  to  Wittenberg. 

Ham.  I  shall  in  all  my  best  obey  you,  madam. 

King.  Why,  't  is  a  loving  and  a  fair  reply  : 
Be  as  ourself  in  Denmark. — Madam,  come  ; 
This  gentle  and  unforc'd  accord  of  Hamlet 
Sits  smiling  to  my  heart ;  in  grace  whereof. 
No  jocund  health  that  Denmark  drinks  to-day, 
But  the  great  cannon  to  the  clouds  shall  tell, 
And  the  king's  rouse  tlie  heaven  shall  bruit  again, 
Re-speaking  earthly  thunder.     Come  away. 

[Flouri-sh     Exeunt  King,  Queen,  Lords,  fyc. 
PoLONius,  and  Laertes. 

Ham.  0  !  that  this  too,  too  solid  flesh  would  melt, 
Thaw,  and  resolve  itself  into  a  dew: 
Or  that  the  Everlasting  had  not  fix'd 
His  canon  'gainst  self-slaughter.     0  God  !  0  God  ! 
How  weary,  stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable 
Seem  to  me  all  the  uses  of  this  world. 
Fie  on  't  !  0  fie' !  't  is  an  unweeded  garden, 
That  grows  to  seed  :  things  rank,  and  gross  in  nature. 
Possess  it  merely.     That  it  should  come  to  this  ! 
But  two  months  dead  ! — nay,  not  so  much,  not  two : 
So  excellent  a  king ;  that  was.  to  this, 
Hyperion  to  a  satyr  :  so  loving  to  my  mother, 
That  he  might  not  beteem"  the  winds  of  heaven 
Visit  her  face  too  roughly.     Heaven  and  earth  ! 
Must  I  remember  ?  why,  she  would  hang  on  him, 
As  if  increase  of  appetite  had  groA\ii 
By  what  it  fed  on  :  and  yet,  within  a  month, — 
Let  me  not  think  on 't. — Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman  ! — ■ 
A  little  month ;  or  ere  those  shoes  were  old. 
With  which  she  follow'd  my  poor  father's  body, 
Like  Niobe,  all  tears  ; — why  she,  even  she, 
(0  God  !  a  beast,  that  wants  discourse  of  reason. 
Would  have  mourn'd  longer) — married  with  my  uncle. 
My  father's  brother ;  but  no  more  like  my  father, 
I  fie,  fie  :  in  folio.    2  Suffer. 

14* 


162  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

Than  I  to  Hercules  :  within  a  month  ; 
Ere  yet  the  salt  of  most  unrighteous  tears 
Had  left  the  flushing  in  her  galled  eyes. 
She  married. — 0,  most  wicked  speed,  to  post 
With  such  dexterity  to  incestuous  sheets ! 
It  is  not,  nor  it  cannot  come  to,  good  ; 
But  break,  my  heart,  for  I  must  hold  my  tongue  ! 
Enter  Horatio,  Bernardo,  and  Marcellus. 
Hor.  Hail  to  your  lordship  ! 

Ham.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  : 

Horatio, — or  I  do  forget  myself. 

Hor.  The  same,  my  lord,  and  your  poor  servant  ever. 

Ham.  Sir,  my  good  friend ;  I  '11  change  that  name 
with  you. 
And  what  make  yovi  from  Wittenberg,  Horatio  ? — 
Marcellus  ? 

Mar.  My  good  lord. 

Ham.    I    am   very   glad   to   see   you  ;    good    even, 
sir. — 
But  what,  in  faith,  make  you  from  Wittenberg  ? 

Hor.  A  truant  disposition,  good  my  lord. 

Ham.  I  would  not  hear'  your  enemy  say  so ; 
Nor  shall  you  do  mine  ear  that  violence. 
To  make  it  truster  of  your  own  report 
Against  yourself :  I  know,  you  are  no  truant. 
But  what  is  your  affair  in  Elsinore  ? 
We  '11  teach  you  to  drink  deep,  ere  you  depart. 

Hor.  My  lord,  I  came  to  see  your  father's  funeral. 

Ha7n.  I  pray  thee,  do  not  mock  me,  fellow-student : 
I  think,  it  was  to  see  my  mother's  wedding. 

Hor.  Indeed,  my  lord,  it  foUow'd  hard  upon. 

Ham.  Thrift,  thrift,  Horatio  :  the  funeral  bak'd  meats 
Did  coldly  furnish  forth  the  marriage  tables. 
'Would  I  had  met  my  dearest"  foe  in  heaven 
Ere  ever  I  had  seen  that  day,  Horatio  ! — 
My  father, — methinks,  I  see  my  father. 

Hor.  0  !  where,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  In  my  mind's  eye,  Horatio. 

Hor.  I  saw  him  once  :  he  was  a  goodly  king. 

Ham.  He  was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 
I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again. 

Hor.  My  lord,  I  think  I  saw  him  yesternight. 

Ham.  Saw  whom  ?^ 

I  have  :  in  folio.    2  Greatest.    ^  who  :  in  f.  e. 


SC.   n.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  163 

Hor.  My  lord,  the  king  your  father.  ^ 

Ham.  The  king  my  father  ! 

Hor.  Season  your  admiration  for  a  while^ 
With  an  attent  ear,  till  I  may  deliver, 
Upon  the  witness  of  these  gentlemen. 
This  marvel  to  you. 

Ham.  For  God's  love,  let  me  hear. 

Hor.  Two  nights  together  had  these  gentlemen, 
Marcellus  and  Bernardo,  on  their  watch. 
In  the  dead  vast^  and  middle  of  tlie  night, 
Been  thus  eucounter'd.     A  figure  like  your  father, 
Armed  at  point,  exactly,  cap-a-pie, 
Appears  before  them,  and  with  solemn  march 
Goes  slow  and  .stately  by  them  :  thrice  he  walk'd, 
By  their  oppressed  and  fear-surprised  eyes. 
Within  his  truncheon's  length ;  whilst  they,  bechill'd' 
Almost  to  jelly  with  the  act  of  fear, 
Stand  dumb,  and  speak  not  to  him.     This  to  me 
In  dreadful  secrecy  impart  they  did. 
And  I  with  them  the  third  night  kept  the  watch  ; 
Where,  as  they  had  delivered,  both  in  time. 
Form  of  the  thing,  each  word  made  true  and  good, 
The  apparition  comes.     I  knew  your  father  ; 
These  hands  are  not  more  like. 

Ham.  But  where  was  this  ? 

Mar.  My  lord,  upon  the  platform  where  we  watch'd. 

Ham.  Did  you  not  speak  to  it  ? 

Hor.  My  lord.  I  did, 

But  answer  made  it  none  ;  yet  once,  methought, 
It  lifted  up  its  head,  and  did  address 
Itself  to  motion,  like  as  it  would  speak  : 
But,  even  then,  the  morning  cock  crew  loud, 
And  at  the  sound  it  shrunk  in  haste  away, 
And  vanish'd  from  our  sight. 

Ham.  'T  is  very  strange. 

Hor.  As  I  do  live,  my  honour'd  lord,  't  is  true  \ 
And  we  did  think  it  writ  down  in  our  duty, 
To  let  j'ou  know  of  it. 

Ham.  Indeed,  indeed,  sirs,  but  this  troubles  me. 
Hold  you  the  watch  to-night  ? 

All.  We  do,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Arm'd,  say  you? 

"  So  the  quarto,  1G()3 ;  other  old  copies  :  waste  ;  changed  in  mod. 
ed  .  to  '■  waist."      ^  distill'd  :  in  f.  e. 


Id4  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

All.  Arm'dj  my  lord. 

Ham.  From  top  to  toe  ? 

All.  My  lord,  from  head  to  foot. 

Ham.  Then,  saw  you  not  his  face  ? 

Hor.  O  !  yes,  my  lord  :  he  wore  his  beaver  up. 

Ham.  What !  look'd  he  frowningly  ? 

Hor.  A  countenEince  more 

In  sorrow  than  in  anger. 

Ham.  Pale,  or  red  ? 

Hor.  Nay,  very  pale. 

Ham.  And  fix'd  his  eyes  upon  you  ? 

Hor.  Most  constantly. 

Ham.  I  would  I  had  been  there  ! 

Hor.  It  would  have  much  amaz'd  you. 

Ham.  Very  like, 

Very  like.     Stay'd  it  long  ? 

Hor.  While  one  with  moderate  haste  might  tell  a 
hundred. 

Mar.  Ber.  Longer,  longer. 

Hor.  Not  when  I  saw  it. 

Ham.  His  beard  was  grizzled'  ?  no  ? 

Hor.  It  was,  as  I  have  seen  it  in  his  life, 
A  sable  silver'd. 

Ham.  I  will  watch  to-night : 

Perchance,  't  Mill  walk  again. 

Hor.  I  warrant  it  will. 

Ham.  If  it  assume  my  noble  fathers  person, 
I  '11  speak  to  it,  though  hell  it.self  should  gape, 
And  bid  me  hold  my  peace.     I  pray  you  all, 
If  you  have  liitherto  conceal'd  this  sight, 
Let  it  be  tenable  in  your  silence  still  ; 
And  whatsoever  else  shall  hap  to-night. 
Give  it  an  understanding,  but  no  tongue  : 
I  will  requite  your  loves.     So,  fare  you  well : 
Upon  the  platform,  'twixt  elcA'en  and  twelve, 
I  '11  visit  you. 

All.  Our  duty  to  your  honotir. 

Ham.  Your  loves,  as  mine  to  you.     Farewell. 

[Exeunt  Horatio.  Marcellus,  and  Bernardo. 
My  father's  spirit  in  arms  !  all  is  not  well ; 
I  doubt  some  foul  play  :  would  the  night  were  come  ! 
Till  then,  sit  still,  my  soul.     Foul  deeds  will  rise, 
Though  all  the  earth  o'erwhelm  them,  to  men's  eyes. 

[Ex  t. 

1  grizly  :  in  folio. 


8C.  m.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  1 65 

SCENE  TIL — A  Ptoom  in  Polonius's  House. 
Enter  Laertes  and  Ophelia. 

Laer.  My  necessaries  are  embark'd :  farewell : 
And,  sister,  as  the  winds  give  benefit, 
And  convoy  is  assistant,  do  not  sleep, 
But  let  me  hear  from  you. 

Oph.  Do  you  doubt  that  ? 

Laer.  For  Hamlet,  and  the  trifling  of  his  favour, 
Hold  it  a  fashion,  and  a  toy  in  blood ; 
A  violet  in  the  youth  of  primy  nature. 
Forward,  not  permanent,  sweet,  not  lasting, 
The  perfume  and^  suppliance  of  a  minute; 
No  more. 

Oph.         No  more  but  so? 

Laer.  Think  it  no  more  : 

For  natv7re,  crescent,  does  not  grow  alone 
Li  thews,  and  bulk :  but.  as  this  temple  waxes, 
The  inward  service  of  the  mind  and  soul 
Grows  wide  withal.     Perhaps,  he  loves  you  now ; 
And  now  no  soil,  nor  cautel,  doth  besmirch 
The  virtue  of  his  will ;  but  you  must  fear, 
His  greatness  weigh'd,  his  will  is  not  his  own, 
For  he  himself  is  subject  to  his  birth  : 
He  may  not,  as  unvalued  persons  do, 
Carve  for  himself;  for  on  his  choice  depends 
The  safety^  and  health  of  this  whole  state; 
And  therefore  must  his  choice  be  circumscribed 
Unto  the  voice  and  yielding  of  that  body, 
Whereof  he  is  tlie  head.     Then,  if  he  says  he  loves  you, 
It  fits  your  wisdom  so  far  to  believe  it, 
As  he  in  his  particular  act  and  place^ 
May  give  his  saying  deed  :  which  is  no  farther, 
Than  the  main  voice  of  Denmark  goes  wilhal. 
Then,  weigh  what  loss  your  honour  may  sustain. 
If  with  too  credent  ear  you  list  his  songs. 
Or  lose  your  heart,  or  your  chaste  treasure  open 
To  his  unmaster'd  importunity. 
Fear  it,  Ophelia,  fear  it,  my  dear  sister  : 
And  keep  you  in  the  rear  of  your  affection, 
Out  of  the  shot  and  danger  of  desire. 
The  chariest  maid  is  prodigal  enough, 

I  These  two  words,  not  in  folio.      2  sanctity  :  in  folio.     '  peculiar 
Beet  and  force  :  in  folio. 


166  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

If  she  unmask  her  beauty  to  the  moon. 
Virtue  itself  scapes  not  calumnious  strokes : 
The  canker  galls  the  infants  of  the  spring, 
Too  oft  before  their  buttons  be  disclosed ; 
And  in  the  morn  and  liquid  dew  of  youth 
Contagious  blastments  are  most  imminent. 
Be  wary,  then ;  best  safety  lies  in  fear  : 
Youth  to  itself  rebels,  though  none  else  near. 

Oph.  I  shall  th'  effect  of  this  good  lesson  keep, 
As  watchman  to  my  heart.     But,  good  my  brother, 
Do  not,  as  some  ungracious  pastors  do, 
Show  me  the  steep  and  thorny  way  to  heaven. 
Whilst,  like  a  puffd  and  reckless  libertine. 
Himself  the  primrose  path  of  dalliance  treads, 
And  recks  not  his  owti  read.' 

Lacr.  O  !  fear  me  not. 

I  stay  too  long; — ^but  here  my  father  comes. 

Enter  Polonips, 
A  double  blessing  is  a  double  grace  ; 
Occasion  smiles  upon  a  second  leave. 

Pol.  Yet  here,  Laertes  ?  aboard,  aboard,  for  shame  ! 
The  wind  sits  in  the  shoulder  of  your  sail, 
And  you  are  stay'd  for.   There, — ^my  blessing  with  you ; 
[Laying  his  Hand  on  Laertes'  Head. 
And  these  few  precepts  in  thy  memory 
Look  thou  character.     Give  thy  thoughts  no  tongue, 
Nor  any  unproportion'd  thought  his  act. 
Be  thou  familiar,  but  by  no  means  vulgar : 
The  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hoops  of  steel ; 
But  do  not  dull  thy  palm  with  entertainment 
Of  each  new-hateh'd,  unfledg'd  comrade.     Beware 
Of  entrance  to  a  quarrel ;  but,  being  in. 
Bear  't,  that  th'  opposer  may  beware  of  thee. 
Give  every  man  thine  ear,  but  few  thy  voice  ; 
Take  each  man's  censure,  but  reserve  thy  judgment. 
Costly  thy  habit  as  thy  purse  can  buy, 
But  not  expressed  in  fancy  ;  rich,  not  gaudy : 
For  the  apparel  oft  proclaims  the  man  ; 
And  they  in  France,  of  the  best  rank  and  station. 
Are  of  a  most  select  and  generous  choice*  in  that. 
Neither  a  borrower,  nor  a  lender  be  ; 
For  loan  oft  loses  both  itself  and  friend, 

1  Counsel.     *  chief:  in  f.  •. 


8C..  ni.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  l(ff 

And  borrowing  dulls  the  edge  of  husbandry. 
This  above  all, — to  thine  own  self  be  true  ; 
And  it  must  follow,  as  the  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man. 
Farewell :  my  blessing  season  this  in  thee  ! 

Laer.  Most  humbly  do  I  take  my  leave,  my  lord. 

Pol.  The  time  invites'  you  :  go  :  your  ser\'ants  tend. 

Lacr.  Farewell.  Ophelia  ;  and  remember  well 
What  I  have  said  to  you, 

Oph.  'T  is  in  my  memory  lock'd, 

And  you  yourself  shall  keep  the  key  of  it. 

Laer.  Farewell.  [Exit  Laertes. 

Pol.  What  is't,  Ophelia,  he  hath  said  to  you? 

Oph.  So   please  you.  sometliing  touching   the  lord 
Hamlet. 

Pol.  Marry,  well  bethought: 
'T  is  told  me.  he  hath  very  oft  of  late 
Given  private  time  to  you  ;  and  you  yourself 
Have  of  your  audience  been  most  free  and  bounteous. 
If  it  be  so,  (as  so  't  is  put  on  me. 
And  that  in  way  of  caution)  I  must  tell  you, 
You  do  not  understand  yourself  so  clearly. 
As  it  behoves  my  daughter,  and  your  honour. 
What  is  between  you  ?  give  me  up  the  truth. 

Oph.  He  hath,  my  loi'd,  of  late  made  many  tenders 
Of  his  affection  to  me. 

Pol.  Affection?  pooh  !  you  speak  like  a  green  girl. 
Unsifted  in  such  perilous  circumstance. 
Do  you  believe  his  tenders,  as  you  call  them? 

Oph.  I  do  not  know,  my  lord,  what  I  should  think. 

Pol.  Marry,  I  '11  teach  you  :  think  yourself  a  baby; 
That  you  have  ta'en  these  tenders  for  true  pay. 
AYliich  are  not  sterling.     Tender  yourself  more  dearly; 
Or,  not  to  crack  the  wind  of  the  poor  phrase, 
Running*  it  thus,  you  '11  tender  me  a  fool. 

Oph.  My  lord,  he  hath  importun'd  me  with  love. 
In  honourable  fa.shion. 

Pol.  Ay,  fashion  you  may  call  it :  go  to.  go  to. 

Oph.  And  hath  given  countenance  to  his  speech,  my 
lord. 
With  almost  all  the  holy  vows^  of  heaven. 

Pol.  Ay,  springes  to  catch  woodcocks.     I  do  know, 

1  invests  :  in  quarto.     ^  in  f.  e.  :  "Wronging  ;  from  quarto.    Roam- 
ing :  in  folio.    ^  With  all  the  vows  :  in  folio. 


168  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

When  the  blood  burns,  how  prodigal  the  soul 
Lends*  the  tongrie  vows  :  these  blazes,  daughter, 
Giving  more  light  than  heat, — extinct  in  both, 
Even  in  their  promise,  as  it  is  a  making, — 
You  must  not  take  for  fire.     From  this  time. 
Be  somewhat  scanter  of  your  maiden  presence  : 
Set  your  entreatments  at  a  higher  rate. 
Than  a  command  to  parley.     For  lord  Hamlet, 
Believe  so  much  in  him,  that  he  is  young ; 
And  with  a  larger  tether  may  he  walk, 
Than  may  be  given  you.     In  few,  Ophelia, 
Do  not  believe  his  vows,  for  they  are  brokers 
Not  of  that  die'  which  their  investments  show. 
But  mere  implorators  of  unholy  suits. 
Breathing  like  sanctified  and  pious  bawds,' 
The  better  to  beguile.     This  is  for  all, — 
I  would  not,  in  plain  terms,  from  this  time  forth. 
Have  you  so  squander*  any  moment's  leisure. 
As  to  give  words  or  talk  with  the  lord  Hamlet. 
Look  to  't,  I  charge  you ;  so  now,'  come  your  ways. 
Oph.  I  shall  obey,  my  lord.  \Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.— The  Platform. 
Entei-  Hamlet,  Horatio,  and  Marcellus. 
Ham.  The  air  bites  shrewdly ;  it  is^  very  cold. 
Hor.  It  is  a  nipping,  and  an  eager  air. 
Ham.  What  hour  now  ? 

Hor.  I  think,  it  lacks  of  twelve. 

Mar.  No,  it  is  struck. 

Hor.  Indeed  ?     I  heard  it  not :  it  then  draws  near 
the  season. 
Wherein  the  spirit  held  his  wont  to  walk. 
\A  Flourish  of  Trumpets .,  and  Ordnance  shot  off^  within. 
What  does  this  mean,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  The  king  doth  wake  to-night,  and  takes  his 
rouse, 
Keeps  wassel,  and  the  swaggering  up-spring  reels; 
And  as  he  drains  his  draughts  of  Rhenish  down, 
The  kettle-drum  and  trumpet  thus  bray  out 
The  triumph  of  his  pledge. 

Hor.  Is  it  a  custom  ? 

1  Gives  :  in  folio.  =  the  eye  :  in  folio.  3  bonds  :  in  f.  e.  Theobald 
also  made  the  change.  *  slander  :  in  f.  e.  ^  xhe  words,  "so  no-w," 
are  not  in  f.  e.      ^  is  it :  in  folio. 


SC.  rV.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  169 

Ha7n.  Ay,  marry,  is 't : 
But  to  my  mind, — though  I  am  native  here, 
And  to  the  manner  born, — it  is  a  custom 
More  honour'd  in  the  breach,  than  the  observance. 
This  heavy-headed  revel,  east  and  west' 
Makes  us  traduc'd  and  tax'd  of  other  nations  : 
They  clepe'  us  drunkards,  and  with  swinish  phrase 
Soil  our  addition ;  and,  indeed,  it  takes 
From  our  achievements,  though  performed  at  height, 
The  pith  and  marrow  of  our  attribute. 
So,  oft  it  chances  in  particular  men. 
That  for  some  vicious  mole  of  nature  in  them, 
As,  in  their  birth,  (wherein  they  are  not  guilty, 
Since  nature  cannot  choose  his  origin) 
By  their  o'ergrowth  of  some  complexion, 
Oft  breaking  down  the  pales  and  forts  of  reason  ; 
Or  by  some  habit,  that  too  much  o'er-leavens 
The  form  of  plausive  manners ; — that  these  men. — 
Carrying,  I  say,  the  stamp  of  one  defect 
Being  nature's  livery,  or  fortune's  star, — 
Their^  virtues  else,  be  they  as  pure  as  grace. 
As  infinite  as  man  may  undergo, 
Shall  in  the  general  censure  take  corruption 
From  that  particular  fault :  the  dram  of  ill* 
Doth  all  the  noble  substance  often  dout,' 
To  his  own  scandal. 

Enter  Ghost,^  armed  as  before. 

Hor.  Look,  my  lord  !  it  comes. 

Ham.  Angels  and  ministers  of  grace  defend  us  ! 

[Pause." 
Be  thou  a  spirit  of  health,  or  goblin  damn'd, 
Bring  with  thee  airs  from  heaven,  or  blasts  from  hell, 
Be  thy  intents*  wicked,  or  charitable. 
Thou  com'st  in  such  a  questionable  shape. 
That  I  will  speak  to  thee.     I  '11  call  thee,  Hamlet. 
King,  Father,  Royal  Dane  :  0  !  answer  me  : 
Let  me  not  burst  in  ignorance ;  but  tell, 
Why  thy  canoniz'd  bones,  hearsed  in  death. 
Have  burst  their  cerements  ?  why  the  sepulchre. 
Wherein  we  saw  thee  quietly  in-urn'd,' 

1  This  and  the  twenty-one  following  lines,  are  not  in  quarto,  1603. 
or  folio.  2  Call.  ^  His  :  in  old  copies.  Theobald  made  the  change. 
*  eale  :  in  quarto.  ^  of  a  doubt :  in  quarto  ;  dout,  is  to  do  out,  to 
destroy.  ^  The  rest  of  this  direction  is  not  in  f.  e.  '  Not  in  f.  e. 
6  events  :   in  folio.     -  interr'd  :  in  quartos. 

Vol.  VII.— 15 


170  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

Hath  op'd  his  ponderous  and  marble  jaws, 
To  cast  thee  up  again  ?     What  may  this  mean, 
That  thou,  dead  corse,  again,  in  complete  steel, 
Eevisit'st  thus  the  glimpses  of  the  moon. 
Making  night  hideous  :  and  we  fools  of  nature, 
So  horridly  to  shake  our  disposition, 
With  thoughts  beyond  the  reaches  of  our  souls  ? 
Say,  why  is  this  ?  wherefore  ?  what  should  we  do  ? 
/       '  ~  [The  Ghost  beckons  Hamlet. 

/  Hor.  It  beckons  you  to  go  away  with  it, 

As  if  it  some  impartment  did  desire 
To  you  alone. 

Mar.  Look,  with  what  courteous  action 

It  waves'  you  to  a  more  removed  ground : 
But  do  not  go  with  it. 

Hor.  No,  by  no  means. 

Ham.  It  will  not  speak ;  then,  will  I  follow  it. 

Hor.  Do  not.  my  lord. 

Ham.  Why,  what  should  be  the  fear  ? 

I  do  not  set  my  life  at  a  pin's  fee ; 
And,  for  my  soul,  what  can  it  do  to  that, 
Being  a  thing  immortal  as  itself? — 
It  waves  me  forth  again  : — I  '11  follow  it. 

Hor.  What,  if  it  tempt  you  toward  the  flood,  my  lord. 
Or  to  the  dreadful  summit  of  the  cliff. 
That  beetles  o'er  his  base  into  the  sea. 
And  there  assume  some  other  horrible  form, 
Which  might  deprive  your  sovereignty  of  reason. 
And  draw  you  into  madness  ?  think  of  it : 
The  very  place  puts  toys  of  desperation,^ 
Without  more  motive,  into  every  brain 
That  looks  so  many  fathoms  to  the  sea. 
And  hears  it  roar  beneath. 

Ham.  It  waves  me  still. — Go  on, 

I  '11  follow  thee. 

3Iar.  You  shall  not  go,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Hold  off  your  hands. 

Hor.  Berul'd:  you  shall  not  go.       [They  .struggle.^ 

Ham.  My  fate  cries  out. 

And  makes  each  petty  artery  in  this  body 
As  hardy  as  the  Nemean  lion's  nerve.    [Ghost  beckons. 

I  -wafts  :  in  folio.      ^  This  and  the  next  three  lines,  are  not  in  the 
quarto,  1603,  or  folio,    '  Not  in  f.  e. 


so.  V.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  171 

Still  am  I  call'd. — Unhand  me,  gentlemen  : — 

[Breaking  from  them. 
By  heaven,  I  '11  make  a  ghost  of  him  that  lets  me  : — 
I  say,  away  ! — Go  on,  I  '11  follow  thee. 

[Exeunt  Ghost  and  Hamlet. 

Hot.  He  waxes  desperate  with  imagination. 

Mar.  Let 's  follow;  't  is  not  fit  thus  to  obey  him. 

Hor.  Have  after. — To  what  issue  will  this  come  ? 

Mar.  Something  is  rotten  in  the  state  of  Denmark. 

Hor.  Heaven's  will  direct  it ! 

3Iar.  Nay,  let 's  follow  him.   [Exeunt. 

SCENE  V. — A  more  remote  Part  of  the  Platform. 
Enter  Ghost  and  Hamlet. 

Ham.  Whither'  wilt  thou  lead  me?   speak,  I'll  go 
no  farther. 

Ghost.  Mark  me. 

Ham.  1  ■will. 

Ghost.  My  hour  is  almost  come. 

When  I  to  sulphurous  and  tormenting  flames 
Must  render  up  myself. 

Ham.  Alas,  poor  ghost  ! 

Ghost.  Pity  me  not :  but  lend  thy  serious  hearing 
To  what  I  shall  unfold. 

Ham.  Speak  ;  I  am  bound  to  hear. 

Ghost.  So  art  thou  to  revenge,  when  thou  shalt  hear. 

Ham.  What? 

Ghost.  I  am  thy  father's  spirit ; 
Doom'd  for  a  certain  term  to  walk  the  night. 
And  for  the  day  confin'd  to  lasting  fires^. 
Till  the  fonl  crimes,  done  in  my  days  of  nature, 
Are  burnt  and  purg'd  away.     But  that  I  am  forbid 
To  tell  the  secrets  of  my  prison-house, 
I  could  a  tale  unfold,  whose  lightest  word 
Would  harrow  up  thy  soul,  freeze  thy  young  blood, 
Make  thy  two  eyes  like  stars  start  from  their  spheres, 
Thy  knotted^  and  combined  locks  to  part. 
And  each  particular  hair  to  stand  an-end. 
Like  quills  upon  the  fretful  porcupine*: 
But  this  eternal  blazon  must  not  be 
To  ears  of  flesh  and  blood. — List,  list,  0  list  !' — 
If  thou  didst  ever  thy  dear  father  love, — 

1  Where  :  in  folio.      2  to  fast  in  fires  :  in  f.  e.      ^  knotty  :  in  folio. 
*  portentine  :  in  old  copies.     »  List,  Hamlet,  0,  list  ;  in  folio. 


172  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

Ham.  0  God  ! 

Ghost.  Revenge  his  foul  and  most  unnatural  murder. 

Ham.  Murder? 

GJio.'it.  Murder  most  foul,  as  in  the  best  it  is  ; 
But  this  most  foul,  strange,  and  unnatural. 

Ham.  Haste  me  to  know  't,  that  I,  with  wings  as  swift 
As  meditation,  or  the  thoughts  of  love, 
May  sweep  to  my  revenge. 

Ghost.  I  find  thee  apt ; 

And  duller  shouldst  thou  be,  than  the  fat  weed 
That  roots'  itself  in  ease  on  Lethe  wharf, 
Wouldst  thou  not  stir  in  tliis  :  now,  Hamlet,  hear 
'Tis  given  out,  that  sleeping  in  mine  orchard, 
A  serpent  stung  me :  so  the  whole  ear  of  Denmark 
Is  by  a  forged  process  of  my  death 
Rankly  abus'd ;  but  know,  thou  noble  youth, 
The  serpent  that  did  sting  tliy  father's  life 
Now  wears  his  crown. 

Ham.  0,  my  prophetic  soul !  my  uncle  ? 

Ghost.  Ay,  that  incestuous,  that  adulterate  beast, 
With  witchcraft  of  his  wit,  with  traitorous  gifts. 
(0  wicked  wit,  and  gifts,  that  have  the  power 
So  to  seduce  !)  won  to  his  shameful  lust 
The  will  of  my  most  seeming  virtuous  queen. 
O,  Hamlet,  what  a  falling-off  was  there  ! 
From  me,  whose  love  was  of  that  dignity, 
That  it  went  hand  in  hand  even  with  the  vow 
I  made  to  her  in  marriage  ;  and  to  decline 
Upon  a  ^^Tetch,  whose  natural  gifts  were  poor 
To  those  of  mine  ! 

But  virtue,  as  it  never  will  be  mov'd, 
Though  lewdness  court  it  in  a  shape  of  heaven, 
So  lust,  though  to  a  radiant  angel  link'd, 
Will  sate  itself  in  a  celestial  bed, 
And  prey  on  garbage. 

But,  soft  !  methinks,  [  scent  the  morning  air : 
Brief  let  me  be. — Sleeping  \i-ithin  mine  orchard, 
My  custom  always  in  the  afternoon, 
Upon  my  secure  hour  thy  uncle  stole, 
With  juice  of  cursed  hebenon  in  a  phial. 
And  in  the  porches  of  mine  ears  did  pour 
The  leperous  distilment  :  whose  effect 
Holds  such  an  enmity  with  blood  of  man, 

1  rots  :   in  folio. 


SC.  V.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  173 

That,  swift  as  quicksilver,  it  courses  through 
Th«  natural  gates  and  alleys  of  the  body ; 
And  -with  a  sudden  vigour  it  doth  posset, 
And  curd,  like  eager^  droppings  into  milk, 
The  thin  and  wholesome  blood  :  so  did  it  mine  : 
And  a  most  instant  tetter  bark'd"  about, 
Most  lazar-like,  with  vile  and  loathsome  crust 
All  my  smooth  body. 

Thus  was  1,  sleeping,  by  a  brother's  hand, 
Of  life,  of  crown,  of  queen,  at  once  despoiled^ : 
Cut  off  even  in  the  blossom  of  my  sin, 
Unhousel'd,  disappointed,  unaneled  :* 
No  reckoning  made,  but  sent  to  my  account 
With  all  my  imperfections  on  my  head  : 
0,  horrible  !  0,  horrible  !  most  horrible  ! 
If  thou  hast  nature  in  thee,  bear  it  not ; 
Let  not  the  royal  bed  of  Denmark  be 
A  couch  for  luxury  and  damned  incest. 
But,  howsoever  thou  pursuest  this  act, 
Taint  not  thy  mind,  nor  let  thy  soul  contrive 
Against  thy  mother  aught :  leave  her  to  heaven, 
And  to  those  thorns  that  in  her  bosom  lodge. 
To  prick  and  sting  her.     Fare  thee  well  at  once. 
The  glow-worm  shows  the  matin  to  be  near, 
And  'gins  to  pale  his  uneffectual  fire  : 
Adieu,  adieu  !  Hamlet,'  remember  me.  [Exit. 

Ham.  0,  all  you  host  of  heaven  !  0  earth !  What 
else  ? 
And  shall  I  couple  hell  ? — 0  fie  ! — Hold,  heart ; 
And  you,  my  sinews,  grow  not  instant  old, 
But  bear  me  stiffly*  up. — Ptemember  thee  ? 
Ay,  thou  poor  gliost,  while  memory  holds  a  seat 
In  this  distracted  globe.     Remember  thee? 
Yea,  from  the  table  of  my  memory 
I  '11  wipe  away  all  trivial  fond  records, 
All  saws  of  books,  all  forms,  all  pressures  past. 
That  youth  and  observation  copied  there. 
And  thy  commandment  all  alone  shall  live 
Within  the  book  and  volume  of  my  brain, 
Unmix'd  with  baser  matter  :  yes,  by  heaven  ! 
0,  most  pernicious  and  perfidious  woman  ! 

1  Fr.  aigre,  sour.  2  bak'd  :  in  folio.  '  despatched  :  in  f.  e. 
♦Without  the  sacrament,  unprepared,  unoiled,  or  without  extreme 
unction.     *  adieu  :  in  quarto.    ^  swiftly  :  in  quartos. 

15* 


174  HAMLET,  ACT  I. 

0  villain,  villain,  smiling,  damned  villain  ! 
My  tables,^ — meet  it  is,  I  set  it  down, 

That  one  may  smile,  and  smile,  and  be  a  %'illain  : 
At  least,  I  am  sure,  it  may  be  so  in  Denmark : — 

[  Writing. 
So,  uncle,  there  you  are.     Now  to  my  word; 
It  is,  "  Adieu,  adieu  !  remember  me." 

1  have  sworn 't. 

Hor.  [Within.]  My  lord  !  my  lord  ! 

Mar.  [Within.]   Lord  Hamlet! 

Hor.  [Within.]  Heaven  secure  him ! 

Mar.  [Within.]  So  be  it  ! 

Hor.  [Within.]  lUo,  ho,  ho,  my  lord  ! 

Ham.  Hillo.  ho.  ho  !  boy  !  come,  bird,  come. 
Enter  Horatio  and  M.\rcellus. 

Mar.  How  is 't.  my  noble  lord  ? 

Hor.  '  What  news,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  0,  wonderful ! 

Hor.  Good  my  lord,  tell  it. 

Ham.  No; 

You  '11  reveal  it. 

Hor.  Not  I,  my  lord,  by  heaven. 

Mar.  Nor  I,  my  lord 

Ham.  How  say  you,  then  ;  would  heart  of  man  once 
think  it  ? — 
But  you  "11  be  secret. 

Hor.  Mar.  Ay,  by  heaven,  my  lord. 

Ham.  There 's  ne'er  a  villain  dwelling  in  all  Denmark, 
But  he  "s  an  arrant  knave. 

Hor.  There  needs  no  ghost,  my  lord,  come  from  the 
grave 
To  tell  us  this. 

Ham.  Why,  right :  you  are  i'  the  right ; 

And  so,  without  more  circumstance  at  all, 
I  hold  it  tit  that  we  shake  hands  and  part  : 
You,  as  your  business  and  desire  shall  point  you, 
For  every  man  hath  business  and  desire, 
Such  as  it  is  :  and,  for  mine  own  poor  part. 
Look  you,  I  '11  go  pray. 

i/or. These  are  but  wild  and  whirling^  words,  my  lord. 
Ham.  I  am  sorry  they  offend  you,  heartily  :  yes, 
'Faith,  heartily. 

Hor.  There  's  no  offence,  my  lord. 

I  My  tables,  my  tables  :  in  folio.    2  hurling  :  in  folio. 


SC.  V.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  175 

Ham.  Yes.  ty  Saint  Patrick,  but  there  is,  Horatio, 
And  much  offence  too.     Touching  this  vision  here, 
It  is  an  honest  ghost,  that  let  me  tell  you  : 
For  your  desire  to  know  what  is  between  us, 
O'er-master  't  as  you  may.     And  now,  good  friends, 
As  you  are  friends,  scholars,  and  soldiers, 
Give  me  one  poor  request. 

Hor.  What  is't,  my  lord? 

3Iar.  We  will. 

Ham.  Never  make  known  what  you  have  seen  to- 
night. 

Hor.  Mar.  My  lord^  we  will  not. 

Ham.  Nay,  but  swear  't. 

Hor.  In  faith; 

My  lord,  not  I. 

Mar.  Nor  I,  my  lord,  in  faith. 

Ham.  Upon  my  sword. 

Mar.  We  have  sworn,  my  lord,  already. 

Ham.  Indeed,  upon  my  sword,  indeed. 

Ghost.   [Beneath.]   Swear. 

Ham.  Ha.  ha,  boy!  say' st  thou  so?  art  thou  there, 
true-penny  ? 
Come  on. — you  hear  this  fellow  in  the  cellarage. — 
Consent  to  swear. 

Hor.  Propose  the  oath,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Never  to  speak  of  this  that  you  have  seen, 
Swear  by  my  sword. 

Ghost.   [Beneath.]  Swear. 

Ham.  Hie  et  ubique  ?  then,  we  '11  shift  our  ground. — 
Come  hither,  gentlemen, 
And  lay  your  hands  again  upon  my  sword  : 
Never  to  speak  of  this  that  you  have  heard, 
Swear  by  my  sword. 

Ghost.  [Beneath.]  Swear. 

Ham.  Well  said,  old  mole  !  canst  work  i'  the  earth' 
so  fast  ? 
A  worthy  pioneer  ! — Once  more  remove,  good  friends. 

Hor.  0  day  and  night,  but  this  is  wondrous  strange  ! 

Ham.  And  therefore  as  a  stranger  give  it  welcome. 
There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth.  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your^  philosophy.  But  come  ; — 
Here,  as  before,  never,  so  help  you  mercy, 
How  strange  or  odd  soe'er  I  bear  myself, — 

1  ground  :  in  folio.      2  our  :  in  folio. 


176  HAMLET,  ACT  H. 

As  I,  perchance,  hereafter  shall  think  meet 

To  put  an  antic  disposition  on, — 

That  you,  at  such  times  seeing  me,  never  shall, 

With  arms  encumber'd  thus,  or  this  head-shake, 

Or  by  pronouncing  of  some  doubtful  phrase, 

As,  '•'  Well.  well,  we  know  ;■'" — or,   ''  We  could,  an  if 

we  would  ;" — 
Or,  "If  we  list  to  speak;" — or,  "  There  be,  an  if  they 

might ;" — 
Or  such  ambiguous  giving  out,  to  note 
That  you  know  aught  of  me : — this  not  to  do, 
So  grace  and  mercy  at  your  most  need  help  yoi;, 
Swear. 

Ghost.  [Beyieath.]  Swear. 

Ham.  Rest,  rest,  perturbed  spirit  ! — So,  gentlemen. 
With  all  my  love  I  do  commend  me  to  you  : 
And  what  so  poor  a  man  as  Hamlet  is 
May  do,  t"  express  his  love  and  friending  to  you, 
God  willing,  shall  not  lack.     Let  us  go  in  together ; 
And  still  your  fingers  on  your  lips,  I  pray. — 
The  time  is  out  of  joint ;  0  cursed  spite  ! 
That  ever  I  was  born  to  set  it  right. — 
Nay,  come ;  let 's  go  together.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. — A  Room  in  Polonius's  House. 
Enter  Polonius  and  Reynaldo. 

Pol.  Give  him  this  money,  and  these  notes.  Reynaldo. 

Rey.  I  will,  my  lord. 

Pol.  You  shall  do  marvellous  wisely,  good  Reynaldo. 
Before  you  visit  him,  to  make  inquiry 
Of  his  behaviour. 

Reij.  My  lord.  I  did  intend  it. 

Pol.  Marry,  well  said  :  very  well  said.  Look  you,  sir, 
Inquire  me  first  what  Danskers  are  in  Paris ; 
And  how,  and  who,  what  means,  and  where  they  keep, 
Wha.t  company,  at  what  expense ;.  and  finding. 
By  this  encompassment  and  drift  of  question, 


SC.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  177 

That  they  do  know  my  son.  come  you  more  nearer 
Than  your  particular  demands  will  touch  it. 
Take  you,  as  't  were,  some  distant  knowledge  of  him ; 
As  thus, — •'  I  know  his  father,  and  his  friends. 
And,  in  part,  him:" — do  you  mark  this,  Reynaldo  ? 

Rey.  Ay,  very  well,  my  lord. 

Pol.  '■  And,  in  part,  him  ;  but,"  you  may  say,  "  not 
well : 
But,  if  "t  be  he  I  mean,  he  's  very  wild, 
Addicted  so  and  so  ;" — and  there  put  on  him 
What  forgeries  you  please ;  marry,  none  so  rank 
As  may  dishonour  him :  take  heed  of  that; 
But,  sir,  such  wanton,  wild,  and  usual  slips, 
As  are  companions  noted  and  most  knovsTi 
To  youth  and  liberty. 

Rey.  As  gaming,  my  lord. 

Pol.  Ay,  or  drinking,  fencing,  swearing,  quarrelling, 
Drabbing  : — you  may  go  so  far. 

Rey.  My  lord,  that  would  dishonour  him. 

Pol.  'Faith,  no  ;  as  you  may  season  it  in  the  charge. 
You  must  not  put  another  scandal  on  him, 
That  he  is  open  to  incontinency : 
That 's  not  my  meaning ;  but  breathe   his  faults  so 

quaintly. 
That  they  may  seem  the  taints  of  liberty  ; 
The  flash  and  outbreak  of  a  iiery  mind ; 
A  savageness  in  unreclaimed  blood, 
Of  general  assault. 

Rey.  But,  my  good  lord, — 

Pol.  Wherefore  should  you  do  this  ? 

Rey.  Ay,  my  lord, 

I  would  know  that. 

Pol.  Marry,  sir,  here  's  my  drift ; 

And,  I  believe,  it  is  a  fetch  of  warrant.' 
You  laying  these  slight  sullies  on  my  son, 
As  't  were  a  thing  a  little  soil'd  i'  the  working, 
Mark  you, 

Your  party  in  converse,  him  you  would  sound, 
Having  ever  seen  in  the  prenominate  crimes 
The  youth  you  breathe  of  guilty,  be  assur'd, 
He  closes  with  you  in  this  consequence  : 
'•Good  sir,"  or  so;  or  "  friend,"  or  ''gentleman," — 
According  to  the  phrase,  or  the  addition 

I  ■wit :  in  quarto,  1604. 


I'^'S  HAMLET,  ACT  H. 

Of  man,  and  country. 

R^y-  Very  good,  my  lord. 

Pol.  And  then,  sir,  does  he  this, — he  does — 
"What  was  I  about  to  say  ? — By  the  mass,  I  was 
Ahout  to  say  something : — where  did  I  leave  ? 

Rey.  At  closes  in  the  consequence, 
As  ''friend  or  so,"'  and  '■  gentleman." 

Pol.  At;  closes  in  the  consequence. — ay,  marry; 
He  closes  thus : — '•  I  know  the  gentleman; 
I  saw  him  yesterday,  or  t'  other  day. 
Or  then,  or  then ;  with  such,  or  such ;  and,  as  you  say, 
There  was  he  gaming;  there  o'crtook  in  's 
There  falling  out  at  tennis :  or  perchance, 
I  saw  him  enter  such  a  house  of  sale. 
Videlicet.^  a  brothel "  or  so  forth. — 
See  you  now : 

Your  bait  of  falsehood  takes  this  carp  of  truth  : 
And  thus  do  we  of  wisdom  and  of  reach, 
With  windlasses,  and  with  assays  of  bias, 
By  indirections  find  directions  out : 
So,  by  my  former  lecture  and  advice. 
Shall  you  my  son.     You  have  me,  have  you  not? 

Rey.  My  lord,  I  have. 

Pol-  God  be  wi'  you ;  fare  you  well, 

Rey.  Good  my  lord. 

Pol.  Observe  his  inclination  in  yourself. 

Rey.  I  shall,  my  lord. 

Pol.  And  let  hira  ply  his  music. 

Rey.  Well,  my  lord.     [Exit. 

Enter  Ophelia. 

Pol.    Farewell ! — How  now,  Ophelia  ?  what 's  the 
matter  ? 

Oph.  Alas/  my  lord  !  I  have  been  so  affrighted  I 

Pol.  With  what,  in  the  name  of  God  ? 

Oph.  My  lord,  as  I  was  sewing  in  my  chamber, 
Lord  Hamlet. — ^A^th  his  doublet  all  unbrac'd ; 
No  hat  upon  his  head ;  his  stockings  foul'd, 
Ungarter"d,  and  down-gyved  to  his  ancle  ; 
Pale  as  his  shirt:  his  knees  knocking  each  other; 
And  with  a  look  so  piteous  in  purport, 
As  if  he  had  been  loosed  out  of  hell. 
To  speak  of  horrors, — he  comes  before  me. 

Pol.  Mad  for  thy  love  ? 

'  0  my  lord  :  in  quartos. 


SCI.  PRINCE    OF.  DENMARK.  179 

Oph.  My  lord,  I  do  not  know; 

But,  trulv,  I  do  fear  it. 

Pol.     '  What  said  he  ? 

Oph.  He  took  me  by  the  "wrist,  and  held  me  hard ; 
Then  goes  he  to  the  length  of  all  his  arm, 
And,  M'ith  his  other  hand  thus  o'er  his  brow, 
He  falls  to  such  perusal  of  my  face. 
As  he  would  draw  it.     Long  stay'd  he  so : 
At  last, — a  little  shaking  of  mine  arm, 
And  thrice  his  head  thu.s  waving  up  and  down, — 
He  rais'd  a  sigh  so  piteous  and  profound, 
That  it  did  seem  to  shatter  all  his  bulk. 
And  end  his  being.     That  done,  he  lets  me  go, 
And.  with  his  head  over  his  shoulder  turn'd, 
He  seem'd  to  find  his  way  without  his  eyes ; 
For  out  o'  doors  he  went  without  their  help, 
And  to  the  last  bended  their  light  on  me. 

Pol.  Come',  go  with  me :  1  will  go  seek  the  king. 
This  is  the  very  ecstasy  of  love ; 
Whose  violent  property  fordoes  itself. 
And  leads  the  "wall  to  desperate  undertakings, 
As  oft  as  any  passion  under  heaven. 
That  does  afflict  our  natures.     I  am  sorry, — 
What  !   have  you  given  him  any  hard  words  of  late  ? 

Oph.  No,  my  good  lord  :  but,  as  you  did  command, 
I  did  repel  his  letters,  and  denied 
His  access  to  me. 

Pol.  That  hath  made  him  mad. 

I  am  Sony  that  with  better  heed  and  judgment 
I  had  not  quoted^  him :  1  fear'd.  he  did  but  trifle, 
And  meant  to  wreck  thee  ;  but,  beshrew  my  jealousy. 
By  heaven.^  it  is  as  proper  to  our  age 
To  cast  beyond  ourselves  in  our  opinions, 
As  it  is  common  for  the  younger  sort 
To  lack  discretion.     Come,  go  we  to  the  king : 
This  must  be  known ;  which,  being  kept  close,  might 

move 
More  grief  to  hide,  than  hate  to  utter  love.       [Exeunt. 

1  Not  in  folio.     2  Observed.    '  It  seems  :  in  folio. 


180  HAMLET,  ACT  H. 

SCENE  II.— A  Room  in  the  Castle. 

Enter  King,  Queen,  Rosencrantz,  Guildexstern,  and 

Attendants. 

King.  Welcome,  dear  Rosencrantz,  and  Guildenstern : 
Moreover,  that  we  did  much  long  to  see  you. 
The  need  we  have  to  use  you,  did  provoke 
Our  ha.'ity  sending.     Something  have  you  heard 
Of  Hamlet's  transformation  ;  so  I  call  it, 
Sith  nor  th'  exterior  nor  the  inward  man 
Resembles  that  it  was.     What  it  should  be. 
More  than  his  father's  death,  that  thus  hath  put  him 
So  much  from  the  understanding  of  himself, 
I  cannot  dream^  of:  I  entreat  you  both, 
That,  being  of  so  young  days  brought  up  mth  him, 
And  since  so  neighbour'd  to  his  youth  and  humour,^ 
That  you  vouchsafe  your  rest  here  in  our  coui't 
Some  Uttle  time :  so  by  your  companies 
To  draw  him  on  to  pleasures,  and  to  gather. 
So  much  as  from  occasion  you  may  glean, 


3 


Whether  aught,  to  us  unknown,  afflicts  him  thus,' 
That,  open'd.  lies  within  our  remedy. 

Queen.  Good  gentlemen,  he  hath  much  talk'd  of  you  ; 
And,  sure  I  am,  two  men  there  are  not  li^^ng, 
To  whom  he  more  adheres.     If  it  will  please  you 
To  show  us  so  much  gentry,  and  good  will. 
As  to  expend  your  time  with  us  a  while, 
For  the  supply  and  profit  of  our  hope, 
Your  visitation  shall  receive  such  thanks 
As  fits  a  king's  remembrance. 

Ros.  Both  your  majesties 

Might,  by  the  sovereign  power  you  have  of  us. 
Put  your  dread  pleasures  more  into  command 
Than  to  entreaty. 

Guil.  But*  we  both  obey ; 

And  here  give  up  ourselves,  in  the  full  bent, 
To  lay  our  service  freely  at  your  feet, 
To  be  commanded. 

King.  Thanks,  Rosencrantz,  and  gentle  Guildenstern. 

Queen.    Thanks,   Guildenstern,    and   gentle   Rosen- 
And  I  beseech  you  instantly  to  visit  [craiitz : 

My  too  much  changed  son. — Go,  some  of  you. 

1  deem  :  in  folio.    '  haviour  :  in  quartos.    '  This  line  is  not  in  folio, 
*  Not  in  folio. 


SC.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  181 

And  bring  these  gentlemen  where  Hamlet  is. 

Gitil.  Heavens  make  our  presence,  and  our  practices. 
Pleasant  and  helpful  to  him  ! 

Queen.  Ay,'  amen ! 

[Exetmt  RosENCRANTz,  GuiLDENSTERN.  and 
some  Attendants. 

Enter  Polonius. 

Fol.  Th'  ambassadors  from  Norway,  my  good  lord, 
Are  joyfully  return'd. 

King.  Thou  still  hast  been  the  father  of  good  news. 

Pol.  Have  I,  my  lord  ?     Assure  you,  my  good  liege, 
I  hold  my  duty,  as  I  hold  my  soul, 
Both  to  my  God,  one''  to  my  gracious  king : 
And  I  do  think,  (or  else  this  brain  of  mine 
Hunts  not  the  trail  of  policy  so  sure 
As  it  hath^  us'd  to  do)  that  I  have  found 
The  very  cause  of  Hamlet's  lunacy. 

King.  0  !  speak  of  that ;  that  do  I  long  to  hear. 

Fol.  Give  first  admittance  to  th'  ambassadors  ; 
My  news  shall  be  the  fruit'  to  that  great  feast. 

King.  Thyself  do  grace  to  them,  and  bring  them  in. 

\Exit  POLONIUS. 
He  tells  me,  my  dear  Gertrude,''  he  hath  found 
The  head  and  source  of  all  your  son's  distemper. 

Queen.  I  doubt,  it  is  no  other  but  the  main ; 
His  father's  death,  and  our  o'erhasty  marriage. 
Re-enter  Polonius,  u'ith  Voltimand  and  Cornelius. 

King.  Well,  we  shall  sift  him. — Welcome,  my  good 
friends. 
Say,  Voltimand,  what  from  our  brother  Norway? 

Volt.  Most  fair  return  of  greetings,  and  desires. 
Upon  our  first,  he  sent  out  to  suppress 
His  nephew's  levies ;  which  to  him  appear'd 
To  be  a  preparation  'gainst  the  Polack, 
But,  better  look'd  into,  he  truly  found 
It  was  against  your  highness  :  whereat  griev'd, — 
That  so  his  sickness,  age,  and  impotence. 
Was  falsely  borne  in  hand, — sends  out  arrests 
On  Fortinbras  ;  which  he  in  brief  obeys, 
Receives  rebuke  from  Norway,  and,  in  fine, 
Makes  vow  before  his  uncle,  never  more 
To  give  th'  assay  of  arms  against  your  majesty. 

I  Not  in  folio.      2  and  :  in  quartos.     '  I  have  :  in  folio.      *  news  : 
in  folio.     '  my  sweet  queen  :  in  folio. 

Vol.  VII.— 16 


182  HAMLET,  ACT  11. 

Whereon  old  Norway,  overcome  with  joy, 
Gives  him  three  thousand  crowns  in  annual  fee, 
And  his  commission  to  employ  those  soldiers, 
So  levied  as  before,  against  the  Polack  : 
With  an  entreaty,  herein  farther  shown, 

[Giving  a  Paper. 
That  it  might  please  you  to  give  quiet  pass 
Through  your  dominions  for  this  enterprise, 
On  such  regards  of  safety,  and  allowance. 
As  therein  are  set  down. 

King.  It  likes  us  well ; 

And,  at  our  more  consider' d  time,  we  '11  read, 
Answer,  and  think  upon  this  business : 
Mean  time,  we  thank  you  for  your  well-took  labour. 
Go  to  your  rest :  at  night  we  ''11  feast  together  : 
Most  welcome  home. 

[Exeunt  Voltimand  and  Cornelius. 

Pol.  This  business  is  well  ended. 

My  liege,  and  madam ;  to  expostulate 
What  majesty  should  be,  what  duty  is, 
Why  day  is  day,  night  night,  and  time  is  time. 
Were  nothing  but  to  waste  day,  night,  and  time. 
Therefore,  since'  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit, 
And  tediousness  the  limbs  and  outward  flourishes, 
I  will  be  brief.     Your  noble  son  is  mad  : 
Mad  call  I  it;  for,  to  define  true  madness. 
What  is  't,  but  to  be  nothing  else  but  mad  : 
But  let  that  go. 

Queen.  More  matter,  with  less  art. 

Pol.   Madam,  I  swear,  I  use  no  art  at  all. 
That  ho  is  mad,  't  is  true :  't  is  true,  't  is  pity. 
And  pify  't  is  't  is  true  :  a  foolish  figure ; 
But  farewell  it,  for  I  will  use  no  art. 
Mad  let  us  grant  him,  then  ;  and  now  remains, 
That  we  find  out  the  cause  of  this  efl^ect ; 
Or  rather  say,  the  cause  of  this  defect. 
For  this  efl'ect  defective  comes  by  cause  : 
Thus  it  remains,  and  the  remainder  thus. 
Perpend. 

I  have  a  daughter ;  have,  while  she  is  mine : 
Who,  in  her  duty  and  obedience,  mark. 
Hath  given  me  this.     Now  gather,  and  surmise. 

[Reads. 

I  Not  in  quartos. 


SC,  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  183 

— "  To  the  celestial,  and  my  soul's  idol,  the  most  beau- 
tified Ophelia." — 

That 's  an  ill  phrase,  a  ^•ile  phrase ;  "  beautified  "  is  a 
vile  phrase  ;  but  you  shall  hear. — Thus  : 

"  In  her  excellent  white  bosom,  these,"  &c. — 

Queen.  Came  this  from  Hamlet  to  her? 

Tol.  Good  madam,  stay  awhile  :  I  wall  be  faithful. — 
"  Doubt  thou  the  stars  are  fire,  [Reads. 

Doubt,  that  the  sun  doth  move ; 
Doubt  truth  to  be  a  liar. 
But  never  doubt  I  love. 

"  0  dear  Ophelia  !  I  am  ill  at  these  numbers  :  I  have 
not  art  to  reckon  my  groans ;  but  that  I  love  thee  best, 
0  !  most  best,  believe  it.     Adieu. 

Thine  evermore,  most  dear  lady,  whilst 
this  machine  is  to  him,  Hamlet."' 
This  in  obedience  hath  my  daughter  shown  me ; 
And  more  above,  hath  his  solicitings, 
As  they  fell  out  by  time,  by  means,  and  place, 
All  given  to  mine  ear. 

King.  But  how  hath  she 

Receiv'd  his  love  ? 

Pol.  What  do  you  think  of  me  ? 

King.  As  of  a  man  faithful,  and  honourable. 

Pol.  I  would  fain  prove  so.  But  what  might  you  think, 
When  I  had  seen  this  hot  love  on  the  wing, 
(As  I  percciv'd  it,  I  must  tell  you  that, 
Before  my  daughter  told  me)  what  might  you, 
Or  my  dear  majesty,  your  queen  here,  think, 
If  I  had  play'd  the  desk,  or  table-book ; 
Or  given  my  heart  a  winking'-,  mute  and  dumb  ; 
Or  look'd  upon  this  love  with  idle  sight ; 
What  might  you  think?  no,  I  went  round  to "^vork, 
And  my  young  mistress  thus  I  did  bespeak  :    . 
"  Lord  Hamlet  is  a  prince,  out  of  1hy  star^; 
This  mu.st  not  be :"  and  then  I  precepts  gave  her, 
That  she  should  lock  herself  from  his  resort. 
Admit  no  messengers,  receive  no  tokens. 
Which  done,  she  took  the  fruits  of  my  advice  j 
And  he,  reptil.^ed,  a  short  tale  to  make. 
Fell  into  sadness ;  then  into  a  fast ; 
Thence  to  a  watch  :  thence  into  a  weakness  : 
Thence  to  a  lightness  :  and  by  this  declension, 

I  working  :  in  quartos.      2  sphere  :  in  folio,  1632. 


184  HAMLET,  ACT  II. 

Into  the  madness  wherein  now  he  raves, 
And  we  all  waiP  for. 

King.  Do  you  think  't  is  this  ? 

Queen.  It  may  be,  A^ery  likely. 

Fol.  Hath  there  been  such  a  time,  I  'd  fain  know  that, 
That  I  have  positively  said,  "  'T  is  so," 
When  it  prov'd  otherwise  ? 

Kinsc.  Not  that  I  know. 

Pol.  Take  this  from  this,  if  this  be  otherwise. 

[Pointing  to  his  Head  and  Shoulder. 
If  circimistances  lead  me.  [  will  find 
Where  truth  is  hid,  though  it  were  hid  indeed 
Within  the  centre. 

King  How  may  we  try  it  fartlier  ? 

Pol.    You    know,  sometimes    he  walks    for    hours 
together. 
Here  in  the  lobby. 

Queen.  So  he  doth,  indeed. 

Pol.  At  such  a  time  I  '11  loose  my  daughter  to  him : 
Be  you  and  I  behind  an  arras,  then  : 
Mark  the  encounter;  if  he  love  her  not. 
And  be  not  from  his  reason  fallen  thereon, 
Let  me  be  no  assistant  for  a  state, 
But'  keep  a  farm  and  carters. 

King.  We  will  try  it. 

Enter  Hamlkt.  reading. 

Queen.  But.  look,  where  sadly  the  poor  wretch  comes 
reading. 

Pol.  Away  !  I  do  beseech  you,  both  away. 
I  '11  board  him  presently  : — 0  !  give  me  leave  — 

[Exeu7}t  King.  Queen.,  and  Attendants. 
How  does  my  good  lord  Hamlet? 

Ham.  Weil,  god-'a-mercy. 

Pol.  Do  you  know  me.  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  Excellent  well ;  you  are  a  fishmonger. 

Pol.  Not  I,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Then,  I  would  you  were  so  honest  a  man. 

Pol.  Honest,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  Ay,  sir  :  to  be  honest,  as  this  world  goes,  is  to 
be  one  man  picked  out  of  ten^  thousand. 

Pol.  That 's  very  true,  my  lord. 

Ham.  For  if  the  sun  breed  maggots  in  a  dead  dog, 
being  a  good*  kissing  carrion, — Have  you  a  daughter  ? 

1  mourn  :  in  quartos.      ^  And  :  in  folio.     ^  two  :  in  folio.     *  So  old 
copies.     Warburton  reads  :  god. 


SC.  n.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  185 

Pol.  I  have,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Let  her  not'  walk  i'  the  sun  :  conception  is  a 
blessing  :  but  not  as  your  daughter  may  conceive  : — 
friend,  look  to  't. 

Pol.  [Aside.]  How  say  you  by  that  ?  Still  harping 
on  my  daughter  : — yet  he  knew  me  not  at  first ;  he 
said,  I  was  a  fishmonger.  He  is  far  gone,  far  gone'^ :  and 
truly  in  my  youth  I  suffered  much  extremity  for  love  ; 
very  near  this.  I  '11  speak  to  him  again. — What  do  you 
read,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  Words,  words,  words. 

Pol.  What  is  the  matter,  my  lord  ? 

Hatn.  Between  whom  ? 

Pol.  I  mean,  the  matter  that  you  read,^  my  lord. 

Ham.  Slanders,  sir  :  for  the  satirical  rogue  says  here, 
that  old  men  have  grey  beards  ;  that  their  faces  arc 
wrinkled  ;  their  eyes  purging  thick  amber,  and  plum- 
tree  gum  ;  and  that  they  have  a  plentiful  lack  of  wit, 
together  with  most  weak  hams  ;  all  of  which,  sir, 
though  I  most  powerfully  and  potently  believe,  yet  I 
hold  it  not  honesty  to  have  it  thus  set  down ;  for  you 
yourself,  sir.  should  be*  old  as  I  am,  if  like  a  crab  you 
could  go  backward. 

Pol.  Though  this  be  madness,  yet  there  is  method 
in  "t.   [Aside.]  Will  you  walk  out  of  the  air,  my  lord  ? 

Ha?n.  Into  my  grave  ? 

Pol.  Indeed,  that  is  out  o'the  air. — [Aside. ^]  How 
pregnant  sometimes  his  replies  are  !  a  happiness  that 
often  madnei^s  hits  on.  which  reason  and  sanity  could 
not  so  prosperously  be  delivered  of.  I  will  leave  him,, 
and  suddenly  contrive  the  means  of  meeting  between 
him  and  my  daughter. — [To  him.^]  My  honourable 
lord.  I  will  most  humbly  take  my  leave  of  you. 

Ham.  You  cannot,  sir,  take  from  me  any  thing  that 
I  will  more  willingly  part  withal ;  except  my  life,'  ex- 
cept my  life,  except  my  life. 

Pol.  Fare  you  well,  my  lord. 

Ham.  These  tedious  old  fools  ! 

Enter  Rosencrantz  and  Gcildenstern. 

Pol.  You  go  to  seek  the  lord  Hamlet ;  there  he  is. 

jRo5.  God  save  you.  sir  !  [To  Polonius. 

[Exit  Polonius. 

1  *  Not  in  quartos.      ^  mean  :  in  folio.      *  shall  grow  :  in  quaxtos. 

*  6  Not  in  f.  e.     ''  except  raj  life,  my  life  :  in  folio. 


186  HAMLET,  ACT  II. 

Ouil.  Mine  honour'd  lord  ! — 

Ros.  My  most,  dear  lord  ! 

Ham.  My  excellent  good  friends  !  How  dost  thou, 
Guildens^tern  ?  Ah,  Rosencrantz  !  Good  lads,  how  do 
ye  both  ? 

Ros.  As  the  indifferent  children  of  the  earth. 

Guil.  Happy,  in  that  we  are  not  overhappy  / 
On  fortune's  cap  we  are  not  the  very  button. 

Ham.  Nor  the  soles  of  her  shoe  ? 

Ros.  Neither,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Then  you  live  about  her  waist,  or  in  the 
middle  of  her  favours  ? 

Guil.  'Faith,  her  privates  we. 

Ham.  In  the  secret  parts  of  fortune  ?  0  !  most  true ; 
she  is  a  strumpet.     What  news  ? 

Ros.  None,  my  lord,  but  that  the  world  's  grown 
honest. 

Ham.  Then  is  dooms-day  near ;  but  your  news  is  not 
true.  Let  me  question  more  in  particular  :  what  have 
you,  my  good  friends,  deserved  at  the  hands  of  fortune, 
that  she  sends  you  to  prison  hither  ? 

Guil.  Prison,  my  lord  ! 

Ham.  Denmark  's  a  prison. 

Ros.  Then,  is  the  world  one. 

Ham.  A  goodly  one  ;  in  which  there  are  many  con- 
fines, wards,  and  dungeons,  Denmark  being  one  of  the 
worst. 

Ros.  We  think  not  so,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Why,  then  't  is  none  to  you  :  for  there  is 
nothing  either  good  or  bad,  but  thinking  makes  it  so  : 
to  me  it  is  a  prison. 

Ros.  Why  then,  your  ambition  makes  it  one  :  't  is 
too  narrow  for  your  mind. 

Ha7n.  0  God  !  I  could  be  bounded  in  a  nut-shell, 
and  count  myself  a  king  of  infinite  space,  were  it  not 
that  I  have  bad  dreams. 

Guil.  Which  dreams,  indeed,  are  ambition  ;  for  the 
very  substance  of  the  ambitious  is  merely  the  shadow 
of  a  dream.. 

Ham.  A  dream  itself  is  but  a  shadow. 

Ros.  Truly,  and  I  hold  ambition  of  so  airy  and  light 
a  quality,  that  it  is  but  a  shadow's  shadow. 

Ham.  Then  are  our  beggars  bodies,  and  ourmonarchs, 

1  ever  happy  on  fortune's  lap  :  in  quartos. 


SC.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  187 

and  outstretched  heroes,  the  beggars'  shadows.     Shall 
we  to  the  court  ?  for,  by  my  fay,  I  cannot  reason. 
Ros.  Guil.  We  '11  wait  upon  you. 
Ham.  No  such  matter  :  I  will  not  sort  you  with  the 
rest  of  my  servants  ;  for,  to  speak  to  you  like  an  honest 
man,   I   am  most  dreadfully  attended.      But,  in  the 
beaten  way  of  friendship,  what  make  you  at  Elsinore  ? 
Ros.  To  visit  you,  my  lord  ;  no  other  occasion. 
Ham.  Beggar  that  I  am.  I  am  even  poor  in  thanks; 
but  I  thank  you  :  and  sure,  dear  friends,  my  thanks  are 
too  dear  a  halfpenny.     Were  you  not  sent  for?     Is  it 
your  own  inclining  ?     Is  it  a  free  visitation  ?     Come, 
come  ;  deal  justly  with  me  :  come,  come  ;  nay,  speak. 
Guil.  What  shovild  we  say,  my  lord  ? 
Hain.   Why   any  thing,  but  to  the  purpose.      You 
were  sent  for  ;  and  there  is   a  kind  of  confession  in 
your  look.s,  which  your  modesties  have  not  craft  enough 
to  colour  :  I  know,  the  good  king  and  queen  have  sent 
for  you. 

Ro.s.  To  what  end,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  That  you  must  teach  me.  But  let  me  conjure 
you,  by  the  rights  of  our  fellowship,  by  the  consonancy 
of  our  youth,  by  the  obligation  of  our  ever-preserved 
love,  and  by  what  more  dear  a  better  proposer  could 
charge  you  withal,  be  even  and  direct  with  me,  whether 
you  were  sent  for,  or  no  ? 

Ros.  What  say  you?  [To  Guildenstern. 

Ham.  Nay,  then  I  have  an  eye  of  you.  [Aside.] — If 
you  love  me,  hold  not  off. 

Guil.  My  lord,  we  were  sent  for. 
Ham.  I  will  tell  you  why  ;  so  shall  my  anticipation 
prevent  your  discovery,  and^  your  secrecy  to  the  king 
and  queen  moult  no  feather.  I  have  of  late  (but 
wherefore  I  know  not)  lost  all  my  mirth,  foregone  all 
custom  of  exercises  :  and,  indeed,  it  goes  so  heavily 
with  my  disposition,  that  this  goodly  frame,  the  earth, 
seems  to  me  a  sterile  promontory  ;  this  most  excellent 
canopy,  the  air,  look  you,  this  brave  o'erhanging  firma- 
ment, this  majestical  roof  fretted  with  golden  fires,  why, 
it  appeareth  nothing  to  me,  but  a  foul  and  pestilent 
congregation  of  vapours.  What  a  piece  of  work  is  a 
man  !  How  noble  in  reason  !  how  infinite  in  faculties  ! 
in  form,  and  moving,  how  express  and  admirable  !  in 

1  On.    2  of :  in  folio. 


188  HAMLET,  ACT  11. 

action,  how  like  an  angel  !  in  apprehension,  how  like  a 
god  !  the  beauty  of  the  world  !  the  paragon  of  animals  ! 
And  yet,  to  me,  what  is  this  quintessence  of  dust  ?  man 
delights  not  me  ;  [Ros.  stniles.y  no,  nor  woman  neither, 
thoui^h  by  your  smiling  you  seem  to  say  so. 

Ros.  My  lord,  there  was  no  such  stuff  in  my 
thoughts. 

Ham.  Why  did  you  laugh,  then,  when  I  said,  man 
delights  not  me  ? 

Ros.  To  think,  my  lord,  if  you  delight  not  in  man, 
what  lenten^  entertainment  the  players  shall  receive 
from  you  :  we  coted^  them  on  the  way,  and  hither  are 
they  coming  to  offer  you  service. 

Ham.  He  that  plays  the  king,  shall  be  welcome  ; 
his  majesty  shall  have  tribute  of  me  :  the  adventurous 
knight  shall  use  his  foil,  and  target :  the  lover  shall 
not  sigh  gratis  :  the  humorous  man  shall  end  his  part 
in  peace  ;  the  clown  shall  make  those  laugh,  whose 
lungs  are  tickled  o'  the  sere  :*  and  the  lady  shall  say 
her  mind  freely,  or  the  blank  verse  shall  halt  for  "t. — 
What  players  are  they  ? 

Ros.  Even  those  you  were  wont  to  take  such  delight 
in,  the  tragedians  of  the  city. 

Ham.  How  chances  it,  they  travel  ?  their  residence, 
both  in  reputation  and  profit,  was  better  both  ways. 

Ros.  I  think,  their  inhibition  comes  by  the  means 
of  the  late  innovation.'^ 

Ham.  Do  they  hold  the  same  estimation  they  did 
when  I  was  in  the  city?     Are  they  so  followed  ? 

Ros.  No,  indeed,  they  are  not. 

Ham.  How  comes  it  ?     Do  they  grow  ru.«ty  ? 

jRo.5.  Nay.  their  endeavour  keeps  in  the  wonted 
pace  ;  but  there  is,  sir.  an  eyry  of  children,^  little  eyases, 
that  cry  out  on  the  top  of  question,  and  are  most 
tyrannically  clapped  for  "t :  these  are  now  the  fa.shion  ; 
and  so  berattle  the  common  stages,  (so  they  call  them) 
that  many,  wearing  rapiers,  are  afraid  of  goose  quills, 
and  dare  scarce  come  thither. 

Ham.  What !  are  they  children?  who  maintains  them? 

1  Not  in  f.  e.  ^  players  were  not  allowed  to  perforin  in  Lent. 
S  Came  nlon?  side  of.  *  in  the  lungs  :  in  qnarto,  1603.  =  Probably 
a  reference  to  the  restriction  in  1600-1,  of  dramatic  performances 
to  two  theatres,  the  Globe  and  the  Fortune.  ^  An  allusion  to  some 
juvenile  company  of  players,  of  which  there  were  several  in  great 
popular  favour  at  the  time. 


SC.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK,  189 

how  are  they  escoted  ?'  Will  they  pursue  the  quality 
no  longer  than  they  can  sing  ?  will  they  not  say  after- 
wards, if  they  should  grow  themselves  to  common 
players,  (as  it  is  most  like,  if  their  means  are  not 
better)  their  writers  do  them  wrong,  to  make  them  ex- 
claim against  their  own  succession? 

Ros.  'Faith,  there  has  been  much  to  do  on  both 
sides  ;  and  the  nation  holds  it  no  sin  to  tarre^  them  to 
controversy  :  there  was,  for  a  while,  no  money  bid  for 
argument,  unless  the  poet  and  the  player  went  to  cuf6 
in  the  question. 

Ham.  Is  it  possible  ? 

Gvil.  0  !  there  has  been  much  throwing  about  of 
brains. 

Ham .  Do  the  boys  carry  it  away  ? 

Ros.  Ay,  that  they  do,  my  lord  ;  Hercules,  and  his 
load  too. 

Ham.  It  is  not  very^  strange  ;  for  my  uncle  is  king 
of  Denmark,  and  those,  that  would  make  mowes*  at 
him  while  my  father  lived,  ^ive  twenty,  forty,  fifty,  an 
hundred  ducats  a-piece  for  his  picture  in  little.  'Sblood  ! 
there  is  something  in  this  more  than  natural,  if  philo- 
sophy could  find  it  out.  [Trumpets  within. 

Guil.  There  are  the  players. 

Ham.  Gentlemen,  you  are  welcome  to  Elsinore. 
Your  hands.  Come,  then  :  the  appurtenances  of  wel- 
come is  fashion  and  ceremony  :  let  me  comply  with 
you  in  this  garb,  lest  Imy  extent  to  the  players  (which, 
I  tell  you,  must  show  fairly  outward)  should  more 
appear  like  entertainment  than  yours.  You  are  wel- 
come ;  but  my  uncle-father,  and  aunt-mother,  are  de- 
ceived. 

Guil.  In  what,  my  dear  lord  ? 

Ham.  I  am  but  mad  north-north-west  :  when  the 
wind  is  southerly,  I  know  a  hawk  fi'om  a  hand- 
saw.' 

Enter  PoLONius. 

Pol.  Well  be  with  you,  gentlemen  ! 

Ham.  Hark  you,  Guildenstern  : — and  you  too  ; — at 
each  ear  a  hearer  :  that  great  baby,  you  see  there,  is 
not  yet  out  of  his  swathing- clouts. 

1  Fr.  escnt  :  shot,  or  reckoning.  ^  Excite.  ^  'Not  in  folio. 
*  months  :  in  quartos.  '  A  common  proverb,  when  tlie  play  was 
written  ;  the  word  is  a  corruption  of  hemshaw,  a  heron. 


190  HAMLET,  ACT.  II. 

Ros.  Haply,  he  "s  the  second  time  come  to  them  j 
for,  they  say,  an  old  man  is  twice  a  child. 

Ham.  I  will  prophesy,  he  comes  to  tell  me  of  the 
players ;  mark  it. — You  say  right,  sir  :  o'  Monday 
morning  ;  't  was  then,  indeed. 

Pol.   My  lord,  I  have  news  to  tell  you. 

Ham.  My  lord,  I  have  news  to  tell  you.  When 
Ropcius  was  an  actor  in  Rome. — 

Pol.  The  actors  arc  come  hither,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Buz,  buz  ! 

Pol.  Upon  my  honour. — 

Ham.  Then  came  each  actor  on  his  ass, — 

Pol.  The  best  actors  in  the  world,  either  for  tragedy, 
comedy,  hi.story,  pastoral,  pastoral-comical,  historical- 
pastoral,  tragical-hi.storical,  tragical-comical-liistorical- 
pastoral,  scene  individable,  or  poem  unlimited  :  Seneca 
cannot  be  too  heavy,  nor  Plautus  too  light.  For  the 
law  of  writ,  and  the  liberty,'  these  are  the  only  men. 

Hain.  0  Jephthah,  Judge  of  Israel,  what  a  treasure 
hadst  thou  ! 

Pol.  What  treasure  had  he,  ray  lord  ? 

Ham.  Why — 

'■  One  fair  daughter,  and  no  more, 
The  which  he  loved  passing  well." 

Pol.  Still  on  my  daughter.  [Aside. 

Ham.  Am  I  not  i-  the  right,  old  Jephthah  ? 

Pol.  If  you  call  me  Jephthah,  my  lord,  I  have  a 
daughter  that  t  love  passing  well. 

Ham.  Nay,  that  follows  not. 

Pol.  What  follows,  then,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  Why, 

'•'  As  by  lot,  God  wot," 
And  then,  you  know, 

"  It  came  to  pass,  as  most  like  it  was.""^ 
The  first  row  of  the  pious  chanson  will  show  you  more  j 
for  look,  where  my  abridgment  comes. 

Enter  Four  or  Five  Players. 
You  are  welcome,  masters  ;  welcome,  all. — I  am  glad 
to  see  thee  well  : — welcome,  good  friends. — 0,  old 
friend  !  why,  thy  face  is  valanced"'  since  I  saw  thee 
last  :  com'st  thou  to  beard  me  in  Denmark  ? — What, 
my  young  lady  and  mistress  !     By'r-lady.  your  ladyship 

1  Good,  whether  for  -written  or  extempore  performances.     2  From  the 
ballad  of  Jephthah.  See  Percy  Reliques,  Vol.  I.     •"'  valiant  :  in  quarto. 


SC.  ir,  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  191 

is  nearer  to  heaven,  than  when  I  saw  you  last,  by  the 
altitude  of  a  chopine.'  Pray  God,  yovir  voice,  like  a 
piece  of  uncurrent  gold,  be  not  cracked  within  the 
ring. — Masters,  you  are  all  welcome.  We  '11  e'en  to  't 
like  French  falconers,  fly  at  any  thing  we  see  :  we  '11 
have  a  speech  straight.  Come,  give  us  a  taste  of  your 
quality  ;  come,  a  passionate  speech. 

1  Play.  What  speech,  my  good*  lord  ? 

Ham.  I  heard  thee  speak  me  a  speech  once, — but  it 
was  never  acted  ;  or,  if  it  was,  not  above  once,  for  the 
play,   I   remember,    pleased   not   the   million ;    't  was 
caviare  to  tlie  general  :  but  it  was  (as  I  received  it,  and 
others,  whose  judgments  in  such  matters  cried  in  the 
top  of  mine)  an  excellent  play  ;  well  digested  in  the 
scenes,  set  down  with  as  much  modesty  as  cunning. 
I  remember,  one  said,  there  was  no  salt^  in  tlie  lines  to 
make  the  matter  savoury,  nor  no  matter  in  the  phrase 
that  might  indict  the  author  of  affectation,  but  called 
it  an  honest  method,  as*  wholesome  as  sweet,  and  by 
very  much  more  handsome  than  fine.     One  speech  in  it 
I  chiefly  loved  :  'twas  Eneas'  tale'  to  Dido;  and  there- 
about  of  it  especially,  where   he  speaks  of  Priam's 
slaughter.     If  it   live  in  your  memory,  begin   at  this 
line  : — let  me  see,  let  me  see ; — 
"  The  rugged  Pyrrhus,  like  the  Hyreanian  beast," 
— 't  is  not  so;  it  begins  with  Pyrrhus. 
"  The  rugged  Pyrrhus, — he,  whose  sable  arms. 
•'■  Black  as  his  purpose,  did  the  night  resemble 
"When  ho  lay  couched  in  the  ominous  horse, 
"  Hath  now  this  dread  and  black  complexion  smear'd 
"  With  heraldry  more  dismal ;  head  to  foot 
"Now  is  he  totu!  gules;  horridly  trick'd 
"With  blood  of  faihers,  mothers,  daughters,  sons; 
"  Bak'd  and  impasted  with  the  parchirjg  streets, 
"  That  lend  a  tyrannous  and  a  damned  light 
"  To  their  lord's  murder  :^  roasted  in  wrath,  and  fire, 
"  And  thus  o'er-sized  vv'ilh  coagulate  gore, 
'•  With  eyes  like  carbuncles,  the  hellish  Pyrrhus 
"Old  grandsire  Priam  seeks  ;" — 
So  proceed  you. 

1  A  hi^h  cork,  or  lonoden-soled  shoe.  =  Not  in  folio.  3  there  were 
no  sallets  :  in  f.  e.  Pope  also  suggested  the  change.  *  This  and  the 
following  words,  to  the  period,  are  not  in  the  folio,  ^talk:  in  quarto, 
1604.     s  vile  murders  :  in  folio. 


192  HAMLET,  ACT  II. 

Pol.  'Fore  God.   my  lord,  well  spoken ;  with  good 
accent,  and  good  discretion. 

1  Play.  '■  Anon  he  finds  him 
'■  Striking  too  short  at  Greeks  :  his  antique  sword, 
''  Rebellions  to  his  arm,  lies  where  it  falls, 
"Repugnant  to  command.     Unequal  match'd.' 
"PjTrhus  at  Priam  drives;  in  rage  strikes  wide; 
"  But  with  the  whiff  and  wind  of  his  fell  sword 
'■  The  unnerved  father  falls.     Then  senseless  Ilium, 
"  Seeming  to  feel  this  blow,  with  flaming  top 
"  Stoops  to  his  base  ;  and  with  a  hideous  crash 
"Takes  prisoner  Pyrrhus"  ear:  for,  lo  !  his  sword 
"  Which  was  declining  on  the  milky  head 
"  Of  reverend  Priam,  seem'd  i'  the  air  to  stick : 
"  So.  as  a  painted  tyrant,  Pyrrhus  stood  : 
"'  And.  like  a  neutral  to  his  will  and  matter, 
"  Did  nothing. 

"  But,  as  we  often  see,  against  some  storm, 
"  A  silence  in  the  heavens,  the  rack  stand  still. 
"  The  bold  winds  speechless,  and  the  orb  below 
"As  hush  as  death,  anon  the  dreadful  thunder 
"  Doth  rend  the  region ;  so,  after  Pyrrhus'  pause, 
"Aroused  vengeance  sets  him  new  a- work, 
"  And  never  did  the  Cyclops'  hammers  fall 
"  On  IMars's  armour,  forg'd  for  proof  eterne, 
"  With  less  remorse  than  Pyrrhus'  bleeding  sword 
"  Now  falls  on  Priam. — 

"  Out,  out,  thou  strumpet.  Fortune  !     All  you  gods, 
"  In  general  synod,  take  away  her  power ; 
"  Break  all  the  spokes  and  fellies  from  her  wheel, 
•'  And  bowl  the  round  nave  down  the  hill  of  heaven, 
"As  low  as  to  the  fiends  !" 

Pol.  This  is  too  long. 

Ham.  It  shall  to  the  barber's,  with  your  beard. — 
Pr'ythee,  say  on  :  he  's  for  a  jig,'^  or  a  tale  of  bawdry, 
or  he  sleeps.     Say  on  :  come  to  Hecuba. 

1  Play.  "  But  who,  0  !  who  had  seen  the   mobled' 
queen  " — 

Ham .  The  mobled  queen  ? 

Pol.  That 's  good  ;  mobled  queen  is  good. 

1  Play.  "  Run  barefoot  up  and  do-wn,  threat'ning  the 
flames 

1  match  :  in  folio.      ^  A  comic  entertainment  by  the  clown,  after 
the  play.     ^  Carelessly  dressed. 


SC.  11.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  193 

"  With  bisson'  rheum ;  a  clout  upon  that  head, 

"  Where  late  the  diadem  stood ;  and.  for  a  robe 

"About  her  lank  and  all  oerteemed  loins, 

"  A  blanket,  in  th'  alarm  of  fear  caught  up  ; 

"  Who  this  had  seen,  with  tongue  in  venom  steep'd. 

"  'Gainst  fortune's  state  would  treason  have  pronounc'd : 

"  But  if  the  gods  themselves  did  see  her  then, 

"When  she  saw  Pyrrhus  make  malicious  sport 

"In  mincing  with  his  sword  her  husband's  limbs. 

"The  instant  burst  of  clamour  that  she  made, 

"  (Unless  things  mortal  move  them  not  at  all) 

"  Would  have  made  milch  the  burning  eyes  of  heaven, 

"  And  passionate^  the  gods." 

Pol.  Look,  whether  he  has  not  turned  his  colour,  and 
has  tears  in  's  eyes  ! — Pr"ythee,  no  more. 

Ham.  "T  is  well  ;  I  '11  have  thee  speak  out  the  rest  of 
this^  soon. — Good  my  lord,  will  you  see  the  players  well 
bestowed  ?  Do  you  hear,  let  them  be  well  used  :  for 
they  are  the  abstracts,  and  brief  chronicles,  of  the  time  : 
after  your  death  you  were  better  have  a  bad  epitaph, 
than  their  ill  report  while  you  live*. 

Pol.  iNIy  lord,  I  will  use  them  according  to  their  desert. 

Ham.  God  's  bodkin,  man,  much^  better  :  use  every 
man  after  his  desert,  and  who  should  'scape  whipping? 
Use  them  after  your  own  honour  and  dignity  :  the  less 
they  deserve,  the  more  merit  is  in  your  bounty.  Take 
them  in. 

Pol.  Come,  sirs. 

[Exit  PoLOXius,  u'ith  some  of  the  Players. 

Ham.  Follow  him,  friends:  we'll  hear  a  play  to-, 
morrow. — Dost  thou  hear  me,  old  friend?  can  you  play 
the  murder  of  Gonzago  ? 

1  Play.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Ham.  We  '11  have  it  to-morrow  night.  You  could,  for 
a  need,  study  a  speech  of  some  dozen  or  sixteen  lines, 
which  I  would  set  dovm  and  insert  in  't,  could  you  not  ? 

1  Play.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Very  well. — Follow  that  lord;  and  look  you 
mock  him  not.  [Exit  Player.]  My  good  friends,  [To 
Ros.  and  Guil.]  I  '11  leave  you  till  night :  you  are 
welcome  to  Elsinore. 

1  Blind.      2  And  passion   in  :  in  f.  e.      '  "  of  this"  :   not  in  folio. 
*  liyed  :  in  folio.     *  Not  in  folio. 

Vol.  VII.— 17 


194  HAMLET,  ACT  II. 

Ros.  Good  my  lord  ! 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  and  Guildf.nstern. 

Ham.  Ay.  so,  good  bye  you'. — Now  I  am  alone. — 
0,  what  a  rogue  and  peasant  slave  am  I  ! 
Is  it  not  monstrous,  that  this  player  here. 
But  in  a  fiction,  in  a  dream  of  passion. 
Could  force  his  soul  so  to  his  own'^  conceit. 
That  from  her  working  all  his  visage  wann'd'  ^ 
Tears  in  his  eyes,  distraction  in  his  aspect, 
A  broken  voice,  and  his  whole  function  suiting 
With  forms  to  his  conceit  ?  and  all  for  nothing  : 
For  Hecuba  ! 

What 's  Hecuba  to  him,  or  he  to  Hecuba, 
That  he  should  w-eep  for  her  ?     What  would  he  do, 
Had  he  the  motive  and  the  cue  for  passion. 
That  I  have  ?     He  would  drown  the  stage  with  tears. 
And  cleave  the  general  ear  with  horrid  speech  ; 
Make  mad  the  guilty,  and  appal  the  free, 
Confound  the  ignorant ;  and  amaze,  indeed, 
The  very  faculties  of  eyes  and  ears.     Yet  I, 
A  dull  and  muddy-mettled  rascal,  peak, 
•Like  John  a-dreams,  unpregnant  of  my  cause, 
And  can  say  nothing ;  no,  not  for  a  king,  - 
Upon  whose  property,  and  most  dear  life, 
A  damn'd  defeat  was  made.     Am  I  a  coward  ? 
Who  calls  me  villain  ?  breaks  my  pate  across  ? 
Plucks  off  my  beard,  and  blows  it  in  my  face  ? 
Tweaks  me  by  the  nose  ?  gives  me  the  lie  i"  the  throat, 
As  deep  as  to  the  lungs  ?     Who  does  me  this  ?     Ha  ! 
'Swounds  !   I  should  take  it ;  for  it  cannot  be. 
But  I  am  pigeon-liverid,  and  lack  gall 
To  make  transgression*  bitter,  or  ere  this 
I  should  have  latted  all  the  region  kites 
With  this  slave's  offal.     Bloody,  bawdy  villain  ! 
Remorseless,  treacherous,  lecherous,  kindless  villain  ! 
O,  vengeance  !* 

Why,^  what  an  ass  am  I  !     This  is  most  brave ; 
That  I,  the  son  of  a  dear  father''  murder'd. 
Prompted  to  my  revenge  by  heaven  and  hell, 
Must,  like  a  whore,  unpack  my  heart  with  words. 
And  fall  a  cursing,  like  a  very  drab, 

1  to  you  :  in  quartos.  =  whole  :  in  folio.  ^  'warm'd  :  in  folio, 
♦oppression:  in  f.  e.  5  "phis;  line  is  not  in  quartos.  6  Who  :  in 
quartos.     ''  Not  in  folio,  or  quartos,  1604-5. 


8C.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  195 

A  scullion  ! 

Fie  upon  't !  foh  !  About  my  brain  ! — I  have  heard, 

That  guilty  creatures,  sitting  at  a  play. 

Have  by  the  very  cunning  of  the  scene 

Been  struck  so  to  the  soul,  that  presently 

They  have  proclaim"d  their  malefactions  ; 

For  murder,  though  it  have  no  tongue,  will  speak 

With  most  miraculous  organ.     I  '11  have  these  players 

Play  something  like  the  murder  of  my  father. 

Before  mine  uncie  :  1  '11  observe  his  looks  ; 

I  '11  tent^  him  to  the  quick  :  if  he  but  blench', 

I  know  my  course.     Tlie  spirit,  that  I  have  seen. 

May  be  the  devil ;  and  the  devil  hath  power 

T'  assume  a  pleasing  shape  ;  yea,  and,  perliaps, 

Out  of  my  weakness,  and  my  melancholy, 

As  he  is  very  potent  with  such  spirits. 

Abuses  me  to  damn  me.     I  '11  have  grounds 

More  relative  than  this  :  the  play  's  the  thing. 

Wherein  I  '11  catch  the  conscience  of  tlie  king.     [Exit. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I.— A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  King,  Queen,  Polonius,  Ophelia,  Rosencrantz, 

and  GUILDENSTERN. 

King.  And  can  you.  by  no  drift  of  conference', 
Get  from  him  why  he  puts  on  this  confusion, 
Grating  so  harshly  all  his  days  of  quiet 
With  turbulent  and  dangerous  lunacy? 

Ros.  He  docs  confess,  he  feels  himself  distracted  ; 
But  from  what  cause  he  will  by  no  means  speak. 

Guil.  Nor  do  we  find  him  forward  to  be  sounded, 
But  with  a  crafty  madness  keeps  aloof, 
When  we  would  bring  him  on  to  some  confession 
Of  his  true  state. 

Queen.  Did  he  receive  you  well  ? 

Ros.  Most  like  a  gentleman. 

Guil.  But  with  much  forcing  of  his  disposition. 

Ros.  Niggard  of  question  ;  but  to  our  demands 

1  Search,  try.    ^  Start.     ^  circumstance  :  ii>  folio. 


196  HAMLET,  ACT  HI. 


Most  free  in  his  reply. 

Queen.  Did  you  assay  him 

To  any  pastime  ? 

Ros.  Madam,  it  so  fell  out,  that  certain  players 
We  o'er-raught^  on  the  way  :  of  these  we  told  him ; 
And  there  did  seem  in  him  a  kind  of  joy 
To  hear  of  it.     They  are  about  the  court ;  ^ 

And,  as  I  think,  they  have  already  order 
This  night  to  play  before  him. 

Pol.  'T  is  most  true  : 

And  he  beseeeh'd  me  to  entreat  your  majesties, 
To  hear  and  see  the  matter. 

King.  With  all  my  heart ;  and  it  doth  much  content  me 
To  hear  him  so  inclin'd. 
Good  gentlemen,  give  him  a  farther  edge, 
And  drive  his  purpose  on  to  these  delights. 

Ros.  We  shall,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 

King.  Sweet  Gertrude,  leave  us  too ; 

For  we  have  closely  sent  for  Hamlet  hither, 
That  he,  as  't  were  by  accident,  may  here 
Aflront"  Ophelia:  her  father,  and  myself  (lawful  espials) 
Will  so  bestow  ourselves,  that,  seeing,  unseen. 
We  may  of  their  encounter  frankly  judge; 
And  gather  by  him,  as  he  is  behav'd, 
If  't  be  th'  affliction  of  his  love,  or  no, 
That  thus  he  sutfers  for. 

Queen.  I  shall  obey  you. — 

And,  for  your  part,  Ophelia.  I  do  wish, 
That  your  good  beauties  be  the  happy  cause 
Of  Hamlet's  wildness;  so  .shall  I  hope,  your  virtues 
Will  bring  him  to  his  wonted  way  again, 
To  both  your  honours. 

Oph.  Madam,  I  wish  it  may.   [Exit  Queen. 

Pol.  Ophelia,  walk  you  here. — Gracious,  so  please  you, 
We  will  bestow  ourselves. — Read  on  this  book, 

[To  Ophelia. 
That  show  of  such  an  exercise  may  colour 
Your  loneliness. — We  are  oft  to  blame  in  this, — 
'T  is  too  much  prov'd, — that,  with  devotion's  visage, 
And  pious  action,  we  do  sugar'  o'er 
The  devil  himself. 

King.  0  !  't  is  too  true. — [Aside.]     How  smart 


so.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  197 

A  lash  that  speech  doth  give  my  conscience ! 
The  harlot's  cheek,  beautied  with  plastering  art, 
Is  not  more  ugly  to  the  thing  that  helps  it, 
Than  is  my  deed  to  my  most  painted  -word. 
0  heaA^  burden  ! 

Pol.  I  hear  him  coming:  let's  withdraw,  my  lord. 
[Exeunt  King  mid  Polonius.^     Manet  Ophelia 
behind^  reading. 

Enter  Hamlet. 

Ham.  To  be,  or  not  to  be  ;  that  is  the  question  :-^ 
Whether  't  is  nobler  in  the  mind,  to  suffer 
The  slings  and  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune ; 
Or  to  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles, 
And  by  opposing  end  them  ? — To  die, — to  sleep, — 
No  more ; — and,  by  a  sleep,  to  say  we  end 
The  heart-ache,  and  the  thousand  natural  shocks 
That  flesh  is  heir  to, — 't  is  a  consummation 
Devoutly  to  be  wish'd.     To  die  ; — to  sleep  : — 
To  sleep  !  perchance  to  dream  : — ay,  there  's  the  rub  ; 
For  in  that  sleep  of  death  what  dreams  may  come, 
When  we  have  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil. 
Must  give  us  pause.     There  's  the  respect 
That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life  : 
For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time, 
The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
The  pangs  of  despised"  love,  the  law's  delay, 
The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes. 
When  he  himself  might  his  quietus  make 
With  a  bare  bodkin^  ?  who  would  fardels  bear, 
To  grunt  and  sweat  under  a  weary  life, 
But  that  the  dread  of  something  after  death, — 
The  undiscover'd  country,  from  whose  bourn 
No  traveller  returns, — puzzles  the  will. 
And  makes  us  rather  bear  those  ills  we  have, 
Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of? 
Thus  conscience  does  make  cowards  of  us  all ; 
And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution 
Is  sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of  thought, 
And  enterprises  of  great  pith*  and  moment, 
With  this  regard  their  currents  turn  awry, 
And  lose  the  name  of  action. — Soft  you,  now  ! 

