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THE COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
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Copyright, 1895, by Harper & Brothers.
Ail rights reserved.
Complete in 4 IDoIs. IDolume tX).
MEASURE FOR MEASURE
MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR
WINTER'S TALE
LIST OF PHOTOGRAVURES
/Rcaeurc for /Beasure
1. LUCIO AND CLAUDIO
2. FRIAR THOMAS AND THE DUKE
3. ISABELLA AT THE NUNNERY
4. ANGELO AND ISABELLA
5. CLAUDIO AND ISABELLA
6. MARIANA, AND BOY SINGING
7. PROVOST WITH RAGOZINE'S HEAD
8. ISABELLA AND THE DUKE
Aerrs "Mlves of
16.
9. THE COUNCIL SHALL HEAR IT
10. ENTER MISTRESS ANNE PAGE WITH
WINE
11. WHY DO YOUR DOOS BARK SO?
12. BARDOLPH, FOLLOW HIM : A TAP-
STER IS A GOOD TRADE
13. HAVE NOT YOUR WORSHIP A WART
ABOVE YOUR EYE?
14. WHY, THIS IS THE VERY SAME
15. MARRY, THIS IS THE SHORT AND
THE LONG OF IT
BELIEVE IT, FOR YOU KNOW IT
YONDER HE IS COMING THIS WAY, SIR HUGH
WHY, WHAT HAVE YOU TO DO WITH WHETHER THEY BEAR IT?
AND TELLS ME 'TIS A THING l.M- POSSIBLE I SHOULD LOVE THEE BUT AS A PROPERTY
COME HITHER, WILLIAM; HOLDUP YOUR HEAD ; COME
21. HANG HER, WITCH
17-
18.
19.
TKHlntcr's XTale
22. HERMIONE ENTREATS POLIXENES
23. THE IMPRISONMENT OF THE QUEEN
24. THE ORACLE DEFIED
25. PERDITA DISCOVERED
26. ENTER TIME, AS CHORUS
27. PERDITA'S foster RELATIVES
28. AUTOLYCUS
29. POLIXENES AND PERDITA
30. HERMIONE
M18G169
Measure for Measure
PERSONS REPRESENTED
ViNCENTio, Duke <?/■ Vienna.
Angelo, Lord Deputy in the Dukes absence.
EscALUS, an ancient Lord, joined with Angelo
in the Deputation.
Claudio, a young Gentleman.
Lucio, a Fantastic.
Two other like Gentlemen.
Varrius, a Gentleman, Servant to the Duke.
Provost,
Thomas ) ^ r> ■ T, > iwo Friars.
Peter )
A Justice.
Elbow, a simple Constable.
Froth, a foolish Gentlemafi.
Clown, Servant to Mrs. Over-done.
Abhorson, a?i Executioner.
Barnardine, a dissolute Prisoner.
Isabella, Sister to Claudio.
Mariana, betrothed to Angelo.
Juliet, beloved by Claudio.
Francisca, a Nun.
Mistress Over-done, a Bawd.
Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, Officers, and other Attendants.
Scene, Vienna.
Measure for Measure
ACT I
Scene I. — Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords, and Attend- ants.
DUKE. Escalus— Escal. My lord. Duke. Of government, the properties to un- fold Would seem in me to affect speech and discourse ; Since I am put to know that your own science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice My strength can give you. Then no more remains But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, And let them work. The nature of our people, Our city's institutions, and the terms For common justice, you are as pregnant in As art and practice hath enriched any That we remember. There is our commission. From which we would not have you warp. — Call hither, I say, bid come before us Angelo. —
\_Exit an Attendant. What figure of us think you he will bear.? For, you must know, we have with special soul Elected him our absence to supply ; Lent him our terror, drest him with our love; And given his deputation all the organs Of our own power. What think you of it?
Escal. If any in Vienna be of worth To undergo such ample grace and honour, It is Lord Angelo.
4 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Enter Angelo.
Duke. Look where he comes.
Ang. Always obedient to your grace's will, I come to know your pleasure.
Duke. Angelo,
There is a kind of character in thy life That to the observer doth thy history Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, them on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do : Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues ; nor nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence. But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. But I do bend my speech To one that can my part in him advertise ; Hold therefore. Angelo, In our remove, be thou at full ourself ; Mortality and Mercy in Vienna Live in thy tongue and heart. Old Escalus, Though first in question, is thy secondary. Take thy commission.
A7ig. Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my metal Before so noble and so great a figure Be stamp'd upon it.
Duke. No more evasion.
We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice Proceeded to you ; therefore take your honours. Our haste from hence is of so quick condition That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd Matters of needful value. We shall write to you, As time and our concernings shall importune, How it goes with us ; and do look to know What doth befall you here. So, fare you well ;
MEASURE FOR MEASURE $
To the hopeful execution do I leave you Of your commissions.
Ang. Yet give leave, my lord,
That we may bring you something on the way.
Dtike. My haste may not admit it ; Nor need you on mine honour have to do With any scruple : your scope is as mine own, So to enforce or qualify the laws As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand ; I'll privily away ; I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes ; Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement ; Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does affect it. Once more, fare you well.
Ang. The heavens give safety to your purposes !
Escal. Lead forth, and bring you back in happiness.
Duke. I thank you. Fare you well. \_ExiL
Escal. I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave To have free speech with you ; and it concerns me To look into the bottom of my place. A power I have, but of what strength and nature I am not yet instructed.
Ang. 'Tis so with me. Let us withdraw together, And we may soon our satisfaction have Touching that point.
Escal. I'll wait upon your honour.
\_Exeunt.
Scene IL — Enter Lucio and two Gentlemen.
Lucio. If the duke, with the other dukes, come not to composition with the King of Hungary, why, then, all the dukes fall upon the king.
1 Gent. Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King of Hungary's !
2 Ge7it. Amen.
Lucio. Thou concludest like the sanctimonious pi- rate that went to sea with the ten commandments, but scraped one out of the table.
6 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
2 Gent. Thou shalt not steal ? Lucio. Ay, that he razed.
1 Gent. Why, 'twas a commandment to command the captain and all the rest from their functions ; they put forth to steal. There's not a soldier of us all that, in the thanksgiving before meat, doth relish the petition well that prays for peace.
2 Gent. I never heard any soldier dislike it.
Lncio. I believe thee ; for I think thou never wast where grace was said.
2 Gent. No } A dozen times at least.
I Gent. What } In metre ?
Lucio. In any proportion, or in any language.
I Gent. I think, or in any religion.
Lucio. Ay! Why not.f* Grace is grace, despite of all controversy. As, for example, thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of all grace.
I Gent. Well, there went but a pair of shears be- tween us.
Lucio. I grant; as there may between the lists and the velvet. Thou art the list.
I Gent. And thou the velvet. Thou art good velvet; thou art a three-piled piece, I warrant thee. I had as lief be a list of an English kersey as be piled, as thou art piled, for a French velvet. Do I speak feelingly now.f*
Lucio. I think thou dost ; and, indeed, with most painful feeling of thy speech. I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health ; but, whilst I live, forget to drink after thee.
1 Gent. I think I have done myself wrong, have I not.?
2 Gent. Yes, that thou hast ; whether thou art taint- ed or free.
Lucio. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes ! I have purchased as many diseases under her roof as come to —
2 Gent, To what, I pray .?
1 Gent. Judge.
2 Gent. To three thousand dollars a year.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 7
I Gent. Ay, and more.
Lucio. A French crown more.
I Gent. Thou art always figuring diseases in me ; but thou art full of error ; I am sound.
Lucio. Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things that are hollow : thy bones are hollow ; impiety has made a feast of thee.
Enter Bawd.
I Gent. How now .? Which of your hips has the most profound sciatica ?
Bawd. Well, well ; there's one yonder arrested, and carried to prison, was worth five thousand of you all.
I Gent. Who's that, I pray thee ?
Bawd. Marry, sir, that's Claudio, Signior Claudio.
1 Gent. Claudio to prison ? 'Tis not so.
Bawd. Nay, but I know 'tis so ; I saw him arrested ; saw him carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his head's to be chopped off.
Lucio. But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. Art thou sure of this ?
Bawd. I am too sure of it; and it is for getting Mad- am Julietta with child.
Lucio. Believe me, this may be. He promised to meet me two hours since ; and he was ever precise in promise-keeping.
2 Gent. Besides, you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose.
I Gent. But most of all agreeing with the proclamation.
Lucio. Away ; let's go learn the truth of it.
\Exeunt Lucio and Gentlemen.
Bawd. Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat, what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. How now? what's the news with you?
Enter Clown.
Clown. Yonder man is carried to prison. Bawd. Well, what has he done ?
8 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Clown. A woman.
Bawd. But what's his offence ?
Clown. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river.
Bawd. What, is there a maid with child by him ?
Clown. No ; but there's a woman with maid by him. You have not heard of the proclamation, have you ?
Bawd. What proclamation, man ?
Clow7i. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna must be pluck'd down.
Bawd. And what shall become of those in the city ?
Clown. They shall stand for seed : they had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them.
Baivd. But shall all our houses of resort in the sub- urbs be pull'd down .?
Clown. To the ground, mistress.
Bawd. Why, here's a change indeed in the common- wealth ! What shall become of me ?
Clown. Come, fear not you ; good counsellors lack no clients. Though you change your place, you need not change your trade ; I'll be your tapster still. Cour- age ; there will be pity taken on you : you that have worn your eyes almost out in the service, you will be considered.
Bawd. What's to do here, Thomas Tapster? Let's withdraw.
Clown. Here comes Signior Claudio, led by the pro- vost to prison ; and there's Madam Juliet. \Exeunt.
Scene III. — Enter Provost, Claudio, Juliet, and Offi- cers ; Lucio, and two Gentlemen.
Claud. Fellow, why dost thou show me thus to the world t Bear me to prison, where I am committed.
Prov. I do it not in evil disposition. But from Lord Angelo by special charge.
Claud. Thus can the demi-god Authority Make us pay down for our offence by weight. The words of Heaven — on whom it will, it will ; On whom it will not, so ; yet still 'tis just.
Plate i LUCIO AND CLAUDIO
Mea.Mire for Measure, act i., scene iii
■, ^■ ,\' i I' "
/, I \'i 5; (I 'i !
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 9
Lucio. Why, how now, Claudio? Whence comes this restraint ?
Claud. From too much liberty, my Lucio, liberty ; As surfeit is the father of much fast. So every scope by the immoderate use Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue (Like rats that ravin down their proper bane) A thirsty evil; and when we drink, we die.
Lucio. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors. And yet, to say the truth, I had as lief have the foppery of freedom as the morality of imprisonment. What's thy offence, Claudio t
Claud. What but to speak of would offend again.
Lucio. What, is it murder 1
Claud. No.
Lucio. Lechery.?
Claud. Call it so.
Prov. Away, sir ; you must go.
Claud. One word, good friend. — Lucio, a word with you. \Takes him aside.
Lucio. A hundred, if they'll do you any good. — Is lechery so look'd after }
Claud. Thus stands it with me : Upon a true con- tract I got possession of Julietta's bed ; You know the lady ; she is fast my wife, Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order. This we came not to. Only for propagation of a dower Remaining in the coffer of her friends, From whom we thought it meet to hide our love Till time had made them for us. But it chances The stealth of our most mutual entertainment. With character too gross, is writ on Juliet.
Lucio. With child, perhaps .'*
Claud. Unhappily, even so. And the new deputy now for the duke — Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness, Or whether that the body public be
lo COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
A horse whereon the governor doth ride,
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur;
Whether the tyranny be in his place,
Or in his eminence that fills it up,
I stagger in. But this new governor
Awakes me all the enroll'd penalties
Which have, like unscour'd armour, hung by the wall
So long that nineteen zodiacs have gone round
And none of them been worn ; and, for a name.
Now puts the drowsy and neglected act
Freshly on me. 'Tis surely for a name.
Lucio. I warrant it is ; and thy head stands so tickle on thy shoulders that a milk-maid, if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after the duke, and appeal to him.
Claud. I have done so, but he's not to be found. I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service: This day my sister should the cloister enter, And there receive her approbation. Acquaint her with the danger of my state ; Implore her, in my voice, that she make friends To the strict deputy ; bid herself assay him ; I have great hope in that, for in her youth There is a prone and speechless dialect Such as moves men ; besides, she hath prosperous art When she will play with reason and discourse, • And well she can persuade.
Lucio. I pray she may, as well for the encouragement of the like, which else would stand under grievous im- position, as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would be sorry should be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick- tack. I'll to her.
Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio.
Lucio. Within two hours —
Claud. Come, officer, away. \Exeunt.
Scene IV. — Enter Duke and Friar Thomas.
Duke. No, holy father ; throw away that thought ; Believe not that the dribbling dart of love
MEASURE FOR MEASURE n
Can pierce a complete bosom. Why I desire thee To give me secret harbour hath a purpose More grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burning youth.
Friar. May your grace speak of it ?
Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than you How I have ever loved the life removed, And held in idle price to haunt assemblies Where youth, and cost, witless bravery keeps. I have deliver'd to Lord Angelo (A man of stricture and firm abstinence) My absolute power and place here in Vienna, And he supposes me travell'd to Poland ; For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, And so it is received. Now, pious sir. You will demand of me why I do this }
Friar. Gladly, my lord.
Duke. We have strict statutes and most biting laws (The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds). Which for these fourteen years we have let sleep. Even like an o'ergrown lion in a cave. That goes not out to prey. Now, as fond fathers. Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their children's sight For terror, not to use, in time the rod Becomes more mock'd than fear'd : so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead ; And liberty plucks justice by the nose; The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum.
Friar. It rested in your grace
To unloose this tied-up justice when you pleased : And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd Than in Lord Angelo.
Duke. I do fear, too dreadful.
Sith 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 'Twould be my tyranny to strike and gall them F'or what I bid them do. For we bid this be done When evil deeds have their permissive pass And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father,
12 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
I have on Angelo imposed the office ;
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home,
And yet my nature never in the sight
To do it slander. And to behold his sway
I will, as 'twere a brother of your order.
Visit both prince and people. Therefore, I prithee.
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me
How I may formally in person bear me
Like a true friar. More reasons for this action
At our more leisure shall I render you ;
Only, this one : Lord Angelo is precise ;
Stands at a guard with envy ; scarce confesses
That his blood flows, or that his appetite
Is more to bread than stone. Hence shall we see,
If power change purpose, what our seemers be. [Exeunt.
Scene V. — Enter Isabella and Francisca.
Isab. And have you nuns no further privileges ?
Fran. Are not these large enough ?
Isab. Yes, truly ; I speak not as desiring more. But rather wishing a more strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of Saint Clare.
Lucio. Ho! Peace be in this place ! [Within.
Isab. Who's that which calls .-*
Fran. It is a man's voice. Gentle Isabella, Turn you the key, and know his business of him ; You may, I may not ; you are yet unsworn. When you have vow'd, you must not speak with men But in the presence of the prioress. Then if you speak you must not show your face ; Or if you show your face you must not speak. He calls again ; I pray you, answer him.
[Exit Francisca.
Isab. Peace and prosperity ! Who is't that calls t
Enter Lucio.
Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be ; as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less ! Can you so stead me,
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 13
As bring me to the sight of Isabella,
A novice of this place, and the fair sister
To her unhappy brother Claudio ?
Isab. Why her unhappy brother, let me ask ? The rather, for I now must make you know I am that Isabella, and his sister.
Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you, Not to be weary with you ; he's in prison.
Isab. Woe me ! For what ?
Lucio. For that which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks. He hath got his friend with child.
Isab. Sir, mock me not : your story.
Lucio. 'Tis true, I would not — though 'tis my famil- iar sin With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest. Tongue far from heart — play with all virgins so. I hold you as a thing ensky'd and sainted ; By your renouncement, an immortal spirit ; And to be talk'd with in sincerity. As with a saint.
Isab. You do blaspheme the good in mocking me.
Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth, 'tis thus: Your brother and his lover have embraced : As those that feed grow full ; as blossoming time, That from the seedness the bare fallow brings To teeming foison, even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.
Isab. Some one with child by him t My cousin Juliet.?
Lucio. Is she your cousin }
Isab. Adoptedly ; as school - maids change their names By vain though apt affection.
Lucio. She it is.
Isab. Oh, let him marry her !
Lucio. This is the point.
The duke is very strangely gone from hence ;
14 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand and hope of action; but we do learn By those that know the very nerves of state, His givings out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. Upon his place. And with full line of his authority. Governs Lord Angelo; a man whose blood Is very snow-broth ; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense. But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge With profits of the mind : study and fast. He (to give fear to use and liberty. Which have for long run by the hideous law. As mice by lions) hath pick'd out an act, Under whose heavy sense your brother's life Falls into forfeit. He arrests him on it, v
And follows close the rigour of the statute To make him an example. All hope is gone. Unless you have the grace by your fair prayer To soften Angelo, And that's my pith Of business 'twixt you and your poor brother.
Isab. Doth he so seek his life }
Lucio. Has censured him
Already ; and, as I hear, the provost hath A warrant for his execution.
Isab. Alas, what poor ability's in me To do him good .?
Lucio. Assay the power you have.
Isab. My power ! Alas ! I doubt —
Lucio. Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win. By fearing to attempt. Go to Lord Angelo, And let him learn to know, when maidens sue. Men give like gods ; but when they weep and kneel, All their petitions are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them.
Isab. I'll see what I can do.
Lucio. But speedily.
Isab. I will about it straight. No longer staying but to give the mother
MEASURE FOR MEASURE , 15
Notice of my affair. I humbly thank you. Commend me to my brother: soon at night I'll send him certain word of my success.
Lucio. I take my leave of you.
Isab. Good sir, adieu.
\Exeunt.
ACT II
Scene I. — Enter Angelo, Escalus, a Justice, Provost, Officers, and other Attendants.
Ang. We must not make a scarecrow of the law. Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape till custom make it Their perch and not their terror.
Escal. Ay, but yet
Let us be keen, and rather cut a little Than fall and bruise to death. Alas ! this gentleman. Whom I would save, had a most noble father. Let but your honour know (Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue) That, in the working of your own affections. Had time cohered with place, or place with wishing, Or that the resolute acting of your blood Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose, Whether you had not sometime in your life Err'd in this point which now you censure him, And puH'd the law upon you.
Ang. 'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, Another thing to fall. I not deny The jury, passing on the prisoner's life. May in the sworn twelve have a thief or two Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to jus- tice, That justice seizes. What know the laws, That thieves do pass on thieves ? 'Tis very pregnant, The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it Because we see it ; but what we do not see We tread upon, and never think of it. You may not so extenuate his offence,
1 6 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
For I have had such faults ; but rather tell me When I that censure him do so offend, Let my own judgment pattern out my death, And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die.
Escal. Be it as your wisdom will.
A7ig. Where is the provost }
Prov. Here, if it like your honour.
Ang. See that Claudio
Be executed by nine to-morrow morning. Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared ; For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage.
\Exit Provost.
Escal. Well, Heaven forgive him, and forgive us all ! Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall; Some run from brakes of vice, and answer none ; And some condemned for a fault alone.
Enter Elbow, Froth, Clown, Officers, etc.
Elbow. Come, bring them away; if these be good people in a common-weal that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law ; bring them away.
A7ig. How now, sir! What's your name. >* and what's the matter }
Elbow. If it please your honour, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow ; I do lean upon jus- tice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors.
Ang. Benefactors ! Well ; what benefactors are they t are they not malefactors .?
Elbow. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are : but precise villains they are, that I am sure of ; and void of all profanation in the world that good Christians ought to have.
Escal. This comes off well ; here's a wise officer.
Aiig. Go to. What quality are they of } Elbow is your name ? Why dost thou not speak. Elbow }
Clown. He cannot, sir; he's out at elbow.
Ang. What are you, sir.?
I'l \IK 2
FRIAR THOMAS AND THK Dl^KE
Mt-asure fcr Meas:i'
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 17
Elbow. He, sir? a tapster, sir ; parcel-bawd; one that serves a bad woman ; whose house, sir, was, as they say, plucked down in the suburbs ; and now she pro- fesses a hot-house, which, I think, is a very ill house too.
Escal. How know you that ?
Elbow, My wife, sir, whom I detest before Heaven, and your honour —
Escal. How ! thy wife ?
Elbow. Ay, sir ; whom, I thank Heaven, is an honest woman —
Escal. Dost thou detest her therefore ?
Elbow. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this house, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house.
Escal. How dost thou know that, constable ?
Elbow. Marry, sir, by my wife ; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accused in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there.
Escal. By the woman's means }
Elbow. Ay, sir, by Mistress Over-done's means ; but as she spit in his face, so she defied him.
Clown. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so.
Elbow. Prove it before these varlets here, thou hon- ourable man, prove it.
Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces ?
\To Angelo.
Clown. Sir, she came in great with child ; and longing (saving your honour's reverence) for stew'd prunes. Sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some threepence; your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes, but very good dishes.
Escal. Go to, go to : no matter for the dish, sir.
Clown. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin ; you are therein in the right; but to the point. As I say, this Mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great bel- lied, and longing, as I said, for prunes ; and having but two in the dish, as I said, Master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, pay-
IV.-a
1 8 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
ing for them very honestly — for as you know, Master Froth, I could not give you threepence again.
Froth. No, indeed.
Clown. Very well ; you being then, if you be remem- ber'd, cracking the stones of the aforesaid prunes.
Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed.
Clown. Why, very well ; I telling you, then, if you be remember'd, that such a one, and such a one, were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you.
Froth. All this is true.
Clown. Why, very well then.
Escal. Come, you are a tedious fool : to the purpose — what was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to complain of.? Come we to what was done to her.
Clown. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet.
Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not.
Clown. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave; and, I beseech you, look into Master Froth here, sir ; a man of fourscore pound a year, whose father died at Hallowmas — was 't not at Hallowmas, Master Froth ?
Froth. AU-hollond eve.
Clown. Why, very well ; I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair, sir — 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, indeed, you have a delight to sit, have you not }
Froth. I have so ; because it is an open room, and good for winter.
Clown. Why, very well, then ; I hope here be truths.
Ang. This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there. I'll take my leave, And leave you to the hearing of the cause. Hoping you'll find good cause to whip them all.
Escal. I think no less. Good - morrow to your lord- ship.— \_Exit Angelo. Now, sir, come on. What was done to Elbow's wife, once more }
Clown. Once, sir.? there was nothing done to her once.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 19
Elbow. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife.
Clown. I beseech your honour, ask me.
EscaL Well, sir, what did this gentleman to her .?
Clown. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face — good Master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose. Doth your honour mark his face ?
EscaL Ay, sir, very well.
Clown. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well.
EscaL Well, I do so.
Clown. Doth your honour see any harm in his face?
EscaL Why, no.
Clown. I'll be supposed upon a book, his face is the worst thing about him. Good then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could Master Froth do the constable's wife any harm .-* I would know that of your honour.
EscaL He's in the right. Constable, what say you to it ?
Elbow. First, and it like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman.
Clown. By this hand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all.
Elbow. Varlet, thou liest ; thou liest, wicked varlet : the time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child.
Clown. Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her.
EscaL Which is the wiser here ? Justice or iniq- uity ? Is this true ?
Elbow. Oh, thou caitiff ! Oh, thou varlet ! Oh, thou wicked Hannibal ! I respected with her before I was married to her ? If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke's officer. Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I'll have mine action of battery on thee.
EscaL If he took you a box o' th' ear, you might have your action of slander too.
Elbow. Marry, I thank your good worship for it. What
20 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
is't your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff ?
Escal. Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou wouldst discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou knowest what they are.
Elbow. Marry, I thank your worship for it. — Thou sees't, thou wicked varlet, now, what's come upon thee ; thou art to continue now, thou varlet; thou art to con- tinue.
Escal. Where were you born, friend.? \To Froth.
Froth. Here in Vienna, sir.
Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a year.?
Froth. Yes, and 't please you, sir.
Escal. So. — What trade are you of, sir ?
\To the Clown.
Clown. A tapster ; a poor widow's tapster.
Escal. Your mistress's name 1
Clown. Mistress Over-done.
Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband.?
Clown. Nine, sir ; Over-done by the last.
Escal. Nine ! — Come hither to me. Master Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you acquainted with tapsters ; they will draw you, Master Froth, and you will hang them. Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you.
Froth. I thank your worship ; for mine own part, I never come into any room in a tap-house, but I am drawn in.
Escal. Well, no more of it, Master Froth : farewell. —
{Exit Froth. Come you hither to me, master tapster; what's your name, master tapster .?
Clown. Pompey.
Escal. What else .?
Clown. Bum, sir.
Escal. 'Troth, and your bum is the greatest thing about you ; so that, in the beastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you colour it in being a tapster.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 21
Are you not ? come, tell me true ; it shall be the better for you.
Clown. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would live.
Escal. How would you live, Pompey.? by being a bawd } What do you think of the trade, Pompey .? is it a lawful trade 1
Clown. If the law would allow it, sir.
Escal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey ; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna.
Clown. Does your worship mean to geld and spay all the youth of the city ?
Escal. No, Pompey.
Clown. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to't then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knaves, you need not to fear the bawds.
Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you. It is but heading and hanging.
Clown. If you head and hang all that offend that way but for ten year together, you'll be glad to give out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent the fairest house in it after threepence a day ; if you live to see this come to pass, say Pompey told you so.
Escal. Thank you, good Pompey; and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you : I advise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatso- ever— no, not for dwelling where you do ; if I do, Pom- pey, I shall beat you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Caesar to you: in plain dealing, Pompey, I shall have you whipped ; so for this time, Pompey, fare you well.
Clown. I thank your worship for your good counsel, but I shall follow it as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. —
Whip me ? No, no ; let carman whip his jade ; The valiant heart's not whipped out of his trade.
S^Exit.
Escal. Come hither to me. Master Elbow ; come hither, master constable. How long have you been in this place of constable }
Elbow. Seven year and a half, sir.
22 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Escal. I thought by your readiness in the office you had continued in it some time. You say seven years together ?
Elbow. And a half, sir.
Escal. Alas ! it hath been great pains to you ! They do you wrong to put you so oft upon 't. Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it?
Elbow. 'Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them. I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all.
Escal. Look you, bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most efficient of your parish.
Elbow. To your worship's house, sir }
Escal. To my house. Fare you well. — \Exit Elbow. What's o'clock, think you }
Just. Eleven, sir.
Escal. I pray you home to dinner with me.
Just. I humlDly thank you.
Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio ; But there's no remedy.
Just. Lord Angelo is severe.
Escal. It is but needful :
Mercy is not itself that oft looks so ; Pardon is still the nurse of second woe ; But yet, poor Claudio! — there's no remedy. Come, sir. [Exeunt.
Scene II. — Enter Provost and a Servant.
SerV'. He's hearing of a cause ; he will come straight. I'll tell him of you.
Prov. Pray you, do. — \_Exit Servant.
I'll know his pleasure: maybe he will relent. Alas, He hath but as offended in a dream ! All sects, all ages smack of this vice ; and he To die for it !
Enter Angelo.
Ang. Now, what's the matter, provost ?
Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow ?
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 23
Ang. Did I not tell thee yea? hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask again ?
Prov. Lest I might be too rash :
Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom.
Ang. Go to ; let that be mine :
Do you your office, or give up your place. And you shall well be spared.
Prov. I crave your honour's pardon.
What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet ? She's very near her hour.
Ang. Dispose of her
To some more fitter place ; and that with speed.
Re-enter Servant.
Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd, Desires access to you.
Ang. Hath he a sister ?
Prov. Ay, my good lord ; a very virtuous maid, And to be shortly of a sisterhood. If not already.
Ang. Well, let her be admitted.
\Exit Servant. See you the fornicatress be removed. Let her have needful, but not lavish, means ; There shall be order for it.
Enter Lucio and Isabella.
Prov. Save your honour? \Offering to retire.
Ang. Stay a little while. — \To Isab.] You are wel- come. What's your will ?
Isab. I am a woful suitor to your honour, Please but your honour hear me.
Ang. Well ; what's your suit ?
Isab. There is a vice that most I do abhor, And most desire should meet the blow of justice ; For which I would not plead, but that I must;
24 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
For which I must not plead, but that I am At war 'twixt will and will not.
Ang. Well ; the matter ?
Isab. I have a brother is condemn'd to die : I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother.
Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces !
A7ig. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it ! Why, every fault's condemned ere it be done : Mine were the very cipher of a function To find the faults whose fine stands in record, And let go by the actor.
Isab. Oh, just but severe law!
I had a brother then. — Heaven keep your honour !
\Retiring,
Lticio. \_To Isab.] Give't not o'er so: to him again, entreat him. Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown ; You are too cold ; if you should need a pin. You could not with more tame a tongue desire it. To him, I say.
Isab. Must he needs die }
Ang. Maiden, no remedy.
Isab. Yes ; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither Heaven nor man grieve at the mercy.
Ang. I will not do't.
Isab. But can you, if you would }
Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.
Isab. But might you do't, and do the world n(5 wrong. If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse As mine is to him '^.
Ang. He's sentenced ; 'tis too late.
Lucio. You are too cold. \To Isabella.
Isab. Too late } why, no ; I, that do speak a word. May call it back again. Well, believe this. No ceremony that to great ones 'longs. Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword. The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace
•.Truj:^;??:^^^?^^^^^^^ ' »^. m^.'- _ ..i^.^, ,,'.;; ' i,*y^*g"?y*^a -*'^. -•-
Plate 3
ISABELLA AT THE NUNNERY
Measure for Measure, act i. . scent: v.
'' f' 0 '■<• 1 .1 /, ;)
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 25
As mercy does. If he had been as you,
And you as he, you would have slipp'd like him ;
But he, like you, would not have been so stern.
A7ig. Pray you, begone.
Isab. I would to Heaven I had your potency, And you were Isabel ! should it then be thus ? No ; I would tell what 'twere to be a judge, And what a prisoner.
Lucio. Ay, touch him : there's the vein. \Aside.
Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law. And you but waste your words.
Isab. Alas! alas!
Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once ; And He that might the vantage best have took, Found out the remedy. How would you be If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are .? Oh, think on that, And mercy then will breathe within your lips Like man new-made.
Ang. Be you content, fair maid ;
It is the law, not I, condemns your brother. Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son. It should be thus with him — he must die to-morrow.
Isab. To-morrow t Oh, that's sudden ! Spare him, spare him : He's not prepar'd for death ! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season : shall we serve Heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves .? Good, good my lord, bethink
you: Who is it that hath died for this offence ? There's many have committed it.
Lucio. Ay, well said.
Ang. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept. Those many had not dared to do that evil, If the first that did the edict infringe Had answer'd for his deed : now, 'tis awake ; Takes note of what is done ; and, like a prophet, Looks in a glass that shows what future evils
26 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceived, And so in progress to be hatch'd and born) Are now to have no successive degrees, But where they Hve to end.
Isab. Yet show some pity.
Aug. I show it most of all when I show justice ; For then I pity those I do not know. Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall ; And do him right that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied. Your brother dies to-morrow: be content.
Isab. So you must be the first that gives this sen- tence, And he that suffers. Oh, it is excellent To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
Lucio. That's well said.
Isab. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer
Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder. Merciful Heaven !
Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak Than the soft myrtle. But man, proud man ! Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape. Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven As make the angels weep ; who, with our spleens. Would all themselves laugh mortal.
Lucio. Oh, to him, to him, wench. He will relent ; He's coming, I perceive 't.
Prov. Pray Heaven she win him !
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself. Great men may jest with saints : 'tis wit in them ! But, in the less, foul profanation.
Lucio. Thou'rt in the right, girl ; more o' that.
Isab. That in the captain's but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE ^^
Lucio. Art advised o' that? more on't.
Ang. Why do you put these sayings upon me ?
Isab. Because authority, though it err Hke others, Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom ; Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know That's Hke my brother's fault. If it confess A natural guiltiness, such as is his. Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life.
Ang. She speaks, and 'tis
Such sense that my sense breeds with it. Fare you well.
Isab, Gentle my lord, turn back.
Ang. I will bethink me. Come again to-morrow.
Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you. Good my lord, turn back.
Ang. How ! bribe me }
Isab. Ay, with such gifts that Heaven shall share with you.
Liccio. You had marr'd all else.
Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold. Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor As fancy values them ; but with true prayers That shall be up at heaven, and enter there Ere sunrise ; prayers from preserved souls, From fastins: maids, whose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal.
Ang. Well, come to me
To-morrow.
Lucio. Go to ; 'tis well ; away. \Aside to Isabella.
Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe !
Ang. Amen.
For I am that way going to temptation \_Asi(ie.
Where prayers cross.
Isab. At what hour to-morrow
Shall I attend your lordship ?
Ang. At any time 'fore noon.
Isab. Save your honour !
\_Exeunt Lucio, Isabella, and Provost.
28 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Ang. From thee ; even from thy virtue. —
What's this ? what's this ? Is this her fault or mine ? The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most ? Ha ! Not she ; nor doth she tempt : but it is I, That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness ? Having waste ground
enough. Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary. And pitch our evils there } Oh, fie, fie, fie ! What dost thou } or what art thou, Angelo } Dost thou desire her foully, for those things That make her good } Oh, let her brother live. Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves. What? do I love
her. That I desire to hear her speak again. And feast upon her eyes .? What is't I dream on ? Oh, cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint. With saints dost bait thy hook. Most dangerous Is that temptation that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue. Never could the strumpet, With all her double vigour, art, and nature. Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite. Ever till now. When men were fond, I smiled, and wonder'd how !
\_Exit.
Scene III, — Enter Duke, habited^ like a friar, and Pro- vost.
Duke. Hail to you, provost ! so I think you are.
Prov. I am the provost. What's your will, good friar }
Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order, I come to visit the afHicted spirits Here in the prison. Do me the common right To let me see them ; and to make me know
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 29
The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly. Prov. I would do more than that, if more were need- ful.
Enter Juliet.
Look, here comes one ; a gentlewoman of mine. Who, falling in the flames of her own youth, Hath blister'd her report. She is with child, And he that got it, sentenced: a young man More fit to do another such offence Than die for this.
Duke. When must he die }
Prov. As I do think, to-morrow. — I have provided for you; stay awhile, \To Juliet.
And you shall be conducted.
Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry }
Juliet. I do ; and bear the shame most patiently.
Duke. I'll teach you how you shall arraign your con- science, And try your penitence, if it be sound. Or hollowly put on.
Juliet. I'll gladly learn.
Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you.^*
Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him.
Duke. So then it seems your most offenceful act Was mutually committed }
Juliet. Mutually.
Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his.
Jtiliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father.
Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter. But lest you do re- pent, As that the sin hath brought you to this shame — Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not Heaven, Showing we'd not spare Heaven as we love it, But as we stand in fear —
Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil, And take the shame with joy.
Duke. There rest.
Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow,
30 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
And I am going with instruction to him. —
Grace go with you ! Benedicite ! \_Exit.
Juliet. Must die to-morrow ! Oh, injurious love, That respites me a Hfe whose very comfort Is still a dying horror !
Prov. 'Tis pity of him. \Exeunt.
Scene IV. — Enter Angelo.
A7ig. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words, Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isabel. Heaven in my mouth, As if I did but only chew his name ; And in my heart the strong and swelling evil Of my conception. The state, whereon I studied, Is like a good thing, being often read, --
Grown fear'd and tedious ; yea, my gravity, Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride. Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume Which the air beats for vain. O place ! O form ! How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit. Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls To thy false seeming } Blood, thou still art blood ! Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, 'Tis not the devil's crest. —
Enter Servant.
How now, who's there t
Serv. One Isabel, a sister,
Desires access to you.
Ang, Teach her the way. \_Exit Servant.
O heavens !
Why does my blood thus muster to my heart. Making both it unable for itself, And dispossessing all the other parts Of necessary fitness ?
So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons ; Come all to help him, and so stop the air
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 31
By which he should revive ; and even so The general, subject to a vvell-vvish'd king, Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offence. —
Enter Isabella.
How now, fair maid ?
Isab. I am come to know your pleasure.
Ang. That you might know it would much better please me Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot live.
Isab, Even so? Heaven keep your honour !
\Retiring.
Ang. Yet may he live awhile ; and it may be As long as you or I. Yet he must die.
Isab. Under your sentence }
Ang. Yea.
Isab. When, I beseech you } that in his reprieve, Longer or shorter, he may be so fitted That his soul sicken not.
Ang. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices ! It were as good To pardon him that hath from nature stolen A man already made, as to remit Their saucy sweetness that do coin Heaven's image In stamps that are forbid : 'tis all as easy Falsely to take away a life true made As to put mettle in restrained means To make a false one.
Isab. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not in earth.
Ang. Say you so ? then shall I pose you quickly. Which had you rather, that the most just law Now took your brother's life, or, to redeem him. Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness As she that he hath stain'd.-*
Isab. Sir, believe this,
I had rather give my body than my soul.
Ang. I talk not of your soul. Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than account.
32 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Isab. How say you ?
Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that ; for I can speak Against the thing I say. Answer to this : I, now the voice of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life : Might there not be a charity in sin, To save this brother's life ?
Isab. Please you to do't,
I'll take it as a peril to my soul. It is no sin at all, but charity.
Ang. Pleased you to do't at peril of your soul, Were equal poise of sin and charity.
Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin Heaven let me bear it ! you granting of my suit, If that be sin, I'll make it my morn pra3^er To have it added to the faults of mine. And nothing of your, answer.
Ang. Nay, but hear me.
Your sense pursues not mine : either you are ignorant Or seem so, craftily ; and that's not good.
Isab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good. But graciously to know I am no better.
Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it doth tax itself : as these black masques Proclaim an enshield beauty ten times louder Than beauty could displayed. But mark me, To be received plain, I'll speak more gross : Your brother is to die.
Isab. So.
Ajig. And his offence is so, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain.
Isab. True.
Ang. Admit no other way to save his life (As I subscribe not that, nor any other. But in the loss of question), that you, his sister. Finding yourself desired of such a person, Whose credit with the judge, or own great place, Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-binding law ; and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either
Plate 4
ANGELO AND ISABELLA
Measure for Measure, act li., scene iv.
-.1' \ I I', 11
/. I I', !, {> 'Ml /
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 33
You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else to let him suffer; What would you do ?
Isad. As much for my poor brother as myself : That is, were I under the terms of death. The impression of keen whips I'd wear as rubies, And strip myself to death as to a bed That longing I have been sick for, ere I'd yield My body up to shame.
Ang, Then must your brother die.
Isad. And 'twere the cheaper way. Better it were a brother died at once Than that a sister by redeeming him. Should die forever.
Ang. Were not you then as cruel as the sentence That you have slander'd so ?
Isad. Ignominy in ransom, and free pardon, Are of two houses : lawful mercy is Nothing akin to foul redemption.
Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant, And rather proved the sliding of your brother A merriment than a vice.
Isab. Oh, pardon me, my lord ; it oft falls out. To have what we'd have, we speak not what we mean. I something do excuse the thing I hate, For his advantage that I dearly love.
Ang. We are all frail.
Isad. Else let my brother die,
If not a feodary, but only he, Owe, and succeed by weakness.
Aitg. Nay, women are frail too.
Isad. Ay, as the glasses where they view them- selves. Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women! — Help Heaven! men their creation mar In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten times frail ; For we are soft as our complexions are, And credulous to false prints.
Ang. I think it well.
And from this testimony of your own sex
1V.-3
34 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
(Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger
Than faults may shake our frames), let me be bold:
I do arrest your words ; be that you are,
That is, a woman ; if you be more, you're none;
If you be one (as you are well express'd
By all external warrants), show it now,
By putting on the destined livery.
Isab. I have no tongue but one : gentle my lord, Let me entreat you speak the former language.
Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you.
Isab. My brother did love Juliet ; and you tell me That he shall die for it.
Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love.
Isab. I know your virtue hath a license in't, Which seems a little fouler than it is. To pluck on others.
Ang. Believe me, on mine honour,
My words express my purpose.
Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believed, And most pernicious purpose ! Seeming, seeming! I will proclaim thee, Angelo ; look for't. Sign me a present pardon for my brother. Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the world Aloud what man thou art.
Aiig. Who will believe thee, Isabel ?
My unsoil'd name, the austereness of my life, My vouch against you, and my place i' the state Will, so your accusation overweigh That you shall stifle in your own report, And smell of calumny. I have' begun, And now I give my sensual race the rein. Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ; Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes That banish what they sue for ; redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will, Or else he must not only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out To lingering sufferance. Answer me to-morrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most,
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 35
I'll prove a tyrant to him. As for you,
Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true.