1  The   rest  of  this  direction    is   not  in  f.  e.     2  dispriz'd  :   in  folio. 
3  Small  dagger.    *  pitch  :  in  quartos. 

17* 


198  HAMLET,  ACT  IH. 

The  fair  Ophelia. — Nymph,  in  thy  orisons, 
Be  all  my  sins  remember'd. 

Oph.  [Coming  forward}]     Good  my  lord, 

How  does  your  honour  for  this  many  a  day  ? 

Ham.  I  humbly  thank  you  ;  well,  well,  well. 

Oph.  My  lord,  I  have  remembrances  of  yours, 
That  I  have  longed  long  to  re-deliver ; 
I  pray  you,  now  receive  them. 

Hmn.  No,  not  P  ; 

I  never  gave  you  avight. 

Oph.  My  honour'd  lord,  I  know  right  well  you  did  ; 
And  with  them  words  of  so  sweet  breath  compos'd 
As  made  the  things  more  rich :   their  perfume  lost, 
Take  these  again ;  for  to  the  noble  mind. 
Rich  gifts  wax  poor  when  givers  prove  unkind. 
There,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Ha,  ha  !  are  you  honest  ? 

Oph.  Mj  lord ! 

Ham.  Are  you  fair  ? 

Oph.  What  means  your  lordship  ? 

Ham.  That  if  you  be  honest,  and  fair,  your  honesty 
should  admit  no  discourse  to  your  beauty. 

Oph.  Could  beauty,  my  lord,  have  better  commerce 
than  with^  honesty  ? 

Ham.  Ay,  truly  ;  for  the  power  of  beauty  will  sooner 
transform  honesty  from  what  it  is  to  a  bawd,  than  the 
force  of  honesty  can  translate  beauty  into  his  likeness  : 
this  was  some  time  a  paradox,  but  now  the  time  gives 
it  proof.     I  did  love  you  once. 

Oph.  Indeed,  my  lord,  you  made  me  believe  so. 

Ham.  You  should  not  have  believed  me  ;  for  virtue 
cannot  so  inoculate  our  old  stock,  but  we  shall  relish 
of  it.     I  loved  you  not. 

Oph.  I  was  the  more  deceived. 

Ham.  Get  thee  to  a  nunnery  :  why  wouldst  thou  be 
a  breeder  of  sinners  ?  I  am  myself  indifierent  honest ; 
but  yet  I  could  accuse  me  of  such  things,  that  it  were 
better,  my  mother  had  not  borne  me.  I  am  very  proud, 
revengeful,  ambitious  ;  with  more  offences  at  my  back*, 
than  I  have  thoughts  to  put  them  in,  imagination  to 
give  them  shape,  or  time  to  act  them  in.  What  should 
such  fellows   as  I  do,   crawling  between  heaven  and 

1  Not  in  f.  e.      s  No,  no  :  in  folio.      3  your  :  in  folio.     *  beck  :  in 
f.  e. 


BC.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  199 

earth  ?    "W"e  are  arrant  knaves,  all ;  believe  none  of  us. 
Go  thy  ways  to  a  nunnery.     Where  's  your  father? 

Oph.  At  home,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Let  the  doors  be  shut  upon  him,  that  he  may 
play  the  fool  no  where'  but  in 's  own  house.  Farewell. 

Oph.  0  !  help  him,  you  sweet  heavens  ! 

Ham.  If  thou  dost  marry,  I  '11  give  thee  this  plague 
for  thy  dowry :  be  thou  as  chaste  as  ice,  as  pure  as 
snow,  thon  shalt  not  escape  calumny.  Get  thee  to 
a  numiery  ;  farewelP.  Or,  if  thou  wilt  needs  marry, 
marry  a  fool,  for  wise  men  know  well  enough  what 
monsters  you  make  of  them.  To  a  nunnery,  go ;  and 
quickly  too.     Farewell. 

Oph.  Heavenly  powers,  restore  him  ! 

Ham.  I  have  heard  of  your  paintings^  too,  well 
enough  :  God  hath  given  you  one  face^,  and  you  make 
yourselves  another  :  you  jig,  you  amble,  and  you  lisp, 
and  nickname  God's  creatures,  and  make  your  wanton- 
ness your  ignorance.  Go  to;  I'll  no  more  on't:  it 
hath  made  me  mad.  I  say.  we  will  have  no  more  mar- 
riages :  those  that  are  married  already,  all  but  one, 
shall  live:  the  rest  shall  keep  as  they  are.  To  a  nun- 
nery, go.  [Exit  Hamlet. 

Oph.  0,  what  a  noble  mind  is  here  o'erthrown ! 
The  courtier's,  soldier's,  scholar's,  eye,  tongue,  sword: 
Th'  expectancy  and  rose  of  the  fair  state. 
The  glass  of  fashion,  and  the  mould  of  form. 
Th'  observed  of  all  observers,  quite,  quite  do\\ai ! 
And  I,  of  ladies  most  deject  and  wretched, 
Tliat  suck'd  the  honey  of  his  music  vows. 
Now  see  that  noble  and  most  sovereign  reason, 
Like  sweet  bells  jangled,  out  of  tune  and  harsh; 
That  unmatch'd-  form  and  feature'^  of  blown  youth. 
Blasted  with  ecstasy.     0,  woe  is  me  ! 
To  have  seen  what  I  have  seen,  see  what  I  see  ! 
Re-enter  King  and  Polonius. 

King.  Love  !  his  affections  do  not  that  way  tend ; 
Nor  what  he  spake,  though  it  lack'd  form  a  little, 
Was  not  like  madness.     There  's  something  in  his  soul, 
O'er  which  his  melancholy  sits  on  brood  : 
And,  I  do  doubt,  the  hatch,  and  the  disclose, 
Will  be  some  danger  :  which  for  to  prevent, 

1  way  :  in  folio.  2  go,  farewell  :  in  folio.  ^  prattlings  ;  in  folio. 
*  pace  :  in  folio.     *  stature  :  in  quartos 


200 


HAMLET,  ACT  III. 


I  have,  in  quick  determination, 

Thus  set  it  down.     He  shall  with  speed  to  England, 

For  the  demand  of  our  neglected  tribute  : 

Haply,  the  seas,  and  countries  different, 

With  variable  objects,  shall  expel 

This  something  settled  matter  in  his  heart, 

Whereon  his  brain  still  beating  puts  him  thus 

From  fashion  of  himself.     What  think  you  on  't  ? 

Pol.  It  shall  do  well :  but  yet  do  I  believe, 
The  origin  and  commencement  of  his'  grief 
Sprung  from  neglected  love. — How  now,  Ophelia  ! 
You  need  not  tell  us  what  lord  Hamlet  said; 
We  heard  it  all. — My  lord,  do  as  you  please  ; 
But,  if  you  hold  it  fit,  after  the  play 
Let  his  queen  mother  all  alone  entreat  him 
To  show  his  griefs  :  let  her  be  round^  with  him  ; 
And  I  '11  be  j)lac'd,  so  please  you,jjin  the  ear 
Of  all  tlieir  conference.     If  she  find  him  not. 
To  England  send  him  ;  or  confine  him  where 
Your  wisdom  best  shall  think. 

King.  It  shall  be  so  : 

Madness  in  great  ones  must  not  unwatch'd  go.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.— A  Hall  in  the  Same. 
Enter  Hamlet,  and  certainPlayers,  unready.^ 

Ham.  Speak  the  speech,  I  pray  you,  as  I  pronounced 
it  to  you,  tripjiingly  on  the  tongue  ;  but  if  you  mouth 
it,  as  many  of  your  players  do,  I  had  as  lief  the  town- 
crier  spoke  my  lines.  Nor  do  not  saw  the  air  too 
much  with  your  hand,  thus;  but  use  all  gently:  for  in 
the  very  torrent,  tempest,  and  (as  I  may  say)  whirlwind 
of  passion,  you  must  acquire  and  beget  a  temperance, 
that  may  give  it  smoothness.  0  !  it  offends  me  to  the 
soul,  to  hear*  a  robustious  periwig-pated  fellow  tear  a 
passion  to  tatters,  to  very  rags,  to  split  the  ears  of  the 
groundlings ;  who,  for  the  most  part,  are  capable  of 
nothing  but  inexplicable  dumb  shows,  and  noise  :  I 
would  have  such  a  fellow  whipped  for  o'er-doing  Ter- 
magant' ;  it  out-herods  Herod" :  pray  you  avoid  it. 

1  Play.  I  warrant  your  honour. 

Ham.  Be  not  too  tame  neither,  but  let  your  own 
discretion  be  your  tutor  :  suit  the  action  to  the  word, 

1  this  :  in  folio.     ^  Plain.     SNotinf.  e.     *  see  :  in  folio.     5  6  cha- 
racters in  old  Miracle  plays  ;  the  former  was  god  of  the  Saracens. 


SC.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  201 

the  word  to  the  action,  with  this  special  observance, 
that  you  o'erstep  not  the  modesty  of  nature ;  for  any 
thing  so  overdone  is  from  the  purpose  of  playing,  whose 
end.  both  at  the  first,  and  now,  was,  and  is,  to  liold,  as 
't  were,  the  mirrror  up  to  nature ;  to  show  virtue  her 
own  feature,  scorn  her  own  image,  and  the  very  age 
and  body  of  the  time,  his  form  and  pressure.  Now, 
this  overdone,  or  come  tardy  off,  though  it  make  the 
unskilful  laugh,  cannot  but  make  the  judicious  grieve; 
the  censure  of  which'  one  must,  in  your  allowance, 
o'erweigh  a  whole  theatre  of  others.  0  !  there  be 
players,  that  I  have  seen  play, — and  heard  others  praise, 
and  that  highly, — not  to  speak  it  profanely,  that, 
neither  having  the  accent  of  Christians,  nor  the  gait 
of  Christian,  pagan,  nor  man,  have  so  strutted,  and 
bellowed,  that  I  have  thought  some  of  nature's  jour- 
neymen had  made  men,  and  not  made  them  well,  they 
imitated  humanity  so  abominably. 

1  Play.  I  hope,  we  have  reformed  that  indifferently 
with  us. 

Ham.  O  !  reform  it  altogether.  And  let  those,  that 
play  your  clowns,  speak  no  more  than  is  set  down  for 
them  :  for  there  be  of  them,  that  will  themselves  laugh, 
to  set  on  some  quantity  of  barren  spectators  to  laugh 
too ;  though  in  the  mean  time  some  necessary  question 
of  the  play  be  then  to  be  considered  :  that 's  villainous, 
and  shows  a  most  pitifvxl  ambition  in  the  fool  that  vises 
it.     Go.  make  you  ready. —  [Exeunt  Players. 

Enter  Polonius,  Rosencrantz,  and  Guildenstern. 
How  now.  my  lord  !  will  the  king  hear   this  piece  of 

Pol.  And  the  queen  too,  and  that  presently,  [work? 

Ham.  Bid  the  players  make  haste. — {Exit  Polonius. 
Will  you  two  help  to  hasten  them? 

Both.  We  will,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  Eosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 

Ham.  What,  ho  !  Horatio  ! 

Enter  Horatio  ! 

Hor.  Here,  sweet  lord,  at  your  service. 

Ham.  Horatio,  thou  art  e'en  as  just  a  man 
As  e'er  my  conversation  coped  withal. 

Hor.  0  !  my  dear  lord, — 

Ham.  Nay,  do  not  think  I  flatter  • 

For  what  advancement  may  I  hope  from  thee, 

I  the  which  :   in  folio. 


202  HAMLET,  ACT  III. 

That  no  revenue  hast,  but  thy  good  spirits, 

To  feed  and  clothe  thee  ?     Why  should  the  poor  be 

flatter'd  ? 
No ;  let  the  candied  tongue  lick  absurd  pomp, 
And  crook  the  pregnant  hinges  of  the  knee, 
Where  thrift  may  follow  fawning.     Dost  thou  hear? 
Since  my  dear  soul  was  mistress  of  her  choice, 
And  could  of  men  distinguish,  her  election 
Hath  seal'd  thee  for  herself:  for  thou  hast  been 
As  one,  in  suffering  all.  that  suffers  nothing; 
A  man,  Ihat  fortune's  buffets  and  rewards 
Hast  ta'en  with  equal  thanks  :  and  bless'd  are  those, 
Whose  blood  and  judgment  are  so  well  co-mingled. 
That  they  are  not  a  pipe  for  fortune's  finger 
To  sound  what  stop  she  please.     Give  me  that  man 
That  is  not  passion's  slave,  and  I  will  wear  him 
In  my  heart's  core,  ay,  in  my  heart  of  heart,  __  I 

As  I  do  thee. — Something  too  much  of  this. —  ""  ! 

There  is  a  play  to-night  before  the  king :  ; 

One  scene  of  it  comes  near  the  circumstance, 
Which  I  have  told  thee,  of  my  father's  death  : 
I  pr'ythce,  when  thou  seest  that  act  a-foot, 
Even  with  the  very  comment  of  thy'  soul 
Observe  mine  uncle  :  if  his  occulted  guilt 
Do  not  itself  unkennel  in  one  speech, 
It  is  a  damned  ghost  that  we  have  seen, 
And  my  imaginations  are  as  foul 
As  Vulcan's  stithy.     Give  him  heedful  note ; 
For  I  mine  eyes  will  rivet  to  his  face, 
And,  after,  we  will  both  our  judgments  join 
In  censure  of  his  seeming. 

Hor.  Well,  my  lord  ; 

If  he  steal  aught  the  whilst  this  play  is  playing. 
And  'scape  detecting,  I  will  pay  the  theft. 

Ham.  Tliey  are  coming  to  the  play  :  I  must  be  idle  j 
Get  you  a  place. 

Sennet.  Banixh  March.  Enter  King.,  Queen,  Polonius, 
Ophelia,  Rosencrantz,  Guildenstern,  and  others. 

King.   How  fares  our  cousin  Hamlet? 

Ham.  Excellent,  i'  faith ;  of  the  camelion's  dish  :  I 
eat  the  air,  promise-crammed.  You  cannot  feed  ca- 
pons so. 

1  my  :  in  quarto. 


SC.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  203 

King.  I  have  nothing  with  this  answer.  Hamlet: 
these  words  are  not  mine. 

Ham.  No.  nor  mine  now. — My  lord,  you  played  once 
in  the  nniversity,  you  say?  [To  Polonius. 

Pol.  That  did  I.  my  lord  ;  and  was  accounted  a  good 
actor. 

Ham.  And  what  did  you  enact  ? 

Pol.  I  did  enact  Julius  Cccsar:  I  was  killed  i'  the 
Capitol :  Brutus  killed  me. 

Ham.  It  was  a  brute  part  of  him  to  kill  so  capital  a 
calf  there. — Be  the  players  ready? 

Ros.  Ay.  my  lord ;  they  stay  upon  your  patience. 

Queen.  Come  hither,  my  dear'  Hamlet ;  sit  by  me. 

Ham.  No,  good  mother,  here  's  metal  more  attractive. 

Pol.  0  ho"!  do  you  mark  that  ?  [To  the  King. 

Ham.  Lady,  shall  I  lie  in  your  lap  ? 

[Lying  down  at  Ophelia's  Feet. 

Oph.  No,  my  lord. 

Ham.  I  mean,  my  head  upon  your  lap? 

Oph.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Do  you  think  I  mean  country  matters  ? 

Oph.  I  think  nothing,  my  lord. 

Ham. That  "s  a  fair  thought  to  lie  between  maids'  legs. 

Oph.  What  is,  my  lord  ? 

Hnn.  Nothing. 

Oph.  You  are  merry,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Who,  I  ? 

Oph.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Ham.  O  God  !  your  only  jig-maker. =*  What  should 
a  man  do,  but  be  merry  ?  for,  look  you,  how  cheerfully 
my  mother  looks,  and  my  father  died  within  these  two 
hours. 

Oph.  Nay,  't  is  twice  two  months,  my  lord. 

Haiyi.  So  long  ?  Nay  then,  let  the  devil  wear  black, 
for  I  '11  have  a  suit  of  sables.  0  heavens  !  die  two 
months  ago,  and  not  forgotten  yet  ?  Then  there  's 
hope,  a  great  man's  memory  may  outlive  his  life  half 
a  year  :  but,  by  'r-lady,  he  must  build  churches  then, 
or  else  shall  he  .suffer  not  thinking  on.  with  the  hobby- 
horse^*  :  whose  epitaph  is,  '•  For,  0  !  for,  0  !  the  hobby- 
horse is  forgot." 

1  good  :  in  folio.  2  Entertainments  performed  by  clowns.  ^  The 
hobby-horse  played  an  important  part  in  the  May  games. 


204  HAMLET,  ACT  III. 

Trumpets  sound.     The  dttmb  Show  enters. 

Enter  a  King  and  Queen,  very  lovingly ;  the  Queen 
embracing  him.  She  kneels,  and  makes  show  of  pro- 
testation unto  him.  He  takes  her  up,  and  declines 
his  head  upon  her  neck  ;  lays  him  down  upon  a  bank 
of  flowers :  she,  seeing  him  asleep,  leaves  him.  Anon 
comes  in  a  fellow,  takes  off  his  croivn,  kisses  it,  and 
pours  poison  in  the  Kiiig's  ears,  and  exit.  The  Queen 
returns,  finds  the  King  dead,  and  makes  passionate 
action.  The  poisoner,  tcith  some  two  or  three  3Iutes, 
comes  in  again,  seeming  to  lament  with  her.  Tk.' 
dead  body  is  carried  away.  The  poisoner  woos  tk--^ 
Queen  ivith  gifts :  she  seems  loath  and  univilling 
awhile,  but  in  the  end  accepts  his  love.  [Exeunt. 

Oph.  What  means  this,  my  lord  ? 
Ham.  Marry,  this  is  miching  mallecho'  ;   it  means 

mischief. 

Oph.  Belike,  this  show  imports  the  argument  of  the 

play. 

Enter  Prologue. 
Ham.  We   shall  know  by  this  fellow :  the  players 

cannot  keep  counsel ;  they  '11  tell  all. 

Oph.  Will  he  tell  us  what  this  show  meant  ? 
Ham.  Ay,  or  a,ny  show  that  you  will  show  him:  bt 

not  you   ashamed  to  show,  he  '11  not   shame  to  tel] 

you  what  it  means. 

Oph.  You  are  naught,  you  are  naught.     I  '11  mark 

the  play. 

Pro.  "  For  us,  and  for  our  tragedy, 

Here  stooping  to  your  clemency, 
We  beg  your  hearing  patiently." 
Ham.  Is  this  a  prologue,  or  the  poesy  of  a  ring? 
Oph.  'T  is  brief,  my  lord. 
Ham.  As  woman's  love. 

Enter  the  Player  King  and  Player  Queen. 
P.  King.  Full  thirty  times  has  Phcebus'  car  gone 
round 

Neptune's  salt  wash,  and  Tellus'  orbed  ground : 

And  thirty  dozen  moons,  with  borrow'd  sheen. 

About  the  world  have  times  twelve  thirties  been ; 

Since  love  our  hearts,  and  Hymen  did  our  hands, 

Unite  commutual  in  most  sacred  bands. 

P.  Queen.  So  many  journeys  may  the  sun  and  moon 

1  Thieving  rascality. 


go.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  •  205 

Make  us  again  count  o'er,  ere  love  be  done. 

But,  woe  is  me  !  you  are  so  sick  of  late, 

So  far  from  cheer,  and  from  your  former  state, 

That  I  distrust  you.     Yet.  though  I  distrust, 

Discomfort  you,  my  lord,  it  nothing  must ; 

For  women's  fear  and  love  hold  quantity,' 

In  neither  aught,  or'  in  extremity. 

Now,  what  my  love  is  proof  hath  made  you  know, 

And  as  my  love  is  siz'd,  my  fear  is  so. 

Where  love  is  great,  the  littlest  doubts  are  fear  ; 

Where  little  fears  grow  great,  great  love  grows  there. 

P.  King.  'Faith,  I  must  leave  thee,  love,  and  shortly 
too: 
My  operant  powers  their^  functions  leave  to  do : 
And  thou  shalt  live  in  this  fair  world  behind, 
Honour" d.  belov'd  ;  and.  haply,  one  as  kind 
For  husband  shalt  thou — 

P.  Queen.  0,  confound  the  rest ! 

Such  love  must  needs  be  treason  in  my  breast : 
In  second  husband  let  me  be  accurst : 
None  wed  the  second,  but  who  kill'd  the  first. 

Ham.  [Aside.]  Wormwood,  wormwood. 

P.  Queen.  The  instances,  that  second  marriage  move, 
Are  base  respects  of  tlirift,  but  none  of  love : 
A  second  time  I  kill  my  husband  dead. 
When  second  husband  kisses  me  in  bed. 

P.  King.  I  do  believe  you  think  what  now  you  speak, 
But  what  we  do  determine  oft  we  break, 
Purpose  is  but  the  slave  to  memorj', 
Of  violent  birth,  but  poor  validity ; 
Which  now.  like  fruit  unripe,  sticks  on  the  tree,^ 
But  fall,  unshaken,  when  they  mellow  be. 
Most  necessary  't  is,  that  we  forget 
To  pay  ourselves  what  to  ourselves  is  debt : 
What  to  ourselves  in  passion  we  propose, 
The  passion  ending,  doth  the  purpose  lose. 
The  ^-iolence  of  either  grief  or  joy 
Their  ovna.  enactors*  with  themselves  destroy : 
Where  joy  most  revels,  grief  doth  most  lament ; 
Grief  joys,  joy  grieves,  on  slender  accident. 
This  world  is  not  for  aye ;  nor  't  is  not  strange, 

I  The  quarto,  1604,  has  the  line  :  "  For  ■nromen  fear  too  much,  even 
as  they  love,-'  preceding  this.  2  Either  none,  in  neither  aught:  ia 
quarto,  1604.'    3  my  ;  Jq  folio.    *  enactuies  :  in.  quartos. 

Vol.  VII.— 18 


206  •  HAMLET,  ACT  III. 

That  even  our  loves  should  with  our  fortunes  change ; 

For  't  is  a  question  left  us  yet  to  prove, 

"Whether  love  lead  fortune,  or  else  fortune  love. 

The  great  man  down,  you  mark  his  favourite  flies ; 

The  poor  advanc'd  makes  friends  of  enemies  : 

And  hitherto  doth  love  on  fortune  tend, 

For  who  not  needs  shall  never  lack  a  friend ; 

And  who  in  want  a  hollow  friend  doth  try, 

Directly  seasons  him  his  enemy. 

But,  orderly  to  end  where  I  begun, 

Our  wills  and  fates  do  so  contrary  run, 

That  our  devices  still  are  overthrown ; 

Our  thoughts  are  ours,  their  ends  none  of  our  ©"wii : 

So  think  thou  wilt  no  second  husband  wed, 

But  die  thy  thoughts,  when  thy  first  lord  is  dead. 

P.  Queen.  Nor  earth  to  me  give'  food,  nor  heaven 
light ! 
Sport  and  repose  lock  from  me,  day  and  night ! 
To  desperation  turn  my  trust  and  hope  ! 
An  anchor's-  cheer  in  prison  be  my  scope  ! 
Each  opposite,  that  blanks  the  face  of  joy. 
Meet  what  I  would  have  well,  and  it  destroy  ! 
Both  here,  and  hence,  pui'sue  me  lasting  strife, 
If,  once  a  widow,  ever  I  be  wife  ! 

Ham.  If  she  should  break  her  vow, — 

P.  Ki7ig.  'T  is  deeply  sworn.    Sweet,  leave  me  here 
a  while : 
My  spirits  grow  dull,  and  fain  I  would  beguile 
The  tedious  day  with  sleep.  [Sleeps. 

P.  Queen.  Sleep  rock  thy  brain  ; 

And  never  come  mischance  between  vis  twain  !     [Exit. 

Ham.  Madam,  how  like  you  this  play  ? 

Queen.  The  lady  doth  protest^  too  much,  methinks. 

Ham.  0  !  but  she  '11  keep  her  word. 

King.  Have  you  heard  the  argument  ?  Is  there  no 
offence  in  't  ? 

Ham.  No,  no;  they  do  but  jest,  poison  in  jest:  no 
offence  i'  the  world. 

King.  What  do  you  call  the  play? 

Ham.  The  mouse-trap.  Marry,  how?  Tropically. 
This  play  is  the  image  of  a  murder  done  in  Viemia  : 
Gonzago  is  the  duke's  name ;  his  wife,  Baptista.     You 

1  to  give  me  :  in  folio.     2  Anchorite's  :  this  and  the  previous  line, 
are  not  in  folio.      ^  protests  :  in  folio. 


SC.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  207 

shall  see  anon :  't  is  a  knavish  piece  of  -work ;  but  what 
of  that  ?  your  majesty,  and  we  that  have  free  souls,  it 
touches  us  not :  let  the  galled  jade  ^"ince,  our  withers 
are  uuwrung. 

Enter  Lucianus. 
This  is  one  Lucianus,  nephew  to  the  king. 

Oph.  You  are  as  good  as  a  chorus^  my  lord. 

Ham.  I  could  interpret  between  you  and  your  love, 
if  I  could  see  the  puppets  dallying. 

Oph.  You  are  keen,  my  lord,  you  are  keen. 

Ham.  It  would  cost  you  a  groaning  to  take  off  my 
edge. 

Oph.  Still  better,  and  worse. 

Ham.  So  you  must  take'  your  husbands. — Begin, 
murderer :  leave  thy  damnable  faces,  and  begin. 
Come  : — The  croaking  raven  doth  bellow  for  revenge. 

Luc.  Thoughts  black,  hands  apt,  drugs  fit,  and  time 
agreeing ; 
Confederate  season,  else  no  creature  seeing ; 
Thou  mixture  rank,  of  midnight  weeds  collected. 
With  Hecate's  ban  thrice  blasted,  thrice  infected. 
Thy  natural  magic  and  dire  property. 
On  wholesome  life  usurp  immediately. 

[Pours  the  Poison  into  the  Sleepers  Ears. 

Ham.  He  poisons  him  i'  the  garden  for  his  estate. 
His  name  's  Gonzago  :  the  story  is  extant,  and  written 
in  very^  choice  Italian.  You  shall  see  anon,  how  the 
murderer  gets  the  love  of  Gonzago"s  wife. 

Oph.  The  king  rises. 

Ham.  What !  frighted  with  false  fire  ? 

Queen.  How  fares  my  lord? 

Pol.  Give  o'er  the  play. 

King.  Give  me  some  light ! — away  ! 

All.  Lights,  lights,  lights  ! 

[Exeunt  all  but  Hamlet  and  Horatio. 

Ham.  Vn.\j.  let  the  stricken  deer  go  weep, 
The  hart  ungalled  play  : 
For  some  must  watch,  while  some  must  sleep : 
Thus  runs  the  world  away. — 
Would  not  this,  sir,  and  a  forest  of  feathers,  (if  the  rest 
of  my  fortunes  tiu-n  Turk  with  me)  with  two  Provin- 

.    I  a  good  chorus  :  in  folio.      2  mistake  :  in  later  quartos,  and  folio. 
3  Not  in  folio. 


208  HAMLET,  ACT  III. 

cial  roses  on  my  raised*  shoes,  get  me  a  fellowship  in 
a  cry^  of  players,  sir  ? 

Hor.  Half  a  share.* 

Ham.  A  whole  one,  I. 

For  thou  dost  know,  0  Damon  dear  ! 

This  realm  dismantled  was 
Of  Jove  himself ;  and  now  reigns  here 
A  very,  very — peacock. 

Hor.  You  might  have  rhymed. 

Ham.  0  good  Horatio  !  I  '11  take  the  ghost's  word 
for  a  thousand  pound.     Didst  perceive? 

Hor.  Very  well,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Upon  the  talk  of  the  poisoning, — 

Hor.  I  did  very  well  note  him. 

Ham.  Ah,  ha  ! — Come  !  some  music  !  come ;  the 
recorders  ! 

For  if  the  king  like  not  the  comedy. 
Why,  then,  belike, — he  likes  it  not,  perdy. — 
Enter  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 
Come  ;  some  music  ! 

Guil.  Good  my  lord,  vouchsafe  me  a  word  mth  you. 

Ham.  Sir,  a  whole  history. 

Guil.  The  king,  sir. — 

Ham.  Ay,  sir,  what  of  him  ? 

Guil.  Is  in  his  retirement  marvellous  distempered. 

Ham.  With  drink,  sir  ? 

Gtiil.  No,  my  lord,*  with  choler. 

Ha7n.  Your  wisdom  should  show  itself  more  richer, 
to  signify  this  to  his  doctor ;  for,  for  me  to  put  him  to 
his  purgation  would,  perhaps,  plunge  him  into^  more 
choler. 

Guil.  Good  my  lord,  put  your  discourse  into  some 
frame,  and  start  not  so  wildly  from  the  affair. 

Ham.  I  am  tame,  sir  ;  pronounce. 

Ch'.il.  The  queen  your  mother,  in  most  great  afflic- 
tion of  spirit,  hath  sent  me  to  you. 

Ham.  You  are  welcome. 

Guil.  Nay,  good  my  lord,  this  courtesy  is  not  of  the 
right  breed.  If  it  shall  please  you  to  make  me  a 
wholesome  answer,  I  will  do  your  mother's  command- 

1  razed  :  in  f.  e.  ^  Company.  ^  The  stock  company  were  share- 
holders in  the  old  theatres.  *  folio  inserts  :  rather.  '  far  more  :  in 
folio. 


SC.  II.  PEINCE    OF    DENMARK.  209 

ment ;  if  not,  your  pardon  and  my  return  shall  be  the 
end  of  my  business. 

Ham.  Sir,  I  cannot. 

Guil.  What,  my  lord? 

Ham.  Make  you  a  wholesome  answer;  my  wit's 
diseased :  but,  sir,  such  answer  as  I  can  make,  you 
shall  command;  or,  rather,  as  you  say,  my  mother: 
therefore  no  more,  but  to  the  matter.  My  mother, 
you  say, — 

Ros.  Then,  thus  she  says.  Your  behaviour  has 
struck  her  into  amazement  and  admiration. 

Ham.  0  wonderful  son,  that  can  so  astonish  a 
mother  ! — But  is  there  no  sequel  at  the  heels  of  this 
mother's  admiration  ?  impart.^ 

Ros.  She  desires  to  speak  with  you  in  her  closet,  ere 
you  go  to  bed. 

Ham.  We  shall  obey,  were  she  ten  times  our  mother. 
Have  you  any  farther  trade  with  us  ? 

Ros.  My  lord,  you  once  did  love  me. 

Ham.  And  do  still,  by  these  pickers  and  stealers. 

Ros.  Good  my  lord,  what  is  your  cause  of  distem- 
per ?  you  do.  surely',  but'  bar  the  door  upon  your  own 
liberty,  if  you  deny  your  griefs  to  your  friend. 

Ham.  Sir,  I  lack  advancement. 

Ros.  How  can  that  be,  when  you  have  the  voice  of 
the  king  himself  for  your  succession  in  Denmark  ? 

Ham.  Ay,  sir,  but  "  while  the  grass  grows,"^ — the 
proverb  is  something  musty. 

Enter  one  with  a  Recorder*. 
0  !  the  recorder: — let  me  see  one. — To  withdraw  -n-ith 
you: — why  do  you  go  about  to  recover  the  wind  of 
me,  as  if  you  would  drive  me  into  a  toil  ? 

Gull.  0,  my  lord  !  if  my  duty  be  too  bold,  my  love 
is  too  unmannerly. 

Ham.  I  do  not  well  understand  that.  Will  you  play 
upon  this  pipe  ? 

Guil.  My  lord,  I  caimot. 

Ham.  I  pray  you. 

Guil.  Believe  me,  I  cannot. 

Ham.  I  do  beseech  you. 

Guil.  I  know  no  touch  of  it,  my  lord. 

1  Not  in  folio.  =  freely  :  in  folio  ;  "  but,"  is  omitted.  3  '!  "Whylst 
grass  doth  groTve.  oft  sterres  the  seely  steed." — Whetstone's  ''Promo 
and  Cassandra,"  1578.     *  Flageolet. 

18* 


210  HAMLET,  ACT  IH. 

Ham.  It  is  as  easy  as  lying  :  govern  these  ventages 
with  your  finger  and  thumb,  give  it  breath  with  your 
mouth,  and  it  will  discourse  most  eloquent^  music. 
Look  you,  these  are  the  stops. 

Gull.  But  these  cannot  I  command  to  any  utterance 
of  harmony :  I  have  not  the  skill. 

Ham.  Why,  look  you  now,  how  unworthy  a  thing 
you  make  of  me.  You  would  play  upon  me;  you 
would  seem  to  know  my  slops;  you  would  pluck  out 
the  heart  of  my  mystery;  you. would  sound  me  from 
my  lowest  note  to  the  top  of  my  compass  ;  and  there  is 
much  music,  excellent  voice,  in  this  little  organ,  yet 
cannot  you  make  it  speaks  'Sblood!  do  you  think  I 
am  easier  to  be  played  on  than  a  pipe  ?  Call  me  what 
instrument  you  will,  though  you  can  fret  me,  you  can- 
not play  upon  me. — 

Enter  Polonius. 
God  bless  you,  sir  ! 

Pol.  My  lord,  the  queen  would  speak  with  you,  and 
presently. 

Ham.  Do  you  see  yonder  cloud,  that 's  almost  in 
shape  of  ^  a  camel? 

Pol.  By  the  mass,  and  't  is  like  a  camel,  indeed. 
Ham..  Methinks,  it  is  like,  a  weasel. 
Pol.  It  is  backed  like  a  weasel. 
Ham.  Or,  like  a  whale? 
Pol.  Very  like  a  whale. 

Ham.  Then,  will  I  come  to  my  mother  by  and  by. — 
They  fool  me  to  the  top  of  my  bent. — I  will  come  by 
and  by. 

Pol.  I  will  say  so.  [Exit  Vowmvs. 

Ham.  By  and  by  is  easily  said. — Leave  me,  friends. 
[Exeunt  Ros.,  Guil.,  Hor.,  ^c. 
'T  is  now  the  very  -watching  time  of  night, 
"When  churchyards  yawn,  and  hell  itself  breathes*  out 
Contagion  to  this  world  :  now  could  I  drink  hot  blood, 
And  do  such  bitter  business  as  the'  day 
Would  quake  to  look  on.     Soft !   now  to  my  mother.— 
0,  heart !  lose  not  thy  nature ;  let  not  ever 
The  soul  of  Nero  enter  this  firm  bosom  : 
Let  me  be  cruel,  not  unnatural. 

I  delicate  :  in  quarto,  1603  ;  excellent  :  in  folio.  =  Not  in  folio. 
9  like  :  in  folio.  *  breaks  :  in  quartos,  s  such  business  as  the  bitter  : 
in  quartos.     Dyce  reads  :  better  day. 


8C.  III.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  211 

I  will  speak  daggers  to  her,  but  use  none ; 

My  tongue  and  soul  in  this  be  hypocrites : 

How  in  my  words  soever  she  be  shent,' 

To  give  them  seals  never,  my  soul,  consent !        [Exit. 

SCENE  III.— A  Room  in  the  Same. 

Enter  King.  Rosencrantz,  and  Guildenstern. 

King.  I  like  him  not ;  nor  stands  it  safe  with  us, 
To  let  his  madness  range.     Therefore,  prepare  you; 
I  your  commission  will  forthwith  despatch, 
And  he  to  England  shall  along  with  you. 
The  terms  of  our  estate  may  not  endure 
Hazard  so  dangerous',  as  doth  hourly  grow 
Out  of  his  lunacies^. 

Guil.  We  will  ourselves  provide. 

Most  holy  and  religious  fear  it  is, 
To  keep  those  very  many  bodies  safe, 
That  live,  and  feed,  upon  your  majesty. 

Ro.'i.  The  single  and  peculiar  life  is  bound, 
"With  all  the  strength  and  armour  of  the  mind, 
To  keep  itself  from  'noyance  ;  but  much  more 
That  spirit,  upon  whose  weal*  depend  and  rest 
The  lives  of  many.     The  cease  of  majesty 
Dies  not  alone  ;  but  like  a  gixlf  doth  draw 
What 's  near  it  with  it :  it  is  a  massy  wheel, 
Fix"d  on  the  summit  of  the  highest  mount, 
To  whose  huge  spokes  ten  thousand  lesser  things 
Arc  mortis'd  and  adjoin'd ;  which,  when  it  falls, 
Each  small  annexment,  petty  consequence, 
Attends  the  boisterous  ruin.     Never  alone 
Did  the  king  sigh,  but  with  a  general  groan. 

King.  Arm  you.  I  pray  you,  to  this  speedy  voyage ; 
For  we  will  fetters  put  upon  this  fear, 
Which  now  goes  too  free-footed. 

Ros.  and  Guil.  We  will  haste  us. 

[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  aiid  Guildenstern. 
Enter  Polonius. 

Pol.  My  lord,  he  's  going  to  his  mother's  closet. 
Behind  the  arras  I  '11  convey  myself. 
To  hear  the  process :  I  '11  warrant,  she  '11  tax  him  home ; 
And,  as  you  said,  and  wisely  was  it  said, 
'T  is  meet  that  some  more  audience  than  a  mother, 

1^  Rebuked.    =  near  us  :  in  quartos.     ^  ()ro%rs  :  in  quartos.     *  spirit: 
in  folio. 


212  HAMLET,  ACT  HI. 

Since  nature  makes  them  partial,  should  o'erhear 
The  speech,  of  vantage.     Fare  you  well,  my  liege  : 
I  '11  call  upon  you  ere  you  go  to  bed, 
And  tell  you  what  I  know. 

King.  Thanks,  dear  my  lord. 

[Exit  POLONIUS. 

0  !  my  offence  is  rank,  it  smells  to  heaven  ; 
It  hath  the  primal  eldest  curse  upon  't, 

A  brother's  murder  ! — Pray  can  I  not. 
Though  inclination  be  as  sharp  as  will : 
My  stronger  guilt  defeats  my  strong  intent; 
And,  like  a  man  to  double  business  bound, 

1  stand  in  pause  where  I  shall  first  begin. 
And  both  neglect.     What  if  this  cursed  hand 
Were  thicker  than  itself  with  brother's  blood, 
Is  there  not  rain  enoixgh  in  the  sweet  heavens, 

To  wash  it  white  as  snow  ?     Whereto  serves  mercy. 

But  to  confront  the  visage  of  offence  ? 

And  what 's  in  prayer,  but  this  two-fold  force, — 

To  be  forestalled,  ere  we  come  to  fall, 

Or  pardon'd,  being  down?     Then,  I  '11  look  up  : 

My  fault  is  past.     But,  O'!  what  form  of  prayer 

Can  serve  my  turn  ?     Forgive  me  my  foul  miirder  ! — 

That  cannot  be :  since  I  am  still  possess'd 

Of  those  effects  for  which  I  did  the  murder. 

My  crown,  mine  own  ambition,  and  my  queen. 

May  one  be  pardon'd,  and  retain  th'  offence  ? 

In  the  corrupted  currents  of  this  world. 

Offence's  gilded  hand  may  shove  by  justice, 

And  oft 't  is  seen,  the  wicked  purse^  itself 

Buys  out  the  law  ;  but  't  is  not  so  above : 

There  is  no  shuffling,  there  the  action  lies 

In  his  true  nature :  and  we  ourselves  compell'd, 

Even  to  the  teeth  and  forehead  of  our  faults, 

To  give  in  evidence.     What  then?  what  rests? 

Try  what  repentance  can  :  what  can  it  not  ? 

Yet  what  can  it,  when  one  can  not  repent? 

0  \^Tetched  state  !  0  bosom,  black  as  death  ! 

0  limed  soul,  that  struggling  to  be  free, 

Art  more  engaged  !     Help,  angels  !  make  assay : 

Bow,  stubborn  knees  :  and,  heart,  with  strings  of  steel, 

Be  soft  as  sinews- of  the  new-born  babe. 

All  may  be  well.  [Kneels.'^ 

1  prize  :  in  f.  e.     ^  Retires  and  kneels:  in  f.  e. 


so.  IV.  PRINCE    OF    DEKMARK.  213 

Enter  Hamlet'  behind,  his  Sword  drawn. 
Ham,  Now  might  I  do  it,  pat,''  now  he  is  praying; 
And  now  I  '11  do  't ; — and  so  he  goes  to  heaven. 
And  so  am  I  revengd  ?     That  would  be  scann'd  : 
A  villain  kills  my  father  :  and  for  that, 
I,  his  solc^  son,  do  this  same  villain  send 
To  heaven. 

Why.  this  is  hire  and  salary.*  not  revenge. 
He  took  my  father  grossly,  full  of  bread ; 
With  all  his  crimes  broad  blowm,  as  flush*  as  May, 
And  how  his  audit  stands,  who  knows,  save  heaven  ? 
But.  in  our  circumstance  and  course  of  thought, 
'T  is  heavy  ^\^th  him  ;  and  am  I  then  reveng'd, 
To  take  him  in  the  purging  of  his  soul. 
When  he  is  fit  and  seasond  for  his  passage  ' 
No. 

Up,  sword  ;  and  know  thou  a  more  horrid  hent." 
When  he  is  drunk,  asleep,  or  in  his  rage ; 
Or  in  th'  incestuous  pleasures  of  his  bed ; 
At  gaming,  swearing ;  or  about  some  act, 
That  has  no  relish  of  salvation  in  't ; 
Then  trip  him,  that  his  heels  may  kick  at  heaven, 
And  that  his  soul  may  be  as  damn'd,  and  black, 
As  hell,  M'hereto  it  goes.     My  mother  stays : 
This  physic  but  prolongs  thy  sickly  days.  [Exit. 

King.  [Rising.]   My  words  fly  up,  my  thoughts  re- 
main below : 
Words  without  thoughts  never  to  heaven  go.        [Exit. 

SCENE  IV.— A  Room  in  the  Same. 
Enter  Queen  and  Polonius. 

Fol.  He  will  come  straight.     Look,  you  lay  home  to 
him  ; 
Tell  him,  his  pranks  have  been  too  broad  to  bear  with, 
And  that  your  grace  hath  screened  and  stood  between 
Much  heat  and  him.     I  '11  sconce^  me  even  here. 
Pray  you.  be  round  with  him. 

Ham.  [Within.]  Mother,  mother,  mother  !* 
Queen.  I  'H  warrant  you  : 

Fear  me  not : — withdraw,  I  hear  him  coming. 

[Exit  Polonius  behind  the  Arras. 

1  The  rest  of  this  direction  is  not  in  f.  e.  2  tut  :  in  quartos.  3  foul  : 
in  folio.  <  base  andsilly  :  in  quartos.  ^  fresh  :  in  folio.  ^  Grasp. 
'  silence  :  in  f.  e.    8  ]>fot  in  quartos. 


214  HAMLET,  ACT  III. 

Enter  Hamlet. 

Ham.  Now,  mother  :  what 's  the  matter  ? 

Qiieen.  Hamlet,  thou  hast  thy  father  much  offended. 

Ham.   Mother,  you  have  my  father  much  offended. 

Queen.  Come,  come  ;  you  answer  -with  an  idle  tongue. 

Ham.  Go.  go ;  you  question  with  a  wicked'  tongue. 

Queen.  Why,  how  now,  Hamlet  ! 

Ham.  What 's  the  matter  now  ? 

Queen.  Have  you  forgot  me  ? 

Ham.  No,  by  the  rood,  not  so : 

You  are  the  queen,  your  husband's  brother's  wife ; 
And, — would  if"'  were  not  so  ! — you  are  my  mother. 

Queen.  Nay  then,  I  '11  send  those  to  you  that  can  speak. 

Ham.  Come,  come,  and  sit  you  dow^l;  you  shall  not 
You  go  not,  till  I  set  you  up  a  glass  [budge ; 

Where  you  may  see  the  inmost  part  of  you. 

Queen.  What  wilt  thou  do  ?  thou  wilt  not  murder  me. 
Help,  help,  lio  ! 

Pol.   [Behind.]  What,  ho  !  help  !  help  !  help  ! 

Ham.  How  now  !  a  rat  ?  [Dratcs.]  Dead  for  a  ducat, 
dead.    [Hamlet  makes  a  pass  through  the  Arras. 

Pol.  [Behind.]  0  !  1  am  slain.  [Falls  and  dies. 

Queen.  0  me  !  what  hast  thou  done  ? 

Ham.   [Coming  forward.y  Nay,  I  know  not: 

Is  it  the  king  ? 

[Lifts  the  Arras,  and  draws  forth  Polonius. 

Qicee7i.  0,  what  a  rash  and  bloody  deed  is  this  ! 

Hain.  A  bloody  deed ;  almost  as  bad,  good  mother, 
As  kill  a  king,  and  marry  with  his  brother. 

Queen.  As  kill  a  king  ! 

Ham.  Ay,  lady,  't  was  my  word. — 

Thou  wi'etched,  rash,  intruding  fool,  farewell. 

[Seeing  the  body  of  Polonius. 
I  took  thee  for  thy  better  ;  take  thy  fortune  : 
Thou  find'st  to  be  too  busy  is  some  danger. — 
Leave  wringing  of  your  hands.     Peace  !  sit  you  down, 
And  let  me  wring  your  heart :  for  so  I  shall, 
If  it  be  made  of  penetrable  stuff: 
If  damned  custom  have  not  braz'd  it  so. 
That  it  is*  proof  and  bulwark  against  sense. 

Queen.  What  have  I  done,  that  thou  dar'st  wag  thy 
tongue 

'  idle  :  in   quaxtoa.      ^  But — -wroiild  you  :  in  folio,     3  Not  in  f.  e. 
4be  :  in  quarto. 


SC.   IV.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  215 

In  noise  so  rude  against  me? 

Ham.  Such  an  act, 

That  blurs  the  grace  and  blush  of  modesty ; 
Calls  virtue,  hypocrite;  takes  off  the  rose 
From  the  fair  forehead  of  an  innocent  love, 
And  sets'  a  blister  there ;  makes  marriage  vow* 
As  false  as  dicers'  oaths  :  0  !  such  a  deed, 
As  from  the  body  of  contraction  plucks 
The  very  soul ;  and  sweet  religion  makes 
A  rhapsody  of  words :  Heaven's  face  doth  glow, 
Yea.^  this  solidity  and  compound  mass. 
With  tristfuP  visage,  as  against  the  doom, 
Is  thouglit-sick  at  the  act. 

Queen.  Ah  me  !  what  act, 

That  roars  so  loud,  and  thunders  in  the  index  ?* 

Ham.  Look  here,  upon  this  picture,  and  on  this: 
The  counterfeit  presentment  of  two  brothers. 
See.  what  a  grace  was  seated  on  this  brow : 
Hyperion's  curls;  the  front  of  Jove  himself; 
An  eye  like  Mars,  to  threaten  and  command; 
A  station*  like  the  herald  Mercury, 
New-lighted  on  a  heaven-kissing  hill ; 
A  combination,  and  a  form,  indeed. 
Where  every  god  did  seem  to  set  his  seal. 
To  give  the  world  assurance  of  a  man. 
This  was  your  husband :  look  you  now,  what  follows. 
Here  is  your  husband  :  like  a  mildew'd  ear, 
Blasting  his  wholesome  brother^     Have  you  eyes? 
Could  you  on  this  fair  mountain  leave  to  feed. 
And  batten'  on  this  moor  ?     Ha  !  have  you  eyes  ? 
You  cannot  call  it,  love ;  for,  at  your  age, 
The  hey-day  in  the  blood  is  tame,  it 's  humble, 
And  waits  upon  the  judgment ;  and  what  judgment 
Would  stoop"  from  this  to  this  ?  Sense,'  sure,  you  have. 
Else,  could  you  not  have  motion ;  but,  sure,  that  sense 
Is  apoplex'd ;  for  madness  would  not  err. 
Nor  sense  to  ecstasy  was  ne'er  so  thrall'd. 
But  it  reserv'd  some  quantity  of  choice, 
To  serve  in  such  a  difference.     What  devil  was  't 
That  thus  hath  cozen'd  you  at  hoodman-blind ?'" 

'  makes :  in  folio.  2  o'er  :  in  quartos.  3  heated  :  in  quartos. 
*•  Commencement.  ^  Act  of  standing,  attitude.  6  breath  :  in  folio. 
''Feed,  e  step  :  in  f.  e.  9  This  sentence  to  the  period,  is  not  in  folio. 
"'  Blind-Tnan^s  buff. 


216  UAMLET,  ACT  IH* 

Eyes^  without  feeling,  feeling  without  sight, 

Ears  without  hands  or  eyes,  smelling  sans  all, 

Or  but  a  sickly  part  of  one  true  sense 

Could  not  so  mope. 

0  shame  !  W'here  is  thy  blush  ?     Rebellious  hell, 

If  thou  canst  mutine'  in  a  matron's  bones, 

To  flaming  youth  let  virtue  be  as  wax, 

And  melt  in  her  own  fire  :  proclaim  no  shame, 

When  the  compulsive  ardour  gives  the  charge, 

Since  frost  itself  as  actively  doth  burn. 

And  reason  panders  will. 

Qiteen.  0  Hamlet !  speak  no  more. 

Thou  turn'st  mine  eyes  into  my  very  soul ;' 
And  there  I  see  such  black  and  grained  spots, 
As  will  not  leave  their  tinct. 

Ham.  Nay,  but  to  live 

In  the  rank  sweat  of  an  enseamed  bed ; 
Stew'd  in  corruption ;  honeying,  and  making  love 
Over  the  nasty  stye  ; — 

Queen.  0,  speak  to  me  no  more  ! 

These  words,  like  daggers  enter  in  mine  ears : 
No  more,  sweet  Hamlet. 

Ham.  A  murderer,  and  a  villain ; 

A  slave,  that  is  not  twentieth  part  the  tithe 
Of  your  precedent  lord  : — a  vice  of  kings  ! 
A  cutpurse  of  the  empire  and  the  rule. 
That  from  a  shelf  the  precious  diadem  stole. 
And  put  it  in  his  pocket ! 

Queen.  No  more ! 

Enter  Ghost^  tmarmed.* 

Ham.  A  king  of  shreds  and  patches. — 
Save  me.  and  hover  o'er  me  \nth  your  wings, 
You   heavenly   guards  ! — What  would   you,   gracious 

Queen.  Alas  !  he  's  mad.  [figure  ? 

Ham.  Do  you  not  come  your  tardy  son  to  chide. 
That,  laps'd  in  fume^  and  passion,  lets  go  by 
Th'  important  acting  of  your  dread  conamand? 
0,  say ! 

Ghost.  Do  not  forget.     This  visitation 
Is  but  to  whet  thy  almost  blunted  purpose. 
But,  look  !  amazement  on  thy  mother  sits  : 
0  !  step  between  her  and  her  fighting  soul ; 

1  This  sentence  to  the  period,  is  not  in  folio.      '  jsiutiny.     '  my 
very  eyes  into  my  soul :  in  quartos.    *  Not  in  f.  e.    '  time  :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  rV.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  217 

Conceit  in  weakest  bodies  strongest  works. 
Speak  to  her.  Hamlet. 

Ham  ■  How  is  it  with  yoti,  lady  ? 

Queen.     Alas  !  how  is  't  with  you, 
That  you  do  bend  your  eye  on  vacancy, 
And  with  th'  incorporal  air  do  hold  discourse  ? 
Forth  at  yotir  eyes  your  spirits  wildly  peep; 
And,  as  the  sleeping  soldiers  in  th'  alarm. 
Your  bedded  hair,  like  life  in  excrements.^ 
Starts  U]i.  and  stands  on  end.     0  gentle  son ! 
Upon  the  heat  and  flame  of  thy  distemper 
Sprinkle  cool  patience.     Whereon  do  you  look  ? 

Ham.  On  him,   on  him  ! — Look  you,  how  pale  he 
glares  ! 
His  form  and  cause  conjoin'd,  preaching  to  stones, 
Would  make  them  capable. — Do  not  look  upon  me; 
Lest  with  this  piteous  action  you  convert 
My  stern  effects :  then,  what  I  have  to  do 
Will  want  true  colour ;  tears,  perchance,  for  blood. 

Queen.  To  whom  do  you  speak  this? 

Ham.  Do  you  see  nothing  there  ? 

Queen.  Nothing  at  all;  yet  all,  that  is,  I  see. 

Ham.   Nor  did  you  nothing  hear  ? 

Queen.  No,  nothing  but  ourselves. 

Ham.  Why.  look  you  there  !  look,  how  it  steals  away ! 
My  father,  in  his  habit  as  he  liv'd  ! 
Look,  where  he  goes,  even  now,  out  at  the  portal ! 

[Exit  Ghost. 

Queen.  This  is  the  very  coinage  of  youi-  brain : 
This  bodiless  creation  ecstasy 
Is  very  cunning  in. 

Ham.  Ecstasy!^ 
My  pulse,  as  yours,  doth  temperately  keep  time, 
And  makes  as  healthful  music.     It  is  not  madness, 
That  I  have  utter'd :  bring  me  to  the  test. 
And  I  the  matter  will  re- word,  which  madness 
Would  gambol  from.     Mother,  for  love  of  grace. 
Lay  not  that^  flattering  unction  to  your  soul. 
That  not  your  trespass,  but  my  madness  speaks : 
It  will  but  skin  and  film  the  ulcerous  place, 
Whilst  rank  corruption,  mining  all  within. 
Infects  unseen.     Confess  yourself  to  heaven  ; 

1  Hair-nails ;  featkers  •were  so  called.     2  j^ot  in  quartos.     3  a  :  in 
folio. 

Vol.  VII.— 19 


218  HAMLET,  ACT  III. 

Repent  what 's  past ;  avoid  what  is  to  come, 

And  do  not  spread  the  compost  on  the  weeds, 

To  make  them  ranker.'     Forgive  ine  this  my  virtue ; 

For  in  the  fatness  of  these  pnrsy  times, 

Virtue  itself  of  vice  must  pardon  beg, 

Yea,  curb'''  and  woo,  for  leave  to  do  him  good. 

Queen.  0  Hamlet !   thou  hast  cleft  my  heart  in  twain. 

Ham.  0  throw  away  the  worser  part  of  it, 
And  live  the  purer  with  the  other  half. 
Good  night ;  but  go  not  to  mine  uncle's  bed  : 
Assume  a  virtue,  if  you  have  it  not. 
That^  monster,  custom,  who  all  sense  doth  eat 
Of  habits,  devil,  is  angel  yet  in  this ; 
That  to  the  use  of  actions  fair  and  good 
He  likewise  gives  a  frock,  or  livery, 
That  aptly  is  put  on  :  refrain  to-night ; 
And  that  shall  lend  a  kind  of  easiness 
To  the  next  abstinence :  the*  next  more  easy  ; 
For  use  almost  can  change  the  stamp  of  nature, 
And  master  the  devil,  or  throw  him  out 
With  wondrous  potency.     Once  more,  good  night : 
And  when  you  are  desirous  to  be  bless'd, 
I  '11  blessing  beg  of  you. — For  this  same  lord, 

[Pointing  to  Polonius. 
I  do  repent :  but  heaven  hath  pleas'd  it  so, 
To  punish  me  with  this,  and  this  with  me, 
That  I  must  be  their  scourge  and  minister. 
I  will  bestow  him.  and  will  answer  well 
The  death  I  gave  him.     So,  again,  good  night. — 
I  must  be  cruel,  only  to  be  kind  : 
Thus  bad  begins,  and  worse  remains  behind. — 
One  word  more,  good  lady.^ 

Queen.  What  shall  I  do  ? 

Ham.  Not  this,  by  no  means,  that  I  bid  you  do  : 
Let  the  bloat  king  tempt  you  again  to  bed  ; 
Pinch  wanton  on  your  cheek  ;  call  you  his  mouse ; 
And  let  him,  for  a  pair  of  reechy  kisses, 
Or  paddling  in  your  neck  with  his  damn'd  fingers, 
Make  you  to  ravel  all  this  matter  out, 
That  I  essentially  am  not  in  madness, 
But  mad  in  craft.     'T  were  good,  you  let  him  know; 

I  rank  :  in  folio.  2  Pr.  courbcr  ;  bend.  3  *  The  passages  from 
"That"  to  "put  on,"  and  from  "the"  to  "  potency,"  are  not  in  folio. 
*  This  line  is  not  in  folio. 


SC.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  219 

For  who,  that 's  but  a  queen,  fair,  sober,  wise, 
Would  from  a  paddock',  from  a  bat,  a  gib^. 
Such  dear  concernings  hide  ?  who  would  do  so  ? 
No,  in  despite  of  sense  and  secrecy, 
Unpeg  the  basket  on  the  house's  top. 
Let  the  birds  fly,  and,  like  the  famous  ape, 
To  try  conclusions  in  the  basket  creep, 
And  break  your  own  neck  do'w'n. 

Queen.  Be  thou  assur'd,  if  words  be  made  of  breath, 
And  breath  of  life,  I  have  no  life  to  breathe 
What  thou  hast  said  to  me. 

Ham.  I  must  to  England  ;  you  know  that. 

Queen.  Alack  ! 

I  had  forgot :  't  is  so  concluded  on.  [fellows,^ — 

Ham.  There's   letters    seal'd.   and    my  two  school- 
Whom  I  will  trust,  as  I  will  adders  fang'd, — 
They  bear  the  mandate  ;  they  must  sweep  my  way, 
And  marshal  me  to  knavery.     Let  it  work ; 
For  't  is  the  sport,  to  have  the  enginer 
Hoist  with  his  own  petar,  and  it  shall  go  hard, 
But  I  will  delve  one  yard  below  their  mines, 
And  blow  them  at  the  moon.     0  !   't  is  most  sweet, 
When  in  one  line  two  crafts  directly  meet. — 
This  man  shall  set  me  packing  : 
I  '11  lug  the  guts  into  the  neighbour  room. — 
Mother,  good  night. — Indeed,  this  counsellor 
Ls  now  most  still,  most  secret,  and  most  grave, 
Who  was  in  life  a  foolish  prating  knave. — 
Come,  sir,  to  draw  toward  an  end  with  you. — 
Good  night,  mother. 

[Exeunt  severally  ;  Hamlet  dragging  in  Polonius. 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE  L— The  Same. 
Enter  King,  Queen,  Rosencrantz,  and  Guildenstern. 
King.  There  's  matter  in  these  sighs  :  these  profound 
heaves 
You  must  translate  ;  't  is  fit  we  understand  them. 
Where  is  your  son  ? 

I  Toad.      2  Cat.      ^  This  and  the  eight  preceding  lines,  are  not  in 
folio. 


5^20  HAMLET,  ACT  IV. 

Queen.  BestoW  this  place  on  us  a  little  while.' — 

[Exeunt  Rosexcrantz  and  Guildenstern. 
Ah.  my  good  lord,  what  have  I  seen  to-night ! 

king.  What.  Gertrude  ?     How  does  Hamlet  ? 

Queen.  Mad  as  the  sea  and  wind,  when  both  contend 
"Which  is  the  mightier.     In  his  lawless  fit, 
Behind  the  arras  hearing  something  stir, 
He  whips  his  rapier  out,  and  cries,  "  A  rat !   a  rat  !" 
And  in  his  brainish  apprehension  kills 
The  unseen  good  old  man. 

King.  0  hea"\">'  deed  ! 

It  had  been  so  vAih  us.  had  we  been  there. 
His  liberty  is  full  of  threats  to  all ; 
To  you  yourself;  to  vis.  to  everj''  one. 
Alas  !  how  shall  this  bloody  deed  be  answer'd  ? 
It  will  be  laid  to  us.  whose  providence 
Should  have  kept  short,  restrain'd,  and  out  of  haunt, 
This  mad  young  man  ;  but  so  much  was  our  love, 
We  would  not  understand  what  most  was  fit, 
But,  like  the  ownier  of  a  foul  disease, 
To  keep  it  from  divulging,  let  it  feed 
Even  on  the  pith  of  life.     Where  is  he  gone? 

Queen.  To  draw  apart  the  body  he  hath  kill'd  j 
O'er  whom  his  very  madness,  like  some  ore 
Among  a  mineral  of  metals  base. 
Shows  itself  pure :  he  weeps  for  what  is  done. 

King.  O,  Gertrude  !  come  away, 
The  sun  no  sooner  shall  the  mountains  touch. 
But  we  will  ship  him  hence :  and  this  -vile  deed 
We  must;  with  all  our  majesty  and  skill. 
Both  countenance  and  excuse. — Ho  !  Guildenstern ! 

Enter  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 
Friends  both,  go  join  you  with  some  farther  aid. 
Hamlet  in  madness  hath  Polonius  slain, 
And  from  his  mother's  closet  hath  he  dragg'd  him : 
Go,  seek  him  out :  speak  fair,  and  bring  the  body 
Into  the  chapel.     I  pray  you,  haste  in  this. 

[Exeunt  Ros.  and  GuiL. 
Come,  Gertrude,  we  '11  call  up  our  wisest  friends  r 
And  let  them  know,  both  what  we  mean  to  do. 
And  what 's  untimely  done  :  so,  haply,  slander,''' — 
Whose  whisper  o'er  the  world's  diameter, 

'  This  line  is  not  in  folio.      ^  These  three  ■words  ■vrere  added  by 
Theobald  ;  the  rest  of  the  passage  to  '■  air,"  is  not  in  folio. 


SC.  IT.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  221 

As  level  as  the  cannon  to  his  blank, 

Transports  his  poison'd  shot, — may  miss  our  name, 

And  hit  the  woundless  air. — 0,  come  away ! 

My  soul  is  full  of  discord,  and  dismay.  [Exeimt. 

SCENE  II. — Another  Room  in  the  Same. 
Enter  Hamlet. 

Ham.  Safely  sto-wed. — [Ros.  Sfc,  within.  Hamlet ! 
lord  Hamlet !]  But  soft  !  what  noise  ? — Who  calls  on 
Hamlet  ? — 0  I  here  they  come. 

Enter  RosEXCRAXTZ  and  Guildexstern. 

Ros.  What  have  you  done,  my  lord,  with  the  dead 
body  ? 

Ham.  Compounded  it  with  dust,  whereto  't  is  kin. 

Ros.  Tellus  where 'tis;  that  we  may  take  it  thence, 
And  bear  it  to  the  chapel. 

Ham.  Do  not  believe  it. 

Ros.  Believe  what  ? 

Ham.  That  I  can  keep  your  counsel,  and  not  mine 
own.  Besides,  to  be  demanded  of  a  sponge,  what  repli- 
cation should  be  made  by  the  son  of  a  king  ? 

Ros.  Take  you  me  for  a  sponge,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  Ay,  sir  ;  that  soaks  up  the  king's  countenance, 
his  rewards,  his  authorities.  But  such  officers  do  the 
king  best  service  in  the  end ;  he  keeps  them,  like  an 
ape.'  in  the  corner  of  his  jaw,  first  mouthed,  to  be  last 
swallowed :  when  he  needs  what  you  have  gleaned,  it 
is  but  squeezing  you.  and,  sponge,  you  shall  be  dry 
again. 

Ros.  I  understand  you  not,  my  lord. 

Ham.  I  am  glad  of  it :  a  knavish  speech  sleeps  in  a 
foolish  ear. 

Ros.  My  lord,  you  must  tell  us  where  the  body  is, 
and  go  with  us  to  the  king. 

Ham.  The  body  is  with  the  king,  but  the  king  is  not 
with  tlie  body.     The  king  is  a  thing — 

Guil.  A  thing,  my  lord  ! 

Ham.  Of  nothing  :  bring  me  to  him.  Hide  fox,  and 
all  after. ^  \Exeunt. 

I  as  an  ape  doth  nuts  ;  in  quarto,  1603  '  A  reference  to  the  hoys' 
game  of  '-All  hid." 


19* 


2^  HAMLET,  ACt  IT. 

SCENE  III. — Another  Room  in  the  Same. 
Ente7-  King,  attended. 
King.  I  have  sent  to  seek  him,  and  to  find  the  body. 
How  dangerous  is  it,  that  this  man  goes  loose  ! 
Yet  must  not  we  put  the  strong  law  on  him  : 
He 's  lov'd  of  the  distracted  multitude. 
AVho  like  not  in  their  judgment,  but  their  eyes ; 
And  where  't  is  so,  th'  offender's  seourge  is  weigh'd, 
But  never  the  ofTence.     To  bear  all  smooth  and  even, 
This  sudden  sending  him  away  must  seem 
Deliberate  pause:  diseases,  desperate  grown. 
By  desperate  appliance  are  reliev'd, 

Enter  Rosencrantz. 
Or  not  at  all. — How  now  !  what  hath  befallen  ? 

Ros.  Where  the  dead  body  is  bestow'd,  my  lord, 
We  cannot  get  from  him. 

King.  But  where  is  he  ? 

Ros.   Without,  my    lord  ;     guarded,   to  know  your 

pleasure. 
King.  Bring  him  before  us. 
Ros.  Ho,  Guildenstern  !  bring  in  my  lord. 
Enter  Hamlet  and  Guildenstern. 
Ki7ig.  Now,  Hamlet,  where 's  Polonius? 
Ham.  At  supper. 
King.  At  supper  !     Where? 

Ham.  Not  where  he  eats,  but  where  he  is  eaten;  a 
certain  convocation  of  palated^  worms  are  e'en  at  him. 
Your  worm  is  your  only  emperor  for  diet :  we  fat  all 
creatures  else  to  fat  us,  and  we  fat  ourselves  for  mag- 
gots. Your  fat  king,  and  your  lean  beggar,  is  but 
variable  service;  two  dishes,  but  to  one  table  :  that's 
the  end. 

King.  Alas,  alas  !" 

Ham.  A  man  may  fish  with  the  worm  that  hath  eat 
of  a  king ;  and  eat  of  the  fish  that  hath  fed  of  that 
worm. 

King.  What  dost  thou  mean  by  this  ?  ^ 

Ham.  Nothing,  but  to  show  you  how  a  king  may  go 
a  progress  through  the  guts  of  a  beggar. 
King.  Where  is  Polonius  ? 

Ham.  In  heaven :  send  thither  to  see  ;  if  your  mes- 
senger find  him  not  there,  seek  him  i'  the  other  place 
1  politic  :  in  f.  e.      2  This  and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  folio. 


SC.  III.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  223 

yourself.  But,  indeed,  if  you  find  him  not  within  this 
month,  you  shall  nose  him  as  you  go  up  the  stairs  into 
the  lobby. 

King.  Go  seek  him  there.  [To  some  Attendants. 

Ham.  He  will  stay  till  you  comc.[Exevnt  Attendants. 

King.  Hamlet,  this  deed/  for  thine  especial  safety, — 
Whieli  we  do  tender,  as  we  dearly  grieve 
For  that  which  thou  hast  done, — must  send  thee  hence 
With  fiery  quickness :  therefore,  prepare  thyself. 
The  bark  is  ready,  and  the  wind  at  help, 
Th'  associates  tend,  and  every  thing  is  bent 
For  England. 

Ham.  For  England  ? 

King.  Ay,  Hamlet. 

Ham.  Good. 

King.  So  is  it,  if  thou  knew'st  our  purposes. 

Ham.  I  see  a  cherub  that  sees  them^. — But.  come; 
for  England  ! — Farewell,  dear  mother. 

King.  Thy  loving  father,  Hamlet. 

Ham.  My  mother  :  father  and  mother  is  man  and 
wife,  man  and  wife  is  one  flesh  ;  and  so,  my  mother. 
Come,  for  England  !  [Exit. 

King.  Follow  him  at  foot ;  tempt  him  with  speed 
aboard : 
Delay  it  not,  I  '11  have  him  hence  to-night. 
Away,  for  every  thing  is  seal'd  and  done. 
That  else  leans  on  th'  affair  :  pray  30U.  make  haste. 

[Exeunt  Kos.  and  Guil. 
And,  England,  if  my  love  thou  hold'st  at  aught, 
(As  my  great  power  thereof  may  give  thee  sense, 
Since  yet  thy  cicatrice  looks  raw  and  red 
After  the  Danish  sword,  and  thy  free  awe 
Pays  homage  to  us)  thou  may'st  not  coldly  see 
Our  sovereign  process,  which  imports  at  full, 
By  letters  conjuring^  to  that  effect. 
The  present  death  of  Hamlet.     Do  it,  England; 
For  like  the  hectic  in  my  blood  he  rages. 
And  thou  must  cure  me.     Till  I  know  '"t  is  done, 
Howe'er  my  hopes,  my  joys  were  ne'er  begun.      [Exit. 


224  HAMLET,  ACT  IV. 

SCENE  IV.— A  Plain  in  Denmark. 
Enter  Fortinbras,  and  Forces,  marching. 

For.  Go,  captain  ;  from  me  greet  the  Danish  king  : 
Tell  him,  that  by  liis  license  Fortinbras 
Claims'  the  conveyance  of  a  promis'd  march 
Over  hie  kingdom.     You  know  the  rendezvous. 
If  that  his  majesty  would  aught  with  us, 
We  shall  express  our  duty  in  his  eye ; 
And  let  him  know  so. 

Cap.  I  will  do  't,  my  lord. 

For.  Go  safely^  on. 

[Exeunt  Fortinbras  and  Forces. 
Enter^  Hamlet,  Rosencrantz,  Guildenstern.  ^x. 

Ham.  Good  sir,  whose  powers  are  these  ? 

Cap.  They  are  of  Norway,  sir. 

Ham.  How  purpos'd,  sir, 

I  pray  you  ? 

Cap.  Against  some  part  of  Poland. 

Ham.  Who 

Commands  them,  sir  ? 

Cap.  The  nephew  to  old  Norway,  Fortinbras. 

Ham.  Goes  it  against  the  main  of  Poland,  sir. 
Or  for  some  frontier  ? 

Cap.  Truly  to  speak,  and  with  no  addition, 
We  go  to  gain  a  little  patch  of  ground, 
That  hath  in  it  no  profit  but  the  name. 
To  pay  five  ducats,  five,  I  would  not  farm  it ; 
Nor  will  it  yield  to  Norway,  or  the  Pole. 
A  ranker  rate,  should  it  be  sold  in  fee. 

Ham.  Why,  then  the  Polack  never  will  defend  it. 

Cap.  Yes,  't  is  already  garrison'd. 

Ham.    Two  thousand   souls,   and  twenty  thousand 
ducats. 
Will  not  debate  the  question  of  this  straw: 
This  is  th'  imposthume  of  much  wealth  and  peace, 
That  inward  breaks,  and  shows  no  cause  without 
Why  the  man  dies.— I  humbly  thank  you,  sir. 

Cap.  God  be  wi'  you,  sir.  [Exit  Captain. 

Ros.  Will  't  please  you  go.  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  I  '11  be  with  you  straight.     Go  a  little  before. 
[Exeunt  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern. 

1  Craves  :  in  quartos.     '■'  softly  :  in  quartos.     3  The  rest  of  the  scene 
is  not  in  the  folio,  or  quarto,  1603. 


8C.  V.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  225 

How  all  occasions  do  inform  against  me, 

And  spur  my  dull  revenge  !     What  is  a  man, 

If  his  chief  good,  and  market  of  his  time, 

Be  but  to  sleep,  and  feed?  a  beast,  no  more. 

Sure,  he,  that  made  us  with  sucli  large  discourse. 

Looking  before  and  after,  gave  us  not 

That  capability  and  godlike  reason, 

To  fust  in  us  unus'd.     Now,  whether  it  be 

Bestial  oblivion,  or  some  craven  scruple 

Of  thinking  too  precisely  on  th'  event. — 

A  thought,  which,  quarter'd,  hath  but  one  part  wisdom, 

And  ever  three  parts  coward, — I  do  not  know 

Why  yet  I  live  to  say,  '-This  thing  's  to  do  ;" 

Sith  I  have  cause,  and  will,  and  strength,  and  means, 

To  do  't.     Examples,  gross  as  earth,  exhort  me  : 

Witne.«s  this  army,  of  such  mass  and  charge. 

Led  by  a  delicate  and  tender  prince, 

Whose  spirit,  with  divine  ambition  pufF'd. 

Makes  mouths  at  the  invisible  event; 

Exposing  what  is  mortal,  and  unsure. 

To  all  that  fortune,  death,  and  danger,  dare, 

Even  for  an  egg-shell.     Rightly  to  be  great, 

Is  not  to  stir  without  great  argument. 

But  greatly  to  find  quarrel  in  a  straw, 

When  honour 's  at  the  stake.     How  stand  I,  then, 

That  have  a  father  kill'd,  a  mother  stain'd, 

Excitements  of  my  reason  and  my  blood. 

And  let  all  sleep  ?  while,  to  my  shame,  I  see 

The  imminent  death  of  twenty  thousand  men. 

That  for  a  fantasy,  and  trick  of  fame, 

Go  to  tlicir  graves  like  beds  :  fight  for  a  plot 

Whereon  the  numbers  cannot  try  the  cause  ; 

Which  is  not  tomb  enough,  and  continent, 

To  hide  the  slain  ? — 0  !  from  this  time  forth. 

My  thoughts  be  bloody,  or  be  nothing  worth  !       [Exit. 

SCENE  v.— Elsinore.     A  Room  in  the  Castle. 

Entej-  Queen,  Horatio,  and  a  Gentleman} 
Queen.  I  will  not  speak  with  her. 
Ge7it.  She  is  importunate ;  indeed,  distract : 
Her  mood  will  needs  be  pitied. 

Queen.  What  would  she  have  ? 

1  This  character  does  not  appear  in  the  folio,  where  all  his  speeches 
in  the  text  are  given  to  Horatio. 


226  HAMLET,  ACT  IV. 

Gent.  She  speaks  much  of  her  father ;  says,  she  hears, 
There  's  tricks  i'  the  Avorld  ;  and  hems,  and  beats  her 

heart ; 
Spurns  enviously  at  straws ;  speaks  things  in  doubt, 
That  carry  but  hah"  sense.     Her  speech  is  nothing, 
Yet  the  unshaped  use  of  it  doth  move 
The  hearers  to  collection  ;  they  aim^  at  it, 
And  botch  the  words  up  fit  to  their  own  thoughts ; 
Which,  as  her  winks,  and  nods,  and  gestures  yield  them, 
Indeed  would  make  one  tliink,  there  might  be  thought, 
Though  nothing  sure,  yet  much  unhappily. 

Hor.^  'T  were  good  she  were  spoken  with,  for  she 
may  strew 
Dangerous  conjectures  in  ill-breeding  minds. 

Queen.  Let  her  come  in. —  [Exit  Horatio. 

To  my  sick  soul,  as  sin's  true  nature  is. 
Each  toy  seems  prologue  to  some  great  amiss : 
So  full  of  artless  jealousy  is  guilt. 
It  spills  itself  in  fearing  to  be  spilt. 

Re-enter  Horatio,  with  Ophelia,  distracted.^ 
Oph.  Where  is  the  beauteous  majesty  of  Denmark? 
Queen.  How  now.  Ophelia? 

Oph.     Hoio  should  I  your  true  love  know     [Singing. 
From  another  one  ? 
By  his  cockle  hat  and  staff, 
And  his  .mndal  .'shoon. 
Queen.  Alas,  sweet  lady  !  what  imports  this  song  ? 
Oph.  Say  you?  nay,  pray  you,  mark. 

He  is  dead  and  gone,  lady,  [Singing. 

He  is  dead  and  gone  j 
At  his  head  a  green  grass  turf,*  - 

At  his  heels  a  stone. 
0,  ho  \' 

Queen.     Nay,  but  Ophelia, — 
Oph.  Pray  you,  mark. 

White  his  shroud  as  the  mountain  snow,  [Singing. 
Enter  King. 
Queen.  Alas  !  look  here,  my  lord. 
Oph.     Larded  with  sweet  flowers  ; 

Which  bewept  to  the  grave^  did  go, 
With  true-love  showers. 

1  yawn  :  in  quartos.  2  Queen  :  in  folio.  3  Not  in  f.  e. ;  playing 
on  a  lute,  with  her  hair  down,  singing:  in  quarto,  1603.  *  grass- 
green  turf:  in  f.  e.    ^  Not  in  folio.     «  ground :  in  quartos,  after  16U3. 


SC.  V.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  227 

King.  How  do  you,  pretty  lady  ? 
Oph.  Well,  God  'ild'  you  !    They  say,  the  owl  was  a 
baker's  daughter.*     Lord  !  we  know  what  we  are,  but 
know  not  what  we  may  be.     God  be  at  your  table  ! 
King.  Conceit  upon  her  father. 
Oph.  Pray  you,  let  's  have  no  words  of  this;  but 
when  they  ask  you  what  it  means,  say  you  this : 
To-morrow  is  Saint  Valentine's  day^ 

All  in  the  morning  betime^ 
And  I  a  maid  at  your  window^ 

To  be  your  Valentine: 
Tlien^  vp  he  rose,  and  don'd  his  clothes. 

And  dupp'd  the  chamber  door  ; 
Let  in  the  maid^  that  out  a  maid 
Never  departed  more. 
King.  Pretty  Ophelia ! 

Oph.  Indeed,  la  !  without  an  oath,  I  "11  make  an  end 
on  't : 

By  Gis  and  by  Saint  Charity., 

Alack.,  and  fie  for  shame  ! 
Young  men  ivill  do  'f,  if  they  come  to  't; 

By  cock,  they  are  to  blame. 
Quoth  she.  before  you  tumbled  me., 
You  promised  me  to  wed : 
He  answers. 

So  would  I  ha'  done,  by  yonder  sun, 
An  thou  hadst  not  come  to  my  bed. 
King.  How  long  liath  she  been  thus  ? 
Oph.  I  hope,  all  will  be  well.    We  must  be  patient ; 
but  I  cannot  choose    but  weep,  to  think,  they  would^ 
lay  him  i'  the  cold  ground.     ]\Iy  brother  shall  know  of 
it,  and  so  I  tliank  you  for  your  good  counsel. — Come, 
my  coach !     Good    night,    ladies ;    good   night,  sweet 
ladies  :  good  night,  good  night.  [Exit. 

King.  Follow  her  close  :  give  her  good  watch,  I  pray 
you.  [Exit  Horatio. 

0  !  this  is  the  poison  of  deep  grief:  it  springs 

'  Yield,  or  reivard.  2  "  Our  Saviour  went  into  a  baker's  shop  -svhcre 
the  people  were  baking,  and  asked  for  bread  :  the  mistress  put  a  piece 
of  dough  in  the  oven  for  him.  -which  was  taken  out  by  her  daughter, 
and  reduced  to  a  small  lump.  It  immediately  began  to  swell,  and 
the  daughter  to  cry  '  heugh,  heugh,  heugh,' which  owl-like  noise 
probably  induced  our  Saviour  to  change  her  into  that  bird." — An  old 
tradition,  quoted  by  Douce.     3  should  ;  in  folio. 


228  HAMLET,  ACT  .IV. 

All  from  her  father's  death.'     And  now,  behold, 

O  Gertrude,  Gertrude  ! 

When  sorrows  come,  they  come  not  single  spies, 

But  in  battalions.     First,  her  father  .slain ; 

Next,  your  son  gone;  and  he  most  violent  author 

Of  hi.";  own  ju.=;t  remove  :  the  people  muddied, 

Thick  and  unwholesome  in  their  thoughts  and  whispers, 

For   good   Polonius'  death,    and   we    have   done   but 

greenly. 
In  hugger-mugger  to  inter  him :  poor  Ophelia, 
Divided  from  herself,  and  her  fair  judgment. 
Without  the  which  we  are  pictures,  or  mere  beasts: 
Last,  and  as  much  containing  as  all  these. 
Her  brother  is  in  secret  come  from  France, 
Feeds  on  his  wonder,  keeps  himself  in  clouds, 
And  wants  not  buzzers  to  infect  his  ear 
With  pestilent  speeches  of  his  father's  death ; 
Wherein  necessity,  of  matter  beggar'd, 
Will  nothing  stick  our  persons  to  arraign 
In  ear  and  ear.     0  I  my  dear  Gertrude,  this, 
Like  to  a  murdering  piece,  in  m.any  places 
Gives  me  superfluous  death.  [A  noise  within. 

Queen.  Alack  !  what  noise  is  this  ? 

King.  Attend  !' 
Where  are  my  Switzers  ?     Let  them  guard  the  door. 
What  is  the  iiiatter  ? 

Enter  a  Gentleman.,  in  haste.^ 

Gent.  Save  yourself,  my  lord  ; 

The  ocean,  overpeering  of  his  list, 
Eats  not  the  flats  with  more  impetuous*  haste. 
Than  young  Laertes,  in  a  riotous  head, 
O'erbears  your  officers  !     The  rabble  call  him,  king; 
And.  as  the  world  were  now  but  to  begin, 
Antiquity  forgot,  custom  not  known,  « 

The  ratifiers  and  props  of  every  word, 
They  cry,  "  Choose  we;  Laertes  shall  be  king  !" 
Caps,  hands,  and  tongues,  applaud  it  to  the  clouds, 
"Laertes  shall  be  king,  Laertes  king  !" 

Queen.  How  cheerfully  on  the  false  trail  they  cry. 
0  !  this  is  counter,  you  false  Danish  dogs. 

King.  The  doors  are  broke.  [Noise  within. 

1  The  rest  of  this  line  is  not  in  folio.     2  Not  in  folio.     ^ ''in  haste": 
not  in  f.  e.     *  impitious  :  in  quarto,  1604,  and  folio. 


SCv  V.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  229 

Enter  Laertes,    with  his  sivord  drawn  ;^  Danes  fol- 
lowing. 

Laer.  Where  is    this    king? — Sirs,    stand    you  all 
without. 

Dan.  No,  let 's  come  in. 

Lacr.  I  pray  you,  give  me  leave. 

Dan.  We  will,  we  will.  [They  retire  without  the  Door. 

Laer.  I  thank  you  :  keep  the  door. — Othou  vile  king  ! 
Give  me  my  father. 

Queen.  Calmly,  good  Laertes. 

Laer.  That  drop  of  blood  that 's  calm^  proclaims  me 
bastard  ; 
Cries,  cuckold,  to  my  father:  brands  the  harlot 
Even  here,  between  the  chaste  unsmirchcd  brow 
Of  my  true  mother. 

King.  What  is  the  cause,  Laertes, 

That  thy  rebellion  looks  so  giant-like  ? — 
Let  him  go,  Gertrude ;  do  not  fear  our  person  : 
There  's  such  divinity  doth  hedge  a  king, 
That  treason  can  but  peep  to  what  it  would, 
Acts  little  of  his  \\-ill. — Tell  me,  Laertes, 
Why  thou  art  thus  incens'd. — Let  him  go.  Gertrude. — 
Speak,  man. 

Laer.  Where  is  my  father? 

King.  Dead. 

Queen.  But  not  by  him. 

King.  Let  him  demand  his  fill. 

Lacr.  How  came  he  dead?  I  '11  not  be  juggled  with. 
To  hell,  allegiance  !  vows,  to  the  blackest  devil ! 
Conscience,  and  grace,  to  the  profoundest  pit ! 
I  dare  damnation.     To  this  point  I  stand, 
That  both  the  worlds  I  give  to  negligence. 
Let  come  what  comes,  only  I  '11  be  reveng'd 
Most  throughly  for  my  father. 

King.  Who  shall  stay  you  ? 

Laer.  My  will,  not  all  the  world's  : 
And,  for  my  means.  I  '11  husband  them  so  well, 
They  shall  go  far  with  little. 

King.  Good  Laertes, 

If  you  desire  to  know  the  certainty 
Of  your  dear  father's  death,  is  't  writ  in  your  revenge, 
That,  sweepstake,  you  will  draw  both  friend  and  foe, 
Winner  and  loser  ' 

1  Enter  LA^B.TEs,armed :  in  f.  e.     *  that  calms ;  in  folio. 

Vol.  VII.— 20 


230  HAMLET,  ACT.  IV. 

Laer.  None  but  his  enemies. 

King.  Will  yoxT  know  them,  then? 

Laer.  To  his  good  friends  thus  wide  I  '11  ope  my  arms  ^ 
And,  like  the  kind  life-rendering  pelican/ 
Repast  them  with  my  blood. 

King.  Why,  now  you  speak 

Like  a  good  child,  and  a  true  gentleman. 
That  I  am  guiltless  of  your  father's  death, 
And  am  most  sensibly  in  grief  for  it, 
It  shall  as  level  to  your  judgment  'pear,^ 
As  day  does  to  your  eye. 

Danes.   \  Within.]  Let  her  come  in. 

Laer.  How  now  !  what  noise  is  that  ? 

Re-enter  Ophelia,  still  distracted.^ 
O  heat,  dry  up  my  brains  !  tears  seven  times  salt, 
Burn  out  the  sense  and  virtue  of  mine  eye  ! — 
By  heaven,  thy  madness  shall  be  paid  by  weight, 
Till  our  scale  turns  the  beam.     0  rose  of  May  ! 
Dear  maid,  kind  sister,  sweet  Ophelia  ! — 
O  heavens  !  is  't  possible,  a  young  maid's  wits 
Should  be  as  mortal  as  an  old  man"s  life  ?* 
Nature  is  fine  in  love  ;  and,  where  't  is  fine. 
It  sends  some  precious  instance  of  itself 
After  the  thing  it  loves. 

Oph.   They  bore  him  bare-fac'd  on  their  bier  ;  [Sings. 
Hey  non  nonny,  nonny.  hey  nanny : 
And  in  his  grave  rain'd  many  a  tear  ; — 

Fare  you  well,  my  dove  ! 

Laer.  Hadst  thou  thy  wits,  and  didst  persuade  re- 
venge. 
It  could  not  move  thus. 

Oph.  You  must  sing,  Down  a-doivn^  an  you  call  him 
a-down-a.  0,  how  the  wheel  becomes  it !  [t  is  the 
false  steward,  that  stole  his  master's  daughter. 

Laer.  This  nothing  's  more  than  matter. 

Oph.  There  's  rosemary,  that  's  for  remembrance ;'' 
pray  you,  love,  remember  :  and  there  is  pansies  ]  that 's 
for  thoughts. 

Laer.  A  document  in  madness  ;  thoughts  and  re- 
membrance fitted. 

Oph.  There  's  fennel  for  you,   and  columbines : — 

1  politician  :  in  folio.  ^  pierce  :  in  folio.  ^  The  rest  of  this  direc- 
tion is  not  in  f.  e.  ^  The  rest  of  this  speech  is  not  in  quartos. 
*  Strengthening  the  memory. — lyiight. 


SC.  V.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  231 

there  's  rue  for  you ;  and  here 's  some  for  me ;  we  may 
call  it,  herb  of  grace  o'  Sundays : — you  may'  wear  your 
rue  with  a  difference. — There  's  a  daisy  :  I  would  give 
you  some  violets;  but  they  withered  all  when  my 
father  died. — They  say,  he  made  a  good  end, — 

For  bonny  sweet  Robin  is  all  my  joy, — [Sings. 
Laer.  Thouglit  and  affliction  ;  passion,  hell  itself, 
She  turns  to  favour,  and  to  prettiness. 

Oph.         And  will  he  not  come  again  ?  [Sings. 

And  will  he  not  come  again  ? 
No.  no,  he  is  dead ; 
Gone  to  his^  death-bed, 
He    never  xcill  come  amin. 
His  beard  was  ichite'^  as  snow^ 
All  flaxen  was  his  poll ; 
He  is  gone,  he  is  gone, 
And  ice  cast  aicay  moan  : 
God  ha'  mercy*  on  his  soid  ! 
And  of  all  christian  souls  !  I  pray  God. — God  be  wi' 
you  !  [Exit  Ophelia.^  dancing  distractedly. 

Laer.  Do  you  see  this,  0  God  ? 
King.  Laertes,  I  must  commune  with  your  grief, 
Or  yovi  deny  me  right.     Go  but  apart. 
Make  choice  of  whom  your  wisest  friends  you  will, 
And  they  shall  hear  and  judge  "twixt  you  and  me. 
If  by  direct,  or  by  collateral  liand 
They  find  us  touch'd,  we  will  our  kingdom  give, 
Our  crown,  our  life,  and  all  that  we  call  ours, 
To  you  in  satisfaction ;  but  if  not. 
Be  you  content  to  lend  your  patience  to  us, 
And  we  shall  jointly  labour  with  your  soul 
To  give  it  due  content. 

Laer.  Let  this  be  so  : 

His  means  of  death,  his  obscure  funeraP, 
No  trophy,  sword,  nor  hatchment,  o'er  his  bones, 
No  noble  rite,  nor  formal  ostentation. 
Cry  to  be  heard,  as  't  were  from  heaven  to  earth. 
That  I  must  call 't  in  question. 

Kin"-.  So  you  shall; 

And.  where  th"  offence  is.  let  the  great  axe  fall. 
I  pray  you,  go  with  me.  [Exeunt. 

1  0  !  yon  must :  in  folio.  2  go  to  thy :  in  f.  e.  '  ivas  as  white  :  in 
f.  e.  *  Gramercy  :  in  folio.  ^  The  rest  of  this  direction,  is  not  in 
f.  e.      6  burial :  m  folio. 


.232  HAMLET,  ACT  XV. 

SCENE  VI.— Another  Room  in  the  Same. 
Ejiter  Horatio,  and  a  Servant. 

Hor.  What  are  they,  that  would  speak  ■s^'ith  me  ? 

Serv.  Sailors,  sir  :  they  say,  they  have  letters  for  you. 

Hor.  Let  them  come  in. —  [Exit  Servant. 

I  do  not  know  from  what  part  of  the  world 
I  should  be  greeted,  if  not  from  lord  Hamlet. 
Enter  Sailors. 

1  Sail.  God  bless  you,  sir. 

Hor.  Let  him  bless  thee  too. 

1  Sail.  He  shall,  sir,  an  't  please  him.  There  's  a 
letter  for  you,  sir :  it  comes  from  the  ambassador  that 
was  bound  for  England,  if  your  name  be  Horatio,  as  I 
am  let  to  know  it  is. 

Hor.  [Reads.]  ''  Horatio,  when  thou  shalt  have  over- 
looked this,  give  these  fellows  some  means  to  the  king: 
they  have  letters  for  him.  Ere  we  were  two  days  old 
at  sea,  a  pirate  of  very  warlike  appointment  gave  us 
chase.  Finding  ourselves  too  slow  of  saiL  we  put  on  a 
compelled  valour ;  and  in  the  grapple  I  boarded  them : 
on  the  instant  they  got  clear  of  our  ship,  so  I  alone 
became  their  prisoner.  They  have  dealt  with  me  like 
thieves  of  mercy ;  but  they  knew  what  they  did  :  I  am 
to  do  a  good  turn  for  them.  Let  the  king  have  the 
letters  I  have  sent ;  and  repair  thou  to  me  with  as  much 
haste  as  thou  wouldst  fly  death.  I  have  words  to  speak 
in  tliine  ear  will  make  thee  dumb  ;  yet  are  they  much 
too  light  for  the  bore  of  the  matter.  These  good  fellows 
will  bring  thee  where  I  am.  Rosencrantz  and  Guilden- 
stern  hold  their  course  for  England :  of  them  I  have 
much  to  tell  thee.     Farewell ; 

He  that  thou  knowest  thine,  HamLet." 
Come,  I  will  give  you  way  for  these  your  letters : 
And  do  't  the  speedier,  that  you  may  direct  me 
To  him  from  whom  you  brought  them.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  VIL— Another  Room  in  the  Same. 
Enter  King  and  Laertes. 

King.  Now  must  your  conscience  my  acquittance  seal, 
And  you  must  put  me  in  your  heart  for  friend, 
Sith  you  have  heard,  and  with  a  knowing  ear, 
That  he,  which  hath  your  noble  father  slain, 
Pursu'd  my  life. 


BO.  VII.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  233 

Xaer-  It  well  appears.     But  tell  me, 

Why  you  proceeded  not  against  these  feats, 
So  criminal'  and  so  capital  in  nature, 
As  by  your  safety,  greatness,'  wisdom,  all  things  else, 
You  mainly  were  stirr'd  up. 

Xin"-.  0!  for  two  special  reasons, 

Whicli'may  to  you,  perhaps,  seem  much  unsinew'd. 
But'  yet  to  me  they  are  strong.  The  queen,  his  mother, 
Lives  almost  by  his  looks ;  and  for  myself, 
(My  virtue,  or  my  plague,  be  it  either  which) 
She  's  so  conjunctive  to  my  life  and  soul. 
That,  as  the  star  moves  not  but  in  his  sphere, 
I  could  not  but  by  her.     The  other  motive. 
Why  to  a  public  count  I  might  not  go. 
Is  the  great  love  the  general  gender  bear  him ; 
Who  dipping  all  his  faults  in  their  affection. 
Work  like  the  spring  that  turneth  wood  to  stone. 
Convert  his  gyves  to  graces ;  so  that  my  arrows. 
Too  slightly  timber'd  for  so  loud  a  wind, 
Would  have  reverted  to  my  bow  again. 
And  not  where  I  had  aim'd  them. 

Laer.  And  so  have  I  a  noble  father  lost, 
A  sister  driven  into  desperate  terms ; 
Who  was,  if  praises  may  go  back  again. 
Sole  challenger  on  mount  of  all  the  age 
For  her  perfections.     But  my  revenge  will  come. 
King.  Break  not  your  sleeps  for  that :  you  must  not 
think, 
That  we  are  made  of  stuff  so  fiat  and  dull. 
That  we  can  let  our  beard  be  shook  with  danger, 
And  think  it  pastime.     You  shortly  shall  hear  more: 
I  loved  your  father,  and  we  love  ourself ; 

And  that,  I  hope,  A^-ill  teach  you  to  imagine, 

How  now  !  what  news  ? 

Enter  a  Messenger. 
Mess.  Letters,  my  lord,  from  Hamlet. 

This  to  your  majesty :  this  to  the  queen. 
King.  From  Hamlet  !  who  brought  them  ? 
Mess.  Sailors,  my  lord,  they  say ;  I  saw  them  not : 
They  were  given  me  by  Claadib,  he  receiv'd  them 
Of  him  that  brought  them.* 

King.  Laertes,  you  shall  hear  them. — 

I  crimeful :  in  folio.      2  Not  in  folio.     3  And  :  in  folio.     ^This 
line  is  not  in  folio. 

20* 


234  HAMLET,  ACT  IT. 

Leave  us.  [Exit  Messenger. 

\Reads\  •'  High  and  mighty,  you  shall  know,  I  am 
set  naked  on  your  kingdom.  To-morrow  shall  1  heg 
leave  to  see  your  kuigly  eyes  :  when  I  shall,  first  asking 
your  pardon  thereunto,  recount  the  occasions  of  my 
sudden  and  more  strange  return.  Hamlet." 

AVhat  should  this  mean  ?  Are  all  the  rest  come  back  ? 
Or  is  it  some  abuse,  and  no  such  thing  ? 