\^Exit. Isab. To whom shall I complain } Did I tell this. Who would believe me .'' Oh, perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the selfsame tongue, Either of condemnation or approof ! Bidding the law make court'sy to their will. Hooking both right and wrong to the appetite, To follow as it draws ! I'll to my brother. Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour That had he twenty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks he'd yield them up Before his sister should her body stoop To such abhorr'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die : More than our brother is our chastity. I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request. And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. \^Exit.
ACT III Scene I. — Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost.
Duke. So then you hope of pardon from Lord An- gelo }
Claud. The miserable have no other medicine But only hope. I have hope to live, and am prepared to die.
Duke. Be absolute for death ; either death or life Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life : If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep. A breath thou art (Servile to all the skyey influences) That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st, Hourly afflict. Merely thou art death's fool ; For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun. And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble, For all the accommodations that thou bear'st
36 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Are nursed by baseness. Thou art by no means valiant;
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork
Of a poor worm. Thy best of rest is sleep,
And that thou oft provok'st ; yet grossly fear'st
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself.
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains
That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not ;
For what thou hast not still thou striv'st to get,
And what thou hast forget'st. Thou art not certain ; •
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,
After the moon. If thou art rich, thou art poor ;
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none ;
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire,
The mere effusion of thy proper loins.
Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum.
For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth nor
age ; But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep. Dreaming on both ; for all thy blessed youth Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld ; and when thou art old and rich. Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty. To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this That bears the name of life ? Yet in this life Lie hid more thousand deaths ; yet death we fear. That makes these odds all even.
Claud. I humbly thank you.
To sue to live, I find I seek to die ; And seeking death, find life. Let it come on.
Enter Isabella.
Isab. What, ho ! Peace here ; grace and good com- pany !
Prov. Who's there t Come in ; the wish deserves a welcome.
Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again.
Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 37
Isab. My business is a word or two with Claudio.
Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here's your sister.
Duke. Provost, a word with you.
Prov. As many as you please.
Duke. Bring me to hear them speak where I may be concealed Yet hear them. \^Exeunt Duke and Provost.
Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort .?
Isab. Why, as all comforts are, most good indeed. Lord Angelo, having affairs to heaven. Intends you for his swift ambassador. Where you shall be an everlasting leiger. Therefore your best appointment make with speed ; To-morrow you set on.
Claud. Is there no remedy 1
Isab. None but such remedy as, to save a head, To cleave a heart in twain.
Claud. But is there any .?
Isab. Yes, brother, you may live ; There is a devilish mercy in the judge. If you'll implore it, that will free your life. But fetter you till death.
Claud. Perpetual durance ?
Isab. Ay, just, perpetual durance ; a restraint, Though all the world's vastidity you had, To a determined scope.
Claud. But in what nature t
Isab. In such a one as (you consenting to't) Would bark your honour from that trunk you bear, And leave you naked.
Claud. Let me know the point.
Isab. Oh, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake. Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain, And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die ? The sense of death is most in apprehension ; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon. In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
38 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Claud. Why give you me this shame ?
Think you I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness ? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride, And hug it in mine arms.
Isab. There spake my brother; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice ! Yes, thou must die. Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy — Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth enmew As falcon doth the fowl — is yet a devil ; His filth within being cast, he would appear A pond as deep as hell.
Claud. The princely Angelo ?
Isab. Oh, 'tis the cunning livery of hell The damned'st body to invest and cover In princely guards ! Dost thou think, Claudio, If I would yield him my virginity Thou might'st be freed ?
Claud. O heavens ! it cannot be.
Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank offence, So to offend him still. This night's the time That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou diest to-morrow.
Claud. Thou shalt not do't.
Isab. O, were it but my life, I'd throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin.
Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel.
Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow.
Claud. Yes. Has he affections in him, That thus can make him bite the law by the nose When he would force it ? Sure it is no sin ; Or of the deadly seven it is the least.
Isab. Which is the least ?
Claud. If it were damnable, he, being so wise, Why would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably fined } Oh, Isabel !
Isab. What says my brother ?
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 39
Claud. Death is a fearful thing.
Isab. And shamed Hfe a hateful.
Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice ; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds. And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world ; or to be worse than worst Of those that lawless and incertain thoughts Imagine howling ! 'Tis too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, or imprisonment Can lay on nature is a paradise To what we fear of death.
Isab. Alas! alas!
Claud. Sweet sister, let me live.
What sin you do to save a brother's life Nature dispenses with the deed so far That it becomes a virtue.
Isab. Oh, you beast!
Oh, faithless coward : Oh, dishonest wretch! Wilt thou be made a man out of my vice } Is't not a kind of incest to take life From thine own sister's shame } What should I think } Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father fair! For such a warped slip of wilderness Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance : Die ! perish ! might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed. I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death, No word to save thee.
Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel.
Isab. Oh, fie, fie, fie !
Thy sin's not accidental, but a trade : Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd. Tis best that thou diest quickly. {Going.
Clatid. Oh, hear me, Isabella.
40 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Re-enter Duke.
Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word.
Isab. What is your will ?
Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by-and-by have some speech with you : the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit.
Isab. I have no superfluous leisure ; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs ; but I will attend you awhile.
Duke. \To Claudio, aside.~\ Son, I have overheard what hath passed between you and your sister. An- gelo had never the purpose to corrupt her ; only he hath made an essay of her virtue, to practise his judg- ment with the disposition of natures. She, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious de- nial which he is most glad to receive. I am confessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true ; therefore, pre- pare yourself to death. Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible. To-morrow you must die; go to your knees and make ready.
Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life that I will sue to be rid of it.
Duke. Hold you there. — Farewell. — \_Exit Claudio.
Re-enter Provost.
Provost, a word with you.
Prov. What's your will, father }
Duke. That now you are come you will be gone. Leave me awhile with the maid ; my mind promises with my habit, no loss shall touch her by my company.
Prov. In good time. \_Exit Provost.
Duke. The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good : the goodness that is cheap in beaut}^ makes beauty brief in goodness ; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you fortune hath convey 'd to my understanding; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at An-
Plate 5 CLAUDIO AND rSABF.LLA
Measure for Measure, act iii., scene i
(; o'l 1,1 /.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE s,\
gelo. How will you do to content this substitute, and to save your brother ?
Isab. I am now going to resolve him. I had rather my brother die by the law than my son should be un- lawfully born. But oh, how much is the good duke de- ceived in Angelo ! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain or discover his gov- ernment.
Duke. That shall not be much amiss. Yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation ; he made trial of you only. Therefore, fasten your ear on my advisings ; to the love I have in doing good, a rem- edy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously do a poor wronged lady a mer- ited benefit, redeem your brother from the angry law, do no stain to your own gracious person, and much please the absent duke, if, peradventure, he shall ever return to have hearing of this business.
hab. Let me hear you speak further ; I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit.
Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Have you not heard speak of Mariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea }
Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name.
Duke. Her should this Angelo have married, was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed ; between which time of the contract and limit of the so- lemnity her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of his sister. But mark how heavily this befell to the poor gentle- woman : there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural : with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her mar- riage dowry ; with both, her combinate husband, this well-seeming Angelo.
Isab. Can this be so.? Did Angelo so leave her.''
Duke. Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort ; swallowed his vows whole, pretend-
42 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
ing, in her, discoveries of dishonour ; in few, bestowed her on her own lamentation, which she yet wears for his sake ; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not.
Isab. What a merit were it in death to take this poor maid from the world ! What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live ! But how out of this can she avail ?
Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal ; and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it.
Isab. Show me how, good father.
Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the con- tinuance of her first affection ; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more vio- lent and unruly. Go you to Angelo, answer his re- quiring with a plausible obedience ; agree with his de- mands to the point : only refer yourself to this advan- tage : first, that your stay with him may not be long ; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it, and the place answer to convenience. This being granted in course, now follows all. We shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your appointment, go in your place ; if the encounter acknowledge itself here- after, it may compel him to her recompense ; and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. . The maid will I frame, and make fit for his at- tempt. If you think well to carry this as you may, the doulDleness of the benefit defends the deceit from re- proof. What think you of it 1
Isab. The image of it gives me content already, and I trust it will grow to a most prosperous perfection.
Duke. It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo ; if for this night he entreat you to his bed give him promise of satisfaction. I will pres- ently to St. Luke's ; there, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. At that place call upon me ; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 43
Isab. I thank you for this comfort. Fare you well, good father. \_Exeunt severally.
Scene II — Enter Duke, <3;j a friar ; with him Elbow, Clown, and Officers.
Elbow. Nay, if there be no remedy for it but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, we shall have all the world drink brown and white bastard.
Duke. Oh, heavens ! what stuff is here }
Clown. 'Twas never merry world since of two usuries the. merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd, by order of law, a furr'd gown to keep him warm ; and furr'd with fox and lamb skins too, to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing.
Elbow. Come your way, sir. — Bless you, good father friar !
Duke. And you, good brother father. What offence hath this man made you, sir ?
Elbow. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law ; and, sir, we take him to be a thief, too, sir ; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock, which we have sent to the deputy.
Duke. Fie, sirrah ; a bawd, a wicked bawd ! The evil that thou causest to be done. That is thy means to live. Do thou but think What 'tis to cram a maw or clothe a back From such a filthy vice. Say to thyself: From their abominable and beastly touches I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. Canst thou believe thy living is a life, So stinkingly depending } Go, mend ; go, mend.
Clown. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir; but yet, sir, I would prove —
Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer ; Correction and instruction must both work Ere this rude beast will profit.
Elbow. He must before the deputy, sir ; he has given
44 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
him warning; the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster: if he be a whoremonger and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand.
Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be. Free from our faults, as faults from seeming free !
Enter Lucio.
Elbow. His neck will come to your waist; a cord, sir.
Clown. I spy comfort ; I cry bail. Here's a gentle- man, and a friend of mine.
Lucio. How now, noble Pompey ? What, at the heels of Caesar } Art thou led in triumph ? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman, to be had now for putting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutch'd .? What reply t Ha } What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method 1 Is't not drown'd i' the last rain .? Ha } What say'st thou, trot.'* Is the world as it was, man } Which is the way .? Is it sad, and few words ? Or how 1 The trick of it ?
Duke. Still thus, and thus ! still worse !
Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy mistress 1 Procures she still .? Ha.-^
Clown. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is herself in the tub.
Lticio. Why, 'tis good ; it is the right of it; it must be so. Ever your fresh whore and your powder'd bawd. An unshunn'd consequence ; it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey .?
Clown. Yes, faith, sir.
Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey. Farewell. Go; say I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey.? Or how.-*
Elbow. For being a bawd, for being a bawd.
Lucio. Well, then, imprison him. If imprisonment be the due of a bawd, why, 'tis his right. Bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too ; bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey. Commend me to the prison, Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey ; you will keep the house.
Clown. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 45
Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey ; it is not the wear. I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage, if you take it not patiently ; why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. — Bless you, friar.
Duke. And you.
Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey .'' Ha }
Elbow. Come your ways, sir ; come.
Clown. You will not bail me then, sir "i
Lucio. Then, Pompey } nor now. — What news abroad, friar } What news t
Elbow. Come your ways, sir ; come.
Lucio. Go — to kennel, Pompey, go. —
\_Exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers. What news, friar, of the duke }
Duke. I know none. Can you tell me of any ?
Lucio. Some say he is with the Emperor of Russia ; other some, he is in Rome. But where is he, think you .?
Duke. I know not where. But wheresoever, I wish him well.
Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him to steal from the state and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence ; he puts transgression to't.
Duke. He does well in't.
Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him : something too crabbed that way, friar.
Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity must cure it.
Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of agreat kindred ; it is well allied ; but it is impossible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say this Angelo was not made by man and woman, after the downright way of creation. Is it true, think you '^.
Duke. How should he be made then ?
Lucio. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him ; some that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congeal'd ice. That I know to be true. And he is a motion un- generative, that's infallible.
Duke. You are pleasant, sir, and speak apace.
Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for
46 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
the rebellion of a cod-piece to take away the life of a man? Would the duke that is absent have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting of a hundred bastards he would have paid for the nursing of a thousand. He had some feeling of the sport; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy.
Duke. I never heard the absent duke much detected for women ; he was not inclined that way.
Lucio. Oh, sir, you are deceived.
Duke. 'Tis not possible.
Lucio. Who ? not the duke ? Yes, your beggar of fifty. And his use was to put a ducat in her clack- dish. The duke had crotchets in him. He would be drunk too, that let me inform you.
Duke. You do him wrong, surely.
Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of his. A shy fellow was the duke ; and I believe I know the cause of his withdrawing.
Duke. What, I prithee, might be the cause ?
Lucio. No — pardon — 'tis a secret must be lock'd within the teeth and the lips ; but this I can let you understand — the greater file of the subject held the duke to be wise.
Duke. Wise ? Why, no question but he was.
Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, un weighing fellow.
Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking ; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore, you speak unskilfully ; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd in your malice.
Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him.
Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowl- edge with dearer love.
Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know.
Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return (as our prayers are he may), let me desire you to make your
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 47
answer before him. If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it. I am bound to call upon you ; and, I pray you, your narr\e ?
Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio, well known to the duke.
Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you.
Lucio. I fear you not.
Duke. Oh, you hope the duke will return no more, or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm ; you'll forswear this again.
Lucio. I'll be hang'd first: thou art deceived in me, friar. But no more of this. Canst thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow, or no .''
Duke. Why should he die, sir ?
Lucio. Why ? For filling a bottle with a tun-dish. I would the duke we talk of were return'd again. This ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with con- tinency: sparrows must not build in his house-eaves, because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answer'd ; he would never bring them to light. Would he were return'd ! Marry, this Claudio is condemn'd for untrussing. Farewell, good friar; I prithee pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays. He's now past it ; yet, and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown-bread and garlic : say that I said so. Farewell. \Exit.
Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape ; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue } But who comes here ?
Enter Escalus, Provost, Bawd, and Officers.
Escal. Go, away with her to prison. Bawd. Good my lord, be good to me; your honour is accounted a merciful man : good my lord.
48 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Escal. Double and treble admonition, and still forfeit in the same kind ? This would make mercy swear and play the tyrant.
Prov. A bawd of eleven years" continuance, may it please your honour.
Bawd. My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me. Mistress Kate Keep-down was with child by him in the duke's time; he promised her marriage; his child is a year and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob. I have kept it myself, and see how he goes about to abuse me.
Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much license; let him be called before us. — Away with her to prison. — Go to; no more words. — \Exeunt Bawd a^td Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd: Claudio must die to-morrow. Let him be furnished with di- vines, and have all charitable preparation. If my broth- er wrought by my pity, it should not be so with him.
Prov. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advised him for the entertainment of death.
Escal. Good-even, good father.
Duke. Bliss and goodness on you.
Escal. Of whence are you t
Duke. Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time. I am a brother Of gracious order, late come from the see, In special business from his holiness.
Escal. What news abroad i' the world '^.
Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness that the dissolution of it must cure it. Nov- elty is only in request, and it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of course as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking. There is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure, but security enough to make fellowships accursed: much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposi- tion was the duke t
Escal. One that, above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself.
Plate 7 PROVOST WITH RAGOZINE'S HEAD
Measure for' Measure , tno iii
'- ' I' 'i (' ■•; I J /. ;.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 49
Duke. What pleasure was he given to ?
Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at anything which profess'd to make him re- joice. A gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove pros- perous ; and let me desire to know how you find Clau- dio prepared. I am made to understand that you have lent him visitation.
Duke. He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the determination of justice; yet had he framed to himself, by the instruction of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life, which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now is he resolved to die.
Escal. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have la- bour'd for the poor gentleman to the extremest shore of my modesty; but my brother justice have I found so severe that he hath forced me to tell him he is indeed — ^justice.
Duke. If his own life answer the straitness of his pro- ceeding, it shall become him well ; wherein, if he chance to fail, he hath sentenced himself.
Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner. Fare you well.
Duke. Peace be with you ! —
\_Exeunt Escalus and Provost.
He who the sword of Heaven will bear,
Should be as holy as severe ;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go ;
More nor less to others paying.
Than by self-offences weighing.
Shame to him, whose cruel striking
Kills for faults of his own liking!
Twice treble shame on Angelo,
To weed my vice and let his grow!
Oh, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side I 1V.-4
so COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
How may likeness, made in crimes,
Making practice on the times,
To draw with idle spiders' strings
Most pond'rous and substantial things !
Craft against vice I must apply.
With Angelo to-night shall lie
His old betrothed, but despised ;
So disguise shall, by the disguised,
Pay with falsehood false exacting.
And perform an old contracting. \_Exit.
ACT IV Scene I. — Mariana discovered sitting ; a Boy singing.
SONG.
Take, oh take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn ; And those eyes, the break of day.
Lights that do mislead the morn. But my kisses bring again,
bring again. Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,
seal'd in vain.
Mari. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away ; Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often still'd my brawling discontent. — \Exit Boy.
Enter Duke.
I cry you mercy, sir, and well could wish You had not found me here so musical ; Let me excuse me, and believe me so — My mirth is much displeased, but pleased my woe. Duke. 'Tis good: though music oft hath such a charm To make bad good, and good provoke to harm, I pray you tell me, hath anybody inquired for me here to-day } Much upon this time have I promised here to meet.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 51
Mari. You have not been inquired after. I have sat here ail day.
Enter Isabella.
Duke. I do constantly believe you. The time is come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little ; maybe I will call upon you anon for some advantage to yourself.
Mari. I am always bound to you. \Exit.
Duke. Very well met, and welcome. What is the news from this good deputy ?
Isab. He hath a garden circummured with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd ; And to that vineyard is a planched gate. That makes his opening with this bigger key. This other doth command a little door. Which from the vineyard to the garden leads ; There have I made my promise upon the Heavy middle of the night to call upon him.
Duke. But shall you on your knowledge find this way }
Isab. I have ta'en a due and wary note upon 't ; With whispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept, he did show me The way twice o'er.
Duke. Are there no other tokens
Between you 'greed concerning her observance }
Isab. No, none, but only a repair i' the dark ; And that I have possess'd him my most stay Can be but brief; for I have made him know I have a servant comes with me along That stays upon me, whose persuasion is I come about my brother.
Duke. 'Tis well borne up.
I have not yet made known to Mariana A word of this. — What, ho ! within ! come forth !
Re-enter Mariana.
I pray you be acquainted with this maid; She comes to do you good.
52 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Isab. I do desire the like.
Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you ?
Mart. Good friar, I know you do, and have found it.
Duke. Take then this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear. I shall attend your leisure ; but make haste ; The vaporous night approaches.
Mart. Will't please you walk aside ?
\_Exeunt Mariana and Isabella.
Duke. Oh, place and greatness, millions of false eyes Are stuck upon thee ! Volumes of report Run with these false and most contrarious quests Upon thy doings. Thousand 'scapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream. And rack thee in their fancies ! — Welcome ! How agreed t
Re-enter Mariana and Isabella.
Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her, father, if you advise it.
Duke It is not my consent,
But my entreaty too.
Isab. Little have you to say,
When you depart from him, but, soft and low, Remember now my brother.
Mart. Fear me not.
Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all. He is your husband on a pre-contract. To bring you thus together 'tis no sin, Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit. Come, let us go ; Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithes to sow. [Exeunt.
Scene II. — Enter Provost and Clown.
Prov. Come hither, sirrah. Can you cut off a man's head.?
Clown. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can ; but if
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 53
he be a married man he is his wife's head, and I can never cut off a woman's head.
Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. Here is in our prison a com- mon executioner, who in his office lacks a helper. If you will take on you to assist him, it shall redeem you from your gyves ; if not, you shall have your full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an un- pitied whipping ; for you have been a notorious bawd.
Clown. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd time out of mind ; but yet I will be content to be a lawful hang- man. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow-partner.
Prov. What ho, Abhorson ! Where's Abhorson, there .?
Enter Abhorson.
Abhor. Do you call, sir .?
Prov. Sirrah, here's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you ; if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with you; he hath been a bawd.
Abhor. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him, he will discredit our mystery.
Prov. Go to, sir; you weigh equally; a feather will turn the scale. \^Exit.
Clown. Pray, sir, by your good favour (for surely, sir, a good favour you have, but that you have a hanging look), do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery }
Abhor. Ay, sir, a mystery.
Clown. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery ; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do prove my occupation a mystery. But what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd I cannot imagine.
Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery.
Clown. Proof.
54 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough ; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough. So every true man's apparel fits your thief.
Re-enter Provost.
Prov. Are you agreed ?
Clown. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find your hang- man is a more penitent trade than your bawd : he doth oftener ask forgiveness.
Prov. You, sirrah, provide your block and your axe, to-morrow four o'clock.
Abhor. Come on, bawd ; I will instruct thee in my trade; follow.
Clown. I do desire to learn, sir; and I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you will find me yare ; for truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn.
Prov. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio.
\Exeunt Clown and Abhorson. Th' one has my pity ; not a jot the other. Being a murderer, though he were my brother. —
Enter Claudio.
Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death ; 'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine }
Claud. As fast lock'd up in sleep as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones. He will not wake.
Prov. Who can do good on him }
Well, go, prepare yourself. But hark, what noise }
\_Knocking within. Heaven give your spirits comfort ! — \Exit Claudio.
By-and-by. — I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve. For the most gentle Claudio. — Welcome, father.
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Enter Duke.
Duke. The best and wholesomest spirits of the night Envelop you, good Provost! Who called here of late ?
Prov. None, since the curfew rung.
Duke. Not Isabel ?
Prov. No.
Duke. They will then, ere't be long.
Prov. What comfort is for Claudio }
Duke, There's some in hope.
Prov. It is a bitter deputy.
Duke. Not so, not so ; his life is parallel'd Even with the stroke and line of his great justice; He doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself which he spurs on his power To qualify in others. Were he meal'd With that which he corrects, then were he tyrannous. But this being so, he's just. — Now are they come.
\Knocking within ; Provost goes out. This is a gentle provost. Seldom when The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. — How now .<* What noise .'' That spirit's possess 'd with
haste That wounds the unassisting postern with these strokes.
Re-enter Provost.
Prov. \Speaking to one at the door?\ There he must stay until the officer Arise to let him in ; he is call'd up.
Duke. Have you no countermand for Claudio yet, But he must die to-morrow ?
Prov. None, sir, none.
Duke. As near the dawning, Provost, as it is. You shall hear more ere morning.
Prov. Happily
You something know ; yet I believe there comes No countermand ; no such example have we.
56 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Besides, upon the very siege of justice, Lord Angelo hath to the public ear Profess'd the contrary.
Enter a Messenger.
Duke. This is his lordship's man.
Prov. And here comes Claudio's pardon.
Mess. My lord hath sent you this note ; and by me this further charge, that you swerve not from the small- est article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circum- stance. Good -morrow; for, as I take it, it is almost day.
Prov. I shall obey him. \_Exit Messenger.
Duke. \Aside^ This is his pardon, purchased by such sin For which the pardoner himself is in. Hence hath offence his quick celerity, When it is borne in high authority. When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended. That for the fault's love is the offender friended. — Now, sir, what news ?
Prov. I told you : Lord Angelo, belike thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting on ; methinks strangely, for he hath not used it before.
Duke. Pray you, let's hear.
Prov. \_Reads?^ Whatsoever you may hear to the con- trary, let Claudio be executed by four of the clock; and, in the 'afternoon, Barnardine ; for my better satisfaction, let me have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed, with a thought that more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril. — What say you to this, sir.?
Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be exe- cuted in the afternoon }
Prov. A Bohemian born, but here nursed up and bred ; one that is a prisoner nine years old.
Duke. How came it that the absent duke had not
MEASURE FOR MEASURE $7
either deliver'd him to his liberty or executed him ? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so.
Prov. His friends still wrought reprieves for him. And, indeed, his fact, till now in the government of Lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof.
Du^e. Is it now apparent ?
Prov. Most manifest, and not denied by himself.
Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison } How seems he to be touch'd ?
Prov. A man that apprehends death no more dread- fully but as a drunken sleep, careless, reckless, and fear- less of what's past, present, or to come; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal.
Duke. He wants advice.
Prov. He will hear none. He hath evermore had the liberty of the prison ; give him leave to escape hence, he would not ; drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very often awaked him, as if to carry him to execution, and show'd him a seeming warrant for it. It hath not moved him at all.
Duke. More of him anon. There is written in your brow. Provost, honesty and constancy. If I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me. But in the bold- ness of my cunning, I will lay myself in hazard. Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no great- er forfeit to the law than Angelo who hath sentenced him. To make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite; for the which you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy.
Prov. Pray, sir, in what ?
Duke. In the delaying death.
Prov. Alack ! how may I do it, having the hour lim- ited, and an express command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo? I may make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest.
Duke. By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if my instructions may be your guide. Let this Bar- nardine be this morning executed, and his head borne to Angelo.
S8 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour.
Duke. Oh, death's a great disguiser; and you may add to it. Shave the head, and tie the beard ; and say it was the desire of the penitent to be so bared before his death. You know the course is common. If any- thing fall to you upon this, more than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess I will plead against it with my life.
Prov, Pardon me, good father ; it is against my oath.
Duke. Were you sworn to the duke, or to the depu-
Prov. To him, and to his substitutes.
Duke. You will think you have made no offence, if the duke avouch the justice of your dealing }
Prov. But what likelihood is in that }
Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see you fearful that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the duke. You know the character, I doubt not ; and the signet is not strange to you.
Prov. I know them both.
Duke. The contents of this is the return of the duke; you shall anon overread it at your pleasure ; where you shall find, within these two days he will be here. This is a thing that Angelo knows not, for he this very day receives letters of strange tenor ; perchance of the duke's death, perchance entering into some monastery ; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ. Look, the un- folding star calls up the shepherd. Put not yourself into amazement, how these things should be ; all diffi- culties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head. I will give him a present shrift, and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amazed ; but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away ; it is almost clear dawn.
\_Exeunt.
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Scene III. — ^«/^r Clown.
Clown. I am as well acquainted here as I was in our house of profession. One would think it were Mistress Over-done's own house, for here be many of her old cus- tomers. First, here's young Master Rash ; he's in for a commodity of brown paper and old ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds, of which he made five marks ready money : marry, then, ginger was not much in re- quest, for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one Master Caper, at the suit of Master Three-pile the mercer, for some four suits of peach-colour'd satin, which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, and young Master Deep-vow, and Master Copper-spur, and Master Starve-lackey the rapier and dagger man, and young Drop-heir that kill'd lusty Pud- ding, and Master Forthright the tilter, and brave Mas- ter Shoe-tie the great traveller, and wild Half-can that stabb'd P*ots, and, I think, forty more ; all great doers in our trade, and are now for the Lord's sake.
Enter Abhorson.
Abhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither.
Clown. Master Barnardine ! you must rise and be hang'd, Master Barnardine !
Abhor. What, ho, Barnardine !
Barnar. \Within^ A pox o' your throats! Who makes that noise there t What are you ?
Clown. Your friends, sir ; the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death.
Barnar. [ Within7\ Away, you rogue, away ; I am sleepy.
Abhor. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly, too.
Clown. Pray, Master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards.
Abhor. Go in to him and fetch him out.
Clown. He is coming, sir, he is coming; I hear his straw rustle.
6o COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Enter Barnardine.
Abhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah ?
Clown. Very ready, sir.
Barnar. How now, Abhorson ? what's the news with you ?
Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers ; for, look you, the warrant's come.
Barnar. You rogue, I have been drinking all night, I am not fitted for't.
Clown. Oh, the better, sir ; for he that drinks all night and is hang'd betimes in the morning may sleep the sounder all the next day.
Enter Duke.
Abhor. Look you, sir ; here comes your ghostly father. Do we jest now, think you ?
Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you, and pray with you.
Barnar. Friar, not I ; I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains with billets. I will not con- sent to die this day, that's certain.
Duke. Oh, sir, you must ; and therefore, I beseech you, Look forward on the journey you shall go.
Barnar. I swear I will not die to-day for any man's persuasion.
Duke. But hear you —
Barnar. Not a word; if you have anything to say to me, come to my ward, for thence will not I to-day.
\^Exit.
Enter Provost.
Duke. Unfit to live or die. Oh, gravel heart ! — After him, fellows; bring him to the block.
\_Exeunt Abhorson aitd Clown. Prov. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner 1
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Duke. A creature unprepared, unmeet for death ; And to transport him in the mind he is Were damnable.
Prov. Here in the prison, father,
There died this morning of a cruel fever One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, A man of Claudio's years ; his beard and head Just of his colour. What if we do omit This reprobate till he were well inclined, And satisfy the deputy with the visage Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio .''
Duke. Oh, 'tis an accident that Heaven provides I Despatch it presently ; the hour draws on Prefix'd by Angelo. See this be done. And sent according to command, whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die.
Pi'ov. This shall be done, good father, present-
But Barnardine must die this afternoon. And how shall we continue Claudio, To save me from the danger that might come If he were known alive }
Duke. Let this be done : Put them in secret holds. Both Barnardine and Claudio. Ere twice The sun hath made his journal greeting to The under generation you shall find Your safety manifested.
Prov. I am your free dependant.
Duke. Quick, despatch,
And send the head to Angelo. \^Exit Provost.
Now will I write letters to Angelo — The provost he shall bear them — whose contents Shall witness to him I am near at home ; And that by great injunctions I am bound To enter publicly. Him I'll desire To meet me at the consecrated fount, A league below the city ; and from thence, By cold gradation and weal-balanced form, We shall proceed with Angelo.
62 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Re-enter Provost.
Prov. Here is the head ; I'll carry it myself.
Duke. Convenient is it. Make a swift return ; For I would commune with you of such things That want no ears but yours.
Prov. I'll make all speed.
\_Exit.
Isab. [ Within7\ Peace, ho, be here !
Dtike. The tongue of Isabel ; she's come to know If yet her brother's pardon be come hither ; But I will keep her ignorant of her good To make her heavenly comforts of despair When it is least expected.
Enter Isabella.
Isab. Ho, by your leave.
Duke. Good -morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
Isab. The better, given me by so holy a man. Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon }
Duke. He hath released him, Isabel, from the world; His head is off, and sent to Angelo.
Isab. Nay, but it is not so.
Duke. It is no other.
Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience.
Isab. Oh, I will to him, and pluck out his eyes !
Duke. You shall not be admitted to his sight.
Isab. Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel ! Injurious world ! Most damned Angelo !
Duke. This nor hurts him nor profits you a jot : Forbear it therefore ; give your cause to Heaven. Mark what I say, which you shall find By every syllable a faithful verity : The duke comes home to-morrow ; nay, dry your eyes. One of our convent and his confessor Gives me this instance : Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo, Who do prepare to meet him at the gates.
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There to give up their power. If you can, pace your
wisdom In that good path that I would wish it go ; And you shall have your bosom on this wretch, Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, And general honour.
Isab. I am directed by you.
Duke, This letter then to Friar Peter give ; 'Tis that he sent me of the duke's return. Say, by this token, I desire his company At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause and yours I'll perfect him withal ; and he shall bring you Before the duke ; and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home, and home. For my poor self, I am combined by a sacred vow. And shall be absent. Wend you with this letter. Command these fretting waters from your eyes With a light heart ; trust not my holy order If I pervert your course. — Who's here '^.
Enter Lucio.
Lucio. Good-even,
Friar ; where is the provost .'*
Duke. Not within, sir.
Lucio. Oh, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart to see thine eyes so red ; thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran ; I dare not for my head fill my belly ; one fruitful meal would set me to't. But they say the duke will be here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I loved thy brother : if the old fantastical duke of dark corners had been at home he had lived.
\Exit Isabella.
Duke. Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholden to your reports; but the best is he lives not in them.
Lucio. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do : he's a better woodman than thou takest him for.
Duke. Well, you'll answer this one day. Fare ye well.
Lucio. Nay, tarry ; I'll go along with thee ; I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke.
-^-i
64 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Duke. You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true ; if not true, none were enough.
Lucio. I was once before him for getting a wench with child.
Duke. Did you such a thing ?
Lucio. Yes, marry, did I ; but was fain to forswear it ; they would else have married me to the rotten med- lar.
Duke. Sir, your company is fairer than honest. Rest you well.
Lucio. By my troth, I'll go with thee to the lane's end. If bawdy talk offend you, we'll have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr ; 1 shall stick.
\Exeunt.
Scene IV. — Enter Angelo and Escalus.
Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath disvouch'd other.
Ang. In most uneven and distracted manner. His actions show much like to madness. Pray Heaven his wisdom be not tainted ! And why meet him at the gates, and re-deliver our authorities there }
Escal. I guess not.
Ang. And why should we proclaim it in an hour be- fore his entering, that if any crave redress of injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street ?
Escal. He shows his reason for that : to have a de- spatch of complaints, and to deliver us from devices here- after, which shall then have no power to stand against us.
Ang. Well, I beseech you, let it be proclaim'd. Betimes i' the morn I'll call you at your house. Give notice to such men of sort and suit As are to meet him.
EscaL I shall, sir : fare you well.
• \_Exit.
Ang. Good-night. — This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant And dull to all proceedings. A deflower'd maid !
Plate 8
ISABELLA AND THE DUKE
Measure for Measur< - ne i
I' I ( / I
''- (' .V I I', n
/. m; (, i> ■■. 1.1/ '.I
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 65
And by an eminent body that enforced
The law against it! But that her tender shame
Will not proclaim against her maiden loss,
How might she tongue me ? Yet reason dares her ? —
no : For my authority bears a credent bulk That no particular scandal once can touch But it confounds the breather. He should have lived, Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense. Might in the times to come have ta'en revenge By so receiving a dishonoured life With ransom of such shame. 'Would yet he had
lived ! Alack, when once our grace we have forgot. Nothing goes right ; we would, and we would not.
\^Exit.
Scene V. — Enter Duke, in his own habits and Friar
Peter.
Duke. The letters at fit time deliver me.
\ Giving letters. The Provost knows our purpose and our plot. The matter being afoot, keep your instruction. And hold you ever to our special drift ; Though sometimes you do blench from this to that, As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavius' house, And tell him where I stay ; give the like notice To Valentinus, Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate ; But send me Flavius first.
F. Peter. It shall be speeded well.
\Exit Friar.
Enter Varrius.
Duke. I thank thee, Varrius ; thou hast made good haste ; Come, we will walk. There's other of our friends Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius.
\Exeunt.
iv.-s
66 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Scene VI. — Enter Isabella and Mariana.
Isab. To speak so indirectly I am loath ; I would say the truth ; but to accuse him so, That is your part. Yet I am advised to do it ; He says, to veil full purpose.
Mart. Be ruled by him.
Isab. Besides, he tells me that, if peradventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange, for 'tis a physic That's bitter to sweet end.
Mart. I would Friar Peter —
Isab. Oh, peace ; the friar is come.
Enter Friar Peter.
F. Peter. Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, Where you may have such vantage on the duke. He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets
sounded. The generous and gravest citizens Have hent the gates, and very near upon The duke is ent'ring; therefore, hence, away.
\_Exemit.
ACT V
Scene \. — Mariana {veiled), Isabella and Peter at a distance. Enter, at opposite doors, Duke, Varrius, Lords; Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, Officers, and Citizens.
Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met. — Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you.
Ang. and Escal. Happy return be to your royal grace !
Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you, and we hear Such goodness of your justice that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to public thanks. Forerunning more requital.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 67
Aug. You make my bonds still greater.
Diike. Oh, your desert speaks loud ; and I should wrong it To lock it in the wards of covert bosom, When it deserves with characters of brass A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand. And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favours that keep within. — Come, Escalus ; You must walk by us on our other hand ; And good supporters are you.
Peter and Isabella come forward.
F. Peter. Now is your time ; speak loud, and kneel before him.
Isab. Justice, O royal duke ! Veil your regard Upon a wrong'd — I'd fain have said a maid ! O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye By throwing it on any other object, Till you have heard me in my true complaint, And given me justice, justice, justice, justice !
Duke, Relate your wrongs. In what } by whom ? Be brief. Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice. Reveal yourself to him.
Isab. O worthy duke.
You bid me seek redemption of the devil. Hear me yourself, for that which I must speak Must either punish me, not being believed. Or wring redress from you; hear me, oh, hear me, here.
Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm. She hath been a suitor to me for her brother, Cut off by course of justice.
Isab. By course of justice !
Ang. And she will speak most bitterly and strange.
Isab. Most strange, but yet most truly will I speak. That Angelo's forsworn, is it not strange ? That Angelo's a murderer, is't not strange ?
68 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a virgin-violator, Is it not strange, and strange ?
Duke, Nay, ten times strange.
Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo Than this is all as true as it is strange : Nay, it is ten times true ; for truth is truth To the end of reckoning.
Duke. Away with her. — Poor soul,
She speaks this in the infirmity of sense.
Isab. O prince, I conjure thee as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world. That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness ; make not impossible That which but seems unlike. 'Tis not impossible But one the wicked'st caitiff on the ground May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute As Angelo ; even so may Angelo, In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms, Be an arch-villain. Believe it, royal prince. If he be less, he's nothing ; but he's more, Had I more name for badness.
Duke. By mine honesty
If she be mad (as I believe no other), Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, Such a dependency of thing on thing. As e'er I heard in madness.
Isab. O gracious duke,
Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason For inequality ; but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid. And hide the false seems true.
Duke. Many that are not mad
Have, sure, more lack of reason. — What would you say.?
Isab. I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn'd upon the act of fornication To lose his head ; condemn'd by Angelo. I, in probation of a sisterhood. Was sent to by my brother. One Lucio As then the messenger —
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 69
Lucio. That's I, an't like your grace ;
I came to her from Claudio, and desired her To try her gracious fortune with Lord Angelo For her poor brother's pardon.
Isab. That's he, indeed.
Duke. You were not bid to speak.
Lucio. No, my good lord,
Nor wish'd to hold my peace.
Duke. I wish you now then.
Pray you, take note of it ; and when you have . A business for yourself, pray Heaven you then Be perfect.
Lucio. I warrant your honour.
Duke. The warrant's for yourself ; take heed to it.
Isab. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale.
Lucio. Right.
Duke. It may be right ; but you are in the wrong To speak before your time. — Proceed.
Isab. I went
To this pernicious caitiff deputy.
Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken.
Isab. Pardon it ;
The phrase is to the matter.
Duke. Mended again : the matter. Proceed.
Isab. In brief, to set the needless process by. How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd me, and how I replied (For this was of much length), the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter. He would not, but by gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust. Release my brother; and, after much debatement, My sisterly remorse confutes mine honour. And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant For my poor brother's head.
Duke. This is most likely !
Isab. Oh, that it were as like as it is true !
Duke. By Heaven, fond wretch, thou know'st not what thou speak 'st,
70 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honor
In hateful practice. First, his integrity
Stands without blemish ; next, it imports no reason
That with such vehemency he should pursue
Faults proper to himself ; if he had so offended,
He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself,
And not have cut him off. Some one hath set you on.
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice
Thou cam'st here to complain }
Isab., And is this all ?
Then, O you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up In countenance ! — Heaven shield your grace from woe, As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go !
Duke. I know you'd fain be gone. — An officer ! To prison with her. Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us .? This needs must be a practice. — Who knew of your intent and coming hither .?
Isab. One that I would were here — Friar Lodo- wick.
Duke. A ghostly father, belike. — Who knows that Lodowick ?
Lucio. My lord, I know him ; 'tis a meddling friar. I do not like the man. Had he been lay, my lord. For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swing'd him roundly.
Duke. Words against me ? This a good friar, belike! And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute ! Let this friar be found.
Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar I saw them at the prison : a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow.
F. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace !
I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your royal ear abused. First, hath this woman Most wrongfully accused your substitute. Who is as free from touch or soil with her As she from one ungot.
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Duke. We did believe no less.
Know you that Friar Lodowick that she speaks of ?
F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and holy, Not scurvy nor a temporary meddler As he's reported by this gentleman ; And, on my trust, a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, misreport your grace.
Lucio. My lord, most villanously ; believe it.
F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick, my lord. Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request (Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended 'gainst Lord Angelo) came I hither To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true and false ; and what he with his oath And all probation will make up full clear Whensoever he's convented. First, for this woman (To justify this worthy nobleman So Vulgarly and personally accused). Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it.
Duke. Good friar, let's hear it.
[Isabella is carried off, guarded; and Mariana comes forward. Do you not smile at this. Lord Angelo ! — O Heaven ! the vanity of wretched fools ! — Give us some seats. — Come, cousin Angelo ; In this I'll be impartial ; be you judge Of your own cause. — Is this the witness, friar .<* First, let her show her face ; and, after, speak.
Mari. Pardon, my lord, I will not show my face Until my husband bid me.
Duke. What, are you married }
Mari. No, my lord.
Duke, Are you a maid .<*
Mari. No, my lord.