Laer.  Know  you  the  hand  ? 

King.  'T  is  Hamlets  character.     '•  Naked,"— 

And.  in  a  postscript  here,  he  says,  '•  alone  :"' 
Can  you  advise  me  ? 

Laer.  I  'm  lost  in  it,  ray  lord.     But  let  him  come : 
It  warms  the  very  sickness  in  my  heart 
That  I  shall  live  and  tell  him  to  his  teeth, 
"  Thus  diddest  thou." 

King.  If  it  be  so.  Laertes, 

(A.s  how  should  it  be  so?  how  otherwise  ?) 
Will  you  be  ruled  by  me  ? 

Laer.  Ay,  my  lord ;' 

So  you  will  not  o'er-rule  me  to  a  peace. 

King.  To  thine  owtx  peace.  If  he  be  now  return'dj — 
As  liking  not^  his  voyage,  and  that  he  means 
No  more  to  undertake  it. — I  will  work  him 
To  an  exploit,  now  ripe  in  my  device. 
Under  the  which  he  shall  not  choose  but  fall ; 
And  for  his  death  no  wind  of  blame  .shall  breathe, 
But  even  his  mother  shall  uncharge  the  practice, 
And  call  it  accident. 

Laer.  My^  lord,  I  will  be  rul'd ; 

The  rather,  if  you  could  devise  it  so. 
That  I  might  be  the  organ. 

King.  It  falls  right. 

You  have  been  talk'd  of  since  your  travel  much, 
And  that  in  Hamlet's  hearing,  for  a  quality 
Wherein,  they  say.  you  shine  :  your  sum  of  parts 
Did  not  together  pluck  such  envy  from  him, 
As  did  that  one ;  and  that,  in  my  regard. 
Of  the  unwortliiest  siege. 

Laer.  What  part  is  that,  my  lord  ? 

King.  A  very  riband  in  the  cap  of  youth, 

I  These  three  -words  are  not  in  folio.  2  go  tjje  undated  quaito  ; 
jcheoklns  at :  in  folio.  ^  This  speech  and  all  that  follows,  to 
"  graveness,"  is  not  in  folio. 


BO.  VII.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  235 

Yet  needful  too  ;  for  youth  no  less  becomes 

The  light  and  careless  livery  that  it  wears, 

Than  settled  age  his  sables,  and  his  weeds, 

Importing  health  and  graveness. — Two  months  since,' 

Here  was  a  gentleman  of  Normandy  : 

I  have  seen  myself,  and  sei-\''d  against  the  French, 

And  they  can^  well  on  horseback :  but  this  gallant 

Had  witchcraft  in  "t ;  he  grew  unto  his  seat : 

And  to  such  wond'rous  doing  brought  his  horse, 

As  he  had  been  incorps"d  and  demi-natur'd 

With  the  brave  beast.     So  far  he  topp'd^  my  thought. 

That  I,  in  forgery  of  shapes  and  tricks, 

Come  short  of  what  he  did. 

Laer.  A  Norman,  was  't  ? 

King.  A  Norman. 

Laer.  Upon  my  life.  Lamord*. 

King.  The  very  same. 

Laer.  I  know  him  well :  he  is  the  brooch,  indeed, 
And  gem  of  all  the  nation. 

King.  He  made  confession  of  you ; 
And  gave  you  such  a  masterly  report, 
For  art  and  exercise  in  your  defence, 
And  for  your  rapier  most  especially, 
That  he  cried  out,  "t  would  be  a  sight  indeed, 
If  one  could  match  you :  the  scrimers*  of  their  nation, 
He  swore,  had  neither  motion,  guard,  nor  eye. 
If  you  oppos'd  them.     This  report  of  his 
Did  Hamlet  so  envenom  with  his  env>', 
That  he  could  nothing  do.  but  wish  and  beg 
Your  sudden  coming  o'er,  to  play  with  you. 
Now,  out  of  this. — 

Laer.  '        What*  out  of  this,  my  lord  ? 

King.  Laertes,  was  your  father  dear  to  you  ? 
Or  are  you  like  the  painting  of  a  sorrow, 
A  face  without  a  heart  ? 

Laer.  Why  ask  you  this  ? 

King.  Not  that  I  think  you  did  not  love  your  father, 
But  that  I  know  love  is  begun  by  tune  j 
And  that  I  see,  in  passages  of  proof. 
Time  qualifies  the  spark  and  fire  of  it. 

1  hence  :  in  folio.  2]-an  :  in  folio.  3  passM  :  in  folio.  ■'Lamound: 
in  folio.  '  Fr.  escrimeurs.  fencers  ;  this  and  what  follows  to  "  them," 
is  not  in  folio.      *  Why  :  in  folio. 


236  HAMLET,  ACT  IV. 

There  lives  within  the  very  flame  of  love^ 

A  kind  of  wick,  or  snnff.  that  will  abate  it, 

And  noTliin;?  is  at  a  like  soodness  still : 

For  goodness,  groA\ing  to  a  pleurisy," 

Dies  in  his  owii  too-much.     That  we  would  do, 

We   should   do  when  we  would  :    for  this   "  would  " 

And  hath  abatements  and  delays  as  many,       [changes, 

As  there  are  tongues,  are  hands,  are  accidents ; 

And  then  this  •'  should  "  is  like  a  spendthrift's  sigh. 

That  hurts  by  easing.     But,  to  the  quick  o'  the  ulcer. 

Hamlet  comes  back  :  what  would  you  imdertake, 

To  show  yourself  your  father's  son  in  deed," 

More  than  in  words  ? 

Laer.  To  cut  his  throat  i'  the  church. 

King.  No  place,  indeed,  should  murder  sanctuarize ; 
Revenge  should  have  no  bounds.     But.  good  Laertes, 
Will  you  do  this,  keep  close  within  your  chamber. 
Hamlet,  return'd.  shall  know  you  are  come  home : 
We  '11  put  on  those  shall  praise  your  excellence, 
And  set  a  double  varnish  on  the  fame 
■  The  Frenchman  gave  you  ;  bring  you  in  fine  together, 
And  wager  on  your  heads  :  he,  being  remiss, 
Most  generous,  and  free  from  all  contriving, 
Will  not  peruse  the  foils  ;  so  that  with  ease, 
Or  with  a  little  shuffling,  you  may  choose 
A  sword  unbated*.  and  in  a  pass  of  practice 
Requite  him  for  your  father. 

Laer.  I  will  do  't ; 

And,  for  that  purpose,  I'll  anoint  my  sword. 
I  bought  an  unction  of  a  mountebank. 
So  mortal,  that  but  dip*  a  knife  in  it. 
Where  it  draws  blood  no  cataplasm  so  rare. 
Collected  from  all  simples  that  haA'c  ^^rtue 
Under  the  moon,  can  save  the  thing  from  death, 
That  is  but  scratch'd  withal :  I  '11  touch  my  point 
With  this  contagion,  that  if  I  gall  him  slightly, 
It  may  be  death. 

King.  Let 's  farther  think  of  this ; 

Weigh,  what  convenience,  both  of  time  and  means, 
May  fit  us  to  our  shape.     If  this  should  fail, 
And  that  our  drift  look  through  our  bad  performance, 

1  This  and  the  nine  following  lines,  are  not  in  folio.  '  Fulness. 
*  indeed  :  in  folio ;  indeed  your  father's  son  :  in  quartos.  *  Not 
blunted.     ^  I  but  dipt :  in  folio. 


SC.  VII.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  23!7 

'T  were  better  not  assay'd :  therefore,  this  project 

Should  have  a  back,  or  second,  that  might  hold. 

If  this  should  blast  in  proof.     Soft ! — let  me  see  : — 

"We  '11  make  a  solemn  wager  on  your  cunnings,^ — 

I  ha  't : 

When  in  your  motion  you  are  hot  and  dry, 

(As  make  your  bouts  more  violent  to  that  end) 

And  that  lie  calls  for  drink.  I  "11  have  preferr"d=  him 

A  chalice  for  the  nonce,  whereon  but  sipping, 

If  he  by  chance  escape  your  venom'd  stuck,^ 

Our  purpose  may  hold  there.     But  stay  !  what  noise? 

Enter  Queen. 
How  now,  sweet  queen  ! 

Queen.  One  woe  doth  tread  upon  another's  heel, 
So  fast  they  follow. — Your  sister's  drown'd,  Laertes. 

Laer.  Drown'd  !  0.  where  ? 

Queen.  There  is  a  willow  grows  aslant  the  brook, 
That  shows  his  hoar  leaves  in  the  glassy  stream ; 
Therewith*  fantastic  garlands  did  she  make^ 
Of  crow-flowers,  nettles,  daisies,  and  long  purples, 
That  liberal  shepherds  give  a  grosser  name, 
But  our  cold  maids  do  dead  men's  fingers  call  them. 
There,  on  the  pendent  boughs  her  coronet  weeds 
Clambering  to  hang,  an  envious  sliver  broke. 
When  down  her  weedy  trophies,  and  herself. 
Fell  in  the  weeping  brook.     Her  clothes  spread  wide. 
And.  mermaid-like,  a  wliile  they  bore  her  up ; 
Which  time  she  chanted  snatches  of  old  lauds' ; 
As  one  incapable  of  her  own  distress. 
Or  like  a  creature  native  and  reduc'd 
Unto  that  element :  but  long  it  could  not  be, 
Till  that  her  garments,  heavy  with  their  drink, 
PuU'd  the  poor  \\Tetch  from  her  melodious  lay 
To  muddy  death. 

Laer.  Alas  !  then,  is  she  drown'd  ? 

Queen.  Drown'd,  drown'd. 

Laer.  Too  much  of  water  hast  thou,  poor  Ophelia, 
And  therefore  I  forbid  my  tears :  but  yet 
It  is  our  trick ;  nature  her  custom  holds. 
Let  shame  say  what  it  will  :  when  these  are  gone. 
The  woman  will  be  out. — Adieu,  my  lord  : 

1  commings  :  in  folio.  '  prepar'd  :  in  folio.  ^  Italian,  stoccata, 
tkrust.  *  There  with  :  in  folio.  *  come  :  in  folio.  ^  tunes  :  in. 
folio. 


238  HAMLET,  ACT  V. 

I  have  a  speech  of  fire,  that  fain  would  blaze, 
But  that  this  folly  drowns'  it.  [Exit. 

King.  Let 's  follow,  Gertrude. 

How  much  I  had  to  do  to  calm  his  rage  ! 
Now  fear  I,  this  will  give  it  start  again ; 
Therefore,  let  "s  follow.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.— A  Church  Yard. 
Enter  two  Clowns,  u-ith  Spades,  ^x. 
}  Clo.  Is  she  to  be  buried  in  Christian  burial,  that* 
wilful]}-  seeks  her  own  salvation  ? 

2  Clo.  I  tell  thee,  slie  is;  and  therefore  make  her 
grave  straight :  the  crowner  hath  set  on  her,  and  finds 
it  Christian  burial. 

1  Clo.  How  can  that  be,  unless  she  drowned  herself 
in  her  own  defence  ? 

2  Clo.  Why,  't  is  found  so. 

1  Clo.  It  must  be  se  offendendo ;  it  cannot  be  else. 
For  here  lies  the  point :  if  I  dro\\ii  myself  wittingly,  it 
argues  an  act,  and  an  act  hath  three  branches  f  it  is, 
to  act.  to  do.  and  to  perform :  argal,  she  drowned  her- 
self wittingly. 

2  Clo.  Nay,  but  hear  you,  goodman  delver. 

1  Clo.  Give  me  leave.  Here  lies  the  water;  good  : 
here  stands  the  man ;  good :  if  the  man  go  to  this 
water,  and  drown  himself,  it  is,  will  he,  nill  he,  he 
goes,  mark  you  that :  but  if  the  water  come  to  him, 
and  drown  him,  he  drowns  not  himself:  argal,  he 
that  is  not  guilty  of  his  own  death  shortens  not  his  own 
life. 

2  Clo.  But  is  this  law  ? 

1  Clo.  Ay.  marry,  is't;  crowner's  quest-law. 

2  Clo.  Will  you  ha"  the  truth  on  "t  ?  If  this  had  not 
been  a  gentlewoman,  she  should  have  been  buried  out 
of  Christian  burial. 

1   Clo.  Why,  there  thou  say'st ;  and  the  more  pity, 
1  douts  :  in  folio  j  i.  e.  does  it  out.     2  when  she  :  in  quartos. 


SC.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  239 

that  ^eat  folk  shall  have  countenance  in  this  world 
to  drown  or  hang  themselves,  more  than  their  even' 
Christian.  Come,  mj"^  spade.  There  is  no  ancient 
gentlemen  but  gardeners,  ditchers,  and  grave-makers  ; 
they  hold  up  Adam's  profession. 
2  Clo.  Was  he  a  gentleman? 

1  Clo.  He  was  the  first  that  ever  bore  arms. 

2  Clo.  Why,  he  had  none. 

1  Clo.  What,  art  a  heathen?  How  dost  thou  under- 
stand the  Scripture  ?  The  Scripture  says,  Adam  dig- 
ged :  could  he  dig  without  arms  ?  I  "11  put  another 
question  to  tliee  :  if  thou  answerest  me  not  to  the  pur- 
pose, confess  thyself 

2  Clo.  Go  to. 

1  Clo.  What  is  he,  that  builds  .stronger  than  either 
the  mason,  the  shipwright,  or  the  carpenter  ? 

2  Clo.  The  gallows-maker;  for  that  frame''  outlives 
a  thousand  tenants. 

1  Clo.  I  like  thy  wit  well,  in  good  faith  :  the  gallows 
does  well ;  but  how  docs  it  well  ?  it  does  well  to  those 
that  do  ill :  now.  thou  dost  ill  to  say  the  gallows  is 
built  stronger  than  the  church  :  argal,  the  gallows  may 
do  well  to  thee.     To  't  again  :  come. 

2  Clo.  Who  builds  stronger  that  a  mason,  a  ship- 
wrigiit.  or  a  carpenter  ? 

1  Clo.  Ay.  tell  me  that,  and  unyoke. 

2  Clo.  Marry,  now  I  can  tell. 

1  Clo.  To  't. 

2  Clo.  Mass.  I  cannot  tell. 

Enter  Hamlet  and  Horatio,  at  a  distance. 
1  Clo.  Cudgel  thy  brains  no  more  about  it,  for  your 
dull  ass  will  not  mend  his  pace  with  beating;  and, 
when  you  are  asked  this  question  next,  say,  a  grave- 
maker  :  the  houses  that  he  makes,  last  till  doomsday. 
Go,  get  thee  to  yon'^ ;  fetch  me  a  stoop  of  liquor. 

[Exit  2  Clown. 
1  Clown  digs,  and  sings. 
In  youth,  when  I  did  love.,  did  love., 
Methought  it  teas  very  siveet, 
To  contract.  0  !  the  time,  for,  ah  !  my  behove, 
O  !  methought,  there  was  nothing  meet. 
Ham.  Has  this  fellow  no  feeling  of  his  business,  that 
he  sings  at  grave-making  ? 

1  Fellow.    2  Not  in  quartos.     3  Yaughan  :  in  f.  e. 


240  HAMLET,  ACT  V." 

Hor.  Custom  hath  made  it  in  him  a  property  of 
easiness. 

Ham.  "T  is  e'en  so:  the  hand  of  little  employment 
hath  the  daintier  sense. 

1  Clo.  But  age.  ivith  his  stealing  steps, 
Hath  claic'd^  me  in  his  clutch., 
And  hath  shipped  me  intill  the  land, 
As  if  I  had  never  been  such. 

[Throws  up  a  skull. 
Ham.  That  skull  had  a  tongue  in  it.  and  could  sing 
once :  how  the  knave  jowls  it  to  the  ground,  as  if  it 
were  Cain's  jaw-bone,  that  did  the  first  murder  !  This 
might  be  the  pate  of  a  politician,  which  this  ass  now 
o'er-reaches,^  one  that  would  circumvent  God,  might 
it  not  ? 

Hor.  It  might,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Or  of  a  courtier,  which  could  say,  "Good- 
morrow,  sweet  lord  !  How  dost  thou,  good  lord  ?" 
This  might  be  my  lord  such-a-one,  that  praised  my 
lord  such-a-one's  horse,  when  he  meant  to  beg  it,  might 
it  not  ? 

Hor.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Why,  e'en  so.  and  now  my  lady  Worm's  ; 
chapless,  and  knocked  about  the  mazzard^  with  a  sex- 
ton's spade.  Here  's  fine  revolution,  an  we  had  the 
trick  to  see 't.  Did  these  bones  cost  no  more  the 
breeding,  but  to  play  at  loggats*  with  them  ?  mine  ache 
to  think  on  't. 

1  Clo.  A  pick-axe,  and  a  spade,  a  spade,  [Sings. 

For — and  a  shrouding  sheet : 
O  !  a  pit  of  clay  for  to  be  made 
For  such  a  guest  is  meet. 

[Throws  up  another  skull. 
Ham  There's  another:  why  may  not  that  be  the 
skull  of  a  law)-er?  Where  be  his  quiddits  now,  his 
quillets,  his  cases,  his  tenures,  and  his  tricks  ?  why 
does  he  suffer  this  rude^  knave  now  to  knock  him  about 
the  sconce  with  a  dirty  shovel,  and  will  not  tell  him  of 
his  action  of  battery  ?  Humph  !  This  fellow  might 
be  in  's  time  a  great  buyer  of  land,  with  his  statutes, 

1  caught  :  in  folio.  =  o'er-offices  :  in  folio.  '  Head.  *  A  game,  in 
which  pins  or  small  logs  are  thrown  at  a  stake  set  in  the  ground. 
B  mad  :  in  quartos. 


so.  I.  _  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  241 

his  recognizances,  his  fines,  his  double  vouchers,  his 
recoveries  :  is  this  the  fine  of  his  fines,  and  the  reco- 
very of  his  recoveries,  to  have  his  fine  pate  full  of  fine 
dirt  ?  will  his  vouchers  vouch  hiin  no  more  of  his  pixr- 
chases,  and  double  ones  too.  than  the  length  and  breadth 
of  a  pair  of  indentures  ?  The  very  conveyances  of  his 
lands  will  hardly'  lie  in  this  box.  and  must  the  in- 
heritor himself  have  no  more?  ha? 

Hor.  Not  a  jot  more,  my  lord. 

Ham.  Is  not  parchment  made  of  sheep-skins  ? 

Hor.  Ay,  my  lord,  and  of  calf-skins  too. 

Ham.  They  are  sheep,  and  calves,  which  seek  out 
assurance  in  that.  I  will  speak  to  this  fellow. — Whose 
grave  's  this,  sir  ? 

1  Clo.  Mine.  sir. — 

0  !  a  pit  of  clay  for  to  be  made  [Sings. 

For  svch  a  guest  i.s  meet. 

Ham.  I  think,  it  be  thine,  indeed  ;  for  thou  liest  in  't. 

1  Clo.  You  lie  out  on  "t.  sir.  and  therefore  it  is  not 
yours :  for  my  part,  I  do  not  lie  in  't,  and  yet  it  is 
mine. 

Ham.  Thou  dost  lie  in  "t,  to  be  in  't,  and  say  it  is 
thine :  "t  is  for  the  dead,  not  for  the  quick  ;  therefore, 
thou  liest. 

1  Clo.  'T  is  a  quick  lie,  sir;  'twill  away  again, 
from  me  to  you. 

Ham.  What  man  dost  thou  dig  it  for  ? 

1  Clo.  For  no  man.  sir. 

Ham.  What  woman,  then  ? 

1  Clo.  For  none,  neither. 

Ham.  Who  is  to  be  buried  in't  ? 

1  Clo.  One.  that  was  a  woman,  sir ;  but,  rest  her 
soul,  she  's  dead. 

Hain.  How  absolute  the  knave  is :  we  must  speak 
by  the  card,  or  equivocation  will  undo  us.  By  the 
lord  I  Horatio,  these  three  years  1  have  taken  note  of 
it ;  the  age  is  grown  so  picked,  that  the  toe  of  the  pea- 
sant comes  so  near  the  heel  of  the'^  courtier,  he  galls 
his  kibe. — How  long  hast  thou  been  a  grave-maker  ? 

1  Clo.  Of  all  the  days  i"  the  year,  I  came  to  "t  that 
day  that  our  last  king  Hamlet  overcame  Fortinbras. 

Ham.  How  long  is  that  since? 

1  Clo.  Cannot  you  tell  that  ?  every  fool  can  tell  that. 

1  scarcely  :  in  quartos.    2  heels  of  our :  in  folio. 

Vol.  VII.— 21 


242  HAMLET,  ACT  V. 

It  was  the  very  day  that  young  Hamlet  was  born ;  he 
that  is  mad,  and  sent  into  England. 

Ham.  Ay,  marry  ;  why  was  he  sent  into  England  ? 

1  Clo.  Why,  because  he  was  mad  :  he  shall  recover 
his  vnts  there  ;  or,  if  he  do  not,  't  is  no  great  matter 
there. 

Ham.  Why? 

1  Clo.  'T  will  not  be  seen  in  him  there;  there,  the 
men  are  as  mad  as  he. 

Ham.  How  came  he  mad  ? 

1  Clo.  Very  strangely,  they  say. 

Ham.  How  strangely  ? 

1  Clo.  'Faith,  e'en  with  losing  his  wits. 

Ham.  Upon  what  ground? 

1  Clo.  Why,  here  in  Denmark.  I  have  been  sexton 
here,  man,  and  boy,  thirty  years. 

Ham.  How  long  will  a  man  lie  i'  the  earth  ere  lie 
rot? 

1  Clo.  'Faith,  if  he  be  not  rotten  before  he  die,  (as 
we  have  many  pocky  corses  now-a-days^,  that  will 
scarce  hold  the  laying  in)  he  will  last  you  some  eight 
year,  or  nine  year :  a  tanner  will  last  you  nine  year. 

Ham.  Why  he  more  than  another? 

1  Clo.  Why,  sir,  his  hide  is  so  tanned  with  his  trade, 
that  he  will  keep  out  water  a  great  while,  and  your 
water  is  a  sore  decayer  of  your  whoreson  dead  body. 
Here  's  a  skull  now ;  this  skull  hath  lain  i'  the  earth 
three-and-twenty  years. 

Ham.  Whose  was  it? 

1  Clo.  A  whoreson  mad  fellow's  it  was :  whose  do 
you  think  it  was  ? 

Ham.  Nay,  I  know  not. 

1  Clo.  A  pestilence  on  him  for  a  mad  rogue  !  a' 
poured  a  flagon  of  Rhenish  on  my  head  once.  This 
same  skull,  sir,  this  same  skull,  sir,  was  Yorick's  skull, 
the  king's  jester. 

Ham.  This  ?  [Takes  the  Skill. 

1  Clo.  E'en  that. 

Ham.  Let  me  see.'"'  Alas,  poor  Yorick  ! — I  knew 
him,  Horatio :  a  fellow  of  infinite  jest,  of  most  excel- 
lent fancy:  he  hath  borne  me  on  his  back  a  thousand 
times  :  and  now,  how  abhorred  in'  my  imagination  it* 

1  Not  in  quarto.     '  These  three  words  are  not  in  quarto.     ^  *  Not 
in  folio. 


SC.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  243 

is  !  my  gorge  rises  at  it.  Here  hung  those  lips,  that  I 
have  kissed  I  know  not  how  oft.  Where  be  your  gibes 
now  ?  your  gambols  ?  your  songs  ?  your  flashes  of  mer- 
riment, that  were  wont  to  set  the  table  on  a  roar? 
Not  one  now,  to  mock  your  own  grinning'  ?  quite  chap- 
fallen  ?  Now,  get  you  to  my  lady's  chamber,  and  tell 
her,  let  her  paint  an  inch  thick,  to  this  favour  she  must 
come  :  make  her  laugh  at  that. — Prvthee.  Horatio,  tell 
me  one  thing. 

Hor.  What 's  that,  my  lord  ? 

Ham.  Dost  thou  think,  Alexander  looked  o'  this 
fashion  i"  the  earth  ? 

Hor.  Een  so. 

Ham.  And  smelt  so?  pah  !        \Tuis  down  the  Skull. 

Hor.  Een  so.  my  lord. 

Ham.  To  what  base  uses  we  may  return,  Horatio. 
Why  may  not  imagination  trace  the  noble  dust  of 
Alexander,  till  he  find  it  stopping  a  bung-hole  ? 

Hor.  'T  were  to  consider  too  curiously,  to  consi- 
der so. 

Ham.  No,  faith,  not  a  jot ;  but  to  follow  him  thither 
with  modesty  enough,  and  likelihood  to  lead  it :  as 
thus^ ;  Alexander  died,  Alexander  was  buried.  Alex- 
ander returned  into  dust;  the  du.st  is  earth:  of  earth 
■we  make  loam,  and  why  of  that  loam,  whereto  he  was 
converted,  might  they  not  stop  a  beer-barrel  ? 

'•  ImperiaP  Csesar  dead,  and  turn'd  to  clay, 

Might  stop  a  hole  to  keep  the  wind  away  : 

0 !  that  that  earth,  which  kept  the  world  in  awe, 

Should  patch  a  wall  t"  expel  the  winter's*  flaw  !"' 
But  soft  I  but  soft  !  a.'ide : — here  comes  the  king. 
Enter  Priests,  ^x.  in  Procession  ;  the  Corpse  o/ Ophelia^ 

1.AERTES  and  Mourners  following  ;  King.,  Queen,  and 

their  Trains. 
The  queen,  the  courtiers.     Who  is  that  they  follow, 
And  with  such  maimed  rites  ?     This  doth  betoken, 
The  corse  they  follow  did  with  desperate  hand 
Fordo  its  own  life :  't  was  of  some  estate. 
Couch  we  awhile,  and  mark. 

[Retiring  on  one  side  with  Horatio. 

Laer.  What  ceremony  else  ? 

Ham.  That  is  Laertes, 

1  jeering  :  in  folio.     =  "  as  thus,"  only  in  (luarto,  1603.     ^  Imperi- 
ous :  in  quartos.     *  -waters  :  in  quartos. 


244  HAMLET,  ACT  V. 

A  very  noble  youth :  mark. 
Laer.  What  ceremony  else  ? 
1  Priest.  Her  obsequies  have  been  as  far  enlarg'd 
As  we  have  warranty  :  her  death  was  doubtful  • 
And  but  that  great  command  o'ersways  the  order, 
She  should  in  ground  unsanctified  have  lodg'd, 
Till  the  last  trumpet ;  for  charitable  prayers, 
Shards',  flints,  and  pebbles,  shovild  be  thrown  on  her ; 
Yet  here  she  is  allow'd  her  virgin  crants.'^ 
Her  maiden  strewments,  and  the  bringing  home 
Of  bell  and  burial. 

Laer.  Must  there  no  more  be  done  ? 
1  Priest.  No  more  be  done. 

We  should  profane  the  service  of  the  dead, 
To  sing  sad^  requiem,  and  such  rest  to  her 
As  to  peace-parted  souls. 

Laer.  Lay  her  i'  the  earth  ; 

And  from  her  fair  and  unpolluted  flesh, 
May  violets  spring  ! — I  tell  thee,  churlish  priest. 
A  ministering  angel  shall  my  sister  be, 
When  thou  liest  howling. 

Ham.  What  !  the  fair  Ophelia  ? 

Queen.  Sweets  to  the* sweet :  farewell. 

[Strewing  flowers. 
I  hop'd  thou  shouldst  have  been  my  Hamlet's  \A'ife  : 
I  thought  thy  bride-bed  to  have  deck'd,  sweet  maid. 
And  not  to  have  strew'd  thy  grave. 

Laer.  0  !  treble  woe* 

Fall  ten  times  treble  on  that  cursed  head, 
W^hose  wicked  deed  thy  most  ingenious  sense 
Depriv'd  thee  of  ! — Hold  off  the  earth  awhile. 
Till  I  have  caught  her  once  more  in  mine  arms. 

[Leaping  into  the  Grave. 
Now  pile  your  dust  upon  the  quick  and  dead, 
Till  of  this  flat  a  mountain  you  have  made. 
To  o'er-top  old  Pelion,  or  the  skyish  head 
Of  blue  Olympus. 

Ham.   [Advancing.]     What  is  he,  whose  grief 
Bears  such  an  emphasis  ?  whose  phrase  of  sorrow 
Conjures  the  wandering  stars,  and  makes  them  stand, 
Like  wonder- wounded  hearers  ?  this  is  I, 
Hamlet  the  Dane.  [Leaping  into  the  Grave, 

'  Broken  pots.     2  German,  kranz,  garlands  ;  rites  :  in  folio.     3  a  : 
in  f.  e. ;  from  quarto,  and  folio  :  Bage.     *  terrible  -woer  :  in  folio. 


SC.  I.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK,  245 

Laer.  The  devil  take  thy  soul.  [Grappling  with  him. 

Ham.  Thou  pray'st  not  well. 
I  pr'ythee,  take  thy  fingers  from  my  throat ; 
For'  though  I  am  not  splenetic^  and  rash, 
Yet  have  I  in  me  something  dangerous, 
Which  let  thy  wisdom^  fear.     Hold  otf*  thy  hand. 

King.  Pluck  them  asunder.  [They  .strive.^ 

Queen.  Hamlet !  Hamlet ! 

All.  Gentlemen! — 

Hor.  Good  my  lord,  be  quiet. 

[The  attendants  part  them,  and  they  come  out  of 
the  grave. 

Ham.  Why,  I  will  fight  with  him  upon  this  theme, 
Until  my  eyelids  will  no  longer  wag. 

Queen.  6  my  son  !  what  theme  ? 

Ham.  I  lov'd  Ophelia:  forty  thousand  brothers 
Could  not.  with  all  their  quantity  of  love, 
Make  up  my  sum. — What  wilt  thou  do  for  her? 

King.  0  !  he  is  mad,  Laertes. 

Queen.  For  love  of  God,  forbear  him. 

Ham.  'Swounds  !  show  me  what  thou 'It  do: 
Woul'tweep?  woul't  fight?  woul't  storm?  wou'lt  tear 

thyself? 
Woul't  drink  up  Esill''?  eat  a  crocodile? 
I  '11  do  't;  I  '11  do  't.'' — Dost  thou  come  here  to  whine? 
To  outface  me  with  leaping  in  her  grave  ? 
Be  buried  quick  with  her.  and  so  will  I : 
And,  if  thou  prate  of  mountains,  let  them  throw 
Millions  of  acres  on  us ;  till  our  ground. 
Singeing  his  pate  against  the  burning  zone, 
Make  Ossa  like  a  wart !     Nay,  an  thou  'It  mouth, 
I  '11  rant  as  well  as  thou. 

Kins;.  This  is  mere  madness  :* 

And  thus  a  while  the  fit  will  work  on  him. 

Quee7i.  Anon,  as  patient  as  the  female  dove, 
When  that  her  golden  couplets  are  disclos'd, 
His  silence  will  sit  drooping. 

Hain.  Hear  you,  sir; 

What  is  the  reason  that  you  use  me  thus  ? 
I  lov'd  you  ever:  but  it  is  no  matter; 

1  Sir  :  in  folio.  -  splenetive  :  in  f.  e.  ^  -veiseness  :  in  folio. 
*  A-\vay  :  in  folio.  5  Not  in  f.  e.  6  probably  the  river  Yssell.  ''The 
words,  "I  '11  do"t,"  .are  not  repeated  in  f.  e.  ^Thisand  the  foUo^'ing 
line,  are  civen  to  the  Queen,  in  f.  e 

21* 


246 


HAMLET,  ACT  V. 


Let  Hercules  himself  do  what  he  may, 
The  cat  will  mew,  the  dog  '11  have  his  day.  [Exit. 

King.  I  pray  you.  good  Horatio,  wait  upon  him. 

[Exit  Horatio. 
[To  Laertes.]  Strengthen  your  patience  in  our  last 

night's  speech  : 
We  '11  put  the  matter  to  the  present  push. — 
Good  Gertrude,  set  some  watch  over  your  son. — 
This  grave  shall  have  a  living  monument : 
An  hour  of  quiet  thereby'  shall  we  see  ; 
Till  then,  in  patience  our  proceeding  be.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.— A  Hall  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  Hamlet  and  Horatio. 

Ham.  So  much  for  this,  sir  :  now  shall  you*  see  the 
other. — 
You  do  remember  all  the  circumstance. 

Hor.  Remember  it,  my  lord  ! 

Ham.  Sir,  in  my  heart  there  was  a  kind  of  fighting, 
That  would  not  let  me  sleep :  methought,  I  lay 
Worse  than  the  mutines'  in  the  bilboes.*     Rashly, — 
And  prais'd  be  rashness  for  it, — let  us  own, 
Our  indiscretion  sometimes  serves  us  well, 
When   our   deep^    plots   do   fail;'    and    that     should 

teach'  us, 
There  's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Rough-hew  them  how  we  will. 

Hor.  That  is  most  certain. 

Ham.  Up  from  my  cabin, 
My  sea-gown  scarf 'd  about  me,  in  the  dark 
Grop'd  I  f o  find  out  them ;  had  my  desire : 
Finger'd  their  packet ;  and,  in  fine,  withdrew 
To  mine  own  room  again  :  making  so  bold, 
My  fears  forgetting  manners,  to  unfold^ 
Their  grand  commission ;  where  I  found,  Horatio, 
O  royal  knavery  !  an  exact  command. — 
Larded  with  many  several  sorts  of  reasons. 
Importing  Denmark's  health,  and  England's  too, 
With,  ho  !  such  bugs  and  goblins  in  my  life, — 
That  on  the  supervise,  no  leisure  bated. 
No,  not  to  stay  the  grinding  of  the  axe, 

1  shortly  :  in  folio.  2  let  me:  in  folio.  ^Mutineers.  *  Bars  of  iron 
■with  fetters,  so  called  from  Bilboa,  where  they  were  made.  '  dear : 
in,  folio.     5  pall :  in  f.  e.     '  learn  :  in  quartos.     8  unseal  :  in  folio. 


SC.  II.  PRINCK    OF    DENMARK.  247 

My  head  should  be  struck  off. 

Hor.  Is  't  possible  ! 

Havi.    Here  "s   the   commission :    read   it   at   more 
leisure.  [Giving  it? 

But  -nilt  thou  hear  me^  how  I  did  proceed  ? 

Hor.  I  beseech  you. 

Ham.  Being  thus  benetted  round  with  villains, — 
Ere  I  could  make  a  prologue  to  my  brains, 
They  had  begun  the  play. — I  sat  me  down, 
Devis'd  a  new  commission  ;  wrote  it  fair. 
I  once  did  hold  it,  as  our  statists  do, 
A  baseness  to  write  fair,  and  labour'd  much 
How  to  forget  that  learning  ;  but,  sir,  now 
It  did  me  yeoman's  service.     Wilt  thou  know 
The  effect  of  what  I  wrote  ? 

Hor.  Ay,  good  ray  lord. 

Hnm.  An  earnest  conjuration  from  the  king, — 
As  England  was  his  faithful  tributary. 
As  love  between  them  like  the  palm  might  flourish, 
As  peace  should  still  her  wheaten  garland  wear, 
And  srand  a  comma  'tween  their  amities. 
And  many  such  like  as's  of  great  charge. 
That  on  the  view  and  know^  of  these  contents. 
"Without  debatement  farther,  more  or  less, 
He  should  the  bearers  put  to  sudden  death, 
Not  shriving  time  allow'd. 

Hor.  How  was  this  seal'd  ? 

Ham.  Why,  even  in  that  was  heaven  ordinate.* 
I  had  my  father's  signet  in  my  purse, 
Whicli  was  the  model  of  that  Danish  seal ; 
Folded  the  writ  up  in  form  of  the  other ; 
Subscribed  it :  gave  't  th'  impression:  plac'd  it  safely. 
The  chanueling  never  known.     Now,  the  next  day 
Was  our  sea-fight,  and  what  to  this  was  sequent 
Thoti  know'st  already. 

Hor.  So  Guildenstern  and  Rosencrantz  go  to 't. 

Ham.  Why,  man,  they  did  make  love  to  tliis  em- 
ployment :* 
They  are  not  near  my  conscience :  their  defeat 
Does  by  their  own  insinuation  grow. 
'T  is  dangerous,  when  a  baser  nature  comes 
Between  the  pass  and  fell  incensed  points 

1  Not    in   f.   e.      2  now  :     in   quartos.      ^  knowing  :    in   quartos. 
*  ordinant  :   in  folio.     ^  This  line  is  not  in  quartos. 


248  HAMLET,  ACT  V. 

Of  mighty  opposites. 

Hor.  Why,  what  a  king  is  this  ! 

Ham.  Does  it  not,  think  thee,  stand  me  now  upon — 
He  that  hath  kill'd  my  king,  and  whor'd  my  mother; 
Popped  in  between  th'  election  and  my  hopes; 
His  angle  for  my  proper  life  thrown  out. 
And  with  such  cozenage — is 't  not  perfect  conscience, 
To  quit  him  with  his  own  ?^   and  is  't  not  to  be  damn'd, 
To  let  this  canker  of  our  nature  come 
In  farther  evil  ? 

Hor.  It  must  be  shortly  known  to  him  from  England, 
What  is  the  issue  of  the  business  there. 

Ham.  It  will  be  short :  the  interim  is  mine ; 
And  a  man's  life  no  more  than  to  say,  one. 
But  I  am  very  sorry,  good  Horatio, 
That  to  Laertes  I  forgot  myself. 
For  by  the  image  of  my  cause  I  see 
The  portraiture  of  his  :  I  '11  court^  his  favours  : 
But,  sure,  the  bravery  of  his  grief  did  put  me 
Into  a  towering  passion. 

Hor.  Peace  !  who  comes  here  ? 

Enter  Osrick. 

Osr.  Your  lordship  is  right  welcome  back  to  Denmark. 

Ham.    I  humbly  thank  you,   sir. — Dost   know  this 

Hor.  No,  my  good  lord.  [water-fly? 

Ham.  Thy  state  is  the  more  gracious,  for  't  is  a  vice 
to  know  him.  He  hath  much  land,  and  fertile  :  let  a 
beast  be  lord  of  beasts,  and  his  crib  shall  stand  at  the 
king's  mess  :  't  is  a  chough^ ;  but,  as  I  say*,  spacious  in 
the  possession  of  dirt. 

Osr.  Sweet  lord,  if  your  lordship  were  at  leisure,  I 
should  impart  a  thing  to  you  from  his  majesty. 

Ham.  I  will  receive  it,  sir,  with  all  diligence  of 
spirit.     Your  bonnet  to  his  right  use  ;  't  is  for  the  head. 

Osr.  I  thank  your  lordship,  't  is  very  hot. 

Ham.  No,  believe  me,  't  is  very  cold  :  the  wind  is 
northerly. 

Osr.  It  is  indifferent  cold,  my  lord,  indeed. 

Ham.  But  yet,  methinks,  it  is  very  sultry,  and  hot 
for  my  complexion. 

Osr.   Exceedingly,   my  lord;   it  is  very  sultry,   as 

1  this  arm  :  in  f.  c.  ;  from  this  word  to  the  entrance  of  Osrick.  is 
not  in  quartos,  ^count:  in  folio.  Rowe  made  the  change.  ^Akind 
of  jackdaw.    *  saw  :  in  folio. 


SC.   II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  249 

't  were, — I  cannot  tell  how. — But,  my  lord,  his  majesty 
bade  me  signify  to  you,  that  he  has  laid  a  great  wager 
on  your  head.     Sir.  this  is  the  matter. — 

Ham.  I  beseech  you,  remember — 

[Hamlet  moves  him  to  put  on  his  Hat. 

Osr.  Nay,  in  good  faith ;  for  mine  ease,  in  good 
faith.'  Sir,  here  is  newly  come  to  court,  Laertes  ;  be- 
lieve me,  an  absolute  gentleman,  full  of  most  excellent 
differences,  of  very  soft  society,  and  great  showing : 
indeed,  to  speak  feelingly"  of  him.  he  is  the  card  or 
calendar  of  gentry,  for  you  shall  find  in  him  the  conti- 
nent of  what  part  a  gentleman  would  see. 

Ham.  Sir,  his  definement  suffers  no  perdition  in  you; 
though,  I  know,  to  divide  him  inventorially,  would  dizzy 
the  arithmetic  of  memory ;  and  yet  but  raw'  neither, 
in  respect  of  his  quick  sail.  But,  in  the  verity  of  ex- 
tolment.  I  take  him  to  be  a  soul  of  great  article ;  and 
his  infusion  of  such  dearth  and  rareness,  as,  to  make 
true  diction  of  him,  his  semblable  is  his  mirror  :  and 
who  else  would  trace  him,  his  umbrage,  nothing  more. 

Osr.  Your  lordship  speaks  most  infallibly  of  him. 

Ham.  The  concernancy,  sir?  why  do  we  wrap  the 
gentleman  in  our  more  rawer  breath  ? 

Osr.  Sir? 

Hor.  Is 't  not  possible  to  understand  in  another 
tongue  ?     You  will  do  't,  sir,  really. 

Ham.  What  imports  the  nomination  of  this  gentle- 
man ? 

O.s/-.  Of  Laertes? 

Hor.  His  purse  is  empty  already;  all  his  golden 
words  are  spent. 

Ham.  Of  him,  sir. 

Osr.  I  know,  you  are  not  ignorant — 

Ham.  I  would,  you  did,  sir;  yet,  in  faith,  if  you  did, 
it  would  not  much  approve  me. — Well,  sir. 

Osr.  You  are  not  ignorant  of  what  excellence 
Laertes  is. 

Ham.  I  dare  not  confess  that,  lest  I  should  compare 
with  him  in  excellence  ;  but  to  know  a  man  well  were 
to  know  himself.* 

Osr.  I  mean,  sir,  for  his  weapon ;  but  in  the  impu- 

1  From  this  word,  all  that  follows  to,  "  What  's  his  -weapon  ?"  is 
Dot  in  folio.  2  sellingly  :  in  quarto,  1603.  '  yaw  :  in  quarto,  1604. 
Dyce  reads  it:  but  yaw.     *This  and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  folio. 


250  HAMLET,  ACT  V. 

tation  laid  on  him  by  them,  in  his  meed'  he  's  iinfel- 
lowed. 

Ham.  What  "s  his  weapon? 

Osr.  Rapier  and  dagger. 

Ham.  That 's  two  of  his  weapons  :  but,  well. 

Osr.  The  king,  sir,  hath  wagered  with  him  six  Bar- 
bary  liorses  :  against  the  which  he  has  imponed^,  as  I 
take  it.  six  Freiich  rapiers  and  poniards,  with  their 
assigns,  as  girdle,  hangers,  and  so.  Three  of  the  car- 
riages, in  faith,  are  very  dear  to  fancy,  very  responsive 
to  the  hilts,  most  delicate  carriages,  and  of  very  liberal 
conceit. 

Ham.  What  call  you  the  carriages? 

Hor.  I  knew,  you  must  be  edified  by  the  margin,  ere 
you  had  done.^ 

Osr.  The  carriages,  sir.  are  the  hangers. 

Ham.  The  phrase  would  be  more  germane  to  the 
matter,  if  we  could  carry  a  cannon  by  our  sides  :  I 
would,  it  might  be  hangers  till  then.  But,  on  :  six 
Barbary  horses  against  six  French  swords,  their  assigns, 
and  tlu-ee  liberal-conceited  carriages ;  that 's  the  French 
bet  against  the  Danish.  Why  is  this  imponed,  as  you 
call  it  ? 

Osr.  The  king,  sir,  hath  laid,  sir,  that  in  a  dozen 
passes  between  yourself  and  him.  he  shall  not  exceed 
yovi  three  hits  :  he  hath  laid  on  twelve,  for  nine  ;  and 
that  would  come  to  immediate  trial,  if  your  lordship 
would  vouchsafe  the  answer. 

Ham.  How,  if  I  answer,  no? 

Osr.  I  mean,  my  lord,  the  opposition  of  your  person 
in  trial. 

Ham.  Sir,  I  will  walk  here  in  the  hall :  if  it  please 
his  majesty,  it  is  the  breathing  time  of  day  with  me, 
let  the  foils  be  brought,  the  gentleman  willing,  and  the 
king  hold  his  purpose,  I  will  win  for  him,  if  I  can ;  if 
not,  I  will  gain  nothing  but  my  shame,  and  the  odd  hits. 

Osr    Shall  I  deliver  you*  so? 

Ham.  To  this  effect,  sir ;  after  what  flourish  your 
nature  will. 

Osr.  I  commend  my  duty  to  your  lordship.        [Exit. 

Ham.  Yours,  yours. — He  does  well  to  commend  it 
himself:  there  are  no  tongues  else  for  's  turn*. 

1  Merit.      2  impauned  :  in  quartos,      s  This  speech  is  not  in  folio. 
*  re-deliver  you  e'en  :  in  folio.    5  tongue  :  in  folio. 


SC.  n.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  251 

Hor.  This  lapwing  runs  away  with  the  shell  on  his 
head. 

Ham.  He  did  comply'  with  his  dii§  before  he  sucked 
it.  Thus  has  he  (and  many*  more  of  the  same  breed' 
that.  I  know,  the  drossy  age  dotes  on)  only  got  the  tune 
of  the  time,  and  outward  habit  of  encounter,  a  kind  of 
yesty  collection,  which  carries  them  through  and 
through  Ihe  most  fond*  and  winnowed  opinions  ;  and 
do  but  blow  them  to  their  trial,  the  bubbles  are  out. 
Enter  a  Lord. 

Lord.  My'  lord,  his  majesty  commended  him  to  you 
by  young  Osrick,  who  brings  back  to  him,  that  you 
attend  him  in  the  hall:  he  sends  to  know,  if  your 
pleasure  hold  to  play  with  Laertes,  or  that  you  will 
take  longer  time. 

Ham.  I  am  constant  to  my  purposes;  they  follow 
the  king's  pleasure  :  if  his  fitness  speaks,  mine  is  ready  3 
now,  or  whensoever,  provided  I  be  so  able  as  now. 

Lord.  The  king,  and  queen,  and  all  are  coming  down. 

Ham.  In  happy  time. 

Lord.  The  queen  desires  you  to  use  some  gentle 
entertainment  to  Laertes,  before  you  fall  to  play. 

Ham.  She  well  instructs  me.  [Exit  Lord. 

Hor.  You  will  loi5e  this  wager, ^  my  lord. 

Ham.  I  do  not  think  so :  since  he  went  into  France, 
I  have  been  in  continual  practice ;  I  shall  win  at  the 
odds.  Thou  wouldst  not  think,  how  ill  all  is  here 
about  my  heart ;  but  it  is  no  matter. 

Hor.  Nay,  good  my  lord. — 

Ham.  It  is  but  foolery  ;  but  it  is  such  a  kind  of  gain- 
giving.'  as  would,  perhaps,  trouble  a  woman. 

Hor.  If  your  mind  dislike  any  thing,  obej'^  it :  I  will 
forestall  their  repair  hither,  and  say  you  are  not  fit. 

Ham.  Not  a  whit,  we  defy  augury  :  there  is  a  special 
providence  in  the  fall  of  a  sparrow.  If  it  be  now.  't  is 
not  to  come ;  if  it  be  not  to  come,  it  will  be  now ;  if 
it  be  not  now,  yet  it  will  come :  the  readiness  is  all. 
Since  no  man,  of  aught  lie  leaves,  knows,  vdiat  is  't  to 
leave  betimes?     Let  be.^ 

^Compliment.     2  mine  :  in  folio.     3  tevy  :  in  folio.     '^  Warburton  . 
reads  :  fand  (fanned).     ^This  and  the  following:  .speeches  to.  '•  Exit 
Lord,'''  are  not  in  folio.      ^  •'  this  wager'   is  not  in  quarto.      ''  Mis- 
giving.    ^  So  the  quarto,  lGO-1.    Since  no  man  has  aught  of  what  he 
leaves. what  is  't  to  leave  betimes  :  in  folio. 


252  HAM.LET,  ACT  V. 

Enter  King,  Queen,  Laertes,  Lords,  Osrick,  and 
Attendants  with  Foils,  ^'c. 

King.    Come,  Hamlet :    come,  and  take  this   hand 
from  me. 

[The  King  puts  the  hand  0/ Laertes  into  that  of 
Hamlet. 

Ham.  Give   me  your  pardon,   sir :  I  've  done  you 
wrong : 
But  pardon  't,  as  you  arc  a  gentleman. 
This  presence  knows. 

And  you  must  needs  have  heard,  how  I  am  punish'd 
With  sore  distraction.     What  I  have  done, 
That  might  your  natixre,  honour,  and  exception, 
Roughly  awake,  I  here  proclaim  was  madness. 
Was  't  Hamlet  wi'ong'd  Laertes  ?     Never,  Hamlet : 
If  Hamlet  from  himself  be  ta'en  away. 
And  when  he  's  not  himself  does  wrong  Laertes, 
Then  Hamlet  does  it  not ;  Hamlet  denies  it. 
Who  does  it  then  ?     His  madness.     If 't  be  so, 
Hamlet  is  of  the  faction  that  is  wrong'd  ; 
His  madness  is  poor  Hamlet's  enemy. 
Sir,  in  this  audience,^ 
Let  my  disclaiming  from  a  purpos'd  evil 
Free  me  so  far  in  your  most  generous  thoughts, 
That  I  have  shot  mine  arrow  o'er  the  house, 
And  hurt  my  brother. 

Laer.  I  am  satisfied  in  nature, 

Whose  motive,  in  this  case,  should  stir  me  most 
To  my  revenge  :  but  in  my  terms  of  honour, 
I  stand  aloof,  and  will  no  reconcilement. 
Till  by  some  elder  masters,  of  known  honour, 
I  have  a  voice  and  precedent  of  peace. 
To  keep  my  name  ungor'd.     But  till  that  time, 
I  do  receive  your  ofFer'd  love  like  love, 
And  will  not  wrong  it. 

Ham.  I  embrace  it  freely; 

And  will  this  brother's  wager  frankly  play. — 
Give  us  the  foils ;  come  on.^  [Foils  brought.^ 

Laer.  Come ;  one  for  me. 

Ham.  I  '11  be  your  foil,  Laertes  :  in  mine  ignorance 
Your  skill  shall,  like  a  star  i'  the  darkest  night, 
Stick  fiery  off  indeed. 

1  This  line  is  not  in  quartos.    *  "  come  on"  :  not  in  quartos.    ^Not 
in  f.  e. 


8C.   n.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  253 

Laer.  You  mock  me.  sir. 

Ham.  No,  by  this  hand. 

King.  Give  them  the  foils,  young  Osrick. — Cousin 
Hamlet, 
You  know  the  wager? 

Ham.  Very  well,  my  lord ; 

Your  grace  hath  laid  the  odds  o'  the  weaker  side. 

King.  I  do  not  fear  it :  I  have  seen  you  both  ; 
But  since  he  is  better,  we  have  therefore  odds. 

Laer.  This  is  too  heavy  ;  let  me  see  another. 

Ham.  This  likes  me  well.     These  foils  have  all  a 
length?  [They  prepare  to  play . 

Osr.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

King.  Set  me  the  stoops  of  wine  upon  that  table. — 
If  Hamlet  give  the  first  or  second  hit, 
Or  quit  in  answer  of  the  third  exchange. 
Let  all  the  battlements  their  ordnance  fire ; 
The  king  shall  drink  to  Hamlet's  better  breath : 
And  in  the  cup  an  union'  shall  he  throw. 
Richer  than  that  which  four  successive  kings 
In  Denmark's  crowni  have  worn.     Give  me  the  cups ; 
And  let  the  kettle  to  the  trumpet  speak, 
The  trumpet  to  the  cannoneer  without, 
The  cannons  to  the  heavens,  the  heavens  to  earth, 
'•Now  the  king  drinks  to  Hamlet !" — Come,  begin; — 
And  you,  the  judges,  bear  a  wary  eye. 

Ham.  Come  on,  sir. 

Laer.  Come,  my  lord.     [They  play. 

Ham.  One. 

Laer.  No. 

Ham.  .  Judgment. 

Osr.  A  hit,  a  very  palpable  hit. 

Laer.  Well : — again. 

King.  Stay ;  give  me  drink.     Hamlet,  this  pearl  is 
thine  ; 
Here's  to  thy  health. — Give  him  the  cup. 

[Trumpets  sound ;  and  Cannon  shot  off  ivithin. 

Ham.  I  '11  play  this  bout  first ;  set  it  by  awhile. — 
Come. — Another  hit;  what  say  you  ?  [TJiey  play. 

Laer.  A  touch  ;  a  touch,  I  do  confess. 

King.  Our  son  shall  win. 

Quee7}.  He  's  fat,  and  scant  of  breath. — 

1  A  rich  pearl;  onyx  :   in  quaxtos,  (except  that  of  1604). 

Vol.  VII.— 22 


254  HAMLET,  ACT  V. 

Here  is  a  napkin,  rub  thy  brows,  my  son  } 
The  queen  carouses  to  thy  fortune,  Hamlet. 

Hayn.  Good  madam, — 

King.  Gertrude,  do  not  drink. 

Queen.  I  will,  my  lord  :  I  pray  you,  pardon  me. 

[She  drinks. 

King.  It  is  the  poison'd  cup  !  it  is  too  late.     [Aside. 

Ham.  I  dare  not  drink  yet,  madam  ;  by  and  by. 

Queen.  Come,  let  me  wipe  thy  face. 

Laer.  My  lord,  I  '11  hit  him  now. 

King.  I  do  not  think  it. 

Laer.  And  yet  it  is  almost  against  my  conscience. 

[Aside. 

Ham.  Come,  for  the  third,  Laertes.     You  but  dally : 
I  pray  you.  pass  with  your  best  violence. 
T  am  afeard^.  you  make  a  wanton  of  me. 

Laer.  Say  you  so  ?  come  on.  [They  play. 

Osr.  Nothing,  neither  way. 

Laer.  Have  at  you  now. 

[Laertes  ^l'o^(nds  Hamlet  :  then,  in  scuffling  they 
change  Rapiers^  and  Hamlet  wounds  Laertes. 

King.  Part  them  !  they  are  incens'd. 

Ham.  Nay,  come  again.  [The  Queen  f alls. 

Osr.  Look  to  the  queen  there,  ho  ? 

Hor.  They  bleed  on  both  sides. — How  is  it,  my  lord  ? 

Osr.  How  is't,  Laertes  ? 

Laer.  Why,    as  a  woodcock  to  mine  own^  springe, 
Osrick  ; 
I  am  justly  kill'd  with  mine  own  treachery. 

Ham.  How  does  the  Queen  ? 

King.  ^he  swoons  to  see  them  bleed. 

Queen.    No.  no,  the  drink,  the   drink. — 0  my  dear 
Hamlet  !— 
The  drink,  the  drink  :  I  am  poison'd.  [Dies. 

Ham.  0  villainy  ! — How?  let  the  door  be  lock'd  : 
Treachery  !  .seek  it  out.  [Laertes  falls. 

Laer.  It  is  here,  Hamlet.     Hamlet,  thou  art  slain  3 
No  medicine  in  the  world  can  do  thee  good  : 
In  thee  there  is  not  half  an  hour  of*  life : 
The  treacherous  instrument  is  in  thy  hand, 
Unbated,  and  envenom'd.     The  foul  practice 
Hath  turn'd  itself  on  me  :  lo  !  here  I  lie, 


1  Here,  Hamlet,  take  my  napkin,  rub  thy  brows :  in  f.  e. 
in  quartos.     ^  Not  in  folio.     *  half  an  hour's  :  in  quartos. 


2  sure : 


8C.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK. 


255 


Never  to  rise  again.     Thy  mother  's  poison'd  ; 
I  can  no  more.     The  king,  the  king"s  to  blame. 

Ham.  The  point 
Envenom'd  too  ' — Then,  venom,  to  thy  work. 

[Stabs  the  King. 

All.  Treason  !  treason  ! 

King.  0  !  yet  defend  me,  friends  ;  I  am  but  hurt. 
Ham.    Here,   thou   incestuous,   murderous,   damned 
Dane, 
Drink  off  this  potion  :— is  thy  union  here  ? 
Follow  my  mother.  ,  [King  dies. 

Laer.  He  is  justly  serv'd  : 

It  is  a  poison  temper"d  by  himself. — 
Exchanse  forgiveness  with  me,  noble  Hamlet : 
Mine  and  my  father's  death  come  not  upon  thee; 
Nor  thine  on  me  !  [Dtes. 

Ham.  Heaven  make  thee  free  of  it  !  I  follow  thee. — 
I  am  dead,  Horatio. — Wretched  queen,  adieu  !— 
You  that  look  pale  and  tremble  at  this  chance, 
That  are  but  mutes  or  audience  to  this  act, 
Had  I  but  time,  (as  this  fell  sergeant,  death, 
Is  strict  in  his  arrest)  0  !  I  could  tell  you, — 
But  let  it  be. — Horatio,  I  am  dead; 
Thou  liv'st :  report  me  and  ray  cause  aright' 
To  the  unsatisfied. 

Jjor.  Never  believe  it:  [Taking  the  Cup.^ 

I  am  more  an  antique  Roman  than  a  Dane  : 
Here  's  yet  some  liquor  left. 

Ham.  As  thou  'rt  a  man. 

Give  me  the  cup :  let  go  :  by  heaven  I  '11  have  it. — 

[Struggling :  Hamlet  gets  the  Cup.^ 
0  God  ! — Horatio,  what  a  wounded  name. 
Things  standing  thus  unknowai,  shall  live  behind  me  ! 
If  thou  didst  ever  hold  me  in  thy  heart. 
Absent  thee  from  felicity  awhile, 
And  in  this  harsh  world  draw  thy  breath  in  pain, 
To  tell  my  story. —     [March  afar  off.  and  Shot  within. 
^Yhat  warlike  noise  is  this  ? 
Osr.  Young  Fortinbras,   with  conquest  come  from 
Poland, 
To  the  ambassadors  of  England  gives 
This  warlike  volley. 

Ham.  0  !  I  die,  Horatio; 

1  causes  right :  in  folio.    2  3  These  directions  are  not  in  f.  e. 


256  HAMLET,  ACT  V. 

The  potent  poison  quite  o'er-crows^  my  spirit : 

I  cannot  live  to  hear  the  news  from  England ; 

But  I  do  prophesy  the  election  lights 

On  Fortinbras :  he  has  my  dying  A'oice  ; 

So  tell  him,  with  the  occiuTents,  more  and  less, 

Which  have  solicited — The  rest  is  silence.  [Dies. 

Hor.  Now  cracks  a  noble  heart. — Good  night,  sweet 
prince ; 
And  flights  of  angels  sing  thee  to  thy  rest  ! 
Why  does  the  drum  come  hither  ?  \March  icithin. 

Enter  Fortinbras,  the  English  Ambassadors,  and  others. 

Fort.  Where  is  this  sight  ? 

Hor.  What  is  it  ye  would  see? 

If  aught  of  woe,  or  wonder,  cease  your  search. 

Fort.  This  quarry  cries  on  havock. — 0  proud  death  ! 
What  feast  is  toward  in  thine  eternal  cell, 
That  thou  so  many  princes  at  a  shot 
So  bloodily  hast  struck  ? 

1  Amb.  The  sight  is  dismal, 

And  our  affairs  from  England  come  too  late : 
The  ears  are  senseless  that  should  give  us  hearing, 
To  tell  him  his  commandment  is  fulfill'd, 
That  Rosencrantz  and  Guildenstern  are  dead. 
Where  should  we  have  our  thanks  ? 

Hor.  Not  from  his  mouth. 

Had  it  th'  ability  of  life  to  thank  you  : 
He  never  gave  commandment  for  their  death. 
But  since,  so  jump  upon  this  bloody  question, 
You  from  the  Polack  wars,  and  you  from  England, 
Are  here  arrived,  give  order  that  these  bodies 
High  on  a  s(  age  be  placed  to  the  view ; 
And  let  me  speak  to  the  yet  unknowing  world, 
How  these  things  came  about ;  so  shall  you  hear 
Of  carnal,  bloody,  and  mmatural  acts. 
Of  accidental  judgments,  casual  slaughters, 
Of  deaths  put  on  by  cunning,  and  forc'd^  cause. 
And,  in  this  upshot,  purposes  mistook 
Fall'n  on  the  inventors'  heads.     All  this  can  I 
Truly  deliver. 

Fort.  Let  us  haste  to  hear  it. 

And  call  the  noblest  to  the  audience. 
For  me,  with  sorrow  I  embrace  my  fortune  : 

1  o'er-grows  :  in  undated  quarto,  and  those  of  1611-37.      2  foj  no ; 
in  quartos. 


SC.  II.  PRINCE    OF    DENMARK.  257 

I  have  some  rights  of  memory  in  this  kingdom, 
Which  now  to  claim  my  vantage  doth  invite  me. 

Hor.  Of  that  I  shall  have  also  cause  to  speak, 
And  from  his  mouth  whose  voice  will  draw  on  more  : 
But  let  this  scene'  be  presently  performd. 
Even  while  men's  minds  are  -w-ild,  lest  more  mischance, 
On  plots  and  errors,  happen. 

Fort.  Let  four  captains 

Bear  Hamlet,  like  a  soldier,  to  the  stage  ] 
For  he  was  likely,  had  he  been  put  on. 
To  have  prov'd  most  royally :  and  for  his  passage, 
The  soldiers'  music,  and  the  rites  of  war, 
Speak  loudly  for  him. — 
Take  up  the  body. — Such  a  sight  as  this 
Becomes  the  field,  but  here  shows  much  amiss. 
Go,  bid  the  soldiers  shoot.  [A  dead  March. 

\Exeunty  marching  ;  after  which^  a  peal  of 
Ordnance  is  shot  off. 
1  same  :  in  f.  e. 


22* 


KING    I  E  A  K  . 


M.  William  Sliak-speare  :  His  True  Chronicle  Historie  of  the 
life  and  death  of  King  Lear  and  his  three  Daughters.  With 
the  vnfortuuate  life  of  Edgar,  sonne  and  heire  to  the  Earle 
of  Gloster,  and  his  sullen  and  assumed  humour  of  Tom  of 
Bedlam.  As  it  was  played  before  the  Kings  Maiestie  at 
Whitehall  vpon  S.  Stephans  night  in  Christmas  Hollidayes. 
By  his  Maiesties  seruants  playing  vsually  at  the  Gloabe  on 
the  Bancke-side.  London,  Printed  for  Nathaniel  Butter, 
and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  in  Paul's  Church-yard,  at  the 
signe  of  the  Pide  Bull  ueere  St.  Austin's  Gate.  1608.  4to. 
41  leaves. 

M.  William  Shake-speare,  His  True  Chronicle  History  of 
the  life  and  death  of  King  Lear,  and  his  three  Daughters. 
With  the  vnfortuuate  life  of  Edgar,  sonne  and  heire  to  the 
Earle  of  Glocester,  and  his  sullen  and  assumed  humour  of 
Tom  of  Bedlam.  As  it  was  plaid  before  the  Kings  Maiesty 
at  White-Hall,  vppon  S.  Stephens  night,  in  Christmas  HoUi- 
daies.  By  his  Maiesties  Seruants,  playing  vsually  at  the 
Globe  on  the  Banck-side.  Printed  for  Nathaniel  Butter.  1608. 
4;to.    44  leaves. 

The  title-pnge  of  a  third  impression  in  1608  corresponds 
with  that  last  above  given. 

In  the  folio  of  1623,  "  The  Tragedie  of  King  Lear  "  occu- 
pies twenty  seven  pages,  in  the  division  of  "  Tragedies  ;"  viz* 
from  p.  283  to  p.  809,  inclusive.  The  last  page  but  one,  by 
an  error,  is  numbered  38,  instead  of  808.  In  the  first,  as 
well  as  in  the  folios  of  1632,  1664,  and  1685,  the  Acts  and 
Scenes  are  regularly  marked. 


INTRODUCTION. 


The  most  remarkable  circumstance  connected  with  the  early 
publication  of  "  Kin^  Lear"  is,  that  the  same  stationer  pub- 
lished three  quarto  impressions  of  it  in  1608,  that  stationer 
being  a  person  who  had  not  put  forth  any  of  the  authentic 
(as  far  as  they  can  deserve  to  be  so  considered)  editions  of 
Shakespeare's  plays.  After  it  had  been  thus  thrice  printed 
(for  they  were  not  merely  re-issues  with  fresh  title-pages)  in 
the  same  year,  the  tragedy  was  not  again  printed  until  it 
appeared  in  the  folio  of  1623.  Why  it  was  never  republished 
in  quarto,  in  the  interval,  must  be  matter  of  speculation,  but 
sucri  was  not  au  unusual  occurrence  with  the  works  of  our 
great  dramatist :  his  "  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  "  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,"  and  "  Troilus  and  Cressida  "  were  each 
twice  printed,  the  two  first  in  1600,  and  the  last  in  1609,  and 
they  were  not  again  seen  in  type  until  tliey  were  inserted  in 
the  folio  of  1623 :  there  was  also  no  second  qiiarto  edition  of 
"  Much  ado  about  Nothing,"  nor  of  "  Love's  Labour  's  Lost." 
The  extreme  popularity  of  "King  Lear"  seems  proved  by 
the  mere  fact  that  the  public  demand  for  it,  in  the  first  year 
of  its  publication,  could  not  be  satisfied  without  three  distinct 
impressions. 

It  will  be  seen  by  the  exact  copies  of  the  title-pages  which 
we  have  inserted  on  the  opposite  leaf,  that  although  Nathaniel 
Butter  was  the  publisher  of  the  three  quarto  editions,  he  only 
put  his  address  on  the  title-page  of  one  of  them.  It  is  per- 
haps impossible  now  to  ascertain  on  what  account  the  diller- 
ence  was  made  ;  but  it  is  to  be  observed  that  "  Printed  by  J. 
Eoberts,"  without  any  address,  is  found  at  the  bottom  of  the 
title-pages  of  some  of  the  copies  of  "  The  Merchant  of 
Venice"  and  "Midsummer  Night's  Dream"  in  1600.  A 
more  remarkable  circumstance,  in  relation  to  the  title-pages 
of  "King  Lear,"  is,  that  the  name  of  William  Shakespeare  is 
made  so  obvious  at  the  top  of  them,  the  type  being  larger 
than  that  used  for  any  other  part  of  the  work  :  moreover,  we 
have  it  again  at  the  head  of  the  leaf  on  which  the  tragedy 
commences,  "  M.  William  Shake-speare,  his  History  of  King 
Lear."  This  peculiarity  has  never  attracted  suflBcient  atten- 
tion, and  it  belongs  not  only  to  no  other  of  Shakespeare's 
plays,  but  to  no  other  production  of  any  kind  of  that  period 
which  we  recollect.  It  was  clearly  intended  to  enable  pur- 
chasers to  make  sure  that  they  were  buying  the  drama  which 
"  M.  William  Shakespeare  "  had  written  upon  the  story  of 
King  Lear. 

The  cause  of  it  is,  perhaps,  to  be  found  in  the  fact,  that 


262  INTRODUCTION. 

there  was  another  contemporary  drama  upon  the  same  sub- 
ject, and  with  very  nearly  the  same  names  to  tlie  principal 
characters,  which  was  not  by  Shakespeare,  but  which  the 
publisher  probably  bad  endeavored  to  pass  off  as  his  work. 
An  edition  of  this  play  was  printed  in  1605,  under  the  follow- 
ing title  : — "  The  True  Chronicle  History  of  King  Leirand  his 
three  Daughters,  Gonorill,  Ragan,  and  "Cordelia.  As  it  hath 
bene  divers  and  sundry  times  lately  acted."  It  was  printed, 
by  Simon  Stafford,  for  John  Wright;  and  we  agree  with 
Malone  in  thinking  that  this  impression  was  put  forth  in 
consequence  of  the  popularity  of  Shakespeare's  "King  Lear," 
which  was  then  in  a  course  of  successful  performance  at  the 
Globe  theatric.  That  this  edition  of  "  The  True  Chronicle 
History  of  King  Leir"  was  a  re-impression  we  have  little 
doubt,  because  it  was  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall  for  publica- 
tion as  early  as  14th  May,  1594:  it  was  entered  asrain  on  8th 
May,  1605,  anterior  to  the  appearance  of  the  impression  with 
that  date,  tlie  title-page  of  whicli  we  have  above  quoted. 

We  may  presume  that  in  1605  no  bookseller  was  able  to 
obtain  from  the  King's  Players  a  copy  of  Shakespeare's  "  King 
Lear  ;"  for  tliere  is  perhaps  no  point  in  our  early  stage-history 
more  clear,  than  that  the  ditlerent  companies  took  every  pre- 
caution in  order  to  prevent  the  publication  of  plays  belonging 
to  them.  However,  in  the  autumn  of  1607,  iSlathaniel  Butter 
had  in  some  way  possessed  him  of  a  manuscript  of  "  Kino- 
Lear,"  and  on  the  26th  November  he  procured  the  following 
unusually  minute  memorandum  to  be  made  in  the  Stationers' 
Eegister.s  : — 

"26  Nov.  1607. 
Na.  Butter  and  Jo.  Busby]  Entered  for  tlieir  Copie 
under  t'  hands  of  Sir  Geo.  Bucke,  Kt.  and  the  War- 
dens, a  booke  called  Mr.  Willm  Shakespeare,  hi3 
Historye  of  Kinge  Lear,  as  yt  was  played  before  the 
King's  Majestic  at  Whitehall,  upon  "St.  Stephen's 
night  at  Christmas  last,  by  his  Majesties  Servants 
playing  usually  at  tlie  Globe  on  the  Bank-side." 

This  entry  establishes  that  Shakespeare's  "King  Lear"  had 
been  played  at  Court  on  the  26th  December,  1606,  and  not 
on  the  26th  December,  1607,  as  we  might  infer  from  the  title- 
pages  of  the  three  editions  of  1608. 

The  memorandum  we  have  just  inserted  would  lead  us  to 
believe  that  John  Busby  was  the  printer  of  "King  Lear," 
although  his  name  does  not  otherwise  at  all  appear  in  connec- 
tion with  it.  The  differences  between  the  quartos  are  seldom 
more  than  verbal,  but  they  are  sometimes  important :  after  a 
very  patient  comparison,  we  may  state,  that  the  quartos  with- 
out the  publisher's  address  are  more  accurate  than  that  with 
his  address ;  and  we  presume  that  the  latter  was  first  issued. 
It  would  seem  that  the  folio  of  1623  was  composed  from  a 
manuscript,  wliich  had  been  much,  and  not  very  judiciously, 
abridged  for  the  purposes  of  the  theatre ;  and  although  "it 
contains  some  additions,  not  in  anv  of  the  quartos,  there  are, 
perhaps,  few  quartos  of  any  of  fehakespeare's  plays  more 


INTRODUCTION.  263 

valuable  for  the  quantity  of  matter  they  contain,  of  which 
there  is  no  trace  in  the  folio. 

We  have  said  that  we  agree  with  Malone  in  opinion,  that 
"King  Lear"  was  brought  out  at  the  Globe  Theatre  in  the 
spring  of  1605,  according  to  our  present  mode  of  computing 
the  year.  We  may  decide  with  certainty  that  it  was  not 
written  until  after  the  appearance  of  Harsnet's  "  Discovery 
of  Popish  Impostors"  in  160S,  because  from  it,  as  Steevens 
establislied,  are  taken  the  names  of  various  fiends  mentioned 
by  Edgar  in  the  course  of  his  scenes  of  pretended  madness. 

As  we  find  a  "  King  Leir  "  entered  on  the  Stationers'  books 
in  1594,  we  can  have  no  hesitation  in  arriving  at  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  old  play,  printed  hy  Simon  Stafford  for  John 
Wriglit,  in  1605,  whe'n  Shakespeare's  "King  Lear"  was  (as 
we  have  supposed)  experiencing  a  run  of  popularity  at  the 
Globe,  was  considerably  anterior  in  point  of  aate.  There  is 
little  doubt  that  Shakespeare  was  acquainted  with   it,   and 

Erobably  adopted  from  it  at  least  that  part  of  the  conduct  of 
is  story  which  relates  to  the  faithful  Kent.  There  are  other 
general,  but  few  particular  resemljliinces  ;  for  both  the  chief 
materials  were  evnleiltly  derived  from  Holinshed,  but  Shake- 
speare varied  from  all  authorities  in  his  catastrophe :  he 
Beems  to  have  thought,  that  to  abandon  the  course  of  the 
ordinary  and  popular  narrative,  would  heighten  and  improve 
the  etfeet  of  his  drama,  and  give  a  novelty  to  its  termination. 
The  story  of  Lear  and  his  daughters  is  isriefly  told  by  Spen- 
ser in  B.  ii.  c.  10,  of  his  "  Fairie  Queene,"  and  tlience  it  has 
been  thought  that  Shakespeare  obtained  the  name  of  Cor- 
delia, till  "then  usually  called  Cordelia.  That  portion  of  the 
plot  which  relates  to  the  Earl  of  Gloster,  he  may  liave  pro- 
cured from  Sir  Pliilip  Sidney's  "Arcadia,"  first  printed  in 
1590,  4to.  B.  ii.  c.  10,  of  that  romance  is  thus  headed  : — 
"Thepitifull  state  and  storie  of  the  Paphalgonian  unkinde 
King,  and  his  kind  son."  An  cai'ly  ballad  on  King  Lear  wa3 
also"  published  (see  Percy's  Eeliques,  vol.  ii.  p. '249  ;  edit. 
1812),  but  no  copy  with  a  date  has  come  down  to  us  :  although 
it  employs  the  older  names  of  some  of  the  characters,  it  adopts 
that  of  Cordelia;  and  tliere  are  several  circumstances,  besides 
a  more  modern  style  of  composition,  which  lead  us  to  the 
belief  that  it  was  written  posterior  to  the  production  of  Shake- 
speare's Tragedy. 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE. 

Lear,  King  of  Britain. 

King  of  France. 

Duke  of  Burgundy. 

Duke  of  Cornwall. 

Duke  of  Albany. 

Earl  of  Kent. 

Earl  of  Gloster. 

Edgar,  Son  to  Gloster. 

Edmund,  Bastard  Son  to  Gloster. 

CuRAN,  a  Courtier. 

O.SWALD,  Steward  to  Goneril. 

Old  Man,  Tenant  to  Gloster. 

Physician. 

Fool. 

An  Officer,  employed  by  Edmund. 

Gentleman,  Attendant  on  Cordelia. 

A  Herald. 

Servants  to  Cornwall. 

Goneril,    ) 

Regan,       >  Daughters  to  Lear. 

Cordelia,  ) 

Knights  of  Lear's  Train,  Officers,  Messengers,  Soldiers, 
and  Attendants. 

SCENE,  Britain. 


KING    LEAR. 


ACT  I. 

SCENE  I. — A  Room  of  State  in  King  Lear's  Palace. 
Enter  Kent.  Gloster,  and  Edmund. 
Kent.  I  thought,  the   king    had  more  affected    the 
duke  of  Albany,  than  Cornwall. 

Glo.  It  did  always  seem  so  to  us  :  hut  now,  in  the 
division  of  the  kingdoms,  it  appears  not  which  of  the 
dukes  he  values  mos^t ;  for  equalities^  are  so  weighed, 
that  curiosity  in  neither  can  make  choice  of  cither's 
moiety. 

Kent.  Is  not  this  your  son,  my  lord  ? 
Glo.  His  breeding,  sir,  hath  been  at  my  charge  :  I 
have  so  often  blushed  to  acknowledge  him,  that  now  I 
am  brazed  to  it. 

Kent.  I  cannot  conceive  you. 

Glo.  Sir,  this  young  fellow's  mother  could ;  where- 
upon she  grew  round-wombed,  and  had,  indeed,  sir,  a 
son  for  her  cradle  ere  she  had  a  husband  for  her  bed. 
Do  you  smell  a  fault  ? 

Kent.  I  cannot  wish  the  fault  undone,  the  issue  of 
it  being  so  proper. 

Glo.  But  I  have  a  son,  sir,  by  order  of  law,  some 
year  elder  than  this,  who  yet  is  no  dearer  in  my 
account:  though  this  knave  came  somewhat  saucily 
into''  the  world,  before  he  was  sent  for,  yet  was  his 
mother  fair,  there  was  good  sport  at  his  making,  and 
the  whoreson  must  be  acknowledged, — Do  you  know 
this  noble  gentleman,  Edmund  ? 
Edm.  No,  my  lord. 

Glo.  My  lord  of  Kent :  remember  him  hereafter  as 
my  honourable  friend. 

Edm.  My  services  to  your  lordship. 

1  qualities  :  in  folio.    ^  to  :  in  folio. 

Vol.  YIL— 23 


260  KING    LEAR. 


ACT  I. 


Kent.  I  must  love  you,  and  sue  to  know  you  better. 

Edm.  Sir,  I  shall  study  deserving. 

Glo.  He   hath  been  out  nine  years,  and   away  he 
shall  again. — The  king  is  coming.  [Sennet  within. 

Enter  Lear,  Cornwall,  Albany,  Goneril,  Regan, 
Cordelia,  and  Attendants. 

Lear.  Attend  the  lords  of   France   and    Burgundy, 
Gloster. 

Glo.  I  shall,  my  \\cge. ^{Exeunt  Gloster  and  Edmund. 

Lear.  Mean-time,  we  shall  express  our  darker  pur- 
pose. 
Give  me  the  map  there. — Know,  that  we  have  divided, 
In  three,  our  kingdom  :  and  't  is  our  fast  intent 
To  shake  all  cares  and  business  from  our  age,' 
Conferring'  them  on  younger  strengths,*  while  we 
Unburden'd  crawl  toward  death. — Our  son  of  Cornwall, 
And  you.  our  no  less  loving  son  of  Albany. 
We  have  this  hour  a  constant  will  to  publish 
Our  daughters'  several  dowers,  that  future  strife 
May  be    prevented   now.      The   princes,  France  and 

Burgundy, 
Great  rivals  in  our  youngest  daughter's  love. 
Long  in  our  court  have  made  their  amorous  sojourn, 
And  here  are  to  be  answered. — Tell  me,  my  daughters, 
(Since  now  we  will  divest  us,  both  of  rule,^ 
Interest  of  teiTitory,  cares  of  state) 
Which  of  you,  shall  we  say,  doth  love  us  most  ? 
That  we  our  largest  bounty  may  extend 
Where  nature  doth  with  merit  challenge. ° — Goneril, 
Our  eldest-born,  speak  first. 

Gon.  I  love'  you  more  than  words  can  wield  the 
matter ; 
Dearer  than  eye-sight,  space,  and  liberty  ; 
Beyond  what  can  be  A^alued,  rich  cr  rare  : 
No  less  than  life,  with  grace,  liealth,  beauty,  honour : 
As  much  as  child  e'er  lov'd,  or  father  found ; 
A  love  that  makes  breath  poor,  and  speech  unable ; 
Beyond  all  manner  of  so  much  I  love  you. 

Cor.    What  shall  Cordelia  speak?"      Love,  and  be 
silent.  [Aside. 

1  lord  :  in  folio.  ^  of  our  state  :  in  quartos.  '  Confirming  :  in 
quartos.  *  years  :  in  quartos.  '  This  and  the  next  line,  are  not  in 
folio.  6  Where  merit  most  doth  challenge  it  :  in  quartos.  '  Sir,  I 
loTe,  &o. :  in  f.e.    6  do  :  in  quartos. 


SC.  I.  KING    LEAR.  267 

Lear.  Of  all  these  bounds,  even  from  this  line  to  this, 
With  shadowy'  forests,  and  with  champaius  rich'd, 
With  plenteous  rivers  and  wide-skirted  meads, 
We  make  thee  lady  :  to  thine  and  Albany's  issue 
Be  this  perpetual. — What  says  our  second  daughter. 
Our  dearest  Regan,  wife  of  Cornwall  ?     Speak.^ 

Reg.  I  am  made  of  that  self  metal  as  my  sister, 
And  prize  me  at  her  worth.     In  my  true  heart 
I  find,  she  names  my  very  deed  of  love; 
Only  she  comes  too  short,  that  I  profess 
Myself  an  enemy  to  all  other  joys. 
Which  the  most  precious  sphere'  of  sense  possesses,* 
And  find,  I  am  alone  felicitate 
In  your  dear  highness'  love. 

Cor.  Then,  poor  Cordelia  ! 

[Aside. 
And  yet  not  so  :  since,  I  am  sure,  my  love  's 
More  plenteous*  than  my  tongue. 

Lear.  To  thee,  and  thine,  hereditary  ever. 
Remain  this  ample  third  of  our  fair  kingdom ; 
No  less  in  space,  validity,  and  pleasure, 
Than  that  conferr'd  on  Goneril. — Now,  our  joy. 
Although  our  last,  not  least  ;  to  whose  young  love 
The  vines  of  France,  and  milk  of  Burgundy, 
Strive  to  be  interess'd  ;  what  can  you  say,  to  draw 
A  third  more  opulent  than  your  sisters  ?     Speak 

Cor.  Nothing,  my  lord, 

Lear.  Nothing? 

Cor.  Nothing. 

Lear.  Nothing  "will  come  of  nothing  :  speak  again.  ^ 

('or.  Unhappy  that  I  am.  1  cannot  heave 
My  heart  into  my  mouth  :  I  love  your  majesty 
According  to  my  bond  ;  nor  more,  nor  less. 

Lear.  How?  how,  Cordelia?   mend  your  speech   a 
little. 
Lest  you  may  mar  your  fortunes. 

Cor.  Good  my  lord, 

You  have  begot  me,  bred  me,  lov'd  me  :  I 
Return  those  duties  back  as  are  right  fit. 
Obey  you,  love  you,  and  most  honour  you. 
Why  have  my  sisters  husbands,  if  they  say, 
They  love  you  all  ?     Haply,  when  I  shall  wed, 

1  shady  :  in  quartos,     a  Not  in  folio.     '  square:  inf.  e.     *  professes  : 
in  folio,    s  richer  :  in  f,  e. ;  ponderous  :  in  folio. 


268  KING   LEAR.  ACT  I. 

That  lord,  whose  hand  must  take  my  plight,  shall  carry 
Half  my  love  -with  him,  half  my  care,  and  duty : 
Sm"e,  I  shall  never  marry  like  my  sisters, 
To  love  my  father  all.' 

Lear.  But  goes  this  with  thy  heart  ? 

Cor.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Lear.  So  young,  and  so  untender  ? 

Cor.  So  young,  my  lord,  and  true. 

Lear.  Let  it  be  so  :  thy  truth,  then,  be  thy  dower; 
For.  by  the  sacred  radiance  of  the  sun. 
The  mysteries  of  Hecate,  and  the  night, 
By  all  the  operation  of  the  orbs, 
From  whom  we  do  exist,  and  cease  to  be, 
Here  I  disclaim  all  my  paternal  care, 
Propinquity  and  property  of  blood. 
And  as  a  stranger  to  my  heart  and  me, 
Hold  thee  from  this  for  ever.     The  barbarous  Scythian, 
Or  he  that  makes  his  generation  messes 
To  gorge  his  appetite,  shall  to  my  bosom 
Be  as  well  neighbour'd,  pitied,  and  reliev'd, 
As  thou,  my  sometime  daughter. 

Kent.  Good  my  liege, — 

Lear.  Peace,  Kent ! 
Come  not  between  the  dragon  and  his  wrath. 
I  lov'd  her  most,  and  thought  to  set  my  rest 
On  her  kind  nursery. — Hence,  and  avoid  my  sight ! — 

[To  Cordelia. 
So  be  my  grave  my  peace,  as  here  I  give 
Her  father's  heart  from  her  ! — Call  France. — Who  stirs  ? 
Call  Burgvtndy. — Cornwall,  and  Albany, 
"With  my  two  daughters'  dowers  digest  the  third: 
Let  pride,  which  she  calls  plainness,  marry  her. 
I  do  invest  you  jointly  with  my  power, 
Pre-eminence,  and  all  the  large  effects 
That  troop  with  majesty. — Ourself,  by  monthly  course, 
With  reservation  of  an  hundred  knights, 
By  you  to  be  sustained,  shall  our  abode 
Make  with  you  by  due  turns.     Only,  we  still*  retain 
The  name,  and  all  th"  additions  to  a  king; 
The  sway,  revenue,  execution  of  the  rest. 
Beloved  sons,  be  yours  :  which  to  confirm. 
This  coronet  part  between  you.        [Giving  the  Crown. 

Kent.  Royal  Lear, 

1  This  line,  not  in  folio,     *  shall :  in  folio. 


SC.  r,  KING    LEAR. 


269 


Whom  I  have  ever  honour'd  as  my  king,      " 
Lov'd  as  my  father,  as  my  master  follow'd, 
And  as  my  patron*  thought  on  in  my  prayers, — 

Lear.  The  bow  is  bent  and  drawTi,  make  from  the 

shaft. 
Kent.  Let  it  fall  rather,  though  the  fork  invade 
The  region  of  my  heart :  be  Kent  unmannerly. 
When  Lear  is  mad. — What  wouldst  thou  do,  old  man  ? 
Think'st  thou,  that  duty  shall  have  dread  to  speak, 
When  power  to  flattery  bows  ?     To  plainness  honour 's 

bound, 
^Vhen  majesty  stoops^  to  folly.     Reverse  thy  doom'; 
And  in  thy  best  consideration  check 
This  hideous  rashness  :  answer  my  life  my  judgment, 
Thy  youngest  daughter  does  not  love  thee  least ; 
Nor  are  those  empty-hearted,  whose  low  sound 
Reverbs  no  hollowness. 

Lear.  Kent,  on  thy  life,  no  more. 

Kent.  My  life  I  never  held  but  as  a  pawn 
To  wage  against  thine  enemies  ;  nor*  fear  to  lose  it, 
Thy  safety  being  the  motive. 

Lear.  Out  of  my  sight ! 

Kent.  See  better.  Lear;  and  let  me  still  remain 
The  true  blank  of  thine  eye. 
Lear.  Now,  by  Apollo, — 

Kent.  Now,  by  Apollo,  king, 

Thou  swear'st  thy  gods  in  vain. 

Lear.  0^  vassal  !  recreant*  ! 

[Laying  his  hand  upon  his  Sword. 
Alb.  Corn.  Dear  sir,  forbear.* 
Kent.  Do; 
Kill  thy  physician,  and  the  fee  bestow 
Upon  tiie  foul  disease.     Revoke  thy  gift'; 
Or.  whilst  I  can  vent  clamour  from  my  throat, 
I  '11  tell  thee,  thou  dost  evil. 

Lear.  Hear  me,  recreant ! 

On  thine  allegiance  hear  me. 
Since  thou  hast  sought  to  make  us  break  our  vow, 
(Which  we  durst  never  yet)  and,  with  strain'd*  pride, 
To  come  betv^-ixt  our  sentence  and  our  power, 
(Which  nor  our  nature  nor  our  place  can  bear) 

1  As  my  great  patron  :  in  f.  e.  ^  falls  :  in  folio.  ^  Reserve  thy 
state  :  in  folio.  *  ne'er  :  in  folio.  =  miscreant  :  in  folio.  ^Notia 
anartos.      '  doom  ;  in  quartos.     8  straied  :  in  quartos. 

23* 


270  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Our  potency  made  good,  take  thy  reward. 
Five  days  we  do  allot  thee  for  provision 
To  shield  thee  from  diseases  of  the  world, 
And  on  the  sixth  to  turn  thy  hated  back 
Upon  our  kingdom  :  if  the  seventh^  day  following, 
Thy  banish"d  trunk  be  found  in  our  dominions, 
The  moment  is  thy  death.     Away  !     By  Jupiter, 
This  shall  not  be  revok'd. 

Kent.  Fare   thee   well,  king  :    since  thus  thou  wilt 
appear. 
Freedom'^  lives  hence,  and  banishment  is  here. — 
The  gods  to  their  dear  shelter^  take  thee,  maid,  • 

[To  Cordelia. 
That  justly  think'st,  and  hast  most  rightly  said  ! — 
And  your  large  speeches  may  your  deeds  approve, 

[To  Regan  ajid  Goneril. 
That  good  effects  may  spring  from  words  of  love. — 
Thus  Kent,  0  princes  !  bids  you  all  adieu  : 
He  '11  shape  his  old  course  in  a  country  new.        [Exit. 
Flourish.      Re-enter    Gloster.    with    France,    Bur- 
gundy, and  Attendants. 

Glo.  Here  's  France  and  Burgundy,  my  noble  lord. 

Lear.  My  lord  of  Burgundy, 
We  first  addre.«s  toward  you.  who  with  this  king 
Hath  rivaird  for  our  daughter  :  what,  in  the  least, 
Will  you  require  in  present  dower  with  her. 
Or  cease  your  quest  of  love  ? 

Bur.  INIost  royal  majesty, 

I  crave  no  more  than  hath*  your  highness  offer'd. 
Nor  will  you  tender  less. 

Lear.  Right  noble  Burgundy, 

When  she  was  dear  to  us,  we  did  hold  her  so  ; 
But  now  her  price  is  fall'n.     Sir,  there  she  stands  : 
If  aught  within  that  little  seeming  substance, 
Or  all  of  it,  with  our  displeasure  piec'd. 
And  nothing  more,  may  fitly  like  your  grace. 
She  's  there,  and  she  is  yours. 

Bur.  I  know  no  answer. 

Lear.  Will  you,  with  those  infirmities  she  owes, 
Unfriended,  new-adopted  to  our  hate, 
Dower"d*  with  our  curse,  and  stranger'd  with  our  oath, 
Take  her.  or  leave  her  ? 

1  tenth  :    in   f.   e.      2  Friendship  :    in   quartos.      ^  protection  :   in 

quartos.     *  what :  in  quajtos.     '  Cover'd  :  in  quartos. 


8C.  I.  KING*  LEAR,  271 

Bur.  Pardon  me,  royal  sir ; 

Election  makes  not  up  on  such  conditions. 

Lear.  Then  leave  her,  sir ;  for,  by  the  power  that 
made  me, 
I  tell  joii  all  her  wealth. — for  you,  great  king. 

[To  France. 
I  would  not  from  your  love  make  such  a  stray, 
To  match  you  where  I  hate  :  therefore,  beseech  you 
T'  avert  your  liking  a  more  worthier  way, 
Than  on  a  wretch  whom  nature  is  asham'd 
Almost  t'  acknowledge  hers. 

France.  This  is  most  strange, 

That  she,  that  even  but  now  was  your  blest  object, 
The  argument  of  your  praise,  balm  of  your  age, 
Mo.st'  best,  most^  dearest,  should  in  this  trice  of  time 
Commit  a  thing  so  monstrous,  to  dismantle 
So  many  folds  of  favour.     Sure,  her  offence 
Must  be  of  such  unnatural  degree. 
That  monsters  it,  or  your  fore-vouch'd  alfection 
Fall'n  into  taint:  which  to  believe  of  her, 
JNIust  be  a  faith  that  reason,  withovit  miracle, 
Could*  never  plant  in  me. 

Cor.  I  yet  beseech  your  majesty, 

(If  for  I  want  that  glib  and  oily  art. 
To  spealv  and  purpose  not,  since  what  I  well  intend, 
I  '11  do  't  before  I  speak)  that  you  make  known 
It  is  no  vicious  blot,  nor  other  foulness,* 
No  unchaste*  action,  or  dishonourM  stoop^, 
That  hath  depriv'd  me  of  your  grace  and  favour ; 
But  even  for  want  of  that  for  which  I  am  richer, 
A  still-soliciting  eye,  and  such  a  tongue 
That  I  am  glad  I  have  not,  though  not  to  have  it. 
Hath  lost  me  in  your  liking. 

Lear.  Better  thou 

Hadst  not  been  born,  than  not  to  have  pleas'd  me  better. 

France.  Is  it'  but  this?  a  tardiness  in  nature, 
Wiiich  often  leaves  the  history  unspoke, 
That  it  intends  to  do  ? — My  lord  of  Burgundy, 
Wliat  say  you  to  the  lady?     Love  is  not  love. 
When  it  is  mingled  with  respects,  that  stand 
Aloof  from  the  entire  point.     Will  you  have  her? 

1  -  the  :  in  folio.  ^  Should  :  in  folio.  *  murder,  or  foulness  :  in 
f.  e.  *  unclean  :  in  quartos.  ^  step  :  in  f.  e.  '  no  more  but  this  : 
in  quartos. 


272  KIXG    LEAR.  ACT  L 

She  is  herself  a  dowry.' 

Bur.  Royal  Lear,* 

Give  but  that  portion  which  yourself  propos'd, 
And  here  T  take  Cordelia  by  the  hand. 
Duchess  of  Burgundy. 

Lear.  Nothing  :   I  have  sworn  ;  I  am  firm. 

Bur.  I  am  sorry,  then,  you  have  so  lost  a  father, 
That  you  must  lose  a  husband. 

Cor.  Peace  be  with  Burgundy : 

Since  that  respects  of  ^  fortune  are  his  love, 
I  shall  not  be  his  wife. 

France.  Fairest  Cordelia,  that  art  most  rich,  beins 
poor, 
Most  choice,  forsaken,  and  most  lov'd,  despis'd, 
Thee  and  thy  virtues  here  I  seize  upon : 
Be  it  lawful.  I  take  up  whale's  cast  away. 
Gods,  .gods  !  't  is  strailge,  that  from  their  cold'st  neglect      / 
My  love  should  kindle  to  inflam'd  respect. — 
Thy  dowerle.<^s  daughter,  king,  thrown  to  my  chance, 
Is  queen  of  us,  of  ours,  and  our  fair  France  : 
Not  all  the  dukes  of  waterish  Burgundy 
Shall*  buy  this  unpriz'd  precious  maid  of  me. — 
Bid  them  farewell,  Cordelia,  though  unkind  : 
Thou  losest  here,  a  better  where^  to  find. 

Lear.  Thovi  hast  her,  France  :  let  her  be  thine,  for  we 
Have  no  such  daughter,  nor  shall  ever  see 
That  face  of  hers  again : — Therefore,  be  gone 
Without  our  grace,  our  love,  our  benison. — 
Come,  noble  Burgiindy. 

[Flourish.     Exeunt  Le.\r,  Burgundy,  Corn- 
w.\LL,  Alb.\ny,  Gloster,  and  Attendants. 

France.  Bid  farewell  to  your  sisters. 

Cor.  Ye  jewels  of  our  father,  with  wash'd  eyes 
Cordelia  leaves  you  :  I  know  you  what  you  arc  ; 
And,  like  a  sister,  am  most  loath  to  call 
Your  faults   as  they   are   nam'd.       Love"     well   our 
To  your  professed  bosoms  I  commit  him ;  [father  : 

But  yet,  alas  !  stood  I  within  his  grace, 
I  would  prefer  him  to  a  better  place. 
So,  farewell  to  you  both. 

Gon.  Prescribe  not  us  our  duty. 

Reg.  Let  your  study 

1  and    dower  :    in    quartos.       2  king  :  in    folio.      3  and  :  in   folio. 
*  Can  :  in  folio.     *  Place.     'Use  :  in  quartos. 


80.  n.  KING   LEAR.  273 

Be  to  content  your  lord,  who  hath  i-eceiv'd  you 
As  fortune's  alms  :  you  have  obedience  scanted, 
And  well  are  worth  the  want  that  you  have  wanted. 

Cor.  Time  shall  unfold  what  plighted  cumiing  hides  j 
Who  cover  faults,  at  last  shame  them'  derides. 
Well  may  you  prosper  ! 

France.  Come,  my  fair  Cordelia. 

\Exeunt  France  and  Cordelia. 

Gon.  Sister,  it  is  not  little  I  have  to  say  of  what 
most  nearly  appertains  to  us  both.  I  think,  our  father 
will  hence  to-night. 

Reg.  That 's  most  certain,  and  with  you  j  next  month 
with  us. 

Gon.  You  see  how  full  of  changes  his  age  is  ;  the 
observati/)n  we  have  made  of  it  hath  not^  been  little  : 
he  always  loved  our  sister  most,  and  with  what  poor 
judgment  he  hath  now  cast  her  off  appears  too  grossly. 

Reg.  '"T  is  the  in"firmity  of  his  age;  yet  he  hath  ever 
but  slenderly  known  himself. 

Gon.  The  best  and  soundest  of  his  time  hath  been 
but  rash  :  then,  must  we  look  to  receive  from  his  age, 
not  alone  the  imperfections  of  long-engrafted  condition, 
but,  therewithal,  the  unruly  waywardness  that  iniirm 
and  clioleric  years  bring  with  them. 

jRfg-.  Such  unconstant  starts  are  we  like  to  have 
from  him,  as  this  of  Kent's  banishment. 

Gon.  There  is  farther  compliment  of  leave-taking 
between  France  and  him.  Pray  you,  let  us  hit^  toge- 
ther :  if  our  father  carry  authority  with  such  dispo- 
sitions as  he  bears,  this  last  surrender  of  his  will  but 
offend  us. 

Reg.  We  shall  farther  think  of  it. 

Gon.  We  must  do  something,  and  i'  the  heat. 

[ExeiXnt. 

SCENE  II.— A  Hall  in  the  Earl  of  Oldster's  Castle. 
Enter  Edmund,  the  Bastard,  with  a  Letter. 
Edm.  Thou,  nature,  art  my  goddess;  to  thy  law 
My  services  are  bound.     Wherefore  should  I 
Stand  on  the  plague  of  custom,  and  permit 
The  curiosity*  of  nations  to  deprive  me, 
For  that  I  am  some  twelve  or  fourteen  moon-shines 

1 -with  shame  :  in  folio.  ^  Not  in  folio.  ^  sit :  in  folio.  *  Scrupu- 
lousness. 


274  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lag  of  a  brother  ?     Why  bastard  ?  -w-herefore  base, 
When  my  dimensions  are  as  well  compact, 
My  mind  as  generous,  and  my  shape  as  true, 
As  honest  madam's  issue?     Why  brand  they  us 
With  base  ?  with  baseness  ?  bastardy  ?  base,  base  ? 
Who  in  the  lusty  stealth  of  nature  take 
More  composition  and  fierce  quality. 
Than  doth  within  a  dull,  stale,  tired  bed, 
Go  to  the  creating  a  whole  tribe  of  fops, 
Got  'tween  asleep  and  wake  ? — Well  then, 
Legitimate  Edgar,  I  must  have  your  land : 
Our  father's  love  is  to  the  bastard  Edmund, 
As  to  the  legitimate.     Fine  word, — legitimate  !* 
Well,  my  legitimate,  if  this  letter  speed, 
And  my  invention  thrive,  Edmund  the  base 
Shall  top  the  legitimate.     I  grow;  I  prosper  : — 
Now,  gods,  stand  up  for  bastards  !     [Reads  the  Letter.* 
Enter  Glostkr. 

Glo.  Kent  banish'd  thus  !      And  France   in  choler 
parted  ! 
And  the  king  gone  to-night  !  subscrib'd'  his  power  ! 
Confin'd  to  exhibition* !     All  this  done 
Upon  the  gad  ! — Edmund  ?     How  now  !  what  news  ? 

Edm.  So  please  your  lordship,  none. 

[Hiding  the  Letter. 

Glo.   Why  so  earnestly  seek  you  to  put  up  that 
letter  ? 

Edm.  I  know  no  news,  my  lord. 

Glo.  What  paper  were  you  reading  ? 

Edm.  Nothing,  my  lord. 

Glo.  No  !  What  needed,  then,  that  terrible  de- 
spatch of  it  into  your  pocket  ?  the  quality  of  nothing 
hath  not  such  need  to  hide  itself.  Let's  see:  come; 
if  it  be  nothing,  I  shall  not  need  spectacles. 

Edm.  I  beseech  you,  sir,  pardon  me  :  it  is  a  letter 
from  my  brother,  that  I  have  not  all  o'er-read  ;  and  for 
so  much  as  I  have  perused,  I  find  it  not  fit  for  your 
o'erlooking*. 

Glo.  Give  me  the  letter,  sir. 

Edm.  I  shall  offend,  either  to  detain  or  give  it. 
The  contents,  as  in  part  I  understand  them, 
Are  to  blame. 

1  These  three  words  are  not  in  quarto.     ^  Not  in  f.  e.      ^  Signed 
away.     *  Maintenance.    '  liking  :  in  quartos. 


sc.  n. 


KING   LEAR.  275 


GIo.  Let  "s  see,  let 's  see. 

Edm.  I  hope,  for  my  brother's  justification,  he  wrote 
this  bvit  as  an  essay  or  taste  of  my  virtue. 

GIo.  [Reads.]  "  This  policy,  and  reverence^  of  age, 
makes  the  world  bitter  to  the  best  of  our  times ;  keeps 
our  fortunes  from  us,  till  our  oldness  cannot  relish 
them.  I  begin  to  find  an  idle  and  fond  bondage  in  the 
oppression  of  aged  tyranny,  who  sways,  not  as  it  hath 
power,  but  as  it  is  suffered.  Come  to  me,  that  of  this 
1  may  speak  more.  If  our  father  would  sleep  till  I 
waked  him.  you  should  enjoy  half  his  revenue  for  ever, 
and  live  the  beloved  of  your  brother,  Edgar." — 
Humph  ! — Conspiracy  ! — "  Sleep  till  I  waked  him., — 
you  should  enjoy  half  his  revenue.'' — My  son  Edgar  ! 
Had  he  a  hand  to  write  this?  a  heart  and  brain  to 
breed  it  in  ? — When  came  this  to  you  ?"  ^Yho 
brought  it  ? 

Edm.  It  was  not  brought  me,  my  lord  ;  there  's  the 
cunning  of  it :  I  found  it  thrown  in  at  the  casement  of 
my  closet. 

GIo.  You  know  the  character  to  be  your  brother's  ? 

Edm.  If  the  matter  were  good,  my  lord,  I  durst 
swear  it  were  his ;  but,  in  respect  of  that,  I  would  fain 
think  it  were  not. 

GIo.  It  is  his. 

Edm.  It  is  his  hand,  my  lord;  but,  I  hope,  his  heart 
is  not  in  the  contents. 

GIo.  Hath  he  never  heretofore  sounded  you  in  this 
business  ? 

Edm.  Never,  my  lord  ;  but  I  have  often  heard  him 
maintain  it  to  be  fit,  that  sons  at  perfect  age,  and 
fathers  declined,  the  father  should  be  as  ward  to  the 
son.  and  the  son  manage  his  revenue. 

GIo.  O  villain,  villain ! — His  very  opinion  in  the 
letter  ! — Abhorred  villain  !  Unnatural,  detested,  brutish 
villain  !  worse  than  brutish  ! — Go,  sirrah,  seek  him ; 
I  'IP  apprehend  him.  Abominable  villain  ! — ^Where 
is  he  ? 

Edm.  I  do  not  well  know,  my  lord.  If  it  shall 
please  you  to  suspend  your  indignation  against  my 
brother,  till  you  can  derive  from  him  better  testimony 
of  his  intent,  you  shall  run  a  certain  course :  where,  if 
you  violently  proceed  against  him,  mistaking  his  pur- 

1  Not  in  quartos.      =  you  to  this  :  in  folio.      ^  i ;  jn   quartos. 


276  KING   LEAR.  ACT  I. 

pose,  it  would  make  a  great  gap  in  your  own  honour, 
and  shake  in  pieces  the  heart  of  his  obedience.  I  dare 
pawn  dowii  my  life  for  him,  that  he  hath  writ  this  to 
feel  my  affection  to  your  honour,  and  to  no  other*  pre- 
tence^ of  danger. 

Glo.  Think  you  so  ? 

Edm.  If  your  honour  judge  it  meet,  I  will  place  you 
where  you  shall  hear  us  confer  of  this,  and  by  an 
auricular  assurance  have  your  satisfaction ;  and  that 
■without  any  farther  delay  than  this  very  evening. 

Glo.  He  cannot  be  such  a  monster. 

Edm.  Nor  is  not.  sure.^ 

Glo.  To  his  father,  that  so  tenderly  and  entirely 
loves  him. — Heaven  and  earth  ! — Edmund,  seek  him 
out ;  wind  me  into  him,  I  pray  you :  frame  the  busi- 
ness after  your  own  wisdom.  I  would  unstate  myself 
to  be  in  a  due  resolution. 

Edm.  I  will  seek  him,  sir,  presently,  convey  the 
business  as  I  shall  find*  means,  and  acquaint  you 
withal. 

Glo.  These  late  eclipses  in  the  sun  and  moon  por- 
tend no  good  to  us :  though  the  wisdom  of  nature  can 
reason  it  thus  and  thus,  yet  nature  finds  itself  scourged 
by  the  sequent  effects.  Love  cools,  friendship  falls  off, 
brothers  divide :  in  cities,  mutinies ;  in  countries,  dis- 
cord ;  in  palaces,  treason,  and  the  bond  cracked  between 
son  and  father.*  This  villain  of  mine  comes  under  the 
prediction ;  there  's  son  against  father  :  the  king  falls 
from  bias  of  nature  ;  there  's  father  against  child.  We 
have  seen  the  best  of  our  time :  machinations,  hollow- 
ness,  treachery,  and  all  ruinous  disorders,  follow  us 
disquietly  to  our  graves  ! — Find  out  this  villain,  Ed- 
mund ;  it  shall  lose  thee  nothing :  do  it  carefully. — 
And  the  noble  and  true-hearted  Kent  banished  !  his 
offence,  honesty. — 'T  is  strange.  [Exit. 

Edm.  This  is  the  excellent  foppery  of  the  world,  that, 
when  we  are  sick  in  fortune,  (often  the  surfeit  of  our 
own  behaviour)  we  make  guilty  of  our  disasters,  the 
sun,  the  moon,  and  the  stars :  as  if  we  were  villains  by 
necessity  •  fools,  by  heavenly  compulsion ;  knaves, 
thieves,  and  treachers,  by   spherical   predominance  j 

I  farther  :  in  quartos.  *  Intention.  ^  This  speech,  and  the  reply 
to  Edmund,  are  not  in  folio.  *  see  :  in  quartos.  *  The  passage  from 
this  to  "  Find,"  is  not  in  quartos. 


SC.  II. 


KING   LEAR.  277 


drunkards,  liars,  and  adulterers,  by  an  enforced  obe- 
dience of  planetary  influence,  and  all  that  we  are  evil 
in,  by  a  divine  thrusting  on.  An  admirable  evasion  of 
•whore-master  man,  to  lay  his  goatish  disposition  to  the 
charge  of  stars  !'  My  father  compounded  with  my 
mother  under  the  dragon's  tail,  and  my  nativity  v/as 
under  iirsa  major  ;  so  that,  it  follows,  I  am  rough  and 
lecherous. — Tut !  I  should  have  been  that  I  am,  had 
the  maidcnliest  star  in  the  firmament  twinkled  on  my 
bastardizing.'^     Edgar — 

Enter  Edgar. 
and   pat   he    comes,  like  the    catastrophe  of   the  old 
comedy :  my  cue  is  villainous  melancholy,  with  a  sigh 
like  Tom  o'  Bedlam. — 0!   these  eclipses   do   portend 
these  divisions.     Fa,  sol,  la,  mi. 

Eilg.  How  now,  brother  Edmund !  What  serious 
contemplation  are  you  in? 

Edm.  I  am  thinking,  brother,  of  a  prediction  I  read 
this  other  day,  what  should  follow  these  eclipses. 

Edg.  Do  you  busy  yourself  with  that  ? 

Edm.  I  promise  you,  the  effects  he  writes  of  succeed 
unhappily;^  as  of  unnaturalness  between  the  child 
and  the  parent ;  death,  dearth,  dissolution  of  ancient 
amities  ;  divisions  in  state;  menaces  and  maledictions 
against  king  and  nobles ;  needless  'dithdences,  banish- 
ment of  friends,  dissipation  of  cohorts,  nuptial  breaches, 
and  I  know  not  what. 

Edg.  How  long  have  you  been  a  sectary  astronomical  ? 

Edm.  Come,  come  ;  when  saw  you  my  father  last  ? 

Edg.  The  night  gone  by. 

Edm.  Spake  you  with  him? 

Edg.  Ay,  two  hours  together. 

Edm.  Parted  you  in  good  terms?  Found  you  no 
displeasure  in  him  by  word,  or  countenance  ? 

Edg.  None  at  all. 

Edm.  Bethink  yourself,  wherein  you  may  have  of- 
fended him :  and  at  my  entreaty  forbear  his  presence, 
till  some  little  time  hath  qualified  the  heat  of  his  dis- 
pleasure, which  at  this  instant  so  rageth  in  him,  that  with 
the  mischief  of  your  person  it  would  scarcely  allay. 

Edg.  Some  villain  hath  done  me  wrong. 

1  on  the  charge  of  a  star  :  in  folio.  "  on  my  bastardy  :  in  quartos. 
5  The  rest  of  this  and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  folio. 

Vol.  VII.— 24 


278  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Edm.  That 's  my  fear.'  I  pray  you,  have  a  conti- 
nent forbearance,  till  the  speed  of  his  rage  goes  slower ; 
and,  as  I  say.  retire  with  me  to  my  lodging,  from 
whence  I  will  fitly  bring  you  to  hear  my  lord  speak. 
Pray  you.  go :  there  's  my  key.  If  you  do  stir  abroad, 
go  armed. 

Eclg.  Armed,  brother  ? 

Edm.  Brother,  I  advise  you  to  the  best;  I  am  no 
honest  man,  if  there  be  any  good  meaning  towards 
you  :  I  h'ave  told  you  what  I  have  seen  and  heard,  but 
faintly  :  nothing  like  the  image  and  horror  of  it.  Pray 
you,  away. 

Edg.  Shall  I  hear  from  you  anon  ? 

Edm.  I  do  serve  you  in  this  business. — 

[Exit  Edg.ir. 
A  credulous  father,  and  a  brother  noble, 
Whose  natiire  is  so  far  from  doing  harms, 
That  he  suspects  none,  on  whose  foolish  honesty 
My  practices  ride  easy. — I  see  the  business. — 
Let  me.  if  not  by  birth,  have  lands  by  wit : 
All  with  me  's  meet,  that  I  can  fashion  fit.  [Exit. 

SCENE  III.— A  Room  in  the  Duke  of  Albany's 
Palace. 

Enter  Goneril,  and  Oswald  her  Steward. 

Gon.  Did  my  father  strike  my  gentleman  for  chiding 
of  his  fool  ? 

Osw.  Ay,  madam. 

Gon.  By  day  and  night  he  wrongs  me :  CA'ery  hour 
He  flashes  into  one  gross  crime  or  other. 
That  sets  us  all  at  odds :  I  '11  not  endure  it. 
His  knights  grow  riotous,  and  himself  upbraids  us 
On  every  trifle. — When  he  returns  from  hunting, 
I  will  not  speak  with  him  ;  say,  I  am  sick : 
If  you  come  slack  of  former  services. 
You  shall  do  well :  the  fault  of  it  I  '11  answer. 

Osw.  He  's  coming,  madam  ;  I  hear  him. 

[Horns  within. 

Gon.  Put  on  what  weary  negligence  you  please. 
You  and  your  fellows ;  I  'd  have  it  come  to  question  : 
If  he  distaste^  it,  let  him  to  my  sister, 
Whose  mind  and  mine,  I  know,  in  that  are  one, 

'  The  rest  of  this  and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  quartos.  *  dislike  : 
in  quartos. 


SC.  IV.  KING    LEAR.  279 

Not  to  be  over-rul'd.     Idle  old  man,^ 

That  still  would  manage  those  authorities, 

That  he  hath  given  away  ! — Now,  by  my  life, 

Old  fools  are  babes  again  ;  and  must  be  us'd 

With  checks  as  flatteries  :   when  they  are  seen  abus'd. 

Remember  what  I  have  said. 

Osw.  Well,  madam. 

Gon.  And  let  his  knights  have  colder  looks  among  you. 
What  grows  of  it,  no  matter ;  advise  your  fellows  so  : 
I  would  breed  from  hence  occasions,  and  I  shall. ^ 
That  I  may  speak. — I  '11  write  straight  to  my  sister, 
To  hold  my  course. — Prepare  for  dinner.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.— A  Hall  in  the  Same. 
Enter  Kent,  disguised. 

Ke7it.  If  but  as  well  I  other  accents  borrow. 
That  can  my  speech  difFuse^  my  good  intent 
May  carry  through  itself  to  that  full  issue 
For  which  I  raz'd  my  likeness. — Now,  banish"d  Kent, 
If  thou  canst  serve  where  thou  dost  stand  condemn'd, 
(So  may  it  come  !*)  thy  master,  whom  thou  lov'st. 
Shall  find  thee  full  of  labours. 
Horns  icithin.    Enter  Lear    Knights^  and  .ittendants. 

Lear.  Let  me  not  stay  a  jot  for  dinner :  go,  get  it 
ready.    [Exit  an  Attendant.]  How  now  !  what  art  thou? 

Kent.  A  man,  sir. 

Lear.  What  dost  thou  profess  ?  What  wouldst  thou 
with  us  ? 

Kent.  I  do  profess  to  be  no  less  than  I  seem  :  to 
serve  him  truly  that  will  put  me  in  trust ;  to  love  him 
that  is  honest  ;  to  converse  with  him  that  is  wise,  and 
says  little  ;  to  fear  judgment)  to  fight  when  I  cannot 
choose,  and  to  cat  no  fish. 

Lear.  What  art  thou  ? 

Kent.  A  very  honest-hearted  fellow,  and  as  poor  as 
the  king. 

Lear.  If  thou  be  as  poor  for  a  subject,  as  he  is  for  a 
king,  thou  art  poor  enough.     What  wouldst  thou  ? 

Kent.  Service. 

Lear.  Whom  wouldst  thou  serve  ? 

Kent.  You. 

1  This  and  the  next  four  lines,  are  not  in  the  folio.  2  This  and  the 
next  line,  to  •'  I  '11,"  not  in  folio.  ^  Disorder,  disguise.  *  These 
lines  are  not  in  quartos. 


280  KING   LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Lear.  Dost  thou  know  me,  fellow? 

Kent.  No,  sir;  but  you  have  that  in  your  counte- 
nance which  I  would  fain  call  master. 

Lear.  What  's  that  ? 

Kent.  Authority. 

Lear.  What  services  canst  thou  do  ? 

Kerit.  I  can  keep  honest  counsel,  ride,  run,  mar  a 
curious  tale  in  telling  it.  and  deliver  a  plain  message 
bluntly :  that  which  ordinary  men  are  fit  for,  I  am 
qualified  in;  and  the  best  of  me  is  diligence. 

Lear.  How  old  art  thou  ? 

Kent.  Not  .so  young,  sir.  to  love  a  woman  for  sing- 
mg;  nor  so  old,  to  dote  on  her  for  any  thing:  I  have 
years  on  my  back  forty-eight. 

Lear.  Follow  me ;  thou  shalt  serve  me  :  if  I  like 
thee  no  worse  after  dinner,  I  will  not  part  from  thee 
yet. — Dinner,  ho  !  dinner  ! — Where  's  my  knave  ?  my 
fool  ?     Go  you,  and  call  my  fool  hither. 

Enter  Oswald. 
You,  you.  sirrah,  where  's  my  daughter? 

Osw.  So  please  you. —  [Exit. 

Lear.  What  says  the  fellow  there  ?  Call  the  clodpole 
back.  [Exit  Knight.^] — Where  's  my  fool,  ho  ? — I 
think  the  woi'ld  's  asleep. — [Re-enter  Knight.^]  How 
now,  where  's  that  mongrel  ? 

Knight.^  He  says,  my  lord,  your  daughter  is  not  well, 

Lear.  Why  came  not  the  slave  back  to  me,  when  I 
called  him  ? 

Knight.^  Sir,  he  answered  me  in  the  roundest 
manner,  he  would  not. 

Lear.  He  would  not  ! 

Knight.  My  lord,  I  know  not  what  the  matter  is ; 
but,  to  my  judgment,  your  highness  is  not  entertained 
with  that  ceremonious  affection  as  you  were  wont: 
there  's  a  great  abatement  of  kindness*  appears,  as  well 
in  the  general  dependants,  as  in  the  duke  himself  also, 
and  your  daughter. 

Lear.  Ha  !  sayest  thou  so  ? 

Knight.  I  beseech  you,  pardon  me,  my  lord,  if  I  be 
mistaken ;  for  my  duty  cannot  be  silent,  when  I  think 
your  highness  wronged. 

Lear.  Thou  but  rememberest  me  of  mine  own  con- 

1  2  Not  in  f.  e.  3  Kent :  in  quartos.  *  A  servant :  in  quartos. 
"  "  of  kindness"  :  not  in  quartos. 


SC.  IT.  KINa   LEAR.  281 

ception.  I  have  perceived  a  most  faint  neglect  of  late ; 
which  I  have  rather  blamed  as  mine  own  jealous  curi- 
osity, than  as  a  very  pretence  and  purpose  of  unkind- 
ness  :  I  will  look  farther  into  't. — But  where 's  my 
fool  ?     I  have  not  seen  him  this  two  days. 

Knight.  Since  my  young  lady's  going  into  France, 
sir,  the  fool  hath  much  pined  away. 

Lear.  No  more  of  that;  I  have  noted  it  well. — Go 
you,  and  tell  my  daughter  I  would  speak  with  her. — 
Go  you,  call  hither  my  fool. — 

Re-enter  Oswald. 

0  !  you  sir,  you  sir,  come  you  hither.     Who  am  I.  sir  ? 
Osw.  My  lady's  father. 

Lear.  My  lady's  father?  my  lord's  knave:  you 
whoresdn  dog  !  you  slave  !  you  cur  ! 

Osw.  I  am  none  of  these,  my  lord  :  I  beseech  your 
pardon. 

Lear.  Do  you  bandy  looks  with  me,  you  rascal  ? 

[Striking  him. 

Osv).  I  '11  not  be  stricken,  my  lord. 

Kent.  Not  tripped  neither,  you  base  foot-ball  player. 

[Tripping  up  his  heels. 

Lear.  I  thank  thee,  fellow ;  thou  servest  me,  and 

1  '11  love  thee. 

Kent.  Come,  sir,  arise  ;  away  !  I  '11  teach  you  differ- 
ences :  away,  away  !  If  you  will  measure  your  lubber's 
length  again,  tarry  ;  but  away  i  Go  to  :  have  you  wis- 
dom ?  so.  [Pushes  Oswald  out, 

Lear.  Now,  my  friendly  knave,  I  thank  thee  :  there  's 
earnest  in  thy  service.  [Giving  Kent  money. 

Enter  Fool. 

Fool.  Let  me  hire  him  too  : — here  's  my  coxcomb. 

[Giving  Kent  his  Cap. 

Lear.  How  now,  my  pretty  knave  !  how  dost  thou? 

Fool.  Sirrah,  you  were  best  take  my  coxcomb. 

Lear.  Why,  my  boy  ?' 

Fool.  Why  ?  For  taking  one's  part  that 's  out  of 
favour. — Nay,  an  thou  canst  not  smile  as  the  wind  sits, 
thou  'It  catch  cold  shortly  :  there,  take  my  coxcomb. 
Why,  this  fellow  has  banished  two  on  's  daughters,  and 
did  "the  third  a  blessing  against  his  will :  if  thou  follow 
bim,  thou  must  needs  wear  my  coxcomb. — How  now, 

1  Kent.  Why,  fool :  in  quartos. 

24* 


282  KING   LEAR.  ACT  I. 

nuncle !     Would  I  had  two  coxcombs,  and  two  daugh- 
ters ! 

Lear.  Wliy,  my  boy  ? 

Fool.  If  I  gave  them  all  my  living,  I  'd  keep  my  coi- 
comb  myself.  There  's  mine ;  beg  another  of  thy  daugh- 
ters. 

Lear.  Take  heed,  sirrah  ;  the  whip. 
Fool.  Truth  's  a  dog  must  to  kennel :  he  must  be 
whipped  out,  when  the  lady  brach'  may  stand  by  the 
fire  and  stink. 

Lear.  A  pestilent  gall  to  me. 

Fool.  Sirrah,  I  '11  teach  thee  a  speech. 

Lear.  Do. 

Fool.  Mark  it,  nuncle. — 

Have  more  than  thou  showest, 
Speak  less  than  thou  knowest, 
Lend  less  than  thou  owest, 
Ride  more  than  thou  goest, 
Learn  more  than  thou  trowest, 
Set  less  than  thou  throwest ; 
Leave  thy  drink  and  thy  whore, 
And  keep  in-a-door. 
And  thou  shalt  have  more 
Than  two  tens  to  a  score. 
Lear."  This  is  nothing,  fool. 

Fool.  Then,  't  is  like  the  breath  of  an  unfee'd  law- 
yer :  you  gaVe  me  nothing  for  't.  Can  you  make  no 
use  of  nothing,  nuncle  ? 

Lear.  Why,  no,  boy ;  nothing  can  be  made  out  of 
nothing. 

Fool.  Pr'ythee,  tell  him,  so  much  the  rent  of  his  land 
comes  to:  he  will  not  believe  a  fool. 
Lear.  A  bitter  fool ! 

Fool.  Dost  thou  know  the  difference,  my  boy,  be- 
tween a  bitter  fool  and  a  sweet  one  ? 
Lear.  No,  lad ;  teach  me. 
Fool.^       That  lord,  that  counsell'd  thee 
To  give  away  thy  land, 
Come  place  him  here  by  me ; 

Do  thou  for  him  stand  : 
The  sweet  and  bitter  fool 
Will  presently  appear ; 

1  A  female  hound.  "  Kent :  in  folio.  3  This  and  the  next  foBi 
speeches,  to  "  Give  me,"  are  not  in  folio. 


8C.  IV.  KING   LEAR.  28§ 

The  one  in  motley  here, 
The  other  found  out  there. 
Lear.  Dost  thou  call  me  fool,  boy? 
Fool.  All  thy  other  titles  thou  hast  given  away,  that 
thou  wast  born  with. 

Kent.  ThLs  is  not  altogether  fool,  my  lord. 

Fool.  No,  'faith;  lords  and  great  men  \sall  not  let 

me :  if  I   had  a  monopoly  out,  they  would  have  part 

on't,  and  loads  too:  they  will  not  let  me  have  all  fool 

to  myself;  they  '11  be  snatching. — Give   me  an  egg, 

nuncle,  and  I  '11  give  thee  two  crowns. 

Lear.  What  two  crowns  shall  they  be? 

Fool.  Why,  after  I  have  cut  the  egg  i'  the  middle, 

and  eat  up  the    meat,    the  two  crowns  of  the  egg. 

When  thou  clovest  thy  cro\ATi  i'  the  middle,  and  gavest 

away  both  parts,  thou  borest  thine  ass  on  thy  back  o'er 

the  dirt :  thou  hadst  little  wit  in  thy  bald  crown,  when 

thou  gavest  thy  golden  one  away.     If  I   speak  like 

myself  in  this,  let  him  be  whipped  that  first  finds  it  so. 

Fools  had  ne^er  less  grace^  in  a  year :     [Singing. 

For  wise  men  are  grown  fof pish  ; 
And  teell  may  fear^  their  tvits  to  wear. 
Their  manners  are  so  apish. 
Lear.  When  were  you  wont  to  be  so  full  of  songs, 
sirrah  ? 

Fool.  I  have  used  it,  nuncle,  ever  since  thou  madest 
thy  daughters  thy  mothers  :  for.  when  thou  gavest  them 
the  rod  and  putt'st  down  thine  own  breeches, 

Then  they  for  sudden  joy  did  weep,         [Singing. 

And  I  for  sorroiv  sung, 
That  such  a  king  should  play  bo-peep, 
Ajid  go  the  fools  among. 
Pr'ythee,  nuncle,  keep  a  school-master  that  can  teach 
thy  fool  to  lie  :   I  would  fain  learn  to  lie. 

Lear.  An  you  lie,  sirrah,  we  '11  have  you  whipped. 
Fool.  I  marvel  what  kin  thou  and  thy  daughters 
are  :  they  '11  have  me  whipped  for  speaking  true,  thou  'It 
have  me  whipped  for  lying ;  and  sometimes  I  am 
whipped  for  holding  my  peace.  I  had  rather  be  any 
kind  o'  thing  than  a  fool:  and  yet  I  would  not  be 
thee,  nuncle  :  thou  hast  pared  thy  wit  o'  both  sides, 
and  left  nothing  i'  the  middle.  Here  comes  one  o'  the 
parings. 

*  urit:  in  quartos.     *  And  kitow  hot  how:  in  f.  e. 


284  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

Enter  Goneril. 

Lear.  How  now,  daughter !  what  makes  that  front- 
let on  ? 
Methinks/  you  are  too  much  of  late  i'  the  frown. 

Fool.  Thou  wast  a  pretty  fellow,  when  thou  hadst 
no  need  to  care  for  her  fro\^^ling ;  now  thou  art  an  0 
withoiit  a  figure.  I  am  better  than  thou  art  now :  I 
am  a  fool:  thou  art  nothing. — Yes,  forsooth,  I  will  hold 
my  tongue  !  so  your  face  [To  Gon.]  bids  me,  though 
you  say  nothing.     Mum,  mum  : 

He  that  keeps  nor  crust  nor  criim,  [Singing, 
Weary  of  all.  shall  want  some. 
That 's  a  shealed  peascod. 

Gon.  Not  only,  sir,  this  your  all-licens'd  fool, 
But  other  of  your  insolent  retinue 
Do  hourly  carp  and  quarrel ;  breaking  forth 
In  rank,  and  not  to  be  endured,  riots.     Sir, 
I  had  thouglit,  by  making  this  well  know^l  unto  you, 
To  have  found  a  safe  redress,  but  now  grow  fearful, 
By  what  yourself  too  late  have  spoke  and  done, 
That  you  protect  this  course,  and  put  it  on. 
By  your  allowance  ;  which  if  you  should,  the  fault 
Would  not  'scape  censure,  nor  the  redresses  sleep. 
Which,  in  the  tender  of  a  wholesome  weal, 
Might  in  their  working  do  you  that  offence. 
Which  else  were  shame,  that  then  necessity 
Will   call  discreet  proceeding. 

Fool.  For  you  know,  nuncle, 

The  hedge-sparrow  fed  the  cuckoo  so  long, 
Tliat  it  had  its  head  hit  off  by  its  young. 
So,  out  went  the  candle,  and  we  were  left  darkling. 

Lear.  Are  you  our  daugliter  ? 

Gon.^  I  would,  you  would  make  use  of  your  good 
wisdom, 
Whereof  I  know  you  are  fraught,  and  put  away 
These  dispositions,  which  of  late  transform  you 
From  what  you  rightly  are. 

Fool.  May  not  an  ass  know  when  the  cart  draws  the 
horse  ? — Whoop,  Jug  !  I  love  thee. 

Lear.  Does  any  here  know  me? — Why  this  is  not 
Lear  :  does  Lear  walk  thus  ?  speak  thus  ?  Where  are 
his  eyes  ?     Either  his  notion  weakens,  or  his  discernings 

1  Not  in  folio.  =  Must :  in  quartos  -which  print  the  whole  speech 
as  prose.    ^  Come,  sir,  I  :  in  quartos. 


so.  IV.  KING    LEAR. 


285 


are  letharsied. — Sleeping  or  waking?— Ha!  sure  'tis 
not  so. — Who  is  it  that  can  tell  me  who  I  am  ? — Lear's 
shadow  ?'  I  would  learn  that ;  for  by  the  marks  of 
sovereignty,  knowledge,  and  reason,  I  should  be  false 
persuaded  I  had  daughters. 

FooJ.  Which  they  will  make  an  obedient  father. 
Lear.  Your  name,  fair  gentlewoman  ? 

Gon.  ''This  admiration,  sir,  is  much  o'  the  favour 
Of  other  your  new  pranks.     I  do  beseech  you 
To  under.?! and  my  purposes  aright. 
As  you  are  old  and  reverend,  should  be  wise. 
Here  do  you  keep  a  hundred  knights  and  squires ; 
Men  so  disorder'd,  so  debauch'd  and  bold, 
That  this  our  court,  infected  with  their  manners, 
Shows  like  a  riotous  inn :  epicurism  and  lust 
Make  it  more  like  a  tavern,  or  a  brothel. 
Than  a  grac'd^  palace.     The  shame  itself  doth  speak 
For  instant  remedy  :  be,  then,  desired 
By  her,  that  else  will  take  the  thing  she  begs, 
A  little  to  disquantity  your  train  ; 
And  the  remainder,  that  shall  still  depend, 
To  be  such  men  as  may  besort  your  age, 
Which  know  themselves  and  you. 

Lear.  Darkness  and  devils  !-^ 

Saddle  my  horses ;  call  my  train  together.—^ 
Degenerate  bastard  !     I  "11  not  trouble  thee  : 
Yet  have  I  left  a  daughter. 

Gon.  You  strike  ray  people;    and   your  disorder'd 
rabble 
Make  servants  of  their  betters. 

Enter  Albany. 

Lear.   Woe,    that   too   late   repents,*— 0,    sir!    {To 
Alb.]  are  you  come  ? 
Is  it  your  will?'     Speak,  sir. — Prepare  my  horses  !^ 
Ingratitude,  thou  marble-hearted  fiend, 
More  hideous,  when  thou  show'st  thee  in  a  child, 
Than  the  sea-monster  ! 

Alb.  Pray,  sir,  be  patient.* 

Lear.  Detested  kite  !  thouliest:  [To  Goneril. 

My  train  are  men  of  choice  and  rarest  parts, 

1  "  Lear's  shadow,"  is  spoken  by  the  fool,  and  the  rest  of  this  and 
the  next  speech,  is  omitted  in  folio.  2  Come,  sir,  this  :  in  quartos  ; 
the  rest  of  the  speech  is  there  printed  as  prose.  ^  great :  in  qnartos. 
♦  The  rest  of  the  line,  is  not  in  folio.  '■  will  that  we  prepare  oux 
horses  :  in  quartos.     6  This  line  is  not  in  quartos. 


286  KING    LEAR.  ACT  I. 

That  all  particulars  of  duty  know, 

And  in  the  most  exact  regard  support 

The  worship  of  their  name. — 0,  most  small  fault ! 

How  ugly  didst  thou  in  Cordelia  show, 

Which,  like  an  engine,  wrench'd  my  frame  of  nature 

From  the  fix'd  place,  drew  from  my  heart  all  love. 

And  added  to  the  gall.     0  Lear,  Lear,  Lear ! 

Beat  at  this  gate,  that  let  thy  folly  in,  [Striking  his  head. 

And  thy  dear  judgment  out ! — Go,  go,  my  people. 

Alb.  My  lord,  I  am  guiltless,  as  I  am  ignorant 
Of  what  hath  mov'd  you.' 

Lear.  It  may  be  so,  my  lord. — 

Hear,  nature,  hear  !  dear  goddess,  hear  ! 
Suspend  thy  purpose,  if  thou  didst  intend 
To  make  this  creature  fruitful  ! 
Into  her  womb  convey  sterility  ! 
Dry  up  in  her  the  organs  of  increase  ; 
And  from  her  derogate  body  never  spring 
A  babe  to  honour  her  !     If  she  must  teem. 
Create  her  child  of  spleen ;  that  it  may  live, 
And  be  a  thwart  disnatur'd  torment  to  her  ! 
Let  il  stamp  wTinkles  in  her  brow  of  youth ; 
With  cadent  tears  fret  channels  in  her  cheeks ; 
Turn  all  her  mother's  pains,  and  benefits, 
To  laughter  and  contempt;  that  she  may  feel 
How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is 
To  have  a  thankless  child  ! — Away  !  away  l""       [Exit. 

Alb.  Now,  gods  that  we  adore,  whereof  comes  this  ? 

Gon.  Never  afflict  yourself  to  know  the  cause  f 
But  let  his  di.sposition  have  that  scope 
That  dotage  gives  it. 

Re-enter  Lear. 

Lear.  What !  fifty  of  my  followers,  at  a  clap, 
Within  a  fortnight  ? 

Alb.  What 's  the  matter,  sir  ? 

Lear.  I  '11  tell  thee.— Life  and  death  !  [To  Goneril. 
I  am  asham'd. 
That  thou  hast  power  to  shake  my  manhood  thus  : 
That  these  hot  tears,  which  break  from  me  perforce. 
Should  make  thee  worth  them.     Blasts  and  fogs  upon 

thee  ! 
Th'  untented  woundings  of  a  father's  curse 

1  This  line  is  not  in  quartos.    =  "  Go,  go,  my  people"  :  in  quartos. 
3  more  of  it :  in  folio. 


SC.  IV. 


KING    LEAR.  287 


Pierce  every  sense  about  thee  ! — Old  fond  eyes. 
Beweep  this  cause  again,  I  -11  pluck  you  out, 
And  cast  you,  with  the  waters  that  you  lose, 
To  temper  clay. — Ha  ! 
Let  it  be  so : — I  have  another  daughter, 
Who.  I  am  stire,  is  kind  and  comfortable : 
When  she  shall  hear  this  of  thee,  with  her  nails 
She  '11  flay  thy  wolfish  visage,     thou  shalt  find, 
That  I  'H'resume  the  shape,  which  thou  dost  think 
I  have  cast  off  for  ever.^ 

[Exeztnt  Lear  in  fimf-,  Kent,  and  Attendants. 
Gon.  Do  you  mark  that,  my  lord  ? 
Alh.  I  cannot  be  so  partial,  Goneril, 
To  the  great  love  I  bear  you, — 

Gon.  Pray  you,  content.^ — What,  Oswald,  ho  ! 
You.  sir,  more  knave  than  fool,  after  your  master. 

'  [7b  the  Fool. 

Fool.  Nuncle  Lear,  nuncle  Lear  !  tarry,  and  take  the 
fool  with  thee. 

A  fox.  when  one  has  caught  her. 
And  such  a  daughter. 
Should  sure  to  the  slaughter. 
If  my  cap  would  buy  a  halter  ■ 
So  the  fool  follows  after.  [Exit. 

Gon.  This*  man  hath  had  good  counsel. — A  hundred 
knights ! 
'T  is  politic,  and  safe,  to  let  him  keep 
At  point  a  hundred  knights  :  yes,  that  on  every  dream, 
Each  buz.  each  fancy,  each  complaint,  dislikcj 
He  may  enguard  his  dotage  with  their  powers, 
And  hold  our  lives  in  mercy. — Oswald,  I  ?ay  ! — 
Alh.  Well,  you  may  fear  too  far. 
Gon.  Safer  than  trust  too  far. 

Let  me  still  take  away  the  harms  I  fear, 
Not  fear  still  to  be  taken :  I  know  his  heart. 
What  he  hath  uttcr"d  I  have  writ  my  sister : 
If  she  sustain  him  and  his  hundred  knights. 
When  I  have  show'd  th'  unfitness, — how  now,  Oswald  !^ 

Re-enter  Oswald. 
What,  have  you  writ  that  letter  to  my  sister  ? 

1  The  quartos  add  :  "  Thou  shalt,  I  warrant  thee."  =  "  in  fury:" 
not  in  f.  e.  3  Come,  sir,  no  more  :  in  quartos.  *  This  and  the  next 
two  speeches  to  "  how  now,"  are  not  in  quartos.  *  The  quarto 
adds  :  What,  Oswald,  ho  1 


288  KING    LEAR.  ACT  > 

Osw.  Ay,  madam. 

Gon.  Take  yoii  some  company,  and  away  to  horse : 
Inform  her  full  of  my  particular  fear ; 
And  thereto  add  such  reasons  of  your  own, 
As  may  compact  it  more.     Get  you  gone, 
And  hasten  your  return.  [Exit  Osw.]  No,  no,  my  lord, 
This  milky  gentleness,  and  course  of  yours. 
Though  I  condemn  it  not,  yet,  under  pardon. 
You  are  much  more  attask'd'  for  want  of  wisdom, 
Than  prais'd  for  harmful  mildness. 

Alb.  How  far  your  eyes  may  pierce,  I  cannot  tell : 
Striving  to  better,  oft  we  mar  what 's  well. 

Gon.  Nay,  then — 

Alb.  Well,  well ;  the  event.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  v.— Court  before  the  Same. 
Enter  Lear,  Kent,  and  Fool. 

Lear.  Go  you  before  to  Gloster  with  these  letters. 
Acquaint  my  daughter  no  farther  with  any  thing  you 
know,  than  comes  from  her  demand  out  of  the  letter. 
If  your  diligence  be  not  speedy,  I  shall  be  there  before 
you. 

Kent.  I  will  not  sleep,  my  lord,  till  I  have  delivered 
your  letter.  [Exit. 

Fool.  If  a  man's  brains  "were  in  's  heels,  were  't  not 
in  danger  of  kibes  ? 

Lear.  Ay,  boy. 

Fool.  Then,  I  pr'ythee,  be  merry;  thy  wit  shall  not 
go  slip- shod. 

Lear.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Fool.  Shalt  see,  thy  other  daughter  will  use  thee 
kindly  ;  for  though  she  's  as  like  this,  as  a  crab  is  like 
an  apple,  yet  I  can  tell  what^  I  cair  tell. 

Lear.  What  canst  tell,  boy? 

Fool.  She  will  taste  as  like  this,  as  a  crab  does  to  a 
crab.  Canst  thou  tell  why  one's  nose  stands  i'  the 
middle  on's  face  ? 

Lear.  No. 

Fool.  W^hy,  to  keep  one's  eyes  of  either  side  's  nose ; 
that  what  a  man  cannot  smell  out,  he  may  spy  into. 

Lear.  I  did  her  wrong. — 

Fool.  Canst  tell  how  an  oyster  makes  his  shell? 

Lfiar.  No. 

I  at  task  :  in  folio.    *  i  coa  -what :  in  quartos. 


SC.  I. 


KING    LEAR.  289 


Fool.  Nor  I  neither ;  but  I  can  tell  why  a  snail  has 
a  house. 

Lear.  Why? 

Fool.  Wliy,  to  put  his  head  in ;  not  to  give  it  away 
to  his  daughters,  and  leave  his  horns  without  a  case. 

Lear.  I  will  forget  my  nature. — So  kind  a  father  ! — 
Be  my  horses  ready  ? 

Fool.  Thy  aj^ses  are  gone  about  'em.  The  reason 
why  the  seven  stars  are  no  more  than  seven  is  a  pretty 
reason. 

Lear.  Because  they  are  not  eight? 

Fool.  Yes,  indeed.     Thou  wouidest  make  a  good  fool. 

Lear.  To  take  it  again  perforce  ! — Monster  ingrati- 
tude ! 

Fool.  If  thou  wert  my  fool,  nuncle,  I  'd  have  thee 
beaten  for  being  old  before  thy  time. 

Lear.  How  's  that  ? 

Fool.  Thou  shouldst  not  have  been  old  before  thou 
hadst  been  wise. 

Lear.  0,  let  me  not  be  mad,  not  mad,  sweet  heaven  ! 
Keep  me  in  temper  :  I  would  not  be  mad  ! — 

Enter  Gentleman. 
How  now  !     Are  the  horses  ready  ? 

Gent.  Ready,  my  lord. 

Lear.  Come,  boy. 

Fool.  She  that  "s  a  maid  now,  and  laughs  at  my  de- 
parture, 
Shall  not  be  a  maid  long,  unless  things  be  cut  shorter. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I.— A  Court  within  the  Castle  of  the  Earl  of 
Gloster. 

Enter  Edmund  and  Curan,  meeting. 

Edm..  Save  thee,  Curan. 

Cur.  And  you,  sir.  I  have  been  with  your  father, 
and  given  him  notice,  that  the  duke  of  Cornwall,  and 
Regan  his  duchess,  will  be  here  with  him  to-night. 

Vol.  VII.— 25 


290  KING    LEAR.  ACT  11. 

Edm.  How  comes  that  ? 

Ctir.  Nay,  I  know  not.  You  have  heard  of  the  news 
abroad  :  I  mean,  the  whispered  ones,  for  they  are  yet 
but  ear-bussing  arguments. 

Edm.  Not  I:  pray  you.  what  are  they? 

Cvr.  Have  you  lieard  of  no  likely  wars  toward, 
'twixt  the  dukes  of  Cornwall  and  Albany? 

Edm.  Not  a  word. 

Cur.  You  may  do,^  then,  in  time.     Fare  you  well, 
sir.  [Exit. 

Edm.  The    duke   be    here   to-night  ?     The   better ! 
Best! 
This  weaves  itself  perforce  into  my  business. 
_  My  father  hath  set  guard  to  take  my  brother : 
And  I  have  one  thing,  of  a  queazy  question. 
Which  I  must  act. — Briefness,  and  fortune,  work  l^ — 
Brother,  a  word  : — descend  : — brother.  I  say  ! 

Enter  Edgar. 
My  father  watches. — 0  sir !  fly  this  place  ; 
Intelligence  is  given  where  you  are  hid : 
You  have  now  the  good  advantage  of  the  night. — 
Have  you  not  spoken  'gainst  the  duke  of  Cornwall? 
He  's  coming  hither  :   now.  i'  the  night,  in  haste, 
And  Regan  with  him  :  have  you  nothing  said 
Upon  his  party  'gainst  the  duke  of  Albany  ? 
Advise  yourself.^ 

Edg.  I  am  sure  on  't,  not  a  word. 

Edm.  I  hear  my  father  coming. — Pardon  me; 
In  cunning,  I  must  draw  my  sword  upon  you  : 
Draw  :  seem  to  defend  yourself.     Now  'quit  you  well. 
Yield  : — come  before  my  father  ; — Light,  ho  !  here  ! — 
Fly,  brother; — Torches  !  torches  ! — So,  farewell. — 

[Exit  EDG.iR. 

Some  blood  drawn  on  me  would  beget  opinion 

[Wound.'?  his  arm. 
Of  my  more  fierce  endeavour  :  I  have  seen  drunkards 
Do  more  than  this  in  sport. — Father  !  father  ! 
Stop,  stop  !     No  help  ? 

Enter  Gloster,  and  Servants  with  Torches. 
Glo.  Now,  Edmund,  where  's  the  villain  ? 
Edm.  Here  stood  he  in  the  dark,  his  sharp  sword  out, 
Mumbling*  of  wicked  charms,  conjuring  the  moon 

1  Not  in  quarto.  ^  "Which  must  ask — briefness  and  fortune  help: 
in  quartos.      ^  your  :  in  quartos.    *  Warbling  :  in  quartos. 


SC.  I.  KING    LEAK.  291 

To  stand  auspicious  mistress. 

Glo.  But  where  is  lie  ? 

Edm.  Look,  sir,  I  bleed. 

Glo.  Where  is  the  villain,  Edmund  ? 

Edm.  Fled  this  way.  sir.     When  by  no  means  he 
could — 

Glo.  Pursue  him,  ho  ! — Go  after. — [Exit  Serv.]  By 
no  means. — what  ? 

Edm.  Persuade  me  to  the  murder  of  your  lordship; 
But  that  I  told  him.  the  revenging  gods 
'Gainst  parricides  did  all  their  thunders'  bend ; 
Spoke,  with  how  manifold  and  strong  a  bond 
The  child  was  bound  to  the  father ; — sir,  in  fine, 
Seeing  how  loathly  opposite  I  stood 
To  his  unnatural  purpose,  in  fell  motion. 
With  his  prepared  sword  he  charges  home 
My  unprovided  body,  lanc"d  mine  arm : 
But  whether  he  saw  my  best  alarum'd  spirits, 
Bold  in  the  quarrel's  right,  rous'd  to  th'  encounter, 
Or  whether  gasted  by  the  noise  I  made, 
Full  suddenly  he  fled. 

Glo.  Let  him  fly  far : 

Not  in  this  land  shall  he  remain  uncaught; 
And  found,  dispatch'd'. — The  noble  duke  my  master, 
My  worthy  arch^'  and  patron,  comes  to-night : 
By  his  authority  I  will  proclaim  it, 
That  he,  which  finds  him,  shall  deserve  our  thanks, 
Bringing  the  murderous  coward*  to  the  stake ; 
He,  that  conceals  him,  death. 

Edm.  When  I  dissuaded  him  from  his  intent, 
And  found  him  pight^  to  do  it,  with  curst  speech 
I  threatened  to  discover  him :  he  replied, 
'•  Thou  unpossessing  bastard  !   dost  thou  think, 
If  1  would  stand  against  thee,  woLild  the  reposal* 
Of  any  trust,  virtue,  or  worth,  in  thee 
Make  thy  words  faith'd  ?     No  :  what  I  should  deny. 
(As  this  T  would;  although  thou  didst  produce 
My  very  character)  I  'd  turn  it  all 
To  thy  suggestion,  plot,  and  damned  practice :' 
And  thou  must  make  a  dullard  of  the  world. 
If  they  not  thought  the  profits  of  my  death 

1  the  thunder  :  in  folio.  ^  dispatch  :  in  f.  e.  ^  Chief.  *  caitiff: 
in  quartos.  ^  Delermined.  «  could  the  reposure  :  in  quartos,  'pre- 
tence :  in  quartos. 


292  KING    LEAR,  A.CT  H. 

"Were  very'  pregnant  and  potential  spurs' 
To  make  thee  seek  it."' 

GIo.  Strong'  and  fasten'd  villain! 

Would  he  deny  his  letter  ?' — I  never  got  him. 

[Tucket  within. 
Hark  !    the   duke"s   trumpets.     I    know   not   why   he 

comes. — 
All  ports  I  '11  bar :  the  villain  shall  not  'scape  : 
The  duke  must  grant  me  that :  besides,  his  picture 
I  will  send  far  and  near,  that  all  the  kingdom 
May  have  due  note  of  him  ;  and  of  my  land, 
Loyal  and  natural  boy.  I  '11  work  the  means 
To  make  thee  capable. 

Enter  Cornwall.  Eegan.  and  Attendants. 
Corn.  How  now,   my  noble  friend  !    since   I   came 
hither, 
(Which  I  can  call  but  now)  1  have  heard  strange  news*. 

Rco-.  If  it  be  true,  all  vengeance  comes  too  short. 
Which  can  pursue  th'  offender.     How  dost,  my  lord  ? 
Glo.  0.  madam  !  my  old  heart  is  crack'd.  it  "s  crack'd. 
Reg.  What !  did  my  father's  godson  seek  your  life  ? 
He  whom  my  father  nam'd?  your  heir.'  your  Edgar  ? 
Glo.  0.  lady,  lady  !  shame  would  have  it  hid. 
Reg.  Was  he'  companion  with  the  riotous  knights 
That  tend  upon  my  father? 

Glo.  I  know  not,  madam  :  't  is  too  bad,  too  bad. — 
Edm.  Yes,  madam,  yes  ;'  he  was  of  that  consort. 
Reg.  No  marvel,  then,  though  he  were  ill-affected  : 
'T  is  they  have  put  him  on  the  old  man's  death, 
To  have  th'  expense  and  waste  of  his  revenues. 
I  have  this  present  evening  from  my  sister 
Been  well  inform"d  of  them  :  and  w^ith  such  cautions, 
That  if  they  come  to  sojourn  at  my  house, 
I  '11  not  be  there. 

Corn.  Nor  I,  assure  thee,  Regan. — 

Edmund.  I  hear  that  you  have  shown  your  father 
A  child-like  office. 

Edm.  'Twas  my  duty,  sir. 

Glo.  He  did  be\ATay®  his  practice  ;  and  receiv'd 
This  hurt  you  see,  striving  to  apprehend  him. 

I  spirits  :  in  folio.  2  0,  strange  :  in  folio.  3  Folio  adds,  "  said  he," 
and  omits  the  rest  of  the  line.  *  stranseness  :  in  folio.  *  '•  your 
heir,"  is  not  in  f.  e.  '  he  not :  in  f.  e.  '  he  was  :  in  f.  e.  8  betray  : 
in  quartos. 


8C.  II.  KING    LEAR. 


293 


Corn.  Is  he  pursued  ? 

Glo.  Ay,  my  good  lord,  he  is. 

Corn.  If  he  be  taken,  he  shall  never  more 
Be  fear'd  of  doing  harm  :  make  your  own  purpose, 
How  in  my  strength  you  please — As  for  you,  Edmund, 
Whose  virtue  and  obedience  doth  this  instant 
So  much  commend  itself,  you  shall  be  ours  : 
Natures  of  such  deep  trust  we  shall  much  need  : 
You  we  iirst  seize  on. 

Edm,  I  shall  serve  you,  sir, 

Truly,  however  else. 

Qlo.  For  him  I  thank  your  grace. 

Corn.  You  know  not  why  we  came  to  visit  you. 

Reg.  Thus  out  of  season,  threading  dark-ey'd  night. 
Occasions,  noble  Gloster,  of  some  poize,' 
Wherein  we  must  have  use  of  your  advice. 
Our  father  he  hath  writ,  so  hath  our  sister, 
Of  differences,  which  I  best  thought  fit 
To  answer  from  our  home :  the  several  messengers 
From  hence  attend  despatch.     Our  good  old  friend, 
Lay  comforts  to  our  bosom,  and  bestow 
Your  needful  counsel  to  our  business,^ 
Which  craves  the  instant  use. 

Qlo.  I  serve  you,  madam. 

Your  graces  are  right  welcome.  [Exeuni. 

SCENE  II. — Before  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Kent  and  Oswald,  severally. 
Osw.  Good  dawning^  to  thee,    friend :    art  of  this* 

house  ? 
Kent.  Ay. 

Osio.  Where  may  we  set  our  horses? 
Kent.  V  the  mire. 

Osw.  Pr'ythee,  if  thou  love  me,  tell  me. 
Kent.  I  love  thee  not. 
Osw.  Why,  then  I  care  not  for  thee. 
Kent.  If   i  had  thee  in   Finsbury*  pinfold,  I  would 
make  thee  care  for  me. 

Osw.  Why  dost  thou  use  me  thus  ?   I  know  thee  not. 

Kent.  Fellow,  I  know  thee. 

Osw.  What  dost  thou  know  me  for  ? 

Kent.  A  knave,  a  rascal,  an  eater  of  broken  meats ; 

1  prize  :  in   folio.      ^  businesses  :    in   folio.      '  even  :  in  quartos. 
*  the  :  in  quaitos.     *  Lipsbury  :  in  f  e. 

25* 


294  KING    LEAR.  ACT  H. 

a  base,  proud,  sliallow,  beggarly,  three-suited,  hundred- 
pound,  filthy,  worsted-stocking  knave:  a  lily-liver' d, 
action-taking  knave,  a  whoreson,  glass-gazing,  super- 
serviceable,  finical  rogue:  one-trunk-inaeriting  slave; 
one  that  wouldest  be  a  bawd,  in  way  of  good  service, 
and  art  nothing  but  the  composition  of  a  knave,  beg- 
gar, coward,  pandar,  and  the  son  and  heir  of  a  mongrel 
bitch :  one  whom  I  will  beat  into  clamorous  whining, 
if  thou  deniest  the  least  syllable  of  thy  addition. 

Osw.  Why,  what  a  monstrous  fellow  art  thou,  thus 
to  rail  on  one.  that  is  neither  known  of  thee,  nor 
knows  thee. 

Ke77t.  What  a  brazen-faced  varlet  art  thou,  to  deny 
thou  know^est  me.  Is  it  two  days  since  I  tripped  up 
thy  heels,  and  beat  thee,  before  the  king?  Draw,  you 
rogue :  for,  though  it  be  night,  yet  the  moon  shines  : 
I  '11  make  a  sop  o'  the  moonshine  of  you  :  [Drawing  his 
Sword.]  Draw,  you  whoreson  cullionly  barber-monger, 
draw. 

Osiv.  Away  !  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  thee. 

Kent.  Draw,  you  rascal :  you  come  with  letters 
against  the  king,  and  take  Vanity,  the  puppet's^  part, 
against  the  royalty  of  her  father.  Draw,  you  rogue,  or 
I  '11  so  carbonado  your  shanks : — draw,  you  rascal ; 
come  your  ways. 

Osw.  Help,  ho !  murder  !  help  ! 

Kent.  Strike,  you  slav»8  :  stand,  rogue,  stand  ;  you 
neat  slave,  strike.  [Beating  him. 

Osw.  Help,  ho  !  murder  !  murder ! 

Enter  CoRNW.iLL.  Reg.\n,  Gloster,  Edmund,  and 
Servants. 

Edm.  How  now  !     What  "s  the  matter  ?     Part.^ 

Keiit.  With  you,  goodman  boy,  if  you  please  :  come, 
I  '11  flesh  you  ;  come  on.  young  master. 

GIo.  Weapons  !   arms  !     What  "s  the  matter  here  ? 

Corn.  Keep  peace,  upon  your  lives : 
He  dies  that  strikes  again.     What  is  the  matter  ? 

Reg.  The  messengers  from  our  sister  and  the  king. 

Corn.  What  is  your  difference  ?  speak. 

Osw.  I  am  scarce  in  breath,  my  lord. 

Kent.  No  marvel,  you  have  so  bestirred  your  valour. 

I  A  contemptuous  term  for  a  •woman. — Dyce.  ^  Not  in  quartos> 
Dyce  says,  it  is  a  stage  direction. 


SC.  II.  KING    LEAR,  295 

You  cowardly  rascal,  nature  disclaims  in  thee  :  a  tailor 
made  thee. 

Corn.  Thou  art  a  strange  fellow :  a  tailor  make  a  man? 

Kent.  Ay,  a  tailor,  sir :  a  stone-cutter,  or  a  painter, 
could  not  have  made  him  so  ill,  though  they  had  been 
but  two  hours-  at  the  trade. 

Corn.  Speak  yet,  how  grew  your  quarrel  ? 

Osw.  This  ancient  ruffian,  sir,  whose  life  I  have 
At  suit  of  his  grey  beard, —  [spared 

Kent.  Thou,  whoreson  zed  ?  thou,  unnecessary  letter? 
— My  lord,  if  you  will  give  me  leave.  I  will  tread  this 
unbolted  villain  into  mortar,  and  daub  the  wall  of  a 
Jakes  with  him. — Spare  my  grey  beard,  you  wagtail? 

Corn.  Peace,  sirrah! 
You  beastly  knave,  know  you  no  reverence  ? 

Kent.  Yes.  sir ;  but  anger  hath  a  privilege. 

Corn.  Why  art  thou  angry? 

Kent.  That  such  a  slave  as  this  should  wear  a  sword, 
"Who  wears  no  honesty.    Such  smiling  rogues  as  these, 
Like  rats,  oft  bite  the  holy  cords  atwain 
Which  are  too  intrinse  t'  unloose  ;  smooth  every  passion 
That  in  the  natiires  of  their  lords  rebels  : 
Bring  oil  to  fire,  snow  to  their  colder  moods: 
Renege^,  affirm,  and  turn  their  halcyon*  beaks 
With  every  gale  and  vary  of  their  masters. 
And  knowing  nought,  like  dogs,  but  following. — 
A  plague  upon  your  epileptic  visage  ! 
Smile  at  my  speeches,  as  I  were  a  fool  ? 
Goose,  if  I  had  you  upon  Sarum  plain, 
I'd  drive  ye  cackling  home  to  Camelot^. 

Corn.  What,  art  thou  mad,  old  fellow? 

Glo.  How  fell  you  out  ?  say  that. 

Kent.  No  contraries  hold  more  antipathy. 
Than  I  and  such  a  knave. 

Corn.  Why  dost  thou  call  him  knave  ?     What 's  his 
offiince  ? 

Kent.  His  countenance  likes  me  not. 

Corn.  No  more,  perchance,  does  mine,  nor  his,  nor 
hers. 

Kent.  Sir,  't  is  my  occupation  to  be  plain : 

1  years  :  in  folio.  =  Tightly  knotted.  '  Deny  ;  Revenge  :  in  folio. 
♦  The  l-ingfifher.  It  was  a  popular  belief  that  this  bird,  if  hung  up, 
•would  turn  his  beak  the  way  the  wind  blew.  =  In  Somersetshire. 
King  Arthur  here  kept  his  court. 


296  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

I  have  seen  better  faces  in  my  time, 
Than  stand  on  any  shoulders  that  I  see 
Before  me  at  this  instant. 

Corn.  This  is  some  fellow, 

Who,  having  been  prais'd  for  bluntness,  doth  affect 
A  saucy  roughness,  and  constrains  the  garb 
Quite  from  his  nature :  he  cannot  flatter,  he  ; 
An  honest  iniad  and  plain,' — he  must  speak  truth  : 
An  they  will  take  it,  so  ;  if  not,  he  's  plain. 
These  kind  of  knaves  I  know,  which  in  this  plainness 
Harbour  more  craft,  and  more  corrupter  ends, 
Than  twenty  silly  ducking  observants. 
That  stretch  their  duties  nicely. 

Kent.  Sir,  in  good  sooth,  in  sincere  verity. 
Under  th'  allowance  of  your  grand  aspect. 
Whose  influence,  like  the  wreath  of  radiant  fire, 
On  flickering  Phoebus'  front, — 

Corn.  What  mean'st  by  this  ? 

Kent.  To  go  out  of  my  dialect,  which  you  discom- 
mend so  much.  I  know,  sir,  I  am  no  flatterer  :  he 
that  beguiled  you  in  a  plain  accent  was  a  plain  knave  ; 
which,  for  my  part,  I  will  not  be,  though  I  should  win 
your  displeasure  to  entreat  me  to  't. 

Corn.  What  was  the  offence  you  gave  him  ? 

Osw.  I  never  gave  him  any. 
It  pleas'd  the  king,  his  master,  very  late, 
To  strike  at  me  upon  his  misconstruction  ; 
When  he.  compact^,  and  flattering  his  displeasure, 
Trippd  me  behind  ;  being  down,  insulted,  rail'd, 
And  put  upon  him  such  a  deal  of  man, 
That  worthied  him,  got  praises  of  the  king 
For  him  attempting  who  was  self-subdu'd; 
And,  in  the  fleshment  of  this  dread  exploit, 
Drew  on  me  here  again. 

Kent.  None  of  these  rogues,  and  cowards, 

But  Ajax  is  their  fool. 

Corn.  Fetch  forth  the  stocks  ! 

You^  stubborn  ancient  knave,  you  reverend  braggart, 
We  '11  teach  you — 

Kent.  Sir,  I  am  too  old  to  learn. 

Call  not  your  stocks  for  me ;  I  serve  the  king, 
On  whose  employment  I  was  sent  to  you : 

1  he  must  be  plain  :  in  quartos.      2  conjunct :   in  quartos.     ^  Yo^i 
miscreant  knave  :  in  quartos. 


SC.  II.  KING   LEAR. 


297 


You  shall  do  small  respect,  show  too  bold  malice 
Against  the  grace  and  person  of  my  master, 
Stocking  his  messenger. 

Corn.  Fetch  forth  the  stocks  ! 

As  I  have  life  and  honour,  there  shall  he  sit  till  noon. 

Reg.  Till  noon  !  till  night,  my  lord  ;  and  allnight  too. 

Keiit.  Why,  madam,  if  I  were  your  father's  dog, 
You  should  not  use  me  so. 

jlgtr.  Sir,  being  his  knave,  I  will. 

°'  [Stocks  brought  out. 

Corn.  This  is  a  fellow  of  the  self-same  colour 
Our  sister  speaks  of.— Come,  bring  away  the  stocks. 

Gh.  Let  me  beseech  your  grace  not  to  do  so. 
His  fault  is  much,  and  the  good  king  his  master' 
Will  check  him  for  't :  your  purpos'd  low  correction 
Is  such,  as  basest  and  contemned'st  wretches. 
For  pilferinss  and  most  common  trespasses, 
Are  punish"d  with.     The  king  must  take  it  ill. 
That  he,  so  slightly  valued  in  his  messenger, 
Should  have  him  thus  restrain'd. 

Qoffi.  I''l  answer  that. 

Reg.  My  sister  may  receive  it  much  more  worse, 
To  have  her  gentleman  abus'd,  assaulted. 
For  following  her  affairs.— Put  in  his  legs.— ^ 

[Kent  is  set  in  the  Stocks. 

Come,  my  lord.  away. 

[Exeunt  Regan  and  Cornwall. 
Glo.  I  am  sorry  for  thee,  friend;  't  is  the  duke's 
pleasure, 
Wliose  disposition,  all  the  world  well  knoM^s, 
Will  not  be  rubb'd,  nor  stopp'd  :  I  '11  entreat  for  thee. 
Kent.  Pray,  do  not,  sir.     I  have  watch  d,  and  tra- 
vell'd  hard : 
Some  time  I  shall  sleep  out,  the  rest  I  '11  whistle : 
A  good  man's  fortune  may  gi'ow  out  at  heels. 
Give  you  good  morrow  ! 

Glo   The  duke  's  to  blame  in  this  :  't  will  be  ill  taken. 

[Exit. 
Kent.  Good  king,   that  must  approve   the  common 
saw  :- — 

1  This  and  the  following  lines,  to   "The  king,"  aie  not  in  folio. 
2  This  line  is  not  in  folio. 

3  In  vour  running  from  him  to  me, 
Yerunoutof  God's  blessing  into  the  warm  sun. 

Heyiiocjd's  Proverbs  ;  quoted  by  Knight. 


298  KINa   LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Thou  out  of  heaven's  benediction  com'st 

To  the  warm  sun. 

Approach,  thou  beacon  to  this  under  globe, 

That  by  thy  comfortable  beams  I  may 

Peruse  this  letter. — Nothing  almost  sees  miracles,^ 

But  misery  : — 1  know,  't  is  from  Cordelia; 

Who  hath  most  fortunately  been  inform'd 

Of  my  obscured  course ;  and  shall  iind  time 

From  this  enormous  state, — seeking  to  give 

Losses  their  remedies. — All  weary  and  o'er-watch'd, 

Take  vantage,  heavy  eyes,  not  to  behold 

This  shameful  lodging.     Fortune,  good  night ; 

Smile  once  more ;  turn  thy  wheel !  [He  sleeps. 

SCENE  in.— A  Part  of  the  Heath. 
Enter  Edgar. 

Edg.  I  heard  myself  proclaim'd  ; 
And  by  the  happy  hollow  of  a  tree 
Escap'd  the  hunt.     No  port  is  free  ;  no  place, 
That  guard,  and  most  unusual  vigilance, 
Does  not  attend  my  taking-     While  I  may  'scape, 
I  will  preserve  myself;  and  am  bethought 
To  take  the  basest  and  most  poorest  shape. 
That  ever  penury,  in  contempt  of  man. 
Brought  near  to  beast :  my  face  I  '11  grime  with  filth, 
Blanket  my  loins,  elf  all  my  hair  in  knots, 
And  with  presented  nakedness  out-face 
The  winds,  and  persecvuions  of  the  sky. 
The  country  gives  me  proof  and  precedent 
Of  Bedlam  beggars,'^  who,  with  roaring  voices, 
Strike  in  their  numb'd  and  mortified  bare  arms 
Pins,  wooden  pricks,  nails,  sprigs  of  rosemary  ; 
And  with  this  horrible  object,  from  low  farms,^ 
Poor  pelting*  villages,  sheep-cotes  and  mills, 
Sometime  with  lunatic  bans,  sometime  with  prayers, 

1  my  wrack  :  in  quartos,  spoor  distracted  men,  that  had  been  put 
into  Bedlam,  where  recoverinR  some  soberness,  they  were  licentiated 
to  go  a  bejrRinii ;  ?.  e.  they  liad  on  their  left  arm,  an  armilla,  an  iron 
ring  for  the  arm,  about  four  inches  long,  as  printed  in  some  works. 
They  could  not  <;et  it  off:  they  wore  about  their  necks  a  great  horn 
of  an  ox.  in  a  string  or  bawdrick,  which,  when  they  came  to  a  house, 
they  did  wind,  and  they  put  tlie  drink  given  to  them  into  this  horn, 
whereto  they  put  a  stopple. — Aubrey's  MSS.  ;  quoted  by  D'Israeli. 
There  were  imposlors  even  among  these  wretches.  =  service  •.  in 
quartos.     *  Petty. 


SC.  IV, 


KING   LEAR.  299 


Enforce  their  charity. — Poor  Turlygood  !'  poor  Tom! 
That 's  something  yet : — Edgar  I  nothing  am.       [Exit. 

SCENE  IV.— Before  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Lear,  Fool,  and  a  Gentleman. 

Lear.  'T  is  strange  that  they  should  so  depart  from 
home, 
And  not  send  back  my  messenger. 

Gent.  As  I  learn'd, 

The  night  before  there  was  no  purpose  in  them 
Of  this  remove. 

Kent.  Hail  to  thee,  noble  master  !   [Waking.^ 

Lear.  Ha  ! 
Mak'st  thou  this  shame  thy  pastime  ? 

Kent.  No,  my  lord. 

Fool.  Ha,  ha  !  look  :  he  wears  cruel  garters.  Horses 
are  tied  by  the  head ;  dogs,  and  bears,  by  the  neck ; 
monkeys  by  the  loins,  and  men  by  the  legs.  When  a 
man  i.s  over-lusty  at  legs,  then  he  wears  wooden 
netherstocks. 

Lear.  What 's  he,  that  hath  so  much  thy  place  mis- 
took. 
To  set  thee  here  ' 

Kent.  It  is  both  he  and  she  : 

Yoixr  son  and  daughter. 

Lear.  No. 

Kent.  Yes. 

Lear.  No,  I  say. 

Kent.  I  say,  yea. 

Lear.  No,  no ;  they  would  not. 

Kent.  Yes,  they  have. 

Lear.  By  Jupiter,  I  swear  no. 

Kent.  By  Juno.  I  swear,  ay.* 

Lear.  They  durst  not  do  't ; 

They  could   not,    would  not   do 't :    't  is   worse  than 

murder, 
To  do  upon  respect  such  violent  outrage. 
Resolve  me  with  all  modest  haste  which  way 
Thou  mightst  deserve,  or  they  impose,  this  usage, 
Coming  from  us. 

1  Supposed  by  Douce,  to  allude  to  the  Turlepins.  or  Bcghards,  a  set 
of  fanatics  of  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries,  who  went 
about  howling  like  wolves,  in  their  frenzies.  "  Not  in  f.  e.  '  This 
and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  folio.  *  This  speech  is  not  in 
quartos. 


300  KING    LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Kent.  My  lord,  when  at  their  home 

I  did  commend  your  highness'  letters  to  them, 
Ere  I  was  risen  from  the  place  that  show'd 
My  duty  kneeling,  came  there  a  reeking  post, 
Stew'd  in  his  haste,  half-breathless,  panting  forth 
From  Goneril,  his  mistress,  salutation; 
Deliver"cl  letters,  spite  of  intermission, 
Which  presently  they  read :  on  whose  contents. 
They  suminon'd  up  their  meiny^  straight  took  horse  ; 
Commanded  me  to  follow,  and  attend 
The  leisure  of  their  answer  ;  gave  me  cold  looks : 
And  meeting  here  the  other  messenger. 
Whose  welcome.  I  perceiv'd,  had  poison'd  mine, 
(Being  the  very  fellow  which  of  late 
Display"d  so  saucily  against  your  highness) 
Having  more  man  than  wit  about  me.  drew : 
He  rais'd  the  house  with  loud  and  coward  cries. 
Your  son  and  daughter  found  this  trespass  worth 
The  shame  which  here  it  suffers. 

Fool''  Winter  's  not  gone   yet,  if  the  wild  geese  fly 
that  way. 

Fathers,  that  wear  rags. 

Do  make  their  children  blind  ; 
But  fathers,  that  bear  bags, 

Shall  see  their  children  kind. 
Fortune,  that  arrant  whore, 
Ne'er  turns  the  key  to  the  poor. — 
But,  for  all  this,  it  follows, 
Thou  shalt  have  as  many  dolours 
For  thy  daughters  dear, 
As  thou  canst  tell  in  a  year.^ 
Lear.  0,  how  this  mother  swells  up  toward  my  heart ! 
Hysterica  passio  !  do^^^l,  thou  climbing  sorrow. 
Thy  element  's  below. — Where  is  this  daughter  ? 
Kent.  With  the  earl,  sir  •  here,  within. 
Lear.  Follow  me  not : 

Stay  here.  [Exit. 

Gent.  Made  you  no   more  offence  than  what  you 

speak  of? 
Kent.  None. 
How  chance  the  king  comes  with  so  small  a  train  ? 

1  Retinue.     ^  This  speech  is  not  in  quartos.      '  f.  e.   give  the  last 
four  lines  as  prose,  and  omit  the  -words,   "  it  follows,"  and  "  dear."_ 


SC.  IV. 


KING    LEAR.  301 


Fool.  An  thou  hadst  been  set  i'  the  stocks  for  that 
question,  thou  hadst  well  deserv'd  it. 
Kent.  Why,  fool  ? 

Fool.  We  '11  set  thee  to  school  to  an  ant,  to  teach 
thee  there  's  no  labouring  i'  the  winter.  All  that  fol- 
low their  noses  are  led  by  their  eyes,  but  blind  men ; 
and  there  's  not  a  nose  among  twenty  but  can  smell 
him  that  's  stinking.  Let  go  thy  hold,  when  a  great 
wheel  runs  down  a  hill,  lest  it  break  thy  neck  with 
following  it :  but  the  great  one  that  goes  up  the  hill,' 
let  him  draw  thee  after.  When  a  wise  man  gives 
thee  better  counsel,  give  me  mine  again  :  I  would  have 
none  but  knaves  follow  it,  since  a  fool  gives  it. 

That  sir,  which  serves  and  seeks  for  gain, 

And  follows  but  for  form, 
Will  pack  when  it  begins  to  rain, 

And  leave  thee  in  the  storm. 
But  I  will  tarry ;  the  fool  will  stay, 

And  let  the  \^•ise  man  fly  : 
The  fool  turns  knave''  that  runs  away, 
The  knave  no  fool,"  perdy. 
Kent.  W^here  learn'd  you  this,  fool  ? 
Fool.  Not  i'  the  stocks,  fool. 

Re-enter  Lear,  ivith  Glopter. 
Lear.  Deny  to  speak  with  me  ?  They  are  sick?  they 


are  wearv 


9 


They  have  travelfd  hard  to-night*  ?     Mere  fetches, 
The  images  of  revolt  and  flying  off. 
Fetch  me  a  better  answer. 

Qlo.  My  dear  lord. 

You  know  the  fiery  quality  of  the  duke  ; 
How  um-emovable  and  fixd  he  is 
In  his  own  course. 

Lear.  Vengeance  !  plague  !  death  !  confusion  ! — 
Fiery  ?  what^  quality  ?     ^Vhy,  Gloster,  Gloster. 
I  'd  speak  with  the  duke  of  Cornwall  and  his  wife. 

Glo.  Well,  my  good  lord,  I  have  inform'd  them  so.* 

Lear.  Iuform"d  them !     Dost  thou  understand  me, 
man  ? 

Glo.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

I  -ap-n-ards  :  in  folio.  ^  Xhe  knave  turns  fool  :  in  f.  e.  ^  The  fool 
no  knave  :  in  f.  e.  *  all  the  night  :  in  folio.  *  what  fiery :  in 
qxiaito.      6  This  and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  folio. 

Vol.  Vn.— 2G 


302  KING   LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Lear.  The  king  -would  speak  -with  Corn-wall;  the 
dear  father 
Would  \iith  his  daughter  speak,  commands  her  service : 
Are  they  inform' d  of  this  ?     ]\Iy  breath  and  blood  ! — 
Fieryi  ?  the  fiery  duke?— Tell  the  hot  duke,  that'— 
No,  but  not  yet : — may  be,  he  is  not  -sA'ell : 
Infirmity  doth  still  neglect  all  office, 
Whereto  our  health  is  bound  :  we  are  not  ourselves, 
When  nature,  being  oppressed,  commands  the  mind 
To  suffer  -with  the  body.     I  '11  forbear ; 
And  am  fallen  out  with  my  more  headier  will, 
To  take  the  indispos'd  and  sickly  fit 
For  the  sound  man. — Death  on  my  state  !  wherefore 

[Pointing  to  Kent. 
Shpuld  he  sit  here  ?     This  act  persuades  me. 
That  this  rcmotion  of  the  duke  and  her 
Is  practice  only.     Give  me  my  servant  forth. 
Go,  tell  the  duke  and  's  -wife,  I  'd  speak  with  them, 
Now,  presently  :  bid  them  come  forth  and  hear  me, 
Or  at  their  chamber  door  I  "11  beat  the  drum, 
Till  it  cry — "  Sleep  to  death. ''" 

GIo.  I  would  have  all  well  betwixt  you.  [Exit. 

Lear.  O  me  !  my  heart,  my  rising  heart  ! — but,  do%\ii. 

Fool.  Cry  to  it,  nuncle,  as  the  cockney  did  to  the 
eels,  when  she  put  them  i'  the  paste  alive  ;  she  knapp'd 
'em  o'  the  coxcombs  with  a  stick,  and  cried,  "  Down, 
wantons,  down  :"'  't  was  her  brother,  that  in  pure  kind- 
ness to  his  hor.^e  butter'd  his  hay. 

Enter  Cornwall,  Reoan.  Gloster,  and  Servants. 

Lear.  Good  morrow  to  you  both. 

Corn.       Hail  to  your  grace  !   [Kent  is  set  at  liberty. 

Reg.  I  am  glad  to  see  your  highness. 

Lear.  Regan,  I  think  you  are  ;  I  know  what  reason 
I  have  to  think  so  :  if  thou  shouldst  not  be  glad, 
I  would  divorce  thee  from  thy  mother's  tomb, 
Sepulchring  an  adult'ress. — 0  !  are  you  free  ?  [To  Kent. 
Some  other  time  for  that. — Beloved  Regan. 
Thy  sister  's  naught:  0  Regan  !  she  hath  tied 
Sharp'd-tooth'd  unkindness.  like  a  vulture,  here. — 

[Points  to  his  heart. 
I  can  scarce  speak  to  thee  :  thou  'It  not  believe, 
With  how  deprav'd  a  quality — 0  Regan  ! — 

Reg.  I  pray  ^ou,  sir,  take  patience.     I  have  hope, 

1  Not  in  quarto.      ^  "  Leaj,''  is  added  in  quarto. 


SC.   IV.  KING    LEAR.  303 

You  less  know  how  to  value  her  desert, 
Than  she  to  scant'  her  duty. 

Lear.  Say,  how  is  that  ?^ 

Reg.  I  cannot  think,  my  sister  in  the  least, 
Would  fail  her  obligation  :  if,  sir,  perchance, 
She  have  restrain'd  the  riots  of  your  followers, 
'T  is  on  such  ground,  and  to  such  wholesome  end, 
As  clears  her  from  all  blame. 

Lear.  My  curses  on  her  ! 

Reg.  0,  sir  !  you  are  old ; 

Natl^re  in  you  stands  on  the  very  verge 
Of  her^onfine  :  you  should  be  rul'd.  and  led 
By  some  discretion,  that  discerns  your  state 
Better  than  you  yourself.     Therefore,  I  pray  you, 
That  to  our  sister  you  do  make  return : 
Say,  you  have  wrong"d  her,  sir. 

Lear.  Ask  her  forgiveness  ? 

Do  you  but  mark  how  this  becomes  the  mouth  :^ 
'•  Dear  daughter,  I  confess  that  I  am  old  : 
Age  is  imnecessary  :  on  my  knees  I  beg.        [Kneeling. 
That  you  "11  vouchsafe  me  raiment,  bed,  and  food."' 

Reg.  Good  sir,  no  more :  these  are  unsightly  tricks. 
Return  you  to  my  sister. 

Lear.  Never,  Regan.  [Rising* 

She  hath  abated  me  of  half  my  train  ; 
Look"d  black  upon  me  ;  struck  me  with  her  tongue. 
Most  serpent-like,  upon  the  very  heart. — 
All  the  stor'd  vengeances  of  heaven  fall 
On  her  ungrateful  top  !     Strike  her  young  bones, 
You  taking  airs,  with  lameness  ! 

Corn.  Fie,  sir.  fie  ! 

Lear.  You  nimble   lightnings,    dart   your   blinding 
flames 
Into  her  scornful  eyes  !     Infect  her  beauty, 
You  fen-suck"d  fogs,  drawn  by  the  powerful  sun, 
To  fall  and  blast^  her  pride  ! 

Reg.  0  the  blest  gods  ! 

So  v,i\\  you  wish  on  me,  when  the  rash  mood  is  on. 

Lear.  No,  Regan  ;  thou  shalt  never  have  my  curse: 
Thy  tender-hearted^  nature  shall  not  give 
Thee  o'er  to  harshness  :  her  eyes  are  fierce  ;  but  thine 

I  slack  :  in  quartos.  =  This  and  the  next  speech,  are  only  in  folia 
3  house  :  in  f.  e.  *  Not  in  f.  e.  *  and  blister  :  in  folio.  '  tender- 
hefted  :  in  f.  e. 


304  KING   LEAR.  ACT  II. 

Do  comfort,  and  not  burn.     "T  is  not  in  thee 
To  gi-udge  my  pleasures,  to  cut  off  my  train, 
To  bandy  hasty  words,  to  scant  my  sizes,' 
And,  in  conclusion,  to  oppose  the  bolt 
Against  my  coming  in :  thou  better  know'st 
The  offices  of  nature,  bond  of  childhood. 
Effects  of  courtesy,  dues  of  gratitude  ; 
Thy  half  o'  the  kingdom  thou  hast  not  forgot. 
Wherein  I  thee  endow'd. 

Reg.  Good  sir,  to  the  purpose. 

Lear.  Who  put  my  man  i'  the  stocks  ?  [Tuckd-  within. 

Corn.  What  trumpet 'S  that  ? 

Eyiter  Oswald. 

Reg.  I  knoAv't ;  my  sister's  :  this  approves  her  letter, 
That  she  would  soon  be  here. — Is  j-our  lady  come? 

Lear.  This  is  a  slave,  whose  easy  borrow'd  pride 
Dwells  in  the  fickle  grace  of  her  he  follows. — 
Out,  varlet,  from  my  sight ! 

Corn.  What  means  your  grace  ? 

Lear.    Who  stocked  my  servant?      Regan,  I   have 
good  hope 
Thou  didst  not  know   on  't. — Who   comes   here  ?     0 
heavens  ! 

Enter  Goneuil. 
If  you  do  love  old  men,  if  your  sweet  sway 
Allow  obedience,  if  yourselves  are  old, 
Make  it  your  cause  ;  send  down,  and  take  my  part ! — 
Art  not  asham'd  to  look  upon  this  beard  ? — 

{To  GONERIL. 

O  Regan  !  wilt  thou  take  her  by  the  hand  ? 

Gon.  Why  not  by  the  hand,  sir  ?     How  have  I  of- 
fended ? 
All 's  not  offence,  that  indiscretion  finds, 
And  dotage  terms  so. 

Lear.  0  sides  !  you  are  too  tough  ; 

Will  you  yet  hold  ?     How  came  my  man  i'  the  stocks  ? 

Corn.  I  set  him  there,  sir;  but  his  own  disorders 
Deservd  much  less  advancement. 

Lear.  You  !  did  you  ? 

Reg.  \  pray  you,  father,  being  weak,  seem  so. 
If,  till  the  expiration  of  your  month. 
You  will  return  and  sojourn  "with  my  sister, 
Dismissing  half  your  train,  come  then  to  me  : 
1  Fixed  allowances.     2  Blast  of  a  trumpet. 


SQ.  IV.  KING    LEAR. 

I  am  now  from  home,  and  out  of  that  provision 
Which  shall  be  needful  for  your  entertainment. 

Lear.  Return  to  her.  and  fifty  men  dismi:<s'd  ? 
No,  rather  I  abjure  all  roofs,  and  choose 
Towage  against  the  enmity  o'  the  air  ; 
To  be  a  comrade  with  the  wolf  and  howl' 
Necessity's  sharp  pinch  ! — Return  with  her  ? 
Why,  the  hot-blooded  France,  that  dowerless  took 
Our  youngest  born,  I  could  as  well  be  brought 
To  knee  his  throne,  and,  squire-like,  pension  beg 
To  keep  base  life  afoot. — Return  with  her  ? 
Persuade  me  rather  to  be  slave  and  sumpter 
To  this  detested  groom.  [Looking  at  Oswald. 

Go7i.  At  your  choice,  sir. 

Lear.  I  pr'ythee,  daughter,  do  not  make  me  mad  : 
I  will  not  trouble  thee,  my  child  :  farewell. 
We  '11  no  more  meet,  no  more  see  one  another  ; 
But  yet  thou  art  my  flesh,  my  blood,  my  daughter  ] 
Or,  rather,  a  disease  that 's'  in  my  flesh. 
Which  1  must  needs  call  mine :  thpvi  art  a  boil, 
A  plague-sore,  an  embossed  carbuncle, 
In  my  corrupted  blood.     But  I  '11  not  chide  thee  ; 
Let  shame  come  when  it  will,  I  do  not  call  it : 
I  do  not  bid  the  thunder-bearer  shoot, 
Nor  tell  tales  of  thee  to  high- judging  Jove. 
Mend,  when  thou  canst ;  be  better,  at  thy  leisure: 
I  can  be  patient ;  I  can  stay  with  Regan, 
I,  and  my  hundred  knights. 

Reg.  Not  altogether  so : 

I  look'd  not  for  you  yet,  nor  am  provided 
For  your  fit  welcome.     Give  ear.  sir,  to  my  sister; 
For  those  that  mingle  reason  vnth.  their  passion, 
Must  be  content  to  think  you  old,  and  so — 
But  she  knows  what  she  does. 

Lear.  Is  this  well  spoken  ? 

Reg.  I  dare  avouch  it,  sir.     What !  fifty  followers  ? 
Is  it  not  well  ?     What  should  you  need  of  more  ? 
Yea,  or  so  many,  sith  that  both  charge  and  danger 
Speak  'gainst  so  great  a  number  ?     How,  in  one  house, 
Should  many  people,  under  two  commands, 
Hold  amity  ?     'T  is  bard  :  almost  impossible.       [ance 

Gon.  Why  might  not  you,  my  lord,  receive  attend- 

1  The  wolf  and  owl.     Necessity's,  &o.:  in  f.  e.      *  that  lies  witiin 
my  flesh  :  in  quartos. 

26* 


306  KING   LEAK,  ACT  H, 

From  those  that  she  calls  servants,  or  from  mine  ? 

Reg.  Why  not,  my  lord  ?     If  then  they  chane'd  to 
slack  you, 
We  could  control  them.     If  you  wall  come  to  me, 
(For  now  I  spy  a  danger)  I  entreat  you 
To  bring  but  five  and  twenty  :  to  no  more 
Will  I  give  place,  or  notice. 

Lear.  I  gave  you  all. 

Reg.  And  in  good  time  you  gave  it. 

Lear.  Made  you  my  guardians,  my  depositaries, 
But  kept  a  reservation  to  be  follow'd 
With  such  a  number.     What  !  must  I  come  to  you 
With  five  and  twenty  ?     Regan,  said  you  so  ? 

Reg.  And  speak 't  again,  my  lord  :  no  more  with  me. 

Lear.    Those    wicked   creatures    yet  do    look  well- 
favour'd, 
When  others  are  more  wicked ;  not  being  the  worst 
Stands  in  some  rank  of  praise. — I  '11  go  with  thee  : 

[To  GONERIL. 

Thy  fifty  yet  doth  double  five  and  twenty, 
And  thou  art  twice  her  love. 

Gon.  Hear  me,  my  lord. 

What  need  you  five  and  twenty,  ten,  or  five, 
To  follow  in  a  house,  where  twice  so  many 
Have  a  command  to  tend  you  ? 

Resr.  What  needs  one  ? 

Lear.  0  !  reason  not  the  need  ;  our  basest  beggars 
Are  in  the  poorest  thing  superfluous  : 
Allow  not  nature  more  than  nature  needs, 
Man's  life  is  cheap  as  beast's.     Thou  art  a  lady  ; 
If  only  to  go  warm  were  gorgeous, 
Why,  nature  needs  not  what  thou  gorgeous  wear'st, 
Which  scarcely  keeps  thee  warm.     But,  for  true  need, — 
You  heavens,  give  me  but  patience,  patience  I  need  ! 
You  see  me  here,  you  gods,  a  poor  old  man,^ 
As  full  of  grief  as  age  ;  wretched  in  both  : 
If  it  be  you  that  stir  these  daughters'  hearts 
Against  their  father,  fool  me  not  so  much 
To  bear  it  tamely  ;  touch  me  with  noble  anger. 

0  !  let  not  women's  weapons,  water-drops, 
Stain  my  man's  cheeks. — No,  you  unnatural  hags, 

1  will  have  such  revenges  on  you  both. 

That  all  the  world  shall — I  will  do  such  things : — 

I  fellow  :  in  quartos. 


BC.  IV.  KING    LEAR. 


307 


What  they  are,  yet  I  know  not ;  but  they  shall  he 
The  terrors  of  the  earth.     You  think,  I  '11  weep; 
No,  I'll  not  weep: — 
I  have  full  cause  of  weeping  ;  hut  this  heart 

[Storm  heard  at  a  distance. 
Shall  break  into  a  hundred  thousand  flaws, 
Or  ere  I  '11  weep.— 0.  fool '  I  shall  go  mad. 

[Exeunt  Lbar,  Gloster.  Kent,  and  Fool. 
Corn.  Let  us  withdraw,  'twill  be  a  storm. 
Reg.  This  house  is  little  :  the  old  man  and  's  people 
Cannot  be  well  bestow'd. 

Gon.  'T  is  his  o\™  blame  hath  put  himself  from  rest ; 
He  must  needs  taste  his  folly. 

Reg.  For  his  particular,  I  '11  receive  him  gladly, 
But  not  one  follower. 

Gon.  So  am  I  purpos'd. 

Where  is  my  lord  of  Gloster  ? 

Re-enter  Gloster. 
Corn.  Follow'd  the  old  man  forth. — He  is  return'd. 
Glo.  The  king  is  in  high  rage. 

Corn.  Whither  is  he  going'  ? 

Glo.    He   calls   to   horse;     but    will    I    know   not 

whither. 
Corn.  'T  is  best  to  give  him  way  ;  he  leads  himself. 
Gon.  My  lord,  entreat  him  by  no  means  to  stay. 
Glo.  Alack  !  the  night  comes  on.  and  the  bleak  winds 
Do  sorely  ruffle  :  for  many  miles  about 
There 's  scarce-  a  bush. 

jlgo-.  0  sir  !  to  wilful  men, 

The  mjuries  that  they  themselves  procure 
Must  be  their  schoolmasters.     Shut  up  your  doors  : 
He  is  attended  with  a  desperate  train. 
And  what  they  may  incense  him  to,  being  apt 
To  have  his  ear  abus'd,  wisdom  bids  fear. 

Corn.  Shut  up  your  doors,  my  lord  ;  't  is  a  wild  night : 
My  Regan  counsels  well. — Come  out  o'  the  storm. 

[Exeicnt. 

1  This  and  the  next  speech,  to  "horse,"  are  not  in  quartos.    »  not : 
in  quartos. 


308  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IH. 


ACT   III. 

SCENE  I.— A  Heath, 

A  Storm^  with  Tltunder  and  Lightning.     Entef  Kent, 

and  a  Gentleman.^  meeting. 

Kent.  Who 's  here,  beside  foul  weather? 

Gent.  One  minded,  like  the  weather,  most  unquietly, 

Kent.  1  know  you.     Where  's  the  king  ? 

Gent.  Contending  with  the  fretful  elements; 
Bids  the  wind  blow  the  earth  into  the  sea, 
Or  swell  the  curled  waters  'bove  the  main. 
That  things  might  change  or  cease' :  tears  his  white  hair, 
Which  the  impetuous  blasts,  with  eyeJess  rage, 
Catch  in  their  fury,  and  make  nothing  of : 
Strives  in  his  little  world  of  man  to  out-scorn 
The  to-and-fro-conflicting  wind  and  rain. 
This  night,  wlierein  the  cub-drawn  bear  would  couch, 
The  lion  and  thfr  belly-pinched  wolf 
Keep  their  fur  dry,  unbonneted  he  runs, 
And  bids  what  will  take  all. 

Kent.  But  who  is  with  him? 

Gent.  None  but  the  fool,  who  labours  to  outjest 
His  heart-struck  injuries, 

Kent.  Sir,  I  do  know  you, 

And  dai-e,  upon  the  warrant  of  my  note. 
Commend  a  dear  thing  to  you.     There  is  division, 
Although  as  yet  the  face  of  it  be  cover'd 
With  mutual  cunning,  'twixt  Albany  and  Cornwall;'' 
Who  have  (as  who  have  not,  that  their  great  stars 
Thron'd  and  set  high  ?)  servants,  who  seem  no  less. 
Which  are  to  France  the  spies  and  spectators^ 
Intelligent  of  our  state ;  what  hath  been  seen, 
Either  in  snufFs*  and  packings  of  the  dukes. 
Or  the  hard  rein  whicli  both  of  them  have  borne 
Against  the  old  kind  king  :  or  something  deeper. 
Whereof,  perchance,  these  are  but  flourishings  :° 
But,  true  it  i.s,  from  France  there  comes  a  power 


Into  this  scatter'd  kingdom  ;  who  already 
Wise  in  our  negligence,  have  secret  feet 


1  The  rest  of  this  speech  is  not  in  folio.  2  This  and  the  seven  fol- 
lowing lines,  are  not  in  quartos.  3  speculations  :  in  f.  e.  *  Dislikes, 
and  intrigues.  ^  furnishings  :  in  f.  e.  The  rest  of  the  speech  is  not 
in  folio. 


gC.   II.  KING    LEAR. 