Duke. A widow then ?
Mari. Neither, my lord.
Duke. Why, you
Are nothing then. Neither maid, widow, nor wife ?
72 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Lucio. My lord, she may be a punk ; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.
Duke. Silence that fellow; I would he had some cause To prattle for himself.
Lucio. Well, my lord.
Mart. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was married ; And I confess, besides, I am no maid. I have known my husband ; yet my husband knows
not That ever he knew me.
Lucio. He was drunk then, my lord ; it can be no better.
Duke. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too.
Lucio. Well, my lord.
Duke. This is no witness for Lord Angelo.
Mari. Now I come to't, my lord. She that accuses him of fornication. In self -same manner doth accuse my husband; And charges him, my lord, with such a time When I'll depose I had him in mine arms, With all the effect of love.
Ang. Charges she more than me ?
Mari. Not that I know.
Duke. No } you say your husband.
Mari. Why, just, my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks he knows that he ne'er knew my body, But knows, he thinks, that he knew Isabel's.
Ang. This is a strange abuse. Let's see thy face.
Mari. My husband bids me ; now I will unmask.
[ Unveiling. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou swor'st was worth the looking on ; This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract. Was fast belock'd in thine ; this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house In her imagined person.
Duke. Know you this woman .?
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 73
Lucio. Carnally, she says.
Duke. Sirrah, no more.
Lucio. Enough, my lord.
Afig. My lord, I must confess I know this woman ; And, five years since, there was some speech of mar- riage Betwixt myself and her, which was broke off, Partly for that her promised proportions Came short of composition ; but, in chief. For that her reputation was disvalued In levity : since which time of five years I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour.
Mart. Noble prince.
As there comes light from heaven, and words from breath, \_Exii.
As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man's wife as strongly As words could make up vows ; and, my good lord, But Tuesday night last gone, in his garden-house, He knew me as a wife. As this is true. Let me in safety raise me from my knees. Or else forever be confixed here A marble monument !
Aug. I did but smile till now;
Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice ; My patience here is touch'd. I do perceive These poor informal women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member That sets them on. Let me have way, my lord, To find this practice out.
Duke. Ay, with my heart,
And punish them unto your height of pleasure. — Thou foolish friar, and thou, pernicious woman, Compact with her that's gone! think'st thou thy oaths, Though they would swear down each particular saint, Were testimonies against his worth and credit That's seal'd in approbation ? — You, Lord Escalus, Sit with my cousin ; lend him your kind pains To find out his abuse, whence 'tis derived.
74 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
There is another friar that sets them on ; Let him be sent for.
F. Peter. Would he were here, my lord ; for he, in- deed, Hath set the women on to this complaint. Your provost knows the place where he abides. And he may fetch him.
Duke. Go, do it instantly. — S^Exit Provost.
And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin. Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth, Do with your injuries as seems you best In any chastisement. I for a while Will leave you ; but stir not you till you have well Determined upon these slanderers.
Escal. My lord, we'll do it thoroughly. — \_Exit Duke.] Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that Friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person }
Lucio. CucuUms non facit monachum: honest in noth- ing but in his clothes, and one that hath spoke most villanous speeches of the duke.
Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him. We shall find this friar a notable fellow.
Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word.
Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again; \To an Attendant.] I would speak with her. Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question ; you shall see how <y I'll handle her.
Lucio. Not better than he, by her own report.
Escal. Say you .?
Lucio. Marry, sir, I think if you handled her private- ly she would sooner confess ; perchance publicly she'll be ashamed.
Re-enter Officers, with Isabella ; the Duke, in the fri- ars habit, ajid Provost.
Escal. I will go darkly to work with her. Lucio. That's the way ; for women are light at mid- night.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 75
Escal. Come on, mistress: \To Isabella.] here's a gentlewoman denies all that you have said.
Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal 1 spoke of : here with the provost.
Escal. In very good time : speak not you to him till we call upon you.
Lucio. Mum.
Escal. Come, sir. Did you set these women on to slander Lord Angelo.'* They have confess'd you did.
Duke. 'Tis false.
Escal. How ! know you where you are }
Duke. Respect to your great place ! and let the devil Be sometimes honour'd for his burning throne. Where is the duke "i 'tis he should hear me speak.
Escal. The duke's in us, and he will hear you speak ; Look you speak justly.
Duke. Boldly, at least. But oh, poor souls,
Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox } Good-night to your redress. Is the duke gone } Then is your cause gone too. The duke's unjust, Thus to retort your manifest appeal. And put your trial in the villain's mouth Which here you come to accuse.
Lucio. This is the rascal ; this is he I spoke of.
Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallow'd friar ! Is't not enough thou hast suborn 'd these women To accuse this worthy man, but in foul mouth. And in the witness of his proper ear, To call him villain .?
And then to glance from him to the duke himself ; To tax him with injustice ? Take him hence ; To the rack with him. We'll touse you joint by joint, But we will know this purpose. What ! unjust .-*
Duke. Be not so hot ; the duke Dare no more stretch this finger of mine than he Dare rack his own ; his subject am I not. Nor here provincial. My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble Till it o'errun the stew: laws for all faults ;
76 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
But faults SO countenanced that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop, As much in mock as mark.
Escal. Slander to the state ! Away with him to prison.
A7ig. What can you vouch against him, Signior Lu- cio.f' Is this the man that you did tell us of ?
Lucio. 'Tis he, my lord. Come hither, goodman bald-pate. Do you know me .''
Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound of your voice. I met you at the prison in the absence of the duke.
Lucio. Oh, did you so .? And do you remember what you said of the duke }
Duke. Most notedly, sir,
Lucio. Do you so, sir } And was the duke a flesh- monger, a fool, and a coward, as you then reported him to be .?
Duke. You must, sir, change persons with me ere you make that my report. You, indeed, spoke so of him, and much more, much worse.
Lucio. Oh, thou damnable fellow ! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches t
Duke. I protest I love the duke as I love myself.
Aug. Hark ! how the villain would close now, after his treasonable abuses.
Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd withal. — Away with him to prison. — Where is the provost.'* — Away with him to prison ; lay bolts enough upon him. Let him speak no more. Away with those giglots too, and with the other confederate companion.
\_The Provost lays hands ou the Duke.
Duke. Stay, sir ; stay awhile.
Aug. W^hat! resists he. f* Help him, Lucio.
Lucio. Come, sir ; come, sir ; come, sir ; foh, sir. Why, you bald-pated, lying rascal ! you must be hood- ed, must you ? Show your knave's visage, with a pox to you ! Show your sheep-biting face, and be hang'd an hour ! Will't not off t \_Pulls off the friar s hood, ajtd
discovers the Duke.
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 77
Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er mad'st a duke. — First, provost, let me bail these gentle three. — Sneak not away, sir \to Lucio]; for the friar and you Must have a word anon. — Lay hold on him.
Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging.
Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon ; sit you down. — \To EscALus.
We'll borrow place of him. — Sir, by your leave :
\To Angelo. Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence. That yet can do thee office ? If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard. And hold no longer out.
Ang. Oh, my dread lord,
I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, To think I can be undiscernible, When I perceive your grace, like power divine. Hath look'd upon my passes. Then, good prince, No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession ; Immediate sentence then, and sequent death, Is all the grace I beg.
Duke. Come hither, Mariana. —
Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman }
Ang. I was, my lord.
Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly. — Do you the office, friar; which consummate, Return him here again. — Go with him, provost.
\_Exeunt Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.
Escal. My lord, I am more amazed at his dishonour Than at the strangeness of it.
Duke. Come hither, Isabel.
Your friar is now your prince. As I was then Advertising and holy to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney'd at your service.
Isab. Oh, give me pardon,
That I, your vassal, have employ 'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty.
78 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel.
And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart ; And you may marvel why I obscured myself. Labouring to save his life ; and would not rather Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power Than let him so be lost. Oh, most kind maid, It was the swift celerity of his death. Which I did think with slower foot came on. That brain'd my purpose. But, peace be with him ! That life is better life, past fearing death. Than that which lives to fear. Make it your comfort, So happy is your brother.
Re-enter Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost.
Isab, I do, my lord.
Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here. Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong'd Your well-defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake; but as he adjudged your brother (Being criminal, in double violation Of sacred chastity and of promise-breach. Thereon dependent for your brother's life), The very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue, An Angelo for Claudio, death for death. Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure ; Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure ! Then, Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested ; Which though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage. We do condemn thee to the very block Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste. — Away with him.
Mart. Oh, my most gracious lord,
I hope you will not mock me with a husband !
Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a hus- band. Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, I thought your marriage fit ; else imputation,
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 79
For that he knew you, might reproach your Hfe, And choke your good to come. For his possessions, Although by confiscation they are ours, We do instate and widow you withal, To buy you a better husband.
Mari. Oh, my dear lord,
I crave no other nor no better man.
Duke. Never crave him ; we are definitive.
Mari. Gentle, my liege — [Kneeling.
Duke. You do but lose your labour.
Away with him to death. — Now, sir [to Lucio], to you.
Mari. Oh, my good lord ! — Sweet Isabel, take my part ; Lend me your knees, and, all my life to come, I'll lend you all my life to do you service.
Duke. Against all sense you do importune her. Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact ; Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror.
Mari. Isabel,
Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me ; Hold up your hands, say nothing, I'll speak all. They say best men are moulded out of faults ; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad. So may my husband. Oh, Isabel ! will you not lend a knee }
Duke. He dies for Claudio's death.
Isab. Most bounteous sir,
[Kneeling. Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd As if my brother lived. I partly think A due sincerity govern'd his deeds. Till he did look on me ; since it is so. Let him not die. My brother had but justice, In that he did the thing for which he died. For Angelo,
His act did not o'ertake his bad intent. And must be buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way. Thoughts are no subjects ; Intents but merely thoughts.
8o COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mari. Merely, my lord.
Duke, Your suit's unprofitable ; stand up, I say. I have bethought me of another fault. Provost, how came it Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour.?
Prov. It was commanded so.
Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed ?
Prov. No, my good lord ; it was by private message.
Duke. For which I do discharge you of your office. Give up your keys.
Prov. Pardon me, noble lord.
I thought it was a fault, but knew it not ; Yet did repent me after more advice. For testimony whereof, one in the prison That should by private order else have died, I have reserved alive.
Duke. What's he.?
Prov. His name is Barnardine.
Duke. I would thou had'st done so by Claudio. Go, fetch him hither; let me look upon him.
\_Exit Provost.
Escal. I am sorry one so learned and so wise As you. Lord Angelo, have still appear'd. Should slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood And lack of temper'd judgment afterward.
Ang. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure ; And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart That I crave death more willingly than mercy. 'Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it.
Re-enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, and Juliet.
Duke. Which is that Barnardine .?
Prov. This, my lord.
Duke. There was a friar told me of this man. — Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul That apprehends no further than this world, And squar'st thy life according. Thou'rt condemn'd ; But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all, And pray thee take this mercy to provide
MEASURE FOR MEASURE 8i
For better times to come. — Friar, advise him ; I leave him to your hand. — What muffled fellow's that ?
Prov. This is another prisoner that I saved, Who should have died when Claudio lost his head ; As like almost to Claudio as himself.
\_Unmuffles Claudio,
Duke. If he be like your brother \to Isabella], for his sake Is he pardon'd. And for your lovely sake. Give me your hand, and say you will be mine — He is my brother too. But fitter time for that. By this. Lord Angelo perceives he's safe ; Methinks I see a quick'ning in his eye. — Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well. Look that you love your wife ; her worth, worth
yours. — I find an apt remission in myself ; And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon. — You, sirrah \to Lucio], that knew me for a fool, a cow- ard. One all of luxury, an ass, a madman, Wherein have I so deserved of you, That you extol me thus }
Lucio. 'Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick. If you will hang me for it you may, but I had rather it would please you I might be whipp'd.
Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after. — Proclaim it, provost, round about the city. If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow (As I have heard him swear himself there's one Whom he begot with child), let her appear, And he shall marry her : the nuptial finish'd, Let him be whipp'd and hang'd.
Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore ! Your highness said even now I made you a duke ; good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold.
Duke. Upon mine honour thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive, and therewithal
IV. -6
82 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Remit thy other forfeits. — Take him to prison, And see our pleasure herein executed.
Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death, whipping, and hanging.
Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it. — She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. — Joy to you, Mariana! Love her, Angelo; I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue. — Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness ; There's more behind that is more gratulate. — Thanks, provost, for thy care and secrecy ; We shall employ thee in a worthier place. — Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home "S
The head of Ragozine for Claudio's ; The offence pardons itself. — Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good ; Whereto if you'll a willing ear incline. What's mine is yours, and what is 3^ours is mine. So, bring us to our palace, where we'll show What's yet behind, that's meet you all should know.
\_ExeuiLt.
The Merry Wives of Windsor
PERSONS REPRESENTED
Sir John Falstaff.
Fenton.
Shallow, a country yustice.
Slender, Cousin to Shallow.
Mr. Ford \ two gentlemen dwelling at Wind-
Mr. Page ) sor.
"WiniAM Page, a Boy, Son to Mr. Page.
Sir Hugh Evans, a Welsh Parson.
Dr. Caius, a French Physician.
Host of the Garter Inn.
Bardolph \
Pistol >• Followers of Falstaff.
Nym )
Robin, Page to Falstaff.
Simple, Semant to Slender.
Rugby, Servant to Dr. Caius.
Mrs. Ford.
Mrs. Page.
Mrs. Anne Page, her Daughter, in love with
Fenton. Mrs. Quickly, Servant to Dr. Caius.
Servants to Page, Ford, &c.
Scene, Windsor, and the parts adjacent.
The Merry Wives of Windsor
ACT I
Scene I. — Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, and Sir Hugh Evans.
SHALLOW. Sir Hugh, persuade me not; I will make a Star-chamber matter of it ; if he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, Esquire.
Slen. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, and coram.
Shal. Ay, Cousin Slender, and Cust-alorum.
Slen. Ay, and ratolorum too ; and a gentleman born, master parson ; who writes himself armigero ; in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armigero.
Shal. Ay, that we do; and have done any time these three hundred years.
Slen. All his successors gone before him have done't, and all his ancestors that come after him may : they may give the dozen white luces in their coat.
Shal. It is an old coat.
Evans. The dozen white louses do become an old coat well ; it agrees well, passant ; it is a familiar beast to man, and signifies — love.
Shal. The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish is an old coat.
Slen. I may quarter, coz .''
Shal. You may, by marrying.
Evans. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it.
Shal. Not a whit.
Evans. Yes, p/r-lady; if he has a quarter of your coat
86 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple con- jectures. But that is all one. If Sir John Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, I am of the church, and will be glad to do my benevolence, to make atone- ments and compromises between you.
Shal. The Council shall hear it; it is a riot.
Evans. It is not meet the Council hear a riot ; there is no fear of Got in a riot. The Council, look you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to hear a riot ; take your visaments in that.
Shal. Ha ! o' my life, if I were young again the sword should end it.
Evans. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end it. And there is also another device in my prain, which, peradventure, prings goot discretions with it. There is Anne Page, which is daughter to Master George Page, which is pretty virginity.
Sle7i. Mistress Anne Page } She has brown hair, and speaks small like a woman.
Evans. It is that fery person for all the 'orld, as just as you will desire; and seven hundred pounds of moneys, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, upon his death's bed (Got deliver to a joyful resurrections !), give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years old. It were a goot motion if we leave our pribbles and prabbles, and desire a marriage between Master Abraham and Mis- tress Anne Page.
Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred pounds ?
Evans. Ay, and her father is make her a petter penny.
Shal. I know the young gentlewoman ; she has good gifts.
Evans. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, is good gifts.
Shal. Well, let us see honest Master Page. Is Fal- staff there }
Evans. Shall I tell you a lie } I do despise a liar as I do despise one that is false, or as I despise one that is not true. The knight, Sir John, is there ; and, I be- seech you, be ruled by your well-willers. I will peat the
Flatk 9
THE COUNCIL SHALL HKAR IT
Merry Wives, act i.. scene i.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 87
door {knocks\ for Master Page. What, hoa ! Got pless your house here !
Enter Page.
Page. Who's there ?
Evans. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and Justice Shallow ; and here young Master Slender, that, peradventures, shall tell you another tale, if matters grow to your likings.
Page. I am glad to see your worships well. I thank you for my venison, Master Shallow.
Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you. Much good do it your good heart ! I wished your venison better ; it was ill killed. How doth good Mistress Page i* — and I thank you always with my heart, la ; with my heart.
Page. Sir, I thank you.
Shal. Sir, I thank you ; by yea and no, I do.
Page. I am glad to see you, good Master Slender.
Slen. How does your fallow greyhound, sir } I heard say he was outrun on Cotsale.
Page. It could not be judged, sir.
Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess.
Shal. That he will not. 'Tis your fault, 'tis your fault. 'Tis a good dog.
Page. A cur, sir.
Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog. Can there be more said ? He is good, and fair. Is Sir John Fal- staff here }
Page. Sir, he is within ; and I would I could do a good office between you.
Evans. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak.
Shal. He hath wrong'd me. Master Page.
Page. Sir, he doth in some SDrt confess it.
Shal. If it be confess 'd, it is not redress'd. Is not that so, Master Page .>* He hath wrong'd me ; indeed he hath; at a word he hath ; believe me; Robert Shal- low, Esquire, saith he is wrong'd.
Page. Here comes Sir John.
88 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Enter Sir John Falstaff, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol.
Fal. Now, Master Shallow, you'll complain of me to the king ?
Shal. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and broke open my lodge.
Fal. But not kiss'd your keeper's daughter ?
Shal. Tut, a pin ! This shall be answer'd.
Fal. I will answer it straight : I have done all this. That is now answer'd.
Shal. The Council shall know this,
Fal. 'Twere better for you if it were known in coun- sel ; you'll be laugh 'd at.
Evans. Pauca verba. Sir John, goot worts.
Fal. Good worts ! Good cabbage. — Slender, I broke your head. What matter have you against me .?
Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against you, and against your coney-catching rascals, Bardolph, Nym, and Pistol. They carried me to the tavern and made me drunk, and afterwards picked my pocket.
Bard. You Banbury cheese !
Slen. Ay, it is no matter.
Pist. How now, Mephostophilus }
Slen. Ay, it is no matter.
Nym. Slice, I Sciyl pauca, pauca; slice! that's my humour.
Slen. Where's Simple, my man .? Can you tell, cousin ?
Evans. Peace, I pray you ! Now let us understand. There is three umpires in this matter, as I understand : that is — Master V?i^^,fidelicet, Master Page; and there is my se[{, jfide licet, myself; and the three party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter.
Page. We three to hear it, and end it between them.
Evans. Fery goot. I will make a prief of it in my note-book ; and we will afterwards 'ork upon the cause with as great discreetly as we can.
Fal Pistol —
Pist. He hears with ears.
Evans. The tevil and his tam ! what phrase is this, He hears with ears } Why, it is affectations.
Platb IO
ENTER MISTRESS ANNE PAGE WITH WINE
Merry Wives, act i , scene i.
'I
^i:2H\
'"''•('^i/.U;.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 89
Fill. Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse ?
Slen. Ay, by these gloves did he (or I would I might never come in mine own great chamber again else), of seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two Edward shovel- boards that cost me two shillings and twopence apiece of Yead Miller, by these gloves.
Fal. Is this true, Pistol ?
Evans. No ; it is false if it is a pick-purse.
Pist. Ha, thou mountain foreigner! — Sir John, and master mine, I combat challenge of this latten bilbo. Word of denial in thy labras here ; Word of denial ; froth and scum, thou liest.
Slen. By these gloves, then 'twas he.
Nym. Be advised, sir, and pass good humours. I will say marry trap with you if you run the nut-hook's humour on me ; that is the very note of it.
Sle7t. By this hat, then, he in the red face had it ; for though I cannot remember what I did when you made me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass.
Fal. What say you. Scarlet and John }
Bard. Why, sir, for my part, I say the gentleman had drunk himself out of his five sentences.
Evans. It is his five senses ; fie, what the ignorance is!
Bard. And being fap, sir, was, as they say, cashier'd ; and so conclusions pass'd the careires.
Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too. But 'tis no matter. I'll ne'er be drunk whilst I live again but in honest, civil, godly company for this trick. If I be drunk, I'll be drunk with those that have the fear of God, and not with drunken knaves.
Evans. So Got 'udge me, that is a virtuous mind.
Fal. You hear all these matters denied, gentlemen ; you hear it.
Enter Mistress Anne Page, with wine ; Mistress Ford ««^ Mistress Vkge following.
Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in ; we'll drink within. [J^il Anne Page.
90 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Slen. O Heaven ! this is Mistress Anne Page.
Page. How now, Mistress Ford ?
Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth you are very well met ; by your leave, good mistress. {Kissing her.
Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome. — Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner ; come, gentle- men, I hope we shall drink down all unkindness.
\Exeunt all but Shallow, Slender, a^id Evans.
Slen. I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here. —
Enter Simple.
How now. Simple } where have you been } I must wait on myself, must 1 1 You have not The Book of Riddles about you, have you }
Sim. Book of Riddles ! Why, did you not lend it to Alice Shortcake upon All-hallowmas last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas ?
' Shal. Come, coz ; come, coz ; we stay for you. A word with you, coz. Marry this, coz : there is, as 'twere, a tender, a kind of tender, made afar off by Sir Hugh here. Do you understand me }
Slen. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable ; if it be so, I shall do that that is reason.
ShaL Nay, but understand me.
Slen. So I do, sir.
Evans. Give ear to his motions. Master Slender. I will description the matter to you, if you be capacity of it.
Slen. Nay, I will do as my Cousin Shallow says. I pray you pardon me ; he's a justice of peace in his coun- try, simple though I stand here.
Evans. But that is not the question ; the question is concerning your marriage.
Shal. Ay, there's the point, sir.
Evans. Marry, is it ; the very point of it ; to Mistress Anne Page.
Slen. Why, if it be so, I will marry her upon any reasonable demands.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 91
Evans. But can you affection the 'oman ? Let us com- mand to know that of your mouth, or of your lips ; for divers philosophers hold that the lip is parcel of the mouth. Therefore, precisely, can you carry your good- will to the maid ?
Skal. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her ?
Slen. I hope, sir, I will do as it shall become one that would do reason.
Evans. Nay, Got's lords and his ladies, you must speak possitable, if you can carry her your desires tow- ards her.
Shal. That you must. Will you, upon good dowry, marry her.?
Slen. I will do a greater thing than that upon your request, cousin, in any reason.
Skal. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz; what I do is to pleasure you, coz. Can you love the maid }
Slen. I will marry her, sir, at your request ; but if there be no great love in the beginning, yet Heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are mar- ried, and have more occasion to know one another. I hope upon familiarity will grow more contempt. But if you say marry her, I will marry her, that I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely.
Evans. It is a fery discretion answer ; save the faul' is in the 'ort dissolutely. The 'ort is, according to our meaning, resolutely. His meaning is good.
Shal. Ay, I think my cousin meant well.
Slen, Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la.
Re-enter Anne Page.
Shal. Here comes fair Mistress Anne. — Would I were young for your sake, Mistress Anne !
Anne. The dinner is on the table ; my father desires your worships' company.
Shal I will wait on him, fair Mistress Anne.
Evans. Od's plessed will ! I will not be absence at the grace. \_Exetinl Shallow and Sir Hugh Evans.
92 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Anne. Will't please your worship to come in, sir?
Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily ; I am very well.
Anne. The dinner attends you, sir.
Slen. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, forsooth. Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, wait upon my Cousin Shallow. \Exit Simple.] A justice of peace some- times may be beholden to his friend for a man. I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother be dead. But what though } yet I live like a poor gentleman born.
Anne. I may not go in without your worship: they will not sit till you come.
Slen. r faith, I'll eat nothing; I thank you as much as though I did.
Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in.
Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you. I bruised my shin the other day with playing at sword and dag- ger with a master of fence, three veneys for a dish of stewed prunes ; and, by my troth, I cannot abide the smell of hot meat since. Why do your dogs bark so t Be there bears i' the town ?
Anne. I think there are, sir; I heard them talked of.
Slen. I love the sport well ; but I shall as soon quar- rel at it as any man in England. You are afraid if you see the bear loose, are you not }
Anne. Ay, indeed, sir.
Slen. That's meat and drink to me now. I have seen Sackerson loose twenty times, and have taken him by the chain ; but, I warrant you, the women have so cried and shrieked at it, that it passed : but women, indeed, cannot abide 'em; they are very ill-favoured, rough things.
Re-enter Page.
Page. Come, gentle Master Slender, come; we stay for you.
Slen. I'll eat nothing, I thank you, sir.
Page. By cock and pie, you shall not choose, sir ; come, come.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 93
Slen. Nay, pray you lead the way.
Page. Come on, sir.
Slen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first.
An7ie. Not I, sir ; pray you, keep on.
Slen. Truly, I will not go first, truly, la. I will not do you that wrong.
Anne. I pray you, sir.
Slen. I'll rather be unmannerly than troublesome. You do yourself wrong, indeed, la. \^Exeunt.
Scene II. — Enter Sir Hugh Evans a7id Simple.
Evans. Go your ways, and ask of Doctor Caius' house which is the way ; and there dwells one Mistress Quick- ly, which is in the manner of his nurse, or his dry-nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, his washer, and his wringer.
Sim. Well, sir.
Evans. Nay, it is petter yet. — Give her this letter ; for it is a 'oman that altogether's acquaintance with Mis- tress Anne Page ; and the letter is to desire and require her to solicit your master's desires to Mistress Anne Page. I pray you, pe gone. I will make an end of my dinner ; there's pippins and cheese to come. \_Exeunt.
Scene III. — Enter Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, Pistol, and Robin.
FaL Mine Host of the Garter —
Host. What says my bully-rook.'* Speak scholarly and wisely.
Fal. Truly, mine host, I must turn away some of my followers.
Host. Discard, bully Hercules; cashier; let them wag ; trot, trot.
Fal. I sit at ten pounds a week.
Host. Thou'rt an emperor, caesar, keisar, and phee- zar. I will entertain Bardolph ; he shall draw, he shall tap. Said I well, bully Hector.?
Fal. Do so, good mine host.
94 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Host. I have spoke ; let him follow. Let me see thee froth and lime. I am at a word ; follow.
\Exit Host.
Fal. Bardolph, follow him ; a tapster is a good trade. An old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a withered serving- man a fresh tapster. Go ; adieu.
Bard. It is a life that I have desired. I will thrive.
\Exit Bardolph.
Pist. Oh, base Hungarian wight ! Wilt thou the spigot wield .?
Nym. He was gotten in drink. Is not the humour conceited.? His mind is not heroic, and there's the humour of it.
Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder-box. His thefts were too open ; his filching was like an unskilful singer, he kept not time.
Nym. The good-humour is to steal at a minute's rest.
Pist. Convey, the wise it call. Steal ! foh. A fico for the phrase !
Fal. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels.
Pist. Why, then, let kibes ensue.
Fal. There is no remedy ; I must coney - catch ; I must shift.
Pist. Young ravens must have food.
Fal. Which of you know Ford of this town.?
Pist. I ken the wight ; he is of substance good.
Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am about.
Pist. Two yards, and more.
Fal. No quips now, Pistol ; indeed I am in the waist two yards about ; but I am now about no waste ; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to make love to Ford's wife ; I spy entertainment in her ; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer of invitation. I can construe the action of her familiar style, and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to be English'd rightly, is, I am Sir John Falstaff's.
Pist. He hath studied her well, and translated her well ; out of honesty into English.
Nym. The anchor is deep. Will that humour pass }
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 95
Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of her husband's purse ; she hath legions of angels.
Pist. As many devils entertain ; and. To her, boy, say I.
Nym. The humour rises ; it is good ; humour me the angels.
Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her; and here another to Page's wife, who even now gave me good eyes too, examined my parts with most judicious eyliads ; sometimes the beam of her view gilded my foot, some- times my portly belly.
Pist. Then did the sun on dunghill shine.
Nym. I thank thee for that humour.
Fal, Oh, she did discourse o'er my exteriors with such a greedy intention that the appetite of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass ! Here's another letter to her. She bears the purse too ; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheater to them both, and they shall be exchequers to me ; they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them both. Go, bear thou this letter to Mis- tress Page ; and thou this to Mistress Ford. We will thrive, lads, we will thrive.
Pist. Shall I Sir Pandarus of Troy become. And by my side wear steel ? Then, Lucifer, take all !
Nym. I will run no base humour ; here, take the hu- mour-lettei , I will keep the 'haviour of reputation.
Fal. Hold, sirrah \to Robin], bear you these letters tightly; Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. — Rogues, hence, avaunt ! vanish like hailstones ; go, Trudge, plod, away o' the hoof ; seek shelter, pack ! Falstaff will learn the humour of this age, French thrift, you rogues ; myself, and skirted page.
\Exeunt Falstaff and Robin.
Pist. Let vultures gripe thy guts ! for gourd and ful- 1am holds. And high and low beguile the rich and poor. Tester I'll have in pouch when thou shalt lack, Base Phrygian Turk I
96 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Nym. I have operations in my head which be hu- mours of revenge. Pist. Wilt thou revenge ? Nym. By welkin and her star ! Pist. With wit, or steel ? Nym. With both the humours, I. I will discuss the humour of this love to Page. Pist. And I to Ford shall eke unfold, How Falstaff, varlet vile. His dove will prove, his gold will hold. And his soft couch defile. Nym. My humour shall not cool. I will incense Page to deal with poison ; I will possess him with yel- lowness, for the revolt of mien is dangerous : that is my true humour.
Pist. Thou art the Mars of malcontents : I second thee ; troop on. \ExeM7it.
Scene IV. — Enter Mrs. Quickly, Simple, and Rugby.
Quick. What ; John Rugby ! I pray thee go to the casement, and see if you can see my master. Master Doctor Caius, coming ; if he do, i' faith, and find any- body in the house, here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English.
Rug. I'll go watch. \_Exit Rugby.
Quick. Go ; and we'll have a posset for't soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. An honest, willinof, kind fellow as ever servant shall come in house withal ; and, I warrant you, no tell-tale nor no breed-bate. His worst fault is that he is given to prayer ; he is some- thing peevish that way. But nobody but has his fault. But let that pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is ?
Sim. Ay, for fault of a better.
Qtiick. And Master Slender's your master ?
Sim. Ay, forsooth.
Quick. Does he not wear a great round beard, like a glover's paring-knife ?
Sim. No, forsooth : he hath but a little wee face, with a little yellow beard ; a Cain-coloured beard.
Plate m WHY DO YOUR DOGS BARK SO?
Merry Wives, act i , stene \
1 1 .1 r/>iM
i^i.n ?':;')on y,i]<-''
^i'^m^m
''■' 1.'/. 0
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 97
Quick. A softly-sprighted man, is he not ?
Sim. Ay, forsooth ; but he is as tall a man of his hands as any is between this and his head ; he hath fought with a warrener.
Quick. How say you ? Oh, I should remember him. Does he not hold up his head, as it were, and strut in his gait ?
Sim. Yes, indeed, does he.
Quick. Well, Heaven send Anne Page no worse fort- une ! Tell Master Parson Evans I will do what I can for your master. Anne is a good girl, and I wish —
Re-enter Rugby.
Rug. Out, alas ! here comes my master.
Quick. We shall all be shent. Run in here, good young man ; go into this closet.
\Shuts Simple in the closet. He will not stay long. — What, John Rugby ! John, what, John, I say ! — Go, John, go inquire for my master ; I doubt he be not well, that he comes not home. And down, down, adown-a, etc. \_Sings.
Enter Doctor Caius.
Caitis. Vat is you sing .-* I do not like these toys. Pray you, go and vetch me in my closet lut boitier verd ; a box; a green-a box. Do intend vat I speak.'* A green-a box.
Quick. Ay, forsooth, I'll fetch it you. I am glad he went not in himself ; if he had found the young man he would have been horn-mad. \^Aside.
Caius. Fe,fe,fe,fe! mai foi, il fait fort chaud. fe m'eu vais a la Cour — la grande affaire.
Quick. Is it this, sir.-*
Caius. Oui; mette le au mon pocket; Depeche, quickly. Vere is dat knave Rugby .f*
Quick. What, John Rugby.'* John.**
Rug. Here, sir.
Caius. You are John Rugby, and you are Jack Rug- 1V.-7
98 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
by. Come, take-a your rapier, and come after my heels to the court.
Rug. 'Tis ready, sir, here in the porch.
Caius. By my trot, I tarry too long. Od's me ! Quay-foubliel Dere is some simples in my closet dat I vill not for the varld I shall leave behind.
Quick. Ah me ! he'll find the young man there, and be mad.
Caius. O diable, diable! Vat is in my closet.-* Vil- lany.? larron! \Pulling Simple out?^ Rugby, my ra- pier.
Quick. Good master, be content.
Caius. Verefore shall I be content-a ?
Quick. The young man is an honest man.
Caius. Vat shall de honest man do in my closet } Dere is no honest man dat shall come in my closet.
Quick. I beseech you, be not so phlegmatic ; hear the truth of it. He came of an errand to me from Par- son Hugh.
Caius. Veil.
Sim. Ay, forsooth, to desire her to —
Quick. Peace, I pray you.
Caius. Peace-a your tongue. — Speak-a your tale.
Sim. To desire this honest gentlewoman, your maid, to speak a good word to Mistress Anne Page for my master, in the way of marriage.
Quick. This is all, indeed, la; but I'll ne'er put my finger in the fire, and need not.
Caius. ^\x Hugh send-a you.? — Rugby, bailies me some paper. Tarry you a little-a while. [ Writes.
Quick. I am glad he is so quiet ; if he had been thor- oughly moved, you should have heard him so loud and so melancholy. But notwithstanding, man, I'll do your master what good I can. And the very yea and the no is, the French doctor, my master — I may call him my master, look you, for I keep his house; and I wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress meat and drink, make the beds, and do all myself —
Sim. 'Tis a great charge to come under one body's hand.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 99
Quick. You are avised o' that ? You shall find it a great charge ; and to be up early and down late ; but notwithstanding (to tell you in your ear, I would have no words of it), my master himself is in love with Mis- tress Anne Page ; but notwithstanding that — I know Anne's mind — that's neither here nor there.
Caius. You jack'nape, give-a dis letter to Sir Hugh ; by gar, it is a shallenge. I vill cut his troat in de park ; and I vill teach a scurvy jack-a-nape priest to meddle or make : you may be gone ; it is not good you tarry here. By gar, I vill cut all his two stones ; by gar, he shall not have a stone to trow at his dog.
\_Exit Simple.
Quick. Alas, he speaks but for his friend.
Caius. It is no matter-a for dat. Do not you tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for myself } By gar, I vill kill de Jack priest; and I have appointed mine host of de Jarterre to measure our weapons. By gar, I vill myself have Anne Page.
Quick. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be well : we must give folks leave to prate. What, the good-jer!
Caius. Rugby, come to the court vit me. By gar, if I have not Anne Page I shall turn your head out of my door. — Follow my heels, Rugby.
\_Exeunt Caius and Rugby.
Quick. You shall have An fool's-head of your own. No, I know Anne's mind for that : never a woman in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I do, nor can do more than I do with her, I thank Heaven.
Pent. \Within^ Who's within there, hoa.?
Quick. Who's there, I trow .? Come near the house, I pray you.
Enter Fenton.
Fent. How now, good woman : how dost thou } Quick. The better that it pleases your good worship
to ask. Fent. What news ? How does pretty Mistress
Anne?
lOO COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Quick. In troth, sir, and she is pretty, and honest, and gentle ; and one that is your friend, I can tell you that by the way ; I praise Heaven for it.
Fent. Shall I do any good, think'st thou ? Shall I not lose my suit ?
Quick. Troth, sir, all is in His hands above ; but not- v^ithstanding, Master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a book she loves you. Have not your worship a wart above your eye .?
Fent. Yes, marry, have I. What of that ?
Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale ; good faith, it is such another Nan; but, I detest, an honest maid as ever broke bread. We had an hour's talk of that wart. I shall never laugh but in that maid's company. But, in- deed, she is given too much to allicholy and musing. But for you — well, go to.
Fent. Well, I shall see her to-day. Hold, there's money for thee ; let me have thy voice in my behalf. If thou see'st her before me, commend me —
Quick. Will I .? r faith, that we will ; and I will tell your worship more of the wart the next time we have confidence ; and of other wooers.
Fent. Well, farewell ; I am in great haste now.
\Exit.
Quick. Farewell to your worship. — Truly, an honest gentleman ; but Anne loves him not ; for I know Anne's mind as well as another does. - Out upon 't! what have I forgot .f* \_Exit.
ACT II Scene I. — Enter Mistress Page, with a letter.
Mrs. Page. What ! have I 'scaped love-letters in the holy-day time of my beauty, and am I now a subject for them } Let me see :
\Reads^ Ask me no reason why I love you ; for though Love use reason for his precision, he admits him not for his counsellor. You are not young, no more am I ; go to, then, there's sympathy. You are merry, so am I ; ha, ha ! then there's more sympathy.
:t?^
Plate" 12 BARDOLPH. FOLLOW HIM: A TAPSTER IS A GOOD TRADE
Merry Wives, act i., scene iii.
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THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR loi
You love sack, and so do I ; would you desire better sympathy? Let it suffice thee, Mistress Page (at the least, if the love of a soldier can suffice), that I love thee. I will not say, pity me ; 'tis not a soldier-like phrase ; but I say, love me. By me,
Thine own true knight.
By day or night,
Or any kind of light,
With all his might
For thee to fight,
John Fal staff. — What a Herod of Jewry is this ! Oh, wicked, wicked world ! One that is well-nigh worn to pieces with age, to show himself a young gallant ! What an unweighed behavior hath this Flemish drunkard picked (with the devil's name) out of my conversation that he dares in this manner assay me } Why, he hath not been thrice in my company ! What should I say to him } I was then frugal of my mirth — Heaven forgive me ! Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the parliament for the putting down of men. How shall I be revenged on him ? — for revenged I will be, as sure as his guts are made of pud- dings.
Enter Mistress Ford.
Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page! trust me, I was going to your house.
Mrs. Page. And, trust me, I was coming to you. You look very ill.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that ; I have to show to the contrary.
Mrs. Page. 'Faith, but you do, in my mind.
Mrs. Ford. Well, I do, then ; yet I say I could show you to the contrary. Oh, Mistress Page, give me some counsel !
Mrs. Page. What's the matter, woman .-*
Mrs. F'ord. Oh, woman, if it were not for one trifling respect, I could come to such honour !
Airs. Page. Hang the trifle, woman ; take the hon- our. What is it.-* Dispense with trifles. What is it?
I02 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mrs. Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal moment, or so, I could be knighted.
Mrs. Page. What ? Thou liest ! Sir Alice Ford ! These knights will hack ; and so thou should'st not alter the article of thy gentry.
Mrs. Ford. We burn daylight. Here, read, read ; perceive how I might be knighted. I shall think the worse of fat men as long as I have an eye to make dif- ference of men's liking. And yet he would not swear ; praised women's modesty ; and gave such orderly and well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness that I would have sworn his disposition would have gone to the truth of his words. But they do no more adhere and keep place together than the hundredth psalm to the tune of Green Sleeves. What tempest, I trow, threw this whale, with so many tuns of oil in his belly, ashore at Wind- sor } How shall I be revenged on him } I think the best way were to entertain him with hope till the wicked fire of lust have melted him in his own grease. Did you ever hear the like '^.
Mrs. Page. Letter for letter, but that the name of Page and Ford differs ! To thy great comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy letter. But let thine inherit first ; for, I protest, mine never shall. I warrant he hath a thousand of these let- ters writ with blank space for different names (sure more), and these are of the second edition. He will print them out of doubt ; for he cares not what he puts into the press, when he would put us two. I had rather be a giantess, and lie under Mount Pelion. Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.
Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same ; the very hand, the very words. What doth he think of us }
Mrs. Page. Nay, I know not. It makes me almost ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll enter- tain myself like one that I am not acquainted withal ; for, sure, unless he know some strain in me that I know not myself, he would never have boarded me in this fury.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 103
Mrs. Ford. Boarding, call you it? I'l] be sure to keep him above deck.
Mrs. Page. So will I ; if he come under my hatches, I'll never to sea again. Let's be revenged on him ; let's appoint him a meeting ; give him a show of com- fort in his suit ; and lead him on with a fine-baited de- lay till he hath pawned his horses to mine Host of the Garter.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any villany against him that may not sully the chariness of our hon- esty. Oh, that my husband saw this letter ! It would give eternal food to his jealousy.
Mrs. Page. Why, look where he comes ; and my good man too. He's as far from jealousy as I am from giving him cause ; and that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance.
Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman.
Mrs. Page. Let's consult together against this greasy knight. Come hither. \They retire.
Enter Ford, Pistol, Page, and Nym.
Ford. Well, I hope it be not so.
Pist. Hope is a curtail dog in some affairs. Sir John affects thy wife.
Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young.
Pist. He woos both high and low, both rich and poor, Both young and old, one with another, Ford. He loves thy gally-mawfry. Ford, perpend.
Ford. Love my wife t
Pist. With liver burning hot. Prevent, or go thou, Like Sir Actaeon he, with Ringwood at thy heels. Oh, odious is the name !
Ford. What name, sir ?
Pist. The horn, I say. Farewell. Take heed; have open eye; for thieves do foot by
night. Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo - birds do sing.—
104 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Away, Sir Corporal Nym. —
Believe it, Page ; he speaks sense. \_Exit Pistol.
Ford. I will be patient ; I will find out this.
Nym. And this is true. \To Page.] I like not the humour of lying. He hath wronged me in some hu- mours ; I should have borne the humoured letter to her; but I have a sword, and it shall bite upon my necessity. He loves your wife ; there's the short and the long. My name is Corporal Nym ; I speak, and I avouch. 'Tis true. My name is Nym, and Falstaff loves your wife. Adieu ! I love not the humour of bread and cheese; and there's the humour of it. Adieu.
{Exit Nym.
Page. The humour of it, quoth 'a ! Here's a fellow frights humour out of his wits.
Ford. I will seek out Falstaff.
Page. I never heard such a drawling, affecting rogue.
Ford. If I do find it, well.
Page. I will not believe such a Catalan, though the priest o' the town commended him for a true man.
Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow. Well.
Page. How now, Meg }
Mrs. Page. Whither go you, George } Hark you.
Mrs. Ford. How now, sweet Frank 1 Why art thou melancholy '^.
Ford. I melancholy ! I am not melancholy. Get you home : go.
Mrs. Ford. 'Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy head now. — Will you go, Mistress Page ?
Mrs. Page. Have with you. — You'll come to dinner,^ George? — Look who comes yonder: she shall be our messenger to this paltry knight.
{Aside to Mrs. Ford.
Enter Mistress Quickly.
Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I thought on her. She'll fit it. Mrs. Page. You are come to see my daughter Anne.? Quick. Ay, forsooth. And, I pray, how does good Mistress Anne ?
Plate 13
HAVE NOT YOUR WORSHIP A WART ABOVE YOUR EYH
Merry WiW*.' act i . *renf iv.
0 ,V I I', 11
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 105
Mrs. Page. Go in with us and see ; we have an hour's talk with you. \^Exeunt Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Mrs. Quickly.
Page. How now. Master Ford ?
Ford. You heard what this knave told me, did you not.?
Page. Yes ; and you heard what the other told me }
Ford. Do you think there is truth in them }
Page. Hang 'em, slaves ! I do not think the knight would offer it ; but these that accuse him in his intent towards our wives are a yoke of his discarded men ; very rogues, now they be out of service.
Ford. Were they his men }
Page. Marry, were they.
Ford. I like it never the better for that. Does he lie at the Garter."*
Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should intend this voyage toward my wife I would turn her loose to him ; and what he gets of her more than sharp words, let it lie on my head.
Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife, but I would be loath to turn them together. A man may be too con- fident. I would have nothing lie on my head ; I can- not be thus satisfied.
Page. Look where my ranting Host of the Garter comes. There is either liquor in his pate or money in his purse when he looks so merrily. — How now, mine Host?
Enter Host and Shallow.
Host. How now, bully-rook } Thou'rt a gentleman; cavalero-justice, I say.
Shal. I follow, mine Host, I follow. — Good-even, and twenty, good Master Page ! Master Page, will you go with us.? We have sport in hand.
Host. Tell him, cavalero-justice ; tell him, bully-rook.
Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought between Sir Hugh the Welsh priest and Caius the French doctor.
Ford. Good mine Host o' the Garter, a word with you.
io6 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook ? {They go aside.
Shal. Will you \to Page] go with us to behold it? My merry Host hath had the measuring of their weapons ; and, I think, he hath appointed them con- trary places ; for, believe me, I hear the parson is no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our sport shall be.
Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my guest- cavalier .?
Ford. None, I protest; but I'll give you a pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell him my name is Brook ; only for a jest.
Host. My hand, bully. Thou shalt have egress and regress. Said I well } And thy name shall be Brook. It is a merry knight, — Will you go, cavaliers?
Shal. Have with you, mine Host.
Page. I have heard the Frenchman hath good skill in his rapier.
Shal. Tut, sir ; I could have told you more. In these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what. 'Tis the heart. Master Page ; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, with my long sword, I would have made you four tall fellows skip like rats.
Host. Here, boys, here, here ! Shall we wag ?
Page. Have with you. I had rather hear them scold than fight. {Exeunt Host, Shallow, and Page.
Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I cannot put off my opinion so easily. She was in his company at Page's house, and what they made there I know not. Well, I will look further into 't. And I have a disguise to sound Falstaff. If I find her honest, I lose not my la- bour ; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour well bestowed.
{Exit.
Scene II. — Enter Falstaff and Pistol.
Fal. I will not lend thee a penny.
Pist. Why, then the world's mine oyster, Which I with sword will open. — I will retort the sum in equipage.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 107
Fal. Not a penny. I have been content, sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn. I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and your coach-fellow Nym, or else you had looked through the grate like a geminy of baboons. I am damned in hell for swearing to gentlemen my friends you were good soldiers and tall fellows ; and when Mistress Brid- get lost the handle of her fan, I took 't upon mine hon- our thou hadst it not.
Pist. Didst thou not share } Hadst thou not fifteen pence ?
Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason. Think'st thou I'll endanger my soul gratis ? At a word, hang no more about me ; I am no gibbet for you. Go. A short knife and a throng; to your manor of Pickthatch, go. You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue ! you stand upon your honour! Why, thou unconfinable baseness, it is as much as I can do to keep the terms of my hon- our precise. I, I, I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of Heaven on the left hand, and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to shufHe, to hedge, and to lurch ; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce your rags, your cat-a- mountain looks, your red-lattice phrases, and your bold- beating oaths, under the shelter of your honour ! You will not do it, you }
Pist. I do relent; what would'st thou more of man }
Enter Robin.
Robin. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. Fal. Let her approach.
Enter Mistress Quickly.
Quick. Give your worship good-morrow. Fal. Good-morrow, good wife. Quick. Not so, and 't please your worship. Fal Good maid, then.
Quick. I'll be sworn, as my mother was the first hour I was born.
io8 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Fal. I do believe the swearer. What with me ?
Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a word or two ?
Fal. Two thousand, fair woman ; and I'll vouchsafe thee the hearing.
Quick. There is one Mistress Ford, sir — I pray, come a little nearer this ways. I myself dwell with Master Doctor Caius.
Fal. Well, on. Mistress Ford, you say —
Quick. Your worship says very true. I pray your worship, come a little nearer this ways.
Fal. I warrant thee nobody hears ; mine own people, mine own people.
Quick. Are they so } Heaven bless them, and make them his servants !
Fal. Well, Mistress Ford. What of her ?
Quick. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, Lord ! your worship's a wanton. Well, Heaven forgive you, and all of us, I pray!
Fal. Mistress Ford — come. Mistress Ford — ,
Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long of it: you have brought her into such a canaries as 'tis won- derful. The best courtier of them all, when the court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her to such a canary. Yet there has been knights and lords and gen- tlemen, with their coaches ; I warrant you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after gift ; smelling so sweetly (all musk), and so rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold ; and in such alligant terms ; and in such wine and sugar of the best, and the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart ; and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink of her. I had myself twen- ty angels given me this morning; but I defy all angels (in any such sort, as they say) but in the way of honesty; and, I warrant you, they could never get her so much as sip on a cup with the proudest of them all. And yet there has been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners; but I warrant you, all is one with her.
Fal. But what says she to me .? Be brief, my good she Mercury.
Quick. Marry, she hath received your letter ; for the
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 109
which she thanks you a thousand times ; and she gives you to notify that her husband will be absence from his house between ten and eleven.
FaL Ten and eleven ?
Quick. Ay, forsooth ; and then you may come and see the picture, she says, that you wot of. Master Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas ! the sweet woman leads an ill life with him ; he's a very jealousy man; she leads a very frampold life with him, good heart.
Fal. Ten and eleven. Woman, commend me to her ; I will not fail her.
Quick. Why, you say well. But I have another mes- senger to your worship. Mistress Page hath her hearty commendations to you too; and let me tell you in your ear she's as fartuous a civil modest wife, and one (I tell you) that will not miss you morning nor evening prayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe'er be the other. And she bade me tell your worship that her husband is seldom from home ; but she hopes there will come a time. I never knew a woman so dote upon a man ; surely, I think you have charms, la; yes, in truth.
Fal. Not I, I assure thee; setting the attraction of my good parts aside, I have no other charms.
Quick. Blessing on your heart for't !
FaL But, I pray thee, tell me this : has Ford's wife and Page's wife acquainted each other how they love me }
Quick. That were a jest, indeed ! They have not so little grace, I hope. That were a trick, indeed ! But Mistress Page would desire you to send her your little page, of all loves ; her husband has a marvellous infec- tion to the little page ; and, truly, Master Page is an honest man. Never a wife in Windsor leads a better life than she does ; do what she will, say what she will, take all, pay all, go to bed when she list, rise when she list, all is as she will. And, truly, she deserves it; for if there be a kind woman in Windsor, she is one. You must send her your page ; no remedy.
Fal. Why, I will.
no COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Quick. Nay, but do so then. And, look you, he may come and go between you both ; and, in any case, have a nay word, that you may know one another's mind, and the boy never need to understand anything ; for 'tis not good that children should know any wickedness ; old folks, you know, have discretion, as they say, and know the world.
Fal. Fare thee well: commend me to them both. There's my purse ; I am yet thy debtor. Boy, go along with this woman. This news distracts me !
[Exeunt Quickly and Robin.
Pist. This punk is one of Cupid's carriers. Clap on more sails ; pursue, up with your fights ; Give fire ; she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all !
[^Exit Pistol.
Fal. Say'st thou so, old Jack.? Go thy ways; I'll make more of thy old body than I have done. Will they yet look after thee } Wilt thou, after the expense of so much money, be now a gainer 1 Good body, I thank thee. Let them say 'tis grossly done ; so it be fairly done, no matter.
Enter Bardolph. *
Bard. Sir John, there's one Master Brook below would fain speak with you and be acquainted with you, and hath sent your worship a morning's draught of sack.
Fal. B(rook is his name }
Bard. Ay, sir.
Fal. Call him in. \Exit Bardolph.] Such Brooks are welcome to me that o'erflow such liquor. Ah ! ha ! Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, have I encompassed you f Go to ; via I
Re-enter Bardolph, with Ford disguised.
Ford. Bless you, sir.
Fal. And you, sir. Would you speak with me ? Ford. I make bold to press with so little preparation upon you.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR m
Fal. Your welcome. What's your will? Give us leave, drawer. \Exit Bardolph.
Ford. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent much ; my name is Brook.
Fal. Good Master Brook, I desire more acquaint- ance of you.
Ford. Good Sir John, I sue for yours : not to charge you, for I must let you understand I think myself in better plight for a lender than you are ; the which hath something emboldened me to this unseasoned intrusion, for they say if money go before, all ways do lie open.
Fal. Money is a good soldier, and will on.
Ford. Troth, and I have a bag of money here trou- bles me. If you will help me to bear it. Sir John, take all, or half, for easing me of the carriage.
Fal. Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be your porter.
Ford. I will tell you, sir, if you will give me the hear- ing.
Fal. Speak, good Master Brook; I shall be glad to be your servant.
Ford. Sir, I hear you are a scholar — I will be brief with you — and you have been a man long known to me, though I had never so good means as desire to make myself acquainted with you. I shall discover a thing to you, wherein I must very much lay open mine own imperfection ; but, good Sir John, as you have one eye upon my follies, as you hear them unfolded, turn another into the register of your own, that I may pass with a reproof the easier, sith you yourself know how easy it is to be such an offender.
FaL Very well, sir ; proceed.
Ford. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her hus- band's name is Ford.
Fal. Well, sir.
Ford. I have long loved her, and, I protest to you, bestowed much on her ; followed her with a doting ob- servance ; engrossed opportunities to meet her ; fee'd every slight occasion that could but niggardly give me sight of her; not only bought many presents to give
112 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
her, but have given largely to many to know what she would have given. Briefly, I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me, which hath been on the wing of all occasions. But whatsoever I have merited, either in my mind or in my means, meed, I am sure, I have re- ceived none, unless experience be a jewel that I have purchased at an infinite rate, and that hath taught me to say this :
Love like a shadow flies, when sicbstance love pursues ; Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
Fal. Have you received no promise of satisfaction at her hands }
Ford. Never.
Fal. Have you importuned her to such a purpose ?
Ford. Never.
Fal. Of what quality was your love then }
Ford. Like a fair house built upon another man's ground, so that I have lost my edifice by mistaking the place where I erected it.
Fal. To what purpose have you unfolded this to me ?
Ford. When I have told you that, I have told you all. Some say that though she appear honest to me, yet in other places she enlargeth her mirth so far that there is shrewd construction made of her. Now, Sir John, here is the heart of my purpose : You are a gen- tleman of excellent breeding, admirable discourse, of great admittance, authentic in your place and person, generally allowed for your many warlike, courtlike, and learned preparations.
Fal. Oh, sir !
Ford. Believe it, for you know it. There is money ; spend it, spend it, spend more ; spend all I have ; only give me so much of your time in exchange of it as to lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford's wife. Use your art of wooing, win her to consent to you ; if any man may, you may as soon as any.
FaL Would it apply well to the vehemency of your
H
F'LAI K 14
WHY. THIS IS THE VERY SAME Merry Wives, act ii., scene i.
m
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 113
affection that I should win what you would enjoy? Methinks you prescribe to yourself very preposter- ously.
Ford. Oh, understand my drift ! She dwells so se- curely on the excellency of her honour that the folly of my soul dares not present itself ; she is too bright to be looked against. Now, could I come to her with any detection in my hand, my desires had instance and ar- gument to commend themselves ; I could drive her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, her mar- riage-vow, and a thousand other her defences, which now are too strongly embattled against me. What say you to 't. Sir John }
Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold with your money ; next, give me your hand ; and last, as I am a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife.
Ford. O good sir !
Fal. Master Brook, I say you shall.
Ford. Want no money. Sir John, you shall want none.
Fal. Want no Mistress Ford, Master Brook, you shall want none. I shall be with her (I may tell you) by her own appointment ; even as you came in to me her assistant, or go-between, parted from me. I say I shall be with her between ten and eleven ; for at that time the jealous, rascally knave her husband will be forth. Come you to me at night ; you shall know how I speed.
Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you know Ford, sir?
Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave ! I know him not. Yet I wrong him to call him poor ; they say the jealous wittoUy knave hath masses of money, for the which his wife seems to me well-favoured. I will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's coffer, and there's my harvest-home.
Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir, that you might avoid him if you saw him.
Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt-butter rogue ! I will
stare him out of his wits; I will awe him with my cud- iv.-«
114 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
gel ; it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuckold's horns. Master Brook, thou shalt know I will predominate o'er the peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife. Come to me soon at night. Ford's a knave, and I will aggra- vate his style ; thou. Master Brook, shalt know him for a knave and cuckold. Come to me soon at night.
\_Exit. Ford. What a damned Epicurean rascal is this! My heart is ready to crack with impatience. Who says this is improvident jealousy ? My wife hath sent to him, the hour is fixed, the match is made. Would any man have thought this '^. See the hell of having a false woman ! My bed shall be abused, my coffers ransacked, my reputation gnawn at; and I shall not only receive this villanous wrong, but stand under the adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does me this wrong. Terms! names! — Amaimon sounds well ; Lucifer, well; Barbason, well; yet they are devils' additions, the names of fiends. But cuckold ! wittol cuckold ! the devil himself hath not such a name. Page is an ass, a secure ass ; he will trust his wife, he will not be jealous. I will rather trust a Fleming with my butter, Parson Hugh the Welshman with my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitae bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling geld- ing, than my wife with herself ; then she plots, then she ruminates, then she devises. And what they think in their hearts they may effect, they will break their hearts but they will effect. Heaven be praised for my jealousy ! — Eleven o'clock the hour — I will prevent this, detect my wife, be revenged on Falstaff, and laugh at Page. I will about it ; better three hours too soon than a min- ute too late. Fie, fie, fie ! cuckold ! cuckold ! cuckold !
\ExiL
Scene HI. — Enter Caius and Rugby.
Caius. Jack Rugby! Rug. Sir.
Caius. Vat is de clock, Jack ?
Rug. 'Tis past the hour, sir, that Sir Hugh promised to meet.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 115
Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no come ; he has pray his Pible veil, dat he is no come. By gar, Jack Rugby, he is dead already, if he be come.
Rug. He is wise, sir; he knew your worship would kill him if he came.
Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead so as I vill kill him. Take your rapier. Jack; I vill tell you how I vill kill him.
Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence.
Caius. Villany, take your rapier.
Rug. Forbear; here's company.
Enter Host, Shallow, Slender, and Page.
Host. Bless thee, bully doctor.
Shal. Save you, Master Doctor Caius.
Page. Now, good master doctor!
Slen. Give you good-morrow, sir.
Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, three, four, come for ?
Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin, to see thee traverse, to see thee here, to see thee there ; to see thee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian ? is he dead, my Francisco ? ha, bully ! What says my vEsculapius ? my Galen.? my heart of elder? Ha! is he dead, bully Stale ? is he dead }
Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of the vorld ; he is not show his face.
Host. Thou art a Castilian king-urinal ! Hector of Greece, my boy !
Caitis. I pray you, bear vitness that me have stay six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and he is no come.
Shal. He is the wiser man, master doctor. He is a curer of souls, and you a curer of bodies; if you should fight, you go against the hair of your professions. Is it not true. Master Page ?
Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself been a great fighter, though now a man of peace.
Shal. Bodykins, Master Page, though I now be old,
ii6 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger itches to make one. Though we are justices, and doctors, and churchmen. Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us ; we are the sons of women, Master Page.
Page. 'Tis true, Master Shallow.
Shal. It will be found so, Master Page. Master Doctor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am sworn of the peace ; you have showed yourself a wise physician, and Sir Hugh hath shown himself a wise and patient churchman. You must go with me, master doctor.
Host. Pardon, guest- justice. — A word, Monsieur Muck- water.
Caius. Muck-vater ? Vat is dat }
Host. Muck-water, in our English tongue, is valour, bully.
Cams. By gar, then I have as much muck-vater as de Englishman. Scurvy jack-dog priest ; by gar, me vill cut his ears.
Host. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully.
Caius. Clapper-de-claw .? Vat is dat ?
Host. That is, he will make thee amends.
Caius. By gar, me do look he shall clapper-de-claw me ; for, by gar, me vill have it.
Host. And I will provoke him to 't, or let him wag.
Caius. Me tank you for dat.
Host. And moreover, bully — But first, master guest, and Master Page, and eke Cavalero Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore. \Aside to them.
Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he }
Host. He is there. See what humour he is in ; and I will bring the doctor about by the fields. Will it do well .?
Shal. We will do it.
Page, Shal., and Slen. Adieu, good master doctor.
[^Exeunt Page, Shallow, and Slender.
Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest ; for he speak for a jack-a-nape to Anne Page.
Host. Let him die. But first sheathe thy impatience; throw cold water on thy choler. Go about the fields
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 117
with me through Frogmore. I will bring thee where Mistress Anne Page is, at a farmhouse a-feasting ; and thou shalt woo her. Cried game, said I well ?
Cams. By gar, me tank you for dat ; by gar, I love you ; and I shall procuree you de good guest, de earl, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my patients.
Hosi. For the which I will be thy adversary toward Anne Page. Said I well }
Cuius. By gar, 'tis good ; veil said.
Hosi. Let us wag then.
Caius. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. \_Exeunt.
ACT III Scene I. — Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple.
Eva7is. I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving- man, and friend Simple py your name, which way have you looked for Master Caius, that calls himself Doctor" of Physic .?
Sim. Marry, sir, the city-ward, the park-ward, every way ; old Windsor way, and every way but the town way.
Evans. I most fehemently desire you, you will also look that way.
Sim. I will, sir.
Evans. Pless my soul ! how full of cholers I am, and trempling of mind ! I shall pe glad if he have deceived me. How melancholies I am ! I will knog his urinals apout his knave's costard when I have good opportuni- ties for the 'ork. Pless my soul ! \Sings.
To shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious pirds sing madrigals ; There will we make our peds of roses. And a thousand fragrant posies. To shallow — 9
'Mercy on me ! I have a great dispositions to cry.
Melodious pirds sing madrigals ; When as I sat in Pabylon —
ii8 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
And a thousand vagratn posies. To shallow —
Sim. Yonder he is coming this way, Sir Hugh. Evans, He's welcome —
To shallow rivers, to whose falls —
Heaven prosper the right ! — What weapon is he ?
Sim. No weapons, sir. There comes my master. Master Shallow, and another gentleman from Frog- more, over the stile, this way.
Evans. Pray you, give me my gown, or else keep it in your arms.
Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender.
Shal. How now, master parson } Good-morrow, good Sir Hugh. Keep a gamester from the dice, and a good student from his book, and it is wonderful.
Sle7i. Ah, sweet Anne Page !
Page. Save you, good Sir Hugh !
Evans. Pless you from His mercy sake, all of you !
Shal. What ! the sword and the Word t do you study them both, master parson ?
Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, this raw rheumatic day ?
Evans. There is reasons and causes for it.
Page. We are come to you to do a good office, mas- ter parson.
Evans. Fery well. What is it .?
Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman who, be- like, having received wrong by some person, is at most odds with his own gravity and patience that ever you saw.
Shal. I have lived fourscore years and upward ; I never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning so wide of his own respect.
Evans. What is he }
Page. I think you know him ; Master Doctor Caius, the renowned French physician.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 119
Evans. Got's will, and his passion of my heart ! I had as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge.
Page. Why?
Evans. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates and Galen — and he is a knave pesides ; a cowardly knave as you would desires to be acquainted withal.
Page. I warrant you he's the man should fight with him.
Slen. Oh, sweet Anne Page !
Shal. It appears so by his weapons. Keep them asunder ; here comes Doctor Caius.
Enter Host, Caius, and Rugby.
Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in your weapon.
Shal. So do you, good master doctor.
Host. Disarm them, and let them question ; let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our English.
Caius. I pray you let-a me speak a word vit your ear. Verefore vill you not meet-a me ?
Evans. Pray you, use your patience. In good time.
Cams. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, John ape.
Evans. Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to other men's humours. I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends. I will knog your urinals apout your knave's cogscomb for missing your meetings and appointments.
Caius. Diable! Jack Rugby — mmo. Host de Jarterre, have I not stay for him to kill him } Have I not, at de place I did appoint ?
Evans. As I am a Christians soul, now look you, this is the place appointed. I'll pe judgment py mine Host of the Garter.
Host. Peace, I say; Guallia and Gaul, French and Welsh, soul-curer and body-curer.
Caius. Ay, dat is very good ! excellent !
Host. Peace, I say. Hear mine Host of the Garter. Am I politic ? am I subtle ? am I a Machiavel } Shall I lose my doctor ? No ; he gives me the potions and
120 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
the motions. Shall I lose my parson, my priest, my Sir Hugh ? No ; he gives me the proverbs and the no- verbs. Give me thy hand, terrestrial ; so. Give me thy hand, celestial ; so. Boys of art, I have deceived you both ; I have directed you to wrong places. Your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issue. Come, lay their swords to pawn. Follow me, lad of peace ; follow, follow, follow.
Shal. Trust me, a mad host. — Follow, gentlemen, follow.
Slen. Oh, sweet Anne Page !
\_Exeunt Shallow, Slender, Page, and Host.
Caitis. Ha ! do I perceive dat t Have you make-a de sot of us } Ha, ha !
Evans. This is well ; he has made us his vlouting- stog. I desire you that we may pe friends ; and let us knog our prains together to pe revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging companion, the Host of the Garter.
Caius. By gar, vit all my heart. He promise to bring me vere is Anne Page. By gar, he deceive me too.
Evans. Well, I will smite his noddles. Pray you, follow. \_Exeunt.
Scene H. — Enter Mistress Page <a;;2^ Robin.
Mrs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant ; you were wo.nt to be a follower, but now you are a leader. Whether had you rather, lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels }
Robin. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a man than follow him like a dwarf.
Mrs. Page. Oh, you are a flattering boy ; now I see you'll be a courtier.
Enter Ford.
Ford. Well met. Mistress Page. Whither go you .? Mrs. Page. Truly, sir, to see your wife. Is she at home ?
Ford. Ay ; and as idle as she may hang together for
Plate 15
MARRY. THIS IS THE SHORT AND THE LONG OF IT
Merry Wives, act ii.. scene ii
diHf i
:-Vl If '1 '
! .1 /. ''
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 121
want of company. I think if your husbands were dead, you two would marry.
Mrs. Page. Be sure of that — two other husbands.
Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cock }
Mrs. Page. T cannot tell what the dickens his name is my husband had him of. What do you call your knight's name, sirrah }
Robin. Sir John Falstaff.
Ford. Sir John Falstaff!
Mrs. Page. He, he ; I can never hit on 's name. There is such a league between my good man and he ! Is your wife at home, indeed 1
Ford. Indeed she is.
Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir. I am sick till I see her. S^Exeunt Mrs. Page ajid Robin.
Ford. Has Page any brains .'* hath he any eyes .? hath he any thinking 1 Sure, they sleep; he hath no use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twenty miles as easy as a cannon will shoot point-blank twelve score. He pieces out his wife's inclination ; he gives her folly motion and advantage. And now she's going to my wife, and Falstaff's boy with her. A man may hear this shower sing in the wind ! And Falstaff' boy with her! Good plots ! — they are laid ; and our revolted wives share damnation together. Well, I will take him ; then torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil of modesty from the so-seeming Mistress Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and wilful Actaeon ; and to these violent proceed- ings all my neighbours shall cry aim. \Clock strikes.'] The clock gives me my cue, and my assurance bids me search ; there I shall find Falstaff. I shall be rather praised for this than mocked ; for it is as positive as the earth is firm that Falstaff is there. I will go.
Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host, Sir Hugh Evans, Caius, and Rugby.
Shal., Page, etc. Well met. Master Ford. Ford. Trust me, a good knot. I have good cheer at home ; and I pray you all go with me.
122 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Shal. I must excuse myself, Master Ford.
Slen. And so must I, sir ; we have appointed to dine with Mistress Anne, and I would not break with her for more money than I'll speak of.
Shal. We have lingered about a match between Anne Page and my Cousin Slender, and this day we shall have our answer.
Slen. I hope I have your good-will, Father Page.
Page. You have, Master Slender ; I stand wholly for you. But my wife, master doctor, is for you altogether.
Caius. Ay, by gar ; and de maid is love-a me ; my nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush.
Host. What say you to young Master Fenton ? He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holyday, he smells April and May. He will carry 't, he will carry 't ; 'tis in his buttons ; he will carry 't.
Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. The gen tleman is of no having. He kept company with the wild Prince and Poins ; he is of too high a region, he knows too much. No, he shall not knit a knot in his fortunes with the finger of my substance. If he take her, let him take her simply; the wealth I have waits on my consent, and my consent goes not that way.
Ford. I beseech you heartily some of you go home with me to dinner. Besides your cheer, you shall have sport ; I will show you a monster. — Master doctor, you shall go ; so shall you. Master Page ; and you. Sir Hugh.
Shal. Well, fare you well. We shall have the freer wooing at Master Page's.
\_Exeunt Shallow and Slender.
Caius. Go home, John Rugby ; I come anon.
\^Exit Rugby.
Host. Farewell, my hearts. I will to my honest knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him.
\_Exit Host.
Ford. \Aside^ I think I shall drink in pipe-wine first
with him ; I'll make him dance. Will you go, gentles .?
All. Have with you, to see this monster. \_Exeunt.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 123
Scene III. — Enter Mistress Ford and Mistress Page.
Mrs. Ford. What, John ! what, Robert !
Mrs. Page. Quickly ! quickly. Is the buck-basket —
Mrs. Ford. I warrant. What, Robin, I say.
Enter Servants with a basket.
Mrs. Page. Come, come, come.
Mrs. Ford. Here, set it down.
Mrs. Page. Give your men the charge ; we must be brief.
Mrs. Ford. Marry, as I told you before, John and Robert, be ready here hard by in the brew-house : and when I suddenly call you, come forth, and (without any pause or staggering) take this basket on your shoulders; that done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry it among the whitsters in Datchet mead, and there empty it in the muddy ditch, close by the Thames' side.
Mrs. Page. You will do it }
Mrs. Ford. I have told them over and over: they lack no direction. Be gone, and come when you are called. \_Exeunt Servants.
Mrs. Page. Here comes little Robin.
Enter Robin.
Mrs. Ford. How now, my eyas-musket } What news with you }
Robin. My master Sir John is come in at your back door, Mistress Ford, and requests your company.
Mrs. Page. You little Jack-a-lent, have you been true to us ?
Robin. Ay, I'll be sworn. My master knows not of your being here, and hath threatened to put me into everlasting liberty if I tell you of it ; for he swears he'll turn me away.
Mrs. Page. Thou art a good boy ; this secrecy of thine shall be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee a new doublet and hose. I'll go hide me.
124 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mrs. Ford. Do so. Go tell thy master I am alone. Mistress Page, remember you your cue. \_Exit Robin.
Mrs. Page. I warrant thee ; if I do not act it, hiss me.
{Exit Mrs. Page.
Mrs. Ford. Go to, then. We'll use this unwholesome humidity, this gross watery pumpion ; we'll teach him how to know turtles from jays.
Enter Falstaff.
Fal. Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel } Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough. This is the period of my ambition. Oh, this blessed hour!
Mrs. Ford. Oh, sweet Sir John !
Fal. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate, Mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wash. I would thy husband were dead. I'll speak it before the best lord, I would make thee my lady.
Mrs. Ford. I your lady. Sir John ! Alas, I should be a pitiful lady.
Fal. Let the court of France show me such another. I see how thine eye would emulate the diamond. Thou hast the right arched beauty of the brow that becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of Venetian ad- mittance.
Mrs. Ford. A plain kerchief. Sir John : my brows be- come nothing else, nor that well neither.
Fal. Thou art a traitor to say so. Thou wouldst make an absolute courtier; and the firm fixture of thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait in a semicircled farthingale. I see what thou wert if fortune thy foe were not. Nature is thy friend. Come, thou canst not hide it.
Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no such thing in me.
Fal. What made me love thee '^. Let that persuade thee there's something extraordinary in thee. Come, I cannot cog, and say thou art this and that, like a many of these lisping hawthorn buds that come like women in men's apparel, and smell like Bucklersbury in simple-
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 125
time ; I cannot. But I love thee ; none but thee ; and thou deservest it.
Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, sir ; I fear you love Mistress Page.
Fal. Thou might'st as well say I love to walk by the Counter-gate, which is as hateful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln.
Mrs. Ford. Well, Heaven knows how I love you ; and you shall one day find it.
Fal. Keep in that mind ; I'll deserve it.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do ; or else I could not be in that mind.
Rob. {Within^ Mistress Ford, Mistress Ford ! here's Mistress Page at the door, sweating and blowing and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you pres- ently.
Fal. She shall not see me ; I will ensconce me be- hind the arras.
Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do so ; she's a very tattling woman. — [Falstaff hides himself.
Enter Mistress Page and Robin.
What's the matter ? how now ?
Mrs. Page. Oh, Mistress Ford, what have you done ? You're shamed, you are overthrown, you are undone for- ever.
Mrs. Ford. What's the matter, good Mistress Page."^
Mrs. Page. Oh, well-a-day. Mistress Ford ! having an honest man to your husband, to give him such cause of suspicion !
Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion ?
Mrs. Page. What cause of suspicion .'* Outuponyou! how am I mistook in you I
Mrs. Ford. Why, alas ! what's the matter ?
Mrs. Page. Your husband's coming hither, woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to search for a gentle- man that he says is here now in the house, by your con- sent, to take an ill advantage of his absence. You are undone.
126 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mrs. Ford. Speak louder. \_Aside7\ 'Tis not so, I hope.
Mrs. Page. Pray Heaven it be not so that you have such a man here ; but 'tis most certain your husband's coming with half Windsor at his heels to search for such a one. I come before to tell you. If you know your- self clear, why, I am glad of it ; but if you have a friend here, convey, convey him out. Be not amazed; call all your senses to you ; defend your reputation, or bid fare- well to your good life forever.
Mrs. Ford. What shall I do } There is a gentleman, my dear friend ; and I fear not mine own shame so much as his peril. I had rather than a thousand pound he were out of the house.
Mrs. Page. For shame, never stand you had rather, and you had rather ; your husband's here at hand, be- think you of some conveyance : in the house you can- not hide him. Oh, how have you deceived me ! Look, here is a basket; if he be of any reasonable stature he may creep in here, and throw foul linen upon him as if it were going to bucking. Or, it is whitening time, send him by your two men to Datchet mead.
Mrs. Ford. He's too big to go in there. What shall I do?
Re-enter Falstaff.
Fal. Let me see 't! let me see 't ! Oh, let me see 't ! I'll in, I'll in ; follow your friend's counsel ; I'll in.
Mrs. Page. What ! Sir John Falstaff ! Are these your letters, knight ?
Fal. I love thee, and none but thee ; help me away : let me creep in here ; I'll never —
\He goes into the basket ; they cover him with foullinen.
Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy. Call your men, Mistress Ford. You dissembling knight!
Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John ! [^jirzV Robin ; re-enter Servants.] Go, take up these clothes here, quickly; where's the cowl-staff.'' Look, how you drum- ble. Carry them to the laundress in Datchet mead ; quickly, come.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 127
E7iter Ford, Page, Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans.
Ford. Pray you, come near. If I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me, then let me be your jest ; I deserve it. — How now? whither bear you this ?
Serv. To the laundress, forsooth.
Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whither they bear it } You were best meddle with buck-wash- ing.
Ford. Buck .? I would I could wash myself of the buck ! Buck ! buck ! buck ! Ay, buck ; I war- rant you, buck ; and of the season too, it shall appear. \Exeunt Servants with the basket?^ Gentlemen, I have dreamed to-night ; I'll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be my keys: ascend my chambers, search, seek, find out. I'll warrant we'll unkennel the fox. Let me stop this way first. So, now uncape.
Page. Good Master Ford, be contented. You wrong yourself too much.
Ford. True, Master Page. Up, gentlemen ; you shall see sport anon. Follow me, gentlemen. \Exit.
Evans. This is fery fantastical humours and jeal- ousies.
Caius. Py gar, 'tis no de fashion of France ; it is not jealous in France.
Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen, see the issue of his search. \_Exeu7it Evans, Page, and Caius.
Mrs. Page. Is there not a double excellency in this }
Mrs. Ford. I know not which pleases me better, that my husband is deceived, or Sir John.
Mrs. Page. What a taking was he in when your hus- band asked who was in the basket 1
Mrs. Ford. I am half afraid he will have need of wash- ing, so throwing him into the water will do him a ben- efit.
Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal ! I would all of the same strain were in the same distress.
Mrs. Ford. I think my husband hath some special suspicion of Falstaff' s being here ; for I never saw him so gross in his jealousy till now.
128 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mrs. Page. I will lay a plot to try that. And we will yet have more tricks with Falstaff ; his dissolute disease will scarce obey this medicine.
Mrs. Ford. Shall we send that foolish carrion, Mis- tress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing into the water, and give him another hope, to betray him to an- other punishment ?
Mrs. Page. We'll do it ; let him be sent for to - mor- row eight o'clock to have amends.
Re-e7iter Ford, Page,. Caius, and Sir Hugh Evans.
Ford. I cannot find him. Maybe the knave bragged of that he could not compass.
Mrs. Page. Heard you that ?
Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay ; peace. — You use me well, Mas- ter Ford, do you .?
Ford. Ay, I do so.
Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your thoughts.
Ford. Amen.
Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, Master Ford.
Ford. Ay, ay ; I must bear it.
Evans. If there pe anypody in the house, and in the champers, and in the coffers, and in the presses, Heav- en forgive my sins at the day of judgment.
Caius. By gar, nor I too ; dere is nobodies.
Page: Fie, fie. Master Ford ! are you not ashamed .'* What spirit, what devil suggests this imagination ? I would not have your distemper in this kind for the wealth of Windsor Castle.
Ford. 'Tis my fault. Master Page ; I suffer for it.
Evans. You suffer for a pad conscience. Your wife is as honest a 'omans as I will desires among five thousand, and five hundred too.
Caius. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman.
Ford. Well, I promised you a dinner. Come, come, walk in the park. I pray you, pardon me ; I will here- after make known to you why I have done this. Come,
Flai E 1 6
BELIEVE IT, FOR YOU KNOW IT
Merry Wives, act ii., scene ii.
.tlVVilJ.TH
V 1 1', n
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 129
wife ; come, Mistress Page ; I pray you pardon me ; pray heartily, pardon me.
Page. Let's go in, gentlemen ; but, trust me, we'll mock him. I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast; after, we'll a-birding together; I have a fine hawk for the bush. Shall it be so 1
Ford. Anything.
Evans. If there is one I shall make two in the com- pany.
Caius. If there be one or two, I shall make-a de turd.
Evans. In your teeth : for shame.
Ford. Pray you go, Master Page.
Evans. I pray you now rememprance to - morrow on the lousy knave, mine host.
Caius. Dat is good ; by gar, vit all my heart.
Evans. A lousy knave, to have his gibes and his mockeries. \_Exeunt.
Scene IV. — Enier Fenton and Mistress Anne Page.
Feni. I see I cannot get thy father's love. Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan.
Anne. Alas ! how then }
Fent. Why, thou must be thyself.
He doth object I am too great of birth ; And that, my state being gall'd with my expense, I seek to heal it only by his wealth. Besides these, other bars he lays before me — My riots past, my wild societies ; And tells me 'tis a thing impossible I should love thee but as a property.
Anne. Maybe he tells you true.
Fent. No, Heaven so speed me in my time to come ! Albeit I will confess thy father's wealth Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne ; Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value Than stamps in gold or sums in sealed bags; And 'tis the very riches of thyself That now I aim at.
Anne. Gentle Master Fenton
1V.-9
I30 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Yet seek my father's love ; still seek it, sir.
If opportunity and humblest suit
Cannot attain it, why then — Hark you hither.
\They converse apart.
Enter Shallow, Slender, and Mistress Quickly.
Shal. Break their talk. Mistress Quickly ; my kins- man shall speak for himself.
Sle7i. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on't; slid, 'tis but venturing.
Shal. Be not dismayed.
Slen. No, she shall not dismay me. I care not for that^ — but that I am afeared.
Qtiick. Hark ye. Master Slender would speak a word with you.
Anne. I come to him. — This is my father's choice. Oh, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
\_Aside.
Quick. And how does good Master Fenton .? Pray you, a word with you.
Shal. She's coming ; to her, coz. Oh, boy, thou hadst a father !
Slen. I had a father, Mistress Anne ; my uncle can tell you good jests of him. — Pray you, uncle, tell Mis- tress Anne the jest how my father stole two geese out of a pen, good uncle.
Shal. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you.
Slen. Ay, that I do ; as well as I love any woman in Gloucestershire.
Shal. He will maintain you like a gentlewoman.
Slen. Ay, that I will, come cut and long tail, under the degree of a 'squire.
Shal. He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds jointure.
Anne. Good Master Shallow, let him woo for him- self.
Shal. Marry, I thank you for it ; I thank you for that good comfort. She calls you, coz : I'll leave you.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 131
Anne. Now, Master Slender.
SUii. Now, good Mistress Anne.
Anne. What is your will ?
Slen. My will } 'Od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest, indeed ! I ne'er made my will yet, I thank Heaven ; I am not such a sickly creature, I give Heaven praise.
Anne. I mean, Master Slender, what would you with me ?
Slen. Truly, for mine own part, I would little or nothing with you. Your father and my uncle have made motions. If it be my luck, so; if not, happy man be his dole ! They can tell you how things go better than I can. You may ask your father; here he comes.
Enter Page and Mistress Page.
Page. Now, Master Slender. Love him, daughter Anne. Why, how now } what does Master Fenton here } You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house. I told you, sir, my daughter is disposed of. Fent. Nay, Master Page, be not impatient. Mrs. Page. Good Master Fenton, come not to my
child. Page. She is no match for you. Fent. Sir, will you hear me ?