309 


In  some  of  our  best  ports,  and  are  at  point 

To  show  their  open  banner. — Now  to  you  : 

If  on  my  credit  you  dare  build  so  far 

To  make  your  speed  to  Dover,  you  shall  find 

Some  that  will  thank  you,  making  just  report 

Of  how  unnatural  and  bemadding  sorrow 

The  king  hath  cause  to  plain. 

I  am  a  gentleman  of  blood  and  breeding, 

And  from  some  knowledge  and  assurance  offer 

This  office  to  you. 

Gent.  I  will  talk  farther  with  you. 

Kent.  No,  do  not. 

For  confirmation  that  I  am  much  more 
Than  my  out  wall,  open  this  purse,  and  take 
What  it  contains.     If  you  shall  see  Cordelia, 
(As  fear  not  but  you  shall)  show  her  this  ring. 
And  she  will  tell  you  who  that^  fellow  is 
That  yet  you  do  not  know.  [Thunder.]  Fie  on  this  storm  ! 
I  will  go  seek  the  king. 

Gent.  Give  me  your  hand.  Have  you  no  more  to  say? 

Ke7it.  Few  words,  but.  to  effect,  more  than  all  yet ; 
That,  when  we  have  found  the  king,  in  which  your  pain 
That  wav,  I  '11  this,  he  that  first  lights  on  him. 
Holla  the  other.       '  [Exeunt  severally. 

SCENE    II.— Another  Part  of   the  Heath.     Storm 

continues. 

Enter  Lear  and  Fool. 

irar.Blow.  winds,  and  crack  your  cheeks!  rage!  blow! 
You  cataracts  and  hurricanoes  spout, 
Till  you  have  drench'd  our  steeples,  dro%ra"d  the  cocks  ! 
You  sulphurous  and  thought-executing  fires. 
Vaunt-couriers  to  oak-cleaving  thunder-bolts. 
Singe  my  white  head  !  And  thou,  all-shaking  thunder, 
Strike^  flat  the  thick  rotundity  o'  the  world : 
Crack  nature's  moulds,  all  germins  spill  at  once, 
That  make  ingrateful  man  ! 

Fool.  0  nuncle,  court  holy-water^  in  a  dry  house  is 
better  than  this  rain-water  out  o'  door.  Good  nuncle, 
in,  and  ask  thy  daughter's  blessing:  here's  a  night 
pities  neither  wise  men  nor  fools.  [Thunder. 

Lear.  Rumble  thy  bellyfull !  Spit,  fire  !  spout,  rain  ! 

1  your  :  in  quartos.  =  Sraite  :  in  quartos.  =  •'  Compliments,  fair 
■words,  flattering  speeches."— Cotgrare's  Diet. 


310>  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Nor  rain,  wind,  thunder,  fire,  are  my  daughters : 
I  tax  not  you.  you  elements,  with  unlcindness ; 
I  never  gave  you  kingdom,  call'd  you  children, 
You  owe  me  no  subscription  :  then,  let  fall 
Your  horrible  plea.=;ure ;  here  I  stand,  your  slave, 
A  poor,  infirm,  weak,  and  despis'd  old  man. 
But  yet  I  call  you  servile  ministers. 
That  wilP  with  two  pernicious  daughters  join' 
Your  high-engender'd  battles  'gainst  a  head 
So  old  and  white  as  this.     0  !  0  !  't  is  foul  I 

Fool.  He  that  has  a  house  to  put  's  head  in  has  a 
good  head-piece. 

The  cod-piece  that  will  house, 

Before  the  head  has  any. 
The  head  and  ho  shall  louse ; — 

So  beggars  marry  many. 
The  man  that  makes  his  toe 

What  he  his  heart  should  make, 
Shall  ot"-*  a  corn  cry  woe, 
And  turn  his  sleep  to  wake. 
— for  there  was  never  yet  fair  woman,  but  she  made 
mouths  in  a  glass. 

Enter  Kent. 
Lear.  No,  I  -will  be  the  pattern  of  all  patience  •  I 
will  say  nothing. 
Kent.  Who  "s  there  ? 

Fool.  Marry,  here  's  grace,  and  a  cod-piece  j    that 's 
a  wise  man,  and  a  fool. 

Kent.  Alas,  sir!  are  you  here  ?  Things  that  love  night, 
Love  not  such  nights  as  these  ;  the  wrathful  skies 
Gallow*  the  very  wanderers  of  the  dark. 
And  make  them  keep  their  caves.     Since  I  was  man, 
Such  sheets  of  fire,  such  bursts  of  horrid  thunder, 
Such  groans  of  roaring  wind  and  rain,  I  never 
Remember  to  have  heard  :  man's  nature  camiot  carry 
Th'  affliction,  nor  the  fear.' 

Lear.  Let  the  great  gods, 

That  keep  this  dreadful  pother^  o'er  our  heads, 
Find  out  their  enemies  now.     Tremble,  thou  wretch, 
That  hast  within  thee  undivulged  crimes, 
Unwhipp'd  of  justice  :  hide  thee,  thou  bloody  hand  : 

I  have  :  in  quartos,  ^join'd:  in  quartos.  ^  have  :  in  quartos. 
♦  Scare.  >  force  :  in  quartos.  *  pudder  :  in  folio;  thundering  :  in 
quartos. 


SC.  II. 


KING    LEAR.  311 


Thou  perjure,  and  thou  simuler*  of  virtue 
That  art  incestuous :  caitiff,  to  pieces  shake, 
That  under  covert  and  convenient  seeming 
Hast  practis'd  on  man's  life :  close  pent-up  guilts, 
Rive  your  concealing  continents,'  and  cry 
These  dreadful  summoncrs  grace. — I  am  a  man, 
More  sinn'd  against,  than  sinning. 

Kent.  Alack  !  hare-headed. 

Gracious  my  lord,  hard  by  here  is  a  hovel  ; 
Some  friend.'^hip  will  it  lend  you  'gainst  the  tempest : 
Repose  you  there,  while  I  to  this  hard  house, 
(More  hard^than  is  the  stone  whereof  't  is  rais'd, 
Which  even  hut  now,  demanding  after  you. 
Denied  me  to  come  in)  return,  and  force 
Their  scanted  courtesy. 

Lear.  My  wits  begin  to  turn. — 

Come  on.  my  hoy.     How  dost,  my  boy?     Art  cold? 
I  am  cold  myself. — Where  is  this  straw,  my  fellow  ? 
The  art  of  our  necessities  is  strange, 
That  can  make  vile  things  precious.  Come,  your  hovel. 
Poor  fool  and  knave.  I  have  one  part  in  my  heart 
That 's  sorry  yet  for  thee. 

Fool.  He  that  Jms  a  little  tiny  wit, —  [Sings. 

With  heigh,  ho,  the  ivind  and  the  rain, — 
Muxt  make  content  with  his  fortunes  fit ; 
For  the  rain  it  raincth  every  day. 
Lear.  True,  my  good  boy. — Come,  bring  us  to  this 
hovel.  [Exeunt  Lear  and  Kent. 

Fool.*  This  is  a  brave  night  to  cool  a  courtezan. — 
I  '11  speak  a  prophecy  ere  I  go  : 

When  priests  are  more  in  word  than  matter : 
When  brewers  mar  their  malt  with  water ; 
When  nobles  are  their  tailors'  tutors ; 
No  heretics  burn'd,  but  wenches  suitors : 
When  every  case  in  law  is  right ; 
No  squire  iu  debt,  nor  no  poor  knight ; 
When  slanders  do  not  live  in  tongues. 
Nor  cutpvu-ses  come  not  to  throngs  ; 
When  usurers  tell  their  gold  i'  the  field, 
And  bawds  and  whores  do  churches  build  ; 
Then  shall  the  realm  of  Albion^ 

'  The  quartos  insert  :  man.  2  concealed  centres  :  in  quartos, 
s  harder  than  the  :  in  folio.  *  This  speech  not  in  quartos.  '  This  and 
the  next  line,  form  part  of  a  prophecy  resembling  this,  in  Chaucer. 


312  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Come  to  great  confusion  : 

Then  comes  the  time,  who  lives  to  see  't, 

That  going  shall  be  us'd  with  feet. 
This  prophecy  Merlin  shall  make  ;  for  I  live  before  his 
time.  [Exit. 

SCENE  III. — A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Gloster  and  Edmund. 

Glo.  Alack,  alack  !  Edmund,  I  like  not  this  unna- 
tural dealing.  When  I  desired  their  leave  that  I  might 
pity  him,  they  took  from  me  the  use  of  mine  own 
house  ;  charged  me,  on  pain  of  their  perpetual  displea- 
sure, neither  to  speak  of  him,  entreat  for  him,  nor  any 
way  sustain  him. 

Edm.  Most  savage,  and  unnatural ! 

Glo.  Go  to ;  say  you  nothing.  There  is  division 
between  the  dukes,  and  a  worse  matter  than  that.  I 
have  received  a  letter  this  night ; — 't  is  dangerous  to  be 
spoken  : — I  have  locked  the  letter  in  my  closet.  These 
injuries  the  king  now  bears  will  be  revenged  home ; 
there  is  part  of  a  power  already  footed  :^  we  mu.st  in- 
cline to  the  king.  I  will  seek  him,  and  privily  relieve 
him :  go  you,  and  maintain  talk  with  the  duke,  that 
my  charity  be  not  of  him  perceived.  If  he  ask  for  me, 
I  am  ill,  and  gone  to  bed.  If  I  die  for  it,  as  no  less  is 
threatened  me,  the  king,  my  old  master,  must  be  re- 
lieved. There  is  some  strange  thing  toward,  Edmund  ; 
pray  you.  be  careful.  [Exit. 

Edm.  This  courtesy,  forbid  thee,  shall  the  duke 
Instantly  know ;  and  of  that  letter  too. 
This  seems  a  fair  deserving,  and  must  draw  me 
That  which  my  father  loses ;  no  less  than  all : 
The  younger  rises,  when  the  old  doth  fall.  [Exit. 

SCENE  IV.— A  Part  of  the  Heath,  with  a  Hovel. 
Enter  Lear,  Kent,  and-Fool. 

Kent.  Here  is  the  place,  my  lord ;  good  my  lord,  enter : 
The  tyranny  of  the  open  night  's  too  rough 
For  nature  to  endure.  [Storm  still. 

Lear.  Let  me  alone. 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  enter  here. 

Lear.  Wilt  break  my  heart  ? 

1  landed :  in  folio. 


8C.  IV. 


KING    LEAR.  313 


Kent.  I  'd  rather  treak  mine  own.     Good  my  lord, 

enter. 
Lear.  Thou  think'st  't  is  much,  that  this  contentious 

storm 
Invades  us  to  the  skin  :  so  't  is  to  thee ; 
But  wliere  the  greater  malady  is  fix'd, 
The  lesser  is  scarce  felt.     Thou  'dst  shun  a  hear ; 
But  if  thy  flight  lay  toward  the  roaring  sea, 
Thou  'dst  meet   the  bear  i'   the  mouth.     When   the 

mind  's  free, 
The  body  's  delicate  :  the  tempest  in  my  mind 
Doth  from  my  senses  take  all  feeling  else, 
Save  what  beats  there. — Filial  ingratitude  ! 
Is  it  not  as  this  mouth  should  tear  this  hand, 
For  lifting  food  to  " t  ? — But  I  will  punish  home,' — 
No,  I  will  weep  no  more. — In  such  a  night 
To  shut  me  out ! — Pour  on: — I  will  endure  :° — 
In  such  a  night  as  this  !     0  Regan  !  Goneril ! 
Your  old  kind  father,  whose  frank  heart  gave  all.^ — 
0  !  that  way  madness  lies ;  let  me  shun  that ; 
No  more  of  that. 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  enter  here. 

Lear.  Pr'ythee,  go  in  thyself;  seek  thine  own  ease : 
This  tempest  will  not  give  me  leave  to  ponder 
On  things  would  hurt  me  more. — But  I  '11  go  in : 
In,   boy;    go   first.  —  [To  the  Fool.]      You  houseless 

poverty, — * 
Nay,  get  thee  in.     T  "11  pray,  and  then  I  '11  sleep. — 

[Fool  goes  in. 
Poor  naked  \sTetches,  wheresoe'er  you  are. 
That  bide  the  pelting  of  this  pitiless  storm, ^ 
How  shall  your  houseless  heads,  and  unfed  sides. 
Your  loop'd  and  window'd  raggedness,  defend  you 
From  seasons  such  as  these  ?     0  !  I  have  ta'en 
Too  little  care  of  this.     Take  physic,  pomp; 
Expose  thyself  to  feel  what  wretches  feel. 
That  thou  may'st  shake  the  superflux  to  them. 
And  show  the  heavens  more  just. 

Edg.  [Within.]  Fathom  and  half,  fathom  and  half! 

Poor  Tom  !     [  The  Fool  runs  out  from  the  Hovel. 
Fool.  Come  not  in  here,  nuncle ;  here  's   a  spirit. 

Help  me  !  help  me  ! 

'  sure  ;  in  quartos.  ^  This  line  is  not  in  quartos.  3  you  a.11 :  in. 
quartos.  *  This  and  the  next  line,  not  in  quartos.  »  night :  in 
quartos. 

Vol.  Vn.— 27 


314  KING   LEAR.  ACT  III. 

Kent.  Give  me  thy  hand. — Who  's  there? 
Fool.  A  spirit,  a  spirit :  he  says  his  name 's  poor  Tom. 
Kent.  What  art  thou  that  dost  grumble  there  i'  the 
Come  forth.  [straw? 

Enter  Edgar,  disguised  as  a  Madman. 
Edg.  Away  !  the  foul  fiend  follows  me  ! — 
"  Through  the  sharp  hawthorn  blows  the  cold'  wind."— 
Humph  !   go  to  thy  cold'  bed,  and  warm  thee. 

Lear.  Hast  thou  given  all  to  thy  two  daughters? 
And  art  thou  come  to  this? 

Edg.  Who  gives  any  thing  to  poor  Tom  ?  whom  the 
foul  fiend  hath  led  through  fire  and  through  flame, 
through  swamp^  and  whirlpool,  over  bog  and  quagmire ; 
and  hath  laid  knives  under  his  pillow,  and  halters  in 
his  pew  ;  set  ratsbane  by  his  porridge  :  made  him  proud 
of  heart,  to  ride  on  a  bay  trotting-horse  over  four-inched 
bridges,  to  course  his  own  shadow  for  a  traitor. — Bless 
thy  five  wits  !*  Tom  's  a-cold. — 0  !  do  de.  do  de,  do 
de. — Bless  thee  from  whirlwinds,  star-blasting,  and 
taking'.  Do  poor  Tom  some  charity,  whom  the  foul 
fiend  vexes. — There  could  I  have  him  now, — and  there, 
— and  there. — and  there  again,  and  there. 

[Strikes.^     Storm  continues. 

Lear.  What  !   have  his  daughters  brought  him  to 

this  pass  ? — 

Couldst  thou  save  nothing  ?  Didst  thou  give  them  all  ? 

Fool.  Nay,  he  reserved  a  blanket,  else  we  had  been 

all  shamed. 

Lear.  Now,  all  the  plagues,  that  in  the  pendulous  air 
Hang  fated  o'er  men's  faults,  light  on  thy  daughters  ! 
Kent.  He  hath  no  daughters,  sir. 
Lear.  Death,  traitor  !    nothing  could  have  subdued 
nature 
To  such  a  lo\>iiess,  but  his  unkind  daughters. — 
Is  it  the  fashion,  that  discarded  fathers 
Should  have  thus  little  mercy  of  their  flesh  ? 
Judicious  punishment  !  't  was  this  flesh  begot 
Those  pelican  daughters. 

Edg.  Pillicock  sat  on  Pillicock-hill : — '' 
Halloo,  halloo,  loo.  loo ! 

1  2  Not  in  folio.  3  ford  :  in  f.  e.  *  The  five  senses  were  formerly 
so  called,  s  Malignant  infuenre.  «  This  direction  is  not  in  f.  e. 
'  There  is  a  nursery  rhyme  similar  to  this  line. 


8C.  IV. 


KING    LEAR.  315 


Fool.  This  cold  night  will  turn  us  all  to  fools  and 
madmen. 

Edg.  Take  heed  o'  the  foul  fiend.  Obey  thy  parents ; 
keep  thyword  :  do  justice  /  swear  not ;  commit  not  with 
man's  sworn  spouse  :  set  not  thy  sweet  heart  on  proud 
array.     Tom  's  a-cold. 

Lear.  What  hast  thou  been? 

Edg.  A  servings-man,  proud  in  heart  and  mind;  that 
curled  my  hair,  wore  gloves  in  my  cap,  ser\'ed  the  lust 
of  my  mistress's  heart,  and  did  the  act  of  darkness  with 
her ;  sMore  as  many  oaths  as  I  spake  words,  and  broke 
them  in  the  sweet  face  of  heaven  :  one.  that  slept  in 
the  contriving  of  lust,  and  waked  to  do  it.  Wine  loved 
I  deeply;  dice  dearly:  and  in  woman,  out-paramoured 
the  Turk:  false  of  heart,  light  of  ear,  bloody  of  hand; 
hog  in  sloth,  fox  in  stealth,  wolf  in  greediness,  dog  in 
madness,  lion  in  prey.  Let  not  the  creaking  of  shoes, 
nor  the  rustling  of  silks,  betray  thy  poor  heart  to 
woman :  keep  thy  foot  out  of  brothels,  thy  hand  out 
of  plackets,  thy  pen  from  lenders'  books,  and  defy  the 
foul  fiend. — '•  Still  through  the  hawthorn  blows  the 
cold  wind;"  says  suum.  mun.  ha  no  nonny.  Dolphin 
my  boy,  my  boy;  sessa  !^  let  him  trot  by. 

[Siorm  still  continues. 

Lear.  Why,  thou  wert  better  in  thy  grave,  than  to 
answer  with  thy  uncovered  body  this  extremity  of  the 
skies. — Is  man  no  more  than  this  ?  Consider  him  well. 
Thou  owest  the  worm  no  silk,  the  beast  no  hide,  the 
sheep  no  wool,  the  cat  no  perfume. — Ha  !  here  's  three 
on's  are  sophisticated :  thou  art  the  thing  itself:  unac- 
commodated man  is  no  more  but  such  a  poor,  bare, 
forked  animal  as  thou  art. — Off.  off,  you  tendings. — 
Come:  unbutton  here. —  [Tearing  his  clothes. 

Fool.  Pr'ythee,  nuncle,  be  contented;  't  is  a  naughty 
night  to  smm  in — Now,  a  little  fire  in  a  wide  field 
were  like  an  old  lecher's  heart ;  a  small  spark,  all  the 
rest  on  's  body  cold. — Look  !  here  comes  a  walking  fire. 

Edg.  This  is  the  foul  fiend  Flibbertigibbet :  he  be- 
gins at  curfew,  and  walks  till  the  first  cock ;  he  gives 
the  web   and   pin*,    squints  the  eye.  and  makes  the 

I  •word  justly  :  in  f.  e.  ;  -word's  justice  :  in  first  folio  ;  -words, 
juEtice  :  in  second  folio.  2  Servant  in  the  old  sense  of  lover. 
3  cease  :  in  quartos.    *  Cataract  in  the  eye. 


316  KING    LKAR.  ACT  III. 

hare-lip ;  mildews  the  white  wheat,  and  hurts  the  poor 
creature  of  earth. 

Saiiit  Withold}  footed  thrice  the  wold ; 
He  met  the  night-mare,  and  her  nine-fold; 
Bid  her  alight, 
And  her  troth  plight, 
And,  aroint^  thee,  witch,  aroint  thee  ! 
Kent.  How  fares  your  grace  ? 

Enter  Gloster,  with  a  Torch. 
Lear.  What 's  he  ? 

Kent.  "Who  's  there?  What  is  't  you  seek? 
Glo.  What  are  you  there ?  Your  names? 
Edg.  Poor  Tom ;  that  eats  the  swimming  frog,  the 
toad,  the  tadpole,  the  wall-newt,  and  the  water' ;  that 
in  the  fury  of  his  heart,  when  the  foul  fiend  rages,  eats 
cow-dung  for  sallets ;  swallows  the  old  rat,  and  the 
ditch-dog ;  drinks  the  green  mantle  of  the  standing 
pool :  who  is  whipped  from  tything  to  tything,  and 
stocked,  punished,  and  imprisoned  ;*  who  hath  had 
three  suits  to  his  back,  six  shirts  to  his  body,  horse  to 
ride,  and  weapon  to  wear, — 

But  mice,  and  rats,  and  such  small  deer. 
Have  been  Tom^s  food  for  seven  long  year. 
Beware  my  follower. — Peace,  Smulkin'  !    peace,  thou 
fiend  ! 
Glo.  What !  hath  your  grace  no  better  company? 
Edg.  The  prince  of  darkness  is  a  gentleman ; 
Modo^  he  's  call'd,  and  Mahu.'' 

Glo.  Our  flesh  and  blood,  my  lord,  is  grown  so  vile, 
That  it  doth  hate  what  gets  it. 
Edg.  Poor  Tom  's  a-cold. 
Glo.  Go  in  with  me.     My  duty  caimot  suffer 
To  obey  in  all  your  daughters'  hard  commands  : 
Though  their  injunction  be  to  bar  my  doors. 
And  let  this  tyrannous  night  take  hold  upon  you, 
Yet  I  have  ventur'd  to  come  seek  you  out, 
And  bring  you  where  both  fire  and  food  is  ready. 

Lear.  First  let  me  talk  with  this  philosopher. — 
What  is  the  cause  of  thunder  ? 

I  SwUhnld:  in  old  copies.  =  Get  out,  begone.  ^  Water-newt. 
*  The  ordinary  punishment,  for  what  an  old  author  calls  "  idle  rogue- 
ing  about  the  country."'  ^  ^  ''  The  names  of  these  fiends  were  derived 
from  Bp.  Harsnet's  ''Declaration  of  egregious  Popish  Impostures." 
1G03.  In  Suckling's  •'  Goblins,"  we  find,  ■'  The  prince  of  darkness 
is  a  gentleman  :  Mahu,  Mahu,  is  his  name." 


8C.  IV. 


KING    LEAR.  SV7 


Kent.   Good  my  lord,   take  his  oiFer:  go  into  the 
house. 

Lear.    I  '11  talk    a  word  with  this  same'   learned 
Theban. — 
What,  is  your  study  ? 

E(Jg.  How  to  prevent  the  fiend,  and  to  kill  vermin. 

Lear.  Let  me  ask  you  one  word  in  private. 

[They  talk  apart.' 

Kent.  Im|  ortune  him  once  more  to  go,  my  lord, 
His  wi:s  begiu  t'  unsettle. 

Glo        '  Canst  thou  blame  him? 

His  daughters  seek  his  death. — Ah,  that  good  Kent ! — 
He  said  il  vrould  be  thus,  poor  banish'd  man  ! — 
Thou  say'st,  the  king  grows  mad :  I  '11  tell  thee,  friend, 
I  am  almost  mad  myself.     I  had  a  son, 
Now  outlaw'd  from  my  blood  ;  he  sought  my  life, 
Bat  lately,  very  late :  I  lov'd  him,  friend. 
No  father  his  son  dearer ;  true  to  tell  thee, 
The  grief  hath  craz'd  my  wits.    What  a  night 's  this  ! 

[Storm  continues. 
I  do  beseech  your  grace, — 

Lear.  0  !  cry  you  mercy,  sir. — 

Noble  philosopher,  your  company. 

Edg.  Tom  's  a-cold. 

Glo.  In   fellow,  there,  into   the  hovel :    keep  thee 
warm. 

Lear.  Come,  let 's  in  all. 

Kent.  This  way,  my  lord. 

Lear.  With  him : 

I  will  keep  still  with  my  philosopher. 

Kent.  Good  my  lord,  soothe  him ;  let  him  take  the 
fellow. 

Glo.  Take  him  you  on. 

Kent.  Sirrah,  come  on;  go  along  with  us. 

Lear.  Come,  good  Athenian. 

Glo.  No  words,  no  words  : 

Hui-h  ! 

Edg.  "  Child  Rowland  to  the  dark  tower  came, 
His  word  was  still, — Fie,  foh,  and  fum, 

I  smell  the  blood  of  a  British  man."  [Exeunt. 

1  most  :  in  quartos.     ^  Not  in  f.  e. 


27* 


318  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

,  SCENE  v.— A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Cornwall  and  Edmund. 

Corn.  I  will  have  my  revenge,  ere  I  depart  his  house. 

Edm.  How.  my  lord,  I  may  be  censured,  that  nature 
thus  gives  way  to  loyalty,  something  fears  me  to  think  of. 

Com.  I  now^  perceive,  it  was  not  altogether  your 
brother's  evil  disposition  made  him  seek  his  death  ;  but 
a  provoking  merit,  set  a- work  by  a  reprovable  badness 
in  himself. 

Edm.  How  malicious  is  my  fortune,  that  I  must 
repent  to  be  just !  This  is  the  letter  which  he  spoke 
of,  which  approves  him  an  intelligent  party  to  the 
advantages  of  France.  0  heavens !  that  this  treason 
were  not,  or  not  I  the  detector  ! 

Corn.  Go  with  me  to  the  duchess. 

Edm.  If  the  matter  of  this  paper  be  certain,  you 
have  mighty  bvisiness  in  hand. 

Corn.  True,  or  false,  it  hath  made  thee  earl  of 
Gloster.  Seek  out  where  thy  father  is,  that  he  may 
be  ready  for  our  apprehension. 

Edtn.  [Aside.]  If  I  find  him  comforting  the  king,  it 
will  stuff  his  suspicion  more  fully. — [To  him.]  I  will 
persevere  in  my  covirse  of  loyalty,  though  the  conflict 
be  sore  between  that  and  my  blood. 

Corn.  I  will  lay  trust  upon  thee;  and  thou  shalt 
find  a  dearer^  father  in  my  love.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  VI. — A  Chamber  in  a  Farm-House, 

adjoining  the  Castle. 

Enter  Gloster,  Lear.  Kent,  FooL  and  Edgar. 

Glo.  Here    is    better    than    the  open  air  ;  take    it 

thankfully.     I  will  piece  out  the  comfort  with  what 

addition  I  can :  I  will  not  be  long  from  you. 

Kent.  All  the  power  of  his  wits  has  given  way  to  his 
impatience. — The  gods  reward  your  kindness  ! 

[Exit  Gloster. 
Edg.  Frateretto  calls  me,  and  tells  me,  Nero  is  an 
angler  in  the   lake  of  darkness.     Pray  innocent,  and 
beware  the  foul  fiend. 

Fool.  Pr'ythee,  nuncle,  tell  me,  whether  a  madman 
be  a  gentleman,  or  a  yeoman  ? 
Lear.  A  king,  a  king  ! 

I  dear :  in  folio. 


8C.  VI.  KING    LEAR. 


319 


Fool.  No  :•  he  's  a  yeoman,  that  has  a  gentleman  to 
his  son ;  for  he  is  a  mad  yeoman,  that  sees  his  son  a 
gentleman  before  him. 

Lear.  To  have  a  thousand  \nth  red  burning  spits 
Come  whizzing  in  upon  them. — 
£%."  The  foul  fiend  biles  my  back. 
Fool.  He  \s  mad.  that  trusts  in  the  tameness  of  a 
wolf,  a  horse's  health,  a  boy's  love,  or  a  whore's  oath. 
Lear.  It  shall  be  done  ;  I  will  arraign  them  straight. — 
Come,  sit  thou  here,  most  learned  justicer : — 

[To  Edgar. 
Thou,  sapient  sir.  sit  here.     Now.  you  she  foxes  ! — 

Edg.  Look,  where  he  stands  and  glares  ! — 
Wantest  thou  eyes  at  trial,  madam  ? 

Come  o'er  the  bourne,  Bessy,  to  me ;' — 
Fool.     Her  boat  hath  a  leak, 

And  she  must  not  speak 
Why  she  dares  not  come  over  to  thee. 
Edg.  The  foul  fiend  haunts  poor  Tom  in  the  voice  of 
a  nightingale.     Hopdance  cries  in  Tom's  belly  for  two 
white  herring.     Croak  not,  black  angel  ;  I  have  no  food 
for  thee. 

Kent.  How  do  you,  sir?     Stand  you  not  so  amaz  d: 
"Will  you  lie  down  and  rest  upon  the  cushions  ? 

Lear.  I  '11  see  their  trial  first. — Bring  in  the  evi- 
dence.— 
Thou  robed  man  of  justice,  take  thy  place  ;— [To  Edgar. 
And  thou,  his  yoke-fellow  of  equity,  [To  the  Fool. 

Bench  by  his  side.— You  are  o'  the  commission. 
Sit  you  too.  [To  Kent. 

E'.lg.  Let  us  deal  justly. 

S!eepest,  or  wakest  thou,  jolly  shepherd? 

Thy  sheep  be  in  the  corn  ; 
And  for  one  bhst  of  thy  minikin  mouth, 
Thy  .-iheep  shall  take  no  harm. 
Pur !  the  cat  is  grey. 

Lear.  Arraign  her  first;  't  is  Goneril.     I  here  take 
my  oath  before  this  honourable  assembly,  she  kicked 
the  poor  king  her  father. 
.   Fool.  Come  hither,  mistress.  Is  your  name  Goneril  ? 

iNot  in  quarto.  2  This  and  the  follo^ina;  speeches,  to  ''£</§•.  Bless 
thv  five  wits  :■■  are  not  in  folio.  ^  Lines  somewhat  similar  to  this 
and  the  one  followins.  are  found  in  an  old  metrical  dialogue,  re- 
printed in  the  "  Harleian  Miscellany." 


320  KING    LEAR.  ACT  III. 

JjRar.  She  cannot  deny  it. 

Fool.  Cry  you  mercy,  I  took  you  for  a  joint-stool. 
Lear.  And  here  's  another,  whose  warp'd  looks  pi*o- 
claim 
What  store  her  heart  is  made  on. — Stop  her  there  ! 
Arms,  arms,  sword,  fire  ! — Corruption  in  the  place  ! 
False  justicer,  why  hast  thou  let  her  'scape  ? 
Edg.  Bless  thy  five  'wnts  ! 

Kent.  0  pity  ! — Sir,  where  is  the  patience  now, 
That  you  so  oft  have  boasted  to  retain  ? 

Edg.  \Aside?^  My  tears  begin  to  take  his  part  so  much, 
They  '11  mar  my  counterfeiting. 
Lear.  The  little  dogs  and  all, 
Tray,  Blanch,  and  Sweet-heart,  see,  they  bark  at  me. 

F,dg.  Tom  will  throw  his  head  at  them. — Avaunt, 
you  curs ! 

Be  thy  mouth  or  black  or  white. 
Tooth  that  poisons  if  it  bite  ; 
Mastiff,  greyhound,  mongrel,  grim, 
Hound,  or  spaniel,  brach\  or  lym'-'  : 
Or  bobtail  tike^,  or  trundle-tail, 
Tom  will  make  them*  weep  and  wail : 
For  with  throwing  thus  my  head. 
Dogs  leap  the  hatch,  and  all  are  fled. 
Do,  de,  de,  de.     See.    see  !     Come,    march  to  wakes 
and  fairs,  and  market  towns. — Poor  Tom,  thy  horn  is 
dry. 

Lear.  Then,  let  them  anatomize  Regan,  see  what 
breeds  about  her  heart.  Is  there  any  cause  in  nature 
that  makes  these  hard  hearts  ?' — You,  sir,  [lb  Edg.\r.] 
I  entertain  you  for  one  of  my  hundred ;  only,  1  do  not 
like  the  fashion  of  your  garments  :  you  will  say,  they 
are  Persian  attire  ;"  but  let  them  be  changed. 

Kent.  Now,  good  my  lord,  lie  here,  and  rest  awhile. 
Lear.  Make  no  noise,  make  no  noise  :  draw  the  cur- 
tains.    So.  so,  so:  we'll  go  to  supper  i'  the  morning: 
BO,  so,  so. 

Fool  And  I  '11  go'  to  bed  at  noon. 
Re-enter  Gloster. 
Glo.  Come    hither,  friend  :  where  is  the  king  my 
master  ? 

1  Female  hound.  2  Hunting  dog.  ^  Comnon  cur.  *  him  :  in 
folio,  'this  hardness:  in  quarto.  <>  Not  in  folio.  'Thisline  is  not 
in  quartos. 


SC.  VI.  KING    LEAR.  321 

Kent.  Here,  sir :  but  trouble  him  not :  his  wits  are 
gone. 

Glo.  Good  friend,  I  pr'ythee  take  him  in  thy  arms ; 
I  have  o'er-heard  a  plot  of  death  upon  him. 
There  is  a  litter  ready ;  lay  him  in  't, 
And  drive  toward  Dover,  friend,  ^vhere  thou  shalt  meet 
Both  welcome  and  protection.     Take  up  thy  master  : 
If  thovx  shouldst  dally  half  an  hour,  his  life, 
With  thine,  and  all  that  offer  to  defend  him. 
Stand  in  assured  loss.     Take  up,  take  up  ; 
And  follow  me.  that  will  to  some  provision 
Give  thee  quick  conduct. 

Kent.  Oppress'd  nature  sleeps  :* — 

This  re.«t  might  yet  have  balm'd  thy  broken  senses,* 
Which,  if  convenience  will  not  allow. 
Stand  in  hard  cure. — Come,  help  to  bear  thy  master; 
Thou  must  not  stay  behind.  [To  the  Fool. 

Glo.  Come,  come,  away. 

[Exeunt  Kent.  Gloster,  and  the  Fool,  bearing 
off  the  King. 

Edg.  When  we  our  betters  see  bearing  our  woes, 
We  scarcely  think  our  miseries  our  foes. 
Who  alone  suffers,  suffers  most  i'  the  mind, 
Leaving  free  thinas  and  happy  shows  behind  ; 
But  then  the  mind  much  sufferance  doth  o'erskip. 
When  grief  hath  mates,  and  bearing  fellowship. 
How  light  and  portable  my  pain  seems  now, 
When  that  which  makes  me  bend,  makes  the  king  bow  : 
He  childed,  as  I  father'd ! — Tom,  away  ! 
Mark  the  high  noises ;  and  thyself  bewray, 
When  false  opinion,  whose  v>Tong  thought  defiles  thee, 
In  thy  just  proof,  repeals  and  reconciles  thee. 
What  will  hap  more  to-night,  safe  'scape  the  king ! 
Lurk,  lurk.  [Exit. 

SCENE  VH.— A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Cornwall,  Regan,  Goneril,  Edmund,  and 

Servants. 
Corn.  Post  speedily  to  my  lord  your  husband  :  show 
him  this  letter  : — the  army  of  France  is  landed. — Seek 
out  the  traitor^  Gloster.     [Exeunt  some  of  the  Servants, 
Reg.  Hang  him  instantly. 

1  This  speech  and  the  rest  of  the  scene,  are  not  in  folio.     -  sine-ws: 
in  quaxtos.     Theobald  made  the  change.     •<  villain  ;  in  quartos. 


322  KING    LEAR.  ACT  lU. 

Gon.  Pluck  out  his  eyes. 

Corn.  Leave  him  to  my  disposure. — Edmund,  keep 
you  our  sister  company :  the  revenges  we  are  bound  to 
take  upon  your  traitorous  father  are  not  fit  for  your 
beholding.  Advise  the  duke,  where  you  are  going,  to 
a  most  festinate  preparation :  we  are  bound  to  the 
like.  Our  posts  shall  be  swift  and  intelligent  betwixt 
us.  Farewell,  dear  sister : — farewell,  my  lord  of 
Gloster. 

Enter  Oswald. 
How  now  !     Where  's  the  king  ? 

Osu'.  My  lord  of  Gloster  hath  convey'd  him  hence  : 
Some  five  or  six  and  thirty  of  his  knights, 
Hot  questrists  after  him,  met  him  at  gate ; 
Who,  with  some  other  of  the  lord's  dependants, 
Are  gone  with  him  towards  Dover,  where  they  boast 
To  have  well-armed  friends. 

Corn.  Get  horses  for  your  mistress. 

Gon.  Farewell,  sweet  lord,  and  sister. 

[Exeunt  GoNERiL,  Edmund,  and  Oswald. 

Corn.    Edmund,    farewell  .—Go,    seek    the    traitor 
Gloster, 
Pinion  him  like  a  thief,  bring  him  before  us. 

[Exettnt  other  Servants. 
Though  well  we  may  not  pass  upon  his  life 
Without  the  form  of  justice,  yet  our  power 
Shall  do  a  courtesy  to  our  wrath,  which  men 
May  blame,  but    not    control.     Who  's    there  ?     The 
traitor  ? 

Re-enter  Servants,  with  Gloster. 

Reg.  Ingi'ateful  fox  !  't  is  he. 

Corn.  Bind  fast  his  corky'  arms. 

Glo.  What  mean  your  graces? — Good  my  friends, 
consider 
You  are  my  guests  :  do  me  no  foul  play,  friends. 

Corn.  Bind  him,  I  say.  [Servants  bind  him. 

Reg.  Hard,  hard. — 0  filthy  traitor  ! 

Glo.  Unmerciful  lady  as  you  are,  I  am  none.° 

Corn.  To  this  chair  bind  him. — Villain,  thou  shalt 
find —  [They  bind  him  :  Reg  ah  plucks  his  beard. 

Glo.  By  the  kind  gods,  't  is  most  ignobly  done 
To  pluck  me  by  the  beard. 

1  Dry-withered ;  applied   in    '-Haxsnet's  DeclaratioDj"  to  an  old 
woman.    ^  true  :  in  quartos. 


SC.  VII.  KING    LEAR.  323 

Reg.  So  white,  and  such  a  traitor  ! 

Glo.  Naughty  lady. 

These  hairs,  which  thou  dost  ravish  from  my  chin, 
Will  quicken,  and  accuse  thee.     1  am  your  host : 
With  robbers'  hands  my  hospitable  favours 
Yoii  should  not  ruffle  thus.     What  will  you  do  ? 

Corn.  Come,  sir,   M'hat  letters  had  you   late  from 
France  ? 

Reg.  Be  simple-answer'd,  for  we  know  the  truth. 

Corn.  And  what   confederacy  have   you    with  the 
Late  footed  in  the  kingdom  ?  [traitors 

Reg.  To  whose  hands 

Have  you  sent  the  lunatic  king  ?     Speak. 

Glo.  I  have  a  letter  guessingly  set  do\N'n, 
Which  came  from  one  that  's  of  a  neutral  heart, 
And  not  from  one  oppos'd. 

Corn.  Cunning. 

Reg.  And  false. 

Corn.  Where  hast  thou  sent  the  king  ? 

Glo.  To  Dover. 

Reg.  Wherefore 

To  Dover  ?     Wast  thou  not  charg'd  at  peril — 

Cor'ti.  Wherefore  to  Dover  ?     Let  him  answer  that. 

Glo.  I  am  tied  to  the  stake,  and  I  must  stand  the 
course. 

Reg.  Wherefore  to  Dover  ? 

Glo.  Because  I  would  not  see  thy  cruel  nails 
Pluck  out  his  poor  old  eyes  ;  nor  thy  fierce  sister 
In  his  anointed  flesh  rash'  boarish  fangs. 
Ihe  sea.  with  such  a  storm  as  liis  bare*  head 
In  hell-black  night  endur'd,  would  have  buoy'd  up, 
And  quench'd  the  stelled  fires  ; 
Yet,  poor  old  heart,  he  holp  the  heavens  to  rain.^ 
If  wolves  had  at  thy  gate  howl'd  that  stern*  time. 
Thou   shouldst    have    said,  "  Good   porter,  turn    the 

key." 
All  cruels  else  subscrib'd^  :  but  I  shall  see 
The  winged  vengeance  overtake  such  children. 

Corn.  See  it  shalt  thou  never. — Fellows,  hold  the 
chair. — 
Upon  these  eyes  of  thine  I  '11  set  my  foot. 

Glo.  He,  that  vrill  think  to  live  till  he  he  old, 

1  stick  :    in    fclio.       2  loy'd  :     in     quartos.       ^  rage  :    in    quartos. 
♦  dearn  :  in  quartos ;  dreary.     ^  Yielded. 


324  KING    LEAR,  ACT  HI. 

Give  me  some  help  ! — 0  cruel !  0  ye  gods  ! 

[They  tear  out  one  eye} 

Res.  One  side  -n-ill  mock  another  ;  the  other  too. 

Corn.  If  you  see,  vengeance, — 

Serv.  Hold  your  hand,  my  lord. 

I  have  serv'd  yon  ever  since  I  was  a  child, 
But  better  service  have  I  never  done  you, 
Than  now  to  bid  yovT  hold. 

Reg.  How  now,  you  dog  ! 

Serv.  If  you  did  wear  a  beard  upon  your  chin, 
I  'd  shake  it  on  this  quarrel  !     What  do  you  mean  ? 

Corn.  My  villain  !  [Draws  and  runs  at  him. 

Serv.  Nay  then,  come  on,  and  take  the  chance  of 
anger.  [Draws.     Cornwall  is  wounded. 

Reg.  Give  me  thy  sword.     A  peasant  stand  up  thus  ! 

Serv.  0, 1  am  slain  ! — My  lord,  you  have  one  eye  left 
To  see  some  mischief  on  him  ! — O  !  [Dies. 

Corn.  Lest  it  see  more,  prevent  it. — Out,  vile  jelly  ! 
Where  is  thy  lustre  now  ?     [Tearing  out  his  other  eye.^ 

Glo.  All  dark  and  comfortless. — Where  's  my  son 
Edmund  ? 
Edmund,  enkindle  all  the  sparks  of  nature, 
To  quit  this  horrid  act. 

Reg.  Out,  treacherous  villain ! 

Thou  call'st  on  him  that  hates  thee :  it  was  he 
That  made  the  overture  of  thy  treasons  to  us, 
Who  is  too  good  to  pity  thee. 

Glo.  0  my  follies  !     Then  Edgar  was  abus'd. — 
Kind  gods,  forgive  me  that,  and  prosper  him  ! 

Reg.  Go,  thrust  him  out  at  gates,  and  let  him  smell 
His  way  to  Dover. — How  is  't,  my  lord  ?  How  look  you  ? 

Corn.  I  have  receiv'd  a  hurt.     Follow  me,  lady. — 
Turn  out  that  eyeless  villain  :  throw  this  slave 
Upon  the  dunghill. — Regan,  I  bleed  apace  : 
Untimely  comes  this  hurt.     Give  me  your  arm. 

[Exit  Cornwall,  led  by  Regan: — Servants  unbind 
Gloster,  and  lead  him  out.'' 

1  Serv.  I  '11  never  care  what  wickedness  I  do, 
If  this  man  comes  to  good. 

2  Serv.  If  she  live  long, 
And  in  the  end  meet  the  old  course  of  death, 
"Women  will  all  turn  monsters. 

1  Serv.  Let 's  follow  the  old  earl,  and  get  the  Bedlam 
^  '  Not  in  f.  e.    ^  The  lest  of  the  scene  is  not  in  folio. 


^ 


SC.  I.  KING    LEAR.  325 

To  lead  him  where  he  would  :  his  roguish  madness 
Allows  itself  to  any  thing. 

2  Serv.  Go  thou  :  I  '11  fetch  some  flax,  and  whites  of 
eggs, 
To  apply  to  his  bleeding  face.     Now,  heaven  help  him  ! 

[Exeunt  severally. 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE  I.— The  Heath. 
Enter  Edgar. 


Edg.  Yes,*  better  thus,  unknown^  to  be  contemn'd, 
Than  still  contemn'd  and  flatter'd.     To  be  worst, 
The  lowest  and  most  dejected  thing  of  fortune. 
Stands  still  in  csperance,  lives  not  in  fear : 
The  lamentable  change  is  from  the  best ; 
The  worst  returns  to  laughter.^     Welcome,  then, 
Thou  unsubstantial  air  that  I  embrace : 
The  wretch,  that  thou  hast  blown  unto  the  worst, 
Owes  nothing  to  thy  blasts. — But  who  comes  here? — 

Enter  Gloster,  led  by  an  old  Man. 
My  father,  poorly  led  ? — World,  world,  0  world  ! 
But  that  tiiy  strange  mutations  make  us  hate  thee, 
Life  would  not  yield  to  age. 

Old  Man.  0  my  good  lord  !  I  have  been  your  tenant 
and  your  lather's  tenant,  these  fourscore  years. 

Glo.  Away,  get  thee  away ;  good  friend,  be  gone : 
Thy  comforts  can  do  me  no  good  at  all ; 
Thee  they  may  hurt. 

Old  Man.  Alack,  sir  !*  you  camiot  see  your  way. 

Glo.  I  have  no  way,  and  therefore  want  no  eyes : 
I  stumbled  when  I  saw.     Full  oft  't  is  seen, 
Our  wants^  secure  us;  and  our  mere  defects 
Prove  our  commodities. — Ah  !  dear  son  Edgar. 
The  food  of  thy  abused  father's  wrath. 
Might  I  but  live  to  see  thee  in  my  touch, 

I  Yet:  in  f.  e.    *  and  kno-wn  :  in  f.  e.      '  From  this  -word  to  "But 
■who"  is  not  in  folios.      *  Alack,  sir  !  :  not  in  quartos.     *  means  :  in 

^' ' Vol.  Vn.— 28 


326  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

I  'd  say  I  had  eyes  again  ! 

Old  Man.  How  now  !     Who  's  there  ? 

Edg.   [Aside.]  0  gods !     Who  is  't  can  say,  "  I  am 
at  the  worst?' 
I  am  wors^e  than  e'er  I  was. 

Old  Man.  'T  is  poor  mad  Tom. 

Edg.  [Aside.]  And  worse  I  may  be  yet :  the  worst 
is  not 
So  long  as  we  can  say,  '•  This  is  the  worst." 

Old  3Ian.  Fellow,  where  goest  ? 

Glo.  Is  it  a  beggar-man  ? 

Old  Man.  Madman,  and  beggar  too. 

Glo.  He  has  some  reason,  else  he  could  not  beg. 
I'  the  last  nights  storm  I  such  a  fellow  saw, 
W^hich  made  me  think  a  man  a  worm  :  my  son 
Came  then  into  my  mind;  and  yet  my  mind 
Was  then  scarce  friends  with  him  :  I  ha\'e  heard  more 
As  flies  to  wanton  boys,  are  we  to  the  gods ;        [since. 
They  kill  us  for  their  sport. 

EJg.  [Aside.]  How  should  this  be  ? — 

Bad  is  the  trade  that  must  play  fool  to  sorrow. 
Angering   itself   and  others.     [To  him.]     Bless   thee, 
master !  ^ 

Glo.  Is  that  the  naked  fellow  ? 

Old  Man.  Ay,  my  lord. 

Glo.  Then,  pr'ythee,  get  thee  gone.     If,  for  my  sake,^ 
Thou  wilt  oertake  us,  hence  a  mile  or  twain, 
I'  the  way  toward  Dover,  do  it  for  ancient  love  ] 
And  bring  some  covering  for  this  naked  soul, 
Whom  1  '11  entreat  to  lead  me. 

Old  Man.  Alack,  sir  !  he  is  mad. 

Glo.  "T  is  the  times'  plague,  when  madmen  lead  the 
blind. 
Do  as  I  bid  thee,  or  rather  do  thy  pleasure ; 
Above  the  rest,  be  gone. 

Old  Man.  I  '11  bring  him  the  best  'parel  that  I  have, 
Come  on  't  what  will.  [Exit. 

Glo.  Sirrah  :  naked  fellow. 

Edg.  Poor  Tom  's  a-cold. — [Aside.]  I  cannot  daub 
it  farther. 

Glo.  Come  hither,  fellow. 

Edg.  [Aside.]    And   yet  I  must. — [To  him.]    Bless 
thy  sweet  eyes,  they  bleed. 

1  Get  tkee  away.    K  &c. :  in  folio. 


SC.  ir.  KING    LEAR.  327 

GIo.  Know'st  thou  the  way  to  Dover? 

Edg.  Both  stile  and  gate,  horse-way  and  foot-path. 
Poor  Tom  hath  been  scared  out  of  his  good  wits :  bless 
thee,  good  man's  son,  from  the  foul  fiend  !'  Five  fiends 
have  been  in  poor  Tom  at  once  ;  of  lust,  as  Obidicut ; 
Hobbididance.  prince  of  dumbness  ;  Mahu,  of  stealing; 
Modo,  of  murder  ;  and  Flibbertigibbet,  of  mopping  and 
mowing,  who  since  possesses  chamber-maids  and  wait- 
ing-women.    So.  bless  thee,  master  ! 

Glo.  Here,  take  this  purse,  thou  whom  the  heaven's 
plagues 
Have  humbled  to  all  strokes :  that  I  am  wretched, 
Makes  thee  the  happier  : — Heavens,  deal  so  still ! 
Let  the  superfluous,  and  lust-dieted  man, 
That  braves^  your  ordinance,  that  will  not  see 
Because  he  doth  not  feel,  feel  your  power  quickly; 
So  distribution  should  undo  excess, 
And  each  man  have  enough. — Dost  thou  know  Dover  ? 

£dg.  Ay,  master. 

Glo.  There  is  a  cliff,  whose  high  and  bending  head 
Looks  fearfully  in  the  confined  deep : 
Bring  me  but  to  the  very  brim  of  it, 
And  I  '11  repair  the  misery  thou  dost  bear, 
With  something  rich  about  me ;  from  that  place 
I  shall  no  leading  need. 

Edg.  Give  me  thy  arm  : 

Poor  Tom  shall  lead  thee.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  H.— Before  the  Duke  of  Albany's  Palace. 
Enter  Goneril  and  Edmund  ;  Oswald  meeting , them. 

Gon.  Welcome,  my  lord :  I  marvel,  our  mild  hus- 
band . 
Not  met  us  on  the  way. — Now,  where  's  your  master  ? 

Osw.  Madam,  within  ;  but  never  man  so  chang'd. 
I  told  him  of  the  army  that  was  landed ; 
He  smil'd  at  it :  I  told  luni,  you  were  coming  ; 
His  answer  was,  '■  The  worse  :"  of  Gloster's  treachery, 
And  of  the  loyal  service  of  his  son, 
When  I  inform'd  him,  then  he  call'd  me  sot, 
And  told  me  I  had  turn'd  the  wrong  side  out. 
What  most  he  should  dislike^  seems  pleasant  to  him ; 
What  like,  offensive. 

1  The  rest  of  this  speech  is  not  in  folio.     2  slaves  :  in  f.  e.     'desire: 
in  quartos. 


328  KING    LEAR.  ACT   IV. 

Gon.      Then,  shall  you  s.o  no  farther.  \To  Edmund. 
It  is  the  cowish  terror  of  his  spirit, 
That  dares  not  undertake :  he  '11  not  feel  wrong-s, 
Which  tie  him  to  an  answer.     Our  wishes  on  the  way 
j\Iay  prove  etfects.     Back,  Edmund,  to  my  brother  3 
Hasten  his  musters,  and  conduct  his  powers : 
I  must  change  arms'  at  home,  and  give  the  distaff 
Into  my  husband's  hands.     This  trusty  servant 
Shall  pass  between  us  :  ere  long  you  are  like  to  hear. 
If  you  dare  venture  in  your  own  behalf, 
A  mistress's  command.     Wear  this  ;  spare  speech  ; 

[Giving  a  chain. 
Decline  your  head  :  this  kiss,  if  it  durst  speak, 
Would  stretch  thy  spirits  up  into  the  air. — 
Conceive,  and  fare  thee  well. 

Edm.  Yours  in  the  ranks  of  death. 

Gon.  My  most  dear  Gioster  !     [Exit  Edmund. 

0,  the  difference  of  man,  and  man  !^ 
To  thee  a  woman's  services  are  due  : 
My  fool  usurps  my  body.^ 

Osw.  Madam,  here  comes  my  lord.      \Exit  Oswald. 
Enter  Albany. 

Gon.  I  have  been  worth  the  whistle. 

Alb.  0  Goneril ! 

You  are  not  worth  the  dust,  which  the  rude  wind 
Blows  in  your  face* — I  fear  your  disposition  : 
That  nature,  which  contemns  its  origin, 
Cannot  be  border'd  certain  in  itself; 
She  that  herself  will  sliver  and  disbranch 
From  her  material  sap,  perforce  must  wither. 
And  come  to  deadly  use, 

Gon.  No  more  :  the  text  is  fot)lish. 

Alb.  Wisdom  and  goodness  to  the  vile  seem  vile ; 
Filths  savour  but  themselves.     What  have  you  done  ? 
Tigers,  not  daughters,  what  have  you  perform'd  ? 
A  father,  and  a  gracious  aged  man. 
Whose  reverence  the  head-lugg'd  bear  would  lick, 
Most  barbarous,  most  degenerate  !  have  you  madded. 
Could  my  good  brother  suffer  you  to  do  it  ? 
A  man,  a  prince,  by  him  so  benefited  ? 

1  names :  in  folio.  2  This  line  not  in  quartos.  ^  One  quarto 
has  :  My  foot  usurps  my  head  ;  another  has  :  My  fool  usurps  my  bed. 
*  The  rest  of  this  and  the  following  speeches,  to  ''  Milk-livered  man  I" 
are  not  in  folio. 


SC.  II. 


KING    LEAR.  329 


If  that  the  heavens  do  not  their  visible  spirits 
Send  quickly  dov^rn  to  tame  these  vile  offences, 
It  will  come, 

Humanity  must  perforce  prey  on  itself, 
Like  monsters  of  the  deep. 

(jo„.  Milk-liver'd  man  ! 

That  bear'st  a  cheek  for  blows,  a  head  for  wrongs, 
Who  hast  not  in  thy  brows  an  eye  discerning 
Thine  honour  from  thy  suffering  ;'  that  not  know'st, 
Fools  do  those  villains  pity,  who  are  punish'd 
Ere  they  have  done  their  mischief.    Where 's  thy  drum  ? 
France  spreads  his  banners  in  our  noiseless  land; 
With  plumed  helm  thy  slayer  begins  threats; 
Whilst  thou,  a  moral  fool,  sitt'st  still,  and  criest, 
'•  Alack  I  why  does  he  so  ?" 

^/^  See  thyself,  devil  ! 

Proper  deformity  seems  not  in  the  fiend 
So  horrid,  as  in  woman. 

Gon.  0  vain  fool  ! 

Alb.''  Thou  changed  and  self-cover'd  thing,  for  shame, 
Be-monster  not  thy  feature.     Were  it  my  fitness 
To  let  these  hands  obey  my  blood, 
They  are  apt  enough  to  dislocate  and  tear 
Thy  flesh  and  bones :  howe"er  thou  art  a  fiend, 
A  woman's  shape  doth  shield  thee. 

Gon.  Marry,  your  manhood  now  ! — 
Enter  a  Messenger. 

Alb.  What  news  ? 

31ess.  0  my  good  lord  !  the  duke  of  Cornwall 's  dead; 
Slain  by  his  servant,  going  to  put  out 
The  other  eye  of  Gloster. 

Alb.  Gloster's  eyes  ! 

Mess.  A  servant  that  he  bred,  thrill'd  with  remorse, 
Oppos'd  against  the  act,  bending  his  sword 
To  his  great  master  ;  who,  thereat  enrag'd. 
Flew  on  him,  and  amongst  them  fell'd  him  dead, 
But  not  without  that  harmful  stroke,  which  since 
Hath  pluck"d  him  after. 

j^lf)  This  shows  you  are  above. 

You  justicers,  that  these  our  nether  crimes 
So  speedily  can  venge  !— But,  0  poor  Gloster  ! 
Lost  he  his  other  eye  ? 

1  The  rest  of  the  speech  is  not  in  folio.    2  This  and  the  next  speech, 
aie  not  in  the  folio. 

18* 


830  KING   LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Mess.  Both,  both,  my  lord. 

This  letter,  madam,  craves  a  speedy  answer ; 

[Giving  it} 
'T  is  from  your  sister. 

Gon.  [Aside.]  One  way  I  like  this  well : 
But  being  widow,  and  my  Gloster  with  her, 
May  all  the  building  in'  my  fancy  pluck 
Upon  my  hateful  life.     Another  way, 
The  news  is  not  so  tart.    [To  him.]    I  "11  read,   and 
answer.  [Exit. 

Alb.  Where  was  his  son,  when  they  did  take  his  eyes  ? 

3Iess.  Come  with  my  lady  hither. 

Alb.  He  is  not  here. 

Mess.  No,  my  good  lord  ;  I  met  him  back  again. 

Alb.  Knows  he  the  wickedness  ? 

Mess.  Ay,  my  good  lord  :  'twas  he  informed  against 
him, 
And  quit  the  house,  on  purpose  that  their  punishment 
Might  have  the  freer  course. 

Alb.  Gloster,  I  live 

To  thank  thee  for  the  love  thou  show'dst  the  king, 
And  to  revenge  thine  eyes. — Come  hither,  friend : 
Tell  me  what  more  thou  knowest.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.'— The  French  Camp  near  Dover. 
Enter  Kent,  and  a  Gentleman. 

Kent.  Why  the  king  of  France  is  so  suddenly  gone 
back,  know  you  the  reason  ? 

Gent.  Something  he  left  imperfect  in  the  state, 
Which  since  his  coming  forth  is  thought  of;  which 
Imports  to  the  kingdom  so  much  fear  and  danger, 
That  his  personal  return  was  most  requir'd, 
And  necessary. 

Kent.  Whom  hath  he  left  behind  him  general  ? 

Gent.  The  Mareschal  of  France,  Monsieur  le  Fer. 

Kent.  Did  your  letters  pierce  the  queen  to  any  de- 
monstration of  grief  ? 

Gent.  Ay.   sir;    she  took   them,  read  them   in  my 
presence ; 
And  now  and  then  an  ample  tear  trill'd  down 
Her  delicate  cheek  :  it  seem'd,  she  was  a  queen 
Over  her  passion,  who,  rebel-like, 
Sought  to  be  king  o'er  her. 

*  Not  in  f.  e.     »  on  :  in  quartos.    '  This  scene  is  not  in  the  folio. 


SC.  HI.  KI^*G    LEAR.  331 

Kent.  0 !  then  it  mov'd  her. 

Geiit.  Not  to  a  rage :  patience  and  sorrow  strove* 
"\^Tio  should  express  her  goodliest.     You  have  seen 
Sunshine  and  rain  at  once :  her  smiles  and  tears 
"Were  like  a  better  May  :'■'  those  happy  smilets. 
That  play'd  on  her  ripe  lip.  seemd  not  to  know 
What  guests  were  in  her  eyes  :  which  parted  thence, 
As  pearls  from  diamonds  dropp'd. — In  brief,  sorrow 
Would  be  a  rarity  most  belov'd.  if  all 
Could  so  become  it . 

Kent.  IMade  she  no  verbal  question? 

Gent.  'Faith,  once,  or  twice,  she  heav  d  the  name 
of  '•  father" 
Pantingjy  forth,  as  if  it  press'd  her  heart : 
Cried.  '•  Sisters  !  sisters  ! — Shame  of  ladies  !  sisters  ! 
Kent !  father  !  sisters  !  What  ?  i'  the  storm  ?  i"  the  night  ? 
Let  pity  not  be  believed !" — There  she  shook 
The  holy  water  from  her  heavenly  eyes. 
And  clamour  moistend  :  then,  away  she  started 
To  deal  with  grief  alone. 

Ke7it.  .  It  is  the  stars, 

The  stars  above  us.  govern  our  conditions  ; 
Else  one  self  mate  and  mate  could  not  beget 
Such  different  issues.     You  spoke  not  with  her  since? 

Gent.  No. 

Kent.  Was  this  before  the  king  return'd  ? 

Gent.  No,  since. 

Kent.  Well,  sir.  the  poor  distress'd  Lear  "s  i"  the  towTi, 
Who  sometime,  in  his  better  tune,  remembers 
What  we  are  come  about,  and  by  no  means 
Will  yield  to  see  his  daughter. 

Getit.  Why,  good  sir  ? 

Keiit.  A  sovereign  shame  so  elbows  him  :    his  own 
unkindness, 
That  stripp'd  her  from  his  benediction,  turn'd  her 
To  foreign  casualties,  gave  her  dear  rights 
To  his  dog-hearted  daughters  ;  these  things  sting 
His  mind  so  venomously,  that  burning  shame 
Detains  him  from  Cordelia. 

Gent.  Alack,  poor  gentleman  ! 

Kent.  Of  Albany's  and  Cornwall's  powers  you  heard 
not? 

1  Etreme  :  in  quartos.    Pope  made  the  change,     --way:  in  quartos  ; 
some  mod.  eds.  :  day. 


332  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Ge7it.  'T  is  so  they  are  afoot. 

Kent.  Well,  sir,  I  '11  bring  you  to  our  master  Lear, 
And  leave  you  to  attend  him.     Some  dear  cause 
Will  in  concealment  ^Yrap  me  up  awhile  : 
When  I  am  known  aright,  you  shall  not  grieve 
Lending  me  this  acquaintance.     I  pray  you,  go 
Along  with  me.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.— The  Same.     A  Tent. 

Enter  Cordelia,  Physician,  and  French  Soldiers. 

Cor.  Alack  !  't  is  he :  why,  he  was  met  even  now 
As  mad  as  the  vex"d  sea  :  singing  aloud  ; 
Crown'd  with  rank  fumiter,  and  furrow  weeds, 
With  hoar-docks,  hemlock,  nettles,  cuckoo-flowers, 
Darnel,  and  all  the  idle  weeds  that  grow 
In  our  sustaining  corn. — A  century  send  forth; 
Search  every  acre  in  the.  high-grown  field, 
And  bring  him  to  our  eye.     [Exit  an  Officer.] — What 

can  man's  wisdom, 
In  the  restoring  his  bereaved  sense  ? 
He,  that  helps  him.  take  all  my  out^^'u^d  worth. 

Phy.  There  is  means,  madam  : 
Our  foster-nurse  of  nature  is  repose, 
The  which  he  lacks  ;  that  to  provoke  in  him 
Are  many  simples  operative,  wliose  power 
Will  close  the  eye  of  anguish. 

Cor.  All  bless'd  secrets, 

All  you  unpublish'd  virtues  of  the  earth, 
Spring  witli  my  tears  !  be  aidant,  and  remediate, 
In  the  good  man's  distress^  ! — Seek,  seek  for  him ; 
Lest  his  ungovernd  rage  dissolve  the  life 
That  wants  the  means  to  lead  it. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  News,  madam  : 

The  British  powers  are  marching  hitherward. 

Cor.  'T  is  known  before  ;  our  preparation  stands 
In  expectation  of  them. — 0  dear  father  ! 
It  is  thy  business  that  I  go  about, 
Therefore  great  France 

My  mourning,  and  important^  tears,  hath  pitied. 
No  blown  ambition  doth  our  arms  incite. 
But  love,  dear  love,  and  our  ag'd  father's  right. 
Soon  may  I  hear,  and  see  him !  [Exeunt. 

1  desires  :  in  folio.      *  Importunate. 


SC.  V.  KING    LEAR.  333 

SCENE  v.— A  Room  in  Gloster's  Castle. 
Enter  Regan  and  Oswald. 
Reg.  But  are  my  brother's  powers  set  forth  ? 
Osu'.  Ay.  madam. 
Re(r.  Himself  in  person  there  ? 
Qj^.  Madam,  with  much  ado : 

Your  sister  is  the  better  soldier. 

Reg.  Lord   Edmund  spake   not  \N-ith  your  lord    at 

home  ? 
Osw.  No.  madam. 

Reg.  What  might  import  my  sister's  letter  to  him? 
Osw.  I  know  not,  lady. 

Reg.  'Faith,  he  is  posted  hence  on  serious  matter. 
It  was  great  ignorance,  Gloster's  eyes  being  out, 
To  let  him  live :  where  he  arrives  he  moves 
All  hearts  against  us.     Edmund,  I  think,  is  gone, 
In  pity  of  his  miser>',  to  despatch 
His  nighted  life  :  moreover,  to  descry 
The  strength  o'  the  enemy. 

Osw.  I  must  needs  after  him,  madam,  with  my  letter. 
Reg.  Our  troops  set  forth  to-morrow:  stay  with  us; 
The  ways  are  dangerous. 

Qsw,  I  may  not,  madam  ; 

My  lady  charg'd  my  duty  in  this  business. 

Reg.  \Yhy  should  she  write  to   Edmund?     Might 
not  you 
Transport  her  purposes  by  word  ?     Belike. 
Something— I  know  not  what. — I  '11  love  thee  much ; 
Let  me  unseal  the  letter. 

Osw.  Madam.  I  had  rather — 

Reg.  I  know  your  lady  does  not  love  her  husband, 
I  am^sure  of  that ;  and,  at  her  late  being  here, 
She  gave  strange  oeiliads,  and  most  speaking  looks 
To  noble  Edmund.     1  know,  you  are  of  her  bosom. 
Osw.  I.  madam? 

Reg.  I  speak  in  understanding  :  y'  are,  I  know  it; 
Therefore.  I  do  advise  you,  take  this  note :  ^ 
My  lord  is  dead  :  Edmund  and  I  have  talk'd, 
And  more  convenient  is  he  for  my  hand, 
Than  for  your  lady"s.— You  may  gather  more. 
If  you  do  find  him,  pray  you,  give  him  this  : 
And  when  your  mistress  hears  thus  much  from  you, 
I  pray,  desire  her  call  her  wisdom  to  her  : 


334  KINO   LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

So,  fare  you  well. 

If  you  do  chance  to  hear  of  that  blind  traitor, 

Preferment  falls  on  him  that  cuts  him  off. 

Osw.   Would  I  could  meet  him,  madam:    I  would 
show 
What  party  do  I  follow. 

Reg.  Fare  thee  well,         \Exeunt. 

SCENE  VI.— The  Country  near  Dover. 
Enter  Gloster,  and  Edgar  dressed  like  a  Peasant. 

Glo.  When  shall  I  come  to  the  top  of  that  same  hill  ? 

Edg.  You  do  climb  vip  it  now :  look,  how  we  labour. 

Glo.  Methinks,  the  ground  is  even. 

Edg.  Horribly  steep. 

Hark  !  do  you  hear  the  sea  ? 

Glo.  No,  truly. 

Edg.  W^hy,  then  your  other  senses  grow  imperfect 
By  your  eyes'  anguish. 

Glo.  So  may  it  be,  indeed. 

Methinks,  thy  voice  is  alter'd  :  and  thou  speak'st 
la  better  phrase,  and  matter,  than  thou  didst. 

Edg.  Y'  are  much  deceiv'd  :  in  nothing  am  I  chang'd, 
But  in  my  garments. 

Glo.  Methinks,  y'  are  better  spoken, 

Edg.  Come  on,  sir ;  here  's  the  place :  stand  still. — 
How  fearful, 
And  dizzy  't  is  to  cast  one's  eyes  so  low ! 
The  crow.s,  and  choughs,  that  wing  the  midway  air. 
Show  scarce  so  gross  as  beetles  :  half  way  down 
Hangs  one  that  gathers  samphire  :  dreadful  trade  ! 
Methinks,  he  seems  no  bigger  than  his  head. 
The  fishermen,  that  walk  upon  the  beach, 
Appear  like  mice ;  and  yoiid'  tall  anchoring  bark, 
Diminished  to  her  cock'  ;  her  cock,  a  buoy 
Almost  too  small  for  sight.     The  murmuring  surge, 
That  on  th'  unnumber'd  idle  pebbles  chafe,^. 
Cannot  be  heard  so  high. — I  '11  look  no  more; 
Lest  my  brain  turn,  and  the  deficient  sight 
Topple  down  headlong. 

Glo.  Set  me  where  you  stand. 

Edg.  Give  me  your  hand  ;  you  are  now  within  a  foot 
Of  th'  extreme  verge  :  for  all  beneath  the  moon 
Would  I  not  leap  upright. 

1  Cockboat. 


SC.  VI. 


KING   LEAR.  335 


Glo.  Let  go  my  hand. 

Here,  friend,  is  another  purse ;  in  it,  a  jewel 
Well  worth  a  poor  man's  taking  :  fairies,  and  gods, 
Prosper  it  with  thee  !     Go  thou  farther  off: 
Bid  me  farewell,  and  let  me  hear  thee  going. 

Edg.  Now  fare  you  well,  good  sir. 

Glo.  With  all  my  heart. 

Edg.  Why  I  do  trifle  thus  with  his  despair, 
Is  done  to  cure  it. 

Glo.  0,  you  mighty  gods  ! 

This  world  I  do  renounce,  and  in  your  .'lights 
Shake  patiently  my  great  affliction  off: 
If  I  could  bear  it  longer,  and  not  fall 
To  quarrel  wath  your  great  opposeless  wills. 
My  .snuff,  and  loathed  part  of  nature,  should 
Burn  itself  out.     If  Edgar  live,  0,  bless  him  ! — 
Now.  fellow,  fare  thee  well.   [He  leaps,  end  falls  along. 

Edg.  Gone,  sir  :  farewell. — 

And  yet  I  know  not  how  conceit  may  rob 
The  treasury  of  life,  when  life  itself 
Yields  to  the  theft :  had  he  been  where  he  thought. 
By  this  had  thought  been  past. — Alive,  or  dead? 
Ho.  you  sir  !  friend  ! — Hear  you,  sir  ? — speak  ! 
Thus  might  he  pass  indeed ; — yet  he  revives. 
What  are  you,  sir? 

Glo.  Away,  and  let  me  die. 

Edg.  Hadst  thou  been  aught  but  gossamer,  feathers, 
air. 
So  many  fathom  dowai  precipitating, 
Thou  'dst  shiver'd  like  an  egg  :  but  thou  dost  breathe ; 
Ha.st  hea^•y  substance  :  bleed"stnot;  speak'st;  art  sound. 
Ten  masts  at  each  make  not  the  altitude, 
AYhich  thou  ha*;t  perpendicularly  fell : 
Thy  life  's  a  miracle.     Speak  yet  again. 

Glo.  But  have  I  fallen,  or  no  ? 

Edg.  From  the  dread  summit  of  this  chalky  bourn. 
Look  up  a  height ;  the  shrill-gorg'd  lark  so  far 
Cannot  be  seen  or  heard:  do  but  look  up. 

Glo.  Alack  !  I  have  no  eyes. — 
Is  ^\Tetchedness  depriv'd  that  benefit. 
To  end  itself  by  death  ?     'T  was  yet  some  comfort, 
When  misery  could  beguile  the  tyrant's  rage, 
And  frustrate  his  proud  will. 


336  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

Edg.  Give  me  your  arm :  [Helping  him  up} 

Up  : — so  ; — ^how  is  't  ?  Feel  you  your  legs  ?  You  stand. 

Glo.  Too  well,  too  well. 

Edg.  This  is  above  all  strangeness. 

Upon  the  crown  o'  the  cliff,  what  thing  was  that 
Which  parted  from  you  ? 

Glo.  A  poor  unfortunate  beggar. 

Edg.  As  I  stood  here  below,  methought.  his  eyes 
Were  too  full  moons  :  he  had  a  thousand  noses. 
Horns  whelk'd,  and  wav"d  like  the  enridged"  sea : 
It  was  some  fiend  :  therefore,  thou  happy  father, 
Think  that  the  clearest  gods,  who  make  them  honours 
Of  men's  impossibilities,  have  preserv'd  thee. 

Glo.  I  do  remember  now  :  henceforth  I  '11  bear 
Affliction,  till  it  do  cry  out  itself 

"  Enough,  enough  !"  and  die.    That  thing  you  speak  of, 
I  took  it  for  a  man  ;  often  't  would  say, 
"  The  fiend,  the  fiend  !"  he  led  me  to  that  place. 

Edg.    Bear   free    and   patient   thoughts. — But  who 
comes  here  ? 

Enter  Lear,  fantastically  dressed  with  Straws  and 
Flowers. 
The  safer  sense  will  ne'er  accommodate 
His  master  thus. 

Lear.  No,  they  cannot  touch  me  for  coining  f  I  am 
the  king  himself. 

Edg.  0,  thou  side-piercing  sight  ! 

Lear.  Nature  's  above  art  in  that  respect. — There  's 
your  press-monej'.  That  fellow  handles  his  bow  like  a 
crow-keeper  :*  draw  me  a  clothier's  yard. — Look,  look  ! 
a  mouse.  Peace,  peace  ! — this  piece  of  toasted  cheese 
will  do't. — There's  my  gauntlet;  I'll  prove  it  on  a 
giant. — Bring  up  the  brown  bills.* — 0,  well-flown,  bird  ! 
— i'  the  clout,  i'  the  clout"  :  hewgh ! — Give  the  word. 

Edg.  Sweet  marjoram. 

Lear.  Pass. 

Glo.  I  know  that  voice. 

Lear.  Ha  !  Goneril  !' — with  a  white  beard  ! — They 
flatter'd  me  like  a  dog  ;  and  told  me,  I  had  white  hairs 
in  my  beard,  ere  the  black  ones  were  there.  To  say 
"  ay,"  and  "  no,"  to  every  thing  I  said  ! — •'  Ay"  and 

I  Not  in  f.  e.  2  enraged  :  in  folio.  ^  crying  :  in  folio.  *  A  rustic, 
set  to  keep  crovs  from  corn.  '  Spears,  with  hooks  below  the  point. 
">  The  mark.     '  Goneril,  ha  !  Regan  !  they,  &c. :  in  quarto. 


SC.  VI.  KING    LEAR.  337 

"  no"  too  was  no  good  divinity.  When  the  rain  came 
to  wet  me  once,  and  the  "vvind  to  make  me  chatter,  when 
the  thunder  wouki  not  peace  at  my  bidding,  there  I 
found  'em,  there  I  smelt  'em  out.  Go  to,  they  are  not 
men  o'  their  words :  they  told  me  I  was  every  thing ; 
't  is  a  lie,  I  am  not  ague-proof. 

Glo.  The  trick  of  that  voice  I  do  well  remember  : 
Is 't  not  the  king  ? 

Lear.  Ay,  every  inch  a  king  : 

When  I  do  stare,  see  how  the  subject  quakes. 
I  pardon  that  man"s  life  :  what  was  thy  cause  ? — 
Adultery. — 

Thou  shalt  not  die  :  die  for  adultery  ?  No  : 
The  wren  goes  to 't,  and  the  small  gilded  fly 
Does  lecher  in  my  sight. 

Let  copulation  thrive  ;  for  Gloster's  bastard  son 
Was  kinder  to  his  father,  than  my  daughters 
Got  'tween  the  lawful  sheets. 
To  't,  luxury,  pell-mell,  for  I  lack  soldiers. — 
Behold  yond'  simpering  dame. 
Whose  face  between  her  forks  presageth  snow ; 
That  mimics'  virtue,  and  does  shake  the  head 
To  hear  of  pleasure's  name  ; 

The  titchew,  nor  the  soiled  horse,  goes  to  't  , 

With  a  more  riotous  appetite. 
Down  from  the  waist  they  are  centav^rs, 
Though  women  all  above: 
But  to  the  girdle  do  the  gods  inherit. 
Beneath  is  all  the  fiends  :  there  's  hell,  there  's  dark- 
ness, there  is  the  sulphurous  pit,  burning,   scalding, 
stench,  consumption  ;'■' — fie,  fie.  fie  !  pah:  pah!     Give 
me  an  ounce  of  civet,  good  apothecary,  to  sweeten  rny 
imagination  :  there'  s  money  for  thee. 

Glo.  0,  let  me  kiss  that  hand  ! 

Lear.  Let  me  wipe  it  first :  it  smells  of  mortality. 

Glo.  0  ruin  d  piece  of  nature  !     This  great  world 
Shall  so  wear  out  to  nought. — Dost  thou  know  me? 

Lear.  I  remember  thine  eyes  well  enough.  Dost 
thou  squiny  at  me?  No,  do  thy  worst,  blind  Cupid; 
I  '11  not  love. — Read  thou  this  challenge:  mark  but  the 
penning  of  it. 

Glo.  Were  all  the  letters  suns,  I  could  not  see  one. 

Edg.  I  would  not  take  this  from  report ;  it  is, 
1  minces :  in  f.  e.    »  consTimmation  :   in  quartos. 

Vol.  VII.— 29 


KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 

And  my  heart  breaks  at  it. 

Lear.  Read. 

Glo.  What !  with  the  case  of  eyes  ? 

Leav.  0,  ho !  are  you  there  with  me  ?  No  eyes  in 
your  head,  nor  no  money  in  your  purse  ?  Your  eyes 
are  in  a  heavy  case,  your  purse  in  a  light :  yet  you  see 
how  this  world  goes.  » 

Glo.  I  see  it  feelingly. 

Lear.  What,  art  mad  ?  A  man  may  see  how  this 
world  goes  with  no  eyes.  Look  with  thine  ears;  see 
how  yond'  ju.stice  rails  upon  yond'  simple  thief.  Hark, 
in  thine  ear :  change  places :  and,  handy-dandy,  which 
is  the  justice,  which  is  the  thief? — Thou  hast  seen  a 
farmer's  dog  bark  at  a  beggar  ? 

Glo.  Ay,  sir. 

Lear.  And  the  creature  run  from  the  cur  ?     There 
thou  mightst  behold  the  great   image  of  authority :  a 
dog  's  obey'd  in  office. — 
Thou  rascal  beadle,  hold  thy  bloody  hand  ! 
Why  dost  thou  lash  that  whore  ?    Strip  thine  own  back ; 
Thou  hotly  hist'st  to  use  her  in  that  kind 
For  which  thou  whipp'st  her.     The  usurer  hangs  the 
cozener. 
^^Through  tatter'd  clothes  small  vices  do  appear  ; 
Robes,  and  furr'd   gowns,  hide   all.^     Plate  sin  with 

gold. 
And  the  strong  lance  of  justice  hurtless  breaks : 
Arm  it  in  rags,  a  pigmy's  straw  doth  pierce  it. 
None  does  offend,  none,  I  say.  none ;  I  '11  able  'em  : 
Take  that  of  me,  my  friend,  who  have  the  power 
To  seal  th'  accuser's  lips.     Get  thee  glass  eyes: 
And,  like  a  scurvy  politician,  seem 
To  see  the  things  thou  dost  not. — Now.  now,  now, 

now  ! 
Pull  off  my  boots  :  harder,  harder  ;  so. 

Edg.  0,  matter  and  impertinency  mix'd ; 
Reason  in  madness  ! 

Lear.  If  thou  wilt  weep  my  fortunes,  take  my  eyes. 
I  know  thee  well  enough  ;  thy  name  is  Gloster : 
Thou  must  be  patient.     We  came  crying  hither: 
Thou  know'st,  the  first  time  that  we  smell  the  air 
We  wawl,  and  cry.     I  will  preach  to  thee :  mark  me. 

Glo.  Alack  !  alack  the  day  ! 

1  The  next  sentence  to  '■  Get''  is  not  in  quartos. 


so.  VI. 


KING    LEAR.  339 


Lear.  When  we  are  born,  we  cry  that  we  are  come 
To  this  great  stage  of  fools. — 'T  is'  a  good  plot.* 
It  were  a  delicate  stratagem,  to  shoe 
A  troop  of  horse  with  felt.     I  '11  put  it  in  proof; 
And  when  I  have  stolen  upon  these  sons-in-law. 
Then,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill,  kill. 

Enter  a  Gentleman  with  Attendants. 

Gent.  0  !  here  he  is  :  lay  hand  upon  him. — Sir, 
Your  most  dear  daughter — 

Lear.  No  rescue  ?     What  !  a  prisoner  ?     I  am  even 
The  natural  fool  of  fortune. — Use  me  well ; 
You  shall  have  ransom.     Let  me  have  a  surgeon, 
I  am  cut  to  the  brains. 

Gent.  You  shall  have  any  thing. 

Lear.  No  seconds?     All  myself ? 
Why,  this  would  make  a  man,  a  man  of  salt, 
To  use  his  eyes  for  garden  water-pots, 
Ay,  and  for  laying  autumn's  dust.' 

Gent.  Good  sir, — 

Lear.  I  will  die  bravely, 
Like  a  smug*  bridegroom.     What !  I  will  be  jovial. 
Come,   come  ;   I   am  a  king,   my  masters,  know  you 
that  ? 

Gent.  You  are  a  royal  one,  and  we  obey  you. 

Lear.  Then  there  's  life  in  it.     Nay,  an  you  get  it, 
you  shall  get  it  by  running.     Sa,  sa,  sa,  sa. 

\Exit :  Attendants  follow. 

Gent.  A  sight  most  pitiful  in  the  meanest  wretch. 
Past  speaking  in  a  king  ! — Thov^  hast  one  daughter, 
Who  redeems  nature  from  the  general  curse 
Which  twain  have  brought  her  to. 

Edg.  Hail,  gentle  sir. 

Gent.  Sir,  speed  you  :  what 's  your  yfiW  ? 

Edg.  Do  you  hear  aught,  sir,  of  a  battle  toward  ? 

Gent.  Most  sure,  and  vulgar :  every  one  hears  that, 
Which  can  distinguish  sound. 

Edg.  But,  by  your  favour, 

How  near 's  the  other  army  ? 

Gent.  Near,  and  on  speedy  foot;  the  main  descry 
Stands  on  the  hourly  thought. 

Edg.  I  thank  you,  sir :  that 's  alL 

Gent.  Though  that  the  queen  on  special  cause  is  here, 

1  This  :  in  f.    e.      2  block  :  in  f.  e.      ^  This  line  is  not  in  folio. 
*  Not  in  quarto. 


340 


KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 


Her  army  is  mov'd  on. 

^<^S-   ^  I  thank  you,  sir.  [Exit  Gent. 

Glo.  You  ever-gentle  gods,  take  my  breath  from  me: 
Let  not  my  worser  spirit  tempt  me  again 
To  die  before  you  please  ! 

Edg.  Well  pray  you,  father. 

Glo.  Now,  good  sir,  what  are  you  ? 
Edg.  A  most   poor  man,  made  tame   to^  fortune's 
blows  ; 
Who,  by  the  art  of  known  and  feeling  sorrows, 
Am  pregnant  to  good  pity.     Give  me  your  hand, 
I  '11  lead  you  to  some  biding. 

^^0.  Hearty  thanks ; 

The  bounty  and  the  benison  of  heaven 
To  boot,  and  boot ! 

Enter  Oswald. 
Osw.  A  proclaim'd  prize  !     Most  happy  ! 

That  eyeless  head  of  thine  was  first  fram'd  flesh 
To  raise  my  fortunes. — Thou  old  unhappy  traitor, 
Briefly  thyself  remember : — the  sword  is  out  [Drawing. 
That  must  destroy  thee. 

Glo.  Now  let  thy  friendly  hand 

Put  strength  enough  to  it.  [Edgar  interposes. 

Osw.  Wherefore,  bold  peasant, 

Dar'st  thou  support  a  publish'd  traitor  ?     Hence ; 
Lest  that  th'  infection  of  his  fortune  take 
Like  hold  on  thee.     Let  go  his  arm. 

Edg.  Ch  'ill  not  let  go,  zir,  without  varther  'casion. 
Osw.  Let  go,  slave,  or  thou  diest. 
Edg.    Good  gentleman,  go  your  gait,  and  let  poor 
volk  pass.     And  eh'ud  ha'  been  zwagger'd  out  of  my 
life,  't  would  not  ha'  been  zo  long  as  't  is  by  a  vort- 
night.     Nay,  come  not  near  the  old  man;  keep  out, 
die  vor'ye,  or  Ise  try  whether  your  costard  or  my  hal- 
low"'' be  the  harder.     Ch  'ill  be  plain  with  you. 
Osw.  Out,  dunghill ! 

Edg.  Ch  'ill  pick  your  teeth,  zir.     Come  ;  no  matter 
vor  your  foins. 

[They  fight;  and  Edgar  strikes  him  down. 
Osw.  Slave,  thou  hast  slain  me. — Villain,  take  my 
purse. 
If  ever  thou  wilt  thrive,  bury  my  body ; 
And  give  the  letters,  which  thou  find'st  about  me, 
1  lame  by  :   in  quartos.      2  Head,  or  my  cudgel. 


SC.  VI.  KING   LEAR. 


34l 


To  Edmund  earl  of  Gloster  :  seek  him  out 

Upon  the  British'  party. — 0,  untimely  death  !      [Dies. 

Edg.  I  know  thee  well :  a  ser-saceable  villain  : 
As  duteous  to  the  vices  of  thy  mistress, 
As  badness  would  desire. 

Glo.  What!  is  he  dead? 

Edg.  Sit  you  down,  father  :  rest  you. — 
Let 's  see  his  pockets :  tliese  letters,  that  he  speaks  of. 
May  be  my  friends. — He  's  dead  ;  I  am  only  sorry 
He  had  no  other  death's-man. — Let  us  see  : — 
Leave,  gentle  wax ;  and,  manners,  blame  us  not : 
To  know  our  enemies'  minds  we  rip  their  hearts, 
Their  papers  is  more  lawful. 

[Reads.]  '•  Let  our  reciprocal  vows  be  remembered. 
You  have  many  opportunities  to  cut  him  off :  if  your 
will  want  not.  time  and  place  -will  be  fruitfully  offered. 
There  is  nothing  done,  if  he  return  the  conqueror :  then, 
am  I  the  prisoner,  and  his  bed  my  gaol,  from  the  loathed 
warmth  whereof  deliver  me,  and  supply  the  place  for 
your  labour. 

"  Your  (wife,  so  I  would  say) 

"  affectionate  servant, 

"  GONERIL." 

0,  unextinguish'd  blaze''  of  woman's  will ! 

A  plot  upon  her  virtuous  husband's  life ; 

And  the  exchange,  my  brother  I — Here,  in  the  sands, 

Thee  I  '11  rake  up.  the  post  unsanctified 

Of  murderous  lechers  ;  and  in  the  mature  time, 

With  this  ungracious  paper  strike  the  sight 

Of  the  death-practis'd  duke.     For  him  't  is  well. 

That  of  thy  death  and  business  I  can  tell. 

Glo.  The  king  is  mad :  how  stiff  is  my  \'ile  sense 
That  I  stand  up,  and  have  ingenious  feeling 
Of  my  huge  sorrows  I     Better  I  were  distract ; 
So  should  my  thoughts  be  severed  from  my  griefs, 
And  woes,  by  \\Tong  imaginations,  lose 
The  Iniowledge  of  themselves.  [Drwn  afar  off. 

Edg.  Give  me  your  hand  : 

Far  off,  methinks,  I  hear  the  beaten  drum. 
Come,  father  •  I  '11  bestow  you  with  a  friend.  [Exeunt. 
1  English  :  in  folio.      ^  undistinguisli'd  space  :  in  f.  e. 


29* 


342  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IV. 


SCENE  VII.— ^  Tent  in  the  French  Camp.     Lear  on 

a  Bed,  asleep ;  Doctor,  Gentleman,  and  others,  attend- 
ing: Enter  Cordelia  and  Kent. 

Cor.  0  thou  good  Kent !  how  shall  I  live,  and  work, 
To  match  thy  goodness  ?     My  life  will  be  too  short. 
And  every  measure  fail  me. 

Kent.  To  be  acknowledg'd,  madam,  is  o'er-paid. 
All  my  reports  go  with  the  modest  truth; 
Nor  more,  nor  clipp'd,  but  so. 

Cor.  Be  better  suited  : 

These  weeds  are  memories  of  those  worser  hours. 
I  pr'ythee,  put  them  off. 

Kent.  Pardon  me,  dear  madam  : 

Yet  to  be  known  shortens  my  main'  intent : 
My  boon  I  make  it,  that  you  know  me  not, 
Till  time  and  I  think  meet. 

Cor.  Then  be  't  so,  my  good  lord. — How  does  the 
king?  [To  the  Physician. 

Doct.  Madam,  sleeps  still. 

Cor.  0,  you  kind  gods. 
Cure  this  great  breach  in  his  abused  nature  ! 
Th'  untun'd  and  jarring"''  senses,  O,  wind  up 
Of  this  child-changed  father  ! 

Doct.  So  please  your  majesty, 

That  we  may  wake  the  king  ?  he  hath  slept  long. 

Cor.  Be  govern'd  by  your  knowledge,  and  proceed 
I'  the  sway  of  your  own  will.     Is  he  array'd  ? 

Doct.^  Ay,  madam  ;  in  the  heaviness  of  his  sleep. 
We  put  fresh  garments  on  him. 

Kent.  Good  madam,  be  by  when  we  do  awake  him  : 
I  doubt  not  of  his  temperance. 

Cor.  Very  well.*      [Music. 

Doct.    Please   you,  draw  near. — Louder   the  music 
there. 

Cor.  0  my  dear  father  !     Restoration,  hang 
Thy  medicine  on  my  lips  ;  and  let  this  kiss 
Repair  those  violent  harms,  that  my  two  sisters 
Have  in  thy  reverence  made  ! 

Kent.  Kind  and  dear  princess  ! 

1  made  :  in  f.  e.  ^  Hurrying.  ^  The  folio  gives  this  and  the  next 
speech  to  the  Doctor.  Most  mod.  eds.  give  the  first  to  a  GeiitlemaUy 
and  the  second  to  the  Doctor  ;  the  text  follows  one  ol  the  quartos. 
*  This  and  the  next  line,  are  not  in  folio. 


SC.  VII. 


KING    LEAR.  343 


Cor.   Had  you  not  been  their   father,  these  -white 
flakes 
Had  challeng'd  pity  of  them.     Was  this  a  face 
To  be  expos'd  against  the  warring^  winds  ? 
To  stand  against  the  deep  dread-bolted  thunder  ? 
In  the  most  terrible  and  nimble  stroke 
Of  quick,  cross  lightning  '  to  watch  (poor  perdu  !) 
With  this  thin  helm  ?     Mine  enemy's  dog, 
Thougli  he  had  bit  me,  should  have  stood  that  night 
Against  my  fire :  and  wast  thou  fain,  poor  father, 
To  hovel  thee  with  swine,  and  rogues  forlorn, 
In  short  and  inusty  straw  ?     Alack,  alack  ! 
'T  is  wonder,  that  thy  life  and  wits  at  once 
Had  not  concluded  all. — He  wakes;  speak  to  him, 
Dod.  Madam,  do  you  ;  't  is  fittest. 
Cor.    How  does  my  royal  lord?     How  fares   your 

majesty '? 
Lear.   You  do   me  wTong,  to  take   me   out  o'  the 
grave. — 
Thou  art  a  soul  in  bliss,  but  I  am  bound 
Upon  a  wheel  of  fire,  that  mine  own  tears 
Do  scald  like  molten  lead. 

Cor.  Sir,  do  you  know  me  ? 

Lear.  You  are  a  spirit,  I  know.  Where^  did  you  die  ? 
Cor.  Still,  still,  far  wide. 

Dod.  He  's  scarce  awake  :  let  him  alone  awhile. 
Lear.    Where  have  I  been?     Where  am  I? — Fair 
day-light  ? — 
I  am  mightily  abus'd. — I  should  even  die  with  pity 
To  see  another  thus. — 1  know  not  what  to  say. — 
I  will  not  swear,  these  are  my  hands  : — let 's  see : 
I  feel  this  pin  prick.     Would  I  were  assur'd' 
Of  my  condition ! 

Cor.  0  !  look  upon  me,  sir. 

And  hold  your  hands  in  benediction  o'er  me. — 
No,  sir,  you  must  not  kneel. 

Lear.  Pray,  do  not  mock  me: 

I  am  a  very  foolish  fond  old  man. 
Fourscore  and  upward.^  not  an  hour  more  nor  less; 
And,  to  deal  plainly, 
I  fear,  I  am  not  in  my  perfect  mind. 

1  opposM  against  the  jarring  :  in  folio.  The  following  lines  to 
"Mine"  are  not  in  folio.  ^  go  one  quarto,  and  folio;  the  other: 
When.     3  The  rest  of  the  line  is  not  in  folio. 


344  KING    LEAR.  ACT  IT. 

Methiuks.  I  should  know  you,  and  know  this  man  • 
Yet  I  am  doubtful,  for  I  am  mainly  ignorant 
What  place  this  is ;  and  all  the  skill  I  have 
Remembers  not  these  garments ;  nor  I  know  not 
Where  I  did  lodge  last  night.     Do  not  laugh  at  me, 
For,  as  I  am  a  man.  I  think  this  lady 
To  be  my  child  Cordelia. 

Cor.  And  so  I  am,  I  am. 

Lear.  Be  your  tears  wet  ?  Yes,'faith.  I  pray,weep  not : 
If  you  have  poison  for  me,  I  will  drink  it. 
I  know,  you  do  not  love  me  ;  for  your  sisters 
Have,  as  I  do  remember,  done  me  wrong  : 
You  have  some  cause,  they  have  not. 

Cor.  No  cause,  no  cause. 

Lear.  Am  I  in  France  ? 

Kent.  In  your  own  kingdom,  sir. 

Lear.  Do  not  abuse  me. 

Doct.  Be  comforted,  good  madam :  the  great  rage, 
You  see,  is  cur'd^  in  him  ;  and  yet  it  is  danger 
To  make  him  even  o'er  the  time  he  has  lost. 
Desire  him  to  go  in  :  trouble  him  no  more, 
Till  farther  settling. 

Cor.  AVill  't  please  your  highness  walk  ? 

Lear.  You  must  bear  \^-ith  me : 

Pray  you  now,  forget  and  forgive  :  I  am  old,  and  foolish. 

[Exennt  Lear,  Cordelia,  Doctor,  and  Attendants.^ 

Gent.  Holds  it  true,  sir,  that  the  duke  of  Cornwall 
was  so  slain  ? 

Kent.  Most  certain,  sir. 

Gent.  Who  is  conductor  of  his  people  ? 

Kent.  As  't  is  said,  the  bastard  son  of  Gloster. 

Gent.  They  say,  Edgar,  his  banished  son,  is  with  the 
earl  of  Kent  in  Germany. 

Ke77t.  Report   is   changeable.     'T   is   time   to    look 
about ;  the  powers  o'  the  kingdom  approach  apace. 

Gent.  The  arbitrement  is  like  to  be  bloody.     Fare 
you  well,  sir.  [Exit. 

Kent.    My   point    and    period    will    be    throughly 
wrought. 
Or  well  or  ill,  as  this  day's  battle  's  fought.  [Exit. 

'  kill'd  :  in   folio.      The  latter  part  of  this,  and  the  next  line,  ara 
not  in  folio.     2  The  rest  of  this  scene  is  not  in  folio. 


SC.  I.  KING    LEAR.  345 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.— The  Camp  of  the  British  Forces,  neax 
Dover. 