Page. No, good Master Fenton.
Come, Master Shallow ; come, son Slender ; in. — Knowing my mind, you wrong me, Master Fenton.
\_Exeunt Page, Shallow, and Slender. Quick. Speak to Mistress Page. Fent. Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter In such a righteous fashion as I do, Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, I must advance the colours of my love, And not retire. Let me have your good-will.
Anne. Good mother, do not marry me to yond' fool. Mrs. Page. I mean it not ; I seek you a better hus- band.
132 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Quick. That's my master, master doctor.
Anne. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth. And bowl'd to death with turnips.
Mrs. Page. Come, trouble not yourself, good Mas- ter Fenton, I will not be your friend, nor enemy. My daughter will I question how she loves you, And as I find her, so am I affected. 'Till then, farewell, sir ; she must needs go in ; Her father will be angry,
\_Exeunt Mrs. Page and Anne.
Fent. Farewell, gentle mistress ; farewell, Nan.
Quick. This is my doing, now. Nay, said I, will you cast away your child on a fool and a physician } Look on Master Fenton. This is my doing.
Fent. I thank thee ; and, I pray thee, once to-night Give my sweet Nan this ring. There's for thy pains.
\^Exit.
Quick. Now Heaven send thee good-fortune ! A kind heart he hath : a woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart. But yet, I would my mas- ter had Mistress Anne ; or I would Master Slender had her ; or, in sooth, I would Master Fenton had her. I will do what I can for them all three ; for so I have promised, and I'll be as good as my word ; but spe- ciously for Master Fenton. Well, I must of another errand to Sir John Falstaff from my two mistresses. What a beast am I to slack it ! \_Exit.
Scene V. — Enter Falstaff and Bardolph.
Fat. Bardolph, I say ! —
Bard. Here, sir.
Fat. Go, fetch me a quart of sack ; put a toast in't. \Exit Bardolph.] — Have I lived to be carried in a bas- ket, like a barrow of butcher's offal, and to be thrown into the Thames } Well, if I be served such another trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out and butter'd, and give them to a dog for a New-year's gift. The rogues slighted me into the river with as little remorse as they
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 133
would have drowned a bitch's blind puppies, fifteen i' the litter; and you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking ; if the bottom were as deep as hell, I should down. I had been drowned but that the shore was shelvy and shallow ; a death that I ab- hor; for the water swells a man; and what a thing should I have been when I had been swelled ! I should have been a mountain of mummy.
Re-enter Bardolph, with the wine.
Bard. Here's Mistress Quickly, sir, to speak with you.
Fat. Come, let me pour in some sack to the Thames water ; for my belly's as cold as if I had swallowed snow-balls for pills to cool the reins. Call her in.
Bard. Come in, woman.
Enter Mrs. Quickly.
Quick. By your leave; I cry you mercy. Give your worship good-morrow.
Fal. Take away these chalices. Go, brew me a pot- tle of sack finely.
Bar. With eggs, sir .?
Fal. Simple of itself; I'll no pullet-sperm in my brew- age. \^Exit Bardolph.] — How now t
Quick. Marry, sir, I come to your worship from Mis- tress Ford.
Fal. Mistress Ford ! I have had ford enough : I was thrown into the ford ; I have my belly full of ford.
Quick. Alas the day ! Good heart, that was not her fault ; she does so take on with her men ; they mistook their erection.
Fal. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish woman's promise.
Quick. Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would yearn your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morning a-birding ; she desires you once more to come to her between eight and nine. I must carry her word quickly. She'll make you amends, I warrant you.
134 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Fal. Well, I will visit her. Tell her so. And bid her think what a man is : let her consider his frailty, and then judge of my merit.
Quick. I will tell her.
Fal. Do so. Between nine and ten say'st thou }
Quick. Eight and nine, sir.
Fal. Well, be gone : I will not miss her.
Quick. Peace be with you, sir ! \_Exit.
Fal. I marvel I hear not of Master Brook ; he sent me word to stay within ; I like his money well. Oh, here he comes.
Enter Ford.
Ford. Bless you, sir!
Fal. Now, Master Brook, you come to know what hath passed between me and Ford's wife }
Ford. That indeed. Sir John, is my business.
Fal. Master Brook, I will not lie to you ; I was at her house the hour she appointed m.e.
Ford. And how sped you, sir?
Fal. Very ill-favouredly, Master Brook.
Ford. How so, sir .'' Did she change her determina- tion .?
Fal. No, Master Brook ; but the peaking cornuto, her husband. Master Brook, dwelling in a continual 'larum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our encounter, after we had embraced, kissed, protested, and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy; and at his heels a rabble of his companions, thither pro- voked and instigated by his distemper, and, forsooth, to search his house for his wife's love.
Ford. What, while you were there }
Fal. While I was there.
Ford. And did he search for you, and could not find you ?
Fal. You shall hear. As good-luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page ; gives intelligence of Ford's approach ; and, by her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket.
Ford. A buck-basket .?
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 135
Fal. By the Lord, a buck-basket. Rammed me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, and greasy napkins, that, Master Brook, there was the rank- est compound of villanous smell that ever offended nos- tril.
Ford. And how long lay you there .''
Fal. Nay, you shall hear. Master Brook, what I have suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good. Being thus crammed in the basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his hinds, were called forth by their mistress to carry me in the name of foul clothes to Datchet-lane. They took me on their shoulders ; met the jealous knave their master in the door, who asked them once or twice what they had in their basket. I quaked for fear lest the lunatic knave would have searched it ; but Fate, or- daining he should be a cuckold, held his hand. Well, on went he for a search, and away went I for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, Master Brook. I suffered the pangs of three several deaths : first, an intolerable fright to be detected with a jealous rotten bellwether ; next, to be compassed like a good bilbo in the circumference of a peck, hilt to point, heel to head ; and then to be stop- ped in, like a strong distillation, with stinking clothes that fretted in their own grease. Think of that — a man of my kidney — think of that ; that am as subject to heat as butter; a man of continual dissolution and thaw. It was a miracle to 'scape suffocation. And in the height of this bath, when I was more than half stewed in grease, like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames and cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a horse-shoe ! think of that — hissing hot — think of that, Master Brook !
Ford. In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my sake you have suffered all this. My suit then is des- perate: you'll undertake her no more.
Fal. Master Brook, I will be thrown into y^tna, as I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. Her husband is this morning gone a-birding. I have re- ceived from her another embassy of meeting ; 'twixt eight and nine is the hour, Master Brook.
136 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Ford. 'Tis past eight already, sir.
Fal. Is it ? I will then address me to my appoint- ment. Come to me at your convenient leisure, and you shall know how I speed ; and the conclusion shall be crowned with your enjoying her. Adieu. You shall have her, Master Brook ; Master Brook, you shall cuck- old Ford. \_Exit.
Ford. Hum ! ha ! Is this a vision ? is this a dream } do I sleep } Master Ford, awake ; awake, Master Ford; there's a hole made in your best coat, Master Ford. This 'tis to be married ! this 'tis to have linen and buck- baskets ! Well, I will proclaim myself what I am. I will now take the lecher ; he is at my house : he cannot 'scape me ; 'tis impossible he should ; he cannot creep into a halfpenny purse, nor into a pepper-box : but lest the devil that guides him should aid him, I will search impossible places. Though what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not shall not make me tame. If I have horns to make one mad, let the proverb go with me, I'll be horn mad. S^Exit.
ACT IV
Scene I. — Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Quickly, and
William.
Mrs. Page. Is he at Master Ford's already, think'st thou?
Quick. Sure he is by this ; or will be presently. But truly he is very courageous mad about his throwing into the water. Mistress Ford desires you to come sud- denly.
Mrs. Page. I'll be with her by-and-by , I'll but bring my young man here to school. Look where his master comes ; 'tis a playing-day, I see.
Enter Sir Hugh Evans.
How now, Sir Hugh ? no school to-day?
Evans. No ; Master Slender is let the poys leave to play.
1-'
Plate 17
YONDER HE IS COMING. THI3 WAY. SIR HUGH
Merry Wives, act Hi . scene i.
'■ .V'
: (; ('•■i I.I /, '<
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 137
Quick. Blessing of his heart !
Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says my son prof- its nothing in the world at his book ; I pray you, ask him some questions in his accidence.
Evans. Come hither, William ; hold up your head ; come.
Mrs. Page. Come on, sirrah ; hold up your head. Answer your master ; be not afraid.
Evans. William, how many numpers is in nouns.''
Will. Two.
Quick. Truly, I thought there had been one number more ; because they say od's nouns.
Eva7is. Peace your tattlings. What is fair, William }
Will. Pulcher.
Quick. Poulcats I There are fairer things than poul- cats, sure.
Evans. You are a very simplicity 'oman ; I pray you, peace. What is lapis, William ?
Will. A stone.
Evans. And what is a stone, William ?
Will. A pebble.
Evans. No, it is lapis ; I pray you rememper in your prain.
Will. Lapis.
Evans. That is good, William. What is he, Will- iam, that does lend articles }
Will Articles are borrowed of the pronoun ; and be thus declined, Singulariter, nominativo, hie, hcsc, hoc.
Evans. Nominalivo, hig, hag, hog ; pray you, mark : geiiitivo, hujus. Well, what is your accusative case }
Will. Accusativo, hinc.
Evans. I pray you, have your rememprance, child : Accusative, hing, ha^ig, hog.
Quick. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant you.
Evans. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is the focative case, William }
Will. O — vocativo, O.
Evans. Rememper, William ; focative is caret.
Quick. And that's a good root.
Evans. 'Oman, forbear.
138 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mrs. Page, Peace.
Evans. What is your genitive case plural, William ?
Will. Genitive case?
Evans. Ay.
Will. Genitivo — korum, karum, horum.
Quick. Vengeance of Jenny's case ! fie on her ! Never name her, child, if she be a whore.
Evans. For shame, 'oman.
Quick. You do ill to teach the child such words. He teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast enough of themselves ; and to call horum ! fie upon you!
Eva7is. 'Oman, art thou lunatics t hast thou no un- derstandings for thy cases and the numpers of the gen- ders.? Thou art as foolish Christian creatures as I would desires.
Mrs. Page. Prithee, hold thy peace.
Evans. Show me now, William, some declensions of your pronouns.
Will. Forsooth, I have forgot. • Evans. It is ki, kcs, cod ; if you forget your kies^ your k^s, and your cods, you must be preeches. Go your ways and play; go.
Mrs. Page. He is a better scholar than I thought he was.
Evans. He is a good sprag memory. Farewell, Mis- tress Page.
Mrs. Page. Adieu, good Sir Hugh. \_Exil Sir Hugh.] Get you' home, boy. Come, we stay too long.
\Exeunt.
Scene H. — Enter Falstaff and Mistress Ford.
Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my sufferance. I see you are obsequious in your love, and I profess requital to a hair's breadth ; not only, Mistress Ford, in the simple office of love, but in all the accoutrement, complement, and ceremony of it. But are you sure of your husband now }
Mrs, Ford. He's a-birding, sweet Sir John.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 139
Mrs. Page. [ Within^ What hoa, Gossip Ford ! what hoa !
Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, Sir John.
\_Exit Falstaff.
Enter Mistress Page.
Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart ? Who's at home besides yourself ?
Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people.
Mrs. Page. Indeed !
Mrs. Ford. No, certainly. Speak louder. \^Aside.
Mrs. Page. Truly, I am so glad you have nobody here.
Mrs. Ford. Why }
Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in his old lunes again. He so takes on yonder with my husband; so rails against all married mankind ; so curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever; and so buffets himself on the forehead, crying, Peer out, peer out ! that any madness I ever yet beheld seemed but tame- ness, civility, and patience to this his distemper he is in now. I am glad the fat knight is not here.
Mrs. Ford. Why, does he talk of him ?
Mrs. Page. Of none but him ; and swears he was carried out, the last time he searched for him, in a bas- ket ; protests to my husband he is now here ; and hath drawn him and the rest of their company from their sport to make another experiment of his suspicion. But I am glad the knight is not here ; now he shall see his own foolery.
Mrs. Ford. How near is he, Mistress Page ?
Mrs. Page. Hard by ; at street end ; he will be here anon.
Mrs. Ford. I am undone ! — the knight is here.
Mrs. Page. Why, then you are utterly ashamed, and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you ? Away with .him, away with him; better shame than mur- der.
Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go ? how should I bestow him ? Shall I put him into the basket again ?
I40 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Re-enter Falstaff.
Fal. No, I'll come no more i' the basket. May I not go out ere he come ?
Mrs. Page. Alas, three of Master Ford's brothers watch the door with pistols, that none shall issue out ; otherwise you might slip away ere he came. But what make you here }
Fal. What shall I do ? I'll creep up into the chim- ney.
Mrs. Ford. There they always used to discharge their birding-pieces. Creep into the kiln-hole.
Fal. Where is it .?
Mrs. Ford. He will seek there, on my word. Neither press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, vault, but he hath an abstract for the remembrance of such places, and goes to them by his note. There is no hiding you in the house.
Fal. I'll go out then.
Mrs. Page. If you go out in your own semblance you die, Sir John. Unless you go out disguised —
Mrs. Ford. How might we disguise him }
Mrs. Page. Alas the day, I know not. There is no woman's gown big enough for him ; otherwise he might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so escape.
Fal. Good hearts, devise something: any extremity rather than a mischief.
Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman of Brent- ford, has a gown above.
Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him ; she's as big as he is. And there's her thrum'd hat, and her muffler too. Run up. Sir John.
Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sweet Sir John. Mistress Page and I will look some linen for your head.
Mrs. Page. Quick, quick ; we'll come dress you straight : put on the gown the while. \Exit Falstaff.
Mrs. Ford. I would my husband would meet him in this shape. He cannot abide the old woman of Brent- ford; he swears she's a witch; forbade her my house, and hath threatened to beat her.
Plate i8
WHY. WHAT HAVE YOU TO DO WITH WHETHER THEY
BEAR IT?
Merry Wives, act iii., scene iii.
'!!!#■
(I ,V i )', II
■ ■■ f •; 1,1' ;>
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 141
Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband's cudgel, and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards! Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming ? Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness, is he; and talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had intelligence.
Mrs. Ford. We'll try that ; for I'll appoint my men to carry the basket again, to meet him at the door with it, as they did last time.
Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently. Let's go dress him like the witch of Brentford.
Mrs. Ford. I'll first direct my men what they shall
do with the basket. Go up; I'll bring linen for him
straight. \Exit.
Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! we cannot
misuse him enough.
We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, Wives may be merry and yet honest too. We do not act that often, jest and laugh ; 'Tis old but true, Still swine eat all the draff.
\_Exit.
Re-enter Mistress Ford, with two Servants.
Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on your shoulders ; your master is hard at door ; if he bid you set it down, obey him : quickly, despatch.
1 Serv. Come, come, take it up. \_Exit.
2 Serv. Pray Heaven it be not full of the knight again. I Serv. I hope not ; I had as lief bear so much lead.
Enter FoRD, Page, Shallow, Caius, and Sir Hugh
Evans.
Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, Master Page, have you any way then to unfool me again ? — Set down the bas- ket, villain ! — Somebody call my wife. — You, youth in a basket, come out here ! — Oh, you panderly rascals ! There's a knot, a ging, a pack, a conspiracy against me. Now shall the devil be shamed. What! wife, I say I come, come forth ; behold what honest clothes you send forth to bleaching.
142 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Page. Why, this passes ! Master Ford, you are not to go loose any longer ; you must be pinioned.
Evans, Why, this is lunatics ! this is mad as a mad dog!
Skal. Indeed, Master Ford, this is not well ; indeed.
Enter Mistress Ford.
Ford. So say I too, sir. — Come hither, Mistress Ford ; Mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest wife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool to her husband ! I suspect without cause, mistress, do I ?
Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness, you do if you suspect me in any dishonesty.
Ford. Well said, brazen-face; hold it out. — Come forth, sirrah. \Pulls the clothes otit of the basket.
Page. This passes !
Mrs. Ford. Are you not ashamed } Let the clothes alone.
Ford. I shall find you anon.
Evans. 'Tis unreasonable ! Will you take up your wife's clothes } Come away.
Ford. Empty the basket, I say.
Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why }
Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket. Why may not he be there again.'* In my house I am sure he is. My intelligence is true ; my jealousy is rea- sonable.' Pluck me out all the linen.
Mrs. Ford. If vou find a man there, he shall die a flea's death.
Page. Here's no man.
Skal. By my fidelity, this is not well. Master Ford ; this wrongs you.
Evans. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow the imaginations of your own heart : this is jealousies.
Ford. Well, he's not here I seek for.
Page. No, nor nowhere else but in your brain.
Ford. Help to search my house this one time. If I find not what I seek, show no colour for my extremity —
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 143
let me forever be your table -sport; let them say of me, As jealous as Ford, that searched a hollow walnut for his wife's leman. Satisfy me once more; once more search with me.
Mrs. Ford. What hoa, Mistress Page ! come you and the old woman down ; my husband will come into the chamber.
Ford. Old woman } What old woman's that }
Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of Brentford.
Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening quean ! Have I not forbid her my house ? She comes of er- rands, does she } We are simple men ; we do not know what's brought to pass under the profession of fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by the figure, and such daubery as this is ; beyond our ele- ment; we know nothing. — Come down, you witch, you hag you ; come down, I say.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband. Good gen- tlemen, let him not strike the old woman.
Enter Falstaff in women's clothes, led by Mistress
Page.
Mrs. Page. Come, Mother Pratt, come, give me your hand.
Ford. I'll prat her. — Out of my door, you witch ! \beats him] you rag, you baggage, you polecat, you ron- yon ! out ! out ! I'll conjure you, I'll fortune-tell you.
[^Exit Falstaff.
Mrs. Page. Are you not ashamed } I think you have killed the poor woman.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it. 'Tis a goodly credit for you.
Ford. Hang her, witch !
Evans. By yea and no, I think the 'oman is a witch, indeed. I like not when a 'oman has a great peard ; I spy a great peard under her muffler.
Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen ? I beseech you, follow; see but the issue of my jealousy. If I cr)- out thus upon no trail, never trust me when I open again.
144 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Page. Let's obey his humour a little further. Come, gentlemen. \^Exe2iiit Page, Ford, Shallow, a7id Evans.
Mrs. Page. Trust me, he beat him most pitifully.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not ; he beat him most unpitifully, methought.
Mrs. Page. I'll have the cudgel hallowed, and hung o'er the altar ; it hath done meritorious service.
Mrs. Ford. What think you ? May we, with the warrant of womanhood, and the witness of a good con- science, pursue him with any further revenge }
Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scared out of him ; if the devil have him not in fee-simple, with fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the way of waste, attempt us again.
Mrs. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how we have served him }
Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means, if it be but to scrape the figures out of your husband's brains. If they can find in their hearts the poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any further afflicted, we two will still be the minis- ters.
Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant they'll have him publicly shamed; and, methinks, there would be no period to the jest should he not be publicly shamed.
Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, shape it. I would not have things cool. \ExeunL
Scene III. — Enter Host ajtd Bardolph.
Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of your horses. The duke himself will be to-morrow at court, and they are going to meet him.
Host. What duke should that be comes so secretly } I hear not of him in the court. Let me speak with the gentlemen. They speak English .?
Bard. Ay, sir, I'll call them to you.
Host. They shall have my horses ; but I'll make them pay, I'll sauce them. They have had my house a week at command; I have turned away my other guests. They must come off ; I'll sauce them. Come. \_Exeu7tt.
Plate 19
AND TELLS ME 'TIS A THING IMPOSSIBLE I SHOULD LOVE THEE BUT AS A PROPERTY
Merry Wives, act in., - - ..• ...
^^
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 14S
Scene IV. — Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Sir Hugh Evans.
Evans. 'Tis one of the pest discretions of a 'oman as ever I did look upon.
Page, And did he send you both these letters at an instant ?
Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of an hour.
Ford. Pardon me, wife. Henceforth do what thou wilt; I rather will suspect the sun with cold Than thee with wantonness. Now doth thy honour
stand, In him that was of late an heretic, As firm as faith.
Page, 'Tis well, 'tis well ; no more.
Be not as extreme in submission As in offence ;
But let our plot go forward. Let our wives Yet once again, to make us public sport. Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, Where we may take him and disgrace him for it.
Ford. There is no better way than that they spoke of.
Page. How ? to send him word they'll meet him in the park at midnight ? Fie, fie ; he'll never come.
Evans. You say he has peen thrown into the rivers, and has peen grievously peaten as an old 'oman ; me- thinks there should pe terrors in him that he should not come; methinks his flesh is punished, he shall have no desires.
Page. So think I too.
Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use him when he comes. And let us two devise to bring him thither.
Mrs. Page. There is an old tale goes that Heme the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest. Doth all the winter-time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak with great ragg'd horns;
IV.-io
146 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle ; And makes milch -kine yield blood, and shakes a
chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner. You have heard of such a spirit ; and well you know The superstitious idle-headed eld Received, and did deliver to our age, This tale of Heme the hunter for a truth.
Page. Why, yet there want not many that do fear In deep of night to walk by this Heme's oak ; But what of this ?
Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device : That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us, Disguised like Heme, with huge horns on his head.
Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come, And in this shape. When you have brought him
thither, What shall be done with him ? what is your plot }
Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thought upon, and thus : Nan Page my daughter, and my little son. And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies, green and white, With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads, And rattles in their hands ; upon a sudden. As Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met. Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once With some diffused song ; upon their sight. We two in great amazedness will fly. Then let them all encircle him about. And, fairy-like, to-pinch the unclean knight ; And ask him why that hour of fairy revel In their so sacred paths he dares to tread In shape profane.
Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth,
Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound, And bum him with their tapers.
Mrs. Page. The truth being known,
We'll all present ourselves, dishorn the spirit. And mock him home to Windsor.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR \^^
Ford. The children must
Be practised well to this, or they'll ne'er do it.
Evans. I will teach the children their pehaviours; and I will pe like a jack-an-apes also, to purn the knight with my taber.
Ford. That will be excellent. I'll go buy them viz- ards.
Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all the fair- ies. Finely attired in a robe of white.
Page. That silk will I go buy ; and in that time shall Master Slender steal my Nan away, And marry her at Eton. \Aside7\ Go, send to Fal- staff straight.
Ford. Nay, I'll to him again in name of Brook. He'll tell me all his purpose. Sure, he'll come.
Mrs. Page. Fear not you that. Go, get us proper- ties And tricking for our fairies.
Evans. Let us apout it. It is admiraple pleasures, and fery honest knaveries.
\_Exeuni Page, Ford, a7id Evans.
Mrs. Page. Go, Mistress Ford, Send quickly to Sir John, to know his mind.
\^Exit Mistress Ford. I'll to the doctor; he hath my good-will, And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. That Slender, though well-landed, is an idiot; And he my husband best of all affects. The doctor is well-money 'd, and his friends Potent at court ; he, none but he, shall have her, Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her.
[^Exii.
Scene V. — Enter Host and Simple.
Host. What wouldst thou have, boor ? what, thick- skin .? Speak, breathe, discuss ; brief, short, quick, snap.
Sim. Marry, sir, I come to speak with Sir John Fal- staff from Master Slender.
148 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Host. There's his chamber, his house, his castle, his standing -bed, and truckle-bed ; 'tis painted about with the story of the prodigal, fresh and new. Go, knock and call ; he'll speak like an Anthropophaginian unto thee. Knock, I say.
Sim. There's an old woman, a fat woman, gone up into his chamber; I'll be so bold as sta}^ sir, till she come down. I come to speak with her, indeed.
Host. Ha ! a fat woman ! The knight may be rob- bed. I'll call. — Bully knight! Bully Sir John! speak from thy lungs military. Art thou there t It is thin^ Host, thine Ephesian, calls.
Fal. \_Adove.'] How now, mine Host.?
Host. Here's a Bohemian - Tartar tarries the coming down of thy fat woman. Let her descend, bully, let her descend ; my chambers are honourable. Fie I pri- vacy ? fie !
Enter Falstaff.
Fal. There was, mine Host, an old fat woman even now with me ; but she's gone.
Sim. Pray you, sir, was't not the wise woman of Brentford ?
Fal. Ay, marry, was it, mussel-shell. What would you with her?
Sim. My master, sir, my master Slender sent to her, seeing her go through the streets, to know, sir, whether one Nym, sir, that beguiled him of a chain, had the chain or no.
Fal. I spake with the old woman about it.
Sim. And what says she, I pray, sir?
Fal. Marry, she says that the very same man that beguiled Master Slender of his chain cozened him of it.
Sim. I would I could have spoken with the woman herself; I had other things to have spoken with her too, from him.
Fal. What are they ? Let us know.
Host. Ay, come ; quick.
Sim. I may not conceal them, sir.
Fal. Conceal them, or thou diest.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 149
Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about Mistress Anne Page ; to know if it were my master s fortune to have her or no.
Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune.
Sim. What, sir ?
Fal. To have her — or no. Go ; say the woman told me so.
Sim. May I be so bold to say so, sir ?
Fal. Ay, Sir Tike ; who more bold ?
Sim. I thank your worship. I shall make my master glad with these tidings. \^Exit Simple.
Host. Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly. Sir John, Was there a wise woman with thee ?
Fal. Ay, that there was, mine Host ; one that hath taught me more wit than ever I learned before in my life. And I paid nothing for it neither, but was paid for my learning.
Enter Bardolph.
Bard. Out, alas, sir ! Cozenage! mere cozenage !
Host. Where be my horses .? Speak well of them, varletto.
Bard. Run away with the cozeners : for so soon as I came beyond Eton they threw me off from behind one of them in a slough of mire, and set spurs and away like three German devils, three Doctor Faustuses.
Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, villain. Do not say they be fled. Germans are honest men.
Enter Sir Hugh Evans.
Evans. Where is mine Host?
Host. What is the matter, sir ?
Evans. Have a care of your entertainments. There is a friend of mine come to town tells me there is three cousin-germans that has cozened all the hosts of Read- ing, of Maidenhead, of Coleprook, of horses and money. I tell you for good-will, look you. You are wise, and full of gibes and vlouting stogs ; and 'tis not conven- ient you should pe cozened. Fare you well. \Exit.
ISO COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Enter Doctor Caius.
Caius. Vere is mine Host de Jarterre?
Host. Here, master doctor, in perplexity and doubt- ful dilemma.
Caius. I cannot tell vat is dat ; but it is tell-a me dat you make grand preparations for a duke de Jarmany. By my trot, dere is no duke dat de court is know to come. I tell you for good-vill. Adieu. \^Exit.
Host. Hue and cry, villain, go; assist me, knight; I am undone. Fly, run, hue and cry, villain ! I am un- done. \Exeunt Host and Bardolph.
Fat. I would all the world might be cozened, for I have been cozened and beaten too. If it should come to the ear of the court how I have been transformed, and how my transformation hath been washed and cudgelled, they would melt me out of my fat, drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's boots with me ; I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits till I were as crestfallen as a dried pear. I never prospered since I forswore myself at primero. Well, if my wind were but long enough to say my prayers, I would repent. —
Enter Mistress Quickly.
Now ! whence come you ?
Quick. From the two parties, forsooth.
Fal. The devil take one party, and his dam the other, and so they shall be both bestowed ! I have suffered more for their sakes, more than the villanous incon- stancy of man's disposition is able to bear.
Quick. And have not they suffered ? Yes, I war- rant ; speciously one of them. Mistress Ford, good heart, is beaten black and blue that you cannot see a white spot about her.
Fal. What tell'st thou me of black and blue ! I was beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow, and I was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brentford ; but that my admirable dexterity of wit, my counterfeit- ing the action of an old woman, delivered me, the knave
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 151
constable had set me i' the stocks, i' the common stocks, for a witch. '
Quick. Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber; you shall hear how things go ; and, I warrant, to your content. Here is a letter will say somewhat. Good hearts, what ado here is to bring you together I Sure, one of you does not serve Heaven well that you are so crossed.
Fal. Come up into my chamber. \_Exeunt.
Scene VI. — Enter Fenton and Host.
Host Master Fenton, talk not to me — my mind is heavy ; I will give over all.
Fent. Yet hear me speak. Assist me in my pur- pose. And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give thee A hundred pound in gold, more than your loss.
Host. I will hear you, Master Fenton; and I will, at the least, keep your counsel.
Fent. From time to time I have acquainted you With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page, Who, mutually, hath answer'd my affection (So far forth as herself might be her chooser) Even to my wish. I have a letter from her Of such contents as you will wonder at ; The mirth whereof so larded with my matter, That neither, singly, can be manifested Without the show of both ; wherein fat Falstaff Hath a great scene. The image of the jest
\Showing the letter. I'll show you here at large. Hark, good mine Host. To-night, at Heme's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one, Must my sweet Nan present the fairy queen ; The purpose why is here. In which disguise, While other jests are something rank on foot, Her father hath commanded her to slip Away with Slender, and with him at Eton Immediately to marry. She hath consented. Now, sir,
152 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Her mother, even strong against that match,
And firm for Doctor Caius, hath appointed
That he shall likewise shuffle her away
While other sports are tasking of their minds,
And at the deanery, where a priest attends,
Straight marry her. To this her mother's plot
She, seemingly obedient, likewise hath
Made promise to the doctor. Now, thus it rests:
Her father means she shall be all in white ;
And in that habit, when Slender sees his time
To take her by the hand, and bid her go.
She shall go with him. Her mother hath intended,
The better to denote her to the doctor
(For they must all be masqued and vizarded).
That quaint in green she shall be loose enrobed,
With ribbons pendent flaring 'bout her head ;
And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe.
To pinch her by the hand, and on that token
The maid hath given consent to go with him.
Host. Which means she to deceive, father or mother ?
Fent. Both, my good Host, to go along with me. And here it rests : that you'll procure the vicar To stay for me at church, 'twixt twelve and one, And, in the lawful name of marrying. To give our hearts united ceremony.
Host. Well, husband your device. I'll to the vicar. Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest.
Fent. So shall I evermore be bound to thee ; Besides, I'll make a present recompense. \Exeu7it.
ACT V Scene I. — Enter Falstaff and Mistress Quickly.
Fal. Prithee, no more prattling ; go. I'll hold. This is the third time ; I hope good-luck lies in odd num- bers. Away, go ; they say there is divinity in odd num- bers, either in nativity, chance, or death. Away.
Quick. I'll provide you a chain, and I'll do what I can to get you a pair of horns.
Plate 20
COME HITHER, WILLIAM; HOLD UP YOUR HEA(> v-jiur: Merry Wives, act iv., scene i.
'J* H''*»l> '''■■' ■''>'■#*
I I', u ; 1,1/,
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 153
Fal. Away, I say ; time wears. Hold up your head and mince. — \Exit Mistress Quickly.
Enter Ford.
How now, Master Brook.? Master Brook, the matter will be known to-night or never. Be you in the park about midnight, at Heme's oak, and you shall see won- ders.
Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you told me you had appointed }
Fal. I went to her, Master Brook, as you see, like a poor old man ; but I came from her. Master Brook, like a poor old woman. That same knave, Ford, her hus- band, hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, Mas- ter Brook, that ever governed frenzy. I will tell you. He beat me grievously, in the shape of a woman ; for, in the shape of man. Master Brook, I fear not Goliath with a weaver's beam; because I know also life is a shuttle. I am in haste ; go along with me ; I'll tell you all, Master Brook. Since I plucked geese, played tru- ant, and whipped top, I knew not what 'twas to be beaten till lately. Follow me. I'll tell you strange things of this knave Ford, on whom to-night I will be revenged, and I will deliver his wife into your hand. Follow. Strange things in hand. Master Brook. Fol- low. \Exeunt.
Scene II. — Enter Page, Shallow, aiw^ Slender.
Page. Come, come ; we'll couch i' the castle-ditch till we see the light of our fairies. Remember, son Slen- der, my daughter.
Slen. Ay, forsooth ; I have spoke with her, and we have a nay-word how to know one another. I come to her in white and cry Mum; she cries Budget; and by that we know one another.
Shal. That's good too. But what needs either your mum or her budget. The white will decipher her well enough. It hath struck ten o'clock.
154 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Page. The night is dark ; Hght and spirits will be- come it well. Heaven prosper our sport ! No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns. Let's away ; follow me. \_Exeunt.
Scene III. — Enter Mistress Page, Mistress Ford, and Doctor Caius.
Mrs. Page. Master doctor, my daughter is in green ; when you see your time, take her by the hand, away with her to the deanery, and despatch it quickly. Go before into the park ; we two must go together.
Cains. I know vat I have to do. Adieu.
Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. \Exit Caius.] My husband will not rejoice so much at the abuse of Fal- staff as he will chafe at the doctor's marrying my daugh- ter. But 'tis no matter. Better a little chiding than a great deal of heart-break.
Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop of fairies, and the Welsh devil Hugh .?
Mrs. Page. They are all couched in a pit hard by Heme's oak, with obscured lights ; which at the very instant of Falstaff' s and our meeting, they will at once display to the night.
Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze him.
Mrs. Page. If he be not amazed he will be mocked ; if he be amazed he will every way be mocked.
Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely.
Mrs. Page. Against such lewdsters and their lechery, Those that betray them do no treachery.
Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on. To the oak, to the oak ! \_Exeunt.
Scene IV. — Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Fairies.
Evans. Trib, trib, fairies ; come ; and rememper your parts. Be pold, I pray you ; follow me into the pit ; and when I give the watch-'ords, do as I pid you. Come, come ; trib, trib. [ExeM7tt.
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 155
Scene V. — Enter Falstaff, disguised, with a buck's
head on.
Fat. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve ; the min- ute draws on. Now, the hot-blooded gods assist me ! Remember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thy Europa ; love set on thy horns. Oh, powerful love ! that in some respects makes a beast a man ; in some other, a man a beast. You were also, Jupiter, a swan, for the love of Leda. Oh, omnipotent love ! how near the god drew to the complexion of a goose ! A fault done first in the form of a beast. O Jove, a beastly fault! and then another fault in the semblance of a fowl ; think on't, Jove ; a foul fault. When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do .? For me, I am here a Windsor stag; and the fattest, I think, i' the forest. Send me a cool rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to piss my tallow } Who comes here .? my doe }
Enter Mistress Ford and Mistress Page.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John.? art thou there, my deer.? my male deer.?
Fal. My doe with the black scut .? Let the sky rain potatoes ; let it thunder to the tune of Green Sleeves ; hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes ; let there come a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here.
\_Embracing her.
Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, sweet- heart.
Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a haunch. I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders for the fel- low of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your hus- bands. Am I a woodman .? Ha ! Speak I like Heme the hunter .? Why, now is Cupid a child of conscience ; he makes restitution. As I am a true spirit, welcome !
\Noise within.
Mrs. Page. Alas i what noise ?
Mrs. Ford. Heaven forgive our sins !
Fal. What should this be ?
156 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
]\^fs Fovd )
Mrs. Page. \ ^^^^' ^^^^' ^ '^^^^ ^^^ ^ff'
Fal. I think the devil will not have me damned, lest
the oil that is in me should set hell on fire ; he would
never else cross me thus.
Enter Sir Hugh Evans, like a satyr ; Mistress Quick- ly and Pistol ; Anne Page, as the Fairy Queen, at- tended by her brother and others, dressed like fairies, with waxen tapers on their heads.
Quick. Fairies black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny. Attend your office and your quality. — Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy o-yes.
Pist. Elves, list your names ; silence, you airy toys. Cricket, to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap ; Where fires thou find'st unraked and hearths unswept, There pinch the maids as blue as bilberry. Our radiant queen hates sluts and sluttery.
Fal. They are fairies ; he that speaks to them shall die. I'll wink and couch. No man their works must eye.
\Lies dow7i upoji his face.
Evans. Where's Pede } Go you, and where you find a maid That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said, Raise up the organs of her fantasy, Sleep she as sound as careless infancy ; Put those as sleep, and think not on their sins. Pinch them, arms, legs, packs, shoulders, sides, and shins.
Quick. About, about ; Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out. Strew good-luck, ouphes, on every sacred room, That it may stand till the perpetual doom, In state as wholesome as in state 'tis fit, Worthy the owner, and the owner it. The several chairs of order look you scour
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 157
With juice of balm, and every precious flower. Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest, With loyal blazon evermore be blest ! And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing. Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring. The expressure that it bears, green let it be. More fertile-fresh than all the field to see ; And Honi soit qui mal y pense write, In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white. Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery. Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee ; Fairies use flowers for their charactery. Away ; disperse. But 'till 'tis one o'clock, Our dance of custom, round about the oak Of Heme the hunter, let us not forget.
Evans. Pray you, lock hand in hand ; yourselves in order see ; And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns pe, To guide our measure round apout the tree. Put stay ; I smell a man of middle earth.
Fal. Heaven defend me from that Welsh fairy, lest he transform me to a piece of cheese !
Pist. Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
Quick, With trial-fire touch me his finger-end : If he be chaste, the flame will back descend, And turn him to no pain ; but if he start. It is the flesh of a corrupted heart.
Pist. A trial, come.
Evans. Come, will this wood take fire }
[ They burn him with their tapers.
Fal. Oh, oh, oh !
Quick. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desire ! About him, fairies ; sing a scornful rhyme ; And, as you trip, still pmch him to your time.
Evans. It is right ; indeed, he is full of lecheries and iniquity.
SONG.
Fie on sinful fantasy ! Fie on lust and luxury/
158 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Lust is but a bloody fire. Kindled luith tmchaste desire. Fed in heart whose fiames aspire. As thoughts do blow them higher and higher. Pinch him, fairies, mutually ; Pinch him for his villany ; Pinch hiitt, and burn him, and turn him about. Till candles, and starlight, and tnoonshine be out.
\_During this song Ike fairies pinch Falstaff. Doctor Caius comes one way, and steals away a fairy in green ; Slender another way, and takes off a fairy in white; and Fenton comes, and steals away Anne Page. A noise of hunting is made within. All the fairies run away. Falstaff pulls off his buck's head, and rises.
Enter Page, Ford, Mistress Page, and Mistress Ford. They lay hold on him.
Page. Nay, do not fly. I think we have watch'd you now; Will none but Heme the hunter serve your turn ?
Mrs. Page. I pray you, come ; hold up the jest no higher. — Now, good Sir John, how like you Windsor wives .? See you these, husband ? Do not these fair yokes Become the forest better than the town ?
Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now? — Master Brook, Falstaff's a knave, a cuckoldy knave ; here are his horns. Master Brook. And, Master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cud- gel, and twenty pounds of money, which must be paid to Master Brook ; his horses are arrested for it, Master Brook.
Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill-luck; we could never meet. I will never take you for my love again, but I will always count you my deer.
Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an ass.
Ford. Ay, and an ox too; both the proofs are extant.
Fal. And these are not fairies } I was three or four
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 159
times in the thought they were not fairies. And yet the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, drove the grossness of the foppery into a re- ceived belief, in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. See now how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent, when 'tis upon ill employment?
Evans. Sir John Falstaff, serve Got, and leave your desires, and fairies will not pinse you.
Ford. Well said. Fairy Hugh.
Evans. And leave you your jealousies, too, I pray you.
Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again till thou art able to woo her in good English.
Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'erreach- ing as this.? Am I ridden with a Welsh goat too.'* Shall I have a coxcomb of frize } 'Tis time I were choked with a piece of toasted cheese.
Evans. Seese is not good to give putter; your pelly is all putter.
Fal. Seese and putter! Have I lived to stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters of English ? This is enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking through the realm.
Mrs. Page. Why, Sir John, do you think, though we would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without scru- ple to hell, that ever the devil could have made you our delight .?
Ford. What, a hodge-pudding ? a bag of flax ?
Mrs. Page. A puffed man 1
Page. Old, cold, withered, and of intolerable entrails }
Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan ?
Page. And as poor as Job }
Ford. And as wicked as his wife.-*
Evans. And given to fornications and to taverns, and sack and wine, and metheglins, and to drinkings, and swearings and starings, pribbles and prabbles }
Fal. Well, I am your theme ; you have the start of me; I am dejected; I am not able to answer the Welsh
i6o COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
flannel ; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me ; use me as you will.
Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to one Master Brook, that you have cozened of money, to whom you should have been a pander . over and above that you have suffered, I think to repay that money will be a biting affliction.
Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make amends; Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends.
Ford. Well, here's my hand ; all's forgiven at last.
Page. Yet be cheerful, knight. Thou shalt eat a posset to-night at my house, where I will desire thee to laugh at my wife, that now laughs at thee. Tell her Master Slender hath married her daughter.
Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that. If Anne Page be my daughter, she is by this Doctor Caius' wife. \Aside.
Enter Slender.
Slen. Whoo ! ho ! ho ! Father Page.
Page. Son ! how now 1 how now, son t have you de- spatched ?
Slen. Despatched ! I'll make the best in Gloucester- shire know on't; would I were hanged, la, else.
Page. Of what, son }
Slen. I came yonder at Eton to marry Mistress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy. If it had not been i' the church I would have swinged him, or he should have swinged me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis a postmaster's boy.
Page. Upon my life, then, you took the wTong.
Slen. What need you tell me that? I think so, when I took a boy for a girl. If I had been married to him, for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not have had him.
Page. Why, this is your own folly. Did not I tell you how you should know my daughter by her gar- ments ?
I
Plate 21 .HANG HER. WITCH
Merry Wives, act iv . scene ii.
d^^^
'■'(' A'\ 1:11
THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR i6i
Slen. I went to her in white, and cried Mum, and she cried Budget, as Anne and I had appointed; and yet it was not Anne, but a postmaster's boy.
Evans. Jeshu I Master Slender, cannot you see but marry poys ?
Page. Oh, I am vexed at heart. What shall I do ?
Airs. Page. Good George, be not angry. I knew of your purpose ; turned my daughter into green ; and, in- deed, she is now with the doctor at the deanery, and there married.
Enter Caius.
Caius. Vere is Mistress Page.? By gar, I am co- zened. I ha' married un garfon, a boy ; un paisan^ by gar, a boy. It is not Anne Page. By gar, I am co- zened.
Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green ?
Caius. Ay, by gar, and 'tis a boy; by gar, I'll raise all Windsor. \_Exit Caius.
Ford. This is strange ! Who hath got the right Anne '^.
Page. My heart misgives me. Here comes Master Fenton.
Enter Fenton and Anne Page.
How now. Master Fenton ?
Anne. Pardon, good father! Good my mother, par- don !
Page. Now, mistress ? how chance you went not with Master Slender.?
Mrs. Page. Why went you not with master doctor, maid ?
Fent. You do amaze her. Hear the truth of it. You would have married her most shamefully. Where there was no proportion held in love. The truth is, she and I, long since contracted, Are now so sure that nothing can dissolve us. The offence is holy that she hath committed ; And this deceit loses the name of craft, Of disobedience, or unduteous title;
IV.-ii
1 62 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Since therein she doth evitate and shun
A thousand irreHgious cursed hours
Which forced marriage would have brought upon her.
Ford. Stand not amazed. Here is no remedy. In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state ; Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.
Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanced.
Page. Well, what remedy } Fenton, Heaven give thee joy ! W^hat cannot be eschewed, must be embraced.
Fal. When night -dogs run, all sorts of deer are chased.
Evans. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding.
Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further. — Master Fenton, Heaven give you many, many merry days ! Good husband, let us every one go home, And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire ; Sir John and all.
Ford. Let it be so. — Sir John,
To Master Brook you yet shall hold your word ; For he to-night shall lie with Mistress Ford. \_Exeunt.
The Winter's Tale
PERSONS REPRESENTED
Leontes, King of Sicilia. Mamillius, his Son. Camillo ]
AntIGONUS c- -r 7- V
n, ^^, ^ r, )■ Sicilian Lords. Cleomenes I
Dion J
Another Sicilian Lord.
RoGERO, a Sicilian Gentleman.
An Attendant on the young 'Pxmce Mamillius.
Officers of a Court of jfudicature.
PoLiXENES, ^/«^ ^ Bohemia.
Florizel, his Son.
Archidamus, a Bohemian Lord.
A Mariner.
Gaoler.
An old Shepherd, reputed Father of Perdita.
Clown, his Son.
Servant to the old Shepherd.
AuTOLYCUs, a Rogue.
Time, as Chorus.
Hermione, Queen to Leontes.
Perdita, Daughter to Leontes and Hermione.
Paulina, Wife to Antigonus.
Emilia, a Lady > ,, ,. ,, ^
Two other Ladies | <'tt'^dmg the Queen.
DoRcls}'^'^"^'^'''^^"""-^-
Lords, Ladies, and Attendants ; Satyrs for a Dance, Shepherds, Shepherdesses, Guards, &c.
Scene, sometimes in Sicilia, sometimes in Bohemia,
The Winter's Tale
ACT I
Scene I. — Enier Camillo and Archidamus.
K
RCHIDAMUS. If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit Bohemia on the like occasion whereon my services are now on foot, you shall see, as I have said, great difference betwixt our Bohemia and your Sicilia.
Cam. I think this coming summer the King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which he justly owes him.
Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall shame us : we will be justified in our loves ; for, indeed —
Cam. 'Beseech you —
Arch. Verily I speak it in the freedom of my knowl- edge. We cannot with such magnificence — in so rare — I know not what to say. We will give you sleepy drinks, that your senses, unintelligent of our insuffi- cience, may, though they cannot praise us, as little ac- cuse us.
Cam. You pay a great deal too dear for what's given freely.
Arch. Believe me, I speak as my understanding in- structs me, and as mine honesty puts it to utterance.
Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself overkind to Bo- hemia. They were trained together in their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt them then such an affection that cannot choose but branch now. Since their more mature dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, their encounters, though not personal,
1 66 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
have been royally attornied, with interchange of gifts, letters, loving embassies, that they have seemed to be together, though absent; shook hands, as over a vast; and embraced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue their loves !
Arch. I think there is not in the world either malice or matter to alter it. You have an unspeakable com- fort of your young prince Mamillius; it is a gentleman of the greatest promise that ever came into my note.
Cam. I very well agree with you in the hopes of him. It is a gallant child; one that, indeed, physics the sub- ject, makes old hearts fresh. They that went on crutches ere he was born desire yet their life to see him a man.
Arch. Would they else be content to die.?
Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse why they should desire to live.
Arch. If the king had no son they would desire to live on crutches till he had one. [Exeunt
Scene II. — ^?2/.?r Leontes, Polixenes, Hermione, Ma- millius, Camillo, and Attendants.
Pol. Nine changes of the wat'ry star have been The shepherd's note since we have left our throne Without a burden. Time as long again Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our thanks, And yet we should for perpetuity Go hence in debt. And therefore, like a cipher, Yet standing in rich place, I multiply With one we-thank-you many thousands more That go before it.
Leon. Stay your thanks awhile,
And pay them when you part.
Pol. Sir, that's to-morrow.
I am question'd by my fears of what may chance Or breed upon our absence : that may blow No sneaping winds at home to make us say, This is put forth too truly ! Besides, I have stay'd To tire your royalty.
THE WINTER'S TALE 167
Leofi. We are tougher, brother,
Than you can put us to't.
Pol. No longer stay.
Leon. One seven-night longer.
Pol. Very sooth, to-morrow.
Leon. We'll part the time betvveen's then ; and in that I'll no gainsaying.
Pol. Press me not, 'beseech you, so.
There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' the world, So soon as yours could win me. So it should now Were there necessity in your request, although 'Twere needful I denied it. My affairs Do even drag me homeward, which to hinder Were, in your love, a whip to me ; my stay, To you a charge and trouble: to save both. Farewell, our brother.
Leon. Tongue-tied, our queen t Speak you.
Her. I had thought, sir, to have held my peace until You had drawn oaths from him not to stay. You, sir, Charge him too coldly. Tell him you are sure All in Bohemia's well : this satisfaction The by-gone day proclaim'd. Say this to him, He's beat from his best ward.
Leon. Well said, Hermione.
Her. To tell he longs to see his son were strong. But let him say so then, and let him go ; But let him swear so, and he shall not stay ; We'll thwack him hence with distaffs. — Yet of your royal presence \io Polixenes] I'll advent- ure The borrow of a week. When at ^ohemia You take my lord, I'll give him my commission To let him there a month behind the gest Prefix'd for his parting ; yet, good deed, Leontes, I love thee not a jar o' the clock behind What lady she her lord. — You'll stay ?
Pol. No, madam.
Her. Nay, but you will t
Pol. I may not, verily.
i68 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Her. Verily ! You put me off with limber vows. But I, Though you would seek to unsphere the stars with
oaths, Should yet say, Sir, no going. Verily, You shall not go ; a lady's verily is As potent as a lord's. Will you go yet } Force me to keep you as a prisoner. Not like a guest ; so you shall pay your fees. When you depart, and save your thanks. How say
you.? My prisoner or my guest } By your dread verily. One of them you shall be.
Pol. Your guest, then, madam.
To be your prisoner should import offending ; Which is for me less easy to commit Than you to punish.
Her. Not your gaoler, then,
But your kind hostess. Come, I'll question you Of my lord's tricks and yours when you were boys. You were pretty lordings then.
Pol. We were, fair queen.
Two lads that thought there was no more behind. But such a day to-morrow as to-day. And to be boy eternal.
Her. Was not my lord the verier wag o' the two ?
Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs that did frisk i' the sun And bleat the one at the other. What we changed Was innocence for innocence ; we knew not The doctrine of ill-doing, nor dream'd That any did. Had we pursued that life, And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd With stronger blood, we should have answer'd Heaven Boldly, Not guilty ; the imposition clear'd. Hereditary ours.
Her. By this we gather
You have tripp'd since.
Pol. Oh, my most sacred lady.
Temptations have since then been born to us ; for
PlAI K 22
HERMIONE ENTREATS POLIXENES
Winter's i
!l 0 "i 1,1 A ('
THE WINTER'S TALE 169
In those unfledged days was my wife a girl ; Your precious self had not then cross'd the eyes Of my young playfellow.
Her. Grace to boot?
Of this make no conclusion, lest you say Your queen and I are devils. Yet, go on ; The offences we have made you do we'll answer, If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd not With any but with us.
Leon. Is he won yet .?
Her. He'll stay, my lord.
Leon. At my request he would not.
Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st To better purpose.
Her. Never .?
Leon. Never but once.
Her. What, have I twice said well } When was't before } I prithee tell me. Cram us with praise, and make us As fat as tame things. One good deed, dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages. You may ride us With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal : My last good deed was to entreat his stay. What was my first.? It has an elder sister, Or I mistake you. Oh, would her name were Grace ! But once before I spoke to the purpose. When } Nay, let me have 't ; I long.
Leon. Why, that was when
Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves to death Ere I could make thee open thy white hand And clap thyself my love : then didst thou utter, I am yours forever.
Her. It is grace, indeed.
Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose twice : The one forever earn'd a royal husband; The other for some while a friend.
[Giving her hand to Polixenes.
I70 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Leon. [Aside.'] Too hot, too hot. To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods. I have tremor cordis on me — my heart dances ; But not for joy — not joy. This entertainment May a free face put on ; derive a liberty From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom. And well become the agent. It may, I grant. But to be padding palms and pinching fingers, As now they are, and making practised smiles, As in a looking-glass, and then to sigh, as 'twere The mort o' the deer — oh, that is entertainment My bosom likes not, nor my brows. — Mamillius, Art thou my boy ?
Mam. Ay, my good lord.
Leon. r fecks ?
Why, that's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd thy
nose } They say it's a copy out of mine. Come, captain, We must be neat ; not neat, but cleanly, captain ; And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf Are all call'd neat. — Still virginalling
[Observing Polixenes and Hermione. Upon his palm.f* — How now, you wanton calf.? Art thou my calf 1
Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord.
Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash and the shoots that I have To be full like me. Yet they say we are Almost as like as eggs ; women say so, That will say anything. But were they false As o'erdyed blacks, as wind, as waters, false As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes No bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it true To say this boy were like me. — Come, sir page, Look on me with your welkin eye. Sweet villain ! Most dear'st ! my collop ! — Can thy dam ? — may't be .'' Affection ! thy intention stabs the centre ; Thou dost make possible things not so held ; Communicat'st with dreams — (how can this be ?) With what's unreal thou coactive art,
THE WINTER'S TALE 171
And fellow'st nothing. Then, 'tis very credent, Thou may'st co-join with something ; and thou dost (And that beyond commission, and I find it); And that to the infection of my brains, And hardening of my brows.
Pol. What means Sicilia .?
Her. He something seems unsettled.
Pol. How, my lord }
What cheer } How is 't with you, best brother }
Her. You look As if you held a brow of much distraction. Are you moved, my lord ?
Leon. No, in good earnest. —
How sometimes nature will betray its folly. Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime To harder bosoms ! Looking on the lines Of my boy's face, methought I did recoil Twenty-three years, and saw myself unbreech'd, In my green velvet coat ; my dagger muzzled, Lest it should bite its master, and so prove, As ornaments oft do, too dangerous. How like, methought, I then was to this kernel, This squash, this gentleman. — Mine honest friend, Will you take eggs for money .?
Mam. No, my lord, I'll fight.
Leon. You will t Why, happy man be his dole ! — My brother. Are you so fond of your young prince as we Do seem to be of ours ?
Pol. If at home, sir.
He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter ; Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy ; My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all. He makes a July's day short as December, And, 'with his varying childness, cures in me Thoughts that would thick my blood.
Leon. So stands this squire
Officed with me. We two will walk, my lord, And leave you to your graver steps. — Hermione, How thou lov'st us show in our brother's welcome ;
172 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Let what is dear in Sicily be cheap. Next to thyself and my young rover he's Apparent to my heart.
Her. If you would seek us,
We are yours i' the garden. Shall's attend you there ? Leon. To your own bents dispose you. You'll be
found, Be you beneath the sky. — I am angling now, Though you perceive me not how I give line. Go to, go to !
\Aside; observing Polixenes and Hermione. How she holds up the neb, the bill to him ! And arms her with the boldness of a wife To her allowing husband ! Gone already ! Inch -thick, knee -deep, o'er head and ears a fork'd
one —
\Exeunt Polixenes, Hermione, and Attend- ants. Go play, boy, play. — Thy mother plays, and I Play too ; but so disgraced a part, whose issue Will hiss me to my grave ; contempt and clamour Will be my knell. — Go play, boy, play. — There have
been. Or I am much deceived, cuckolds ere now ; And many a man there is, even at this present, Now, while I speak this, holds his wife by the arm That little thinks she has been sluiced in his absence, And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by Sir Smile, his neighbour. Nay, there's comfort in't. Whiles other men have gates, and those gates open'd, As mine, against their will. Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves. Physic for't there's none ; It is a bawdy planet, that will strike Where 'tis predominant ; and 'tis powerful, think it, From east, west, north, and south. Be it concluded, No barricado for a belly ; know it; It will let in and out the enemy. With bag and baggage. Many thousand of us Have the disease, and feel 't not. — How now, boy ?
THE WINTER'S TALE 173
Mam. I am like you, they say.
Leon. Why, that's some comfort. —
What ! Camillo there ?
Cam. Ay, my good lord.
Leo7t. Go play, Mamillius ; thou'rt an honest man. —
\_Exit Mamillius. Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer.
Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor hold ; When you cast out, it still came home.
Leon. Didst note it }
Cam. He would not stay at your petitions ; made His business more material.
Leon. Didst perceive it .'' —
They're here with me already ; whispering, rounding, Sicilia is a so-forth. 'Tis far gone When I shall gust it last. — How came 't, Camillo, That he did stay ?
Cam. At the good queen's entreaty.
Leon. At the queen's, be 't. Good, should be perti- nent } But so it is, it is not. Was this taken By any understanding pate but thine } For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in More than the common blocks. Not noted, is 't, But of the finer natures t by some severals Of headpiece extraordinary ? J.ower messes. Perchance, are to this business purblind : say.
Cam. Business, my lord } 1 think, most understand Bohemia stays here longer.
Leon. Ha }
Cam. Stays here longer.
Leon. Ay, but why?
Cam. To satisfy your highness and the entreaties Of our most gracious mistress.
Leon. Satisfy
The entreaties of your mistress } Satisfy } Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, With all the nearest things to my heart, as well My chamber-councils ; wherein, priest-like, thou Hast cleansed my bosom ; I from thee departed
174 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Thy penitent reform'd. But we have been Deceived in thy integrity, deceived In that which seems so.
Cam. Be it forbid, my lord !
Leon. To bide upon 't. Thou art not honest ; or. If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward ; Which boxes honesty behind, restraining From course required. Or else thou must be counted A servant, grafted in my serious trust. And therein negligent ; or else a fool, That see'st a game play'd home, the rich stake drawn, And tak'st it all for jest.
Cam. My gracious lord,
I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful ; In every one of these no man is free, But that his negligence, his folly, fear. Among the infinite doings of the world. Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord. If ever I were wilful-negligent. It was my folly; if industriously I played the fool, it was my negligence. Not weighing well the end ; if ever fearful To do a thing where I the issue doubted. Whereof the execution did cry out Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear Which oft infects the wisest. These, my lord. Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, Be plainer with me ; let me know my trespass By its own visage. If I then deny it, 'Tis none of mine.
Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo
(But that's past doubt ; you have, or your eye-glass Is thicker than a cuckold's horn), or heard, (For to a vision so apparent rumour Cannot be mute), or thought (for cogitation Resides not in that man that does not think). My wife is slippery } If thou wilt confess (Or else be impudently negative, To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought), then say
THE WINTER'S TALE 175
My wife's a hobby-horse ; deserves a name As rank as any flax-wench that puts to Before her troth-pHght : say it, and justify it.
Cam. I would not be a stander-by, to hear My sovereign mistress clouded so, without My present vengeance taken. 'Shrew my heart You never spoke what did become you less Than this, which to reiterate were sin As deep as that, though true.
Leon. Is whispering nothing?
Is leaning cheek to cheek, is meeting noses, Kissing with inside lip, stopping the career Of laughter with a sigh (a note infallible Of breaking honesty), horsing foot on foot. Skulking in corners, wishing clocks more swift, Hours minutes, noon midnight, and all eyes blind With the pin and web but theirs, theirs only, That would unseen be wicked — is this nothing? Why, then, the world and all that's in 't is nothing ; The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, If this be nothing.
Cam. Good my lord, be cured
Of this diseased opinion, and betimes ; For 'tis most dangerous.
Leon. Say it be ; 'tis true.
Cam. No, no, my lord.
Leon. It is. You lie, you lie ;
I say thou liest, Camillo, and I hate thee ; Pronounce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave ; Or else a hovering temporizer, that Canst with thine eyes at once see good and evil, Inclining to them both. Were my wife's liver Infected as her life, she would not live The running of one glass.
Cam. Who does infect her ?
Leon. Why, he that wears her like her medal, hang- ing About his neck, Bohemia. Who — if I Had servants true about me that bare eyes
176 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
To see alike mine honour as their profits, Their own particular thrifts, they would do that Which should undo more doing. Ay, and thou, His cup-bearer — whom I from meaner form Have bench'd and rear'd to worship ; who may'st see Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees heaven, How I am galled — might'st bespice a cup, To give mine enemy a lasting wink ; Which draught to me were cordial.
Cam. Sir, my lord,
I could do this, and that with no rash potion, But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work Maliciously like poison. But I cannot Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress. So sovereignly being honourable. I have loved thee —
Leon. Make 't thy question, and go rot
Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled. To appoint myself in this vexation } sully The purity and whiteness of my sheets. Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps } Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son, Who I do think is mine, and love as mine. Without ripe moving to 't? Would I do this.? Could man so blench ?
Cam. I must believe you, sir;
I do ; and will fetch off Bohemia for 't, Provided that when he's removed your highness Will take again your queen, as yours at first, t
Even for your son's sake ; and thereby for sealing The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms Known and allied to yours.
Leon. Thou dost advise me
Even so as I mine own course have set down. I'll give no blemish to her honour, none.
Cam. My lord, Go then ; and with a countenance as clear As friendship wears at feasts, keep with Bohemia And with your queen. I am his cup-bearer;
'-^^mmmj^i'^^^BefM^jfim*
Plate 23 THE IMPRISONMENT OF THE QUEEN
Winter's TaJe, act ii., scene i.
THE WINTER'S TALE 177
If from me he have wholesome beverage, Account me not your servant.
Leon. This is all ;
Do 't, and thou hast the one half of my heart ; Do 't not, thou split'st thine own.
Cam. I'll do 't, my lord.
Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast advised me.
\^Exit.
Cam. Oh, miserable lady ! But, for me, What case stand I in .? I must be the poisoner Of good Polixenes : and my ground to do 't Is the obedience to a master ; one Who, in rebellion with himself, will have All that are his so too. To do this deed, Promotion follows. If I could find example Of thousands that had struck anointed kings And flourish'd after, I'd not do 't; but since Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment bears not one, Let villany itself forswear 't. I must Forsake the court. To do 't or no is certain To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now ! Here comes Bohemia.
Enter Polixenes.
Pol. This is strange ! Methinks
My favour here begins to warp. Not speak .'* — Good-day, Camillo.
Cam. Hail, most royal sir !
Pol. What is the news i' the court }
Cam. None rare, my lord.
Pol. The king hath on him such a countenance As he had lost some province, and a region Loved as he loves himself. Even now I met him With customary compliment, when he, Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling A lip of much contempt, speeds from me ; and So leaves me to consider what is breeding That changes thus his manners.
Cam. I dare not know, my lord.
lV.-»a
178 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Pol. How! dare not? do not. Do you know, and dare not ? Be intelligent to me ? 'Tis thereabouts ; For, to yourself, what you do know, you must, And cannot say you dare not. Good Camillo, Your changed complexions are to me a mirror, Which shows me mine changed too ; for 1 must be A party in this alteration, finding Myself thus alter'd with it.
Cam. There is a sickness
Which puts some of us in distemper ; but I cannot name the disease ; and it is caught Of you that yet are well.
Pol. How ! caught of me }
Make me not sighted like the basilisk. I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, but kill'd none so. Camillo — As you are certainly a gentleman, thereto Clerk-like, experienced, which no less adorns Our gentry than our parents' noble names. In whose success we are gentle — I beseech you. If you know aught which does behoove my knowledge Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not In ignorant concealment.
Cam. I may not answer.
Pol. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well ! I must be answer'd. — Dost thou hear, Camillo, I conjure thee by all the parts of man Which honour does acknowledge — whereof the least Is not this suit of mine — that thou declare Wliat incidency thou dost guess of harm Is creeping toward me ; how far off, how near ; Which way to be prevented, if to be ; If not, how best to bear it.
Cam. Sir, I'll tell you.
Since I am charged in honour, and by him That I think honourable. Therefore, mark my counsel, Which must be even as swiftly follow'd as I mean to utter it, or both yourself and me Cry lost, and so good-night.
THE WINTER'S TALE 179
Pol. On, good Camillo.
Cam. I am appointed him to murder you.
Pol. By whom, Camillo ?
Cam. By the king.
Pol. For what ?
Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence he swears, As he hath seen 't, or been an instrument To vice you to 't, that you have touch 'd his queen Forbiddenly.
Pol. Oh, then my best blood turn
To an infected jelly, and my name Be yoked with his that did betray the best ! Turn then my freshest reputation to A savour that may strike the dullest nostril Where I arrive ; and my approach be shunn'd, Nay, hated too, worse than the great'st infection That e'er was heard or read !
Cam. Swear his thought over
By each particular star in heaven, and By all their influences you may as well Forbid the sea for to obey the moon. As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake The fabric of his folly ; whose foundation Is piled upon his faith, and will continue The standing of his body.
PoL How should this grow 1
Cam. I know not ; but I am sure 'tis safer to Avoid what's grown than question how 'tis born. If therefore you dare trust my honesty — That lies enclosed in this trunk, which you Shall bear along impawn'd — away to-night. Your followers I will whisper to the business ; And will, by twos and threes at several posterns. Clear them o' the city. For myself, I'll put My fortunes to your service, which are here By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain ; For, by the honour of my parents, I Have utter'd truth : which if you seek to prove, I dare not stand by ; nor shall you be safer
i8o COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, thereon His execution sworn.
Pol. I do believe thee :
I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand ; Be pilot to me, and thy places shall Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready, and My people did expect my hence departure Two days ago. This jealousy Is for a precious creature ; as she's rare. Must it be great ; and, as his person's mighty. Must it be violent ; and as he does conceive He is dishonour'd by a man which ever Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades me. Good expedition be my friend, and comfort The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing Of his ill-ta'en suspicion ! Come, Camillo ; I will respect thee as a father if Thou bear'st my life off hence. Let us avoid.
Cam. It is in mine authority to command The keys of all the posterns. Please your highness To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away. \_Exeunt.
ACT II Scene I. — Enter Hermione, Mamillius, and Ladies.
Her. Take the boy to you : he so troubles me 'Tis past enduring.
I Lady. Come, my gracious lord.
Shall I be your playfellow .?
Mam. No, I'll none of you.
1 Lady. Why, my sweet lord ?
Mam. You'll kiss me hard ; and speak to me as if I were a baby still. — I love you better.
2 Lady. And why so, my lord }
Mam. Not for because
Your brows are blacker ; yet black brows, they say, Become some women best ; so that there be not
THE WINTER'S TALE i8i
Too much hair there, but in a semicircle, Or half-moon made with a pen.
2 Lady. Who taught you this ?
Mam. I learn'd it out of women's faces. — Pray now What colour are your eyebrows ?
1 Lady. Blue, my lord. Mam. Nay, that's a mock. I've seen a lady's nose
That has been blue, but not her eyebrows.
2 Lady. Hark ye : The queen, your mother, rounds apace : we shall Present our services to a fine new prince
One of these days ; and then you'd wanton with us If we would have you.
I Lady. She is spread of late
Into a goodly bulk. Good time encounter her !
Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you } Come, sir, now I am for you again. Pray you, sit by us And tell 's a tale.
Mam. Merry or sad shall 't be .?
Her. As merry as you will.
Mam. A sad tale's best for winter.
I have one of sprites and goblins.
Her. Let's have that, sir.
Come on, sit down. Come on, and do your best To fright me with your sprites : you're powerful at it.
Mam. There was a man —
Her. Nay, come, sit down ; then on.
Mam. — dwelt by a church-yard. I will tell it softly ; Yon crickets shall not hear it.
Her. Come on, then,
And give 't me in mine ear.
Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and others.
Leon. Was he met there? his train.? Camillo with him ?
I Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met them ; never Saw I men scour so on their way. I eyed them Even to their ships.
i82 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Leon. How bless'd am I
In my just censure, in my true opinion ! Alack, for lesser knowledge ! How accursed In being so blest ! There may be in the cup A spider steep'd, and one may drink ; depart, And yet partake no venom ; for his knowledge Is not infected. But if one present The abhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his sides With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen the spider, Camillo was his help in this, his pander. There is a plot against my life, my crown ; All's true that is mistrusted. That false villain, Whom I employ 'd, was pre-employed by him. He has discover'd my design, and I Remain a pinch'd thing ; yea, a very trick For them to play at will. How came the posterns So easily open ?
I Lord. By his great authority,
Which often hath no less prevail'd than so On your command.
Leo7i. I know 't too well.
Give me the boy ; I am glad you did not nurse him : Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you Have too much blood in him.
Her. What is this, sport }
Leon. Bear the boy hence, he shall not come about her ; Away with him, and let her sport herself With that she's big with ; for 'tis Polixenes Has made thee swell thus.
Her. But I'd say he had not,
And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying Howe'er you lean to the nayward.
Leojz. You, my lords.
Look on her, mark her well ; be but about To say she is a goodly lady, and The justice of your hearts will thereto add 'Tis pity she's not honest, honourable. Praise her but for this her without-door form
THE WINTER'S TALE 183
(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech), and
straight The shrug, the hum, or ha ; these petty brands That calumny doth use. Oh, I am out, That mercy does ; for calumny will sear Virtue itself : these shrugs, these hums, and has, When you have said she's goodly, come between, Ere you can say she's honest. But be it known. From him that has most cause to grieve it should
be. She's an adultress.
Her. Should a villain say so.
The most replenish'd villain in the world. He were as much more villain : you, my lord. Do but mistake.
Leon. You have mistook, my lady,
Polixenes for Leontes. Oh, thou thing. Which I'll not call a creature of thy place. Lest barbarism, making me the precedent. Should a like language use to all degrees. And mannerly distinguishment leave out Betwixt the prince and beggar ! I have said She's an adultress; I have said with whom. More, she's a traitor, and Camillo is A federary with her ; and one that knows What she should shame to know herself. But with her most vile principal, that she's A bed-swerver, even as bad as those That vulgars give bold titles ; ay, and privy To this their late escape.
Her. No, by my life,
Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you, When you shall come to clearer knowledge, that You thus have publish'd me ? Gentle my lord, You scarce can right me thoroughly then to say You did mistake.
Leon. No ; if I mistake
In those foundations which I build upon, The centre is not big enough to bear A schoolboy's top. — Away with her to prison.
i84 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty But that he speaks.
Her. There's some ill planet reigns.
I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable. — Good my lords, I am not prone to weeping, as our sex Commonly are ; the want of which vain dew Perchance shall dry your pities : but I have That honourable grief lodged here, which burns Worse than tears drown. 'Beseech you all, my lords, With thoughts so qualified as your charities Shall best instruct you, measure me ; and so The king's will be perform 'd !
Leon. [ To the Guards^ Shall I be heard ?
Her. Who is 't that goes with me .? 'Beseech your highness My women may be with me, for you see My plight requires it. Do not weep, good fools ; There is no cause. When you shall know your mis- tress Has deserved prison, then abound in tears As I come out. This action I now go on Is for my better grace. — Adieu, my lord. I never wish'd to see you sorry ; now, I trust, I shall. — My women, come ; you have leave.
Leon. Go, do our bidding ; hence.
\_Exeunt Queen and Ladies.
I Lord. 'Beseech your highness, call the queen again.
Ant. Be certain what you do, sir, lest your justice Prove violence ; in the which three great ones suffer : Yourself, your queen, your son.
I Lord. For her, my lord,
I dare my life lay down, and will do 't, sir, Please you to accept it that the queen is spotless r the eyes of Heaven and to you ; I mean In this which you accuse her.
A7it. If it prove
She's otherwise, I'll keep my stables where I lodge my wife ; I'll go in couples with her ; Than when I feel and see her, no further trust her ;
Plate 24 THE ORACLE DEFIED Winter's Tale, act iii. , scene ii.
THE WINTER'S TALE 185
For every inch of woman in the world, Ay, every dram of woman's flesh, is false, If she be.
Leon. Hold your peaces.
I Lord. Good my lord —
Ant. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves. You are abused, and by some putter-on. That will be damn'd for 't ; 'would I knew the villain, I would land-damn him. Be she honour-flaw'd — I have three daughters ; the eldest is eleven ; The second, and the third, nine, and some five ; If this prove true, they'll pay for 't. By mine honour, I'll geld them all : fourteen they shall not see, To bring false generations ; they are co-heirs ; And I had rather glib myself than they Should not produce fair issue.
Leon. Cease ; no more.
You smell this business with a sense as cold As is a dead man's nose ; but I do see 't and feel 't As you feel doing thus ; and see withal The instruments that feel.
Ant. If it be so,
We need no grave to bury honesty ; There's not a gram of it the face to sweeten Of the whole dungy earth.
Leon. What ! lack I credit ?
I Lord. I had rather you did lack than I, my lord, Upon this ground ; and more it would content me To have her honour true than your suspicion, Be blamed for 't how you might.
Leon. Why, what need we
Commune with you of this, but rather follow Our forceful instigation ? Our prerogative Calls not your counsels ; but our natural goodness Imparts this : which — if you (or stupefied. Or seeming so in skill) cannot, or will not. Relish as truth, like us — inform yourselves, We need no more of your advice. The matter. The loss, the gain, the ord'ring on 't, is all Properly ours.
i86 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Afit. And I wish, my liege,
You had only in your silent judgment tried it Without more overture.
Leon. How could that be ?
Either thou art most ignorant by age. Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight, Added to their familiarity
(Which was as gross as ever touch'd conjecture, That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation But only seeing, all other circumstances Made up to the deed), doth push on this proceeding. Yet, for a greater confirmation (For in an act of this importance 'twere Most piteous to be wild) I have despatch'd in post To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know Of stuff'd sufficiency. Now from the oracle They will bring all ; whose spiritual counsel had, Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well ?
I Lord. Well done, my lord.
Leon. Though I am satisfied, and need no more Than what I know, yet shall the oracle Give rest to the minds of others ; such as he, Whose ignorant credulity will not Come up to the truth. So have we thought it good From our free person she should be confined, Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence Be left her to perform. Come, follow us ; We are to speak in public, for this business Will raise us all.
Ant. \Aside?^ To laughter, as I take it. If the good truth were known. \_Exeunt.
Scene \\. — Enter Paulina «;?^ Attendants.
Paul. The keeper of the prison — call to him ;
\Exit an Attendant. Let him have knowledge who I am. Good lady ! No court in Europe is too good for thee, What dost thou then in prison ? — Now, good sir,
THE WINTER'S TALE 187
Re-enter Attendant, with the Keeper.
You know me, do you not ?
Keep. For a worthy lady.
And one whom much I honour.
Paul. Pray you, then,
Conduct me to the queen.
Keep. I may not, madam ; to the contrary I have express commandment.
Paul. Here's ado.
To lock up honesty and honour from The access of gentle visitors ! — Is it lawful, Pray you, to see her women .? any of them ? Emilia }
Keep. So please you, madam, to put Apart these your attendants, I shall bring Emilia forth.
Paul. I pray now, call her.
Withdraw yourselves. \^Exeunt Attendants.
Keep. And, madam,
I must be present at your conference.
Paul. Well, be it so, prithee. \Exit Keeper.
Here's such ado to make no stain a stain As passes colouring. —
Re-e^iter Keeper, with Emilia.
Dear gentlewoman, how fares our gracious lady ?
Emit. As well as one so great, and so forlorn. May hold together. On her frights and griefs (Which never tender lady hath borne greater) She is, something before her time, deliver'd.
Paul. A boy ?
Emit. A daughter ; and a goodly babe,
Lusty, and like to live. The queen receives Much comfort in 't ; says, My poor prisoner, I am innocent as you.
Paul. I dare be sworn.
These dangerous, unsafe luneso' the king! beshrewthem! He must be told on 't, and he shall. The office
i88 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Becomes a woman best ; I'll take 't upon me. If I prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue blister, And never to my red-look'd anger be The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia, Commend my best obedience to the queen ; If she dares trust me with her little babe, I'll show 't the king, and undertake to be Her advocate to th' loudest. We do not know How he may soften at the sight o' the child ; The silence often of pure innocence Persuades when speaking fails.
Emil. Most worthy madam,
Your honour and your goodness is so evident That your free undertaking cannot miss A thriving issue ; there is no lady living So meet for this great errand. Please your ladyship To visit the next room, I'll presently Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer, Who but to-day hammer'd of this design. But durst not tempt a minister of honour, Lest she should be denied.
Paul. Tell her, Emilia,
I'll use that tongue I have. If wit flow from it As boldness from my bosom, let it not be doubted I shall do good.
Emil. Now be you blest for it !
I'll to the queen. Please you, come something nearer.
Keep. Madam, if 't please the queen to send the babe, I know not what I shall incur to pass it. Having no warrant.
Paul. You need not fear it, sir.
This child was prisoner to the womb, and is, By law and process of great nature, thence Freed and enfranchised : not a party to. Nor guilty of, the anger of the king ; If any be, the trespass of the queen.
Keep. I do believe it.
Paul. Do not you fear : upon
Mine honour, I will stand 'twixt you and danger.
\_Exeunt.
THE WINTER'S TALE 189
Scene III. — Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and other Attendants.
Leo7i. Nor night nor day, no rest. It is but weak- ness To bear the matter thus ; mere weakness, if The cause were not in being ; part o' the cause, She, the adultress ; for the harlot king Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank And level of my brain, plot-proof ; but she I can hook to me. Say that she were gone. Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest Might come to me again. — Who's there ?
I Attend. {Advancing^ My lord !
Leon. How does the boy }
I Attend. He took good rest to-night ;
'Tis hoped his sickness is discharged.
Leon. To see
His nobleness !
Conceiving the dishonour of his mother. He straight declined, droop 'd, took it deeply ; Fasten'd and fix'd the shame on 't in himself ; Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep. And downright languish 'd. — Leave me solely. Go, See how he fares. \Exit Attendant.] — Fie, fie ! no
thought of him ; The very thought of my revenges that way Recoil upon me : in himself too mighty, And in his parties, his alliance. Let him be Until a time may serve; for present vengeance, Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes Laugh at me ; make their pastime at my sorrow. They should not laugh, if I could reach them ; nor Shall she, within my power.
Enter Paulina, with a Child.
I Lord. You must not enter.
Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second to me. Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alas,
iQO COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Than the queen's life ? A gracious innocent soul, More free than he is jealous.
Ant. That's enough.
I Attend. Madam, he hath not slept to-night ; com- manded None should come at him.
Paul. Not so hot, good sir ;
I come to bring him sleep. 'Tis such as you. That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh At each his needless heavings — such as you Nourish the cause of his awaking. I Do come with words as med'cinal as true ; Honest as either, to purge him of that humour That presses him from sleep.
Leon. What noise there, ho ?
Paul. No noise, my lord, but needful conference About some gossips for your highness.
Leon. How } —
Away with that audacious lady. Antigonus, I charged thee that she should not come about me ; I knew she would.
Ant. I told her so, my lord.
On your displeasure's peril, and on mine. She should not visit you.
Leon. What, canst not rule her }
Paul. From all dishonesty he can: in this '
(Unless he take the course that you have done, Commit me for committing honour), trust it. He shall not rule me.
Ant. Lo you now, you hear !
When she will take the rein, I let her run ; But she'll not stumble.
Paul. Good my liege, I come ;
And, I beseech you, hear me, who profess Myself your loyal servant, your physician. Your most obedient counsellor; yet that dare Less appear so in comforting your evils Than such as most seem yours. I say, I come From your good queen.
Leon. Good queen !
THE WINTER'S TALE 191
Paul. Good queen, my lord, good queen. I say, good queen ; And would by combat make her good, so were I A man, the worst about you.
Leo7i. Force her hence.
Paul. Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes First hand me. On mine own accord I'll off. But first I'll do my errand. The good queen. For she is good, hath brought you forth a daughter ; Here 'tis ; commends it to your blessing.
\_Laying down the Child.
Leon. Out !
A mankind witch ! Hence with her, out o' door. A most intelligencing bawd !
Paul. Not so :
I am as ignorant in that as you In so entitling me ; and no less honest Than you are mad ; which is enough, I'll warrant, As this world goes, to pass for honest.
Leo7i. Traitors !
Will you not push her out } Give her the bastard. — Thou dotard \to Antigonus], thou art woman - tired,
unroosted By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard ; Take 't up, I say ; give 't to thy crone.
Paul. Forever
Un venerable be thy hands if thou Tak'st up the princess by that forced baseness Which he has put upon 't!
Leon. He dreads his wife.
Paul So I would you did ; then 'twere past all doubt You'd call your children yours.
Leon. A nest of traitors !
Ant. I am none, by this good light.
Paul. Nor I, nor any
But one that's here ; and that's himself. For he The sacred honour of himself, his queen's. His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, Whose sting is sharper than the sword's ; and will not
192 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
(For, as the case now stands, it is a curse He cannot be compell'd to 't) once remove The root of his opinion, which is rotten As ever oak or stone was sound.
Leon. A callat
Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her husband, And now baits me ! This brat is none of mine ; It is the issue of Polixenes. Hence with it; and, together with the dam, Commit them to the fire.
Paul. It is yours ;
And, might we lay the old proverb to your charge, So like you 'tis the worse. — Behold, my lords. Although the print be little, the whole matter And copy of the father: eye, nose, lip, The trick of his frown, his forehead ; nay, the valley, The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek ; his smiles ; The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger. — And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast made it So like to him that got it, if thou hast The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all colours No yellow in 't ; lest she suspect, as he does, Her children not her husband's !
Leon. A gross hag ! —
And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd. That wilt not stay her tongue.
A7it. Hang all the husbands
That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself Hardly one subject.
Leon. Once more, take her hence.
Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord Can do no more.
Leon. I'll have thee burn'd.
Paul. I care not.
It is a heretic that makes the fire. Not she which burns in 't. I'll not call you tyrant; But this most cruel usage of your queen (Not able to produce more accusation Than your own weak -hinged fancy) something sa- vours
J^^kl
PERDITA DISCOVERED
Winter's Tal<- in m sr,-,;c lii
C .\'l I', II
I \, (I ', I .1 /
THE WINTER'S TALE 193
Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, Yea, scandalous to the world.
Leon. On your allegiance,
Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant, Where were her life ? She durst not call me so, If she did know me one. Away with her.
Paul, I pray you, do not push me ; I'll be gone. Look to your babe, my lord ; 'tis yours. Jove send her A better guiding spirit ! — What need these hands } — You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, Will never do him good, not one of you. So, so. Farewell ; we are gone. \_Exit.
Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife to this. — My child .? Away with 't ! Even thou, that hast A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence. And see it instantly consumed with fire ; Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up straight. Within this hour bring me word 'tis done (And by good testimony), or I'll seize thy life, With what thou else call'st thine. If thou refuse, And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so ; The bastard brains with these my proper hands Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire ; For thou sett'st on thy wife.
Ant. I did not, sir.
These lords, my noble fellows, if they please, Can clear me in 't.
I Lord. We can ; my royal liege.
He is not guilty of her coming hither.
Leon. You are liars all.
I Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us better credit. We have always truly served you ; and beseech So to esteem of us. And on our knees we beg (As recompense of our dear services. Past and to come) that you do change this purpose Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must Lead on to some foul issue. We all kneel.
Leon. I am a feather for each wind that blows.
Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel
And call me father ? Better burn it now 1V.-13
194 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Than curse it then. But, be it ; let it live :
It shall not neither. — You, sir, come you hither ;
\To Antigonus. You that have been so tenderly officious With Lady Margery, your midwife there, To save this bastard's life — for 'tis a bastard, So sure as this beard's gray — what will you adventure To save this brat's life }
Ant. Anything, my lord.
That my ability may undergo. And nobleness impose ; at least, thus much : I'll pawn the little blood which I have left To save the innocent; anything possible.
Leon. It shall be possible. Swear by this sword Thou wilt perform my bidding.
Ant. I will, my lord.
Leon. Mark, and perform it (seest thou }) ; for the fail Of any point in 't shall not only be Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued wife. Whom, for this time, we pardon. We enjoin thee, As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry This female bastard hence, and that thou bear it To some remote and desert place, quite out Of our dominions ; and that there thou leave it. Without more mercy, to its own protection. And favour of the climate. As by strange fortune It came to us, I do in justice charge thee — On thy soul's peril, and thy body's torture — That thou commend it strangely to some place Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it up.
A7it. I swear to do this, though a present death Had been more merciful. — Come on, poor babe. Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens To be thy nurses ! Wolves and bears, they say, Casting their savageness aside, have done Like offices of pity. — Sir, be prosperous In more than this deed doth require ! and blessing. Against this cruelty, fight on thy side. Poor thing, condemn'd to loss ! \_Exit with the Child.
THE WINTER'S TALE 195
Leon. No, I'll not rear Another's issue.
I Attend. Please your highness, posts
From those you sent to the oracle are come An hour since. Cleomenes and Dion, Being well arrived from Delphos, are both landed, Hasting to the court.
I Lord. So please you, sir, their speed
Hath been beyond account.
Leon. Twenty-three days
They have been absent. 'Tis good speed ; foretells The great Apollo suddenly will have The truth of this appear. Prepare you, lords ; Summon a session, that we may arraign Our most disloyal lady ; for, as she hath Been publicly accused, so shall she have A just and open trial. While she lives My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me. And think upon my bidding. \^Exetint.
ACT III Scene I. — Enter Cleomenes and Dion.
Cleo. The climate's delicate ; the air most sweet ; Fertile the isle ; the temple much surpassing The common praise it bears.
Dion. I shall report.
For most it caught me, the celestial habits (Methinks I so should term them) and the reverence Of the grave wearers. Oh, the sacrifice ! How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly It was i' the offering !
Cleo. But, of all, the burst
And the ear-deafening voice o' the oracle, Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense That I was nothing.
Dion. If the event o' the journey
Prove as successful to the queen — oh, be 't so I —
196 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy. The time is worth the use on 't.
Cleo. Great Apollo,
Turn all to the best ! These proclamations, So forcing faults upon Hermione, I little like.
Dion. The violent carriage of it
Will clear or end the business. When the oracle (Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up) Shall the contents discover, something rare Even then will rush to knowledge. — Go ; fresh horses ; And gracious be the issue ! \_Exeunt.
Scene II. — Leontes, Lords, ^?/^ Officers appear prop- erly seated.
Leon. This session (to our great grief, we pronounce) Even pushes 'gainst our heart. The party tried, The daughter of a king ; our wife ; and one Of us too much beloved. Let us be clear'd Of being tyrannous, since we so openly Proceed in justice ; which shall have due course, Even to the guilt or the purgation. — Produce the prisoner.
Off. It is his highness' pleasure that the queen Appear in person here in court. — Silence I
Hermione is brought in, guarded ; Paulina and Ladies
attending.
Leon. Read the indictment.
Off. Hermione, queen to the worthy Leontes, King of Sicilia, thou art here accused and arraigned of high treason, in committing adultery with Polixenes, King of Bohemia, and conspiring with Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign lord the king, thy royal hus- band ; the pretence whereof being by circumstances partly laid open, thou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance of a true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for their better safety, to fly away by night.
THE WINTER'S TALE 197
Her. Since what I am to say must be but that Which contradicts my accusation, and The testimony on my part no other But what comes from myself, it shall scarce boot me To say Not guilty. Mine integrity Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, Be so received. But thus : If powers divine Behold our human actions (as they do), I doubt not then but innocence shall make False accusation blush, and tyranny Tremble at patience. — You, my lord, best know (Who least will seem to do so) my past life Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true, As I am now unhappy ; which is more Than history can pattern, though devised And play'd to take spectators. For behold me — A fellow of the royal bed, which owe A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter. The mother to a hopeful prince — here standing To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore Who please to come and hear. For life, I prize it As I weigh grief, which I would spare ; for honour, 'Tis a derivative from me to mine. And only that I stand for. I appeal To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Came to your court, how I was in your grace. How merited to be so ; since he came, With what encounter so uncurrent I Have strain'd to appear thus. If one jot beyond The bound of honour, or in act or will That way inclining, harden'd be the hearts Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin Cry fie upon my grave !
Leon. I ne'er heard yet
That any of these bolder vices wanted Less impudence to gainsay what they did Than to perform it first.
Her. That's true enough,
Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me.
Leon. You will not own it.
198 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Her. More than mistress of, Which comes to me in name of fault, I must not At all acknowledge. For Polixenes (With whom I am accused), I do confess I loved him, as in honour he required ; With such a kind of love as might become A lady like me ; with a love, even such. So, and no other, as 3'ourself commanded : Which, not to have done, I think had been in me Both disobedience and ingratitude To you and toward your friend, whose love had spoke, Even since it could speak, from an infant, freely That it was yours. Now for conspiracy, I know not how it tastes ; though it be dish'd For me to try how. All I know of it Is that Camillo was an honest man ; And why he left your court the gods themselves, Wotting no more than I, are ignorant.
Leon. You knew of his departure, as you know What you have underta'en to do in his absence.
Her. Sir, You speak a language that I understand not. My life stands in the level of your dreams, Which I'll lay down.
Leon. Your actions are my dreams ;
You had a bastard by Polixenes, And I but dream 'd it. As you were past all shame (Those of your fact are so), so past all truth ; Which to deny concerns more than avails ; for as Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, No father owning it (which is, indeed. More criminal in thee than it), so thou Shalt feel our justice ; in whose easiest passage Look for no less than death.
Her. Sir, spare your threats;
The bug which you would fright me with I seek. To me can life be no commodity : The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, I do give lost ; for I do feel it gone. But know not how it went. My second joy,
THE WINTER'S TALE 199
And first-fruits of my body, from his presence
I am barr'd, like one infectious. My third comfort,
Starr'd most unluckily, is from my breast,
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth,
Haled out to murder. Myself on every post
Proclaim'd a strumpet ; with immodest hatred
The child-bed privilege denied, which 'longs
To women of all fashion. Lastly, hurried
Here to this place, i' the open air, before
I have got strength of limit. Nqw, my liege.
Tell me what blessings I have here alive.
That I should fear to die 1 Therefore, proceed.
But yet hear this ; mistake me not. No ! life,
I prize it not a straw ; but for mine honour
(Which I would free), if I shall be condemn'd
Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else.
But what your jealousies awake, I tell you,
'Tis rigour, and not law. — Your honours all,
I do refer me to the oracle ;
Apollo be my judge.
I Lord. This your request
Is altogether just; therefore bring forth. And in Apollo's name, his oracle.
\Exeunt certain Officers.
Her. The Emperor of Russia was my father. Oh that he were alive, and here beholding His daughter's trial ! that he did but see The flatness of my misery, yet with eyes Of pity, not revenge !
Re-enter Officers with Cleomenes and Dion.
Off. You here shall swear upon this sword of jus- tice That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have Been both at Delphos ; and from thence have brought This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliver'd Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then You have not dared to break the holy seal, Nor read the secrets in 't.
COMEDIES OF SHAKESF^ARE
Cleo.
r^ . r All this we swear.
4
Leon. Break up the seals and read.
Off. \_Reads^ Hermione is chaste, Polixenes blame- less, Camillo a true subject, Leontes a jealous tyrant, his innocent babe truly begotten ; and the king shall live without an heir if that which is lost be not found.
Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo !
Her. Praised !
Leon. Hast thou read truth .?
Off. Ay, my lord ; even so
As it is here set down.
Leon. There is no truth at all i' the oracle. The sessions shall proceed ; this is mere falsehood.
Enter a Servant, hastily.
Serv. My lord the king, the king!
Leon. What is the business }
Serv. Oh, sir, I shall be hated to report it ! The prince your son, with mere conceit and fear Of the queen's speed, is gone.
Leon. How ! gone }
Serv. Is dead.
Leon. Apollo's angry ; and the heavens themselves Do strike at my injustice. How now there ? [Hermione y^^V^/j-.
Paul. This news is mortal to the queen. Look down. And see what death is doing.
Leon. Take her hence ;
Her heart is but o'ercharged ; she will recover. — I have too much believed mine own suspicion. — 'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her Some remedies for life. — Apollo, pardon
\Exeunt Paulina and Ladies, with Hermione. My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle ! — I'll reconcile me to Polixenes ; New woo my queen ; recall the good Camillo, Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy ;
Pt \rK 26
KNTKK TlMi:. AS f'HORrS
Winter's Tale, act iv.. scene i.
(' .VI r, II I f. [>\ 1 ,1 /,
THE WINTER'S TALE 20
For, being transported by my jealousies
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose
Camillo for the minister to poison
My friend Polixenes : which had been done,
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied
My swift command, though I with death and with
Reward did threaten and encourage him,
Not doing it, and being done. He, most humane
And fill'd with honour to my kingly guest
Unclasp 'd my practice; quit his fortunes here.
Which you knew great ; and to the certain hazard
Of all incertainties himself commended
No richer than his honour. How he glisters
Through my rust ! and how his piety
Does my deeds make the blacker !
Re-enter Paulina.
Paul. Woe the while! Oh, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it, Break too !
I Lord, What fit is this, good lady }
Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast for me } What wheels t racks ? fires 1 What flaying } boiling In leads or oils } What old, or newer torture Must I receive, whose every word deserves To taste of thy most worst ? Thy tyranny. Together working with thy jealousies — Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle For girls of nine ! — Oh, think what they have done, And then run mad, indeed ; stark mad ! for all Thy bygone fooleries were but spices of it. That thou betray 'dst Polixenes 'twas nothing ; That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant, And damnable ungrateful. Nor was 't much Thou would'st have poison'd good Camillo's honour To have him kill a king. Poor trespasses. More monstrous standing by : whereof I reckon The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter To be or none or little, though a devil
202 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Would have shed water out of fire ere done t. Nor is 't directly laid to thee, the death Of the young prince, whose honourable thoughts (Thoughts high for one so tender) cleft the heart That could conceive a gross and foolish sire Blemish'd his gracious dam : this is not, no, Laid to thy answer. But the last — oh, lords. When I have said, cry woe ! — the queen, the queen, The sweetest, dearest creature's dead; and vengeance
for 't Not dropp'd down yet.
I Lord. The higher powers forbid !
Paul. I say she's dead ; I'll swear 't. If word nor oath Prevail not, go and see. If you can bring Tincture, or lustre in her lip, her eye. Heat outwardly or breath within, I'll serve you As I would do the gods. — But oh, thou tyrant ! Do not repent these things, for they are heavier Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee To nothing but despair. A thousand knees Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, Upon a barren mountain, and still winter In storm perpetual, could not move the gods To look that way thou wert.
Leon. Go on, go on.
Thou canst not speak too much ; I have deserved All tongues to talk their bitterest.
I Lord. Say no more ;
Howe'er the business goes, you have made fault r the boldness of your speech.
Paid. I am sorry for 't ;
All faults I make, when I shall come to know them, I do repent. Alas, I have show'd too much The rashness of a woman. He is touch'd To the noble heart. What's gone, and what's past
help. Should be past grief. Do not receive affliction At my petition, I beseech you ; rather Let me be punish'd, that have minded you
THE WINTER'S TALE 203
Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege,
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman.
The love I bore your queen — lo, fool again ! —
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children ;
I'll not remember you of my own lord,
Who is lost too. Take your patience to you.
And I'll say nothing.
Leon. Thou didst speak but well,
When most the truth ; which I receive much better Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me To the dead bodies of my queen and son ; One grave shall be for both ; upon them shall The causes of their death appear, unto Our shame perpetual. Once a day I'll visit The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there Shall be my recreation. So long as Nature will bear up with this exercise, So long I daily vow to use it. Come, And lead me to these sorrows. \_Exeuni.
Scene III. — Enter Antigonus, with the Child, and a
Mariner.
Ant. Thou art perfect then our ship hath touch'd upon The deserts of Bohemia.?
Mar. Ay, my lord, and fear
We have landed in ill time : the skies look grimly, And threaten present blusters. In my conscience, The heavens with that we have in hand are angry. And frown upon us.
Ant. Their sacred wills be done ! — Go, get aboard ; Look to thy bark ; I'll not be long before I call upon thee.
Mar. Make your best haste ; and go not Too far i' the land ; 'tis like to be loud weather, Besides this place is famous for the creatures Of prey that keep upon 't.
Ant. Go thou away :
I'll follow instantly.
204 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mar. I am glad at heart To be so rid o' the business. \Exit.
Ant, Come, poor babe.
I have heard (but not believed) the spirits of the dead May walk again. If such thing be, thy mother Appear 'd to me last night ; for ne'er was dream So like a waking. To me comes a creature, Sometimes her head on one side, some another ; I never saw a vessel of like sorrow So fill'd and so becoming. In pure white robes, Like very sanctity, she did approach My cabin where I lay; thrice bow'd before me, And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes Became two spouts. The fury spent, anon Did this break from her: Good Antigonus, Since fate, against thy better disposition. Hath made thy person for the thrower-out Of my poor babe, according to thine oath. Places remote enough are in Bohemia ; There weep, and leave it crying ; and, for the babe Is counted lost forever, Perdita I prithee call 't. For this ungentle business, Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see Thy wife Paulina more. And so, with shrieks, She melted into air. Affrighted much, I did in time collect myself ; and thought This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys : Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, I will be squared by this. I do believe Hermione hath suffer'd death ; and that Apollo would, this being indeed the issue Of King Polixenes, it should here be laid. Either for life or death, upon the earth Of its right father. — Blossom, speed thee well !
\Laying down the Child. There lie, and there thy character : there these,
[^Laying down a bundle. Which may, if fortune please, both breed thee pretty. And still rest thine. — The storm begins. Poor wretch. That, for thy mother's fault, art thus exposed
THE WINTERS TALE 205
To loss, and what may follow ! — Weep I cannot,
But my heart bleeds ; and most accursed am I,
To be by oath enjoin'd to this. — Farewell !
The day frowns more and more ; thou art like to
have A lullaby too rough. I never saw The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour ! Well may I get aboard. — This is the chase ; I am gone forever. \_Exit, pursued by a bear.
Enter an old Shepherd.
Shep. I would there were no age between ten and three-and-twenty ; or that youth would sleep out the rest ; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting. — Hark you now ! — Would any but these boiled brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt this weath- er ? They have scared away two of my best sheep ; which, I fear, the wolf will sooner find than the master. If anywhere I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browsing of ivy. Good-luck, and 't be thy will ! what have we here } \Taking up the Child.] Mercy on 's, a barne ; a ver)' pretty barne ! A boy, or a child, I wonder .'' A pretty one ; a very pretty one. Sure some scape ; though I am not bookish, yet I can read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This has been some stair-work, some trunk- work, some behind-door work : they were warmer that got this than the poor thing is here. I'll take it up for pity, yet I'll tarry till my son come ; he halloa'd but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa!
Enter Clown.
Clown. Hilloa, loaf
Shep. What, art so near? If thou'lt see a thing to talk on when thou art dead and rotten, come hither. What ail'st thou, man.f*
Clown. I have seen two such sights, by sea and by land ; but I am not to say it is a sea, for it is now the
2o6 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
sky ; betwixt the firmament and it you cannot thrust a bodkin's point.
Shep. Why, boy, how is it ?
Clown. I would you did but see how it chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the shore ! But that's not to the point. Oh, the most piteous cry of the poor souls ! Sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em ; now the ship boring the moon with her main-mast, and anon swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for the land service. To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone ! how he cried to me for help, and said his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to make an end of the ship : to see how the sea flap-dragoned it; but, first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked them ; and how the poor gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, both roaring louder than the sea or weather.
Shep. Name of mercy, when was this, boy }
Clozun. Now, now ; I have not winked since I saw these sights. The men are not yet cold under water, nor the bear half dined on the gentleman ; he's at it now.
Shep. Would I had been by to have helped the old man !
Clown. I would you had been by the ship side to have helped her ; there your charity would have lacked footing. \_Aside.
Shep. Heavy matters ! heavy matters ! But look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself. Thou met'st with things dying, I with things new born. Here's a sight for thee. Look thee, a bearing -cloth for a squire's child ! Look thee here : take up, take up, boy ; open 't. So, let's see. It was told me I should be rich by the fairies. This is some changeling. Open 't. What's within, boy .?
Clown. You're a mad old man ; if the sins of your youth are forgiven you, you're well to live. Gold ! all gold!
Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill prove so. Up with it, keep it close ; home, home, the next way. We
THE WINTER'S TALE 207
are lucky, boy ; and to be so still requires nothing but secrecy. Let my sheep go. — Come, good boy, the next way home.
Clown. Go you the next way with your findings. I'll go see if the bear be gone from the gentleman, and how much he hath eaten. They are never curst but when they are hungry. If there be any of him left, I'll bury it.
Shep. That's a good deed. . If thou may'st discern by that which is left of him what he is, fetch me to the sight of him.
Clown. Marry, will I : and you shall help to put him i' the ground.
Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy ; and we'll do good deeds on 't. \Exeunt.
ACT IV
Enter Time, as Chorus.
Time. I, that please some, try all, both joy and terror Of good and bad, that make and unfold error, Now take upon me, in the name of Time, To use my wings. Impute it not a crime To me or my swift passage that I slide O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried Of that wide gap, since it is in my power To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass The same I am, ere ancient'st order was. Or what is now received : I witness to The times that brought them in ; so shall I do To the freshest things now reigning, and make stale The glistering of this present, as my tale Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing, I turn my glass ; and give my scene such growing As you had slept between. Leontes leaving The effects of his fond jealousies ; so grieving That he shuts up himself; imagine me, Gentle spectators, that I now may be In fair Bohemia; and remember well
2o8 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel
I now name to you ; and with speed so pace
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wond'ring. What of her ensues
I list not prophesy ; but let Time's news
Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's
daughter, And what to her adheres, which follows after. Is the argument of time. Of this allow, If ever you have spent time worse ere now ; If never yet, that Time himself doth say. He wishes earnestly you never may. \_Exit.
Scene I. — Enter Polixenes and Camillo.
Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more importu- nate. 'Tis a sickness denying thee anything, a death to grant this.
Cam. It is fifteen years since I saw my country. Though I have, for the most part, been aired abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. Besides, the penitent king, my master, hath sent for me ; to whose feeling sorrows I might be some allay, or I o'erween to think so, which is another spur to my departure.
Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not out the rest of thy services by leaving me now. The need I have of thee thine own goodness hath made ; better not to have had thee than thus to want thee. Thou, hav- ing made me businesses which none without thee can sufficiently manage, must either stay to execute them thyself, or take away with thee the very services thou hast done ; which, if I have not enough considered (as too much I cannot), to be more thankful to thee shall be my study ; and my profit therein, the heaping friend- ships. Of that fatal country, Sicilia, prithee speak no more ; whose very naming punishes me with the remem- brance of that penitent, as thou call'st him, and recon- ciled king, my brother, whose loss of his most precious queen and children is even now to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when saw'st thou .the Prince Florizel, my
Plate 27 PERDITA'S FOSTER RELATIVES
Winter'^; Tale, act iv scene ii
ik
^^mi
'^'VkJiwM
), (■
THE WINTER'S TALE 209
son ? Kings are no less unhappy, their issue not being gracious, than they are in losing them when they have approved their virtues.
Cam. Sir, it is three days since I saw the prince. What his happier affairs may be are to me unknown ; but I have missingly noted he is of late much retired from court, and is less frequent to his princely exer- cises than formerly he hath appeared.
Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo, and with some care, so far, that I have eyes under my service which look upon his removedness, from whom I have this intelligence : That he is seldom from the house of a most homely shepherd ; a man, they say, that from very nothing, and beyond the imagination of his neigh- bors, is grown into an unspeakable estate.
Cam. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who hath a daughter of most rare note : the report of her is extend- ed more than can be thought to begin from such a cot- tage.
Pol. That's likewise part of my intelligence. But I fear the angle that plucks our son thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the place where we will, not appearing what we are, have some question with the shepherd, from whose simplicity I think it is not uneasy to get the cause of my son's resort thither. Prithee, be my present partner in this business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia.
Cam. I willingly obey your command.
Pol. My best Camillo ! We must disguise ourselves.
\Exeunt.
Scene II. — Enter Autolycus, singing.
When daffodils begin to peer —
With heigh! the doxy o7>er the dale — Why, then comes in the sweet 0' the year ; For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.
The white sheet bleaching on the hedge —
With hey/ the sweet birds, oh, how they sing! — Doth set my pugging tooth on edge ; For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. IV.-14
210 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
The lark, that tirra-lirra chants —
With hey ! with hey ! the thrush and the jay / —
Are summer songs for me and my aunts. While we lie tumbling in the hay.
I have served Prince Florizel, and, in my time, wore three-pile ; but now I am out of service.
But shall I go mourn for that, my dear ?
The pale moon shines by night : And when I wander here and there, I then do most go right.
If tinkers may have leave to live.
And bear the sow-skin budget. Then my account I well may give.
And in the stocks avouch it.
My traffic is sheets ; when the kite builds, look to lesser linen. My father named me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. With die and drab I purchased this caparison ; and my revenue is the silly cheat. Gal- lows and knock are too powerful on the highway; beat- ing and hanging are terrors to me ; for the life to come, I sleep out the thought of it. — A prize ! a prize !
Enter Clown.
Clown. Let me see: Every 'leven wether — tods; every tod yields — pound and odd shilling; fifteen hun- dred shorn — what comes the wool to ?
Aut. \Aside?\ If the springe hold, the cock's mine.
Clown. I cannot do it without counters. Let me see : what am I to buy for our sheep-shearing feast } Three pound of sugar, five pound of currants, rice. What will this sister of mine do with rice t But my father hath made her mistress of the feast, and she lays it on. She hath made me four-and-twenty nosegays for the shear- ers : three-man song-men all, and very good ones ; but they are most of them means and bases ; but one Puri- tan amongst them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes.
THE WINTER'S TALE 211
I must have saffron to colour the warden pies ; mace, dates, none ; that's out of my note ; nutmegs, seven ; a race or two of ginger ; but that I may beg ; four pound of prunes, and as many of raisins o' the sun.
Aut. Oh, that ever I was born !
\Grovelling on ike ground.
Clown. V the name of me —
Aut. Oh, help me, help me ! pluck but off these rags ; and then, death, death !
Clozvn. Alack, poor soul ! thou hast need of more rags to lay on thee, rather than have these off.
Aut. Oh, sir, the loathsomeness of them offends me more than the stripes I have received ; which are mighty ones and millions.
Clown. Alas, poor man ! a million of beating may come to a great matter.
Aut. I am robbed, sir, and beaten ; my money and apparel ta'en from me, and these detestable things put upon me.
Clown. What, by a horseman or a footman ?
Aut. A footman, sweet sir, a footman.
Clown. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the gar- ments he hath left with thee ; if this be a horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot service. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee ; come, lend me thy hand.
\_Helpmg him up.
Aut. Oh, good sir, tenderly, oh !
Clown. Alas, poor soul !
Aut. Oh, good sir, softly, good sir. I fear, sir, my shoulder-blade is out.
Clown. How now .? canst stand ?
Aut. Softly, dear sir. {Picks his pocket^ Good sir, softly ; you ha' done me a charitable ofhce.
Clown. Dost lack any money ? I have a little money for thee.
Aut. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, sir; I have a kinsman not past three-quarters of a mile hence, unto whom I was going ; I shall there have money, or anything I want. Oner me no money, I pray you : that kills my heart.
2 12 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Clown. What manner of fellow was he that robbed you ?
Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go about with trol-my dames. I knew him once a servant of the prince ; I cannot tell, good sir, for which of his virtues it was, but he was certainly whipped out of the court.
Clown. His vices, you would say ; there's no virtue whipped out of the court : they cherish it, to make it stay there ; and yet it will no more but abide.
Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this man well. He hath been since an ape-bearer ; then a process- server, a bailiff ; then he compassed a motion of the prodigal son, and married a tinker's wife within a mile wherein my land and living lies ; and, having flown over many knavish professions, he settled only in rogue. Some call him Autolycus.
Clown. Out upon him ! Prig, for my life, prig. He haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings.
Aut. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the rogue that put me into this apparel.
Clown. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bohemia ; if you had but looked big, and spit at him, he'd have run.
Aut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no fighter. I am false of heart that way ; and that he knew, I war- rant him.
Clown. How do you now }
Aut. Sweet sir, much better than I was ; I can stand and walk. I even will take my leave of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman's.
Clown. Shall I bring thee on the way ?
Aut. No, good-faced sir ; no, sweet sir.
Clown. Then fare thee well ; I must go buy spices for our sheep-shearing.
Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir! \Exit Clown.] Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing too. If I make not this cheat bring out another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be unrolled, and my name put in the book of virtue !
THE WINTER'S TALE 213
rvSz^Jt^^.n Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way. And merrily hent the stile-a ; A merry heart goes all the day, .
Your sad tires in a mile-a. \_ilXlt.
Scene III. — Enter Florizel and Perdita.
Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part of you Do give a Hfe ; no shepherdess, but Flora, Peering in April's front. This your sheep-shearing Is as a meeting of the petty gods, And you the queen on 't.
Per. Sir, my gracious lord,
To chide at your extremes it not becomes me ; Oh, pardon, that I name them ; your high self. The gracious mark o' the land, you have obscured With a swain's wearing ; and me, poor lowly maid. Most goddess-like prank'd up. But that our feasts In every mess have folly, and the feeders Digest it with a custom, I should blush To see you so attired ; sworn, I think. To show myself a glass.
Flo. I bless the time
When my good falcon made her flight across Thy father's ground.
Per. Now Jove af¥ord you cause !
To me, the difference forges dread ; your greatness Hath not been used to fear. Even now I tremble To think your father, by some accident, Should pass this way, as you did. Oh, the fates ! How would he look to see his work, so noble, Vilely bound up .'' What would he say } Or how Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold The sternness of his presence "^
Flo. Apprehend
Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, Humbling their deities to love, have taken The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter Became a bull, and bellow'd ; the green Neptune A ram, and bleated ; and the fire-robed god. Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain,
2 14 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
As I seem now. Their transformations Were never for a piece of beauty rarer ; Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts Burn hotter than my faith.
Per. Oh but, dear sir,
Your resolution cannot hold when 'tis Opposed, as it must be, by the power o' the king. One of these two must be necessities, Which then will speak, that you must change this pur- pose Or I my life.
Flo. Thou dearest Perdita,
With these forced thoughts, I prithee, darken not The mirth o' the feast Or I'll be thine, my fair. Or not my father's ; for I cannot be Mine own, nor anything to any, if I be not thine. To this I am most constant, Though destiny say no. Be merry, gentle ; Strangle such thoughts as these with anytjiing That you behold the while. Your guests are coming. Lift up your countenance, as it were the day Of celebration of that nuptial which We two have sworn shall come.
Per. O Lady Fortune,
Stand you auspicious !
Efiter Shepherd, with Polixenes and Camillo, dis- guised; Clown, MopsA, Dorcas, and others.
Flo. See, your guests approach ; Address yourself to entertain them sprightly, And let's be red with mirth.
Shep. Fie, daughter ! when my old wife lived, upon This day she was both pantler, butler, cook ; Both dame and servant ; welcomed all, served all ; Would sing her song, and dance her turn ; now here At upper end o' the table, now i' the middle; On his shoulder, and his ; her face o' fire With labour ; and the thing she took to quench it
THE WINTERS TALE 215
She would to each one sip. You are retired, As if you were a feasted one, and not The hostess of the meeting. Pray you, bid These unknown friends to us welcome ; for it is A way to make us better friends, more known. Come, quench your blushes ; and present yourself That which you are, mistress o' the feast. Come on, And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing. As your good flock shall prosper.
Per. Welcome, sir ! [ To Polixenes.
It is my father's will I should take on me The hostess-ship o' the day. — You're welcome, sir !
\To Camillo. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. — Reverend sirs, For you there's rosemary and rue ; these keep Seeming, and savour all the winter long: Grace and remembrance be to you both. And welcome to our shearing!
Pol. Shepherdess
(A fair one are you), well you fit our ages With flowers of winter.
Per. Sir, the year growing ancient —
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth Of trembling winter — the fairest flowers o' the season Are our carnations and streaked gilliflowers, Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind Our rustic garden's barren ; and I care not To get slips of them ; —
Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden.
Do you neglect them }
Per. — ^for I have heard it said
There is an art which, in their piedness, shares With great creating nature.
Pol. Say there be ;
Yet nature is made better by no mean But nature makes that mean : so o'er that art Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we marry A gentler scion to the wildest stock ; And make conceive a bark of baser kind
2i6 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
By bud of nobler race. This is an art
Which does mend nature — change it rather; but
The art itself is nature.
Per. So it is.
Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilliflowers, And do not call them bastards.
Per. I'll not put
The dibble in earth to set one slip of them : No more than, were I painted, I would wish This youth should say, 'twere well, and only therefore Desire to breed by me. — Here's flowers for you: Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram ; The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, And with him rises, weeping; these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age. You are very welcome.
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, And only live by gazing.
Per. Out, alas !
You'd be so lean that blasts of January Would blow you through and through. — Now, my fair- est friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring, that might Become your time of day ; and yours ; and yours ; That wear upon your virgin branches yet Your maidenheads growing. O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall From Dis's wagon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets, dim But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses. That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips, and The crown-imperial ; lilies of all kinds. The flower-de-luce being one! Oh, these I lack, To make you garlands of ; and my sweet friend. To strew him o'er and o'er.
Flo. What ? like a corse }
A
Plate 28
AUTOLYCUS
Winter's Tale, act iv. scene ii.
;a
i: i'
THE WINTER'S TALE 217
Per. No, like a bank, for love to lie and play on ; Not like a corse ; or if — not to be buried, But quick, and in mine arms. Come, take your flowers. Methinks I play as I have seen them do In Whitsun' pastorals: sure, this robe of mine Does change my disposition.
Flo. What you do
Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet, I'd have you do it ever; when you sing, I'd have you buy and sell so ; so give alms ; Pray so ; and for the ord'ring your affairs. To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own No other function. Each your doing. So singular in each particular. Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds. That all your acts are queens.
Per. O Doricles,
Your praises are too large ; but that your youth. And the true blood which peeps fairly through it, Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd, With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, You woo'd me the false way.
Flo. I think you have
As little skill to fear as I have purpose To put you to 't. But come, our dance, I pray. Your hand, my Perdita : so turtles pair That never mean to part.
Per. I'll swear for 'em.
Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the greensward ; nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place.
Cam. He tells her something
That makes her blood look out. Good sooth, she is The queen of curds and cream.
Cloiun. Come on, strike up.
Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress : marry, garlic, To mend her kissing with.
2i8 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mop. Now, in good time !
Clown. Not a word, a word; we stand upon our man- ners.— Come, strike up. \^Music.
\_Here a dance of Shepherds and Shepherdesses.
Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what Fair swain is this which dances with your daughter }
Shep. They call him Doricles, and he boasts himself To have a worthy feeding ; but I have it Upon his own report, and I believe it; He looks like sooth. He says he loves my daughter; I think so too, for never gazed the moon Upon the water as he'll stand and read. As 'twere, my daughter's eyes ; and to be plain, I think there is not half a kiss to choose Who loves another best.
Pol. She dances featly.
Shep. So she does anything, though I report it That should be silent. If young Doricles Do light upon her, she shall bring him that Which he not dreams of.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Oh, master, if you did but hear the peddler at the door you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe ; no, the bagpipe could not move you. He sings several tunes faster than you'll tell money ; he utters them as' he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears grew to his tunes.
Clown. He could never come better; he shall come in. I love a ballad but even too well, if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing in- deed and sung lamentably.
Serv. He hath songs for man or woman, of all sizes ; no milliner can so fit his customers with gloves. He has the prettiest love-songs for maids ; so without baw- dry, which is strange ; with such delicate burdens of dildos and fadings ; jump her and thump her ; and where some stretch-mouth 'd rascal would, as it were,
THE WINTER'S TALE 219
mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer. Whoop, do me no harm, good man ; puts him off, slights him, with Whoop, do me no harm, good man.
Pol. This is a brave fellow.
Clown. Believe me, thou talkest of an admirable con- ceited fellow. Has he any unbraided wares }
Serv. He hath ribbons of all the colours i' the rainbow; points, more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learn- edly handle, though they come to him by the gross ; in- kles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns. Why, he sings them over as they were gods or goddesses ; you would think a smock were a she-angel, he so chants to the sleeve- hand and the work about the square on 't.
Clown. Prithee, bring him in ; and let him approach singing.
Per. Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous words in his tunes.
Clown. You have of these peddlers that have more in 'em than you'd think, sister.
Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think.
Enter Autolycus, singing.
Lawn as white as driven snow ;
Cyprus black as e'er was crow ;
Cloves as sweet as damask roses ;
Masks for faces and for noses ;
Bugle-bracelet, necklace-amber.
Perfume for a lady's chamber;
Golden quoifs and stomachers
For my lads to give their dears ;
Pins and poking-sticks of steel.
What maids lack from head to heel:
Come, buy of me, come ; come buy, come buy ;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry ;
Come, buy, etc.
Clown. If I were not in love with Mopsa thou shouldst take no money of me ; but being enthrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage of certain ribbons and gloves.
220 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Mop. I was promised them against the feast ; but they come not too late now.
Dor. He hath promised you more than that, or there be liars.
Mop. He hath paid you all he promised you. May- be he has paid you more, which will shame you to give him again.
Clown. Is there no manners left among maids.? Will they wear their plackets where they should bear their faces ? Is there not milking-time, when you are going to bed or kiln-hole to whistle off these secrets, but you must be tittle-tattling before all our guests .? 'Tis well they are whispering. Clamour your tongues, and not a word more.
Mop. I have done. Come, you promised me a taw- dry lace and a pair of sweet gloves.
Clown. Have I not told thee how I was cozened by the way and lost all my money }
Aut. And indeed, sir, there are cozeners abroad ; therefore it behooves men to be wary.
Clown. Fear not thou, man ; thou shalt lose nothing here.
Aut. I hope so, sir; for I have about me many par- cels of charge.
Clown. What hast here ? ballads }
Mop. Pray now, buy some. I love a ballad in print, a'-life ; for then we are sure they are true.
Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a usu- rer's wife was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden ; and how she longed to eat adders' heads, and toads carbonadoed.
Mop. Is it true, think you ?
Aut. Very true ; and but a month old.
Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer !
Aut. Here's the midwife's name to 't, one Mistress Taleporter ; and five or six honest wives that were pres- ent. Why should I carry lies abroad }
Mop. Pray you now, buy it.
Clown. Come on, lay it by. And let's first see more ballads ; we'll buy the other things anon.
THE WINTER'S TALE 221
Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish that appeared upon the coast on Wednesday, the fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom above water, and sung this bal- lad against the hard hearts of maids ; it was thought she was a woman, and was turned into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh with one that loved her. The ballad is very pitiful, and as true.
Dor. Is it true too, think you ,?
Aut. Five justices' hands at it; and witnesses more than my pack will hold.
Clown. Lay it by too. Another.
Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one.
Mop. Let's have some merry ones.
Aut, Why, this is a passing merry one, and goes to the tune of Two maids wooing a man. There's scarce a maid westward but she sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you.
Mop. We can both sing it; if thou'lt bear a part, thou shalt hear ; 'tis in three parts.
Dor. We had the tune on 't a month ago.
Aut. I can bear my part ; you must know 'tis my oc- cupation. Have at it with you.
SONG.
A. Get you hence, for I must go ;
Where, it Jits not you to know. D. Whither? M. Oh, whither? D. Whither?
M. It becomes thy oath full well.
Thou to me thy secrets tell: D. Me too, let me go thither.
M. Or thou go'st to the grange or mill ;
D. If to either, thou dost ill.
A. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Neither.
D. Thou hast sworn my love to be :
M. Thou hast sworn it more to me :
Then, whither go st? say, whither?
Clown. We'll have this song sung out anon by our- selves. My father and the gentleman are in sad talk, and we'll not trouble them. Come, bring away thy
2 22 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
pack after me. Wenches, I'll buy for you both. Ped- dler, let's have the first choice. — Follow me, girls. Atit. \_Aszde.~\ And you shall pay well for 'em.
Will you buy any tape.
Or lace for your cape. My dainty duck, my dear-a ?
Any silk, any thread.
Any toys for your head, Of the new'st, and finst, finst wear-a ?
Come to the peddler ;
Money s a medler. That doth utter all men's ware-a.
\Exeunt Clown, Autolycus, Dorcas, and Mopsa.
Enter a Servant.
Serv. Master, there is three carters, three shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, that have made themselves all men of hair; they call themselves sal- tiers ; and they have a dance which the wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols, because they are not in 't ; but they themselves are o' the mind (if it be not too rough for some that know little but bowling) it will please plentifully.
Shep. Away ! we'll none on 't ; here has been too much homely foolery already. I know, sir, we weary you.
Pol. You weary those that refresh us. Pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen.
Sew. One three of them, by their own report, sir, hath danced before the king ; and not the worst of the three but jumps twelve foot and a half by the squire.
Shep. Leave your prating ; since these good men are pleased, let them come in ; but quickly now.
Serv. Why, they stay at door, sir. \_Exit.
Re-enter Servant, with twelve rustics habited like satyrs. They dance, and then exeunt.
Pol. Oh, father, you'll know more of that hereafter. — Is it not too far gone } — 'Tis time to part them. —
THE WINTER'S TALE 223
He's simple, and tells much. \_Aside.'] — How now, fair
shepherd ? Your heart is full of something that does take Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was young, And handed love as you do, I was wont To load my she with knacks. I would have ransack'd The peddler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it To her acceptance ; you have let him go. And nothing marted with him. If your lass Interpretation should abuse, and call this Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited For a reply ; at least, if you make a care Of happy holding her.
J^/o. Old sir, I know
She prizes not such trifles as these are. The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and lock'd Up in my heart, which I have given already. But not deliver'd. Oh, hear me breathe my life Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, Hath sometime loved. I take thy hand ; this hand. As soft as dove's down, and as white as it Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow That's bolted by the Northern blasts twice o'er.
Po/. What follows this ? How prettily the young swain seems to wash The hand was fair before ! I have put you out. But to your protestation ; let me hear What you profess.
P'/o. Do, and be witness to 't.
Po/. And this my neighbour too ?
P/o. And he, and more
Than he, and men ; the earth, the heavens, and all ; That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch Thereof most worthy ; were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve ; had force and knowledge More than was ever man's, I would not prize them Without her love ; for her employ them all ; Commend them, and condemn them to her service. Or to their own perdition.
Po/. Fairly offer'd.
2 24 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Cam. This shows a sound affection. Shep. But, my daughter,
Say you the like to him ?
Per. I cannot speak
So well, nothing so well ; no, nor mean better. By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his.
Shep. Take hands, a bargain.
And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to 't: I give my daughter to him, and will make Her portion equal his.
Flo. Oh, that must be
r the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet ; Enough then for your wonder. But, come on. Contract us 'fore these witnesses.
Shep. Come, your hand ;
And, daughter, yours.
Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you.
Have you a father .? Flo. I have. But what of him } Pol. Knows he of this }
Flo. He neither does nor shall.