Enterj  with.  Drums  and  Colours,  Edmund,  Regan, 
Officers,  Soldiers,  mid  others. 

Edm.  Know  of  the  duke,  if  his  last  purpose  hold; 
Or  whether  since  he  is  advis'd  by  aught 
To  change  the  course.     He  's  full  of  alteration, 
And  self-reproving  : — bring  his  constant  pleasure. 

[To  an  Officer,  ivho  exit. 

Reg.  Our  sister's  man  is  certainly  miscarried. 

Edm.  'T  is  to  be  doubted,  madam. 

Reg.  Now,  sweet  lord, 

You  know  the  goodness  I  intend  upon  you : 
Tell  me,  but  truly,  but  then  speak  the  truth, 
Do  you  not  love  my  sister  ? 

Edm.  In  honoured  love. 

Reg.  But  have  you  never  found  my  brother's  way 
To  the  forefended  place  ? 

Edm.^  That  thought  abuses  you. 

Reg.   I  am  doubtful  that  you  have  been  conjunct, 
And  bosom'd  with  her,  as  far  as  we  call  hers. 

Ed7n.  No,  by  mine  honour,  madam. 

Reg.  I  never  shall  endure  her.     Dear  my  lord. 
Be  not  familiar  with  her. 

Edm.  Fear  me"  not. — 

She,  and  the  duke  her  husband, — 

Enter  Albany,  Goxeril,  and  Soldiers. 

Gon.  I  had  rather  lose  the  battle,  than  that  sister 
Should  loosen  him  and  me.  [Aside. 

Alb.  Our  very  loving  sister,  well  be-met. — 
Sir,  this  I  hear, — the  king  is  come  to  his  davighter, 
With  others,  whom  the  rigour  of  our  state 
Forc'd  to  cry  out.'     Where  I  could  not  be  honest, 
I  never  yet  was  valiant :  for  this  business, 
It  toucheth  us,  as  France  invades  our  land, 
Not  holds  the  king,  with  others,  whom,  I  fear, 
Most  just  and  heav>'  causes  make  oppose. 

Edm.  Sir,  you  speak  nobly. 

Reg.  Why  is  this  reason'd  ? 

I  This  and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  folio.     2  jjot  in  folio.     ^  The 
rest  of  this,  and  next  speech,  not  in  folio. 


346  KINO    LEAR.  ACT  V. 

Gon.  Combine  together  'gainst  the  enemy; 
For  these  domestic  and  particular  broils 
Are  not  the  question  here. 

jilf).  Let  us,  then,  determine 

With  the  ancient  of  war  on  our  proceedings. 

Edm.  I  shall  attend  you  presently  at  your  tent. 

Reg.  Sister,  you  '11  go  with  us? 

Gon.  No. 

Reg.  'T  is  most  convenient ;  pray  you,  go  with  us. 

Gon.  0,  ho  !  I  know  the  riddle.  [Aside.]— I  will  go. 
Enter  Edgar,  disguised. 

Edg.  If  e'er  your  grace  had  speech  with  man  so  poor, 
Hear  me  one  word. 

Alb.  I'll  overtake  you. — Speak. 

[Exeunt  Edmund,  Regan,  Goneril,  Officers, 
Soldiers^  and  Attendants. 

Edg.  Before  you  fight  the  battle,  ope  this  letter. 
If  you  have  victory,  let  the  trumpet  sound 
For  him  that  brought  it :  wretched  though  I  seem, 
I  can  produce  a  champion,  that  will  prove 
What  is  avouched  there.  If  you  miscarry, 
Your  business  of  the  world  hath  so  an  end, 
And  machination  ceases.     Fortune  love  you  !  [Going} 

Alb.  Stay,  till  I  have  read  the  letter. 

Edg.         '  I  "^'^s  forbid  it. 

Wlien  time  shall  serve,  let  but  the  herald  cry, 
And  I  '11  appear  again.  [Exit. 

Alb.  Why,  fare  thee  well :  I  will  o'erlook  thy  paper. 
Re-enter  Edmund. 

Edm.  The  enemy  's  in  view;  draw  up  your  powers. 
Here^  is  the  guess  of  their  true^  strength  and  forces 
By  diligent  discovery ;  [Showing  a  Paper.]  but  your 

haste 
Is  now  urg'd  on  you.  . 

Alb.  We  will  greet  the  time.  [Exit. 

Edm.  To  both  these  sisters  have  I  sworn  my  love ; 
Each  jealous  of  the  other,  as  the  stung 
Are  of  the  adder.     Which  of  them  shall  I  take  ? 
Both  ?  one  ?  or  neither  ?     Neither  can  be  enjoy'd, 
If  both  remain  alive  :  to  take  the  widow 
Exasperates,  makes  mad,  her  sister  Goneril ; 
And  hardly  shall  I  carry  out  my  side, 
Her  husband  being  alive.     Now  then,  we'll  use 
I  Not  in  f.  e,     2  Hard  :  in  quaxtos.     »  great :  in  quaitos. 


SC.  III. 


KING    LEAR.  347 


His  countenance  for  the  battle ;  which  being  done, 

Let  her  who  would  be  rid  of  him  devise 

His  speedy  taking  off.     As  for  the  mercy 

Which  he  intends  to  Lear,  and  to  Cordelia, 

The  battle  done,  and  they  within  our  power, 

Shall  never  see  his  pardon  ;  for  my  state 

Stands  on  me  to  defend,  not  to  debate.  [Exit. 

SCENE  H. — A  Field  between  the  two  Camps. 
Alarum  within.    Enter.,  u'ith  Drum  and  Colours^  Lear, 
Cordelia,  and  their  Forces  ;  and  exeunt. 
Enter  Edgar  and  Gloster. 
Edg.  Here,  father,  take  the  shadow  of  this  tree' 
For  your  good  host ;  pray  that  the  right  may  thrive. 
If  ever  I  return  to  you  again, 
I  '11  bring  you  comfort. 

Glo.  Grace  go  with  you.  sir  !  [Exit  Edgar. 

Alarum;  afterwards  a  Retreat.     Re-enter  Ebg ah. 
Edg.  Away,  old  man  !  give  me  thy  hand :  away  ! 
King  Lear  hath  lost,  he  and  his  daughter  ta'en. 
Give  me  thy  hand  ;  come  on. 

Glo.  No  farther,  sir  :  a  man  may  rot  even  here. 
Edg.  What!    in  ill    thoughts    again?     Men   mu.st 
endure 
Their  going  hence,  even  as  their  coming  hither : 
Ripeness  is  all.     Come  on. 

Glo.  And  that 's  true  too.^  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.— The  British  Camp  near  Dover. 

Enter,  in  conquest,  with  Drum  and  Colours,  Edmund  ; 

Lear  and  Cordelia,  as  Prisoners  ;  Captain,  Officers, 

Soldiers,  ifc. 

Edm.  Some  officers  take  them  away  :  good  guard, 
Until  their  greater  pleasures  first^  be  known. 
That  are  to  censure  them. 

Cor.  We  are  not  the  first, 

Who,  with  best  meaning,  have  incurr'd  the  worst. 
For  thee,  oppressed  king,  am  I  cast  down  ; 
Myself  could  else  out-frown  false  fortune's  frown. 
Shall  we  not  see  these  daughters,  and  these  sisters  ? 

Lear.  No,  no,  no,  no !     Come,  let 's  away  to  prison : 
We  two  alone  will  sing  like  birds  i'  the  cage  : 

1  bnsh  :  in   quartos.      '  This  speech  is  not  in  quarto.      ^  best :  in 
quartos. 


348  KING    LEAR,  ACT  V. 

When  thou  dost  ask  me  blessing,  I'  11  kneel  down. 

And  ask  of  thee  forgiveness.     So  we  '11  live, 

And  pray,  and  sing,  and  tell  old  tales,  and  laugh 

At  gilded  butterflies,  and  hear  poor  rogues 

Talk  of  court  news;  and  we  '11  talk  with  them  too, 

Who  loses,  and  who  wins  ;  who 's  in,  who  's  out ; 

And  take  upon 's  the  mystery  of  things, 

As  if  we  were  God's  spies  :  and  we  '11  wear  out, 

In  a  wall'd  prison,  packs  and  sects  of  great  ones, 

That  ebb  and  flow  by  the  moon. 

Edm.  Take  them  away. 

Lear.  Upon  such  sacrifices,  my  Cordelia, 
The   gods  themselves  throw  incense.     Have  I  caught 
thee  ?  [Embracing  her} 

He  that  parts  us  shall  bring  a  brand  from  heaven, 
And  fire  iis  hence  like  foxes.     Wipe  thine  eyes  ; 
The  goujeers^  shall  devour  them,  flesh  and  fell, 
Ere  they  shall  make  us  weep  :  we  '11  see  them  stai-ve 

first. 
Come.  [Exeimt  Lear  and  Cordelia,  guarded. 

Edm.  Come  hither,  captain  ;  hark. 
Take  thou  this  note;  {Giving a  Paper. "l  go,  follow  them 

to  prison. 
One  step  I  have  advanc'd  thee ;  if  thou  dost 
As  this  instructs  thee,  thou  dost  make  thy  way 
To  noble  fortunes.     Know  thou  this,  that  men 
Are  as  the  time  is  ;  to  be  tender-minded 
Does  not  become  a  sword.     Thy  great  employment 
Will  not  bear  question  :  either  say,  thou  'It  do 't. 
Or  thrive  by  other  means. 

Capt.  I  '11  do't,  my  lord.         [done 

Edm.  About  it :  and  wTite  happy,  when  thou  hast 
Mark, — I  say,  instantly ;  and  carry  it  so, 
As  I  have  set  it  down. 

Capt.^  I  cannot  draw  a  cart,  nor  eat  dried  oats  ; 
If  it  be  man's  work,  I  will  do  it.  [Exit  Captain. 

Flourish.     Enter  Albany,  Goneril,  Regan,  Officers, 
and  Attendants. 

Alb.  Sir,  you  have  shown  to-day  your  valiant  strain, 
And  fortune  led  you  well.     You  have  the  captives, 
Who  were  the  opposites  of  this  day's  strife : 
We  do  require  them  of  you.  so  to  use  them, 

1  Not  in  f.  e.     ^  good  years  :  in  old  copies.      '  This  speech  is  not 
in  folio. 


SC.  III.  KING   LEAR.  349 

As  we  shall  find  their  merits,  and  our  safety, 
May  equally  determine. 

Edm.  Sir,  I  thought  it  fit 

To  send  the  old  and  miserable  king 
To  some  retention,  and  appointed  guard  ;^ 
Whose  age  has  charms  in  it,  whose  title  more. 
To  pluck  the  common  bosom  on  his  side, 
And  turn  our  impress'd  lances  in  our  eyes, 
Which  do  command  them.     With  liim  I  sent  the  queen  : 
My  reason  all  the  same ;  and  they  are  ready 
To-morrow,  or  at  farther  space,  t'  appear 
Where  you  shall  hold  your  session.^     At  this  time, 
We  sweat,  and  bleed :  the  friend  hath  lost  his  friend ; 
And  the  best  quarrels,  in  the  heat,  are  curs'd 
By  those  that  feel  their  sharpness. — 
Tbe  question  of  Cordelia,  and  her  father, 
Requires  a  fitter  place. 

Alb.  Sir,  by  your  patience, 

I  hold  you  but  a  subject  of  this  war, 
Not  as  a  brother. 

Reg.  That 's  as  w^e  list  to  grace  him : 

Methinks,  our  pleasure  might^  have  been  demanded, 
Ere  you  had  spoke  so  far.     He  led  our  powers, 
Bore  the  commission  of  my  place  and  person; 
To  which  immediacy*  may  well  stand  up, 
And  call  itself  your  brother. 

Gon.  Not  so  hot : 

In  his  own  grace  he  doth  exalt  himself, 
More  than  in  your  addition.'^ 

Reg.  In  my  rights. 

By  me  invested,  he  compeers  the  best. 

Gon.  That  were  the  most,  if  he  should  husband  you. 

Reg.  Jesters  do  oft  prove  prophets. 

Gon.  Holla!  holla! 

That  eye  that  told  you  so  look'd  but  a-squint. 

Reg.  Lady,  I  am  not  well ;  else  I  should  answer 
From  a  full-flowing  stomach. — General, 
Take  thou  my  soldiers,  prisoners,  patrimony : 
Dispose  of  them,  of  me ;  the  walls  are  thine. 
Witness  the  world,  that  I  create  thee  here 
My  lord  and  master. 

1  These  three  words  are  not  in  folio.  2  The  rest  of  the  speech  is 
not  in  folio.  ^  should  :  in  quartos.  *  immediate  :  in  quartos. 
*  advancement :  in  quartos. 

Vol.  VIL— 30 


350  KING    LEAR.  ACT  f. 

Gon.  Mean  you  to  enjoy  him  ? 

Alb.  The  let-alone  lies  not  in  your  good  will. 

Edm.  Nor  in  thine,  lord. 

Alb.  Half-blooded  fellow,  yes. 

Reg.  Let  the  drum  strike,  and  prove  my  title  thine. ^ 

[To  Edmund. 

Alb.  Stay  yet ;  hear  reason. — Edmund,  I  arrest  thee 
On  capital  treason  ;  and,  in  thy''  arrest, 
This  gilded    serpent.     [Pointi7}g  to  Gon.] — For  your 

claim,  fair  sister, 
I  bar  it  in  the  interest  of  my  wife  ; 
'Tis  she  is  sub-contracted  to  this  lord, 
And  I,  her  husband,  contradict  your  bans. 
If  you  will  marry,  make  your  love  to  me, 
My  lady  is  bespoke. 

Gon.  An  interlude  !'  • 

Alb.  Thou   art   arm'd,  Gloster. — Let   the   trumpet 
sound : 
If  none  appear  to  prove  upon  thy  person, 
Thy  heinous,  manifest,  and  many  treasons. 
There  is  my  pledge.     [Throwing  down  a  Glove.]     I  '11 

prove  it  on  thy  heart, 
Ere  I  taste  bread,  thou  art  in  nothing  less 
Than  I  have  here  proclaim'd  thee. 

Reg.  Sick  !  0,  sick  ! 

Gon.  [Aside.]  If  not,  I  '11  ne'er  trust  poison.* 

Edm.    There's  my  exchange:    [Throwing  down  a 
Glove.]  what  in  the  world  he  is 
That  names  me  traitor,  villain-like  he  lies. 
Call  by  thy  trumpet :  he  that  dares  approach, 
On  him,  on  you,  who  not  ?     I  will  maintain 
My  truth  and  honour  firmly. 

Alb.  A  herald,  ho  ! 

Edm.  A  herald,  ho  !  a  herald  ! 

Alb.  Trust  to  thy  single  virtue ;  for  thy  soldiers, 
All  levied  in  my  name,  have  in  my  name 
Took  their  discharge. 

Reg.  My  sickness  grows  upon  me. 

Alb.  She  is  not  well;  convey  her  to  my  tent. 

[Exit  Regan,  led. 
Enter  a  Herald. 
Come  hither,  herald. — Let  the  trumpet  sound, 

'  good  :  in  quartos.    '  thine  attaint :  in  quartos.    ^  Not  in  quartos, 
♦medicine:  in  folio. 


6P.  IP.  KING   LEAR.  351 

And  read  out  this. 

Capt.  Sound,  trumpet.  [A  Trumpet  souiids. 

Herald  reads. 

"  If  any  man  of  quality,  or  degree,  within  the  lists^ 
of  the  army,  will  maintain  upon  Edmund,  supposed  earl 
of  Gloster,  that  he  is  a  manifold  traitor,  let  him  appear 
at  the  third  sound  of  the  trumpet.  He  is  hold  in  his 
defence." 

Edm.  Sound  !  [1  Trumpet. 

Her.  Again.  2  Trumpet. 

Her.  Again.  [3  Trumpet. 

\Trumpet  answers  within. 
Enter  Edgar,  armed.,  preceded  by  a  Trumpet. 

Alb.  Ask  him  his  purposes,  why  he  appears 
Upon  this  call  o'  the  trumpet. 

Her.  What  are  you  ? 

Your  name  ?  your  quality  ?  and  why  you  answer 
This  present  summons  ? 

Edg.  Know,  my  name  is  lost ; 

By  treason's  tooth  hare-guawn,  and  canker-hit : 
Yet  am  I  noble,  as  the  adversary 
I  come  to  cope  withal. 

Alb.  Which  is  that  adversary? 

Edg.  What 's  he,  that  speaks  for  Edmund  earl  of 
Gloster? 

Edm.  Himself :  what  say'st  thou  to  him  ? 

Edg.  Draw  thy  sword, 

That  if  my  speech  offend  a  noble  heart. 
Thy  arm  may  do  thee  justice  ;  here  is  mine  : 

\Drawing.'^ 
Behold,  it  is'  the  privilege  of  mine  honours. 
My  oath,  and  my  profession.     I  protest, 
Maugre  thy  strength,  skill,  youth,*  and  eminence, 
Despite  thy  victor  sword,  and  fire-new  fortune, 
Thy  valour,  and  thy  heart,  thou  art  a  traitor : 
False  to  thy  gods,  thy  brother,  and  thy  father; 
Conspirant  'gainst  this  high  illustrious  prince; 
And,  from  th'  extremest  upward  of  thy  head, 
To  the  descent  and  dust  below  thy  foot,^ 
A  most  toad-spotted  traitor.     Say  thou,  "  No," 
This  sword,  this  arm,  and  my  best  spirits,  are  bent 
To  prove  upon  thy  heart,  whereto  I  speak, 

'host:  in  quartos,      ^jfotinf.  e.     ^  Folio   inserts:  my  privilege. 
*  thy  strength,  youth,  place  :  in  f.  e.     ^  beneath  thy  feet :  in  quarto. 


352  KING   LEAR.  ACT  V. 

Thou  liest. 

Edm.         In  wisdom,  I  should  ask  thy  name ; 
But  since  thy  outside  looks  so  fair  and  warlike, 
And  that  thy  tongue  some  'say  of  breeding  breathes, 
What  safe  and  nicely  I  might  well  delay 
By  rule'  of  knighthood,  I  disdain  and  spurn. 
Back  do  I  toss  these  treasons  to  thy  head ; 
With  the  hell-hated  lie  o'erwhelm  thy  heart ; 
Which,  for  they  yet  glance  by,  and  scarcely  bruise, 
This  sword  of  mine  shall  give  them  instant  way, 
Where  they  shall  rest  for  ever. — Trumpets,  speak  ! 

[Alarums.     They  fight.     Edmund /aZ/s. 

Alb.  0,  save  him  !  save  him  ! 

Gon.  This  is  mere^  practice,  Gloster. 

By  the  laws  of  arms^  thou  wast  not  bound  to  answer 
An  unknown  opposite  ;  thou  art  not  vanquish' d, 
But  cozen'd  and  beguil'd. 

Alb.  Shut  your  mouth,  dame; 

Or  with  this  paper  shall  I  stop  it  ? — Hold,  sir  ! — * 
Thou  worse  than  any  name,'  read  thine  own  evil. 

[She  snatches  at  the  Letter.^ 
No  tearing,  lady ;  I  perceive,  you  know  it. 

[Gives  the  Letter  to  Edmund. 

Gon.  Say,  if  I  do,  the  laws  are  mine,  not  thine : 
Who  can'  arraign  me  for  't  ?^ 

Alb.  Most  monstrous  ! 

Know'st  thou  this  paper? 

Gon.^     Ask  me  not  what  I  know.       [Exit  Goneril. 

Alb.  Go  after  her  :  she 's  desperate ;  govern  her. 

[Exit  mi  Officer. 

Edm.  What  you  have  charg'd  me  with,  that  have 
I  done, 
And  more,  much  more  ;  the  time  will  bring  it  out : 
'T  is  past,  and  so  am  I.     But  what  art  thou, 
That  hast  this  fortune  on  me  ?     If  thou  'rt  noble, 
I  do  forgive  thee. 

Edg.  Let 's  exchange  charity. 

I  am  no  less  in  blood  than  thou  art,  Edmund ; 
If  more,  the  more  thou  hast  wrong'd  me. 

[Taking  off  his  Helmet.^" 
My  name  is  Edgar,  and  thy  father's  son. 

'  1  right  :  in  quartos.  ^  Not  in  folio.  '  war  :  in  quartos.  *  Hold, 
sir  !  :  not  in  quartos.  '  thing  :  in  quartos.  ^  jsjot  in  f.  e.  '  shall: 
in  quartos.    ^  Exit :  in  folio.    ^Edmund:  in  folio,      i"  Not  in  f.  e. 


se.  in. 


KING    LEAR.  353 


The  gods  are  just,  and  of  our  pleasant  vices* 
Make  instruments  to  plague'  us  : 
The  dark  and  vicious  place  where  thee  he  got 
Cost  him  his  eyes. 

Edm.  Thou  hast  spoken  right,  't  is  true; 

The  wheel  is  come  full  circle :  I  am  here. 

Alb.  Methought,  thy  very  gait  did  prophesy 
A  royal  nobleness.     I  must  embrace  thee  : 
Let  sorrow  split  my  heart,  if  ever  I 
Did  hate  thee,  or  thy  father. 

Edg.  Worthy  prince,  I  know 't. 

Alb.  Where  have  you  hid  yourself? 
How  have  you  known  the  miseries  of  your  father  ? 

Edg.  By  nursing  them,  my  lord. — List  a  brief  tale; 
And  when  't  is  told.  0,  that  my  heart  would  burst  ! — 
The  bloody  proclamation  to  escape, 
That  follow'd  me  so  near,  (0,  our  lives'  sweetness ! 
That  with'  the  pain  of  death  we  'd  hourly  die. 
Rather  than  die  at  once  !)  taught  me  to  shift 
Into  a  madman's  rags,  t'  assume  a  semblance 
That  very  dogs  disdain'd  :  and  in  this  habit 
Met  I  my  father  with  his  bleeding  rings, 
Their  precious  stones  new  lost ;  became  his  guide, 
Led  him,  begg'd  for  him,  sav'd  him  from  despair ; 
Never  (0  fault !)  reveal'd  myself  unto  him. 
Until  some  half  hour  past,  when  I  was  arm'd. 
Not  sure,  though  hoping,  of  this  good  success, 
I  ask'd  his  blessing,  and  from  first  to  last 
Told  him  my  pilgrimage :  but  his  flaw"d  heart, 
(Alack  !  too  weak  tlie  conflict  to  support) 
'Twixt  two  extremes  of  passion,  joy  and  grief. 
Burst  smilingly. 

Edm.  This  speech  of  yours  hath  mov'd  mo, 

And  shall,  perchance,  do  good ;  but  speak  you  on : 
You  look  as  you  had  something  more  to  say. 

Alb.  If  there  be  more  more  woful,  hold  it  in, 
For  I  am  almost  ready  to  dissolve, 
Hearing  of  this.* 

Edg.  This  would  have  seem'd  a  period 

To  such  as  love  not  sorrow  ;  but  another, 
To  amplify  too-much,  would  make  much  more. 
And  top  extremity. 

1  virtues  :    in  quartos.       2  scourge  :   in  quartos.      '  we  :  in  folio. 
*  The  next  three  speeches  are  not  in  folio. 

30* 


354  KING   LEAR.  ACT  V. 

Whilst  I  "Was  big  in  clamour,  came  there  a  man, 
Who,  having  seen  me  in  my  worst  estate, 
Shunn'd  my  abhorr'd  society :  but  then,  finding 
Who  't  was  that  so  endur'd.  with  his  strong  arms 
He  fasten'd  on  my  neck,  and  bellow'd  ovit 
As  he  "d  burst  heaven  ;  threw  him'  on  my  father; 
Told  the  most  piteovis  tale  of  Lear  and  him, 
That  ever  ear  receiv'd  :  which  in  recounting. 
His  grief  grew  puissant,  and  the  strings  of  life 
Began  to  crack ;  twice,  then,  the  trumpets  sounded, 
And  there  I  left  him  tranc'd. 

Alb.  But  who  was  this  ? 

Edg.  Kent,  sir,  the  banish'd  Kent :  who  in  disguise 
Follow'd  his  enemy  king,  and  did  him  service 
Improper  for  a  slave. 

Enter  a  Gentleman  hastily,  with  a  hloochj  Knife. 

Gent.  Help,  help!  0  help! 

Edg.  What  kind  of  help  ? 

Alii.  Speak,  man. 

Edg.  What  means  that  bloody  knife  ? 

Gent.  'T  is  hot.  it  smokes; 

It  came  even  from  the  heart  of — 0  !  she  "s  dead  : 

Alh.  Who  dead  ?  speak,  man. 

Gent.  Your  lady,  sir,  your  lady:  and  her  sister 
By  her  is  poisoned :  she  hath  confess'd  it. 

Edm.  I  was  contracted  to  them  both:  all  three 
Now  marry  in  an  instant. 

Alb.  Produce  the  bodies,  be  they  alive  or  dead ! — 

This  judgment^  of  the  heavens,  that  makes  us  tremble, 

Touches  us  not  with  pity.  \Exit  Gentleman. 

Enter  Kent. 

Edg.  Here  comes  Kent. 

Alb.  0  !  it  is^  he. 
The  time  will  not  allow  the  compliment. 
Which  ver>'  manners  urges. 

Kent.  I  am  come 

To  bid  my  king  and  master  aye  good  night : 
Is  he  not  here  ? 

Alb.  Great  thing  of  us  forgot ! — 

Speak,  Edmund,  where  's  the  king?  and  where  's  Cor- 
Seest  thou  this  object.  Kent?  [delia? — 

[The  Bodies  o/Goxeril  and  Regan  are  brought  in. 

Kent.  Alack  !  why  thus  ? 

I  me  :  m  quartos,    a  justice  :  in  quartos.     ^  this  is  :  in  folio. 


BC.  in.  *  KING   LEAR. 


355 


Edm.  -Yet  Edmund  was  belov'd  : 

The  one  the  other  poison'd  for  my  sake, 
And  after  slew  herself. 

Alb.  Even  so  — Cover  their  faces. 

Edm.  I  pant  for  life  : — some  good  I  mean  to  do, 
Despite  of  mine  own  nature.     Quickly  send, — 
Be  brief  in  it,— to  the  castle ;  for  my  writ 
Ts  on  the  life  of  Lear,  and  on  Cordelia. — 
Nay,  send  in  time. 

Alb.  Run.  run  !  0.  run  ! 

Edg.  To  whom,  my  lord  ? — Who  has  the  office  ?  send 
Thy  token  of  reprieve. 

Edm.  Well  thought  on  :  take  my  sword. 
Give  it  the  captain. 

Alb.  Haste  thee,  for  thy  life.         [Exit  Edgar. 

Edm.  He  hath  commission  from  thy  wife  and  me 
To  hang  Cordelia  in  the  prison,  and 
To  lay  the  blame  upon  her  own  despair, 
That  she  fordid  herself. 

Alb.  The  gods  defend  her  !    Bear  him  hence  awhile  ! 

[Edmund  is  borne  off. 
Enter  Lear  with  Cordelia  dead  in  his  Arms;  Edgar, 
Officer,  and  others. 

Lear.  Howl,  howl,  howl,  howl !— O !  you  are  men 
of  stones ; 
Had  I  your  tongues  and  eyes,  I  "d  use  them  so 
That  heaven's  vault  should   crack. — She  's   gone  for 

ever. — 
I  know  when  one  is  dead,  and  when  one  lives ; 
She  "s  dead  as  earth. — Lend  me  a  looking-glass  : 
If  that  her  breath  will  mist  or  stain  the  shine,^ 
Why,  then  she  lives. 

Kent.  Is  this  the  promis'd  end  ? 

Edg.  Or  image  of  that  horror  ? 

jilf).  Fall,  and  cease  ! 

Lear.  This  feather  stirs ;  she  lives  !  if  it  be  so, 
It  is  a  chance  which  does  redeem  all  sorrows 
That  ever  I  have  felt. 

Kent.  0,  my  good  master  ! 

[Kneeling. 

Lear.  Pr'ythee,  away. 

Edg.  'T  is  noble  Kent,  your  friend. 

Lear.  A  plague  upon  you,  murderers,^  traitors  all ! 

1  stone  :  in  f.  e.      ^  murderous  ;  in  quartos. 


356  KING    LEAR.  '  ACT  Vi 

I  raisht  have  sav'd  her ;  nyw,  she  's  gone  for  ever.-^ 
Cordelia,  Cordelia  !  stay  a  little.     Ha  ! 
What  is  't  thou  say'st? — Her  voice  was  ever  soft, 
Gentle,  and  low — an  excellent  thing  in  woman. — 
I  kiird  the  slave  that  was  a  hanging  thee. 
Off.  'T  is  true,  my  lords,  he  did. 
Lear.  Did  I  not,  fellow? 

I  have  seen  the  day,  with  my  good  biting  faulchion 
I  would  have  made  them'  skip :  I  am  old  now, 
And  these  same  crosses  spoil  me. — Who  are  you? 
Mine  eyes  are  not  o'  the  best :  I  '11  tell  you  straight. 
Ke7\t.  If  fortune  brag  of  two  she  lov'd  and  hated, 
One  of  them  we  behold. 

Lear.  This  is  a  dull  light  :^ — are  you  not  Kent  ? 
Kent.  The  same, 

Your  servant  Kent.     Where  is  your  servant  Caius  ? 

Lear.  He  's  a  good  fellow,  1  can  tell  you  that ; 
He  '11  strike,  and  quickly  too. — He  's  dead  and  rotten. 
Kent.  No,  my  good  lord  ;  I  am  the  very  man — 
Lear.  I  '11  see  that  straight. 

Kent.  That  from  your  first  of  difference  and  decay, 
Have  follow'd  your  sad  steps. 

Lear.  You  are  welcome  hither. 

Kent.  Nor  no  man  else.     All 's  cheerless,  dark,  and 
deadly : 
Your  eldest  daughters  have  fordone  themselves, 
And  desperately  are  dead, 

Lear.  Ay,  so  I  think. 

Alb.  He  knows  not  what  he  says  f  and  vain  is  it, 
That  we  present, us  to  him. 

Edg.  Very  bootless. 

Enter  an  Officer. 
Off.  Edmund  is  dead,  my  lord. 
jilh.  That 's  but  a  trifle  here — 

You  lords,  and  noble  friends,  know  our  intent. 
What  comfort  to  this  great*  decay  may  come. 
Shall  be  applied  :  for  us,  we  will  resign, 
During  the  life  of  this  old  majesty, 
To  him  our  absolute  power. — To  you  your  rights, 

[To  Edgar  and  Kent. 
With  boot,  and  such  addition,  as  your  honours 
Have  more  than  merited. — All  friends  shall  taste 

»  him  :  in  folio.      *  sight  :  in  f.  e.      '  sees  :  in  quartos.     *  Not  in 

quartos. 


8C.  III.  KIXG   LEAR.  357 

The  wages  of  their  virtue,  and  all  foes 
The  cup  of  their  deservings' — 0  !  see,  see  ! 

Lear.  And  my  poor  fool  is  hang'd  !    No,  no,  no  life : 
Why  should  a  dog,  a  horse,  a  rat,  have  life. 
And  thovx  no  breath  at  all  ?     Thou  'It  come  no  more, 
Never,  never,  never,  never,  never  ! — 
Pray  you,  undo  this  button :  thank  you,  sir.' — 
Do  you  see  this  ?     Look  on  her, — look, — her  lips. — 
Look  there,  look  there  ! —  [He  dies. 

Edg.  He  faints. — My  lord,  my  lord  ! — 

Kent.  Break,  heart ;  I  pr'ythee,  break  ! 

Edg.  Look  up,  my  lord. 

Kent.  Vex  not  his  ghost :  0  !  let  him  pass  :  he  hates 
him, 
That  would  upon  the  rack  of  this  tough"  world 
Stretch  him  out  longer. 

Edg.  He  is  gone,  indeed. 

Kent.  The  wonder  is,  he  hath  endur'd  so  long  : 
He  but  visurp'd  his  life. 

Alb.  Bear  them  from  hence.     Our  present  business 
Is  general  woe. — Friends  of  my  soul,  you  twain 

[To  Kent  and  Edgar. 
Rule  in  this  realm,  and  the  gor'd  state  sustain. 

Kent.  1  have  a  journey,  sir,  shortly  to  go  : 
My  master  calls  me  ;^  I  must  not  say,  no. 

Alb.*  The  weight  of  this  sad  time  we  must  obey; 
Speak  what  we  feel,  not  what  we  ought  to  say. 
The  oldest  hath  borne  most :  we,  that  are  young. 
Shall  never  see  so  much,  nor  live  so  long. 

[Exeunt,  with  a  dead  March. 

1  The  rest  of  the  speech  is  not  in  quartos.      ^  Pope  reads  :  rough. 
3  and  :  in  quartos.      *  Edgar  :  in  folio. 


OTHELLO. 


"  Tlie  Tragoedy  of  Othello,  The  Moore  of  Venice.  As  it  liath 
beene  Hinerse  times  acted  at  the  Globe,  and  at  the  Black- 
Friers,  by  his  Majesties  Seruaiits,  Written  by  "William 
Shakespeare.  London,  Printed  by  N.  0.  for  Thomas  Walk- 
ley,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop,  at  the  Eagle  and  Child, 
in  Brittans  Biirsse.    1622."    4to.  4S  leaves,  irregularly  paged. 

"  The  Tragedie  of  Othello,  the  Moore  of  Venice,"  occupies 
thirty  pages  in  the  folio  of  1623  ;  viz.  from  p.  310  to  p.  839 
inclusive,  in  the  division  of  "  Tragedies  :"  it  is  there,  as  in 
the  three  later  folios,  divided  into  Acts  and  Scenes,  and  ou 
the  last  page  is  a  list  of  the  characters,  headed,  "  The  Names  of 
the  Actors." 


INTRODUCTION 


By  the  subsequent  extract  from  "The  Egerton  Papers," 
printed  bv  the  Camden  Society,  (p.  343)  it  appears  that 
"  Othello  "  was  acted  for  the  entertainment  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, at  tlie  residence  of  Lord  Ellesmere  (then  Sir  Thomas 
Egerton,  Lord  Keeper  of  tlie  Great  Seal)  at  Harefield,  in  the 
beginning  of  August,  1602  : — 

"6  Au?ust  1602.  Eewards  to  the  Vaulters,  players,  and 
danncers.  Of  this  x»  to  Burbidge's  players  for  Othello, 
Ixiiii"  xviiii*  x*." 

The  part  of  the  memorandum  which  relates  to  "  Othello  " 
is  interlined,  as  if  added  afterwards;  but  thus  we  find  de- 
cisively, that  this  tragedy  was  in  being  in  the  summer  of 
1602 ;  and  the  probability' is,  that  it  was  selected  for  perform- 
ance because  it  was  a  new  play,  having  been  brougiit  out  at 
the  Globe  theatre  in  the  spring  of  that  year.i 

The  incidents,  with  some  variation,  are  to  be  found  in 
Cinthio's  Rccatomviiihi,  where  the  novel  is  tlie  seventh  of  the 
third  Decad,  and  it  bears  the  followins  explanatory  title  in  the 
Monte  Eegale  edition  of  1565 :— "  Un  Capitano  Moro  piglia 
per  mosrliel-a  una  cittadina  Venetiana :  un  suo  AlSeri  I'accusa 
di  adulterio  al  marito  ;  cerca  che  I'Alfieri  uccida  colui  ch'egli 
credea  I'adultero :  il  Capitano  uccide  la  moglie,  e  aceusato 
dallo  Alfieri,  nou  confessa  il  Moro,  ma  essendovi  chiari  inditii 
d  bandito ;  et  lo  scelerato  Alfieri,  credendo  nuocere  ad  altri, 
procaccia  a  se  la  morte  miseramente.''  This  novel  was  early 
translated  into  French,  and  in  all  probability  into  English, 
but  no  such  version  has  descended  to  us.  Our  great  drama- 
tist mav  indeed  have  read  the  story  in  the  original  language ; 
and  it  fs  higlilv  probable  that  he  was  sufficiently  acquainied 
with  Italian  for  the  purpose.  Hence  he  took  only  the  name 
of  Desdemona. 

We  have  seen,  bv  the  quotation  from  "The  Egerton 
Papers,"  that  the  company  by  which  "  Othello  "  was  per- 
formed at  Harefield  was  called  "Burbidge's  players;"  and 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  the  leading  actor  of  the 
company,  and  thereby  in  the  account  gave  his  name  to  the 
association,  though  properly  denominated  the  Lord  Chamber- 
lain's Servants.  Eichard  Burbage  was  the  original  actor  of 
the  part  of  Othello,  as  we  learn  from  an  elegy  upon  his  death, 
among  the  late  Mr.  Heber's  manuscripts.    To  the  same  fact 

I  It  appears  from  Mr.  P.  Cunningham's  "  Extracts  from  the 
Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  Court,"  (printed  for  the  Shakespeare  Society) 
p.  203,  that  a  play,  called  ■'  The  :Moor  of  Venis,"  no  doubt.  "  Othello," 
■was  acted  at  Whitehall  on  Xov.  1,  1604.  The  tragedy  seems  to  have 
been  always  so  popular  as  to  remain  what  is  termed  •'  a  stock  piece  ;  ' 
and  it  was  performed  again  before  King  Charles  and  his  Queen  at 
Hampton  Court  on  Dec.  6,  1636.     Ibid.     Introd.  p.  xxv. 

Vol.  VII.— 31 


362  rNTTRODUCTION. 

we  may  quote  the  conclnding  stanza  of  a  ballad,  on  the  inci- 
dents of  "Othello,"  written  after  the  death  of  Burbage,  which 
has  also  come  down  to  us  in  manuscript : — 

"  Dick  Burbage,  that  most  famous  man, 

That  actor  ■svithout  peer, 
With  this  same  part  his  course  began. 

And  kept  it  many  a  year. 
Shakespeare  was  fortunate,  I  trow, 

That  such  an  actor  had  : 
If  we  had  but  his  equal  new, 

For  one  I  should  be  glad." 

The  writer  spoke  at  random,  when  he  asserted  that  Bnrbage 
began  his  career  with  Othello,  for  we  have  evidence  to  show 
that  he  was  an  actor  of  high  celebrity,  many  years  before 
Shakespeare's  "  Othello  "  was  written,  and  we  have  no  proof 
that  there  was  any  older  play  upon  the  same  subject. 

There  are  two  quarto  editions  of  "Othello,"  one  bearing 
date  in  1622,  the  year  before  the  first  folio  of  "  Mr.  WiUiam 
Shakespeare's  Comedies,  Histories,  and  Tragedies  "  appeared, 
and  tlie  other  printed  in  1630.  An  exact  copy  of  the  title-page 
of  the  quarto  of  1622,  will  be  found  in  the  usual  place,  and 
that  published  in  1630  ditfers  only  in  the  imprint,  which  is 
"  by  A.  M.  for  Eiehard  Hawkins,"  &c.  We  have  had  fre- 
quent occasion  in  our  notes  to  refer  to  this  impression,  which 
has,  indeed,  been  mentioned  by  the  commentators,  but  nothing 
like  sufficient  attention  has  been  paid  to  it.  Malone  summa- 
rily dismissed  it  as  "  an  edition  of  no  aitthority,"  but  it  is 
very  clear  that  he  had  never  sufficiently  examined  it.  It  was 
unquestionably  printed  from  a  manuscript  different  from  that 
used  for  the  quarto  of  1622,  or  for  the  folio  of  1623  ;  and  it 
presents  a  number  of  various  readinss,  some  of  which  sinjru- 
larly  illustrate  the  original  text  of  "  Otliello."  Of  this  fact  it 
may  be  fit  here  to  supply  some  proof 

In  Act  iii.  sc.  3,  a  passage  occurs  in  the  folio  of  1623,  which 
is  not  contained  in  the  quarto  of  1622,  and  which  runs  thus 
imperfectly  in  the  folio  : — 

"  Like  to  the  Pontick  sea, 

Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 
Ne"er  keeps  retiring  ebb.  but  keeps  due  on 
To  the  Propontick  and  the  Hellespont,"  &c. 

It  will  not  be  disputed  that  "  Ne'er  }:eeps  retiring  ebb  " 
must  be  wrong,  the  compositor  of  the  folio  havinir  caught 
"  keeps  "  from  the  later  portion  of  the  same  line.  In  Po]ie's 
edition,  "  feels  "  was  substituted  for  l:eeps^  and  the  word  has 
eince  usually  continued  in  the  text,  with  ilalone's  note,  "the 
correction  was  made  by  Mr.  Pope."  The  truth  is,  that  Pope 
was  right  in  his  conjecture  as  to  the  mispriuted  word,  for  in 
the  quarto  of  1630,  which  Malone  could  not  have  consulted, 
but  which  he  nevertheless  pronounced  "  of  no  authority,"  the 
passage  stands  thus  : — 


•  "  Like  to  the  Pontick  sea, 


Whose  icy  current,  and  compulsive  course 
Ne'er_/eeZ«  retiring  ebb,"  &c. 


INTRODUCTION.  363 

If  Malone  had  looked  at  the  quarto  of  1630,  he  would  have 
seen  that  Pope  had  been  anticipated  in  his  proposed  emen- 
dation about  a  liundred  years  ;  and  that  in  the  manuscript 
from  which  the  quarto  of  1630  was  printed,  the  true  word 
was  "  feels,"  and  not  keeps^  as  it  was  misprinted  in  the  folio 
of  1623.  We  will  take  an  instance,  only  six  lines  earlier  in 
the  same  scene,  to  show  the  value  of  the  quarto  of  1630,  in 
supporting  the  quarto  ^  1622,  and  in  correctins  tlie  folio  of 
1623.    Othello  exclaims,  as  we  find  the  words  in  the  folio, 

"Arise,  black  vengeance,  from  the  hollo-w  hell.,'''' 

a  line  which  has  been  Erenerally  thus  printed,  adopting  the 
text  of  the  quarto  of  1622  :— 

"Arise,  black  vengeance,  from  thy  hollow  cell ;'''' 

and  these  are  exactly  the  words  in  the  quarto  of  1630,  although 
it  can  be  established  that  it  was  printed,  not  from  the  quarto 
of  1622,  nor  from  the  folio  of  1623,  but  from  a  manuscript 
which  in  many  places  differed  materially  from  both,  and  in 
Bome  few  supplied  a  text  inferior  to  both.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  pursue  this  point  farther,  especially  as  our  brief  notes 
abundantly  establish  that  the  quarto  of  1630,  instead  of  being 
"  of  no  authority,"  is  of  great  value,  with  reference  to  the 
true  reading  of  some  important  passages. 

Walkley,  the  publisher  of  the  quarto  of  1622,  thus  entered 
that  edition  oil  the  Stationers'  Kegisters,  sliortly  previous  to 
its  appearance : — 

"6  Oct.  1621. 

Tlio.  Walkley]  Entered  for  his,  to  wit,  under  the 
handes  of  Sir  George  Buck  and  of  the  Wardens: 
The  Tragedie  of  Othello,  the  Moore  of  Venice." 
It  is  perhaps  not  too  much  to  presume,  that  this  impression, 
though  dated  1622,  had  come  our.  at  the  close  of  1621 ;  and 
that  it  preceded  the  folio  of  1623  is  very  obvious,  from  the 
fact,  that  "  Othello"  was  not  included  in  their  list  by  Blunt 
and  Ja^gard,  the  publishers  of  the  folio  of  1623,  because  they 
were  aware  that  it  had  already  been  printed,  and  that  it  had 
been  entered  as  the  property  of  another  bookseller.  The 
quarto  of  1622  was  preceded  by  the  following  address  : — 

"The  Stationer  to  the  Eeader. 

"To  set  forth  a  book  without  an  epistle  were  like  to  the 
old  Entrlish  proverb,  'A  blue  coat  without  a  badge;'  and 
the  author  being  dead,  I  thought  good  to  take  that  piece  of 
work  upon  me.  To  commend  it  I  will  not — for  that  which 
is  good,  I  hope  every  man  will  commend  without  entreaty ; 
and  I  am  the  bolder,  because  the  author's  name  is  sufficient 
to  vent  his  work.  Thus  leaving  every  one  to  the  liberty  of 
judgment,  I  have  ventured  to  print  this  play,  and  leave  it 
to  the  general  censure.  Yours,  Thomas  Walkley." 

The  publishers  of  the  folio  of  1623,  perhaps  purchased 
Walkley's  interest  in  "  Otiiello." 


DRAMATIS  PERSONiE. 

Duke  of  Venice. 

Brabaxtio,  a  Senator. 

Two  other  Senators. 

Gratiano.  Brother  to  Brabantio. 

LoDOVico,  Kinsman  to  Brabantio. 

Othello,  the  Moor. 

Cassio,  his  Lieutenant. 

Iago,  his  Ancient. 

RoDERiGO,  a  Venetian  Gentleman 

MoxTAXO,   Governor  of  Cyprus. 

Clown,  Servant  to  Othello. 

Herald. 

Desdemona,  Daughter  to  Brabantio,  and  Wife  to 

Othello. 
Emilia,  Wife  to  Iago. 
BiANCA,  a  Courtezan  of  Venice. 

Officers,   Gentlemen,   Messengers,  Musicians,  Sailors, 
Attendants,  &c. 

SCENE,  for  the  first  Act,  in  Venice  ]  during  the  rest 
of  the  Play,  at  a  Sea-Port  in  Cyprus. 


OTHELLO^ 

THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 


^  ACT  I. 

SCENE  I.— Venice.     A  Street. 
Enter  Roderigo  in  choler,^  and  Iago. 

Rod.  Tush^ !  never  tell  me,  I  take  it  much  unkindly, 
That  thou,  Iago,  who  hast  had  my  purse, 
As  if  the  strings  were  thine,  shouldst  know  of  this. 

Iago.  "Sblood  !  but  you  will  not  hear  me  : 
If  ever  I  did  dream  of  such  a  matter,  abhor  me. 

Rod.  Thou  told'st  me  thou  didst  hold  him  in  thy  hate. 

Iago.  Despise  me,  if  I  do  not.     Three  great  on.es  of 
the  city. 
In  personal  suit  to  make  me  his  lieutenant, 
OfP-capp'd  to  him  ;  and,  by  the  faith  of  man, 
I  know  my  price  :  I  am  worth  no  worse  a  place ; 
But  he,  as  lo^ang  his  ovra  pride  and  purposes, 
Evades  them,  with  a  bombast  circumstance, 
Horribly  stufTd  with  epithets  of  war  3 
And,  in  conclusion,* 

Nonsuits  my  mediators  ;   "  For  certes,"  says  he, 
''  I  have  already  chose  my  ofhcer."    And  what  was  he  ? 
Forsooth,  a  great  arithmetician, 
One  Michael  Cassio,  a  Florentine. 
A  fellow  almost  damn'd  in  a  fair  vrife ; 
That  never  set  a  squadron  in  the  field, 
Nor  the  division  of  a  battle  knows 
More  than  a  spinster  ;  unle,ss  the  bookish  theoric*, 
Wherein  the  toged*  consuls  can  propose 

1  These  two  •words,  "in  choler"  are  not  in  f.  e.  2  Not  in  folio. 
3  Oft :  in  quarto.  *  This  line  is  not  in  folio.  *  Theory.  *  tongued : 
in  folio. 

31* 


366  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

As  masterly  as  he :  mere  prattle,  without  practice, 
Is  all  his  soldiership.     But  he,  sir,  had  th'  election ; 
And  I, — of  whom  his  eyes  had  seen  the  proof, 
At  Rhodes,  at  Cyprus,  and  on  other  grounds. 
Christian  and  heathen, — must  be  be-lee"d  and  calm'd 
By  debitor  and  creditor,  this  counter-caster  : 
He,  in  good  time,  must  his  lieutenant  be,     - 
And  I,  God  bless  the  mark !  his  Moor-ship's  ancient 

Rod.    By  heaven,   I    rather  would   have   been   his 
hangman. 

lago.  But    there's   no  remedy:    'tis   the  curse  Of 
service. 
Preferment  goes  by  favour  and  affection, 
Not  by  the  old  gradation,  where  each  second 
Stood  heir  t'  the  first.     Now,  sir,  be  judge  yourself. 
AVhether  I  in  any  just  terms  am  affin'd 
To  love  the  Moor. 

Rod.  I  would  not  follow  him,  then. 

lago.  0,  sir  !  content  you  ; 
I  follow  him  to  serve  my  turn  upon  him  : 
We  cannot  all  be  masters,  nor  all  masters 
Caimot  be  truly  foUow'd.     You  shall  mark 
Many  a  duteous  and  knee-crooking  knave, 
That,  doting  on  his  own  obsequious  bondage. 
Wears  out  his  time,  much  like  his  master's  ass. 
For  nouglit  but  provender ;  and  when  he 's  old.  cashier'd  r 
Whip  me  such  honest  knaves.     Others  there  are. 
Who,  learn'd^  in  forms  and  usages*  of  duty, 
Keep  yet  their  hearts  attending  on  themselves, 
And,  throwing  but  shows  of  service  on  their  lords. 
Do  well  thrive  by  them ;  and  when  they  have  lin'd 

their  coats. 
Do  themselves  homage  :  these  fellows  have  some  soul ; 
And  such  a  one  do  I  profess  myself.     For,  sir, 
It  is  as  sure  as  you  are  Roderigo, 
Were  I  the  Moor,  I  would  not  be  lago : 
In  following  him,  I  follow  but  myself; 
Heaven  is  my  judge,  not  I  for  love  and  duty. 
But  seeming  so,  for  my  peculiar  end : 
For  when  my  outward  action  doth  demonstrate 
The  native  act  and  figure  of  my  heart 
In  compliment  extern,  't  is  not  long  after 
But  I  will  wear  my  heart  upon  my  sleeve 
I  trimm'd  :  in  f.  e.      ^  visages  :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  I.  THE   MOOR    OF   VENICE.  367 

For  daws*  to  peck  at :  I  am  not  what  I  am. 

Rod.  What  a  fulP  fortune  does  the  thick-lips  owe, 
If  he  can  carry  't  thus  ! 

lago.  Call  up  her  father  ; 

Rouse  him :  make  after  him,  poison  his  delight, 
Proclaim  him  in  the  streets :  incense  her  kinsmen  ; 
And  though  he  in  a  fertile  climate  dwell, 
Plague  him  with  flies  :  though  that  his  joy  be  joy, 
Yet  tlirow  such  clianges'"'  of  vexation  on  "t, 
As  it  may  lose  some  colour. 

Rod.  Here  is  her  father's  house  :  I  '11  call  aloud. 

lago.  Do  ;  ■with  like  clamorous*  accent,  and  dire  yell, 
As   when,  by  night  and  negligence,  the  fire 
Is  spied  in  populous  cities. 

Rod.  What  ho  !  Brabantio  !  signior  Brabantio,  ho  ! 

lago.  Awake  !  what,  ho  !  Brabantio  !  thieves  !  thieves  ! 
thieves  ! 
Look  to  your  house,  your  daughter,  and  your  bags  ! 
Thieves  !  thieves  ! 

Enter  Brabantio.  above.,  at  a  Window. 

Bra.  What  is  the  reason  of  this  terrible  summons  ? 
What  is  the  matter  there  ? 

Rod.  Signior,  is  all  your  family  within? 

lago.  Are  your  doors  lock'd  ? 

Bra.  Why  ?  wherefore  ask  you  this  ? 

lago.  'Zounds  !  sir.  you  are  robb'd ;  for  shame,  put 
on  your  gown  : 
Your  heart  is  burst,  you  have  lost  half  your  soul  : 
Even  now.  now,  very  now,  an  old  black  ram 
Is  tupping  your  white  ewe.     Arise,  arise  ! 
Awake  the  snorting  citizens  ^^"ith  the  bell, 
Or  else  the  devil  will  make  a  grandsire  of  you. 
Arise,  I  say. 

Bra.  What,  have  you  lost  your  vnts  ? 

Rod.     Most  reverend  signior,  do  you  know  my  voice  ? 

Bra.  Not  I  :  what  are  you  ? 

Rod.  My  name  is  Roderigo. 

Bra.  The  worse*  welcome : 

I  have  charg'd  thee  not  to  haunt  about  my  doors. 
In  honest  plainness  thou  hast  heard  me  say, 
My  daughter  is  not  for  thee;  and  now,  in  madness, 
Being  full  of  supper  and  distempering  draughts, 

1  doves :    in    quartos.       2  fall  :    in    folio.       3  chances  :    in    folio. 
♦  timorous  :  in  f.  e.      *  -vrorser  ;  in  folio. 


368  OTHELLO,  ACT  t. 

Upon  malicious  bravery'  dost  thou  come 
To  start  my  quiet. 

Rod.  Sir,  sir.  sir. — 

Bra.  But  thou  must  needs  be  sure, 

My  spirit  and  my  place  have  in  them  power 
To  make  this  bitter  to  thee. 

Rod.  Patience,  good  sir. 

Bra.  What    tell'st   thou    me    of   robbing  ?    this  is 
Venice  ; 
My  house  is  not  a  grange. 

Rod.  Most  grave  Brabantio. 

In  simple  and  pure  soul  I  come  to  you. 

Ingo.  'Zounds  !  sir,  you  are  one  of  those,  that  will 
not  serve  God,  if  the  devil  bid  you.  Because  we  come 
to  do  you  service,  and  you  think  we  are  ruffians,  you  'II 
have  your  daughter  covered  with  a  Barbary  horse  : 
you  '11  liave  your  nephews  neigh  to  you  ;  you  'II  have 
coursers  for  cousins,  and  gennets  for  germans. 

Bra.  What  profane  wretch  art  thou? 

la  go.  I  am  one,  sir.  that  comes  to  tell  you,  your 
daughter  and  the  Moor  are  now  making  the  beast 
with  two  backs. 

Bra.  Thou  art  a  villain. 

lago.  You  are — a  senator. 

Bra.  This  thou   shalt   answer  :    I  know  thee,  Ro- 
de ri  go.  [yoi^;'"' 

Rod.  Sir,  I  will  answer  any  thing.     But  I  beseech 
If  't  be  your  pleasure,  and  most  wise  consent, 
(As  partly,  I  find,  it  is)  that  your  fair  daughter, 
At  this  odd-even  and  dull  watch  o'  the  night, 
Transported  \vith  no  worse  nor  better  guard, 
But  with  a  knave  of  common  hire,  a  gondolier, 
To  the  gross  clasps  of  a  lascivious  Moor, 
If  this  be  known  to  you,  and  your  allowance. 
We  then  have  done  you  bold  and  saucy  wrongs ; 
But  if  you  know  not  this,  my  manners  tell  me, 
We  have  your  wrong  rebuke.     Do  not  believe 
That  from  the  sense  of  all  civility, 
I  thus  would  pluy  and  trifle  with  your  reverence  : 
Your  daughter,  if  you  have  not  given  her  leave, 
I  say  again,  hath  made  a  gross  revolt. 
Laying^  her  duty,  beauty,  wit,  and  fortunes, 

J  knavery  :  in  folio.     -  The  rest  of  this  speech  to  "  Straight"  is  not 
in  quarto,  1622.    ^  Tying :  in  f.  e. 


SC.  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  369 

On'  an  extravagant  and  wheedling''  stranger, 


'7 


Of  here  and  every  where.     Straight  satisfy  yourself : 
If  she  be  in  her  chamber,  or  your  house, 
Let  loose  on  me  the  justice  of  the  state 
For  thus  deluding  you. 

Bra.  Strike  on  the  tinder,  ho  ! 

Give  me  a  taper  ! — call  up  all  my  people  ! — 
This  accident  is  not  unlike  my  dream  ; 
Belief  of  it  oppresses  me  already. — 
Light,  I  say  !  light !  [Exit  from  above. 

lago.  Farewell,  for  I  must  leave  you : 

It  seems  not  meet,  nor  wholesome  to  my  place, 
To  be  produc'd  (as  if  I  stay  I  shall) 
Against  the  Moor  :  for,  I  do  know,  the  state, — 
However  this  may  gall  him  with  some  check, — 
Camiot  with  safety  cast  him;  for  he  's  embark'd 
With  such  loud  reason  to  the  Cyprus  wars 
(Which  even  now  stand  in  act)  that,  for  their  souls, 
Another  of  his  fathom  they  have  none. 
To  lead  their  business  :  in  which  regard. 
Though  I  do  hate  him  as  I  do  hell  pains. 
Yet  for  necessity  of  present  life, 
I  must  show  out  a  flag  and  sign  of  love. 
Which  is  indeed  but  sign.     That  you  shall  surely  find 

him, 
Lead  to  the  sagittary^  the  raised  search ; 
And  there  will  I  be  with  him.     So,  farewell.       [Exit. 
Enter  Brabantio,  and  Servants  icith  Torches. 

Bra.  It  is  too  true  an  evil :  gone  she  is ; 
And  what 's  to  come  of  my  despised  time 
Is  nought  but  bitterness. — Now,  Roderigo, 
Where  didst  thou  see  her  ? — 0,  unhappy  girl  ! — 
With   the    Moor,    say'st    thou  ? — Who    would    be   a 

father  ? — 
How  didst  thou  know  't  was  she? — 0  !  thou  deceiv'st 

me 
Past   thought. — What  said    she    to   you  ? — Get  more 

tapers  ! 
Raise  all  my  kindred  ! — Are  they  married,  think  you? 

Rod.  Truly,  I  think,  they  are. 

Bra.  0  heaven  ! — How  got  she  out  ? — 0,  treason  of 
my  blood  ! — 

'  In  :  in  f.  e.      2  wheeling  :  in  f.  e.      ^  The  official  residence  in 

the  Arsenal  of  Othello. 


370  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

Fathers,  from  hence  trust  not  your  daughters'  minds 
By  what  you  see  them  act. — Are  there  not  charms, 
By  which  the  property  of  youth  and  maidhood 
May  be  abus'd  ?     Have  you  not  read,  Roderigo, 
Of  some  such  thing  ? 

Rod.  Yes,  sir  ;  I  have,  indeed.^ 

Bra.  Call  up    my   brother. — 0,    that  you  had  had 
her  ! — 
Some  one  way,  some  another. — Do  you  know 
Where  we  may  apprehend  her  and  the  Moor  ? 

Rod.  I  think,  I  can  discover  him,  if  you  please 
To  get  good  guard,  and  go  along  with  me. 

Bra.  Pray  you,  lead  on.^    At  every  house  I  '11  call ; 
I  may  command  at  most. — Get  weapons,  ho  ! 
And  raise  some  special  officers  of  night. — 
On,  good  Roderigo ; — I  '11  deserve  your  pains.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.— The  Same.     Another  Street. 
Enter  Othello,  Iago,  and  Attendants,  with  Torches, 
lago.  Though  in  the  trade  of  war  I  have  slain  men 
Yet  do  I  hold  it  very  stuff  o'  the  conscience 
To  do  no  contriv'd  murder  :  I  lack  iniquity 
Sometimes,  to  do  me  service.     Nine  or  ten  times 
I  had  thought  to  have  yerk'd  him  here,  under  the  ribs. 
0th.  'T  is  better  as  it  is. 


Jatro.  Nay,  but  he  prated 


'o 


And  spoke  such  scurv^y  and  provoking  terms 

Against  your  honoiir, 

That,  with  the  little  godliness  I  have, 

I  did  full  hard  forbear  him.     But,  I  pray,  sir, 

Are  you  fast  married  ?  for,  be  sure'  of  this, 

That  the  magnifico  is  much  beloved ; 

And  hath,  in  his  effect,  a  voice  potential. 

As  double  as  the  duke's :  he  will  divorce  you ; 

Or  put  upon  you  what  restraint,  or^  grievance, 

The  law  (with  all  his  might  t'  enforce  it  on) 

Will  give  him  cable. 

0th.  Let  him  do  his  spite  : 

My  services,  which  I  have  done  the  signiory, 
Shall  out-tongue  his  complaints.     'T  is  yet  to  know, 
Which,  when  I  know  that  boasting  is  an  honour, 
T  shall  promulgate,  I  fetch  my  life  and  being 

1  I  hsLve,  sir :  in  quarto.      ^  Pray,  lead  me  on  :  in  quartos.      ^  1,9 
assured  :  in  folio.      *  and  :  in  quarto. 


SC.  II.  THE    MOOR    OF   VEXICE.  371 

From  men  of  royal  siege  ;^  and  my  demerits* 
May  speak,  unbonneted.  to  as  proud  a  fortune 
As  this  that  I  have  reach'd :  for  know.  lago. 
But  that  I  love  the  gentle  Desderaona, 
I  would  not  my  unhoused  free  condition 
Put  into  circumscription  and  confine 
For   the  sea's  worth.     But,  look  !  what  lights  come 
yonder  ? 

lago.  These  are  the  raised  father,  and  his  friends : 
You  were  best  go  in. 

0th.  Not  I :  I  must  be  found  : 

My  parts,  my  title,  and  my  perfect  soul, 
Shall  manifest  me  rightly.     Is  it  they  ? 

logo.  By  Janus,  I  think  no. 
Enter  Cassio,  and  certain  Officers  u'ith  Torches. 

0th.  The  servants  of  the  duke,  and  my  lieutenant. 
The  goodness  of  the  night  upon  you,  friends. 
What  is  the  news  ? 

Cas.  The  duke  does  greet  you.  general ; 

And  he  requires  youi*  haste,  post-haste  appearance, 
Even  on  the  instant. 

0th.  "What  is  the  matter,  think  you  ? 

Cas.  Something  from  Cyprus,  as  I  may  divine. 
It  is  a  business  of  some  heat  :  the  galleys 
Have  sent  a  dozen  sequent^  messengers, 
This  very  night,  at  one  another's  heels  ; 
And  many  of  the  consuls,  rais'd  and  met. 
Arc  at  the  duke's  already.  You  have  been  hotly  call'd 
When,  being  not  at  your  lodging  to  be  found,         [for  : 
The  senate  sent  above*  three  several  quests, 
To  search  you  out. 

0th.  'T  is  well  I  am  found  by  you. 

I  will  but  spend  a  word  here  in  the  house, 
And  go  M-ith  you.  [Exit. 

Cas.  Ancient,  what  makes  he  here  ? 

laso.  'Faith,  he  to-ni^ht  hath  boarded  aland  carack^ : 
If  it  prove  lawful  prize,  he  's  made  for  ever. 

Cas.  I  do  not  understand. 

lago.  He  's  man-ied. 

Cas.  To  whom  ? 

Re-enter  Othello. 

lago.  Marry,  to — Come,  captain,  will  you  go  ? 

1  height  :  in  quartos.     *  Merits.     '  frequent :  in  quaJtos.     *  ahoat: 
in  folio.     5  Freight-ship. 


372  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

OtJi_  Have  w-ith  you. 

Cas.  Here  comes  another  troop  to  seek  for  you. 

lago.  It  is  Brabantio. — General,  be  advis'd  : 
He  comes  to  bad  intent. 

Enter  Bkabantio.  Roderigo,  and  Officers,  with 
Torches  and  Weapons. 

0th.  Holla  !  stand  there  ! 

Rod.  Signior,  it  is  the  Moor. 

^^a.  Down  "svith  him.  thief ! 

[They  draw  on  both  sides. 

lago.  You.  Roderigo  !  come,  sir,  I  am  for  you. 

0th.  Keep  up  your  bright  swords,  for  the  dow  will 
rust  them. — 
Good  signior,  you  shall  more  command  with  years, 
Than  with  your  weapons. 

Bra.  0.  tiion  foul  thief!    where    hast  thou  stow'd 
my  daughter  ? 
Damn'd  as  thou  art.  thou  hast  enchanted  her  ; 
For  I  '11  refer  me  to  all  things  of  sense, 
If  she  in  chains  of  magic  were  not  bound,^ 
Whether  a  maid  so  tender,  fair,  and  happy, 
So  opposite  to  marriage,  that  she  shunn'd 
The  wealthy  curled  darlings^  of  our  nation, 
Would  ever" have,  to  incur  a  general  mock, 
Run  from  her  guardage  to  the  sooty  bosom 
Of  such  a  thing  as  thou  ;  to  fear,  not  to  delight. 
Judge  me  the  world,  if  't  is  not  gross  in  sense,-'' 
That  thou  lia.«t  practised  on  her  with  foul  charms ; 
Abus'd  her  delicate  youth  with  drugs,  or  minerals, 
That  weaken  motion. — I  "11  have  't  disputed  on  ; 
'T  is  probable,  and  palpable  to  thinking. 
I,  therefore,  apprehend,  and  do  attach  thee 
For  an  abuser  of  the  world,  a  practiser 
Of  arts  inhibited,  and  out  of  warrant. — 
Lay  hold  upon  him  !  if  he  do  resist. 
Subdue  him  at  his  peril. 

0th.  Hold  your  hands  ! 

Both  you  of  my  inclining,  and  the  rest : 
Were  it  my  cue  to  fight.  I  should  have  knowni  it 
Without  a'prompter. — Where  will  you  that  I  go, 
To  answer  tliis  your  charge  ? 

j^j-a.  To  prison  j  till  fit  time 

1  This  line  is  not  in  quarto,  1622.      =  dearling  :  in  folio.      3  This 
and  the  five  folio-wing  -words,  axe  not  in  quarto,  1622.      ^ 


SC.  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 


^3 


Of  law,  and  course  of  direct  session, 
Call  thee  to  answer. 

0th.  What  if  I  do  obey  ? 

How  may  the  duke  he  therewith  satisfied, 
Whose  messengers  are  here  about  my  side, 
Upon  some  present  business  of  the  state. 
To  bear'  me  to  him  ? 

Off.  'T  is  true,  most  worthy  signior : 

The  duke  's  in  council,  and  your  noble  self, 
I  am  sure,  is  sent  for. 

Bra.  How  !  the  duke  in  council, 

In  this  time  of  the  night  ! — Bring  him  away. 
Mine  's  not  an  idle  cause  :  the  duke  himself, 
Or  any  of  ray  brotliers  of  the  state. 
Cannot  but  feel  this  wrong,  as  't  were  their  own; 
For  if  such  actions  may  have  passage  free, 
Bond-slaves  and  pagans  shall  our  statesmen  be.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  HI.— The  Satae.     A  Council-Chamber. 
The  Duke,  and  Senators,  sitting  in  state  ;  Officers 

attending. 
Duke.  There  is  no  composition  in  these  news, 
That  gives  them  credit.  , 

1  Sen.  Indeed,  they  are  disproportion'd  : 
My  letters  say.  a  hundred  and  seven  galleys. 

Duke.  And  mine,  a  hundred  and  forty. 

2  Sen.  And  mine,  two  hundred: 
But  though  they  jump  not  on  a  just  account, 

(As  in  these  cases,  with  the  same^  reports, 

'T  is  oft  with  difference)  yet  do  they  all  confirm 

A  Turkish  fleet,  and  bearing  up  to  Cyprus. 

Duke.  Nay,  it  is  possible  enough  to  judgment. 
I  do  not  so  secure  me  in  the  error. 
But  the  main  article  I  do  approve 
In  fearful  sense. 

Sailor.  [Within.]  What  ho  !  what  ho  !  what  ho  ! 
Enter  an  Officer,  with  a  Sailor. 

Off.  A  messenger  from  the  galleys. 

Duke.  Now,  the  business? 

Sail.  The  Turkish  preparation  makes  for  Rhodes : 
So  was  I  bid  report  here  to  the  state, 
By  signior  Angelo.^ 

1  bring  :   in  folio.       -  where  the  aim :  in  f.  e.       ^  This  line  is  not 
in  quarto,  1622. 

Vol.  VII.— 33 


374  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

Duke.  How  say  you  by  this  change  ? 

1  Sen.  This  cannot  be, 

By  no  assay  of  reason  :  't  is  a  pageant, 
To  keep  us  in  false  gaze.     When  we  consider 
The  importancy  of  Cyprus  to  the  Turk  ; 
And  let  ourselves  again  but  understand, 
That,  as  it  more  concerns  the  Turk  than  Rhodes, 
So  may  he  with  more  facile  question  bear  it,^ 
For  that  it  stands  not  in  such  warlike  brace, 
But  altogether  lacks  th'  abilities 

That  Rhodes  is  dress'd  in  : — if  we  make  thought  of  this 
We  must  not  think  the  Turk  is  so  unskilful, 
To  leave  that  latest  which  concerns  him  first, 
Neglecting  an  attempt  of  case  and  gain, 
To  wake,  and  wage,  a  danger  profitless. 

Dt(ke.  Nay,  in  all  confidence,  he  's  not  for  Rhodes. 

Off.  Here  is  more  news. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  The  Ottomites,  reverend  and  gracious. 
Steering  with  due  course  toward  the  isle  of  Rhodes, 
Have  there  injointed  them'  with  an  after  fleet. 

1  Sen.  Ay,  so  I  thought. — How  many,  as  you  guess  ? 

Mess.  Of  thirty  sail ;  and  now  do  they  re-stem 
Their  bacl^vard  course,  bearing  with  frank  appearance 
Their  purposes  toward  Cyprus. — Signior  Montano, 
Your  trusty  and  most  valiant  servitor. 
With  his  free  duty  recommends  you  thus, 
And  prays  you  to  believe  him. 

Duke.  'T  is  certain,  then,  for  Cyprus. — 
Marcus  Luccicos,  is  not  he  in  town? 

1  Sen.  He  's  now  in  Florence. 

Duke.  Write  from  us  to  him  :  post,  post-haste  dis- 
patch. 

1  Sen.  Here  comes  Brabantio,  and  the  valiant  Moor. 

Enter  Brabantio,  Othello,  Iago,  Roderigo,  and 
Officers. 

Duke.  Valiant  Othello,  we  must  straight  employ  you 
Against  the  general  enemy  Ottoman. — 
I  did  not  see  you  ;  welcome,  gentle  signior  ; 

[To  Brabantio. 
We  lack'd  your  counsel  and  your  help  to-night. 

Bra.  So  did  I  yours.     Good  your  grace,  pardon  me  ; 
Neither  my  place,  nor  aught  I  heard  of  business, 

»  The  rest  of  the  speech  is  not  in  quarto,  1622.     =  Not  in  quarto,  1622. 


SC.  III.  THE   MOOR    OF   VENICE.  375 

Hath  rais'd  me  from  my  bed ;  nor  doth  the  general  care 
Take  hold'  of  mC;  for  my  particular  grief 
Is  of  so  flood-gate  and  o'er-bearing  nature, 
That  it  engluts  and  swallows  other  sorrows, 
And  it  is  still  itself. 

Duke.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 

Bra.  My  daughter !  0,  my  daughter  ! 

Sen.  Dead  ? 

Bra.  Ay,  tome: 

She  is  abus'd,  stol'n  from  me,  and  corrupted 
By  spells  and  medicines  bought  of  mountebanks ; 
For  natm-e  so  preposterously  to  err, 
(Being  not  deficient,  blind,  or  lame  of  sense'') 
Sans  witchcraft  could  not. 

Duke.  Whoe'er  he  be  that,  in  this  foul  proceeding, 
Hath  thus  beguil'd  your  daughter  of  herself, 
And  you  of  her,  the  bloody  book  of  law 
You  shall  yourself  read  in  the  bitter  letter, 
After  its^  own  sense  ;  yea,  though  our  proper  son 
Stood  in  your  action. 

Bra.  Humbly  I  thank  your  grace. 

Here  is  the  man,  this  Moor  ;  whom  now,  it  seems, 
Your  special  mandate,  for  the  state  affairs. 
Hath  hither  brought.  ^ 

Duke  and  Sen.         We  are  very  sorry  for  it. 

Duke.  What,  in  your  o^'^^l  part,  can  you  say  to  this  ? 

[To  Othello. 

Bra.  Nothing,  but  this  is  so. 

0th.  Most  potent,  grave,  and  reverend  signiors. 
My  very  noble  and  approv'd  good  masters, 
Tliat  I  have  ta'en  away  this  old  man's  daughter. 
It  is  most  true ;  true.  I  have  married  her: 
The  very  head  and  front  of  my  offending 
Hath  this  extent,  no  more.     Rude  am  I  in  my  speech, 
And  little  bless'd  with  the  set*  phrase  of  peace  ; 
For  since  these  arms  of  mine  had  seven  years'  pith, 
Till  now,  some  nine  moons  wasted,  they  have  us'd 
Their  dearest  action  in  the  tented  field  ; 
And  little  of  this  great  world  can  I  speak. 
More  than  pertains  to  feats  of  broil  and  battle  ; 
And.  therefore,  little  .shall  I  grace  my  cause, 
In  speaking  for  myself.   Yet,  by  your  gracious  patience, 

1  Take  any  :  in  quartos,  1633.     "  Not  in  quaito,  1633.     3  your  :  in 
folio.      •*  soft :  in  folio. 


376  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

.....    «t 

I  will  a  round  unvarnish'd  tale  deliver 

Of  my  whole  course  of  love  ;  what  drugs,  what  charms, 

What  conjuration,  and  what  mighty  magic, 

(For  such  proceeding  I  am  charg'd  withal) 

I  won  his  daughter  ■with. 

Bra.  A.  maiden  never  bold ; 

Of  spirit  so  still  and  quiet,  that  her  motion 
Blush'd  at  herself;  and  she, — in  spite  of  nature, 
Of  years,  of  country,  credit,  every  thing. — 
To  fall  in  love  with  what  she  fear'd  to  look  on  ? 
It  is  a  judgment  maim'd,  and  most  imperfect, 
That  will  confess  perfection  so  could  err 
Against  all  rules  of  nature ;  and  must  be  driven 
To  find  out  practices  of  cumiing  hell, 
Why  this  should  be.     I,  therefore,  vouch  again. 
That  with  some  mixtures  powerful  o'er  the  blood, 
Or  with  some  dram  conjui''d  to  this  effect, 
He  wTought  upon  her. 

Duke.  To  vouch  this  is  no  proof : 

Without  more  CAndence  and  overt  test,' 
These  are  thin  habits,  and  poor  likelihoods 
Of  modern  seeming,  you  prefer  against  him. 

1  Sen.  But.  Othello,  speak : 
Did  you  by  indirect  and  forced  courses 
Subdue  and  poison  this  young  maid's  affections: 
Or  came  it  by  request,  and  such  fair  question 
As  soul  to  soul  affordeth  ? 

Oih.  I  do  beseech  you, 

Send  for  the  lady  to  the  Sagittary, 
And  let  her  speak  of  me  before  her  father :. 
If  you  do  find  me  foul  in  her  report, 
The  trust,  the  office,  I  do  hold  of  you,' 
Not  only  take  away,  but  let  your  sentence 
Even  fall  upon  my  life. 

Duke.  Fetch  Desdemona  liither. 

0th.  Ancient,   conduct   them  ;  you   best   know  the 
place. —  [Exeunt  Iago  and  Attendants, 

And,  till  she  come,  as  truly^  as  to  heaven 
I  do  confess  the  vices  of  my  blood. 
So  justly  to  your  grave  ears  I  '11  present 
How  I  did  thrive  in  this  fair  lady's  love, 
And  she  in  mine. 

I  more  certain  and  more  overt  test :  in  f.  e.      2  This  line  is  not  in 
quarto,  1622.      '  faithful :  in  quarto,  1622. 


SC.  III.  THE   MOOR    OF   VENICE. 


377 


Duke.  Say  it.  Othello. 

0th.  Her 'father  lov"d  me  ;  oft  invited  me  ; 
Still  questiou"d  me  the  story  of  my  life, 
From  year  to  year ;  the  battles,  sieges,  fortunes, 
That  I  had  pass'd. 

I  ran  it  through,  even  from  my  boyish  days, 
To  the  very  moment  that  he  bade  me  tell  it : 
Wherein  I  spake  of  most  disastrous  chances, 
Of  moving  accidents,  by  flood,  and  field  ; 
Of  hair-breadth  scapes  i'  th"  imminent  deadly  breacli ; 
Of  being  taken  by  the  insolent  foe, 
And  sold  to  slavery ;  of  my  redemption  thence, 
And  portance  in  my  travel's'  history  : 
"Wherein  of  antres  vast,  and  deserts  idle,^ 
Rough  quarries,  rocks,  and    hills  whose  heads  touch 

heaven, 
It  was  my  hint  to  speak,  such  was  the  process ; 
And  of  the  Camiibals  that  each  other  eat. 
The  Anthropophagi,  and  men  whose  heads 
Do=  grow  beneath  their  shoulders.     This*  to  hear, 
Would  Desdemona  seriously  incline  : 
But  still  the  house  affairs  would  draw  her  thence  ;* 
Which  ever  as  she  could  with  haste  despatch, 
She  'd  come  again,  and  with  a  greedy  ear 
Devoiu:  up  my  discourse.     Which  I  obser-sdng, 
Took  once  a  pliant  hour ;  and  found  good  means 
To  draw  from  her  a  prayer  of  earnest  heart. 
That  I  would  all  my  pilgrimage  dilate. 
Whereof  by  parcels  she  had  something  heard, 
But  not  intentively  :  I  did  consent  ; 
And  often  did  beguile  her  of  her  tears. 
When  I  did  speak  of  some  distressful  stroke. 
That  my  youth  sufferd.     My  story  being  done, 
She  gave  me  for  my  pains  a  world  of  sighs  :* 
She  swore. — ui  faith,  H  was  strange,  't  was  passing 

strange : 
'T  was  pitiful,  't  was  w^ondrous  pitiful : 
She  wished  she  had  not  heard  it ;  yet  she  wisli'd 
That  heaven  had  made  her  such  a  man :  she  thank'd  me ; 
And  bade  me,  if  I  had  a  friend  that  lov'd  her, 
I  should  but  teach  him  how  to  tell  my  story, 

I  traveUer's  :   in   foUo.      =  -wild  :   in  foUo,  1632.      3  Not  in  folio. 
♦  These  things  :  in  folio.    *  hence  :  in  folio.    ^  kisses  :  in  folio. 

8S» 


t 


378  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

And  that  would  w-oo  her. — On  this  hint'  I  spake ; 
She  lov'd  me  for  the  dangers  I  had  pass'd, 
And  I  lov'd  her,  that  she  did  pity  them. 
This  only  is  the  witchcraft  I  have  us'd : 
Here  comes  the  lady;  let  her  witness  it. 

Enter  Desdemona,  Iago,  mid  Attendants. 

Buke.  I  think,  this  tale  would  win  my  daughter  too. 
Good  Brabantio, 

Take  up  this  mangled  matter  at  the  best  ; 
Men  do  their  broken  weapons  rather  use, 
Than  their  bare  hands. 

Bra.  I  pray  you,  hear  her  speak : 

If  she  confess  that  she  was  half  the  wooer. 
Destruction  on  my  head,^  if  my  bad  blame 
Light  on  the  man.^Come  hither,  gentle  mistress  : 
Do  you  perceive  in  all  this  noble  company, 
Where  most  you  owe  obedience  ? 

Bes.  My  noble  father, 

I  do  perceive  here  a  divided  duty. 
To  you,  I  am  bound  for  life,  and  education  : 
My  life  and  education  both  do  learn  me 
How  to  respect  you  ;  you  are  the  lord  oP  duty ; 
I  am  hitherto  your  daughter :  but  here 's  my  husband ; 
And  so  much  duty  as  my  mother  show'd 
To  you,  preferring  you  before  her  father, 
So  much  I  challenge  that  I  may  profess' 
Due  to  the  Moor,  my  lord. 

Bra.  God  be  with  you  ! — I  have  done. — 

Please  it  your  grace,  on  to  the  state  affairs : 
I  had  rather  to  adopt  a  child,  than  get  it. — 
Come  hither.  Moor  : 

I  here  do  give  thee  that  with  all  my  heart. 
Which,  but  thou  hast  already,  with  all  my  heart* 
I  would  keep  from  thee. — For  your  sake,  jewel, 
I  am  glad  at  soul  I  have  no  other  child, 
For  thy  escape  would  teach  me  tyranny, 
To  hang  clogs  on  them. — I  have  done,  my  lord. 

Duke.  Let  me  speak  like  yourself;  and  say  a  sentence, 
Which,  as  a  grise,  oi-  step,  may  help  these  lovers 
Into  your  favour.* 

When  remedies  are  past,  the  griefs  are  ended 
By  seeing  the  worst,  which  late  on  hopes  depended. 

iteat  :  in  quartos.     •  light  on  me  :  in  quartos.     ^  joj-ij  pf  ^i\  jj^y  . 
in  quarto,  1622.    *  '  These  lines  are  not  in  quarto,  1C22. 


SQ.  in.  THE    MOOR    OF   VENICE.  37Q 

To  mourn  a  mischief  that  is  past  and  gone 

Is  the  next  way  to  draw  new'  mischief  on. 

What  cannot  be  preserv'd  when  fortune  takes, 

Patience  her  injury  a  mockery  makes. 

The  robb'd.  that  smiles,  steals  something  from  the  thief 

He  robs  himself,  that  spends  a  bootless  grief. 

Bra.  So  let  the  Turk  of  Cyprus  us  beguile : 
We  lose  it  not,  so  long  as  we  can  smile. 
He  bears  the  sentence  well,  that  nothihg  bears 
But  the  free  comfort  which  from  thence  he  hears ; 
But  he  bears  both  the  sentence  and  the  sorrow. 
That,  to  pay  grief,  must  of  poor  patience  borrow. 
These  sentences,  to  sugar,  or  to  gall. 
Being  strong  on  both  sides,  are  equivocal : 
But  words  are  words  ;  I  never  yet  did  hear, 
That  the  bruis'd  heart  was  pieced  through  the  ear. 
Beseech  you,  now  to  the  affairs  of  state. 

Duke.  The  Turk  with  a  most  mighty  preparation, 
makes  for  Cyprus. — Othello,  the  fortitude  of  the  place 
is  best  known  to  you  ;  and  though  we  have  there  a 
substitute  of  most  allowed  sufficiency,  yet  opinion,  a 
most^  sovereign  mistress  of  effects,  throws  a  more  safer 
voice  on  you:  yoti  must,  therefore,  be  content  to 
slubber  the  gloss  of  your  new  fortunes  with  this  more 
stubborn  and  boisterous  expedition. 

0th.  The  tyTant  custom,  most  grave  senators, 
Hath  made  the  flinty  and  steel  couch^  of  war 
My  thrice-driven  b^d'  of  down  :  I  do  agnize 
A  natural  and  prompt  alacrity, 
I  find  in  hardness  ;  and  do*  undertake 
These  present  wars  against  the  Ottomites. 
Most  humbly,  therefore,  bending  to  your  state, 
I  crave  fit  disposition  for  my  wife ; 
Due  reference  of  place,  and  exhibition, 
With  such  accommodation,  and  besort, 
As  levels  with  her  breeding. 

Dvke.  If  you  please, 

Be  't  at  her  father's.* 

Bra.  I  '11  not  have  it  so. 

0th.  Nor  I. 

Des.  Nor  1:1  would  not  there  reside, 

To  put  my  father  in  impatient  thoughts, 

'  more  :  in  quartos.  2  more  :  in  f.  e.  '  coach  :  in  old  copies. 
4  would  :  in  q^uarto,  1622.      *  Why,  at  her  father's  :  in  folio. 


^      K 


380  OTnF:LLO,  act  i. 

By  being  in  his  eye.     Most  gracious  duke, 
To  my  unfolding  lend  a  prosperous'  ear  : 
And  let  me  find  a  charter  iu  your  voice, 
T'  assist  my  simpleness. 

Duke.  What  would  you,  Desdemona  ?" 

Des.  That  I  did  love  the  Moor  to  live  with  him, 
My  downright  violence  and  storm'  of  fortunes 
Maj-  trumpet  to  the  world  :  my  heart 's  subdued, 
'  Even  to  the  very  quality*  of  my  lord  : 
I  saw  Othello's  visage  in  his  mind  ; 
And  to  his  honours,  and  his  valiant  parts, 
Did  I  my  soul  and  fortunes  consecrate. 
So  that,  dear  lords,  if  I  be  left  behind, 
A  moth  of  peace,  and  he  go  to  the  war. 
The  rites  for  whicli'  I  love  him  are  bereft  me. 
And  I  a  heavy  interim  shall  support 
By  his  dear  absence.     Let  me  go  with  him. 

Oth.^  Your  voices,  lords  :  'beseech  you,  let  her  will 
Have  a  free  way. 

Vouch  with  me,  heaven,  I  therefore  beg  it  not. 
To  please  the  palate  of  my  appetite  ; 
Nor  to  comply  wi'  the  young  affects  of  heat,' 
(In  me  defunct)  and'  proper  satisfaction; 
But  to  be  free  and  bounteous  to  her  mind  : 
And  heaven  defend  your  counsels,'  that  you  think 
I  will  your  serious  and  great  business  scant. 
When'"  she  is  with  me.     No,  when  light-wing'd  toys 
Of  feather'd  Cupid  foil"  with  wanton  dulness 
My  speculative  and  active'"''  instruments, 
That  my  disports  corrupt  and  taint  my  business, 
Let  housewives  make  a  skillet  of  my  helm, 
And  all  indign  and  base  adversities 
Make  head  against  my  reputation  !" 

Duke.  Be  it  as  you  shall  privately  determine. 
Either  for  her  stay,  or  going.     Th'  affair  cries  haste. 
And  speed  must  answer  it :  you  mvist  hence  to-night. 

Dcs.  To-night,  my  lord  ?'* 

Ikike.  This  night. 

0th.  With  all  my  heart. 

1  a  gracious  ear  :  in  quarto.  2  speak  :  in  quarto,  1622.  ^  scorn:  ia 
quartos.  *  utmost  pleasure  :  in  quarto.  '  why  :  in  folio.  ^  0th.  Let 
her  have  your  voice  ;  Vouch,  &c.  :  in  folio.  '  comply  with  heat  the 
young  effects:  inf.  e.  ^  In  my  defunct  and.  &c.  :  in  f.  e.  '  good 
souls :  in  f.  e.  '"  For  :  in  quartos,  n  seel  :  in  folio.  12  offic'd  :  ia 
folio.     '3  estimation  :  in  folio.     '*  Not  in  folio. 


8C.  III.  THE   MOOR    OF   VENICE.  381^ 

Duke.  At  nine  i'  the  morning  here  we '11  meet  again. 
Othello,  leave  some  officer  behind, 
And  he  shall  our  commission  bring  to  you  ; 
With  such  things  else  of  quality  and  respect, 
As  do  import  you. 

0th.  Please  your  grace,  my  ancient; 

A  man  he  is  of  honesty,  and  trust : 
To  his  conveyance  I  assign  my  wife, 
With  what  else  needful  your  good  grace  shall  think 
To  be  sent  after  me. 

Buke.  Let  it  be  so. — 

Good  night  to  every  one. — And,  noble  signior, 

[To  Brabantio. 
If  virtue  no  delighted  beauty  lack, 
Your  son-in-law  is  far  more  fair  than  black. 

1  Sen.  Adieu,  brave  Moor  !  use  Desdemona  well. 

Bra.  Look  to  her,  Moor,  if  thou  hast  eyes^  to  see  : 
She  has  deceiv'd  her  father,  and  may  thee. 

[Exeunt  Duke,  Senators,  Officers,  !fc. 

0th.  My  life  upon  her  faith. — Honest  lago,  ■ 

My  Desdemona  must  I  leave  to  thee  : 
I  pr'^^hee,  let  thy  wife  attend  on  her. 
And  bring  her^  after  in  the  best  advantage. — 
Come,  Desdemona;  I  have  but  an  hour 
Of  love,  of  worldly  matters  and  direction. 
To  spend  with  thee :  we  must  obey  the  time. 

[Exeunt  Othello  and  Desdemona. 

Rod.  lago. 

lago.  What  say'st  thou,  noble  heart  ? 

Rod.  What  will  I  do,  thinkest  thou  ? 

lago.  Why,  go  to  bed,  and  sleep. 

Rod.  I  will  incontinently  drown  myself. 

lago.  Well,  if  thou  dost,  I  shall  never  love  thee 
after  it.     Why,  thou  silly  gentleman  !  - '^ 

Rod.  It  is  silliness  to  live,  when  to  live  is  a  torment ; 
and  then  have  we  a  prescription  to  die,  when  death  is 
our  physician. 

lago.  O  villainous  I  I  have  looked  upon  the  world 
for  four  times  seven  years,  and  since  I  could  distinguish 
bet^-ixt  a  benefit  and  an  injury,  I  never  found  a  man 
that  knew  how  to  love  himself.  Ere  I  would  say,  I 
would  drown  myself  for  the  love  of  a  Guinea-hen,  I 
would  change  my  humanity  with  a  baboon. 

1  have  a  quick  eye  :  in  quarto,  1622.    *  them  :  in  folio. 


.?' 


382  OTHELLO,  ACT  I. 

Rod.  What  should  I  do  ?  I  confess,  it  is  my  shame 
to  be  so  fond  :  but  it  is  not  in  my  virtue  to  amend  it. 

logo.  Virtue  ?  a  fig  !  't  is  in  ourselves  that  we  are 
thus,  or  thus.  Our  bodies  are'  gardens,  to  the  which, 
our  wills  are  gardeners;  so  that  if  we  will  plant  net- 
tles, or  sow  lettuce ;  set  hyssop,  and  weed  up  thyme ; 
supply  it  with  one  gender  of  herbs,  or  distract  it  with 
many  :  either  to  have  it  steril  with  idleness,  or  manured 
with  industry ;  why,  the  power  and  corrigible  authority 
of  this  lies  in  our  wills.  If  the  balance''  of  our  lives 
had  not  one  scale  of  reason  to  poise  another  of  sensu- 
ality, the  blood  and  baseness  of  our  natures  would  con- 
duct us  to  most  preposterous  conclusions  :  but  we  have 
reason  to  cool  our  raging  motions,  our  carnal  stings, 
our  unbitted  lusts,  whereof  I  take  this,  that  you  call — 
love,  to  be  a  sect,  or  scion. 

Rod.  It  cannot  be. 

logo.  It  is  merely  a  lust  of  the  blood,  and  a  permis- 
sion of  the  will.     Come,  Ij^e  a  man:  drown  thyself?  ' 
''  drowii  cats,  and  blind   puppies.      I  profess^   me  thy 

friend,  and  I  confess  me  knit  to  thy  deserving  with 
cables  of  perdurable  toughness  ;  I  could  never  better 
stead  thee  than  now.  /  Put  money  in  thy  purse  ;  follow 
these  wars  ;  defeat  thy  favour*  with  an  usurped  beard  ; 
I  say,-  put  money  in  thy  pursct  It  cannot  be,  that 
Desdemona  should  long  continue  her  love  to  the  Moor, 
— put  money  in  thy  purse ;— ^nor  he  his  to  her  :  it  was 
a  violent  commencement,  and  thou  shaltsee  an  answer- 
able sequestration  : — put  but  money  in  thy  purse. — 
These  Moors  are  changeable  in  their  wills ; — fill  thy 
purse  with  money :  the  food  that  to  him  no\71s  as 
luscious  as  locusts,  shall  be  to  him  shortly  as  bitter*  as 
coloquintida.  She  must  change  for  youth :  when  she 
is  sated  with  his  body,  she  will  find  the  error  of  her 
choice. — She  must  have  change,  she  must:  therefore,  "►^p'r^+ic 
,Vu^  put  money,  in  thy  purse. — If  thou  wilt  needs  damn 
thyself,  do  it  a  more  delicate  way  than  drowning. 
Make  all  the  rnojiey  thou  canst.  If  sancdmony  and 
a  frail  vow,  betwixt  an  erring  barljarian  and  a  super- 
supple*  Venetian,  be  not  too  hard  for  my  wits,  and  all 
the  tribe  of  hell,  thou  shalt  enjoy  her;  therefore  make 

1  are  our  :  in  folio.  2  brain  :  in  folio.  ^  have  professed  :  in  folio, 
♦change  thy  countenance.  *  acerb  :  in  quarto,  lt>2:2.  "J  supersubtle  : 
in  f.  e. 


SC.  in.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  383 

money.  A  pox  of  dro^\^ling  thyself !  it  is  clean  out 
of  the  ^A'ay :  seek  thou  rather  to  be  hanged  in  com- 
pasiiin?  thy  joy,  than  to  be  drowaied  and  go  without/lier. 

Rod.  Wilt  thou  be  fast  to  my  hopes,'  if  I  depend  on 
the  issue  ? 

lago.  Thou  art  sure  of  me. — Go,  make  money. — I 
have  told  thee  often,  and  I  re-tell  thee  again  and  again, 
I  hate  the  Moor  :  my  cause  is  hearted  ;  thine  hath  no 
less  reason.  Let  us  be  conjunctive  in  our  revenge 
against  him :  if  thou  canst  cuckold  him,  thou  dost 
thyself  a  pleasure,  me  a  sport.  There  are  many  events 
in  the  womb  of  time,  which  will  be  delivered.  Tra- 
verse': go  :  provide  thy  money.  We  will  have  more 
of  this  to-morrow.     Adieu. 

Rod.  Where  shall  we  meet  i'  the  morning  ? 

lago.  At  my  lodging. 

Rod.  I  '11  be  with  thee  betimes. 

lago.  Go  to  ;  farewell.     Do  you  hear,  Roderigo  ? 

Rod.  What  say  you  ?"   >• 

lago.  No  more  of  drowning,  do  you  hear? 

Rod.  I  am  changed.     [  "U  sell  all  my  land. 

lago.  Go  to  :  farewell :  put  money  enough  in  your 
purse. ^  [Exit  Roderigo. 

Thus  do  I  ever  make  my  fool  my  purse  ; 
For  I  mine  own  gaiu'd  knowledge  should  profane. 
If  I  would  time  expend  with  such  a  snipe. 
But  for  my  sport  and  profit.     I  hate  the  Moor; 
And  it  is  thought  abroad,  that  'twixt  my  sheets 
He  has  done  my  office  :  I  know  not  if  't  be  true  • 
Yet*  I,  for  mere  suspicion  in  that  kind, 
Will  do  as  if  for  surety.     He  holds  me  well; 
The  better  shall  my  purpos^e  work  on  him. 
Cassio  '"s  a  proper  man  :  let  me  see  now  ; 
To  get  his  place,  and  to  plume*  up  my  will 
In  double  knavery, — How,  how? — Let's  see  : — 
After  some  time,  to  abuse  Othello's  ear 
That  he  is  too  familiar  with  his  wife : 
He  hath  a  person,  and  a  smooth  dispose. 
To  be  suspected  ;  fram'd  to  make  women  false. 
The  Moor  is  of  a  free  and  open  nature, 
That  thinks  men  honest,  that  but  seem  to  be  so, 

1  The  rest  of  the  sentence  is  not  in  quarto,  1622.  =  This  and  the 
next  two  lines  to  "  I  'U"  are  not  in  folio.  ^  This  line  is  not  in  folio. 
*  But  :  in  folio.     *  make  :  in  quarto,  1622 


384  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

And  will  as  tenderly  be  led  by  the  nose, 
As  asses  are. — 

I  have  "t ; — it  is  engender"d  : — hell  and  night 
Must  bring  this  monstrous  birth  to  the  world's  light. 