Pol. Methinks a father Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest That best becomes the table. Pray you once more, Is not your father grown incapable Of reasonable affairs } Is he not stupid With age and altering rheums } Can he speak } hear.'* Know man from man .? dispute his own estate } Lies he not bedrid ? and again does nothing But what he did, being childish t
Flo. No, good sir ;
He hath his health, and ampler strength, indeed. Than most have of his age.
Pol. By my white beard
You offer him, if this be so, a wrong Something unfilial. Reason, my son Should choose himself a wife ; but as good reason The father (all whose joy is nothing else
THE WINTER'S TALE 225
But fair posterity) should hold some counsel In such a business.
Flo. I yield all this ;
But for some other reasons, my grave sir, Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint My father of this business.
Pol. Let him know 't.
Flo. He shall not.
Pol. Prithee, let him.
Flo. No, he must not.
Shep. Let him, my son ; he shall not need to grieve At knowing of thy choice.
Flo. Come, come, he must not.
Mark our contract.
Pol. [^Discovering himself^ Mark your divorce, young sir. Whom son I dare not call ; thou art too base To be acknowledged. Thou a sceptre's heir. That thus affect'st a sheep-hook ! — Thou old traitor, I am sorry that, by hanging thee, I can but Shorten thy life one week. — And thou, fresh piece Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must know The royal fool thou cop'st with —
Shep. Oh, my heart !
PoL I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with briars, and
made
More homely than thy state. — For thee, fond boy.
If I may ever know thou dost but sigh
That thou no more shalt see this knack (as never
I mean thou shalt), we'll bar thee from succession ;
Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin.
Far than Deucalion off. Mark thou my words ;
Follow us to the court. — Thou churl, for this time,
Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it. — And you, enchantment —
Worthy enough a herdsman ; yea, him too
That makes himself, but for our honour therein,
Unworthy thee — if ever henceforth thou
These rural latches to his entrance open
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, 1V.-15
226 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
I will devise a death as cruel for thee
As thou art tender to 't. {Exit.
Per. Even here undone !
I was not much afeard, for once or twice I was about to speak and tell him plainly The selfsame sun that shines upon his court Hides not his visage from our cottage, but Looks on alike. — Will 't please you, sir, begone ?
\To Florizel. I told you what would come of this. 'Beseech you. Of your own state take care : this dream of mine Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch further, But milk my ewes, and weep.
Cam. Why, how now, father .?
Speak, ere thou diest.
Shep. I cannot speak, nor think,
Nor dare to know that which I know. — Oh, sir,
\To Florizel. You have undone a man of fourscore three. That thought to fill his grave in quiet ; yea. To die upon the bed my father died. To lie close by his honest bones ; but now Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay me Where no priest shovels in dust. — Oh, cursed wretch !
\To Perdita. That knew'st this was the prince, and wouldst advent- ure To mingle faith with him. — Undone ! undone ! If I might die within this hour, I have lived To die when I desire. \_Exit.
Flo. Why look you so upon me ?
I am but sorry, not afeard ! delay 'd. But nothing alter'd. What I was, I am : More straining on for plucking back; not following My leash unwillingly.
Cam. Gracious my lord.
You know your father's temper : at this time He will allow no speech — which, I do guess. You do not purpose to him — and as hardly Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear ;
THE WINTER'S TALE 227
Then, till the fury of his highness settle, Come not before him.
Flo. I not purpose it.
I think, Camillo.
Cam. Even he, my lord.
Per. How often have I told you 'twould be thus } How often said my dignity would last But till 'twere known?
Flo. It cannot fail but by
The violation of my faith ; and then Let nature crush the sides o' the earth together, And mar the seeds within ! Lift up thy looks. From my succession wipe me, father ! I Am heir to my affection.
Cam. Be advised.
Flo. I am ; and by my fancy. If my reason Will thereto be obedient, I have reason ; If not, my senses, better pleased with madness, Do bid it welcome.
Cam. This is desperate, sir.
Flo. So call it; but it does fulfil my vow; I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may Be thereat glean'd ; for all the sun sees or The close earth wombs, or the profound seas hide In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath To this my fair beloved. Therefore, I pray you. As you have e'er been my father's honour'd friend. When he shall miss me (as, in faith, I mean not To see him any more), cast your good counsels Upon his passion. Let myself and fortune Tug for the time to come. This you may know, And so deliver. I am put to sea With her whom here I cannot hold on shore; And, most opportune to our need, I have A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared For this design. What course I mean to hold Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor Concern me the reporting.
Cam. Oh, my lord,
2 28 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
I would your spirit were easier for advice Or stronger for your need.
Flo. Hark, Perdita, —
[ Takes her aside. I'll hear you by-and-by. \_To Camillo.
Cam. He's irremovable ;
Resolved for flight. Now were I happy if His going I could frame to serve my turn ; Save him from danger, do him love and honour, Purchase the sisfht again of dear Sicilia, And that unhappy king, my master, whom I so much thirst to see.
Flo. Now, good Camillo,
I am so fraught with curious business that I leave out ceremony. \Going.
Cam. Sir, I think
You have heard of my poor services, i' the love That I have borne your father .?
Flo. Very nobly
Have you deserved. It is my father's music To speak your deeds ; not little of his care To have them recompensed as thought on.
Cam. Well, my lord,
If you may please to think I love the king, And through him, what is nearest to him, which is Your gracious self, embrace but my direction (If your more ponderous and settled project May suffer alteration), on mine honour I'll point you where you shall have such receiving As shall become your highness ; where you may Enjoy your mistress (from the whom, I see, There's no disjunction to be made but by, As heavens forfend ! your ruin), marry her ; And (with my best endeavours, in your absence) Your discontenting father strive to qualify. And bring him up to liking.
Flo. How, Camillo,
May this, almost a miracle, be done ? That I may call thee something more than man, And, after that, trust to thee.
THE WINTER'S TALE 229
Cam. Have you thought on
A place whereto you'll go ?
Flo. Not any yet.
But as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies Of every wind that blows.
Cam. Then list to me:
This follows, if you will not change your purpose But undergo this flight, make for Sicilia, And there present yourself and your fair princess (For so, I see, she must be) 'fore Leontes ; She shall be habited as it becomes The partner of your bed, methinks I see Leontes opening his free arms, and weeping His welcomes forth ; asks thee, the son, forgiveness, As 'twere i' the father's person ; kisses the hands Of your fresh princess ; o'er and o'er divides him 'Twixt his unkindness and his kindness ; the one He chides to hell, and bids the other grow Faster than thought or time.
Flo. Worthy Camillo,
What colour for my visitation shall I Hold up before him }
Cam. Sent by the king, your father,
To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, The manner of your bearing towards him, with What you as from your father shall deliver, Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you down ; The which shall point you forth at every sitting What you must say ; that he shall not perceive But that you have your father's bosom there, And speak his very heart.
Flo. I am bound to you.
There is some sap in this.
Cam. A course more promising
Than a wild dedication of yourselves To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores ; most certain To miseries enough ; no hope to help you ; But as you shake off one, to take another ;
230 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Nothing so certain as your anchors, who
Do their best office if they can but stay you
Where you'll be loath to be. Besides, you know
Prosperity's the very bond of love ;
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
Affliction alters.
Per. One of these is true :
I think affliction may subdue the cheek, But not take in the mind.
Cam. Yea, say you so ?
There shall not, at your father's house, these seven
years Be born another such.
Flo. My good Camillo,
She is as forward of her breeding as r the rear of birth.
Cam. I cannot say 'tis pity
She lacks instructions ; for she seems a mistress To most that teach.
Per. Your pardon, sir, for this ;
I'll blush you thanks.
Flo. My prettiest Perdita. — But oh, the thorns we stand upon ! — Camillo — Preserver of my father, now of me ; The medicine of our house ! — how shall we do ? We are not furnished like Bohemia's son. Nor shall appear in Sicilia —
Cam. My lord, -'
Fear none of this. I think you know my fortunes Do all lie there : it shall be so my care To have you royally appointed, as if The scene you play were mine. For instance, sir. That you may know you shall not want — one word.
[ They talk aside.
Enter Autolycus.
Aut. Ha, ha ! what a fool honesty is ! and trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentleman ! I have sold all my trumpery ; not a counterfeit stone, not a ribbon,
THE WINTER'S TALE 231
glass, pomander, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my pack from fasting ; they throng who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a benedic- tion to the buyer: by which means I saw whose purse was best in picture ; and what I saw to my good use, I remembered. My clown (who wants but something to be a reasonable man) grew so in love with the wenches' song that he would not stir his pettitoes till he had both tune and words ; which so drew the rest of the herd to me that all their other senses stuck in ears. You might have pinched a placket, it was senseless ; 'twas nothing to geld a cod-piece of a purse ; I would have filed keys off that hung in chains: no hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, and admiring the nothing of it. So that, in this time of lethargy, I picked and cut most of their festival purses ; and had not the old man come in with a whoobub against his daughter and the king's son, and scared my choughs from the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the whole army.
[Camillo, Florizel, and Perdita come forward.
Cam. Nay, but my letters, by this means being there So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt.
Flo. And those that you'll procure from King Le- ontes —
Cam. Shall satisfy your father.
Per Happy be you !
All that you speak shows fair.
Cam. Who have we here?
\Seci7ig AUTOLYCUS.
We'll make an instrument of this ; omit Nothing may give us aid.
Aut. \_Astde.'] If they have overheard me now — why, hanging.
Cam. How now, good fellow } Why shakest thou so.'* Fear not, man ; here's no harm intended to thee.
Aul. I am a poor fellow, sir.
Cam. Why, be so still ; here's nobody will steal that from thee ; yet, for the outside of thy poverty we must
232 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
make an exchange ; therefore, disease thee instantly (thou must think there's necessity in 't) and change gar- ments with this gentleman. Though the pennyworth on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, there's some boot.
Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir. \_Aside?^ I know ye well enough.
Cam. Nay, prithee, despatch , the gentleman is half flayed already.
Aut. Are you in earnest, sir.r* \_Aside?^ I smell the trick on 't.
Flo. Despatch, I prithee.
Aut. Indeed, I have had earnest ; but I cannot with conscience take it.
Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle. —
[Florizel ^;2^ Autolycus exchange gar- ments. Fortunate mistress, let my prophecy Come home to you. You must retire yourself Into some covert ; take your sweetheart's hat And pluck it o'er your brows ; muffle your face, Dismantle you ; and, as you can, disliken The truth of your own seeming, that you may (For I do fear eyes over you) to shipboard Get undescried.
Per. I see the play so lies
That I must bear a part.
Cam. No remedy. —
Have you done there }
Flo. Should I now meet my father
He would not call me son.
Cam. Nay, you shall have
No hat. — Come, lady, come. — Farewell, my friend.
Aut. Adieu, sir.
Flo. Oh, Perdita, what have we twain forgot.? Pray you, a word. [ They converse apart.
Cam. [Aszde.~\ What I do next shall be to tell the
Of this escape, and whither they are bound ; Wherein, my hope is, I shall so prevail
Plate 29
POLIXENES AND PERDITA
Winter's Tale, act iv., scene iii.
.1 /.
THE WINTER'S TALE 233
To force him after : in whose company I shall review Sicilia, for whose sight I have a woman's longing.
Flo. Fortune speed us !
Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side.
Cam. The swifter speed the better.
[Exeunt Florizel, Perdita, and Camillo.
AtiL I understand the business, I hear it. To have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble hand is neces- sary for a cut-purse ; a good nose is requisite also to smell out work for the other senses. I see this is the time that the unjust man doth thrive. What an ex- change had this been without boot } what a boot is here with this exchange .'' Sure, the gods do this year con- nive at us, and we may do anything extempore. The prince himself is about a piece of iniquity; stealing away from his father, with his clog at his heels. If I thought it were not a piece of honesty to acquaint the king withal, I would do 't. I hold it the more knavery to conceal it ; and therein am I constant to my profes- sion.
Enter Clown and Shepherd.
Aside, aside ; here is more matter for a hot brain. Every lane's end, every shop, church, session, hanging, yields a careful man work.
Clown. See, see ; what a man you are now ! There is no other way but to tell the king she's a changeling, and none of your flesh and blood.
Shep. Nay, but hear me.
Clown. Nay, but hear me.
Shcp. Go to, then.
Clown. She being none of your flesh and blood, your flesh and blood has not offended the king ; and so your flesh and blood is not to be punished by him. Show those things you found with her : those secret things, all but what she has with her. This being done, let the law go whistle ; I warrant you.
Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, yea, and his son's pranks too ; who, I may say, is no honest man
234 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
neither to his father nor to me, to go about to make me the king's brother-in-law.
Clown. Indeed, brother-in-law was the farthest off you could have been to him ; and then your blood had been the dearer by I know not how much an ounce.
Aut. \Aside^ Very wisely, puppies !
Shep. Well, let us to the king ; there is that in this fardel will make him scratch his beard.
Atit. I know not what impediment this complaint may be to the flight of my master.
Clown. 'Pray heartily he be at palace.
Aut. Though I am not naturally honest, I am so sometimes by chance. Let me pocket up my peddler's excrement. [ Takes off his false beard?^ How now, rus- tics.? whither are you bound ?
Shep. To the palace, an it like your worship.
Atit. Your affairs there ? what } with whom ? The condition of that fardel, the place of your dwelling, your names, your ages, of what having, breeding, and any- thing that is fitting to be known, discover.
Clown. We are but plain fellows, sir.
Aut. A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let me have no lying; it becomes none but tradesmen, and they often give us soldiers the lie. But we pay them for it with stamped coin, not stabbing steel ; therefore they do not give us the lie.
Clown. Your worship had like to have given us one, if you had not taken yourself with the manner.
Shep. Are you a courtier, an it like you, sir.?
Aut. Whether it like me or no, I am a courtier. See'st thou not the air of the court in these enfoldings .? Hath not my gait in it the measure of the court? Re- ceives not thy nose court-odour from me? Reflect I not on thy baseness court-contempt? Think'st thou, for that I insinuate, or toze from thee thy business, I am therefore no courtier ? I am courtier cap-a-pie, and one that will either push on or pluck back thy business there: whereupon I command thee to open thy affair.
Shep. My business, sir, is to the king.
Aut. What advocate hast thou to him ?
THE WINTER'S TALE 235
Shep. I know not, an it like you.
Clown. Advocate's the court word for a pheasant ; say you have none.
Shep. None, sir ; I have no pheasant, cock, nor hen.
Aut. How blessed are we that are not simple men ! Yet nature might have made me as these are, Therefore I'll not disdain.
Clown. This cannot but be a great courtier.
Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely.
Clown. He seems to be the more noble in being fan- tastical ; a great man,. I'll warrant ; I know by the pick- ing on 's teeth.
Aut. The fardel there } what's i' the fardel ? Where- fore that box }
Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this fardel and box which none must know but the king; and which he shall know within this hour, if I may come to the speech of him.
Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour.
Shep. Why, sir.?
Aut. The king is not at the palace; he is gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy and air himself. For if thou be'st capable of things serious, thou must know the king is full of grief.
Shep. So 'tis said, sir, about his son, that should have married a shepherd's daughter.
Atit. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly ; the curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break the back of man, the heart of monster.
Clown. Think you so, sir ?
Aut. Not he alone shall suffer what wit can make heavy and vengeance bitter ; but those that are ger- mane to him, though removed fifty times, shall all come under the hangman : which, though it be great pity, yet it is necessary. An old sheep-whistling rogue, a ram- tender, to offer to have his daughter come into grace! Some say he shall be stoned ; but that death is too soft for him, say I. Draw our throne into a sheep-cote 1 All deaths are too few, the sharpest too easy.
236 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Clown. Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you hear, an it hke you, sir?
Atit. He has a son, who shall be flayed alive ; then, 'nointed over with honey, set on the head of a wasp's nest ; then stand till he be three-quarters and a dram dead ; then recovered again with aqua vitae, or some other hot infusion ; then, raw as he is, and in the hottest day prognostication proclaims, shall be set against a brick wall, the sun looking with a southward eye upon him ; where he is to behold him, with flies blown to death. But what talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries are to be smiled at, their offences being so capital ? Tell me (for you seem to be honest plain men) what you have to the king. Being something gently considered, I'll bring you where he is aboard, tender your persons to his presence, whisper him in your behalfs ; and if it be in man besides the king to effect your suits, here is man shall do it.
Clown. He seems to be of great authority: close with him, give him gold ; and though authority be a stub- born bear, yet he is oft led by the nose with gold. Show the inside of your purse to the outside of his hand, and no more ado. Remember, stoned and flayed alive.
Shep. An it please you, sir, to undertake the business for us, here is that s^old I have. I'll make it as much more ; and leave this young man in pawn till I bring it you.
Aut. After I have done what I promised.
Shep. Ay, sir.
Aut. Well, give me the moiety. — Are you a party in this business ?
Clown. In some sort, sir; but though my case be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flayed out of it.
Aut. Oh, that's the case of the shepherd's son. Hang him, he'll be made an example.
Clowji. Comfort, good comfort. We must to the king, and show our strange sights ; he must know 'tis none of your daughter nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I will give you as much as this old man does, when
THE WINTER'S TALE 237
the business is performed ; and remain, as he says, your pawn, till it be brought you.
Aut. I will trust you. Walk before toward the sea- side ; go on the right hand ; I will but look upon the hedge, and follow you.
Clown. We are blessed in this man, as I may say, even blessed.
Shep. Let's before, as he bids us ; he was provided to do us good. \ExeMnt Shepherd and Clown.
Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see Fortune would not suffer me; she drops booties in my mouth. I am courted now with a double occasion : gold, and a means to do the prince my master good ; which, who knows how that may turn back to my advancement t I will bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard him. If he think it fit to shore them again, and that the com- plaint they have to the king concerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for being so far officious ; for I am proof against that title, and what shame else be- longs to 't. To him will I present them ; there may be matter in it. \_Exit.
ACT V
Scene I. — Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Paulina,
and others.
Clco. Sir, you have done enough, and have perform 'd A saintlike sorrow ; no fault could you make. Which you have not redeem'd ; indeed, paid down More penitence than done trespass. At the last Do, as the heavens have done, forget your evil ; With them, forgive yourself.
Leon. Whilst I remember
Her and her virtues I cannot forget My blemishes in them ; and so still think of The wrong I did myself ; which was so much. That heirless it hath made my kingdom ; and Destroy 'd the sweet'st companion that e'er man Bred his hopes out of.
PauL True, too true, my lord.
238 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
If one by one you wedded all the world, Or from the all that are took something good To make a perfect woman, she you kill'd Would be unparallel'd.
Leo7i. I think so. Kill'd !
She I kill'd ? I did so : but thou strik'st me Sorely to say I did ; it is as bitter
Upon thy tongue as in my thought. Now, good now, Say so but seldom.
Cleo. Not at all, good lady.
You might have spoken a thousand things that would Have done the time more benefit, and graced Your kindness better.
Paul. You are one of those
Would have him wed again.
Dion. If you would not so
You pity not the state, nor the remembrance Of his most sovereign dame ; consider little What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue, May drop upon his kingdom, and devour Incertain lookers-on. What were more holy Than to rejoice the former queen is well ? What holier than — for royalty's repair, For present comfort and for future good — To bless the bed of majesty again With a sweet fellow to 't .-*
Paul. There is none worthy,
Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods Will have fulfill'd their secret purposes ; For has not the divine Apollo said, Is 't not the tenour of his oracle, That King Leontes shall not have an heir Till his lost child be found ? which that it shall Is all as monstrous to our human reason As my Antigonus to break his grave And come again to me ; who, on my life. Did perish with the infant. 'Tis your counsel My lord should to the heavens be contrary, Oppose against their wills. — Care not for issue :
\To Leontes.
THE WINTER'S TALE 239
The crown will find an heir. Great Alexander Left his to the worthiest ; so his successor Was like to be the best.
Leon. Good Paulina —
Who hast the memory of Hermione, I know, in honour — oh, that ever I Had squared me to thy counsel ! — then even now I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes, Have taken treasure from her lips —
Paul. And left them
More rich for what they yielded.
Leon. Thou speak'st truth.
No more such wives ; therefore no wife ; one worse And better used would make her sainted spirit Again possess her corpse, and on this stage (Where we offenders now appear), soul-vex'd, Begin, And why to me ?
Paul. Had she such power,
She had just cause.
Leon. She had ; and would incense me
To murder her I married.
Paul. I should so.
Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you mark Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in 't You chose her ; then I'd shriek, that even your ears Should rift to hear me ; and the words that follow'd Should be, Remember mine.
Leon. Stars, very stars,
And all eyes else dead coals ! Fear thou no wife; I'll have no wife, Paulina.
Paul. Will you swear
Never to marry but by my free leave ?
Leo7i. Never, Paulina ; so be bless'd my spirit.
Paul Then, good my lords, bear witness to his oath.
Cleo. You tempt him overmuch.
Paul Unless another
As like Hermione as is her picture Affront his eye.
Cleo. Good madam —
Paul. I have done.
240 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Yet if my lord will marry — if you will, sir,
No remedy ]put you will — give me the office
To choose you a queen. She shall not be so young
As was your former ; but she shall be such
As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should take joy
To see her in your arms,
Leon. My true Paulina,
We shall not marry till thou bid'st us.
Paul. That
Shall be when your first queen's again in breath ; Never till then.
Enter a Gentleman.
Gent. One that gives out himself Prince Florizel, Son of Polixenes, with his princess (she The fairest I have yet beheld), desires access To your high presence.
Leon. What with him } He comes not
Like to his father's greatness. His approach. So out of circumstance, and sudden, tells us 'Tis not a visitation framed, but forced By need and accident. What train ?
Gent. But few.
And those but mean.
Leon. His princess, say you, with him ?
Gent. Ay ; the most peerless piece of earth, I think. That e'er the sun shone bright on.
Paul. O Hermione.
As every present time doth boast itself Above a better gone, so must thy grave Give way to what's seen now. Sir, you yourself Have said, and writ so (but your writing now Is colder than that theme). She had not been Nor was not to be equall'd. Thus your verse Flowed with her beauty once ; 'tis shrewdly ebb'd To say you have seen a better.
Gent. Pardon, madam.
The one I have almost forgot (your pardon),
THE WINTER'S TALE 241
The other, when she has obtain'd your eye,
Will have your tongue too. This is such a creature,
Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal
Of all professors else ; make proselytes
Of who she but bid follow.
Paul. How } not women .?
Gent. Women will love her that she is a woman More worth than any man ; men, that she is The rarest of all women.
Leon. Go, Cleomenes ;
Yourself, assisted with your honour'd friends. Bring them to our embracement. — Still 'tis strange
\_Exeu7it Cleomenes, Lords, a7id Gentlemen. He thus should steal upon us.
Paul. Had our prince
(Jewel of children) seen this hour he had pair'd Well with this lord ; there was not full a month Between their births.
Leon. Prithee, no more ; thou know'st
He dies to me again when talk'd of. Sure, When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches Will bring me to consider that which may Unfurnish me of reason. — They are come. —
Re-enter Cleomenes, with Florizel, Perdita, and At- tendants.
Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince ; For she did print your royal father off. Conceiving you. Were I but twenty-one, Your father's image is so hit in you, His very air, that I should call you brother. As I did him, and speak of something, wildly By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome ! And your fair princess, goddess ! — Oh, alas ! I lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth Might thus have stood, begetting wonder, as You, gracious couple, do ! And then I lost (All mine own folly) the society, Amity too, of your brave father ; whom,
1V.-I6
242 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Though bearing misery, I desire my life Once more to look on him.
Flo. By his command
Have I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him Give you all greetings that a king at friend Can send his brother ; and but infirmity (Which waits upon worn times) hath something seized His wish'd ability, he had himself The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his Measured to look upon you ; whom he loves (He bade me say so) more than all the sceptres^ And those that bear them, living.
Leon. Oh, my brother,
(Good gentleman !) the wrongs I have done thee stir Afresh within me ; and these thy offices, So rarely kind, are as interpreters Of my behind-hand slackness ! — Welcome hither, As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage (At least, ungentle) of the dreadful Neptune To greet a man not worth her pains, much less The adventure of her person .?
Flo. Good my lord,
She came from Libya.
Leon. Where the warlike Smalus,
That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and loved ?
Flo. Most royal sir, from thence ; from him whose daughter His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her ; thence (A prosperous south wind friendly) we have cross'd To execute the charge my father gave me For visiting your highness. My best train I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd ; Who for Bohemia bend, to signify Not only my success in Libya, sir. But my arrival, and my wife's, in safety, Here, where we are.
Leon. The blessed gods
Purge all infection from our air whilst you Do climate here ! You have a holy father.
THE WINTER'S TALE 243
A graceful gentleman, against whose person, So sacred as it is, I have done sin ; For which the heavens, taking angry note. Have left me issueless ; and your father's bless'd (As he from Heaven merits it) with you, Worthy his goodness. What might I have been, Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on, Such goodly things as you ?
Enter a Lord.
Lord. Most noble sir.
That which I shall report will bear no credit Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, great sir, Bohemia greets you from himself, by me ; Desires you to attach his son, who has (His dignity and duty both cast off) Fled from his father, from his hopes, and with A shepherd's daughter.
Leon. Where's Bohemia. Speak,
Lord. Here in the city ; I now came from him. I speak amazedly ; and it becomes My marvel and my message. To your court Whiles he was hast'ning (in the chase, it seems, Of this fair couple), meets he on the way The father of this seeming lady, and Her brother, having both their country quitted With this young prince.
Flo. Camillo has betrayed me.
Whose honour and whose honesty till now Endured all weathers.
Lord. Lay 't so to his charge ;
He's with the king your father.
Leon. Who ? Camillo ?
Lord. Camillo, sir ; I spake with him ; who now Has these poor men in question. Never saw I Wretches so quake. They kneel, they kiss the earth ; Forswear themselves as often as they speak ; Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them With divers deaths in death.
244 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Per. Oh, my poor father ! —
The heavens sets spies upon us, will not have Our contract celebrated.
Leon, You are married ?
Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be ; The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first. The odds for high and low's alike.
Leon. My lord,
Is this the daughter of a king }
Flo. She is.
When once she is my wife.
Leon. That once, I see, by your good father's speed, Will come on very slowly. I am sorry. Most sorry, you have broken from his liking, Where you were tied in duty ; and as sorry. Your choice is not so rich in worth as beauty, That you might well enjoy her.
Flo. Dear, look up.
Though Fortune, visible an enemy. Should chase us with my father, power no jot Hath she to change our loves. — 'Beseech you, sir, Remember since you owed no more to time Than I do now. With thought of such affections, Step forth mine advocate ; at your request My father will grant precious things as trifles.
Leo7i. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious mistress, Which he counts but a trifle.
Paul. Sir, my liege.
Your eye hath too much youth in 't. Not a month 'Fore your queen died, she was more worth such gazes Than what you look on now.
Leon. I thought of her.
Even in these looks I made. — But your petition
\To Florizel. Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father. Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, I am a friend to them, and you ; upon which errand I now go toward him ; therefore, follow me, And mark what way I make. Come, good my lord.
\_Exeunt.
THE WINTERS TALE 245
Scene II. — Enter Autolycus and a Gentleman.
Aut. 'Beseech you, sir, were you present at this rela- tion ?
I Gent. I was by at the opening of the fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how he found it ; whereupon, after a little amazedness, we were all com- manded out of the chamber ; only this, methought I heard the shepherd say he found the child.
Atit. I would most gladly know the issue of it.
I Gent. I make a broken delivery of the business. But the changes I perceived in the king and Camillo were very notes of admiration ; they seemed almost, with staring on one another, to tear the cases of their eyes ; there was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture ; they looked as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed. A notable passion of wonder appeared in them. But the wisest beholder that knew no more but seeing, could not say if the im- portance were joy or sorrow ; but in the extremity of the one it must needs be.
Enter another Gentleman.
Here comes a gentleman that, happily, knows more. The news, Rogero }
2 Gent. Nothing but bonfires. The oracle is ful- filled ; the king's daughter is found. Such a deal of wonder is broken out within this hour that ballad-mak- ers cannot be able to express it.
Enter a third Gentleman.
Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward ; he can de- liver you more. — How goes it now, sir. f* This news, which is called true, is so like an old tale that the ver- ity of it is in strong suspicion. Has the king found his heir?
3 Gent. Most true, if ever truth were pregnant by circumstance. That which you hear you'll swear you
246 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
see, there is such unity in the proofs. The mantle of Queen Hermione, her jewel about the neck of it ; the letters of Antigonus found with it, which they know to be his character ; the majesty of the creature in resem- blance of the mother ; the affection of nobleness, which nature shows above her breeding, and many other evi- dences proclaim her, with all certainty, to be the king's daughter. Did you see the meeting of the two kings 1
2 Gent. No.
3 Gent. Then have you lost a sight which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. There might you have be- held one joy crown another ; so, and in such manner, that it seemed sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their joy waded in tears. There was casting up of eyes, holding up of hands ; with countenance of such dis- traction that they were to be known by garment, not by favour. Our king, being ready to leap out of him- self for joy of his found daughter, as if that joy were now become a loss, cries. Oh, thy mother, thy mother ! then asks Bohemia forgiveness ; then embraces his son- in-law ; then again worries he his daughter with clip- ping her ; now he thanks the old shepherd, which stands by, like a weather-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns. I never heard of such another encounter, which lames report to follow it, and undoes description to do it.
2 Gent. What, pray you, became of Antigonus, that carried hence the child .?
3 Gent. Like an old tale still, which will have matter to rehearse, though credit be asleep, and not an ear open. He was torn to pieces with a bear; this avouches the shepherd's son, who has not only his innocence (which seems much) to justify him, but a handkerchief and rinofs of his that Paulina knows.
I Gent. What became of his bark and his follow- ers?
3 Gent. Wrecked the same instant of their master's death, and in the view of the shepherd, so that all the instruments which aided to expose the child were even then lost when it was found. But oh, the noble com-
THE WINTER'S TALE 247
bat that, 'twixt joy and sorrow, was fought in Paulina! She had one eye declined for the loss of her husband ; another elevated that the oracle was fulfilled. She lift- ed the princess from the earth, and so locks her in em- bracing, as if she would pin her to her heart, that she might no more be in danger of losing.
I Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the audi- ence of kings and princes, for by such was it acted.
3 Gent. One of the prettiest touches of all, and that which angled for mine eyes (caught the water, though not the fish), was when, at the relation of the queen's death, with the manner how she came to it (bravely confessed, and lamented by the king), how attentive- ness wounded his daughter, till, from one sign of do- lour to another, she did, with an alas ! I would fain say, bleed tears ; for, I am sure, my heart wept blood. Who was most marble there changed colour ; some swooned, all sorrowed. If all the world could have seen it, the woe had been universal.
1 Gent. Are they returned to the court.?
3 Gent. No ; the princess, hearing of her mother's statue, which is in the keeping of Paulina — a piece many years in doing, and now newly performed by that rare Italian master, Julio Romano, who, had he himself eternity, and could put breath into his work, would be- guile Nature of her custom, so perfectly he is her ape ; he so near to Hermione hath done Hermione that they say one would speak to her and stand in hope of an- swer— thither, with all greediness of affection, are they gone, and there they intend to sup.
2 Gent. I thought she had some great matter there in hand ; for she hath privately, twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall we thither, and with our company piece the rejoicing .'*
I Gent. Who would be thence that has the benefit of access .'' Every wink of an eye some new grace will be born. Our absence makes us unthrifty to our knowl- edge. Let's along. \_Exeunt Gentlemen.
Aut. Now, had I not the dash of my former life in
248 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
me, would preferment drop on my head. I brought the old man and his son aboard the prince ; told him I heard them talk of a fardel, and I know not what ; but he at that time, over-fond of the shepherd's daughter (so he then took her to be), who began to be much sea- sick, and himself little better, extremity of weather con- tinuing, this mystery remained undiscovered. But 'tis all one to me; for had I been the finder -out of this secret, it would not have relished among my other dis- credits.
Enter Shepherd and Clown.
Here come those I have done good to against my will, and already appearing in the blossoms of their fortune.
Shep. Come, boy ; I am past more children, but thy sons and daughters will be all gentlemen born.
Clown. You are well met, sir. You denied to fight with me this other day, because I was no gentleman born. See you these clothes } Say you see them not, and think me still no gentleman born : you were best say these robes are not gentlemen born. Give me the lie ; do, and try whether I am not now a gentleman born.
Aut. I know you are now, sir, a gentleman born.
Clown. Ay, and have been so any time these four hours.
Shep. And so have I, boy.
Clown. So you have. But I was a gentleman born before my father, for the king's son took me by the hand and called me brother ; and then the two kings called my father brother ; and then the prince, my brother, and the princess, my sister, called my father father ; and so we wept ; and there was the first gentle- manlike tears that ever we shed.
Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more.
Clown. Ay, or else 'twere hard luck, being in so pre- posterous estate as we are.
Aut. I humbly beseech you, sir, to pardon me all the faults I have committed to your worship, and to give me your good report to the prince my master.
;*4.- *
i^<«£.- •■ 5S^S2«6a?S?:'J*^*SKr^^
Plate 30 HERMIONE
Winter's Tale, act v., scene iii.
'.VI I', II 5i ()'i I.I /. i>
THE WINTER'S TALE 249
Shep. 'Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, now we are gentlemen.
Clown. Thou wilt amend thy life ?
Aut. Ay, an it like your good worship.
Clown. Give me thy hand; I will swear to the prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any is in Bohemia.
Shep. You may say it, but not swear it.
Clown. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman ? Let boors and franklins say it, I'll swear it.
Shep. How if it be false, son }
Clown. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman may swear it in the behalf of his friend. And I'll swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunk ; but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy hands, and that thou wilt be drunk ; but I'll swear it ; and I would, and would'st be a tall fellow of thy hands.
Atit. I will prove so, sir, to my power.
Clown. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow. If I do not wonder how thou darest venture to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me not. — Hark ! the kings and the princes, our kindred, are going to see the queen's picture. Come, follow us ; we'll be thy good masters.
\Exeunt,
Scene III. — ^«/^;' Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, Per- DiTA, Camillo, Paulina, Lords, and Attendants.
Leon. Oh, grave and good Paulina, the great com- fort That I have had of thee !
Paul. What, sovereign sir,
I did not well, I meant well. All my services You have paid home ; but that you have vouchsafed With your crowned brother, and these your contracted Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit, It is a surplus of your grace, which never My life may last to answer.
Leon. Oh, Paulina,
2SO COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
We honour you with trouble. But we came To see the statue of our queen. Your gallery Have we pass'd through, not without much content In many singularities ; but we saw not That which my daughter came to look upon, The statue of her mother.
Paul. As she lived peerless,
So her dead likeness, I do well beHeve, Excels whatever yet you look'd upon, Or hand of man hath done ; therefore I keep it Lonely, apart. But here it is. Prepare To see the life as lively mock'd as ever Still sleep mock'd death. Behold, and say 'tis well.
[Paulina draws back a curtain and discovers a statue. I like your silence, it the more shows off Your wonder. But yet speak ; first, you, my liege. Comes it not something near .?
Leon. Her natural posture ! —
Chide me, dear stone, that I may say, indeed. Thou art Hermione ; or, rather, thou art she In thy not chiding ; for she was as tender As infancy and grace. — But yet, Paulina, Hermione was not so much wrinkled, nothing So aged as this seems.
Pol. Oh, not by much.
Paul. So much the more our carver's excellence, Which lets go by some sixteen years, and makes her As she lived now.
Leon. As now she might have done
So much to my good comfort, as it is Now piercing to my soul. Oh, thus she stood Even with such life of majesty (warm life As now it coldly stands), when first I woo'd her! I am ashamed. Does not the stone rebuke me For being more stone than it ? — Oh, royal piece, There's magic in thy majesty ; which has My evils conjured to remembrance ; and From thy admiring daughter took the spirits, Standing like stone with thee.
THE WINTER'S TALE 251
Per. And give me leave ;
And do not say 'tis superstition, that I knee], and then implore her blessing. — Lady, Dear queen, that ended when I but began, Give me that hand of yours to kiss.
Paul. Oh, patience ;
The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's Not dry.
Cam. My lord, your sorrow was too sore laid on, Which sixteen winters cannot blow away. So many summers dry ; scarce any joy Did ever so long live ; no sorrow, But kill'd itself much sooner.
Pol. Dear my brother.
Let him that was the cause of this have power To take off so much grief from you as he Will piece up in himself.
Paul. Indeed, my lord,
If I had thought the sight of my poor image Would thus have wrought you (for the stone is mine), I'd not have show'd it.
Leoi7. Do not draw the curtain.
Patil. No longer shall you gaze on 't, lest your fancy May think anon it moves.
Leon. Let be, let be.
Would I were dead, but that methinks already. — What was he that did make it } — See, my lord, Would you not deem it breathed .»* and that those veins Did verily bear blood }
Pol. Masterly done.
The very life seems warm upon her lip.
Leon. The fixture of her eye has motion in 't, As we are mock'd with art.
Paul. I'll draw the curtain ;
My lord's almost so far transported that He'll think anon it lives.
Leon. Oh, sweet Paulina,
Make me to think so twenty years together ! No settled senses of the world can match The pleasure of that madness. Let 't alone.
252 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Patil. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd you ; but I could afflict you further.
Leon. Do, Paulina ;
For this affliction has a taste as sweet As any cordial comfort.^ — Still, methinks There is an air comes from her. What fine chisel Could ever yet cut breath .? Let no man mock me, For I will kiss her.
Paul. Good my lord, forbear.
The ruddiness upon her lip is wet ; You'll mar it if you kiss it ; stain your own With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain }
Leon. No, not these twenty years.
Per, So long could I
Stand by, a looker-on.
Paul. Either forbear,
Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you For more amazement. If you can behold it, I'll make the statue move indeed ; descend, And take you by the hand; but then you'll think (Which I protest against) I am assisted By wicked powers.
Leo7i. W^hat you can make her do,
I am content to look on ; what to speak, I am content to hear ; for 'tis as easy To make her speak as move.
Paul. It is required
You do awake your faith. Then all stand still, Or those that think it is unlawful business I am about, let them depart.
Leon. Proceed ;
No foot shall stir.
Paul. Music ; awake her ; strike. \^Music.
'Tis time ; descend ; be stone no more ; approach. Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come ; I'll fill your grave up ; stir ; nay, come away ; Bequeath to Death your numbness, for from him Dear life redeems you. — You perceive she stirs.
[Hermione comes down from the pedestal.
THE WINTER'S TALE 253
Start not ; her actions shall be holy as,
You hear, my spell is lawful ; do not shun her,
Until you see her die again ; for then
You kill her double. Nay, present your hand.
When she was young, you woo'd her ; now, in age.
Is she become the suitor.
Leon. Oh, she's warm ! \_Embracing her.
If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.
Pol. She embraces him.
Cam. She hangs about his neck ; If she pertain to life, let her speak too.
Pol. Ay, and make 't manifest where she has lived Or how stolen from the dead.
Paul. That she is living.
Were it but told you, should be hooted at Like an old tale ; but it appears she lives, Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. — Please you to interpose, fair madam ; kneel, And pray your mother's blessing. — Turn, good lady, Our Perdita is found.
[Presenting Perdita, who kneels to Hermione.
Her. You gods, look down,
And from your sacred vials pour your graces Upon my daughter's head ! — Tell me, mine own. Where hast thou been preserved .? where lived .? how
found Thy father's court .? For thou shalt hear that I — Knowing by Paulina that the oracle Gave hope thou wast in being — have preserved Myself to see the issue.
Paul There's time enough for that.
Lest they desire upon this push to trouble Your joys with like relation. Go together, You precious winners all ; your exultation Partake to every one. I, an old turtle. Will wing me to some wither'd bough, and there My mate, that's never to be found again. Lament till I am lost.
Leon. Oh, peace, Paulina !
254 COMEDIES OF SHAKESPEARE
Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent,
As I by thine a wife. This is a match,
And made between 's by vows. Thou hast found
mine; But how, is to be question'd ; for I saw her. As I thought, dead, and have in vain said many A prayer upon her grave. I'll not seek far (For him, I partly know his mind) to find thee An honourable husband. — Come, Camillo, And take her by the hand, whose worth and honesty Is richly noted, and here justified By us, a pair of kings. — Let's from this place. — What ! — Look upon my brother. Both your pardons, That e'er I put between your holy looks My ill suspicion. — This your son-in-law. And son unto the king (whom Heaven's directing). Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, Lead us from hence ; where we may leisurely Each one demand, and answer to his part Perform 'd in this wide gap of time, since first We were dissever'd. Hastily lead away. \Exeunt.
THE END
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