[Exit. 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I. — A  Sea-port  Town  in  Cyprus.  A  Platform. 

Enter  Montano  and  Two  Gentlemen. 

Mon.  What  from  the  cape  can  you  discern  at  sea? 

1  Gent.  Nothing  at  all :  it  is  a  high-WTought  flood  j 
I  camiot,  'twixt  the  heaven^  and  the  main, 

Descry  a  sail. 

Mon .  Methinks.  the  \A'ind  hath  spoke  aloud  at  land  : 
A  fuller  blast  ne'er  shook  our  battlements : 
If  it  hath  ruffian'd  so  upon  the  sea, 
What  ribs  of  oak,  when^  mountains  melt  on  them, 
Can  hold  the  mortise?  what  shall  we  hear  of  this? 

2  Gent.   A  segregation  of  the  Turkish  fleet : 
For  do  but  stand  upon  the  foaming  shore, 
The  chidden  billow  seems  to  pelt  the  clouds, 

The  wind-shakd  surge,  with  high  and  monstrous  mane, 
Seems  to  cast  water  on  the  biuuiing  bear. 
And  quench  the  guards  of  th'  ever-fixed  pole. 
I  never  did  like  molestation  view 
On  the  enchafed  flood. 

Mon.  If  that  the  Turkish  fleet 

Be  not  inshelter'd  and  embay'd,  they  are  drown'd; 
It  is  impossible  to^  bear  it  out. 

Enter  a  Tliird  Gentleman. 

3  Gent.  News,  lads  !*  our  wars  are  done. 
The  desperate  tempest  hath  so  bang'd  the  Turks, 
That  their  designment  halts  :  a  noble*  ship  of  Venice 
Hath  seen  a  grievous  wTeck  and  sufferance 

On  most  part  of  their  fleet. 
Mon.  How  !  is  tliis  true  ? 

1  haven  :  in  quarto.      2  the  huge  mountain  :  in  quarto.      '  they : 
in  quarto.     *  lords  :  in  quarto.     ^  another  :  in  quarto. 


SC.  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 


3^ 


3  Gent.  The  ship  is  here  put  in : 

A  Florentine/  Michael  Cassio, 
Lieutenant  to  the  warlike  Moor.  Othello, 
Is  come  on  shore  :  the  Moor  himself 's  at  sea, 
And  is  in  full  commission  here  for  Cyprus. 

Mon.  I  am  glad  on't;  't  is  a  worthy  governor. 

3  Gent.  But  this  same   Cassio,  though  he   speak  of 
comfort. 
Touching  the  Turkish  loss,  yet  he  looks  sadly, 
And  prays  the  Moor  be  safe ;  for  they  were  parted 
With  foul  and  violent  tempest. 

Mon.  Pray  heaven  he  be ; 

For  I  have  serv'd  him.  and  the  man  commands 
Like  a  full  soldier.     Let  "s  to  the  sea-side,  ho  ! 
As  well  to  see  the  vessel  that  's  come  in. 
As  to  throw  out  our  eyes  for  brave  Othello,^ 
Even  till  we  make  the  main,  and  th"  aerial  blue, 
An  indistinct  regard. 

3  Gent.  Come,  let  "s  do  so ; 

For  every  minute  is  expectancy 
Of  more  arrivance. 

Enter  Cassio.^  and  several  Islanders. 

Cas.  Thanks  you,  the  valiant  of  the  warlike  isle, 
That  so  approve  the  Moor. — 0  !  let  the  heavens 
Give  him  defence  against  the  elements, 
For  I  have  lost  him  on  a  dangerous  sea. 

Mon.  Is  he  well  shipp'd  ? 

Cas.  His  bark  is  stoutly  timberd,  and  his  pilot 
Of  very  expert  and  approved  allowance ; 
Therefore  my  hopes,  not  surfeited  to  death. 
Stand  in  bold  cure. 

[Within]  A  sail,  a  sail,  a  sail  ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Cas.  What  noise  ? 

Mess.  The  town  is  empty  ;  on  the  brow  o'  the  sea 
Stand  ranks  of  people,  and  they  cry,  "  a  sail." 

Cas.  My  hopes  do  shape  him  for  the  governor. 

[Guns  heard. 

2  Gent.  They  do  discharge  their  shot  of  courtesy : 
Our  friends,  at  least. 

Cas.        '  I  pay  you,  sir,  go  forth, 

And  give  us  truth  who  't  is  arriv'd. 

1  A  Veronese  :  in  f.  e.      2  The  rest  of  the  speech,  is  not  in  qnarto, 
1622.     3  Xhe  rest  of  this  direction  is  not  in  f.  e. 

Vol.  VIL— 33 


386  OTHELLO,  ACT  U. 

2  Gent.  I  shall.  [Exit. 

Mon.  But,  good  lieutenant.  i.s  your  general  wiv'd? 

Cas.  Most  fortunately :  he  hath  achieved  a  maid, 
That  paragons  description,  and  wild  fame  • 
One  that  excels  the  quirks  of  blazoning  pens. 
And  in  th'  essential  vesture  of  creation, 
Does  bear  all  excellency.'-' — How  now  !  who  has  put  in  ? 
Re-enter  Second  Gentleman. 

2  Gent.  'T  is  one  lago.  ancient  to  the  general. 

Cas.  He  has  had  most  favourable  and  happy  speed : 
Tempests  themselves,  high  seas,  and  howling  winds, 
The  gutter'd  rocks,  and  congregated  sands, 
Traitors  ensteep'd  to  clog  the  guiltless  keel. 
As  having  sense  of  beauty,  do  omit 
Their  mortal  natures,  letting  go  safely  by 
The  divine  Desdemona. 

3Ion.  What  is  she? 

Cas.  She  that  I  spake  of.  our  great  captain's  captain, 
Left  in  the  conduct  of  the  bold  lago  ; 
Whose  footing  here  anticipates  our  thoughts, 
A  se'ennight's  speed. — Great  Jove  !  Othello  guard. 
And  swell  his  sail  with  thine  own  powerful  breath, 
That  he  may  bless  this  bay  with  his  tall  ship, 
Make  love's  quick  pants  in  Desdemona's  arms, 
Give  renew'd  fire  to  our  extincted  spirits, 
And  bring  all  Cyprus  comfort. — 0,  behold  ! 

Enter  Desdemoxa.  E.milia,  Iago,  Roderigo,  and 
Attendants. 
The  riches  of  the  ship  is  come  on  shore. 
Ye  men  of  Cyprus,  let  her  have  your  knees. — 

[They  hieel.^ 
Hail  to  thee,  lady  !  and  the  grace  of  heaven, 
Before,  behind  thee,  and  on  every  hand, 
Enwheel  thee  round. 

Des.  I  thank  you,  valiant  Cassio. 

What  tidings  can  you  tell  me*  of  my  lord  ? 

Cas.  He  is  not  yet  arriv"d  :  nor  know  I  aught 
But  that  he  's  well,  and  vnll  be  shortly  here. 

Des.  O  !  but  I  fear. — How  lost  you  company? 

Cos.  The  great  contention  of  the  sea  and  skies 
Parted  our  fellowship. 

[Withini\  A  sail,  a  sail  ! 

iqtiirkBof:  not  in  quarto,  1G22.      =  tire  the  ingeniuer :  in  folio. 
3  Not  in  f.  e.     *  Not  in  folio. 


SC.  I.  THE    MOOR    OF   VENICE.  387 

But,  hark  !  a  sail.  [Ghms  heard. 

2  Gent.  They  give  their  greeting  to  the  citadel : 
This  likewise  is  a  friend. 

Cos.  See  for  the  news.' — 

[Exit  Gentleman. 
Good  ancient,  you  are  welcome. — "Welcome,  mistress. — 

[To  Emilia. 
Let  it  not  gall  your  patience,  good-  lago, 
That  I  extend  my  manners :  't  is  my  breeding 
That  gives  me  this  bold  show  of  courtesy.  [Kissing  her. 

lago.  Sir,  would  she  give  you  so  much  of  her  lips, 
As  of  her  tongue  she  oft  bestows  on  me, 
You  'd  have  enough. 

Des.  Alas  !  she  has  no  speech. 

lago.  In  faith.'''  too  much  ; 
I  find  it  still,  when  I  have  lust^  to  sleep  : 
Marry,  before  your  ladyship,  I  grant, 
She  puts  her  tongue  a  little  in  her  heart, 
And  chides  with  thinking. 

Emit.  You  have  little  cause  to  say  so. 

lago.  Come  on.  come  on ;  you  are  pictures  out  of 
doors, 
Bells  in  your  parlours,  wild  cats  in  your  kitchens, 
Saints  in  your  injuries,  devils  being  offended. 
Players  in  your  housewifery,  and  hougewives  in  your 
beds. 

Des.  0,  fie  upon  thee,  slanderer  ! 

lago.  Nay,  it  is  true,  or  else  I  am  a  Turk : 
You  rise  to  play,  and  go  to  bed  to  work. 

Emil.  You  shall  not  write  my  praise. 

lago.  No.  let  me  not. 

Des.  A^liat  wouldst  thou  wTiteof  me,  if  thou  shouldst 
praise  me  ? 

lago.  0  gentle  lady,  do  not  put  me  to  't, 
For  I  am  nothing,  if  not  critical. 

Des.  Come  on ;    assay. — There's   one   gone   to  the 
harbour  ? 

Cas.  Ay,  madam. 

Des.  I  am  not  merry;  but  I  do  beguile 
The  thing  I  am,  by  seeming  otherwise. — 
Come  ;  how  wouldst  thou  praise  me  ? 

lago.  I  am  about  it,  but,  indeed,  my  invention 

1  So  speaks  this  voice  :  in  quarto,  1622.     2  I  know  ;  in  quarto,  1623. 
s  list :  in  f.  e. 


388  OTHELLO,  ACT  11. 

Comes  from  my  pate,  as  birdlime  does  from  frize, 
It  plucks  out  brains  and  all :  but  my  muse  labours, 
A.nd  thus  she  is  deliver'd. 
If  she  be  fair  and  M'ise, — fairness,  and  wit, 
The  one  's  for  use,  the  other  useth  it. 

Des.  Well  prais"d  ! — How.  if  she  be  black  and  witty  ? 

lago.  If  she  be  black,  and  thereto  have  a  wit, 
She  '11  find  a  white  that  shall  her  blackness  fit.* 

Des.  Worse  and  worse. 

£mil.  How,  if  fair  and  foolish  ? 

logo.  She  never  yet  was  foolish  that  was  fair  ; 
For  even  her  folly  helps  her  to  an  heir. 

Des.  These  ate  old  fond^  paradoxes,  to  make  fools 
laugh  i'  the  alehouse.  What  miserable  praise  hast 
thou  for  her  tliat  's  foul  and  foolish  ? 

lago.  There  's  none  so  foul,  and  foolish  thereunto, 
But  does  foul  pranks  which  fair  and  wise  ones  do. 

Des.  0  heavy  ignorance  !  thou  praisest  the  worst 
best.  But  what  praise  couldst  thou  bestow  on  a  de- 
serving woman  indeed  ?  one  that,  in  the  authority  of 
her  merit,  did  justlv  put  on  the  vouch  of  very  malice 
itself  ? 

lago.  She  that  was  ever  fair,  and  never  proud  j 
Had  tongue  at  will,  and  yet  was  never  loud ; 
Never  lack'd  gold,  and  yet  went  never  gay  ; 
Fled  from  her  wish,  and  yet  said, — '•  now  I  may  :" 
She  that,  being  anger'd.  her  revenge  being  nigh, 
Bade  her  wrong  stay,  and  her  displeasure  fly ; 
She  that  in  wisdom  never  was  so  frail, 
To  change  the  cod's  head  for  the  salmon's  tail ; 
She  that  could  think,  and  ne'er  disclo.'^e  her  mind. 
See  suitors  following,  and  not  look  behind  :■* 
She  was  a  wight, — if  ever  such  wight  were, — 

Des.  To  do  what  ? 

lago.  To  suckle  fools,  and  chronicle  small  beer. 

Des.  0,  most  lame  and  impotent  conclusion ! — Do 
not  learn  of  him.  Emilia,  though  he  be  thy  husband. — 
How  say  you,  Cassio  ?  is  he  not  a  most  profane  and 
liberal  censurer?* 

Cas.  He  speaks  home,  madam  :  you  may  relish  him 
more  in  the  soldier,  than  in  the  scholar. 

[Talks  apart  with  Desd.* 

I  hit  :  in  quaito.  16-22.  "  Foolish.  ^  Not  in  quarto,  1622.  *  coun- 
sellor :  in  f.  e.     *  Not  in  f.  e. 


SC.  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE,  389 

lago.  [Aside.]  He  takes  her  by  the  palm  :  ay,  well 
said,  whisper  :  with  as  little  a  web  as  this,  will  I  en- 
snare as  great  a  fly  as  Cassio.  Ay,  smile  upon  her, 
do;  I  Mall  g\"\'e  thee  in  thine  own  courtship.  You  say 
true  ;  '*t  is  so,  indeed  :  if  such  tricks  as  these  strip  you 
out  of  your  lieuteuantrj',  it  had  been  better  you  had 
not  kissed  your  three  fingers  so  oft,  which  now  again 
you  are  most  apt  to  play  the  sir  in.  Very  good  :  well 
kissed !  an  excellent  courtesy  !  't  is  so  indeed.  Yet 
again  your  fingers  to  your  lips?  would,  they  were 
clyster-pipes  for  your  sake. — [A  Trumpet  heard.]  The 
Moor  !  I  know  his  trumpet. 

Cas.  'T  is  truly  so. 

Des.  Let 's  meet  him,  and  receive  him. 

Cas.  Lo.  where  he  comes  ! 

Enter  Othello,  and  Attendants. 

0th.  0,  my  fair  warrior  ! 

Des.  '  ]\Iy  dear  Othello  ! 

0th.  It  gives  me  wonder  great  as  my  content, 
To  see  you  here  before  me.     0,  my  soul's  joy ! 
If  after  every  tempest  come  such  calms, ^ 
May  the  winds  blow,  till  they  have  waken'd  death  ; 
And  let  the  labouring  bark  climb  hills  of  seas,     ' 
Olympus-high,  and  duck  again  as  low 
As  hell 's  from  heaven.     If  it  were  now  to  die, 
'T  were  now  to  be  most  happy  ;  for,  I  fear, 
My  soul  hath  her  content  so  absolute, 
That  not  another  comfort  like  to  this 
Succeeds  in  unknown  fate. 

Des.  The  heavens  forbid, 

But  that  our  loves  and  comforts  should  increase, 
Even  as  our  days  do  grow  ! 

0th.  Amen  to  that,  sweet  powers  ! — 

I  cannot  speak  enough  of  this  content ; 
It  stops  me  here ;  it  is  too  much  of  joy  : 
And  this,  and  this,  the  greatest  discords  be, 

[Kissing  her. 
That  e'er  our  hearts  shall  make  ! 

lago.  [Aside.]  0!  you  are  well  fund  now; 

But  I  '11  set  down  the  pegs  that  makes  this  music, 
As  honest  as  I  am. 

0th.  Come,  let  us  to  the  castle. — 

I  calmness  :  in  quartos. 

33* 


"•J 


390  OTHELLO,  ACT  11^ 

News,  friends ;    our  wars   are   done,  the   Turks   are 

drown'd. 
How  does  my  old  acquaintance  of  this  isle  ? — 
Honey,  you  shall  be  well  de>ir'd  in  Cyprus, 
I  have  found  great  love  amongst  them.     O  my  sweet, 
I  prattle  out  of  fashion,  and  1  dote 
In  mine  own  comforts. — I  pr'ythee,  good  lago. 
Go  to  the  bay,  and  disembark  my  coffers. 
Bring  thou  the  ma.<ter  to  the  citadel  : 
He  is  a  good  one,  and  his  worthiness 
Does  challenge  much  respect. — Come,  Desdemona, 
Once  more  well  met  at  Cyprus. 

[Excvnt  Othello,  Desdemona,  and  Attendants. 

lago.  Do  thou  meet  me  presently  at  the  harboiu-. — 
Come  hither.' — If  thou  be'st  valiant — as  they  say  base 
men,  being  in  love,  have  then  a  nobility  in  their  natures 
more  than  is  native  to  them, — list  me.  The  lieutenant 
to-night  watches  on  the  court  of  guard. — First.  I  must 
tell  thee  this — Desdemona  is  directly  in  love  with  him. 

Rod.  With  him  !  why,  't  is  not  possible. 

lago.  Lay  thy  finger — thus,  and  let  thy  soul  be  in- 
structed. Mark  me  with  what  violence  she  first  loved 
the  Moor,  but  for  bragging,  and  telling  her  fantastical 
lies ;  and  will  she"  love  him  still  for  prating  ?  let  not 
thy  discreet  heart  think  it.  Her  eye  must  be  fed :  and 
what  delight  shall  she  have  to  look  on  the  devil  ?  When 
the  blood  is  made  dull  with  the  act  of  sport,  there 
should  be. — again^  to  inflame  it.  and  to  give  satiety  a 
fresh  appetite,  loveliness  in  favour,  .sympathy  in  years, 
manners,  and  beauties  :  all  which  the  Moor  is  defective 
in.  Now,  for  want  of  these  required  conveniences,  her 
delicate  tenderness  will  find  itself  abused,  begin  to 
heave  the  gorge,  disreli.sh  and  abhor  the  Moor:  very 
nature  will  instruct  her  in  it.  and  compel  her  to  some 
second  choice.  Now,  sir,  this  granted,  (as  it  is  a  most 
presnant  and  unforced  position)  who  stands  so  emi- 
nently in  the  degree  of  this  fortune,  as  Cassio  does  ?  a 
knave  very  voluble  ;  no  farther  conscionable,  than  in 
putting  on  the  mere  form  of  civil  and  humane  seem- 
ing, for  the  better  compassing  of  his  salt  and  most 
hidden  loose  affection  ?  why,  none ;  why,  none  :*  a 
subtle  slippery  knave  ;  a  finder  out  of  occasions  )  that 

1  thither  :  in  folio.  2  lies,  to  :  in  folio.  ^  a  game  :  in  folio. 
*  why,  none;  why  none  :  not  in  folio. 


SC.  I.  THE    MOOR    OF   VENICE.  391 

has  an  eye  can  stamp  and  counterfeit  advantages,  though 
true  advantage  never  present  itself :  a  devilish  knave  ! 
besides,  the  knave  is  handsome,  young,  and  hath  all 
those  requisites  in  liim.  that  folly  and  green  minds  look 
after  ;  a  pestilent  complete  knave,  and  the  woman  hath 
found  him  already. 

.  Rod.  I  cannot  believe  that  in  her  :  she  is  full  of 
most  blessed  condition. 

lago.  Blessed  fig's  end  !  the  wine  she  drinks  is  made 
of  grapes :  if  she  had  been  blessed,  she  would  never 
have  loved  the  Moor  :  bless'd  pudding^  !  Didst  thou 
not  see  her  paddle  with  the  palm  of  his  hand  ?  didsi 
not  mark  that  ? 

Rod.  Yes,  that  I  did  :  but  that  was  but  courtesy. 

lago.  Lechery,  by  this  hand  ;  an  index,'''  and  obscure 
prologue  to  the  history  of  lust  and  foul  thoughts. 
They  met  so  near  with  their  lips,  that  their  breaths 
embraced  together.  Villainous  thoughts,  Roderigo ! 
when  these  mutualities  so  marshal  the  way,  hard  at 
hand  comes  the  master  and  main  exercise,  the  incor- 
porate conclusion.  Pish  !  But,  sir,  be  you  ruled  by 
me  :  I  have  brought  yovi  from  Venice.  Watch  you 
to-night ;  for  the  command.  I  '11  lay  't  upon  you.  Cassio 
knows  you  not : — I  "11  not  be  far  from  you  :  do  you  find 
some  occasion  to  anger  Cassio,  either  by  speaking  too 
loud,  or  tainting  his  discipline ;  or  from  what  other 
cause  you  please,  which  the  time  shall  more  favour- 
ablv  minister. 

Rod.  Well. 

logo.  Sir,  he  is  rash,  and  very  sudden  in  choler,  and, 
haply.  \A"ith  his  truncheon  may  strike  at  you :  provoke 
him.,  that  he  may  :  for  even  out  of  that  will  I  cause 
these  of  Cyprus  to  mutiny,  whose  qualification  shall 
come  into  no  true  taste  again,  but  by  the  displanting 
of  Cassio.  So  shall  you  have  a  shorter  journey  to  your 
desires,  by  the  means  I  shall  then  have  to  prefer  them; 
and  the  impediment  most  profitably  removed,  without 
the  which  there  were  no  expectation  of  our  prosperity. 

Rod.  I  wll  do  this,  if  I  can  bring  it  to  any  opportunity. 

lago.  I  warrant  thee.  ]\Icet  me  by  and  by  at  the 
citadel  :  I  must  fetch  his  necessaries  ashore.     Farewell. 

Rod.  Adieu.  [Exit. 

lago.  That  Cassio  loves  her.  I  do  well  believe  it ; 

1  These  two  words  are  not  in  quartos.      2  Commencement. 


392  OTHELLO,  ACT  11. 

That  she  loves  him,  't  is  apt,  and  of  great  credit : 

The  Moor — howbeit  that  I  endure  him  not, — 

Is  of  a  constant,  loving,  noble  nature  ; 

And,  I  dare  think,  he  '11  prove  to  Desdemona 

A  most  dear  husband.     Now,  I  do  love  her  too  ; 

Not  out  of  absolute  lust,  (though,  peradventure, 

I  stand  accountant  for  as  great  a  sin) 

But  partly  led  to  diet  my  revenge, 

For  that  I  do  suspect  the  lustful'  Moor 

Hath  leap'd  into  my  seat  ;  the  thought  whereof 

Doth  like  a  poisonous  mineral  gnaw  my  inwards, 

And  nothing  can,  or  shall,  content  my  soul, 

Till  I  am  even'd"  with  him,  wife  for  wife  : 

Or,  failing  so,  yet  that  I  put  the  Moor 

At  least  into  a  jealousy  so  strong 

That  judgment  cannot  cure.     Which  thing  to  do, — 

If  this  poor  brach^  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash,* 

For  his  quick  hunting,  stand  the  putting  on, — 

I  '11  have  our  Michael  Cassio  on  the  hip; 

Abuse  him  to  the  Moor  in  the  rank^  garb, — 

For  I  fear  Cassio  with  my  night-cap  too  ; — 

Make  the  Moor  thank  me,  love  me,  and  reward  mc, 

For  making  him  egiegiously  an  ass, 

And  practising  upon  liis  peace  and  quiet. 

Even  to  madness.     'T  is  here,  but  yet  confus'd  : 

Knavery's  plain  face  is  never  seen,  till  us'd.         [Exit. 

SCENE  II.  A  Street. 
Enter  a  Herald,  with  a  Proclamation  ;  People  follou-ing. 
Her.  It  is  Othello's  pleasure,  our  noble  and  valiant 
general,  that  upon  certain  tidinas  now  arrived,  import- 
ing the  mere  perdition  of  the  Turkish  fleet,  every  man 
put  himself  into  triumph ;  some  to  dance,  some  to 
make  bonfires,  each  man  to  what  sport  and  revels  his 
addiction*^  leads  him  :  for,  besides  these  beneficial  news, 
it  is  the  celebration  of  his  nuptials.  So  much  was  his 
pleasure  should  be  proclaimed.  All  offices  arc  open: 
and  there  is  full  liberty  of  feasting,'  from  this  present 
hour  of  five,  till  the  bell  halh  told  eleven.  Heaven 
bless  the  isle  of  Cyprus,  and  our  noble  general,  Othello  ! 

[Exeunt. 

»  lusty  :  in  folio.  =  even  :  in  quarto.  1622.  3  Small  hound. 
*  trace  :  in  f.  e.  *  right  :  in  folio.  *  mind  :  in  quarto.  1622f  '  of 
feasting  :   not  m  quartos. 


so,  m.  THE   MOOR    OF    VENICE.  393 


SCENE  III.     A  Hall  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  Othello.  Desdemoxa,  Cassio,  atid  Attendants. 

0th.  Good  Michael,  look  you  to  the  guard  to-night: 
Let 's  teach  ourselves  that  honourable  stop, 
Not  to  out-sport  discretion. 

Cas.  lago  hath  direction  what  to  do ; 
But,  notwithstanding,  with  iny  personal  eye 
Will  I  look  to  't. 

0th.  lago  is  most  honest. 

Michael,  good  night  :  to-morrow,  with  your  earliest, 
Let  me  have  speech  with  you.     Come,  my  dear  love  : 
The  purchase  made,  the  fruits  are  to  ensue  ; 

[To  Desdejiona. 
That  profit 's  yet  to  come  "twixt  m&  and  you. — 
Good  night.  [Exeunt  0th.,  Des.,  attended. 

Enter  Iago. 

Cas.  Welcome,  lago  :  we  must  to  the  watch. 

Iago.  Not  this  horn-,  lieutenant ;  't  is  not  yet  ten 
o'clock.  Our  general  cast  us  thus  early  for  the  love 
of  his  Desdemona,  whom  let  us  not  therefore  blame  : 
he  hath  not  yet  made  wanton  the  night  with  her,  and 
she  is  sport  for  Jove. 

Cas.  She  "s  a  most  exquisite  lady. 

Iago.  And  [  '11  warrant  her,  full  of  game. 

Cas.  Indeed,  she 's  a  most  fresh  and  delicate  creature. 

Iago.  What  an  eye  she  has  !  methinks  it  sounds  a 
parley  of  ^  provocation. 

Cas.  An  inviting  eye;  and  yet  methinks  right 
modest.* 

Iago.  And,  when  she  speaks,  is  it  not  an  alarum  to 
love  ? 

Cas.  She  is,  indeed,  perfection. 

Iago.  Well,  happiness  to  their  sheets  !  Come,  lieu- 
tenant, I  have  a  stoop  of  wine  ;  and  here  without  are  a 
brace  of  Cyprus  gallants,  that  would  fain  have  a  mea- 
sure to  the  health  of  the  black  Othello. 

Cas.  Not  to-night,  good  Iago.  I  have  very  poor 
and  unhappy  brains  for  drinking :  I  could  well  wish 
courtesy  would  invent  some  other  custom  of  entertain- 
ment. 

Iago.  0 !  they  are  our  friends ;  but  one  cup :  I  '11 
drink  for  you. 

I  to  :  in  folio. 


394  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

Cas.  I  liave  drunk  but  one  cup  to-night,  and  that 
was  ci'aftily  qualified  too,  and,  behold,  ■what  innoA'ation 
it  makes  here.  I  am  unfortunate  in  the  infirmity,  and 
dare  not  task  my  weakness  with  any  more. 

lago.  What,  man  !  't  is  a  night  of  revels  :  the  gallants 
desire  it. 

Cas.  Where  are  they  ? 

lago.  Here  at  the  door ;  I  pray  you.  call  them  in. 

Cas.  I  '11  do  't.  but  it  dislikes  me.  [Exit  Cassio. 

lago.  If  I  can  fasten  but  one  cup  upon  him, 
With  that  which  he  hath  drunk  to-night  already, 
He  '11  be  as  full  of  quarrel  and  offence 
As  my  young  mistress'  dog.     Now,  my  sick  fool,  Rode- 

Whom  love  lias  turn'd  almost  the  wrong  side  outward, 

To  Desdemona  hath  to-night  carous'd 

Potations  pottle  deep ;  and  he  's  to  watch. 

Three  elves*  of  Cyprus, — noble,  swelling  spirits, 

That  hold  their  honours  in  a  wary  distance, 

The  very  elements  of  this  warlike  isle, — 

Have  I  to-night  fiuster'd  with  flowing  cups, 

And  they  watch  too.      Now,   'mongst  this   flock  of 

drunkards, 
Am  I  to  put  our  Cassio  in  some  action 
That  may  offend  the  isle. — But  here  they  come. 
If  consequence  do  but  approve  my  dream, 
]\Iy  boat  sails  freely,  both  with  wind  and  stream. 
Re-enter  Cassio,  with  him  Montaxo,  and  Gentlemen. 
Cas.  'Fore  heaven,  they  have   given  me   a.rouse^ 
already. 

j\Ion.  Good  faith,  a  little  one;  not  past  a  pint,  as  I 
am  a  soldier. 

lago.  Some  wine,  ho  ! 

And  let  vie  the  canakin  clinic,  clink  ;      [Sings. 
And  let  me  the  canakin  clink; 
A  soldier  '5  a  man  ; 
A  life  's^  but  a  span; 
Why  then  let  a  soldier  drink. 
Some  wine,  boys  !  [TVine  brought. 

Cas.  'Fore  heaven,  an  excellent  song. 
lago.  I  learned  it  in  England,  where  (indeed)  they 
are  most  potent  in  potting ;  your  Dane,  your  German, 
1  lads  :  in  f.  e.    2  Carcttse.    ^  O  man's  life  :  in  folio. 


SC.  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  395 

and    your   swag-bellied   Hollander, — Drink,   ho  ! — are 
nothing  to  your  Englishman. 

Cas.  Is  your  Englishman  so  exquisite^  in  his  drinking  ? 

lago.  Why,  he  drinks  you,  with  facility,  your  Dane 
dead  drunk;  he  sweats  not  to  overthrow  your  Almain; 
he  gives  your  Hollander  a  vomit,  ei-e  the  next  pottle 
can  be  filled. 

Cas.  To  the  health  of  our  general. 

il/on.  I  am  for  it,  lieutenant:  and  I  '11  do  you  justice. 

lago.  O  sweet  England  ! 

King  Stephen  was  a  icorthy  peer," 

His  breeches  cost  him  hut  a  crown  ; 
He  held  them  sixpence  all  too  dear. 

With  that  he  call'd  the  tailor — lown. 
He  luas  a  wight  of  high  renown, 

And  thov  art  but  of  loic  degree: 
^T  is  pride  that  pulls  the  country  down, 
Then  take  thine  auld  cloak  about  thee. 
Some  -tt-ine,  ho  ! 

Cas.  Why,  this  is  a  more  exquisite  song  than  the 
other. 

lago.  Will  you  hear  it  again? 

Cas.  No :  for  I  hold  him  to  be  unworthy  of  his 
place  that  does  those  things. — Well,  heaven  's  above 
all  ;  and  there  be  souls  must  be  saved,  and  there  be 
souls  must  not  be  saved. 

lago.  It  is  true,  good  lieutenant. 

Cas.  For  mine  own  part, — no  offence  to  the  general, 
nor  any  man  of  quality, — I  hope  to  be  saved. 

lago.  And  so  do  I  too,  lieutenant. 

Cas.  Ay ;  but,  by  your  leave,  not  before  me :  the 
lieutenant  is  to  be  saved  before  the  ancient. — Let 's 
have  no  m.ore  of  this ;  let 's  to  our  affairs. — Forgive  us 
our  sins  ! — Gentlemen,  let 's  look  to  our  business.  Do 
not  think,  gentlemen,  I  am  drunk:  this  is  my  ancient: 
— this  is  my  right  hand,  and  this  is  my  left  hand.— 
I  am  not  drunk  now;  I  can  stand  well  enough,  and 
speak  well  enough. 

All.  Excellent  well. 

Cas.  Why,  very  well,  then;  you  must  not  think, 
then,  that  I  am  drunk.  [Exit. 

Mon.  To  the  platform,  masters:  come,  let 's  set  the 
watch. 

»  expert :  in  quarto,  1622.     SThis  ballad  is  in  "  Percy's  Reliques." 


S96  OTHELLO,  ACT  U. 

logo.  You  see  this  fellow,  that  is  gone  before  : 
He  is  a  soldier,  fit  to  stand  by  Caesar 
And  give  direction :  and  do  but  see  his  vice. 
'T  is  to  his  virtue  a  just  equinox, 
The  one  as  long  as  th'  other :  't  is  pity  of  him. 
I  fear,  the  trust  Othello  puts  in  him, 
On  some  odd  time  of  his  infirmity, 
Will  shake  this  island. 

3Ion.  But  is  he  often  thus  ? 

lago.    T  is  evermore  the  prologue  to  his  sleep: 
He  -11  watch  the  horologe  a  double  set, 
If  drink  rock  not  his  cradle. 

Mon.  It  were  well, 

The  general  were  put  in  mind  of  it. 
Perhaps,  he  sees  it  not :  or  his  good  nature 
Prizes^  the  virtue  that  appears  in  Cassio, 
And  looks  not  on  his  evils.     Is  not  this  true  ? 
Enter  RoDERiGO. 

lago.  How  now.  Roderigo  ?  [Aside  to  him. 

I  pray  you,  after  the  lieutenant ;  go.    [Exit  Roderigo. 

3Ion.  And  't  is  great  pity,  that  the  noble  INIoor 
Should  hazard  such  a  place  as  his  o^\^l  second. 
With  one  of  an  ingraft  infirmity 
It  were  an  honest  action  to  say 
So  to  the  ]\Ioor. 

lago.  Not  I,  for  this  fair  island : 

I  do  love  Cassio  well,  and  would  do  much 
To  cure  him  of  this  evil.     But  hark  !  what  noise  "? 

[Cry  within, — Help  !  Help  ! 
Re-enter  Cassio,  pursuing  Roderigo. 

Cas.  You  rogue  !  you  rascal ! 

3Ion.  What's  the  matter,  lieutenant? 

Cas.  A  knaA'e  ! — teach  me  my  duty  ? 
I  '11  beat  the  Inrave  into  a  wicker^  bottle. 

Rod.  Beat  me  ! 

Cas.  Dost  thou  prate,  rogue  ?     [Striking  Roderigo. 

3Io7i.  Nay.  good  lieutenant;  [Staying  him. 

I  pray  you,  sir,  hold  your  hand. 

Cas.  Let  me  go,  sir, 

Or  I  '11  knock  you  o'er  the  mazzard. 

3Ion.  Come,  come;  you  're  drunk. 

Cas.  Dnmk!  [They  fight. 

1  Praises  :  in  (quartos.    2  twiggen  :  in  folio. 


8C.  ni.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  397 

lago.  Away,  I  say !   [Aside  to  Rod.]  go  out,  and  cry 
a  mutiny.  [Exit  Rod. 

Nay,  good  lieutenant, — ala.s,  gentlemen  ! — 
Help,  ho  ! — Lieutenant, — sir, — Montano, — sir: — 
Help,  masters  ! — Here  's  a  goodly  watch,  indeed  ! 

[Bell  rings. 
Who  's  that  that  rings  the  bell  ? — Diablo,  ho  ! 
The  town  will  rise  :  God's  will !  lieutenant,  hold  ! 
You  will  be  shani'd  for  ever. 

Enter  Othello,  and  Attendants. 

0th.  AYhat  is  the  matter  here? 

3Ion.  "Zounds  !  I  bleed  still:  I  am  hurt  to  the  death. 

[He  faints. 

0th.  Hold,  for  your  lives  ! 

lago.  Hold,  hold,  lieutenant ! — sir.  Montano. — gen- 
tlemen I — 
Have  you  forgot  all  sense  of  place  and  duty  ? 
Hold,  hold  [  tlie  general  speaks  to  you  :  hold,  for  shame  ! 

0th.  Why,  how  now,  ho  !  from  whence  ariseth  this  ? 
Are  we  turn'd  Turks,  and  to  ourselves  do  that. 
Which  heaven  hath  forbid  the  Ottomitcs  ? 
For  Christian  shame,  put  by  this  barbarous  brawl : 
He  that  stirs  next  to  carve  for  his  own  rage, 
Holds  his  soul  light :  he  dies  upon  his  motion. — 
Silence  that  dreadful  bell !  it  frights  the  isle 
From  her  propriety. — What  is  the  matter,  masters  ? — 
Honest  lago.  that  look.^t  dead  with  grieving. 
Speak,  who  began  this  ?  on  thy  love,  I  charge  thee. 

lago.  I  do  not  know : — friends  all  but  now,  even  now 
In  quarter,  and  in  terms  like  bride  and  groom 
Divesting  them  for  bed  :  and  then,  but  now, 
(As  if  some  planet  had  unwitted  them) 
Swords  out,  and  tilting  one  at  other's  breast. 
In  opposition  bloody.     I  cannot  speak 
Any  beginning  to  this  peevish  odds  ; 
And  would  in  action  glorious  I  had  lost 
Those  legs,  that  brought  me  to  a  part  of  it. 

0th.  How  came^  it,  Michael,  you  were  thus  forgot? 

Cas.  I  pray  you,  pardon  me  ;  I  cannot  speak, 

0th.  W^orthy  Montano,  you  were  wont  be  ci\'il  • 
The  gravity  and  stillness  of  your  youth 
The  world  hath  noted,  and  your  name  is  great 
la  mouths  of  wisest  censure 

i  comes :  in  folio. 

Vol.  VII.— 34 


398  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

That  you  unlace  your  reputation  thus, 
And  spend  your  rich  opinion,  for  the  name 
Of  a  nisht-brawier  ?  give  me  answer  to  it. 

Mon~  AYorthy  Othello,  I  am  hurt  to  danger : 
Your  officer.  lago.  can  inform  you. 
AYhile  I  spare  speech,  which  something  now  offends  me, 
Of  all  that  I  do  know :  nor  know  I  aught 
By  me  that 's  said  or  done  amiss  this  night, 
Unless  self-charity  be  sometime  a  vice, 
And  to  defend  ourselves  it  be  a  sin, 
When  violence  assails  us. 

0th.  Now,  by  heaven, 

My  blood  begins  my  safer  guides  to  rule ; 
And  passion.'^ having  my  best  judgment  quelled,' 
Assays  to  lead  the  way.     If  I  once  stir. 
Or  do  but  lift  this  arm,  the  best  of  you 
Shall  sink  in  my  rebuke.     Give  me  to  know 
How  this  foul  rout  began,  who  set  it  on ; 
And  he  that  is  approv'd  in  this  offence. 
Though  he  had  twinn'd  with  me,  both  at  a  birth, 
Shall  lose  me. — AYhat !  in  a  town  of  war, 
yet  wild,  the  people's  hearts  brimful  of  fear. 
To  manage  private  and  domestic  quarrel, 
In  night,  and  on  the  court  of  guard  and  safety? 
'T  is ''monstrous. — lago,  who  began  it? 

Mon.  If  partially  affin'd.  or  leagued  m  office. 
Thou  dost  deliver  more  or  less  than  truth. 
Thou  art  no  soldier. 

jag-o.  Touch  me  not  so  near. 

I  had  rather  have  this  tongue  cut  from  my  mouth. 
Than  it  should  do  offence  to  INIichael  Cassio; 
Yet,  I  persuade  myself,  to  speak  the  truth 
Shall  nothing  wrong  him.— Thus  it  is,  general. 
Montano  and  myself  being  in  speech. 
There  comes  a  fellow  crying  out  for  help, 
And  Cassio  following  him  with  determui  d  sword 
To  execute  upon  him.     Sir,  this  gentleman 
Steps  in  to  Cassio,  and  entreats  his  pause  : 
Myself  the  crying  fellow  did  pursue. 
Lest  by  his  clamour  (as  it  so  fell  out) 
The  town  might  fall  in  fright :  he,  swift  of  foot, 
Outran  mv  purpose :  and  I  returned,  the  rather 
For  that  I  heard  the  clink  and  fall  of  swords, 
1  collied  :  in  f  e. 


SC.  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    -V-ENICE.  399 

And  Cassio  high  in  oath,  which,  till  to-night, 
I  ne'er  might  pay  before.     \Yhen  I  came  back, 
(For  this  was  brief)  I  found  them  close  together, 
At  blow  and  thrust,  even  as  again  they  were. 
"When  you  yourself  did  part  them. 
More  of  this  matter  can  I  not  report : — 
But  men  are  men  ;  the  best  sometimes  forget : — 
Though  Cassio  did  some  little  wrong  to  him. 
As  men  in  rage  strike  those  that  wish  them  best. 
Yet.  surely,  Cassio.  I  believe,  received 
From  him  that  fled  some  strange  indignity, 
Which  patience  could  not  pass. 

0th.  I  know.  lago, 

Thy  honesty  and  love  doth  mince  this  matter, 
Making  it  light  to  Cassio. — Cassio.  I  love  thee; 
But  never  more  be  officer  of  mine. — 

Enter  Desdemoxa.  attended. 
Look,  if  my  gentle  love  be  not  rais'd  up  ! — 
I  "11  make  thee  an  example. 

Des.  What 's  the  matter  ?' 

0th.  All 's  well  now.  sweeting  ;  come  away  to  bed. — 
Sir.  for  your  hurts,  myself  will  be  your  surgeon. — 
Lead  him  oil'. —  [Montano  is  led  off. 

lago,  look  with  care  about  the  town, 
And  silence  those  whom  this  vile  brawl  distracted. — 
Come.  Desdemona  :  "t  is  the  soldier's  life. 
To  have  their  balmy  slumbers  wak'd  with  strife. 

[Exeunt  all  but  Iago  and  Cassio. 

lago.  What,  are  you  hurt,  lieutenant? 

Cas.  Ay.  past  all  surgery. 

Iago.  Marry,  heaven  forbid  ! 

Cas.  Reputation,  reputation,  reputation  !  0  !  I  have 
lost  my  reputation.  I  have  last  the  immortal  part  of 
myself,  and  what  remains  is  bestial. — My  reputation, 
Iago,  my  reputation  ! 

Iago.  As  I  am  an  honest  man,  I  thought  you  had 
received  some  bodily  wound  ;  there  is  more  offence-'  in 
tliat,  than  in  reputation.  Reputation  is  an  idle  and 
most  false  imposition;  oft  got  without  merit,  and  lost 
without  deserving :  you  have  lost  no  reputation  at  all, 
unless  you  repute  yourself  such  a  loser.  What,  man  ! 
there  are  ways  to  recover  the  general  again :  you  are 
but  now  cast  in  his  mood,  a  punishment  ntore  in  poUcy 

I  Folio  adds  :  dear.     2  sense  :  in  folio. 


400  OTHELLO,  ACT  II. 

tlian  in  malice ;  even  so  as  one  would  beat  his  offence- 
less  dog,  to  affright  an  imperious  lion.  Sue  to  him 
again,  and  he  's  yours. 

Cas.  I  will  rather  sue  to  be  despised,  than  to  deceive 
so  good  a  commander,  with  so  light,'  so  drunken,  and 
so  indiscreet  an  officer.  Drunk ?°  and  speak  parrot? 
and  squabble  ?  swagger  ?  swear  ?  and  discourse  fustian 
with  one's  own  shadow? — 0  thou  invisible  spirit  of 
viine  !  if  thou  hast  no  name  to  be  known  by,  let  us  call 
thee — devil. 

lago.  What  was  he  that  you  follow"d  with  your 
sword  ?     What  had  he  done  to  you? 

Cas.  I  know  not. 

logo.  Is 't  po.«sible?  ' 

Cas.  I  remember  a  mass  of  things,  but  nothing  dis- 
tinctly; a  quarrel,  but  nothing  wherefore. — 0  God! 
that  men  should  put  an  enemy  in  their  mouths,  to  steal 
away  their  brains  !  that  we  should,  with  joy,  revel, 
pleasure.^  and  applause,  transform  ourselves  into 
beasts  ! 

lago.  Why.  but  you  are  now  well  enough :  how  came 
you  thus  recovered. 

Cas.  It  hath  pleased  the  devil,  drunkenness,  to  give 
place  to  the  devil,  wrath  :  one  unperfectness  shows  me 
another,  to  make  me  frankly  despise  myself. 

lago.  Come,  you  are  too  severe  a  moraler.  As  the 
time,  the  place,  and  tlie  condition  of  this  country 
stands,  I  could  heartily  wish  this  had  not  befallen;  but, 
since  it  is  as  it  is,  mend  it  for  your  own  good. 

Cas.  I  will  ask  him  for  my  place  again :  he  shall  tell 
me,  I  am  a  drunkard.  Had  I  as  many  mouths  as  Hy- 
dra, such  an  answer  would  stop  them  all.  To  be  now 
a  sensible  man.  by  and  by  a  fool,  and  presently  a  beast ! 
0  strange ! — Every  inordinate  cup  is  unblessed,  and 
the  ingredient  is  a  devil. 

lago.  Come,  come ;  good  wine  is  a  good  familiar 
creature,  if  it  be  well  used  :  exclaim  no  more  against  it. 
And,  good  lieutenant,  I  think,  you  think  I  love  you.    . 

Cas.  I  have  well  approved  it,  sir. — I  drunk  ! 

lago.  You,  or  any  man  living,  may  be  drunk  at  some 
time,  man.  I  '11  tell  you  what  you  shall  do.  Our 
general's  wife  is  now  the  general : — I  may  say  so  in 

1  slight  :  in  folio.     2  This  sentence  to  "  0  "  is  not  in  quarto.  1622. 
^  pleasance  :   in  folio. 


BC.   III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  401 

this  respect,  for  that  he  hath  devoted  and  given  up 
himself  to  the  contemplation,  mark,  and  devotement' 
of  her  parts  and  graces : — confess  yourself  freely  to 
her :  importune  her ;  she  '11  help  to  put  you  in  your 
place  again.  She  is  of  so  free,  so  kind,  so  apt,  so 
blessed  a  disposition,  that  she  hold.s  it  a  vice  in  her 
goodness,  not  to  do  more  than  she  is  requested.  This 
broken  joini^  between  you  and  her  hu.sband  entreat  her 
to  splinter,  and  my  fortunes  against  any  lay  worth 
naming,  this  crack  of  your  love  shall  grow  stronger 
than  it  was  before. 

Cas.  You  advise  me  well. 

lago.  I  protest,  in  the  sincerity  of  love,  and  honest 
kindness. 

Cas.  I  think  it  freely :  and,  betimes  in  the  morning, 
I  will  beseech  the  \"irtuous  Desdemona  to  undertake 
for  me.  I  am  desperate  of  my  fortunes,  if  they  check 
me  here. 

lago.  You  are  in  the  right.  Good  night,  lieutenant ; 
I  must  to  the  watch. 

Cas.  Good  night,  honest  lago.  [Exit  Cassio. 

lago.  And  what 's  he,  then,  that  says  I  play  the 
villain, 
When  this  advice  is  free  I  give,  and  honest. 
Probable'  to  thinking,  and.  indeed,  the  course 
To  win  the  Moor  again  ?     For  't  is  most  easy 
The  inclining  Desdemona  to  subdue 
In  any  honest  suit :  she  's  fram'd  as  fruitful 
As  the  free  elements.     And.  then,  for  her 
To  win  the  Moor. — were  't  to  renounce  his  baptism, 
All  seals  and  symbols  of  redeemed  sin, — 
His  soul  is  so  enfetter'd  to  her  love, 
That  she  may  make,  unmake,  do  what  she  list, 
Even  as  her  appetite  shall  play  the  god 
With  his  weak  function.     How  am  I.  then,  a  villain, 
To  counsel  Cassio  to  this  parallel  course, 
Directly  to  his  good  ? — Di\-inity  of  hell ! 
When  devils  will  their  blackest  sins  put  on, 
They  do  suggest  at  first  with  heavenly  shows. 
As  I  do  now:  for  whiles  this  honest  fool 
Plies  Desdemona  to  repair  his  fortunes, 
Ajid  she  for  him  pleads  strongly  to  the  Moor. 

1  Theobald  reads  :  denotement.      ^  brawl :  in  quarto,  1G22.     3  pro- 
lal :  in  f.  e. 

34* 


402  OTHELLO,  ACT  U. 

I  '11  pour  this  pestilence  into  his  ear. — 
That  she  repeals'  him  for  her  body's  lust : 
And,  by  how  much  she  strives  to  do  him  good, 
She  shall  undo  her  credit  witli  the  Moor : 
So  will  I  turn  her  virtue  into  pitch. 
And  out  of  her  ovra  goodness  make  the  net, 
That  shall  enmesh  them  all. — How  now,  Roderigo? 
Enter  Roderigo,  angrily.^ 

Rod.  I  do  follow  here  in  the  chase,  not  like  a  hound 
that  hunts,  but  one  that  fills  up  the  cry.  My  money 
is  almost  spent :  I  have  been  to-night  exceedingly  well 
cudgelled  ;  and,  I  think,  the  issue  will  be — I  shall 
have  so  much  experience  for  my  pains,  and  so.  with  no 
money  at  all,  and  a  little  more  wit,  return  again  to 
Venice. 

lago.  How  poor  are  they,  that  have  not  patience ! 
What  wound  did  ever  heal,  but  by  degrees  ? 
Thou  know'st,  we  work  by  wit.  and  not  by  witchcraft; 
And  wit  depends  on  dilatory  time. 
Does  't  not  go  well  ?     Cassio  hath  beaten  thee. 
And  thou  by  that  small  hurt  hast  cashier'd  Cassio. 
Though  other  things  grow  fair  against  the  sun, 
Yet  fruits  that  blossom  first  M'ill  first  be  ripe : 
Content  thyself  a  while. — By  the  mass,  't  is  morning; 
Pleasure  and  action  make  the  hours  seem  short. 
Retire  thee ;  go  where  thou  art  billeted  : 
Away,  I  say  ;  thou  shalt  know  more  hereafter  : 
Nay,  get  thee  gone.     [Exit  Rod.]     Two  things  are  to 

be  done. 
My  wife  must  move  for  Cassio  to  her  mistress. 
I  '11  set  her  on  : 

Myself,  the  while,  to  draw  the  Moor  apart, 
And  bring  him  jump  where  he  may  Cassio  find 
Soliciting  his  wife. — Ay.  that 's  the  way  : 
Dull  not  device  by  coldness  and  delay.  [Exit, 

1  Recalls.     ^  This  -word  is  not  added  in  f.  e. 


SC.  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  403 


ACT   III. 

SCENE  I.— Before  the  Castle. 
Enter  Cassio,  and  some  Musicians. 

Cas.  Masters,  play  here,  I  will  content  your  pains: 
Something  that 's  brief ;  and  bid  good-morrow  to  the 
general.  [Music. 

Enter  Cloivn. 

Clo.  Why.  masters,  have  your  instruments  been  in 
Naples,  that  they  squeak'  i'  the  nose  thus? 

1  3Ius.  How,  sir,  how  ? 

Clo.  Arethese,  I  pray  you.  called-  wind  instruments? 

1  Mus.  Ay,  marry,  are  they,  sir. 

Clo.  0  !  thereby  hangs  a  tail. 

1  3I11.';.  Whereby  hangs  a  tale,  sir? 

Clo.  Marry,  sir,  by  many  a  wind  instrument  that  I 
know.  But,  masters,  here  's  money  for  you  ;  and  the 
general  so  likes  your  music,  that  he  desires  you,  for 
love's  sake,'  to  make  no  more  noise  wiih  it. 

1  Mus.  Well,  sir,  we  will  not. 

Clo.  If  you  have  any  music  that  may  not  be  heard, 
to  't  again  ;  but,  as  they  say,  to  hear  music  the  general 
does  not  greatly  care. 

1  Mus.  We  have  none  such,  sir. 

Clu.  Then  put  up  your  pipes  in  your  bag,  for  I  '11 
away. 
Go ;  vanish  into  air  :  away  !  [Exeunt  Musicians. 

Cas.  Dost  thou  hear,  mine  honest  friend  ? 

Clo.  No,  I  hear  not  your  honest  friend ;  I  hear  you. 

Cas.  Pr'ythee,  keep  up  thy  quillets.  There 's  a 
poor  piece  of  gold  for  thee.  If  the  gentlewoman  that 
attends  the  general's  wife  be  stirring,  tell  her  there  's 
one  Cassio  entreats  her  a  little  favour  of  speech  :  wilt 
thou  do  this  ? 

Clo.  She  is  stirring,  sir ;  if  she  will  stir  hither,  I 
shall  seem  so''  to  notify  her.  [Exit. 

Enter  Iago. 

Cas.  Do,  good  my  friend.^ — In  happy  time,  Iago. 

Iago.  You  have  not  been  a-bed,  then  ? 

Cas.  Why,  no ;  the  day  had  broke 

1  speak  :  in  f.  e.  *  Not  in  folio.  '  of  all  loves  :  in  quarto,  1622. 
*  This  word  is  not  in  f.  e.     ^  These  four  words  are  not  in  folio. 


404  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

Before  we  parted.     I  have  made  bold,  lago. 
To  send  in  to  your  wife  :  my  suit  to  her 
Is,  that  she  will  to  virtuous  Desdemona 
Procure  me  some  access. 

lago.  I  '11  send  her  to  you  presently ; 

And  I  '11  devise  a  mean  to  draw  the  Moor 
Out  of  the  way,  that  your  converse  and  business 
May  be  more  free.  \Exit. 

Cas.  I  humbly  thank  you  for  't.     I  never  knew 
A  Florentine  more  kind  and  honest. 
Enter  Emilia. 

Ejnil.  Good-morrow,  good  lieutenant.     I  am  sorry 
For  your  displeasure  ;  but  all  will  soon^  be  well. 
The  general  and  his  wife  are  talking  of  it, 
And  she  speaks  for  you  stoutly :  the  Moor  replies, 
That  he  you  hurt  is  of  great  fame  in  Cyprus, 
And  great  affinity,  and  that  in  wholesome  wi.sdom 
He  might  not  but  refuse  you ;  but.  he  protests,  he  loves 

And  needs  no  other  suitor  but  his  likings, 
To  take  the  safest  occasion  by  the  front,* 
To  bring  you  in  again. 

Cas.  Yet,  I  beseech  you,— 

If  you  think  fit,  or  that  it  may  be  done, — 
Give  me  advantage  of  some  brief  discourse 
With  Desdemona  alone. 

Emil.  Pray  you,  come  in: 

I  will  bestow  you  where  you  shall  have  time 
To  speak  your  bosom  freely. 

Cas.  I  am  much  bound  to  you.^     [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II.— A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  Othello,  Iago,  and  Gentlemen. 

0th.  These  letters  give,  lago.  to  the  pilot, 
And  by  him  do  my  duties  to  the  state  :* 
That  done,  I  will  be  walking  on  the  works ; 
Repair  there  to  me. 

lago.  Well,  my  good  lord  :  I  "11  do  't. 

Oth.  This  fortification,  gentlemen,— shall  we  see't? 

Gent.  We  wait  upon  your  lordship.  [Exeimt. 

1  sure  :  in  folio.     2  This  line  is  not  in  folio.     =  This  speech  is  not 
in  quarto,  1622.    *  senate  :  in  folio. 


SC.  III.  THE    MOOR    OF   VENICE.  405 

SCENE  III.— Before  the  Castle. 
Enter  Desdemona,  Cassio,  and  Emilia. 

Des.  Be  thou  a.ssur'd,  good  Cassio,  [  will  do 
All  my  abilities  in  thy  behalf. 

Emil.  Good  madam,  do  :  I  know'  it  grieves  my  hus- 
band, 
As  if  the  case^  were  his. 

Des.    0  !    that 's  an  honest  fellow. — Do  not  doubt, 
Cassio. 
But  I  will  have  my  lord  and  you  again 
As  friendly  as  you  were. 

Cas.  Bounteous  madam, 

Whatever  shall  become  of  Michael  Cassio, 
He  's  never  any  thing  but  your  true  servant. 

-Des.  0,  sir  !  I  thank  you.     You  do  love  my  lord; 
You  have  known  him  long,  and  be  you  well  assur'd, 
He  shall  in  strangeness  stand  no  farther  off 
Than  in  a  politic  distance. 

Cas.  Ay,  but,  lady, 

That  policy  may  either  last  so  long, 
Or  feed  upon  such  nice  and  waterish  diet. 
Or  breed  itself  so  out  of  circumstance, 
That.  I  being  absent,  and  my  place  supplied, 
My  general  will  forget  my  love  and  service. 

Des.  Do  not  doubt  that :  before  Emilia  here, 
I  give  thee  warrant  of  thy  place.     Assure  thee, 
If  I  do  vow  a  friendship,  I  '11  perform  it 
To  the  last  article :  my  lord  shall  never  rest ; 
I  '11  watch  him  tame,  and  talk  him  out  of  patience; 
His  bed  shall  seem  a  school,  his  board  a  shrift; 
I  '11  intermingle  every  thing  he  does 
With  Cassio's  suit.     Therefore,  be  merry,  Cassio ; 
For  thy  solicitor  shall  rather  die, 
Thair  give  thy  cause  away. 

Enter  Othello  and  Iago.  at  a  distance. 

Emil.  Madam,  liere  comes  my  lord. 

Cas.  ]\ladam.  I  '11  take  my  leave. 

Des.  Why,  stay,  and  hear  me  speak. 

Cas.  Madam,  not  now  :  I  am  very  ill  at  ease  ; 
Unfit  for  mine  own  purpose. 

Des.  Well;  do  your  discretion.  [Exit  Cassio. 

Iago.  Ha  !  I  like  not  that. 

1  warrant  :  in  folio.      2  cause  :  m  folio. 


406  OTHELLO,  ACT  III 


0th.  What  dost  thou  say  ? 

lago.  Nothing,  my  lord  :  or  if — I  know  not  what. 

0th.  Was  not  that  Cassio  parted  from  my  wife  ? 

lago.  Cassio,  my  lord  ?   No,  sure ;  I  cannot  think  it. 
That  he  would  steal'  away  so  guilty-like, 
Seeing  you  coming. 

0th.  I  do  believe  't  was  he. 

Des.  How,  now.  my  lord  ! 
I  have  been  talking  with  a  suitor  here, 
A  man  that  languishes  in  your  displeasure. 

0th.  Who  is  't  you  mean? 

Des.  Why.  your  lieutenant,  Cassio.    Good,  my  lord. 
If  I  have  any  grace,  or  power  to  move  you, 
His  present  reconciliation  take  ; 
For  if  he  be  not  one  that  truly  loves  you. 
That  errs  in  ignorance,  and  not  in  cunning, 
I  have  no  judgment  in  an  honest  face. 
I  pr'ythee,  call  him  back. 

0th.  Went  he  hence  now  ? 

Des.  Ay,  sooth  :  so  humbled. 
That  he  hath  left  part  of  his  grief  with  me, 
To^  suffer  with  him.     Good  love,  call  him  back. 

0th.  Not  now,  sweet  Desdemona ;  some  other  time. 

Des.  But  shall 't  be  shortly  ? 

0th.  The  sooner,  sweet,  for  you. 

Des.  Shall 't  be  to-night  at  supper  ? 

0th.  No,  not  to-night. 

Des.  To-morrow  dinner  then  ? 

0th.  I  shall  not  dine  at  home  : 

I  meet  the  captains  at  the  citadel. 

Des.  Why  then,  to-morrow  night;  or  Tuesday  morn ; 
On  Tuesday  noon,  or  night ;  on  Wednesday  morn : 
I  pr'ythee,  name  the  time,  but  let  it  not 
Exceed  three  days  :  in  faith,  he  's  penitent ; 
And  yet  his  trespass,  in  our  common  reason, 
(Save  tliat,  they  say,  the  wars  must  make  examples 
Out  of  our'  best)  is  not  almost  a  fault 
T'  incur  a  private  check.     When  shall  he  come  ? 
Tell  me,  Othello  :  I  wonder  in  my  soul. 
What  you  could  ask  me  that  I  sliould  deny, 
Or  stand  so  mammering*  on.     What !  Michael  Cassio, 
That  came  a  wooing  with  you.  and  so  many  a  time, 

•  sneak  :  in  quarto.     2  I ;  in  quarto,  1622.     ^  her  :  in  f.  e.     *  mut- 
tering :  in  quarto,  1622. 


8C.  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  407 

Wlien  I  have  spoke  of  you  dispraisiiigly, 

Hath  ta'en  your  part,  to  have  so  much  to  do 

To  brins;  him  in  !     Trust  me/  I  could  do  much, — 

0th.  Pr'ythce,  no  more  :  let  him  come  when  he  will, 
I  will  deny  thee  nothing. 

Des.  Why,  this  is  not  a  boon ; 

"T  is  as  I  should  entreat  you  wear  your  gloves, 
Or  feed  on  nourishing  dishes,  or  keep  you  warm, 
Or  sue  to  you  to  do  a  peculiar  profit 
To  your  own  person  :  nay,  when  I  have  a  suit 
Wherein  I  mean  to  touch  your  love  indeed. 
It  shall  be  full  of  poize  and  difficult  weight.'' 
And  fearful  to  be  granted. 

0th.  I  will  deny  thee  nothing  : 

Whereon,  I  do  beseech  thee,  grant  me  this. 
To  leave  me  but  a  little  to  myself. 

Df.s.  Shall  I  deny  you?  no,     Farewell,  my  lord. 

0th.  Farewell,  my  Desdemona :   I  "11  come  to  thee 
straight. 

De.f.  Emilia,  come. — Be  it  as  your  fancies  teach  you; 
Whate'er  you  be,  I  am  obedient.       \Exit,  with  Emilia. 

0th.  Excellent  wretch  !  Perdition  catch  my  soul, 
But  I  do  love  thee,  and  when  I  love  thee  not. 
Chaos  is  come  again. 

lago.  My  noble  lord, — 

0th.  What  dost  thou  say,  lago  ? 

lago.  Did  Michael  Cassio,  when  you  woo'd  my  lady. 
Know  of  your  love  ? 

0th.  He  did,  from  first  to  last:  why  dost  thou  ask? 

lago.  But  for  a  satisfaction  of  my  thought  • 
No  farther  harm. 

0th.  Why  of  thy  thought.  lago  ? 

lago.  I  did  not  think,  he  had  been  acquainted  with  it. 

0th.  O,  yes  :  and  went  between  us  very  oft. 

lago.  Indeed  ? 

0th.  Indeed  !  ay.  indeed  : — discern'st  thou  aught  in 
that  ? 
Is  he  not  honest  ? 

lago.  Honest,  my  lord  ? 

0th.  Honest?  ay,  honest. 

lago.  My  lord,  for  aught  I  know. 

0th.  What  dost  thou  think  ? 

lago.  Think,  my  lord  ? 

1  By  'r  lady  :  in  quarto.      ^  diiRculty  :  in  quarto,  1622. 


408  OTHELLO,  ACT  HI. 

0th.  Think,  my  lord  ! 

Bj'  heaven,  he  echoes*  me, 
As  if  there  were  some  monster  in  his  thought 
Too  hideous  to  be  shown. — Thou  dost  mean  something. 
I  heard  thee  say  but  now, — thou  lik'dst  not  that, 
When  Cassio  left  my  wife  :  what  didst  not  like? 
And,  when  I  told  thee,  he  was  of  my  coun.^el 
In  my  whole  course  of  wooing,  thou  criedst,  "  Indeed  !"' 
And  didst  contract  and  purse  thy  brow  together, 
As  if  thou  then  hadst  shut  up  in  thy  brain 
Some  horrible  conceit.^     If  thou  dost  love  me. 
Show  me  thy  thought. 

la  go.  My  lord,  you  know  I  love  you. 

0th.  I  think,  thou  dost; 

And. — for  I  know  thou  art  full  of  love  and  honesty, 
And   weigh'st    thy   words    before   thou    giv'st    them 

breath, — 
Therefore,  these  stops  of  thine  fright  me  the  more ; 
For  such  things,  in  a  false  disloyal  knave, 
Are  tricks  of  custom  ;  but  in  a  man  that  "s  just, 
They  are  close  delations,^  working  from  the  heart, 
Tliat  passion  cannot  rixle. 

la  go.  For  Michael  Cassio. 

I  dare  be  sworn.*  I  think  that  he  is  honest. 

0th.  I  think  so  too. 

lago.  Men  should  be  what  they  seem; 

Or,  those  that  be  not,  would  tliey  might  seem  none  ! 

0th.  Certain,  men  should  be  what  they  seem. 

lago.  Why.  then,  I  think  Cassio  's  an  honest  man. 

0th.  Nay,  yet  there  's  more  in  this. 
I  pray  thee,  speak  to  me  as  to  thy  thinkings, 
As  thou  dost  ruminate ;  and  give  thy  worst  of  thoughts 
The  worst  of  words. 

lago.  Good  my  lord,  pardon  me  : 

Though  I  am  bound  to  every  act  of  duty, 
I  am  not  bound  to  that  all  slaves  are  free  to. 
Utter  my  thoughts  ?     Why,  say,  they   are   vile   and 

false. — 
As  where  "s  that  palace,  whereinto  foul  things 
Sometimes  intrude  not?  who  has  a  breast  so  pure, 
But  sometimes  uncleanly  apprehensions 

1  Alas,   thou    echoest  :    in    folio.       2  counsel  :    in    quarto,    1622. 
^Accusations;  denotements:  in  quarto.    *  presume  :  in  quarto. 


8C.  HI.  THE    MOOR    OF   VENICE.  409 

Keep  leets,^  and  law-days,  and  in  session  sit 
With  meditations  la\\'ful  ? 

0th.  Thou  dost  conspire  against  thy  friend,  lago, 
If  thou  but  think" f-t  him  wrong'd,  and  mak'st  his  ear 
A  stranger  to  thy  thoughts. 

lago.  I  do  beseech  you, — 

Though  I,  perchance,  am  vicious  in  my  guess, 
(As,  I  confess,  it  is  my  nature's  plague 
To  spy  into  abuses,  and  oft^  my  jealousy 
Shapes  faults  that  are  not) — that  your  wisdom  yet,^ 
From  one  that  so  imperfectly  conceits, 
Would  take  no  notice  :  nor  build  yourself  a  trouble 
Out  of  his  scattering  and  unsure  observance. 
It  were  not  for  your  quiet,  nor  your  good. 
Nor  for  my  manhood,*  honesty,  or'  wisdom, 
To  let  you  know  my  thoughts. 

0th.  What  dost  thou  mean  ? 

lago.  Good  name,  in  man.  and  woman,  dear  my  lord, 
Is  the  immediate  jewel  of  their  souls  : 
Who   steals  my  purse,   steals  trash ;  't  is  something, 

nothing ; 
'T  was  mine,  't  is  his,  and  has  been  slave  to  thousands ; 
But  he,  that  filches  from  me  my  good  name, 
Robs  me  of  that,  which  not  enriches  him. 
And  makes  me  poor  indeed. 

0th.  By  heaven,  I  '11  know  thy  thoughts. 

lago.  You  cannot,  if  my  heart  were  in  your  hand  j 
Nor  shall  not,  whilst  't  is  in  my  custody. 

0th.  Ha  ! 

lago.  0  !  beware,  my  lord,  of  jealousy  : 

It  is  the  green-ey'd  monster,  AA-hich  doth  make^ 
The  meat  it  feeds  on :  that  cuckold  lives  in  bliss, 
Who,  certain  of  his  fate,  loves  not  his  wronger ; 
But,  0 !  what  damned  minutes  tells  he  o'er. 
Who  dotes,  yet  doubts ;  suspects,  yet  fondly'  loves  ! 

0th.  0  misery  ! 

lago.  Poor  and  content  is  rich,  and  rich  enough ; 
But  riches  fineless  is  as  poor  as  winter. 
To  him  that  ever  fears  he  shall  be  poor. — 
Good  heaven,  the  souls  of  all  my  tribe  defend 
From  jealousy ! 

1  Law,  or  court-days.  ^  oi:  in  folio.  3  *  Not  in  folio,  s  and  :  in 
folio.  6  uiocjt ;  in  f.  e.  Hanmer  also  made  the  change,  'strongly; 
in  f.  6.  ;  Knight,  as  in  the  text. 

Vol.  VII.— 35 


410  OTHELLO,  ACT  HI. 

0th.  Why?  why  is  this? 

Think'pt  thou,  I  'd  make  a  life  of  jealousy, 
To  follow  still  the  changes  of  the  moon 
With  fresh  suspicions  ?     No  :  to  be  once  in  doubt, 
Is  once'  to  be  resolv'd.     Exchange  me  for  a  goat, 
When  I  shall  turn  the  business  of  my  soul 
To  such  exsufliicate  and  blown  surmises, 
Matching  thy  inference.    'T  is  not  to  make  me  jealous, 
To  say — my  wife  is  fair,  feeds  well,  loves  company, 
Is  free  of  speech,  sings,  plays,  and  dances  well  f 
Where  virtue  is,  these  are  more  virtuous  : 
Nor  from  mine  own  weak  merits  will  [  draw 
The  smallest  fear,  or  doubt  of  her  revolt ; 
For  she  had  eyes,  and  chose  me  :  no,  lago ; 
I  '11  see,  before  I  doubt;  when  I  doubt,  prove; 
And.  on  the  proof,  there  is  no  more  but  this, 
Away  at  once  with  love,  or  jealousy. 

lago.  I  am  glad  of  it  f  for  now  I  shall  have  reason 
To  show  the  love  and  duty  that  I  bear  you 
With  franker  spirit :  therefore,  as  I  am  bound. 
Receive  it  from  me.     I  speak  not  yet  of  proof. 
Look  to  your  wife  :  observe  her  well  with  Cassio  : 
Wear  your  eye — thus,  not  jealous,  nor  secure  : 
I  would  not  have  your  free  and  noble  nature. 
Out  of  self-bounty,  be  abus'd  ;  look  to  't. 
I  know  our  country  disposition  well : 
In  Venice  they  do  let  heaven  see  the  pranks 
They  dare  not  show  their  husbands;  tlieir  best  con- 
science 
Is,  not  to  leave  't  undone,  but  keep  't  unknovsni. 

0th.  Dost  thou  say  so  ? 

logo.  She  did  deceive  her  father,  marrying  you ; 
And,  when  she  seem'd  to  shake,  and  fear  your  looks, 
She  lov'd  them  most. 

0th.  And  so  she  did. 

lago.  Why,  go  to,  then; 

She  that,  so  young,  could  give  out  such  a  seeming, 
To  seal  her  father's  eyes  up,  close  as  oak, — 
He  thought;  't  was  witchcraft. — But  I   am  much  to 

blame ; 
I  humbly  do  beseech  you  of  your  pardon, 
For  too  much  loving  you. 

0th.  I  am  bound  to  thee  for  ever. 

1  2  Not  in  folio.      3  this  :  in  folio. 


BC.  III.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  411 

lago.  I  see,  this  hath  a  little  dash'd  your  spirits. 
0th.  Not  a  jot,  not  a  jot. 

I(^gO-  Trust  me,  I  fear  it  has. 

1  hope,  you  will  consider  what  is  spoke 

Comes  from  my  love. — But,  I  do  see  you  are  mov'd  : 

I  am  to  pray  you.  not  to  strain  my  speech 
To  grosser  issues,  nor  to  larger  reach, 
Than  to  suspicion. 
0th.  I  will  not. 

lago.  Should  j^ou  do  so,  my  lord. 

My  speech  should  fall  into  such  vile  success. 
As  my  thoughts    aim   not  at.'     Cassio  's  my  worthy^ 

friend. 
My  lord,  I  see  you  are  mov'd. 

O'^-  No,  not  much  mov'd. — 

I  do  not  think  but  Dcsdemona  's  honest. 

lago.  Long  live  she  so  ;  and  long  live  you  to  think  so  ! 
0th.  And  yet,  how  nature  erring  from  itself, — 
lago.  Ay,  there  's  the  point : — as,— to  be  bold  with 
you,— 
Not  to  affect  many  proposed  matches. 
Of  her  own  clime,  complexion,  and  degree. 
Whereto,  we  see,  in  all  things  nature  tends. 
Foh  !  one  may  smell  in  such  a  will  most  rank, 
Foul  disproportion,  thoughts  unnatural. — 
But  pardon  me ;  I  do  not  in  suspicion^ 
Distinctly  speak  of  her,  though  I  may  fear. 
Her  will,  recoiling  to  her  better  judgment. 
May  fall  to  match  you  with  her  country  forms, 
And  happily  repent. 

0th.  Farewell,  farewell. 

If  more  thou  dost  perceive,  let  me  know  more- 
Set  on  thy  wife  to  observe.     Leave  me,  lago. 

lago.  My  lord,  I  take  my  leave.  °      [Going. 

0th.  Why  did    I    marry?  — This    honest   creature" 
doubtless. 
Sees  and  knows  more,  much  more,  than  he  unfolds. 
lago.  My  lord,  I  would  I  might  entreat  your  ho- 
"o"!'  [Returning. 

To  scan  this  thing  no  farther ;  leave  it  to  time. 
Although  H  is  nt  that  Cassio  have  his  place, 
(For,  sure,  he  fills  it  up  with  great  ability) 

1  Which  my  thoughts  aim'd  not:  in   folio.      2  trusty  :  in  quarto. 
^  position  :  in  f.  e. 


412  OTHELLO,  ACT  HI. 

Yet  if  you  please  to  hold  liim  off  a  while, 
You  shall  by  that  perceive  him  and  his  means. 
Note,  if  your  lady  strain  his  entertainment 
With  any  strong  or  vehement  importunity : 
Much  will  be  seen  in  that.     In  the  mean  time, 
Let  me  be  thought  too  busy  in  my  fears, 
(As  worthy  cause  I  have  to  fear  I  am) 
And  hold  her  free.  I  do  beseech  your  honour. 

0th.  Fear  not  my  government. 

lago.  I  once  more  take  my  leave.  \Exit. 

0th.  This  fellow  's  of  exceeding  honesty, 
And  knows  all  qualities  with  a  learned  spirit 
Of  human  dealings :  if  I  do  prove  her  haggard,^ 
Though  that  her  jesses^  were  my  dear  heart-strings, 
I  'd  whistle  her  off,  and  let  her  down  the  wind,^ 
To  prey  at  fortune.     Haply,  for  I  am  black. 
And  have  not  those  soft  parts  of  conversation 
That  chamberers  have ;  or,  for  I  am  declin'd 
Into  the  vale  of  years ; — yet  that 's  not  much  : — 
She  's  gone  ;  I  am  abus'd ;  and  my  relief 
Must  be  to  loath  her.     0,  curse  of  marriage  ! 
That  we  can  call  these  delicate  creatures  ours. 
And  not  their  appetites.     I  had  rather  be  a  toad, 
And  live  upon  the  vapour  of  a  dungeon. 
Than  keep  a  corner  in  the  thing  I  love 
For  others'  uses.     Yet,  't  is  the  plague  of  great  ones ; 
Prerogativ'd  are  they  less  than  the  base ; 
'T  is  destiny  unshunnable,  like  death  : 
Even  tlieu  this  forked  plague  is  fated  to  us. 
When  we  do  quicken.     Desdemona"  comes. 
Enter  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 
If  she  be  false,  0  !  then  heaven  mocks  itself.* — 
I  '11  not  believe  it. 

Des.  How  now,  my  dear  Othello  ! 

Your  dinner  and  the  generous  islanders, 
By  you  invited,  do  attend  your  presence. 

0th.  I  am  to  blame. 

Des.  Why  is  your  speech  so  faint  ?'^  are  3^ou  not  well  ? 

0th.  I  have  a  pain  upon  my  forehead  here. 

Des.  Faith,  that 's  with  watching ;  't  will  away  again : 

1  A  ivild  hawk.  2  Straps,  by  which  the  hawk's  feet  were  fastened 
to  the  wrist.  '  The  falconeis  always  let  fly  the  hawk  against  the 
wind,  as,  if  she  flies  with  the  wind  behind  her.  she  seldom  returns. — 
Johnson.  ■*  Look  where  she  :  in  folio.  *  false,  heaven  mock'd  itself : 
in  folio.     6  Why  do  you.  speak  so  faintly  :  in  folio. 


SC.  m.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  413 

Let  me  but  bind  it  hard,  -within  this  hour 

It  will  be  well.  [Offers  to  bind  his  Head} 

0th.  Your  napkin  is  too  little  :  [Lets  fall  her  Napkin^^ 
Let  it  alone.     Come,  I  "11  go  in  with  you. 

Des.  I  am  very  sorry  that  you  are  not  well. 

[Exeunt  0th.  and  Des. 

Emil.  I  am  glad  I  have  found  this  napkin. 
This  was  her  first  remembrance  from  the  Moor : 
My  wayward  husband  hath  a  hundred  times 
Woo'd  me  to  steal  it ;  but  she  so  loves  the  token, 
(For  he  conjur'd  her  she  should  ever  keep  it) 
That  she  reserves  it  evermore  about  her, 
To  kiss,  and  talk  to.     I  '11  have  the  work  ta'en  out,^ 
And  give  't  lago  :  what  he  will  do  with  it, 
Heaven  knows,  not  I ; 
I  nothing,  but  to  please  his  fantasy.* 
Enter  Iago. 

lago.  How  now  !  what  do  you  here  alone? 

Emil.  Do  not  you  chide,  I  have  a  thing  for  you. 

Iago.  A  thing  for  me  ? — it  is  a  common  thing. 

Emil.  Ha? 

Iago.  To  have  a  foolish  wife. 

Emil.  0  !  is  that  all  ?  What  will  you  give  me  now 
For  that  same  handkerchief? 

Iago.  What  handkerchief? 

Emil.  What  handkerchief ! 
Why,  that  the  Moor  first  gave  to  Desdemona ; 
That  which  so  often  you  did  bid  me  steal. 

Iago.  Hast  stolen  it  from  her  ? 

Emil.  No,  'faith:  she  let  it  drop  by  negligence; 
And,  to  th'  advantage,  I,  being  here,  took  't  up. 
Look,  here  it  is. 

Iago.  A  good  wench ;  give  it  me. 

Emil.  What  will  you  do  with  't,  that  you  harve  been 
so  earnest 
To  have  me  filch  it  ? 

Iago.  Why,  what 's  that  to  you?  [Snatching  it. 

Emil.  If  it  be  not  some  purpose  of  import, 
Give  't  me  again :  poor  lady  !  she  '11  run  mad, 
When  she  shall  lack  it. 

•  Not  in  f.  e.  2  This  is  taken  from  a  MS.  direction,  (there  being 
none  in  the  old  eds.)  in  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  copy  of  quarto, 
1622  ;  the  usual  one  in  mod.  eds.  is  :  He  puts  it  from  him,  and  if. 
drops.  3  Copied  for  Iago.  *  I  nothing  knew,  but  for  :  in  quarto, 
1622. 

35* 


414  OTHELLO,  ACT  IH. 

lago.  Be  not  acknown^  on  't ;  I  have  use  for  it- 
Go  :  leave  me.  [Exit  Emilia. 
[  will  in  Cassio's  lodging  lose  this  napkin, 
And  let  him  find  it  :  trifles,  light  as  air, 
Are  to  the  jealous  confirmations  strong 
As  proofs  of  hoi  J'  writ.     This  may  do  something. 
The  JNIoor  already  changes  with  my  poison  :* 
Dangerous  conceits  are  in  their  natures  poisons, 
Which  at  tlie  first  are  scarce  found  to  distaste; 
But  with  a  little  act  upon  the  blood, 
Burn  like  the  mines  of  sulphur. — I  did  say  so  : — 

Enter  Othello. 
Look,  where  he  comes  !     Not  poppy,  nor  mandragora, 
Nor  all  the  drowsy  syrups  of  the  world. 
Shall  ever  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep, 
Which  thou  ow'dst  yesterday. 

0th.  Ha  !  ha  !  false  to  me  ?  to  me? 

lago.  Why,  how  now,  general  !  no  more  of  that. 

0th.  Avaunt !  be  gone  !    thou  hast  set  me  on  the 
rack. — 
I  swear,  't  is  better  to  be  much  abus'd, 
Than  but  to  know  't  a  little. 

lago.  How  now,  my  lord  ! 

0th.  What  sense  had  I  oP  her  stolen  hours  of  lust? 
I  saw  it  not,  thought  it  not,  it  harm'd  not  me  : 
I  slept  the  next  night  well.*  was  free  and  merry- 
T  found  not  Cassio's  kisses  on  her  lips : 
He  that  is  robb'd.  not  wanting  what  is  stolen, 
Let  him  not  know  't,  and  he  's  not  robb'd  at  all. 

lago.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  this. 

0th.  I  had  been  happy,  if  the  general  camp, 
Pioneers  and  all,  had  tasted  her  sweet  body. 
So  1  had  nothing  known. — 0  !  now,  for  ever, 
Farewell  the  tranquil  mind  ;  farewell  content : 
Farewell  the  plumed  troop,  and  the  big  wars, 
That  make  ambition  virtue :  0,  farewell  ! 
Farewell  the  neighing  steed,  and  the  shrill  trump, 
The  spirit-stirring  drum,  the  ear-piercing  fife, 
The  royal  banner,  and  all  quality, 
Pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war! 
And  0  !  you  mortal  engines,  whose  rude^  throats 
Th'  immortal  Jove's  dread  clamours  counterfeit. 

1  you  known  :  in  quarto,  16'23.      2  Xot  in  quarto.      ^  in  :  in  folio. 
*  fed  well,  was  :  in  foiio,    5  -^He  :  in  quartos. 


^.  in.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  415 

Farewell  !  Othello's  occupation 's  gone. 

lago.  Is  it  possible  ? — My  lord, — 

0th.  Villain,  be  sure  thou  prove  my  love  a  whore ; 
Be  sure  of  it :  give  me  the  ocular  proof, 

[Taking  him  by  the  Throat. 
Or,  by  the  worth  of  mine^  eternal  soul, 
Thou  hadst  been  better  have  been  born  a  dog, 
Than  answer  my  wak'd  wrath. 

lago.  Is  it  come  to  this  ? 

0th.  Make  me  to  see  't  :  or,  at  the  least,  so  prove  it, 
That  the  probation  bear  no  hinge,  nor  loop, 
To  hang  a  doubt  on,  or  woe  upon  thy  life  ! 

lago.  My  noble  lord, — 

0th.  If  thou  dost  slander  her,  and  torture  me, 
Never  pray  more  :  abandon  all  remorse ; 
On  horror's  head  horrors  accumulate  ; 
Do  deeds  to  make  heaven  weep,  all  earth  amaz'd, 
For  nothing  canst  thou  to  damnation  add, 
Greater  than  that.  [Releasing  him.'' 

lago.  0  grace  !  0  heaven  defend^  me  ! 

Are  you  a  man?  have  you  a  soul,  or  sense  ? — 
God  be  wi'  you :  take  mine  office. — 0  wretched  fool. 
That  liv'st*  to  make  thine  honesty  a  vice  ! 

0  monstrous  world  !     Take  note,  take  note,  0  world  ! 
To  be  direct  and  honest,  is  not  safe. — 

1  thank  you  for  this  profit  :  and,  from  hence, 

I  'II  love  no  friend,  since  love  breeds  such  offence. 
.   0th.  Nay,  stay. — Thou  shouldst  be  honest. 

lago.  I  should  be  wise  ;  for  honesty 's  a  fool, 
And  loses  that  it  works  for. 

0th.  By  the  world, 

I  think  my  wife  be  honest,  and  think  she  is  not : 
I  think  that  thou  art  just,  and  think  thou  art  not. 
I  '11  have  some  proof :  her*  name,  that  was  as  fresh 
As  Dian's  visage,  is  now  begrim'd  and  black 
As  mine  own  face.     If  there  be  cords,  or  knives. 
Poison,  or  fire,  or  suffocating  streams, 
I  '11  not  endure  it. — Would  I  were  satisfied  ! 

lago.  I  see,  sir,  you  are  eaten  up  with  passion: 
I  do  repent  me  that  I  put  it  to  you. 
You  would  be  satisfied  ? 

0th.  Would  !  nay,  I  will, 

1  man's  :    in   quarto,  1622.      2  Not  in  f.  e.      3  forgive  :   in   folio. 
*  lov'dst :  in  folio.    *  my  :  in  folio. 


416  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

logo.  And  may;  but  how  ?  how  satisfied,  my  lord? 
Would  you  the  supervision'  !  grossly  gape  on? 
Behold  her  topp'd  ? 

0th.  Death  and  damnation  !  0  ! 

lago.  It  were  a  tedious  difficulty,  I  think. 
To  bring  it^  to  that  prospect.     Damn  them  then, 
If  ever  mortal  eyes  do  see  them  bolster, 
More  than  their  own  !     What  then  ?  how  then  ? 
What  shall  I  say  ?     Where 's  satisfaction  ? 
It  is  impossible  you  should  see  this. 
Were  they  as  prime  as  goats,  as  hot  as  monkeys, 
As  salt  as  wolves  in  pride,  and  fools  as  gross 
As  ignorance  made  drunk  :  but  yet,  I  say, 
If  imputation,  and  strong  circumstances, 
AVhich  lead  directly  to  the  door  of  truth. 
Will  give  you  satisfaction,  you  may^  have  it. 

0th.  Give  me  a  living  reason  she  's  disloyal. 

lago.  I  do  not  like  the  office  ; 
But.  sith  I  am  enter'd  in  this  cause  so  far, 
Prick'd  to  't  by  foolish  honesty  and  love, 
I  will  £0  on.     I  lay  with  Cassio  lately. 
And  being  troubled  with  a  raging  tooth, 
I  could  not  sleep. 

There  are  a  kind  of  men,  so  loose  of  soul. 
That  in  their  sleeps  will  mutter  their  affairs  : 
One  of  this  kind  is  Cassio. 

In  sleep  I  heard  him  say, — "  Sweet  Desdemona, 
Let  us  be  wary,  let  us  hide  our  loves  !"  . 

And  then,  sir,  would  he  gripe,  and  wring  my  hand, 
Cry. — ''O.  sweet  creature  !"'  and  then  kiss  me  hard, 
As  if  he  pluck'd  up  kisses  by  the  roots. 
That  grew  upon  my  lips  :  then,  laid  his  leg 
Over  my  thigh,  and  sigh'd,  and  kiss'd  ;  and  then, 
Cried, — "  Cursed  fate,  that  gave  thee  to  the  Moor  !" 

0th.  0  monstrous  !  monstrous  ! 

lago.  Nay,  this  was  but  his  dream. 

0th.  But  this  denoted  a  foregone  conclusion: 
'T  is  a  shrewd  doubt,  though  it  be  but  a  dream. 

lago.  And  this  may  help  to  thicken  other  proofs, 
That  do  demonstrate  thinly. 

0th.  I  '11  tear  her  all  to  pieces. 

lago.  Nay,  but  be  wise  :  yet  we  see  nothing  done  ; 
She  may  be  honest  yet.     Tell  me  but  this : 
I  supervisor :  in  quarto,  1622.      =  them :  in  f.  e.      '  might :  in  folio. 


so.  m.  THE   MOOR    OF    VENICE.  417 

Have  you  not  sometimes  seen  a  handkerchief, 
Spotted  with  strawberries,  in  your  wife's  hand  ? 

0th.  I  gave  her  such  a  one  :  't  was  my  first  gift. 

lago.  I  know  not  that :  but  such  a  handkerchief, 
(I  am  sure  it  was  your  wife's)  did  I  to-day 
See  Cassio  wipe  his  beard  with. 

0th.  If  it  be  that,— 

lago.  If  it  be  that,  or  any  that'  was  hers, 
It  speaks  against  her  with  the  other  proofs. 

0th.  0,  that  the  slave  had  forty  thousand  lives  ! 
One  is  too  poor,  too  weak  for  my  revenge. 
Now  do  I  see  't  is  true. — Look  here,  lago ; 
All    my  fond    love  thus  do  I  blow  to  heaven :  't  is 

gone. — 
Arise,  black  vengeance,  from  thy  hollow  cell  !^ 
Yield  up,  0  Love  !  thy  crown,  and  hearted  throne, 
To  tyrannous  hate  !  swell,  bosom,  with  thy  fraught, 
For  't  is  of  aspics'  tongues ! 

lago.  Pray,°  be  content. 

0th.  0.  blood,  lago,  blood  ! 

lago.  Patience,  I    say :    your    mind,  perhaps,  may 
change. 

0th.*  Never.  lago.     Like  to  the  Pontick  sea. 
Whose  icy  current  and  compulsive  course 
Ne'er  knows*  retiring  ebb,  but  keeps  due  on 
To  the  Propontick,  and  the  Hellespont ; 
Even  so  my  bloody  thoughts,  with  violent  pace. 
Shall  ne'er  look  back,  ne'er  ebb  to  humble  love. 
Till  that  a  capable  and  wide  revenge 
Swallow  them  up. — Now,  by  yond'  marble  heaven. 
In  the  due  reverence  of  a  sacred  vow  [Kneeling. 

I  here  engage  my  words. 

laa-o.  Do  not  rise  yet. —  [Kneeling. 

Witness,  you  ever-burning  lights  above  ! 
You  elements  that  clip  us  round  about  ! 
Witness,  that  here  lago  doth  give  up 
The  execution*^  of  his  wit,  hands,  heart, 
To  wTong'd  Othello's  service.     Let  him  command, 
And  to  obey  shall  be  in  me  remorse, 
What  bloody  work'  soe'er. 

0th.  I  greet  thy  love, 

1  if  t :  in  folio,  1632.  2  hell  :  in  folio.  3  Yet :  in  folio.  *  This 
speech  to  '•  Now,  by,"  is  omitted  in  folio.  5  feels  :  in  f.  e.  *  excel- 
lency :  in  quarto,  1622.      ^  business  :  in  folio. 


418  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

Not  with  vaiu  thanks,  but  with  acceptance  bounteous, 
And  will  upon  the  instant  put  thee  to  't. 
Within  these  three  days  let  me  hear  thee  say, 
That  Cassio  "s  not  alive. 

lago.  My  friend  is  dead  :  't  is  done  at  your  request; 
But  let  her  live. 

Otii.  Damn  her,  lewd  minx  !     0,  damn  her  ! 

Come,  go  with  me  apart ;  I  will  withdraw. 
To  furnish  me  with  some  swift  means  of  death 
For  the  fair  devil.     Now  art  thou  my  lieutenant. 

lago.  I  am  your  own  for  ever.,  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  IV.— The  Same. 
Enter  Desdemona,  Emilia,  and  Clown. 

Des.  Do  you  know,  sirrah,  where  the  lieutenant 
Cassio  lies  ? 

Clo.  I  dare  not  say,  he  lies  any  where. 

Des.  Why,  man  ? 

Clo.  He  is  a  soldier  :  and  for  one  to  say  a  soldier 
lies,  is  stabbing. 

Des.  Go  to.     Where  lodges  he  ? 

Clo.  To  tell  you  where  he  lodges,  is  to  tell  you 
where  I  lie.' 

Des.  Can  any  thing  be  made  of  this  ? 

Clo.  I  know  not  where  he  lodges :  and  for  me  to 
devise  a  lodging,  and  say,  he  lies  here,  or  he  lies  there, 
were  to  lie  in  mine  own  throat. 

Des.  Can  you  inquire  him  out,  and  be  edified  to 
report  ? 

Clo.  I  will  catechize  the  world  for  him  :  that  is, 
make  questions,  and  by  them  answer. 

Des.  Seek  him;  bid  him  come  hither  :  tell  him,  I 
have  moved  my  lord  in  his  behalf,  and  hope  all  will 
be  well. 

Clo.  To  do  this  is  within  the  compass  of  man's  wit : 
and  therefore  I  will  attempt  the  doing  it.  [Exit. 

Des.  Where  should  I  lose  that  handkerchief,  Emilia? 

Emil.  I  know  not,  madam. 

Des.  Believe  me,  1  had  rather  have  lost  my  purse 
Full  of  cruzadoes^ :  and  but  my  noble  Moor 
Is  true  of  mind,  and  made  of  no  such  baseness 
As  jealous  creatures  are,  it  were  enough 

'This   a,nd   the    next    speech,   are    not    in    quarto.   1622.      *A 
Portuguese  gold  coin. 


SC.  IV.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  419 

To  put  him  to  ill  thinking. 

Emil.  Ts  he  not  jealous  ? 

Des.  Who  ?  he  !  I  think  the  sun,  where  he  was  born, 
Drew  all  such  humours  from  him. 

Emil.  Look,  where  he  comes. 

Enter  Othello. 

Des.  I  will  not  leave  him  now,  till  Cassio 
Be  call'd  to  him. — How  is  't  with  you,  my  lord? 

0th.  Well,  my  good  lady. — [Aside.]  0,  hardness  to 
dissemble  ! — 
How  do  you,  Desdemona? 

Des.  Well,  my  good  lord. 

0th.  Give  me  your  hand.     This  hand  is  moist,  my 
lady. 

Des.  It  yet'  hath  felt  no  age,  nor  known  no  sorrow. 

0th.  This  argues  fruitfulness,  and  liberal  heart. 
Hot,  hot  and  moist  :  this  hand  of  yours  requires 
A  sequester  from  liberty,  fasting  and  praying,^ 
Much  castigation,  exercise  devout : 
For  here  's  a  young  and  sweating  devil  here, 
That  commonly  rebels.     'T  is  a  good  hand ; 
A  frank  one. 

Des.  You  may,  indeed,  say  so  : 

For  't  was  that  hand  that  gave  away  my  heart. 

0th.  A  liberal  hand :  the  hearts  of  old  gave  hands. 
But  our  new  heraldry  is — hands,  not  hearts. 

Des.  I    cannot    speak   of    this.     Come    now,  your 
promise. 

0th.  What  promise,  chuck  ? 

Des.  I  have  sent  to  bid  Cassio  come  speak  with  you. 

Otii.  I  have  a  salt  and  sudden^  rheum  otFends  me. 
Lend  me  thy  handkerchief. 

Des.  Here,  my  lord.  [Offeri^ig  it.* 

0th.  That  which  I  gave  you. 

Des.  I  have  it  not  about  me. 

0th.  Not? 

Des.  No,  indeed,  my  lord. 

0th.  That  is  a  fault. 

That  handkerchief 
Did  an  Egyptian  to  my  mother  give: 
She  was  a  charmer,  and  could  almost  read 
The  thoughts  of  people  :  she  told  her.  while  she  kept  it, 
'T  would  make  her  amiable,  and  subdue  my  father 
i  Not  in  folio.      2  prayer  :  in  folio.     '  sullen  :  in  f.  e.    *  Not  in  f.  e. 


420  OTHELLO,  ACT IH. 

Entirely  to  her  love  ;  but  if  she  lost  it, 

Or  made  a  gift  of  it,  my  father's  eye 

Should  hold  her  loathed,  and  his  spirits  should  hunt 

After  new  fancies.     She,  dying,  gave  it  me  ; 

And  bid  me,  when  my  fate  would  have  me  wive,' 

To  give  it  her.     I  did  so  ;  and  take  heed  on  't : 

Make  it  a  darling  like  your  precious  eye  : 

To  lose  or  give  't  away  were  such  perdition. 

As  nothing  else  could  match. 

Des.  Is  't  possible  ? 

Otli.  "T  is  true  :  there  's  magic  in  the  web  of  it. 
A  sibyl,  that  had  number'd  in  the  world 
The  sun  to  course^  two  hundred  compasses. 
In  her  prophetic  fury  sew'd  the  work; 
The  worms  were  hallow'd  that  did  breed  the  silk, 
And  it  was  dj'ed  in  mummy,  which  the  skilful 
Conserv'd^  of  maidens'  hearts. 

Des.  Indeed  !  is  't  true  ? 

0th.  Most  veritable;  therefore  look  to  't  well. 

Des.  Then,  would  to  heaven  that  I  had  never  seen  it ! 

0th.  Ha  !  wherefore  ? 

Des.  Why  do  you  speak  so  startingly  and  rash  ? 

0th.  Is 't  lost  ?  is  't  gone  ?  speak,  is  it  out  o'  the  way  ? 

Des.  Heaven  bless  us  ! 

0th.  Say  you? 

Des.  It  is  not  lost  :  but  what  an  if  it  were? 

0th.  How? 

Des.  I  say,  it  is  not  lost. 

0th.         '  Fetch 't.  let  me  see 't. 

Des.  Why,  so  I  can.  sir  ;*  bv^t  I  will  not  now. 
This  is  a  trick  to  put  me  from  my  suit : 
I  pray,  let  Cassio  be  receiv'd  again. 

0th.  Fetch  me  that'  handkerchief:    my    mind  mis- 
'Dcs.  Come,  come;  [gives. 

You'll  never  meet  a  more  sufficient  man. 

0th.  The  handkerchief, — 

Des.  I  pray,  talk  me  of  Cassio.' 

0th.  The  handkerchief, — 

Des.  A  man  that,  all  his  time, 

Hath  founded  his  good  fortunes  on  your  love ; 
Shar'd  dangers  with  you  ; — 

1  ■wiv'd  :  in  folio.  ^  make  :  in  quarto,  1622.  '  -with  the  skilful 
conserves:  in  quarto.  *  Not  in  folio,  'the:  in  folio.  '  This  and 
the  next  speech,  are  not  in  folio. 


8C.  iv.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE. 


421 


0th.  The  handkerchief, — 

Des.  In  sooth,  you  are  to  blame. 

0th.  Away!'  [Exii  Othello. 

Emil.  Is  not  this  man  jealous  ? 

Bes.  I  ne'er  saw  this  before. 
Sure,  there  's  some  wonder  in  this  handkerchief : 
1  am  most  unhappy  in  the  loss  of  it. 

Emil.  'T  is  not  a  year  or  two  shows  us  a  man : 
They  are  all  but  stomachs,  and  we  all  but  food ; 
They  eat  us  hungerly,  and  when  they  are  full, 
They  belch  us. 

Enter  Iago  and  Cassio. 
Look  you  !     Cassio,  and  my  husband. 

Iago.  There  is  no  other  way  ;  't  is  she  must  do  ' t : 
And,  lo,  the  happiness  !  go,  and  importune  her. 

Des.  How  now.  good  Cassio  !  what 's  the  news  with 
you  ? 

Cas.  Madam,  my  former  suit.     I  do  beseech  you, 
That  by  your  virtuous  means  I  may  again 
Exist,  and  be  a  member  of  his  love, 
Whom  I,  with  all  the  ofRce''  of  my  heart, 
Entirely  honour :  I  would  not  be  delay'd. 
If  my  offence  be  of  such  mortal  kind. 
That  nor  my  service  past,  nor  present  sorrows, 
Nor  purpos'd  merit  in  futurity. 
Can  ransom  me  into  his  love  again, 
But  to  know  so  must  be  my  benefit; 
So  shall  I  clothe  me  in  a  forc'd  content, 
And  shift'  myself  upon*  some  other  course. 
To  fortune's  alms. 

Des.  Alas !  thrice-gentle  Cassio, 

My  advocation  is  not  now  in  tune  ; 
My  lord  is  not  my  lord  ;  nor  should  I  know  him, 
Were  he  in  favour,  as  in  humour,  alter'd. 
So  help  me  every  spirit  sanctified, 
As  I  have  spoken  for  you  all  my  best,    - 
And  stood  within  the  blank  of  his  displeasure. 
For  my  free  speech.     You  must  a  while  be  patient : 
What  I  can  do,  I  will ;  and  more  I  will, 
Than  for  myself  I  dare  :  let  that  suffice  you. 
Iago.  Is  my  lord  angry  ? 
Emil.  He  went  hence  but  now ; 

»  Zounds  ! :  in  quarto,  1622.     =  duty  :  in  quarto,  1622.    3  shut :  in 
f.  e.     *  up  in  :  in  f.  e. 

Vol.  VII.— 36 


422  OTHELLO,  ACT  III. 

And.  certainly,  in  strange  unquietness. 

lago.  Can  he'  be  angry  ?     I  have  seen  the  cannon, 
When  it  hath  blo^^^l  his  ranks  into  the  air, 
And,  like  the  devil,  from  his  very  arm 
Puff'd  his  own  brother  : — and  can  he  be  angry  ? 
Something  of  moment,  then  :  I  will  go  meet  him. 
There  "s  matter  in  "t.  indeed,  if  he  be  angry. 

Des.  I  pr'ythce,  do  so.   '  [Exit  Iago.] — Something, 
sare,  of  state, — 
Either  from  Venice,  or  some  nnhatch'd  practice, 
Made  demonstrable  here  in  Cyprus  to  him, — 
Hath  puddled  his  clear  spirit ;  and,  in  such  cases, 
Men's  natures  wrangle  with  inferior  things. 
Though  great  ones  are  their  object.     'T  is  even  so  ] 
For  let  our  finger  ache,  and  it  indues 
Our  other  healthful  members  ev'n  to  that  sense 
Of  pain  :  nay,  we  must  think,  men  are  not  gods ; 
Nor  of  them  look  for  such  obser\'ances^ 
As  fit  the  bridal. — Beshrew  me  much,  Emilia, 
I  was  (unhandsome  warrior  as  I  am) 
Arraigning  his  unkindness  with  my  soul ; 
But  now  1  fijid,  I  had  suborn'd  the  witness, 
And  he  "s  indicted  falsely. 

Emil.  Pray  heaven,  it  be  state  matters,  as  you  think, 
And  no  conception,  nor  no  jealous  toy, 
Concerning  you. 

Dcs.  Alas,  tlie  day  !     I  never  gave  him  cause. 

Emil.  But  jealous  souls  will  not  be  answer'd  so: 
They  are  not  ever  jealous  for  a  cause. 
But  jealous  for  they  are  jealous :   't  is  a  monster, 
Begot  upon  itself,  born  on  itself. 

Des.  Heaven  keep  that  monster  from  Othello's  mind  ! 

Emil.  Lady,  amen. 

Des.  I  will  go  seek  him. — Cassio,  walk  hereabout: 
If  I  do  find  him  fit,  I  "11  move  your  suit. 
And  seek  to  eff'ect  it  to  my  uttermost. 

Cas.  I  humbly  thank  your  ladyship. 

[Exeunt  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 
Enter  Bianca. 

Bian.   Save  you,  friend  Cassio  ! 

Cas.  What  make  ycu  from  home  ? 

How  is  it  with  3-ou,  my  most  fair  Bianca? 
r  faith,  sweet  love,  I  was  coming  to  your  house.- 

1  And  is  :  in  folio.     ^  observancy  :  in  folio. 


SC.  IV.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  423 

Bian.  And  I  was  going  to  your  lodging,  Cassio. 
What,  keep  a  week  away  ?  seven  days  and  nights  ? 
Eight  score  eight  hours  ?  and  lovers'  absent  hours 
More  tedious  than  the  dial  eight  score  times  ? 

0  weary  reckoning  ! 

Cas.  Pardon  me.  Bianca  ; 

1  have  this  while  with  leaden  thoughts  been  press'd; 
But  I  shall,  in  a  more  convenient'  time. 

Strike  off  this  score  of  absence.     Sweet  Bianca, 

[Giving  her  Desdemona's  Handkerchief. 
Take  me  this  work  out. 

Bian.  0,  Cassio  !  whence  came  this? 

This  is  some  token  from  a  newer  friend: 
To  the  felt  absence,  now,  I  feel  a  cause. 
Is  it  come  to  this  ?     Well,  well. 

Ca."!.  Go  to,  woman  ! 

Throw  your  vile  guesses  in  the  devil's  teeth, 
From  whence  you  have  them.     You  are  jealous,  now, 
That  this  is  from  some  mistress  some  remembrance : 
No,  in  good  troth,  Bianca. 

Bia7i.  Why,  whose  is  it  ? 

Cas.  I  know  not,  sweet :-  I  found  it  in  my  chamber. 
I  like  the  work  well ;  ere  it  be  demanded. 
(As  like  enough  it  will)  I  'd  have  it  copied  : 
Take  it,  and  do  "t ;  and  leave  me  for  this  time. 

Bian.  Leave  you  !   wherefore? 

Cas.  I  do  attend  here  on  the  general. 
And  think  it  no  addition,  nor  my  wish, 
To  have  him  see  me  woman'd. 

Bian.  Why,  I  pray  you  ?^ 

Cas.  Not  that  I  love  you  not. 

Bian.  But  that  you  do  not  love  me. 

I  pray  you,  bring  me  on  the  way  a  little ; 
And  say,  if  I  shall  see  you  soon  at  night. 

Cas.  'T  is  but  a  little  way,  that  I  can  bring  you. 
For  I  attend  here ;  but  I  '11  see  you  soon. 

Bian.  'T  is  very  good  :  I  must  be  circumstanc'd. 

[Exeunt, 

I  continuate  :  in  folio.      =  neither :  in  folio.      3  This  and  the  next 
speech,  are  not  in  quarto,  162^. 


424  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 


ACT   IV. 

SCENE  I.— The  Same. 
Enter  Othello  and  Iago. 

lago.  Will  you  think  so  ? 

Oih  Think  so,  Iago  ? 

Iago.  What, 

To  kiss  in  private  ? 

0th.  An  unauthoriz'd  kiss. 

Iago.  Or  to  be  naked  with  her  friend  abed, 
An  hour,  or  more,  not  meaning  any  harm  ? 

0th.  Naked  abed,  Iago.  and  not  mean  harm? 
It  is  hypocrisy  against  the  devil : 
They  that  mean  virtuously,  and  yet  do  so, 
The  devil  their  virtue  tempts,  and  they  tempt  heaven. 

Iago.  If  they  do  nothing,  't  is  a  venial  slip : 
But  if  I  give  my  wife  a  handkerchief, — 

0th.  What  then? 

Iago.  Why,  then't  is  hers,  my  lord ;  and,  being  hers, 
She  may,  I  think,  bestow  't  on  any  man. 

0th.  She  is  protectress  of  her  honour  too  : 
May  she  give  that  ? 

latro.  Her  honour  is  an  essence  that  's  not  seen; 
They  have  it  very  oft,  that  have  it  not : 
But,  for  the  handkerchief, — 

0th.  By  heaven,  I  would  most  gladly  have  forgot  it. 
Thou  saidst, — 0  !  it  comes  o'er  my  memory, 
As  doth  the  raven  o'er  the  infected'  house, 
Boding  to  all, — he  had  my  handkerchief. 

Iago.  Ay,  what  of  that  ? 

Qfli  That 's  not  so  good,  now. 

Iago.  What,  if  I  had  said,  I  had  seen  him  do  you 
wrong  ? 
Or  heard  him  say. — as  knaves  be  such  abroad 
Who  having,  by  their  own  importunate  suit, 
Or  voluntary  dotage  of  some  mistress, 
Convinced  or  supplied  them,  cannot  choose 
But  they  must  blab — 

0th.  Hath  he  said  any  thing? 

Iago.  He  hath,  my  lord ;  but  be  you  well  assur  d, 
No  more  than  he  '11  unswear. 

I  infectious  :  in  folio. 


so.  I.  THE    MOOK    OF    VENICE.  425 

0th.  What  hath  he  said  ? 

lago.  'Faith,  that  he  did, — I  know  not  what  he  did. 

0th.  Wliat?  what? 

lago.  Lie — 

0th.  With  her? 

lago.  With  her,  on  her  ;  what  you  will. 

0th.  Lie  •with,  her  !  lie  on  her  ! — We  say,  lie  on  her, 
when  they  belie  her.  Lie  with  her  !  that 's  ful?ome. — 
Handkerchief. — confessions, — handkerchief  ! — To  con- 
fess, and  be  hanged  for  his  labour. — First,  to  be  hanged, 
and  then  to  confess: — I  tremble  at  it.  Nature  would 
not  invest  herself  in  such  shuddering"''  passion  without 
some  instruction.  It  is  not  words,  that  shake  me  thus  : 
— Pish  ! — Noses,  ears,  and  lips. — Is  it  possible? — Con- 
fess ! — Handkerchief ! — 0  devil ! —  [Falls  in  a  Trance. 

lago.  Work  on, 
My  medicine,  work  !  Thus  credulous  fools  are  caught ; 
And  many  worthy  and  chaste  dames,  even  thus. 
All  guiltless,  meet  reproach. — What,  ho  !  my  lord ! 

Enter  Cassio. 
My  lord,  I  say  !     Othello  ! — How  now,  Cassio  ! 

Cas.  What 's  the  matter  ? 

lago.  My  lord  is  fallen  into  an  epilepsy  : 
This  is  his  second  fit ;  he  had  one  yesterday. 

Cas.  Rub  him  about  the  temples. 

lago.  No,  forbear.' 

The  lethargy  must  have  his  quiet  course. 
If  not,  he  foams  at  mouth  ;  and,  by  and  by. 
Breaks  out  to  savage  madness.     Look,  he  stirs  : 
Do  you  withdraw  yourself  a  little  while. 
He  will  recover  straight :  when  he  is  gone, 
I  would  on  great  occasion  speak  with  you. — 

[Exit  Cassio. 
How  is  it.  general  ?  have  you  not  hurt  your  head  ? 

0th.  Dost  thou  mock  me  ? 

lago.  I  mock  you  !  no,  by  heaven. 

Would  you  would  bear  your  fortunes  like  a  man. 

0th.  A  horned  man  's  a  monster,  and  a  beast. 

lago.  There  's  many  a  beast,  then,  in  a  populous  city, 
And  many  a  civil  monster. 

0th.  Did  he  confess  it  ? 

lago.  Good  sir,  be  a  man ; 

1  The  rest  of  the  speech  is  not  in  quarto,  1622.  ^  shadowing  !  in 
f.  e.      ^  These  words  are  not  in  folio. 

36* 


426  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

Think,  every  bearded  fellow,  that 's  but  yok'd, 
May  draw  with  you  :  there  's  millions  now  alive, 
That  nightly  lie  in  those  unpropcr  beds, 
Which  they  dare  swear  peculiar :  your  case  is  better. 

0  !  'tis  the  spite  of  hell,  the  fiend's  arch-mock, 
To  lip  a  wanton  in  a  secure  couch. 

And  to  suppose  her  chat^te.     No,  let  me  know  ; 
And,  knowing  what  I  am.  I  know  what  she  shall  be. 

0th.  0  !  thou  art  wise  ;  't  is  certain. 

lago.  Stand  you  awhile  apart ; 
Confine  yourself  but  in  a  patient  list,^ 
Whilst  you  were  here,  o'erwhelm'd^  with  your  grief, 
(A  passion  most  unfitting^  such  a  man) 
Cassio  came  hither  :  I  shifted  him  away. 
And  laid  good  "scuse  upon  your  ecstasy ; 
Bade  him  anon  return,  and  here  speak  with  me ; 
The  which  he  promis'd.     But  encave  yourself, 
And  mark  the  ticers,  the  gibes,  and  notable  scorns, 
That  dwell  in  every  region  of  his  face ; 
For  I  will  make  him  tell  the  tale  anew, 
Where,  how.  how  oft,  how  long  ago,  and  when 
He  hath,  and  is  again  to  cope  your  wife  : 

1  say,  but  mark  his  gesture. — Marry,  patience ; 
Or  I  shall  say,  you  are  all-in-all  in  spleen. 
And  nothing  of  a  man. 

0th.  Dost  thou  hear,  lago  ? 

I  will  be  found  most  cunning  in  my  patience ; 
But  (dost  thou  hear  ?)  most  bloody. 

Jago.  That 's  not  amiss ) 

But  yet  keep  time  in  all.     Will  you  withdraw? 

[Othello  retires. 
Now  yv\\\  I  question  Cassio  of  Bianca, 
A  housewife,  that  by  selling  her  desires, 
Buys  herself  bread  and  clothes  :  it  is  a  creature, 
That  dotes  on  Cassio.  as  't  is  the  strumpet's  plague. 
To  beguile  many,  and  be  beguil'd  by  one. 
He,  when  he  hears  of  her,  feannot  refrain* 
From  the  excess  of  laughter  : — here  he  comes. — 

Re-enter  Cassio. 
As  he  shall  smile.  Othello  shall  go  mad  ; 
And  his  unbookish  jealousy  must  construe 
Poor  Cassio's  smiles,  gestures,  and  light  behaviour. 

1  Limit       "  ere  while  mad  :  in  quarto.  1G22.      ^  So  quarto,  1630; 
unsuiting  :  in  quarto,  1622  ;  resulting  :  in  folio.     *  restrain  :  in  folio. 


SC.  I.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  427 

Quite  in  the  wrong. — How  do  you  now,  lieutenant  ? 

Cas.  The  worser,  that  you  give  me  the  addition, 
Whose  want  even  kills  me. 

lago.  Ply  Desdemona  well,  and  you  are  sure  on  't. 
Now.  if  this  suit  lay  in  Bianca's  power,  [Speaking  lower. 
How  quickly  should  you  speed  ? 


Cas.  Alas,  poor  caitiff 


0th.  Look,  how  he  laughs  already  !  [Asidi 

lago.  I  never  knew  woman  love  man  so. 

Cas.  Alas,  poor  rogue  !  I  think,  i'  faith,  she  loves  me 

0th.  Now  he  denies  it  faintly,  and  laughs  it  out. 

[Aside. 

lago.  Do  you  hear,  Cassio? 

0th.  Now  he  importunes  him 

To  tell  it  o'er.     Go  to  :  well  said,  well  said.       [Aside. 

lago.  She  gives  it  out,  that  you  shall  marry  her  : 
Do  you  intend  it  ? 

Cas.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

0th.  Do  you  triumph  o'er  me  ?^  do  you  triumph  ? 

[Aside. 

Cas.  I  marry  her  ! — what,  a  customer  ?  I  pr'ythee. 
bear  some  charity  to  my  wit ;  do  not  think  it  is  so  un- 
wholesome.    Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

0th.  So,  so,  so,  so.     They  laugh  that  win.      [Aside. 

lago.  'Faith,  the  cry  goes,  that  you  shall  marry  her. 

Cas.  Pr'ythee,  say  true. 

lago.  I  am  a  very  villain  else. 

0th.  Have  you  scored  me  ?     Well.  [Aside. 

Cas.  This  is  the  monkey's  own  giving  out :  she  is 
persuaded  I  will  marry  her,  out  of  her  owai  love  and 
flattery,  not  out  of  my  promise. 

0th.  lago  beckons  me  :  now  he  begins  the  story. 

[Aside. 

Cas.  She  was  here  even  now;  she  haunts  me  in 
every  place.  I  was,  the  other  day,  talking  on  the  sea- 
bank  with  certain  Venetians,  and  thither  comes  this 
bauble  :  and,  by  this  hand,  she  falls  me  thus  about  my 
neck  : — 

0th.  Crying,  0  dear  Cassio  !  as  it  were  :  his  gesture 
imports  it.  [Aside. 

Cas.  So  hangs^,  and  lolls,  and  weeps  upon  me ;  so 
hales,  and  pulls  me  :  ha,  ha.  ha  ! — 

0th.  Now  he  tells,  how  she    plucked   him  to  my 
1  Do  you  triumph,  Roman  ?  :  in  f.  e.      2  shakes  :  in  folio. 


428  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

cliamber.     O  !  I  see  that  nose  of  yours,  but  not  that 
dog  I  shall  throw  it  to.  [Aside. 

Cas.  Well,  I  must  leave  her  company. 

logo.  Before  me  !  look  where  she  comes. 
Enter  Bianca. 

Cas.  'T  is  such  another  fitchew  !  marry,  a  perfumed 
one. — What  do  you  mean  by  this  haunting  of  me? 

Bian.  Lot  the  devil  and  his  dam  haunt  you  !  What 
did  you  mean  by  that  same  handkerchief,  you  gave  me 
even  now  ?  I  was  a  fine  fool  to  take  it.  I  mu.'^t  take 
cut  the  work ! — A  likely  piece  of  work,  that  you 
should  find  it  in  your  chamber,  and  know  not  who  left 
it  there.  This  is  some  minx's  token,  and  I  must  take 
out  the  work  ?  There,  give  it  your  hobby-horse :  where- 
soever you  had  it,  I  '11  take  out  no  work  on't. 

Cas.  How  now,  my  sweet  Bianca  !  how  now,  how 
now  ! 

0th.  By  heaven,  that  should  be  my  handkerchief ! 

[Aside. 

Bian.  An  you  '11  come  to  supper  to-night,  yoti  may  : 
an  you  will  not,  come  when  you  are  next  prepared  for. 

[Exit. 

lago.  After  her.  after  her. 

Cas.  'Faith,  I  must  :  she  Ml  rail  in  the  street  else, 

Jago.  Will  you  sup  there  ? 

Cas.  'Faith;  I  intend  so. 

Jago.  Well,  I  may  chance  to  see  you,  for  I  would 
very  lain  speak  with  you. 

Cas.  Pi'ythee,  come ;  will  you  ? 

lago.  Go  to  :  say  no  more.  [Exit  Cassio.^ 

Otk.   [Advancing.]   How  shall  I  murder  him,  lago  ? 

la  so.   Did  you  perceive  how  he  laughed  at  his  vice? 

Oth.  0,  lago  ! 

lago.  And  did  you  see  the  handkerchief? 

Oth.  Was  that  mine  ? 

lago.  Yours,  by  this  hand  :  and  to  see  how  he  prizes 
the  foolish  woman  your  wife  !  she  gave  it  him,  and  he 
hath  given  it  his  whore. 

Oth.  I  would  have  him  nine  years  a  killing. — A  fine 
woman  !  a  fair  woman  !  a  sweet  woman  ! 

lago.  Nay.  you  must  forget  that. 

Oth.  Ay,  let  ber  rot,  and  perish,  and  be  damned  to- 
night, for  she  shall  not  live.     No,  my  heart  is  turned 

1  Not  in  folio. 


BC.  I.  THE    MOOR    OF   VENICE.  429 

to  stone  ;  I  strike  it,  and  it  hurts  my  hand.  0  !  the 
world  hath  not  a  sweeter  creature  :  she  might  lie  hy  an 
emperor's  side,  and  coniinand  him  tasks. 

lago.  Nay,  that 's  not  your  way. 

0th.  Hang  her  !  I  do  but  say  what  she  is. — So  deli- 
cate with  her  needle  ! — An  admirable  musician  !  0  ! 
she  will  sing  the  savagene.«s  out  of  a  bear. — Of  so  high 
and  plenteous  wit  and  invention  ! — 

lago.  She  's  the  worse  for  all  this. 

0th.  0  !  a  thousand'  thousand  times.  And  then,  of 
so  gentle  a  condition. 

lago.  Ay,  too  gentle. 

0th.  Nay.  that 's  certain  : — but  yet  the  pity  of  it, 
lago  ! — 0,  lago  !  the  pity  of  it,  lago  ! 

lago.  If  you  are  so  fond  over  her  iniquity,  give  her 
patent  to  offend ;  for  if  it  touch  not  you,  it  comes  near 
nobody. 

0th.  I  will  chop  her  into  messes. — Cuckold  me  ! 

lago.  0  !  •  t  is  tbul  in  her. 

0th.  With  mine  officer  ! 

lago.  That 's  fouler. 

0th.  Get  me  some  poison,  lago  ;  this  night : — I  '11 
not  expostulate  with  her,  lest  her  body  and  beauty  un- 
provide  my  mind  again.     This  night,  lago. 

lago.  Do  it  not  with  poison,  strangle  her  in  her  bed, 
even  the  bed  she  hath  contaminated. 

0th.  Good,  good;  the  justice  of  it  pleases:  very 
good. 

lago.  And  for  Cassio,  let  me  be  his  undertaker. 
You  shall  hear  more  by  midnight.    [A  Trumpet  within. 

Olh.  Excellent  good. — "What  triunpet  is  that  same? 

lago.  Something  from  Venice,  sure.     'T  is  Lodovico, 
Come  from  the  duke  ;  and,  see,  your  wife  is  with  him. 
Enter  Lodovico.  Desdemona,  and  Attendants. 

Lod.  'Save  you,  worthy  general  ! 

0th.  With  all  my  heart,  sir. 

Lod.  The  duke  and  senators  of  Venice  greet  you. 

[Giving  him  a  Packet. 

0th.  I  kiss  the  instrument  of  their  pleasures. 

[Opens  the  Packet,  and  reads. 

Des.  And  what 's  the  news,  good  cousin  Lodovico  ? 

lago.  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  signior  : 
Welcome  to  Cyprus. 

1  Folio  inserts  :  a 


430  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

Lod.  I  thank  you.     How  does  lieutenant  Cassio  ? 

lago.  Lives,  sir. 

Des.  Cousin,  there  "s  fallen  between  him  and  my  lord 
An  unkind  breach,  but  you  shall  make  all  well. 

0th.  Are  you  sure  of  that  ? 

Des.  My  lord  ? 

0th.  '•  This  fail  you  not  to  do,  as  you  will" — [Reading. 

Lod.  He  did  not  call ;  he  's  busy  in  the  paper. 
Is  there  division  'twixt  my  lord  and  Cassio  ? 

Des.  A  most  unhappy  one  :  I  would  do  much 
To  atone'  them,  for  the  love  I  bear  to  Cassio. 

0th.  Fire  and  brimstone  ! 

Des.  My  lord  ? 

0th.  Are  you  wise? 

Des.  What  !  is  he  angry  ? 

Lod.  May  be,  the  letter  mov'd  him ; 

For,  as  I  think,  they  do  command  him  home, 
Deputing  Cassio  in  his  government. 

Des.  By  my  troth,  I  am  glad  on  't. 

Oth.  Indeed. 

Des.  My  lord  ? 

Oth.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  mad. 

Des.  How,  sweet  Othello  ? 

Oth.  Devil  !  [Striking  her. 

Des.  I  have  not  deserv'd  this. 

Lod.  My  lord,  this  would  not  be  believ'd  in  Venice, 
Though  I  should  swear  I  saw  it.     'T  is  very  much ; 
Make  her  amends,  she  weeps. 

Oth.  0  devil,  devil  ! 

If  that  the  earth  could  teem  with  woman's  tears, 
Each  drop  she  falls  would  prove  a  crocodile. — 
Out  of  my  sight  ! 

Des.  I  will  not  stay  to  offend  you.    [Going. 

Lod.  Truly  an  obedient  lady. — 
I  do  beseech  your  lordship,  call  her  back. 

Oth.  Mistress  ! 

Des.  My  lord  ? 

Oth.  What  would  you  with  her,  sir? 

Lod.  Who.  I,  my  lord  ? 

Oth.  Ay  ;  you  did  wish,  that  T  would  make  her  turn: 
Sir.  she  can  turn,  and  turn,  and  yet  go  on, 
And  turn  again ;  and  she  can  weep,  sir,  weep  ; 
And  she  's  obedient,  as  you  say, — obedient. — 
1  Reconcile. 


SC.  n.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  431 

Very  obedient. — Proceed  you  in  j-our  tears. 

Concerning  this,  sir. — 0  well-painted  passion  ! 
I  am  commanded  home. — Get  you  away ; 
I  '11  send  lor  you  anon. — Sir.  I  obey  the  mandate 
And  will  return  to  Venice.— Hence  I  avaunt ! 

.  [Exit  Desdemona. 

Cassio  shall  have  my  place.     And. — sir.  to-ni<iht. 
I  do  intreat  that  we  may  sup  touether  : 
You  are  welcome,  sir.  to  Cyprus. — Goats  and  monldes  ! 

T      7     r  [Exit- 

Lod.  Is  this  the  noble  Moot  whom  our  full  senate 
Call  all-in-all  sufficient  ?— This  the  noble'  nature 
Whom  passion  could  not  shake  ?  whose  solid  virtue 
The  shot  of  accident,  nor  dart  of  chance, 
Could  neither  graze,  nor  pierce  ? 

{"?o.  He  is  much  chang'd. 

Lod.  Are  Ills  wits  safe  ?  is  he  not  light  of  brain  ? 

lago.  He  "s  that  he  is  :  I  may  not  breathe  my  censure. 
What  he  might  be.— it\  what  he  might,  he  is  not, 
1  would  to  heaven,  he  were. 

Lo^l-   .  Wliat!  strike  his  wife  ? 

lago.   Faith,  that  was  not  so  well ;  yet  would  I  knew 
That  stroke  would  prove  the  worst. 

^of'-  Is  it  his  use  ? 

Or  did  the  letters  work  upon  his  blood. 
And  new-create  this  fault  ? 

lego.  Alas,  alas ! 

It  is  not  honesty  in  me.  to  speak 

What  I  have  seen  and  knowTi.    You  shall  observe  him  : 
And  his  own  courses  will  denote  him  so. 
That  I  may  save  my  speech.     Do  but  go  after. 
And  mark  how  he  continues. 

Lod.  I  am  sorry,  that  I  am  deceiv'd  in  him.  [Extrunt. 

SCENE  II.     A  Room  in  the  Castle. 
Enter  Othello  and  Emilia. 
0th.  You  have  seen  nothing  then  ? 
Emil.  Nor  ever  heard  :  nor  ever  did  suspect. 
Otii.  Yes,  you  have  seen  Cassio  and  her  together. 
Emil.  But  then  I  saw  no  liarm:  and  then  I  heard 
Each  syllable  that  breath  made  up  between  them. 
0th.  What  !  did  they  never  whisper  ? 
^"^'^-  Never,  my  lord. 

>  Not  in  folio. 


432  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

Oih.  Nor  send  you  out  of  the  way  ' 

Emil.  Never. 

0th.  To  fetch  her  fan,  her  gloves,  her  mask,  nor 
nothing  ? 

Emil.  Never,  my  lord.  ^ 

0th.  That 's  strange. 

Emil.  I  durst,  my  lord,  to  wager  she  is  honest, 
Lay  down  my  soul  at  stake  :  if  you  think  other, 
Remove  your  thought ;  it  doth  abuse  your  bosom. 
If  any  wretch  have  put  this  in  your  head, 
Let  heaven  requite  it  with  the  serpent's  curse. 
For  if  she  be  not  honest,  chaste,  and  true, 
There  's  no  man  happy ;  the  purest  of  their  wives* 
Is  foul  as  slander. 

0th.        Bid  her  come  hither  : — go. —  [Exit  Emilia. 
She  says  enough ; — yet  she  's  a  simple  bawd. 
That  cannot  say  as  much. — This  is  a  subtle  whore, 
A  closet-lock-and-key  of  villainous  secrets : 
And  yet  she  '11  kneel,  and  pray  :  I  have  seen  her  do  't. 
Re-enter  Emilia,  with  Desdemona. 

Des.  My  lord,  what  is  your  will  ? 

0th.  Pray,  chuck,  come  hither. 

Des.  What  is  your  pleasure  ? 

0th.  Let  me  see  your  eyes : 

Look  in  my  face. 

Des.  What  horrible  fancy  is  this  ? 

0th.  Some  of  your  function,  mistress ;    [To  Emilia. 
Leave  procreants  alone,  and  shut  the  door ; 
Cough,  or  cry  hem,  if  any  body  come  : 
Your  mystery,  your  mystery  ; — nay,  despatch. 

[Exit  Emilia. 

Des.  Upon  my  knee,^  what  doth  your  speech  import  ? 
I  understand  a  fury  in  your  words,  [Kneels.^ 

But  not  the  words.* 

0th.  Why,  what  art  thou  ? 

Des.  Your  wife,  my  lord ;  your  true 

And  loyal  wife.  [Rises.* 

0th.  Come,  swear  it,  damn  thyself ; 

Lest,  being  like  one  of  heaven,  the  devils  themselves 
Should  fear  to  seize  thee  :  therefore,  be  double-damn'd ; 
Swear  thou  art  honest. 

Des.  Heaven  doth  truly  know  it. 

iher  sex  :  in  quarto,  1622.    =  knees  :  in  f.  e.     ^Notinf.  e.    *This 
line  is  not  in  folio.      *  Not  in  f.  e. 


8C.  n.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  4oo 

0th.  Heaven  truly  knows,  that  thou  art  false  as  hell. 

Des.  To  whom,  my  lord  ?  with  whom  ?  How  am  I  false? 

0th.  0  Desdemona  ! — away,  away,  away  ! 

Des.  Alas,  the  heavy  day  ! — Why  do  you  weep  ? 
Am  I  the  occasion^  of  these  tears,  my  lord  ? 
If,  haply,  you  my  father  do  suspect 
An  instrument  of  this  your  calling  back. 
Lay  not  your  blame  on  me  :  if  you  have  lost  him. 
Why,  I  have  lost  him  too. 

0th.  Had  it  pleas'd  heaven 

To  try  me  with  afHiction ;  had  he  rain^i 
All  kinds  of  sores,  and  shames,  on  my  bare  head ; 
Steep'd  me  in  poverty  to  the  very  lips  ; 
Given  to  captivity  me  and  my  utmost^  hopes  ; 
I  should  have  found  in  some  part  of  my  soul 
A  drop  of  patience:  but,  alas  !  to  make  me 
A  fixed  figure,  for  the  hand^  of  scorn 
To  point  his  slowly  moving^  finger  at; 
Yet  co.uld  I  bear  that  too  ;  well,  very  well : 
But  there,  where  I  have  garner"d  up  my  heart, 
Where  either  I  must  live,  or  bear  no  life. 
The  fountain  from  the  which  my  current  runs, 
Or  else  dries  up ;  to  be  discarded  thence, 
Or  keep  it  as  a  cistern,  for  foul  toads 
To  knot  and  gender  in  ! — turn  thy  complexion  there. 
Patience,  thou  young  and  rose-lipp'd  cherubin  ; 
Ay,  there,  look^  grim  as  hell  ! 

Des.  I  hope,  my  noble  lord  esteems  me  honest. 

0th.  0  !  ay  ;  as  summer  flies  are  in  the  shambles. 
That  quicken  even  with  blowing.     0  thou'  weed  ! 
Wlio'  art  so  lovely  fair,  and  smell'st  so  sweet, 
That  the  sense  aches  at  thee,  would  thou  hadst  ne'er 
been  born  ! 

Des.  Alas  !  what  ignorant  sin  have  I  committed"? 

0th.  Was  this  fair  paper,  this  most  goodly  book. 
Made  to  write  whore  upon  ?     What  comnritted  ? 
Committed  ? — 0  thou  public  commoner  !* 
I  should  make  very  forges  of  my  cheeks, 
That  would  to  cinders  burn  up  modesty. 
Did  I  but  speak  thy  deeds. — What  commiited  ? 
Heaven  stops  the  nose  at  it,  and  the  moon  winks  : 

1  motive  :  in  folio.  =  ^^ot  in  quartos.  3  time  :  in  f.  e.  *  sloy, 
nnmoving  :  in  f.  e.  *  here  :  in  old  copies.  6  black  treed  :  in 
quaxtos.  '  Why  :  in  quartos.  8  This  and  the  next  two  lines,  are  not 
in  quarto,  16'2'2. 

Vol.  VII.— 37 


434  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

The  bawdy  wind,  that  kisses  all  it  meets, 
Is  hiish'd  within  the  hollow  mine  of  earth; 
And  will  not  hear  it.     What  committed  ? — 
Impudent  strumpet  !' 

Des.  By  heaven  you  do  me  -s^Tong. 

0th.  Are  not  you  a  strumpet  ? 

J)cs.  No.  as  I  am  a  Christian. 

If  to  preserve  this  vessel  for  my  lord, 
From  any  other,'  foul,  unlawful  touch, 
Be  not  to  be  a  strumpet,  I  am  none. 

0th.  What,  not  a  whore  ? 

Des.  No,  as  I  shall  be  saved. 

0th.  Is  it  possible  ? 

Des.  0,  heaven  forgive  us  !  [Kneeling} 

0th.  I  cr>'  you  mercy,  then  ? 

I  took  you  for  that  cunning  whore  of  Venice, 
That  married  with  Othello. — You,  mistress. 

Re-enter  Emilia. 
That  have  the  office  opposite  to  Saint  Peter, 
And  keep  the  gate  of  hell ;  you,  you,  ay,  you  : 
We  have  done  our  course  :  there 's  money  for  your  pains. 
I  pray  you,  turn  the  key.  and  keep  our  counsel.    [Exit. 

Emit.  Alas  !  what  does  this  gentleman  conceive? 
How  do  you,  madam  ?  how  do  you,  my  good  lady  ? 

Des.  'Faith,  half  asleep.  [Rising.* 

Emil.  Good  madam,  what 's  the  matter  with  my  lord  ? 

Des.  With  whom  ? 

E77iil.  Why,  with  my  lord,  madam. 

Des.  Who  is  thy  lord  ?^ 

Emil.  He  that  is  yours,  sweet  lady. 

Des.  I  have  none  :  do  not  talk  to  me,  Emilia; 
I  camiot  weep  ;  nor  answer  have  I  none, 
But  what  should  go  by  water.     Pr'ythee,  to-night 
Lay  on  my  bed  my  wedding  sheets, — remember  ; — 
And  call  thy  husband  hither. 

Emil.  Here  is  a  change,  indeed  !     [Exit. 

Des.  'T  is  meet  I  should  be  us'd  so,  very  meet. 
How  have  I  been  behav'd,  that  he  might  stick 
The  small'st  opinion  on  my  least  misdeed  ?' 
Re-enter  Emilia,  with  Iago. 

lago.  What  is  your  pleasure,  madam  ?     How  is  it 
with  you  ? 

1  These  words  are  not  in  folio.  '  hated  :  in  qnarto,  1622.  ^  ♦  Not 
in  f.  e.  *  This  and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  quarto,  1622.  ^  least 
misure  ;  in  f.  e. .'  greatest  abuse  :  in  quarto. 


8C.  n.  THE    MOOR    OF   VENICK.  435 

Des.  I  cannot  tell.     Those,  that  do  teach  young  babes, 
Do  it  with  gentle  means,  and  easy  tasks  : 
He  tnight  have  chid  me  so ;  for,  in  good  faith, 
I  am  a  child  to  chiding. 

lago.  What 's  the  matter,  lady? 

Emil.  Alas  !  lago,  my  lord  hath  so  bewhor'd  her, 
Thrown  such  despite  and  heavy  terms  upon  her, 
As  true  hearts  cannot  bear. 

Des.  Am  I  that  name,  lago  ? 

lago.  What  name,  fair  lady  ? 

Des.  Such  as.  she  say.«,  my  lord  did  say  I  was. 

Einil.  He  calTd  her  whore  :  a  beggar  in  his  drink, 
Could  not  have  laid  such  terms  upon  his  callat.* 

lago.  Why  did  he  so  ? 

Des.  I  do  not  know ;  I  am  sure,  I  am  none  such. 

lago.  Do  not  weep,  do  not  weep.     Alas  tlie  day  ! 

Emil.   Has  she  forsook  so  many  noble  matches. 
Her  father,  and  her  country,  and  her  friends. 
To  be  call'd  whore  ?  would  it  not  make  one  weep  ? 

Des.  It  is  my  wretched  fortune. 

lago.  Beshrew  him  for  it ! 

How  comes  this  trick  upon  him  ? 

Des.  Nay,  heaven  doth  know. 

Emil.  I  will  be  hang'd,  if  some  eternal  villain, 
Some  busy  and  insinuating  rogue, 
Some  cogging,  cozening  slave,  to  get  some  otfice. 
Have  not  devis'd  this  slander  ;  I  '11  be  hang'd  else. 

lago.  Fie  !  there  is  no  such  man :  it  is  impossible. 

Des.  If  any  such  there  be,  heaven  pardon  him  ! 

Emil.  A  halter  pardon  him,  and  hell  gnaw  his  bones  ! 
Why  should  he  call  her,  whore  ?  who  keeps  her  com- 
pany ? 
What  place  ?  what  time  ?  what  form  ?  what  likelihood  ? 
The  Moor  's  abus'd  by  some  most  villainous^  knave. 
Some  base,  notorious  knave,  some  scurvy-  fellow. — 
0,  heaven  !  that  such  companions'  thou'dst  unfold, 
And  put  in  every  honest  hand  a  whip. 
To  lash  the  rascals  naked  through  the  world. 
Even  from  the  east  to  the  west ! 

lago.  Speak  within  door. 

Emil.  0.  fie  upon  them  !  some  such  squire  he  was, 
That  turn"d  your  wit  the  seamy  side  witliout, 
And  made  you  to  suspect  me  with  the  Moor. 

'A  low  woman,    ^  outrageous  :  in  quarto,  1622.      ^  Fellows. 


436  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

lago.  You  are  a  fool ;  go  to. 

Des.  O  good'  lago  ! 

What  shall  I  do  to  win  my  lord  again  ? 
Good  friend,  go  to  him  ;  for,  by  this  light  of  heaven, 
I  know  not  how  I  lost  him.^     Here  I  kneel  • 
If  c"er  ray  will  did  trespass  'gainst  his  love, 
Either  in  discourse  of  thought,  or  -actual  deed  ; 
Or  that  mine  eyes,  mine  ears,  or  any  sense, 
Delighted  them  in  any  other  form  ; 
Or  that  I  do  not  yet,  and  ever  did, 
And  ever  will, — though  he  do  shake  me  off 
To  beggarly  divorcement, — love  him  dearly. 
Comfort  forswear  me  !     Unkindness  may  do  much  ; 
And  his  unkindness  may  defeat  my  life, 
But  never  taint  my  love.     I  cannot  say  whore  ■ 
It  does  abhor  me  now  I  speak  the  word  ; 
To  do  the  act  that  might  the  addition  earn, 
Not  the  world's  mass  of  vanity  could  make  me. 

lago.  I  pray  you,  be  content ;  't  is  but  his  humour : 
The  business  of  the  state  does  him  offence. 
And  he  does  chide  with  you.^ 

Dcs.  If  't  were  no  other, — 

lago.  'T  is  but  so,  I  warrant.  [3Iusic.* 

Hark,  how  these  instruments  summon  to  supper  ! 
The  messengers  of  Venice  stay  the  meat. 
Go  in.  and  weep  not ;  all  things  shall  be  well. 

[Exeunt  Desdemona  and  Emilia. 
Enter  Roderigo. 
How  now,  Roderigo  ! 

Rod.  I  do  not  find  that  thou  deaPst  justly  with  me. 

lago.  Wliat  in  the  contrary  ? 

Rod.  Every  day  thou  doff'st  me  with  some  device, 
lago  ;  and  rather,  as  it  seems  to  me  now,  keep'st  from 
me  all  conveniency,  that  suppliest  me  with  the  least 
advantage  of  hope.  I  will,  indeed,  no  longer  endure 
it ;  nor  am  I  yet  persuaded,  to  put  up  in  peace  what 
already  I  have  foolishly  suffered. 


lago.  Will  you  hear  me,  Roderigo 


0 


Rod.  "Faith,  I  have  heard  too  much  ;  for  your  words, 
and  performances,  are  no  kin  together. 
lago.  You  charge  me  most  unjustly. 
Rod.  With  nought  hut  truth.     I  have  wasted  myself 


SC.  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  437 

out  of  my  means :  the  jewels  you  have  had  from  me,  to 
deliver  to  Desdemona,  would  half  have  corrupted  a 
votarist :  you  have  told  me,  she  has  received  them,  and 
returned  me  expectations  and  comforts  of  sudden  re- 
spect and  acquaintance' ;  but  I  find  none. 

lago.  Well ;  go  to  ;  very  well. 

Rod.  Very  well !  go  to  !  I  cannot  go  to,  man  ;  nor 
't  is  not  very  well :  by  this  hand,  I  say,  it  is  very 
scurvy ;  and  begin  to  find  myself  fobbed  in  it. 

Jago.  Very  well. 

Rod.  I  tell  you,  't  is  not  very  well.  I  will  make 
myself  known  to  Desdemona :  if  she  will  return  me 
my  jewels,  I  will  give  over  my  suit,  and  repent  my 
unlawful  solicitation ;  if  not,  assure  yourself.  I  will 
seek  satisfaction  of  you. 

lago.  You  have  said  now. 

Rod.  Ay,  and  I  have  said  nothing,  but  what  I  pro- 
test intendment  of  doing. 

lago.  Why.  now  I  see  there  's  mettle  in  thee  ;  and 
even,  from  this  instant,  do  build  on  thee  a  better  opi- 
nion than  ever  before.  Give  me  thy  hand,  Roderigo  : 
thou  hast  taken  against  me  a  most  just  exception ;  but, 
yet,  I  protest.  I  have  dealt  most  directly  in  thy  affair. 

Rod.  It  hath  not  appeared. 

lago.  I  grant,  indeed,  it  hath  not  appeared,  and 
your  .suspicion  is  not  without  wit  and  judgment.  But, 
Roderigo,  if  thou  hast  that  within  thee  indeed,  which  I 
have  greater  reason  to  believe  now  than  ever, — I  mean, 
purpose,  courage,  and  valour, — this  night  show  it  :  if 
thou  the  next  night  following  enjoyest  not  Desdemona, 
take  me  from  this  world  with  treachery,  and  devise 
engines  for  my  life. 

Rod.  Well,   what   is  it  ?  is  it  within  reason,    and 
compass  ? 

lago.  Sir,  there  is  especial  commission  come  from 
Venice,  to  depute  Cassio  in  Othello's  place. 

Rod.  Is  that  true  ?  why,  then  Othello  and  Desde- 
mona return  again  to  Venice. 

lago.  0,  no  !  he  goes  into  Mauritania,  and  takes 
away  with  him  the  fair  Desdemona,  unless  his  abode 
be  lingered  here  by  some  accident ;  wherein  none  can 
be  so  determinate  as  the  removing  of  Cassio. 

Rod.  How  do  you  mean  removing  of  him  ? 

1  acquittance  :  in  quarto,  1622, 

37* 


438  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

lago.  Why,  by  making  him  uncapable  of  Othello's 
place  ;  knocking  out  his  brains. 

Rod.  And  that  you  would  have  me  do  ? 

lago.  Ay  ;  if  you  dare  do  yourself  a  profit,  and  a 
right.  He  sups  to-night  with  a  harlotry',  and  thither 
will  I  go  to  him :  he  knows  not  yet  of  his  honour-  i 
able  fortune.  If  you  will  watch  his  going  thence,  ■ 
(which  I  will  fashion  to  fall  out  between  twelve  and 
one)  you  may  take  him  at  your  pleasure  :  I  will  be 
near  to  second  your  attempt,  and  he  shall  fall  between 
us.  Come,  stand  not  amazed  at  it,  but  go  along  with 
me;  I  will  show  you  such  a  necessity  in  his  death,  that 
you  shall  think  yourself  bound  to  put  it  on  him.  It  is 
noAV  high  supper-time,  and  the  night  grows  to  waste  : 
about  it. 

Rod.  I  will  hear  farther  reason  for  this. 

lago.  And  you  shall  be  satisfied.  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  III.— Another  Room  in  the  Castle. 

Enter  Othello,  Lodovico,  Desdemona,  Emilia,  and 

Attendants. 

Lnd.  I  do  beseech  you,  sir,  trouble  yourself  no  farther. 

0th.  0  !  pardon  me  ;  't  will  do  me  good  to  walk. 

Lod.  Madam,    good-night ;    I    humbly   thank   your 
ladyship. 

Des.  Your  honour  is  most  welcome. 

0th.  Will  you  walk,  sir  ? — 

0  ! — Desdemona, — 

Des.  '  My  lord  ? 

0th.  Get  you  to  bed  on  the  instant  ;  I  will  be  re- 
turned forthwith.  Dismiss  your  attendant  there  :  look, 
it  be  done. 

Des.  I  will,  my  lord. 

[Exeunt  Othello.  Lodovico,  and  Attendants. 

Emit.  How  goes  it  now  ?  he  looks  gentler  than  he  did. 

Des.  He  says,  he  will  return  incontinent. 
He  hath  commanded  me  to  go  to  bed, 
And  bade  me  to  dismiss  you. 

Emil.  Dismiss  me  ! 

Des.  It  was  his  bidding ;  therefore,  good  Emilia, 
Give  me  my  nightly  wearing,  and  adieu  : 
We  must  not  now  displease  him. 

Emil.  I  would  you  had  never  seen  him. 
1  harlot :  in  quarto,  1622. 


8C.  III.  THE   MOOR    OF   VENICE.  439 

Des.  So  would  not  I :  my  love  doth  so  approve  him, 
That  even  his  stubbornness,  his  checks,  and  frowns, — 
Pr'ythee,  unpin  me, — have  gi-ace  and  favour  in  them. 
Eniil.  I  have  laid  those  sheets  you  bade  me  on  the 

bed. 
Des.  All 's  one. — Good  faith^,  how  foolish  are  our 
minds ! — 
If  1  do  die  before  thee,  pr'ythee,  shroud  me 
In  one  of  those  same  sheets. 

Emil.  Come,  come,  you  talk. 

Des.  My  mother  had  a  maid  call'd  Barbara  : 
She  was  in  love  ;  and  he  she  lov'd  prov'd  mad, 
And  did  forsake  her ;  she  had  a  song  of— willow, 
An  old  thing  't  was,  but  it  express'd  her  fortune, 
And  she  died  singing  it :  that  song,  to-night. 
Will  not  go  from  my  mind  f  I  have  much  to  do, 
Not  to  go  hang  my  head  all  at  one  side, 
And  sing  it  like  poor  Barbara.     Pr'ythee,  despatch. 
Emil.  Shall  I  go  fetch  your  night-gowai  ? 
j)es.  No,  unpin  me  here. — 

This  Lodovico  is  a  proper  man. 
Emil.   A  very  handsome  man. 
Des.  He  speaks  well. 

Emil.  I  know  a  lady  in  Venice  would  have  walked 
barefoot  to  Palestine  for  a  touch  of  his  nether  lip. 
Des.  A^  poor  soul  sat  sighing  by  a  sycamore  tree, 

[Singing. 
Sing  all  a  green  willow  ; 
Her  hand  on  her  bosom,  her  head  on  her  knee, 

Sing  u'illou',  willow,  willoio  : 
The  fresh  streams  ran  by  her,  and  murmur' d  her 
moans  ; 
Sing  icillow,  willow,  willow : 
Her  salt  tears  fell  from  her,  and  softened  the 
stones  ; 
Lay  by  these. — 

Sing  willoio,  willmv,  unllow. 
Pr'ythee.  hie  thee  ;  he'll  come  anon. — 

Sing  all  a  green  willoiv  must  be  my  garland. 
Let  nobody  blame  him,  his  scorn  I  approve, — 
Nay,  that 's  not  next. — Hark  !  who  is  it  that  knocks  ? 
Emil.  It  is  the  wind. 

1  father  :  in  folio.     2  All  that  follows  to  "Hark  !  who  is  it"  :  is  not 
in  quarto,  1622.     3  The:  in  f.  e.  Theballad  is  in  "Percy's  Reliques." 


440  OTHELLO,  ACT  IV. 

Des.  I  caird  my  love  false  love;  but  what  said  he 
then  ? 
Sing  willow^  willow^  willow : 
If  I  court  no  women,  you  Ul  couch  U'ith  no  men. 
So.  get  thee  gone ;  good  night.     Mine  eyes  do  itch ; 
Doth  that  bode  weeping  ? 

Emil.  'T  is  neither  here  nor  there. 

Des}  I  have  heard  it  said  so. — O,  these  men,  these 
men  ! — 
Dost  thou  in  conscience  think, — tell  me,  Emilia, — 
That  there  be  women  do  abuse  their  husbands 
In  such  gross  kind  ? 

Emil.  There  be  some  such,  no  question. 

Des.  Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the  world? 

Emil.  Why,  would  not  you  ? 

Des.  No,  by  this  heavenly  light. 

Emil.  Nor  I  neither  by  this  heavenly  light : 
I  might  do  't  as  well  i'  the  dark. 

D^s.  Wouldst  thou  do  such  a  deed  for  all  the  world? 

Emil.  The  world  is  a  huge  thing :  't  is  a  great  price 
For  a  small  vice. 

Des.  In  troth,  T  think  thou  wouldst  not. 

Emil.  In  troth,  I  think  I  should,  and  undo  't,  when 
I  had  done.  Marry,  I  would  not  do  such  a  thing  for 
a  joint-ring,  nor  for  measures  of  lawn,  nor  for  gowns, 
petticoats,  nor  caps,  nor  any  petty  exhibition  :  but,  for 
the  whole  world, — why,  who  would  not  make  her  hus- 
band a  cuckold,  to  make  him  a  monarch?  I  should 
venture  purgatory  for  't. 

Des.  Beshrew  me,  if  I  would  do  such  a  wrong  for 
the  whole  world. 

Emil.  Why,  the  wrong  is  but  a  wrong  i'  the  world  ; 
and,  having  the  world  for  your  labour,  't  is  a  v^Tong  in 
your  own  world,  and  you  might  quickly  make  it  right. 

Des.  I  do  not  think  there  is  any  such  woman. 

Emil.  Yes,  a  dozen  ;  and  as  many 
To  the  vantage,  as  would  store  the  world  they  play'd 

for." 
But,  I  do  think,  it  is  their  husbands'  faults. 
If  -w-ives  do  fall.     Say,  that  they  slack  their  duties, 
And  pour  our  treasures  into  foreign  laps ; 
Or  else  break  out  in  peevish  jealousies. 

I  This  and  the  next  speech,  are  not  in  quarto,  1622.  ^  The  rest  of 
the  scene  is  not  in  quarto,  1622. 


I 
BC.  III.  THE    MOOR    OF   VENICE.  441 

Throwing  restraint  upon  us  ;  or,  say,  they  strike  us, 

Or  scant  our  former  having  in  despite, 

Why,  we  have  galls ;  and,  though  we  have  some  grace, 

Yet  have  we  some  revenge.     Let  husbands  know. 

Their  wives  have  sense  like  them :  they  see,  and  smell. 

And  have  their  palates,  both  for  sweet  and  sour, 

As  husbands  have.     What  is  it  that  they  do, 

When  they  change  us  for  others  ?     Is  it  sport  ? 

I  think,  it  is ;  and  doth  affection  breed  it  ? 

I  think,  it  doth.     Is 't  frailty,  that  thus  errs  ? 

It  is  so  too :  and  have  not  we  affections. 

Desires  for  sport,  and  frailty,  as  men  have  ? 

Then,  let  them  use  us  well :  else,  let  them  know, 

The  ills  we  do,  their  ills  instruct  us  to. 

Bes.  Good-night,  good-night:  heaven  me  such  uses 
send. 
Not  to  pick  bad  from  bad,  but  by  bad  mend.    [Exeunt. 


ACT  V. 

SCENE  I.— A  Street. 
Enter  Iago  and  Roderigo. 

la  go.  Here,  stand  behind  this  bulk;  straight  will  he 
come: 
Wear  thy  good  rapier  bare,  and  put  it  home. 
Quick,  quick  ;  fear  nothing  ;  I  '11  be  at  thy  elbow. 
It  makes  us,  or  it  mars  us  ;  think  on  that. 
And  fix  most  firm  thy  resolution. 

Rod.  Be  near  at  hand  ;  I  may  miscarry  in  't. 

Iago.  Here,  at  thy  hand  :  be  bold,  and  take  thystand.' 

Rod.  I  have  no  great  devotion  to  the  deed ; 
And  yet  he  has  given  me  satisfying  reasons. — 
^T  is  but  a  man  gone  : — forth,  my  sword  ;  he  dies. 

[Stands  back. 

Iago.  I  have  rubb'd  this  young  quat^  almost  to  the 
sense, 
And  he  grows  angry.     Now,  whether  he  kill  Cassio, 
Or  Ca!5sio  him,  or  each  do  kill  the  other, 

I  sword  :  in  quarto,  1622.      2  Pimple  :  gnat :  in  quarto. 


443  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Every  way  makes  ray  game  }  live  Roderigo, 

He  calls  me  to  a  restitution  large 

Of  gold,  and  jewels,  that  I  bobb'd  from  him, 

As  gifts  to  Desdemona ; 

It  must  not  be  :  if  Cassio  do  remain, 

He  hath  a  daily  beauty  in  his  life, 

That  makes  me  ugly ;  and,  besides,  the  Moor 

May  unfold  me  to  him :  there  stand  I  in  much  peril. 

No,  he  must  die  : — be  '"t  so  ;  I  hear^  him  coming. 

[Retiring.^ 
Enter  Cassio. 
Rod.  I  know  his  gait ;  't  is  he. — Villain,  thou  diest. 
[Rushing  forward.^  mid  making  a  pass  at  Cassio. 
Cos.  That  thrust  had  been  mine  eneiny  indeed. 
But  that  my  coat  is  better  than  thou  know'st : 
I  will  make  proof  of  thine. 

[Draws.,  and  wounds  Roderigo. 
Rod.  0  !  I  am  slain. 

[Iago  starts  fortoard^  cids  Cassio  behind  in  the 
Leg,  aiid  exit. 
Cos.  I  am  maim'd  for  ever. — Light,*  ho  !  murder  ! 
murder !  [Falls. 

Enter  Othello,  at  a  distance. 
0th.  The  voice  of  Cassio. — Iago  keeps  his  word. 
Rod.  0,  villain  that  I  am  ! 
0th.  It  is  e'en  so. 

Cas.  0,  help  !  ho  !  light  !  a  surgeon  ! 
Oth.  'T  is  he. — 0  brave  Iago  !  honest,  and  just. 
That  hast  such  noble  sense  of  thy  friend's  wrong; 
Thou  teachest  me. — Minion,  your  dear  lies  dead, 
And  your  unblest  fate  hies  :' — strumpet,  I  come. 
Forth  of  my  heart  those  charms,  thine  eyes,  are  blotted ; 
Thy  bed,  lust-stain'd,  shall  with  lust's  blood  be  spotted. 

[Exit  Othello. 
Enter  Lodovico  and  Gratiano,  at  a  distance. 
Cas.  What,  ho !  no  watch  ?  no  passage  ?  murder  ! 

murder ! 
Gra.  'T  is  some  mischance ;  the  cry  is  very  direful. 
Cas.  0,  help  ! 
Lod.  Hark ! 

Rod.  0,  wretched  villain  ! 

'  gain  :  in  folio.  '■^  but  so,  I  heard  :  in  folio.  3  f.  e.  give  this  direc- 
tion before  R.'s  last  speech.  *  Help  :  in  folio.  *  your  fate  hies 
apace  :  in  quarto,  1622. 


SC.  I.  THK    MOOR    OF   VENICE.  443 

Lod.  Two  or  three  groan. — It  is  a^  hea'S'y  night. 
These  may  be  counterfeits  :  let 's  think  't  unsafe 
To  come  in  to  the  cry  without  more  help. 

Rod.  No  body  come  ?  then,  shall  I  bleed  to  death. 
Enter  Iago,  unready,^  with  a  Light. 

Lod.  Hark! 

Gra.  Here  's  one  comes  in  his  shirt,  with  light  and 
weapons. 

Iago.  Who's  there?  whose  noise  is  this,  that  cries 
out  murder  thus  ? 

Lod.  We  do  not  know. 

Iago.  Did  not  you  hear  a  cry  ? 

Cas.  Here,  here  !  for  heaven's  sake,  help  me. 

Iago.  What 's  the  matter? 

Gra.  This  is  Othello's  ancient,  as  I  take  it. 

Lod.  The  same  indeed  ;  a  very  valiant  fellow. 

Iago.  What  are  you  here,  that  cry  so  grievously  ? 

Cas.  Iago  ?     0  !  I  am  spoil'd  ;  undone  by  villains  : 
Give  me  some  help. 

Iago.  0  me,  lieutenant  !   what  villains  have  done 
this? 

Cas.  I  think  that  one  of  them  is  hereabout. 
And  cannot  make  away. 

Iago.  0  treacherous  villains  ! — 

What  are  you  there  ?  come  in,  and  give  some  help. 

[To  LoDovico  and  Gratiano. 

Rod.  0,  help  me  !  here. 

Cas.  That 's  one  of  them. 

Iago.  O  murderous  slave  !  0  villain  ! 

[Iago  stabs  Roderigo. 

Rod.  O  damn'd  Iago  !  0  inhuman  dog  ! — 

Iago.  Kill  men  i'  the  dark  ! — Where  be  these  bloody 
thieves  ? 
How  silent  is  this  towai ! — Ho  !  murder  !  murder  ! 
What  may  you  be  ?  are  you  of  good,  or  evil  ? 

Lod.  As  you  shall  prove  us,  praise  us. 

Iago.  Signior  Lodovico? 

Lod.  He,  sir. 

Iago.   I  cry  you  mercy.     Here 's    Cassio   hurt  by 
villains. 

Gra.  Cassio? 

Iago.  How  is  it,  brother? 

Cas,  My  leg  is  cut  in  two.* 

1  'Tis  :  in  folio.    2  This  word  is  not  in  f.  e. 


444  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

lago.  Marry,  heaven  forbid  ! — 

Light,  gentlemen !  I  '11  bind  it  wdth  my  shirt. 
Enter  Bianca. 
Bian.  What  is  the  matter,  ho  ?  who  is  't  that  cry'd  ? 
lago.  Who  is  't  that  cry'd  ! 
Bian.  0  my  dear  Cassio  !  my  sweet  Cassio  ! 

0  Cassio,  Cassio,  Cassio  ! 

lago.  0  notable  strumpet ! — Cassio,  may  you  suspect 
Who  they  should  be,  that  have  thus  mangled  you  ? 

Cas.  No. 

Gra.  I  am  sorry,  to  find  you  thus :  I  have  been  to 
seek  you. 

lago.  Lend  me  a  garter  : — so. — 0,  for  a  chair, 
To  bear  hiin  easily  hence  !^ 

Bian.  Alas  !  he  faints. — 0  Cassio!   Cassio!  Cassio! 

lago.  Gentlemen  all,  I  do  suspect  this  trash 
To  be  a  party'  in  this  injury. — 
Patience  a  while,  good  Cassio. — Come.  come. 
Lend  me  a  light. — Know  w^e  this  face,  or  no? 

[Looking  at  Rod.' 
Alas  !  my  friend,  and  my  dear  countryman, 
Roderigo  ?  no  : — yes,  sure.     0  heaven  !  Roderigo. 

Gra.  What,  of  Venice  ? 

lago.  Even  he,  sir ;  did  you  know  him  ? 

Gra.  Know  him  ?  ay. 

lago.  Signior  Gratiano?  I  cry  you  gentle  pardon: 
These  bloody  accidents  must  excuse  my  manners, 
That  so  neglected  you. 

Gra.  I  am  glad  to  see  you. 

lago.  How  do  you,  Cassio? — 0,  a  chair,  a  chair  ! 

Gra.  Roderigo ! 

lago.  He,  he,  'tis  he. — 0!  that 's  well  said;* — the 
chair. —  [A  chair  brought. 

Some  good  man  bear  him  carefully  from  hence ; 

1  '11  fetch  the  general's  surgeon. — For  you,  mistress, 

[To  Bianca. 

Save  you  your  labour. — He  that  lies  slain  here,  Cassio, 

Was  my  dear  friend.     What  malice  was  between  you  ? 

Cas.  None  in  the  world  ;  nor  do  I  know  the  man. 

lago.  What,  look  you  pale  ? — 0,  bear  him  out  o'  the 

air. —  [Cassio  and  Rod.  are  borne  off. 

Stay  you,  good  gentlemen. — Look  you  pale,  mistress  ? 

1  This  speech  is  not  in  quarto,  1622.    ^heax  a  part :  in  quarto,  1622. 
3  Not  in  f.  e.     *  J)one. 


SC.  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  445 

Do  you  perceive  the  gastness*  of  her  eye  ? — 
Nay,  an  you  stir  -.^ — yy^e  shall  hear  more  anon. — 
Behold  her  well ;  I  pray  you,  look  upon  her  : 
Do  you  see.  gentlemen  ?  nay,  guiltiness  will  speak, 
Though  tongues  were  out  of  use. 
Enler  Emilia. 

Emil.  Alas  !  what 's  the  matter  ?  what 's  the  matter, 
husband  ? 

logo.  Cassio  hath  here  been  set  on  in  the  dark 
By  Roderigo,  and  fellows  that  are  scap'd  : 
He  "s  almost  slain,  and  Eoderigo  dead.^ 

Emil.  Alas,  good  gentleman  !  alas,  good  Cassio  ! 

lago.  This  is  the  fruit  of  whoring. — Pr'y'thee,  Emilia, 
Go  know  of  Cassio  where  he  supp'd  to-night. — 
"What  !  do  you  shake  at  that  ? 

Bian.  He  supp'd  at  my  house;  but  I  therefore  shake 
not. 

lago.  0  !  did  he  so  ?     I  charge  j'ou.  go  with  me. 

Emil.  0,  fie  upon  thee,  strumpet  ! 

Bian.  I  am  no  strumpet;  but  of  life  as  honest, 
As  you  that  thus  abuse  me. 

Emil.  As  I  ?  fie  upon  thee  ! 

lago.   Kind   gentlemen,    let 's   go   see   poor    Cassio 
dress'd. — 
Come,  mistress,  you  must  tell 's  another  tale. — 
Emilia,  run  you  to  the  citadel. 
And  tell  my  lord  and  lady  what  hath  happ'd. — 
Will  you  go  on,  I  pray  ? — This  is  the  night,        [Aside. 
That  either  makes  me,  or  fordoes  me  quite.       [Exeunt. 

SCENE  H.— A  Bedchamber. 
Desdejiona  in  Bed  asleep.     A  Light  burning. 
Enter  Othello,*  locking  the  Door  after  him. 
0th.  It  is  the  cause,  it  is  the  cause,  my  soul, — 
Let  me  not  name  it  to  you.  you  chaste  stars  ! — 
It  is  the  cause. — Yet  I  '11  not  shed  her  blood; 
Nor  scar  that  whiter  skin  of  hers  than  snow, 
And  smooth  as  monumental  alabaster. 
Yet  she  must  die,  else  she  '11  betray  more  men. 
Put  out  the  light,  and  then — put  out  the  light  ? 
If  I  quench  thee,  thou  flaming  minister. 
I  can  again  thy  former  light  restore, 

1  gestures  :  in  quartos.     -  if  you  stare  :  in  folio.    '  quite  dead :  ia 
folio.    *  The  rest  of  this  direction  is  not  in  f.  e. 

Vol.  VII.— 38 


446  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Should  I  repent  me ;  but  once  put  out  thy  light,' 

Thou  cunning'st^  pattern  of  excelling  nature, 

I  know  not  where  is  that  Promethean  heat, 

That  can  thy  light  relume.     When  I  have  pluck'd  the 

rose, 
I  cannot  give  it  vital  growth  again, 
It  needs  must  wither  : — I  '11  smell  it^  on  the  tree. — 

[Kissing  her. 

0  balmy  breath,  that  dost  almost  persuade 

Justice  to  break  her  sword  ! — One  more,  one  more. — 
Be  thus  when  thoii  art  dead,  and  I  will  kill  thee, 
And  love  thee  after. — One  more,  and  this  the  last : 
So  sweet  was  ne'er  so  fatal.     I  mvist  weep, 
But  they  are  cruel  tears  :  this  sorrow  's  heavenly ; 
It  strikes,  where  it  doth  love. — She  wakes — 

Des.  Who's  there?     Othello? 

0th.  Ay,  Desdemona. 

Des.  Will  you  come  to  bed,  my  lord  ? 

0th.  Have  you  pray'd  to-night,  Desdemona  ? 

Des.  Ay,  my  lord. 

0th.  If  you  bethink  yourself  of  any  crime, 
"Unreconcil'd  as  yet  to  heaven  and  grace. 
Solicit  for  it  straight. 

Des.  Alas,  my  lord  !  what  may  you  mean  by  that? 

0th.  Well,  do  it,  and  be  brief;  I  will  walk  by  : 

1  would  not  kill  thy  unprepared  spirit ; 

No,  heaven  forfend,  I  would  not  kill  thy  soul. 

Des.  Talk  you  of  killing  ? 

0th.  Ay,  I  do. 

Des.  Then,  heaven 

Have  mercy  on  me  ! 

0th.  Amen,  with  all  my  heart. 

Des.  If  you  say  so,  I  hope  you  will  not  kill  me. 

0th.  Humph! 

Des.  And  ye*^  I  fear  you  :  for  you  are  fatal  then, 
When  your  eyes  roll  so.   Why  I  should  fear,  I  know  not, 
Since  guiltiness  I  know  not ;  but  yet,  I  feel  I  fear. 

0th.  Think  on  thy  sins. 

Des.  They  are  loves  I  bear  to  you. 

0th.  Ay,  and  for  that  thou  diest. 

Des.  That  death  's  unnatural,  that  kills  for  loving. — 
Alas  !  why  gnaw  you  so  your  nether  lip  ? 
Some  bloody  passion  shakes  your  very  frame : 

1  thine  :  in  quartos.     2  cunning  :  in  quartos,     ^  thee  :  in  folio. 


8C.  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  447 

These  are  portents ;  but  yet,  I  hope,  I  hope, 
They  do  not  point  on  me. 

0th.  Peace,  and  be  still ! 

Des.  I  will  so.     What 's  the  matter  ? 

0th.  That  handkerchief,  which  I  so  lov'd,  and  gave 
thee, 
Thou  gav'st  to  Cassio. 

Des.  No,  by  my  life  and  soul ! 

Send  for  the  man.  and  ask  him. 

0th.  Sweet  soul,  take  heed, 

Take  heed  of  perjury;  thou  'rt  on  thy  death-bed. 

Des.  Ay,  but  not  yet  to  die. 

0th.  Yes,'  presently: 

Therefore,  confess  thee  freely  of  thy  sin ; 
For  to  deny  each  article  with  oath. 
Cannot  remove,  nor  choke,  the  strong  conception. 
That  I  do  groan  withal.     Thou  art  to  die. 

Des.  Then.  Lord,  have  mercy  on  me  ! 

0th.  I  say,  amen. 

Des.  And  have  you  mercy  too  ! — I  never  did 
Offend  you  in  my  life ;  never  lov'd  Cassio, 
But  with  such  general  warranty  of  heaven 
As  I  might  love :  I  never  gave  him  token. 

0th.  By  heaven.  I  saw  my  handkerchief  in  s  hand. 

0  perjur'd  woman  !  thou  aost  stone  my  heart, 
And  mak'st  me  call,  what  I  intend  to  do, 

A  murder,  which  I  thought  a  sacrifice. 

1  saw  the  handkerchief. 

Des.  He  found  it  then  ; 

I  never  gave  it  him. — Send  for  him  hither; 
Let  him  confess  a  truth. 

0th.  He  hath  confess'd. 

Des.  What,  my  lord? 

0th.  That  he  hath— us'd  thec^" 

Des.  How?  unla's^'fully ? 

0th.  Ay. 

Des.  He  will  not  say  so.  , 

0th.  No.  his  mouth  is  stopp'd ; 

Honest  lago  hath  ta"en  order  for  '"t. 

Des.  My  fear  interprets  then. — What !  is  he  dead? 

0th.  Had  all  his  hairs  been  lives,  my  great  revenge 
Had  stomach  for  them  all. 

Des.  Alas  !  he  is  betray'd.  and  I  undone. 

1  Not  in  folio.    2  Quarto,  1622  :   ud's  death. 


448  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

0th.  Out,  strumpet !     Weep'st  thou  for  him  to  my 
face? 

Des.  O  !  banish  me,  my  lord,  but  kill  me  not. 

0th.  Down,  strumpet ! 

Des.  Kill  me  to-morrow ;  let  me  live  to-night. 

0th.  Nay,  if  you  strive, — 

Des.  But  half  an  hour. 

0th.  Being  done, 

There  is  no  pause.^ 

Des.  But  while  I  say  one  prayer. 

0th.  It  is  too  late. 

Des.  0  Lord.  Lord,  Lord  !^  [He  smothers  her. 

Emil.   [Within.]  My  lord,  my  lord!  what  ho!  my 
lord,  my  lord  ! 

0th.  What  noise  is  this  ? — Not  dead !  not  yet  quite 
dead  ? 
I,  that  am  cruel,  am  yet  merciful ; 
I  would  not  have  thee  linger  in  thy  pain. — 
So,  so.  [Stabs  her. 

Emil.  [Within^  What  ho!  my  lord,  my  lord  ! 

0th.  Who's  there? 

Emil.  [Withini]  0,  good  my  lord !  I  would  speak  a 
word  with  you. 

0th.  Yes ; — 't  is  Emilia. — By  and  by. — She  's  dead. 
'T  is  like  she  comes  to  speak  of  Cassio's  death; 
The  noise  was  high.* — Ha !  no  more  moving? 
Still  as  the  grave. — Shall  she  come  in?  Were  't  good? 
I  think  she  stirs  again: — no. — What 's  the  best? 
If  she  come  in,  she  '11  sure  speak  to  my  wife : 
My  wife  !  ray  wife  !  what  wife  ? — I  have  no  wife  : 
O  insupportable,  0  heavy  hour  ! 
Methinks  it  should  be  now  a  huge  eclipse 
Of  sun  and  moon,  and  that  th'  affrighted  globe 
Shol^ld*  yawn  at  alteration. 

Emil.  [  Within.\  I  do  beseech  you.  I  may  speak  with 
you. 
0,  good  my  lord  ! 

0th.  I  had  forgot  thee.     0  !  come  in,  Emilia. — 
Soft, — by  and  by: — let  me  the  curtains  draw. — 
Where  art  thou  ?     What 's  the  matter  with  thee  now  ? 

[Unlocks  the  Door. 

1  This  speech  is  not  in  quarto,  1622.     =  This  speech  is  not  in  folio. 
5  Not  in  f.  e.     *  here  :   in  quartos.     *  Did  :  in  quartos. 


so.  II.  THE   MOOR    OF    VENICE.  449 

Enter  Emilia. 

Emil.  0,  ?ood  my  lord  !  yonder  's  foul  murder  done. 

0th.  What!  now? 

Emil.  But  now,  my  lord  ! 

0th.  It  is  the  very  error  of  the  moon  ; 
She  comes  more  near  the  earth  than  she  was  wont 
And  makes  men  mad. 

Emil.  Cassio,  my  lord,  has  kill'd  a  young  Venetian, 
Call'd  Roderigo. 

0th.  Roderigo  kill'd? 

And  Cassio  kilTd? 

Einil.  No  ;  Cassio  is  not  kill'd. 

0th.  Not  Cassio  kill'd  ?  Then  murder  "s  out  of  tune, 
And  sweet  revenge  grows  harsh. 

Dcs.  0,  falsely,  falsely  murder'd  ! 

Emil.  Alas  !  what  cry  is  that? 

0th.  That!  what? 

Emil.  Out,  and  alas  !  that  was'  my  lady's  voice : — 
Help  !  Help,  ho  !  help  ! — 0  lady,  speak  again  ! 

[Going  to  the  bed.^ 
Sweet  Desdemona  !  O,  sweet  mistress,  speak  ! 

Des.  A  guiltless  death  I  die. 

Emil.  O  !  who  hath  done 

This  deed  ? 

Bes.  Nobody;  I  myself ;  farewell: 

Commend  me  to  my  kind  lord.     0  farewell  !        [Dies. 

0th.  Why,  how  should  she  be  murder'd  ? 

Emil.  Alas,  who  knows? 

0th.  You  heard'  her  say  herself,  it  was  not  I. 

Emil.  She  said  so  :  I  must  needs  report  a  truth. 

0th.  She  's  like  a  liar  gone  to  burning  hell : 
'T  was  I  that  kill'd  her. 

Emil.  0  !  the  more  angel  she. 

And  you  the  blacker  devil. 

0th.  She  turn'd  to  folly,  and  she  was  a  whore. 

Emil.  Thou  dost  belie  her,  and  thou  art  a  devil. 

0th.  She  was  false  as  water. 

Emil.  Thou  art  rash  as  fire  to  say 

That  she  was  false  :  O  !  she  was  heavenly  true. 

0th.  Cassio  did  top  her  ;  ask  thy  husband  else. — 
0  !   I  were  damn'd  beneath  all  depth  in  hell, 
But  that  I  did  proceed  upon  just  grounds 
To  this  extremity. — Thy  husband  knew  it  all. 

'  it  is  :  in  quarto,  1622.     ^  j^ot  in  f.  e.    ^  jiear :  in  folio. 

38* 


450  OTHELLO,  ACT  Ti 

Emit.  My  husband  ? 
Oth.  Thy  husband. 

Emil.  That  she  was  false  to  wedlock  ? 
Oth.  Ay,  -with  Cassio.     Nay/  had  she  been  true, 
If  heaven  would  make  me  such  another  world 
Of  one  entire  and  perfect  clirysolyte, 
I  'd  not  haA'e  sold  her  for  it. 
Emil.  My  husband  ? 

Oth.  Ay,  't  was  he  that  told  me^  first : 

An  honest  man  he  is.  and  hates  the  slime 
That  sticks  on  filthy  deeds. 

Emil.  My  husband  ? 

Oth.  What  needs  this  iteration,^  woman?   I  say,  thy 

husband. 
Emil.  0  mistress  !  villainy  hath  made  mocks  with 
love. — 
My  husband  say,  that  she  was  false  ? 

Oth.  He,  woman; 

I  say.  thy  husband  :  dost  understand  the  word  ? 
My  friend,  thy  husband,  honest,  honest  lago. 

Emil.  If  he  say  so,  may  his  pernicious  soul 
Rot  half  a  grain  a  day  !  he  lies  to  the  heart : 
She  was  too  fond  of  her  most  filthy  bargain. 

Oth.  Ha  !  [Threatening  her.* 

Emil.  Do  thy  worst : 

This  deed  of  thine  is  no  more  worthy  heaven, 
Than  thou  wast  worthy  her. 

Oth.  Peace  !  you  were  best. 

Emil.  Thou  hast  not  half  the^  power  to  do  me  harm, 
As  I  have  to  be  hurt.     0  gull !  0  dolt ! 
As  ignorant  as  dirt !  thou  hast  done  a  deed, — 
I  care  not  for  thy  sword  :  I  '11  make  thee  knoAATi. 
Though  I  lost  twenty  lives. — Help  !  help,  ho !  help  ! 
The  Moor  has  kill'd  my  mistress  !     ]\Iurder  !  murder  ! 
Enter  Montano,  Gratiano.  and  Iago. 
il/on.  What  is  the  matter  ? — How  now,  general ! 
Emil.  0  !  are  you  come.  Iago  ?  you  have  done  well. 
That  men  must  lay  their  murders  on  your  neck. 
Gra.  What  is  the  matter? 

Emil.  Disprove  this  villain,  if  thou  be'st  a  man : 
He  says,  thou  told'st  hun  that  his  wife  was  false. 
I  know,  thou  didst  not,  thou  'rt  not  such  a  villain. 

I  Not  in  folio.     ^  me  on  her  :  in  folio.     ^  iterance  :  in  folio.     *  Not 
in  f.  e.     5  that :  in  folio. 


8C.  n.  THE   MOOR    OF   VENICE. 


451 


Speak,  for  my  heart  is  full. 

Ia<ro.  I  told  him  what  I  Thought:  and  told  no  more 
Than  what  he  found  himself  was  apt  and  true. 

Emil.  But  did  you  ever  tell  him,  she  was  false? 

la  go.  I  did. 

Emil.  You  told  a  lie:  an  odious,  damned  lie; 
Upon  my  soul,  a  lie  :  a  wicked  lie. — 
She  false  with  Cassio  ! — Did  you  say  with  Cassio? 

lago.  With   Cassio,   mistress.     Go  to,   charm  your 
tongue. 

Emil.  I  will  not  charm  my  tongue ;  I  am  bound  to 
speak. 
My  mistress  here  lies  murder'd  in  her  bed.^ 

AU.  0,  heaven  forfend  ! 

Emil.  And  your  reports  have  set  the  murderer  on. 

0th.  Nay,  stare  not,  masters :  it  is  true,  indeed. 

Gra.  'T  is  a  strange  truth. 

Mon.  0  monstrous  act ! 

Emil.  Villainy!  villainy!  villainy! 

I  think  upon  't, — I  think, — I  smell 't : — O  villainy  ! 
I  thought  so  then : — I  '11  kill  myself  for  grief. — 

0  villainy,  villainy ! 

lago.  What!   are  you  mad?  I  charge  you.  get  you 
home. 

Emil.  Good  gentlemen,  let  me  have  leave  to  speak  : 
'T  is  proper  I  obey  him.  but  not  now. — 
Perchance,  lago,  I  will  ne'er  go  home. 

Oth.  O  !  O  !  O  !  [Falling  on  the  ground.' 

Emil.  Nay,  lay  thee  do\\-n  and  roar, 

For  thou  hast  kill'd  the  sweetest  innocent, 
That  e"er  did  lift  up  eye. 

Oth.  0  !  she  was  foul —     {Starting  up. 

1  scarce  did  know  you,  uncle :  there  lies  your  niece, 
Who.-e  breath,  indeed,  these  hands  have  newly  stopp'd. 
I  know,  this  act  shows  terrible^  and  grim. 

Gra.  Poor  Desdemona  !  I  am  glad  thy  father  's  dead. 
Thy  match  was  mortal  to  him.  and  pure  grief 
Shore  his  old  thread  in  twain :  did  he  live  now, 
This  sight  would  make  him  do  a  desperate  turn, 
Yea.  curse  his  better  angel  from  his  side, 
And  fall  to  reprobation.* 

Oth.  'T  is  pitiful ;  but  yet  lago  knows, 

1  This  line  is  not  in  quarto,  1622.     2  on  the  Bed:  in  f.  e.      3  horri- 
ble :  in  folio.      *  reprobance  :  in  folio. 


452  OTHELLO,  ACT  V 

That  she  vnih.  Cassio  hath  the  act  of  shame 

A  thousand  times  committed :  Cassio  confess'd  it ; 

And  she  did  gratify  his  amorous  works 

With  that  recognizance  and  pledge  of  loA'e 

Which  I  first  gave  her.     I  saw  it  in  his  hand; 

It  was  a  handkerchief,  an  antique  token 

My  father  gave  my  mother. 

Emil.  0  heaven  !  0  heavenly  powers  ! 

logo.  Come,  hold  your  peace. 

Emil.    "T  will  out,  'twill  out: — I  hold  ray  peace, 
sir  ?  no : 
No,  I  "will  speak  as  liberal  as  the  wind.' 
Let  heaven,  and  men,  and  devils,  let  them  all, 
All,  all,  cry  shame  against  me.  yet  I  "11  speak. 

Jago.  Be  wise,  and  get  you  home.  [Drmi'ing.' 

Emil.  I  will  not.     [Iago  offers  to  stab  Emil. 

Gra.  Fie ! 

Your  sword  upon  a  woman  ? 

Emil.  0  thou  dull   Moor  !    that  handkerchief  thou 
speak'st  of, 
I  found  by  fortune,  and  did  give  my  husband  : 
For  often,  with  a  solemn  earnestness, 
(More  than,  indeed,  belong'd  to  such  a  trifle) 
He  beggd  of  me  to  steal  it. 

Iago.  Villainous  whore  !       [TJiey  hold  him.^ 

Emil.  She  give  it  Cassio  !  no,  alas  !  I  found  it. 
And  I  did  give  "t  my  husband. 

Iago.  Filth,  thou  liest.   [Stabs  her.  and  exit  instantly. 

Emil.  By  heaven.  I  do  not ;  I  do  not.  gentlemen. 
O  murderous  coxcomb  !  what  should  such  a  fool 
Do  with  so  good  a  wife  ?* 

0th.  Are  there  no  stones  in  heaven. 

But  what  serA'e  for  the  thunder? — Precious  villain  ! 

Gra.  The  woman  falls  :  sure,  he  has  kilTd  his  wife. 

Emil.  Ay,  ay. — 0,  lay  me  by  my  mistress'  side  ! 

Gra.  He  's  gone,  but  his  wife  's  kill'd. 

Mon .  'T  is  a  notorious  villain.  Take  you  this  weapon, 
Which  I  have  here*  recover'd  from  the  Moor. 
Come,  guard  the  door  without :  let  him  not  pass, 
But  kill  him  rather.     I  '11  afler  that  same  villain, 
For  't  is  a  damned  slave. 

[Exermt  Mont.\no  and  Gratiaxo. 

1  north  :  in   f.  e.     2  3  Jfot   in  f.   e.      *  \roman  :  in   quarto,  1622. 
5  Not  in  folio. 


8C.  II.  THE   MOOR    OF   VENICE.  453 

0th.  I  am  not  valiant  neither, 

But  every  puny  whipster  gets  my  sword. 
But  why  should  honour  outlive  honesty  ? 
Let  it  go  all. 

Emil}  What  did  thy  song  bode,  lady? 

Hark,  canst  thou  hear  me?  I  will  play  the  swan, 
And  die  in  music: — Willow,  willow,  icillow. — 
Moor,  she  was  chaste ;  she  lov'd  thee,  cruel  Moor : 
So  come  my  soul  to  bliss,  as  I  speak  true ; 
So  speaking  as  I  think,  I  die, — I  die.  [Dies, 

0th.  I  have  another  weapon  in  this  chamber, 
It  is  a  sword  of  Spain,  the  ice-brook's  temper. — 

0  !  here  it  is. — Uncle,  I  must  come  forth. 

Gra.  [  Within.]  If  thou  attempt  it,  it  will  cost  thee 
dear  : 
Thou  hast  no  weapon,  and  perforce  must  suffer. 

0th.  Look  in  vipon  me,  then,  and  speak  to^  me, 
Or,  naked  as  I  am.  1  will  assault  thee. 
Re-enter  Gratiano. 

Gra.  What  is  the  matter  ? 

0th.  Behold  !  I  have  a  weapon; 

A  better  never  did  itself  sustain 
Upon  a  soldier's  thigh  :  I  have  seen  the  day, 
That,  with  this  little  arm,  and  this  good  sword, 

1  have  made  my  way  through  more  impediments 
Than  twenty  times  your  stop. — But,  0  vain  boast ! 
Who  can  control  his  fate  ?  "t  is  not  so  now. — 

Be  not  afraid,  though  you  do  see  me  weapon'd  f 

Here  is  my  journey's  end,  here  is  my  butt. 

And  very  sea-mark  of  my  utmost  sail. 

Do  yoii  go  back  dismay'd  ?  't  is  a  lost  fear  : 

Man  but  a  rush  against  Othello's  breast. 

And  he  retires. — Where  should  Othello  go  ? — 

Now,  how  dost  ihou  look  now  ?     0  ill-starr'd  wench  ! 

Pale  as  thy  smock  !  when  we  shall  meet  at  compt. 

This  look  of  thine  will  luirl  my  soul  from  heaven, 

And  fiends  will  snatch  at  it.     Cold,  cold,  my  girl ; 

Even  like  thy  chastity, — O,  cursed*  slave  ! — 

Whip  me,  ye  devils, 

From  the  possession  of  this  heavenly  sight  !  # 

Blow  me  about  in  winds  !  roast  me  in  sulphur  ! 

J  This  and  the  next  t-n'O  lines,  are  not  in  quarto,  1622.  =  with  :  in 
folio.  3  This  and  the  six  following  lines,  are  not  in  quarto,  1622. 
*  cursed,  cursed  slave  :  in  folio. 


454  OTHELLO,  ACT  V. 

Wash  me  in  steep-down  gulfs  of  liquid  fire  ! 
0  Desdemona  !  Desdemona  !  dead  ?  0  !  0  !' 
Enter  Lodovico  a7id  Cassio. 

Lod.  Where  is  this  rash  and  most  unfortunate  man  ? 

0th.  That 's  he,  that  was  Othello  :  here  I  am. 

Lod.  Where  is  that  viper  ?  bring  the  villain  forth. 
Enter  INIontano  with  Iago,  bound,  and  Officers.'^ 

0th.  I  look  downi  towards  his  feet ; — but  that 's  a  fable  : 
If  that  thou  be'st  a  devil,  I  cannot  kill  thee. 

[Othello  u-ounds  Iago. 

Lod.  Wrench  his  sword  from  him. 

Iago.  I  bleed,  sir  ;  but  not  kill'd. 

0th.  I  am  not  sorry  neither  :  I  'd  have  thee  live  : 
For,  in  my  sense,  '"t  is  happiness  to  die. 

Lod.  0  thou  Othello  !  that  wert  once  so  goodj 
Fall'n  in  the  practice  of  a  damned  slave. 
What  shall  be  said  to  thee  ? 

0th.  Why,  any  thing  : 

An  honourable  murderer,  if  you  will ; 
For  nought  I  did  in  hate,  but  all  in  honour. 

Lod.  This  wretch  hath  part  confess'd  his  villainy. 
Did  you  and  he  consent  in  Cassio's  death? 

0th.  Ay. 

Cas.  Dear  general,  I  never  gave  you  cause. 

0th.  I  do  believe  it,  and  I  ask  your  pardon. 
Will  you,  I  pray,  demand  that  demi-devil. 
Why  he  hath  thus  ensnar'd  my  soul  and  body  ? 

Iago.  Demand  me  nothing  :    what  you   know,  you 
know. 
From  this  time  forth  I  never  will  speak  word. 

Lod.  What  1  not  to  pray? 

Gra.  Torments  will  ope  your  lips. 

0th.  Well,  thou  dost  best. 

Lod.  Sir,  you  shall  understand  what  hath  befalTn, 
Which,  as  I  think,  you  know  not.     Here  is  a  letter. 
Found  in  the  pocket  of  the  slain  Roderigo ;  [Showing  it.^ 
And  here  another  :  the  one  of  them  imports 
The  death  of  Cassio  to  be  undertook 
By  Roderigo. 

0th.  0  villain  ! 

Cas.  Most  heathenish,  and  most  gross  ! 

Lod.  Now,  here 's  another  discontented  paper, 

[Producing  it.* 

1  0  Desdemon,  dead  Desdemon,  dead,  0  !  0  1:  in  folio.      2  in  f.  g^ 
these  characters  enter  with  Lodovico  and  Cassio.    3  *  Not  in  f.  e. 


SC.  II.  THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.  455 

Found  in  his  pocket  too :  and  this,  it  seems, 
Roderiso  meant  to  have  sent  this  damned  ^-illain ; 
But  that,  belike.  lago  in  the  interim^ 
Came  in  and  satisfied  him. 

0th.  0,  the  pernicious  caitiff! — 

How  came  you,  Cassio,  by  that  liandkerchief, 
That  was  my  wife's  ? 

Cas.  I  found  it  in  my  chamber ; 

And  he  himself  confess'd.  but  even  now, 
Tliat  there  he  dropped  it,  for  a  special  purpose, 
Which  wrousht  to  his  desire. 

0th.  ^  0  fool !  fool  !  fool ! 

Cas.  There  is.  besides,  in  Roderigo's  letter, 
How  he  upbraids  lago,  that  he  made  him 
Brave  me  upon  the  watch  :   whereon  it  came 
That  I  was  cast  :  and  even  but  now  he  spake, 
After  long  seeming  dead, — lago  hurt  him, 
lago  set  him  on. 

Lod.  You  nuist  forsake  this  room,  and  go  with  us  : 
Your  power  and  your  command  is  taken  otF, 
And  Cassio  rules  in  Cyprus.     For  this  slave, 
If  there  be  any  cunning  cruelty 
That  can  torment  him  much,  and  hold  him  long, 
It  shall  be  his.     You  shall  close  prisoner  rest 
Till  that  the  nature  of  your  fault  be  kno-WTi 
To  the  Venetian  state. — Come  :  bring  thern^'  away. 

0th.  Soft  you  ;  a  word  or  two,  before  you  go. 
I  have  done  the  state  some  service,  and  they  know  it  ■, 
No  more  of  that. — I  pray  you,  in  your  letters, 
When  you  shall  these  unlucky  deeds  relate. 
Speak  of  me  as  I  am  ;  nothing  extenuate, 
Nor  set  down  aught  in  malice :  then,  must  you  speak 
Of  one  that  lov'd,  not  wisely,  but  too  well : 
Of  one  not  easily  jealous,  but,  being  wrought. 
Perplex"d  in  the  extreme  ;  of  one,  whose  hand, 
Like  the  base  Indian,^  threw  a  pearl  away 
Richer  than  all  his  tribe ;  of  one,  whose  subdued  eyes, 
Albeit  unused  to  the  melting  mood. 
Drop  tears  as  fast  as  the  Arabian  trees 
Their  medicinal*  giun.     Set  you  down  this  ; 
And  say,  besides,  that  in  Aleppo  once, 
When*  a  malignant  and  a  tui-ban"d  Turk 

1  nick :   in   quarto,   1622.      ^  )iim  :  jn  f.   e.      3  Judean  :  ia   folio. 
*  medicinable  :  in  folio.     *  Where  :  in  f.  e. 


456  OTHELLO,    THE    MOOR    OF    VENICE.        ACT  V. 

Beat  a  Venetian,  and  traduc'd  the  state, 

I  took  by  the  throat  the  circumcised  dog. 

And  smote  him — thus.  [Stabs  himself . 

Lod.  0  bloody  period  ! 

Gra.  All  that 's  spoke  is  marr'd. 

0th.  I  kiss'd  thee,  ere  I  kill'd  thee  : — no  way  but  this, 
Killing  myself,  to  die  upon  a  kiss.       [Dies  on  the  Bed. 

Cas.  This  did  I  fear,  but  thought  he  had  no  weapon. 
For  he  was  great  of  heart. 

Lod.  0  Spartan  dog  ! 

More  fell  than  anguish,  hunger,  or  the  sea, 
Look  on  the  tragic  loading'  of  this  bed  :  [To  Iago. 

This  is  thy  work  :  the  object  poisons  sight ; 
Let  it  be  hid — Gratiano,  keep  the  house, 
And  seize  upon  the  fortunes  of  the  Moor, 
For  they  succeed  on  you. — To  you,  lord  governor, 
Remains  the  censure  of  this  hellish  villain  : 
The  time,  the  place,  the  torture : — 0,  enforce  it  ! 
Myself  will  straight  aboard,  and  to  the  state 
This  heavy  act  with  heavy  heart  relate.  [Exeunt. 

1  lodging  :  in  quarto. 


,.tr^ 

PR 

Shakespeare,    w'illiam 

2753 

1       '-lorks 

C65 

1853a 

V.7 

.._ -diversity  of  Tnrr-t'- 


^"'•UDsi^■^■: 


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